#anyway. I just see the potential for something interesting here. oh well !

[juniperhillpatient]

this might be an insane take based on watching an extremely niche early 2000s cancelled horror show a million too many times but Tyler should not have been white. for them to have an entire 3 episode long arc (considering the episodes are 45 minutes & riley & tyler are both vital to the plot characters despite their short lives) surrounding a character of color worried about her friend who is missing & was accused of murder (who the audience knows has been dead from the beginning) & wanting to help him instead of going to the cops specifically because she’s worried about police brutality - & for the entire backstory & main plot of the series to be based on an incidence of police brutality based on ableism preventing answers in a mystery from ever being satisfactorily answered - they could’ve done something with that. obviously it would’ve added to the issue of Every Single Relevant nonwhite character in Scream mtv meets a brutal end issue BUT if the writers were smart enough to use something like that maybe this wouldn’t be such an issue

[snapscube]

I FINISHED TURNABOUT BIG TOP! Which means here is my updated autopsy report ranking for cases and characters!

Both have actually shifted around quite a bit so you may find it an interesting update. I'll explain some of my current thoughts on the new placements as well as my thoughts on 2-3 in general below a break if ur curious.

Okay so first thing let's just address the elephant in the room: We have an all new category on the character ranking!! One that I sure wish I didn't have to include but unfortunately Big Top made some... very Interesting decisions with specific characters. It would be one thing if this content was featured and then addressed, but it was particularly off-putting and frustrating to me that everything was played entirely straight?? So yeah. New lowest of the low category for a couple freaks who are actively courting a 16 year old!!!! yayyyyyy

OTHERWISE, I do have to say.... I was really pleasantly surprised at 2-3 as a case. I can say now I completely understand people having a distaste for it especially in regards to the unsavory age gaps, but literally..... almost everything else in this case was well put together and generally on-par with the quality of the rest of the series? As an overall package I actually still find Turnabout Samurai infinitely more dull. Like, maybe it's just because the lead-up to actually playing it was so uniquely frustrating for me and forcibly lowered my expectations by a ton, but there was so much good shit in Big Top. Maya, in particular, is in top form during this case. She is so fucking funny. I loved almost every word that came out of her mouth and it really solidified her top spot in the character ranking for me at present. But past that, I think the second half of this case is EXTREMELY strong compared to its opening half. I'll admit during the first trial section I was getting kinda tired with it and finding it hard to care given how much I just do not root for Max, so I had tentatively placed it at bottom of C tier. But then once von Karma arrives in the investigation section and then Acro's storyline enters the equation I really think it finds its footing. I actually found the last few scenes of the trial very emotionally effective, especially Acro's breakdown at the witness stand and mentioning how he couldn't follow through with taking his own life to escape his crime due to his desire to see his brother wake up. Like... I legitimately teared up.

And FURTHERMORE.... von Karma. Oh my god. I don't know if I'm picking up on anything here, nor do I want to know until I maybe see it for myself, but something about her conduct in the final trial really spoke to me. I feel like a surface read makes it apparent that she's just as frustrated as she is because she's losing the case to Wright again, and I do think that's a huge factor still to her reaction... but I don't know, I felt something else with her. Particularly when it came to her reaction towards Acro's attempted murder of Regina. I felt like she came across as PARTICULARLY disgusted towards that revelation and towards her own client in a way that subtly humanized her and had me just CHUCKLING AND CHORTLING in evil anticipation towards potential character arcs. I really hope I've grasped onto something here because... I love her so much. I love the idea that in spite of her reputation we're still gonna get to see this spark of humanity light up. AHHHHH.

Okay. Anyway. In summary:

I understand why people have a distaste for Big Top now, but it does not change the fact that I desperately wish I had been given the chance to experience the story myself going into it without that baggage. It genuinely did not help my experience in the slightest to just have that cloud of expectation over it and it is generally irritating that I couldn't even bring up that I was playing it without people jokingly apologizing to me or telling me that I wouldn't be able to handle it or whatever. Really not a great vibe.

As a case, it has a couple MAJOR, GLARING points of discomfort but I'm still really glad I gave it a chance and was able to find a lot of good in it anyway. It inspired me to unfortunately lower some of my other rankings because this is what I kind of consider a more middle-of-the-road quality for the series now. Solid B tier. I have played much worse.

Maya Fey is a god damn treasure.

As for some of the other character shifts, particularly in relation to some of the characters who got bumped from S to A rank, that's less because I decided I like them less now than I did when I first ranked them and more that I decided my initial interpretation of my feelings was incongruent in some cases. Like, for example I LOVE Mia I really do she's great, but in no way at this current time is she on the same level as Maya or Lana for me. So I just needed to adjust the ratios a bit.

Anyway, I'll be back eventually with posts about the next case and the last one of AA2! :3 I hear it's pretttyyy long but pretttyyy damn GOOD. Can't wait.

[propertyofwicked]

SECRETS - LN

lando x fewtrell!reader (cos who doesn't love a bit of brother's best friend?).

no content warnings for this part. pls lemme know what u think of this pls and thank u.

previous part -> next part

masterlist the playlist

y/n was a bit of an enigma in the fewtrell family. yes, she’d grown up karting with her older brother and his best friend, but it wasn’t a career for her. not like it was for max, who took his love of karting to championships and content creation and especially not like lando, who made it all the way to F1.

no, y/n fewtrell wanted a career, for now at least anyway. which leads us to now, she’s sat in a second year lecture, not listening to a single word as a slew of messages from her brother almost vibrate her phone off the desk.

she didn’t really need to think about it at all, of course she’d be there. whilst she had no interest in her actually involvement, she loved motor sports, and loved supporting lando. the amount of times she’d been recognised in her uni towns sports bar, watching the F1, was getting concerning. not to mention the time she’d finished a 10 hour shift and somehow fell asleep in said sports bar, made worse and more recognisable to lando fans by the quadrant hoodie and LN4 beanie - max had not let her live it down since the moment the photo came on his twitter feed. it just seemed odd that lando all of a sudden wanted, no, needed her presence - after all, he'd had minimal contact with her for almost a year.

but, she weighed up in her head, getting to see lando was somewhat of a reward. yes spending the day with her brother would be good, although she could sense her summer would potentially be spent with him anyway. but lando, what could she say about lando. he was always around growing up, and yes admittedly there had been a few moments shared in her early adulthood that would indicate something more but it always remained unspoken. lingering touches here and there, the night they spent dancing together in a club, though written off as drunk friendliness, and most notably an interrupted moment where he whispered “max would kill me if he knew the truth”. y/n never got to find out what the truth was, as max himself came barrelling into the room, equally as drunk as everyone else at the gathering. from that night on, she barely saw or heard from lando, well, until now supposedly.

ultimately, y/n decided that dwelling on what could’ve been, whilst lando jets off around the world, was simply not worth it. she focused on her studies, and began declining offers to watch lando race on the other side of the world. y/n fewtrell was a strong independent woman who did not need the validation from her brothers best friend.

didn’t mean she didn’t enjoy it.

as predicted, the academic year ended and y/n found herself moving a bag of clothes into max’s spare room. people started spotting her in the background of streams again, fans excited to see the fewtrell’s back together and in full force - y/n now adorning a lovely bruise down the side of her arm from where max had shoved her too hard off a chair and onto the floor. sore losers run in the family.

“MAX! that hurt,” y/n whined from her new found position on the floor.

“oh did it,” max asks mockingly, “sucks to be you i guess” he adds with a shrug, although letting her use his arm to pull herself back up.

he moved back to playing his game when a text popped up on her phone making her giggle.

“what? what are you laughing at?”

“lando said “push him back”. lando,” y/n said, looking at the camera, “if i could, i would - but i quite like having somewhere to live and my own personal chauffeur,” she laughed, max laughing with her.

a month later she was in the passenger seat of max’s car, him pulling in to park outside the silverstone track. it was hours before the public would show up, so she instantly spotted the curly haired man. yes, the bright orange jumper was like a bat signal for lando, but y/n’s eyes were immediately drawn to him naturally. max had just about pulled the handbrake on when lando bounded over to the car, pulled the passenger door open and lunged himself around y/n.

“you came! it’s been too long since ive had my little lucky charm in my garage,” he says, looking directly into her eyes. a red flush runs up her cheeks, hoping that the boys will put it down to the loss of air conditioning. any awkwardness she had anticipated between the two dissolved almost instantly.

“i know, i’m sorry. i should just drop out of uni and follow you around the world, i know. forgive me,” she jokes holding her hands up, and lando quirks an eyebrow up, as if saying “you should”.

“don’t do that, y/n. one of the fewtrell’s needs to be properly educated,” max jokes, ”besides, not having his lucky charm around all the time keeps his ego in check.” lando chuckles in response, finally moving to stand fully out of the car and allowing y/n and max to climb out and join him.

“so, home race in 2 days - how you feelin’ mate?” max asked lando, raising his hand to do one of those bro hand grabs. they continued talking, y/n trailing just behind them as they walked into the building and around to the mclaren area. it was always a spectacle, coming to races. the teams, the drivers, the media, the celebrations - it was somewhat overwhelming. it was weird to see the place so empty, then again, it was 7am on FP1 day so the only people walking around were the odd driver and mechanics.

they continued to walk through the paddock, y/n just listening to the boys discussing an upcoming quadrant project, eventually reaching his drivers room. the sofa looked so inviting, especially to the girl who was dragged kicking and screaming out of bed at 5am. whilst lando distracted max, showing him his helmet for the home race, y/n crawled over to the sofa, curled up in a corner and shut her eyes.

“y/n? you good?” lando asked, after clocking her new found position.

“shut up.”

“ouch.”

“she threatened to rip my eyeballs out and shove them down my throat this morning when i tried to get her up. being told to shut up is nothing,” max laughed, ruffling the top of his sisters head and messing up her hair, “she just likes her sleep.”

“yes, she does, please let her have it,” y/n mumbles bluntly, met with chuckles from the boys.

“we’re gonna get breakfast. ill bring you back something if you want to stay here?” lando asks, her eyes perking up at the thought of food.

“yes please,” she says, with a soft smile directed towards him.

-

“next time, me and you are getting separate hotel rooms,” y/n groaned, rolling around the sofa of her hotel room trying to get comfortable.

“next time, tell me you want to come with me early enough for me to book you a separate hotel room, y/n,” her brother grumbled back.

“i’m gonna see if there’s a gym here. i need to tire myself out if i’m going to sleep on this…thing,” she said, poking at the solid leather of the sofa.

max didn’t respond to his sister, instead he rolled over to face the door and shut his eyes. y/n grabbed her key card and her shoes, and walked out the door, happy to be away from her brother. she loved him, she really did, but after spending the entire day in lando’s small driver room with him - she really just needed some brother-free air.

she barely reached the lift at the end of the hallway when she got a text, diverting her entire plans for that evening.

i’m bored. come on a drive with me?

going on a late night drive with lando was not out of the ordinary, but usually max was there. had he sent max the same message? either way, she responded with a quick yes and thumbs up.

cool. im outside btw. hurry up.

have you just turned up assuming i was going to say yes?

was i wrong?

shut up im coming down now

[oshygoshy]

2:07 pm

word count - 570 words

warnings - none

a/n - omg this is based off my own experience working at bath n body works BRO. i was asking this older guy if he needed anything special today and he was like, "my wife! who's pretty special to me" like alskdfhskafash let me find someone who loves me like that

sakusa kiyoomi didn't particularly like nor care for shopping, instead opting for whatever athleisure was the highest quality, or whatever the newest brand deal msby signed with. (seriously, the amount of free nike promo the team got was kind of insane.) he especially doesn’t like the bright, heavily scented body care store you frequently shopped at. the loud music, cheery (read: plastic) decor, and strong, swirling scents messed with his head, causing headaches and itchy skin. and don't get him started on the testers...! just how many people could've potentially touched them by now?

"hello! are you looking for something special today?" an employee asked with a picturesque fake customer service voice and smile voice plastered on thickly. 

he gave a brisk nod at them back. "nothing much, just my spouse." he paused. "although, you could say they're very special to me," he said, icy exterior melting and a warm smile peeping through. 

she laughed, a genuine smile appearing on her face this time. “aww, cute! well, we do have a buy 3 get 2 free sale going on right now on our full-sized body care items, so maybe you could help her shop for something special," she said before heading off to greet another customer. 

he nodded absentmindedly, glancing at some of the select items. although the store itself was too much to bear, whenever you put something scented on yourself, it was much nicer. less overbearing compared to the store, and it was like a secret surprise every time he leaned in for a hug. would he smell a hint of vanilla or pear wafting against your skin today?

"omi? you're in here?" 

he was startled at your sudden voice. "huh? oh, yeah, you were taking a while," he explained, turning around to see you peering up at him. he didn’t see anything in your hands, so he supposed nothing piqued your interest. (this time, anyway…)

"whoops! got carried away looking at the samples,” you say, abashed, as you stick out your hand. he holds it in his palm obediently. “anyways, i'm done here. i didn't find anything i liked, so we can head out now," you say, leading him out of the store. 

“have a good day, you two! and good luck on your marriage," said the employee from before, smiling at you both. he nodded back, and couldn’t help but smirk a little as he felt your steps falter. 

“m-marriage?!“

“now now dear, let’s not bother the poor working lady,” he murmured low into your ear. you gave him a flat look in return. 

“omi-omi, please-“

“don’t call me that! you know i don’t like it.”

“omi.” you stop in your tracks, frowning at him. “if you’re going to go around announcing that we're married, why don’t you at least…i don’t know…propose to me first?” you say, raising an eyebrow.

(unbeknownst to you, the ring was waiting underneath his boxers back at your shared apartment.)

“yeah, alright,” he hummed. “just wanted to test it out first.”

you hug his arm, a small smile on your face. “you’re so cute! who would've thought you’re capable of being emotive, let alone adorable?”

he gently pushed you off his arm, using just enough force to loosen your grip on him. “fuck off. i take everything i just said back.” 

“nope! no take-backsies! you’re my cute little wifey now!” 

he sighed incredulously. “i’m the wife?” 

[vamptarot]

Why I Think Your Insecurity Is Beautiful | PAC

𐀔 pile one 𝜗𝜚 pile two ✮ pile three

how to choose a pile . . . choose whichever you feel drawn to or ask your guides to guide your eyes to the one that is meant for you! ᡣ𐭩

— ⭑.ᐟ accidentally turned out as a pep talk pac </3 well, not completely, but I apologise 🫡 not proof read.

𐀔 pile one : – teddy gems !

𐙚 : knight of swords rev. , eight of swords rev. , knight of cups rev. , king of swords rev.

bottom of the deck : queen of swords rev.

♡ ⢷ why I think your insecurities are beautiful

I can see from the cards that people in this pile have body image issues due to bullying, self harm, e.ds or simply being put down by family members through inappropriate comments.

This especially could be true if you are not average weight for your height, don’t like the way your leg looks or don’t enjoy the way your stretch marks look on your body. It could potentially make you feel like you aren’t attractive, and that the people you are interested in wouldn’t even give you a second look.

Well I am here to say it’s not true, and it also doesn’t matter.

Your life shouldn’t revolve around romantic validation. Of course, you can care about the opinion of your romantic interests, how they view you and what not, but your life is yours. Whether or not there is someone to love you in a romantic manner you are beautiful, valid and possess a wonderful soul.

You are uniquely you, no one can do it like you but you only.

There is so many wonderful things about you, who gives a (what) about the opinion of people who won’t even matter in five years?

Don’t stress yourself out over things that are not worth your time beautiful.

Besides, I do think that your body is very pretty. “Oh but you don’t even know what it looks like! “ Yes I do, I have the gift of clairvoyance baby.

Of course, I do not mean this in a creepy way at all. [for those with uncomfortable or horrifying looks on their face.. ] Rather, what I mean is that your insecurities don’t take away from beauty at all, I would argue they add even more to it.

Your scars? They are here to tell us that you went through something horrible and came out winning. Or will. You don’t have the energy of someone that would lose themselves completely anyway, my beautiful pile one is a fighter!

Regardless, I just think that you are so cool, you went through all that yet you are still here today, trying your best to survive. Even if you don’t see it that way, I just think you are so strong.

Some people in this pile are also underweight, due to health issues, one unrelated to e.ds. You could be insecure about that, especially if your bones show. [Around your shoulders, is what I see for most of you.] I would like to say, please don’t beat yourself up about things that are out of your control. You are literally so pretty!! I like your eyes, and I am pretty suuure many people like your lips too. People that are romantically interested in you. There is quite a few, you just don’t notice due to being in your head a little too much. You kinda remind me of Bella Swan, but just a bit smarter and more mature. I just so happen to love twilight and find her sooo pretty… I am sure it’s hard to go through the things you do, but your personality, soul and outter appearance is full of beauty because it’s so clear that your heart is so full of love. So what if you are not someone’s type? Fu.. them, who cares lol You gonna be naturally beautiful regardless of their opinion.

You could also hate your stretch marks because they remind you of a time of your life where you didn’t like yourself, or for some of you they remind you of a part of yourself that you aren’t proud of.. Well guess what, I got them too, now we are matching baby girl / baby boy / baby 🙂‍↕️🤞🏻 [in a platonic way, of course <3<3]

No but seriously, you tell me WHY wouldn’t it make you more beautiful? If you don’t like them that’s okay, but beating yourself up and bullying your own self over something like this is not okay!

Your health comes first baby, don’t be the main cause of your misery. I think your stretch marks are beautiful, they wrap around your body like a hug.

Besides, if you don’t like it you can get rid of them.. but I don’t feel the need to, after all they can be a sign of your hard work. And I mean that! I don’t look at those sort of things, but if you pay closer attention to the instagram pics of some body builders I am sure you will be able to find a few with stretch marks. Also some artists! I love looking at concert stages, and I am pretty sure if you do too you will see some people, both women and men, have stretch marks regardless of size.

It’s really not an indicator or shame, it’s the indicator that you have a human body with human needs and reactions. It will never make you ugly no matter how much you want to believe it will. It just won’t, matter of fact a lot of you in this pile are sexy af but don’t even know it because you care too much about what other people think. 😵‍💫

It’s okay tho, I get it. Just don’t be too much in your head.

On that note, if you have a darker skin complexion please try body glitter on your stretch marks. I am specifically seeing yellow and blue. You will look pretty / hot af trust 🙂‍↕️ [ only calling adults hot also 🫡 ]

♡ ⢷ what you can do to be more confident

This will make me sound like a b!tch, and I don’t mean to be.. But a diet could possibly help and make you feel more confident. [Why are you getting mad, I told you it will make me sound like a b!tch!?] Of course, I don’t mean this with any sort of malicious intent.

A lot of people think diets consist of depriving yourself from food. Which is not true at all, diets depend on multiple factors including your health, weight, lifestyle, eating habits and so on. That’s why dieticians exist!

The sort of one I am thinking of is actually just balancing your meals. Now, I am no control freak so I won’t give you a whole schedule or ‘dos and don’ts’.. I just want to tell you that it is okay to eat both healthy and unhealthy food. That way, your immune system will be healthier and you will get more energy to actually do the things you want to enjoy and participate in. Whether that’s working out, going outside on walks or to the mall, drawing, painting, writing… is not my business! You can do whatever you want, I am only here to remind you that you don’t need to starve or deprive yourself in order to be healthy. It’s actually bad for you.

If you want to eat a kinder bueno after your avocado toast, or eat a burger bc you ate a home made meal the other day you should go ahead and do that baby girl / baby boy / baby mhm mhm 🙂‍↕️

Don’t take away good things from yourself just because you feel like you don’t deserve it.

That goes for food and other things you enjoy. If you wanna buy a cute lipgloss, buy the cute lipgloss. Don’t worry about overconsumption. I am being so serious, most people in this pile worrying about it have only a few lip products that are pushing being 5 years old or even older.

Spoil yourself, you deserve it. Even if you don’t in your eyes.. who gaf ? There will always be someone who thinks of you as undeserving of things because of their own misery. So just do what you wanna do, live life for yourself. Maybe it’s your last. Enjoy it!

So what if you don’t know how to use it? lol.. You will learn along the way. No one starts out perfect, and if they do, they are lying! [If you do really struggle tho, @/clownmakeupmua on tiktok did help me a lot!!]

If you wanna buy that artsy stuff.. do it! I promise you aren’t wasting money if most of your stuff can be bought for 5-10$ and then that one thing is like super expensive. You deserve nice things whether you like it or not!!! Your mental health matters and if you need to pamper yourself to feel better that’s okay!!! It’s not a crime to love yourself, neither is it a sin!! 😤 No, seriously, I mean those things.

You are wonderful, the world is already cruel, so you shouldn’t be that to yourself. I know getting out of habits and thinking patterns can be hard, but eventually you will need to have a different perspective of them to heal. It’s okay if it takes long, do it step by step at your own pace. You will eventually get there.

♡ ⢷ five things that are cool about you

one - you remind me so much of the song dancing queen by abba.. or you know, from mama mia if you aren’t familiar with the name. I think you are just like that song. many people think it’s not something they would vibe to.. but then they hear it and can’t stop singing along. with you, people think that you might not enjoy them around since you are introverted, but as soon as they get to know you better they crave your presence, they want you to be around. over and over, they want to spend time with you whenever they can.

two - the body is BODYIIIIING. I do not care what you say, it does, you are beautiful! you look soooo beautiful in red! let that be a shirt or lipstick.. this is especially true for someone reading this pile that’s into vintage fashion! 20s - 40s? whichever decade it is, trust you would KIIIILLL that look. [you know, like, slay..] try it if you wish 👀

three - do you have the sort of relationship with your friends where you are like siblings? the one where you can tease them or mock them, but if anyone else does you will make sure that they will regret it? because that is so cool about you. as I was growing up, I had a very close friend who was like that to me too. they always made me feel safe, and that’s what you remind me of. the feeling of safety. I am sure people around you are very comfortable. and that’s so cool!

four - you have such a good music taste I am hearing, mhm mhm 🙂‍↕️ matter of fact, if you chose this pile pleaseee recommend me songs you like regardless of when you see this. even if it’s months or years after upload!! I feel like your music taste is so fun, it could definitely get people hyped up or in their feels.. the people around you for sure always listen to whatever you recommend! it’s like, they can’t really go wrong with it

five - fashion on poiiiint, like you just ATEEEE.. no I am serious, I do think your accessories are very cool and put the whole picture together. it can be your shoes, nails or jewellery, you always choose well! it suits you and it suits your outfit. this especially goes if you are a guy / man, because it’s hard to dress fashionable by default but you do make it work so well 🙂‍↕️ and the ladies in this pile have such an unique sense of fashion they stand out from any piles 🙂‍↕️ my fashionistas 🙂‍↕️

— ✮⋆˙ : girl groups , lolly by maejor, juicy j & justin bieber , sweet tooth , adele (hell yeaaaaah) , messy hair , box dyes , long nails , ‘my babysitter is a vampire’ , 00s , mango , amigo , the statue of mother Mary crying , fertility issues

that’s all for now my beautiful pile one! your reading made me sooo sad because you are literally such a cute, cool and pretty person and yet you don’t see that.. do you want me to get that talking mirror from snow white so he can tell you himself?! bc imma get it 🤨 jokes aside, idgaf if you are the fairest of them all or not, you for sure are the loveliest! mwa <3 thank you for reading!

paid readings

𝜗𝜚 pile two : – sweater !

𐙚 : nine of wands rev. nine of pentacles rev., ten of pentacles, seven of pentacles

bottom of the deck : five of swords

♡ ⢷ why I think your insecurities are beautiful

You know what, I actually started out your reading sweet and kind, thinking it’s about being behind in life and about financial issues. Even gave you a song recommendation. Then tumblr deleted the entire section… 🫡

So, I spent more time looking at your cards.. meditated, connected to your energy. Eventually, I figured this is my troubled pile.

Simply, you are not proud of the person that you are. Lucky for you, I am the ‘I can change him’ sorta gal 🙂‍↕️

Of course, I am just joking. I am not here to change anything about you, I am here to uplift you.

Before I will do that, I will tell you about a celebrity that I used to like as a kid. I do not care if you don’t know much about celebrities, because that’s not really relevant! I am bringing him up because many people in this pile can relate to his story. If you can’t that’s okay, it’s not a message that was meant for you but for someone else.

Either way, have you ever heard of Kim Jisoo?.. No, not the blackpink one, but the actor! He was accused of doing bad things in his childhood, which he admitted to and apologised for because even if he changed as a person, guilt and anxiety always followed him. Even though he did that because he did think it’s the right thing to do, to be fair and honest, people made more accusations against him. Heavy ones. He was then kicked out of the company, and black listed from being an actor in Korea. You know what’s the thing though? Each and every accusation after his apology was false, the person didn’t even know him. Yet, many people still blame him for things he has not done.

My dearest pile two, I can see you not caring.. at least some of you. However, I did tell you this because you remind me of him in a sense. You know you have made mistakes, some worse, some almost insignificant by now. You own up to it, you have made the apologies necessary, you are the sort of person that doesn’t shy away from accountability because you are pretty mature in your own right. Yet, people like to lie about you right? Twist your words. Ruin your reputation as if it was nothing but fun to them. Then they call you crazy when you get angry, potentially even gaslighting you. It’s annoying.

The sort of regrets people have here are different from one another. Some is just things like yelling at a loved one, while others are much more graphic to the point I do not believe it’s appropriate for me to detail them. Though, not as vile as you might believe.

Enough of that though, I should get the the point.~

Your insecurity seems to come from deep within, from your soul. You worry that you are truly a bad person, not able to change.. That there is something inherently rotten inside you.

I am here to tell you that’s not true. I think you are pretty neat. Yeah, sure, everybody has regrets.. so what? They are regrets for a reason, it’s not truly who you are but mistakes you have made when you were in a vulnerable state of mind. That is not a sin.

Making one bad decision doesn’t mean you are immediately a bad person. Neither is making several. Especially if someone else forces or pushes you to! Come on now sweetheart, think from a higher sense of your being. Truly bad people don’t care they are bad even if they know, they just enjoy the pain and discomfort they have caused for other people.

That’s not you, I can see that you have a such a kind soul. I know what you did, and I do not care, because I still see the good in you.

You are kind to kids, the elderly, strangers on the street.. even if they don’t necessarily deserve it. Seriously, you are the sort of person that gives up seats for other people. (Especially if they are vulnerable, such as someone pregnant, elderly or injured.) The kinda person to stop to pet puppies, to feed stray animals and not care if they come back because it just means you can feed them again. You don’t see an issue with it. The sorta person to hold younger people’s ears when there is a fight so they aren’t scared. You just give and give and give.

You are so unconditionally generous, it’s actually shocking. With your time, money, food, resources, abilities.. is there something you don’t give? [I do not mean this in a mean manner 🫶🏻, it’s a praise. I adore generous people.]

Even when you are hurting, even when you are angry.. you hold it back and think of the happiness of other people. It’s like hurting other people is your greatest fear.

