#but seriously i can’t wait to write more one day and make it better

[glowinggreeneyes-e]

happy one year to the google doc for the longest ghosts/capvers fanfic (?)… its been through so much, all before its first birthday… it should’ve been at the club 😩

[alwaysmoncheri]

heyyy <3 I was wondering if you could write something a little softer for rafe?? it’s that kind of day😞

of course, honey! I hope this makes your day better <3 thank you for requesting

cw: implied fem!reader, soft!rafe, mentions of alcohol, tooth rotting fluff, 1k

<3

You smooth down your dress, applying more pressure to the stubborn ends that keep folding up. For an expensive dress, it was pretty cheap. Or maybe you didn’t iron it correctly. Either way, you aren’t going to let it ruin your night. Your hands shift to the straps, carefully adjusting them to ensure they sit right. And as you look at yourself in the mirror your shoulders soften and warmth fills your chest. Your hair sitting just right—yet still, so imperfectly you. Emerald green dress flowing elegantly, its silky fabric comfortably gliding over your skin, embracing your figure.

Rafe waits for you, already mingling among guests. He knows you like to take your time. More time than you need, but it’s your process and you love it—then so does he. 

Another moment passes before you slip out the door, and Rafe spots you immediately. Like he’d ever miss you. Not when you’re always exuding the kind of loveliness that lures him in. He finds it endearing, your eyes sifting through the crowd to find his. It’s like you’re nervous, though, you’re anything but. Still, you find your way back to him, even if it’s a glance through the crowd. Even if it’s a slight tug of a lip—a hint of a smile. Even if it’s for a moment. Before someone takes your arm, drawing you into a circle of people. 

You’re stunning. Rafe knows if he were to ever drop dead, now would be that moment. The drink he’d been nursing is long forgotten and his eyes don’t leave you. 

“He’s not even pretending to be subtle,” Sarah whispers, slightly leaning across the table. A smile playing at her lips. You don’t need to turn to know who she’s referring to. 

“And?” you ask, hiding your smile with a sip of your drink. Sarah tilts her head, raising her eyebrows, silently asking, “seriously?” You shrug causing her to laugh. Though, you can’t help but turn over your shoulder meeting your boyfriend’s gaze once more. A hand clasps his shoulder in greeting, and Rafe only offers a tight-lipped smile in response. You slump onto the table, forehead touching the cool glass as you let you a huff. You’re working with Rafe on his social skills. It isn’t going too well. 

Sarah, having followed your gaze, only laughs, “He looks like he’s going to die if you don’t go over there.” 

You lift your head from the table, and Sarah gives a subtle nod toward Rafe, silently urging you to go talk to him. He’s standing there, among guests—friends, looking like he could use some company—and maybe some encouragement too.

You straighten and smooth out your dress. A quick press to the fold at the hem, and after offering a quick goodbye to Sarah, you turn on your heel.

Rafe isn’t standing very far, he never is. 

“Hi,” you smile, soft and sweet. His chest hurts. He needs to sit down, he thinks, before he makes a fool of himself. 

“Hey,” he responds, his voice low and rough. He smiles back, but he’s holding his breath. Rafe knows you’ve noticed when your smile widens—he wonders how your cheeks don’t hurt. Maybe they do. He’s never asked.

Without a word, you shuffle into his chest, arms wrapping around you instinctively. Arms around your waist, and palms pressed flat against your back. You tilt your head up leaving a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth. Rafe’s heart pounds, overwhelmed with love. Every time your lips touch his skin, it burns into memory. So, if you ever slip away, he’ll have one forever thing. 

A hand leaves your waist, quick to brush your hairline, and rest on your jaw. You blink slowly, waiting for him to kiss you. Then, he does. It’s sweet, unhurried, and now it’s your turn to be overwhelmed. You smile again, finding his lips mirroring yours. It’s rare from Rafe. It makes you want to kiss him again, but you can’t when you’re smiling this hard. 

Though, it doesn’t take long for Rafe to move back in—lips meeting yours. This time, leaving you dizzy. 

“You’re so beautiful.” he sounds breathless as he plants firm kisses along your jaw, “Every time I see you, it just keeps getting better.” 

“Yeah?” you ask, a playful lit in your voice, but there’s a spark of sincerity in your eyes, as if you’re searching for him to prove it. 

“Fuck, yeah.” Rafe replies with a wide grin, before kissing your neck again. He’s intoxicating—placing his lips everywhere from your jaw to your collarbone. He’s forceful enough to almost knock you off balance, but he always anticipates the moment he’ll need to steady you. It makes your heart soar.

“Okay.” you almost snort, hand touching his cheek—a silent signal to calm down. 

He leaves a soft kiss on your pulse before one arm slips from your waist—grabbing his drink, the other keeping a firm hold to keep you close to his side. 

It’s funny how much something so simple—just being near him—could make you feel like the center of the universe. Maybe that’s because you are to him. You’ve opened him up to so much love he never thought he’d be capable of. And your love is his favorite—not grand gestures or dramatic moments—it’s just this, the quiet comfort of being with him, and it’s enough. 

The two of you stand in the crowd, occasionally speaking to the people who approach. With glasses of champagne in hand, you savor the closeness and warmth of the night. 

“I didn’t see you making any new friends earlier,” you tease, tilting your head up to look at him. 

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. Eyes taking you in, as if he hadn’t gotten a good enough look earlier, “Too busy looking at you.” 

You laugh softly, “Trying to charm me?”

Rafe looks at you, insulted, “Trying?” he asks, straightening up, his posture shifting into something a little more smug, “Baby, I don’t have to try.”

Your mouth falls open. You stare at him for a moment before shaking your head. “I can’t wait for you to be humbled.”

The hand on your waist that was drawing small circles on the fabric of your dress stills. Your stomach flutters when he leans down, lips brushing on the shell of your ear. 

“And I can’t wait to take this off.”

You burst into laughter.

<3

masterlist . rafe cameron masterlist

thank you for reading, my darling! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily! send requests to my inbox!

alwaysmoncheri © ─ all rights reserved. please do not repost/translate/copy any of my work.

[yuikomorii]

Ayayui date♡

// I'm not sure why, but I suddenly got a burst of creativity. There's no special occasion for this post; it was really just an excuse to edit Yui in my favorite Princess Collection outfit. I like how the merch line was released right on Ayato’s birthday, so I really wanted to see an Ayayui date in those outfits! 😌💕

I was in the mood to write a special scenario again. You just have to click on ‘Keep reading’ to find it. This one is set after the LE events, particularly after the After Story, so I hope you enjoy it! ( ˶ˆ꒳ˆ˵ )

Ayato: Haa… finally!

After all this time, I’ve managed to sort out every single problem in the Demon World.

Geez, I’m gladly taking a break!

( Ever since I became king, I’ve been buried in an endless pile of documents—so many that I’ve grown sick just being in that place. Things seem to be getting better in the Demon World, though I’d lie to say it’s perfectly stable. )

( Well, whatever. I shouldn’t bother too much about that… for now. )

( Right now, all I can think about is her. Ugh, these stupid king duties have kept us apart for way too long. I’m sure she must’ve felt really lonely, huh…? )

( Damn it! That was never my intention, but I know it must be boring as hell to be stuck in the castle all day by yourself. )

( That’s why, I’m definitely going to make it up to her today and take her somewhere nice~! )

Place: Their room

Ayato: Chi-chi-na-shi, guess who’s ba—

( Hah!? She’s not here? )

Oi, Yui!

( She’s still not answering? )

Yui, where are yo—

???: Ayato-kun..!

— hugs his back —

Ayato: What the—!

Yui: Fufu, sorry for taking you off guard. I was just thrilled to see Ayato-kun again!

Ayato: Geez, next time I call you, answer me, understood? You’re still in the Demon World, anything could happen when no one’s around, y’know?

Yui: Ah… I’m sorry for being careless. I hope I didn’t make you worry…

Ayato: No need to sulk now. What matters the most is that you’re alright.

Now… about the thing you’re wearing. Where the heck did you even get it from? It’s the first time I’ve seen you in it.

Yui: Oh, actually I bought it last time we went shopping together. You see… I didn’t show it to you back then because I wanted it to be a surprise, but uuh… does it not suit me?

Ayato: Haa… normally, when a woman wants to surprise her man, she wears lingerie or something sexy, but I’ll forgive you this time. Why? Because you look hella cute in that, can’t deny.

— Yui blushes —

Yui: Ayato-kun… thank you! I’m really happy…!

Ayato: ( Is she seriously almost on the verge of tears for that? )

C-C’mon, don’t get all emotional over every little thing. The date hasn’t even started yet! You really want people to see you with red eyes and puffy cheeks outside?

— Yui shakes head —

Ayato: Good, now let’s go!

— He takes her hand —

Place: Kaminashi City

Ayato: Can’t believe I’m gonna say this but I somehow missed this place.

Yui: Is that so? I thought Ayato-kun didn’t like the Human World.

Ayato: I don’t mind either of them, but right now I’m sick of the Demon World. If I see one more document, I will end up throwing up on the spot.

Yui: Ayato-kun…

( That’s right, he’s been working a lot ever since he became king. I’m sure it must truly be tiring spending days in front of all those documents. )

I’m glad you put a lot of effort in your role, but take it easy, okay? I can’t do much in this situation, yet… If you ever need help, I want to be there to support you!

Ayato: Hmm… anyway. I’m not here to talk about work again. I just want us to enjoy some time together for once.

Yui: ( Ayato-kun really sounds exhausted… He’s matured so much these past few months, which isn’t bad, but I just wish he could relax a little. )

Then, let’s make the best of this day!

— tugs onto his arm and starts walking —

*Timeskip*

Yui: Haa… it’s way better outside.

( Ayato-kun is still waiting to pay for our things, but it was way too hot in that store, so he told me to get some fresh air. )

( Now that I think about it, vampires are always cold, so I doubt the heat bothers him as much as it does me, right? Even so, seeing him care about my comfort makes me really happy. )

— warm breeze hits —

Yui: Mm… so ni—

— something suddenly hits her —

Yui: Kyah! What on earth was that!?

Eh? That’s—

Familiar: Greetings. Pardon my interruption, but could it be that you are Komori Yui-sama?

Yui: ( ‘Sama’? Uuh… I feel like that’s an exaggeration. )

Yes, I am. Did anything happen…?

Familiar: Rest assured, there is no need for alarm. My purpose here is simply to entrust this to your care. Unable to find Ayato-sama, I must rely on you to deliver him this letter.

— Yui takes it —

Yui: But, what’s this letter about?

If it’s possible to tell, of course.

Familiar: In essence, a new set of documents has been prepared for Ayato-sama. Please inform him at your earliest convenience, as his return is eagerly anticipated.

Yui: Wait! Does it mean that he really has to return now—!

( Oh no! The familiar is already gone! )

( To think that Ayato-kun was finally starting to relax again… )

( All this letter will do is ruin his day, that’s for sure. )

( But at the same time, not showing it to him… that would undoubtedly get him in troubles. )

( Uuh… This situation is so complicated. What should I do…? )

Ayato: Chichinashi!!!

Yui: ….!

— suddenly hides the letter —

A-Ah, Ayato-kun, you’re back!

Ayato: Duh, and I kept calling your name but it seems you only answer to Chi-chi-na-shi~.

— He starts pinching her cheeks —

Yui: Whey dwont, staphh!

Ayato: Hehe, that’s what you get for spacing out and ignoring me.

Anyway, you weren’t approached by any creeps, were you?

Yui: N-No, not at all!

Ayato: Hmm… that doesn’t sound too honest. Are you lying?

Yui: No way! I… I’m just hungry and my stomach won’t stop growling, which is really embarrassing…

Ayato: Haa… you never change. Always getting embarrassed over everything, but no worries, I didn’t hear anything. Though, if you’re really that hungry, I guess we could get something to eat.

Yui: Y-Yeah, that sounds great!

* Timeskip *

Yui: ( After the restaurant, we went to the mall, then back to the center. Ayato-kun… we walked a lot today, but instead of getting tired, he just got more and more energetic. )

( I suppose he was really in need of this break, so maybe hiding that letter wasn’t entirely bad, no…? Still, I’ll have to give it to him today, otherwise I’ll surely put him at risk… )

Ayato: Oi Yui, look!

Yui: W-Woah! I’ve never seen such big Takoyaki before!

Ayato: Heh, right? It’s even bigger than the ones from the Demon World!

Also, Ore-sama got you this, so I better see you eat it all.

Yui: Eh-? This is such a big donut! T-There’s no way I could eat all of it!

Ayato: So you’re refusing my donut? You’re way too ungrateful for a Chichinashi. Well, in that case, I guess you don’t need it any—

Yui: No, no, the donut is good!

— starts eating it —

Come to think of it, today you’ve spoiled me quite a lot, Ayato-kun.

Ayato: And why would that be bad? I thought women liked that.

Yui: It’s not bad, but I really didn’t do anything special. You’re the one who’s been working all day and night, for this reason I believe you deserve this treatment more.

Ayato: Haa… getting all self-conscious, just like always.

Look, you know I’m not good at sentimental shit, but after everything we’ve been through, your presence is special enough for me.

I guess I just want to cherish you, that’s all.

Yui: Ayato-kun… I feel the——

A-Ah, oh no!

( The chocolate… it melted on my hand! )

I-I’m sorry, I’ll be right back!

— tries to stand up —

Ayato: Nah, nah. C’mere.

— grabs her and sits her on his lap —

Yui: Wait, don’t!

— he starts licking her hand —

Yui: A-Ayato-kun, stop it! We’re in public…!

Ayato: Mnn… Mm…

— slowly bites —

Yui: Uuh…

( At this rate, people will definitely start watching!)

— starts moving —

Ayato: Tch, you’re making this way too hard for both! Just stay still and stop acting like I’m about to kill you!

Yui: ( I know his intentions aren’t bad, but this is getting too embarrassing…! )

( I’m sorry, Ayato-kun! )

— tries to push him away but falls down —

Yui: Oww…

Ayato: ( Geez, what a klutz. )

Haa… are you hurt?

— grabs her arm and picks her up —

Yui: Ah, I’m alright, no worries.

Ayato: Oi.

What’s that?

— picks something up —

Yui: ….!

Ayato: Is that… a letter for me?

— starts reading it —

You… you had it all this time with you and didn’t say a word?!

Yui: I… I can explain!

You see, I thought—

Ayato: Shut up!

Do you even have the slightest clue about what you just did!? I seriously doubt you understand how important king duties are, do you?

Hah, of course, you don’t! Why would you?

You sit around doing absolutely nothing all day while I’m working my ass off to make sure you and everyone else can live comfortably!

I’m out here putting in the effort, grinding to create a decent life, not just for you, but for everyone, even if I didn’t ask for this shit. And you do this to me!?

I thought you matured too, but at the end of the day, you’re nothing but a selfish bitch!

Yui: Wait! Ayato-ku—

Ayato: Don’t touch me!

Yui: …!

Please, listen to me!

— grabs his clothes —

Ayato: Quiet! I’m not risking to go through that again only because of someone like you. Get lost!

— pushes her away and leaves —

Yui: …!

No… No… this can’t be the end…

How… How could I be this stupid…? Hhn… Ngh…

Kuh… Ayato-kun.. Nhn…

Place: Avenue

Ayato: (Fuck! I can’t return to the Demon World right now. )

( On top of that, why the hell am I the one feeling guilty now!? )

( She… Yes, she deserved that treatment. That’s what she gets for sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong. Besides, what she did could lead to something dangerous. )

( It’s not the first time she pulls such shit on me anyway, but… )

( Why can’t I stay mad at her no matter what she does to me…? )

Tch, such bullsh— Hah?

Guy 1: Aww, she’s playing hard to get~!

Guy 2: Aren’t you a bit too feisty for a crybaby?

???: S-Stop it! Leave me alone!

Ayato: …!

( That voice… Yui! )

Place: Alley

Yui: I-I told you to stop!

Guy 1: Just come with us, it’ll be fun~.

Yui: No, I don’t want to!

Guy 2: She keeps struggling, isn’t she cu——

— gets punched —

Guy 1: What the—

Guy 2: Such strength!

Yui: Eh?

Ayato: Get out of my sight, you bastards! If you don’t leave this girl alone right now, I’ll make sure your already disgusting faces get even worse!

— they start running away —

Yui: Ayato-kun… thank you!

( He came back for me… )

Ayato: ….

— grabs her hand and starts walking —

*Timeskip*

Yui: ( Ever since Ayato-kun saved me, he hasn’t spoken a word. )

( It’s obvious that he’s mad… )

( But if both of us keep quiet, this conflict will never be solved… )

Ayato & Yui simultaneously: I’m sorry.

Yui: ( Eh? Did he just— )

No… I’m the one who should apologize. I hid that letter, knowing full well the consequences it could have.

However… I only did it because I wanted Ayato-kun to have some free time for himself too.

Ayato: You…

Yui: I’m aware of how much work you have to do, and being king is definitely not easy. That’s why, I really admire your for that.

Nevertheless, it saddens me seeing Ayato-kun so stressed out and exhausted. I want Ayato-kun to be always as energetic and cheerful as he was today, but… I do realize that I’m just being selfish.

Ayato: No… You… You’re not selfish, I am.

I was the one who didn’t listen to your side of the story. It’s just... I’m afraid of failing as king. There, I said it!

I don’t want to put the people I care for in danger, nor can’t I accept being a worse king than that old fart, so all I have to do is carry out my duties. Hell yeah, they’re a pain in the ass but that’s my responsibility now, which is why I can’t back off.

Yui: ( Ayato-kun… I never thought you felt that way… )

N-no, the way you reacted was understandable. Anyone under that much stress might have done the same, and I can’t blame you for it.

Besides, I can’t say your words were wrong. I am indeed incapable of fully understanding the challenges you face, however… no matter what happens, I want you to know that you’ll always be the best king to me…!

Ayato: …!

Heh… you really never change.

— hugs her—

Yui: W-Well, I suppose I can’t change if I do nothing all day.

Ayato: Hmph, are you throwing shade at me for what I told you?

Yui: Eh? No way, it was just a coincidence! I swear!

Ayato: Pfft, proved my point. You'll forever stay the clumsy, stupid, and oddly adorable woman that you are.

Yui: Hey, that’s backhan— Mm…!

Ayato: Nn…

Yui: ( Ayato-kun… his kiss is so gentle… )

( I really missed Ayato-kun’s kisses. I’m so happy…! )

Ayato: Oi, don’t tell me you’re about to cry again.

Yui: I’m not but…

I just want to know, will the letter get Ayato-kun in troubles…?

Ayato: I might get some weird looks for not showing up on time, and maybe a lecture or two, but it shouldn’t be too bad. I was supposed to start on them today since there’s a lot, but... I think I’d rather spend my time with my girl instead.

Yui: Is that so? Thank you.

But doesn't that mean you'll have to work even harder to make up for today?

Ayato: I guess it can’t be helped. I don’t want to think of tomorrow, all I want is to focus on the present.

Yui: Fufu, I see. By the way…

Will you uhm… stay overnight too?

Ayato: Heh~? Is that supposed to be a sex invitation?

Yui: I… T-That’s—!

Ayato: Heh~, don’t even try to get out of it, it’s written all over your face.

Rest assured though, the invitation is accepted~.

— Smooch —

[moonstruckme]

hi mae! i’ve recently become obsessed with herbal teas and i noticed you have mentioned chamomile and jasmine tea in your fics lol. i am wondering if you would be interested in writing a remus or poly!marauders fic with an american reader who loves herbal teas and they kinda tease her about it (in a loving way of course)? i love your fics and i hope you have a lovely day whenever you read this <3

I love herbal teas! I fully support this obsession honey. Thank you for requesting!

cw: british slander, i love y'all but i'm besmirching your brand <3 (based largely on my own experiences lol, so perhaps not fully accurate)

Remus Lupin x american!reader ♡ 614 words

“This is so disappointing,” you sigh at the sight of Remus’ cabinet. 

“What?” he asks from the couch. 

“You told me you had tea.” 

“I do have tea.” 

“No, you only have this.” You take the box of Yorkshire Tea out of the cabinet, brandishing it where Remus can see. “This shit is nasty. Rubbish, as your folk say.” 

“Oh,” he laughs, “so you sail all the way across the ocean, take our teas with you, denounce our government, and then come back here to criticize, is that it?” 

You look at him darkly. “This is what the Boston tea party was really about. I get it now.” 

Remus beckons you toward the couch. You go, abandoning the boiling kettle since apparently there’s no point in searching the kitchen for anything good to drink. It’s only once you sit down on the couch and he takes your hand into his lap that you realize your mistake. 

Remus has a mollifying effect on you. It’s tragic, really. All it takes is a look, a shift in his tone, a small touch like this, and you’re pliant and boneless for him. 

“What sort of teas do you prefer?” he asks you softly, tracing the lines of your palm.

“I usually keep a variety,” you tell him, matching his tone. “Like cinnamon, or passionflower, or rooibos…have you heard of any of those?” 

Remus smiles, slow and sweet. “I have. Would you like whipped cream and sprinkles on those as well?” 

You laugh, rolling your eyes. You try to take your hand back, but Remus holds fast (you don’t make it hard for him), grinning at you. 

“That is so not fair. Just because y’all like your tea bland—”

“Say that one more time for me? Who all?” 

“—doesn’t mean my tastes are somehow unrefined.” You fix him with a hard stare, though your smile is untamable. “You’re being posh.”

Remus looks amused. “Never been accused of that one before,” he says. 

“Have you ever tried jasmine tea with a little bit of sweet creamer in it?” You raise your eyebrows at him. “Remus, you’re really missing out.” 

“Alright.” He stands, taking your hand with him and giving it a tug when you don’t follow. “C’mon, up.” 

“Where are we going?”

“To make you a cuppa.” 

You giggle. “I can’t take you seriously when you call it that.” 

“Once you stop saying dude, we can talk about my diction.” 

“So mean,” you tsk, letting him pull you over in front of the kitchen counter. He pours the hot water from the kettle into a mug, placing a tea bag in it. 

