#but listen you don’t understand how much I am just cleaning UP right now like what even are some of these sentances bruh 😭😭😭😭

[aberooski]

Y'all aren't ready for OUAD (Abby's version), you're just not.

[alkelkha]

𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐓. chapter three

relationship — jinx/powder x fem!blk coded reader

contents&warnings! : wc: 2.7k | post season 2 | lower-case indented | fluff | angst and i'm not comforting you this ch | lowkey unreliable narrator (jinx) | sexual tension if you squint | swapping spit with candy | beach episode | reader is implied to have big boobs | author attempt to write bpd splitting | reader and jinx get into an argument | not everything is sunshine and rainbows, friendship takes work and patience | not beta read | yes i am making this up along i go | PLEASE GIVE ME IDEAS FOR FUTURE CHAPTERS |

❛❛ OF COURSE, WE'RE FRIENDS ❜❜

WEEK ONE

after the two of you ran until the sunset it was awkward from there. jinx felt guilty— which she knew she shouldn’t, but she couldn’t help it. she practically begged you to be her friend and now chickening out like a pussy every time you get close.

she didn’t know how to be a friend. what does she do? give you hugs? scary!

you on the other hand?

you got comfortable immediately, going to the shop every day, hanging out with her rambling, and asking questions on her latest projects. jinx tried doing the same but there was this twisty turny feeling in her stomach when she tried. she was scared of how you would react.

she wants this. she wants your friendship, she needs it.

maybe it was because she finally cared what someone thought of her. someone that wasn’t silco or vi or isha.

she had to be vulnerable. 

fortunately, you didn't have any of it. you were the type of person to confront the problems ahead. communication was important to you which jinx hated, but appreciated simultaneously. it was beyond uncomfortable. at least it told her how much you valued this friendship between the two of you. you were willing to work things out.

“what does this device do?” your hand ran over the contraption, and with one move, you were covered in glitter. you slowly turned to jinx, looking at her with a deadpan, “don’t laugh—“

jinx nearly falls off her seat from laughing.  

this was painfully new to jinx. being called a ‘friend’, calling someone else her ‘friend’ was treading on unknown territory.

the way bubbles that formed in her heart the day she said yes burst every time you smiled at her as she ranted. that was sweeter than any candy you've given her.

you listen to her when she talks. you laugh at her dumb jokes. you walk with her around the plaza. you stay with her while she works on one of her (harmless) gadgets when you don’t have work. 

she was starting to understand the hype around having a friend. who knew sharing meals with someone made food taste even better? having a friend meant she could talk for hours on end and be met with a voice that wasn’t tearing her down.

is she doing it right? maybe. she isn’t sure herself.

grabbing a cloth, you wiped down your face. it didn’t help much. powder’s laughter wasn’t any help either. 

“you’re helping me clean that up, sprinkles.” powder tosses you a broom with a grin on her lips.

WEEK TWO

stalking your friend is totally normal. there’s nothing wrong in making sure your friend gets to work safely, especially when there’s a gang after her. besides, is it really stalking if she’s hiding in plain sight? she just so happened to blend in with the colorful scenery of flosnum. much like herself, flosnum loves colors.

pink and orange powder that you can get from kicking plot plants. beautifully painted murals. colorful homes. it was a colorblast.

and just like the good friend she is, she knows your schedule by heart!

you wake up around seven am, ready for the day at about eight-thirty, do a bunch of random stuff after that, and show up at her house or shop at eleven am to hang out. on weekends and wednesdays, you work the afternoon shift. mondays and fridays are your days off. the rest you work at night.

you can't blame her for it, she has no idea what she would do if you got hurt. she’s finally settling down, and that took 10 mental breakdowns.

sometimes, while following you, she'll get distracted and end up at the ice cream truck. after trying out all the poor old man could offer, cotton candy became her favorite.

what was she doing again? oh yeah!

your work was demanding, which is odd because she’s been at bars. hell, she grew up at one. she knew what they were like, and it certainly wasn't supposed to be what you were doing. she had never seen a bartender work so hard. powder was pretty sure the job wasn’t supposed to be this intense. 

SEVEN CHIMES was just like its home flosnum with a mature air. paper lanterns that would illuminate a variety of colors and shadows of white stars on the ceiling some days. weekends it would be packed and that was one of those days. 

you were exactly the same while you worked. the customers loved you. even if they were drunk, the only type of handsy they would get is an arm swing around your shoulder. 

your coworker, stella is what you called her, kept your eyes on you a bit too long. stella’s eyes trailed your body up and down before meeting powder’s.

they locked eyes. 

with a smirk, stella broke the contact eye.

.

.

.

okay, what the fuck was the smirk about?

powder slumps down in her seat from the corner of the bar. she already knew she wasn’t going to like her. who the hell did that girl think she was? does she want to fight? because powder will! feeling her eyes twitch she looked down to slip on her pink fuzzy drink.

“baby blue?”

jinx's eyes shot up to the voice. it was you! in all your glory, the blue light hitting your pretty dark skin, wearing that smile the same way you wore the stupid bronze turtle necklace around your neck. pretty.

after she was done checking you out a frog got fixed in her throat. she's been caught. wait! it’s not the end of the world yet. she could just brush it off as a simple visit! perfect plan.

“why did you tell me you were here?” you sit down on the opposite side of the table as her. “stella told me 'a certain blue-haired girl' had been 'keeping her eyes on me.'”

ohhhh, so that’s why she smirked.

snitch.

“just wanted a drink.” powder shrugs and keeps sipping down her drink. 

“you could’ve said hi, ya know? now i feel bad for you sitting here all alone.” you frown.

“you say that like i’m going type of loner!” powder scoffs. you raise an eyebrow as if you’re saying ‘are you not?’.

she furrows her brows, “i am not!” she defended herself.

“i never said—“

“you were going to!” 

you leaned back and sighed. that struck something in jinx. she’s got you annoyed.

shit.

now you were probably thinking of breaking it off with her and never seeing her face again. she should’ve known. she shouldn’t have gotten attached. “I’m sorry—“

“come on blue,” you interrupt her, getting out of your seat. “my shift just ended, and i’m starving!” you take her cold hand in your warm one, pulling her out of the bar.

WEEK THREE

blue was mysterious— was.

this girl bounced off walls. no filter. talks back to old mean people who gave you a hard time. she had to be constantly doing something or doing nothing. no in-between. you adapted to it.

she's unlike anyone you’ve ever met. 

the shop you gave her? now her hideout. she completely renovated it in her own style. remember that broken illuminating sign? now the sign had no words it was a…

monkey?

you think it was. you saw it often in her work. you’re guessing it was her signature. 

you liked moments like this. standing behind her, brushing her short hair mindlessly. her hair grew really fast, it was almost to her shoulders now.

jinx tinkered on the glitter bomb that exploded in your face three weeks ago. her tongue stuck out the corner of her mouth in concentration.

it was odd. her hair. not that it was bad, she somehow pulled it off amazingly, but you can’t help but think that this was a recent cut. “why did you cut your hair this way?” you asked.

she pauses her work and looks up, leaning back in her chair to get a better look at you. “what, don’t like it?” your heart jumped at the sight of her.

she was so cute. wide pink eyes, blue eyeshadow, dark lipstick, and glitter stains on her face. 

“no, just curious,” you spoke softly. powder’s eyes trail away from you as she thinks about whether she should answer your question.

in the meantime, you noticed some dark grease on the corner of her mouth. it was nagging at you, she was dangerously close to eating it if she were to lick her lips.

taking your thumb you lick it and then wipe it off of her. the action caused her to scrunch up her face a bit but she didn’t pull away. “it was a weakness.” she answered your question, “my hair was wayyy too long, practically dragged it on the ground.” she shrugged still looking up at you. 

“plus, i needed some change.” jinx made her hand into a gun and slowly raised it up to you, “pow.” she pretended to shoot you. 

“shooting me now?” your voice amused, raising a brow at her.

“you should’ve dodged it,” she shrugs, looking back down to her work. she set it down on the workbench and spun her chair around, “now you’re dead,” she got up from her seat to get another tool. "sucker."

“i thought you liked me!” you grumble, her back was now turned to you. 

“just a little.” she plays into it and turns around. 

her eyes widened to see you point a sucker to her head, with a smirk on your face, “now, you’re dead.”

“oh, so that’s how you wanna play, princess?” she puts her hand on her hip.

“you started it, cutie.” you unwrap the sucker, placing it in your mouth.

she narrows her eyes at you with a frown. a cute frown. you could tell she wasn’t really angry. she takes the sucker out of your mouth and places it in hers. 

your breath hitched. this should not be affecting you the way it is. the heat that coursed through your body went straight up to your face. jinx leaning closer didn’t help, you could envision her tongue swirling around the candy.

oh fuck.

WEEK FOUR

the warm softly grainy sand slipped between jinx’s toes as she stood barefoot on the beach. the beach was bustling. children darting around, teenagers around playing volleyball, and locals dancing to the music that filled the air.

she sits down on the blanket you placed down. “you’ve gotten tanner, blue.” you say as you just finished applying sunscreen on yourself.

she didn’t even know what sunscreen was until she crashlanded her. “you used to be a ghost, now look at you.” she wasn’t tan, she was still pretty fair, but she wasn’t as white as a ghost the first time she got here.

you sat on your legs in front of her with your hand lathered up with sunscreen. you slowly approached her giving her the time to pull away. she didn’t. you applied the sunscreen on her tattooed arms.

jinx didn't need you to do this. she could’ve done it herself, but your touch was nice…

also because of the view it was giving her. “now, where have you been hiding these bazongas!?”

"I've had these the whole time" you deadpan at her, get up and crawl away to the other side of the blanket.

"never out in the open like this!" she bursts out laughing at your reaction. “wait, wait! come back, pretty lady!” she grabs onto your wrist, pulling you closer. 

she was terrifyingly strong for someone so thin. “you’re no better than a man!” you yelp but don’t pull away (not that you could). 

“can a girl appreciate some beauty?” she huffs, wrapping her arms around your waist and pulling your back to her chest. “not my fault they’re right in front of me.” she pokes at them. jinx bit her lip to contain her laughter.

the clear blue water shimmered in the sun like it was a jewel. jinx clung onto your back, arms around your neck, and legs wrapped around your waist. fun fact! jinx can’t swim. “you’re such a baby.” you giggle, she puts her cheek on yours.

the both of you spent the time in the ocean teaching her how to swim or trying to kill each other by splash wars (you almost went blind because of her).

it was sunset. the both of you laid down on the blanket under you, looking up into the now pink sky. powder held onto your hand and you gladly held it with the same intensity.

“i like this, toots.” she turns her head to you but you don’t seem to notice. your eyes were fixated on the sky, you hand slightly loosened your grip.

your face drops into an annoyed expression, “i like this too.” foolishly you let out a tired sigh.

jinx's mind swirls.

she lying to you! she doesn’t mean it, do you see the way she replied? you’re such an idiot for trusting her. she’s probably only hanging out with you out of pity.

jinx shook her head, “you sure? you don’t sound like you did.” her voice offended.

you finally looked back at her. “sorry, baby blue. i’m just tired—“

she scoffs. “tired? tired of me? i thought we were having fun!” she sat up.

taken aback by her reaction you quickly backtracked what you said. you didn’t want to make this any worse. you got up to level with her, “no, no. of course not tired of you. i love hanging out with you, baby blue.” with that you seemed to get through to her, her face relaxed.

she’s tired of you. she’s tired of you. she’s tired of you. she’s tired of you. she’s tired of you. she’s tired of you. she’s tired of you. she’s tired of you.

jinx’s jaw clenches. why would you be tired of her? that doesn’t make sense! she’s made sure you had fun this whole time. yeah, at the beginning of your friendship, she chickened out a bit but you forgave her. yeah, she would pull stupid pranks but you love them. so why would you be so rude?

she looked into your warm eyes. “you’re lying to me!” she rips her hand away from yours. why are you lying to her? jinx’s eyebrows furrowed, jaw tensed and her forehead held creases.

“i’m sorry, blue. i just got stressed—“

“if you were stressed why would you come here in the first place? if you’re not having fun just say so, you didn’t have to fake it and lead me on the whole day.” she stood up and you did the same.

“what?” like an idiot, you laugh at the situation happening right now. “i never said all of that. honey, if you let me finish my sentence you would understand.”

now she’s laughing at you, she’s not even trying to hide it!

“shut up!” jinx shouts and you quickly pipe down. her breath came out in heavy pants. hands trembling over her ears. her mind was in overdrive. she was thinking about everything. about how you hate her. about how this was doomed from the start.

she should’ve known, no way someone would actually want a genuine connection with her. it’s not like you could ever understand her.

she points her finger out accusingly, “you think this is a laughing matter? you think i’m a joke!” 

your voice got caught up in your throat. this was insane. she was insane. she was just making up things on the spot to play the victim. you suck in a breath and shake your head. “what’s wrong with you?”

those words left like a gunshot to her heart. 

told ya.

jinx. 

not that you had to work hard to get to this point. wasn’t like she liked you to begin with.

hot, frustrated tears welled up in her eyes, her nails dug into the palm of her hand, letting blood drop freely onto the blanket under the two of you. an uncomfortable silence hung in the air, thick and stifling.

her glare at you intensified, a flicker in her pink eyes of… betrayal? a step back, followed by another, soon, she left you alone on the beach.

this was a mistake.

TAGLIST: @millie2point0 @powderbomb-jinxed @velvetinkbym

[sectumsempraaa]

Crimson Sparks

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader

Summary: Simply put, dating your academic rival, Draco Malfoy, has its challenges. But admist your journey with anger, you find your favorite Slytherin a bit more understanding than expected.

Word count: 1.1k

TW: Arguing, anger issues, minor violence

Based on this request! Thank you :)

A/N: I tried my best to approach this subject with sensitivity and respect. Internalized anger is a very real struggle for many people. Also, sorry this is shorter than normal. It’s good to be back!

“Draco, that doesn’t make even remotely any sense. If we do it your way, we’ll fail.” You say, articulating each word with utmost certainty.

You and Draco have made a nearly perfect couple for a few months now, but that didn’t stop the two of you from being academic rivals. In fact, if anything, it’s become worse.

And being paired up for a potions project is starting to test both your limits.

“Just because you don’t understand it, doesn’t mean it isn’t right. Look, if we take these ingredients…” Draco explains, his demeanor growing slightly more impatient with each sentence.

A conflict burns within you as the voice you cherish speaks to you with a tension you know won’t end with the two of you in his bed. He continues on his attempt to educate you, his tone turning more argumentative.

“Love, you’re not listening. You know the potion will oxidize if we make it outside.”

“The amount of flame we need underneath won’t sustain in a classroom. It needs as much air as it can get.” You spit back, your cheeks beginning to warm.

“Y/N, come on. You’re talking utter nonsense. That’s some Longbottom shit you’re thinking.” He retorts, his eyes squinting slightly with disdain.

He crosses his arms, sitting back in his seat. The slightest shake of his head sends you reeling.

“Ridiculous, the way you’re comparing us when you know damn well my potions grade is lightyears beyond his.” You fight back with gritted teeth.

And just when you thought he couldn’t get under your skin more, he mumbles something under his breath that genuinely takes you by surprise.

His voice low, his eyes lower, he mutters to himself with his brows furrowed.

“Ridiculous the way we’re having this fight when you know damn well my potions grade is lightyears better than yours.”

Your gaze shoots up to meet his immediately. The sting of the insult lands on your ego, causing you to see red.

Despite your greatest efforts, your hand grabs the nearest object, which happens to be one of your ingredients. A strength in your arm grows instantly, a force guided by fury.

Before you can even think, the vial is in tiny glistening shards on the floor, the sound of the shatter hits your ears almost as fast as a pang of shame hits your chest.

Draco stands quickly, his chair sliding across the floor.

For a moment, it’s quiet. The both of you stand in silence, waiting for the other to speak. But the guilt that has already started to consume you prevails, and he notices.

His eyes soften, the aggressive gesture not being foreign to him. He’s seen this in his father all his life, and he knows how to handle it.

“Y/N, darling…” Draco coos.

He makes his way slowly to your side, avoiding the mess on the floor as he gently pulls you away from the glass. “Look at me.”

“I can’t.” You choke, a genuine sorrow lacing your words.

“I want you to.”

Every bit of hesitation in your body fights to keep your eyes closed, but fighting the weakness you have for him is even harder.

You lift your gaze to his, his face closer than you expected. A hand snakes around your waist, pulling you close enough to smell his cologne. It feels like a lifetime until your chests meet each other.

“I know you didn’t mean to.” He whispers, placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

You can’t help the tear welling up and threatening to escape. But before you can worry about that, his thumb is wiping it clean off your skin.

“I’m s-sorry, I really am trying,” you start to say, just before he cuts you off by placing his hand under your chin and his lips onto yours. A subtle, gentle pull back to reality.

“I know, love. Let’s get out of here.” He suggests, and all you can think is how frustrating it is that someone can handle you with such care when you’re in this fragile state.

—

Draco walks the two of you to the Black Lake, sitting near it and retrieving some snacks from his bag. He offers you some, and you take it with a small smile.

“Nothing is worth that. Nothing is worth doing something that dangerous.” You admit, fiddling with the snack wrapper in your hands.

“You’re adjusting, Y/N. It’s going to take time. And it’s okay.” He responds, rubbing his hand on your thigh.

“Thank you. For being so understanding.” You profess, leaning a little closer into him.

“I watched my father do this very thing. Relearning how to react isn’t easy. It took him ages.” He explains, your expression turning sympathetic.

He taps your head playfully as he continues on.

“You’re rewiring things. It’s an unimaginable task to do at our age. And you’re damn brave for it.” He exclaims, looking at you with an adoration that convinces you he means every single word.

His fingers fiddle with yours, pulling you close to kiss you on the forehead. You stay quiet, his understanding and your shame still conflicting inside you.

But you feel heard, and that’s all you can ask for right now.

His voice lowers again, not too different than the way it sounded in the classroom. Except his mouth is still on your forehead, and you feel it growing into a grin.

“I’m still right, though. We shouldn’t do it outside.”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you, the movement of your shoulders leaning into him further.

“I don’t have it in me to fight that again. But if you’re wrong, and the fire goes out, I’m entitled to the biggest ‘I told you so’ of the century.”

“Fine. Meet in the potions lab at 3?” He says, his grin somehow growing bigger as he nudges your side with his elbow, challenging you in that sweet, full, boyish voice you’ve learned to love.

“You’re on, Malfoy.”

—

After several hours of compromise, going back and forth and hovering over each other, the potion is finally complete.

It turns out he was right, the potion couldn’t survive outside. Like, not even a chance. You kept to yourself about this, unwilling to admit the obvious defeat.

But he points it out towards the end of the night, and the argument sparks again. But this round, the words light a different kind of fuse.

And this time, it ends in his bed.

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

[thetriumphantpanda]

rainy days | frankie morales

Summary | It has never been your favourite day, but he always knows how to make it better.

Pairing | Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Word Count |

Warnings | Mentions of depression and sadness, negative feelings around birthdays, Frankie makes it all better, two idiots truly in love, allusions to smut but nothing explicit.

Authors Note | To my darling Jo, @undercoverpena - whilst this is my entry to your birthday celebration (I got the colour old rose, apologies for the tenuous link to brief you're about to read), it is also my love letter to you. To the woman you are. To the friend you have become. A love letter to the fact that you can be soft and emotional and have flaws and still be worthy of all the love in the world. Because you are. I have said it many times in recent days, but it is the truth, that I love you unconditionally and I am forever grateful for your friendship and love. I am here for you. I see you. I understand you. And I love you. Happy Birthday darling woman.