Yet you keep on emotionally hurt yourself, like a bully. Please stop with it, I don’t think you deserve it. Why would you judge someone based on the lowest part of their life? I know you wouldn’t, and since you are a person you deserve the same kind of respect you give to others. From within and from outside.

You are not a doormat, you are not an animal, you are just you. It’s okay to treat yourself gently, I just see a hurt kid when I look at your soul. You remind me of a little lamb. So vulnerable, yet so mistreated.

If you need to, please find yourself a safe space, a support net. It’s okay to rely on other people, I think if you allow yourself to heal the beauty in your heart will be seen in every step you make. You remind me of a pretty flower field as well, so sunny and bright.

I am sorry for the amount of comparisons in this pile, you are seriously so beautiful, chic, elegant, talented and lovely. I don’t want you to think, not even for a second, that you are anything less than deserving of love and peace.

You are so beautiful, constantly trying to make up for your past mistakes.. making sure that people don’t end up hurt like you do. There is so much nurture and worry in your heart.

The past is the past, live in the present.

♡ ⢷ what you can do to be more confident

Defend yourself. It’s okay.

Like genuinely, if you feel like someone is being too much it’s okay to defend yourself. You have a right, and just because someone doesn’t like you it won’t make them entitled to lie about you or hurt you way beyond what any human should take.

Speak your truth, but be disciplined. That way, who truly can say anything about you? Even if they won’t like you, people won’t bother you if you keep true to yourself, if you speak from your heart honestly.

You are not deserving of being bullied or hurt. If someone treats you as a pushover or looks down on you show them that whatever little ill fantasy they have created in their head of you is wrong. You are much more than what you let people on, I truly believe that.

You are really cool, ya know? Of course it’s okay to have doubts, but I think one of your beauties is that you have so much mental strength in you. Just don’t surpass it, as it could make things harder to deal with.

Something that you can really benefit from is to not let your feelings and emotions build up over time, especially if you struggle with anger issues. This could lead to you being so pent up with frustration that you end up letting it out on other people 😞

It’s okay to be angry, but you shouldn’t let it consume you. Feel your emotions for 20 minutes, then just let them go, allow yourself to let them go and not cling into them as that’s unhealthy for you. You can learn and grow, but you have to actively choose that for yourself.

If you experienced past violence, bullying or anything of the sort… also let them go. You don’t have to forgive them, it’s your choice to make not mine.

Do you know that saying that goes sort of like, “ there is always a man watching you, even in your mind/fantasies “? If you live your life continuously remembering the people that hurt you, you cannot heal. So please do yourself a favour, just live for yourself.

If that abusive person kept telling you to dress modest, stop hiding yourself. Dress however you want, if it’s revealing, it’s okay! If it’s modest good, that’s what you are comfortable in. If you are nervous to go to xyz place because it reminds you of them.. that’s fine, you go there now because that’s where you wanna go to, to make new memories. If not, just go wherever your heart desires.. or stay home. Living for you is not a sin, and it will never ever be selfish. Your life is yours, it belongs to you.

From now on, if you have the strength to, have yourself in mind when you do things. [It’s of course fine to be considerate and thoughtful of people, that’s not what I am talking about here.] Allow yourself to live.

♡ ⢷ five things that are cool about you

one - bad b energy mhm mhm 🙂‍↕️ there is a sort of air surrounding you that just screams ‘don’t mess with me’, which I think is soooo admirable. you are definitely not unfriendly at all of course, but it’s obvious that people shouldn’t make enemies with you. not because you are a bad person, but because of your sense of justice.

two - adults only message, sorry kiddos 🫡 this isn’t necessary a sexual thing, but I felt the need to put that addition.. like a gut feeling, ya know? I don’t want to be misunderstood 😤 anyway, your guides are saying that you have a really pretty tummy? like your tummy. your belly.. it’s pretty. I don’t know if you work out but it also doesn’t matter because I am seeing this for all sort of people.. those who work out, those who have a soft tummy, the chubbier ppl, the skinnier people.. men, women.. matter of fact if you happen to be pregnant rn you are extremeeeely beautiful! I think your guides wanted to help out with your body image issues is all <3 so cute, you really are pretty.

three - hair? something about your hair is so beautiful, it makes you look like an angel. very pure and loving as well. I am also seeing an encouragement to go ahead and change it if you wish to do so. you look pretty either way, with whatever hair colour!!! <3

four - you are so persistent!! you work so hard ??? like there is nothing that can bring your spirit down baby. unstoppable force kind of energy!! that is so cool, just make sure to watch out to not overwhelm yourself 🫶🏻

five - YOU LIKE TO GIVE ACTS OF SERVICE 🫵🏻 mhm you are the sort of person to peel fruits for your loved ones, put their phones on the charger, prepare their clothes and do these little things to make their life easier on harder days 🙂‍↕️ that’s so admirable, I look up to you in this case!

— ✮⋆˙ : teacher’s pet , my little pony , ‘a whole new world’ / ‘ can you feel the love tonight ‘ , ‘icey, wifey, haters wanna fight me. ‘ , lotto , number one , trampoline , today’s tickets (?)

my beautiful pile two, please stop looking down on yourself or heaven is gonna have a problem 🙂‍↕️ IT WILL BE MISSING AN ANGEL 🫵🏻 no but seriously, no kidding, I do think many of you here think that I am being fake nice to you in order to get people to interact more or read my pile and what not.. but I don’t care about how many people read my pile, I care about my messages being sincere from the heart and as accurate as possible. besides, I mean the things I said! don’t underestimate how forgiving my heart can be.. like I am fr a hater but I don’t hate you, so what does that tell you? 🧐 anyway, give yourself a rest beautiful, you have been enough harsh already. thank you for reading!

paid readings

✮ pile three : – book !

𐙚 : page of cups rev. , page of swords rev. , five of pentacles , knight of wands

bottom of the deck : nine of cups rev.

♡ ⢷ why I think your insecurities are beautiful

Hii my sweet, sweet pile three! Your energy is the most private, I thought I would let you know before you begin reading ᡣ𐭩

Out of all piles, yours is the one that had me stunned the most. Not because of any sort of bad reason, but this is such a sensitive and hard breaking topic my beautiful pile three..

Your insecurity is related to your dreams, worrying if you are enough. Enough young, enough talented, enough lucky…

It left me speechless because I can feel the pain in your heart, this can affect you on such a deep level. Most likely ever since your childhood. For some of you guys, you were made to work hard at something that you didn’t even care for, possibly still are, just to please your parents or other people around you.

It’s heavy, right? You are worried that if you actually go for something that you want you will worry the people around you.

I see your struggles, you don’t want to be selfish. Though, I don’t see that in your heart, rather I see something so beautiful. Love! Sounds cliché or whatever, but it’s still in your heart.

For the people around you and for the dream that you have for a long, long time. This is different for everyone, some of you dream of being a mom, some of you a ballerina, for most of you it’s related to music in one way or another.. I don’t think you are too old. At all. You never are.. only death can hold you back from achieving your dreams. Who knows, maybe not even he can.

For some of you, who are unable to live them out, this is a confirmation to reality shift / timeline jump.. That’s for only a very few people reading this though, most of you can and will achieve your dreams in this lifetime even if you give it your all.

I do not care if you are over 30, 40, 50 and so on.. I won’t promise that it will be fast, easy or that you will immediately get whatever you want; but the fire in your heart is burning with so much passion that it’s impossible to ignore.

The love that you have towards this ideal life of yours is so beautiful, I truly love it. Your eyes get so bright and full of life when you talk about the things you love and enjoy, yet you don’t even know it.

I would say it’s tragic, but that’s not true, because a sad ending doesn’t suit you. You are meant to be happy, and I hope that you will remember this.

♡ ⢷ what you can do to be more confident

Just do it. ✓

No, but for real, the cards here are incredibly supportive. So if you feel like you are ready for it and it’s the right call do what your heart calls you to do, that childhood dream of yours that you always dreamed of.

[Of course, I mean this as an encouragement for arts and such, not anything that can harm someone… let that be you or others.]

Do that art form, start to learn that subject, work towards that profession… who cares if people will like what you do or not? You do, you have passion and appreciation towards it in your heart. So the rest doesn’t matter, because you have this in your hands. Your destiny is under your control, whether you like that as a fact or not.. You are waaaay more powerful than what you think.

Your message is simple, so unfortunately I cannot write a lot here.. I think your guides are just intending this to be a wake up call, that you can always start anew. Your past is not you, neither is your present.. you can always change it. You don’t have to be stuck.

Just be you.

♡ ⢷ five things that are cool about you

one - you can get things done so easily.. muuuuch easier than other people, through sheer will and that’s all you need to get things done. it’s so admirable, tbh.

two - your art!! even if you aren’t into art or such stuff, it still has many many forms. you possibly like creating things, something that’s special to you. while it’s different for everyone in this pile, I think it’s so insanely cool you can just create something so perfect with so much attention to detail.

three - your posture! this is especially for people who are into dancing and actively practicing, I do think that you improve a lot day by day even if you don’t necessarily notice it. you could be perfecting the moves through hard work and be hella proud of it because you worked so hard. I am proud of you too!

four - your ability to just tune out, and be calm despite the hardships that you face. not a lot of people are able to stay still when they are hurting, or keep completely calm without losing themselves.. you are very mature and grounded. I adore this about you.

five - you have so much unconditional kindness it’s so remarkable and impactful. you probably don’t know this, but you are genuinely such a safe space for people.. your energy is so comforting.

— ✮⋆˙ : 50s diner , elvis & priscilla presley , pepper , paperbackpress , ‘one in a billion’ , sneezy from snow white, ballet shoes , paintings , true crime stories , jack the ripper , green apples , kiwi without it’s skin

my beautiful pile three.. I am so sorry that I couldn’t say more, your energy is a bit closed off and shy due to the things that you are going through and I didn’t wanna be forceful. though, I do hope that you can start healing soon and see the beauty in your passions… It’s important what your loved ones want, but you yourself should be a loved one as well. so don’t ignore your needs sweetheart 🫶🏻 thank you for reading!

paid readings

[meo-eiru]

*cracks knuckles* here I am again. this time with Micah as my victim

so at first,

you definitely should add some more story to him. so far, if I'm being honest, he feels a bit too plain to me. but oh boy, what a potential I see here!

alright lets begin

omg look at him! such a hypocrite! how smart it is, to put all blame on MC while being just as (actually even more) sinful. and he sure hides well; it's your fault, isn't it? oh you and your sinful mind.

buut despite him not really being my cup of tea, I still do like a good old concept of ugly insides, hidden behind a beautiful shell (if that's the vibe you were going for).

Micah seems so pure, so holy, almost like an angel (you played smart by adding a lot of white in his design) – but behind that pristine facade? he's ugly. and that shell eventually starts to crack, because no matter how pure he may seem, Micah is just as human as we are, and definitely not a good one. and what are we, if not a bunch of cruel, egotistical animals? and deep inside he's exactly that, sickeningly human. with that in mind the very first comic you did abt him is actually pretty hilarious to me. your desires? what about his desires, which are strong enough to ruin your whole life?

I kinda feel like he's also a little pathetic in his own way; if he can't make you fall for him, he will break you. isn't it like a very cowardly move? he wants you badly enough to use whatever method it may require to have you, but will never admit it.

but let's talk about that strange desire to destroy MC's purity. why? to make you just as dirty as he is? cute, but doesn't seem like a full explanation to me. he's a priest, right? and even despite those dark insides of his, I feel like Micah still kept at least some of the priest mindset. I mean, they're raised and taught with a very strict discipline. so I feel like deep down, he feels bad (not ashamed, but in a "how dare they" way) for his attraction to you, and punishes you for that attraction. it's not your fault, of course, but who cares? you managed to destroy his perfect, clean facade, which he was methodically building for his whole life with simply your existence. isn't that unfair? so now you must fall into the depths of hell with him.

I like how we can't justify him. Micah is perfectly aware of what he is doing. and of twisted nature of his feelings too, I think, yet still chooses to indulge in his desires, even if it hurts you, the person he was supposed to love and cherish. he makes me feel an absolute, poetic rage, and I love a character I can hate. (don't get me wrong, it meant to be a praise)

and I absolutely adore his design. also if I was on point with the idea you meant for him, that is wonderful too. if a character makes me feel something, I like that character. but girl, you really should add more details about him. because everything I've written here is, basically, just my own brainstorming and bare theories. Micah needs to have more meat on him for a full character analysis >_>

but anyway, I actually have a question.

what if MC wasn't in any way pure? what if they're a complete opposite of that word? count it on my love for hunchback of notre dame

unlike the nun MC, I suggest a MC who fully embraces their sins. like an evil succubus, they enjoy the joys of being tainted. they know what influence they have on their dear Father Micah, and isn't ashamed of that. I feel like that would make a pretty interesting story

(cough cough draw him blushing and moaning and my life is yours darling)

Another absolutely incredible ask I'll have a field day answering.

I do agree with him being a bit under developed at the moment. Micah was a bit unfortunate as in he was never meant to be an actual character. He was just a momentary creation who existed for me to study color theory. A beautiful man of flowers who didn't have an identity.

Then he joined the cast when I was busy with working on commissions and the 5k celebration comic so I didn't have the time to draw his introduction comic with the things I had planned for him, though I've been trying my best to explore him a bit more thru asks like this one. The fact that I don't want to spoil the stuff I'll draw in his comic is also holding me back a little.

I think Micah is evil, but not completely bad. A man who was born twisted, who was raised into goodness, and even with all the love he received never truly got rid of his inner darkness, but just once, just for one moment, I think he had good in his heart. And that is when he first saw you.

With all his twistedness, all his evilness, all his darkness, I think that love he felt for you was truly pure. Because in his eyes you appeared truly beautiful, like a pure lily.

But Micah isn't a pure man, neither does he want to be. So he prefers to pull you down to his level, so that you two can be sinful together. A truly impure way of feeling that pure and innocent love.

I have gotten asks about him with a more rowdy darling, one who isn't a nun or one who is more sinful. I've been really brainstorming about it but I don't think it would work. Not because I personally can't force the story into being like that but because I think it was just not meant to be like that.

You see I do come up with the characters, but I don't control their actions. If the character is unwilling I can't shape the story to my will. Because that story is their life and they control it. The best I can do is to try to fill the gaps I can.

I might prefer submissive yanderes, I might want Micah to have a more sinful darling instead but it wouldn't be Micah's story anymore. That's one of the reasons why he's so different from the rest of the boys. I'm not super into very dominant guys, I could probably count the ones I have with one hand, it wasn't my intention for Micah to be the way he is, but I don't think he could've been any other way.

Micah was just meant to be manipulative, a gaslighter, a dirty man who'll pull anything to push you below him.

I guess me looking at my stories from an actual novel or manga perspective also contributes to this. Father Micah exists to shine with a darling who he can soil.

Now the darling can maybe go against him in the future, she might rebel or give in to his sinful ways, but that's a different story.

[vampireimiko]

pregnant reader x miguel o’hara: gabis first parent teacher conference and they’ve gotta explain why she keeps saying her dads gonna whoop the kids ass whenever they piss her off

parent teacher conference

warnings, none at all !! just like 1 cuss word or something 💀

note, THANK YEW FOR REQUESTING VENUS 🫶🏾🫶🏾, this is the longest oneshot ive ever made😭 anyway i hope you all enjoy !!

It's Parent Teacher Conference night, and Miguel finds himself sitting near the back of the auditorium to keep an eye on the meeting. There seems to be a bit of arguing between teachers and parents about the workload being too much for some students, when he senses a presence next to him and looks up to see that you, his wife, sits to his left, who is visibly pregnant and with her own plate filled with food.

"Oh my god- Miguel! This food is so good, do you want some?" You said, mouth full of a bit of everything on your plate. Miguel chuckled at your antics and shook his head no.

"As entertaining as this is" He says pointing towards the arguments in front of him, "I'm just ready to have our 1 on 1 with Gabriella's teacher."

You agreed with him, as you two had been sitting here for quite some time. But just like clockwork, Gabriella's teacher, Ms. Rose walked up to you and Miguel letting you know she was ready to have your conference.

Ms. Rose greeted you both with a warm smile, her eyes briefly glancing at your visibly pregnant belly before focusing on the matter at hand. "Thank you both for being here tonight! I appreciate your dedication to Gabriella's education."

You exchanged a nod and a smile, grateful for the teacher's acknowledgment. Miguel stepped forward, his voice filled with genuine interest. "We're looking forward to hearing about Gabriella's progress and any areas where we can support her better."

"Of course! Please if you could follow me to my classroom and we can get straight into discussing." With that being said, you and Miguel get up from the seats with him having to help you. It was getting hard for you stand up by yourself and you absolutely could not wait to have this baby out of you. Anyway enough of that, you and Miguel make your way too the classroom following behind Ms. Rose.

She opens the door and encourages you two to sit wherever. As you settled into the seats, she began sharing Gabriella's achievements and areas for improvement, providing a comprehensive overview of her academic journey.

The both of you listened to her intently, focusing on what Gabriella needed a bit more help on. You and Miguel took turns asking questions and clarification's on certain things. You could tell Ms. Rose genuinely cared about her students, taking the time to learn they're strengths and challenges.

"Now despite Gabriella being absolutely wonderful, there is one more thing I'd like to address." Ms Rose said switching her tone to a more serious one. You and Miguel looked at one another then back at her.

"Yes?"

"I've been overhearing Gabriella tell people that Mr. O'Hara here would come up to the school and in her words, 'whoop anybody who pisses me off'."

The both of your eyes widened. Miguel knew he said that, you know he said that, hell even the baby inside of you knew he said it! Not only did be say that, but he meant it aswell. Nobody is messing with his babygirl.

"Miguel!" You slapped his shoulder, putting on a serious front up in front of Ms. Rose, knowing damn well you wanted so badly to burst out laughing.

The room fell into an awkward silence as Ms. Rose observed the exchange between you, Miguel, and your shared reaction. Your attempt to maintain a serious demeanor in front of her was quickly crumbling as your suppressed laughter threatened to burst forth.

Miguel's face turned a shade of red, realizing the weight of his words and the potential consequences they might have had. He cleared his throat, trying to compose himself, his eyes darting between you, Ms. Rose, and the floor.

"I-I apologize Ms. Rose. That was a misguided attempt at humor. I never intended for her to come to school and say something like that." He said rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

Ms. Rose, her expression a mix of amusement and understanding, nodded. "I appreciate your honesty, Miguel. It's essential to address such statements to ensure a safe and inclusive environment for everyone."

You struggled to contain your laughter, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Taking a deep breath, you managed to compose yourself enough to speak without bursting into giggles. "Yes, Ms. Rose, we apologize for any confusion caused. We'll make sure to have a conversation with Gabriella about appropriate language and the importance of respectful interactions."

Ms. Rose's lips curved into a gentle smile. "I understand that children can sometimes pick up on our words and interpret them in unexpected ways. It's important for us as adults to model the behavior we want to see in them."

Fast foward to being done with the conference, you and Miguel were walking too the car. He stopped the both of you and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion as he leans down to your stomach.

"Just to let you know, that same statement in there goes for you too."

𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞; 𝐖𝐎𝐎 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐰 !! 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬, 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐬𝐦 (𝐢𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐟𝐮𝐥) 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 !!

𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

[pyrodolls]

yandere! re2 leon kennedy x reader

✰ warnings: stalking, sub leon, slightly nsfw but not smut, leon is a creepy masochist, kidnapping, no use of y/n or name, gender neutral reader, not proofread bc it's 2 am for me rn

✰ summary: you were never very close to leon, but you harbored some feelings for him. but your entire view on him changes when you get invited to his place and you find out how he truly feels about you...

✰ a/n: remember when i used to be a havik account? good times. also i still *only* take reqs for mk1 characters. ik i wrote genshin and now i'm writing resident evil, but i am not entirely comfortable with taking reqs for them yet soooo here's me just dipping my toes into the waters of those fandoms. still sticking to mk1 tho. for now. also it's been a hot minute since i played re2 so if it's ooc i apologize.

leon thought you looked so pretty in your sleep. you looked completely peaceful and unbothered. your bedsheets covered your entire body except for your ethereal face, which he could stare at all day. the moon provided a dim glow through your window, giving leon a clear view of your entire bedroom while you slept. sure it may be creepy or a bit stalker-ish of leon to watch you sleep, but he couldn't help it! you were just so irresistible. if only you knew how much he loved you, and how he was capable of protecting and providing for you. he has the potential to be the best boyfriend to you. but you didn't even know him that well, and he was fully aware of that fact. so that's why he suddenly got an idea while he watched you sleep that night. it was a brilliant idea. he could invite you to his place and gain your trust! leon didn't want to waste any time, so he would immediately ask you first thing in the morning.

when you woke up that morning, you got a call from leon a few minutes after you got out of bed.

"i know it's a bit early in the morning, i hope you weren't sleeping... if so, i'm really sorry. i mean, i didn't know when to call you because i didn't want to bother you but at the same time i just really wanted to ask you something." leon rambled.

"no worries, leon. you could never bother me. besides, i just got out of bed. this was so perfectly timed, it's almost as if you memorized my sleep schedule." you joked.

"oh, yeah, that's crazy. imagine that," leon chuckled nervously. "um, anyway, i was just thinking... would you like to come over to my place later? i just thought that we know each other a little bit, but i'd like to get to know you more, since i think you're pretty cool and stuff, so, uh, yeah..." he trailed off, waiting for an answer.

upon hearing his proposal, you lit up in excitement. you always thought he was cute and wanted to get to know him, but you were too nervous to make the first move. this was a great opportunity.

leon was nervously fiddling with his fingers as he waited for your response. the longer you took to respond, the more his anxiety grew. he could feel the sweat forming on his skin and his chest tighten. what if you weren't interested in him in that way? was he being too forward? were you too busy?

you took a deep breath before you finally responded, mustering up the courage to say something. "i'll visit in a couple hours. i'll see you then, leon." you responded quickly, hanging up the phone and getting ready to see him.

leon's heart almost jumped out of his chest when you finally responded. he dropped his phone and immediately got to work, cleaning his place and hiding the pictures of you sleeping and your old clothes in a box under his couch.

he worked very hard to tidy everything up, wanting it to be perfect for you. only the best for you.

when he finished cleaning, he sat on the floor in front of his door like a puppy waiting for its owner. he patiently waited for you to knock on the door and come in, even though it would be a couple more hours until you arrived.

after a few hours of leon not moving a single inch, you finally arrived. as soon as your knuckles grazed the door to knock, leon swung it open with superhuman speed.

"thanks for coming! i hope the weather wasn't too harsh on you." leon greeted, stepping aside to let you in. he didn't actually know if the weather was harsh or not, he just said the first thing that came to his mind to start a conversation with you.

"thanks... and uh, the weather isn't bad at all. it's just a bit windy." you responded, awkwardly standing by the door.

leon was trying his hardest to act calm, but his heart was racing and he could feel his palms getting sweatier and sweatier. you were standing right next to him! and you were alone together! he could've just died right then and there. instead of watching you through your window, you're right in front of him! instead of breaking into your house and stealing and sniffing your clothes, he can just smell you right by him! he was in heaven.

for a couple hours, you both spent time together by watching movies and chatting, getting to know each other more and more. leon even ordered dinner for you both, and somehow he got your favorite food, and he claimed it was just intuition. it didn't even feel like hours had passed, since you were both enjoying yourselves.

"so, uh, do you like this movie?" leon awkwardly spoke up, as you both sat on the couch in front of his tv. you simply smiled and nodded, too tired to respond. it was a random film that you weren't familiar with, and you watched it in silence next to him. you were both clearly tired after that long day, but leon didn't want you to leave just yet. so he started awkwardly starting new conversations or asking you questions, hoping to keep your attention on him. he loved the amount of attention you already gave him that day, and he was still giddy that you agreed to visit him in the first place. all he needs to stay happy is for you to look at him. but you were literally sitting on his couch and spending time with him, and it just made him so overwhelmed with joy. it gave him hope that you could work as a couple someday, and you would never know about his unorthodox antics to get to this point.

or at least that's what he thought.

at some point, leon excused himself to the restroom and left you boredly swinging your legs back and forth on the couch. but you felt your leg kick something hard underneath the couch. when you decided to investigate, you found a hidden box. curious as to why it was hidden, you decided to open it and look inside.

big mistake.

you found some old clothes and underwear that you thought you lost, pieces of your hair, various pictures of you sleeping, a few grocery lists and paperwork that you thought you threw away, and even pages ripped out of leon's journal describing his dark fantasies of you. some of it had some mysterious white stains on it. it was disgusting, and it made you sick to look through it. you thought leon was just a cute sweetheart, but it turned out he was a stalker and a creep. you were so shocked, that you didn't know what to do. should you run? call someone? but it was unsafe, because he clearly knew your address and a lot of your personal information. you had no idea what to do, so you stayed frozen in shock.

when leon returned, he saw the horrified look on your face and saw the box in your hands. his heart dropped. you knew his secret.

"shit. oh my god, uh, it's not what you think. i swear, i just, uh, fuck..." leon stammered, dropping down to his knees in shame.

"what the fuck is this? how long have you been stalking me, you fucking creep?" you yelled, standing over his shaking form.

"haah.. i... uh.." leon seemed to be breathing weirdly, and you weren't sure if it was out of anxiety or pleasure.

"and this," you picked up one of the pages from his journal and waved it in front of his face. "what the fuck is this? you are so fucked up... are you in love with me or something? or is it just some weird ass sexual obsession?"

"i.. i do love you! of course i do! this isn't how i wanted you to find out, but i really do love you! please don't take it the wrong way. i don't want to hurt you, i just want to be with you. i want to feel you and- and spend every waking moment of my life with you.. please don't hate me." leon begged, grasping onto your leg pathetically.

"you're sick in the head. and you're nothing but a pathetic stalker." you scoffed. all the trust and affection you had for him went out the window after you opened that box. there was no way he can get your trust back. hell, you were willing to cut contact with him and move to another country at that point.

"fuck... okay, maybe i am.. but, uh... shit." leon struggled to get his words out, as he felt aroused by your degradation. he never thought it would feel so good to have you yell at him. he could barely even speak, it just felt euphoric for you to scold him for his actions. you expected him to panic, but he seemed to have mixed feelings about the situation. he was still horrified that you discovered his dirty secret, but he had stars in his eyes the more you screamed at him.

"oh my god... you're a masochistic freak, huh? you like it when i yell at you? god, you're so fucked up." you spat, grabbing his collar and lifting him up to your level.

leon whimpered at the sudden contact, not responding to your degredation and simply squirming at your touch.

you sighed. "are you going to explain yourself? or are you just going to keep babbling nonsense?"

after getting no response, you dropped him and started to grab your things and leave.