“We’ll get this drinkable for you, love, don’t worry,” Remus murmurs, waiting until the tea is a deep brown before going to the fridge. He pours in heaps of milk and sugar, stirring with a look of mild distaste in his expression. “Alright, try.” 

You take the mug off the counter warily, blowing on it before putting it to your lips. 

You hum, and Remus lifts an eyebrow. 

“It’s…better.” 

“I’ve done my best,” he chuckles, taking it from you. “I’ve thrown all my principles and better sense out the window, and it’s still not up to your standards, hm?” 

“No, it’s not bad.” You steal the mug back, taking another sip and smacking your tongue against the roof of your mouth experimentally. “It’ll do.” 

Remus gives you an indulgent look. “I’m sure we can find you some jasmine tea if that’s what you want,” he offers. 

You shrug. “I was just at the grocery store, and I didn’t see any.” 

He tilts his head skyward, blowing out a long-suffering breath. “I think you mean the grocery, sweetheart.”

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Hello, I hope your having a nice day, can I request Yandere 1st Years + Grim (Platonic) with a Komi Reader? (From Komi can’t Communicate)

Reader’s known for being incredibly beautiful, intelligent, athletic and elegant in everything she does, however she has crippling Social Anxiety and ends up scaring everyone away with her ‘mean/scary’ look so everyone tends to avoid her (When it’s actually herself that’s nervous since she doesn’t know what to say)

Except for Ace, Deuce and Grim after they spent time with Reader in the mine, they discovered her anxiety she wrote it out so now they’re mostly the ones who do the talking for her and try to help her reach her goal of making 100 Friends in NRC, even though they both think that’s a ‘weird/bad goal’ because this IS NRC

Reader loves cats, so she spoils Grim and Lucius (The latter likes laying in her lap and even follows her around) with pets, treats and affection and helping her friends with studying since she gets perfect marks

How would they react to hearing Reader’s voice for the first time? Not to mention have Reader tell write out that she made a friend all by herself who visits her dorm at night and does nightly walks (You know who it is)

Komi-San Reader | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

You’re quiet and intimidating but not because others find you scary. The exact opposite, they’re obsessed. You’re athletic, you’re smart, you’re beautiful, you’re kind, and the list goes on. Without so much as opening your mouth, the school is at its hands and knees all for you. Little do they know about your silent struggle, not like your dearest first-year friends. More than anyone they know how hard you work and if their hearts could overfill with love for you it already has.  So imagine your stalkers' friends; reaction to you’re never heard before voice:

Ace Trappola

“Aw man, (Y/n) I can’t begin to explain how much of a pain he is! With his moodiness, we’re not going to win the game.”

“...”

“Don’t say that, I am great but not that great.”

“...Y-you c-can d-do it!” 

He plays 10x better 

All while running on his excitement and embarrassment

“Whoa, Ace! W-were you holding out on us!”

Everyone is floored that he’s suddenly just doing so well

He’s keeping your quiet cheers to himself 

Replaying it in his head

He will teasingly ask you for a recording even when you cutely shake your head

“Oi oi don’t get all shy now, you were doing so well!”

He does circle back having already written down the names of those who turned their heads

If they’re so inclined to hear your voice in a roaring crowd 

Then they should be alright with their ears no longer working 

He’s being merciful when he does just this

And if you mention any mysterious friends, he’d no doubt try to follow up on that same treatment

Deuce Spade

“M-maybe being an honor student was too high of a goal.”

You shake your head

“Ahh I appreciate it, (Y/n) but if I’m going to flunk again I’ll be in trouble. Both with Riddle and my mom, I just can’t measure up. ”

“You…are a good student.”

He blushes 

“G-g-g-g-good j-job (Y/n)!”

He knows how much this is taking for you to try 

But he just can’t keep it together 

He’s among the first to hear your precious voice

He has to be the only one

He doesn’t know what this feeling is but he doesn’t want to share

It especially rubs him the wrong way when you mention a mysterious friend 

He decides to wait it out

See who this new friend he’s going to gut he has to meet

Epel Felmier

“Grrrr I can’t stand it! Why can’t I be taken seriously? I just hate my face!”

“...”

“Don’t hafta lie ta me, (Y/n)! I know I’m not handsome.”

“...I….th-th-”

“Huh?” 

“I think you’re handsome.”

“Aw shucks, (Y/n)!”

He definitely wasn’t was expecting that

You’re just the sweetest as he predicted

He already keeps the notebook you’ve lost+ gone through with your written words

And the apple cores he lovingly retrieves from Ramshackle’s trash no doubt cultivating whatever ends up growing from them

He avoids the impulse to tear his book open at the mention of a new friend 

Well I hope they like a poison-apple

Jack Howl 

“I have a magift practice later on…are you still going to come?”

You nod your head

“T-thank you, I’d appreciate your support from the stands.”

When he says that he doesn’t expect you to actually whisper anything out

“G-go Jack!”

His keen ears pick it up and suddenly he’s breezing through obstacles like never before

And of course, he did his mate practically cheered him on

It makes it much earlier to replay that encouragement when he’s fighting for your honor his ownership of you

No doubt Savvannclaw is filled with your admirers

But some are a little too bold

So leave it to your mate to take action first

And while he’s at it he might as well guard your home more intensely

Sebek Zigvolt

“WHAT A MARVEL HUMAN! YOU’VE TAMED ALL THE FERAL FELINES ON CAMPUS!” 

“...”

“WELL FOR A HUMAN IT IS DECENT WORK! PERHAPS YOU DO HAVE–”

“C-can you please be quiet?”

“...?....!..Y-you think y-you, a mere human, can tell me what to do?!” 

Yes you can, having the loud half-fae go down two whole octaves was a feat

And he keeps replaying the moment in his head specifically the way your lips moved

Burning hot all over he’s not really listening to anyone for the next week month

But once he’s broken out of it he’s determined to repeat the miracle

And it seems it works best if your alone?

Then he’ll be sure to chase off the gaggle of scum+ admirers who you claim to be friends with

And he thinks nothing of a midnight friend…that is if you’re alone with them than that’s completely unacceptable

Grim

“Henchhuman! Everyone is soooo mean! Why doesn’t anyone like me? I know I’m so cool and maybe that’s why–”

“I like you.”

“Well of course you w–W-wait did you speak? T-t to me! Whoopee, I’m going to tell everyone the great Grim is who you spoke to first!” 

He runs off to do just that 

Bragging to anyone who would listen

He has to dodge a lot of assassination hits that day

But it gives him the content whenever that icky feeling comes up sometimes

And as for your ‘Hornton’ friend he’s seen him and next time he comes around he’ll boast all about his greatness and how you spoke to him

[gremlin-girly]

Kinktober Day 8

Kink: primal / hunter x prey Pairing: Halsin x f!druid!reader Tags/warnings:  SMUT, hunter/prey dynamics, ik bears don’t hunt deer but hey its for the plot, but what plot really?, being tracked/chased,  no one stays as animals!!!, p in V, forest sex (just on the floor), biting(marking), doggy style, multiple orgasm, size kink if you squint

Summary: As a young druid you don’t heed the warnings of shifting to wildshape at night, believing that the animals in the wild forest would be easy to handle. But an encounter with a large brown bear sets in motion an unforgettable night under the tree canopy. Word Count: 1.7k

As always I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, translated or copied. My warnings are non-exhaustive (even though I do try to capture everything) but please read at your own risk. I am not responsible for your content consumption.

I hope you enjoy; likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

A/N: This is my first time writing this kink and yk Halsin works haha. Welcome to week 2 ig x Prev | Next | Masterlist

The woodland at night was always the most serene. What was once vibrant greens were hues of black, illuminated only by glowing mushrooms or the light of the moon.

Treading carefully thought the undergrowth, your new elongated neck whips around at the sound of a twig snapping in the distance. Your ears twitch fretfully, your large doe-eyes like saucers, scanning for more movement.

The elders had warned you about the dangers of shifting into wildshape at night. You hadn’t given it much credence because, well, you were you. You were one of the better druids of your grove, always looking to improve your magical abilities and – if what you’d read were correct – there was a particular herb you needed that only bloomed under the waxing moon that ordinary eyes just would not cut it. If you were being honest, you preferred to be in your wildshape. No elders to bother you as you sniffed, skipped and jumped through the undergrowth. No worries. No responsibility.

Another twig snap – closer this time. You flicked your tail.

You were at the awkward age of a half-elf; older than most of the children but still far younger than the elders for you to be taken seriously, despite your skill. The ripe old age of 46 years old. That angered you. Unable to break from the responsibility of babysitter made you do reckless things like this.

You sniffed the air tentatively, wet, black nose twitching hurriedly. The musky smell that followed wolves was non existent, which was a relief. Pack animals like that had a tendency to throw caution to the wind, and were harder to deal with when you were on your own.

 You huff and look to the murky trail ahead. You wait a moment. Then another. You’re straining your ears but all you can hear is your own heart pounding. You still, standing like a statue amongst the rustle of trees in the wind.

There’s no sound.

Forests are not supposed to be quiet.

Immediately, you break into a leap; prancing wildly through the undergrowth as something growls – no roars – from behind you, giving chase. Your thin amble legs stumble over rocks and stumps – suddenly you feel like a doe was a ridiculous animal for wildshape as there are just too many legs as you frantically push yourself to your limit to get away from whatever was chasing you.

You can’t see through the darkness. You can only hear – and what you hear makes your hackles rise in terror. Guttural grunts and deep growls fill the crisp summer night, alongside the pounding of your heart and your wheezing as you try to catch your breath.

Whatever it is it’s fast. And large.

Suddenly the noise stops, the rhythmic pounding of heavy footfall gone. You stop again, turning, searching for any sign of what chased you. You’re met with darkness.

You sniff the air again, I haling deeply as you try to regain control of your breathing. This time you don’t smell nothing; there’s an earthy scent in the air, a little musky; somewhere between fresh water rivers and forest moss. If you could furrow your brows you would. That doesn’t smell like any animal you have encountered.

It’s a person.

But the thought comes too late. The large thing tackles you to the ground, and you scream – well bleat – in terror, flailing all four of your hooved feet wildly. One manages to connect with a snout of some kind, that growls and nips at you and two large clawed paws, pin your forelegs painfully either side of you.

You can’t dismiss wildshape fast enough, fear of being eaten alive  ripping you from your panicked prey stupor and you ready a spell, calling out before you do;

“Stop! Stop! I’m a druid! I’m a friend!”

The animal seems to register your words, as the growling temporarily ceases, but a large wet nose is shoved into your neck, taking a deep breath. Moonlight cascades through the trees illuminating the creature before you as an abnormally large brown bear. The bear blinks down at you and you feel slightly embarrassed.

You are stark naked in the moonlight – you hated wearing clothes whilst gallivanting in wildshape, they had always felt too constricting. Now, you were realising maybe an outfit with a concealed knife would have been a lot more useful.

The bear chuckles but doesn’t release you. Instead, a golden light appears around it and the abnormally large bear transforms into an abnormally large elf, who also happened to be naked.

“you should always smell downwind,” his deep voice rumbles, his scarred handsome face smiling down at you, keeping you pinned with large, strong arms.

You suck in a breath. Oakfather preserve you, he was possibly the most beautiful elf you had ever seen; biceps as big as your head and with those scars? They complimented him as much as his chestnut brown hair.  Your eyes wander and widen at the sight of his cock, making your legs squeeze together as you look up at him bashfully.

“I’ll try to keep it in mind.” You say quietly.

He smiles and seems rather smug that you were caught eyeing his form. He still doesn’t move away from you, instead he leans closer, looming over you.

“If you don’t, I may end up trying to eat you again,” he flirts shamelessly, making your body rush with heat.

“Is that a threat or a promise?"

"Which would you like it to be?"

"A promise." You breathe out, watching his face carefully. His body rumbles with a deep chuckle that sounds deliciously melodic and you wonder, briefly, if this is the Oakfather himself. He leans ever closer, his hair tickling the sides of your face, his lips millimetres from yours.

"Consider it promised," He murmurs against your lips. You are the one to initiate; leaning up to close that marginal distance between your lips in a hungry kiss. His grip on your wrists tightens as he growls deeply in response, pushing back against your lips with fervour. Once your head is against the ground again, his hands release your wrists and begin to wander. And you let them.

He's still kissing you, pressed against you in the moonlight with nothing but the trees and stars surrounding you, groping you, feeling your soft skin under his large hands as you mewl beneath him. He peppers kisses along your jaw to your throat, leaving small bruises in his wake as he teases at your wet folds. You gasp out and wrap your hands in his hair, pulling his thick neck down to your mouth with a snarl, marking him back. He curses into your ear and you feel his length twitch against your thigh.

"By Silvanus," He mutters thickly. "What kind of creature are you?"

You don't answer with words at first, instead hooking your legs over the angle of his hips and reaching between the tight space between you to grasp his cock and run it over the slick, wet heat of your folds. The hand that clutched a fistful of brown hair ensured he watched your face as you did this, so you could see the way he licked his lips with his eyes blown black with desire.

"Do you care?" You whisper.

"No." He responds, kissing you again. "I do not." You yelp when his strong arms flip you onto your front, facing away from him but you brace yourself against the forest floor with an excitable grin. Two large, surprisingly soft, hands find refuge on your hips and you feel the tip of his cock nudge at your entrance. You sigh contentedly as you push yourself backwards so the tip of his hard length can breach your aching cunt. You can feel him stiffen for a moment behind you but with a loud groan, he slowly pushes himself into you all the way to the hilt.

He doesn't need to wait for you to adjust to his sheer size, nor does he. As soon as his sac reaches your folds he's fucking you powerfully, so powerfully you'd have fallen onto your face in the dirt had his hands not held you in place. It doesn't take long for you to cum over his cock; the sheer size of him and the feeling of him ruining your cunt has you moaning loudly. And he his just as loud, if not louder, grunting and moaning with you, using your cunt to fuck himself senseless.

When you cum a second time, he changes his hold on you; one hand steadying a shoulder, the other circling your clit. The noises you make are entirely animalistic; howling and groaning in ecstasy.

"Oh, Gods-" You can barely huff the words out; you're voice is hoarse but the electric feeling brewing between your legs as your mind spinning.

"You are-" The elf pants between heavy thrusts, "ethereal. A gift carved by Silvanus himself."

You can feel your pussy clench at his words, and you would have cum from that alone, but the kisses peppered across your shoulders and neck make you cry out and gush over his cock. Your body relaxes into his large hands, struggle to stay upright after the fucking you're still receiving. His thrusts grow sloppier, but no less hard, and your whimpering and pleading to him to cum.

After a few more hard thrusts, tweaking your clit to make sure you cum one last time around his cock, he pulls out of you quickly with a groan and covers your ass and back with hot thick ropes of cum. You're both panting, and whilst your slumped in a pile, covered in sweat and cum; the elf looks as if he's just completed a light jog. He looks down at you with a pretty grin, and your chest and cunt flutter in response.

"Are you alright? I apologise if I was too much." He looks almost embarassed, but you detect there is some smugness hidden beneath it. He knows he's good.

"Better than alright." You sigh dreamily, barely managing to sit back onto your legs. You twist to offer him a hand with a cheeky smile. "Y/N."

"Halsin." He chuckles, shaking your hand gently. You recognise his name immediately and try not to let the recognition show on your face. "I don't suppose you would know where I could find a druid camp, by any chance?"

Now you chuckle, a smirk spreading across your face. "I know exactly where you could find one."

You couldn't wait to bring the Archdruid Halsin back to your camp; you're sure your conquest would be enough to prove yourself in the eyes of the elders, herb or no herb. And perhaps, he would let you travel with him. Just for a little while, anyway....

[only-lonely-star]

LOVED THE SODA HCS CAN YOU DO SOME WITH X READER ONES WITH HIM? OR AT LEAST HIM WITH A ROMANTIC PARTNER HCS

‧₊˚ Dating Sodapop Curtis HCs ₊˚⋅

Warnings - There are a few that are for a fem!reader !! Majority are gender neutral.

Author’s Note - I was diagnosed with PNEUMONIA last week, I felt like absolute shit and the last thing I wanted to do was write. I’m feeling better now, so here’s some sweet headcanons! I hope you all enjoy!!!! 🤗🤍

·•·⚬·• ·•·⚬·•·•·⚬·•·•·⚬·•·•·⚬·•୨ৎ•·⚬·•· •·⚬·•· •·⚬·•· •·⚬·•· •·⚬·•·

Fight me on this one, Sodapop Curtis is a lover boy.

No seriously, I can’t see him hoeing around and seeing other people behind your back. Now. I will say, he might check someone out or partake in catcalling once in a while but he wouldn’t go beyond that. If anything, it’s probably to impress the other boys.

He would only date someone he’s totally infatuated with. He would never commit to a relationship if he wasn’t 100% about you.

I don’t think clingy is the right word, but Soda would always try to plan little dates with you or at least try to spend some free time with you whenever possible.

Quality time and words of affirmation are the love languages he likes to receive, and he likes to give physical touch and gifts.

He lovesss giving you hugs and small kisses specifically on the tip of your nose, chin, and practically any spot that typically goes unnoticed.

The day Soda brought you home to meet his brothers, Ponyboy stood gawking. His mouth wide open, eyes glued to yours, he quite literally fell in love. I don’t mean romantically, I mean he was just in total adoration. I just think it’s so cute to imagine Ponyboy finding you to be the most beautiful girl (which he gets to see almost daily since you’re at his brother’s side 24/7.)

Since you’re a 2 in-1 for him and serve as a best friend and a lover, he sometimes forgets he can’t roughhouse with you like he typically does with the boys. Play-fighting goes crazyyyy.

He shares literally everything with you. Clothing, food, secrets - everything.

He has a picture of you above his side of the bed (Like what he did with Sandy ☹️❤️)

He lives for the soft moments when he can just kiss you and gently massage your back and not have to worry about anything else because he’s comforted in your presence.

Since he’s a dropout he’d probably ask Darry to pick you up from school on their way home from work. That way he gets to spend the evening with you or maybe invite you to stay over for dinner.

On weekends, he invites you to hang around the DX with him and kill time. He gets so sick of Steve after working the weekdays that he wants a change in company LMFAO

I feel like he just has so much love to give, so having one person (you) to give it all to is so relieving. Bonus points if you’d rather have him all over you 24/7 specifically because you KNOW how loving he is. He hates feeling like he’s bothering you or annoying you by giving you constant attention.

Late-night calls are so funny. He’ll try to whisper and not wake Darry and/or Ponyboy up but he ends up forgetting it’s literally two in the morning and starts talking normally.

He ends every call with “I love you, see you soon” because he’s one of those people who thinks ‘it’s not goodbye, it’s see you later,’ PLUS he probably already made plans to see you the next day anyway 😭

Even though he isn’t the brightest when it comes to the 4 core classes, he tries his best to write little love notes and cards for special occasions. Valentine’s Day, your birthday, religious holidays, etc. He asks Ponyboy to proofread it and then help him make it sound “more romantic” since he can’t spell for shit and has to use the most basic words.

“Happy Birthday! You are my favrit person to talk to. You are funny and nice. I can not wait to grow old with you. I hope we have a butiful fewture. I duhsire to keep you by my side. I have not known some one like you buhfore. I love you more than you will ever know. - XOXO Sodapop Curtis” LMFAO STOP

Since he can’t afford much, he usually offers himself for the day. I mean like he’ll offer his time and efforts for you. “We can do whatever you want, have whatever snacks you want, watch any movie you want. My birthday treat :)”

He loves going to small concerts with you (like super underground local artists that are affordable) and letting you sit on his shoulders to see the stage.

If you have a super feminine room just TRUST he’s so entertained with it. He’ll fidget with the teddy bear on your bed, smell every perfume you have, trace the flowers on the wallpaper - he’s INVESTED.

If you were treated badly in the past by a horrible ex he would make it his life mission to be better than them and prove himself to you.

He includes you at family events as if you were married. Thanksgiving? Already made a plate for you at the table. Ponyboy’s graduation? You’re sitting in the rows of chairs with a congratulations card and everything. Family game night? Soda already decided you’ll deal cards first. You’re like family to his brothers and like a spouse to him.

If you tell him you’re proud of him just one time he will never forget it. He wants to feel validated by someone who isn’t his family so then it doesn’t feel ‘forced’.

If he’s not complimenting you, he’s busy admiring you.

Soda would so go for a girl who reminds him of his mother 🥲🥲. I headcanon him to be a momma's boy, so looking for motherly traits as well as the same charm and love his mother had for him would be a top priority for him.

He quite literally never shuts up. He feels comfortable with you, so TMI doesn’t exist. He’ll talk and talk and talk until you shut him up with kisses. That’s like the only way to get him to stop. He knows what he’s doing too.

THANK YOU ALL FOR READING !!

- Sophia 🫶🏼

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

So request kinda if not just sharing my thoughts in general.

Alex. My boy. What if reader is a civ or even another soldier in a different squad and the whole thing with him joining Farah’s forces indefinitely. I think this can really lend itself to some angst and that good old misunderstanding. Kinda leaning towards civ!reader just because the more miscommunication. I guess it’d have to be an angsty ending though 😳, but regardless-

Love your writing and, as always, feel free to change anything or do whatever gives you the most inspiration

World Caves In

PAIRING: Alex Keller x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Perhaps it would have been better if your husband had died - at the very least you could understand that.

WORD COUNT: 7.9k

WARNINGS: Angst, misunderstandings/miscommunication, hurt/comfort, vulgar language, abandonment?, Alex being an adorable husband, fluff, etc.

A/N: I was gonna make this an angsty ending but I got my period and thinking about that made me cry so here we are, lmao. Enjoy, Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

When you’d been escorted out of work by two uniformed men, you knew the news wasn’t going to be good. Sitting in the back of a large black car, you spare nervous glances as the vehicle jumps, its wheels going over the last speed bump. Your work building begins to become a fraction of a memory and disappears faster than your resolve. 

The men sit on either side of you, silent, and the only comment is to the driver as you all enter the main road. Swallowing, you part your lips and mutter, plain dread in your tone, “Is he alive?”

