#even though i do get it and i do get angry

[frenchkisstheabyss]

|☾| 𝕔𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕔𝕠 |☽|

♡ Pairing: boyfriend!seungcheol x chubby!fem!reader

♡ Genre: fluff/smut/angst

♡ Summary: When your creepy coworker finally crosses the line your boyfriend swoops in to save the day, offering you safety and comfort in more ways than one.

♡ Word Count: 2.6kish

♡ Warnings: creepy coworker, someone pinches reader's ass, subsequently gets their ass kicked, angry cheol, lots of kissing, fingering, unprotected sex, rough sex, car sex, creampie, pet names (baby).

♡ A/N: This is a lil comfort fit requested to me by an anon. I hope that I did your request justice my darling 💜

“Cheol!” you scream, high heels scraping the concrete as you shuffle across the parking lot in pursuit of your boyfriend. “Choi Seungcheol, I know you hear me!” 

When you called your boyfriend it’d been for comfort. You needed a shoulder to cry on, someone to console you, but you didn’t know he’d react like this. Part of you didn’t know that he could. Seungcheol’s your sweetheart, your teddy bear. He’s the loving gaze that you wake up to each morning and the gentle arms you fall asleep in at night. Your man would never hurt a fly. At least you thought so. The way he is now—jaw clenched, irises burning with rage—you aren’t as sure about that anymore. 

“Vernon, get her in the car!” he shouts back to his best friend and an arm clasps around your wrist, dragging you back towards the car. 

You turn to Vernon, pleading with him to do something. Anything. But it goes in one ear and out the other. You look back to Seungcheol in time to catch the moment he disappears through the doors of your job, out of your sight and completely out of your control. Defeated, you slip into the passenger’s seat without a fight, pouting as the door slams closed. You glance up at the rearview mirror and into the backseat where another of Seungcheol’s best friends sits with guilt all over his face. 

“Sorry” Wonwoo mouths, apologizing for his lack of effort to stop Seungcheol in the first place. Not that he can blame him for the way he’s acting. Wonwoo would react the same way if his girlfriend called him crying because some asshole at work decided it was a good idea to touch her. He’d break his fingers. Every single one. 

Your night had started out so well. The bar wasn’t as packed as it usually is. Mostly regulars and a few harmless college kids whose fake IDs were enough to get them in. Tips were steady, your favorite bartender was working, and your boss even agreed to cut you early to make it to your friend Hoshi’s birthday party. But if working at the bar has taught you anything it’s that things can change at the drop of a hat and it did the second your worst enemy clocked in. 

To him you’re far from enemies, somewhere in his delusional brain you share a mutual crush, but in the real world a sense of nauseating dread overcomes you in his presence. You’ve told Seungcheol about him before. How he makes it a point to be in close quarters with you. Always making excuses to squeeze in beside you when you’re getting ice or putting in orders. How he insists on calling you pet names like “cutie” or “sexy” even though you’ve told him a million times how uncomfortable it makes you. Each time Seungcheol has offered to come handle the situation and each time you’ve insisted that you had it under control but tonight was a different story. 

You’d been taking drink orders for a table, your full attention dedicated to making sure your indecisive patrons were double sure they knew what they wanted. All night he’d been making comments about how pretty you look dressed up for the party. “I bet your boyfriend can’t keep his hands off you” he quipped.

Apparently neither could he because as soon as you weren’t paying attention he thought it was the perfect time to pinch your ass. It happened so quickly. If not for the smile on his face when you turned around you might’ve thought it was a mistake but no. It was very intentional. 

All you wanted to do was turn around and stab him with that pen in your hand but instead you ran to the bathroom, calling the first person you could think of. Your boyfriend. Seungcheol took his time listening to you, promising you everything would be okay and that this would never happen again. Fifteen minutes later he was texting you from the parking lot telling you to come out. If your shift wasn’t already over it was now. 

“It’ll be fine” Vernon reassures you, now seated beside Wonwoo, “He’s got this.” 

Staring out the window at the eerie stillness of the night, you wonder what exactly it is that he’s got. Your anxiety grows with the passing minutes. What’s he doing in there? Why isn’t he back yet? You get your answer when the door to the bar swings open and a body comes flying out, colliding with the ground like a slab of meat. Seungcheol steps out behind him, advancing on the man quicker than he can get up. It isn’t until he grips the back of the man’s head, dragging him towards the car, that you recognize it as your coworker. Seungcheol looks fine, same as when he walked in, but your coworker looks wrecked, his shirt torn and his nose bloodied. 

You watch in horror as Seungcheol brings him right up to the window, dangling him before you like a broken doll. Vernon and Wonwoo avert their eyes elsewhere, pretending not to see a thing. 

“Tell her you’re sorry” Seungcheol commands, tightening his hold and searing the man’s scalp in the process. 

Your coworker sniffs back involuntary tears, blood trickling down his lips. “I’m…I’m sorry, okay?” 

“And you’ll never touch her again?”

“And…and I’ll n-never….”

“Touch her…”

“Touch her again. Okay? Alright?” 

Seungcheol looks at you, his anger softening, “Okay?” 

You nod frantically, your heart racing, “Yes, okay.” 

Seungcheol leans into the man's ear, dealing a final blow to his stomach. “If I hear you even looked at her wrong I’m gonna come back and break your fucking legs.” Turning him loose, Seungcheol watches as the man scurries back into the bar before climbing into the driver’s seat. 

“Everyone good?” he asks, starting the car and flipping on some music. 

Vernon throws him some wicked side eye. Everyone’s good except that guy. “Yeah, man. We’re good.”

Wonwoo nods in agreement, pulling out his phone to be involved in anything but this. “A thousand percent.” 

Seungcheol takes your hand, petting the back of it with his thumb. He brings it to his lips, pressing soft kisses to your knuckles. You want to say something but you can’t. You can only stare in awe at the man before you. Whatever monster anger had turned him into has fallen back asleep, leaving only the boyfriend you know behind, but you can’t shake what just happened. Accepting your silence, Seungcheol starts the car, keeping your hand in his as you head towards your destination. 

Your phone buzzes in your lap. A string of text messages from the bartender coming through. 

✨💖 Dawn ✨💖 What the fuck was that? ✨💖 Dawn ✨💖 Did your boyfriend just kick his ass? ✨💖 Dawn ✨💖 Kinda hot. Ngl. 

Seungcheol sneaks a look at your phone but you catch him, flipping it over to conceal the conversation. What the fuck was that? You don’t even know. Did your boyfriend just kick his ass? Without a doubt. Kinda hot. Not gonna lie. You’re ashamed at how much that strikes a chord. You’re not one of those girls who encourages violence. In fact, you never want to see Seungcheol like that again.

But was it hot? Was that level of protectiveness attractive? Did his angry face make you swoon? Did his arm muscles look especially delicious dragging a man across a parking lot? You squeeze your thighs together to quiet the feeling awakening between them. You’ve gone insane. Haven’t you?

You try to focus on something else. Humming along to songs on the radio. Watching the neon signs of local shops fly by in a blur of color as you speed down the road. Marveling at the glow of the moon and the stars dancing around it. But none of it seems to work and by the time you’re pulling up to Hoshi’s apartment the sprinkle of moisture in your panties is reaching borderline flood status. 

“You guys head inside. We’ll be up in a minute” Seungcheol whispers back to his friends and they climb out of the car without a word, heading up to the party. 

Seungcheol switches the car off, leaving the two of you alone in silence. He watches you for a moment but you only stare straight ahead. Too awkward to look him in the eye. He thinks you must be mad at him, that maybe he went too far, and the idea that he hurt you even a little bit makes him sick. 

“Come here” he says, shifting his seat back to make room for you. 

The way he taps his lap to call you over makes you fold in an instant and you find yourself climbing onto him, your knees tucked at his sides as he reaches up to cradle your face. He rubs your cheeks, looking up at you through a curtain of chocolate brown hair, and warmth radiates through your body. 

“You mad at me?” he asks, as close to pouting as you’ve ever seen him. 

“Why would I be mad at you? He deserved it” you say, your own anger at the man’s actions boiling to the surface, “I was just surprised to see you like that.”

“I don’t like being that way but when it comes to you…” he sighs, taking you in like he would some rare treasure, “I don’t know. I just lost it but I’d never be that way with you. I swear I—”

Pushing his hands away, you press your lips to his, refusing to hear anything more. “Baby, I know you’d never.” You lay your hands on his shoulders, lightly massaging them, and you can almost feel the tension melt away. 

His arms come around your waist, his fingertips invading the space between your top and the softness of your figure. “Good. I just want you to feel safe with me.” He returns your kiss with another. Something short and sweet. “I’ll always protect you. Always take care of you.”

He pulls you closer, deepening the kiss and stirring up those feelings brewing deep inside of you. His tongue performs a beautiful dance with yours, tangling in a mixture of love and lust, building the heat between you. Seungcheol’s hands slide down your body, slipping beneath your skirt to knead the succulent flesh of your ass. 

“Cheol” you giggle, his lips still on yours even as you speak, “Behave.”

“Mmm, I don’t think I know what that means” he teases, squeezing harder. When he does it grinds you down onto him, something stiff pressing back up against you. 

You release the softest moan, rocking your hips, desperate for more friction. “We should go inside” you say more for yourself than for him. 

Burying his face in your neck, he plants intoxicatingly slow kisses along your skin, your pulse racing beneath his tongue. You arch your back in response, giving him the perfect angle to sneak a hand between your thighs, stroking your increasingly needy pussy through your panties. His cock steels at the realization of how wet you are, the fabric so drenched that he can feel you clenching. 

“You’re right, we should” he mumbles, looping a finger around your panties, his knuckle dragging along your slit, “But you have to get up first, don’t you?”

Your eyes fall closed as you bask in the tingly sensation his actions send rippling up your walls. You hold on tighter to his shoulders, your pillowy tits swelling against his chest. The absence of a bra makes it easy to tell how hard your nipples have gotten and he wishes to god that had enough room to take one onto his mouth, swirling his tongue around it until your eyes roll back. 

“Get up? I can…mmph” you whine as his finger curls into you. One after the other until three of his dexterous fingers are stretching you wide, lazily pumping in and out of your tight hole.

Seungcheol slaps your ass making you jiggle around his fingers. Kissing his way up your chin, he finds your lips again, lapping up every moan you pour out. “Go ahead, baby, get up” he taunts, fingers moving faster, delving so deep into your warmth that he swears he can feel every part of you. 

You bite down on your lip, your moans growing louder the harder you try to keep quiet. At the back of your mind you know you aren’t truly alone. There’s a party going on inside. What if someone else decides to show up and sees you like this? What if one of the guys left something in the car and comes back for it?

A million possibilities flow through your brain but more than that, more than anything else in the world, it's how good this feels. How well Seungcheol knows how to fuck you with his fingers. How hot he looks doing it. He gets off on pleasing you—the arousal soaking his boxers is more than enough evidence of that—and he can never hide how much he loves watching you. His beautiful girl. Dripping and moaning all because of him. All for him. 

“Cheol…” you whisper, your fingers finding his hair, “Want you…inside…”

You can barely speak, already too drunk off his fingers to perfectly articulate what it is that you want, but for Seungcheol it’s enough. You never have to ask him twice. He gives you a few more pumps, harder and rougher than the others, before his drenched fingers pop free, juices dripping down your thighs.

In no mood to be patient, you sit back, hurrying to remove any barriers between you and what you want the most. His cock springs free, the head already wet enough to shine in the glow of the streetlights. It’s pretty enough to make your mouth water. So thick and well defined that you can’t resist running your fingers down it to admire the perfection of it. 

Seungcheol coaxes you into a kiss, his hand around the base of his cock as he guides you up and onto it. He eases you down onto it a little at a time, not wanting to rush the glorious feeling of that first big stretch. When he finally bottoms out you’re left shivering, chills skating up your spine at the fullness. 