"i.. i love you so much!" leon blurted out. "please don't leave! i promise, i can make it up to you! i'll do whatever you want! i can uh... i can provide for you! you won't have to lift a single finger for the rest of your life! and uh... i can cook and clean! sort of. i'll learn how to take care of you. i'll show you that i can be a good boyfriend if you let me! please, just love me! i did all these things for you and i promise i will stop if you want me to! please, don't leave."

leon stood in front of the door and desperately held you in place, not wanting to let you leave.

if you chose to stay, leon would be overjoyed. he would keep his promise and make it up to you, spending the rest of his life protecting you from harm and doing anything to keep you happy. your well-being is his number one priority, he'd make himself look like a fool if it meant getting a smile out of you. just let him love you. you don't need to give him anything in return!

if you chose to leave, leon would be a sobbing, sulking mess for about an hour or two before he decided on what to do. he still had all of your information. he knew pretty much everything about you. he would probably do something to force you into being with him, such as faking your death and kidnapping you. you have nobody else now. you have to be with leon now. he is the only one that still loves you and will keep you happy. even if you're mad at him now, he has hope that someday you will warm up to him and be willing to have a relationship with him. he'll wait patiently for that day to come.

[bachiras-toaster]

teaching ranpo a lesson : ̗̀➛

RANPO EDOGAWA x f!reader

contents. nsfw dubcon, dom! reader, submissive!ranpo, tit sucking, bratty!ranpo, dry humping, panty fucking, ranpo tastes his own cum, pet names (reader calls ranpo “good boy” and “sweetheart”), reader jerks ranpo off, he eats reader out, praise

wc. 6.2k

a/n. okay but i wish tumblr didn’t remove my italics whenever i paste my fanfictions from another tab?? when is tumblr gonna start showing me the word count so i don’t have to write on other apps? so, just imagine the italics are there.

"Come in!" Ranpo called out when he heard a knocking on his door, and a pleasant surprise came his way when he discovered that it was you peeping your head through the entrance. "Oh, what a nice surprise!"

You shot him a cold glare before making your way into his room, slamming a pile of documents onto his messy table. You disliked Ranpo, so you didn't want to attempt making conversation, but he seemed eager to chat. Ranpo couldn't help but notice the chill in the air, but he brushed it off- as he always did, his eyes glinting with curiosity as he leaned over the table, examining the documents you'd brought.

"This is it?"

"Yep. All twenty cases that Kunikida has assigned to you." You muttered, crossing your arms as you watched him lean against his desk. "You have half an hour to solve them all before we get to close the cases."

"Half an hour, you say?" Ranpo chuckled softly, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Very well then, let's see what we've got here." He began flipping through the papers, his mind already racing with potential theories and connections.

Watching as he eagerly dove into his responsibility, you turned to leave him to his work. However, before you could even face the door, he grabbed you by the wrist, a little dissapointed that you thought to go so soon.

"You're leaving already?" He frowned, pulling you back. "I was hoping you'd get to see my genius mind at work as I solve all of these mysteries."

"I don't have time to watch you solve these cases, Edogawa. And you know I'd much rather do anything else than stay anyway." You rolled your eyes, scoffing as you snatched your hand away. He scrunched his nose a little, irritated how you'd insist on calling him Edogawa instead of Ranpo.

"Still calling me Edogawa, huh? After we've known each other for so long." He pouted slightly, but his eyes twinkled with amusement. "Well, maybe I should try something else to catch your attention."

"Try all you want. I'm leaving." You let out a displeased snort.

"Alright, let me give this a shot." He interrupted your path towards the door, still holding your gaze. "I'll admit, you're one tough nut to crack... What exactly is it that you don't like about spending time with me?"

You arched a brow. "The master detective asking me a question?" You shrivelled your nose. "Now, I can't tell if that's rhetorical."

"It's not." He grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "So, tell me, what's the matter with me?"

"God, you really are a piece of fucking work." You finally turned back to face him fully, pinching thr bridge of your nose as you prepared yourself for the rant of a lifetime- since he had been so kind as to ask you himself.

"Okay, first of all: You're a narcissist. You think the entire world revolves around you and that your ability is the best. You're lazy and irritating, you leach off of other people, and you refuse to do any work that doesn't interest you. And not only that, but you get kind people like Atsushi and Kenji to go out and run errands for you because you know they're too nice to say no."

His eyes widened at first, but his lips curved in amusement before he shrugged.

"Well, I'll admit to a little bit of narcissism. And maybe a touch of laziness. But I like to say that these kinds of things are what make me me!" He boasted, completely unaffected by your remarks.

Your eye twitched at his unfazement. "It's clear that nobody's ever taught you a lesson up until now, Edogawa. I would've thought that the boss would shape you up to be a decent person, but you're still the same, old egotist."

"Well, I'm sorry if I don't fit into your idea of a 'decent person.' But maybe there's something about me that you haven't quite figured out yet." He leaned closer, his voice lowering. "I don't need to be taught any lessons."

You saw how he attempted to take control of the situation, but you just lifted yourself up and walked over to him, backing him up slightly as you let out through gritted teeth:

"If it were up to me, I wouldn't let you walk around all high and mighty like the boss does" You had leaned so close to him that you were backing him into his bed.

"Oh really?" He challenged, his eyes glinting with mischief. "And what exactly would you do to make me stop, hmm? Torture me? The boss would have you kicked out in no time."

"You see, unlike you, I'm reliant on my strength outside of my ability." You pressed your palm against his chest and pushed him down onto his bed so you stood above him, your eyes glaring down at him. "And even if I wasn't, I wouldn't have the lip to talk back to people stronger than me."

"You're not stronger than me. You might have some physical strength, but your mind is weak. It's obvious that you've never encountered anyone like me before."

"Oh, I've encountered hundreds of narcissists like you in the past. The only issue with you is that I work with you." You flicked the button of his hoodie so it would fall off, leaving him in his button-up, tie, and vest. You pulled on his tie and leaned down so that his face was forced inches from yours. "What's a strong mind if you can't comprehend simple shit like shutting the fuck up?"

"I'm the one who decides what to shut up about." Ranpo grinned, his face inches from yours. His voice betrayed an unexpected level of arousal beneath his bravado. "And I'll never shut up, if that goes against what you want from me."

You loosened your grip around the end of his tie so your finger could hook around the top of it instead, pulling the tie off him.

"You're a brat, you know that?" You lifted your knee up to the side of his bed so that you started to straddle him- An action that caught Ranpo completely off guard because of how completely out-of-character it seemed for you to do, considering your rocky history with the cocky detective. His face flushed red as he glanced up at you, his pupils dilated and his jaw hung open just a little.

"What are you doing—?"

"It's obvious that no one's taught you how to behave before, and since everyone at the agency seems reluctant to, I guess I could fill that role." You glared down at him from the seat on his lap. "You're going to listen to me, and I'm going to turn you into a humble, hardworking, and kind detective."

"You're lying if you think that's possible," Ranpo snorted with a grin, his face flushed with excitement beneath your aggressive stare. Despite his protests, he couldn't help but be intrigued by the fact that you were actually willing to do something like this to the person you hated most.

"It is possible, Edogawa." You hummed. "And I know I can't hurt you physically, so I can torture you in some other ways." Your hands moved down to unzip the fly of his pants.

"Other ways?" Ranpo groaned, his face flushed red as he felt you unzip his pants and touch him through his underwear. "You... you're not actually planning to—?"

"Sh." You ordered. "If you want to ask me any questions, you need to say my name first. And be polite." You fished his erection out of his pants, which only grew harder by the second.

Ranpo's eyes widened, his heart racing in anticipation and fear, but he kept a fidgety smirk on his lips as he attempted to keep his composure.

"Oh, I have no questions. Just enjoying the show."

"Still quite the brat." You commented as you began to stroke the length of his cock, slowly sending shivers through his nervous system.

"Hah... well, aren't you just confident?" Ranpo teased, his breath hitching as he arched into your touch, his cock twitching eagerly. "If you wanted me this badly, you could've just asked. My door is always open."

Suddenly, your movements slowed down immensely, and your thumb swept over the tip of his cock, which caused a jolt. You glared at him with a deadpan stare, but kept stroking at a rate that was starting to get irritatingly slow. Ranpo couldn't help but growl in frustration as you teased him mercilessly, his hands clenching into fists beneath you, his breath hitching uncontrollably.

"Damn, stop it..."

"Stop what?" You asked innocently, swiping the collection of precum that emerged from his slit down to the base of his shaft, making it easier for you to stroke.

"God—" Ranpo's voice cracked as you swiped the precum, his body jerking slightly from the unexpected sensation. "You're not making this easy..."

"I wasn't planning to." You said coldly, leaning down to gather saliva in your mouth before spitting down at his cock to lubricate it more for your hands.

"Fuck..." Ranpo hissed out, his hips jerking upwards involuntarily into your hand, seeking more contact even as he tried to maintain his dominance. "Come on, let's stop playing games now. Stop teasing me..."

"Not with that attitude." You huffed, starting to speed up more at a steadier pace now.

"You... you have no idea what you're doing to me..."

"Oh, I feel like I know exactly what I'm doing... Does it feel good, Edogawa?" You asked in a babyish tone, like some sort of mockery. To that, his face contorted, a mix of humiliation and intense arousal. "Aww, what? Does little Edogawa like being the dominant one?"

"No— I mean... damn it, stop teasing me, already..." Ranpo groaned, his body trembling with the effort to maintain his composure as you teased him relentlessly.

"You're gonna have to ask a lot nicer than that if you want something. Have you no manners?" You went to grab him by the base of his chin by your left hand as your right hand slowly moved up and down his length again.

Ranpo gritted his teeth, his breath coming in quick, ragged moments through his nostrils.

"Stop teasing me... Please." He added, as if he were a a bratty toddler being asked to do something he really didn't want to do.

"That was a good start." You nodded approvingly. "Unfortunately, you can't undo bad manners with one good deed. I'm going to train politeness into your brain by fucking you until you can't take it."

"Don't be stupid. You can't train politeness" He spat back, a mix of fear and excitement coursing through him as you spoke; his hips arched up slightly, offering himself to you once more.

"Me? Stupid? But I can. Look at how you're arching for me right now." Your left hand began to travel down from his neck down to his shirt and vest so you could undo the buttons.

"Stop the attempts now... you're not getting me to submit like this." His heart raced as your hand continued to undo his clothes, revealing more skin.

"What do you mean? It's working." You hummed as you carelessly tossed his vest to the side, leaving him just in his unbuttoned shirt, which revealed his chest that panted uncontrollably.

"I'm not gonna give in so eas—ily." He gulped between his word as the pleasure hit him suddenly. His cock twitched in your hand, leaking pre-cum in anticipation.

"You will. And once we're done, I'm going to be the only member of the detective agency you'll listen to completely. You'll bend over backwards for me and you'll have the upmost respect for me." You stated as a matter of factly. "As for everyone else: You're going to treat them all with the respect and kindness they deserve and you're going to pick up your weight at the Detective Agency."

He seemed amused at your assertiveness, but his heart pounded relentlessly. "No one can control me like that. You're being dumb." He wanted desperately to pull away and give himself a moment to reassert his dominance to take control, but his body betrayed him, responding to your touch and words.

"You will." You pushed him back so his back laid completely on his bed, with you still sat comfortable on his lap. "And we'll start with tabletop manners. If you want something, you say 'please'. When you get it, you say 'thank you'."

"How do you expect me to apply that here?" Ranpo murmured, feeling both humiliated and aroused by your dominance, his body trembled slightly as fet your weight on his thighs.

"Easy. Like this:" You retracted your hand again, leaving him without touch for a moment. Once you had pulled your hand away, he felt a shaky breath leave his lips- Which was much less embarrassing than the whine he had suppressed. "You want me to continue?" You questioned coyly.

The man's jaw just ticked, and he looked back at you with the most unimpressed stare of the century. "Obviously..."

"Ah, ah, ah." You immediately tutted, shaking your head. "That's not what I just taught you. Try again."

You could see Ranpo'a eye twitch at your command, which made it all the more amusing for you when he finally let out a large sigh.

"Yes..." He whispered, hating himself for it but unable to resist. "...Please."

"Loud and clear. I didn't quite get that."

He felt like he was close to giving in, his cock throbbing in anticipation of your touch.

"Yes, I would like you to continue please." He said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Good boy." You teased with a delicate smirk, but one that could barely be seen through your glare.

Upon hearing such a sentence, Ranpo's eyes immediately widened at your praise, and his cock throbbed even more before you even touched it again. He squirmed a bit, his body aching for you to touch him. He knew he was being pathetic, but he couldn't help it. He was hopelessly obsessed with you. His face blushed brightly when you had praised him like that, and it was like such a reward was enough for him.

"I'm no genius like you, but I can understand you love being praised." You hummed sweetly with a stone-cold expression as your hand met his cock again to stroke. "I'm no monster, so I'll praise you when you do something good. That's our deal."

Ranpo gasped softly, his eyes rolling back into his head as your touch sent shivers down his spine. He couldn't believe how much he craved this from you, even though he knew it was wrong. His mind was a mess of desire and submission.

"When you do something wrong, you apologise and say that it won't happen again." You continued reciting the rules.

Ranpo nodded slowly, his eyes still rolling back into his head. "I...I understand." He said, knowing that he was giving in to you entirely. His heart ached as he realized how much he wanted to be owned by you, his hands needing grasped onto your thighs as he yearned to touch you. However, when you felt him on your thighs, you paused again, making him whimper at the lack of sensation.

"I don't remember recall saying that you could touch me. And I also don't remember you asking."

His face turned red.

"S-sorry...I just...I can't help it...I needed to—" He sounded desperate and filthy, his need for you was becoming more and more obvious as time went on. He cleared his throat. "...I'm sorry. It won't happen again." His hands retreated.

"What did I say you should do when you want something?" You queried. Ranpo swallowed hard, his heart racing

"A-Ask...I'm supposed to ask." He trembled, his mind a jumbled mess of desire and submission. He wanted you to take control again, but he also knew that he shouldn't give in to these urges.

"Good. So ask nicely." You offered. You realised how easy it was to get him to listen when your hands were around his cock.

"P-please...can I touch you?" He asked, his voice trembling.

"Touch me where?" Your brown arched.

"Your thighs... Please." He was practically begging now, his submissive side completely exposed.

"Of course. I can even take my tights off if that would make it nicer for you. Do you want that?" Your unoccupied hand went to stroke his chin, his eyes filled with need and desire.

"Y-yes, please...I want you to take your tights off."

You leaned your palms against the bed and hovered over him for a moment so you could pull your tights off your legs. He bit his lower lip nervously, his heart racing in anticipation as he made eye contact with you above him. Having your chest so close to his causes Ranpo's eyes to widen, but he knew that this was all for a greater cause, so he didn't dare to move. Once your tights were discarded of to leave your thighs bare, you sat back on his lap.

"There. Now what do you say?"

Ranpo looked up at you, his eyes glued to your thighs, which were now bare and exposed. His breathing was ragged, and his heart was racing. He could feel himself getting harder, aching for you.

"...Thank you..."

"Well done." You felt Ranpo began to knead at the softness of your skin at the same time you stroked him.

He moaned softly into the touch, his hands moving up and down your thighs, feeling the warmth and softness of your skin beneath his fingertips.

"M-more... I need more." He panted, his voice filled with desire and submission.

"Need more what?"

"More... of this." He said between gasps, his hands moving higher up on your thighs, brushing against the sensitive skin just below your waistline. "I want to touch more of you... Please."

"Like what, Edogawa?" You seemed bored with his lack of clarification.

Ranpo swallowed hard, his heart pounding in anticipation. His gaze flickered down to your hand, still stroking him gently.

"Your... chest." He croaked, his voice barely audible above the sound of his heavy breathing.

"My chest?" Your eyebrows raised a little, amused by his plea. "But do you deserve it?"

"I..." He cleared his throat, his body shivering slightly from the anticipation and excitement. His eyes filled with determination and submission.

"Do you think you deserve my chest?" You asked him directly now, watching as he trembled.

"Yes, I do. Please... I need you. I crave it. Please—" He begged.

"You don't need it. You want it." You corrected him.

"I... Yes, I want it. Please, give me what I want." He groaned, his body arching towards you, seeking out the connection he desired so desperately.

Your lips teased into a smile. "How about this: We do a little exercise to show appreciation to all of your coworkers. If you can say one nice thing about all of them, I'll let you hold my tits."

"A-alright..." He gulped, knowing that this would be difficult for him, as he wasn't the most expressive person when it came to compliments. But the challenge seemed fair- for the reward, anyway. "Umm... I guess Junichiro has a cool ability..."

"Ah- Stop there." You shook your head. "You need to sound more confident about your compliments. None of that 'I guess' shit."

"Y-yes, sorry." He swallowed thickly, trying to find the right words. "...Junichiro's ability is really unique and serves as a perfect defence for our team..." He let out a long, shaky sigh as he could still feel your hands wrapped around his dick. "A-And Dazai's intellect is incredible... It's almost matches mine." The final comment made your movements stop, which caused him to wince.

"No snarky comments either."

"S-sorry... I couldn't help it. I just want to hold you—"

"Not until you give all of your coworkers compliments. Say them. Now." You demanded.

"—'M sorry...! Uh..." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to think of something nice to say about each person. You listened as he continued to spew out more words of kindness, growing more whiny and helpless as he went on.

"...And Kunikida is great at handling the more technical aspects of investigations. He helps keep the whole team on track and ensures we don't miss anything. I really appreciate his contributions..." He could feel himself growing increasingly desperate as he spoke.

"Well done! Now was that so hard?" Your lips pulled into a kind smile as your palm ran down his cheek, which was flushed with a glowing pink colour.

His cheeks felt hot as he let out a shaky breath, feeling oddly relieved. "T-th-thank you... I-It's wasn't so hard..." he stammered, his heart racing as he anticipated what would happen next.

"Now. I'll hold my end of the bargain. Sit up." You pulled him over so you could read the other end of the bed. You rested your back against his pillows, allowing him to settle himself between your legs. "If you want to get a taste of my tits, you'll need to take off my shirt yourself."

His face was flushed and his hands were shaking, but he leaned over and gently pulled the hem of your shirt up over your chest, exposing your breasts to him. With a simple flick, he had unclasped your bra and discarded it carefully to the side as to not cast it too far away. His breathing was quick and shallow as he stared down at your bare chest, his hands trembling as he tentatively reached out towards your right tit, hesitating. He paused, not sure if he should go further. 

"M-May I touch?"

"You may."

With a mix of excitement and nervousness, he gently cupped your breast, his fingers trembling against your warm skin as his thumb swept over your nipple, his fingers exploring every inch of your soft skin. His eyes were locked onto the fat of your chest, and your eyes darkened at how eager he stared at your chest- the wat he fondles your breasts while licking his lips.

"M-May I taste now, please?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

"You may."

With a small moan of delight, Ranpo finally gave in to his desires and lowered his head towards your chest. His warm breath fanned across your sensitive nipple as he took it between his lips, sucking softly at first before beginning to tease it with his tongue. The way he dragged his tongue across you made it seem like he was trying to make out with your breast- He was so desperate to have it in his mouth. The delicate touch of his tongue sent butterflies through your stomach, and the small moaning noises emanating from his throat only served to heighten the intense sexual tension in the air.

As he leaned in closer, you could feel how his cock pressed between your thighs and up against your clothed cunt. As he sucked on your tit, he was pushing his tip up aright against you- Almost involuntarily, like he didn't even realise. Feeling the warmth and wetness that spread across his tongue, Ranpo couldn't help but become more assertive. His hands roamed up your body, seeking out your breasts, pinching and rolling the nipples in time with his mouth's movements. His cock pressed against you even more as he leaned forward.

But you held your hand against Ranpo's chest to push him away, and he whimpered as he lost connection with your nipple.

"Are you getting too excited, Ranpo?" You questioned, gesturing down to his leaking cock. "It seems like you're pressing up against me way too much."

His eyes flickered up to meet yours, filled with a mix of desire and defiance. He swallowed hard, his cock twitching against your thigh as he pulled back slightly, but not entirely.

"I... I can't help it.” He said softly, in an almost apologetic tone.

"It's like you're using getting to taste me as an excuse to get yourself off down there too." You let out a deep breath. "I told you, if you want something, you need to ask."

Ranpo felt a blush spread across his cheeks and neck as you called him out, his heart racing as he stared down at his erection. His cock throbbed again, as if eager to fill the void between them.

"I... I want to be inside you, please…”

"Well, after that, I don't think you deserve it." You huffed, to which Ranpo's eyes widened in shock and disappointment; there was still an undeniable spark of determination within them.

"Please! Please, don't do this..."

"How about another exercise then?" You suggested, causing his eyes to light up at the opportunity.

"Yes, another exercise...!" Ranpo breathed out in relief, his mind already racing with potential scenarios. He could feel himself growing even harder against his will. "What would you like me to do?"

"I want you to tell me how smart Dazai is... Without complimenting yourself in the process." You offered, watching how his eye twitched.

He bit his lip, thinking for a moment. There was no way he could take the opportunity to praise someone he knew he was smarter than, but he had to find a way to prove his independence.

"Dazai is... extremely intelligent.”

"Is that it?" You scoffed

"I don't know what the stakes are! I don’t know what I'm getting in return..." He grumbled.

"Good boys don’t ask for something in return. But, if you can compliment Dazai. I'll let you dry hump me and fuck my panties. That's all you get." You offered, but that still seemed enough to satiate his neediness. He seemed to hesitate at first, frustrated at his inability to resist praising Dazai but determined to find a way out.

"He is incredibly intelligent and... cunning." He added, knowing that even with his compliment, it would still be clear who was smarter.

"You can be nicer than that." You told him with another shrivel of your nose.

Feeling the heat between you two intensify, Ranpo let out a small groan of desire. He took a deep breath and tried to ignore the intense throbbing he felt between his own legs. Contrary to popular belief, it probably would kill him to compliment someone else- but the reward was too sweet for him to care.

"Dazai is... Incredibly intelligent- An underrated source of intellect for the team. He may not show it often, but his strategic thinking is one that has saved our asses on numerous occasions.” He said it all with a grumble, not even looking you in the eye- But you were satisfied, nevertheless.

"Well said." You smirked. "Okay. Now you can take off everything you need, except for my panties."

With a mix of excitement and nervousness, Ranpo began to undress you, pulling your skirt off. He crawled further towards you, his eyes fixated on your panties as he reached out to touch them, his tongue wetting his lips as he realised his great achievement..

He steadily pressed his tip against your panties, the precum already leaving a wet patch on the cloth. He couldn't stand that the fact that he couldn't feel your pussy instead, but the panties would have to do. So, with a soft moan, Ranpo began to grind against your underwear, his cock begging for more as he felt your wetness against him, all while his other hand slid up your leg to trace soft circles around your inner thigh. He let out a low moan of pleasure as his hips moved back and forth against your panties with more force, feeling the head of his cock rub against your fabric, on the edge of what he desperately craved.

"F-Fuck..!" He almost instinctively whimpered out. Even you couldn't help but let out soft whines as Ranpo's tip just about bumped your clit through your panties- An action which only caused Ranpo more motivation. Feeling the warmth emanating from your body, Ranpo's determination only intensified. His hand gripped your thigh tighter, digging into your soft skin as he continued his relentless assault on your pant-clad sex.

"Does that feel good, huh?" You asked, panting heavily.

Heaving as he continued to pleasure himself through your panties, Ranpo nodded whilst gnawing on his bottom lip, his eyes narrowed down at the space below between you in concentration.

"I... I can't take it anymore... let me..." He pleaded, pushing against your panties with his cock. "Please-"

"Please what?" You glared at him, narrowing your eyes at his desperately blushing face, which had beads of sweat dripping down his cheeks.

He groaned in frustration, his cock poking at your panties as he panted heavily.

"Please let me have you... I need... I need... Ngh~!" Ranpo stammered swiftly. "Oh, god- Please! I'll do anything—"'

You seemed amused by his begging, all while he was still thrusting his cock against your panties.

"You ‘need me'? What do you mean by that?"

"I... I need you, okay? —Fuck! I want you!" He confessed- backtracking when he heard his own mistake, hips moving faster and harder as he pleaded for release. "I just... can't handle this anymore..."

"You want to cum, is that it?" She chuckled, brushing her finger against his chin.

"Yes, yes, please... I can't hold it much longer..." He whimpered as he continued to grind against your panties, his hips pistoning up and down in desperate need.

“God, please, let me cum… I don’t even care what I have to do this time…”

"My, my, aren't you desperate." You cackled at him, teeth sinking into your lip as you attempted to suppress your own moans at the tension. He hadn’t been bumping at your clit so much anymore, rather sloppily thrusted against your clothed hole instead, but the warmth in the action was enough to cause you to sweat.

"You cum when I say it's okay for you to cum."

Ranpo cried out, his eyes closed as he moved faster, tears threatening to fall from his lids as his hips slammed against your panties, need coiling inside him.

"Fuck, it's too much... I can't—"

"If I let you cum, will you be a good boy tomorrow at the agency?" You asked him simply, seeing how messed up and blushy his face became. "You're gonna be nice to your coworkers and you're not going to be lazy?"

Ranpo panted heavily, his eyes glossed over in lust as he nodded hurriedly.

“Yes, yes of course... just... just let me cum... please..." He pleaded.

"What did I say about speaking more clearly?" You demanded. He inhaled sharply with another thick swallow, gyrating his hips as he pleaded for you.

“I'll be a good boy tomorrow! No more laziness, I'll be so good! Please— I’ll be on my best behaviour, just for you— Fuck!”

You smirked.

"…Okay, you can cum then." You hummed, seeing how his tired eyes lit up with the permission.

With a loud, shuddering whine, Ranpo finally reaches his peak, his fingers digging into your thighs as he found release. With a shaky arch of his own back, his seed spurted between your legs, painting your panties with his essence.

"God, you're so messy." You sighed.

"I'm sorry... I can't help it... you're just too..." He gulped, his eyes roll back, revealing his submission even in his post-orgasmic state.

"Well, since I was so nice and let you cum." You grabbed a fistful of his hair and forced his head down a little so he was forced to look up into your eyes. "It's your turn to make me cum."

Ranpo couldn’t help but blush at your touch when your hand grabbed a bunch of is hairs, his body still trembling from the aftershocks of his orgasm- but finding a new source of pleasure all the same. He whimpered softly, unable to meet your gaze as he was so fixated on your panties and how his own seed coated the fabric.

"C-Can I..?"

"I expect you to." You said darkly. "Eat up. And get a taste of your own mess before you do.”

He was reluctant, but did as you commander him to, tentatively reaching out to lick at your panties, his face flushed with embarrassment and submission. As he tastes his own seed, his face contorted a little at the taste, but his body tingled with pleasure, an unavoidable moan escaping him.

As his tongue dragged across the cloth of your underwear, he latched his teeth onto the edge of your panties, pulling them down slowly. When he had torn them down completely, it revealed your swollen, wet folds to his greedy gaze. The man looked up at you guiltily, his face burning red as his cock twitches in anticipation, leaking more pre-cum as he sees your panties still clinging to your thighs.

"Don't be shy now." You said, assisting him to fully remove your panties as you kicked them off to the side to reveal your glistening cunt. "I thought you wanted to taste me."

He nodded silently, leaning forward to taste you properly. He took a large strip between your legs using his tongue, tasting your sweet nectar as he starts to lap at your folds, his mouth exploring every inch of your wetness.