He knows it isn’t your favourite day of the year. One that is usually meant to bring joy and happiness and love is instead one that fills you with dread. Worried people would forget, having to force a smile at gifts that show that they really don’t know you at all.

He knows not to push it either. He’s good at that. Knowing the battles to pick and those to leave. You suppose that’s why you love him so much. The way he’s comfortable to sit in your hurt with you, not immediately jumping into fixing it, because it’s been years and you don’t think he could truly unravel everything behind the feelings. But he’s there, with a strong arm around you and a kiss to your forehead. It doesn’t need words, just his presence to say I’m here, I see you and I love you regardless.

It rains, because of course it does, weather to match mood, drowning out any hopes of the walk he’d promised. You distract yourself, cleaning mainly, even though the kitchen counters are spotless and the vacuum has been used more times in the past week than it has in the previous two years since you bought it. Distraction mainly, but now, with nothing to do, you sit. Listen to the fat raindrops and odd rumble of thunder. You reread the same four pages of your book, hopelessly trying to stop checking your phone for missed calls or messages of glad tidings.

The doorbell rings, startling you. Clad in a big jumper, leggings and socks, hair scraped back, you open the door, roar of rain rushing in, to find him standing there. Your man. Your Frankie. He’s soaked to the bone, t-shirt wet and cap dripping, but he’s smiling, both hands behind his back.

“You’ll catch your death, Morales,” you chastise lightly, moving aside for him to step into the warmth of your house, but he makes no effort to move, “Are you coming in?”

It almost makes you laugh when he starts talking, like a scene from the old romcoms you used to watch, but you let him do it anyway. His right hand moves first, a beautiful bouquet of flowers, a dusty rose colour, which he hands to you. They remind you of the paint swatches, the way he’d patiently waited at the store for you to pick it. And then painted eleven swatches on the living room wall until you settled on one. Old rose.

“Hermosa,” he breathes, “Feliz cumpleaños.”

He bends, warm lips to your cheek, finally stepping across the threshold into your home, the place he spends more time in than his own home, his other secret revealed in the shape of a basket, woven, with a telltale red and white gingham poking out.

“Damn the rain,” he says, “and damn this misery, I know we can’t have this outside, but I know you hate eating outside anyway.”

He holds the basket up to you, lets you open the top. It’s full to the brim with food, all of your favourite things from your favourite places you’ve been with him in the past year. Pastries from the coffee shop where you had your first date, fruit from the farmer’s market you visit each Sunday, sandwiches from the shop you always stop at when you visit him at work to make sure he’s eating - it’s all there, in black and white, the moments you’ve shared, tiny, edible pieces of his love and care for you, that’s he’s the first person to ever truly see you, to ever truly know you. It makes your eyes water and your nose sniffle.

You press up on tiptoes and gently slant your lips over his, trying to tell him without words how much this means, how much you truly do love him.

You spread a blanket on the floor, unpack the food and sit for hours, eating and talking and kissing, until it goes dark outside. It still rains as he clears up, lightening now illuminating the sky, it rains as he leads you upstairs and undressed you, and thunder cracks along with your gasps and moans when he buries himself inside you.

It eases late, after he’s woken you in the dead of night with his mouth fused to your cunt. Draped across his chest, silence, save for the two of your breathing, you realise that this is all you need. One man who will do the most for you. One man who will continue, day in and day out, that he truly loves you. Maybe it won’t fix the disdain for your birthday, maybe it won’t fix anything else, but it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that he found you and he loves you.

“Muchas gracias,” you whisper softly against his skin, “Te amo, mi amor.”

“Te amo, querida.”

[natsarrownecklacx]

For When You Feel Alone

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word count- 2,031

Summary- An ‘open when you feel alone’ letter written to you from your mom, Wanda.

Warnings- Talking about feeling alone, mentions of almost breaking a leg jumping out a window ( not in a serious way in a funny way ) very fluffy sappy writing. R is referred to as Elizabeth / Ellie in some parts :)

Ngl I think Wanda is the kind of mom we all want :/

ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ

Open When You Feel Alone <3

Dear Elizabeth,

Hey Sweetheart, it’s Mama.

I would like to start this letter off by asking how you are, but if you're reading this, then sadly I already know the answer.

My poor sweet girl, I am so sorry that you are feeling this way. It pains me to even think of you feeling so alone.

Before I get into this, before I go any further I need you to know something, I just need to say it, need you to hear it. I love you so, so very much.

Now, don’t be mad. I know when I asked if you’d like me to write you these letters for when you went off to college, you’d said not to. You told me that you would be okay, that you are a grown up now, that you are strong and independent and can take care of yourself.

I still remember the exact look on your face while you said those words. The pride and confidence behind them really shone through your eyes. I knew then that you were ready to leave home, I could see it in you. You were ready to take that leap and go out into the world, ready to find your place in it.

I know you, sweet girl, I’ve watched you grow up, from the sweetest baby into the most wonderful grown woman you are. I know how capable you are. You’ve worked so hard to get to where you are now and I am so so proud of you, everyday in fact.

That being said, I am still your mother and you will always be my baby. So I hid this letter, along with a few others, in your suitcase before you left.

Which, might I add, was no easy task. The first time I tried to get a few of these letters safely in your suitcase I attempted to pull off an Avengers level stealth mission to try and sneak them in there while you weren’t at home.

I knew what I was doing, suggesting that you take Billy and Tommy out for ice cream. I knew it would give me the time I needed, not only to clean up after your two little brothers but also to get this where I knew it needed to be. What I did not, however, anticipate at all was you coming back so early.

Basically, to make a very long and embarrassing story short, when I heard the front door open and shut, I panicked for absolutely no reason. It was a level ten, metaphorical sirens blaring, palms sweating, hands shaking, type of panic.

Then I heard all three of you coming up the stairs and my cognitive thinking just seemed to evaporate…so I launched myself, head first, out your bedroom window.

Don’t worry, I did catch myself before I hit the floor on that two story drop, in fact I seemed to make it out of the ordeal with little more than a bruised ego. Although, I’m not quite sure if I’ll ever recover from having to explain to your aunt Agatha why I had to make that jump. She laughed so loud all the birds from the trees in the garden all flew away in a hurry. She just couldn’t understand why I panicked so much, honestly neither could I.

But if this helps at all, if I’m right and you find my ridiculous behaviour as funny as I do, in any way, then the almost broken leg and what I’m sure will be years of listening to Agatha tease me is well worth it. Plus, I just wanted you to have this in case you need it, in case you need me.

It was my hope for you, when you were born, that you would always feel how much I love you, no matter how far we are from one another or for how long. Even if we ever had an argument of some sort, you must know I would still love you.

If you're reading this right now then that means I was right to hide this for you, but don’t let that deter you from reading the rest of this letter, mothers (at least when it comes to me and your grandmother) are usually right.

I suppose it’s just this sense that we have, or maybe a hope, that our children will always need us in some way or another and that we will always be there for them.

I’m still here for you Ellie, no matter how far we are from one another, no matter how long we’ve been apart. It doesn’t matter to me what you need me for, something big or small, I don’t care what time it is, if you need me I’ll be there.

I know that if you're reading this, you probably don’t feel like you can pick up the phone and call me to talk about whatever it is that’s bothering you and that's okay.

I wish I could reach out right now and take you into my arms. To hold you, close to my heart, to keep you safe and warm. I wish I could assure you that you are not alone, sweetheart. I will always be with you, as you are with me.

But you deserve to have some time to think things over in your own way, by yourself and then you can come to me when you are ready. But please do come to me Elizabeth. I absolutely hate the thought of you feeling alone, or worse, as if you can’t reach out to me.

I know that you will want to try to figure this out on your own first and that’s okay. Maybe you will, I have every faith in you. Even so, you can still talk to me about it, even when, whatever this is, is all over. I still want to know how you are doing, what’s going on in my child’s lift, the good and bad.

I know it is hard to be away from home, I remember vividly how it felt when I had to leave your grandparents and uncle behind to go away for college.

I know how hard it is to be in a new place, with new people, learning new things. It’s scary and it can be a little overwhelming. It can also feel a little isolating, even when you're surrounded by people. Even when the people you are surrounded by are meant to be your friends…

Before you left we had a conversation about your friends, do you remember that?

I remember how upset you were, how alone you felt from the way they were treating you.

Do you remember what I did when you came to me crying because of it?

I took you into my arms, the way I always do when you're upset, and I held you. You wrapped your arms around me so tightly and cried for what felt like hours.

It’s never easy for a mother to see their child so upset, but I was so relieved that you felt safe enough with me to let yourself feel that way, to just let it all out and know that I had you.

After you were done crying, you explained to me what was going on, you yelled a lot and cried some more. You were so angry and so, so tired, I could see it in your eyes Ellie. I could feel the hurt and loneliness pouring off of you in constant motion. I could see it.

I remember you pacing and pleading with no one and nothing in particular to understand why anyone would treat another person that way, least of all why your friends would do so to you.

I remember watching you go through all of that, I remember how you got more and more worked up, until, eventually, you stopped. Everything in the room stopped, it was as if something in your brain had clicked into place and suddenly, everything you were talking about didn’t seem so big anymore.

You just took one big deep breath in and when you let it go I could see in your eyes that you felt more at peace. The loneliness, frustration and fear for how long those feelings would last, they were all still there, weighing on your mind. All of it. But it wasn’t as heavy because you had shared it with me.

I remember how proud of you I was, because you needed something, you needed me to be there to listen and to make sure you could break down safely. You knew you needed help and you came to me. I was and still am so proud of you for that.

I just wanted to remind you of that, not to upset you further, but to remind you of how important it is to let someone in. To allow someone to help. Even if it means I just sit on the phone and listen to you talk or cry or scream. I can do that. I can be there for you in whatever way you need because I’m your mother and that’s my job.

Even if what you need is for me to get into the car and drive to you, I can do it. You need me to bring your childhood bear with me, just for that bit of extra comfort? I have it ready to go, just in case. You want some of your comfort food, mama cuddles and a movie? Make room for me Ellie because I am on the way.

There isn’t a single thing I wouldn’t do for you sweetheart. I hope you know that. I need you to know that.

Right about now you're probably reading this thinking ‘oh wow moms so extra’ or ‘so cringe.’ ( At least that’s what the twins have been saying about me lately.) But what I’m saying is true, Ellie.

I know you well enough to know that, at this point, you are probably on the verge of tears but won’t let yourself cry.

You can cry if you need to, honey. It’s okay to let it out. I know you think you can’t because other people have gone through worse things, survived worse things and so you shouldn’t cry over something you deem as “small.” But there is no measure of pain. If you are upset, or tired, or overwhelmed, or if you simply just feel the need to cry. Let it out. It’s okay to cry.

It doesn’t make you any less capable. It doesn’t mean you are weak. It doesn’t mean you are looking for attention. It doesn’t undo any of the progress you’ve made. It doesn’t mean a single thing, it doesn’t have to.

Plus, it might make you feel better.

Honestly, Ellie I could go on forever and ever about how proud I am of you and how all I want in this world is for you to know how loved you are. How important and special you are. But I know that you don’t have all the time in the world to read as much as I could write about all of that.

So I just want to ask you to do something for me, just to put your mama’s mind at ease.

Please take care of yourself sweetheart. Drink some water. Get yourself something to eat, even if it’s just something small. If you're feeling up to it, go for a shower, I know you hate all the effort and time that goes into it but I also know that you always end up feeling just a little better after words. Put on some comfortable clothes. Try to get some sleep. Do whatever it is you need to do just to get yourself that little bit of comfort you need to make yourself feel better.

I trust you. I know you can handle this. I know you are so fully capable of taking care of yourself. Take things one step at a time, one breath at a time. You’ve got this Ellie.

I love you. Remember that always.

- Mama.

ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ

A/n - For the anon who commissioned this fic, I hope you like it love :)

[memoirofasparklemuff1n]

brutally- r.c. x reader

summary: this is part two of champagne problems-a year after you said no to rafe, you receive a wedding invitation for rafe and sofia's wedding. a/n: this is for the one who asked for part two 🥹 i wrote this at 2 am and my first language isn’t english so bear with me lmaoo, thank you so much to all who've read my silly little story, i honestly didn't think a lot of people would read it. anywayyy i hope you like it <3 warnings: angst (?) depressed reader and low self esteem. oh and swearing lol disclaimer: the reader's depression is based on my own experiences, everybody is different and what i might go through isn't the same as what another person goes through. with that said, if you find any of these topics triggering, i understand! so, please always take care of yourself <3

part 1

seems to me, it's over

i'll get used to it eventually

over and over again, brutally

it's just the way it's meant to be

now your love's no good for me

i closed my eyes listening to the lyrics, my complicated feelings being put into words. it always amazes me how artists could turn pain into art, sadness into poems, and tears into songs. i pulled the covers over my head, darkening the moonlight seeping through my window.

i suddenly heard a knock on my door. i frowned and paused the song, confused. it was 2 am, and i knew that my family would be dead asleep by now, so i started freaking out. i lay still for a moment but ignored it after a while, thinking that maybe i had just imagined it. after all, i haven't exactly been sleeping like i should. insomnia makes you delirious, or so i’ve heard.

knock, knock, knock.

ok, i was definitely not imagining it. i got up quietly and almost tripped on my bunny by accident.

“sorry, baby,” i whispered. i then grabbed a candlestick on my right hand, lifting it in case i needed to hit whoever was behind the door. i mean what kind of burglar would knock? i chuckled nervously as i walked to the door. ugh, it must be jonathan again with his stupid ghost jokes. i took a deep breath and turned the handle with my left hand, swinging the door wide open.

oh, this motherfucker will know to stop messing with me. “jonathan, i swear to god if you’re–,” the words got stuck in my throat. ok, i was officially insane. because there was no way i wasn’t imagining this.

“rafe?” i hissed. “what are you doing here? and how the fuck did you get in?” see? completely irrational, therefore i was hallucinating.

“the front door was open,” he said with wide eyes, clearly trying to look innocent.

i narrowed my eyes, “i personally locked all the doors. so don’t fucking lie to me, or so help me, i will scream.” if i screamed, i knew someone would hear and would come to wake me up.

he smirked, “if you already know the answer, why do you bother asking? also, please scream, i’ve missed hearing it.” what the fuck?! my dreams have never been this vivid. this is it, my own personal hell.

it had been a month since i’d seen rafe and sofia at the beach, and since then i have avoided people even more than before. although on the rare occasions that i did go out, like the grocery store, whispers and covert glances would follow me around like a blood hound.

my eyes were adjusting to the hallway’s darkness, and i noticed that his under eyes were far too like mine. then i saw blood running from his nose, lip, and a bruise was forming on his cheek.

“what happened? oh my god, are you okay?” my voice filled with worry, erasing all the anger i felt because i still cared. more than i should.

“never felt better.” okay maybe not entirely. jerk. i then looked away from his face and saw that his shirt was also soaked with blood. it was so much, and i felt sick. if there was something i hated more than anything it was seeing the boy i loved hurt, even if he did it to himself. hell, more if he was the reason behind it. but why would he come here? of all places?

he still hasn't answered my question, but i figured i’d interrogate him while i cleaned his wounds.

i sigh, then pull him by the arm into my room. that’s when it hit me, alcohol. great.

“sit,” i ordered. “be careful with gia.” i saw a ball of white fur running around happily. strangely enough, she loved rafe, despite him not being around in a long time. she’s just like her mom. oh, fuck off. i left my bedroom to look for band-aids and rubbing alcohol. i grabbed some painkillers and a glass of water to try and sober him up. i paused at the head of the stairs to listen to any signs of my parents being awake. snoring met my ears, and i sighed with relief. i didn’t need to explain why my ex-boyfriend was in my room all bloody while being engaged. engaged. i blinked the tears away, “focus.”

the first thing i see when i get back is gia on rafe’s lap. traitor. he was petting her despite knowing i never let her get on my bed. she loved ripping my sheets far too much when i didn’t give her attention. he looked up and smiled at me. my heart broke a little, or what was left of it anyway.

i take her out of his lap and place her gently on the floor. i swear she looked at me judgingly, but then again, she's just a bunny. a traitor but still a bunny.

“she’s so big already,” he says quietly.

“yeah.” i answer. “she’s a year old.”

he looked surprised, “really?” his blue eyes somehow managed to glow in the darkness. why do they always do that?

i nodded looking down, “it’s been a while.” i repeated the words he’d said to me at the beach.

he furrowed his brow at that, but didn’t answer. i turn around and take the chair from my desk, dragging it to where he’s seated. he’s not looking at me, instead watching my paintings on the walls and the clutter of pencils and paintbrushes on my desk.

“you’re painting again,” he stated. no shit, sherlock.

i nodded again. “inspiration has been coming easily lately.” i left so many things unsaid. i wish i could call myself an artist, an echo of my earlier thoughts.

you consumed me, leaving no trace behind.

i felt like i was back 13 months ago before everything went downhill, about to clean his cuts like i’d done far too many times before. i wish i could heal wounds that were not visible to the naked eye.

i took a ball of cotton and dipped it in the alcohol. i leaned in, avoiding his eyes. those goddamn eyes. “this is going to hurt.”

“i know,” he winced when i pressed the ball to his cut lip. “sorry,” i then pressed it to his brow, noticing a small cut. leaning from my chair to clean his face was harder than i thought. normally, i’d be straddling his lap with his hands around my waist. don't go there.

i tried to keep my breath normal while i put on the band-aids. his gaze was intently on my face, but i avoided his eyes. “done.” i leaned back and then i gathered the used cotton and paper.

“you'll have to look at me eventually.” his voice was hoarse, like he’d been screaming. by his state, i'd be surprised if he hadn't.

“only if you answer my question.” i sat back down and grabbed the alcohol bottle and the pills. i took two out and handed it to him along with the glass. i still didn't look at him.

“i got into a fight.”

“well, thank you captain obvious.” i finally met his gaze and only found sadness in them.

he chuckled without humor, “you asked.”

“you know what i meant.”

he went quiet for a while, staring out the window. i took the opportunity to get a good look at him. i frowned when i noticed he’d lost weight. he looked so healthy at the beach, what happened? his nails were bitten to the quick and his signet ring looked loose around his finger. his shirt had once been blue, but was now deep red. his jeans were also matted with blood and his shoes had dirt and blood on them as well. his hair was longer now, falling to his forehead in a messy manner. he looked oddly beautiful. he always did and it made me want to cry. it was so unfair, why was falling in love so easy but getting out of it borderline impossible? every time i went to sleep, he was there, haunting me in my dreams. i woke up and there he was, everywhere. my clothes, my bed, my hands, my eyes, my fucking heart. it wasn’t his to own, yet he stayed without any intention of leaving.

his eyes met mine and he finally says, “better hear it from me than from somebody else.”

i frowned, “what do you mean?”

“i had a fight with one of your friends.” i clenched my jaw.

“what?!”

“pope, he provoked me,” he looks back at me defiantly.

“pope? rafe, what the fuck?” i was so confused right now.

i’m having a fever dream, i must be. pope was a saint, he wouldn’t hurt anyone and if he did, it would be with good reason. he was the only one of the pogues i talked to the most. after rafe and i broke up, i pushed sarah away and by extension, john b. so because of that, jj talked to me on occasion and kie only ever talked when she hadn’t heard from me in a while. which had become less and less when i stopped putting effort into our friendship. so, the only one left was pope, sweet and kind pope. i could never push him away; he didn’t deserve it. well, none of them really did, but we had a special bond. i think it was because my brother and i had spent the entirety of our only summer camp with him. pope and i were seven and my brother was eight and we were inseparable, the only times we didn’t see each other was when the boys and girls were divided for different activities, which wasn’t often. so right now, i am furious.