All you get is a glance from the front mirror and nothing more. You hunch more in your seat and stew in agony, mind far off on the topic of your husband. 

Alex wasn’t overly reckless, you’d managed to snuff most of that out over the course of the many years you’d expressed concern to him about it, but a large chuck of the blond was still too selfless for his own good. It was hard not to think the worst. 

From training to advising, your husband was always off on one mission to another, far from your quaint and quiet home here—where you waited day after day for even a sliver of contact from him. Alex specialized in so many things that trying to wrap your head around it was impossible.

Even now, you only knew the bare minimum. 

The soft-smiled man worked in the SAD division of the CIA. He’s an Operations Officer. Currently, he’s somewhere across the globe. 

Away from you.

Thinning your lips, you take down a deep breath and settle back into the seat, pulse flying. The men were obviously Agents—you’d looked closely at their badges when they’d first shown their faces at the front desk and had kept within view of your work’s security cameras just in case this was a ruse. When you could find nothing out of the ordinary, you had tensely asked them what was happening. 

They would be holding his dog tags if he was dead, you had reasoned, desperately, a flag. 

It was frantic, the way you had thought that up; how could you not be like that? Alex was the light of your life! With him constantly putting his life on the line, it was inevitable for him to get hurt, sometimes seriously. It was ingrained into your mind the way you would help clean his wounds in the middle of the night when the pain woke him up with a grunt stuck in his throat. The way you would sit half-asleep in his lap and re-wrap bandages while he told you to go back to bed half-heartedly. His hands drifting over your warm skin like he was cascading his fingers up and down the spine of an old book.

You never listened. 

“It’s late, Bug, I can’t keep you up like this.” His drawl echoes in your ear as you rub a heavy palm into your eye. Alex’s hands are both on your hips, squeezing the flesh just below your tiny sleep shorts. You have him sitting on the floor, back resting on the wall and shirt discarded to the side only wearing loose gray sweatpants. A long cut up his left pec is the center of your blurry attention—a wet rag held as you dab at it. Blue eyes narrow at you. “I’m just fine with doing it myself, y’know.”

“You’re being stubborn again,” you utter, the soft light of the bathroom placed at half-capacity to at least try and keep some of the veil of sleep over your heads. “I told you to wake me up when you needed it cleaned.” Your skin brushes his and Alex shivers under you, sighing breathily. “And you’re not keeping me here—I’m helping.” 

A small flash of that full smile, mustache flinching up, “Well when you look so pretty sleepin’ I can’t just shake you awake and tell you to fix me up.” 

You take your free hand and pinch his nose, yawning as he grunts out chuckles. A delicate glance is thrown his way as the rag lowers from reddened skin. Like a butterfly's whisper, you study his face gently; reaching and cupping his cheek with your palm. 

Alex’s lids flutter, heavy weight falling into you as if waiting for this—lips pressing to your inner wrist in reverence. You hold back a tired giggle and feel the corner of his mouth pull up when he feels it.

“All that talk, and yet,” pressing a smooch to his forehead you take your hand back and hear the grumble he lets out after, “you still like it better when I’m the one that’s working on you.”

“Can’t complain too much,” he admits slowly as his head leans back to tap the wall, “my wife’s hands are way softer than mine.” 

Alex’s grip on your flesh tightens when you sipe away the last line of crimson from the wound, tattooed arms flexing. 

“Sorry,” you whisper, watching his eyes slightly awash with pain. “Got caught on a stitch.”

“Ah, well,” the blond sighs, shifting “I suppose I can forgive you.” 

Laughing quietly as the house settles, you shake your head and rest your forehead on his. 

“Such a saint,” your lips utter teasingly as Alex smiles wide, his hands moving higher to your waist. You lean into him, stealing his warmth as your tired eyes flutter; feeling his thumbs run circles over the flesh of your lower spine. 

A content breath escapes you.

“Go back to bed, Sweetheart,” Alex whispers, lips brushing yours like silk, the bristles of his facial hair tickling you. “I can do the rest, promise.”

“Know you can,” your mutterings are barely heard, but the man seems to register them, sea-glass gaze incredibly soft. He chuckles at your sleepiness, one hand leaving your waist to capture the back of your head; weaving into your hair and gently massaging your scalp. You practically melt into him, limbs going slack, slurring out, “Quit it. Wanna help, Alex.”

His laughter shakes you, and with a huff escaping, you bury your burning face into his neck and lean into him, careful of his wound even in your fatigued state. 

“No offense, Bug,” Alex shifts, grunting as he easily maneuvers you until you’re laying in his arms, inked forearms under your knees and behind your shoulders with vivid images of grim reapers, snakes, and angels guarding you close. A kiss is firmly pressed to your forehead as the blonde smirks downwards, “But you’re about as helpful to me right now as an empty mag.”

You grumble, trying to disappear into his skin and letting him dig his stubble into your cheek. 

“If you bring me back to bed before you’re done,” you yawn and close your eyes, “I’m divorcing you.”

He laughs deeply into your ear, body shaking as he pulls back and sends you an incredulous look. 

“Hell, we can’t have that, can we, Mrs. Keller? I’d lose my damn mind.” 

It’s a long drive, and you worry through the entirety of it. A primal, whole-body-shaking type of fear. You’d built a life with Alex and loved him more than anything or anyone that had come before. Even if he was gone a lot, that had never dulled what the two of you had—your marriage was nothing short of something you would find in a fairy tale; flashing pictures on pages with vivid colors and tender glances. The very cover itself is made of the finest leather and inlaid with gold calligraphy. 

Please, Alex, you plead in your head as you remember his loving gaze—his back as he makes supper in the kitchen and hums to himself. Please be okay.

The men hold open the car door when it comes to a stop outside a very obviously abandoned apartment complex near the outskirts of town. You get out quickly. Looking around, you take in the overgrown grass and the broken concrete with a knife in your lung; holding back the flood of anxious tears. 

Though, confusion takes president. 

“Where did you…?” You turn to look at the Agents, but they’re already clambering back into their car and snapping the doors shut. Wide-eyed and slack-jawed you watch them speed off as a cloud of dust drifts into the air. 

Pulse echoing in your ears, you watch the vehicle speed down the road and disappear. 

Swallowing, you whisper, “What the actual fuck?” Turning in circles, no one else is around. A part of you starts to worry less for Alex and more for yourself.

They were CIA, you reiterate, I checked their badges—Alex showed me the standard ones. Could I have missed something? 

Expression nervous, you shift on your feet before your stuttering legs take you closer to the abandoned building, not really seeing much choice here. You could imagine the scene from The Wizard Of Oz—when the man pulls back the curtain and all is revealed. 

That said, you could really only hope that was what was actually happening to you and you weren't getting kidnapped or shot. Taking a deep breath, you clench your fists and enter the building through the open front door. 

It was in the wide lobby that you locked eyes with Kate Laswell. You blank, mouth parting as the scent of concrete and decaying furniture get stuck in your nose. 

The woman seems highly agitated, brows tight and jaw clenched. Her white blouse had been flattened multiple times by rough hands, lanyard swaying on her neck like Alex’s dog tags would. She holds a file in her hands; the paper bulky as if holding something more than just paper inside its manila clutches.

“Kate?” You ask, confused, “What are you doing here? What’s all of this about?” Taking quick steps forward you splay your hands as your voice grows more serious. “Where’s my damn husband?” 

You didn’t know Laswell personally, in fact, when you had first got a glimpse of her here, you’d forgotten the older woman’s name for a moment. The first meeting between the two of you had been at a CIA get-together that Alex had been forced to go to because of his position—some celebration because a group of ICBMs had been taken back into US hands after being stolen. Your husband had introduced you to the Station Chief over a drink with a hand on the small of your back.

But it didn’t stop you now from talking to her like you’d known her for years. Not when fear was flooding your veins.

“What the hell is going on?” You say harshly, glancing around the room for any sight of someone else here. 

Kate sighs heavily but wastes no time in speaking, her professional tone and serious face leaving your already fast-paced heart racing.

“Alex isn’t coming back to the United States.” Your eyes blank, staring into icy blue. She holds out her manila folder, jaw tight. Blunt. “He’s a deserter.” 

It’s like your entire being halts; your skin suit feels as if it’s sagging on your bones with the weight of a cinder block connected by hooks to the floor. 

What did she just say?

Opening and closing your mouth you stutter, lids blinking rapidly. 

“I…” Fingers flinching in the air, an exhalation from your nose sounds more like a wheeze. Kate watches stiffly, taking a look at the floor before returning her attention to you; emotion flashes in her eyes. “...W-what?”

“Keller deserted his post—I tried to speak with the Colonel but there’s only so much I can do.” Laswell takes a deep breath as you continue to go through shock. Alex wasn’t coming home? How, why? “He’s staying in Urzikstan to fight with the Liberation Force.”

“Urzikstan?!” You gape, but the woman continues. 

“For all intents and purposes, I shouldn’t be here, but Alex asked me personally to hand these to you.” Again the manilla folder is shown to you, but when you only glare and fight the fear and confusion rampaging in your gut a sigh echoes out and it’s placed on a termite-eaten side table. “Even communicating with you could put you in danger now that he’s gotten on the bad side of the entire SAD and CIA branches. This is all I can do.”

“What the fuck,” you whisper to yourself, hand coming up to capture your mouth. 

“If Alex re-enters the states—he’ll be arrested and tried in a court of law. If he’s not shot on sight for what he knows.” Kate watches you closely, shaking her head in pity. “I’m sorry,” there’s a strained pause, “but he’s made his decision.” 

As she brushes past you, leaving the folder on the side table, you feel your wide eyes well with tears—confused and horrified. But he’s coming back to me, right? Alex…Alex wouldn’t leave me here alone.

It was common knowledge that over the last years the blond had gotten more agitated at his line of work; the orders that he didn’t want to follow but had no choice. No voice. But he can’t just abandon you...could he? You’d taken vows. Had a happy marriage and relationship. Loved each other.

He can’t just…he can’t…

Your hands shake and you’re unable to stop them, gaze locked on that unassuming manilla folder. Kate pauses in the doorway, peeking back and seeing your sickly-looking face, the agony written in the lines of your forehead. Like the picture of a loyal wife being told her husband was never coming home. And Alex wasn’t even dead. Resentment begins to burn. 

But he made his bed. 

“He told me to tell you that he wouldn’t be angry if you wanted to leave him,” was all she said, a final knife being stabbed into your heart and being ripped out like a live wire. Electricity makes your back go stiff in an instant. “It would be best to never tell anyone that we met.” 

You were alone, full body shivers and bile stuck in the back of your throat. Cold sweat coats your palms, a sticky mess of your barebones disturbance. 

“He…” your voice is hoarse, bouncing off the far walls. “Alex left me here? He left me.”

It was easier to say that the sun had exploded and you were waiting for the last beam of light to incinerate you. Inside of your skull your brain pounds as, in a mad dash of desperation, you rush to the manilla folder and rip it open with vibrating arms.

Having Laswell tell you that Alex wouldn’t be mad if you…if you…the hairs on the back of your neck rise and suddenly you’re angry beyond a sliver of a doubt. It was insulting.

“Alex fucking Keller,” the paper opens to the bulk of your husband's dog tags and a flip phone—reports like his own personal file and the patch that he had once worn so proudly on his combat vest. Red, white, and blue dig into your retinas; it was old, worn beyond measure, but that little patch was something that was never removed. Not even to be cleaned. 

“The dirtier it is,” Alex had commented on the American flag patch when you’d offered to mend it for him, cringing at all the blood stains and dirt flecking off it as he slipped his vest off in the foyer of your home. “The luckier I am.” 

“I think the stench of it alone will frighten off anyone who comes near,” you had raised a brow, smirking up at him as he walked over, laughing. A kiss is placed on your lips, Alex’s bright smile transferring over to you as if able to spread from his mouth to yours that simply. You sigh dreamily. 

He pulls back with a tiny wink as you gaze up at him, cheekily stating, “That’s the plan, Sweet Thing. Gotta make sure I come home to you in one piece.”

You brush your hands over it and think that maybe it would have been better if he had died. Then you could understand why he’s doing this to you. Anger spreads into rage. 

Looking next at the phone and dog tags, all you do is shake your head and slam the folder shut, bitter tears tracking your face. You can’t read anything—can’t see his name imprinted on that metal that used to press coldly into your skin as you both slept in bed. You don’t care about the phone or the files. 

None of it mattered.

“He fucking left me here,” it’s like you’re a broken record replaying over and over again. “You absolute bastard, Keller!” Yelling, you press your fingers into your face, hands spreading over your eyes and mouth to muffle your enraged sobs. 

“You’re still alive and you left me alone.” 

Only the abandoned building echoes your pain; replaying it back over and over again as your wails echo around the lobby like a symphony of laughing jesters. 

—

The phone that Laswell had given you had been going off at least three times every day—morning, noon, and at night. You had stared at it with fury, knowing exactly who was calling even if the thing was displaying an unknown number. By now you had steeped in your anger enough that you had found yourself snapping at friends and family alike when asked if you were alright. 

You wished Alex was here so you could hit him upside the head for being so stupid. So you could hate him until you had the pleasure to love him again.

Urzikstan. 

You’d looked up the country after you had spent two days straight in bed, afterward manically cleaning the house with a glare that could light fires. The far-off place was a land utterly divided by war. Russian occupation, a terrorist group; the force that your husband had joined. Mass against mass against mass.

Brick meets wall.

And Alex had chosen to stay—without a doubt because he’d seen the dire situation and had used that damnable good heart of his to empathize to the max. Forget donations, humanitarian work, or anything else, the man had fucking decided to join in a Liberation Force. 

As much as you wanted to say you hated him; had wanted to slam your gold wedding band to the table with a good riddance for betraying you like that…you still had his dog tags around your neck, and the ring was still on your finger. 

“Too good for his own sake,” you grumble, shoving dirty clothes into the washer like they had tried to attack you. “Deserted the fucking CIA, Jesus Alex. Do you even think when I’m not around?” 

There were only so many times you could curse his name until you felt a deceiving needle of pride slither itself into your skull. You could describe Alex as many things but he would always be steadfast in causes that truly needed his help. He often told you that the best missions were the ones where he could do so much more than take out a target—he strived to help the individuals he met. Form bonds. 

God forbid something came in between the blond and the ones he’d chosen to give his loyalty to.

You slam the washer shut and stomp into the living room after starting another cycle. Stress cleaning was really not a good look on you—the entire house was without a single spec of dust but you yourself felt like you’d run seven marathons. Clenching your teeth, you go and drop to the couch, a grunt falling from your lips as your head hits the pillow.

Staring at the ceiling, you finally take in the utter silence of the house—not a home, because it could only be that if Alex was here—with a pained crease forming on your brow. The pipes spit water, and the washer grunted its mechanical garble…but there was no humming man making food in the kitchen. No blond hair visible as a head rests on your chest; your fingers playing in the locks that act like silk as you part them, the man on top of you purring. Body a weighted blanket.

“Was it really that easy,” you whisper to nothing, lip quivering. “Was it really that easy to stay away, Alex? I thought…I…” 

Eyes wrenching shut, you hear the phone right at noon again as it sits on the coffee table. And you let it. 

There were voicemails, no doubt, but you hadn’t thought to listen to those either. This small act of rebellion was all you could act on but for the simple fact that it also harmed you. Barbed wire steadily digging deeper as it kept your hands wound to your sides—neck plastered to the pillow as bright silver spikes glinted. You stare at the unknown caller who really wasn’t all that unknown and watch the screen light, vibrating over the wood in steady intervals. 

What hurt the most was that if he’d asked you to come along—become an Expat just for him—you would have said yes. You could find a new job, a new place to call home. Humanitarian work would have been at the top of your list and Alex…well….he would still be fighting, just as he always had. 

But at the very least you would have been there to clean his wounds. Together. You’d both promised on that altar to do nothing less. He could’ve asked. He should have asked. 

Alex…

“Urzikstan,” you mutter for what seems like the fiftieth time. When the ringing stops a few moments later the new voicemail icon flashes. Placing your arm over your mouth, you clench your hand so tight it starts to shake, whispering into your skin, “Fine. I guess you did make your bed. And…and I won't be there to lie in it with you.” No matter how much I want to.

You slip the wedding band off of your finger and place it beside the phone before turning and burying your head into the cushions; feeling more numb than you ever had before.

—

It carried on like this for three months. The ring didn’t move from the coffee table and neither did the flip phone; the file had all but been tossed in the trash as it sat teetering on the living room desk. You carried on as well as you could, all things considered. 

Work was a blur, going out with friends even harder to enjoy, and any enjoyment of hobbies or activities was dulled to an almost gray existence. Like a ghost, you wafted through experiences with dog tags and a withering appearance. Eventually, you just stopped going out unless it couldn’t be helped. You still bought meals for two at the grocery store out of habit. You placed blankets where Alex used to sleep beside you. You went to work. 

And still, the calls never stopped except for a brief pause after the first month. You’d thought he’d finally given up, but no. Back at it.

It had gotten to a point now where the device was automatically deleting all recent voicemails—too little space in the inbox. 

Angry curiosity was tempting you. It would be easy, you reason, to simply play the first message and listen. The worst part of it was that you’d begun to forget Alex’s voice and perhaps that was why, on that dead-aired Saturday, you snatched the phone and brought it into the kitchen. 

Firmly planting it on the counter, you stand behind one of the island chairs and glare, hands tapping into the wood. 

“I’m giving you three minutes, Alex,” you speak as if he’s still here, as if his form stands right behind you, head tilted like a damn dog with that infectious smile and those sea-glass eyes. “Three minutes,” your fingers snap the device open and you go to your voicemails; jaw tight, “and if you don’t hear you groveling, Keller, I’m deleting all of them and chucking this phone into the sink.” 

You go down the line to the very first message, small buttons clicking, and before you can stop yourself you press play.

It begins with a small moment of silence. A cough. 

“Hey,” he says your first name, not one of your epithets. Your brows deepen their annoyed furrow, but you can’t help the uptick in your heart rate. Inside your flesh, the sinews of your throat close in on itself like a balloon. “I…I’m guessin’ I have a good enough ass-kicking waiting for me since you didn’t answer.” A strained laugh before another pause. You feel acidic tears boil behind your lids. “I’m not surprised—not really. Done some stupid things but never something like this.” You can hear him shake his head, voice going lower in defiance. “But they were asking me to leave Urzikstan in a worse place than when I entered it. This Liberation Force, Bug, it…they’re good people and what they’re asking me to do…” Alex huffs, growling under his throat. “I can’t stand by that. The man you chose to marry, he can’t stand by that. They need me here. I’m not asking you to not be angry—to not hate me for this. I know I damn well deserve it.”

You let your tears hit the counter, head slightly bowing over. That was your Alex. 

“You need a leash,” your strained voice hits the walls, bouncing off picture frames and your husband's cooking utensils. The small pieces that make up the whole picture frame of your life. “God,” you huff wetly, “you’re going to get yourself killed.”

“I know I should have talked to you first, figured out some plan. But, uh,” Alex’s throat gets choked up, and you snap a hand to your mouth when you realize he’s close to tears. He clears his throat. “Hell, I should have done a lot of things, Sweetheart.” 

You can hear shouts in the background, calls in Arabic. The pounding of a door and a woman’s voice.

“Alex, we need to move! Everyone is ready—Barkov’s lab cannot be left standing a moment longer.” The hurried hand to the line muffles the words, but you hear him anyway.

“Affirmative!” He comes back. “I don’t have time to explain more, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for… everything. I’d understand if you don’t use the passport Laswell’ll give you, but that doesn’t mean I’m just going to stop calling.” Alex laughs and your face freezes.

“Passport?”

“What kind of Husband would I be if I just let the most perfect woman in the world go without a fight, huh? I’ll be waiting until you call to tell me to shut the hell up and leave you alone or that you’re down in the airport waiting.” There’s a large sound of combat vests being clicked on—pistols being situated into holsters and a rifle strap slipped over a chest. Alex suddenly pauses and you stare at the phone blankly. “I know this is a big ask, Doll, and I know I’m horrible for even springin’ this on you when I’m half a world away from our bed. But I had to try, even if it was selfish. I just…I just really need to hear your voice telling me if I’m an idiot or not for thinking this up. Call me back soon…or when you run out of my clothes to burn in the firepit out back…I love you, okay? More…more than anything.” 

There’s a minute or two of nothing, just Alex’s ragged breathing, and then there’s an older man’s voice ordering him to hurry up. The line clicks. 

Your ears ring as it does, wide eyes dripping tears from your bottom lashes as your lungs chill over. Hand slowly flinching out, you ghost over the keys before clicking on the following voicemail. As it plays, your feet start to take you backward at a snail's pace, your spine flattering against the wall as blood drains to your feet. 

“Hey, it’s me again. I still haven’t heard from you—that’s alright. Take your time.” Steadying yourself with a hand, you look out of the kitchen and get a glimpse of the manila folder on the desk, its tan hide sucking you in. Pulse in your throat, you rush out to grab it as Alex’s voice echoes. “I know Laswell gave you the file, I trust her that much at least.” A sigh. “But even if it’s just to yell at me, please pick up the phone soon. Let me save some of my dignity and give me a chance to beg on an open line, huh, Sweetheart…? But I guess that’s all—gotta go. I love you.” 

You don’t play the next message because you’re ripping open the file with rabid hands, seeing exactly as you had when Laswell left it for you. Alex’s mission report; his patch. The dog tags around your neck clink together like a song, some brutal rhythm. 

“Passport?” Grasping the mission report you pick it up, flipping through the multiple pages of blacked-out words and more confused than ever. “Airport?” 

The words come out as whimpers, hands so shaky that the pages slip from your fingers. They slam to the floor in a flurry of bond paper and you curse loudly, snatching for the remnants futilely. Grasping on your hands and knees hitches build in your breath as your fingers dance rapidly before they slip across something distinctly not paper. 

Small, tiny, and blue. Laminate. 

Your very blood seems to stop in your veins. Pushing back one last piece of paper, you come face to face with a singular American passport. Gasping down mute breaths and licking your lips, you pick it up lightly, leaning back on your legs as if you’d just slammed your head into the concrete. 