"That's it..." You shuddered as you felt his tongue inside you, finally feeling your own sense of pleasure. Ranpo’s heart raced with excitement when he sensed your enjoyment and he continued his assault on your sensitive flesh, pushing his face deeper into your folds, seeking to please you even more.

"F-Fuck... God, you use your tongue so well." You chuckle softly through your gentle moans. "See what happens when you use that mouth for better things rather than pissing people off?"

He hummed in agreement, his tongue continuing to wedge itself between your folds. With a groan, he licked harder, drawing your walls upwards, seeking to reach your throbbing center.

"You're gonna eat me out until I cum, aren't you sweetheart?" You grin, hands finding his way to his hair to run your fingers through the strands before stopping to grab a handful of it again.

"Mhm..." He moaned, his fingers twitching with desire. His tongue darted out, swirling around your clit, making you shudder as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. You had treated him so well that night, and he fully intended to return the favour.

—

The next day at the agency, Ranpo kept his side of the promise. For the first time— Possibly ever, Ranpo wasn't glued to his office desk anymore shoving treats down his mouth, instead, he was walking around and offering his assistance to anybody who looked like they needed it. It amused you to see him frantically searching for work to do while you were working on your own thing at your desk, pretending not to see his efforts, but you were glad that your intimate act with him didn’t go to waste.

"Would you look at that! I've never seen Ranpo so diligent!" Dazai commented to Kunikida, who was as equally surprised by the sight of the rare happening.

During the mesmerising scene, Kenji had happened to pass by Ranpo, which made him feel like he had been granted a glorious opportunity by the gods above. His eyes lighting up, the taller, brunette stopped Kenji in his tracks- Whom of which had been two boxes of files, tapping him on his shoulder with an awkward smile.

"Hey, Kenji, do you need help carrying that?" Ranpo queried with a hopeful gaze, to which Kenji stared blankly, blinking a few times.

"...It's a little heavy." He said softly with gentle beamed smile, trying not to offend him.

"Don't worry about it!" Ranpo reassured him, holding out his arms. "Where do you need me to take it?"

Upon seeing his eagerness, Kenji's eyes sparkled exponentially and he went to drop the boxes in his grasp.

"To the boss's office!"

Ranpo immediately felt like the weight was going to crush his arms when the heavy boxes had been dropped onto them. He struggled for a moment to hold them up, but eventually found his method to keep himself standing without feeling like his arms were going to break. After the wave of accomplishment had washed over him, he frantically looked over to you to see if you had been watching him with a hopeful smile— Which you had, of course, but your head was tilted down as to not let him know that you had.

"Maybe he's finally learnt that he has responsibilities at this agency." Kunikida suggested, staring as Ranpo uncomfortably waddled out of the office, the boxes threatening to break his fingers.

"I wonder what could've made him suddenly realise that though, considering he had never lifted a finger to help before." Dazai's eyes narrowed.

[serverusslaype]

Shameless

potential Snape x professor!reader fic?

Shameless Masterpost

so, this was just a thing i typed up late last night because late night snape cravings hit and i honestly just wanted to write something. it's not perfect, of course, but where else to post it but on this beloved, yet cursed site?! <3

i have a few parts typed up so if people enjoy it, i'll post the other ones. just a heads up, i'm not entirely following the book/movie, sort of just making it up as i go.. so please, do not come for me, it's just a self-indulgent fic at this point. :,) considering i have not really proofread this properly, forgive me for any mistakes lmao

also, i've made the reader a hufflepuff because i am one, and so it's easier for me to write .. also cos i feel like i suck at writing as other houses lmfao

anyway.. here we gooooo..

"You look lost in thought, my dear," Professor McGonagall turned to you, tilting her head in a concerned fashion. You wet your lips and turned to face your older colleague and blinked - a pathetic attempt at trying to ground yourself. She'd caught you daydreaming again. "Everything alright?" She questioned quietly, a kind smile picking at the corners of her lips.

You tore your gaze away from the subject of your attention and looked to the Gryffindor Head of House, who was seated to your right. 

"Oh," Clearing your throat awkwardly, you nodded at her. She didn't look too convinced. "Just a long day, I suppose." You lied and glanced down at your hands that were clasped together in your lap; fingers fidgeting nervously like you'd just been caught doing something you shouldn't.

McGonagall didn't look satisfied nor happy with your answer, but she didn't want to press you - that wasn't her business. The older witch was respectful in that way, and for that you were grateful. You offered her a small smile in return to reassure her.

The older woman raised her brows in a disbelieving manner, her twinkling eyes studying your blank face as if trying to decipher what on Earth was bothering you. It felt like you were back in school at Hogwarts all over again, in trouble for breaking the rules or something similar. But you weren't, you were a fellow professor at Hogwarts now, in fact, you were the new teacher for Herbology. Professor Sprout had retired last year and Dumbledore had offered you her position, his memory still serving him well as he remembered you'd always had a thirst and passion for the fauna and flora side of magic. Before that, you were teaching Astronomy.

Currently, you were sat in the Great Hall with the other professors, waiting for Dumbledore to do his usual announcement at the beginning of a new year.

"I don't like it when you lie to me, Y/N." McGonagall gave you a sad look, placing a comforting hand on your fidgeting ones. She stilled your anxious movements and you sighed deeply. Out of all the professors at Hogwarts, you got along the best with the older witch, she had always looked out for you back in school and now. You'd probably say that Sprout was your next closest colleague considering you shared an intense interest for Herbology, so you were sad to see her go.

You didn't say anything in response to Professor McGonagall, you only sucked in your bottom lip and chewed on it for a brief moment before Dumbledore's familiar voice rang out through the Great Hall.

"Good evening, and welcome to another year at Hogwarts," He began, stepping up to the golden owl lecturn, his arms flailing about dramatically. "Now, I'd like to say a few words before we all become too befuddled by our excellent feast. First, I'm pleased to announce that Professor Y/N L/N will be taking over the mantle of Herbology, as Professor Sprout chose to retire at the end of last year. I am very confident that she will be a great successor to our previous Herbology professor." Dumbledore announced, turning to give you a warm smile. You stood up and smiled and waved sheepishly as the students and other fellow professors gave you a round of applause, all of them giving you kind and encouraging smiles.

As your eyes flicked round the table of your fellow professors, you got caught in the gaze of none other than Professor Severus Snape. You sucked in a quiet breath, feeling your body go rigid under his cold gaze. After that, you quickly seated yourself, focusing your attention back onto Dumbledore. Over the past year, you'd unfortunately grown a slight affection for the broody man. You weren't sure why, considering how short and cruel he'd always been with you, but maybe that's what did it. A masochist at heart, perhaps? Surely, that was unlikely for a Hufflepuff like you.

McGonagall noticed the tension, and she immediately leaned towards you, glancing at Snape. "Don't worry yourself about Severus." She hummed to you, offering an encouraging smile. Your fingers rushed up to massage your temples.

"I'll try not to, but I'm probably going to come into contact with him more often now, no? Since he will probably come looking for potion ingredients from my classroom?" You groaned, braving another glance at the raven-haired Potions Master. You felt your cheeks betray you, a light shade of pink tinting them as he met your eyes once more. You quickly looked away. If you were going to keep this under wraps, you were going to need to train yourself not to blush at such small things.

"Well, yes," McGonagall said hesitantly. "But I'm sure he will look to come knocking when you aren't there. He's not the most... socially adept man." She pursed her lips momentarily and you met her gaze, scoffing quietly. She let loose an amused chuckle at your reaction. "You know that, of course." McGonagall added, leaning back into her seat. You hummed in agreement.

"Next on the agenda, I would also like to welcome Gilderoy Lockhart as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." Dumbledore's booming voice tore you from your thoughts, and the name he mentioned caught your attention. Gilderoy Lockhart? Wasn't he a famous author?

You looked up curiously, trying to spot him in the crowd of teachers. There he was, standing proudly with a million-dollar grin plastered on his too-perfect-looking face. God, what an ass, you thought to yourself. He wasn't bad looking, but he just seemed to think everyone was there for him. Obviously.

"He's not going to last until the end of the year, surely." You commented, trying to hide the amused grin that was desperate to make an appearance on your face. Suddenly, Lockhart looked over to you, as if he sensed you were talking about him. You quickly wiped off the grin on your face and politely smiled at him, praying he didn't see your previous expression. It didn't seem like he did, as he just winked at you instead, making you cringe inwardly.

You had to refrain yourself from letting your head hit the table out of embarrassment. Gods, how many people just saw that awkward encounter? Surely the whole bloody school considering the man was still stood up. You slowly sink into your chair, wishing it would swallow you up.

The next day soon came, and you were up early in the morning, ensuring that the greenhouse-classroom was set up perfectly for your first class of second-years. You'd thought it would be fun to start off the year with an interesting and easy, practical lesson. So you chose to teach your students about the Devil's Snare - a dangerous plant that can kill if you did get tangled in it unless you kept calm and relaxed within it's deadly grasp. You were aware that Professor Sprout had gone over this last year with them, but you wanted to remind them of the dangers that this plant possesses. You potted some of the plant into small containers and spread them out over the long table, placing a small warning sign in front of it to ward off some of the more.. courageous students. Particularly Slytherin ones - you weren't discriminating against them, however in your experience they were usually the troublemakers.

"Professor L/N," A familiar, deep voice came from behind you, almost making you jump out of your skin from how deep in thought you were. Spinning around on your heel, the skirt of your dress twirled with you.

"Professor Snape, to what do I owe the pleasure?" You smiled politely at the dark-haired wizard, clasping your hands in front of you to show some sort of composure and confidence. Despite this, you could still feel your cheeks heating up as Snape prowled towards you slowly, his face still cool as stone.

"An unusual job change from being the Astronomy teacher to the Herbology teacher." He commented, glancing over your new classroom with a frown. The Potions Master stopped just short of a metre in front of you. Snape's cloak engulfed him, and you were reminded of the times you and your friends had nicknamed him the Bat of the Dungeons back in school. He truly did embody the look of a bat perfectly, making you wonder if he had based his robes off of one.

"If you remember correctly, I had a passion for both subjects." You replied nonchalantly, though slightly curious to see why he had paid you a visit. Snape hummed disapprovingly at your reply. Clearly, the man didn't approve of any student that excelled in any other subject than Potions.

"What can I help you with, Snape?" You turned back to adjusting the pots of Devil's Snare on the long table, retrieving your wand from your robes and casting a charm to create a dark rain cloud to sit atop of the plants to ensure they were comfortable. Snape watched you, clearly intrigued.

"I need some asphodel roots, if you will." Snape stated, making you turn to look at him with a cocked brow. He continued to stare down at you with a disdainful expression on his pale face, making you want to curl into a ball. "A student of mine neglected the task of retrieving some." He added with that look of disappointment still on his face. Snape's tone was harsh, and you could tell he was pissed off, this task was below him. Obviously.

You let an amused huff slip out of your nose, a smile picking at the corner of your lips as you just imagined the bollocking he gave that student for forgetting something so important, especially in his class. He instantly cast an angry glare at you, and you wiped the smile off of your face almost immediately. The man might not be your professor anymore, but he still scares the shit out of you for sure and you weren't willing to take your chances today.

"Ah," You nodded softly, avoiding his stony eyes. You cleared your throat and padded over to your row of plants, looking underneath the wooden fixture for the jar of asphodel roots you kept. "Brewing Draught of Living Death?" You questioned awkwardly, trying to break the uncomfortable silence that enveloped you and Snape. A curt sigh left his lips at your pathetic attempt at making small talk.

"I'm astonished you know what I require it for, Professor L/N, considering you were rather... academically inept in your potion classes." Professor Snape said coldly, making your jaw clench. It was no secret, you were shit at potions, and Snape always made sure you were aware of it when you were in school. Again, why were you crushing on this cruel man? The word 'masochist' came to mind again. Nonetheless, why were you even helping him? He clearly has no respect for you.

As you continued digging through your storage unit, you finally spotted the jar of asphodel root behind some empty, dusty jars. You retrieved it quickly, suddenly wanting Snape to leave as quickly as possible. After his cruel comment you weren't exactly inclined to keep his company.

As Snape held out his hand demandingly to take the jar from your grasp, you whipped it away with a fierce frown on your face. You may be a shy, little Hufflepuff, but you did not like it when people spoke rudely to you.

"You know, it helps a lot when you have a teacher you like." You said to Snape, holding his cold gaze. It's true, you're more likely to enjoy and perform better in a subject if you like the teacher that is teaching it.

"I did not come here to squabble with you, Miss L/N." Snape rolled his eyes, reaching again for the jar in your hands but you held it closer to your body. You clenched your jaw as he disregarded your title. He wasn't stupid, he was clearly doing it to get under your skin, and it was working.

"It would suit you better to respect the people that are willing to help you, Snape." You bit back at him with narrowed eyes. You passed the jar to him hesitantly, balling your fists in a small fit of rage as he took it from you. "And it's Professor L/N. I'm not your student anymore."

Snape arched a disapproving brow at you, turning around to sweep out of your classroom, his black cloak billowing out behind him like a bat. Gods, he was infuriating! You wondered how the hell the other professors have dealt with him all these years. The bastard didn't even thank you either!

He'd left you in a sour mood, and now you had only ten minutes until your class of second-years arrived. What a git.

part 2!

there it is,, i hope you enjoyed this late night idea, let me know if you did with a like or a comment, whichever you prefer. then again, you don't need to do either! 🩷 :)

[theitgirlnetwork]

What Are You Willing To Do?

Ch. 2: Date 1 Pt. 1

Note: Thank you so much for the love you all have been showing this story so far! Thank you for reading, and for the kinds messages I have received thus far! I love interacting and seeing your thoughts and comments so keep 'em coming. I want to take this time to remind you that these characters will be flawed. Rafe is....Rafe, but we love him anyway. And Milan is...someone who is compatible with Rafe. They won't always be the depiction of a healthy relationship, but this is fiction and fun. This chapter isn't too bad, but those who have read the snippet know how it's gonna get. Once again, I have songs for this ship so if anyone is interested in them let me know, and feel free to share some with me if you catch a vibe. Finally, let me know if you have any questions or comments. Other than that, I hope you enjoy. This one is a lot shorter than chapter 1, but it is a 2 parter, so don't hate me. Love ya! <3333

“Wait.”

Rafe pauses, loosening his grip on Milan’s hair and pulling back slightly, irritated that she’d stopped him just as their lips brushed and she breathed the smoke he’d just poured into her mouth between them. “What? What’s up?”

“I don’t,” She sighs, her cool breath on his face, eyes still shut as if she’s forcing herself to pause this moment between them. “I don’t just hook up with guys, you know? Maybe we could…I dunno.”

Oh. Oh. Rafe understands. He’d…he’d forgotten himself for a moment. This isn’t some touron stumbling onto the couch next to him, throwing herself at him. She wasn’t one of those gold digging bitches that tries to fuck  him with faulty condoms in the bottom of her purse. She’s the kind of girl who has her own shit. She doesn’t need him for a come up. Or at least she doesn’t think she does. 

He arrogantly thinks to himself that Milan hasn’t met a man like Rafe Cameron. He’s spent most of his life preparing, becoming the type of man that can run his family, keep them safe and comfortable. The type of son fathers are proud to have and the type of man women want to give a baby. That’s the man who he’s made himself be. 

Rafe had been so focused, only allotting himself time for a little bit of fun once in a while, he’d forgotten that one day he might stumble across a girl that had the potential to be a woman. His woman. 

He nods slowly, a small smile forming on his face as he pulls back more, releasing her head completely and smoothing his hand back onto her knee. “Nah, I get it. We should get to know each other a little better. How ‘bout you spend the day with me tomorrow?”

Milan perches herself up at that, back straightening even more as her face lights up. “Really? You wanna spend the day with me?”

Rafe rests his head back on the top of the couch, sweeping his thumb on her bottom lip before biting his own and nodding. “Yeah, I wanna show you a good time. Get you a little more comfortable with me so I can kiss those pretty lips of yours.”

Both sets.

“Okay, wait, I’m excited. You’re gonna be my first friend here.”

“Friend?” Rafe scoffs. “‘M’not gonna be your friend, Princess.”

“Well,” Milan shrugs, “Like, I don’t know what I could call you, you’re not my man-”

“Yet. Not your man yet.” He and the woman next to him share twin smiles and Rafe only becomes more invigorated by Milan’s eyeroll and shy grin. “Roll your eyes if you want to, I’m a determined guy.” 

“Determined?”

“Yeah, like I know what I like, I work for what I want, so-”

“So what?” Milan giggles, “You…you want me? I should get ready or something?”

“Yeah.” Rafe says flippantly, as if he wasn’t essentially making a threat of courtship to a girl he’d just met like 12 hours before. He wasn’t quite sure what he’d fully wanted from her yet. But the need to have her was nagging at him. Maybe it was lust. She was hot, forbidden fruit for him. He could hear the curses Ward would spit at him now if he fucked around and ruined things with this girl, made an enemy of her dad. Maybe it was how sweet she seems. He’s always liked shiny, new things. When he was a kid, he had to have stuff before his friends did. Toys. Shoes. Stocks. Maybe he’s graduated to feeling that way about women. 

Something about how he doesn’t want to look away. Something about the way she was smiling at him, how he’s talked to her the most, how in a room full of guys drooling over her, those big pretty eyes were locked on him. Rafe felt like he had to look into this weird feeling she’s been stirring in his chest since he’d seen her. 

It’s what’s best for Milan anyway. None of the rest of these limp dick motherfuckers should have her. They’re not real men. Not like Rafe.

Milan hums as she removes the golden under eye patches from under her eyes, massaging in the serum they leave atop of her skin. Grimacing at a gust of damp wind from outside she pads against the marble floor of her bathroom and pushes the double doors leading to the patio attached closed. “Stupid, island humidity.” She pouts as she combs through her bob again, praying for no puffiness today.

The sky fights to brighten in the early morning. It’s 5:00 a.m. and Rafe Cameron was going to be picking her up in 30 minutes. 

After the party last night Sarah had run over to her on the front lawn, hugging her tightly before declaring she was going home with John B. and offering for Milan to come with them. When she declines with a smile, the blonde fixes her brother with a glare, to which he’d returned with a middle finger, and stumbled off in her man’s arms. 

Rafe drove Milan back to her house and parked them out front, eyes carefully rotating between staring at Milan sitting pretty in his passenger seat, and watching for a sign of her father at the door. He let her toy with his fingers as she fluttered her lashes at him and he described what he does throughout the day, Or, rather, what they’d be doing today.

When he’d mentioned picking her up after the gym Milan had jumped at the opportunity to go with him. She loved going to the gym every morning before she’d moved and she was happy to keep it going. And it wouldn’t hurt to see Rafe work out. 

It was all she could think about. It’s not just his height. Even though he’s so…so tall. At least 6’2. Rafe is big. Muscle. Strength. Yesterday he’d basically hoisted her full weight into his truck with one arm. The preppy boy polo that he’d thrown on for their families hadn’t hidden anything and his tight crew neck that he wore to the party basically outlined everything for her. 

She quite literally wanted him to throw her around like a ragdoll. Or let her climb him like a tree. Whatever, Rafe is hot. 

He has an intense vibe, seemingly takes himself very seriously. But, Milan figures she could relax him. Loosen him up a little bit. 

They were gonna have so much fun. Smiling at her own reflection in the mirror, Milan spritzes vanilla Sol de Janeiro and all but fucking skips down the steps and to the kitchen.

“Good morning, Miss Milan, you’re awake early. I just started prepping for breakfast, but I could make you a coffee while you wait.” The private chef that her parents had hired a couple years ago had made the move with them. They’d paid for her to come with them to Outer Banks and offered to increase her salary because…well…it wasn’t their nice home in Quebec that she was used to. 

“No, thank you, Miss Ally.” Milan reaches over, stealing a newly washed strawberry and biting into it. “And my parents aren’t awake, right?”

“Of course not. You know your mother won’t roll out of bed until she smells the food cooking and your dad won’t come until I’ve had to warm it up twice. Why? Are you alright, honey?”

The younger woman nods, tossing the green stem into the trash and reaching for two travel cups. “Can you keep a secret? I have, like, a date today.” 

“Like a date?”

“Yeah, with a guy. He’s really cute, and sweet. So,” Milan begins sifting matcha, smiling down at the cup and resting her cheek on her shoulder. “‘M’gonna hang out with him today.”

“Less than 48 hours and there’s a boy, huh? Atta girl.” Miss Ally passes Milan the vanilla protein powder. “You’ve been worried about the move, thinking it was a bad idea, and here you are making friends.”

“Mhm, hot ones. With blue eyes and dimples.”

“And where,” Ally nudges Milan out of the way as she pours the hot water into the travel mug, “am I supposed to tell your parents you are when you’re out with Mr. Blue Eyes and Dimples?” 

“Touring the island.” She chirps. 

“With who?”

“Just like…generally. They should be cool with it honestly, I just know they’re gonna make it weird, but like, he’s the son of Dad’s first friend here so he shouldn’t be mad. How come he gets a boyfriend and I don’t?”

“Oh, just say that to your parents, I’m sure they’ll go for it then.” Ally snorts, whisking the eggs as Milan seals the travel mugs, laughing to herself as the girl slides both of the pink cups to the end of the counter next to her gym bag.

When Rafe pulls up outside of the Cabot house, he texts Milan before hopping out of his truck and jogging up the cobblestone. He agreed not to ring the doorbell because her parents were awake but he’d be damned if he didn’t pick her up at the door. 

As he stands on at the doorstep he adjusts the hat he has rested on his head and rocks on his feet impatiently. He isn’t waiting long. The door swings open and he’s immediately hit with the sweet smell of vanilla and soon after is met with the walking wet dream carrying the scent. 

“Good morning!” Milan grins, tossing her arms around his neck, bouncing up into his arms. Rafe isn’t fucking stupid, he’s quick to catch her around the waist and squeeze, relishing in the feeling of her pressed against him. 

“Morning, princess.” he murmurs into her hair, squeezing her again for good measure before placing her back on her feet.  “You, uh, you always go to the gym in shit like that?”

“Shit like what? Stop.” she laughs as he snaps the elastic of her leggings. 

“You just look good. That’s all I’m sayin’.” He chews the gum in his mouth and nudges her chin with his knuckle, mumbling, “Watch your mouth.”

“Yeah? Thank you.” she grins, looking away from him briefly. “I made…I made you something, like a gym drink or whatever.

“That’s cute sweetheart, what do you like me or somethin’?” Rafe snorts, choosing to ignore the fact that the travel mug she was pushing into his hands was bubble gum pink. He holds his hand out to her, not even looking back as he starts guiding her over to his truck. When he hears a little shuffle from her he looks back and glances down at her feet. “What the fuck, your shoes aren’t tied.”

“Okay, one of them untied when I was making you this delicious protein shake and I didn’t wanna make you wait-” 

“Christ.” Rafe grunts, unlocking his car and wrenching the door open, planting his hands on Milan’s waist and hoisting her into the seat easily. He tugs her foot onto his lap and begins tying the lace of her sneaker tightly. “Gonna break your fuckin’ neck.”

“I wasn’t gonna fall, Rafe-”

“You literally were letting me drag you down those steps.” When he’s done Rafe lifts her leg into the car, closing the door and walking around the driver’s side and climbing in. After he clicks his seatbelt on, he pauses and frowns when he sees Milan’s pout staring forward at the road. He puffs out a breath. “What? What’s wrong?”

“You haven’t said ‘thank you’. For your drink.” 

“Wh-are you serious?”

“Yes. You seriously haven’t said ‘thank you.’” 

“Uh…” Rafe’s brows furrow as he observes the girl. Arms crossed, dramatic frown on her pretty, glossed lips, knees pointed away from him. “Th-thank you.”

“You’re welcome!” she immediately warms up, clicking her own seatbelt on and taking a sip of her drink, moving back to the middle of her seat. As Rafe tries to sort through what quick, guerilla warfare he’d just experienced, he starts driving the car. 

So that’s her game. She’s cute and pretty and pouts like a fuckin’ brat when she doesn’t feel like she’s getting what she wants. Or someone is saying something she doesn’t wanna hear. All she’s showing me is that I’m exactly what she needs.

“M’just sayin’ like your shirt’s a little slutty. Like it’s tight, I can see your nipples and everything.”

“Don’t say shit like that, what the fuck?” 

“It’s like tight and stuff, like it’s a little bit of a hoochie shirt.” 

“Hoo-hoochie shirt. Fuckin’ brat.” Rafe shakes his head. In the time it’s taken to drive to the gym and for Rafe to put his card down to get Milan a temporary membership, she’d clearly been trying to test him. She was pushing boundaries to see what he would and wouldn’t accept. And he would try to be patient. But the jokes weren’t gonna be as funny when he was using her mouth for what he really wanted to use it for. Not now. He had to wait. To humor her. She was cute. He’d give her that. Maybe he needed to be cute back. “Don’t work out in the damn shirt anyway,” 

Milan’s eyes widen as she stares up at Rafe from where she’s stretching on the floor. She bites her lip and shifts her gaze to herself in the mirror as he easily tugs the tight shirt off of his chiseled muscles, tossing it into his gym bag next to her. 

Jesus. She bites her lip, berating herself inwardly as she glances at the tanned skin he was now baring for the world to see, six pack on display as he starts doing some standing stretches. “Here, sweetheart.” Rafe crouches next to her, pushing one of his airpods into her ear. “You, uh, didn’t have headphones, so you can just listen to my shit.”

“Can we make a spotify jam?”

“What?”

“So, I can add songs too, can we make a jam? And we’d be listening to the same thing, at the same time, you know?”

“I mean, yeah, sure why the fuck not? You’re not gonna add any corny shit are you? M’trustin’ you with my workout. Like that’s pretty fuckin’ special.”

“Oh my God, Rafe, I’m…I’m sure we have basically the same taste in music.”

Rafe and Milan are at war for essentially their whole warm up. They agree to separate for cardio and then meet back up for them both to try some of each other’s usual workouts. With the shared music blasting in their ears, they both still felt like they were hanging out for the 40 minutes that they are apart. Rafe spent half of his run on the treadmill listening to Beyoncé and Sabrina Carpenter’s discographies while Milan genuinely flinched on the stairmaster with Travis Scott and 50 Cent pounding against her ear drums. Both of them looking at each other with sick satisfaction when it was their turn to pick a song, making a game out of picking something they thought would irritate the other more. 

Rafe had finally had enough and started skipping Milan’s picks when the High School Musical Soundtrack started playing, eventually coming to pluck her off of her machine to start doing weights as Troy began singing about wanting his own dream. 

By now they’d both finished their protein shakes and felt like they had a lot of energy. Well, at least they both did. Until Rafe started making Milan do his workouts.

She was both turned on and enraged as he demonstrates different forms of weightlifting, chuckling at her deeply as she struggles to do another set. “Mmkay, okay, that’s enough, I’m done with that.”

“Nah, you didn’t even finish that one, c’mon let’s go.”