“i need an explanation. now!” i remembered to lower my voice, but i almost didn’t care.

“no, wait. you know what? i don’t need to listen to this,” i took a deep breath and closed my eyes, because if i didn’t, i would punch something, preferably rafe.

i turned around and pointed at the door, without looking at him, “get. out. now.”

“no.”

i scoffed and opened my eyes, “what do you mean, no? you don’t get to decide, ok? first of all, we aren’t together anymore. secondly, you broke into my house, drunk and bloody and third, you had a fight with my best friend.” i tightened my fists to control my anger.

“i won’t leave until you hear me out,” he crossed his arms and glared at me.

“i don’t have to hear you out. this is my house, therefore my rules.” oh my god. this is it. i have become my mother.

“fine. let’s go outside then,” he grabbed me by the arm and dragged me out the door before i could protest.

“rafe cameron. let me go, right now.” i yanked my arm to no avail, and to be fair i wasn’t strong enough. id lost too much weight and didn’t exercise, although i don’t think that would’ve helped me much if i’m being honest. rafe was freakishly strong.

“no. you’re going to listen to me whether you like it or not.” i could feel him trembling with anger and i hated that my heart started pounding so fast. he’s practically kidnapping you and you’re all excited? what the fuck is wrong with you? oh god, let’s not go there.

i knew there was no point in fighting, so i let him drag me out the front door and down the street to a small playground that we used to spend a lot of time in late at night. i hate that he remembers where it was and that he didn’t hesitate in taking us there.

when he finally let me go, he didn’t face me. i crossed my arms expectantly. i looked around me and saw that all the houses were dark, the moon being our only witness. how i love her. it made me feel a little better that she was lighting our path and, in a way, creating a spotlight on us. cheap shakespearean tragedy again. i started shaking from the cold and hugged my sweatshirt tighter and faced rafe. i hadn’t noticed him looking at me quietly. i felt a little pang in my chest at the familiar gesture.

“well?” i raised an eyebrow, expectantly. he started to fidget and avoided my gaze.

“i—” he looked down and frowned. “i broke up with sofia.”

i took in a sharp breath. ok, i wasn’t expecting that. what the fuck was i supposed to say? he stayed silent and i realized he was waiting for me to say something. “i’m sorry,” i guess. i don’t know.

he scoffed and lifted his eyes to mine. like always, they shined but this time they weren’t as bright. he was sad, i could tell.

“i still don’t see what this has to do with pope and you breaking into my house, though.”

he nodded and walked towards the swing seat that was a few feet away from us. i felt like i had déjà vu in that moment. here was the first time he kissed me. on that very same swing set. i sighed and went to sit on the empty swing by his side.

“remember when we snuck out here and we got drunk for the first time?” he asked.

i laughed, “yeah, i then swore i would never touch alcohol again. my mom was so mad.”

he laughed too, “my dad congratulated me that day, said i was finally a man.”

“what? that’s so unfair,” i feigned annoyance. “my mom locked me up for a week.”

“i did break you out, though.” he pointed out and chuckled.

“the least you could do after making me steal my mom’s liquor,” i smiled and stared at the ground. our laughter died down and all that was left was the bittersweetness of what once was. i was so happy back then; everything was so simple. sure, i’d had my low days but after a while, i started dimming until i turned off. the lightbulb now burnt out, but unlike the real ones, i couldn’t be replaced. a sudden wave of guilt came over me. i ruined everything and for what? i stopped talking to my friends, broke the heart of the love of my life and built a fortress around me, not to keep people out, but to keep myself in. that way i wouldn’t hurt anyone, or so i thought.

“i’m sorry.” i lifted my head, confused.

“for what?” i asked.

“everything.” he looked at me with a tired expression.

“what is everything, rafe?” if anything i should be the one apologizing.

“for pressuring you when you didn’t want to marry me. i knew how you felt about it and i still pushed and ruined what we had. i was selfish and stupid, but i swear i didn’t mean to. i never meant for you to feel like i didn’t respect your boundaries or your beliefs.” i could tell he’d thought about those words for a while. he was so wrong. “rafe—”

“no, please let me finish.” his eyes were glassy, and i swore i could see him burning from the inside. a feeling i knew all too well.

he takes a deep breath and starts talking, “i am not going to deny that i was angry and hurt and that i felt like i was going insane. i spent weeks wondering what i’d done wrong, ways to make you take me back and every time i looked for you at your house, your brother or your mother would turn me away. and i never saw you outside, even months after our breakup.

“and instead of being angry at myself, i began to feel angry at you. why did you do this to me? when you knew how i felt about you and that i would never feel the same way for anybody else.” he gets up and starts pacing, avoiding my gaze and i’m grateful because my heart has somehow broken once more, and rivulets start descending, falling to the ground.

he starts gesturing wildly with his hands and turns to me, “i was broken, ok? you broke me and i started spending my nights at the country club, permanently glued to the bar. i drank away my pain and then this girl started noticing how sad i was. despite me being a jerk to her, she was kind to me and instead of serving me more drinks she started listening to me.” sofia. great. now i have to listen to their love story and how she healed him or whatever. stop being so bitter.

“so, i asked her out and she said yes, and we started dating. for the first time in months, i felt better. like maybe i could be good enough for someone, even if it wasn’t the person i wanted. i locked you away in my head and made sofia my priority. i was petty when i asked her to marry me. i wanted you to see that i had moved on, that it wasn’t that special, and that you’d done me a favor. that i could be happy without you.” i’d stopped looking at him in an attempt to hide my tears.

“but then i saw you at the beach. and all those feelings came crashing back in. that day i wanted to scream at you, kiss you, hurt you, and hold you so hard you couldn’t leave me again. i saw sofia go to you and you looked the same, yet not. when you said you were sick, i figured it was a cold and not the way i hoped. that maybe you were just as miserable as me. then you turned around and i couldn’t stop myself. so, i went to you, and i saw you crying and it took everything in me not to reach out to you. i realized i wasn’t over you and that i never would be. and i’m angry at you because i saw you for less than ten minutes and you somehow managed to destroy everything, i’d worked so hard to build. i hurt sofia badly. she didn’t deserve that, and i hate myself for it and i hate that i still love you.”

i looked up at that, shocked. i suddenly forgot how to speak.

but he had so much more to say because he didn’t stop, “so i broke up with her a few days after that and today, i went to find another place to drink, because she worked at the country club, and i couldn’t go there. you ruined that for me too. you managed to exile me without a word, and i went to the next best thing in kildare. your friend’s restaurant, and there were your stupid friends and my sister talking and laughing. when sarah saw me, she came up to me and i snapped at her, so john b stepped in and then jj and pope came along to kick me out so i punched him and then the others got into the fight as well, until they called the police and told me to leave. and i ended up here without realizing it. because i always come back to you.”

he was breathing heavily as if he’d run a marathon, his words starting to mix. i could only stare at him, and i guess that pissed him off even more.

“answer me for fuck’s sake!” i flinched. he’d never yelled at me like that. first time for everything.

“i—”

“y/n, please. i need you to talk to me because i’m going insane. please, i need a fucking answer. why did you do this to me?” he knelt in front of me, crying. i hate myself so much.

“rafe, i’m sorry,” i sob.

“sorry doesn’t cut it, okay?” his nostrils flared. “i need an explanation for why you left me.”

i take a deep breath and nod. “you’re right. i just- i.”

i sigh and close my eyes, “i didn’t say no because of my views on marriage, ok? i didn’t say no because i didn’t think you weren’t good enough for me, on the contrary. i felt like you deserved so much better than me. i’m pretty shitty, rafe. i didn’t want to ruin things, only to realize it was too late. i just wanted you to be happy, even if that meant with somebody else. somebody who could love you better than i ever could. i hurt you and i’m sorry, it’s the last thing i wanted. i only want you to be happy and i can’t give you that. you’re an amazing person, rafe.” i put my hand on his cheek and wipe away his tears.

“i do love you, rafe. i always have and i always will. i love you so much that i know what you deserve and it’s not me. i’m not ok. i’ll sabotage everything in the end, like i always do. i didn’t want to drag you down with me.”

i felt his features harden under my hand and he got up. he glared at me and his chest started rising and falling angrily.

“what the fuck, y/n? you don’t get to decide what’s good for me. that is my decision, and you didn’t ask me, ok? you went ahead and broke up with me for no clear reason. i know i fucked up by proposing, but we didn’t have to break up. instead, you left me there, alone and with my heart ripped out. it’s such bullshit. i am a grown man, and a relationship is between two people, but instead you decided i wasn’t capable, and you chose for both of us. that is so fucked up, y/n.”

“do you really think this low of me? that i’m an idiot who can’t think? or even worse, that i wasn’t a good enough boyfriend that you felt like i couldn’t help you? is that what this is? you think i’m incompetent? did i do something that made you feel like that? you should’ve told me how you were feeling, not bottle it up and then leave with no explanation. i’m not chopped liver, you know? we were supposed to be there for each other in the good and the bad.”

i looked down at my hands, ashamed. he was right, and it just proved everything i’ve said. “i never meant for it to be this way. i thought i was doing the right thing, ok? and it’s not that i thought you couldn’t handle it, i just didn’t think you should. you’ve had enough problems with your life for me to bring you more. a relationship is of two people, but i wasn’t in the right headspace to be able to maintain it. you couldn’t fix me, and i didn’t expect you to.” i looked up and his face was still wet with tears but was otherwise serious. he stared at me, his gaze hard and his jaw clenched. he was so angry and upset. its all your fault. it always is.

he was quiet for a while and i thought he wasn’t going to speak until he said, “who ever said i wanted to fix you? you don’t need fixing and you’re painting me as if i’m perfect. i’ve had my fair share of fucked up stuff too and you helped me. i just wanted to be there for you, i still do. you don’t have to go through this alone.”

“besides, what good has it done for us to be apart? if anything, we’re worse. i get drunk at least three times a week and you never leave your house. when was the last time you went out with your friends? you think i didn’t know? i talked to sarah sometimes and she always said you were ignoring her and avoiding the others.��� his voice started raising again and started walking towards me.

i looked up at the sky, the moon hiding behind clouds. even she’s embarrassed. “i didn’t say it would be good for me, i only meant that it would be good for you.” how many times do i have to say it?

“yeah well, it’s not, ok? it hasn’t been good for me. i want to be with you. and i’m tired of this whole sad girl shit you’ve got going on, alright? you’re not the only one in pain and frankly, you’ve only done more harm than good. your friends don’t deserve your disappearance acts, much less my sister. sarah loves you more than anything, more than she loves me. you’re her sister and you’re being selfish.” i just felt like i’d been slapped in the face. although maybe that would’ve stung less. the worst part is that he’s right, but now i was starting to get pissed off.

so, i did what i always do, hurt them back. real mature.

“there you go, you discovered america. i’m a shitty person and i’m selfish and self-centered and egotistical and a hypocrite. whatever you want to call me, ok? you just proved my point so congratulations on finally figuring it out.” i got up and wiped my tears and began to walk away before i said something else that i’d regret or worse.

he grabbed my arm before i could take another step and sat me back down, “you don’t get to have the last word, ok? when will you finally understand that the thing you were supposedly protecting me and the others from, is precisely your behavior right now. being present before wasn’t hurting anybody, and now, by removing yourself from our lives, you’ve caused exactly what you were trying to avoid. i’m so fucking pissed off with your self-pity. before being your boyfriend, i was your best friend, or at least i thought i was. sarah was your best friend, and you could’ve told her if you didn’t want to talk to me, alright? but this self-isolation is over. you’re only hurting everyone else.” his blue eyes were somehow colder than the night air. i know that what he’s saying is true, but i don’t feel like it is. i’m so overwhelmed that all i want is to rot in my bed alone.

i yanked my arm out of his grip and stood up. “i have enough to deal with without you making it worse. forget about me, ok? its better this way and maybe you should go talk to sofía. she clearly loves you more than me.” i pushed past him and didn’t look back.

something hit me from behind (not in a good way) and i ended up on the ground. “what the fuck?” rafe tackled me. like some fucking nfl player. “dude are you for real?” he flipped me over and pinned my hands over my head. my breath hitched and he noticed. motherfucker.

“i’m not going back to sofia, ok? and you’re not leaving until i say so.” in other circumstances this would be hot, but right now i am exhausted. sure, of course you are. and i really wanted him to kiss me. i was so close to giving in.

“do tell, rafe.” i forced my voice to sound tired, but my heart said otherwise. yeah, his body on top of mine was enough to wake me up. horny bitch. i just really miss him. is that so bad?

he didn’t respond though, he was breathing rapidly, and his gaze fell on my lips, but before i could say something his lips crashed into mine. his hands let go of mine and moved to cradle my face and i threaded my fingers through his hair. shit.

suddenly my body felt alive again, my heart restarting completely and my mind went quiet for the first time in a year. i moaned when he bit my lip softly and he groaned when my tongue trailed his. we fell into that familiar rhythm and suddenly i felt like nothing had changed. i pulled away to breathe but he only took the opportunity to kiss my face and jaw, then down my neck. i tugged at his hair, and he kissed me again, this time rolling us over, so i was on top, with my legs on either side of him. he somehow managed to sit up and his right arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer while his left hand pushed the hair out of my face. this time he was the one that pulled back, only to wrap his other arm around my waist and bury his face in the crook of my neck. i stroked his hair and closed my eyes. i quit all of my resolve and hugged him tighter to me. he spoke first.

“i missed you so fucking much,” his voice cracked, and i then felt something cold slide down my chest. he was crying. and that broke me. i started sobbing and hugged him impossibly tighter, “me too. i love you so much, i’m sorry.” i pressed my lips to his head and inhaled his scent. home. he lifted his face to look at me and his hair fell over his brow. he was so beautiful. the moonlight bathed him over, the planes of his face highlighted, and the shadows became more pronounced. chiaroscuro. a technique i’d never mastered, yet the moon, ever the artist, did so effortlessly.

a tear fell down his cheek and i kissed it away, and before i knew it, i kissed every crevice of his face and whispered i love you’s spilled from my lips. i hated that i was the cause of his pain. when i finally pulled away, his eyes were closed, and i lifted my hand and traced his face like i’d done forever ago. “your freckles are like constellations,” i whispered. he chuckled at the memory and hugged me to his chest.

after a while of us sitting still he said, “don’t leave me again, please.”

i pulled away, put my hands on either side of his face and looked into his eyes. “i’ll stay as long as you want me, but i don’t want to hurt you again.” i meant it.

“you’ll only hurt me if you leave. and i want you to know that i’ll help you get better, but please don’t push me away. i only want you to be happy too, but the way you’re living right now won’t let you achieve that.”

i looked down and nodded, “i’m sorry.”

“i’m sorry, too.” he lifted my chin so i could meet his gaze. “we can do this together, okay? its not about fixing each other, but about supporting one another. you don’t need fixing because you aren’t broken.” my eyes welled up at that and this time he was the one that kissed my tears away.

“just let me in, please.” his lips felt like the perfect antidote, and i knew then that i would be alright, with his help and my friends’.

“ok.” he pulled back when he heard me and smiled, and god how i’d missed that smile.

i smiled back and rested my head on his shoulder. “you really need to change and shower.”

he laughed, “yeah, pope won’t appreciate new fashion choices.”

i laughed too, “i have to see them and apologize. tomorrow. you’re right, i’ve only made things worse.”

“i’ll go with you, if you want. though don’t expect me to apologize.”

i slapped his shoulder, “rafe!”

“fine, then i won’t go.” i narrowed my eyes at him.

“you have to apologize, or i won’t talk to you for a week.”

his eyes widened, panicked. “fine, ill go. just please don’t do that.”

i didn’t expect that reaction to be fair. “i was joking, i’m sorry.”

“well, it wasn’t funny,” he pouted. why is he so cute? i’m so down bad.

“ok ok.” i stand up and offer my hand for him to stand up. he takes it but once he’s up he doesn’t let go.

as we walked up to my house, i realized he can’t stay with me.

“are you going home?” i ask.

rafe looks down at me, “are you that desperate to get rid of me?”

i roll my eyes, “you know that’s not what i meant.”

“hmm, better be. but to answer your question, yeah. although i was hoping you’d come with me.”

i stop at that, “i can’t, my mom will get worried.”

he groans frustrated. “can’t you just say you left to stay with a friend?”

i raise an eyebrow at that, “she’ll never believe that, especially at this hour.”

“i meant like leave a note. but i can stay with you, unless you want me to go. i have clothes in my truck, if that’s what you’re worried about.” he stops and looks at me expectantly. his offer is tempting but i can’t help but feel like we’re going too fast.

“i don’t want you to go and id love to stay with you, but maybe we should stay away for tonight. i feel like its too sudden.” his frowns at that, but nods though i can tell he’s a little annoyed.

“yeah, i guess you’re right.” he looked like he wanted to say something else and after seemingly thinking about it for a bit he says, “i just don’t want to be alone tonight.” me neither.

i nod, “ok, but get your clothes first.” his eyes light up and he nods before letting go of me to head towards his truck. when he gets back, we go up the stairs quietly and i tell him to go shower while i set the bed. we used to do this countless times when we were together. i usually took a couple of weighted blankets and draped them over us so my parents wouldn’t notice he was there, although they probably wouldn’t come in tomorrow, or today, because they had work early. i’d still lock my door just in case, that way i’d be alerted if they tried to get in. i jump, startled, when the door opens, and rafe comes in. he’s wearing a sweat set and is barefoot. he chuckles at the sight of the bed, “that never gets old.” gia suddenly hops onto my bed, and i lift her up and kiss her. “you know you can’t be here.” i then set her down and she runs under my desk, but not before stomping her back feet in annoyance. i feel rafe hug me from behind and kiss the top of my head, now smelling of my shampoo and soap.

“nice fragrance,” i giggle.

“thank you, it’s from a very exclusive shop in paris.” he says in an arrogant manner.

“oh, my bad, my lord.”

“apology accepted, my lady.” he picks me up and throws me onto the bed, before enveloping us with the blankets. after snuggling in my small bed, i kissed his cheek. “i love you.”

he hugs me tighter and kisses me softly, “i love you, too.”

part two <333 @lissylopez i hope you like it <3

divider creds: @anitalenia

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#380

“Boy, that took you long enough.  Did it come out clear three times in a row?...  Good.  I don’t want no fag mud on my hog.  I will beat the shit out of you if I go to fuck you and you ain’t clean.  And it won’t be the fun kind of beating the shit out of you.  It will be your responsibility to keep your hole clean.  You understand?

“…You seem to be taken aback by what I’m saying, or when I told you to go clean out not one hour after we first met.  Look, I’m 63 years old, I don’t have the patience for beating around the bush.  I’m blunt.

“When Leonard assigned you to train with me, he knew that I only train faggots.  I know him, and he would not have brought up my name as a seasoned trainer unless he told you that I’m a fag fucker.  For the next 11 weeks, you will be the fag I mostly fuck.

“What did he tell you about me?...  That I have been ‘A truck driver for forty years and that I’m a total top.’  Ok.  Did he also tell you I have a fat sausage?  He probably did; I use his cunt from time to time, and he loved to brag to the other fags that he can take me.

“Oh finally, that car is pulling out of here…. 

“Strip….  I said ‘Strip.’  Now listen here you little faggot.  I don’t know what you thought was going to happen between us, but that’s my rig.  My rig!  It’s not the company’s.  I create the rules.  They are not negotiable.  At the end of the eleven weeks, you will be a damned good truck driver and well trained cum dump.