“Alex…” you whisper to no one. 

Flipping the hard cover open, a small, palm-sized piece of paper slips out to your lap as your own face stares at you in image form. You blink for a moment before going to take the note and separate the ends. Formal script is inside, stiff lettering. Not your husband's handwriting, but you didn’t have to guess who’d written out these directions for you. 

Laswell.

There was a destination in fountain pen ink—an airport near the Urzikstanian and Georgian border. Seeing as Urzikstan was on the travel-ban list due to the turbulence of the government and terrorist threats, you wouldn’t be able to get there directly. 

But you supposed Kate had your back for that too. 

Georgian safehouse - wait for Keller there. It’s secure. More directions and then a small gap. A pause. Good luck.

You don’t know how long you stare at that paper—that passport. The first thing you think about is how could Alex ask you to do this. Uproot yourself with the snap of a finger. You wouldn’t be able to bring anything beyond what could fit in a few suitcases. No furniture, no large amount of clothes, or even sentimental items. You’d have to quit your job; leave behind family and friends to travel to a war-torn country.

But he’d said it was your choice, and he wouldn’t push you to make it. He’d said you could leave him if you wanted—keep all of this that you’d built here.

…But you’d built it together, hadn’t you? 

You think of Alex’s bright smile and his mustache. His tattoos. How he’d hold you so tight in the long hours of sleep that you half-believed he thought you’d disappear if he didn’t; nuzzling his nose into the back of your head and grumbling out nonsense. The way you could trace his scars and watch as he willingly submitted to your praise, delicate lips curving into sheepish grins as you place soft kisses on the raised skin. Red cheeks.

This place wasn’t a home without Alex in it.

You look over at the coffee table and lock onto the gold of your wedding band.

—

Getting into Georgia was a long affair of paperwork and screenings—not days but months of legal jargon that Alex had dodged entirely because of his desertion. By the time you’d landed in country, you were wholly exhausted down to the very marrow of your bones. You get through the checkpoints, pick up your bags, and look out at the entirely new world outside of the airport’s windows. 

“Okay,” you swallow saliva and nod carefully before looking down at Laswell’s directions to the safehouse. 

You slip the paper into your pocket after memorizing the address, tips of your fingers brushing the smooth surface of the flip phone. Clenching your eyes shut, you take your hand back out and go to try and hire a driver. You were here, but that doesn’t mean all of this was forgiven. 

After you find someone able to drive you to where you need to go, you end up standing with a quaint hostel ahead of you, home far behind. Gazing slightly nervous at the strange place you’ve found yourself, you think of Alex’s hand on the small of your back and sigh; caressing the cool metal of the ring around your finger. 

Walking forward, you hitch your bags over your shoulders and grit your teeth against the hot sun. When you meet the owner at the front desk you state your name and ask for a bed. 

The man’s eyes widen for a moment before he looks at something on his countertop, raising a brow in thought. Grabbing at a stack of papers he holds up a finger and begins digging. Too tired and overwhelmed to ask what was wrong, you just watch and rub at your face. 

“Ah,” the man snaps his fingers and laughs to himself, “here it is! I knew I had placed the note somewhere, Mrs. Keller.” You blink, confused, but the man just takes a key from the wall and motions for you to follow. Sparing a glance around for a moment, you slowly slink after, not really having a choice.

“I remember your Husband coming to me—the blond with the tattoos.” The owner looks back, making sure you’re following. He motions to his right side with splayed fingers. “Scars on the side of his head, to reserve a room.”  

Alex was here? How much had he done already pertaining to the chance that you would show up? 

“Y-yeah,” you chuckle stiffly, “that was him. Sorry for being so long I was…preoccupied.”

“You’re lucky he kept up on payments,” the man grumbles, opening a door with the key and motioning you inside. “My pleasure to finally have you, regardless.”

Entering the small and sparse room, you take the key from him with a thankful smile and a quick thank you before he closes the door. As the barrier thuds, you sway on your feet. Blinking. Breathing hard. You drop all of your bags with a heavy thump that echoes off the walls in a single instant. Heart pounding at everything that was striking you in an instant, you walk slowly back to the bed. You don’t bother to take a shower or brush your teeth; even change. 

You fall down on the mattress and pray you don’t have to dream about Alex sending money to this place every week simply on a suffocating hope that you’d come back to him. You pray you don’t dream at all. 

The phone wakes you up only thirty minutes later.

Groaning, you shift your body so your hand can snake into your pocket, grasping it and tossing it to the pillow beside your head. You’d never made it through all of the voicemails without crying, so you just deleted all of them and let the inbox fill back up again. 

Feeling the dog tags press against your chest as you form your chest into the bed, you shove your head downward and listen to it ring. 

Bring-bring, bring-bring, bring-bring

It happens in a flurry of a sleep-addled mind and a horrible desperation to see your husband after nearly a full year of no contact. You flip it open and answer with your nose pressed deeply into the pillow below you. Ears straining and pulse running like a starving cat after a mouse. 

Dead silence. 

“...Sweetheart…?” It’s pitiful how fast the tears flood you at Alex’s shocked and tiny voice. Tight breathing sounds over the line from his end and your other hand digs into your scalp. A small, cut-off laugh. “Hey…I—” 

You hang up with a vicious slam of the screen and let the silence settle again. People walk the hall; the sun dims as night sets in. This isn’t home. Dropping the phone back down to the pillow you curl into a tight ball and cry yourself back to sleep.

If you had to guess, you’d say the small curse was what woke you for the second time, though you didn’t register it until minutes later. That muffled ‘shit’ as a foot hits your dropped bags near the door. But then it’s silent again and your ears only twitch to the gentle sigh that brushes against your face; a thumb and forefinger caressing your cheek as hair is placed back over your ear. 

Perhaps the only reason at all as to why you don’t wake up screaming bloody murder is because of his calluses. They burn your flesh as they slide over it—as ingrained into your very being as your own heart is. As if Alex’s touch was another organ that was needed to survive. More important than a liver or a spleen. 

When your eyes slip open he’s leaning back in a chair he had turned to face you, built form shifting as the rickety wood creaks. No more than five feet away sits your husband, and all you do is suck in a tight breath and lock gazes with soft sea glass. 

Alex freezes at the same time, strong brow line peeling back and mustache stiff as his lips immediately thin. You both stare for a good while, a thread of tension entering the air. The night deepens. 

He speaks first, in the dense hours of confrontation. Your heart feels like it’s been stuck with a spear, vignette at the sides of your vision, and a blooming center of only Alex’s body and his messy hair. The scarf around his neck. The combat vest. 

Had he driven all this way to see if you were here? Because you’d answered the phone? But you hadn’t even said anything. Your head stays on the pillow, wondering if you were hallucinating.

“Hey,” Alex forces a chuff before he glances away, nervous arms crossed. “Hey there, Doll. Sorry that I woke you. I…ah,” your eyes bore into him, hand on the sheets slowly clenching into a fist. “I figured there was an off chance you would be here.” He clears his voice, throat closing on a trying laugh. “Guess I’m glad I looked. You should remember to lock your door, by the way.” 

At the sight of your rising glare, his tone drops, expression falling even more than it already was. Deep well of sadness grew in his eyes, lips pulling back in a strained agony. 

Alex’s gaze drops to the floor. 

“I know,” is what hits the air, “I know, Sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t fucking cut it,” you push your body up as his large shoulders tighten—such an accomplished and strong man brought to a squirming heap when his wife’s sharp words hit him in the chest. “What the hell were you thinking, Alex?!”

Heavy feet hit the floor as you stalk over, fatigue and tiredness pushed all the way to the back of your mind yet also enhancing your emotions. Bitter rage was sparking—held in far too long. Alex’s eyes don’t meet yours, so you grab him by the chin and angle his head up to you. 

At the sight of your red sclera and the baggy gaze he stills. Under your grip his beard tickles you, the soft grip of flesh that makes you want to wrap your arms over him and weep; make him promise to never leave like that again. 

“I…I wasn’t…”

“That’s the thing isn’t it—you didn’t think.” Sea glass floods over, going glossy; hurt etched into both of your faces as if carved from the same stone. But you don’t stop now, growling out as your skin burns. Alex isn’t sad that you’re angry, he’s sad he’s done this to you. “You disappeared, Alex. Laswell had to just drop all of this shit on me. I thought you had died.” You growl. “Do you know what that feels like?!” 

“Sweetheart—”

“Shut up! You let me talk,” he falls silent, hand delicately coming up to grab your wrist. Not to pull you away, just to hold you. To feel your skin and the heat of it. You sniffle and his eyes break. “And the worst part of it was that if you had just asked I would have followed you right then and there.” Alex sharply looks back at you. “But the biggest insult was that you thought I would leave you—that you even considered that.” 

Shock slowly gives way to a blank expression. He was confused, now.

Was that what you were angry about?

“You’re an idiot, Keller. Hot-headed. Cocky.” You shake your head, but a tiny smile begins to bleed onto Alex’s face. Watching you like you’d just sprung a million dollars on him. His grip slightly squeezes, calloused thumb running the span of your knuckles as you shake his head with your hand. “Damn nuisance to my health, is what you are.” Trying to remain angry is tough when he’s looking at you like that—starstruck—but you spit out, “It’s insulting that you thought I’d just give up on us that easily.”

“Most women don’t want a man who’s wanted for desertion, Doll,” Alex whispers, testing a smirk on his lips with his expression still strained. 

“Arrogant!” your voice snaps. “Not a single brain cell in his stupid little head.” You let go of his chin and grip the sides of his skull, feeling the dirty but still soft strands of hair before you huff at him. 

But he just looks at you and smiles, face smooshed. 

“...You really came?” Alex asks quietly. You fall silent and after a moment you deflate.

After the silence of trying to keep the sneer on your face, you let it drop, lips quivering slightly. Anger glints with pain. “I should hit you upside the head, Keller, for all the worry you’ve put me through,” you grunt, eyes flashing over every new bruise on his face—every cut you’d have to re-learn. He looks tired. 

Oh, Alex…

Before the blond can respond to you, you’ve captured the back of his head and shoved it into your chest; face burying itself into his scalp to bring forth that scent of dust and cologne. You whimper out as he grips you around the waist with just as much fervor, “Did you think that I would stay away?”

Alex says nothing, only the slight tremor in his bicep betraying him. You firmly kiss his skull and run your fingers through his hair, the both of you so tight together there’s barely enough room in your ribs to allow your lungs to inflate. 

But holding him was more important than air, a sentiment that Alex seemed to share entirely. 

“I’m so glad you’re here, Bug.” He mutters into your skin. “Feels good to be able to hold my girl again.”

You stay like that for a long time before you pull back and capture his cheeks, face pulling closer before you kiss him deeply. It’s not a fast-paced or desperate thing—no clashing teeth or tongue. That wasn’t what you needed right now. 

All that you needed was Alex. Your home. 

You both separate and the blond grabs the back of your neck, forcing you back so he can lay another on the side of your mouth; nose, cheek. Anywhere that he could reach as his mustache tickled you to a smile. Giggles worm out and you wiggle out of his grip to wipe at your cheeks, spreading away tiny tear tracks and saliva.

“Quit it,” you whisper, and Alex gazes up at you reverently from his chair.

“Negative, Ma’am,” he says, equally as soft, not even blinking. “Don’t wanna.” You roll your eyes, face hot. 

The seconds draw long of only watching one another before you shake your head and move your hands to shimmy out of the dog tags around your neck. Alex’s gaze locks on the metal swiftly, smile shifting.

“You’re horrible.” You huff, quietly, before shoving his dog tags at his chest. “Now put them back on.”

“But I’m not in the—” Your glare shuts him up. Alex clears his throat sheepishly. “Yes, Ma’am.” 

You nod and watch as they’re resituated around his neck. Right where they should be. When you take a step back to really take him in, there’s a moment where you skim over the state of his left leg. After all, the metal was barely noticeable in the dark. But when you do see it every little part of you shrivels up with confused pain.

Alex stands with a noticeable preference to his right and as he towers over you, fingers coming to grab at your face and slowly drag it back up.

A slightly apologetic look washes over him.

“I’m guessing you didn’t listen to all of the voicemails.” 

“Alex…” you slowly cut off. “You…” Staring at the metal limb instead of the real one, you gape. “...how?”

“Y’know,” he laughs, but you don’t find this funny. He notices and kisses your forehead, tapping his scalp to yours and saying after a contemplative pause, “I think it’s better if I don’t explain it. I’m alright, just...” Alex smiles cheekily, the spark that you love coming back easily as it shimmers in his eyes, “just a little more carbon fiber and aluminum than I was before.” 

You hug him tightly.

“I’m sorry, I should have come sooner—I was just angry, and I wasn’t—”

“Don’t apologize to me,” Alex sighs, grabbing you and maneuvering the both of you to the bed. He sits and you end up laying in his lap like that moment in the bathroom ages ago. “None of this is your fault, okay? You deserve to be angry. I shouldn’t have put such a burden on you.” 

You sigh in his arms, head under his chin and heart finally able to return to a steady pace. Licking your lips, you ask, “Does it hurt?” 

Sending a glance down, Alex’s lips twitch with a grin before it disappears. He hums.

“Sometimes.” Your hand grips his opposite cheek and you lay a kiss on his chin, caressing his flesh.

It’s a tentative kind of love. An understanding and a plea all at once. 

The blond leans back against the wall and pulls you closer, closing his eyes. Finally relaxing for the first time in what seems like forever. But his girl is in his arms, and he’s never been this calm.

“I have a home in Urzikstan,” he confesses lightly, fingers brushing your body and giving way to shivers. You listen, eyes fluttering at the vibrations of his words. “It’s safe—protected. I…want us to live there.” Alex nods against your head, swallowing. “If you’ll come back with me.”

“Yes,” your answer is immediate. “Anywhere, as long as you’re with me.” 

You feel his breath hitch, soft chuckles brushing your hair far better than any comb. There’s a small tremor in his voice as he says, “I love you. God, do I love you.” 

Your lips pull up, body growing heavy with a final sense of home.

“I love you, too.” Soft kisses and tight arms. Shifting tattoos. “But if you ever do something like that again without talking to me, I’m telling Laswell she has permission to put a bullet in your ass.”

His loud laughs shake your body, and you press your face into his neck to steady yourself; smiling.

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[niphredil-14]

hey so the rottmnt boys tend to think their appearance would be an issue in attracting someone to them. So how do you think they would deal with a s/o who one day unprompted, the boys are just doing normal things, is like “It’s frustrating how everything you do is so attractive to me” and s/o hides face in pillow and makes a groaning noise, like they can’t contain themselves, but are trying too. S/o ends up giving their boys a massive smooch once they get themselves out of their pillow confinement?

thanks so much for sending this in! I've been dying to get some more tmnt requests! I don't write for Mikey unless I'm feeling super inspired specifically for him, so sorry about that. Hope you enjoy!

Leonardo: He may be the self proclaimed "face-man," but we all know that he deals with quite a bit of insecurity. Growing up watching movies with attractive people who look nothing like you can be discouraging, as can having to live in the sewers your whole life because the humans in the above-ground-world would see you as a hideous monster. While dating you, he never once took you for granted, because he knew how fortunate he was to have you. I don't think he would ever intentionally tell you about his insecurities, but it wouldn't be hard to figure out. So when you tell him that, and get so frustrated at your own lack of control over yourself and your emotions, it flusters him. He'd be so grateful that you shoved your face into the pillow because that meant that you wouldn't be able to tell just how flustered he was. He would try to cooly play it off as if it meant nothing to him, but the breathy tone to his voice, and the slight shake of it as he spoke gave it away.

"Well what did you expect? You didn't seriously think that you could be immune to my charm, did you?"

Raphael: I think that Raphael would be a bit more open about his emotions and insecurities with you, not completely, or all the time, but he would most certainly be better at communicating with you when he struggles than Leo would. He most likely told you when the two of you began dating that he was surprised that someone as attractive as you would ever want to go out with a big, scary mutant like him. It would probably take quite some time for your affirmations to sink in and become believable for him, he would appreciate your compliments, but it wouldn't be until much later in the relationship that he would be able to genuinely believe that you thought he was handsome. He might become more accustomed to your compliments, and I doubt that he would ever outright deny them, but I think it would be a while for him to stop doubting, if ever. But whenever you complimented him, especially out of the blue or unprompted, he would become so, so, so soft. His eyes would get all big, a smile as bright as the sun would be exposed by his lips stretching back against his beak, and a slow, steady thump, thump, thump would be heard from his heavy tail banging against the nearest surface.

"You're just too sweet, Doll."

Donatello:

Probably the most insecure out of all the brothers. Though it was all out of love, his brothers (especially Leo) teased him a lot growing up, and he had spent a good amount of time feeling inferior to theme in any way that didn't involve brains. He had been keenly aware of the fact that they would most likely all never find love, but he had convinced himself that even if by some miracle his brothers were able to, that he would never have the privilege. He wasn't big and strong like Raph, or confident and outgoing like Leo, or as friendly and cute as Mikey. He was a cold, introverted man who only knew how to navigate his tech. So when he got into a relationship, as happy as he was, he was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. He was convinced that it was all just a moment's lapse of judgement on their part, and that soon they would realize their mistake, and leave him behind. Because of that mindset, he had endeavored to savor every single moment he spent with his partner, he lavished them with every gift he could think of, and made sure that, even though he wasn't overly affectionate by nature, that they never forgot, even for a second, how much they meant to him, even if he was convinced that he cared for them much more than they could ever care for a monster such as himself. He would never admit these insecurities to them, he did not want them to feel obligated to reassure him, he didn't want to bring them down, but it was clear to them with the look of pure shock and disbelief that he let slip whenever they complimented him, and so they continued to, in hopes that they could crack through his walls, and convince him that they loved him just as much as he loved them. And every time they looked his way, no matter how long they were together, or would be together, it would feel like a gift from the highest of deities, a blessing for their most loving devotee. He may never fully stop viewing himself as a "monster," but it was okay, so long as he was theirs.

"If Ceres was graced with the gift of the Sun's praise, my dear, it would not feel a googolth of what I do when you so much as gaze in my direction."

(can you tell who's my favorite lol) REQUESTS ARE OPEN

[dqllgarden]

Hi sweetheart! I’d like to request a Ben Hargreeves x Reader shot please. You can change it however you’d like and I’d still thank you for it. Lovely stuff btw I already read what you’ve came up with. Was pretty good if you’d ask me. Whatever, here we go. I want a smut Ben fic with plot. The reader was with Umbrella!Ben first and was a dom! And now she is with Sparrow!Ben and they have a switch dynamic. I want her to be a switch and challenging. Have them fight but not seriously just for the tension ya know. And I want them to be soft afterwards. Prob something like “I loved you before, I love you now and I will love you even after death. As long as there is a Y/N in any universe she is gonna love her Ben every fucking time.” And Ben is just pathetic after hearing her. #WeLovePatheticMan lol. If it’s too much you can just do whatever you like and I will still read it. Please don’t forget to tag me. Baibai 🥰✌🏻

i’ll always choose you

ben hargreeves x reader

my first request!! yay :D i was so so so excited to write this because it’s such a well thought out idea and i hope i did it justice :) thank you @cherryinsalemverse !

side note, this was my first one in third person so i hope it’s okay lol

tags: smut, switch!ben, switch!fem!reader, choking, sparrow ben being a little jealous of y/n’s relationship with umbrella ben, cutesy shit at the end!

—

Being with Ben was always a walk in the park. He was kind, strong willed, and had such a loving heart. And Y/N loved the way he’d show up for her in more ways than one. He was someone she could talk to one rough days and dominate when talking didn’t work. Their sex life was anything but boring despite how sweet her Ben looked. Y/N would wait for Ben to get back from his missions just so she could take control over him and take care of him the way he needed. She’d slowly take off his uniform, rake her nails down his body and tease him until he was on the verge of tears needing more. It didn’t take much for her to cave, being just as needy for him. She’d fuck him until she was too exhausted to keep going or until he couldn’t take any more.

That changed in the new timeline though.

Her new Ben shared some of the same traits as her beloved Ben from the Umbrella Academy, but obviously he was… different. Sure he shared the same loving heart even if it was hidden beneath his asshole facade. Sure they fought, but it was never anything truly serious. It usually ended with them in bed, Ben on top of her, hand wrapped around her throat while she muttered out insults at him.

—

Today was like any other day, Ben coming back from a mission and Y/N sitting on their bed reading a book.

“You’re back quicker than I expected, love.” She sat down her book to look up at him.

“And you’re sad about that?” He rolled his eyes and took off his jacket.

“I mean yeah, I was enjoying my alone time.”

“Well I’m back,” Ben got onto the bed and grabbed her face to pull her into a kiss, “and I missed you, princess.”

Bens hand traveled down to her throat where he squeezed down, Y/N noticing a large cut on his hand cleaned up in a very sloppy manner. She took his hand off and sat up. “What happened to you?”

“It’s just a small cut it’s fi-“

“No. No, you need to be more careful next time,” Y/N said frantically. Something about seeing him hurt makes her go totally soft on him, wanting to make sure he’s okay and taken care of. Ben tried to go back to kissing her but she didn’t reciprocate. “What the fuck?” He asked, “come here babe.”

She only smiled at him before she got up and turned around to face him, only to push him back onto the bed and climb into his lap.

“Can’t you give me this just this once? I miss the way the old Ben let me take care of him after his missions.”

“Alright! Enough about him, okay?” His hands went to the back of his head as his eyes looked her up and down. “I get it, you liked him better.”

“It’s not about who I like better,” she muttered while unzipping his pants and taking hers off, “I just miss him sometimes. That’s all.” She lifted herself up, slowly lowering herself on Ben’s cock, one hand guiding it in and the other resting on his stomach. He tried to push into her faster but she held his hips down so he couldn’t. She wanted to be in control tonight.

“Can you please just- Y/N please I need you to move,” He’d cry when she’d do nothing but cockwarm him, trying to thrust into her. “You’re lucky I don’t flip you over and fuck you the way I want to.”