“Rafe, no” she whines getting off of the bench. Milan immediately gasps as Rafe fists the fabric at the front of her leggings, lifting her off of her feet and physically placing her back onto the equipment. 

Slapping her thigh, he offers her a no-nonsense look that lets her know that she isn’t getting up until she completes this workout to his satisfaction. “Baby, let’s go, stop fuckin’ around.”

Shit. Yes sir. “I want…breakfast food after this. Like, waffles, and butter and stuff.”

“'Let me come to the gym with you, Rafe. I wanna where my cute little outfit and not workout.'”

“Asshole.”

“Watch your mouth.”

“Wait…until we start doing my pilates workout. All those muscles will mean…nothing.”

“Yeah, you like ‘em?” He smirks, grabbing the weight to ease it down against her before helping her off. “That your excuse? Can’t focus?”

“Stop…being mean, worst date ever.” She whines, leaning her head against his chest. 

Rafe pats Milan’s ass twice before nudging her into the direction of the next machine. "Best fuckin' date of your life, brat."

“Are you gonna keep staring at my butt or are you gonna try again?” Milan calls over to Rafe. 

“My body is not built for that girly shit. You keep goin’ though.” He says. Milan rolls her eyes and continues on the machine, pausing when she sees the reflection of a camera flash in the mirror. “Damn, flash was on.”

“Rafe!”

“You look good, baby. I thought you’d like me to be all sentimental and shit, capture our first date.”

“Oh my God. You’re like, not even working out at this point.”

He shrugs, tilting his head to get a better view of her. “You’re the one who got an attitude when that girl asked me to spot her and made us change floors.

“She saw you with me.” Milan hisses through her teeth, pausing her movements. “She was trying to be funny.” 

“Think so?” Rafe scoffs, squirting water into his mouth from the bottle he’d kept in his bag. 

“Yeah, but if you liked the attention you could go back down.”

Rafe wets his bottom lip at that. Being at the gym with Milan has been fun. Turns out, he likes talking to her, which is more than what he could say for the majority of the population. She’s sexy, and doesn’t mind him being handsy. She seemed to all but expect him to pat her ass in encouragement after she finishes anything. She likes for him to teach her, guide her movements, place her on and off of machines. She likes to whine and have him sort her out. And she’s possessive. Jealous. Normally the concept of having someone police him sounds emasculating and unacceptable to Rafe. But watching her pretty little face turn into a scowl as she watched girls check him out or come up to him like they always did in the gym? It turned him on bad. 

She matched his crazy. It didn’t matter that it was their first date, the same way Rafe’s lip curled in disgust as he caught the fuckheads wandering the gym eyeing her before he stepped in their line of vision, Milan would physically place herself in front of his view, guiding his eyes to her and away from any girl delusional enough to think they were as bad as her.

But her mouth when she’s frustrated. That was something Rafe was gonna have to work on. Lucky for the both of them, a stern warning seemed to be enough for now. Rafe stalks over to where she’s sitting, stepping on the machine behind her and wrapping his hand loosely around her neck, pushing the back of her head to rest on the front of his stomach. Milan looks up at him through her lashes, as he pushes his thumb into her cheek, encouraging her to open her mouth and squirting a little water in from his water bottle. He fixes her with a disapproving look. “Chill out. I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yeah.”

“I followed you up here, right?”

“Yeah.” she says softly, leaning into his hand.

“Alright then. Let’s not worry about the wrong things.”

After 3 hours at the gym the two of them hit the showers, separately despite both of their hesitation to separate again. They walk out of the building in different clothes and Rafe’s arm strewn over Milan’s shoulder, holding her hand where it came up to meet his own. He has to hide his smirk when he catches her making eye contact with the girl who’d asked Rafe to spot her as they walked out, a bright smile on her face. 

He was starting to like this pretty little thing more and more. Rafe lifts her back into the car, this time buckling her seatbelt for her before getting into the driver’s side. He finds that Milan can talk…a lot. She has jumped from topic to topic in the 15 minute drive more than Rafe thinks he can in 2 hours. He’s surprised to find he doesn’t find her annoying. Rafe finds his cheeks dimpling as he listens to her yap about her favorite tv shows, a movie she wants him to watch, her plans for her next nails set and thinking about getting highlights in her hair.

All the while she rubs his bicep, leaning into him as he holds her thigh in his large hand. He offers her small mumbles of acknowledgement to let her know he’s still listening. ‘Hm.’ ‘Yeah?’ ‘Sound’s good, baby.’ 

“You’re not listening to me.” she sighs, looking out the window as they pull into the restaurant. “M’talkin’ too much.”

“Nah, I like that shit. I’d let you know if I’d had enough.” Rafe places his hand on the back of her headrest as he backs into the spot. “But, uh, my head’s always movin’ right? I’m thinkin’ while I listen.”

Milan watches as he shifts gears and places his truck in the middle of two spots, declaring under his breath he doesn’t want anyone ‘fuckin’ up his truck’ to justify taking up two spots. “So…okay. What’re you, like, thinking about? While you’re listening to me.”

“Uh, honestly?” He asks. Intense blue eyes rest on soft brown ones. Milan just nods, turning more toward him. “How fuckin’ hot you are. Pretty fuckin’ distracting.”

“Oh.” She says.

“Yeah. Oh. Does that throw you off or something, like, oh is a weird response-”

“No, I was just saying oh, like-”

“Okay, because, I’m being pretty fuckin’ clear and you’re-”

Milan unclips her seatbelt quickly. Before Rafe can blink her soft lips are pressed against his and before he can kiss her back she’s back in her seat, pulling down the mirror and fumbling in her purse for her lipgloss. “I wasn’t supposed to kiss you until our first date was over. I can’t believe I did that. Oh my God.” Rafe chuckles lowly as she fumbles in her purse, dropping it and spilling its contents all over her lap and the floor of the car. “Oh my God.”

“Did you, uh,” He pauses, trying not to openly bark out a laugh at her, scratching his head. “Did you only bring lip gloss and perfume? Like, no wallet. At all.”

“Okay…” Milan starts slowly, “I understand that looks bad, and like, people believe in that 50-50 stuff now, and so I shouldn’t-”

“Baby, the fuck do I look like? I wouldn’t be taking you out if I couldn’t afford to, I’m not a fuckin’ pogue.”

“A what?”

“Don’t worry about it. And don’t worry about that fuckin’ peck, that wasn’t a real kiss.” It shocks her how easy it is for Rafe to scoot his chair back and pull her into his lap. “This is the shit you should worry about.”

Rafe Cameron pulls Milan Cabot into the nastiest kiss that either of them had ever fantasized about, let alone experienced. He holds her jaw, working his own open as he pushes his tongue into her mouth, swallowing her whimpers and humming against her. He separates their mouths briefly to kiss down her neck only to drag back up to her lips, chuckling darkly when she sucks his bottom lip into her mouth, gripping her thigh with his free hand as he drools into her open mouth. 

When he pulls away for the final time he rests his head back on the headrest, pushing his thumb into her mouth and releasing a breath as he watches her obediently suck on it. 

By the time they step out of the car to head into the nice breakfast restaurant he’d brought her to, Rafe had willed his…friend to go down, and they had undone the damage he’d done to Milan’s makeup and hair. As he guided her in by the waist, tugging down the hem of her pretty little dress to cover the ass he’d just been gripping he felt a feeling of superiority. The woman next to him was relying on him and him alone to lead her around. All the loser fuckers they passed on the way to their table could stare all they wanted. They could take a mental picture and store it away in their sick little spank banks for later until they came to the realization they’d never get a girl like Milan and finally blew their fucking brains out. But she was here with Rafe. And that’s how he expected it to be from here on out.

He’d decided. She was gonna be his.

[starcrossedxwriter]

Built for Love Part 13 (MBJ x Famous Black OC)

A/N: you know the saying "it's gotta get worse before it gets better??" Well, that's true lol But enjoy the ride!

***

“You keep actin’ like it’s not a big deal! Like we can just wake up and get over it.” 

“I never said that!” Charlotte called over him, attempting to drown out his blatantly false words. as she angrily folded her arms. She flopped back into the soft cushions of Dr. Matthews’ couch, angrily folding her arms. “But I’m sick of him acting like I’m the problem for focusing on OUR future? Shaun is the past. We’re supposed to be planning a wedding? You proposed to me! Why is it wrong for me to focus on that and not the past??” 

“Well, I don’t know if that’s what Michael mea-” 

Michael did not even allow their therapist to finish her thought before he jumped back in, his anger rising.   

“I didn’t travel back in time and stumble into a bathroom to find him hurting you, Charlotte! It’s what? Almost the end of April so this happened six weeks ago?? He is very much our present and potentially part of the future. How can I just pretend that ain’t the case? He will be a threat to you until he’s in prison. And I’m not interested in being caught off guard again when he shows up for round two. And you know I’m right!” 

“I don’t know that actually!” 

“Sure. Lie to your family, Dr. Matthews, and yourself all you want but I see you, Charlotte. You haven’t moved on either. You’re just trying to ignore it so you don’t have to deal with it. So you don’t have to talk to me about it. Better to pretend this is somehow a normal everyday experience rather than just admit that it’s fucked up. You can say you’re fine all you want but I ain’t gotta pretend I believe it when I don’t.” 

“Oh right cause you’re the resident expert on being stalked and almost murdered? Remind me when that happened to you too??” she snapped sarcastically. “Exactly! So why do you think your opinion of my progress somehow matters more than the only person in this room with actual experience surviving this and him. You’ve got no idea what it’s like. I’ve been here. I’ve survived this and worse. So maybe I am actually fine because I know exactly what this feels like. You can’t hold it against me that I’m not a broken thing that needs you to swoop in and fix her!” 

“I don’t need to know what that’s like because I know you! And I’m not trying to fix you. Cause I don’t think acknowledging your pain means you’re broken. I do know that the last time you swore to me you were fine, he showed up at your rehearsal and then he bruised your ribs. And I knew, I fuckin’ knew, something was up before I left and I went anyway because you swore you were fine. Call me controlling o-or overprotective or annoying or whatever but at least you’ll be alive to be mad at me. Cause I sure as hell am not gonna make the same mistake ever again. You want me to chill out? Then start bein’ honest with me when shit isn’t fine and maybe I’ll start believing you when you say it is.”

“You act as if I just lie all the time?? In our entire relationship, I’ve kept one secret from you, made one more mistake! If you can’t forgive me for it, why are we even here??” 

“Maybe I could if it was just one mistake. I love you with my entire soul, fuck you’re my everything. But for whatever reason, your go-to is to keep shit like this from me. He showed up at your rehearsal and you said nothing. Had nightmares that were so bad, you got sick and you told me everything was just fine. He hit you and threatened you and you still lied to me when I asked you what was going on. Same thing with your arm the night of the premiere. Do you wanna tell Dr. Matthews how you got that brace on your wrist and how you tried to hide it from me or should I?” 

“This again!” Charlotte threw her free hand in the air as the one wrapped in a black brace stayed in her lap. “It’s a sprain and it was an accident. I didn’t tell you because of this - I knew you’d overreact and we’d be back where we were in March! And I was right. One accident and you acted like I was gonna fall apart. I wanted to celebrate, have fun and you overreacted and just wanted me to be sad all night. So much so that you couldn’t even see what I needed!” 

“Overreact?? Wow. How am I supposed to react to finding out I hurt you??” 

“YOU didn’t hurt me! I got hurt, there’s a difference. And the only person who was bothered was you. You know how many times I’ve been hurt? Concussions, bruised and broken ribs, carpet burns, regular burns, broken bones, cuts, hell, I bruised a kidney once. I’m a fuckin’ walking Grey’s Anatomy episode. I don’t need to send you a press statement everytime I’m hurt.”  

“You know that’s not what I want! But you could at least tell me so I can help. Otherwise, what use am I to you?” 

“Whoa whoa whoa!” Dr. Matthews interrupted the pair. “Enough. Both of you!” 

The couple had dissolved into a loud and biting vocal hurricane within five minutes of stepping into her Lower Manhattan office. Neither of them came ready for productive conversation but to unleash their frustrations onto a third party in hopes that she would convince the other that their side was the right one. 

“You just spent 10 minutes arguing and I doubt either of you even heard a single thing the other person said. Getting louder doesn’t ensure your point is heard, it just makes you loud. So let’s take a deep breath so we can actually have a conversation.” 

Charlotte took a few deep breaths before glancing at her fiance, guilt immediately surging as he jiggled his knee, a clear sign that he was upset. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her hand rubbing her forehead. “We d-don’t speak to each other like that. I’m just…” She glanced away from him as her voice trailed off. She did not know what she was but she knew nothing was as ok as she wanted it to be. As she wanted them to be. “Frustrated.” 

“I know…” he acknowledged, letting out his own deep breath to release some of his anger. “I’m sorry too.” 

“Ok good. I wondered when we’d finally get here. It took one session for me to see this argument brewing but I honestly thought you two would never get here. So amenable to other, willing to make surface-level changes that don’t address the root cause of your problems but unwilling to be vulnerable and say the hard things that would actually help you move forward. But like a lot of things, sometimes we have to take a couple steps back to reevaluate and move forward. So tell me what happened since our last session to get us here?” 

Dr. Matthews’ calming voice was a sharp juxtaposition to the red hot anger they both entered her office ready to unleash. She was not wrong, this argument was simmering since Charlotte got home from the hospital and had boiled over without warning. Charlotte had thought they were making small inroads to being back to normal but Dr. Matthews now challenged everything Charlotte believed about their progress. She was so frustrated at Michael for setting them back but maybe she had just put too much hope that their problems were an easy fix and wouldn’t require the thing she dreaded most: vulnerability. But the last 48 hours felt like God saying that neither of them could sustain that much longer. 

Charlotte sighed and glanced at Michael, his own shame wafting off of him.

“It really wasn’t a big deal. The other night…” 

“WRONG! He can’t be dead!” 

“Whatchu mean wrong?? We watched that nigga get stabbed eight times.”

“Yea we also saw dragons and zombies… you’re telling me that in a world of dragons and zombies, a nigga can’t come back to life?? What about Beric???” 

Michael laughed. “Doesn’t mean everybody can do it just cause he did?? And how would he even come back? The entire Night Watch against him, Red Woman’s nowhere to be found. That nigga cooked. Had a good run though,” he remarked as he pulled their dinner out of the oven. 

It was Charlotte’s night off from the show and the couple’s chosen date night. Their therapist had recommended setting aside the time each week to reconnect and focus on them. And Charlotte felt as if it was working, they were slowly but surely becoming them again. Perfect? No. But even their playful fighting over mundane tv plots was a new development. Fuck… just being playful at all was a glorious return to who they once were. Their relationship simply existed day to day with such an overcast of tension, the overbearing weight of life and death, that there was little space or energy to feel anything light. But the excitement of the day had turned tonight’s mood celebratory and fun, exactly what Charlotte needed to feel like herself again. 

“Wow. You have nooo faith. That man’s comin’ back, I know it. Also if you were really killing off a character, is that how you’d write it?? The whole ‘is your favorite character dead?’ season finale cliffhanger almost always ends with the character being alive.” 

“We talking about Thrones, Els! The show that killed off the main character in season 1 and most shows ain’t doing that shit. So I still haven’t heard one real reason he can’t be dead dead aside from the fact that you gotta crush on him.”

Michael loved egging her on when she put on her nerd hat. Mainly because he loved seeing her come alive in this way, as if this part of her had always been suppressed in relationships and her light just glowed when she was able to be her. 

 Charlotte turned and glanced over her shoulder as she made guacamole to accompany their homemade enchiladas. She placed her utensils down before walking over to wear he perched against the counter, too invested in their conversation to multitask. 

“I mean even you have to admit that Jon’s brooding demeanor is sexy??” 

“I’ll never admit that!” 

Charlotte almost doubled over in laughter at the incredulous look on Michael’s face. 

“Reasonable crush or not,” she struggled to say as she reigned in her laughter. “I know I’m right. Mark my words, by the end of episode 1, Jon Snow’ll be alive and kicking. His character arc isn’t over yet.” 

“Wanna place a wager about that, honey bee?” 

Charlotte raised an eyebrow. “Sure… cause I know I’ll win,” she teased. 

“Loser has to give the winner massages, anytime requested, for a month.” 

“Two!” Charlotte interjected. She merely smirked. “What can I say? I’m feeling lucky today for some reason.”

“Oh for some reason? Could it be cause a certain actress, as of today, is now Tony-nominated Charlotte Bennett - soon to be Tony Award winning Charlotte Bennett-Jordan,” he amended with his perfect boyish grin that made her roll her eyes and giggle. 

“Maybe” she challenged with a modest look on her face. “Just… feeling inspired.”

 And the day had been inspired indeed as Charlotte woke up to the highly anticipated nominations announcement. Her first real shot at a lifelong dream, finally realized. When they said her name among the nominees for Lead Actress in a Musical, she felt the world stop on its axis. Everything she thought she had lost was hers again. 

Michael had been ecstatic for her, though not nearly as surprised by the news as she had been. If there was one person he would always bet on, it was his girl. And so they spent the entire day celebrating and Charlotte loved every moment of it. She had missed the version of Michael today brought out. Playful and silly, joking and laughing with her over mundane things, arguing with gusto about controversial storytelling opinions, going on tangents about his upcoming roles and his research. She missed his uninhibitedness, how he was unafraid to pull her into his arms, and be unrestrained. She just missed him. 

“Is that right?” he remarked as he reached for her, Charlotte playfully sliding out of his grasp so he could not catch her. 

Feeling emboldened by their return to some semblance of normalcy, she continued the game, giggling as she continued shifting out of his grasp as he reached for her. His eyes had a mischievous glint to them as he caught onto her game and soon they were in a full chase around the kitchen. 

Laughter filled the living room as they played their game of cat and mouse. By the time they were circling each other around the coffee table in the living room like opponents in the ring, Charlotte knew she was caught. She would have to concede and accept defeat, but she hoped that her capture would lead to a reignition of far more enjoyable games. 

She took off running by their couch, knowing Michael would grab her immediately and likely jokingly toss her onto it. However, as she rounded the corner, her foot caught onto the leg of their table, sending the clumsy actress hurling down to their carpet. She threw her arm out to break her fall, a searing pain shooting through her wrist as she landed on her stomach. 

She groaned as she lost her breath on the impact, immediately curling into a tight ball as the fall reignited a dull pain in her freshly healed ribs. She cradled her wrist against her chest as she tried to fill her lungs with air again.

“Fucking… idiot,” she forced out as breathing started to feel less like an Olympic task. 

“Shit! Baby, baby… Els. Talk to me, you ok??” 

She simply nodded as she used her good arm to lift herself up and turn around. 

“Yea, yea, I’m good. Just… annoyingly… clumsy,” she pushed out a chuckle as Michael helped her shift off the floor and onto the couch cushions. “As God… likes to remind me.”  

“Fuck. I’m so sorry, baby.” Charlotte was almost startled when she finally looked up at him, hovering above her. His eyes frantically searched her body for injury, his face blanched as if he had been startled by a ghost. His phone trembled in his hands as he rushed to unlock it. “Let me call your doctor… or… shit, your concussion just healed… Did you hit your head on anything?? We should get it checked anyway. Maybe I should just call an ambulance?? Gonna call an ambulance. Anywhere else hurt?? Your ribs? It didn’t get the same spot he… Probably wasn’t hard enough to bruise them but we should get it checked too… how’s you-” 

“Hey, hey, whoa. Slow down, baby,” she cradled the left side of his face, forcing him to slow down and go quiet for a moment. She could almost hear his heart hammering against his chest. “Take a deep breath, Bakari. I’m ok. Just a danger to myself and your expensive furniture,” she joked, hoping to calm him with humor, which didn’t work in the slightest. “Thank god I didn’t fall into the table. I know how much all this set you back. No need for doctors or ambulances. I promise. I’m good.” 

She bit down on her inner cheek to avoid the wince as one subtle movement let her know her wrist was, at best, sprained. She kept it limp by her side as Michael helped her to her feet. But the look on Michael’s face made her question whether sharing that now would only make things worse. So she said nothing at all. 

“I shouldn’t have chased after you like that. I should’ve moved faster when I saw you fall.” 

“We were having fun. We’re allowed, you know?” 

“Hurting you ain’t fun, Els. You’re hurt. Where?” 

“I hurt myself, you didn’t do anything. And I just hit the side of the table as I went down, I think. It hurts but will probably feel fine tomorrow. I’m ok, I swear.” 

“You sure?” She could see the disbelief in his eyes but she kept her face upbeat, ignoring the throbbing ache branching out from her wrist. 

“Yes,” she chuckled. “Now, can we go back to enchiladas and margs and debating the narrative choices of Game of Thrones? And celebrating the biggest day of my career? We still gotta pop that very expensive bottle of champagne Chris sent. Please? I’m really ok.” 

Her words convinced him to return to the kitchen where dinner waited. But they could not restore the carefree, celebratory aura they had 5 minutes ago. Instead, only that awful tension remained, leading to an uncomfortable silence that Charlotte could not break. 

Michael’s thoughts were no longer on their date night, but clearly preoccupied. Charlotte could almost see the wheels of guilt spiraling out in his brain. Her mildly funny dad jokes fell on deaf ears, her questions and prompts for conversation were met with silence or one word answers. Occasionally, she felt his eyes on her, studying her for signs of pain or discomfort. But thankfully, he found none and did not notice her first couple awkward bites using her nondominant left hand. 

She had every intention of telling him about her wrist once he calmed down but that moment never came. She tried to fight her way through the rest of the night, the couple even trying to catch up on a tv show together. But their usual vibrant commentary was silent as Charlotte stole worried glances at Michael and he did the same to her. 

She did not even understand how they got here. How he was this upset when the entire incident was her own fault. After all, what clumsy person thinks it’s smart to start a high-speed chase in their living room? She felt as if this was the best outcome she could have hoped for. 

“Michael… babe. You can’t just go silent on me,” she muttered grumpily, her frustration getting the better of her. “What’s wrong?” 

She had been doing as her therapist recommended, practicing understanding and grace as Michael navigated his emotions after everything. But as more time passed, she was simply too ready to move forward and growing frustrated with his lack of interest in doing so. He was stuck, firmly planted, and no amount of tugging on her part felt like it would get him out of it. 

The lack of intimacy in their relationship seeped into all aspects of their lives, including how they slept together. While they knew different rooms were simply too much distance for them, the furthest apart they could go were their separate corners of the bed. Charlotte tossed and turned most nights without her human weighted blanket draped over her. She understood the shift when her ribs were healing but he still held himself back from her, even after the all clear from her doctor. There were no playful touches or cuddling briefly before falling asleep, no more rolling away to cool off and Michael finding his way right back to her. They rolled to their corners after a chaste and subdued goodnight kiss before they both fell into restless sleep. 

But tonight, she supposed the distance worked in her favor, giving her space to gently elevate her wrist. She knew she would regret not icing it in the morning but somehow that seemed more inviting than opening that can of worms with Michael right before bed. 

“Just worried you aggravated your injuries or somethin’. You sure nothin’ else hurts? You can’t always tell right away?” 

She knew what she should have said. The truth. That she needed an ice pack and a doctor. But she didn’t. In that split second, she knew he would never let this go if he knew she was actually hurt. And she could not deal with that. It was just a sprain anyway, she reasoned. She had dealt with far worse. 

“I’m sure. Really. I didn’t fall off a ladder, I tripped. It’s fine. But if you’re gonna get stressed every time I fall, I’d rethink getting on this ride for life. You’ll be in for a hella stressful one.” Her tone was filled with amusement that finally did, minimally, tug at the corners of his lips. She leaned over and pressed another kiss to his cheek. “Accidents happen and I’m not made of glass. Now take a deep breath and get some rest. Love you.” 

She turned over and closed her eyes, hoping that her words would be enough. But somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew they would not be. 

But sleep was not something Michael would find tonight as he stared at the ceiling, wallowing in this stabbing guilt in his chest. He did not particularly want to be awake with his thoughts but he knew sleep was not a reprieve either. This monster, this fear chasing him and making him feel and behave in ways he knew were utterly irrational, haunted him every minute of every day. 

And all he knew was that he had to stay alert, stay ahead of it and protect his girl. Because the one time he wasn’t watching close enough, wasn’t listening or paying attention close enough, she got hurt. He would not let that happen ever again. 

***

Spring had officially settled into the New York City air but today, Charlotte was grateful for the lingering morning brisk that required long sleeves, praying it would hide the swelling on her wrist until she left for work. She grimaced and struggled to get her jacket on without moving her wrist much.  Some idiotic part of her had hoped it would magically feel better this morning. But that was dumb. So she was leaving a bit early to carve out time for an urgent care visit. But she knew Michael would never let it go if he found out. 

They had started to turn a new leaf and find their rhythm again. And Charlotte wanted to preserve that, not giving her fiance any more reasons to coddle her to death. Besides, Charlotte much preferred the old version of him to this one overprotective one. 

She turned it over in her head most of the night and decided that it didn’t serve them to make a fuss over something so small when it was clear Michael harbored some unfounded guilt. She’d get it fixed and pass it off as a rehearsal injury. No harm, no foul. 

Michael emerged from their bedroom with his work bag and shoes in tow as she finished putting on her coat.

“You ready?” He flopped down on the coach to put on his sneakers, Charlotte pausing with an eyebrow raised in confusion. 

“Where are you headed?” 

“With you.”

All good things must come to an end, she groaned to herself. She thought they had finally moved past him accompanying her to work every day like a guard dog. Some good things were simply too brief. 

“Michael… I thought we agreed you didn’t need to come with me anymore?” Her tone couldn’t hide her annoyance, and she didn't particularly care to. “I went to the theater by myself like a big girl all last week and was totally fine.”

“I’m not bothering anyone sittin’ in a theater watchin’ you practice, Charlotte.” 

“Yea no one except me,” she muttered just loud enough for him to hear. A wounded look crossed his eye for a moment that made her feel guilty. “Sorry, sorry. That was rude. I just thought… we were settling back into normal life again. I don’t need a babysitter when you pay for me to have a bodyguard anytime I leave this apartment. I’ll be fine.”   

“There’s nothing wrong with extra protection. You need it. At least till he’s in prison.” 

“I don’t actually. I can handle it.” 

“No, you can’t.” 

Charlotte paused, slowly turning in surprise as silent frustration morphed into roaring anger. “Excuse me? Who are you to decide that?” She paused. “Wait, wait, wait. Is this still about last night??”

“Nah.” 

“You sure? Cause you were fine before last night and now you’re back to being unnecessarily overprotective.”

“I don’t think it’s unnecessary.” 

“Why?? Cause I tripped over my own feet? I’m gonna get hurt, injure myself and you can’t freak out like this everytime. I’m a magnet for accidents who bruises like a fruit. I’m fine. You can’t keep acting like we’re still at DEFCON1. We’re not. Things are getting back to normal, can’t we just enjoy that? Please? For me?” 

He studied her for a moment before nodding softly, throwing his bag down on the couch. She closed the space between them and kissed him softly on his cheek. 

