#horrible but the way i’m angry at him and his how his presence makes me immediately angry is like one of the sickest things ever

[theformulaimagines]

Look at that woman (breaking my heart) | part nine

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Vettel!Reader

Summary: For one and a half years Lewis and y/n managed to keep their relationship a secret, until it blew up in their faces. Now, they're trying their hardest to pick up the pieces...

Warnings: angst

masterlist

Three weeks later…

This whole situation feels like a bad dream. Like a horrible nightmare. How could they have this sort of slip up? They’ve been so careful this entire time…

She can still remember the look on his face when she left their Airbnb to get into the taxi. The awful presence of their mutual heartbreak was visual in his eyes. A little break, that’s what they decided on. Their managers suggested they should get some space to breathe, some time apart to figure out what to do next. How to move forward.

She also remembers Sebastian‘s silence when she got into his car. He picked her up from the airport, his voice was coated in disappointment and hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me?”, he had asked her when they parked outside his house. “We didn’t tell anyone.” “I’m not anyone.”

Y/N sighs as she brings the cup of coffee up to her lips. The cold air feels good on her hot skin as she watches the sun rise over the mountains.

“Morning.”

The young woman slightly flinches and when she turns her head she catches a glimpse of a small smile on her brother’s lips:” Sorry.”

Yet she shakes her head:” No, hi. It’s fine. Good morning.” Her hands bring the blanket closer to her chin, while the blonde sits down next to her, positioning his coffee on the table in front of them:” How are you doing today?”

Y/N licks her lips and immediately regrets it:” I think it’s too early to decide on that.” She wants to sound witty, but it just comes out sad. Her eyes fixate on the mountains and a few seconds later she blinks away the tears that are forming. Sebastian notices them out of his peripheral vision and sighs, his hand reaches for hers.

No matter how angry he has been about her keeping her relationship a secret he still loves her. So much. “It’s going to be okay, you know.”, he lets out after a few moments and watches how a weak scoff leaves her. He wonders what she would say if she knew that Lewis has been texting him regularly since they last saw one another.

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f1gossipofficial: Breaking News! Recent information from reliable sources suggests that Y/N Vettel and Lewis Hamilton have not communicated in several weeks, as they are currently taking a break from their relationship.

view all comments…

user 1: NOT A BREAK NOOOO

user 2: i hope everyone who has sent hate their way has a horrible life from today on

user 3: thank you GOD!!!!

user 4: you’re awful

“Is she okay?”

Sebastian turns his head and when he makes eye contact with his wife he takes lets out a shaky breath. “I mean, I always reckoned that something was going on between them… but I wouldn’t know what to do if I was her.”, Hanna whispers and watches Y/N through the closed glass door:” She’s probably dying inside.”

The blonde man tilts his head at her confession:” You knew?” “You didn’t notice the way they looked at one another?”, she asks and turns on the coffee machine:” The giggling and smiling? The way he would always gaze down at her from the podium? He did take more risks whenever she was watching. God, Sebastian.” He lets out a beaten sigh.

“I wish I could do something about this mess.”

“I know you do.”, Hanna says, walking up to him:” I mean, I am glad she’s not using her phone at-.” But she is cut off by the doorbell ringing, making Sebastian roll his eyes:” It’s 8 am on a fucking Sunday, I swear to God.” He lets go of his wife before walking down the hallway. With one swift motion, he opens the door.

His eyes instantly widen at the sight in front of him.

“Hi.”, Lewis says, trying his best to smile at Sebastian but it looks more forced than genuine. “What are you doing here?”

“I have to see Y/N.”

[artandshid]

*found this in my drafts and i was prob heartbroken when I read this lmaooo*

Eddie Munson didn’t do girlfriends, he didn’t do love outside of the platonic kind for that matter. Eddie loved girls, he loved sex, but the romantic bullshit just wasn’t for him. He didn’t have the money to pay for expensive dates, he didn’t have the maturity for a real relationship, and he didn’t even have anyone to bring a significant other home to. He had no family, I mean sure he had Uncle Wayne and Wayne was a great guy. But Wayne worked a lot and he was often grumpy when he came back from work, not the friendliest guy to meet. As a matter of fact, the only person in Eddie’s life who met Wayne was Y/n.

Y/n was someone very dear to Eddie. Y/n was Eddie’s fuck buddy, the girl that maybe he loved a little more than platonically, but most of all, Y/n was Eddie’s best friend.

The whole fuck buddy thing started after a horrible hookup on her end, and Eddie was certain that he could be better than whatever scumbag she went out with that night, and he was. He would never admit how proud he was of that, though.