“Is that a threat or a promise, Mr. Hargreeves?”

He smirked at her before grabbing her throat and flipping her into the bed with such force the wind was knocked out of her. Her legs wrapped around his waist with no hesitation as he began pounding into her. Y/N moaned around him, eyes rolled back in pleasure at the way he perfectly filled her up and hit every spot just the way she needed. His weight felt so good on top of her, pushing into her with just the right amount of pressure to make her cry in pleasure. Ben’s hand left her throat to feel her body, squeezing her tits and holding onto her waist while he leaned closer to mark up her neck.

“I’m gonna cum in you baby, ‘kay?” Ben whispered in a desperate voice in her ear as he fucked into her harder. His hand went down to play with her clit to help her finish too, milking his orgasm. Ben collapsed next to Y/N not caring that their clothes were messily scattered around the room and pulled the blanket over them. He looked at her and grabbed a strand of her hair, twirling it between his fingers.

“I was thinking about what you said,” Y/N let out a breath, “I don’t mean to compare you to him. You know I love you, right? Hell, I loved you in another timeline. You’re perfect for me and I’ll love you forever, in every universe, in every timeline. As long as I’m me, you will always be mine.”

Ben’s face softened and he pulled her closer to him and kissed her forehead. “You’re so sweet. I don’t know what I’d do without you. I hope to find you in every timeline, my love.” He smiled at her before tangling his hands into her hair and falling asleep together.

[doki-doki-imagines]

Kisses

tw: some suggestive, nsfw (Johnny Cage one)

author note: another idea I needed to write out. Hope you'll enjoy reading those!

If there is something Raiden can’t stand is seeing you cry; tears and snot don’t suit you. Raiden’s warm hands cup your face, calloused hands against your soft cheeks, thumbs brushing the remaining tears  “Come with me” he whispers, chocolate brown eyes looking at you with such passion they almost make you forget all your problems.

He takes you to the field where he spends most of his day “The stars here are brighter than anywhere else” he tells you, voice strong and reassuring before sitting on the ground next to you.

Words escape your mouth like a waterfall, no filter, brain shut, just the need to share, something you are not used to do.

Raiden listens to you, eyes never leaving your face, while you look at the starry sky, your eyes always elsewhere, too worried you’d lose the thread of the discourse if your eyes happened to meet.

“If I know something is that everything other than death has a solution.“ His forefinger push behind your ear a strand of your hair, the action makes you jerk, eyes widening and finally, you look at him.

There isn’t much light, but the moon frames his face perfectly. You can see a reddish hue coloring his cheeks, and a smile full of hope that makes your heart thump with joy “I’m sorry I can’t offer you a better answer, but-“ his hands grip your arms, strong, but without hurting, his strength perfectly stable “Never let yourself down, life will get better believe me.” You bite your tongue “It never does Raiden” you’d like to reply, but his words carry so much hope that you can only nod at him.

He lifts himself up from the ground and extends his hand out to help you.

“Thanks” You say after minutes of silence, your steps on the ground the only sound, not even cicadas try to interrupt.

“For the hand? It really is no-“

“For the company, for your words.” You look at him, now standing in front of your room. You kiss his cheek and wish him goodnight, a shy smile appears on his face as he waves at you.

The newfound warmness spreading from your heart is a new problem you’ll have to learn how to deal with in the next few months, for now, you can only rest and wait for a new day to start.

“You finally woke up, you idiot.” Tomas could recognize that voice between millions of others, so sweet and so caring even if they just called him an idiot.

Grey eyes scan the room, he’s in the infirmary bed, at Madame Bo restaurant. He and Kuai Liang got ambushed not that far and he remembers getting hit at the back of his head; that stung a lot.

“Do you know who I am?” Your voice trembles and Tomas has the urge to coo at you; obviously, he knows who you are, his heart keeps thrumming mercilessly against his ribcage the moment he opened his eyes.

“Yeah, I know, who do you think I am? A simple knock on the head won’t either kill me or make me lose my memory.” He half teases, but the scowl is still stuck on your face.

“Tomas-“ Your voice is serious and he can only look at you, at your trembling lips and shiny eyes “I seriously thought I lost you.” Your arms envelop his figure, your face hidden resting on top of his right shoulder,  new warmth adding to Tomas one.

He is stuck in place, but his mind is running wild. His left hand pats your head and he feels the corner of his lips twitching.

You must care about him a lot.

You lift your head up, your teary eyes locking into his gray ones, pupils wide, so deep he may lose himself in them. Tomas feels the time slowing down, almost stopping, your lips inching closer and closer ‘till they finally touch.

He reciprocates, not a single second lost, your lips dancing and searching for each other, breath mingling, tongue fighting in a battle of supremacy, both wanting to feel more of each other. Tomas pulls you towards him and your body falls onto his, chest against chest, heart beating at the same rhythm, divided by the layers of your clothing. Limbs tangle, hands everywhere, caressing and groping;  from an outside view, it wouldn’t be able to tell where one starts and the other one ends.

This ‘till your hand pulls Tomas’ hair. He breaks the kiss and flinch, maybe that was more than a little hit on the head. He can see you try to pull off from him, eyes full of worry, but his hands keep you in place, on his lap, fingers leaving indent on your hips that will for sure bruise.

“I-I shouldn’t have, sorry Tomas.” Your hands, so tiny and soft in contrast to his ones, push against his chest, like you are trying to distance yourself from him, head turned to the side not looking at him.

Your hair messy, your lips still red and bruised, and that worried expression, fuck, Tomas would like to frame his moment, your cuteness overwhelming all his senses.

Then you both hear a voice, it’s Madame Bo telling you to go back to work, the signal that he has to let you go. You remove yourself, Tomas’ hands finally loosening up. You brush your clothes in place and rush towards the exit.

“See you later” Tomas rasps out.

You nod.

Later you’ll have more time to talk about your feelings.

“Johnny-“ A breathy moan escapes your mouth.

The atmosphere is humid, the heat of your two bodies entangled is almost suffocating.

You missed Johnny, this new project he has been working on keeps him away from home for months. You are a supportive partner, you love him and you want to see him happy but, fuck, you missed him so much.

You are lucky he is on your same wavelength. He opens the door and your lips are already locked, hands unbuttoning shirts and pants being thrown somewhere.

“I missed you so much, Johnny.” You gasp in between kisses, your hand on the back of his neck to keep him impossibly close to you.

He groans, his hands now on your lower back lifting you up from the ground.

Everything else is a blur in your mind, you soon find yourself lying on the bed, legs open and Johnny working his tongue southward, your warm sex as inviting as water in the desert.

“Fuck-“ Your hand lay on his head, trying not to grip to harshly his dirty blonde locks.

“Yeah baby, tell me how good I am.” You look down to see his hips grind against the mattress, so desperate for you.

A wave of pleasure licks down your spine, your eyes roll back, throat exposed while you bit your bottom lip trying to keep a louder moan.

How good it is to be desired.

“J-Johnny you are so go-“ Your phrase gets interrupted by a gasp, a particular flick of his tongue makes you see stars, your legs reflexively close, but Johnny’s strong hands keep your thighs apart, fingers circling the inner side and you don’t know if it is done to calm you or him.

One of his hand leave your legs to play with your sex, his face now squeezed between your soft thighs, but your mind is too fogged to worry about crushing him, not that he minded his motions only getting faster and uncoordinated.

An orgasm soon permeates your body, Johnny lifts up, his lips drenched with your essence, his pupils blown wide, your heartbeat impossibly fast, a different kind of heat enveloping your limbs.

Your lips meet again, you taste your flavor on his tongue, lips locking, his hands now resting on your waist, pushing your chests impossibly close, but not enough, never enough.

“I love you.”

The night ahead is still long.

Bi-Han is awake, sitting on your bedding, naked, but the covers hide everything under the navel. The moon shines bright in the sky,  the light and shades framing his lover's body sleeping soundly next to him.

Bi-Han is a man eaten by greed, by pride, a man made more of scars than flesh.

But you love him and he loves you. It’s a feeling he never knew, it isn’t the kind of warmth he got from his mother's compliments, or from his brother's support, it is something much more exhilarating, that makes his eyes soften and his hardened core melt more than he’d like to admit.

His eyes land on your body, so soft, so sweet, he wants to defend you from all the ugliness of this world.

Maybe from him too.

He looks outside the window, the night is still long, but there is no sign of tiredness in his eyes.

“Bi-Han, it is late you should sleep.” Bi-Han breaths, he didn’t even notice how long he had been keeping his breath in, mind so busy and heart uneasy.

Your arms wrap around his neck, naked body laying on his back, your lips kissing his neck, where arteries and veins flow.

“Worried about something?”  Your eyes look at his face, he doesn’t look back but he knows, searching for any telltale sign of his emotions.

“Nothing you should worry about sparrow.” He breathes out, voice raspy as always.

You don’t believe him, he knows it. Your hand starts to trace the scars painting his skin, your lips barely caressing the newborn scratches on his back.

 “Tell me your worries, my heart.” Your arms hug his frame and push him down together with you.

Bi-Han doesn’t struggle against your hold, his head now in the crook of your neck, free hair tickling you.

“Don’t worry about me, tomorrow is a busy day and you need to rest.”  He kisses the tip of your nose, his calloused hand caresses your cheek, thick fingers drawing circles on your skin.

You kiss him, in a slow liplock. Eyes closed, hands holding.

Bi-Han bites your bottom lips before breaking the kiss and you groan, the only kind he likes.

He looks into your eyes and he only finds love, sweet and blissful. A new fire starts inside his heart.

Bi-Han still doesn’t know how to protect you from this accursed world, for now, he’ll have to settle for showing how much he loves you.

[ghostgirl-22]

love your writing 🥵

why is there a criminal lack of artrick rimming fics? do you know of any at all? there is so much tongue action too

Okay wait… you’re so right actually

—-

Art always takes a bath on Sunday nights. He spends an hour in the bathroom playing music lounging in the bathtub. When he gets out his skin is flushed and his fingers are pruny and he’s drying his blonde curls with towel while bending over barely covered to pick out his clothes. It’s so fucking distracting it’s a wonder Patrick ever gets any homework done.

This particular Sunday they don’t have school or even practice the next day. It’s Veterans Day or Memorial Day or whichever one’s in November…he always gets confused. And Art still bent in half over his dresser isn’t helping matters.

Patrick sighs. “Hey c’mere,” he says pushing his notebook to the side, fuck it, his English teacher thinks he has ADD anyway.

Art stands up and looks at him. “Do you have my Ramones t shirt still?”

“Probably. Come here.”

“Did you ever wash it?” Art demands walking to where he’s sitting at his desk.

“Probably not. Hey so there’s this thing…this kiss…I want to try it with Madison but I’m scared I’m not gonna be good at it.” Patrick says carefully.

Art nods his head all seriously like he’s just been handed a fun homework assignment, his eyes light up and he licks his lips. Patrick knows he’s probably more intrigued by the idea that it’s something new and Patrick’s admitting he’s not good at it.

“Can we…you know… try it first?”

“Yeah sure,” Art says. It’s Sunday but it’s not a normal Sunday.

“Okay, can we do it now?”

Art looks over at his clothes folded on the bed. He’s so meticulous and neat. But Patrick is an animal and his favorite project is finding new ways to make a mess out of him.

“It’s gonna take like five minutes,” Patrick says, standing up and pulling him towards his own bed. “Can I kiss you?”

Art nods his head. “Okay…yeah sure.” He says allowing himself to be led with reluctant curiosity.

They approach the foot of his bed and Patrick walks behind him. ”Like this…” he says wrapping his arms around Arts firm waist from behind. He presses himself against the swell off his ass and watches Art swallow as he leans in. Art closes his eyes and pouts his lips. Patrick can’t resist… he gives him a peck on the lips and then sinks to his knees behind him.

He eases the towel up Arts thighs.

“Patrick, what are you—” Art says anxiously attempting to turn around.

“Shh. Stay still. Five minutes.”

“I thought you said you wanted to kiss—”

“Yeah a kiss, it’s a little kiss. Can you relax?” Patrick says distractedly looking over Art's bottom. He feels himself getting hard. Art has the perfect ass. Patrick’s missed more than a few shots on the court because of it. He’s spent hours and hours touching himself thinking about pressing his cock inside it.

He kisses one cheek and Art takes a breath. “Patrick you can’t…” He whispers.

“I know,” Patrick sighs and kisses him again and then gently spreads him apart and licks at the perfect pink pucker right in the center. He teases his tongue along the outside…kissing him slowly. It feels better than he imagined.

Art makes a strangled sound and tries to pull away but Patrick follows him. “Please, please lemme kiss you, one kiss, one filthy kiss.” He begs as Art climbs on the bed.

Art whines, “Patrick please— I—I’m gonna—“ his voice is pitched entirely different and his cock is full already, he’s even started dripping. And that’s when Patrick realizes this is a thing.

“It’s okay,” Patrick breathes trying to reconcile this. “It’s okay if you—” he’s not sure what he’s saying anymore. His heads gone fuzzy, his heartbeat’s in his ears drowning out the low volume of the classic rock station playing on the clock radio. Patrick gets behind Art on the bed and starts again, first slowly, then recklessly, pushing his tongue in and out. Licking and sucking like it might go away if he doesn’t get to it fast enough.

“Oh my fucking god,” Art cries. He’s gripping the sheets, knuckles white, helpless little sounds spilling from his lips. He starts shivering, whining, moaning like the girls do on the choppy videos they find on the internet late at night before deleting their search history.

Patrick’s gripping his waist, holding him tight so he can’t leave again. Probably too tight but he’s so fucking lost he’s barely aware of it till Art starts coming. Messy and wet all over Patrick’s bed sheets.

Patrick makes himself stop and licks his lips, wiping his mouth with his wrist. “God you’re so… fucking… sensitive,” Patrick gasps and Art just groans, collapsing on the bed.

Patrick doesn’t need much to bring himself over the edge. Just Art splayed on the bed in front of him all apart, flushed beautifully, breathing heavy, towel barely covering him, jizz still dripping down between thighs. He’s probably ruined this forever because he’s always gonna be thinking of Art. How he looks, how he sounds, how he feels, how he tastes. Patrick loses it all over him, spilling on his stomach, adding to the mess between his legs.

“Fuck,” Patrick breathes.

Art shivers. “You’re so—“ he pushes himself up on his elbows, “Now I have to get in the shower again.”

Patrick huffs a laugh. “I have to change my sheets.” He sighs and dips his finger tip into the pool of come on Arts thighs and tastes it.

“You’re so gross,” Art whispers and he bites his lip.

“And you love it,” Patrick points out.

Arts blushing and he flops back on the bed and covers his face with his arms. “If my mom ever found out I let you…”

“Well I’m certainly not gonna tell her.”

“Yeah but… but now I’ll know and you’ll know and I’m not gonna be able to…” he rubs his eyes and takes a deep breath. “It’s so…dirty.”

“Relax. Go shower again and it’ll all go away… like I never even did it I promise.”

“I really hate you,” Art says and Patrick grins at him.

“Yeah I know, I love you too.”

[unsolvedjarin]

pleeeeeease something fluffy and domestic about jenson😩😩😩 there is not enough fics of him AND after those beautiful pics he posted i crave slmething tbh anything that has to do with him

CORNY

pairing: (jenson button x driver! reader)

summary: you and jenson finally have a peaceful anniversary, but both of you have surprises for one another.

note: i love love LOOOOVE this idea so much. saying yes any day to domestic jenson. i had so much fun writing this, hope you have fun reading it too!

content warning: none, just a lot of domesticity and once again, say it with me, my verb tenses bouncing like frogs!

“And you’re sure you can handle this?”

“She’s a three year old, what harm could she possibly do?” Fernando asks. You look at him with faux seriousness in your eyes, “A lot. You can’t even begin to imagine.”

Jenson chuckles at your antics, double checking if you had brought all the things your daughter needs for the weekend. It was you and Jenson’s anniversary, and Fernando had volunteered to take care of your daughter so you could both get away.

“You know, if you told me back in 2016 that I would be taking care of you two’s child, I would have never believed it,” Fernando remarks, looking at the three year old dead asleep in his living room.

“Why, ‘cause you can’t take care of children?” You joke. He shakes his head in response, “No, because I never thought Jenson would have the balls to make a move.”

The mentioned man looks up from what he was doing when he hears his name, not fully invested in the conversation. “Sorry?”

“I said I never thought you would have the balls to make a move on Y/N. You pine for four years and all of a sudden have a burst of confidence, I still don’t understand how you did it.”

“Well some things are better left a mystery, eh Nando?” Jenson teases, nudging him on the side. “Besides, you don’t need to know how, just that we’re here now and we’re happy.”

“Boo, corny.” You butt in, giving Jenson a playful thumbs down.

“Hey you’re supposed to be on my side, I’m defending our love out here!”

Fernando grins at your banter— it reminded him of the good old days. Back when Jenson was on the grid along with him in Mclaren, hearing his teammate constantly pine over their friend— you— who happened to be a driver as well.

Ever since he could remember, Jenson had been head over heels for you. Sure during your rookie year he had only seen you as a friend, but the years following that, there was no time Fernando can remember where Jenson wasn’t trying to grab your attention or trying to impress you one way or another.

It was astounding how you hadn’t caught a clue on just how much Jenson liked you during those days. He had even given up his so-called ‘playboy’ lifestyle back then just to impress you, but the only reaction he had ever gotten from you was “So no more free drinks for me from your hookups when we’re out? Shame.”

“Are you absolutely certain you can handle this, Nando?” You ask the Spaniard, causing him to snap back to reality.

“Please, I got this covered, trust me,” he boasts. If only he knew what chaos was in store for him this weekend.

You say your goodbyes to Fernando and give your child a kiss on the head, making sure she doesn’t wake up. Stepping out the front door, you see Jenson staring far into the distance while waiting for you.

“You alright Jense?” you ask him as you walk towards the car. He doesn’t say a word until you both get in the car and close the doors, letting out a deep sigh of relief.

“Alright? I’m fucking fantastic!” he exclaims. You grin at his sudden burst of energy, shaking your head. Speaking softer this time, he adds, “This is the first weekend I’ve had all year without our kid. And don’t get me wrong, I love her very much, but I missed spending time with you more.”

He gives you a chaste kiss, pulling away to look at you with so much love. God, he could never be sick of this sight. You give him a soft smile as he adjusts to pull the car away from Fernando’s home, headed back towards your own.

You didn’t say anything as he started driving, unsure how to breach the topic you wanted to talk to your husband about. You wanted this weekend to go smoothly, after all it was your anniversary, but also because it was the first actual one on one time you’ve had with each other in god knows how long. With you still racing and him with his job, you didn’t see each other enough as much as you would like to.

Of course you were always home whenever possible, doing your part in taking care of your kid, and they always tagged along to races when they could— but to you it still wasn’t enough. You felt like you were doing Jenson wrong with pursuing racing while he had to do most of the heavy lifting at home.

So you wanted to retire.

You thought it was reasonable, after all you had been racing since 2012 save for the year you stopped when you were pregnant. You were satisfied with your career and your two world championships. Sebastian Vettel had told you last year that when you know it’s time to retire you just know, and you think that time is now.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Jenson asked, pulling you out of your train of thought.

“Are my thoughts that cheap?”

“Okay, dollar for your thoughts then. Jesus, we really are in an economic crisis.”

“Corny,” you reply, slapping him on his shoulder with a grin.

“Ah, but you smiled.” Jenson teased. It made you roll your eyes at him fondly, “Eyes on the road you silly man.”

The rest of the trip home was spent in comfortable silence, Jenson putting his hand on your leg whenever you reached a stoplight. He claimed to have the whole weekend planned, and was seemingly very excited to show off whatever it was he had in store. You asked him a week ago if you could get a clue and the only response you ever got from him was a shrug and a simple “Well there’s no fun in that now, is there?”

Pulling up to your house, you contemplate when exactly is the right time to tell your husband you’re retiring. Not before his surprise, no definitely not, that would ruin it. But you weren’t so sure if after the surprise would be such a good idea too, especially if it would ruin the spirit of the weekend.

“Want something babe?” Jenson asks as he approaches the house bar. He had it made last year on his birthday, a gift for himself, he had said. Safe to say not a single speck of dust has been found on that countertop nor has it been left abandoned for a day since it’s been made. It was his favorite thing in the house, besides you, of course.

You shake your head to his question, instead opting to lay down on the couch with an oomph, turning on the television to see if anything good was on. “So what’s your big secret surprise plan? Can I know now?” you question Jenson, looking at him from your position.

He gives you a knowing grin in reply, moving towards you with his drink. He takes a sip of it before closing the TV so you would focus on him.

“Hey I was gonna watch!”

Ignoring your comment— because he knows you weren’t really going to— he bends down to kiss you on your forehead and mutters, “My plan, my darling,” he gives you another kiss, “Is to stay home all weekend.”

You give him a confused look.

Was that it? Was that the big thing he had planned? Not that you were complaining of course, any time spent with Jenson was good to you. But it puzzled you why he had kept it a ‘secret’.

“Confused?” he asks, giving you a knowing look as he picks his drink back up and takes another sip. “I would be if I were you.”

Now absolutely muddled, you get up from the sofa and follow him towards his beloved bar. Sitting on one of the stools, you’re unable to find the right questions and simply shoot him a look that said ‘what?’

Jenson grins, leaning on the counter so you were face to face with each other. “So, you’re probably kerfuzzled.”

You had used that term once when you accidentally forgot the word ‘confused’ and it had become an inside joke between the two of you.

“Yes, I’m kerfuzzled, Jenson. So you have nothing planned this weekend?”

“Well besides me cooking you the most delicious home cooked meals and treating you like the absolute goddess you are,” he says, inching closer towards your face. He gives you a light kiss before continuing normally, “Then no, I have nothing planned.”

“So all that buildup these past few weeks, nothing.”

“Absolutely nothing,” Jenson smirks.

“You seem oddly proud of yourself for that,” you tease. While you were confused with the whole situation, you had no problem with it. A weekend with Jenson alone was everything you could’ve ever asked for, especially after a stressful season.