“Look you can see a mile up the road.  Not much on the road right now, we have plenty of advanced notice if someone should approach let alone pull off.  Now strip.

“Faggot, you are going to learn very fast that I think about sex just about all the time….  Wait, let me guess, you don’t like being called a ‘faggot?’  For fuck’s sake.  OK, I won’t call you Faggot.  Does that make you feel better… Cunt?

“Cunt you will leave this pecker alone.  Now turn around and show me that cleaned out cunt.  Whew!  That hole sure is pretty.  That prettiness won’t last a minute.  Spread your legs and put your fingertips on the asphalt.  Your master is coming in.

“One thing you will learn is, I love to fuck.  When I’m waiting for a load to be unloaded, I fuck.  When I have to refuel, I fuck.  When I am driving, I’m thinking about fucking.  I always have a small bottle of lube in my pocket for times like this.  Now hold still.  I’m going right to the root, and I expect you to scream your fucking head off.

“I love fucking a naked cunt outside in the middle of the day, especially far from anyone to hear the screams.  Now scream!  Oh hell yes.  Scream motherfucker.  You don’t want to hurt, then accommodate me!  Your focus in on my cock, always.  Always.  When we are driving across the country and you are tied up to the bunk with your cunt facing the front, your focus is on my cock.  When I am asleep and you are driving naked with a large butt plug in your cunt, your focus is on my cock.  When I bring you to a cruise spot and have anonymous men use your cunt, your focus is on my cock.  When I am taking a belt to your ass, your focus is on my cock.  When I bring you back to my home in Minnesota and install you under my rimseat, your focus in on my shithole first and then on my cock.

“You got all that?...  Cunt!  I don’t give a shit how much pain my dick is inflicting.  If I did care, the answer would probably be ‘Not enough.’  Don’t worry, after a day or two, you will be stretched out enough so that this is not that much of a struggle.  Hell, I already feel your cunt relax to accept me now. 

“This is your life for the next eleven weeks.  This is why you will be douching out daily.  I’m also going to control what you eat, that’ll make the clean out process easier.  It’s going to be pretty much non-stop butt fucking for you, with some blow jobs and ass eating to break up the monotony. 

“…What was that?...  You don’t eat ass?  You don’t want to stick your tongue where another man shits?  Believe me, I understand.  That’s why I don’t do it.  And when you get your own rig, you won’t have to. 

“Don’t you dare try to stand up when I am fucking you in this position.  Yes it’s an uncomfortable position.  I want it that way.  I said, don’t stand up.  In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t give a shit what you want or don’t want. 

“You keep up this idea that your opinion matters, I will give a shit….  Literally!  I am not into that scene, but I will totally shit in your mouth to get you to understand that your opinion is as useless to me as your pecker. 

“You know what?  Stand up.  Look at me….  Look at me Cunt.  Yeah, face slaps are my thing too. 

“I’m ready to end this now if you want.  I will walk back to my rig, and I will leave you standing naked in this lot.  You want to stay with me, you agree to do what I say when I say it.  No asking not to do anything.  And what I will give you is free driver training, free lodging, I’ll pay for your food, all the expenses along the way, and finally and most importantly all the sex you ever wanted from men like me. 

“I know where the active cruise spots are.  I have driver contacts across the country that like to fuck faggots like you.  I know where the last remaining truck stops that still have communal showers.  You’ll definitely get gang banged there.  There are some other places, like this biker roadhouse where faggots get used.  That’s only the beginning.  Summer is approaching, and the fag fuckers come out to play in a big way.

“This is the only time I will make you this choice.  You want me to leave you here or do you want to be transformed into a cum-guzzling and ass eating cunt, one that can drive a truck?

“…What was that?...  That’s as I thought.  But don’t call me ‘Sir’ as you haven’t earned the right to.  You are to refer me as ‘Master.’  Once you establish yourself with me, without future problems, I’ll let you call me ‘Sir.’  And if you do a real good job, after the end of the eleven weeks, I might let you address me as ‘Dad.’

“Ok get on your knees and suck your ass juices off my cock.  Don’t think.  Just do.  Stick it in your mouth.

“Atta boy.  You are taking your first step on the right path.

“I plan on taking you there tonight, to that biker roadhouse.  They require all faggots to be locked up in a chastity cage.  They have a guy there that will fit you with one exactly to my specifications.  You’ll wear it for your duration with me. 

“I will pay for your entrance.  They charge faggots to be used by them.  Faggots from all over the area arrive, pay, and get stripped.  They are secured in one of several stations for the night.  There’s one that is bent over to lick boots all night.  Another is on urinal duty.  There’s a glory hole station and a rimming station.  There’s a full toilet station.  Piss me off again, and you might be secured in there.  And they have ways of making the faggots comply. 

“Get up and get back into position with your fingertips on the asphalt….  There you go.  Fuuuuuck…  Cunt, your cunt feels so good.  You’re not screaming this time.  Good.

“For you, I was going to have you installed at the glory hole station.  I’m going to switch it up to the ass eating one, get you under one of their rimseats.  There’s this one that your lay down on a small platform in one room, and you scoot your head through a hole in the wall.  Your head comes out into the bar area under what they call ‘The Throne.’  Your legs are lifted up, spread, and secured to the wall, leaving your cunt open for any type of pussy play.  That’s sometimes reserved by faggots weeks if not months ahead. 

“I’ll contact the owner and the man that likes to sit on the Throne for hours on end.  He’ll let me know if it’s available.  Regardless, you will be installed at one station through the night.  I’ll use you early on, but I’ll go back to the rig to spend my down time. 

“The thought of that is really getting me going.  Can you feel my cock getting thicker?  It loves it with thoughts of faggots used in a way that god intended.

“We have about some time before we need to get rolling.  Now that you know what the next three months will look like, I’m going to enjoy my new accommodating cunt for a bit.  Try to hold your position.”

[sillygoosealert]

hi again 😋 can i request reader giving bi-han the silent treatment after a disagreement or bi-han just being bi-han 😭 and when it’s time for bed they decide to sleep on the couch or in a separate room and that’s when he’s had enough and demands for them to talk and pulls the grandmaster card🫣😋 sorry if this was all over the place LMFAO

No, because you're on to something with that. It was not all over the place btw 🎀

Obey your GrandMaster

Bi-han angst to fluff

It’s late again tonight when Bi-Han returns to his room. You’ve been waiting hours after he said he would return. Everything is neat and orderly, and you hate it. You hate how you clean things in preparation for him, wait for him- and nothing. Maybe you actually hate how you let him ignore you just for you to follow him around until he sees you.

You’re like a dog- or rather something more vile. A rodent would be more fitting. You are small compared to him. He is much more respectable, powerful, and well-known than you. He is a well-dressed businessman and you are a rat that is following him around begging for a morsel. A crumb to satisfy your raging hunger that is the need to feel seen. But he won’t see you, he won’t even know about the problem. It could be plastered across every poster and billboard but he wouldn’t see it. Maybe he can’t fix your problem. Maybe you would have to accept that and find someone who could.

Then the door to the room opens. He comes inside and walks towards you. You aren’t excited, you feel a little sad that you can’t wallow and pout anymore. He runs his fingers through your hair and immediately leaves to go to the shower.

When he returns you frown and catch him before he goes to sleep.

‘I want to talk’

‘Okay, we can talk’

‘You don’t have time for me anymore. You don’t touch me, talk to me, kiss me. Are we even together?’

‘Do not speak to me that way. We are together. I do touch you. And I do kiss you. Where is this coming from?’

‘You only acknowledge me when I beg you to. These things don’t come to you naturally. I can’t just act like it doesn’t hurt me- like you don’t hurt me when you can’t even face me when you go to sleep’

‘You are being outrageous, I do not have time for these- these silly accusations’

‘I can't deal with this right now. Goodnight.’ you are leaving the room now.

‘Where do you think you're going?’

Nothing is said. You walk out and go to the couch. Fluffing up one of the decretive pillows, you lay down and close your eyes. He comes out a few minutes after you leave. He didn't think you would actually sleep somewhere else for the night.

‘You are being absurd, get back to bed. It is late.’

Nothing once again. It clicks for him that you are ignoring him. He is getting the silence treatment for not compromising.

‘You dare ignore me?’

Crickets.

‘I demand you to answer me.’

He can huff and puff all he wants, you are staying firm on your talking strike.

‘Obey your Grandmaster, retaliation will be met with punishment’

He is standing infront of you now, one hand gripping your jaw. He's squeezing your cheeks. Now you're crying. He picks you up and carries you to bed.

‘I..will not be punishing you if that's what is troubling you..’

‘Did you listen to anything I said earlier?’You cough out through sobs.

‘I am at an understanding you need me to provide more for you. If that is what upsets you I will try to make it part of my day to spend an hour with you.’

‘Thank you..’ you sniffle

He wraps his arms around you and you are on top of him. Your head is under his chin, and his nose is in your hair. It feels nice to be held, to feel his love. He's trying, you're trying, and it’s enough. You're enough for him. And he's enough for you.

🎀

[miniwheat77]

Taste. Pt 2. (Ghost x Reader.)

!mentions of sex, fluff, cute cute cute!

You always imagined that this would happen.

You’d meet the love of your life. Get married, have children together. You imagined you’d be sitting in a nice bathroom in a nice house, that you’ve worked your ass off for. Staring down at that precious little pink plus sign.

That all comes crashing down the moment you read it.

Instead, it’s nothing like that. You’re in a cold, dirty bathroom. The floor is freezing on your socked feet and tears gather in your eyes as you look down at the test that doesn’t deceive you. You’re not married. Hell, you’re not even in a relationship. You haven’t even talked to Ghost since everything happened. You won’t have a fancy house, or a man that loves you. Right now, you have nothing.

You’re all alone in a freezing bathroom on a snowy base in the middle of nowhere.

You stand up, wiping the test off and capping it, shoving it into your pocket for now. You’d have to hide it. How the fuck are you going to tell him?

Hey, I know you’re a battle hardened soldier who has walls up like Alcatraz, but congrats you’re a dad!

A pained sigh leaves your lips. You had no clue what to do. You wash your hands before hurrying out of the bathroom into your room. You and Ghost spent a few weeks after everything happened in quarantine. Laswell and some scientists got inside of the building you and Ghost had been infected in. Learned everything there is to know about the chemicals that intoxicated the both of you enough to cause this to happen. You were so stupid, why didn’t you just walk away?

Because your Lieutenant would’ve died, idiot.

You wipe your face frustratedly.

He’s been avoiding you. Like the plague. Ever since you came back he’d been ducking you. It’s time for that to be returned.

You knew. For now. This needed to be kept a secret.

———

For almost a week, he’s been trying to talk to you. He’s come to terms with everything that happened and he wants to apologize for avoiding you so hard. But now, the roles have reversed. Not only are you avoiding him, but you’re ignoring him too.

It’s been going on for a while, and there’s nothing that pisses Simon off more than someone who walks away from him, after blatantly ignoring him.

He catches you stacking chairs in the mess hall, and decides now is the best time.

“Hey.” He says sternly. Cleaning up the mess hall, moving tables and chairs around. It was your chore. You say nothing. “Y/N. Why are you ignoring me?” He asks. Again, nothing. “Goddamnit. I am your superior, you answer to me.” His voice booms in the mess hall.

You sigh. Turning to him. Unphased.

“I’m trying to apologize for avoiding you. Please listen to me.”

You take in a deep breath. “I just needed time to think. To… fully understand what happened. Okay? I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t know what it is. But he can’t look at you the same after everything that happened, not even in a sexual way. He’s got a major soft spot for you. “Y/N. Why are you ignoring me?” He sighs. His voice is shaky. You clench your teeth together, the tough act you’re putting up falters. “Because. While you were out in Ghosts little world avoiding me, I was dealing with this.” You unzip the small pocket on your vest. Tugging the little white stick out. You toss it to him and he merely catches it. It takes him a second to realize what it is.

He’s quiet.

He doesn’t know what to say.

He’s frozen, eyes boring into you. It feels worse, you start to feel small beneath his gaze. Crossing your arms over yourself to appear smaller.

He takes a deep breath. “S’alright.” He breathes. Seeing the way your eyes snap to him from the floor where you were looking before. “What?”

“We should talk about this. I mean.. what are your decisions. What..” he pauses, rubbing his eye. “Do you plan to keep it?” He asks. You look down, still feeling small. “I-I don’t know.”

“I know how much this job means to you. I don’t want to go and ruin your life with this- I shouldn’t have done it.” You sigh, turning your head away from him. “Right now, you’re my responsibility. And yes this is.. maybe not the best time for this to happen. Definitely not under these circumstances but it’s happening and there’s nothing we can do to change it. I’ll back you in any decision you decide to make.” You nod your head.

———

Ghost didn’t think he was capable of loving.

Not after all of the loss he’s gone through anyways.

But there’s something about you that makes his blood pump through his veins at a rapid rate. Heart racing so much that it feels like it’s going to burst right out of his chest. In his head when he looks at you he hears that familiar ‘woosh’ of blood pumping in his ears, his cheeks heating up.

Ghost knows the way he feels about you is unhealthy but there’s nothing he can do to stop it. He used to be able to control it, but there’s nothing in him that wants this to stop. Not fear. Not anything. The idea that you’re carrying part of him inside of you, something so precious. He can’t shake it.

As the weeks go by, you’re keeping it a secret. But Ghost notices. Your bump growing and growing. It’s not so big now but he knows how big he was as a baby, he’s sure this baby will be no different. You’re not together, but he’s watching you like a hawk around every corner. He makes sure you have everything you need, and tucks you in every single night at bedtime. With a bottle of water by your bedside just in case you wake up. When other men talk to you, it lights a fire inside of Ghost. He knows if something goes bad he won’t control it. He won’t be able to stop himself. You and the baby you’ve made together has created a monster out of him.

Ghost closes your door quietly. He does this every night. He has done this for the past few weeks without getting caught.

He takes a couple steps forward before a voice stops him in his tracks. “That’s three days in a row, something going on Lieutenant?” Captain Price is standing in the dark, arms crossed. Ghost grits his teeth, turning around slowly. “I- was just making sure she’s okay.” He says. He hears a little scoff, the start of a laugh from your Captain.

“I know what happened out there Simon.” He breathes. He takes a step toward Simon. “Do you?” He’s skeptical. “Course. I’m your captain, I know everything. Just like I know she’s pregnant.” He nods. Simon can feel chills rising on his skin. “How?” Ghost asks. “Why don’t you come into my office yeah? Let’s talk.” He pats Simon on his back. Walking down the dark hallway.

When they reach the door, Price opens it up, motioning Simon inside. “Take a seat.” He nods.

Simon sits down in the chair in front of his desk and Price leans up against it. “How did you find out?”

“Medic slipped up.” He laughs. “Look. I’m not mad at either of you. But I wish you would’ve told me so that I could’ve kept her safe.”

“You think I’m not capable?” Ghost looks up. Hearing his captain laugh. “You’re joking right?” He rolls his eyes. “There’s nobody on this base that could get through you to hurt her. That’s not negotiable either. We can tell how you feel about her. But she’s going to have to go on maternity leave, she can’t be active duty pregnant.” He shakes his head. “Huge risk.” He sighs.

Ghost nods. “That’s why she didn’t want to tell anyone.”

“I know. She’s a hard worker. Always trying to prove herself. But it’s not about her anymore. It’s about the baby she’s carrying. And whether or not she likes it, that’s your baby too Simon. You have a say in keeping them safe. She has to understand that. I’m willing to send you home with her, if you want.” He taps his fingers on his desk.

Ghost nods. “I’ll talk to her about it.”

“Whatever happens, this task force has your back. Both of you.” He nods.

“Now get some sleep mate.”

—

Ghost sits at the edge of your bed. You’re still asleep. He turned your alarm off.

It’s already almost noon and you’ll be pissed when you wake up. But he doesn’t care. You need the rest.

Simon is conflicted. And scared. What if he can’t protect you? What if he can’t protect your baby? What if something happens?

“Simon?” He hears your voice. He turns to look at you. “What’s going on?” You sit up.

“Nothing. Just relax darling.” He rests his hand on your thigh. “Price knows about everything.” He nods. You sit up completely and the outfit you’re wearing tears his heart up. In the best way.

It’s a normal army green long sleeve but since you’ve got a bump, it’s a little tight on your tummy. And you’ve got on loose shorts. You look sleepy and comfortable. He stands up, kicking his shoes off. Pulling your blanket back. Sliding in next to you. “Simon-“

“Just relax.” He laughs. He pulls you into him and it takes you off guard, this is the first time Simon has touched you since everything happened. Outside of small things. “How did he find out?” He asks. “A medic slipped up and told him. But it’s alright. He’s gonna send you home. And if it’s okay with you, I’m going to go with you.” He breathes, laying his head on your pillow next to yours. “Of course Simon. If that’s what you want.” You look up at him.

He closes his eyes tight and takes in a deep breath. “Simon, what’s going on?”

He sighs. Pulling you into him closer, resting his hand over your hip. “I love you.”

It feels like your blood runs cold.

“I mean it. I am in love with you. And it’s not the stupid drug talking. You’re fucking perfect and the fact that you’ve got part of me growing inside of you, it makes me love you so much more.” He grits his teeth as he says it. Like it’s tearing up his insides.

It goes against everything he’s ever known. Tearing down all of those walls he put up to avoid being hurt again, he doesn’t want to feel that. He doesn’t want to lose anymore.

In a way, he’s screwed. He’s got so much more to lose than he’s ever had now. A baby. And you.

“I love you too Simon.” You look up at him.

Simon wants to cry. He wants to lock himself in a room, tear it apart and scream. But instead, he pulls you into him, holds you to his chest like you’ll wither away right beneath him. He calms immediately when you rest your hand on his chest.

“I have an appointment today. They’re gonna check the baby out. Make sure they’re okay.” You breathe. “Really?” He perks up.

“Can I come?” He asks. “I was just about to ask.” You smile. “What time?” He asks. “About an hour.” You look at the clock. He nods. Your stomach growling makes him laugh. “Maybe we should get you something to eat in the meantime.”

The two of you head into the mess hall, and before you know it you’re sitting near Simon at a table. “Hey. Price told us you’re not going on any missions anytime soon. He’s getting some fill ins. What’s going on?” Gaz and Soap sit down at the table, setting their plates of food down.

You and Ghost glance at each other. “Uh…”

After a moment of silence, you set your sandwich down, wiping your hands off. “Because I’m pregnant and Simon is the dad.” You blurt it out. Soap nearly spits his water out, choking on it. Gaz gulps down a bite of his own sandwich, holding his chest as it goes down hard. “Steamin’ Jesus! A warning!” Soap clears his throat. “You’re serious?” Gaz asks. You nod your head. “We got exposed to some.. weird sex drug on that mission, that’s why we were in quarantine. Now uh.. yeah. Self explanatory.” You shrug. Taking another bite. “You know, nobody is gonna take it from ya.” Gaz jokes. Seeing how you’re devouring your sandwich. You smile. “Freaking baby is taking everything from me.” You groan. Pushing your now empty plate aside.

“Here.” Soap slides his plate over to you. “Gonna need it.” He laughs. “Oh, do you know what the gender is?” Gaz asks. “Not sure. We’re meeting with a medic in about.. twenty minutes. Might find out.”

They look at you with pleading eyes, even Ghost can see what they’re waiting for.

“Would you guys like to com-“

“Yes!” They both say at the same time. You and Ghost laugh at their eagerness.

“Y/N? Are you ready for an ultrasound sweetheart?” The medic asks. You nod your head. When all three massive men stand up after you, following behind you. She looks confused. “Can they come?” You ask. “Uh.. sure.” She laughs. She leads you back into a room. Instructing you to lay on the table.