“Thank you. I am heading to the theater. I’ll call you when I get there. Love you.” Not thinking, she went to grab for her discarded bag with her injured arm before the pain forced her to awkwardly change course and use her other hand. She started to move toward the elevator when she heard his voice stop her. 

“Wait! There something wrong with your arm?” Michael’s voice reached her as she was pressing the elevator button to the lobby.  

“No, why?” She was so close. Literally steps away. How had she fucked this up? 

“Because I saw you strugglin’ to put your jacket on and you just avoided using that arm like you couldn’t. And now that I think about it, I haven’t seen you move it all morning.”

“Jesus… you get trained by the CIA at some point or something?” 

“Charlotte. I’m serious. What’s wrong with your arm?” 

“Nothing, Michael.” 

“You’re really gonna lie to my face right now? Ok… Move it.”

“Michael…” 

“Charlotte.”

She could always tell when Michael was serious, when he did not want to be trifled with. It was just rare that he had to direct that tone at her. But hearing it now, she felt resigned. She would have to tell him the truth and she could already tell.. 

This was going to fucking suck. 

“Ok fine. I tried to break my fall last night and my wrist hurts a bit. It’s nothing.”

“Fuck, Charlotte!” He closed the space between them quickly, only pausing when he noticed the almost unnoticeable jerk of her body away from him. He could tell she started to flinch but caught herself, not that that made it hurt any less. He held his hands out as he took the last couple of steps to her side. He gently reached for her arm, pushing her sleeves out of the way to find her wrist swollen and red. “It’s sprained or broken. Why didn’t you tell me last night?? I asked you hella times if you were hurt. I knew we should’ve gone to the hospital o-or called a doctor.” 

“That’s why I didn’t tell you!” She cried out in frustration as she watched the love of her life turn into this person she did not even recognize. “Because I knew you’d lose it. I knew you’d force me to spend the night in the ER regardless of what I wanted. I’m tired of you coddling me like I can’t make decisions, Michael!” 

“So cause you’re mad at me… you lied to me? Again??? After you promised you wouldn’t do that shit again.” 

Charlotte scoffed. “It’s hardly the same thing! This was literally nothing! A few weeks in a brace and I’m fine. So yes, I omitted a minor injury so you wouldn’t feel the need to take control! So you wouldn’t focus 100% of your attention on every stage of healing of my wrist or whether a fall triggered PTSD somehow. I have this under control and handled. I don’t need help. I. am. Fine. I don’t know why you aren’t listening to me when I say that.” 

“Maybe because had I listened to you the last time you said that, I would’ve come back from LA to plan your funeral!”

Charlotte’s comeback died in her throat as his words caught her off guard. She didn’t think about… that. It was a simple statement of fact. But she didn’t really dwell on it, how close she came to losing everything, how she only survived because someone else was there to save her. That she would have died as the woman he created - weak and broken - and not the person she believed she fashioned herself into. 

No, those were truths Charlotte had no interest in dealing with. So she forced her reaction to remain neutral, ignoring the ache in her chest that had nothing to do with physical pain. 

“So you’re just gonna hold that against me for the rest of our relationship? Just never believe me o-or take my word for anything ever again?”

“No but-” 

“Cause that’s what it’s starting to feel like.”

“It wouldn’t if you were just honest! I’m trying to help you.” 

Charlotte took a deep breath before turning to hit the button on the elevator door. 

“Ok… Honesty… Well, honestly, I’m getting a little tired of being called a liar when all I’m trying to do is help us. Honestly, I’m not sure how you expect me to be vulnerable when you aren’t listening to me. Honestly, I’m tired of convincing the man I love that I’m not gonna fall apart every second because he can’t stop treating me like I’m gonna fall apart every fucking second. Honestly, I’m tired of feeling like I’m the only person trying to move past this. And honestly, today, I don’t want your help. Because reminding me with every look and action that I’m a victim when all I want is to continue celebrating the biggest accomplishment of my career isn’t helping me. It’s just more of what everyone else in my life does. And honestly, I’m. Tired. Of. It.” 

She punched the elevator button hard, a soft chime letting her know it arrived almost instantaneously. Thank God. 

“So, want any more honesty for today or are we good?”  

“That’s not wha-” 

“I have an interview in 20 minutes and I can’t be late.” She cut him off, pressing the elevator button in rapid succession as if that would conjure it faster. “See you tonight.” 

And with that, Charlotte stormed out, leaving Michael alone with his frustrations and guilt. Charlotte was rarely angry at him but he could tell she was reaching a new height of frustration. But he did not know how to stop. Even standing there, equally as pissed off at her as she was with him, all he wanted to do was rush after her to go with her to work. He could be pissed and still protect her, right? 

He despised the fact that she claimed he was not hearing her. He was listening, far more intensely than she realized. Which is how he knew that all was not well for her, how he knew she needed the extra support even if she did not want to admit it. 

And then to find out that she kept something significant from him again. Had he not proven to her that he was going to be present? And protect her from every threat? Did she not consider him capable of fixing her problems, of helping her? That made him only want to prove himself more, prove he could protect her from anything that came her way. 

But he didn’t know how to get her to see that he was doing what he had to protect her, to not fail her again.  

“Wow. Ok… a lot to unpack there,” Dr. Matthews muttered. “Charlotte, did you mean what you said? About him not helping you?” 

“Well… kind of? At the moment, yes. He’s been helpful in a lot of ways, don’t get me wrong. And I love him for it. It’s just… I lied because… I mean shit, I just wanted one day. One day to not be a survivor or victim or be reminded that Shaun tried to ruin yet another thing in my present. In fact, I wanted to celebrate that even though he tried to ruin this for me, I still came out on top. But it’s like - and I don’t even think he’s doing it on purpose, which it’s been so hard to tell him - Michael can’t not remind me of it. It’s in every look, every touch, every decision. It’s like all he sees is the broken woman on that bathroom floor. And I don’t want to be made to feel like her when she’s dead and buried.”

“Michael, do you hear what Charlotte’s saying?” 

“Yea, and I understand it but… what else am I supposed to do?? What if he comes back? What if he attacks her again? I need to be there to protect her.” 

“He’s not gonna come back!”

“You don’t know that! Did you think he was gonna basically change his job so he could get closer to you? I’m not gonna underestimate that nigga… ever again.” 

“Oh and I did? I underestimated the man I slept next to for years? I’m the only one here who actually knows what he is capable of!” 

“Clearly you did if you thought you could take him on yourself.” 

“Right because I’m just a weakling who needs big strong men to swoop in and save her at every turn because I got hurt once?” 

“It wasn’t on-”  

“Okay okay, once again, deep breaths. Whew… the soul mates ones are always the most intense. Can’t even get a word in in my own office,” Tanya remarked. “Ok, you want to know what I hear? Two people who, despite their immense love and adoration for each other, aren’t actually ready to be vulnerable with each other. And without that, you’ll never understand the other person’s perspective because you’ll never have the full story and you’ll keep bumping heads.” 

“We know how to be vulnerable?” Charlotte argued back. “I mean even telling Michael what happened to me in the first place, sharing that was me being vulnerable.” 

“It was and that’s brave and admirable. I don’t doubt that you two have had moments where you offer vulnerability. But this situation you find yourselves in is unique and trauma, our fears, are often the hardest to share with others. I think you both are acting from a fear-based place and that’s understandable but you’ll never be able to move forward. Instead, you’ll just keep holding tight to behaviors you both know don’t serve you or your relationship.” 

“I’m not scared,” Charlotte remarked. “Maybe this would be easier if I was… at least then his behavior would be understandable.” 

“We all have fears, Charlotte. And I do think there’s a reason you opt for dismissing and lying about your own pain as if it’s insignificant. And it could just be an ingrained behavior but I think you need to ask yourself if there’s another reason you don’t trust the foundation of this relationship enough to be honest with Michael when things aren’t going well. And Michael, getting worked up to the point of distress over simple injuries, not being able to let your partner out of your sight… that’s not healthy or sustainable for either of you. And that’s more than general anxiety. And in our first session, you admitted that to us both. So ask yourself why you’ve reverted to something you know doesn’t work? Whatever the reasons are, I can help you both navigate all of it. But you’ve gotta be honest with yourselves and me about the reasons behind it. Until you’re ready to share with each other how that night changed you and your relationship, you’re just gonna keep having this argument until you break. And I don’t think either of you really want that?” 

The both of them shook their heads, her words were harsh but they both knew there was a ring of truth to them. 

“Okay good. So homework for this week is to do just that. Sit with yourselves, really sit with everything the other person said today and try to examine it. Not from a defensive posture like you’ve been doing but like you know the other person loves you and has your best interests at heart. And figure out the why behind your behavior. Keep asking why until you drill down to whatever is truly bothering you. Then… I don’t care when or how, whether you wait till our next session or do it while you’re alone, you’re gonna have to tell the other person your why. And to be honest… it’s gonna suck. But that’s the only way you’re gonna make it to the other side of this. Sound good?”

Charlotte glanced over to Michael who gave her a slight nod. He reached across the cushions and gave her hand a squeeze. 

“Sounds good.”  

***

Michael glanced over at Charlotte, her deep brown eyes set with sadness and far away from him as she changed out of her costume. He would have been more worried if that look had not been a staple in her eyes since their therapy session a few days prior. Whether it was the lingering silence and coldness between them or the reflection Dr. Matthews tasked them with, he did not know. But he knew one thing: he hated it. 

And as much as he knew it would suck, he was ready to do his part to end that. Whether or not he felt as if he was doing the right thing, his time reflecting made him realize that if Charlotte did not agree, he was doing the complete wrong thing. He didn’t have to sit with himself long to understand his why, understand what fears had him in a tight vise grip. As much as he dreaded saying it out loud, part of him dreaded an endless stream of sleepless, lonely nights even more. 

He missed his honeybee. His Els. He missed who they were before Shaun waltzed back into their lives. And he knew some of it was on him. He could not force Charlotte to trust him again, but he could be a better listener so he could show up however she needed when she asked… not when he decided she needed him.  

“Wanna grab dinner nearby tonight? Instead of heading home?” 

“Not really up for it. Been a long day.” 

He bowed his head, nodding slightly. “Neither am I,” he admitted. “But I think we gotta try.” 

He knew he was asking a lot of her after the days they had. They had whiplash going from the highest of highs to a low so low, it felt as if they couldn’t climb their way out. But he wouldn’t lose her and he wouldn’t allow him to break them. So they would try. 

And soon they found themselves in a near-deserted 24 hour diner next to the theater, Charlotte stopping in her tracks when he went to open the front door.

“You wanna eat here?” 

“Yea I know it doesn’t look like much andd I definitely saw a mediocre health rating when I was here earlier but well, I had a whole reason. We can go somewhere else though.” 

Charlotte shook her head. “No, no. It’s fine. It’s just… God is funny, I guess.” 

“What do you mean?” Michael asked as they situated themselves in a booth at the very back of the restaurant. Michael sat with his back to the door, not his preferred arrangement but he wanted to minimize the chance of a random stranger recognizing them. 

“I’ve been here before… when I left Shaun.” She pointed to a worn out booth on the other side. “Sat right in that booth over there with Jazz and it was the first time I admitted to anyone what was going on. We sat here for hours, drinking terrible cheap coffee and she saved my life. Just telling her, saying it out loud, gave me the confidence I needed to do what I had to. A week later, Shaun was at a bachelor’s party in Vegas and I was gone. Shocked it's still standing. How’d it catch your eye?” 

“Came in here yesterday during the show and… reflected. Over about 6 plates of greasy fries and cheap terrible coffee.”

“Oof, reflection. I guess that explains the six plates of fries huh?” she joked with a light teasing smile that made him chuckle. “Seems like that’s our needed reflection fuel” she remarked as the lone waitress came to take their order. Once she returned to the diner counter, Charlotte continued. “And what did you learn?” 

“My why.” 

“And are you ready to tell me?”

“Yes but then… if you’re ready, I need yours. Because I think you know yours already too?” 

“How’d you know?” He knew her far too well.  

“Cause you would’ve tossed and turned even more than usual the last few nights if you didn’t. That genius brain of yours would’ve never let you sleep.” He teased back at her, Charlotte laughing lightly. 

“I don’t know if I like how well you know me.” 

“I do… know you. And I see you, Els. So I know I’ve been overbearing and probably annoying, Charlotte. And I’m sorry for how that made you feel, like you weren’t being heard and I never want you to feel that way with me again. But you aren’t being honest with me or yourself and I can’t move on till you are.” 

“You’re right,” she admitted. “You’re… absolutely right. I haven’t been and I know why. I just… it’s not even admitting it to you. I didn’t want to admit it to myself, really. So let’s agree… no judgments, no anger, no arguing… Just our ridiculously painful reflections and ugly truths laid out in a rundown crappy diner. My future is with you and there’s no future here if we can’t talk about the hard shit. So… let’s talk” 

“Ok I’m in.” 

“Pickers of the terrible diner first,” she smiled half heartedly, turning the table over to him. Her hands wrapped around the warm mug the waitress dropped off moments earlier. 

Michael sighed, his eyes trained on the cast on her arm for a few moments. Charlotte’s eyes widened as she saw his eyes brim with tears. He glanced away from her, sniffling a bit to stop them from spilling over. She reached across the table and grasped his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. 

“Bakari… baby. It’s just me. Just the two of us. You’ve been so strong for me our entire relationship and I love you so much for it. But you also have to trust me to be vulnerable, trust that I can be strong for you too. Talk to me. No matter what you say, I’m not going anywhere.” 

Michael nodded, internally working up the courage before he just decided to jump. Head first into it. That was always their way anyway, just leaping into what felt right and safe. And they had yet to crash and burn. They wouldn’t this time either. 

“A couple days after everything, I had this… dream. We were back in LA, married, livin’ together at the house. We h-had kids. Two boys, I think. I mean you would’ve thought time just sped up or something, it was so real. Everything I want for us, you know?” 

“It sounds perfect. I’m guessing it didn’t end that way though?” 

The back of his hand brushed away an escaped tear. 

“Nah, it didn’t. I came home and you were there. And so was Shaun,” he paused, his hand squeezing hers a bit before he continued. “He had a gun and he just voiced every guilty feeling living in my head. How I prioritized a fuckin’ movie role over you, how I went to LA even though I knew something wasn’t right. How you almost died and I could’ve been too late. How you probably think I’m like him when you flinch away or get scared of me. And the worst part was you agreed with all of it. You screamed at me for failing you.” 

“Michael, you gotta know I-” 

“J-just let me get this out, Els.” He sniffled and took a deep breath before continuing, “I woke up as he pulled the trigger and I freaked out for a minute. I’d just never had a dream feel so real. I reached and still there, and you flinched away from me. And it… fuck, it killed me, Els. It felt like God affirming everything I thought, all the ways I’d failed you. You didn’t trust me anymore, didn’t see me as safe. And every time I hear you cry in the shower because you think I can’t hear you o-or diminish your pain as if I shouldn’t care or act as if you aren’t worth being taken care of and protected, it reminds me that I can’t fail you again. I can’t afford to fail you again. I know I’ve been overprotective but I just… I can’t stop looking over our shoulders for him. Terrified I’m going to miss the signs again and this time, I’ll lose you.” 

Charlotte’s heart broke a bit at his words. Why had she not considered this? She thought he put all of his guilt and blame to rest but to know he had been harboring it for so long, everything made so much more sense. And she felt like the world’s biggest idiot. 

“Hey. Look at me,” she demanded, not speaking until his expressive eyes were trained on hers. “There hasn’t been a single day since I met you that you’ve failed me. I d-don’t need you to try and prove you’re my safe place or that you can protect me. You just are that by existing, by loving me and showing up for me. And yea… it might take some more time for my body to catch up, but that isn’t on you. That’s on me for not dealing with it. And PTSD is just a fucking bitch,” she chuckled, causing the deep creases of his frown slack a bit. “But I don’t blame you, not then or now. I lied to you, Michael.” 

“But I should’ve-” 

“Should’ve what? Been a mind reader? Sacrificed a job on a hunch? That’s not a fair expectation for yourself, baby. Nor would I have ever wanted or expected you to miss out on the opportunity of a lifetime for me. I don’t need a savior, I just need you to be there as best you can. And even when I didn’t realize how much I needed you, you did and came back for me. How could I ever think a man who sees me as clearly as that is a failure?”  

“You asked me to move here to protect you. And I didn’t. And now he’s back out there and I need to know you’re safe until he isn’t a threat to you anymore. You were gone for five minutes, Els. That was all it took. And now, it feels like if you’re out of my sight for long, I just spend the time on the verge of a damn panic attack.” 

“I asked you to come with me to make me feel safe, to love me, and support me. Not to be a bodyguard. And that’s what you’ve done and more. You know what I love about how you love me?” 

“What?” 

“You’ve always seen me. Every little detail, every word, every oddity and intricacy. You see everything and your love has always reflected that, has always been exactly what I needed. But you can’t love me like that if you can’t see me. And you can’t see me fully if you’re always looking over my shoulder for him.” 

“And if he comes back around? What then?” 

“Then we deal with him. I know he could come back and there’s not much I can do about it. The only thing I can do is not waste my time, our time, waiting for him to knock on our door. He can’t be our anchor, holding us in one spot when we need to move forward. What kind of life would that be for us? I never felt like I could win against him but this made me realize that I win every day by thriving. He tried to hurt me on the opening night of my show and in June, I could potentially win a Tony for that show while he waits to go to prison. That feels like victory in some way to me. And I can live with that. I can live every day knowing that every time he’s shown up, I’ve just come out on the other side stronger and better for it. I could waste my life waiting around for him or I can live it. And I just need to live my life. And we just have to be us. And more than anything, I just want us back.” 

“I want us back too. But I can’t do that if you aren’t even being honest about how you’re feeling and what you need.” 

She sighed. “So I guess it’s my turn, huh?” 

She stared at him for a few moments before saying, “When I left New York, he had taken everything. My identity, self-esteem, personhood. He took it all and left me with the scraps. And for a while, even with the entire country between us… I still lived in terror of him. Afraid of my shadow, afraid to speak without permission… to look people in the eye. I could put on the character of Charlotte to perform for a couple hours a night or for a day on set but what he created was just a shell of a person. And I hated myself for it.” 

Charlotte glanced out of the window at the cars rushed past them, the city that never sleeps indeed. 

“And eventually I put myself back together and I said he’d never break me again… never take that power again.” 

She glanced over to him. “And then he showed up here a-and I realized that terror wasn’t gone… I just let it go so quiet that I forgot it was there. And the moment I saw him, it was like I was that broken girl all over again. When he hit me, while I laid on the ground apologizing to him, you know what he said? ‘There she is… the real Charlotte.’ Like he knew I had dressed up the shell all pretty and different but on the inside? I was… am still hollow… still his broken scared plaything who couldn’t fight him.” 

Michael’s heart broke at how despondent her voice sounded. But as hard as it was for her to admit that, he could not pretend he was not glad she did. This was easily the most honest Charlotte had been with him in their entire relationship, the most revealing about her own insecurities and pain. And regardless of what it took to get there, he knew what a monumental step forward this was. 

He doubted therapy would do much for them, or him individually, at the beginning but Dr. Matthews seemed to hit a home run yet again. 

“But you did fight back, Els. You fought him.” 

“I fought him because of you. Because I saw you in the crowd. Because you came back for me. And I should’ve told you that. You’ve spent almost two months believing you failed me when you saved my life twice that night. I fought and without you, I would’ve lost. I dunno, I guess I just didn’t want to admit that when it comes to him, I’ll always be broken? I’ll always be hollow. And that felt like admitting that all that work and healing to create the woman you fell in love with, the woman I was finally proud of, was a lie. And why would you want to be with a shell? And everytime you treated me like this fragile broken flower, it just felt like you were agreeing that I hadn’t changed too? And that just made me want to prove that I had.”

“Honey bee… You really believe that? That you’re a shell?” 

She shrugged. “What else am I supposed to think? I worked so hard and when I had the chance to show him that I was different, I froze until I knew there was someone bigger and stronger to help me.”

“You wanna know what I believe?” 

“Always.” 

“I think you gotta start giving yourself more grace, baby girl. To survive what you have and be where you are today? You didn’t need me or Jazz or Lauren or Jackson or anyone else to do that, that’s just you. And I’m not even talking about your insane roster of accomplishments. You’re light, baby. I mean literal light, you lighten up every room you walk into, people gravitate toward you in a way I’ve never seen. No one would blame you for being jaded or hardened but you aren’t. You laugh loudly and love hard. You aren’t hollow, Els. You’re overflowing with life and love and light. That’s strength. And acknowledging how he hurt you, how it still hurts you, doesn’t diminish that.” 

“I don’t want to acknowledge that version of me, Michael. Especially not with you. This isn’t a part of me I ever wanted you to see. Didn’t think… you could love me the same if you saw how broken I am. I guess that’s why I’ve also been pretending like I’m fine. Dealing with all this and being open about it… I don’t wanna turn you off.” 

“I wanna see it though, Els. I need to understand you, to support you. I’d marry you tomorrow if we could. You thought it’d be this easy to get rid of me?” 

“Falling into a million pieces after a stalking ex felt like it would be enough? You must really be in love with me then?” Though she meant it as a statement, he could hear the question in her words, her intonation spelling out her doubts. 

“No number of stalking exes could make me fall outta love with you. And there’s no reaction you could have, no number of nightmares or whatever that would do it either. I ain’t going anywhere. I love you and I should be supporting you the way you need it, not however I think is right. I knew that and I still haven’t been doing it and I’m sorry for that.” 

As they talked, Charlotte felt lighter than she had since Shaun waltzed back into her life. Unburdening all of her fears and actually talking to Michael made her feel like they could actually take a step forward, even if it was a series of baby steps. 

“Thank you and I can’t promise that tomorrow I’ll just be an open book. But I promise to try harder to be. I used to have to hide everything from everyone. No one knew the real story cause if I was honest, everything would fall apart and I thought I’d lose everyone. And I guess I convinced myself that going at it alone is the only way to avoid that? And this made me realize that… that’s all I know how to do. But I know I can’t go at it alone all the time and I shouldn’t. Our love was built to withstand a lot more than I give it credit for. So I will try harder and be more honest about how I’m feeling with you. Keeping things from you isn’t right, regardless of the reason. And you deserve better than that. I’m sorry too.” 

“Apology accepted. I know it won’t be easy for either of us, I ain’t expecting that. Let’s just promise that everyday, we’ll try?” 

“That I can do.” Charlotte studied him for a moment before getting up and scooching into the booth next to him. 

She threw caution to the wind and pressed her lips to his. The first second was tentative, as if she was mentally prepared for his sudden rejection. But instead he merely encouraged her, a gentle hand cradling her neck in an effort to bring her closer. And she leaned into it, savoring the renewed intimacy between them. All was not perfect and there was still work to do but she realized that with Michael, she didn’t need perfection. She just needed him. 

She only broke their intimate moment when she remembered they were most certainly in a public place. It hadn’t felt like it but she often felt like, when she was focused on Michael, everyone and everything around them melted away. But she also didn’t want a photo on the shade room tomorrow of them making out in a random diner. 

“Thank you,” she whispered. “For being here and loving me.” 

“Always, Els.”   

***

Michael let out a deep content sigh as he found himself back in his favorite sleeping spot, his face buried in the nook of her neck. 

“Fuck I missed this.” 

“Me too… you’re a really good weighted blanket.” 

“Damn, that’s all I’m good for??” 

Charlotte made a face as if she was contemplating his other qualities. “Yea… that and other fun bedtime activities,” she offered with a joking smile. 

“Say the word and I can show you just how good I am at those activities too.” 

“Not tonight. But only cause I know you’re gonna wanna make up for lost time and I want us to actually stay awake for it.” 

“I’d prefer you be awake too,” he muttered sleepily, the late hour starting to get to him. 

Charlotte could feel the tell-tale signs of Michael starting to drift off but despite the late hour, she found her brain unwilling to turn off as she thought about them. And how lucky she was to be with him. Weeks of disagreement and strife but they still found their way back to each other, found safety and refuge to reveal their fears and actually come closer together after so much time apart. 

If asked, Charlotte wasn’t sure she could find the words to articulate the love she had for this man and the love she felt from him. She never believed she would find this - someone who loved her so deeply, so purely. Someone whose love didn’t hurt. Who loved her scars she saw as ugly and the parts of her that she hid from the world, the parts that were barely bandaged together. For some unknown reason, he did. And he chose every day to love her through it all. 

The painful stinging of tears behind her eyes hit her as she sniffled. This is what hope and excitement about the future felt like, something that before Michael she rarely felt. Because regardless of what happened with her career or anything else, she couldn’t wait to build her life with him. This love was light and everything she hoped for but didn’t believe she deserved. And for the first time since the incident, she wasn’t scared to lose it. She no longer felt like she was watching their love story in fear of the end, but that she was watching it blossom. Because this was just the beginning of their story. 

“You good?” he asked as she sniffled quietly, lifting his head to find her eyes glistening in the dark with tears. “What’s wrong, honey bee??” 

“Nothing, nothing. These are happy tears, I think. I just… Marry me.” 

Michael let out a confused chuckle. “I know it was a crazy few days back then but you remember I already did this right? Proposed?” 

She reached over and turned on their bedside lamp, Michael shifting so she could sit up. 

“Yessss I know. I’m not reproposing. I’d never propose to a man, goes against my religion. I’m saying… Marry me… now. Well, not now as in here,” she amended quickly. “I mean, we’re in bed and we don’t have a marriage license but I don’t wanna wait.” 

“Els… don’t say that shit if you don’t mean it. It’s been a long few days, an emotional few months. We don’t gotta rush if you aren’t ready…”

Michael did not want to get ahead of himself or too excited, worried that she was swept up in the emotions of the day. After all, deciding to get married right away was something he would usually suggest, not her. She has always been the more cautious one where they were concerned. But he could not deny that if she was serious, she would be making him the happiest man on this planet. He was so ready to be her husband, to vow to love her for the rest of his days. He was dreading the year+ it would likely take to find the right time for a wedding given their schedules. He had bounced around ideas of smaller, intimate destination weddings in the fall but they hadn’t found the right fit yet.  

“I’m not rushing. I can see how it looks like that but this isn’t rushing. And I know we still have shit to figure out. I just… It’s gonna sound cliche but whatever time I have with you, whatever time I have to love you and be loved by you? I don’t want to waste it. I don’t wanna wait 3 or 4 months till we’re back in LA or however long it’ll take to plan some big wedding I don’t need. You’ve never wasted our time, Bakari. You’ve always been so sure and moved with that assurance. And I’ve never felt rushed by any of it, it’s always just felt right. And this? I feel sure, it feels right. We could wait if you want to, I’ll totally understand. I know this is literally insane. But I’m ready to be your wife, to build a life with you. I’m ready for our next step and I think you are too? Maybe?” 

At his silence, she added. “And it doesn’t have to be a big thing. We can go to the courthouse for all I care.” 

Silence. 

“Say something… please. Before I pray that God let’s the ground swallow me whole from embarrassment.” 