“I am proud of myself. Wanna know why?”

“You’re asking an awful lot of rhetorical questions today. But sure, why are you so proud of yourself, sweetheart?”

“Because,” he beams, “I have noticed that throughout this entire year, we’ve spent only two full days together, just the two of us. One of those days we spent shopping for our son’s new bed, and another one of those days was spent doing our taxes. Do you see where I’m going with this?”

“We haven’t properly shagged this whole year?”

“Close, but we will circle back to that later tonight,” Jenson winks. “No, what I was trying to say is that we haven’t spent time with each other. At first I had planned a trip to Italy for this anniversary of ours, then I thought, well you’d already been there for the Monza Grand Prix. Plus, it felt like just another chore we would be doing. That’s when I had an epiphany.”

He pauses for a second, seemingly waiting for a reaction from you. Rolling your eyes, you question, “Fine, I’ll bite. What epiphany did you have o great philosopher?”

“Well I’m glad you asked. I realized that with such a travel packed schedule all year round, going on a vacation for our anniversary would be boring to you. Not only that but the travel itself would be tiring, and we would be focused on the itinerary more than our anniversary itself. Therefore, I have brilliantly concluded that the best thing I could set up this year was not only something we haven’t done in a while, but something relaxing while at the same time thoughtful. That’s why— drumroll please— my surprise is a weekend at home.”

Jenson takes a small bow after his whole speech, grinning at the way you slowly clapped for him with faux annoyance. You had to give it to him, he was spot on. You weren’t really up for any big trips on your week off, especially when that was practically what you’ve been doing the whole season.

“First of all Jense, I do actually love your plan, and I love you,” you say, giving into his antics. He smirks in reply, shrugging nonchalantly. “I’m just thoughtful like that.”

“Okay, don’t push it,” you retort, but with no malice. “But my question is, why did you keep it a secret? You know you could’ve told me if we were just staying home.”

“Yes, I could’ve told you, but because I didn’t tell you, you mentally prepared for more traveling, and now that I’ve told you that we’re staying home, it feels more refreshing, no?”

Damn him and his smart mind. You forget he was smarter than he usually lets on. The media had labeled him as a himbo of sorts back then, but they couldn’t have been more wrong. Well, except for that one time he nearly left the stove on before a race weekend. He still gets reminded of that everytime you leave the house.

“Wow, that’s actually impressive,” you concede, leaning back on your chair. Jenson pours you your favorite drink across the bar, despite you declining earlier. He knows that in the five minutes that have passed you’d now want a drink. He knew you too well. “You really thought this through, huh?”

“Of course I have. I use ninety-nine percent of my brain power on you.”

“Can’t tell if that’s a compliment or a complaint.”

“Assuming that I use only ten percent on anything else, then it’s a compliment.”

You snicker at his joke, taking a sip of your drink. From your peripheral vision you can see Jenson watching you intently while leaning on the wall, as if it was the first time he had ever seen your face. Even as you put your glass down, his eyes still follow the lines of your lips and the curves of your cheeks, with a soft smile plastered on his own face. He seemed so…content.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you say while looking at anything but him, a light blush on your cheeks you try to hide to no avail. So many years together and yet he could still make you feel like a schoolgirl with a crush. It was so silly.

“Like what?” he asks, despite knowing what you meant. If only you knew that you made Jenson feel the same way he made you feel, if not even more.

“Like that.”

“I don’t know what you mean, I’m looking at you like I usually do.”

“Yeah, sure. If you usually looked at me with puppy eyes and like you’ve discovered the secret to life in my eyes,” you retort, playing with your drink, still refusing to look him in the eye. Jenson chuckles, before pushing himself off the wall and leaning on the bar, using two fingers to move your chin and face you towards him. Your faces were inches apart, his soft yet smug smile still evident as he looked at your slightly parted lips then at you. “Darling, you are the secret to life.”

Jenson’s words linger for a second, before you snigger and push him off of you. He laughs too, knowing how corny what he just said was. While you were touched with what he said, you just couldn’t help but laugh at the seriousness of it all. You were well past love declarations in your relationships. Now those declarations were in the smaller things, like how he texted you whenever he saw something that reminded him of you and how you buy him books from every country you visit– also the reason you had to expand your library recently.

“God you are– ha!– you are so corny. That was worse than some of your dad jokes,” you cringe.

“I thought you love my dad jokes!”

“I love them because of how corny they are. This…this took the cake though.”

“Jeez, can’t even profess my love for you anymore without being made fun of. What has the world come to,” Jenson says sarcastically.

It reminds you of when he first confessed to you back in 2016.

“I can’t— I just can’t carry on without you knowing. Y/N, I am so hopelessly in love with you. And I know this is so out of the blue but if I spend one more minute with this secret I might explode. So please— please, Give me a chance to prove myself to you.”

A moment of silence passed. The usually busy streets of Monaco felt quiet outside the bar that night. It was just the two of you.

This is a prank. This must be a prank. Snapping to your senses, you replied, “Very funny. Who put you up to this, was it Fernando? I’ll kill him. Or was it Seb? He’ll get it worse if it was him.”

Jenson rubbed his face before moving a step closer to you. “Don’t you get it? I’m in love with you. I have been, for so long. No one put me up to this but myself.”

“You’re drunk, that’s what you are. Let’s get back to the hotel,” you reasoned, to yourself more than to him. You tried to walk away but he didn’t let you, taking your hand and making you face him.

“Y/N please just listen to me I— I can’t breathe without you, I can’t sleep without you, I can’t live without you. It’s you, it always has been. I understand if you don’t like me back, in fact I’ll take it with pride but please— please don’t abandon me. Please don’t leave me with no answer.”

“Don’t do this,” you begged him. “Don’t lead me on.”

“I’m not leading you on, Y/N. I swear to you, I am not. This is real. Am I so bad?” he asked, practically near to tears. He had kept this secret for so long that spilling it all out felt so overwhelming.

“You’re not bad Jenson, god that’s not it,” you laughed ironically, as you felt your eyes water. “It’s because— oh fuck it. I love you too. I love you too, okay? I have since 2014. And I— I didn’t wanna answer you because if I wake up tomorrow and find out this was all because you’re drunk then I will be so heartbroken I don’t think I could live with it. And now that this is all out there I— I don’t know what to do.”

Your words hung there for a minute, both of you emotionally vulnerable in a random street in Monaco at three in the morning. Then, Jenson, with teary eyes, slowly smiled. “You mean that?”

“More than anything. So please, tell me you’re not just saying this all because you’re drunk.”

“No, no of course not,” Jenson quickly replied. He moved closer to you, wrapping his arms around you and for a second you thought he was going to kiss you, but thankfully even in his inebriated state he knew to take things slowly. Instead he hugged you tightly, holding you as if you would disappear. You hugged him back, resting your teary eyed face on the crook of his neck.

You both stood there in silence for a moment, not caring if anyone saw you, which was unlikely because of how empty the streets were. When Jenson pulled away you missed his touch, but he immediately held your hand and asked with a grin, “Well, now that that’s over with, we can go back to the hotel. Wanna take care of a drunk guy?”

You laughed, wiping away your tears. “Do I have a choice?”

“No, sorry. You’re contractually obligated to take care of me for the rest of the night and tomorrow.”

You both start walking to the hotel, the streets now seeming more lively than they were a second ago. It was almost as if the background noise had come back.

“Jense,” you started, leaning your head on his shoulder as you walked. Jenson practically melted on the spot at that. “Even if you regret your decision to tell me all of that today, please promise me you won’t break our friendship.”

Jenson turned his head to you at that. Couldn’t you see just how much love he held for you?

“Even if I regret my decision— which I won’t, by the way, because I’ve been dying to say this for four years— nothing will change between us. We’ll still be friends, trust me on that at least. I’ll always be here for you. Now c’mon, it’s starting to rain.”

He pulled you by the hand, both of you running to the hotel as the rain got louder. He slept in your room that night, you didn’t do anything, he just wanted your company. The next morning he regretted nothing.

“Penny— no, sorry— dollar for your thoughts?”

Jenson snaps you out of your trip down memory lane, taking you by the hand and standing you up from the bar stool. He wraps his arms around your waist and you sling your own around his neck, sighing contently.

If there was one thing you could never be sick of, it was the way Jenson looked at you. Always, without fail, when you catch him staring at you, there’s so much love and adoration in his eyes that you feel overwhelmed with a sense of lovesickness.

You never wanted this moment to end. You wanted more of these, more peaceful and loving moments with him and also your daughter. It makes you remember the piece of news you wanted to tell him earlier.

As you both stand there in the middle of your quiet house, just enjoying the company of each other, you lean your head on his shoulder. It was now or never.

“Jenson, I’m retiring.”

He pauses his soft swaying for a moment, and you pull away to look at his reaction. He looked shocked yet at the same time calm, as if he had been expecting you to say that.

“Is that what you really want? I mean, I’m not opposed to it, but baby you still have so much left in you for racing. Shit I mean, you could even win another world championship.”

“Sure I could. Let me just catch up on Max who has a 200 point difference with me, easy peasy,” you scoff with a grin, slapping him on his shoulder. “Yes, this is what I really want, Jense. I’ve thought about it a lot and I think it’s time. I’m satisfied with how my career has gone, and I think it’s time I pulled my weight around the house and our daughter.”

Jenson raises his eyebrow at you, “You do pull your weight. Do you think that you don’t?”

“Well I’m definitely doing less than you,” you sigh.

Jenson could tell the topic was upsetting you, and he reached for your hand to squeeze it. “Darling, you do enough around the house and for our kid. Sure, I’m with her more, but that’s just because I have a freer schedule. There’s no malice in you being away for work. Plus, you make insanely more money than me, which is also part of pulling your weight. If you’re thinking of retiring just because of this, then maybe you shouldn’t yet.”

You frown, feeling the sting of tears in your eyes. You wouldn’t cry, you promised yourself you wouldn’t. “It’s just— I feel like I’m missing out on my life, you know? On our life. I’ve been driving karts since I was four and now I’m fully grown and I’m still driving. But this— this is new. Our family. And I want to be here for it. For you.”

“Oh sweetheart,” Jenson mutters, before taking you for a hug. He holds you tightly, just like he did all those years ago, your head in the crook of his neck with tears pricking your eyes.

He holds you there for a moment, and you feel safe in his arms like you always do. Even when everything changes he’s there, and just like he promised many moons ago, he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Look who’s being corny now,” Jenson mumbles into your hair after a pause of silence. It makes you giggle, and you pull away from him.

“And look who ruined the moment,” you retort. You try to walk back to the bar and get your drink but Jenson keeps his grip on your waist, pulling you back towards him. You shoot him a look but he simply grins, pulling your waist even closer to him.

“I love you, just in case you ever forget. Happy Anniversary.” He mumbles, kissing you on your nose, making you scrunch your face. Jenson thinks it’s the cutest thing in the world.

Taking his face in your hand, you smile at him, looking satisfied. This was it. This was everything you ever wanted and everything you could ever want. “I love you too, my everything. Happy Anniversary.”

“God, corny,” Jenson mutters, before kissing you fervently and with all the love he could muster. You feel him smile into the kiss, and you do too.

Pulling away, you sigh with a smile, content. Jenson smirks at you before commenting, “You better save some of that for tonight, darling.”

You match him with a grin of your own, “Only if you can keep up.”

[yuikomorii]

Happy 12th anniversary! 🎉

// I can’t believe so many years have passed since Ayato’s first CD drama, which marked the beginning of Diabolik Lovers and the introduction of my girl, Yui. Even if it got its flaws, I will continue to support this franchise! 💘

I have prepared an edit and a scenario for this special day! It's meant to be a "funny" one, so there will definitely be some cringe moments, but overall it's quite lighthearted. I sincerely hope you find it enjoyable! Besides, I had a blast writing Laito; he always channels my inner mischievousness.

Yui: Hmm… I believe I have all ingredients now!

( Come to think of it, the Sakamaki brothers are vampires but they surprisingly allowed me to celebrate Christmas this year. )

( It’s honestly so ironic that it makes me wonder whether or not they actually did it for… me? )

( A-Ah no, that’s definitely not the case! I’m probably just getting selfish at this point, but I genuinely do appreciate it. For this reason, I’ll try my best to cook all of their favorite dishes so as to show my gratitude! )

( Christmas is such a magical time of the year. It brings back memories of my father and I organizing the annual Christmas Mass together. We used to decorate the church and bake sweets for children, who were so cute when receiving them! Those were activities that truly brought joy to my heart… I sort of miss those times. )

( My father… I wonder, is he preparing for Christmas too? No, he most likely isn’t… )

( I don’t even know where he is to begin with but I truly hope he’s alright… )

( Anyway, I shouldn’t ruin the mood with those thoughts. Now that I've got everything ready for the dishes, I just need to find the right spot to hide Ayato-kun’s pre— )

Ayato: Yo, Chichinashi!

Yui: G-Geez! Ayato-kun, I told you already not to sneak up behind my back!

Ayato: Haa… Fine, fine, I’m sorry.

Yui: It’s— Eh?

( Wait a little, did he just apologize? )

Ayato: Why are you making such a dumb face? You don’t believe my words, do you?

Yui: Y-You got it wrong! It’s just that I wasn’t expecting Ayato-kun to apologize for something so trivial, you see.

Ayato: Hmm, I guess you’re not wrong. But, since Christmas is coming soon, it’d be a pity for Santa Claus to write me on the naughty list after trying to avoid it the whole year.

Yui: Naughty list…?

( Is it just me, or does Ayato-kun really believe Santa Claus will give him a present? I mean… Santa is told to only deliver them to children, and I'm not sure a 17-year-old still qualifies as one. )

( But I can’t straight up tell him that! It will only ruin the magic otherwise… Besides, when that thought crosses my mind, it somehow makes him appear so pure. )

Ayato: Hah? What are you grinning at? I swear, I've made an effort to be a good boy this year!

Yui: That’s really… amazing, Ayato-kun! I’m sure Santa will remember that!

Ayato: Heh? So you really think he’ll bring me something?

Yui: Uhm… Definitely!

( His eyes started sparking, I really can’t say “no” to that…! However, that only means I'll have to get him another gift so that he can have one from "Santa" and another one from me. )

B-By the way, I think I forgot to buy gingerbread syrup. I suppose I should leave before ——

Ayato: No, no, I’ll go!

Yui: You will? Ah, but you don’t have to! I was the one who forgo—…!

( He’s covering my mouth! )

Ayato: Stop blabbering already! Ore-sama offered to buy it for you, so you could try being a bit more grateful!

Yui: That’s… you’re right.

( Maybe it’s for the better. This way, I'll be able to find a hiding place for the present I already have for him. )

Ayato: I’ll be right back!

—Timeskip—

Ayato: Tsk, I can’t believe that shit was out of stock!

Chichinashi will surely be disappointed, if I come home with nothing! After all, she takes all that Christmas stuff seriously…

What's worse is that I tried really hard to find it, but it was already sold out by the time I arrived!

Tsk, damn it! Why must this be so complicated!?

Laito: Well, well. Seems like Ayato-kun is quite moody today.

Ayato: Get lost you pervert, it’s none of your business!

Laito: Haa… how rude of you, Ayato-kun. And there I was actually intending to give you this, but I guess you don’t need it anymore.

Bye bye~!

Ayato: Wait… What’s that thing in your hand?

Laito: What you ask? Nfu, it’s gingerbread syrup, of course. I was able to get the last one today.

Ayato: Wha—! Oi, you better give it to me or else—

Laito: Or else what~?

Ayato: I’ll—… Nevermind.

Look, you know I’m not into cheesy stuff but Chichinashi really loves Christmas, okay? Getting that gingerbread syrup might make her happy ‘cause maybe it’d remind her of how she celebrated it with her pops. That’s why… I can’t believe I’m saying this but… give it to me, please!

Laito: Woah, it’s honesty hour, hm?

Well, whatever, I don’t really care about that gingerbread syrup anyway, so you can take it if you want to.

Ayato: Really? Gr—

Laito: You didn’t let me finish though. I will only give it to you, if you promise me something.

Ayato: Hah? What the hell is it this time!?

Laito: No need to get so worked up~. All you have to do is to ensure that Bitch-chan consumes at least one glass of syrup at the time you bring it to her.

Ayato: That’s it? Pfft, easiest task ever!

Wait… almost a bit too easy.

Oi you perv, you better not plan something behind Ore-sama’s back, understood?

Laito: Normally I would, but Christmas is just around the corner, right? Who would risk being added to the naughty list at the last minute, right?

— hands Ayato the gingerbread syrup—

Place: Living room

Ayato: Yui! Yui! I’m back and look what I found!!

Yui: Good job, Ayato-kun! Thank you so much for helping me!

Ayato: Now take a seat!

— forces her to sit down —

Yui: Eh? What’s happening?

Ayato: Nothing to worry about, just drink this!

— shoves glass of syrup down her throat —

Yui: Mmh…!!

(What on earth!? I can’t breathe—!)

— Yui swallows it —

Ayato: So~, how is it?

— Yui starts coughing —

Yui: It’s… it’s not as sweet as I remembered. This one is quite bitter.

Ayato: Bitter? Don’t spout nonsense, gingerbread can’t be bitter!

Yui: Yeah… thought so too… but..

(My head started spinning around…)

Ayato: Are you even paying attention to what I’m saying?

Yui: Uuh… Sorry, Ayato-kun, I’m suddenly feeling so dizzy…

Ayato: How—?

( The heck’s wrong with her? Is it ‘cause she swallowed that too fast or…? )

Yui: Ayato-kun…

Ayato: What’s it?

Yui: Has anyone ever told you before that you are… extremely cute?

Ayato: Hah!? I mean, yeah, but what’s up with the random confession?

Yui: Eh? Am I not allowed to compliment the most adorable boy in the whole wide world…?

Ayato: Huh—?

Yui: You see, when I look at you like that… you might not be very clear, yet I can’t help but want to protect you…

Ayato: Protect me? D-Don’t say shit like that, it should be the other way around! After all, Ore-sama is the stron—!

(She pinned me down!?)

Yui: Fufu, you’re just so funny when you praise yourself like that…!

Everything about you is so beautiful… your hard yet nicely textured hair, your jade green eyes, your long eyelashes, your ——

Ayato: Tsk, get off me!

— pushes her away —

— Yui falls down —

Yui: Ngh…!

Ayato: …!

Oi! I… I didn’t mean to! Wait, gimme your hand!

— Yui takes his hand and looks up —

Ayato: (Don’t tell me… did that push bring her back to normal? Heh, if that’s so then—)

Yui: Mistletoe…

— puts her hands on his cheeks —

Yui: Holding your face like this makes me realize how soft your cheeks are… They are so round that I wish I could give you more and more Takoyaki until they become even chubbier…!

Ayato: S-Say what—!?

( It’s not like I dislike cheeky women but she’s nuts! )

— Yui gets closer to his lips —

Ayato: …!

*Smooch*

Laito: Fufu, hahaha, look at your face!

Ayato: Oi, Laito! Don’t just stand there staring, help me!

*Smooch*

Laito: Now why would I? After all, I already did you a favor by giving you the gingerbread liquor~!

Ayato: But you— Did you just say gingerbread LIQUOR!?

*Smooch*

Laito: Ex-act-ly! I was simply curious to see what kind of ‘drunk’ Bitch-chan is, and it seems like she’s the honest and horny type.

— takes picture —

Ayato: O-Oi! Don’t you dare to send it to anyone, delete it right now!

Laito: Oh my, look at the time! Now excuse me but I have to take my leave~.

Ayato: You can’t! Save me first!

Laito: Sorry Ayato-kun, no matter how delicious it feels watching you on top of each other while making out in plain sight, I've got better things to do, so... nfu, enjoy while it lasts!

— winks and disappears —

Ayato: You… You bastard! You will pay for this, I swear you wi— Mmh… Mm!

( Now how will I get myself out of THIS situation!? )

( Ugh, that’s what happens when you try helping others. I should have learnt my lesson a long time ago! )

— Yui stops kissing —

Yui: Will Ayato-kun… suck my blood?

Ayato: …!

( Heh, suddenly this doesn’t seem half bad anymore. I might actually grow to like being desired like that~. )

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Hiii this is my first request! I love all your works!

Could you write about Donna and reader getting into a fight resulting in reader hallucinating. Reader is terrified of Donna after this and strays away from Donna. Reader decides to finally go down to the basement after days of staying away from Donna. Most things in the basement are broken, and Donna is in her workshop crying and talking to herself ( a very bad crisis ) Reader is hesitant to comfort donna, but Donna sees this and reacts even more. Reader finally comforts Donna and sees that Donna won't hurt her.

Yesss!!!! I hope you don't mind I put this one as a kind of "halloween special", the plot suited very well with it! Anyway, welcome to the amazing world of requesting, and thank you for your request! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!! :))))

Terrified

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Angst, hurt and comfort, Donna being Donna, some scary things...

Word count: 8,055

Summary: You never thought she was capable of doing that to you...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! Happy Halloween to you all!!!

“So… do all the dolls have the same size?” you asked curiously, raising your gaze to better observe the brunette's work.

The lady in black looked at you briefly, shaking her head and placing a new dress on one of those new porcelain companions.

“No,” she answered dryly. “It depends on what it's going to be like, the clothes it wears…” she commented, securing the seams.

“Oh,” you said interested, nodding curiously and moving your chair closer. “I see… and… how do you decide what each one will wear?” you asked again.

She shrugged, this time without looking at you.

“I guess I don't think about it, unless it's a special order,” she murmured, focused.

“How many orders do you have?” you asked, letting your curious nature not stop asking.

“Um, not many,” Donna whispered, sighing tiredly. “Little girls don't like porcelain dolls nowadays.”

“Well… it's understandable,” you said, running a hand over your neck and looking at a nearby shelf, where those finished grey dolls seemed to be watching you, giving you a chill. “Some people find them scary.”

“Mm, nonsense,” she said, with a mocking smile.

“Yes…” you sighed, with a shy smile. “It's probably nonsense but… just looking at those lifeless eyes…”

“Do they scare you?” Donna asked, with an amused expression.