You jump slightly when she squirts the gel onto your stomach. “Sorry. I know it’s cold.” She laughs. Ghost is holding your hand, Gaz and Soap stand next to him with their arms crossed. All of you looking at the machine to see your baby.

“Should be able to hear a heartbeat… now.” She hovers over your baby and you can hear the little thumping.

She moves the little metal device around, getting a good look at your baby. “Got.. 10 little toes. 10 little fingers.” You glance at the men to your side, seeing them all smiling. It seemed as if they were more excited about this than you were. “Do you guys want to know the gender now?” She asks. “I can tell what it is.” She smiles. “Yeah, yeah we do.” You look at her. “It’s a boy.” She smiles. “Congratulations, you have a healthy baby boy.” Pulling the machine from your stomach, passing you a towel to wipe the remaining gel off of your stomach.

“Wow. Thats awesome Ghost, a boy dad.” Soap pats his shoulder.

“Yeah.. yeah it is awesome Johnny.” Ghost hides the fact that he’s got tears gathering in his eyes. “I’ll give you all a moment to get situated.”

As the medic leaves, she laughs to herself.

God help whoever messes with you or your baby. Because Ghost will lead the cavalry of dangerous military men. Task force 141 on the front lines of course.

[deputyrook]

The Assistant - Lou Bloom x Reader. Horrror/Romance

This is an old fic re-upload. I'm just going to post all four parts in one. Anyway, this is one of the few old fics I'm still quite proud of, so please enjoy (or enjoy again!)

Lou Bloom (Nightcrawler) x female reader (she/her).

WORD COUNT: 11,258

Warnings: Stalking, voyeurism, gaslighting, coercion, emotional manipulation, creepy behaviour.

“This is a very exciting opportunity. One that you’re not going to want to pass up. Now, I don’t know that you’re ready to take on this role, but I believe that when you give someone responsibility, they have the opportunity to rise to the occasion and excel. I believe that you have that ability. Which is why I am taking a chance on you, and promoting you to the role of my personal assistant.”

Lou watches your expression with the intensity of a vulture watching its next meal. He wants to see how you react to the offer. You’ve only been his intern for two and a half weeks, but he knows that one way or another, you’ll agree to the change in position. 

He’ll make sure of it, because he has different plans for you now.

Your head tilts curiously, but you smile at him, close-lipped and cautious.

“It’s an honour,” you reply, and he can feel himself nodding in agreement with you.

You smell differently from Nina, but he likes it. Nina wears perfume, and sometimes a bit too much of it. Your scent is of clean skin and strawberry scented shampoo, light and natural. 

Nina still sleeps with Lou, but she doesn’t comply easily. She disobeys him, and rolls her eyes when he gives her instructions in bed. She is a beautiful woman- particularly in how sharp she is, how vicious in her work- but he can’t control her, and what they have isn’t a relationship, not really, not like it should be.

You’re different. You’re careful and quiet and you take notes when he speaks to you. You listen to him, and you follow orders well and without fuss. You don’t seem to mind doing what he instructs you to, even when he tells you to drive faster, or do things other interns might find... questionable.

And you’re young, and you’re pretty. 

When he realizes that he wants to have you, Lou does two things. First, he breaks up with Nina.

“Are you fucking with me?” Nina asks him, her eyes narrowing. They’re sitting at dinner, and it’s so similar a situation to when Lou first proposed a sexual relationship with her.

“The simple truth is that I have outgrown this relationship. In this world people’s needs change. I have more needs now, ones which you are not capable of meeting. As such, I am terminating our relationship immediately.” Lou takes a sip of his water.

Nina’s lips purse, as though she thinks it’s a trick. Lou can imagine the way the gears are turning in her mind.

“But you’ll continue to work with me on a professional basis... right?” She confirms apprehensively. “You’re our leading stringer, your work is-”

“Artistry. I’m aware,” She looks unsure, and Lou likes that. It will be a shame, not having her around when he wants her anymore, but he doubts he’ll ultimately miss it much. “As long as you continue to pay me at the rate you currently are. I know that KWLA 6 is now the most popular news network on morning television and I also know that the name of my business is starting to become known. Now, I’ll keep supplying you with the footage, but you should understand that I have no loyalty to your company, or to you personally.”

Nina’s expression settles into a frown. “You’re breaking off our- so that you don’t feel any guilt about just selling to the highest bidder?”

Sometimes, Lou thinks that maybe Nina comes close to understanding him. This is not one of those times.

“No,” He answers, with a chuckle to himself, “But I don’t need to sleep with you anymore, and I won’t have our arrangement limiting my or my company’s potential for growth.”

The second thing Lou does is install cameras in your apartment when he knows that you’re not home.

He has your address from the paperwork he made you and the other two interns fill out when you first started working for him, but he’s never been to your apartment before. A quick message sent to you asking you to pick up his dry cleaning, conveniently across the city from your place, and he has you out of the way.

Lou breaks into your home with ease. The main door to the building is unlocked, and with a twist of his lockpick and a satisfying click, so is the door to your apartment. Bag slung over his shoulder, he slips into the place, careful to shut the door quietly behind him. Turning on the light, he looks around the room with an intrusive interest.

The place is small, just as small as his old place had been, before he’d moved. It’s neatly decorated, and it smells like you, and Lou digs his nails into the palm of his hand as he scans the main room. You have a bookshelf- he quickly notes your favourite author- and several small plants, but the apartment is scarcely decorated and plain. No photos of a boyfriend, he notes. Good, that would just be another obstacle to remove. It’s tempting to leave you a message using your fridge magnets, but Lou resists the urge and continues in.

A cat trods out from the bedroom, meowing at Lou. For a moment he freezes, staring at the animal, standing still as it brushes happily against his shin with a purr. He hesitates. Reaching down, Lou slowly brushes his fingers against the cat’s head, before withdrawing his hand and stepping delicately around the pet.

As much as he’d like to stay and search through your belongings, he has a job to do.

He’s leaving the apartment when he gets a text from you letting him know that you’ve picked up his clothes, and want to know where to drop them off. Checking his watch, Lou sends you a reply with his address before he gets into his car and drives home.

Lou is creating a file in his mind and filling it with notes about you. She has a cat. She likes to read. She has quite a few DVDs, with many of them being horror movies. It all factors into the way he’ll achieve his goal of luring you in, and Lou intends to do it the right way.

---

“Hi there,” You say, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. It’s past nine PM now, and even though it’s certainly after hours, Lou knew you wouldn’t complain. And here you are, standing on his doorstep, holding his dry cleaning in hand. You’re even wearing a bit of makeup, he notices.

You must be as lonely as he is. 

“Hello,” He replies, “I’m glad you’re taking this aspect of being my personal assistant in stride. In order to get ahead as a new employee, it’s important to go above and beyond the duties of the position.”

You nod, shifting from one foot to the other. Lou smiles.

“Would you like to come in?” He asks, and you hesitate. Lou waits, staring, until you acquiesce with another nod.

“Okay, maybe just for a few minutes. Then I should really get home.”

He takes the dry cleaning from you and leads you inside of his apartment, a nice one-bedroom he’d recently moved into where he has a larger television and marble countertops and more space for him to review footage. Besides the computer desk, and the place where his camcorder is hooked up, the apartment is filled with empty space. 

Not much makes Lou’s heart quicken, but his mouth goes dry at the sight of you, alone in his apartment. He controls this space, possesses it, and here you are, a part of it- just as it should be. Lou feels a pleasant stir in his stomach at the way you glance around the room with your eyes wide. 

He considers, for a moment, pushing you against the wall and pinning you there, to see how you’d react. He wonders idly if you’d scream, before he turns and hangs up the dry cleaning in the closet.

“Wow, this place is- it’s so like you,” You say, looking back to him. “It’s nice. No pets?”

“No,” He answers plainly, staring at you, “Not yet.”

It’s easy to imagine how you’ll slot into his life. He’s already picturing where in his apartment he’ll put your bookshelf.

“We should spend more time together,” He says to you, standing in his living room and facing you. “Outside of work. I’d like to see you here more often.”

“Oh,” you reply. Your eyes glance at him, and then the door, darting nervously. “You would?”

“I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true,” Lou answers, taking a step closer to you. “I have wine. Red and white, for if I have company over. But you prefer red, don’t you? I can get you a glass.” 

You shake your head then, making for the door. “Um, I... really should really be going. It’s getting late, and I drove here, so I can’t be drinking anyway.”

Lou pauses, looking at you for a very long moment. Then, he nods his head one, a knowing smile breaking across his face.

“Of course. Smart. It’s dangerous out there, you know. You’re a pretty young woman. And there are a lot of terrible men out there who might take advantage of that. You should get home.” He never takes his eyes off of you, not as he watches you smile softly, wave goodbye awkwardly, and scamper back out of the door.

The second you leave, Lou goes to his computer.

It takes about twenty minutes before the camera feed shows you enter your apartment. He set up two cameras, one in your living room, and one in your bedroom. He doesn’t need to spy on you in the bathroom or shower- that’s not the point of this invasion.

You throw your coat on the hanger and your purse on the counter, and you pick up your cat and spin him around in your arms- it’s adorable. Lou watches, rapt in attention as you set the cat down and roll your shoulders. He can see you sigh, even though the feed is silent, and you look tired.

He watches as you strip off your clothes, performing for no one as you root around for clean pajamas. Lou didn’t set up the cameras for sexual gratification- he wants to know exactly what you like, and see who you are when you think you’re alone- but it’s hard to deny that he feels pleasure knowing that he’s with you even when you don’t know it.

It’s hard to deny that there’s a thrill to the knowledge that he’s going to take everything that’s yours and make it his. Just like everything else, all it will take is some planning, a meticulous execution, and the will to make it happen.

And it would.

---

---

The first gift that Lou buys for you is a new coffee maker.

The one you have, he’s noticed, is horribly outdated and slow to brew. Through the cameras he’s watched you look longingly at new models on Amazon, always browsing, never purchasing. You’ve saved at least five to your wishlist, but you always exit out of the pages without placing an order. After studying the footage, Lou comes to the conclusion that you can’t decide which one to buy.

So he decides for you. Lou purchases an expensive model, a coffee maker even better than the ones you’ve been dreaming of, and has it express delivered to your door.

Lou is so glad when you don’t open the package outside, but instead carry it into your living room with a confused look on your face. Your mouth is twisted into a near pout, and your brow furrows as you turn over the box. When you grab a knife and open it up, Lou can’t help but smile at the shock that registers on your face at its contents. 

You pull apart the box like it’s Christmas, gingerly taking out the new coffee maker and setting it on the counter. You stare at it for a long moment, incredulous, before noticing the note, just a thin slip of paper at the bottom of the box.

He can’t read it from the camera feed streaming from your apartment, but Lou knows what it says. 

“Make the choices you want, and pursue them. LB.”

With Nina, everything he needed to know about her he could find online. With you, he needs to improvise, and pay attention. He’d googled you, of course, with few results besides an Instagram and Linkedin page. It’s only been a few days since he installed the cameras, but he’s already felt like he’s learned so much.

Things... hadn’t gone how he’d wanted with Nina. He’d wanted a relationship, someone to share a life with. He’d gotten little more than friends with benefits, and a reluctant one at that. Maybe this time, he would just have to be clearer with what he wanted from you, and be a little bit more patient.

You hold the paper up to your mouth, hiding, and he finds it difficult to read your expression. But maybe it’s just what he wants to see, but he thinks that you look pleased.

---

“Lou... I don’t know what to say about the coffee maker,” You tell him later that night. The two of you are sitting in the front of his car, parked on the side of the street. It’s been a slow night, and the police scanner crackles in the background, every so often announcing a DUI or petty theft. His other employee, Mikhael, sits in the back of the car on his laptop, editing footage, his headphones over his ears.

You’re sitting in the driver’s seat, leaning against the wheel.

“Say thank you,” He replies, smiling at you. You bite your lip, and grin at him. You’ve been using his name a lot more casually since you’ve been promoted, and Lou likes that.

“Fine. Thank you,” you answer. You seem to mull over your next words, the smile dropping from your face in contemplation before you speak. You seem apprehensive to broach the subject, but you continue. “But... how did you know I needed a new coffee maker?”

“You told me. Don’t you remember?” Lou says, feigning confusion and leaning in closer to you. “You told me that you couldn’t decide which one to get.”

Lou can almost see your thought process. He loves the way you consider his words, quietly to yourself, and he can tell that he’s convincing you, even when you know deep down that you never said a thing about it. You’re a clever girl, but so easily swayed.

“I... don’t remember,” You admit to him, so honest. “I was so surprised. You really didn’t have to do that.”

“You’re right, I didn’t. But I like you.” This is romantic, Lou thinks to himself, like a scene from a film. “And now, whenever you make coffee in the morning, you’ll think of me.” He smiles in a way he thinks is pleasant, and he sees you look him over, half-unsure, half-appreciative. 

“You know,” he continues, “I learned recently that people don’t really become addicted to caffeine. They develop a dependence on it, which isn’t the same thing. Caffeine is only actually slightly addictive as an actual substance. The symptoms of withdrawal are physically very mild, and drinking a lot of coffee rarely results in self-destructive behaviour. Instead, you become used to the presence of caffeine in your life. You come to take it by habit, and because you enjoy the positive benefits, including increased alertness and wakefulness. It’s the mental dependence on caffeine, the reliance on it being there to pick you up that creates the believe that caffeine is addictive.” 

You listen to him, nodding along with his words. He finishes, “The dependence is far more psychological than physical. But it’s interesting. How people develop dependence on things like coffee. How they feel like they need it to even function, day-to-day. How they feel like they can’t live without it.”

You should be leaning in to share his space right about now. Or telling him how you will think of him, every morning when you make coffee. When you bring the mug to your lips and close your eyes, breathing in the smell of it, when you take that first drink and yawn. You should be flushing at the thought of it, but instead, you’re looking at your hands, fidgeting.

“Yeah. That is interesting, I didn’t know that,” You comment, and the silence that follows is thick and awkward, the only sound in the car the dull chatter on the police scanner. In the back, Mikhael clears his throat, and when Lou turns back to address him, his eyes dart from you to Lou. 

“What is it?” Lou asks sharply. Mikhael points to the police scanner, one headphone on. 

“2-6-7, suspect is a white male, approximately 6’2”, may be armed,” The voice on the scanner says. “10-524. Proceed with caution.”

Lou nods to you, and he doesn’t have to say a word. You turn the key in the ignition and his car roars to life. With a shift of the gear and your foot on the gas, you tear off down the street, speeding toward the destination. Lou readies his camera while he calls your coworker, his third and final employee, to come with the production van and meet you at the scene with all of his equipment.

You drive steady, careful as you pull out onto the highway. Lou checks his watch.

“We need to go faster. I doubt we’ll arrive before the police but if there’s a chance, we want to take it. At the very least, I want to see a body tonight.”

You comply, pressing the pedal down and accelerating. Your focus on the task, and your complete willingness to trust him and follow him into a dangerous situation is nearly distracting for him. 

“Faster,” he tells you, even though you’re already going 10 miles over the speed limit. Part of him wants to make it to the location before the police arrive, or certainly earlier than any other news crew. But part of him wants to push you to drive faster, drive more dangerously, just to see if you will.

You barely spare him a glance as you accelerate even faster, switching lanes back and forth to pass cars in your way. In the back seat of the car, Mikhael curses under his breath as you fly past a car that honks loudly.

“We’re going to fast, we’re going to get pulled over-” He says anxiously.

“Not if all the cops are busy going to the same place we are. Left, make the next left,” Lou tells you, and you barely have time to put on your blinker before you’re sliding around the corner. From the back, Mikhael groans. Lou’s camera is ready with blank tape, and he passes the microphone to Mikhael in the back for him to carry out. It’s only another three miles before you reach your destination.

“Are we ready?” Lou asks the two of you. Mikhael nods, and you smile.

When you pull into the street where the home in question is located- a beautiful suburban house in the outskirts of the city- it’s before a cop car has arrived. As you throw the gear into park, you turn to him, beaming, breathless and proud, and he can tell you’re looking to hear you did well.

But now isn’t the time. Lou is already throwing open the door of the car and rushing to the scene, Mikhael close behind him.  You stay behind, to run interference on the cops, who are just rounding the corner of the street. 

He hopes you’ll be able to distract the cop for long enough that he can sneak around the back of the house. 

---

“We did well tonight,” Lou says, looking to each of his three employees in turn. The four of you are together in the small office space he rents, each with a drink in hand. It’s been less than two hours since you arrived at the scene of the assault, and only half an hour since he left victorious, footage of a screaming argument and a bloody stab wound saved safely on the memory card.

Sitting in a circle of cheap folding chairs, he feels pride in himself, in this company of professionals he’s built. You’re quickly rising to be the video company with the most-used footage in all of central LA, and it won’t be long before the names Video Production News and Louis Bloom become famous in the wider news industry. “The footage we got is going to garner us a top spot tomorrow on a prime news network.”

“Which one?” Eve, his equipment manager, asks with an enthused look on her face.

“Whichever one pays the highest,” Lou answers. He points to you. “The two of us will stay late to edit the footage, and submit proposals to the top five news networks with the highest viewer counts. It’s time we started branching out from KWLA-6 and considering other options.”

You nod to him, and he feels the satisfaction of a job well done wash over him. 

“I appreciate the dedication each one of you has to Video Production News. With your continued dedication and willingness to follow my business plan, we will continue to achieve success in the Los Angeles news industry.” 

He always hopes that everyone will stay longer than they do, when the team goes out for drinks. It would help everyone grow closer if they were to spend time together outside of work, but first Mikhael excuses himself, and then Eve follows, both citing pets they need to feed and partners they need to return to. This time, though, you can’t excuse yourself to go home to your cat- you’ve already agreed to stay late and help him.

And when Eve and Mikhael leave, the two of you are alone again, and that suits him fine.

“You look pretty tonight,” He tells you, even though your hair is messy and you’re sweating from the lack of air conditioning in the office. “But you shouldn’t wear bright colours any more. I prefer you in dark ones. They suit you more, and compliment you better.” Lou smiles to you, like he’s shared highly valuable information with you and you should be thankful.

“Oh,” You reply, clearly surprised. You look down at your dress, and when you look back up, he notices that you look a little self conscious.

“Can you try to do that for me?” He asks. You hesitate, and then nod.

“I-I guess I can, yeah,” You say, cheeks colouring. And there’s that blush he’s been hoping to see. Lou remembers, suddenly, the way you’d looked at him on arrival at the scene of the crime, eager for praise.

“You did well tonight. I like that you drive faster when I tell you to,” Lou stares hungrily at the way your cheeks flush deeper. He can’t tell if you’re embarrassed or ashamed or aroused. “That you follow my instructions is one of the reasons I promoted you to my assistant.” He looks at your glass, nearly empty now, and refills it with wine. You take a nervous gulp.

“I used to sleep with the morning news director at KWLA-6,” Lou says, deadpan, and you choke on your drink.

“You did?” You ask, apparently too curious or stunned to keep your thoughts to yourself, “Were you- did she, um-”

“She came often,” Lou lies. “I was led to believe it was very pleasurable for us both. She was very attracted to me.”

“That wasn’t going to be my question, Lou,” you reply, a light laugh in your tone, “I was going to ask if she ended things, or if you did.”

“Oh. I did,” He answers seriously, “I took some time to evaluate my wants and needs, as well as what would be best for my company. I know it was difficult for her, but it was necessary to do.” 

The air between the two of you is tense, heavy with a weight between you and you study him with interest as you ask, “Was it hard for you?”