“Fuck, you feel amazing, baby” he says, throwing his head back against the head rest.

His fingertips dig into your thighs as you lean into him, rotating your hips to ride his cock at every angle the limited space will allow you to. The car windows begin to fog up from the heat of your bodies, tucking you away in your own little world, and you let yourself get lost in it, forgetting about anything else other than the feeling of Seungcheol throbbing against your walls. 

Resting his palm against your cheek, Seungcheol smooths the pad of his thumb across your lips, delicately petting them. “I love you” he whispers, the emotions welling up inside him threatening to overflow. 

You truly are precious to him. When he heard you crying on the phone earlier he lost it. The thought of anyone hurting you made him see red. All he could think was to protect you no matter what that meant. Looking at you now he can’t bring himself to regret it. It’s not just the way you’re riding him, your pussy hugging him with all of its warmth. It’s the way your beauty shines even in the shadows, his love for you growing with every breath you take. 

Placing your hand on his, you bring his palm to your lips and kiss it. “Love you too, Cheol. Love you so much.”

Your profession lights a fire in him that has his lips crashing into yours, his hips raising to thrust into you, an arm locked around your waist to keep you in position. Wave after wave of pleasure washes over you, consuming you until there’s nothing else. 

“Cheol, aah, don’t stop” you plead, “So close.” 

Seungcheol hammers into your sweet spot, sending you racing towards your high. Just as your walls begin to tremble he grabs your ass, lifting you up to leave only the tip of his cock pulsing in your core. “Cum for me, baby” he coos, slamming you back down and sending crashing over the edge.

Your juices cascade down his cock, nails digging into his shoulder as your walls cling to him. He cradles you in his arms, slowing his movements, letting you milk him of his own release. He coats your walls so deeply that you know you’ll be spending all night thinking of having him inside of you even when he isn’t and just imagining it is enough to get you hot all over again. 

Keeping you close, he litters your face with kisses, whispering the sweetest praises as your body relaxes into his. You’ve never felt this loved by anyone. Never so safe and cared for. You have every intention to stay in this car as long as you can, finding heaven in the comfort of his arms, and nothing in this world could make him push you away.

[ddejavvu]

Spencer trying to ask if you liking giving him hickies as a sign you enjoy mixing violence with pleasure, or that you like possessiveness, because he’s too flustered to admit that he’s very much loving feeling your tongue and teeth and lips sucking loving marks onto his skin, and he chatters when he gets flustered. You telling him his little rambling questions are so cute, is only making him worse

this post is 18+, minors dni.

Each time you flick the tip of your tongue over the bruise you're sucking into Spencer's neck, you feel his breath stutter in his chest. He's not good at pretending he's not affected by this, that each time you scrape your teeth along the edges of the red, raw skin he doesn't squeeze your hips inadvertently.

You're sitting on his lap, his hands clutching your at your waist as you suck on the sensitive, thin skin of his neck. He leans into it, his chin angled upwards as his head is thrown back in ecstasy. You're taking your sweet time with it, licking and sucking and taking him apart second by second even though you could have addressed his raging hard-on minutes ago.

"There's-" Spencer stammers after a particularly rough scrape of your teeth over his raw skin, "There's some people who like giving hickies because- because it mixes pain and pleasure. And then-" You make him stutter with a hot press of your tongue to his angry red skin, "And some people like it, for- because they have a particularly strong inclination to use their mouth. Their-" He gasps for breath, "tongue, and- and lips."

"Which one do you think I like?" You hum, angling your face so that your nose brushes against another spot on his neck that you'd tortured, grating against the skin. He shivers, his own lips parting as he feels the pressure of your weight resting against his cock, straining for freedom from the confines of his pants.

"I- I don't know." He admits, fingers grasping your waist for dear life, "You've displayed signs of an oral fixation before. But you're using your teeth. That's more violent," He notes, feeling you bite as best you can against the column of his throat.

"You tell me when you've puzzled out a profile, Spencer," You hum, happy to bury yourself in his neck for the time being, "I can give you all the evidence you need."

[salemrph]

Stay with me, Sylus

A/N: I just needed this moment after Magnum Opus. The yearning, the love, and the soft moment between Sylus and us... I can't get enough of it. So this is my little fantasy of how it should have ended.

Character: Sylus & Reader/MC/you

Genre: romantic, fluffy

Word count: 950 | Reading Time: 3 min | AO3

You walked Sylus to the door. This date was something you needed, even when you were tired and exhausted from the previous missions. Having Sylus around made you feel relaxed. Your new dynamic was heartwarming. And even if you didn’t quite understand why this man was so persistent about getting hiking gear, you were glad he used that excuse to come visit you.

Your back-and-forth, the way you both danced around the real matter, was something that might never change. The ironic way Sylus said:

"We’re dating now? Should I bring you roses next time?"

It made you smile, and of course, you didn’t miss a beat, asking for the roses with the most thorns.

You didn’t want him to leave. And he wasn’t in a rush, either. So he stayed, half in the corridor, half at your door. He keeps talking, stretching the moment to part. His words were coated in honey, filled with those promises he never made lightly. Because everything he had ever said he would do, he had kept his word.

Your heart flutters as if a thousand butterflies have taken flight, and you find yourself gripping the door frame without realizing it. 

“Are you just going to… stand there all day?” you asked. His red eyes flicked to you, amused. 

“I could camp here.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know.” He smirked, taking a slow step closer. “You always dance around the real question, though. It's charming.”

You exhaled sharply “Do you-” You hesitated, suddenly unable to finish the sentence.

Sylus tilted his head. Leaning in, placing one arm on the door frame. “Do I?” 

“You know.” You gestured vaguely, as if that would clarify anything. “Want to Stay over.”

The smirk twitched at the corner of his lips. “I suppose that depends.”

“On?”

“Whether the couch is still my designated territory, or if I’m being upgraded to… somewhere else.” His voice was teasing. 

Heat crept up your neck. You huffed. “Why do you say things like that?”

“Because it’s fun watching you try to untangle them.” He took another step closer. Too close now, the air between you shrinking, charged. “But if you’d rather be direct, just tell me where you want me.”

You opened your mouth, then closed it again, your entire brain short-circuiting at that choice of words. Sylus chuckled, clearly enjoying this too much.

“I-” You ran a hand through your hair, trying to find a way to say it without actually saying it. “You don’t have to sleep on the couch.”

Sylus hummed, pretending to consider. “So that means…”

You groaned. “It means you can sleep wherever you want.”

At that, something shifted, without warning he closed the distance entirely. Pulling you against him, one hand on your back and the other still on the door frame. The heat of him is impossible to ignore.

“Wherever I want?” he murmured. Your pulse stuttered. You don't want him to leave but the way he makes you blush so easily is annoying. He is so annoying. You swallowed, trying to steady yourself. 

“N- not anywhere, but if you’re so into camping, do it in the living room” you muttered, half angry. 

Sylus smirked. He definitely caught that hesitation.

His fingers brushed your lower back before suddenly pinching lightly at your side, making you hitch and instinctively press closer into him. The reaction was immediate, your body betraying you before your mind could catch up. You barely had time to swat at his hand before he stepped fully into your apartment again.

The door clicked shut behind him. His back rested against it as he tugged you into his arms again, dragging you effortlessly against his god-blessed body. The space between you vanished, replaced by the solid warmth of him, the way his breath fanned against your temple. Your fingers pressed against his chest, an attempt to put some distance between you, but the moment you tried to escape, his grip tightened. 

“Kitten,” he drawled, his lips dangerously close to your ear. “You were the one telling me I should be more direct and now you’re stumbling around?”

Your jaw clenched, your body betraying you even as you tried to resist giving him the satisfaction. The heat from him seeped into your skin, making it impossible to think clearly, to ignore the way your pulse stuttered against his touch. You swallowed hard, tilting your chin up in defiance, even though your face was already burning.

“It’s different when you do it.”

Sylus grinned, amused how you twist things in your favor. “Oh, I see.”

For a long moment, he didn’t move. He exhaled, his breath brushing against your cheek as he leaned in, close enough that his lips nearly grazed your skin. “You are making this difficult, sweetie,” he murmured. His breath  sends a shiver down your back. “Do you want me to push a little more?”

And then, just when you thought he might close the distance, just when your pulse spiked up, just when your fingers curled slightly against his chest, he pulled back.

"Say it."

You clicked your tongue, the spell breaking, pulling you back just enough to remember who you were dealing with.

“Fine…” you muttered, lowering your head for a brief moment, biting your lip. It’s only fair, you told yourself, trying to ignore how your heart pounded against your ribs. Slowly, you looked up again, your gaze locking with his, losing yourself in his eyes.

“Sylus…” The word lingered between you, a breath, a confession.

"You can sleep in my bed…"

The word left your lips like a surrender, and his expression shifted. Something that told you he wasn’t planning on letting you get much sleep tonight.

[comatosebunny09]

sensitive | sylus

— summary: sylus gets his ears pierced. — cw: reader is not mc, fluff, silliness, self-indulgent, a little suggestive, romantic dribble, inspired by the ear-piercing scene from loveless — wc: 1.8K

You’re surprised he can even get his ears pierced, given his rapid healing ability. 

Still, they look good on him—the onyx studs that take up most of his earlobes, matching his cufflinks. 

You stifle a quiet laugh behind your fist as the twins crowd around him, stars in their eyes. Their body language is animated as they praise Sylus and his fashion sense. He stands amid them, akimbo, smirking like a proud dad, a chuckle in his throat.

You wonder what influenced his decision to pierce his ears. 

That is until a pretty hunter pops her head into the front door behind him, her eyes creasing with mirth. 

She sidles up beside you, beaming like the cat who got the cream. Pats your shoulder, and you smirk at her in your periphery, shaking your head.

Of course.

“Let me guess: this was your idea, wasn’t it?”

“I know. I’m pretty awesome, right?”

You snort over folded arms. Leave it to Emcee to manipulate your boss into doing something so drastic.

—

You can’t keep your eyes off them—his ears.

One, because you’ve always found them to be one of his most adorable features. Two, because they’ve looked more irritated than usual, burning an angry red beneath the heavy gems in his lobes.

He seems uncomfortable with them, too. Wincing in meetings when he positions himself a certain way in his seat. An occasional, barely-there sound drawn from his throat when his hair scrapes his ears. And he’s more irate than what’s typical of Onychinus’ kingpin, lashing out unprovoked or being more quiet and reserved than you’re accustomed to.

You offer him painkillers to ease the ache. Even suggested he take the earrings out a few times; his ears are clearly sensitive, and perhaps the studs are too much for them to bear. 

But he waves you off with a tired smile. Reasons that they’re still healing, so he’ll just have to put up with the discomfort until then. 

—

“I feel terrible,” says Emcee for the umpteenth time, fiddling with the strap of her bag as she walks beside you through the mall.

“It’s alright,” you assuage, “you wouldn’t have known. I don’t even think he knows he can’t just wear anything. You know he’s bourgeois.”

She studies her feet, remorse twisting up her features. “I know. But I picked them out, ya know? And I’m the one who talked him into getting them pierced in the first place.”

You squeeze her shoulder, a reassuring smile curling your lips. “You did good. They look good. Maybe we can find something a little less gaudy, though. Something that won’t make his ears fall off.”

Emcee snorts, nudging you. She seems to be in better spirits, taking you in with those big eyes. “Yeah. Well, hey! Let’s stop here first!”

You don’t protest when she comically drags you into a jewelry store, her somberness an afterthought.

—

You’re as quiet as a secret, thanking your years of training for making you so. 

You slink into Sylus’ study, clutching a palm-sized, black box behind your back. He’s out conducting business, leaving the various trinkets and adornments of his office unprotected.

Giving the room another once over to ensure he won’t appear from the shadows—and that Mephisto isn’t around—you pad over to his desk, strewn with various papers and fountain pens.