“What? Oh, no, no, not me,” you said nervously, pretending to be brave. “They seem harmless… except Angie, of course.”

“Are you scared of Angie?” she asked, frowning.

“Scared is probably not the right word,” you said amused, rolling your eyes. “Rather, what scares me is finding out what new insult she has for me.”

“She's very good at that,” the lady joked, finishing the seams and looking at her new creation. “But you already know that she likes you, don't take everything she says seriously, tesoro.”

“Oh, I know,” you murmured with a tender smile, getting up from the chair. “I think you made her… creepy, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t make Angie,” Donna said, looking down. “She was a gift from my father.”

“Oh, I didn’t know,” you said in a lower tone, as an apology. “Sorry, maybe I’m disturbing you, I can’t help but ask.”

“No, don’t worry, it’s okay to have company,” she whispered, turning her head towards where you were, pulling your wrist tightly to drag your body to hers, sitting it on her lap. “Your company.”

“Mm, well, that’s a compliment,”  ​​you said in a tender voice, letting Donna steal a couple of kisses on your lips while she held you lovingly. “Hey, release me.”

“I don’t want to,” she said, amused, giving kisses on your face, sighing after that little game. “Is there anything else you want to know?”

“Mm, not at the moment,” you said, pretending to think about the answer. “But I'm sure I'll come up with more questions.”

“You always want to know everything,” she said, caressing your cheek and lowering you to the floor after one last kiss.

“Yeah, well,” you said shyly. “Maybe you need my help if you get sick or something, so I like to learn new things.”

“You don't have to worry about that, I never get sick,” Donna said, with a much more serious voice than the situation required.

“Sorry, my immortal, blessed by the Gods lady,” you joked with a childish voice, pretending excessive respect.

“It's not a blessing,” she said, turning around with a sad voice, relaxing her expression.

“W-Well, I think that...” you murmured, nervous because of that sudden cold attitude.

It would be better to change the subject.

“Hey, Donna, I thought that when you're done with your dolls, we could take a walk in the woods,” you said in a loving tone, hanging on the lady's shoulders, kissing her wounded cheek to calm her apparent nerves.

“No,” she said, moving away from your overwhelming touch.

“Why not? It's been a long time since we went for a walk and…” you said frowning.

“(Y/N), it's October, it's cold and it gets dark soon; we're better off at home,” Donna said, with a firm voice, focused again on some pieces of fabric.

“It's true,” you sighed shaking your head and looking around. “But tomorrow we could…”

“What part of it's cold don't you understand?” the lady interrupted, with a dark look at you. “If you want to go out and freeze, go ahead, but don't count on me.”

“I can't count on you for anything, it seems,” you whispered angrily, fed up with the doll maker's passivity and constant refusal to do different things.

“What did you say?” she asked, turning around abruptly. “(Y/N), what…?”

“Nothing,” you said with a sigh, with your hands making a gesture of surrender. “I haven't said anything.”

“I don't understand why you insist so much on leaving the house,” she murmured, with a fleeting glance that pierced your soul.

“I don't like being locked up, when I was little, I used to always be outside, you know, in the woods,” you commented, wandering aimlessly through the workshop. “I love nature, all its seasons. Cold was never an impediment to…”

“Do you mind shutting up for a moment? I have to concentrate,” she interrupted you in an unpleasant way, saying with her attitude that you were really disturbing her.

“Um, um… I'm sorry, Donna,” you said, obeying.

“Mm, don't worry, sometimes I have a hard time getting used to not being alone,” she said after a few moments of silence, lowering that tension.

“And I have a hard time getting used to being quiet,” you joked.

“Sì, that too,” she said, calming your nerves.

Deciding to leave the lady in black alone, you walked around the workshop, curious, as always, observing each of the details that you didn't usually notice, even taking some of those shadowy dolls with your hands.

“Mm, yes, lycans are definitely scarier,” you whispered in a low tone so as not to disturb, assuring yourself that those dolls didn't scare you.

There would never be anything that would cause you more fear than one of those drooling, bloodthirsty beasts. Ever since you were very young, you were terrified of those creatures.

An annoying noise almost made you drop the doll, it sounded like a thunder coming from above.

“Ah!, damn!” you screamed, putting a hand on your chest.

“What's wrong? It was just a thunder,” said Donna frowning, annoyed by your interruption.

“Yes but... well, down here they are worse,” you said embarrassed, returning the doll to its place and scratching the back of your neck.

The lady slowly stood up, walking towards you and grabbing your waist.

“Do you know what scares me, tesoro?” she asked, whispering in your ear. “How beautiful you are…”

“Um, Donna…” you said blushing, accepting a couple of quick kisses from the brunette, who laughed amused. “I love your kisses.”

“I love giving them to you,” she whispered again, fulfilling your wish to feel, again, her lips on yours.

It was a shame that another thunderclap made you jump on the spot, cowardly clinging to your girlfriend.

“Damn it…” you whispered embarrassed, moving away among amused laughs from the lady.

“My little scaredy-cat…” she sighed amused, giving you one last kiss and walking away again, sitting at the work table. “Calm down, tesoro, I have to make the top of a dress, but when I'm done, I'll be all yours.”

“Oh, I like how it sounds,” you said, turning your ankle on the floor, biting your lip, but leaving the lady alone. “I'll wait…”

The silence was interrupted by thunders that rumbled in the walls from time to time. You, trying to ignore them, walked back next to the dolls, observing them with curiosity.

One of them, which stood out among the rest, caught your attention, and very carefully, you picked it up, observing it with interest. It wasn’t a normal doll: it had a colorful dress, with weak, frayed seams.

The doll's face was terribly poorly painted, one eye here, another there, lips of a garish color... it was a complete disaster, and an unbeatable opportunity to continue joking with Donna.

“Wow, I see that there is a first time for everything,” you said amused, arranging the doll's disheveled hair. “This doll is horrible, Donna.”

“Mm? What doll?” she asked without looking at you, cutting a piece of fabric.

“This one,” you said, coming closer and showing her that piece of porcelain. Calling it a doll would be overestimating it, of course. “I think it's the ugliest one I've ever seen.”

The lady turned slowly, opening her eye wide when she saw what you had in your hand, snatching it from you with a nervous gasp.

“Give it to me!” she shrieked furiously, with a childish gesture, hugging that doll. “Come osi?”

“What? Um, I don't understand,” you said nervously. “What have I done?”

“Do you think this doll is horrible, (Y/N)? That's what you said, right?” the lady growled, lovingly placing the piece of porcelain on the table, placing her disastrous clothes on it. “Come on, say it again.”

“D-Donna…” you said a bit scared. “W-Well, you've made better ones, haven't you?”

“Mm, stupida…” she hissed, with a look of disgust. “This doll was made by my sister, it was the first, and the last one she made,” she explained, making you close your eyes due to your mistake. “Mm, tell me, do you think the doll that a nine-year-old girl made is horrible?”

“Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know, Donna, I…” you said trying to apologize.

From the look the lady gave you back, it was too late.

“Didn't you say you knew everything?” the woman in black mocked, with a tone imbued with rage.

“N-No, I said I wanted to know everything,” you said with a very low voice, nervous and embarrassed by your mistake. “Donna, forgive me, I didn't mean…”

“Get out,” she hissed, turning her back to you.

“W-Wait, I…”

“Get out! Porca puttana, lasciami estare!” she shrieked madly, pointing at the door. “Get out, get out, get, out!”

“O-Okay,” you said hastily, running towards the door. “Donna, I…”

“Leave me alone, (Y/N), please,” she whispered in a calmer voice.

You nodded regretfully and left the workshop.

You should have known that any mention or involuntary disregard for her deceased family triggered that horrible behavior from the Lord. After all, she wasn’t just any woman, even if you were.

You were no different than any other villager. Your life was simple, your family, too. Being born and raised under the protection of the Black Gods had many disadvantages, but the tranquility that came with being in that place surrounded by shadows made up for it.

Always a lover of nature, animals and plants, you had satisfied your curiosity by reading a thousand books on those subjects, and studying the little beings that lived near your house.

Real animals, of course, not lycans.

That innate, almost unbearable curiosity made you fill yourself with knowledge, an apparently useless knowledge.

Luckily, the knowledge that seemed useless to you made sense that afternoon, the afternoon when, buying things from the Duke, you came across something unusual.

Normally, the Lords didn’t come down to the village and associate with inferior beings like you, much less the lady in black, doll maker, Donna Beneviento. She was a strange woman, consumed by madness and loneliness.

Seeing her black dress contrasting with the snow, the doll she held in her arms and her face hidden by a black veil made you want to retreat.

Fortunately or unfortunately, a valuable encyclopedia about the flora of Romania was waiting for you and your thirst for knowledge was much stronger than fear. If you hadn’t approached that day, you would probably be wearing a castle maid's uniform.

Apparently your interests caught the timid attention of the lady in black, or rather, of her doll. That someone like her wanted to communicate with you was a sign that you didn’t know how to interpret at first.

Visits to the estate, teas and talks… All of this managed to divert your interest from the animals and plants, and direct it towards the woman in black, towards the relationship that was slowly forming between you.

Love wasn’t long in coming, unexpectedly, but long desired. Donna Beneviento's beauty was no longer a secret to you, and the question of how it would feel to kiss her, was finally answered.

It was true that Donna was a complicated, tormented woman, victim of horrible tragedies in her past, but she had a hidden side, one that only you could see.

Tender, loving, attentive… The mysterious and terrifying behavior of the lady changed completely when you were around, and you stopped returning home to stay with her. That was two years ago, two wonderful years full of joys and sorrows, of love.

“She's right, I'm stupid,” you muttered to yourself, shaking your head as you walked through the dark basement, looking back from time to time, saddened by the wailing that could be heard at the end of the hallway.

“Claudia! Mi dispiace per gli errore che ho fatto!” You heard someone shout in the distance. A heartbreaking scream that made you stop.

“Donna…” you whispered helplessly. “My love… I'm sorry.”

“You've bothered my Donna again!” a shrill voice startled you, along with footsteps on the basement floor.

The Angie doll walked towards you cursing, surely due to your presence.

“Angie, I didn't mean to…” you stammered sighing, overwhelmed by the situation. “It was unintentional.”

“You're lucky that Donna is stupidly in love with you, villager, otherwise, I would have finished you off a long time ago,” the puppet commented, ignoring you and walking towards the workshop.

“Hey! That's not true!” you shouted, knowing that Donna was right, Angie was never serious. “I'll make it up to her, I promise!”

“You better do it!” the doll shrieked, opening the doors of the workshop, making Donna’s cries more evident.

“I have to do something for her,” you muttered to yourself, scratching your head. “I have such a big mouth” you lamented, shaking your head and looking for a solution to the problem you had created. “Yes, that's it.”

With renewed spirits and a smile on your face, you came to the conclusion about what you could do to calm her lament. Maybe it would be silly, but Donna loved the little details you had with her.

“Get ready, my love, I'm cooking today,” you said, entering the dark kitchen and rubbing your hands, searching among the junk for an old recipe book. “Let's see, let's see... yes, flour...”

Little by little you followed the instructions on that book, a dusty and ancient one that you barely understood. That, along with the thousand questions you asked the lady while she was cooking and your intense observations, gave you enough courage to try to make the sublime pasta that Donna blessed you with every day.

“Um, yes, okay,” you said, with your hands full of flour, observing your disastrous dough. “I think it turns out more or less like this, right? Maybe I should ask Angie for help, I don't understand anything,” you said sighing, passing a stained hand over your forehead, covering your face with flour. “No, (Y/N), I don't need that doll, she'll tell on me, for sure.”

Saying that it looked anything like the food the ventriloquist prepared would be very bold on your part. You tried your best, but cooking was never your strong point, no matter how much effort you put into it.

“Basil…” you said, searching through the aromatic herbs the lady always kept. “I don't see it…” you murmured, looking at the steaming plates, covered in a disastrous tomato sauce. “I-I suppose an oregano leaf will do, right?” you said, tearing one of the leaves from the pot and clumsily decorating the plates.

“(Y/N)…” a sad murmur alerted you.

Donna had appeared at the door, looking hurt from crying, but apparently calmer.

“Wait, wait!” you said with an amused laugh, running towards the lady and quickly turning her around so she wouldn't see what you had done. “Don't look, honey.”

“(Y/N),” she protested, stopping dead so you couldn't push her out of the kitchen. “La mia cucina…” she sighed with a gasp of horror as she looked over your shoulder at the mess you had caused.

“Yes, yes, don’t worry about it,” you said amused, finally managing to throw her out of the room. “I’ll clean it up later, you… set the table, okay?”

“A-Aspetta, (Y/N), let me…” she protested again, to which you laughed, shaking your head. “That doesn't smell…”

“Do what I say, okay, my love?” you insisted with an amused smile.

“O-Okay, but… Gods, (Y/N), you're covered in flour,” she said, running a finger down your face and showing it to you. “What have you done?”

You laughed shyly but didn't give it any importance.

“Come on, honey, out, out, move your ass to the living room…” you said amused, kissing her quickly and making impatient gestures with your hands.

The lady looked at you with a frown, blinking in confusion, but finally shrugged, walking down the hall muttering something incomprehensible.

“Just wait, my Donna…” you said satisfied, giving her some time to set the table, watching your pathetic attempt at cooking.

After a few minutes of waiting, you decided to go up with dinner, trying not to burn yourself with the plates.

“Here's dinner,” you hummed as you exited the elevator. Luckily, the lady in black listened to you and the table was carefully set. “Sorpresa.”

“Mm?” she murmured, sitting down and looking at her plate with an arched eyebrow. “Dinner, you say?”

“Yes, I've been in the kitchen for two hours and this is the result,” you said, dropping into the chair and rubbing your hands. “Do you want some wine?”

“No, um…” she said, dipping her fork into the food and looking at it with a strange expression. “Cos'è questo?”

“Well… pasta,” you said with a soft smile, nervous. “I made it myself.”

“That's obvious,” she commented, arching her eyebrow, letting a piece slide off the fork, falling onto the plate with an unpleasant sound.

“What's wrong? You don't like it? You haven't even tried it,” you said worriedly, observing her expressions. “Try it, come on.”

“I don't need to do it to know,” she said, shaking her head, with a sigh of disgust.

“Know what?”

“That it's the worst pasta I've ever seen in my life,” Donna said, without any tact, stirring that strange dough with her cutlery.

“Hey, okay, it's not perfect but I...” you protested embarrassed, lowering your head.

“What is this? Oregano?” she asked, taking the green leaf that decorated the plate with her fingers. “Cazzo, (Y/N), put basil, do you understand? Basil.”

“I-I'm sorry, there wasn't any and… I improvised,” you muttered with trembling hands, terribly offended.

“Improvised… idiota… the tomato is cold. You have to heat it so it doesn't cool the food, well, if you can call this… food,” Donna said unpleasantly, breaking up the pasta with her hands. “Look, it's full of flour, you haven't cooked it enough and it sticks to my fingers.”

“I'm sorry, okay? I'm not as good a cook as you,” you said annoyed, crossing your arms. “I was just trying to…”

“What? To kill me?” she joked, with an ironic tone that ended up making you angry. “Questo è una merda.”

“Hey! Hey, don't be too hard, Donna,” you said, getting up from your chair. “There’s no need to offend me... I made it with all my love, for you.”

“I'll tell you things as they are, (Y/N), if you wanted to surprise me, you've succeeded, unpleasantly,” the lady said, laughing arrogantly.

“What's wrong with you? I was just trying to have a detail for you, and you thank me like this?” you said with a sob. “Well, you know what? Leave it be, I'll throw it in the trash.”

“Now you want to throw food away?” she asked, holding the plate you wanted to take with you. “You're pissing me off, (Y/N)...”

“What about you? You've never spoken to me like that,” you said, leaving the plate on the table and running a hand over your forehead. “I just wanted to apologize.”

“Apologize? Why? Oh, right, for making fun of my sister,” she said cockily, arching her eyebrow.

“I already told you I didn't know,” you growled, clenching your fists. “It was a mistake.”

“Your mistakes are dangerous, tesoro, you should think better before speaking,” said Donna, tasting the food with disgust, making an almost amused face. “Mm, yes, horrible.”

“Sometimes you are unbearable, Donna,” you whispered with a furious look, shaking your head. “Yes, I made a mistake, but I apologized for it and… ah!” you shrieked when a lightning bolt illuminated the room, leaving behind a deafening thunder.

Donna laughed amused, making you even angrier.

“Do you find it funny? What the hell got into you?” you asked angrily, on the verge of tears. “Is it another mood swing? Or are you just that unbearable?”

The lady didn’t erase the smile from her face.

“I'm unbearable? Me? You're the one who's after me all day, asking me absurd things, overwhelming me,” she said, pointing at you with her finger. “You make me sick.”

“Does it annoy you?” you said mockingly. “I thought you liked it.”

“Stop thinking so much, your head is going to explode,” she mocked again, eating unhappily. “(Y/N), I'm not in the mood for your nonsense.”

“Of course, the conversation ends when you say so, right, Donna?” you said, slamming your fist on the table. “Well, listen to me!”

“Shhh, don't shout,” she said in a dark whisper. “Relax, tesoro.”

“Oh, now you call me tesoro, no one can understand you, honey,” you said ironically. “Well, now you're going to listen to me... I'm really tired, Donna, I'm tired of being locked up in this house all day.”

“Mm, nothing stops you from going out,” she commented, looking at you briefly.

“You don't get it, do you? I like going out with you, doing things with you, but you, what do you do? You spend the day with those stupid dolls. You don't pay any attention to me.”

“Are my dolls stupid?” she asked, bending the fork due to the strength of her hand. “You're the stupid one. My head hurts, (Y/N), shut up.”

“I don't want to shut up!” you shouted, something that caused a sinister laugh to suddenly appear.

“Fight, fight, fight!” Angie said, making a funny gesture with her fists.

“Mm, I see you're unable to keep your mouth shut, at least outside the bedroom,” the lady commented, with a mocking smile, something that made you even more furious.

“You know what, Donna? I'm starting to think about getting out of here,” you hissed, speaking irrationally.

“Don't you dare to leave!” she shrieked, standing up abruptly, her eye shining with anger at your words. “You love me!”

“Now you yell at me, how mature...” you mocked, with an amused smile. “Now I realize why you've been alone your whole fucking life.”

The lady opened her eye wide, approaching slowly, breathing heavily. You were angry and upset by that erratic attitude that you should know about, and regretful for the mistake you made with her sister.

Anger caused those horrible words to come out of your mouth, mouth to which you immediately brought your hands. Her gaze locked onto yours like a dagger, and her hand moved slowly towards you. Donna didn't speak. She simply pressed her lips together tightly, darkening her eye more and more.

“D-Donna, honey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean... I...” you said in a pleading voice, realizing that you had gone far, too far. “Donna...”

The woman remained motionless as you slowly approached, extending your hand towards her.

“Donna, listen to me, I…” you whispered, about to reach the black fabric of her dress.

The contact never came.

Your hand reached the darkness of her clothes, but they only blurred with a blackened cloud. You weren’t able to touch her. Her entire figure vanished with a strange sound, suddenly turning off all the lights in the room.

“What?” you asked scared by the new atmosphere of that place.

The warm light turned cold, like a wet forest in winter. In the mansion there was only darkness, the sound of rain bouncing off the windows. In front of you, there was no one. The lady had disappeared, as had her doll.

“Donna?” you asked, hoping that your eyes would soon get used to that new and strange darkness.

The cold ran down your back in the form of an unpleasant sweat and your gaze wandered around every corner of the mansion, looking for some source of light, some place to go. Your steps made the wood creak horribly, almost sinking under your feet. You were terribly scared, your whole body trembled.

Cautiously, shivering with fear in the face of that horrible darkness, you approached the hall, from where a dim but saving light came. The moon illuminated your path, guiding you through that sudden disorientation.

“Donna?” you called again, huddled in on yourself, overwhelmed by a deathly silence that perfectly matched the darkness.

The echo of your voice on the walls was the only answer. You were alone.

Terrified, you walked a little further, looking for the light that timidly entered through the large window, which was reflected majestically in the portrait on the stairs. The lady was still there, with that regal pose, holding her doll.

You swallowed, looking for answers around you, another source of light other than the dark and cold moonlight.

A deafening sound and a blinding light illuminated the house. A terrible thunder sounded at the same time, making you crouch on the floor, covering your head with your hands.

“Gods!” you screamed, seeing how the white color illuminated your surroundings for an instant, with your ears attacked by the horrible sound of the thunder.

When the fear disappeared from your body, you got up blinking several times to accustom your sight again. Everything seemed the same, but different. The atmosphere was heavier, full of humidity, and it didn't take you long to realize that the furniture was out of place, broken.

A dark sound coming from the old clock attacked your heart again. It wasn't its normal sound, it was like a sound of death, of a bad omen. Another flash of lightning appeared to scare you, combining with the mournful and dull sound of the clock.

Your eyes fell on the stairs again and your breathing quickened even more as you noticed a small, but horrible detail: the portrait of Lady Beneviento had changed.

Inside there was no longer that regal and stoic pose, that cold look. The black color was spread all over the canvas. There was no one or anything on it.

“No... no... no...” you murmured, approaching and passing your hand over it.

Nothing, it was a frame that only secured a black canvas, with a darkness that was overwhelming, opaque, empty.

That was too much for your brain to process, and your survival instinct went on alert, making you turn around and run back to the living room, screaming in terror.

“Donna, Donna!” you cried desperately, running quickly through the room, clumsily tripping over something on the floor, something that wasn't there before. “Oh...” you lamented, looking at the cause of that accident.

Your breathing stopped and you stepped back with a horrified moan. You hadn't tripped over a piece of furniture, but over a black and white stain that had been lying on the floor. A flash of lightning illuminated the room again and you could see what it was.

“No, no!” you screamed, shaking your head.

Beside you, lifeless, was a figure dressed in Donna's clothes, but it wasn't her. Instead, that dress covered the bones of an old, lifeless skeleton. Next to it, lying on the floor, was the Angie doll, also lifeless.