“My bad my bad. I was trying to find the words but then got offended at you thinking I’m gonna give you a courthouse wedding like we’re two teens trying to hide a pregnancy or some shit.” 

“What?? There’s nothing wrong with a courthouse wedding.” 

“Nah there isn’t but what about your family?? Mine? You don’t know how happy this makes me. And I’m all in without hesitation. But you deserve a special day, not a drive by at the courthouse. Give me 30 days, Els. Memorial Day weekend in LA, let me make it special for you.” 

Charlotte transitioned to sitting up on her knees before literally catapulting herself into his arms with pure excitement. Michael had to roll a bit to make sure they didn’t topple right off the bed. 

“We really doing this?? We’re getting married in 30 days?” 

“Yea! I can’t wait to be your wife, Bakari. Besides, you were right, Tony award winning Charlotte Bennett-Jordan has a far better ring to it.” 

“Fuck I love you so much,” his heart could’ve exploded into a million pieces in his chest. There was work to be done but they’d do it together, every day for the rest of their lives. And he couldn’t wait. 

“I love you more.” 

“Impossible.” He stared down at her, licking his lips as his eyes filled with lust. “You awake enough now for me to show you just how much?” 

Charlotte squeezed her legs together as his deep baritone reignited that feeling in her core. His lips searched for her weak spot on the side of her neck, caressing and sucking with the skill of a God. Fuck, it had been too long. But something stopped her. 

“I want you… so bad. But what if we wait until the wedding?” At his incredulous expression, she added, “You know, think about how much more special it’ll be after we’ve reconnected more emotionally after all this, our first time back in a while as husband and wife. It could be really special. What do you think?” 

Michael knew in his brain that she was right, it would be more special and intense after a long bout of celibacy. But the smaller head that controlled some of his decision making… was less than thrilled. 

So he immediately got out of bed and started to walk toward the bathroom. 

“Ok we haven’t had sex in weeks, 30 more days couldn’t have upset you that much??” she called out after him, her surprise clear in her tone. 

Michael turned as he reached the door, smiling his superstar boyish grin at her. “I’m not mad, I’m in. I’m just… gonna jump in the shower.” 

Charlotte doubled over in laughter at him. “Let me guess, a cold one?” 

“Ice cold. You shouldn’t be so irresistible, honey bee.” 

“You’re a mess,” she smiled at him. But he was her mess. And she loved him for it.  

“Maybe but fair warning, you won’t be tapping out that night.” 

She smiled. “As if I’d ever tap out on you. I guess we’ll be sleeping in separate corners tonight again?” 

“We’ll see how effective this cold shower is.” 

She let out a belly laugh as she flopped back into their warm covers and he started the shower. She could hear a girlish shrill noise a few moments later that she suspected was him stepping into the freezing water. She had to use their duvet to muffle the sounds of her giggles as she listened to him mutter expletives as he adjusted to the water temperature. 

“You good in there? Sounds like someone’s dying?” she called loudly over the water, deciding that she couldn’t not tease him for this. 

“Shouldn’t you be asleep??” 

She rolled her eyes with a grin and turned over to try to fall asleep, leaving her future husband to his needed activities. There would be quite a few cold showers and long runs in their future. For the next 30 days at least.

Taglist: @certifiedlesbianbaddie @bangtanxmegan @reelwriter19 @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @hi888888sworld @msniaimani @destinio1 @lynaye1993 @chaoticevilbakugo @blackerthings @pipsqueak-98 @miyuhpapayuh @passionxwrites @gopaperless @injerafiend @ari17

***

A/N: I realized that the last time I updated the main story was like December lol my sweet OG babies... But they're getting married!! I really wanted to explore their recovery and hang ups before moving them forward. The next chapter is their wedding and then our final chapter (can you guess what night that'll be? lol) drop a comment and let me know what you thought!

[manicpixiefelix]

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 12.

Summary: Reuniting with Venetia was always an interesting experience. Many people - everyone else who lives at Saltburn included - wonder why you put up with the way she speaks to you, the way she treats you. You wonder how they can't see that it's so much more than that.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: suggestive themes, implied pseudo-incest, nonsexual intimacy with Venetia but no smut

A/N: 3644 words. i know i said there's be ollie this chapter, but i needed to set up a few more things around the house; specifically venetia and what her whole deal is with the reader. i love her, she breaks my entire heart. i know i should have edited this one but oh well, here, eat up friends.

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

Never once has Venetia been gentle with the way she speaks to you; she is sharp lines and bitter tongues and laughs and moans that edge on jagged. Nothing about her seems capable of regarding you, or sometimes even treating you, with gentleness, yet she demands it from you in everything you do.

She picks you apart the moment she sees you again, like nails over every inch of your being she pries apart who you've become in her absence, but ends it all by telling you that you're still frustratingly attractive.

"Thought that would change."

"Do you think that every time?"

"Prepare for the worst and hope for the best," she sighs with a wry smile.

"My potential descent into unattractiveness is... hope?"

"Preparing, obviously; I'm very fond of you, I don't hope you get ugly," obviously, says her eye roll. Its a compliment, says her eye roll.

Still, you know Venetia well enough, know her bitter tongue belies a sweetness she could never speak out loud.

All you'd come down in is your bathers, and an old, large button down that Felix liked to swan around the house in. Which Venetia insists you leave on, lest you get yourself burnt, though you roll your eyes and shrug it off anyways, draping it over the parasol-protected banana lounge that Venetia had claimed with her towel. Venetia herself looks like something out of countless fantasies, and even more Summer magazine centre folds, the sequins of her silver bikini shining in the sunlight.

Venetia is a shiny, pretty thing, eye catching; large sunglasses and shiny lip gloss and a body that glows and shines with what you hope is sunscreen but know is just moisturiser and tanning oil. Untouched by anything but the sun and herself on this searing afternoon, wanting and waiting for her entertainment, for you.

Venetia's gentleness lives and dies in her desires, in the way she wants. Her needs, her demands are always met, but her wants she'll never be able to put to words. So you learned to figure her out for yourself; if she loves you for it, she'll never say it out loud.

Wading into the water, towards the floating chair she's so elegantly draped herself across, you keep your hands above the water's surface, keep them dry as you reach her. With every step her smile grows wider, and you place your hand on her ankle, hand gliding up her warm leg in casual greeting. Calf, knee, thigh, soft and warm and dry, and your hand comes to rest on her belly, your fingers splayed out, cooler than her sun-soaked skin, and she giggles. The anticipation makes her giddy. Her hand comes to rest on yours, though never to take your hand; she wants to be touched more than she wants to hold, that's why when she shifts carefully on her buoyant seat, she makes sure that it's not so drastic that you'd have to move your hand from her skin.

"You kept me waiting," already there's a hint of faux disapproval on her tongue when she greets you properly, or as properly as you were going to get from her. Instead of dignifying that with a real response, you roll your eyes, and lean in to kiss her on the cheek. Giving a huff at your non-answer, she does however take your face in her free hand before you can pull away, giving you a kiss on the cheek in response.

"Hello to you too, Ven," you half laugh, but she's still holding your face, holding you close, for longer than was necessary. Letting you go, she lifts her glasses with that same hand to finally get a proper look at you. A strange, accusatory glimmer there amongst the mirth and mischief.

"I thought you kept me waiting because you were freshening up," it almost sounds betrayed, settling the glasses on top of her head. How could she have known that kind of thing? Why would she care if you hadn't?

"Didn't think it would matter; I was getting in the pool anyways," you pointed out as nonchalantly as possible, but she just reiterated that you'd kept her waiting, like it was the end of the world. Something about her suddenly intrigued gaze had you growing flustered, wondering what it was about you that had her so incensed.

In the next instance, she's slid from her seat and into the water beside you without hesitation. There's now something determined in her eyes when she takes your face in both hands, kissing you. Venetia has always been direct, has always taken for granted that you'd bend to her whims in most instances. Like this one. Your arms wind around her as if on instinct. There's nothing sweet about it, nipping at your lips insistently, tongue in your mouth -

"Oh my god," she pulls back, eyes wide with what you're pretty sure is disbelief, like she's come to an urgent realisation.

"It's so good to be home; how have you been lately?" You ask breathlessly, deeply confused about her attitude and trying to give her a hint that even for her this is a strange greeting. But then her lips are on yours again, pulling you in, all teeth and tongues and gasping furiously into your mouth. Somewhere in all of this, you pull her close, hands beneath her thighs and letting her wrap her legs around you under the water.

"It hasn't even been an hour!" She cries this time when she pulls back from you, looking almost like she's on the verge of laughter or perhaps screaming, "wash your mouth out! What is wrong with you?" Despite the fact that she'd just given you the kind of kiss that would put Hollywood to shame. Twice.

"Not drinking chlorine for you, Ven," you tell her, amused, while still holding her secure against you. Displeased with your answer, she pushes away from your chest with both hands, and you let her go, let her splash you as she makes a face.

"Don't drink it, christ," she rolls her eyes, as if she believes you're being wilfully stupid about the whole thing.

"Then I'll just taste like chlorine," you pointed out, wading over to her. The answering smile you get is particularly mean.

"I'd rather you taste like chlorine than Felix," despite all the questions and implications her disdainful words raise, you match her energy, smiling back with a blithe confidence as you approach her once more.

"You sure you mean that, Vennie?"

Immediately, Venetia is scarlet, spluttering, playing exceptionally well at being horrified by your implications, if not for the ease with which she lets herself get wrapped up in you once more.

"You're gross, you're awfully gross, you both are. I can't believe -" she tells you, looks in your eyes like she's determined to make you believe it, "I'll wash your mouth out myself," she threatens, and you nod while not trying particularly hard to hide your amusement. With a childlike scowl she dips herself mostly underwater, still encircled loosely by your arms, scowling at you all the while. Like a little, blonde crocodile, nose and eyes making sure you're watching her every move, taking her and her threat seriously.

When she surfaces, cheeks puffed out and presumably filled with water, you have to let her go for how hard your laughing. Then the chase is on.

The first mouthful of water she loses to her own laughter, and shouting at you to stop trying to get away, while you thrash through the length of the pool. Every so often she almost catches you, but you splash her and wriggle free and she shrieks with faux offense. Until she's got you pinned to the side of the pool, water just up past your waist, and a devilish look of triumph in her eyes.

At first she taps her lips expectantly. Of course her mouth is once again full to bursting with pool water. Shaking your head adamantly, you try and lean away, still faintly laughing, but Venetia changes tact.

Instead of caging you against the side, she carefully wraps her arms around your neck, gaze turning soft and fond and amused as she leans in. You know what she's doing, but you let her have it this time.

Winding your arms around her waist, you let her shotgun a mouthful of pool water into your mouth, and try not to laugh to keep it from going down your airways or up your nose. Venetia, in triumph, the moment she knows the water is in your mouth, she pulls back and clamps her hand over your mouth, looking altogether too proud of herself.

Drenched, beautiful, and grinning from ear to ear, the look in her eyes betrays just how into you, or at the very least into this moment, she is.

"Wash your mouth out before you come anywhere near me next time," she orders in a firm whisper that's definitely doing more for you than you'd like to admit. Possibly for Venetia too, considering how she's unable to wipe the smile off of her own face, "you filthy, little doggie."

No-one, maybe not even Felix, is ever allowed to find out how quickly those words have you all but melting at her command. The fight drains from you, and God all you want is to be good, good, good. Judging by Venetia's pleased reaction, she can feel the moment you start to submit, can probably see it in your eyes. Her hand stays over your mouth until she's satisfied you've swished the water around enough, and you spit the water back out to the side, instead of at her like you'd been intending to before she'd called you out.

"Can't believe you said that to me, really, Y/N," she sighed, shaking her head. Neither of you moved; you flush against the side of the pool, and Venetia pressed flush to you.

"So you're the only one who can say things in the hopes of getting manhandled?" Giving a sheepish grin, even if you don't fully believe what you're saying, there's a semblance of self-satisfaction when Venetia gives in. She grabs your chin and pulls you in for one more rough kiss, pressing against you, trapping you in this moment. A rare instance in which she gives you what she thinks you want.

But some of your bite is coming back.

"So does the chlorine taste better?" You smirked. Immediately she splashes you with a wave of water to the face. By the time you've spluttered through a recovery, she's halfway to the stairs.

"I hate you," is not a real answer to the question, but that's okay, you weren't really looking for one as much as you had been looking to rile her up, "and you've made me all wet - shut it -" she warns, cutting off the crude joke you both knew you were about to make, as she starts up the pool stairs with determination, "and you've ruined my beautiful afternoon plans."

Waiting at the top of the stairs, she turns back to you, simply watching her with a grin, giving you an impatient gesture. Your smile widens, but still, you obligingly follow her.

Even while mad at you, Venetia was a creature of predictable desires. Very rarely did her frustration with you outweigh the benefit of your company to her, and now was no different. Drying yourselves off with her towel, the only one either of you had brought down, it seems her mood is already lightening once more, letting you know that she'd gotten her hands on the latest Harry Potter novel. When she pulls the book out from where she'd stashed it under the long lounge, she picks up Felix's shirt and tosses it to you.

You know to put it on, just like you know not to comment on it.

Without asking, nor having to be asked, you settle yourself on the lounge chair and insistently pat the space beside you; almost enough for Venetia.

"Let me read over your shoulder," an incredibly flimsy excuse that you both see through, but she still settles herself on the lounge chair too. There's not quite enough room, so you're almost on your side, arm around Venetia's shoulders, head resting against hers, pressed up against her whole side. Legs curled up together, your other hand once more comes to rest on her lower belly, casually intimate, warm, tips of your fingers just barely tucked into her bikini bottoms. You're not reading; your face pressed so close to her's is proof enough of that.

"Your eyelashes are tickling my cheek," in these moments she sounds so much younger than she is. The peel of laughter that rings out from her as you nuzzle your face further against her cheek, pointedly fluttering your eyelashes, it reminds you of the way she'd laugh at the sleepovers the two of you shared in the first few years of meeting each other.

And you settle back down, angling your face only slightly to keep your lashes from bothering her, and rub faint circles against the soft skin of her stomach with your thumb. Venetia opens her book, and finally relaxes.

It's been a long time since you'd seen Venetia fully relax around anyone who wasn't you. You wonder if anyone else has noticed, has wondered, has thought to figure out the how and why of the girl beside you. Contrary to popular belief, it's been a long time since Venetia's actually sought you out for sex. Constant lewd flirting and suggestive texts aside.

So much of Venetia's self worth was tied to being sexually attractive. Pretty and fashionable and fuckable. Needed biblically, carnally. Pick up, use, put down. There was such a thrill in being wanted that it took her too long to understand why she was hollow; don't let me go felt selfish for her to even think. But you'd learned to read through the things she leaves unsaid.

Sex she could get anywhere, but the touch-starved Venetia knew you understood the truth of what she wants. It's why she treated you like furniture, like she was entitled to your personal space.

You often find yourself wondering if Venetia only touches you in ways she wishes she could touch Felix. More casually than even now, and many still would consider their relationship too close. You are kind and loving and playful and a wonderful friend, but you are nothing of real substance to her; you are a warm body and the closest she can be to Felix half the time.

For anyone else it would be too hot for this kind of proximity, but never for Venetia. So you drown in the heat of her skin pressed against hers, and let yourself drift asleep in the peaceful afternoon.

It's a sleep so peaceful that you don't even properly wake when her soft chatter infects your hazy mind. Farleigh's voice drifts through your head and this haze -

"- no-one tells me anything," you can hear Venetia pouting without even opening your eyes. Her book must be closed because she's got a hand on your thigh, bringing your leg further over her.

"Of course they don't, you should have seen both of them earlier when I accidentally implied -"

"Careful, Farleigh," you yawned, carefully snuggling further against Venetia. The pair are quiet for a few long seconds, but your eyes remained closed.

"See what I mean?" Farleigh eventually breaks the rather tense silence with a wry, pointed comment.

"Can't believe you didn't tell me we were having a guest," Venetia sounds like she's sulking, but you just make a noncommittal hum in the back of your throat, "feeling possessive of our impending Mister Quick, are you, pet?" And you feel her fingers gentle on your cheek, taking your face in her hand and lifting you to look her in the eyes. Cracking your eyes open, you level a flat gaze at her. Also, you realise how long you must have been sleeping; it's sunset.

"Simply giving you space to form your own opinions of him, Ven," you told her, gaze sliding pointedly to Farleigh, who had splayed himself out on the opposing lounge chair. He stuck his tongue out at you.

"I'm a big girl, pet; I just want to know what you think, what I should expect."

God, the Catton siblings are phenomenal at playing innocent in a way that's completely and utterly unconvincing.

Venetia's still holding your face close, gaze sharp and demanding an answer. Maybe you should untangle yourself from her, from this conversation, but something about being around her always made you want to play along, even if out of spite.

"I think it doesn't matter what I say," you tell her softly, speaking with an honesty you don't often allow yourself around most of the Cattons, or even Farleigh, "nor do I think it matters what Farleigh says, no matter how cruel he is about Ollie," everything about your tone, your expression, the way your grip on her retracts as much as you're able, it comes as a surprise to her, and judging by your peripheries, Farleigh too, "you're going to want him, adore him; Oliver is unconventionally wonderful, and you are Venetia Catton."

"The actual fuck do you mean by that?" She pulls away, struggling to her feet with a scowl, and you relax fully into the spot she'd just abandoned. By this time you smile up at her, warm, adoring.

"I mean it is in your nature to love," it's not entirely a lie, but Venetia only sees the truth in it, the fondness. Her irritation softens, "I mean no opinion will ever matter above yours, and I know you, Ven; you're hardwired into your own brand of love at first sight." It's an incredibly, meticulously diplomatic cover for your earlier, far harsher statement. Farleigh's watching you like you're a magician before his very eyes; Venetia, thankfully, doesn't look at him.

Sitting back down gingerly on the edge of the lounge, she gives into your sweet words when you softly tell her you love her. She doesn't say it back - she never will - but she kisses you on the forehead before standing again.

"Almost thought you were being a bitch again," she tells you loftily, wrapping her towel around her waist like a skirt, cocking her hip, "and I've about had it up to here with you and your -"

"Yapping?" You supplied, playing up the canine allegations just to see the way she fails the hide the quirk of her lips, the dead give away that she's desperate to smile.

"Yapping, exactly." And she turns swiftly on her heel, trying her best to storm away. When you call out that you'll see her at dinner, she flips you off. If you look to Farleigh, you think you might be able to see the cogs turning in his mind. Slowly, his mouth opens, then there's a distinct look in his eyes that says he thinks better about whatever he was going to say, and he closes it once more.

"Spit it out."

"I actually don't think I will," at least he admits it, "I think I'm in awe of your way with words and I'm gonna keep the rest to myself," he looks out at the pool, at the grounds beyond it, tucking his hands behind his head.

"Farleigh -"

"No," he says firmer, and looks at you, but his expression isn't harsh, "I think you're right; I think we should have our own opinions, and I don't want mine to get in the way of our friendship," surprisingly, he sounds very genuinely sincere; it hits the centre of your chest, and you take a moment to consider his words. "Oliver Quick," still the barest bit of disdain, but he's clearly trying, "is someone you and my cousin clearly care about; end. Of. Sentence." It does look like it pains him to say, but you're grateful nonetheless.

For a very long time, the two of you lay in comfortable silence, side by side, as the sun turn the world gold-red-lilac-blue around you. Just as you feel like you should go and get dressed for supper, you can't help but try again.

"Come on, what were you going to say -?" You don't even finish the teasing question before Farleigh blurts out -

"Just how good was Oliver's dick for you to actually be this possessive of him before he even gets here?"

And the question makes you absolutely burst out laughing, a sound which Farleigh thankfully echoes. The cathartic release is greatly welcomed as you both stand. Wrapping your arm around Farleigh's waist as the two of you head back, but he's still waiting for the answer he knows you're not nearly too shy to give.

"I'm not possessive," you justify immediately, though Farleigh's snort gives away that he doesn't even begin to believe you, "but you can never ever, ever, ever, ever, ever tell Venetia -"

"That good?" Farleigh sounds incredibly sceptical, but you go quiet; you wonder if he can tell how smug you're being right now. Clearly, after a moment of silence, the disbelief in his voice gives him away; "seriously; that good?" You make an affirmative noise in the back of your throat, "okay," Farleigh actually sounds a little impressed, "Felix's jealousy makes a little more sense; I assume he knows?"

"Of course he knows," you shake your head dismissively, "and he's not jealous," anymore, you leave off the end.

"Am I jealous of you?" Farleigh murmurs, mostly as a joke, but knowing him there's at least part of him considering it, "who would have guessed; Oliver Quick."

For the first time when Farleigh says his name, there's only intrigue on his tongue.

[awriterinthenight]

"I'm Lockwood" -Anthony Lockwood

requested by: anonymous

words: 1420

warnings: none really just Lockwood staring a lot, oh and I added that the reader can like see little memories with her ability just add a bit to the character

I let out a deep breath before approaching 35 Portland Row.

I'd spent all day looking for a smaller agency to join due to personal reasons, but all of them rejected me because either I wasn't reputable enough and they didn't want someone that could potentially get their agency in trouble. Or, if the agency was willing to accept me, the agency had a not so good reputation, and as much as I need a job, I also like living.

I knocked on the door three times, and waited as a boy in glasses and frazzled hair asked, "You here about the job."

I nodded my head, "Yes, I was told on the phone I was being interviewed by someone Lockwood, are you him?" I asked politely.

He just scoffed saying, "No, but you probably won't stay long enough to learn my name. Come on, come inside, the last person should be out in a minute or two."

I followed him inside the house. The inside was...well...interesting, but not in a bad way. I quite liked its randomness and the chaos that seemed to flow.

I was too busy admiring the house, so when a girl ran past me screaming, I was very caught off guard. I made a face, knitting my brows together turning towards the boy, "If being an agent doesn't work out she would do well as being an actress for horror movies with the scream she has," I say, looking at the door she just ran through.

He seems to just roll his eyes, trying to hide his small smile at my comment. He walks into the room where a girl and another guy I'm pretty sure is Lockwood, "Alright, last one," the boy with glasses says, as he sits and gets comfortable in an armchair.

The guy turned around and looked at me standing in the doorway, "Hi, I'm Lockwood, why don't you take a seat and we can start the interview," he said gesturing to the couch.

I sat down watching him as he also took a seat in front of me. He smiled at me before turning towards the girl leaning against the wall, "Lucy, why don't you make us some tea and grab some more biscuits," he asks.

Before Lucy can leave the boy with glasses stops her, "Woah, why do we have to waste more tea bags and biscuits. I reckon she's a bolter anyway," he snarks.

Lockwood sighs saying, "At least give her the benefit of the doubt and pop the kettle on," he tells Lucy and the other boy, before turning towards me. He looks at me for a second, as if unable to speak or find words, before clearing his throat, "Alright, so I assume you have up to your 4th grade," he asks as just a formality.

I nod, "I have all my stuff right here," I say grabbing the folder containing my stuff out of my bag, "But, I don't have a recommendation letter. Things at my other agency ended quickly and quite unpleasantly. I hope that won't affect whether I get the job or not, will it?" I ask a bit nervous.

He smiles again, looking up at me through his eyelashes, "I can assure that will not compromise your chance of getting the job. You seem quite impressive. Won a few fencing competitions I see," he says looking through my folder.

I shrug, "I'm good with a rapier I guess," I say, trying to not sound too pretentious.

He just smirks, setting down the folder, "So what is your talent, George's talent is touch, mine's sight, and Lucy's is her hearing," he says, as Lucy walks back in with our tea. I grab a cup, and out of the corner of my eye I can see Lockwood still looking at me.

"Touch mostly, I can touch something, and then get a picture of the person the object is connected to, or a memory, and sometimes if its strong enough I can hear it," I answer, explaining my talent a bit more.

"Well we can always use another person with the talent of touch," he says, "Now, I know this might seem strange, but I don't believe in hiring an agent based on recommendations. I like to see their talent in person, so if you could tell me what you feel or see when you touch each object I'll think you'll do just fine." He hands me an object covered by a cloth. He removes the cloth revealing a pocket knife, "Now what do you feel or see," he asks, placing it in my hands. When he does they briefly graze mine, making his face turn pink a bit, but he tries to hide it.

I hold on to it as I start to feel a happy feeling. I can see what looks like a man hunting, but he's smiling the whole time. I open my eyes to see Lockwood looking at me softly. When I notice he starts to stumble over his words, "So, umm... so what did you feel or see," he asks a bit frantically, as he takes the knife back.

"I felt a happy feeling, I could see what looked like a man hunting, but he seemed like he was in his happy place," I say, trying to hide my smile from Lockwood's actions.

He smiles back at me, "Perfect," he says looking at me, "This belonged to my uncle. He loved hunting, before he died of a stroke, but he was always happy hunting." He grabs the next object and opens the case, "Now what about this," he asks, handing me the object, this time seeming to purposefully graze my hand this time, making me have to try not to blush.

I take the watch but it feels different from the other one. This one is full of death and horror. I throw the watch onto the table, shocked from its intense feeling. "Why would you make me hold that, especially in a job interview," I say, frazzled from what I just felt.

Lockwood seems to try to look for words, "It's just part of the process, I swear you won't feel anything as horrible as that," he says calmly putting his hand on top of mine.

I lean forward again nodding, "Alright then, what's the next item," I ask, wanting to speed up this interview.

He uncovers what looks like a skull in a jar. He looks at me a little too long before saying, "I promise you this one will be fine," he assures me.

I put my hand on the jar and try to feel something. All I get is what sounds like mumbles and the feeling of discontent, which isn't unusual from the dead. "Just mumbling, and like every other spirit, doesn't want to be dead," I say looking back at Lockwood, who's already looking at me.

"Alright, just one last one then the jobs yours," he says, uncovering the last item, a toothbrush holder. I give him a weird look making him smile and look a bit flustered.

I grab it, but I feel nothing. There's no feeling, no words, no memories. I open my eyes, "There's nothing," I say, placing the cup down harder than I mean to. Across from me George starts to laugh.

"What's he laughing at," I ask confused.

Lockwood sighs, keeping up his smile, "Well I should hope you don't feel anything, this is just a normal toothbrush cup," he tells me lightly. But I don't take it that way.

I scoff, "I thought this was supposed to be professional, but clearly it is not," I say standing up, "I'm leaving." This causes Lockwood to stand up quickly catching my arm.

"Wait, just hear me out," he says, and I decide to give him the benefit of the doubt, "Its just to make sure you're telling the truth. Most people lie about it. We never meant to upset you, so if you still want the job it's yours," he asks, still holding on to my arm.

I sigh, "Fine, I'll take the job, but no more dumb shenanigans like that, or I will leave," I warn him.

He looks at his hand holding my arm before removing it, turning a slight shade of pink, and starting his sentence stumbling over a few words, "Of course, no more jokes, and the job is yours," he says sincerely.

I just nod, saying, "Good."

"Good," is all he says in response.

[rotworld]

A Bird in the Hand

you've been "partnered" with the nightbound who betrayed you for weeks now and neither of you are happy with how things are going.