Lou is thrown for a moment.

“I admired her, and I was looking for certain things when we started seeing each other.” Lou thinks about how honest he wants to be with you. He always finds it difficult to voice aloud his desire for company, or to address his loneliness. “What I’m looking for is someone who can be a partner to me, but also someone who listens to what I tell them. I want a relationship with someone that suits my needs. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“I think so,” You answer, looking at your glass. You swirl the wine around in it. “I know what it’s like. To really want a relationship to be one thing, and have it end up as another.”

“It wasn’t hard for me. That’s the answer to your question. I want something else now,” He looks at you pointedly, just shy of telling you that he wants you. But he doesn’t have enough information about you yet- doesn’t feel as though he’s in an advantageous enough position to get what he wants.

Lou wants your back to be up against the wall before he makes his intentions abundantly clear. Figuratively, and perhaps literally. It’s difficult for him to avoid being direct with his desires, but being honest wouldn’t be the path to victory, not at this point.

No, he has to court you. Teach you to need him, too. Maybe this could even be considered your first date. 

You’re blushing again, and you look down and away from him, clearing your throat. You set aside your glass of wine, and point to the computer. “We should, ah. We should work on editing. We have a lot to get done tonight if we want to make the morning news.”

Lou checks his watch. It’s a quarter past twelve in the morning.

“You’re right,” He says, and the two of you get to work.

---

The story hits with as much of a splash as Lou expected, and not on KWLA. Channel 11 News breaks the story, airing his footage and mentioning the name Video Production News before they do, and they pay 30% more than KWLA had offered. 

Sitting in his apartment and feeling content, Lou watches your camera feed as he irons his clothes. You’re doing your hair and putting on your makeup in the bathroom, and you choose another light coloured dress to wear- though to be fair to you, you didn’t exactly know that he was watching.

He’s thinking about the effort you put into your appearance when he sees you step up to answer your front door. You look so put together and beautiful today. As though you’re preparing for a date with him, though you would wear black for that, not white. Lou can just imagine how easily he would pull the dress off of you, mess up that perfectly assembled look of yours, the way he’s grab a fistful of your hair and -

Wait. Wait. Who is that stepping in through the door?

A man, tall and fairly handsome, steps into your apartment, and he kisses you. Lou’s blood turns cold at the sight, and he stares, iron hot in his hand.

This is a problem.

---

---

So, here’s the thing.

The guy you’re seeing? He’s no good for you, Lou knows. 

He’s sitting on a park bench with his sunglasses on, watching the people pass by with a detached interest. Lou sips his soda with a straw, keeping an eye out for you and the man you’ll be passing by him with. The afternoon sun is beating down, but the bench he sits on it partially shaded by a tree, and he’s glad for it since he hasn’t moved in about forty-five minutes.

It’s given him time to think, and to plan out his next move. 

When he’d seen the man on the surveillance footage kissing you, Lou slowly set down his iron and unplugged it. He set aside his laundry, and pulled his hair up into a neat bun. Grabbing his laptop, one of his books and his keys, Lou left his apartment without another moment of hesitation or thought.

Lou drove to your neighbourhood, parking two blocks away and walking the rest of the distance to your apartment building. In the back parking lot, there were two cars parked in the visitor’s spots. Taking quick photos of the two license plates, Lou walked to a nearby coffee shop, and, making sure you and the stranger were not also there, set up his laptop to run the plates.

It didn’t take long before Lou was able to find out the name of your mysterious visitor. His name is Andrew Price, and he lives in a city about an hour and a half’s drive away from Los Angeles, which explains why Lou has never seen him before. His employment was listed as a freelance journalist, and scouring the internet for more information, Lou found a profile on a networking website where he listed his relationship status as single.

Not a boyfriend, then. Or he’s a cheater. Both give Lou a bit of hope.

When Lou checked the man’s instagram, he noticed Price had just posted a scenic photo several minutes prior, one that Lou could identify as being from a nearby park. There are no pictures of you on Price’s instagram either, he noticed.

Packing up his laptop, Lou went to sit by the entrance of the park. Now he’s waiting on the bench, a book that he isn’t reading in his hands, as he watches for you and this man to pass him.

A freelance journalist ? And not even a very successful one it looks like, at that. Why would you kiss a man like that? Someone who doesn’t even appreciate you enough to show you off as his to the world, who doesn’t even consider himself to be in a relationship with you? 

Surely, that’s not what you really want. Surely, this man isn’t fulfilling your needs. Lou settles on believing that your loneliness has driven you to this stranger, and that it’s only because no better options had presented themselves. 

But still, Lou doesn’t want to take any chances. He knows that the execution of a meticulous plan is the best path to success, and you’re too important for him to try a simple, straightforward approach. So much could go wrong, so easily.

He needs the upper hand, and he’s slowly starting to figure out how to get it.

In the news industry, framing is everything. It’s easy to make the audience believe whatever story that the network wants to push, or rework an angle to a narrative that sells better. It’s a manipulation, yes, and in some ways, a lie- but it’s a skill, and one Lou has been working on developing. It’s what the audience sees and the way that they see it that informs their views. And those views colour the way every story following is received. 

And it’ll be the same with you.

Lou is in such deep thought about how he’s going to get you into this arms that he doesn’t even notice you until you call out to him.

“Lou? Is that you?” His head shoots up, and he stares, roused from his thoughts and nearly startled, despite the fact that he had been waiting for you. You look at him quizzically, with Price standing at your side, confused.

“Oh. What a surprise,” Lou smiles, and feigns surprise. His smile is nearly real when he thinks about how you called out to him. Chuckling lightly, he continues, “Looks like even on our days off we just can’t stay away from each other.” 

Price’s eyebrows crinkle at Lou’s words, and you beckon him to follow as you approach. You seem genuinely happy to see him, and the sight of it knocks the wind out of Lou.

“Andrew, this is my boss, Louis Bloom. Lou, this is my, ah, friend, Andrew Price. He’s a journalist. You guys might have a lot to talk about.” You laugh gently, and Price sticks out a hand, stepping forward to shake. Lou looks at the outstretched hand, making no move to take it. After a moment of tension, Price retracts his hand, wiping it on his jeans.

“Must be a germ freak, huh?” He says, trying to keep the tone light. Price tilts his head to you. “She’s mentioned you. Says you’re a genius. I’d love to pick your brain some time, if you want to chat.”

A genius, Lou thinks, and he can feel his shoulders straighten at the praise.

“That would be interesting,” Lou deadpans, “Are you two on a date?”

Andrew laughs, and Lou catches a flash of something flicker across your face. Upset? Anger? Bitterness? Lou can’t quite place it, but it feels strangely familiar to him, like a reflection of the same darkness which lives inside of him, and it leaves him thrown. He wants to see more of it, whatever was. 

But just as soon as he catches a glimpse of it, it’s gone, and you roll your eyes. 

“Us? Date? We’d be terrible,” Price says, and you nod with his words, smiling half-heartedly.

“We should get going. Andrew’s only in town for a few more days,” You say. Something in you looks sad, and Lou is rocked by a violent, feral impulse to tear this man apart. He seems none the wiser.

Lou blinks, and forces away the impulse to smile. 

“I’ll see you, then,” he says, and you smile to him as you wave goodbye.

That night, you and Price have sex in the living room. On the couch, not in your bed, and Lou hates how this man pleasures you in a way that is clearly satisfying for you. But he can’t tear his eyes away from the screen, transfixed as you shed your clothes and help undress him. He watches, trying to memorize the way you react to what Price does, what seems to get the best reaction, so that when it’s him touching you, he can impress you with how good he’s able to make you feel.

He watches, chin in his hand, and then-

And then, you seem to look up, right at the camera as you come undone. 

Lou follows soon after. 

And afterward, he watches as you get up and go to the kitchen by yourself to make coffee, decaf. You stare at the coffee maker, tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, and then close your eyes, and Lou knows that you must be thinking of him.

---

Price is, as you had said, only in town for a few more days, so Lou’s window of opportunity is only open a hair’s width. With that said, he’s always felt like his best work has been done under pressure, and by Monday evening, he’s gotten everything in place. 

First, he calls Price, using the phone number so helpfully supplied on his networking profile.

“Hello. This is Louis Bloom, we met the other day. We have a mutual friend,” Lou says when Price picks up the phone.

“Who?” Price asks, and then he says your name. “You’re her boss, right? Why are you calling me?”

“It’s important for you to come to my office right now. I need to talk to you about her,” Lou says. “Do you know the address? I found something out, and it concerns you. I want to speak to you about it in person.”

There’s a long pause, and Lou thinks for a moment that Price may not take the bait. But then, his curiosity- whatever it is in him that drove him to be a journalist- wins out.  

“Yeah, alright. Can you give me the address? I’ll head over now.” Looking at the clock, Lou sees that it’s a quarter past six in the afternoon. Perfect. 

And then, one text, Lou sends to you. 

[Please pick up some new film for me and meet me at my office at 7pm. I look forward to seeing you tonight. Wear your navy blue dress - LB]

---

“Alright. You’ve got my attention. What is it that’s so important?”

Andrew Price walks into the small office space, shoulders straight and confident. He’s a fairly clean cut, attractive man, but he doesn’t love you, and Lou knows it. Hands shoved in his pockets, and a frown on his face, Price strides across the room to stand in front of Lou.

Lou sits at his desk, his cell phone in his hand.

“I know you’re sleeping with her,” Lou says calmly, “You don’t have to pretend you aren’t, I know that you are.”

 Price scoffs, and looks at him like he’s an idiot.

 “And what if I am? You’re not her boyfriend, man. Just because you have a creepy little crush and you’re her boss doesn’t mean you get to control her. She can sleep with whoever the fuck she wants.” Scowling, Price shakes his head. “I knew it. She defended you, but I knew you were into her.”

“You’re right. I am,” Lou answers easily. Then he smiles. “And you mean that I’m not her boyfriend yet.”

 Price leans across the desk, pushing himself into Lou’s personal space. He looks equally parts disgusted and unnerved, and Lou holds his thumb just over the call button on his phone, waiting for the perfect moment. He glances at the clock.

 “I thought I was going to get some information coming here, but you know what? I think I’m going to leave here with some information to give.” Price leans away. “Is that all?”

“No,” Lou answers, and he hits call. 

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” The voice on the other end asks as Price stares in bewilderment.

“There’s a man, he’s broken into my office- I- I think he wants to hurt me- this is Lou Bloom calling from 113 Main Street West, I’m very afraid for my safety-” Lou makes the panic in his voice real, waits for a second, and then starts to scream, deep and guttural from his chest. He shoves some heavy filming equipment off of his desk and then ends the call with a tap of his finger. 

A moment of silence stretches between the two men. Quietly, Lou gathers his will.

“What the fuck-” Price starts, but he’s cut off as Lou slams his own face into his desk.

His nose gives a sickening crunch, and blood splatters out from it across the desk. Lou gasps at the sharp pain blooming across his face, fairly certain he’s successfully broken his own nose- and he knows what a broken nose feels like. Price watches in horror, taking a step back as Lou slams his face back into the desk a second time, this time knocking his tooth through his upper lip.

Blood is gushing from his nose, more than Lou expected, and it’s staining down the front of his shirt as he straightens. Quickly and definitively, Lou grips the collar of his shirt and rips it open. He takes two steps toward Price, who backs away from him.

“You’re fucking insane,” Price says, holding his hand up as if to tell Lou to stop coming closer. As if it would stop him. Grabbing his wrist and yanking the man forward, Lou smears some of his own blood from under his nose across Price’s knuckles.

It’s almost too easy. Lou looks at Price, standing and watching in shock, and then at the clock. He takes two measured steps backward, kicks the desk chair over, and slumps down against one of his cabinets.

He sits there for nearly two minutes, panting and waiting for the blood to stop flowing. Price seems to not know if he should leave or stay, and stares wide-eyed at Lou, and then at his hand, and then around the room. 

He’s realizing just now, Lou thinks, what this will look like when the cops show up. But more importantly, how it will look when-

You enter through the door, wearing a navy blue dress, your bag slung over your shoulder. You freeze, and take in the scene, looking from Lou to Price. Your eyes are wide, horrified, and it seems that you can’t believe what you’re seeing. 

“Oh, god,” Lou moans, “You need to leave, please, he went crazy-”

At the same time, Andrew starts to talk, his hands held out in front of himself again as he equivocates and tries to explain and excuse what you’re seeing.

“This isn’t what it looks like- this guy, he’s insane, he- I didn’t-” Price’s voice breaks, and he’s at a complete loss for what to say or do as you drop your bag and rush to Lou’s side.

“Oh my god. Oh my god? Lou? Lou, fuck, you’re bleeding,” You say, real panic in your voice as you kneel beside him and gently touch his face. Lou meets your gaze, and you’re close, you’re so close to him, and you smell so wonderful, and you wore the blue dress.

“Get out of here,” He says quickly to you, looking you in the eye. “And wait for the police to arrive. You need to be safe.”

Andrew Price sputters from the corner, and laughs a manic, shocked peel of laughter. 

“You can’t honestly believe him, can you?” He asks, gesturing to Lou. 

But you don’t get a chance to answer, because that’s when the police burst through the doorway, yelling, guns drawn.

A news story is all about framing. How a story looks to its audience is the most important thing in how they will receive it. And once that first image, that initial impression has formed in the audience’s mind, it can be incredibly difficult to change.

There are no security cameras running in Lou’s office, or at least not any that were running that night. When the police see the blood smeared across Price’s knuckles, it doesn’t matter that they aren’t swollen or bruised from hitting him. They arrest him on the spot, and you never leave his side throughout the entire process, not once.

Lou never thought he himself would become a story featured on the morning news, but he’s an adaptable man.  Sitting upright in his hospital bed the next morning, his nose bandaged, his lip swollen, and one of his eye blackened, Lou watches the story play on the morning news.

Terrible camera work. Amateurs must have shot this, he thinks, as a shaky camera pans across his office, zooming in on his blood on the floor. There’s a shot of you at his side, escorting him to the back of the ambulance. He looks a mess: his hair is in his face, and his cheek already beginning to swell. But you’ve got your hand on his arm, and you look so concerned and scared for him that it makes his heart swell.

“Whoever filmed us didn’t do a very good job, did they?” You whisper, quietly latching the door behind you. In the second bed in the room, an elderly woman sleeps, and Lou notes your consideration as you lightly walk across the room to his bedside.

“No. If we had been filming, we would have gotten a much better shot of the office. If you film it through the window, you’d get a clear view of the camera and the blood on the ground,” Lou answers, annoyed. I couldn’t have set it up any better, he thinks, wincing as pain shoots through his face when he speaks.

Sitting beside him, Lou can see that you’ve changed clothes since last night, into a dark shirt and a pair of jeans- his blood must be all over the dress, Lou realizes. You lean in close to him, clearly still worried. For the first time in weeks, Lou wasn’t able to watch you go to bed. He wonders if you slept poorly.

“You okay?” You murmur, a hand touching his shoulder lightly. You look solemn and disturbed as you continue, “I can’t believe... I never would have thought Andrew would do something like that.”

Lou reaches up to brush the hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear the way that you do when you’re nervous. “I was shocked too. He flew into a rage, talking about how he knew that I had feelings for you and saying that he wouldn’t let me near you.” Lou tells you this calmly, voice even and monotone as he recites the story he’s rehearsed in his head. “He knew that I wanted to be with you, and he attacked me. He broke my nose, and as you can see, did a good deal of damage otherwise.” Lou smiles to you, watching your eyes flick over your face.

“Do you?” You ask quietly, searching his expression.

“Do I what?” 

“Want to be with me?” You reach out and take his hand softly in yours, and Lou feels triumph burning in his chest. He won’t even have to make the first move. It’s perfect.

“Yes,” he answers readily, “I like many things about you. The way that you listen to me, the way you wear your hair, the way that you smell. I like how attentive you are. I like that you always sit close to me,” Lou takes a breath, and notes the strange, almost alien feeling of nerves. “I’ve thought about kissing you a lot.”

“Just kissing?” You reply cheekily. You’re leaning in even closer, squeezing his hand.

“No,” Lou breathes, “Much more than kissing.”

“But we can start there,” You finish, before you close the distance between the two of you and kiss him. 

You kiss so softly, so hesitatingly, and at first Lou matches your pace. He loves how unsure you seem to be, the way your lips press so lightly and chastely against his. He reciprocates, gently initially, but his patience quickly wanes and he deepens the kiss. Lou moves his lips more insistently against yours, kissing with more fervor. 

Reaching up, he cups your face in both of his hands to hold you in place, and he continues to kiss you hungrily. You gasp for air between the kisses, and he nearly feels dizzy from his own lack of oxygen as he continues to press small, quick kisses against your lips, ignoring the ache spreading across his face. Every time you go to pull away, he kisses you again, not wanting to let you leave his grasp.

He wants to keep kissing you. He thinks that he wants to keep kissing you forever.

---

---

---

When you finally walk out of the hospital room, your heart hammering. Your face is flushed, and you make it halfway down the hallway before a grin spreads slowly across your face.

That wonderful, magnificent bastard, You think to yourself. That terrible genius. Look at what he’s done to get me.

You hadn’t even had to break things off with Andrew yourself. 

Lou finally had you, but then again, you'd had him in your sights for a while. 

Game, set, match. 

---

You know about the cameras.

Of course you know about the cameras. 

You’d noticed one shortly after Lou had sent the coffee maker to your house, small and hidden in the corner of your bookshelf. You’d suspected that he had feelings for you as soon as you were promoted, but the gift had been what cemented his intentions in your mind, and had first triggered your suspicion that he was watching you. 

Searching through your apartment without making it look like you were looking for the cameras had been a bit tricky. You pretended to be cleaning, not wanting Lou to catch on that you suspected him. For a while, before you found the proof you were looking for, you had thought you were just becoming paranoid. Finally catching sight of the small black box with the pinhole-sized lenses had been equal parts a shock and a relief.

Lou is many things. He is vicious, he is ruthless, he is intent and will and a shameless drive toward achievement. But he is not exactly subtle.

You drum your fingers along the smooth wooden surface of Lou’s desk in the Video Production News office, and take a sip of your coffee. While Lou took several days off following his discharge from the hospital (a rarity for him) you had volunteered to put the office back in order. You’d successfully cleaned and rearranged the space, and now you were busy picking up the slack editing footage packages for the networks. 

This leaves you in the office with Mikhael, who sits across the room skimming through police reports on his laptop. Although your eyes are on your computer screen, your mind is elsewhere, mulling over Lou and what had happened between him and Andrew.

You weren’t sure exactly sure what had gone down, but you doubted Andrew had attacked Lou out of jealousy over you. The taste of bitterness wells in your mouth, as thick and bitter as bile as you remember how long you pined after Andrew, and how badly you’d wanted him to be more than a friend with benefits. He’d never been interested in you romantically, so the thought of him flying into a rage over you seemed unlikely. 

Not that you’d told the police that.

After all, Lou’s ruthlessness and willingness to do whatever it takes to succeed is part of what draws you to him, and what attracted you to him in the first place. You’ve never seen such ceaseless ambition and motivation in someone before, and certainly not directed toward you.

Maybe you should have been horrified instead of flattered when you noticed a small camera in your apartment, eye-level and stuck to the bottom of a shelf. Maybe you should be irate instead of thrilled when Lou tells you what to wear, or plainly tells you what he likes about you and what he wants you to change. 

But you aren’t. 

Lou is a predator, closing in on you with hunger in his eyes. But you’re no prey, and you’re just fine with getting backed up into a corner. You’re being maneuvered, but you’re right where you want to be.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket.