“Donna? N-No… No…” you stammered, realizing who those bones belonged to, clumsily getting up from the floor, moving as far away from that horrible sight as possible. “What's going on? Help!”

Your screams were of no use, but your vision cleared a bit. Around you, there was undoubtedly the Beneviento mansion, but it was nothing like it was a few moments ago.

The wind moved the curtains through some windows that were now broken. Everything was destroyed, covered by a thick layer of dust and cobwebs, as if hundreds of years had passed.

Scared, confused, you bent down to pick up the Angie doll, its wooden limbs rotting, almost falling apart in your hands.

“Angie…” you sighed hugging the doll and looking at that strange and dark place, trying not to look at the lady’s bones.

You walked cautiously through the living room, tripping over broken furniture, over bowls full of spoiled fruit, illuminated by those tireless flashes of lightning.

Desperate, you looked for a corner to protect yourself from that nightmare, letting yourself fall on the damp, broken floor, which was covered in mold.

“No, I'm dreaming, I'm just dreaming,” you repeated over and over, rocking on your back with the doll in your arms.

Completely oblivious to logical and rational thinking about your situation, you just cried desperately in that unknown, devoured by the passage of time house.

A creaking sound caught your attention, one very similar to the sound the front door made. Then, slow footsteps seemed to approach you. You looked up, dragging yourself along the old floor to check what was happening. You wish you hadn't.

The front door moved in the wind, completely unhooked from its frame, hitting the wall with an unpleasant noise. The rain and thunders sounded much more intense, you could almost feel the drops of water wetting your face. But that wasn't the worst; you knew the door was closed, which meant that... someone had come in.

You backed away again, hiding behind the door that led to the living room, looking through it without letting Angie go. A flash of lightning illuminated a horrible bloody claw that peeked out from the doorway. Growls began to harass your ears as you walked backwards.

You turned your head for a moment to see the identity of your pursuer. A lycan, a horrible lycan was walking through the house, looking for something, looking for you. You gasped, stepping on a vase on the floor, drawing its attention. Its head turned towards you, but fortunately, you were much faster, able of fleeing from that monster.

Its steps destroyed the rotten wood of the floor, leaving a trail of blood behind them. It walked slowly, looking around, as if it couldn't see you. Your legs trembled hopelessly but you forced them to keep moving slowly, dodging all obstacles.

A dark roar alerted you again to the danger, and with your gaze, feeling cornered, you looked for a place to hide. Knocked over on the floor was Donna's old desk, perfectly placed to serve as a shelter.

Without thinking, you launched yourself at it, covering your mouth so your breathing wouldn't alert the creature. Carefully, you watched its steps, suppressing a horrified cry when one of its claws ruthlessly crushed the skull of Donna's skeleton, making a noise you would never be able to forget.

You tried to relax, but it was in vain, you were unable to remain calm. You had never been so scared. You thought you could have died of terror. Almost feeling the monster's breath on your neck, you focused your gaze on the Angie doll, a terrible idea.

The puppet's head turned slowly, freezing you. Its broken, nonexistent eyes watched you, you could feel them.

“You... You killed me!” the puppet screamed in a distorted voice, causing you to scream as well, throwing the doll to the floor.

“Ah!” you screamed, standing up in horror, something that, of course, alerted the beast, which roared in satisfaction at your presence. “No, no!” you cried, without looking very well where you were going, running down the elevator hallway.

You quickly opened the now rusty bars and got into the cabin, desperately pressing the button and praying that it would work. Miraculously, with a metallic sound, it did.

“No!” you yelled when that beast launched itself at the fence, extending its claws to tear you apart. Luckily, you managed to corner yourself in the farthest part, and the elevator began to move downwards.

The light in the cabin flickered, threatening to leave you completely in the dark again. You tried to catch your breath, to wake up from that nightmare, but you couldn't, as a lugubrious metallic sound shook the cabin dangerously. The light went out, and the elevator abruptly fell to the basement.

It was a resounding fall, but you didn't get hurt, not a scratch, not even the blow affected you.

To your relief, the basement was perfectly lit, with that warm atmosphere it always had. You looked at the destroyed elevator, swallowing and walking forward, stopping abruptly at the horrible sound of another thunder.

When you opened your eyes, the nightmare continued. That kind of abandonment emerged in the basement as well. All the lamps were fallen, broken on the floor. The pictures on the walls no longer hung from them, the dust and humidity became too noticeable in your nose.

A sinister laugh bounced off the walls, the distorted voice of the doll entered your ears unpleasantly, almost as if it were behind you. You didn't want to check, you just ran out again.

A creaking sound accompanied your steps, slowly turning off the lights that were still on. The darkness followed you, as did that sinister laugh.

Just when you were about to lose the remaining light, you reached the shattered doors of the workshop, closing them as best you could, with that laugh sounding behind them. Scared, fearing the worst, you moved one of the tables in the workshop, which mysteriously remained illuminated, and put it as a barricade, slowly backing away.

“Open the door! You killed me!” Angie was screaming, hitting the doors with too much strength, impossible for her.

“No…” you sighed exhausted, crying in fear, approaching the back of the room, looking for another hiding place. In the absence of one, you crouched on the floor, pressing your head with your hands. “Stop, stop it…”

The knocks stopped and you were able to open your eyes. Slowly, you stood up, looking around, coinciding with the dolls that were always on the shelves.

“(Y/N)…” a hoarse whisper told you that you weren’t out of danger yet.

The laughter returned, but it wasn’t the only one. Giggles could be heard in the workshop, some coming from those dolls on the shelf. Unable to continue, paralyzed by fear, you stood still, looking at them out of the corner of your eye.

With the sound of a thunder, all those heads suddenly turned to look at you, increasing the intensity of those deafening laughs.

“No! No! No!” you screamed with all your might, letting yourself fall to the floor. “No, no, no, no, no, no…”

“(Y/N)!” a louder scream made you open your eyes.

The light illuminated the living room of the mansion with the usual warmth, while you were against the wall, with your knees pressed together to your chest. Your eyes hurt from crying and your body still trembled with terror. Confused, you looked around for some coincidence with that nightmare, but there was none.

In front of you, Lady Beneviento was crouching, with a worried look, but, above all, alive.

“Donna!” you yelled, throwing yourself into her arms. “Donna, Donna, Donna...” you repeated, crying desperately, terrified, but relieved because the nightmare was over. “Gods, it was horrible, I...” you stopped, letting the brunette's clothes go and moving away slowly.

When your mind was able to calm down, you realized what had happened. All of that seemed like a nightmare, a very real one. You hadn't fallen asleep, nor was there any other possible explanation. It was a hallucination.

It wasn't the result of nerves, or that disastrous dinner. You knew who was responsible. Donna, she, surely overwhelmed by your hurtful words, made you hallucinate, demonstrating her powers before you, using them against you.

The fear returned, but that time it was different. Slowly, you moved away from the lady's embrace, panting nervously.

“Honey, forgive me...” she said, searching for your hands, ones that you rejected with a furious gasp. “I lost my mind, I didn't want to...”

“D-Donna...” you whispered, almost without a voice. “Did you do this to me?” you asked, getting up clumsily due to the trembling of your legs.

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have... (Y/N), I was very angry and I took it out on you... if you let me explain...” she said in a soft voice, chasing you slowly through the house while you backed away, shaking your head.

“Don't come closer,” you said, cornered against a wall. “Don't come closer...” you begged with a frightened sob.

“Amore mio, per favore, io...” Donna whispered, reaching out her hand towards you, making you run away again.

“No, no!” you screamed scared, dodging her attempts to grab you. “Don't touch me! D-Donna... what have you done to me?”

“If you let me explain...” she insisted, managing to grab your wrist.

You, frightened, tried to get out of her grip.

“Let me go! Let me go!” you screamed desperately, pushing her away from you.

She looked at you with a sad look, with her mouth open, not knowing what to say.

“I'm sorry, (Y/N),” she sighed, with her eye full of tears.

“Are you sorry? You've made me live the worst experience of my life!” you shouted furiously, moving further away. “I-I don't want you to come near me, Donna, you scare me.”

“But, tesoro…” she said, crying at the impotence of not being able to make you reason.

“No! Leave me alone!” you screamed, fleeing up the stairs, passing by the intact portrait, being desperately pursued by the lady until you locked yourself in the guest room. “Go away!”

“(Y/N), please, listen to me,” Donna said behind the door, knocking on it softly. “Please, open the door.”

“No!” you shouted, leaning your back against the wall, turning on all the lights in the room. “Go away! You scare me!”

“Don't tell me… that… please… just let me…” she stammered, her voice broken by sobs. “Open the door, I just want to talk.”

“I'm not going to do it, I'm not going to let you hurt me again,” you growled, clenching your fists tightly. “This is the worst thing you've ever done, Donna... You've made me be afraid of you.”

“I would never hurt you! It was a mistake!” she shrieked, banging harder on the door. “I was wrong! Forgive me, please!”

“I will never, ever forgive you!” you screamed with all your might, making your voice bounce off the walls, the echo of your screams being the last thing you heard before a quick clatter of heels and a heartbreaking sob that receded down the stairs.

You sighed, closing your eyes and letting yourself fall on the old bed, crying inconsolably. You simply couldn't believe it. Naturally in all that time you had arguments like any normal couple, it always ends well.

Not that night, that night Donna went too far, attacking you with her powers, concentrating your greatest fears in your mind. Donna being dead and a lycan chasing you was no coincidence; those were your two greatest fears. She played with them, with your mind, unable to be rational, making completely lose your mind.

You wondered if your nightmares would be the same from that moment on, if Donna hadn’t become, unwittingly, your worst fear.

It was a dirty and unpleasant trick that couldn’t be justified by anything, not even by her sick mind. She had gone too far and your heart was reeling with doubts. That night was horrible, you could barely sleep.

Going down from the guest room was something you simply didn’t want to do. You were terrified, you were afraid that the rage would consume the lady in black again, that she would make you pay for having said all those things to her. You were never so afraid of her as at that moment. Getting away from her was your best option.

Leaving the mansion was hasty. Although reluctant, your heart refused to stop loving her. Waiting a while and clearing your mind was the best thing you could do.

Two days passed like this, two days in which you opened your door often, looking at the portrait, making sure that nothing had changed, that this nightmare wouldn’t return.

Hunger didn’t matter. Your mind was too busy making a decision.

Donna was dangerous, and you knew it, you knew it when you agreed to have tea with her, when you kissed her, when you moved in with her. In all that time they only seemed like absurd rumors to you, until that moment.

Yes, Donna was jealous, arrogant and cold. Her gestures of affection were common, but many times she made you understand your excessive displays of affection were too much for her. You didn’t blame her for that, of course, you knew her past, her terrible childhood, her terrible loneliness.

Loneliness... that characteristic of the lady in black was what triggered that nightmare. You regretted your words, but pride prevented you from facing Donna, from facing your fears. She said she would never hurt you, but she did, whether she meant to or not. Or maybe, maybe it was you who hurt her without realizing it, who talked too much, who downplayed all her problems.

Donna's attitude that horrible day began to make sense in your head. You knew her. You knew that some days were bad, that her mind tortured her sometimes, just to make fun of her. You were so intent on knowing her, on asking her, on loving her, that maybe you had forgotten the most important thing, taking care of her, just like you promised.

Instead of making a fool of yourself, messing with her sister and insisting to do something different, you should have hugged her, interpreted the signs that told you that Donna wasn’t having a good day, and that she needed you, she really needed you.

Sure of the idea of ​​not looking like a sick woman, Donna held on to her pride; she would never tell you she needed your comfort, to calm the horrible voices in her head. Normally you noticed these signs and acted, but that day you didn't.

Could it be that in some way you were to blame too? After all, you said something horrible to her and she could only defend herself in the only way she knew how.

Your stomach growled, pulling you out of your thoughts. You had spent too much time in that room. It was time to go down.

Slowly you opened the door, looking, as always, at the portrait. Everything seemed to be in its place, except for a horrible silence.

“Hello? Donna? Angie?” you asked timidly, peeking into the living room. It was empty, there was no one there. “Donna?”

No one answered your call, so, nervous, you decided to go to the elevator.

“She's probably in the workshop with her dolls,” you muttered to yourself, silencing your fears.

The light in the cabin flickered, causing you to jump and making you hit the lamp softly, panting.

“Damn light…” you complained, arriving at the basement calmly, without horrible falls.

You took a step forward and your blood froze. That horrible vision of your nightmare returned.

The lamps were smashed, the furniture knocked over, everything was a mess. You walked cautiously down the hallway, checking how all the paintings were torn, broken. Fear took over you, but Donna was your target, it didn't matter if it was another hallucination.

The mirror in the corner was broken into a thousand pieces. You passed your hand over it, noticing a few drops of blood.

“Donna...” you sighed, focusing your gaze on the doors of the workshop, checking that the lights didn't disappear.

“And then I told her I'm just an idiot, I have no more stories to tell...” An erratic babbling reached your ears, confirming the presence of the lady.

Little by little you opened the door, finding a desolate scenario.

Everything was thrown on the floor. There were broken dolls, glasses… as if a tornado had devastated that place, a tornado with a name and surname: Donna Beneviento.

The lady in black was cornered, laughing with a nervous expression, with her eye wide open and her hand with a stain of dried blood, surely because the broken mirror.

“Yes, ma'am, tell me how can I leave you today ma'am, I have lost you, you are, idiot, you are…” she continued, absent, unhinged, erratic, completely lost. “Stupida, stupida, stupida!”

“Shhh, Donna…” you whispered, approaching slowly.

The lady fell silent and looked at you slowly, blinking several times.

“You…” she hissed, approaching you abruptly, something that made you unconsciously step back. “You're running away from me!”

“I-I'm sorry, I…” you said fearfully, gathering enough courage to approach, realizing that the Angie doll was lying lifeless on the floor.

Donna's crisis had been so bad that even her doll lost her consciousness.

“You're not here! Have you come to torment me?! Do you want me to throw myself off the waterfall?! I will!” she screamed madly, covering her ears. “I will!”

“Shhh, Donna, don't say…” you said, taking her hands away from her face deformed by rage and tears. “Shhh, listen to me… I'm here,” you said softly.

“You're dead! I killed you!” Donna screamed, looking at you with distrust.

You, with tears in your eyes, shook your head, reaching out your hand to her cheek, caressing it in a comforting way.

“Shhh, be quiet, my love… I'm here, see? Do you feel my hand, darling? I'm here with you…” you whispered, getting closer while you caressed her, trying to calm her demons.

“You left,” she said, lowering her head but keeping her eye on yours.

“No, no Donna, I never left, I just…” you said with a sweet voice. “Oh, darling… my love, come to your senses, I’m here with you, I would never leave you…”

“You’re scared of me, you said you were scared of me,” she said, blinking nervously again. “I scared you.”

“Yes, but… Donna, I…” you said, being careful with your words. “I didn’t behave well either. I shouldn’t have said that horrible thing and… yes, I was scared but… but…”

The lady moved quickly, taking your hand in hers, squeezing it tightly.

“I would never hurt you, never!” she squealed desperately. “Never…”

“Shhh, I know, I know…” you whispered, bringing her body closer to yours, releasing yourself from her grip and burying her head in your chest, cradling her sweetly. “Donna, my Donna…”

“I’m sorry,” the lady said, clinging to your clothes, wetting them with tears. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“Shhh, don't shout, my precious Donna... it's over, I forgive you, it's okay...” you whispered in her ear, feeling her warm embrace as the end of your worries, of your fears. “We both behaved like idiots... forgive me, my love... forgive me for not being there when you needed me.”

“I-I promise I won't do it again,” she whispered, with a childish voice, letting herself be cradled, raising her gaze. “I promise.”

“I believe you, darling, come here...” you murmured, moving her head so her salty lips rested on yours. “I love you.”

“I love you,” she repeated, caressing your cheek, with a different light on her face. “I love you, I love you, I love you...”

A strange sound brought you out of that romantic reconciliation.

“As I was saying, silly Donna, you've screwed things up in the worst possible way and…” the Angie doll stood up, coming back to life as her owner's heart calmed down. “Wait, what happened?”

“Nothing,” she said, still looking and caressing you. “Everything's okay, right?”

“Yes,” you said smiling, returning her caresses. “Now, darling, let's go heal those wounds and maybe you'll want me to make dinner…”

[j2hoes]

Just Not Enough. (Spencer White x Reader)

Summary: Y/N isn't good enough until it's too late.

Word Count: 1.2k

Gif Not Mine. Requests Are Open!

Warnings: Mature language, hint of suicide (maybe), allusions to cheating

A/N: Testing the waters with a short Spider fic, beware it's an angsty one. Would love to write some more for Heartbreak High so do send your requests!

“Y/N please, the building is on fire!” I hear Spider’s voice shouting at me from down the hallway, though I make no effort to stop. Marching as far away from him as I can, with no clear destination in mind. All I know is that I need to be away from him.

Throwing the classroom door open with more force than necessary, I flinch ever so slightly when it slams against the wall. Unaware of how much strength I had truly used until that moment. The footsteps behind me have fallen silent, though I’m acutely aware of the presence behind me. As much as I can pretend it isn’t there.

“Seriously Y/N, we need to leave! This isn’t safe!” Spider shouts once again, however his voice isn’t raised in anger, purely concern. I wish I couldn’t hear the worry in his voice but it’s something that just can’t be ignored.

Fixing my gaze out of the window, I focus on the row of classrooms on the other side of the quad. Staring at one of the doors so intensely, in the hopes that I can block everything out.

I can feel my heart pulsing at what feels like one million miles per hour, my breaths quick and shaky, hands trembling despite how tight I’m clenching my fists in a futile attempt to calm myself down. The pain inside of me feels like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. As though the bottle inside of me has finally burst, shattering into thousands of pieces and flooding my body with all the anguish and hurt I had so carefully tucked away.

“Y/N come on we need-” 

“Why am I always your second option?”

Before I can stop myself, I’m interrupting the boy. Spinning around to face him so quickly that I almost trip over my own feet. My eyebrows are raised as I glare up at him, waiting anxiously for him to answer the question. Knowing that whatever he says next could make or break me. I can tell he wasn’t anticipating the question, face displaying his evident guilt and a hint of confusion. Eyes unable to reach mine.

“You’re not, that’s not-”

“Why am I not good enough?”

 Despite my best efforts, the muscles around my mouth tug the corners of my lips down, forcing a frown. With that, the dam bursts, tears seep out of my eyes silently as I hurry to wipe them away with the back of my hand. Not wanting to show Spider just how much he’s hurting me. 

Cautiously the boy takes a step towards me, as though testing the water as to how close he can get before I snap. His perfectly ironed suit is now slightly disheveled from all the sprinting through the hallways, and yet the worst part is that he still manages to make it look good. It’s infuriating.

“I told you not to get too close to me.” Spider sighs, his hand hesitantly reaching out to grab mine. As our fingers brush against one another, I shake my head. A new wave of rage washes over me.

“Nah, don’t do that.” I state, swiftly pulling my hand away from his. “Don’t play the bad guy card because that isn’t you. I know you, I know you’re better than that.”

“From the day we met, I knew I’d hurt you eventually.” Spider states running a hand through his blonde locks, tugging at them slightly out of frustration. “You’re so innocent and pure, Y/N you’re an angel. You’re too good for this world.”

Spider brushes his knuckles against my cheek. The cold of his rings a stark contrast to the flaming heat radiating from my cheeks. His thumb gently wipes away the tears that continue to fall and for a moment I forget everything that has happened.

“I wish I could be a better person.”

It’s those eight little words that break me from his trance. My eyes locking with his as a scowl sets on my face. Giving the boy no time to react, I use everything in me to shove him backwards, sending him sprawling to the floor. Yanking the material of my dress up I straddle his stomach, sending punch after punch to his chest and face.

“Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.” Repeating the phrase over and over again, I find myself getting so caught up in my emotions that my actions become weaker, allowing Spider to catch my wrists in his hands. Holding them so tight, I wouldn’t be surprised if bruises formed.

My body collapses, falling into a heap beside the much taller boy. His hands still hold my wrists, as I let out pained wails. Unable to stop myself from breaking down. Gripping the pink fabric of his shirt, my fingers turn white at how hard I’m clutching on to him. I shouldn’t allow myself to be in his embrace. The person who caused me this pain, shouldn’t be the one comforting me and yet here he is. He’s not a bad person, no matter how much he pretends to be. I just know it.

“I wish that I never met you.” I bawled, feeling the headache beginning to radiate through my head due to how hard I am crying.

“You should have walked away when you had the chance.” Spider whispers, before pressing a delicate kiss to the top of my head, allowing me to sob into his shirt.

The overwhelming stench on smoke begins to grow stronger, accompanied by the sounds of sirens outside. Yet, I’m too tired to move. Worn out from the events of tonight and the emotional distress that I have endured.

“You mean everything to me, but I was only something to you.” I croak out, watching the smoke slowly creep underneath the door. There’s something so beautiful in the way it rises and I can’t take my eyes off it.

“I do care about you Y/N.” 

“Just not enough.”

The images of her in his arms flash through my mind. How he kissed her so gently, how he held her the way he is holding me now. How she isn’t kept a secret. How she is the first choice. She’s always been the first choice.

I can feel myself struggling to breathe, eyes barely keeping themselves open. Flashing lights illuminate the room from outside, making Spider look angelic. His features are so soft under the bright lights. 

“The fire brigade is here, Y/N, we have to get out.” 

Spider’s words cause me to glance up at him, cupping his face with the palm of my hand. My breathing is shallow and my touch light. His arms hold me tighter and I notice his eyes are watering as I gaze up at him.

“Is it okay if I give up?”

“What? Give up what? Y/N?” Spider’s voice is panicked and all I can bring myself to do is press a gentle kiss to his lips as I allow myself to shut my eyes.

“Y/N, Y/N. No, come on, I’ll get you out of here I promise.” 

As I begin to drift out of consciousness, I can feel Spider doing his best to haul me up and drag me out of the burning school. “Wake up! Y/N please, I’m begging you, wake up! I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry for everything, please, just wake up.”