Discreetly, you place the box on the edge near his chair where he’ll easily find it, the intricately curled scarlet ribbon catching in the ambient light. You try to make it look inconspicuous. Arrange some papers around it, fussing over its positioning before giving up.

You don’t know why you’re so nervous—it’s just your boss. Sylus, the man who isn’t afraid to sing like a metal pipe dragged over concrete in public. You’ve given him gifts before. Though you don’t think you’ve ever given him something so…personalized.

With your heart in your throat, you flee his study, praying to the powers above that he likes your present as much as you enjoyed picking it out.

—

“I wouldn’t put it past you to plant a bomb in my office,” Sylus teases.

You scoff from the opposite side of his desk. “If I wanted to kill you, I would’ve done it four years ago, bossman.”

He quirks a brow, studying you from the safety of his leather, high-backed chair. Seems to consider your words before you give him an exasperated look. 

He summoned you to his office a few hours after you’d snuck in. Of course, his security system picked up everything. You should’ve known.

You watch him fiddle with the box, your chest swelling with anxiety. 

“Just open the damn thing. It’s not a bomb.”

He taps his temple in that customary way, humor tugging at his lips. “That’s something that someone trying to kill me would say.” 

You roll your eyes, growing impatient.

Sylus doesn’t make you wait much longer, and you watch him tug at the ribbon with bated breath. Your heart seems to stop beating as he peels the box open, and he’s stock-still when he beholds what’s inside. 

He appears considerate. Quiet as his expression softens, eyes wavering between you and the box.

“Are these for me?” he queries hoarsely. Almost disbelieving.

You nod rigidly, fear and rejection coiling around your spine. You picked out hypoallergenic studs to hopefully curb his sensitivity. They’re modest yet stylish enough to complement his style.

Does he like them? Shit, does he hate them?

He chuckles something low. Something fond, and you feel it curdling in your stomach. He suddenly pushes away from his desk, and you blink rapidly, alarmed.

Sylus peers at you with a rare tenderness shining in his eyes. Expectant. “Would you like to do me the honor?” 

You gape like a fish out of water, owlishly blinking before you pick up what he’s talking about. “Uh, sure?” 

You inwardly kick yourself for how small you sound, how your voice cracks, and you awkwardly round his desk to stand before him, nerves wound tight. He leans back in a casual slouch, the soft mirth never leaving his handsome face whilst his eyes slide shut.

You step between his splayed legs, heat surging like molten liquid through your body. You pluck the matte box from betwixt his fingers, and you shudder when your skin meets. It’s strange; you’ve been close to him before. So why does tonight feel so…intimate?

Determined, you wet your drying lips with your tongue, pushing out a breath and resigning yourself. You bend slightly at the waist, fingers cautiously grazing over his skin to clasp one of his earlobes. You flinch when Sylus winces, a strained sound torn from his throat. 

“Sorry.”

“No, no. It’s alright.” He turns his head, offering you his ear, pretty lashes fluttering beneath a slightly furrowed brow. “Keep going.”

You swallow thickly past the sand in your throat. Try again, his fingers tightly gripping the armrests of his chair in your periphery. 

You feel awful. Know that his ears are still a little sensitive. But they’re soft and elastic beneath your fingers, and you’re hyper-vigilant as you remove one of his earrings.

His body tenses, legs threatening to lock around your hips as you stand between them. But he stops himself, instead giving you his other ear to repeat the process. 

He seems to relax once you’ve removed both earrings, lips slightly parting with a relieved breath out. You can’t help wanting to run your fingers along the cartilage. Want to rub the pain away. Maybe sink your teeth into it. 

“You’re sure this is alright?” you caution, plucking one of the studs from the box and setting said box on his desk behind you. 

He nods, holding his breath, brows knitting together. You feel like you’re doing something you shouldn’t be. Touching him in intimate places with the way he bristles and lightly gasps as you carefully slot each new stud in his lobes.

You’re grateful it’s over, taking a step back to appraise your work. And dammit it all, if he didn’t look good before…

“How do they look?”

“Hot,” you reply before you can think. 

Sylus chuckles at your brazenness, and the air seems to shift. An arm creeps around your waist, his massive hand finding the small of your back, its warmth bleeding through your blouse. Without warning, he tugs you closer until you stumble into him, your knee propped on the chair between his thighs. 

The look he wears is predatory. His eyes shine like dwindling coals, falling to your mouth before easing up to drill into your soul.

“Wouldn’t you like a closer look?”

His warm breath fanning over your face is dizzying. The proximity of his body to yours, his chest so pleasantly rigid and hot beneath your palms, and that devastating scent he carries is a recipe for disaster. There’s no mistaking his body language, the languid stir of his eyes. 

But you’re you, and this is your boss. Sure, you’ve been attracted to him for a very long time. But you’ve never acted on your infatuation, figuring he would reject you in favor of someone else. You didn’t want to muck up the relationship you’d worked so hard to construct. 

So, you laugh off his flirtations, attempting to quell the thumping of your heart in your throat. “Did Emcee talk you into doing shrooms, too?”

His voice crackles like a hearth fire. “Why? Do I look like I’m under the influence?”

You catch your breath, unaware you were even holding it. “No, but you’re acting kind of…strange.”

“Am I?” His hand makes several expeditions up and down your back, his free hand falling to your waist. 

You gasp, lips quivering, eyes hooded.

“If I’m making you uncomfortable, sweetheart,” he murmurs, enamored by your mouth, “feel free to tell me to stop.”

How could you when he makes you feel like this? Witless, confused, hot? The English language eludes you when a slender finger crooks under your chin, slightly tilting your head back.

Your body is under his command as he lures you closer, fully intending to kiss you. Pleasant tingles ricochet through your bones when his lips graze yours, and you’re about to abandon your inhibitions and just kiss him.

Until the door of his study flies open, the heavy oakwood cracking against the wall, and you don’t think you’ve ever moved faster, scurrying away from Sylus to stand rigidly at his side.

“Hey, bossman,” says Kieran, oblivious to what he just interrupted. “Your guest is here.”

You don’t miss the growl roiling in Sylus’ chest, and if looks could kill…

You take the opportunity to slip out of his office while he’s giving Kieran an earful about manners, and you slink against a wall in the hallway once you’re out of earshot. A lovestruck smile crests over your face, your heart pounding beneath your fist curled to your chest. 

Perhaps you should invest in these heartfelt gifts more often if it means having more close calls like that with the object of your quiet pining.

[verdancy-hime]

Yeah it's weird.

It seems like

I thought it was normal to see every person you meet as a brand new entry in your pokedex with specific care and feeding instructions that you are working to uncover slowly- and like, your friend with chronic pain doesn't like to sit down when he's having a flare up because getting up and sitting down makes it worse, but he'll take 4 excedrin if you offer. Your friend with blue hair prefers that you talk about that friend without using pronouns because sometimes people aren't sure who they want to know certain things, so you give your friend a nickname instead. Your friend who you play d&d with who's a boy is sometimes briefly a lesbian and that's why the body language is sometimes wonky but also your friend has bones too big for a human body and is slightly cursed and always has weird bad luck and is superstitious and always doing magical wards on their house but in his defense he trips and breaks a bone like twice a year. Your coworker who was in Iraq doesn't like to talk about it. Your friend who was in Iraq doesn't mind. Your friend who you sext likes to wear girl clothes but to use male pronouns. Your other friend likes to use female pronouns and wear boy clothes and have to slowly talk them into wearing girl clothes every time like you're forcefemming her even though she has hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of girly clothes and makeup and is better at wig styling than you.

You gotta have a pokedex.

Other people get very angry at the idea that they might need to add "when she sounds kinda flat and bitchy that means she trusts you" or "when she's talking like a little kid she's having an anxiety attack or an autistic burnout episode and acting cutesy is a defense mechanism" or "don't sneak up on her and touch you because she might elbow you really hard" to their pokedex. Other people want there to be only one or two types of Pokémon.

i think its true that you can use dude, bro, queen, babe- literally any nickname in a gender neutral way, and its also true that if somebody tells you to cut that out because they dont like it then you stop. and i think if you go on to insist 'im not misgendering you i mean it in a gender neutral way' then you get the glock. simples!

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

Jailbirds - M. Luffy

Fem!Reader

The sunlight burned into your eyes, the screams and yells of your fellow prisoners rushing into your ears. Painful and exhausted tears forced your eyes to push open, squinting in the sunlight. You dragged your hands up to your patterned kimono and wiped them onto the fabric before bringing your hands up and rubbing your eyes, the iron shackles heavy on your lap and looping around your wrist.

“This is the boy who defied Kaido!”

“The one who attacked him?”

“I thought he'd be a bit larger!”

“I thought he'd be similar to Queen!”

You yawned, standing up and walking to the front of your cell-- cage, more like. You narrowed your eyes to find the boy that seemed to be the center of attention; it was rare for things to be lively here in Udon. Messy black hair and a bloodied and patched red kimono; but even more than that, his face was wrapped in blood stained bandages. His gray eyes glared up at everyone, the chain of the sea prism stone shackles slathered across the floor and connecting to the handcuffs wrapped around his wrist.

After a few more long, dragged steps, he was thrown into the jail cell next to you. “Looks like you've got company now, Missy.” One of the guards snarled, spitting onto your face as he spoke. For once, you were glad that the cell separated you from the guard. Otherwise, who knows what he’d be desperate enough to do to you?

“Piss off.” You snapped, walking to the back wall of your cell. “I’m not supposed to do work today.” The prison guard rolled his eyes, grubby hands gripping the beams of the cell.

“You’re lucky you’re a woman and Queen finds you attractive. Otherwise, you wouldn’t even be here.” He growled, before stalking off. You raised your middle finger from behind the bars once he was out of sight. You knew that two cells away from you were an angry and barbaric red haired man who was missing an arm. You silently wondered if he would get along with this newcomer.

You slid down the cold, wet wall, looking up at the mucky ceiling. You were here for no good reason; stealing food to help feed a starving little girl who you had found on the streets even though you had no money yourself definitely wasn't the best decision you've made in your life. You wondered what the newcomer was here for; you knew that he had defied Kaido in some way, but how so? And why?

The next day, you're released, expected to carry blocks of stone to the port…as usual. The newly captured prisoner was only supposed to start working a few hours later, but in the cell, he looked like he was starving. You had carried 30 blocks of stone so far, exchanging it for only 6 millet dumplings. But you sighed, pushing the bowl of dumplings into the narrow holes of his cell. “You're probably hungry, you've just been newly captured after all. Take off your bandages and eat.”

He stared at the bowl in front of him as if it were a gift given from his savior, and tearing off the partially red bandages on his face, he shoved the millet dumplings into his mouth. “Hank yew!” He exclaimed, his cheeks round with millet dumplings. You shook your hand around, shaking your head. Stay quiet, you wanted to say. You would both get in trouble if the prison guards had caught you.

A few hours later, he was released from his cell to do more prison work, and within just a few minutes--and with his sea prism stone cuffs--he had already carried hundreds of blocks. Well shit. So if he could have gotten bowls and bowls and hundreds and hundreds of dumplings so easily, then what was the point of your pity and generosity for him?

“Hey! Thank you for earlier!” He came over to you, smiling, a long stone over his shoulder. You narrowed your eyes, gripping the large stone over your shoulder as you continued to drag your feet to the port.

“You're awfully happy for someone who just got captured. But you're welcome…what's your name?” You asked, his delight almost making you want to grin along with him. These were the most dangerous kind of people: the one whose emotions were contagious.

“I'm Monkey D Luffy! And I'm gonna be the King of the--” He began, as if he were speaking on instinct. He came to his senses, and quickly changed his mind. “I'm Luffytaro!”

Your lips pressed into a thin line. “You're a foreigner, aren't you? A pirate? And I'm guessing your real name is Luffy.” It wasn't really a guess, considering how he says so himself.