->virgilio/reader. explicit; contains hypnosis, blood drinking, mild gore, power imbalance, aphrodisiacs, food control, mentions of conditioning.

.

.

.

Every day, there’s a notebook open on the kitchen counter. You can’t miss it because it sits right next to an enormous breakfast feast, already made, plated and waiting by the time you drag yourself out in hungry desperation. Everything is artfully arranged like it came right out of an upscale restaurant’s kitchen from lightly sprinkled garnish to elegant, swirling sauce patterns. Even the fucking cereal looks like a mouthwatering food blog photo, a row of sliced fruit ringing one side of the bowl. 

There’s a pen tucked into the notebook’s spiral binding. At the top of the page, a single question is scrawled in neat cursive: What is your favorite movie?

It’s late. The sun shields are open and you can see the city skyline glittering through the windows. The only light in the room comes from a lamp perched on the counter, the thick dome shade softening the light to sunset orange. You uncap the pen, watching clouds drift across the moon. 

Fuck you, you write.

*

Some nights are spent at Cassowary Tattoo. 

It’s that or stew in your own misery for long, silent hours, because you’re not allowed to leave the house on your own yet. You claim your spot in the waiting area, stretched out on the sofa by the front windows with a stack of books on the coffee table beside you. It’s so cozy it makes you suspicious, the comforting and non-confrontational vibe almost smothering—lots of plants and pottery on the wooden wall shelves and muted rugs to soften the hardwood floor, some slow-tempo jazz playing over the speakers. Was it already like this or did they do some hasty redecorating? It feels more like a coffee shop than a tattoo parlor.

Your name is called with slow reluctance. “Hey, uh…” It’s the guy working the desk—nightbound. You saw him sipping from a blood pouch earlier. He knows what you are, too. That’s why he watches you like a hawk. He looks young but that doesn’t mean anything. What does is how nervous he is around you, anxiously vigilant whenever you shift around to get comfortable or exhale just a little sharply. Not like he’s scared of you, but scared of potentially having to handle you, like he’s watching a priceless vase wobble precariously on its stand. A lot of fledglings are like that because the older nightbound teach them that witches are some kind of endangered species, rare and skittish, necessitating firm but gentle handling.

He’ll chase you if you try to run. He doesn’t want to. He’s afraid he might hurt you by accident and then Virgilio will be mad at him, and he would sooner chop off his own hand than risk one of his superiors, his elders, being mad at him.

“Yeah?” you say. 

He flinches whether you soften your tone or not. “Are you, uh. Are you hungry? Sergeant—uh, Virgilio wants to know.” 

“I’m fine.” You pretend to be interested in the books you brought along, propped up on your side with one of the musty tomes open in front of you. It’s all dry, boring shit, leatherbound antiques on loan from the Dusk Council’s extensive library. Nightbound biology, nightbound psychology, nightbound history—there’s a lot here that you don’t know despite how they’ve been breathing down your neck your whole life. 

“Oh. Okay.” He fidgets nervously with his phone. “Well, uh. I think he ordered you something anyway.” 

He did, of course, and it shows up just a few minutes later in the hands of a delivery driver. Virgilio appears at the same moment, pushing through the curtain dividing the shop. There’s no doorbell or chime or anything. Every nightbound in the shop can hear it when somebody parks on the street right outside, or when the front door opens with a wheezy creak. Virgilio exchanges pleasantries and leaves a nice tip. He places the takeout bag on the coffee table right next to your books and then he pulls up one of the armchairs. His hair’s up in a ponytail. He’s wearing a black tank top so his tattoo sleeves are on full display—a moon and clouds, raven wings, a skull hidden among full-bloom flowers and half-melted candles. 

His smile makes your stomach twist up in angry, sickened knots. “Hey. Got you something.” 

You don’t answer and you don’t meet his gaze. Undeterred, he pulls a container out of the bag and opens it for you, steam and a garlicky scent wafting out. It’s some kind of spinach dish, sauteed leafy greens topped with crunchy garnish. 

“Smells pretty good,” he says, stirring it with a plastic fork. “Let me know if you like it and I’ll make it at home sometime. Just need some garlic and olive oil. Maybe a little amaretto if you want it fancy.” He slides the bowl across the table, closer to you. “Come on. You must be hungry. You barely touched breakfast.” You still don’t take it and his smile wanes, all that cheerful enthusiasm souring into weary resignation. “I don’t want to put you under but I will if I have to. It’s for your own good.”

“Stop saying that.” The threat of hypnosis makes you sit up, but you still don’t reach for the bowl. You don’t want it. You don’t want any of this. “‘For my own good?’ This is all for you, so you can feed as much as you want.” 

“It’s for you,” Virgilio insists. “So you don’t end up anemic or worse.” 

The wounded look on his face makes your blood boil, soft eyes and furrowed brows like he thought this would go any other way. He wants to talk? Fine. You can talk. “I wouldn’t need to worry about that if you fed from anyone or anything else sometimes. But I’m here, so you might as well take as much as you want, right? Why bother with a donor who actually likes getting fed on? Is that not as fun? You can’t get off if your blood bag is having a good time, too?” 

Virgilio catches your chin between his fingers and jerks your gaze up to meet his eyes. He’s got your mind in a vice-grip before you can even blink and for a blissful moment, there are no thoughts in your head. No anger. No fear. Nothing. Just fuzzy warmth and gentle drifting. His eyes are glittering gold and you’re sinking, all the tension leaking out of your body, all your worries evaporating—and then he lets go, slowly, like a fist loosening. He maintains just enough control that you can’t muster the energy to yell at him or tear yourself away. 

“Eat the fucking food,” he says, his voice low and ragged. You can only think clearly when he stops touching you, and even then, you find yourself picking up the bowl and spearing spinach on your fork. Virgilio leans back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his face.

“I didn’t ask for this,” you mutter between bites. “I didn’t choose to be what I am.” 

Virgilio takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Yeah. Me, neither.” 

*

Every three days, your breakfast comes with roseblood. Virgilio brews it himself on the stove and the delicate garden-fresh aroma fills the whole house by the time you wake up. He pours the first dose into a black mug with a golden bird silhouette stamped on the side, and then he drops in a few colorful crystals that gently fizzle, making little prismatic bubbles at the surface. That’s nectar, condensed and edible magic. The sweet scent makes your mouth water. He sprinkles a couple leftover rosebuds on top and slides the mug over to join the rest of the trays, plates and bowls he painstakingly prepared. 

“Buon appetito,” he says with a grin. He usually makes himself scarce when you show up for food but today he’s decided to stick around. He stays on the other side of the counter, at least, a newspaper unfolded in front of him so he can pretend he isn’t watching you intently. You eat begrudgingly. Virgilio is such a talented chef that it makes you angry. His plating is immaculate and his dishes are perfect whether he’s baking, boiling or braising something—a sharp contrast to the single small plate at his elbow with nothing but a piece of toast smeared with marmalade. 

You watch him. He watches you. Neither of you speak to each other and the only sounds are the clink of your silverware and the whisper of turning paper, the occasional muted crunch when Virgilio nibbles on his toast. The roseblood is delicious, sweet like honey. You catch him smiling when you hold up the mug, enjoying the soft floral scent and the warmth against your palms, but he quickly averts his eyes back down to the newspaper. 

You think about those videos of animal shelters and people who sit with nervous dogs until they stop shaking. That’s how he sees this, you think. A selfless act. Doing you a favor. Coaxing you to him with food and gentle words, like he doesn’t already have the leash around your neck. 

Today, the notebook asks, What do you like to do in your spare time? 

Virgilio’s gaze is drawn by the scratch of the pen across the paper. You scribble quickly and furiously, then shove it aside. He doesn’t have to look to know you’ve written the same words you always do. He gathers up his newspaper and toast and finally gives you some privacy.

*

Some nights are spent in Dr. Griffiths’ office. The two of you look like a couple on the verge of divorce. Virgilio hunches like a man in a confessional booth and you’re scrunched up against the armrest of the big Victorian sofa, keeping one full cushion between the two of you. Your gaze travels across the room in careful avoidance of Virgilio, wandering from the bookshelves to the hanging paintings to the swinging pendulum of a grandfather clock. Candles flicker atop ornate brass stands. It smells like leather, parchment and incense. 

“I just don’t know what else to do,” Virgilio says. “It’s not like I don’t get it. I do. But you have to understand that the second you became active…look, you weren’t leaving that dinner party without the rug getting pulled out from under you, okay? That’s just how it is. If I didn’t do it, someone else would’ve. And I know you hate me for it, you feel like I took advantage—” 

“Let’s not assume,” Dr. Griffiths says gently. “It would benefit you both to ask each other how you feel, rather than jumping to conclusions. Even in situations where you’re certain you already know, is it not better to ask? To have the opportunity to voice those thoughts and feelings?” He’s nightbound, of course, because why would the Council send you to any other kind of therapist? His eyes glint like an animal’s and he has the uncanny, fluid grace of an elder. He dresses somewhat eccentrically for his profession, stylish and formal in a black blouse with translucent sleeves and fitted slacks, his high heels glossy like obsidian. He looks the way people expect nightbound to look, sickly pale and ghostly as though carved from marble. 

Virgilio glances at you out of the corner of his eye. “They don’t talk to me if they can help it.” 

Dr. Griffiths tilts his head, regarding you with a pensive frown. “You’re still not speaking to your partner?” 

“No,” you mutter.

“Why not?” 

“You can’t guess?” 

He smiles and pushes away from the desk. You watch him warily as he comes to stand beside you, resting his palm on the armrest of the sofa. He looks down at you, tilting his head in that odd, bird-like motion the nightbound all share, like an owl tracking a scurrying mouse. “No assumptions, remember?” he asks.

“It’s really not that hard to figure out,” you insist. He hums, urging you to continue. You don’t look at Virgilio but you can feel the weight of his stare. “My life doesn’t belong to me. I’m like his pet or something.”

“That’s not true—” Virgilio starts to say. Dr. Griffiths cuts him off with a sharp glance. 

“Go on,” he says patiently. 

There’s a lump in your throat, the burning sensation of tears forming in the corners of your eyes. You swallow hard. “And my time, that’s not mine anymore. I’m basically nocturnal now because I have to be. Even if I get up early, I can’t see the sun because of the stupid shields on the windows. It’s so dark everywhere, all the time. And my bedroom isn’t mine, it’s just the guestroom in his house. Some of my stuff’s there but it doesn’t matter. He can come in whenever he wants.”

“I would never—”

“Virgilio,” Dr. Griffiths says, firm but gentle. 

“And,” your voice cracks, “and the food, too. He picks that. And I know why, I know about roseblood and the risks and all that stuff, I know that. But it just reminds me that I don’t have anything anymore. I don’t even have myself. And…and…” Your words unravel into sobs. The sofa creaks under Virgilio’s shifting weight and you see him in your periphery looking sick with guilt. 

His hand trespasses onto the cushion between you. You hear him come closer. You know what he’s going to do and it makes you feel even worse, but you don’t try to stop him from touching your shoulder and turning you towards him. You don’t fight the gentle pressure of his fingers on your chin. You don’t squeeze your eyes shut or try to look away. Your eyes meet and Virgilio’s calming presence fills your mind, quieting your sobs to sniffles and numbing the ache in your chest.

Everything is okay for a while. Everything is light and airy, soft and sweet. You’re freed from thought and fear and worry, left with nothing but peace. When you surface, it happens slowly. You feel an arm wrapped around you, a gentle hand stroking your head. You smell chewing gum on his breath. Virgilio holds you against his chest, idly stroking your back and pressing kisses to your tear-dampened cheeks. 

Dr. Griffiths is back by his desk, frowning thoughtfully. “You have a problem with control, Virgilio,” he says. “Understandably, you crave it. You exert it however and whenever you can. Losing it makes you lash out and act impulsively. I would hope, then, that you might have some sympathy for someone who has none.”

Virgilio wraps around you like you’re the only thing keeping him from falling to pieces. He knows this will end badly once you get home; more tears, more distance, days of agonizing silence and refusing to meet his eye. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “Yeah, you’re right.” He holds on tight while he still can. 

*

There are indents in the notebook paper, like someone scribbled furiously on the page before it. You turn back and find line after line written and then hastily crossed out. A handful are still legible:

What is your favorite breakfast food? What is your favorite food? What foods do you like? What would you like me to make you? I will make you anything you want if you ask for it. I didn’t know it upset you so much. I thought maybe it upset you, but I didn’t know what to do. I’m trying to make the best of a difficult situation. I know it’s not fair. I’m not good at this. I can’t let you go but I will do anything else, just name it and I will do it. I’m going to put a better lock on your door. Do you want a better lock on your door? I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m really sorry.

On the next page, Virgilio’s handwriting reverts to its usual neatness. It simply says, List some foods that you like. 

*

Some nights are spent at home. Virgilio’s coworkers say he’s allergic to time off, which is news to you. It feels like he’s around more than he isn’t. Usually you stay in the guest room and only venture out for food but tonight, you reluctantly join him on the living room sectional. Virgilio is hunched over and doodling in a sketchbook, so shocked by your sudden appearance that you hear his pencil lead snap. You flick on the lamp and unceremoniously drop your entire stack of books on the coffee table, picking one from the pile at random to start with. 

You peek over the edge of the book. Virgilio is frozen for a moment like he thinks the slightest twitch might scare you off. You don’t think he’s even breathing. He watches you carefully, assessing you with cold focus like he’s sizing up a threat. The intensity in his stare frightens you. You don’t know what gives you away—quickening pulse? Hitched breath? Some subtle scent? He blinks and his gaze softens. He sets his sketchbook down and turns to give you his full attention. His casual lean, the way he drapes his arm over the backrest, reminds you of the night you met. 

“How about a truce?” he offers. 

You stare at him suspiciously. “What kind of truce?” 

“Less mesmerism.” 

“How about no mesmerism?” 

“Less,” he stresses with finality. The way your expression crumples with disappointment makes him sigh and rub the back of his neck. “What else do you want? Within reason.” 

You almost scoff at that but Virgilio’s anxious stare makes you reconsider. He’s trying, at least. It’s the smallest of consolations, but he’s giving it to you. “Could you talk to me the way you used to?” 

“The way I used to?” 

“Like at the party. Before…” Before he ruined your life. Betrayed your trust. Claimed you in front of the whole Council. Your heart is in your throat. “Like before,” you say quietly. 

The hoarseness of your voice makes him restless. He drums his fingers along the back of the couch and his gaze wanders. “I tried that,” he says. “When you first came here—” 

“When I was brought here,” you correct him. He clenches his jaw. “I didn’t choose to come here. You know that.” 

“The point is I tried that already. I acted like nothing was different. You still wouldn’t talk to me.” 

“Because I was angry. I still am,” you tell him. “I know I didn’t have much of a choice. I know somebody else would’ve done it if you didn’t. But it hurt. I’m allowed to be hurt. You can’t just snap your fingers and make me forgive you—”

“I could,” Virgilio says. He turns towards the kitchen windows where the moon is just a curled sliver. “I could make you. Probably not in one session. I’d need to reinforce it a few times. But I could.” He says it so plainly. Soft and contemplative, like something he’s spent long nights turning over in his mind. “Hm. That sounds extra fucked up when I say it out loud.” You flinch when he gives you a sidelong glance. “I really am sorry. About the way I did it, anyway. If we’d been anywhere else, I would’ve taken you home and talked it over first. I would’ve made you comfortable first. Been gentler about the claiming mark.” 

The reminder makes you pick at the turtleneck collar of your shirt. The scars on your neck are crescents of bumpy, gnarled tissue like the prints left by a vicious mauling. Virgilio follows the movement of your fingers intently, hoping you might peel the fabric down and show him the proof of his claim, but you won’t. You keep it covered as much as possible. The way he looks at it even through your clothing, the voyeuristic hunger in his eyes, unsettles you. 

“And yeah,” he says wryly, “I know you would’ve agreed to it. I would’ve laid out your options, and you would’ve picked me. That’s not a brag. The bar is real low and I know that. I’m perfectly happy being the lesser evil.”

He’s lying. You can’t usually tell. Before he started covering everything up with cloying, overindulgent sweetness, he hid all of his feelings behind a veneer of deadpan sarcasm. But that last part, you’re certain, was a lie. He doesn’t look at you when he says it. His voice gets small and timid, almost ashamed. You set your book down on the table slowly and take a steadying breath. 

“Do you want to feed on me?” you ask him. 

Virgilio blinks a couple times, like he’s trying to wake himself up. “Are you fucking with me?” 

You were really hoping he wouldn’t make a big deal out of this. “Remember what I said at the therapist’s? About how I’m basically your dog?” 

He frowns. “You’re not—” 

“Not looking to argue,” you cut him off tiredly. “Sometimes it feels like you’re trying to train me. Rewarding me for good behavior, punishing me for bad, all that stuff. Well, we’re trying to make things fair with a truce, right? So now I’m going to train you, too.” You lean back against the couch cushions and hook your fingers into the turtleneck, rolling down the collar until your throat is exposed. Virgilio’s pupils dilate. “If you’re good, you get extra.” 

He drags his gaze up from your neck to your face and your heart races. You don’t see him like this very often. Virgilio is old enough to control his appetite, normally unfazed by the sight or scent of bare human skin. The temptation of your blood when he didn’t expect it seems to have caught him off guard. He looks at you like a starving wolf looks at a lone deer, how the same wolf looks at a mate in heat, lust and hunger a single entity. Virgilio prowls closer on all fours, crawling towards you on the couch. You both know he’s the one in control here. He can take what he wants, when he wants. 

But he stops just short of you, one hand landing on the cushion beside your feet, and looks at you with that animalistic tilt of the head. “Have I been good?” he asks, his voice low and eager. 

Heat rushes through your body. “Yes,” you say. “You’ve been very good.” 

There’s something ritualistic about the way Virgilio feeds. You don’t know if all nightbound are like this or if it’s unique to him, but he goes slow. There’s foreplay before the bite. The approach is a dance, graceful and gradual. He caresses your leg as he shifts closer and he presses kisses everywhere, even over your clothes. To your ankle. To your knee. To your hip. They’re chaste but they linger and they feel reverential. He slides into place beside you and pulls you into his lap, hand wandering. He rubs your shoulders and strokes your sides. You see desire in his eyes but also sadness and solemn determination. This is about more than blood. 

His fingers slip beneath the hem of your turtleneck but he doesn’t take it off right away. He feels you first, his palms sliding up and down your chest. It feels good—not just the stroke of his fingers against your hardening nipples but also the undivided attention, the focus on your body and your pleasure, the weight and wanting of his stare. To Virgilio, nothing exists but you right now, you and your warmth and your pulse thudding beneath his fingertips. His lips move hungrily against yours, coaxing you to tangle your tongue with his. He makes small sounds, contented sighs and soft moans. 

“I’ll make it up to you,” he murmurs, nipping at your lower lip. Your heart flutters at the teasing prick of his fangs, his venom fizzling pleasantly on your skin. “I swear I will. Someday I’ll be worthy of this partnership.” He pulls your turtleneck off and buries his face against the side of your neck, inhaling deeply with a shudder. His hips move involuntarily, short, needy thrusts that grind his clothed, hardening cock against your ass. He presses his lips against your neck, teasing you. He knows exactly where you’re most sensitive. The marks from the last time he fed still haven’t faded. But he likes to feign ignorance, enjoying your quiet moans until he reaches the spot that really makes you squirm.

For all his protests about you not being a pet, he really does have you trained. You don’t flinch anymore when he prepares, stroking the back of his fangs with his tongue until his mouth is full of venom. Sloppy, open-mouthed kisses leave tingling numbness in their wake. Testing nips make you shiver in pleasure rather than pain. You wrap your arms around him and hold on tight, not out of fear but in anticipation. Virgilio savors you, dragging his tongue over your pulse. His hand cradles the back of your head as you turn and bare your neck to him. 

“Two and a half centuries in this shitty world,” he whispers, “and nothing has ever been as precious to me as you are.” 

Virgilio’s bite is ecstasy. The moment his venom floods your veins, your toes curl, your back arches, and you cum. If he didn’t hold onto you so tightly and keep your head still, you would thrash and flail wildly. You know he feels just as good, maybe even better, because his hips buck like he’s fucking you, rolling, languid thrusts that lightly bounce you in his lap. You’re aware, dimly and distantly, that the bite is shallow. He’s keeping it light and controlled, sucking the blood that beads to the surface rather than widening the wound, and in a state of pure instinctual want, it infuriates you. You want more, deeper, harder, everything he has filling you. He keeps a firm, steady grip on the back of your head to make sure you don’t try and impale yourself on him further. You whine when his fangs retract and he laps at the punctures left behind. 

“You’re so good to me,” he murmurs against your skin, trying to soothe you. The praise goes straight to your sex, heat and arousal making you move your hips against him. “Mm, yes, you are. So sweet and delicious.” His hand dips between your legs. He doesn’t undress you but he loosens the clothes on your lower half enough to get his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, and then he’s mercilessly working your sex with his fingers. “Cum one more time.” He’s growling, so deep in his own primal need that his voice is low and rumbling. He’s not asking. It’s an order, and it makes you whimper. “One more. Come on. Sweet thing, letting me have a taste of you. Let go for me.”

Already raw and right on the edge, you cum with a sob. Virgilio doesn’t let up, still mouthing at your neck and whispering filth. He coos about the mess you made on his fingers while your hips helplessly chase his hand. He doesn’t stop until you sag against him, worn out and oversensitive. The blistering pleasure phase has run its course but his venom will keep you in an extended post-orgasmic bliss for a while longer. He lays down and keeps you tucked against his chest, gently rubbing your back. 

It’s nice, you think deliriously. Every feeding is nice, but usually you shake him off and demand to be left alone once it’s over. It was a mistake to stay. Now that you know what it feels like to be in his arms, you’re not sure you’ll be able to leave.

“You can take a nap, if you want. I’m not going anywhere,” he says softly. Warmly. He sounds happy, you think. Because you fed him without prompting? Because he’s in control again? You don't know if tonight was a step forward or back, but you aren’t going to worry about it right now. Not when the lights are low and Virgilio’s touch is so tender, and everything almost feels alright. 

*

The next night, you're up and moving a little earlier than usual. Viriglio is still cooking. You sit at the counter to watch. He looks back over his shoulder at you briefly, almost shyly, like he doesn't want to scare you into leaving. He nods in greeting. You nod back. He looks a little disappointed but he smiles anyway and returns his attention to the stove. 

You tell him your favorite movie. 

[gakucchis]

how would mephisto's route look like?

so, i already got it all planned out. i was actually very very active in the fandom back in early 2020-mid 2021, where i was drawing and writing headcanons of mephisto when he was still just a mentioned character (see my pinned if you’re interested, thought it’s really old!). i got into it again because of nightbringer, but oh my god, my disappointment when after two years i looked up if mephisto was finally dateable… i’m actually slowly losing hope because nb is already on season 3 but who knows!! :') the devs hinted on reddit that they should be dateable at some point.. ANYWAY

i do have this potential story line, which i’m pretty sure could actually become reality some day, especially because of this post

here it is!!

- obviously, because of his noble status, we'll have to go for the route that could probably only be used for diavolo as well: arranged marriage (i hate this trope)

- two possibilities:

1. mephisto comes to RAD, looking really pale, worried, anxious, just not at all his usual self. after some prodding, he reveals his parents want to set him up for an arranged marriage with another noble demon

or

2. MC and the others catch wind of it themselves, e. g. through the news (obviously not the newspaper) because it’s a huge thing in the noble society

- mephisto, even though having been prepared for this his whole life, seems totally unready, and he’s secretly dreading it — he doesn’t want to talk about it either

- after some closer moments, he reveals that something is holding him back. he knows it’s his duty, he has known this for his whole life, yet something in him is screaming no

- MC can try all they want, but it’s not easy to convince someone to do what their heart tells them to do when they’ve been told they will have to do it one day

- it’s actually pretty weird, since he always wanted a suitable demon to marry one day, and was very picky with who he’d consider having around

- diavolo is just as worried for him, asking MC to keep an eye on him and support him, even if he says he doesn’t want any help

- this could also lead to some tension! like mephisto being even more rude and hostile towards MC, shutting them out of everything

- mephisto doesn’t understand why he’s so irritable, why he’s acting this way at all, he feels guilty for pushing MC away, but he has to

- but why does he feel this way? he was always a bit rude towards them, but now he feels like something else is there, like he’s building a wall up — but why would he need a wall for you when he never cared about you?

- days go on, and there’s no sign of the arranged marriage stopping. everyone is getting more and more worried, even the brothers, but the more MC tries to help, the worse it gets

- there was only one last plan, one that could ruin it all, especially for mephisto; it’s to infiltrate a ball hosted by mephisto's family, because since he can’t be emotionally reached… maybe his parents can be?

- (this would also make for some funny scenes too, because you’d have to sneak in and all lol)

- at some point, as mephisto‘s parents marvel about their son and how he’ll be married soon, one of the brothers (mammon…) will probably trip and direct attention to himself, and mephisto will be outraged to see them, and especially MC

- but before he can say anything, MC will chime in and say how distraught mephisto has been, and how they can feel he doesn’t want this, he doesn’t want to marry someone or even be with someone he doesn’t love, just because it’s his „duty“ he was assigned to doesn’t mean he has to fulfill it for the sake of his status

- mephisto is completely stunned, but he knows you’re right, so he stays silent

- now this can go two routes again:

1. the literal „but daddy i love him!“ way of the parents hating MC, thinking that they’re the cause for mephisto‘s recent development, commanding to throw MC and the brothers out; mephisto could chime in and be honest, though his parents would not approve

2. the slightly comedic and not so overly used choice way: his parents recognize MC (since there are only two humans around, both being powerful sorcerers), being confused at first… before being understanding?? and then even… suggesting that MC is the one mephisto actually loves? mephisto would of course deny it, the brothers would be furious, but the parents are actually gushing about the cuteness of the situation, how MC tries saving her „lover“. it would end with the parents being like „alright! when are you gonna marry them then?“ and mephisto being like „MARRIAGE?“

- obvvvv i like the second way more, the first trope is so so overused. yes, his parents are strict as hell but it would be funny and cute to see them naming reasons why MC would be perfect for mephisto, that they should arrange the marriage soon, etc.

- afterwards mephisto would of course pull MC outside, talking to them honestly and thanking them for saving them even after he pushed them away so much

- this would, of course, also be the moment where he’s actually honest, revealing that the thing that was holding him back and that was making him dread the thought of being in an arranged marriage… was his love for you, which he desperately tried to hide away and didn’t even realize for months

- he'd also apologize for his parents, because now they keep on asking him about MC and how their love is blossoming

- he'd of course end it by saying he knows how many rivals he has, but he’s sure that a noble and handsome demon like him is sure to sweep you off your feet!!

please i love him so much, just give me any route i am sick of collecting memory cards for devilgrams where i can’t even romance him

id love to hear your opinions, corrections, suggestions, love for mephisto <\3, just anything !!