[Let’s go for dinner tonight. -LB]

You smile down at your phone, and wait a moment before you type out your reply.

[I’d like that. Is it a date?]

You wonder if you should tell him you know what happened with Andrew, or ask him how his injuries are. He answers your text almost immediately.

[Yes. -LB]

---

“Halibut are nocturnal animals. Did you know that? I was watching a documentary on nocturnal creatures earlier today. Animals that are nocturnal, rather than diurnal like most mammals, have a number of specific adaptations which allow them to better track and hunt and survive through the night, such as silent flight, heightened senses, and echolocation. Their circadian rhythms are also slightly shorter than diurnal animals.”

You take another bite of your fish, and nod to signify that you’re listening to Lou.

He smiles, and looks proud of himself, seemingly excited to share the information he’s learned. You really don’t care about the circadian rhythms of nocturnal animals, but he’s actually pretty cute like this- at least you think so, though you imagine other people might find his monotone, quickly-spoken monologues off-putting.

The restaurant you’re in in small but private, and the two of you sit in a booth toward the back of the room that provides ample seclusion from the other customers. Lou has a meal in front of him that he’s barely touched, instead choosing to focus his attention almost singularly on you. It makes you feel like you’re an ant under a magnifying glass. His stare burns you, in more ways than one.

His nose, though no longer bandaged, is still heavily bruised and broken, and his left eye shines black and purple. Even as battered as he is, Lou has clearly put effort into his appearance tonight. His hair is slicked back, and he wears a nicely pressed dress shirt and blazer. Across from him, you wear a dark red dress.

“We’re out a lot after dark. Do you sleep through most of the day after a night of work?” You ask him in between bites of your dinner.

“No. I sleep very little,” he replies, before he pauses, and then continues. “You strike me as the kind of person who falls asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow. And then, the kind who sleeps very deeply. Am I right?” 

You feign surprise, and your stomach flips pleasantly as you imagine him watching you in bed. “Yes. You’re exactly right, Lou. How’d you know?”

Lou surveys you seriously. You can never predict what he’s going to say next, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s about to admit to you that he broke into your apartment. Instead, he leans in close, and speaks in a low voice, like he’s sharing a secret.

“I know this because I pay attention to you. I’ve told you that there are a number of things that I like about you, and I know you don’t need me to repeat myself. I think you and I are a good fit, both professionally and personally. You’re my employee, so we keep the same work schedules. You spend a lot of time with me already. We both live alone currently, and our lifestyles suit each other. Neither of us go out partying much, or drink excessively, and we both like to read. Think about it. I can provide enough income to support both of us, and if we live together, we can save money by commuting together. Also, I enjoy your company, and am very sexually attracted to you. The fact that you kissed me the other day implies you feel the same way. Am I wrong?”

You take a moment to digest Lou’s words, cheeks colouring at his boldness. “No, you’re not.” You pause. “You’ve really thought all this out? That you want a relationship with me?”

“Of course,” Lou answers. “It’s clear you would compliment me very well.”

“Half a week ago you were attacked by my ex... er, ex-friend because he wanted to keep you away from me. Now you want to be my boyfriend. You move pretty fast,” You reply glibly, with a smile.

Lou doesn’t smile back. “Why shouldn’t I? We both know what we want. Do you have any questions, or do you agree?”

You think for a moment. Lou is pressing forward without quarter, leaving so little room for argument. He leans forward, head slightly tilted, gaze vicious.

 “A couple,” you say, “Are you allergic to cats?”

Lou leans back, shakes his head, and smiles. “No. And I like that you’re thinking ahead. Foresight is important in any relationship.”

You swirl your wine around your glass, and avoid Lou’s relentless eye contact. “About that. How serious are you about this?”

Lou looks confused. “How serious? I wouldn’t be proposing a relationship if I wasn’t serious about wanting it.”

It’s your turn to press. “You want it now, sure. But you’re not going to dump me in a few months if someone else who catches your eye comes along?”

Blinking once, deliberately, Lou shakes his head. “No. I’m rarely interested in people.” He pauses, and breaks the eye contact with you, and you sense a raw, blatant truthfulness in his words. “And it’s even rarer that I like them as much as I like you. I want... to relate to people. I want to have relationships and friendships. But most of the time I find it’s impossible. People end up being shallow, and petty, and wrong.” The bitterness in his words is clear. “They don’t listen to me, and they always inevitably make things... complicated.”

He seems lost, for a moment. You take his hands in yours gently, and smooth your thumb across his knuckles.

“I understand,” You murmur. “In a way. Relationships come easy to me. Getting people to like me, to trust me. But connecting on a deeper level... isn’t so easy.”

Lou’s attention snaps back to you, and he watches you like a vulture closing in on its dying prey.

“You’re going to be my girlfriend,” he implores, an unspoken threat lining his tone, the kind which you couldn’t even put words to if you tried. “Aren’t you?”

You nod. “I just have one question left.”

“Yes?”

“Are you going to take me home tonight, Louis Bloom?”

---

Louis does take you home. On the cab ride back to his apartment, his hand never once leaves the small of your back, as though he feels like if he stops touching you, you’ll vanish. He’s quiet for nearly the entire ride, as if he’s mapping out the night ahead in his mind, trying to anticipate how the evening will go so he has total control.

Silly Lou. If he wants total control, you’ll simply give it to him. He doesn’t need to work so hard for it.

Closing and locking the door behind you, Lou takes off his shoes and sets them aside, and throws his keys onto his counter. Now late in the evening, the lights from the city outside shine in from Lou’s uncovered window, and the room is silent, save for the sound of cars speeding by his apartment. Even with the room barely lit, you can see Lou watching you, and feel the way his focus sharpens and becomes carnivorous.

Your heart begins to hammer as alarm bells go off in your mind. Every instinct you have tells you that Lou is a threat, and it makes you feel absolutely wicked.

He walks across the room in slow, stiff strides, keeping his eyes on you. He stops in front of you.

“Take of your clothes.” He says, then walking past you, across the room. Lou picks up a camera from his computer desk, and turns back to you. “You can set them down on the couch. When you’re finished, follow me into the bedroom.” With those words, he disappears from your sight, heading into a room that you’ve never seen before, but you assume is the bedroom.

Quickly, you follow his instructions. You’re so nervous you feel nearly ill, and though you’d imagined many times how an evening with Lou would go, you didn’t expect this. Folding your clothes neatly as you disrobe, you feel bare and vulnerable in a way you hadn’t before. It was one thing to know Lou was watching you when you were naked through a camera. It was another to strip down in his home.

You walk lightly into the bedroom, stopping as you pass the threshold of the door. Lou stands at the end of the bed, his camera in his hands, watching. Moving swiftly, he snaps a photo of you as you stand there, feeling more than a little shy. You blink in surprise at the flash, and swallow your nerves.

“Good,” He says. His eyes rake over your body. “You’re perfect. Lay down on the bed.”

“Okay,” You reply breathlessly.

You’re pretty sure your entire body is blushing. Gingerly, you crawl up onto Lou’s bed, and lay back on top of his smooth, navy blue sheets. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you watch him raise the camera again.

“Spread your legs,” He orders, “I want to see you.”

Shivering, you let your legs fall open, glancing off to the side as he snaps his second photo. His stare is too intense- you’ve never felt more naked in your life. Looking back to him, you can tell how aroused he is at a glance, and it’s pleasing to know that he’s more affected by you than his expression would let on.

Lowering the camera, Lou walks around to the side of the bed. He takes your wrist carefully in his grasp, and moves your arm so that it is placed over your head. When he lets go, you keep it there, and Lou smiles wistfully at you, a pleasant hum of approval escaping his throat.

“You look worried,” He notes, “Are you afraid?”

“No,” You answer truthfully.

“Open your mouth slightly and look at the camera.” You do as he demands, and he snaps his third picture. With that, he lowers the camera and places it on the bedside table, seemingly satisfied. 

Hastily, Lou crawls over you, onto the bed. Hovering over you he looks down at you for a long minute, his hands on either side of your head, his body caging you against the bed. You are, in every manner of the word, trapped.

Lou moves his head down, and kisses you, fervent and victorious.

By the time Lou finally touches you, you’re more than ready for him. His touches and movements are clumsy, and not necessarily skilled, but your skin feels set alight by him. Every press of his fingers sends a jolt of pleasure through you, and every kiss pressed to your skin another wave of satisfaction. His eagerness and your attraction to him makes up for anything that he lacks in his technique, and your body responds to him gladly.

As he is with everything, Lou is ferocious and unyielding, and his claiming of you is nothing short of a conquest. Exactly as you'd wanted. Exactly as you'd planned. 

After, you lay beside him, shivering and sweating. Lou uses his hand to push his bangs out of his face, and looks from the ceiling, to you. For once, you find his gaze warm, his eyes half-closed in contentment.

A moment of silence passes. You and Lou pant and relax into the space, and he lays an arm affectionately across your waist. It’s such a peaceful moment that you think it must be just about time that you lay all of your cards on the table.

“You know, next time, we should just have sex in my apartment. That way, instead of taking pictures, you can just review the footage from the cameras you set up.”

You keep your tone nonchalant and easy, but you can feel Lou stiffen beside you. His arm, which had been relaxed, now grips you tightly, and he turns to stare at you fully, eyes wide and wild.

Your heart is in your throat as you watch Lou’s mouth twitch. You can almost feel him assessing whether or not you’re a threat to him, can see him trying to understand how this changes things. 

He may be wondering if he’s going to need to hurt me, you think.

“Excuse me?” He whispers, voice low, and you have to swallow a laugh at his incredulousness. If this situation wasn’t so tense, it would be funny.

Carefully, you reach over and cup his face in your hands. You admire him openly, smoothing your thumb across his bruised cheekbone and looking over his injured features. You absolutely delight in him, and make no attempt to hide it.

“Don’t worry, Lou. I’m on your team,” You whisper back, smile bordering manic. “I know about all of it. I've known. Okay?”

He continues to stare at you, silent, assessing.

“All of it?” He repeats hesitantly. You nod.

“We’re going to make a great couple, don’t you think?” You ask him, and his expression remains unchanged, still disbelieving and suspicious. 

And then, Lou surges forward and kisses you so suddenly and forcefully that you feel as though all of the air in your lungs has been knocked out of you. Pressing his mouth to yours, consuming, Lou wraps his arms around your body, and holds you to him as if you were his life line.

---

---

“He had you pose as a grief counsellor to speak with the victim’s family. No ethical news source is going to accept this.”

Nina Romina sits in front of you. It has been several weeks since you first went home with Lou, and you’re sitting across from Nina in her office, your hands folded in your lap. She holds a sample of your interview, typed out into a manuscript, which contains several juicy details about a double homicide that even the police hadn’t been able to gather.

“That’s why we’re bringing it to KWLA 6,” you reply smoothly. “Don’t tell me you haven’t missed Lou’s contributions.”

Nina’s mouth presses into a thin line, and she says nothing.

“You haven’t said no,” you add, and she glares at you.

“Print journalism is dead. And don’t think I haven’t noticed that he sent you instead of coming here himself. And don’t think that I don’t know exactly what is going on between you two.” Nina snorts, looking away. She’s irked. You shrug off her comments, knowing that her annoyance means she’s probably going to take the deal you’ve laid out for her.

She looks back down at the papers in her hands, and then to you. She seems to consider something, and her expression softens.

“You know, I really do feel for you. This is good work, and I know that Lou is using you. He has a way of... making people do what he wants them to. Blackmailing them, bullying them, whatever he can do to get what he wants, he does it. There’s something seriously wrong with him. I don’t know what he’s done to you. But... I could maybe pull some strings. Get you a job here, instead. Get you out of there” She looks at you expectantly.

You stand up, and smooth out the wrinkles of your dress. A wry smile spreads across your face.

“Ms. Romina. I think you’re confused about my relationship with Lou.” You can’t stop the way your smile widens, “I know what your relationship with him with him was like, so I can understand why you would be. But I assure you, Lou has never asked me to do anything I’m not comfortable doing, both during and outside of work.”

You pause, amused by the shock in her expression at your sudden change in tone. Just moments before, she had believed you were harmless, like most people do when meeting with you. You continue cheerily.

“Lou is my boss. And he’s my partner, among other things. A word of advice to you: don’t presume that you know anything about us. Now, on this interview we’ve presented you with today. You and I both know that you’d be posting it as an article online, so don’t give me this ‘print is dead’ bullshit. We also both know that your ratings have dipped ever since Lou started exploring other networking options. We’d be open to negotiating an exclusive contract with you... on our conditions, and our pricing. So... can Lou expect a call from you later today?”

A long, tense moment stretches between you, before warily, Nina says, “Yes, he can.”

“Excellent.” You reply, taking back your copy of the interview sample from her hand. As you turn to leave, you hear Nina speak from behind you.

“Jesus Christ,” Nina breathes, shaking her head. “Who the fuck are you?”

You pause at the doorway.

“I’m just the assistant.” You reply, leaving without sparing her a second glance.

[differentloveletter]

Slashers x Quarantine sick S/o

Includes:Stu Macher,Billy Loomis,Jason Voorhees,Micheal Myers,Hannibal Lector(series),Thomas Hewitt

Stu Macher

Sad

He sits by your door because he misses you and he calls you on FaceTime almost all day everyday (I mean he’s pretty clingy)

He kinda doesn’t mind it because he doesn’t have to lie to you about leaving with billy late at night anymore to do some killing

He makes sure you eat good. Anything you want to eat you can have. Take out is a good option since Stu can’t cook for his life-

When you go to shower he sanitizes your room down “Stu you can’t be in here” you say as you stand in the bedroom door way with your mask on. “I when I clean the room you get better faster”

He sneaks into your room at night putting on his mask and cuddles you because he can’t sleep with out you

He ended up getting sick💀 now your taking care of him-

Billy Loomis

Billy sleeps in the living room making sure he stays the hell away from you.

“I love you baby yes but what use I am for you if I get sick too?” He looked at you as you faced time him “I would be taking care of you if you was sick” you frowned “listen- I’m taking care of you I am just being careful”

He’s honestly scared of the Covid- he told you to still be careful even tho it’s “declared over”. He didn’t believe it and he was right. He still wears his mask out.

“I’m hungry” you texted billy. He looked and responded “I made you something it’s at the door”. You opened it and seen a bowl of soup in a paper bowl with a plastic spoon “jee thanks-“ you pick it up and go into the room

After you “felt better” he took you to get checked then it was true you didn’t have it no more but he quarantined you for one more day then let you out.

“You are overreacting-“ you watched him as he bleached almost all the room down “this is gonna kill them” he mutters as he scrubs.

It took billy a minute to let you kiss him and even cuddle with him- he’s just so sweet.

Jason Voorhees

Jason feels bad

He doesn’t understand what’s going on but knows your sick

He tries his best to take care of you but it isn’t working and you have to explain to him you just need to quarantine for alittle

Being alone for him is frightening and sad

He decides to find someone that’s on the camp grounds and he drags them to the house so you can get token care of

The person had no choice and the person care of you

“Jason. Why would you do that” you look at him slightly upset but you knew he meant no harm. He looked at you as he looked away grunting at the person to hurry up and make your food faster

Micheal Myers

He doesn’t do anything

He basically stays out your way letting you go in the kitchen and what not. With your mask on ofcourse

“Micheal I need-“ Michael sits down bags of groceries as he backs up staring at you

You raise your eyebrow seeing blood on the bag as you look at him then open the bag seeing new food and drinks and medicine. “Where did you get this?” You ask pulling the things out then looking at him

He looked at you then simply walks away

You shrug and smile as you make you and Michael some food

He does supply you when you need it but most of the time he isn’t there so don’t really expect him to help you that much

Hannibal Lector

Best supporter in my opinion

He definitely takes care of you

He makes sure you’ve eaten drinked enough water take your meds etc.

He took time off his job and doing the FBI cases with will just to take care of you

He does care about your mental health a lot so he makes sure to face time you and have a talk with you for a hour or so

“How are you doing darling?” He asked gently, “like shit. I can’t sleep” “I’ll stay on the phone if that will help you?” You smile and nod as you lay back down

After you ended up overcoming this sickness Hannibal sanitized the room and replaced all of your hygiene equipment you used (like toothbrush toothpaste body brush etc.)

Thomas Hewitt

Tommy had alittle experience with taking care of a sick person. He had to take care of his momma before

Therefore he knew what to do and what not to do

He stayed away letting you quarantine in his room as he and momma made you food.

Momma went to get your meds while Tommy stayed home to make sure you had everything you needed

He’s a sweet boy. He draws for you like pictures of you or the pig you both are raising. He’s just a cute boy :((

[a-writing-otter]

WIP Wednesday - Chapter 6 of The Redemption and Subsequent Death of Bill Cipher

“Am I— Did I interrupt something?” Stan asks a little awkwardly.

“Nah,” Bill, who recovers much faster from gaping at Stan like a fish, leans back into the bench before punching Pine Tree’s shoulder. “Kid was just heading out to go break windows or something.”

“Better hope it’s not these windows or [you’re] cleaning it up,” Stan tells Bill before reaching out, shoving the bill of Pine Tree’s hat down over his eyes. Pine Tree grumbles and fixes it before turning a far brighter smile on Stan.

“Your sister’s looking for you. Something about trying to make a suit out of glitter.”

“Oh. Great.” Pine Tree rubs his face and gets to his feet. “Thanks, Grunkle Stan.”

He goes to the door and pauses to look at Bill for a second.

“Just… you know, I think you’re right. I think things will be okay again soon.”

Bill’s brow furrows as Pine Tree heads back inside before he starts chuckling as he shakes his head.

“Weird kid.”

“They’re receptive,” Stan says as he takes up Pine Tree’s seat and Bill tries not to groan. “Not that you’ve made it exactly hard to miss that things are weird between you and my brother. I think the temperature in the room drops by ten degrees every time one of you walks into it. And I thought things were bad with my ex-wife! Ha!”

Bill winces at that, pulling a face as he leans forward to bury his face in his hands.

“Yeah, well, we weren’t even dating—“

“No, you two were just sucking face anytime you were left unsupervised.”

“Please, Pine Tree already got onto me for this. I fucked up and—“

“Summoned a demon, yeah, I heard.”

Bill’s blood runs cold and he looks between his fingers at Stan. …he’s not swinging, he’s not snarling, and Bill can say he’s almost positive that this isn’t Stan then.

“…and you’re cool with that?”

“What? Oh, no, absolutely not. I almost strangled you in your sleep when my brother told me.”

Billy, admittedly, feels a little better with that admission.

“He also said that you came to him to get rid of said demon.”

“Yeah, well… I don’t know. Taking over the universe is so last year.”

Stan snorts at that.

“You’re, like, really cool with that?” Bill tries again. “Don’t want to, I don’t know, punch me in the eye?”

Now Stan shrugs.

“I wouldn’t go that far, but I think watching you walk around on eggshells, convinced one of us is going to take a swing at you or tell the Axolotl—“

“Axo— Oh, wait, no, you said it right.”

“I listen. I’m just saying, you know, you with your tail between your legs ain’t a bad look. Certainly makes me feel better.”

“…but, like, the whole breaking your brother’s heart? Trying to take over the universe? You’re sure you’ve got no murder held in your very large, very family-oriented heart?”

“Don’t go tempting me, Cipher, but… Ford’s an adult, you’re… maybe an adult, I don’t know, how do demons age?”

“Depends,” Bill admits, pulling a face. “Interdimensional demons live to about a hundred millennia or so, sometimes longer if they take care of themselves.”

“You said you were a dream demon though,” Stan remembers.