“Yep!”

“You're quite honest, aren't you? Well, I don't personally think that's a bad thing, but be careful about being so honest around here.” You muttered. “My name's (Y/n). Wano resident here; been here since birth. Welcome to Wano, and I hope you enjoy your time here…well, aside from being in jail and stuff. Udon is shit. How old are you? Just curious. I'm not creepy, I promise.”

“I'm 19.” Luffy said, beaming. Why was he smiling for no reason? How strange.

“You're older than me? Wow. I'm eighteen. Well, anyways, nice meeting you, Luffy.” You limped away, slipping another rock onto the port.

------

The sight in front of you was unbelievable.

Luffy, who has now been revealed as a pirate, leading all of the inmates out to freedom. You stiffened, unmoving and simply staring at him as he grinned and led. Finally, as all of the inmates were escaping, he turned to you. “Aren't you going to escape?”

Yes, yes, you wanted to. But your feet stayed planted on the ground; why weren't you moving? Haven't you always dreamed of this? Always dreamed of finally being free from this hell? Finally, your lips parted as you began to speak. “I'm from Okobore Town. Being let out of here…would it really be any different from being out there? What freedom would I be given? I'm still restricted from speaking my truth, still restricted from eating good food, still restricted to telling the truth about this country…”

Luffy looked up before putting a hand on his chin, thinking, before he looked down at you once more. “I'll defeat Kaido and I'll make this a place where you can say whatever you want to, eat as much as you want to, and you won't have to worry a thing!” He grinned at you, and he almost looked like the sun. So much that you could feel the corner of your lips quirking up, and when he looked into your eyes, it was almost as if the world had become more colorful.

He took your hand, and you both ran out of Udon, your first few steps towards freedom.

------

Following closely behind Kin’emon, Momonosuke, and Yamato, you huffed as you ran, your eyes finally meeting the port where the Heart Pirate, Kid Pirates, and Straw Hat pirates had their ships. Momonosuke instantly leaped onto Luffy, angry at first, but eventuall beginning to cry. You stood next to Yamato, your eyes lingering on Luffy as he said his farewells. You were a little surprised that Yamato wasn't going to join the Straw Hats, but perhaps he had other ideas.

Finally, Luffy reached you, and he handed you something.

His bounty poster.

“Hang it up on your wall, yeah? That way no one will want to hurt you!” Luffy said, beaming. Heat crawled up your neck and all the way to your eyes as you took the poster, lips trembling into a smile.

“I will. And visit anytime, okay? I'd love to have you here at Wano again.” You replied, tears stinging your eyes.

“Of course! Once I become the King of the Pirates, I'll visit you and we'll eat lots of meat!”

And finally, he hopped aboard the ship, the Sunny departing the Land of Wano. But as Luffy looked out on the open sea, he saw only your smile and the plethora of adventures and new islands awaiting him.

“I see you soon, (Y/n).”

@bubblyluffy

[revelboo]

All I can picture with the latest My Favorite Accident update is trying to introduce two cats to each other by smell through a closed door. KO is our housecat (or are we his human? 🤔) who is very protective of us and then BD bites our fingers when we try to let them get used to each other (it was going fine! We swear!) and suddenly KO is swatting the shit out of him because he’s the only one who can bite us excuse you

Pretty much the way his processor is responding to seeing you being manhandled by someone that’s not him.

My Favorite Accident Pt 14

Knockout x Reader x Breakdown

• Backpedaling as that spinning saw whines through the air inches from his chassis, grazing him to shower sparks and hurt, Breakdown stumbles and goes down. And he’s never seen Knockout like this, optics angry and smiling like that. Head tipping as he stands over him, he slowly extends his arm and Breakdown’s chin is forced up to avoid the blade. Knockout can’t possibly be this angry over him roughing up one, little human. Knockout knows him. And as awful as it is, his spike stirs. Responding to the dominance and anger with arousal. Frag. “You know I don’t like it when my favorite toys get taken away,” Knockout whispers, voice a low, angry purr. A seduction. “When they’re broken.”

• Head tilting at the sound of you limping away, his smile becomes brittle. You’re limping. “I wouldn’t have to steal your toys if you’d spend any time with me,” Breakdown counters, tone bitter, drawing his attention and the bigger mech’s yellow optics narrow in challenge. In anger. And it’s empowering to tower over him for once. Even as there’s a whisper of guilt at neglecting him, for making him feel like he wasn’t needed anymore. Had the big moron really thought he’d replace him with a human? “Or do you prefer squishies now?”

• Limping for the wall, you have no idea how you’re climbing up that slope without help when your entire body feels bruised. You don’t think anything is broken, but if they start genuinely fighting, you want to be far away. So over aliens and getting involved in their bullshit. Jealous maybe-boyfriends especially. You like hanging out with Knockout, taunting each other, but it’s hardly worth getting stomped for.

• “Please,” Knockout sneers, retracting the blade. “You can’t be serious.” But the medic’s head still turns to track your slow progress. Venting softly when you start clambering up the slope only to slide back down with a little squeak of noise and what he suspects is swearing. Lips quirking as you immediately make another attempt, he watches Knockout transform his weapon back to a hand, striding after you and leaving him sprawled on his back. It’s a slight, but better than feeling that blade. “What is it about you that just seems to make everyone want to murder you?” Knockout growls and you look up at him, expression relieved. Spark twisting uncomfortably at that, it’s strange to watch Knockout bend and pick you up by the back of your covering to set you back on your feet, a clawed servo lingering on your arm. On the way your skin is discolored and Knockout turns that deadly smile his way again.

• Using a servo to carefully lift your arm, there’s a flicker of anger at the bruises that Knockout can’t ignore. That Breakdown damaged you at all leaves him cold and furious, and your expression is guarded when you look up at him. “Must be my winning personality,” you say, trying to pull away and he hooks his servo around you. That neutral edge in your voice. Like you’re not surprised or angry that you got hurt. Like you expect it. What is he going to do with you? Stiffening slightly when Breakdown eases closer and you tense, eyes narrowing. Afraid of the bigger mech though it flits across your face so quickly before it’s gone and your expression blanks again. Pretending you don’t care. You’re both so exhausting. Venting softly as he studies you and Breakdown, both of you idiots matter to him and he’s not choosing between you. But you’re going to both make his life miserable if you can’t at least pretend to get along to humor him.

• Shivering despite the warmth of the evening, you know you’re not escaping unless Knockout decides to let you so you just glare at his big, dumb boyfriend while he scowls right back. And you’re aching and just want to lay down. Yelping when Knockout vents, seizes you and just thrusts you at his buddy, forcing him to cup his hands and take you in self defense. Clinging to Breakdown’s servos, your mouth falls open because Knockout is striding away from both of you. Abandoning you with his boyfriend, the jerk. “What am I supposed to do with this thing?” Breakdown growls, holding you out in his cupped hands away from his frame and curling his lip at you. It’s only the very real threat that he might drop you that’s keeping you from flipping him off again. “Knockout, come get your fragging human.” And he’s jogging after the medic with you in his hands, getting jarred.

Previous

[hotchnersangel]

STRIKES

Aaron Hotchner.

t/w: abusive relationship, toxic themes, speeding, injuries, bruises, protective hotch, emotional abuse etc

**do not read if these trigger you**

….

If self-sabotage was a person, every detail of every description in every byline would lead to you. You never meant for the outcome of your life to end this way but suddenly you lost your spark and the team started to notice. It started when you no longer went to every outing the BAU had, at first the team thought you were busy and they shortly found out you were. You were in a relationship.

The relationship between you and Alex was quick in growing and passion swiftly followed. During the honeymoon period- he was your everything. The team could see by the way you spoke so fondly of him. Over the course of 4 months, they eventually met Alex. From what you had seen, the team got on with him. All was finally well until it wasn't. After a dinner with Rossi in his mansion and the rest of the team, Alex was unhappy with Aaron Hotchner and how you acted around him. He created this idea that you and Aaron had something going on and he asked you politely to cut him off.

"He has a thing for you, how can you not see that?" He furrows his brows as he clenches his hand around the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white and his tone drops into a deeper one.

"He is my boss, Alex." you retort, reminding him that he has nothing to worry about. "You're being silly."

At those words, he inhales sharply and looks at you harshly. "Silly? I tell you how I feel and you tell me my feelings are invalid?" He shouts at you now, his hand hitting the steering wheel making you flinch slightly.

"Alex, no- can you just slow down please?" You say quieter now, holding onto the side of the car as you notice the way he is starting to flatten hid foot on the gas and speed. You do not recognise the man you are in the car with at the moment and that scares you.

He smirks slightly at your discomfort. "Why? You scared sweetie?" He condescends you, pressing further onto the gas pedal and starting to drive recklessly. "It's fine babe, you're just being silly."

That is when you reach a turning point in your relationship. You turned up to work the next day with a fake smile, then a fake one after that until your happiness was turned into a luxury.

The night after your argument, he seemed apologetic. His hand caressed your cheek as you looked at him with sad eyes. "You really scared me."

"I know, baby- Fuck..." He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "I was just angry and I'm sorry. I Love you, you know I love you."

And so, you forgave him. Big mistake.

The team didn't clock onto your unusual behaviour until Alex was brought into a conversation and you froze up slightly. Aaron had noticed, of course, he had noticed the look of fear that caressed your eyes screaming to get out. But, your words betrayed that theory. "Yeah, we are doing good."

You started to go home late, blaming it on paperwork that needed to be filled. That is when you started to show up to work looking worse for wear. You would have deep bags under your eyes like you had not got an ounce of sleep and you filled your coffee up an extra 1.2% more per day, according to Reid. Sometimes you would show up with smudged mascara from the night before, maybe even a face full of makeup from the night before. Though, you never usually wore a lot of makeup to work.

You grew distant from your team, your friends and your family. Alex even tried to convince you to quit your job but you declined his attempts.

About a year into your relationship with Alex, the second strike occurred. During an argument, he grabbed your arm. It was like the world stopped spinning at the force he did it with. You will forever remember the way his fingers clenched until they were bleached white with fury and the claustrophobic tingle radiating through your body as his grip didn't loosen. You were stood in your shared kitchen, having moved in together- into his apartment.

You looked towards him in a panic, tears burning and pricking the back of your eyes. It was like the breath was whipped from your chest and all you wanted was to break free. "Get off of me," you whisper fragile and frail as you plead for your freedom. Which he does, immediately and you rush into your bedroom and towards the window. Silent tears fell from your cheeks as you examined your arm. Freshly red and swollen as an instant bruise from the intensity of his grip scars the innocence of your gentle skin. The harsh tone was prominent against the natural colour of your skin. At that moment, you wanted your team but you felt so alone. So, you settled for Alex.

He followed you into the room shortly rested his hand on your shoulder and frowned. "Babe, I'm sorry. I love you so much, I'm sorry I didn't mean to grab you that hard."

You don't look at him.

"Babe, look at me..." Slowly, you do and he wipes the tears from your cheeks with a tender touch, a sharp contrast to how he was just gripping you- and you close your eyes at his touch. "Don't cry, you're too pretty to cry."

"You hurt me." You frown at him, his gaze falling to the markings on your arm and he holds his fingers against the bridge of his nose. "Did I do that?"

You nod, looking out of the window.

"Come on, let me bandage it up." He says softly, guiding you Into the bathroom as he cares for the wound that he caused so diligently. He mutters an 'I love you' every few moments.

What a fool you feel for staying but the love for him defeats any emotion otherwise you could hold towards him. This is when the excuses come out.

At work, five of you pile into one SUV, Hotch in the driver's seat- JJ beside him in the passenger seat then in the back was you squished between Morgan and Rossi. As Morgan got into the car, he pushed against your arm and you flinched in pain, pulling your arm to your chest and hissing in pain. "Ouch,"

He looked worriedly over you, everyone in the car doing so.

"Have you hurt yourself?" Aaron asks through the mirror, looking towards you skeptically. You go silent and sigh.

"Just caught it I guess. It's probably stiff from all the paperwork we have been doing," you joke and the team laughs, Aaron however does not.

"Hotch, you gotta stop giving her so much paperwork-" Morgan says playfully as we start driving towards the precinct to meet up with Spencer and Emily.

"She gets the same as you."

"It seems like it takes you forever," Morgan continues looking at you. "When was the last time you left on time?"

You sigh and look at him, "I'm dyslexic, It takes longer for me to read and write it." You tell them and it isn't a lie, just you have purposely been ensuring things are better for Hotch so he can get home to Jack sooner.

"You can say that, you messaged me the other day asking if the squatting was successful." JJ giggled, smiling fondly at you. "Luckily I speak your language fluently and understood you were not asking about my gym session but the swatting."

A few weeks later, you had gotten home late and Alex started an argument about missing his family meal. You had just got back from a case and there was no option or way you could have got back In time but he would not accept that answer.

"Were you fucking cheating on me?" He shouts at you, his pupils dark as he steps towards you, backing you against the wall. Under his stare, you flustered which made him assume you did. He grabbed you by the neck. You cried. He apologised. You excused it as an accident.

The next day, you turned up to work in a turtle neck. No one had ever seen you in a turtle neck but suddenly the next few weeks meant you had to wear them.

You were called out to another case that week and the team had to share hotel rooms. JJ and Emily bunked up. Spencer and Morgan bunked up, Rossi outwardly refused to share a room and so you were left to room with Hotch.

At the end of the day, you were in your room on the phone with Alex. Aaron was with the rest of the team at dinner on their way back.

"I miss you, babe," he sighed into the phone, "Where are you now?"

"In the hotel in Nashville... I think the team are on their way back now." You tell him, standing to face the window- the view was beautiful despite the cheaper hotel than the usual BAU budget would afford.

"How is everyone?" He asks plainly and you state a 'good'.

"Good, I'm sharing a room with the girls-" you lie and you feel awful, but he would actually kill you if he knew you were sharing with Aaron.

Although the universe seems to hate you as after saying that, the door opens and Aaron walks in and fails to notice that you are on the phone. "Hey, I brought you some food back-"

"Who the hell was that?" Alex says abruptly, a harsh venom laced in his undertone, "That better not be who I think it is."

You sigh silently cursing the universe and you turn to Aaron and catch his eye, he furrows his brows at your perplexed state. You clear your throat and look back to the window.

"Alex... don't do that please, it's not like that." You say in a hushed tone, feeling awkward knowing Aaron can hear everything going on between the two of you and you swore to yourself you would never let any members of the team see this side of your relationship due to the easy suggestions that it was becoming toxic and hostile, which you believed it wasn’t.

"You expect me to believe you? I knew it, I fucking knew you were a whore-" He shouts and you turn the volume down on your phone panicked, intense clicking which made it more obvious that you were trying to be suspicious- yet it seems to blast out ten times louder and your heart starts to race to the point you could hear it pulsing in your ears.

"Alex-"

"No- we will talk when you get home but best believe you're going to regret cheating on me." He states darkly and your breath picks up.

"Alex, listen to me please-"

"No, you can have nothing to say to me right now."

"I love you." You plea in return, your voice coming out exhausted, worn down and emotional. The love you have for this man was so evident in the way you even addressed him.

"I am disappointed in you,” you feel a part of your heart shatter. “You have done this- not me," he shouts through the phone and hangs up, leaving you to stare into the distance, the abyss full of spiralling worries cascading around your body as your mind is sucked further down the turmoil. The abrupt silence was ear piercingly loud. Aaron's sat on the bed on his phone but you just know that he heard every word.

Again, Alex has left you silently crying at the window. After a moment, you wipe your eyes that streamed with frozen tears which made your emotions obvious and Aaron sits up alarmed at the action. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes," you whisper and go to the bathroom, taking one glimpse and crying at your reflection in the mirror. You stare into the mirror, the deep bruise on your neck feeling tight and wildly suffocating suddenly. You rest your hand over the bruise softly, reliving the cruel memory at the hand of the man you love and you throw on a hoodie, pulling the neckline to cover the raging discolouration. You walk back into the room and take the food Aaron brought you back.

"I'm sorry you heard that." You say softly, not looking at him but looking ahead, turning your side of the light off so he would not catch sight of your neck.

"Are you okay?" He asks softly, looking towards you with worry and noticing how you can not look at him. "How often does he talk to you like that? "

"Not often- we just are struggling with the distance is all..."

"He should never talk to you like that." He states firmly, his tone still laced with an unknown softness.

"Thank you for dinner."

“Of course,” Aaron sighs with little content, worry very evidently etched onto his features creating an unnecessary frown against his aging soft skin. “Try get some sleep, yeah?”

The next few days brought a struggle to hide all the injuries marked on your body, if Aaron hadn’t seen so much of the conversation last night- you would have given some more leeway but you knew his suspicions were high. However, on the very last night Aaron caught a glimpse of your throat as you itched your neck, a hardly noticeable action that could be played off as a shadow, but Aaron knew deep down that despite the slither of hope he nursed within, that it was not the case. That a deep purple bruise rests under your turtle neck. He waits until you are in the safety of your shared hotel room to inquire about the injury but he already knows what has happened.

"Show me." He states simply, looking at you as you lay on your single bed. You furrow your brows, looking at him confused as you stand up nervously and move towards the window once again, taking in the sights.

"What?" You inquire.

"Show me your neck." He states and your world quite literally stops. An incessant ringing echoes through your ears desperately wanting a plea, your head feeling so dizzy at the continuous sound buzzing away, the sudden weight heaved onto your merely strong shoulders felt like too big a burden to carry and you slowly realised that it was time to accept your fate. You failed.

He stands up, moving towards you now and you shake your head, laughing softly. "Oh- that, that's nothing. I'm clumsy you wouldn't believe the story-"

"No, I won't because I have an idea who did that to you. Please, show me." He comes closer and he moves his hand up, maybe too quickly with the severity of the situation but every movement was transferred with care and non-malicious intent, simply Aaron’s desire to protect you from your demons, from the evil you are surrounded by, however you could not help but flinch.

"What has happened to you?" He asks softly, retreating his hand apologetically, his face contorts to one you have never seen before. Affectionate. Caring. Melancholy. You look at him once more, trying to shake your head and laugh to make humour of the situation but your walls break down involuntarily and a tear falls from your eyes, betraying your integrity.

"It's fine, it was just an accident." You excuse after a long pause and Aaron rests his hand on your shoulder, slower and gentle this time, almost like a feather touch that you could barely even feel.

"Come here," he rests his hands on your back and the back of your head, holding you delicately as he pulls you in for a hug. More tears fall from your eyes. "This isn't okay, people that love you would never hurt you, okay?"

"Really, it was an accident and he was just angry-"

"No level of anger should ever resort in you being hurt." He says firmly, a burning fire raging inside of him. "Especially not to the levels you have been assaulted-"

"He loves me-"

"No, he loves manipulating you" Aaron stated bluntly, knowing you need to hear it no matter how painful that realisation may be.

“I know.” You admit after another comfortable yet tense moment, your voice merely a whisper.

You went to bed shortly after that, though you did not sleep a wink, never even tried and neither did Aaron. You just lay in your separate beds, in silence, his presence offering you safety and a warmth you had not felt in a long time.

"You should break up with him."

There was silence, until you rolled over, to face the wall, uttering two words that encouraged the darkness both physically and emotionally . "I can't."

[a-mysterious-man]

"...Darling?"

...

"Darling."

"Mmmgh..."

"...Darling!"

I groan, rolling over in bed. Then I realize I'm not in bed anymore. And I have a very angry little fairy next to my ear.

"...Mm?"

"Oh, good, you're awake. Get up, you have an infinite amount of completly identical days to-"

I'm already crawling back in bed before she can finish.

"Wha- no! You can't just sleep through this!"

"Can and I will." I reply groggily, pulling my incredibly messed up covers over me.

"No! You won't! This was supposed to be me toying with you! Not you ignoring all your problems just to lay unconscious in that bed!"

"Heh. Guess I'm pretty good at turning the tables."

The fairy's wings flutter angrily, though she can't be too mad. This is exactly what one of them would pull if the roles were reversed.

"Y-You-! I-! This was supposed to be my one time I get to mess with humans, and you just had to mess it up! You should be out there! Suffering! Not... not rotting inside like a corpse!"

That last bit hits me harder than it should've. I really have been a corpse lately, haven't I?

...Maybe it's because I thought I'd be better off as one.

"...Darling? You look... troubled."

That snaps me out of it.

"Mm-? Yeah, yeah, I'm-"

Before I can even finish, I feel a tiny little thing on my neck.

"...Is this supposed to cheer me up? A hug?"

"Yesssss~ Is it working?

"...Yeah."

I swear I hear the damn thing giggle.

"Do you wanna go outside now?"

"...No, not really."

"Is it because you don't like people?

"...Yeah."

"...Gardening doesn't require other people, y'know."

...It does have a point.

"...Fine."

The Fae that trapped you in a Groundhog Day-style time loop is extremely frustrated that you’re taking advantage of the situation to just sleep all day, every day.

[anselbun]

Thinking about dick graysons canon hallucinations and his also very canon (though not explicitly stated) BPD today. About how he was 100% in the throes of an extended manic episode during a lot of the older titans comics from right after Jason’s death. How even in the current day he struggles so horribly with all his huge pent up feelings that are constantly changing and just doesn’t know how to deal with, but has forced himself to learn how to hide them until they blow over. He has to hide them. He has to be the mature one. He has to protect the other kids from the chaos and pain that is this life.

Dick, who has to hallucinate the child brother he barely knew because that’s the only way to cope with his death. The only way to make his brain think he hasn’t been “abandoned” by another person he cares about.

How, when Roy had to take over the titans, all dick could think and feel was that Roy didn’t trust him or care about him anymore and that none of the titans wanted him here. That he was being rejected. That they didn’t love him. That this was just like when Batman fired him as robin.

It isn’t like that. It never WAS like that. But dick does not always understand that.

As he’s gotten older, he hasn’t quite “mellowed out”. He’s still the intensely emotional, struggling person he was in the older comics. He still has deeply impulsive thoughts and constantly tries to put the perceived needs of others above himself, over and over and over. But he’s learned that he cannot show these feelings to others. That he HAS to keep them in, because if they see that he’s struggling, the rejection will just be worse. That he’ll ruin more relationships, that he won’t be able to be there to protect those people when they need him.

And then there’s Jason after he’s returned. Jason who always feels that dick is judging him, now. How he thinks dick is always looking at him as if he’s about to blow up, about to have some crazy plan that will get others killed. Because, well- that’s what dick DOES expect. Because he saw Jason, with the “same” big feelings that dick had at that point in his life, but Jason “never” hid them. He went out there and expressed his rage as red hood and got it all out, and dick never really did that without immediately regretting the consequences and having to fix it.

I think, in dicks perspective , everybody else has these same huge feelings he has all the time. The constant back and forth, the constant fear of rejection. He sees Jason being angry and violent and thinks- “why can’t he just hold it all in like I do?”. He doesn’t get that this is a different situation, different feelings. That dick holding in all this violent anger and need for reassurance isn’t good for him, that Jason learning to do that wouldn’t be good for him either.

I think, as much as dick probably wouldn’t want to admit it, he projects onto his family a lot like Jason does. Jason and his comments about how the other kids only ever became Robin so that Bruce would love them. Sure, there’s some truth in it when it comes to damian, who had no connection to Gotham other than it being where his father lived. But there’s more nuances to that that Jason doesn’t understand about his siblings because he’s not in their head. Just like how there’s nuances to all of their feelings and trauma and reactions to things that dick will never understand.