“Yeah, well, that’s a little more… complicated.”

Stan cracks open his pitt cola and gestures to Bill. He debates for a second before taking in a deep breath and sighing.

“I was born an interdimensional demon, a very precocious, adorable thing. Even though they’re relatively harmless, mostly brokers for deals made between species, they’ve got their own power. It doesn’t help that I was born… different.”

Bill’s voice gets soft, thoughtful.

“They tried to understand me, probably. They couldn’t though. A world full of two-dimensional idiots, they never understood what I saw, understood how I felt. So it was, you know, a little…”

“Othering?” Stan offers and Bill nods.

“Othering. Everyone adored me. ‘Special Billy’, ‘unique Billy’, ‘Billy who sees things no one else can see’.” […crazy Billy.]

Bill grips the bench a little too tight, knuckles turning white as he looks down at the ground.

“I won’t bore you with the sob story of a universe lost to a monster,” and maybe because it’s bad enough to admit it to Ford, admitting it to Stan who he still doesn’t trust not to come swinging at him is another thing, “but I ended up alone. I was drifting through time and space for, easily, a couple millennia. I spent a lot of time floating amongst the stars I’d stared at so long. I saw galaxies born, galaxies die; I saw nebulae explode and reform; stars would go through entire lifecycles in front of my eyes. It was me and the cosmos, so I guess I didn’t feel alone.

[nohoney]

k… sweetness I am in the heaviest mood for angst could u pretty pretty please write some for us 😞

angst for u darling╰(● ⋏ ●)╯

“Fuck you! Why won’t you listen to me?! I’m here, crying, and all you do is just roll your eyes at me!” You shout at him, replaying another bad fight that’s been happening too often in the past few months. His reactions have been the same lately. The impatience, the annoyance, the flippant answers he gives that only make everything worse.

Maybe you are too sensitive, maybe you ask for too much, maybe you could be more understanding of his side. But how much more understanding do you have to give your own boyfriend before he finally at least gives you some fraction of empathy that you need.

“All you ever do is cry! You find some reason to flip out on me and I have to gather you up and put you back together again! It’s exhausting!” your own boyfriend tells you.

He’s always been a little angry, always had a little bit of attitude, and he’d always snap first before he calmed down. There used to be a time that Bakugou would at least attempt to reconcile. He tried in the beginning. A part of you blames yourself, that perhaps all your neediness wore him down and he was fed up.

He was the one telling you in the beginning to always tell him what was on your mind. Now it seemed that when you finally did, there was nothing but resentment. You had gotten to used to seeing him angry at you, his red eyes glaring and his mouth set in a frown.

“You realize that you’re making a big deal of nothing right? You upset yourself and take it out on me!” Bakugou shouts, “I’m not a punching bag for when you feel like shit and I’m tired of your shitty reasons to start fights!”

Are they shitty? Are you making a big deal out of nothing again? Why is it if it’s nothing to him then it should be nothing to you? Is it so bad that you don’t like when he leaves during a fight? Is it awful that when he asks for space you blow up his phone demanding he answer you? Is it so bad that you get so angry you throw glasses against the wall because otherwise you’d punch your own mirror?

All these feelings well up and they go out of control. How many broken promises have you made to swear that you wouldn’t blow up again? Too many to count and here you were failing him again.

You say the same words whenever this happens and Bakugou sees it coming.

“You treat my feelings like they’re an inconvenience!” You tell him. You don’t feel seen or heard by him. Bakugou used to tell you that he’d rather you be honest about how you feel rather than keep quiet to keep the peace.

The routine is supposed to be that he rolls his eyes again, sits on the chair and argues a little more until you break down in more tears. He supposed to stop once you start bawling and he plays clean up. He only acknowledges afterwards that he should listen to you and he’s sorry that he’s stubborn and he’ll beg you to just calm down and swear that he’ll listen this second time.

“Just shut the fuck up!!”

And the world around you stops. The usual routine of a fight is thrown off instead of more crying, you’re stunned silent as you look at him. Bakugou has been disrespectful of your feelings before and vice versa there were times you didn’t respect his time to speak.

Never though had he ever spoken so harshly to you like this.

It worked though; you stopped crying. A part of you shrivels up inside and now you want to curl up in a ball and just hide away from the world. His hands touch your shoulders and he calls your name, trying to take back the awful words he shouted at you. “Baby, baby I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. Please, don’t push me away! Baby-“ he’s pleading, not trying to be forceful on you but you shake off his touch.

Bakugou would always hug you after a fight, even if he was still angry at you and was still working off the residual. When he tries to pull you into that hug, for once you shrug out of his hold. You opt to lean against the wall for support. Lightheadedness creeps in and you feel a bit dizzy and your only goal is to make it to bed.

You don’t know what else to do except sleep away the numbness.

His words repeat over and over.

“Babe, I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have said that!” Bakugou is frantic behind you, unsure how to handle the sudden fragility that he’s brought on you. Screaming and screaming until you cry and make up is the only thing he knows. “Please, look at me! Don’t—babe, wait! It’s fucking three in the afternoon, why are you going in bed? We’ll talk, okay! I’ll listen!”

Suddenly you’re so tired, crawling underneath the quilt without even changing out of your indoor clothes into your comfy lounge shirt and shorts. Curling up, you face away from him. Away from his side of the bed and his pillow.

And Bakugou stands helpless, his apologies meaning nothing and wishing that you would at least curse him out like you did before.

[suckerforlovesblog]

A perfect match?

Series Masterlist

Everything was different when you opened your eyes. Everything was different once again. Without knowing where you were, you sat up, rubbed your tired eyes and took a look around you. A pair of bright green eyes starred back at you through the dark. Hearing a deep rumbling voice saying that everything is fine now , you felt a shiver run down your spine and everything turned. The darkness welcomed you back once again…

Series warning: ABO Dynamics, Smut, Unprotected PIV , Scenting, Knotting, Language, age gap, Claiming, Breeding Kink, Age Gap

Chapter 5: Why don’t you care for me?

Summary: Y/N is very upset about Deans words and now tries to be better for him.

Chapter warning: ABO Dynamics, fluff

Word count: 1.5k

~ taglist: @niiight-dreamerrrr ~

After Y/N took a shower and cried some more, she finally felt more comfortable. She put on the flannel Dean had brought her and shut him out, his thoughts and feelings. The only thing that mattered to her right now was adjusting to the new setting, to this new life with an Alpha that didn’t care about her. The thought of it pinched her heart and made her sad once again but she bottled her feelings up and dried her hair.

Right now she was very happy that she had a normal childhood and her parents did not raise her like other Omega’s would have been brought up. This was very beneficial to her because it did not take her too long to adjust to life. Life in the Omega facility was like living in the 1950s, the mindset, the technology - everything basically. Y/N was determined to prove to Dean that she was worthy of being his Omega, that she could care for him, be there for him and provide for him.

After stepping out of the bathroom, the other tall man was in the room as well. His name seemed to be Sam, at least that’s what she thought. “Hi, I’m Sam.”, he said, smiling and bringing her in for a hug. Dean growled in the background. “I’m Y/N”, you answered. “I brought you some food from the Diner down the road, I didn’t know what you might like and how hungry you would be, so I just brought a little bit of everything”, Sam said once again and gave you a plate, sitting down at the small table at the other side of the room. You looked at Dean, then took a plate and loaded it up with food, sitting down next to Sam at the table, only to be followed shortly by Dean. “We need to talk”, he said into your ear. The three of you ate and talked. You really liked to see how relaxed Dean was with Sam around, how happy he looked but mostly you like to hear him laugh. It was really deep and his eyes lit up, sparkling. Y/N really wished he would look at her like this but anytime his glance crossed her his mood darkened.

After the three of them finished eating, Y/N immediately got up and started cleaning the table. Sammy excused himself to give the two of them some space. “Listen, Y/N”, Dean says as soon as Sam left. “I didn’t mean to hurt you earlier. I’m really sorry if I did. But you have to understand that my life is really dangerous. This is not a bad excuse, since I’m already feeling so much for you. I admire you, I adore you and I am just feared for your well-being because your so dear to my heart..” Y/N looks at him, feeling something inside her stomach, not quite certain how to feel. She just nods and then feels him coming up behind her. Dean wrapped his arms around her back, burying his head in her hair and started sniffing. Y/N just stopped moving all together: “Are you crying?” Dean tried to chuckle but she turned around and wiped the tears from his face, trying to calm him down. The emotions she felt just by seeing her Alpha cry nearly knocked her to the ground. On one hand she was still very upset with what he had told her earlier but on the other hand she felt something deeper, like a deep connection between the two of them. “We will figure this out together, okay Alpha?”, she looked up into his forest green eyes and put her hands on both sides of his face, forcing him to look into her Y/E/C eyes. Anytime they looked into each others eyes Y/N felt as if all the air was sucked from her lungs, she felt helpless and love struck. The two of them stood there, embracing each other for a while, taking in each others scent. Y/N could hear Deans rapid heart beat slowing, she intertwined her hands behind his neck and he kept brushing over her hair. “Please give me another chance, love”, he whispered, “I want to be good at this.”

Y/N took a step back, once again looking into his eyes: “We have to make this work.” Dean just nodded, grabbing the keys for his car “Baby”: “Let’s get you something to wear and a normal shampoo, so you don’t smell like me.”

He took her hand in his, raised it to his lips and kissed it softly, then leading her outside of the door and towards his car. On the way to the Meyers the new couple talked a lot, Dean even made Y/N laugh a couple of times. “Listen”, he says. Y/N looked up at him through her eye lashes. “You need to get a tattoo. It’s really important for your safety. And you need to apply for a new ID and pick out a ring, sweetheart…” All Dean said didn’t make a lot of sense in Y/N head and he must have figured from the way she looked at him. “Please just do as I say, get the tattoos and I will explain as soon as we’re back.”

Y/N just nodded and they made their way into the mall, holding hands, first going to a tattoo shop. “Hey buddy”, Dean said to the tattooed guy behind the counter. He nodded, symbolizing Dean to keep on talking. Dean swallowed and the said: “My wife wants to get a tattoo. The same one as me.” He pulled the collar of his shirt down and showed the guy the tattoo he had on his left chest, shortly underneath his collar bone. It was a circle with a five edged star inside. The outside looked like a sun. But what left Y/N even more confused was the term “wife”, looking up at him obviously confused. “Well, if she can tell me what she wants, she will be able to get the tattoo”, said the guy behind the counter. Y/N came closer to Dean and before being able to say a thing Dean growled: “Listen, Beta, you better do as I say. This is my Omega and I get to decide what happens with her body.” The guy behind the counter just swallowed and let you pass through to the back where you sat down on a tattoo chair. You opened Deans flannel and about two hours later you had the same tattoo as Dean underneath your left collar bone. After paying, Dean gave you no time to ask questions and dragged you into a jewelry store.

After looking at different necklaces and ring, you went back to Dean who waited on a sofa, reading a magazine. You sat down next to him: “What do you want me to do here?”

“I want you to pick out two rings, gold suits me best. And a necklace if you want to”, he answered without looking up. “Why?”, was the following answer. “Because we are legally married now. Claiming in the state of Texas is the same as getting married. If I hadn’t nearly died two days ago I would have picked a ring myself but maybe you would like to choose them.”, he said, offering a shy smile. Nodding, Y/N went back into the shop and looked around more carefully. Dean followed shortly, looking at the rings his Omega had picked. Two gold bands, very simple. His was thicker and hers had some small shining stones in it, looking very delicate. He also noticed her looking at a necklace more closely. It was very fine and small, a golden choker with a letter, a W - it would look fine around her neck. He came closer and whispered in her ear: “Why the W?” “For Winchester, I thought?”, she said with a low voice. Dean smiled and took all of the things up front to the register.

Dean then ordered her to push her Y/H/C hair to the side to put the necklace around her neck. The fine golden “W” laid right in between her collarbones at the crock of her neck. He then took her left hand in his, slowly pushing the ring onto her finger whilst looking deep into her eyes. “This is a promise, Y/N. I just need to learn how to be good at this.”, he whispered. Afterwards Y/N put her ring onto his left ring finger, just smiling up at him. Still not allowing Dean into her thoughts and feelings again but Y/N thought they got a little closer.

Afterwards Dean pulled her in for a quick kiss and she melted in his touch.

Then they resumed to some other stores, picking up essentials, like shampoo and clothing, as well as some boots for her.

[imbadatusernames2]

I was bored so I put Batfam into a random incorrect quote generator and I have never had this much fun

Duke, not yet familiar with the family lore: Duke: Live fast, die young, leave behind a pretty corpse! That’s what I always say! jason: You should say something else. Bruce to his friends (aka his children, exes and coworkers): bruce : I am not a lunatic. I have the psychiatric report to prove it. A slender majority of the panel decided in my favour.

Don't have to even say anything about this one: dick as a child: I can’t wait to grow up and have cool adventures! dick now: I can’t wait to go to bed.

Bruce- the first time father: dick: I just drank a lego piece. bruce : …what the hell?! You melted plastic and drank the liquid? dick: Yes. bruce : Why did you even melt a lego in the first place?! dick: Because it looked like chocolate! So I drank it! You know, like a chocolate shake?

Bruce- father of 10+ kids: duke: What do you want for breakfast? damian: I WISH TO DEVOUR THE UNBORN. bruce : bruce : They want eggs.

Classic Tim: tim: I am not an early bird or a night owl. I am some form of permanently exhausted pigeon.

This one hurt: jason: Do you always have to attack me with your words? bruce : Would you prefer me to use a brick?

Tim would answer hazardous waste or something: the Squad cleaning up alfred: Pick up the nearest piece of trash and throw it away. jason, to tim: Aight, which bin do you wanna go in—

This seems right: The gang's thoughts on stabbing bruce : Would never stab anyone. dick: Would stab someone in retaliation. tim: Yells "I won't hesitate, bitch!" first. jason: Would stab without warning. damian: Would stab as a warning.

Tim gets flashbacks: duke: Why would you think any of this was a good idea?! jason: Probably because I’m a dangerous sociopath with a long history of violence. duke: Oh… tim, from across the room: I don’t understand how you keep forgetting that.

Jason the babysitter: tim: jason, I want a bedtime story! jason: I’m busy, tim. I’ll tell you one tomorrow. tim: If you don’t tell me a story, I won’t go to bed! jason: Once upon a time, there was a person named tim, who always wanted things their way. One day, their friends got sick of it and locked them in the basement for the rest of their life. Everyone else lived happily ever after. The end. tim: I don’t like these stories with morals.

Giving advice to the younger ones: jason: Any advice before bruce and I fight? dick: Don’t wet yourself in public. jason: Not the kind of advice I was looking for!

Two professionals speaking: damian: We need a plan to beat them. cass: Okay, listen up. First, we fill their shoes with wet cat food. damian: cass: Judge me all you want, I get results.

Stephanie- one of the Bruce's not kids: stephane : (Talking to Damian) Oh, hi. I didn't see you there. Welcome to my abode. I'm glad you could join me. damian: But this is my abode. stephane : … stephane : Welcome to my abode, I'm so happy to have you, guest.

Ouch: bruce : You’re alive. damian: No need to sound so disappointed.

Little brothers, the sweetest of them all: cass: Ayo, what the FUCK is this?!? jason, sitting down, surrounded by corpses: I won Mafia, that’s what.

The meta joke here: bruce: Dracula had it right, sleep all day, live alone in a castle, and explode into bats to get out of all social situations.

[heaven4lostgirls]

As much as I want to believe that it isn't my fault... I just can't seem to bring myself to do it.... like somehow... a part of me... a part of my childhood... a part of my mind that still believed One Direction would be back, died along with Liam... and hell, I'd not even want a reunion, if I can somehow bring him back to life... and on the other hand... I've been so out of touch with what's going on with the boys, that all these allegations on him... that too after he passed... it's tearing my mind apart... I want to tell myself that that wasn't the Payno we knew... the Payno I grew up listening to... the one who could bring a smile on anyone's face.... the dance master Leeroy... the one afraid of fucking spoons, ridiculous, isn't it..? the silliness... the person himself.... I'm not willing to believe that he... he got so bad... that everyone let it get so bad... that somehow I was a part of it too... idk... can't stop that nagging feeling....

As a fan of Justin Bieber AND One Direction, I'm truly scared for what might happen to Justin now... the Biebers have a son... I don't want to, can't, lose another of my favourite artists.... he was on the pedestal since a young age too, and has been through similar shot.... and I'm terrified.... (sorry for the side track)

Now AFTER his death when I learn about him being an abuser and how MUCH people bash him and be unempathetic about it.... I hate myself for even considering stopping supporting him and mourning him... honestly, that thought crossed my m mind... I went... "Am I mourning the wrong person..? Should I be happy that an abuser d¡ed... or sad that he was Liam.... or surprised that Liam could even do that, or empathize with him that it was his coping mechanism.... but it isn't good... but he was good... but he isn't..." and that feeling summed up in a few words beautifully goes like.... "I'm mourning a person who was a part and parcel of my inner child that didn't heal.... but that doesn't mean my older self blindsides his wrongdoings... I'm mourning what Liam was to me... and how his life had become.... also while sympathy with the victim.... who somehow ALSO lost someone MUCH MUCH more important.... her son's father..."

I'll come in with another ask to continue, also I fell asleep (with a lot of struggle) so sorry for the late reply... (sorry if I'm bugging you...)

it’s okay not to believe that it’s not your fault, there will be people out there to remind you, and with time i think you’ll start to understand that it’s not.

emotions are tricky, because your grief is so raw everything feels magnified. in time, and with healing you’ll be able to see the bigger picture.

don’t worry about it right now, feeling your emotions is so good for understanding yourself. it helps you process your grief.

there’s so many things about grief that doesn’t make sense. wanting liam alive doesn’t make you a bad person, there are millions of people on this earth that wish they could’ve changed his fate.

just because liam was an abuser does not make him any less worth being mourned. there are people out there that have done worse, that are alive and they still have huge fandoms and people that listen to their music.

and i understand the piece of you that died when liam did, i think a lot of directioners can understand that feeling. there is no one direction without all of the boys.

them losing liam was us losing one direction really, and that leaves a big hole within our childhoods and within a lot of our primitive teenage years.

as for justin, i’m not really in his fandom but i do enjoy his music. and i can empathize with your fear. justin’s clean from my understanding, and has been since he’s been married to hailey.

your fears aren’t entirely unfounded but i do think that it’s better not to work yourself over possibilities of what could happen if he relapses. it does nobody any good, especially you.

it sounds easier said than done but justin is the only one who has control over his own life, we need to let him make his own decisions like we did with liam.

we can’t control him, that can only lead to negative outcomes. he knows himself better than anyone else in his life and deserves the right to have his fans and people around him believe that he’ll make the right choices.

it doesn’t make you a bad person to have conflicting feelings about liam’s passing. i did, i didn’t mourn him really at all in the first 24hrs of hearing he passed.

my friends aren’t fans of one direction/liam so they were very much more objective about liam’s passing than i thought i could be.

i thought i had to react a certain way, i didn’t have any right to be sad because i didn’t know him, and he was an abuser.

that’s wrong, you’re entitled to feel however you want to feel. mourn him if you want, don’t if you don’t. it really is that simple.

you don’t have control over how other people react so there will be people out there that are less emotionally attached than fans are, but that doesn’t make your pain any less valid.

it’s okay to be conflicted, liam was a huge part of you. and yes, exactly. mourning liam does not discredit any of the abuse that maya went through.

don’t worry about bugging me, you’re always welcome!! or falling asleep! i just woke up so if you don’t mind me replying 6hrs later then we’re all good 🫂.