He’s forced himself to mature, to grow and bury these feelings because he knows he has to be the responsible one. He has to do what his family and bludhaven and Gotham and his team all need. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t still have those feelings of anger in him. That doesn’t mean he stops looking at Bruce sometimes and thinking- “god, I think he’s a monster” after seeing everything Bruce has done to the other kids. That also doesn’t change that dick looks at Bruce and thinks “he’s my father my mentor my hero, my brother, my saviour, my partner, my everything- my god. I’d die for him. I will never be him. I will never be good enough for him. I need him to be better for everyone else.”

Dick will never stop feeling these constant sways of emotions. They’ll always be a part of them. He’s just had to bury them. Until Bruce fucks up too bad again or someone hurts one of the kids dick’s sworn himself to protect. Until he has no choice than to let it all boil over.

Dick isn’t the angry robin. He isn’t the happy robin. Boiling him and Jason down to either one of those characteristics is just damaging to their characters and what they’ve been through.

Dick is bright and happy and loving and charismatic. But he’s so angry. He’s so tired. He wants to be loved and he wants to be safe. He wants to protect others. Needs to protect others. Needs to be the one whose always there to do it because he trusts nobody else to handle it all. He has to handle it all. He doesn’t want to handle any of it. He’s so tired. He’s so angry. He loves so strong and it’s killing him.

He spends so much of his time seeing how being Batman is killing Bruce. How much of his life Bruce has given to the thing that will kill him.

I think dick refuses to accept that being robin, being nightwing, is killing himself too. That he’s not immune to this. That pushing himself harder and harder and trying to “prove” himself that he CAN handle everything over and over again doesn’t mean he should. That he’s torturing himself in ways even Batman cannot see.

[nana-luvy]

I'm just supposed to stand there and do nothing ?

Installment of the Mine series

warnings: fluff + angst, playboy!Luke, fem!reader, daughter of Athena!reader, swearing (woops maybe a lot more this time), arguing/fighting

Because you swore the gods were in on making a player appear like a knight in shining armor, and you weren't having it.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

As loud clatter erupted from the other side of the crowded Dining pavilion, Luke raised his head from his plate, mouth stuffed with salad, in direction of the sound. Pieces of a plate were scattered on the marble tiles, and a commotion could be heard among the dish pieces.

“What the fuck are you on, Gale ? Why would I do that in any fucking world ?”

Was that your voice ?

“Stop denying, I know it’s you!” an angry voice shouted back, biting.

“You’re the only reason for your own demise, Gal-”

“You took your little sister’s cap and cheated!”

Your exasperated sigh could be heard from Luke’s place, his ears attentive as he tried to get the situation right. What could you have possibly done for that son of Ares to be so onto you ?

“I did not cheat, you fucking dumbass!” You snapped, any nerves you’d gotten back scurrying away for your annoyance to scream out. “It’s not my fault you’re stupid enough to take a piss mid Capture the Flag fucking game!” The boy was silent for a moment from what Luke could hear, but the growing whispers kept his attention trained to the scene he couldn’t even see.

Around him, at the Hermes cabin’s table, glances were exchanged about his odd behavior, stopping right in the middle of his sacred meal session, and even more once Luke fully got up from the stone-looking bench and started weaving his way through the crowd.

“Wow,” the child of Ares started, trying to put on some semblance of an act. “I can’t believe you’d go put your lies out there like that, you fucking maniac-”

“What lies, Gale ? I don’t need cheating to win, even though it might be a concept you’re not familiar with since you went against the rules last time to catch our flag ?” Your eyebrow raised accusingly to match the look in your eyes, the first sight of you Luke had seen since you’d made it your life’s purpose to avoid him. And damn did his knees feel weak. “I distinctly remember unnecessary blood being shed on the beach las-”

“Shut up, nerd!” the blond boy in front of you thundered, all eyes turning back to him. “I don’t know what’s holding me back…”

And despite his best— or at least he tells himself so —effort to stay out of it, Luke immediately stepped in when the other boy threateningly walked closer to you. His hand shot to your wrist, moving you behind his back to shield you from Gale apparent and uncontrolled fury, and it didn’t leave it, subconsciously savoring the warmth of the contact he didn’t know he was starving for.

“Hey, back the fuck off, Goldilocks,” Luke simply said, his tone controlled as he used his free hand to push flat on Gale’s chest and keep him away.

For a second there, you were too stunned to fight back, like split between a lot of conflicting feelings. Because, even though you would’ve stood your ground all the way, you had to admit standing up to someone a foot bigger than you and way broader had some kind of bitter apprehension to it. And if you would never say it out loud, you were deep down comforted by Luke’s presence in this instant, your hand in his grasp shooting to clutch the hem of his shirt as you tensed hearing more barked out threats from the other side of the orange wall blocking your view.

“I think it’s time you go about your day, buddy.”

Your head was still ducked behind Luke’s shoulder when you heard an annoyed grunt from the other boy. “Whatever, Castellan, she’s not worth the damn trouble anyway…” he trailed, before eventually turning around and leaving the dining area, his minions following suit.

Your hand quickly let go of the stretchy fabric, still tightly held by the wrist as Luke tugged you away from the crowd and down the side of the stone pavilion.

“Let go of me…” you started, maybe a little soft compared to the overwhelming storm raging inside you. But why this storm, you wondered, what was making you feel so conflicted, now that you were out of any trouble ? What was making your heartbeat quicken, creating this thin layer of sweat at the back of your neck and making your fingers tremble slightly ?

“What?” The boy finally turned as he stopped in his tracks, his hand still wrapped around your wrist, his eyes scanning over you to make sure you were alright.

“I said get off me!”

Your voice raised without warning, a shrill sound you didn’t mean to seem so weak and wounded, and it took Luke slightly off guard, taking a step back and letting go of you instantly. “Wow, what’s gotten into you all of a sudden ?”

But your mind was one-tracked in this moment, you didn’t care for his questions. “Why did you help me ? I didn’t need help, and certainly not your intervention.”

“Yeah? To me you seemed pretty glad I stepped in,” he flatly answered, absentmindedly rubbing his hands together like trying to recreate the feeling of his skin on yours. It was weird, considering holding your wrist was a far less intimate gesture than ones you’d had before, but it held something, to him at least.

“Well, open your ears real good, big guy, I don’t need you to jump in when I seem in trouble, okay? I can do great on my own.”

“What am I supposed to do then? Stand there and do nothing? By the gods, why are you so angry over this ? It’s fucking pointless,” he asked, genuinely confused, his eyebrows frowned and mouth agape to prove it.

“Because you don’t care!” you eventually snapped, making him step back again and back into a column. “You don’t care and you still do this. Not a single cell in your body cares, and you still act like you do because you know it’s gonna get you what you want in the end.” Your finger was accusatory as you pointed it his way, stepping forward to press your nail right into his chest, on your tip toes to be eye-level, anger burning in your gaze. “Guess what? I’m fed up, keep your mask of kind, glorious golden boy for yourself and get out of my sight! Didn’t you have enough already?”

Was it anger ? Or hurt ? Luke couldn’t tell, but what he could tell was that he preferred you smiling over anything else, and your eyes were burning into his very uncomfortably. How did he end up here again ?

“Don't cross my way, thank you…” you emphasized, before turning around and walking away, your steps stiff.

The son of Hermes only allowed himself a deep breath once you were out of his sight, sliding down the grey column running a hand over his face.

“Way to fuck things up…”

Okkkkkk only one left whaaaaat ? I'm not ready (i don't know how it's gonna end btw.)

Btw it's actually insane that so much people enjoy this like wdym people read what i write now... Love your support <3

- Love, Nana

taglist. @spider-ghoul @cas-planet @smileysunshinesworld @mlbmarichat13 @makinbananapancakes @imafuckinstar @emotiandon @mgg55lovr @kisscastellan

[ofeliaxoxo]

A prompt for you: Charlos, jealousy

Yesss jealousy trope of all TIME unironically my favourite scenario

Hope you enjoy this! Wrote it a bit on the fly because I’m sick in bed ignoring responsibilities

He’s not even gracious in victory. The usual post-win glow is absent, no movie star smile pulled back to reveal his perfect teeth. The nice way his eyes crinkle up, so you can believe in it, the whole idea, how lovely he is.

Charles, Carlos could say, give me a smile. You’re so beautiful, you’re so talented. You beat us all today. Why do you look so angry?

“Congratulations,” he actually says, keeps the jealousy out of his voice although only the stupidest idiot could imagine it not to exist. “That was a great drive, mate.”

“Thank you. You too, you have done well.”

Oh?

“You were very happy, no? I saw you celebrate it with Alex.”

God. Like being told, no come on, you did a good job too, upset with himself as a child about second place. And he was, no, he is happy. They managed P4 and P5, a ridiculous result, practically a win, leagues ahead of where he thought he’d be this year. James nearly cried, hugged Carlos close and said I can’t believe it and then shook his head, taking it back, insisting that he knew they would succeed.

So he is happy, even though here Charles is, sodden with champagne, the actual winner of everything.

Maybe he’d seen when they’d gotten out of their cars and Carlos, without thinking about it, had pulled Alex in, squeezed him, thumping him on the back, trying to impart some of what he was feeling into his teammate. Alex swayed pleasingly when Carlos thwacked him, giggling, whole face scrunched up in delighted amusement the way it does.

Carlos likes him, the way he laughs so easily, gets stuck on his words and then enjoys it when Carlos leads them back into the path charted out for them by the cue cards.

And then a photo with the team, their names in big letters, Carlos and Alex, P4 and P5, all the mechanics with their fists raised in the air, cheering in victory although really there was no victory. But Carlos is happy, isn’t going to lose the feeling.

And now Charles, red and obvious against all the Williams blue.

Alex hasn’t left, has just stepped into his own garage instead of outside where everyone is milling around, where Carlos had been gathering himself.

“Yes, a good result for me and Alex, for the team. We are happy.”

Interview mode. Charles won’t notice, anyway.

“You and Alex work together well.”

“Do you want me to go and get him? I think he is not busy.”

Charles has got his podium cap in his hand. He always makes these things into a huge show, much bigger than anyone else, every time, curtsying and waving and simpering at the crowd like an actress being given a present.

“No, I - no. I am going. I wanted to invite you, to come tonight.”

Sitting at Charles’s table, partying for Charles’s win. He doesn’t have to, anymore, no one could ever expect him to. The galling thing, the disgusting little twist, is that he wants to. Would be happy there, in the circle. Carlos can see himself, sitting next to him, close close close, the nearness of Charles’s face, the thickness of his eyelashes, the smell of his cologne, how fun he is when he’s in a good mood. How Carlos could drape an arm across his shoulders, let it fall heavy on the hard muscle there.

“Sorry, we are flying this evening. And I think there will be dinner with the team, first.”

James’s obvious delight to look forward to. Carlos and Alex are turning the team around.

“You are flying together?”

He must’ve had too much champagne on the podium. Or the rocky battle with Max in lap fifty has scrambled his brain. He’s seriously not acting right for someone who should be floating, shouldn’t even be listening to what Carlos is saying.

“Yes. Are you ok, Charles?”

“Charlie! Come to show us what a real winner looks like, I assume,” Alex is here again, with a reassuringly cheerful grin. He comes up to stand by Carlos, unworrying in his personal space.

Finally, the pretty laugh, for Alex, the glance down and then back up. Does he know he does it?

“I will see you later, mate,” he announces, claps hands with Alex, turns to leave, makes sure to remind Charles he is the best, to see if that will lift his inexplicable mood, “enjoy your party, eh, Charles, don’t go too crazy!”

[rjunhuang]

how the harry potter boys would react to you hooking up with someone else.

featuring: harry potter, ron weasley, draco malfoy, fred weasley, george weasley.

warnings: lowercase intended. gender neutral reader. informal writing?? they're a bit toxic.

note: can you believe i wrote this in 2023? it was an unfinished draft featuring more characters. i might make a part two w them included. also i do NOT like draco lol so i'm a little biased when i write him. honestly send in some requests on what other prompts you'd like to see w them

divider by enchanthings | comments & reblogs are appreciated! <3

harry!  he'd highkey be so salty about it. at first, he's just completely off put and hurt by the thought of you going out with someone else. HE THOUGHT Y'ALL HAD SOMETHING GOING ON </3

his literal initial reaction would be, "oh.. montague, huh.. hm uh.." before walking away from the conversation all together.

if you're a dumbass, you'd assumed he's just incredibly awkward when it came to hearing about other people's relationships, but supportive nonetheless. oh, you're wrong though. he walked off because he had no idea whether to be angry at himself for not pulling any sooner or at you for choosing someone slimey as graham montague to swap spit with or maybe just montague himself.

the longer this fling lasted, the more comfortable harry would be about expressing his distaste on the whole relationship. he'd given you lectures about how you shouldn't like those type of slytherins. you'd probably lost track on how many times he had indirectly called montague ugly. 

he would visibly show attitude whenever montague interrupted a conversation between you two. eye rolled and scowled like crazy, but he doesn't want to step the line as he's just seen as a friend by you —

"hey, mate, can't you see i'm trying to have a chat with her?"

he'd have dreams about hexing the shit out of graham though. maybe he'd slyly done it in the middle of class when no one's looking too.

if you accuse harry of doing so, he'd simply just shrug, "don't look at me." but would add a silent, "he had it coming though." 

it's like a silent warfare between him and montague soon enough. both of them would be throwing attitude around when you're lowkey oblivious to it all. harry won, obviously, and this would be the breaking point - montague had enough of dealing with harry so he'd just ended things with you. of course, harry's going to comfort you if you do get sad about it —

"i just don't know why he'd do this out of nowhere." you sulk under the hold of harry, both sitting on an empty hallway's staircase. harry has his arm wrapped around you, rubbing your shoulder. "yeah, wonder why.."

he'd had a massive ego boost knowing he was the reason graham montague won't go near you anymore. literally would have to hide his smirk the entire time when comforting you. but he wouldn't be harry potter if he wasn't ending it with a snarky comment. he's not sure whether you'd slap or kiss him for it, but he surely wouldn't mind it being both.

once you and harry finally ended up together, the thought of montague wouldn't even cross his mind. he wouldn't care less about some random troll-looking fool. probably didn't even notice the dirty looks from montague because his eyes are on you. you had his undivided attention.

ron!  he'd thought it's some sick, twisted joke. you'd told him the news that you're hooking up with cormac and just watched ron's face morph from being mortified to plain old disgusted. regarding situations like these, i think ron is a bit emotionally immature so he definitely wouldn't react well.

it had been saturday morning and almost everyone fifth year and above were recovering from a wild friday night common room party. that was the first night you hooked up with mclaggen and this morning, on the way to the great hall, he had pulled you aside to suggest making it a common occurrence — "some fun, no need for any strings attached." were his words. you had brought this up in the table during breakfast when hermione pointed out your flushed expression. the news leaves everyone shocked, but most especially ron. hermione had opened her mouth to begin reasoning with you, "i don't thin—" "THAT'S DISGUSTING!" ron wouldn't even beat around the bush, cutting off hermione. his mouth would be full with scrambled eggs and toast since he had stopped bothering to chew the moment you mentioned the word 'hooked up'. you'd mutter back a petty, "bold coming from the git with his mouth full." obviously hurt by his words.

it only worsened from that point onwards. the beautiful friendship you had with ron would crumble in a matter of time. it's constant fights with you two, ron's almost waiting for a reason to scowl or scoff whenever you're around. good luck even mentioning cormac in front of him, he'd just burst. the jealousy was so undeniably obvious yet you'd be so caught up in the anger of all of it to even realise. had it been someone less athletic than cormac, ron would've jumped him the moment he found out. 

he'd be a petty little bitch but all the dramatics are to hide his insecurity. of course you'd chosen the conventionally attractive hunk over him. he'd be pretty rough on himself because of it; it's pure heartbreak for him. he'd never admit it but he's cried once or twice after storming off from a fight with you. 

the end of your friendship with him would be in a final argument. merlin knows how it started, you never do. but almost a month into your fling with mclaggen, you've grown tired of ron's immaturity. so this time, you ask him.

"why are you even so pressed about this?!" you'd shout to ron. to which he'd counter with, "because he's a dim-witted fool who's only going to hurt you!" the frustration was unbearable as you lick your dry lips, raking a hand through your messy locks. ron is standing opposite to you, chest heaving from the intensity of the situation, yet he shamelessly takes a glance at your lips. "then if you're such an expert at this, tell me who i deserve to be wit—" ron must have a knack for interrupting others because he pulls you into a kiss, frowning as he does so. it's his final desperation for you to just hear him out. and you do, you kiss back and you're hit with the original passion you've always felt for him that these fights had blinded from you.

it's the end of your friendship and the beginning of a romance.

draco!  draco's love language is definitely cliche bullying. without a doubt, he doesn't know how to show affection to anyone at all so you two would definitely be enemies of some sort. i think he'd lowkey be oblivious to the fact that he's straight up mean to you but you've literally had enough of it. you'd had a crush on him since your first year together probably and eventually you caught his eye as well — except for all the wrong reasons. he grew a knack for constantly belittling you in some kind of way even remotely possible to him. though, in his eyes, he always saw it as flirting and you being into all of it. you accepted the attention for what it was and grew to expect his taunts during classes. shamelessly, you did enjoy the fights the two of you shared. however, 'banter' could only last for so long and you eventually grew insecure of the words spat from malfoy. your friends encouraged you to move on and you finally decided to take their word. you supposed you had a type for slytherins, seeing how harper soon enough came into your life. he was a good distraction from malfoy to the point that even the (apparently natural) platinum blond took notice of your distancing. you stopped countering draco's remarks with snarky quips nor did you even bother to spare a glance at him anymore. draco hated the feeling he failed to recognise as heartbreak. he was so caught up in this feeling that he ordered crabbe and goyle to snoop around and find out what changed about your life. it didn't take much investigating to discover the budding romance between you and harper. draco was far more distraught than he thought he'd ever been about the news - but what malfoy's goons failed to communicate was that you and harper were barely anything serious. 

despite that, draco was consumed by emotion. his immediate reaction after his minions left his dorm room was to owl his father with a letter demanding to expel harper from hogwarts. lucius' response, though, was an eerily formal letter telling his pissbaby of a son to never waste his time with such nonsense again. in other words, his father had completely shrugged him off. thus, draco hopped onto the plan b — which was to gang up on harper with his goons. draco liked to claim no one is on his level enough to be his friend, however, he had grown to like harper before this situation arose. they both shared interests in quidditch and shaming others of their blood status. 

soon enough, he had been on harper's case, constantly mocking the other slytherin boy whenever draco found the chance. it was no secret draco had a superiority complex over the fact that harper was the reserve seeker on the slytherin quidditch team whilst draco himself was the main seeker — so this became draco's number one target towards harper.

"your girl couldn't get the real thing so she opted for the knock off instead, yeah?" draco would sneer, adrenaline pumping from the audience that had surrounded him as he insults harper. he tosses a few kicks at the fallen over boy before crabbe and goyle take over with more aggressive ones. he'd snicker at the sight of the dishevelled harper, adding one more comment before walking away, "don't worry, she'll be running back to me soon enough."

fred!  if you think fred weasley's demeanor would even remotely falter at the news of you hooking up with someone else, you are wrong. even the fact that the special guy was viktor fricking krum wouldn't be able to stop the ginger from continuing to shamelessly flirt with you. fred's mindset was the literal definition of 'never back down, never give up'. he was not going to let you go simply because krum was snogging you on the sides. 

it's lunchtime on a wednesday where majority of hogwarts is present in the great hall, along with the selected students of beauxbatons and durmstrang. you were seated next hermione granger at her designated house table, discussing the slight change in the structures of the upcoming exams. so deep in your conversation with the girl, you had somehow failed to notice the presence of the infamous weasley twins with lee jordan right by their side — obviously. fred is the one to interact with you the most whilst the other two gryffindor boys do their own thing. the older twin's hand is pressed down on the table, leaning his whole body weight against it as he hovers over you. you notice a peculiar shadow cast beside you and turn your right, immediately being greeted with a wickedly grinning weasley. you can't help but notice the veins and slight muscle peeking through his rolled up sleeve from his dominant arm being supported by his weight.  hermione, having read the room, turns around, joining a conversation with neville longbottom and ron weasley. "hey, love." fred spoke up, almost purposively being loud enough for others around to take a quick glance. you tense up at the publicly proclaimed nickname, and though you have heard it leave his mouth several times before, this time there is a bulgarian national quidditch player who might just overhear. it doesn't take more than a second for you to spot viktor, who's looking right to your direction, obviously having heard and seen fred. the muscle in krum's tense jaw twitches as he sharply watches the two of you, while on the other hand, fred's gaze on you hasn't budged. in fact, he lifts his left arm up, fixing the position of your head to face him with the grasp on your jaw. "eyes up here, angel." he instructs before going on a tangent about how professor sprout had seperated him and george during class.

to say viktor krum wasn't pleased with fred's public display of affection towards you would be an understatement. apparently in durmstrang, they do things a little differently — such as rounding up your friends and beating up whoever crosses them, rather than the usual duels at hogwarts. so the sight of a bloodied fred entering your dorm had you leaping to your feet to question and aid him. despite the cuts around his face, fred's cocky smile never left his face. clearly he didn't get krum's message, seeing how he took every opportunity to hold your waist as you wiped the cuts clean off his face. krum truly wasn't getting to him. merlin, he seriously enjoyed pissing the guy off.

or so you thought until you caught onto fred's sudden interest in constantly pranking krum and the durmstrang boys. at first you assumed this could be revenge for ganging up on fred, but then you watched the weasley during one of his quidditch practises. beaters already had such an aggressive role — yet in your handful of years knowing fred, you'd never seen him play this aggressive. it was honestly impressive really, how he managed to keep a cool demeanor until he, well, couldn't.

george!  george never could understand what had gotten into you to start hooking up with adrian fucking pucey. seriously, all george could think about was how closely pucey resembled to the troll his younger brother and friends fought during their second year. despite his thoughts, he never uttered a single word out loud. he was far from supportive of the relationship but he did his best to stay respectful — maybe you were in an 'i can fix him' phase. though george had no idea how anyone could remove the definite troll genes from the slytherin. 

so sure, george kept his mouth shut and a respective distance from the whole relationship ... wrong. oh, come on, there's always a twist with the weasley twins. see, whilst publicly he was an angel .. behind closed doors and alone with you was a whole other wizard. the guy knew if he were to harass pucey with his pranks and stand against him, you would only push the ginger away. he didn't even want to risk such a thing. yet, he still wanted to be close enough to remind you of how much he cared. solitary moments with you begun gentle — he didn't want to cross any line, but still needed to have some sort of idea of where exactly that line was. it wasn't out of the ordinary for just the two of you to hang out — you were best friends after all. however, the more days spent with you, the more flirtatious george grew to be around you.

what starts with light touches on your elbow, soon grows into the two of you laying on the common room couch together, your head on his shoulder and his arm wrapped around you as he talks sweet nothings with you. it was the same old george before you met pucey — how can you ever walk away from this? almost having read the room, george's gaze flickers onto your lips, the talk from him slowly dying out despite the fact that he hadn't even completed his sentence yet. your brain grows fuzzy at the sight of george slowly leaning in, your own gaze fixated on his lips. it was unfortunate that adrian had to step into your common room during that tender moment, clearly in search of you. knowing him, he was in need of some snogging right now. the darkening look in his eyes as he spots the two of you clearly highlights his distaste towards the whole scene. he had practically marched over to the couch, grabbing george by the collar as he slams him onto the nearest wall. you have to admit, the height difference of the five foot nine pucey compared to george's six foot three makes the whole interaction look a lot more silly. "fuck you doin' with my girl, weasley?" snarls adrian, his irish accent thick with rage. yet george seems less than phased, his arms raised as a smirk grows onto his face. "if she was your girl, mate, she would have pulled away." george calmly adds, glancing at you behind pucey with the most flirtatious eyes known to wizard kind. you can't help but feel stunned at the look, almost melting. "want to be the judge of this, darling?"

[forrest-onfire]

Mkay, I’ve got another:

I need a fic where Raf and MC are chaotic besties. Obviously Raf is in love but MC also has a crush except she’s CONVINCED he’s gay. Bc come on. Look at him. Do you hear his voice? That’s a pretty little gay boy right there. I’m 100% down for bisexual Raf (I’ve been seeing lots of Sylus x Rafael lately and I’m EATING IT UP). But I digress: MC loves Raf but has always friendzoned him unintentionally because she’s convinced he couldn’t possibly like her back, he’s just a flirty person in general, not that she’s every seen him flirt with anyone else, but that assumption suits him well anyway.

Raf HATES that she seemingly doesn’t see him as a threat at all. Basically the whole “clearly you don’t see me as a man” cliche except she totally does, but she’s lost all hope in pursuing him and now just treats him as her gay best friend, playful flirting, innocent touches, etc…

Things go a little too far when she starts to feel comfortable enough to change in front of him, and he just kinda snaps, getting all defensive to hide how flustered he’s getting and then she finally lets it slip.

“I don’t know why it bothers you so much. This isn’t your first time seeing a naked woman, is it? You may not be attracted to the female body, but I didn’t think you’d be so squeamish. Didn’t you study anatomy as an artist? Though, I guess you don’t have to since you hardly ever do portraits…”

She’s rambling as she changes, but Rafael is still caught on her casual confession that she apparently had NO CLUE how hot and bothered he gets every time she walks into the room. NO CLUE that every time she passed by him, the scent of her shampoo alone give him a pathetic hard on that makes his pants feel so tight, he wonders if the seams will pop open and reveal his disgusting, dirty train of thought. NO CLUE that he fisted himself under the sheets at night after trying and failing so many times to draw her just right because no frozen picture on a canvas could fully capture her beauty, not to mention how was he supposed to draw something he’d never gotten the privilege to see.

Until now, as she stands naked and unassuming in front of him, going on about how he’s…

Gay?

I mean, sure he liked dick probably as much as the next guy (assuming the next guy was queer as shit, of course). But Rafael was nothing if not adventurous and maybe a little depraved at times.

Like now, feeling that dark desire pool in his stomach and his cock struggle against the fabric of his briefs.

Her back is turned towards him, stretching leisurely before she bends to pick up her clothes and gives him the perfect view of e v e r y t h i n g, plump ass wriggling absentmindedly back and forth, thick thighs pressed together, and between the two like a delicately framed jewel is her sweet cunt that he’s been trying to envision for months now, right in front of him for the taking.

It almost made him angry how she did so with such innocent intentions, no idea how crazy it was driving him. But you know what? If this wasn’t an opportunity to prove to her just how much of a man he was, then what else was? After all, never once did he say a word about not liking woman - he hadn’t even mentioned liking men at all, how could he think about someone else when she stood right there, perfect in every way except apparently common sense because where the HELL had she gotten the idea that he was gay?

So really, it’s her fault. A lesson needs to be learned, and if Raf was lucky, she wouldn’t be forgetting it anytime soon…

K, so I accidentally almost wrote it myself. But I don’t wanna, so here! Take it. Make it better please I need to see this as a fully fleshed out one-shot. If you write it and tag me, I’ll be your forever mutual and a devout follower for the rest of our days.

Also, I’m aware I could make these requests directly to a fic writer, but as you can see, I prefer to simply scream out into the void and wait patiently for a response that will probably never come.

Happy pining 🤧❤️

[bidisasterevankinard]

Buck knows Tommy avoids him. 

He feels him putting the distance between them. Feels when Tommy looks at him with not love and fondness as before, but with something dark and biting. Something that feels like his husband harbors hate for him.

He hopes he's wrong.

But when Tommy doesn’t give him his hand to feel the kick of their daughter he knows it’s true.

Something is wrong between them.

Tommy avoids him. His husband doesn't need him anymore.

“D-don’t you,” Buck coughs, “don’t you want to feel her first kick?”

Tommy slowly looks at his hands, then at the bump.

Buck’s sure with how cold their bed was and with how man never was present when Buck’s changing from his hoodies and shirts, Tommy sees it for the first time in a while.

The silence feels too loud. It surrounds him uncomfortably, like an unwanted hug.

Tommy’s voice breaks it. Buck wished he'd drown it after hearing what his husband said.

“It should have been me.”

“What?”

“It should have been me,” Tommy repeats in the voice so cold Buck needs a jacket, “It should have been me with a bump. It should have been me with morning sickness. It should have been me feeling she was moving all the time. It should have been me!” 

Buck is speechless.

“And yet, it was you! I was trying for months. Changed my diet, read thousands of recommendations, took vitamins, stopped working to prevent stress, but one night! One night when YOU asked us to stop stressing over it and boom! You have all I dreamt about!”

Buck feels like if the words were poison he would be dead. If the eyes could kick he’d be laying near Tommy bleeding.

He doesn’t know how to react.

“I-I though we were happy with it?”

Tommy was smiling when he looked at the test. He held his hand and told him he couldn’t wait to see them.

When did it change?

“That’s what you always do! You think just because it’s easy for you and you’re happy others are too! That I am too!”

“YOU NEVER SAID YOU WERE NOT!” He can’t stop that scream. He’s too angry for their baby. Tommy should be happy she’s there. Not hate that it’s Buck with her.

Maybe he hates that she’s part of you, says that small dark further corner of his brain that Buck believed disappeared after their engagement. 

He coughs and adds in a smaller voice, “you l-looked happy. You were talking about how you can’t wait to see her.”

“Just because someone plays their role doesn’t mean they’re actually happy Evan. But what can you know about it, right?”

“W-hat does it mean?”

“It means that it is always easy for you! You have parents who say sorry and try to have relationships with you and even agree for therapy. You have the family you built in 118 in a year, when I was there for more than decade! You come out in five minutes after finding out you like men! You don’t overcompensate more than one date to prove you’re straight! You don’t spend years upon years trying to love who you are! You get pregnant in one night!”

Tommy turns to look at something. 

“You know what? I’m tired of it all,” he takes his jacket and goes to the door, “I’ll live with Sal. I’ll take my stuff tomorrow when you’re at work.”

Buck rushes to him, grabbing his hand, “Tommy, please. L-let’s talk. If not today then soon, please, W-we can,”

Tommy interrupts him, pulling out his hand and shaking it as if he had stumbled into something unpleasant, “we can’t have anything, Evan. I will send you divorce papers soon.”

Buck never knew your heart breaks in seconds with so much pain that having a fire truck on you is like walking in a park. 

He looks at the door for a long time till his legs feel weak.

He sits on the couch. The last half an hour feels like a nightmare. Strong pinching does not lead to waking up. 

That’s when tears come.

“I’m-m sorry, love,” he rubs his bump, “s-sorry you must have my curse of watching people you love leave you. It’s unfair. B-but, hey, I’m always here for you. Pinky promise.”

He touches his belly with his pinky and feels her kicking that place, so he smiles at her even with tears running down his face.

“And papa hates me, not you, ok? He will be here for you too. Eventually.”

Buck hopes he actually promises her truth. He feels like he never knew Tommy at all.

-

Buck puts the last biscuit on the plate when he feels too dizzy and his pants get wet too quickly. Looking down, he feels nauseous from the amount of blood.

“EDDIE!” 

He knows his voice is too frantic but he can’t help it.

He loses his daughter. He can lose anything, even his life, but not her. 

“Oh, fuck, I’m calling 911, let me see.”

Last thing he remembers is Eddie helping him sit on the floor in his kitchen when he blackouts.

Please let Sky live. Choose me over her if needed.

-

“What do you want, Eddie?” Tommy sighs, sitting on the couch in his new apartment he found a month ago. 

“First Presbyterian,” the man says, basically roars through his teeth, “he wanted you to still be part of her life. Sky needs you.”

“Evan chose the name already?” 

Tommy remembered his ex-husband wanted to wait till she’s here before deciding.

“Yes. And it’s a good thing because if her dad won’t survive she deserves to at least have the name he chose for her.”

“What do you mean?”

“Have you missed me starting with the hospital? Buck had complications. They did a C-section and Sky’s here, four weeks early but passing everything with flying colors. 36 weeks is actually basically not premature. But Buck,” Eddie’s voice breaks. “It’s a miracle he didn’t bleed out at home.”

Eddie ends the call. 

Tommy feels like he ended his life.

Was he too late to make it right between him and Evan?

-

“You said you promised to Sky that you would always be here for her. So do it, Buck!” he hears Maddie’s voice but it’s like it goes from the radio.

He tries to move to it.

“C’mon, Evan,” he feels a soft silky touch of something really small to his pinky. It tugs him up, up, up. Till he opens his eyes and sees the most precious little girl in Tommy’s arms, her pinky is connected to his.

He did as he promised.

“Welcome back,” Tommy smiles.

Buck just nods. 

[silvaurum]

ehhh i think that the us political chaos may be a part of it, but i really do agree that ignorance/incuriosity is a fundamental us cultural thing. it's not like 'the us thinks its the center of the universe' is a new political thing. we've been doing this since before we were a country.

on the proletariat level though, those of us in the imperial core have incentive to not-know, and not want-to-know. not just 'the media/government/corporations dont want us to know about the world' but we, personally, have emotional incentive to shut ourselves off from the world. being aware of the suffering that fuels our nation would produce guilt, confusion, grief, and we have the luxury of being able to avoid all of that. just by closing our eyes and covering our ears and never looking too closely. we are rewarded for being unaware. we are brought comfort by being unaware.

the reactions people in the us have to being called out on their incuriosity is defensive. it's a mental block, a safety wall to prevent us from considering the impact our empire has on the world and our fellow humans beings. which is why people get angry about it being probed. the suggestion that we be aware threatens our relationship to the material benefits of the empire, even if just in our own mind.

this is only really possible on the scale we see it, imo, because the us cultural framework is so intensely individualist and atomized. if we let ourselves be aware of nestle slavery chocolate, then we as individuals would feel bad about nestle products, so we as individuals wouldn't want to buy them, which makes us have to change our individual habits, and our routine... but the idea of working together socially to prevent nestle from operating with slavery doesn't occur or seem plausible. we believe we must solve these international problems through our individual action, which is impossible, clearly, and so we put up a mental defense to prevent ourselves from being aware that there is a problem.

in reality, we should just band together to destroy all exploitation. but there are other cultural imperatives that teach us that being individually powerful and atomized and 'not needing help' and all are morally good. and also that hierarchies are always good natural and invincible. this is stupid, of course, and we in the us should get over it. like actually for real get over it and accept that we live in a society and rely on each other.

i dont say any of this to justify "u.s. americans are not intellectual, to put it mildly." i'm just trying to explain my observations as an insider so that we can work together to crack this stupid cultural thing open. there's got to be effective ways we can undo these cultural narratives and get around these mental barriers. it is truly unnatural for an entire nation to be so socially under-developed, but it's because the imperial core wants to balance conscience and material benefit when it cannot look clearly at itself or the world and do that. so it refuses to look clearly. "i would need a passport and the leisure of a vacation to know about other countries or cultures" is ridiculous cope, but thats because its an emotion-driven excuse to an emotion-driven problem.