Eddie is slightly aware of his feelings for his best friend, he’d never tell her, but he would be lying if he said her presence doesn’t make him feel better. That the sight of her doesn’t just have him turned on, but brings him a sense of inner peace. He knows what these feelings are, but he also knows that they’re wrong. People like Eddie don’t deserve to feel those feelings, especially towards someone as great as Y/n. So he’s just letting them be for now, because he knows that she’ll find better eventually and he’s going to be okay with that, because having her as his best friend is good enough.

“Oh fuck Eddie.” Y/n moans from underneath him, her eyes rolling to the back of her head.

Eddie rocks above her, panting and moaning the entire time. “Fuck babe I’m close, so fucking close. Oh shit, here I come babe.” He says as his eyes squeeze shut and he fucks his orgasm into her, her climax quickly approaching.

He pulls out and rolls next to her, both of them panting. They make eye contact and smile, both of their stomachs doing flips, neither one knowing about the other.

“We did good, huh?” Eddie says jokingly and pulls a cigarette out, offering her one, which she happily takes.

Y/n laughs out loud and lightly hits his chest, “Shut up.”

“No I’m serious, that was one of our best rounds yet.”

She laughs again, but slowly goes into a trance.

Eddie lightly shakes her shoulder, “What’s wrong y/n/n?”

You look him in the eyes and Eddie gulps, “Eds, I think I’m in love with you.”

Eddie freezes, even though he’s in love with you, he also knows that your feelings aren’t real. Maybe you guys have slept with each other too many times that you’re just getting confused. But you can’t love him and you can’t be in love with him. You’re far too good for him.

“Eddie please say something. Please tell me you feel the same way.”She now has tears in her eyes knowing that she’s going to lose him.

“Y/n, baby, you know I can’t. I’m sorry, but you’ve known me for how long, I’m not a relationship guy.” He says and he shrugs you off.

You look at him incredulously. To not reciprocate feelings is one thing, but to completely blow you off by saying ‘i’m not a relationship” guy after all of your history together, is what makes you mad. And the tone he said it in, too, like an arrogant prick.

“So that’s that? You can’t say anything else.” She says with tears now streaming down her face.

Eddie is feeling a lot of things right now and that’s never good. When he feels too much he gets overwhelmed and deals with it by being angry. He’s never been angry at her before, though, but seeing her cry, mixed with her “confession” and he’s still dealing with his feelings for her, Eddie is feeling more than overwhelmed.

“What else do you want me to fucking say? You’ve known me for how many fucking years? Never once have I done relationships, and you’re no fucking different. What did you think just because we have a bit of history it would make any difference.” He yells at her, taking another puff of his cigarette trying to calm his nerves.

“‘A bit of history’ is that what your chalking up our years of friendship to now? You never act like this with me, and I try to be honest with you and you just lash out on me? I’m your best friend, not some asshole at school, try treating me with a little respect.” She says, finally putting her clothes back on while he stay naked under the covers. Even with the clothes covering her, she’s never felt more exposed in her life.

“Respect?!” Eddie laughs out loud. “I just had you a moaning mess underneath me and you’re demanding respect?” He instantly regrets saying this at the pain on her face, but again, he won’t let her see that.

“You are such a selfish dick, I’m leaving.” She says and starts walking out with tears and mascara streaking her face.

“I may be selfish, but at least I didn’t sleep with my best friend and catch feelings, ruining years of friendship!” He yelled back even though she’s already almost out the front door. Now he’s not only selfish, but a selfish liar.

[ssapotter]

Puzzle Pieces | Mattheo riddle x yn

cw: briefly mentioning mh, little fluff, angst (kinda), angry love confession, kissing

Sooo I found this scenario I wrote in dec of 2023 anddd figured if there’s anywhere imma put it..it’s here. I don’t write or anything and I’m sure the grammar is horrible so go easy on me😭😭😭😭

You and Mattheo had been enemies since the beginning of time, but everyone knew it was just a disguise for the feelings you two shared. Of course oblivious to the both of you.

You were up at the astronomy tower, sitting down with your back against the stair railings. It’s such a beautiful place that calms you, but currently you’re overwhelmed by everything around you— school, friends, your mental health, just life.

Staring blankly into the stars ahead as tears slowly fall down your cheeks, you suddenly hear footsteps close to you. Your body tenses as you look to your left, seeing the last person on your mind, but you knew that was a lie.

Quickly in one motion you turn in the opposite direction to wipe the tears off your face, “fuck off Riddle I’m not in the mood” you say as you get up to leave. You’re about to pass him but Mattheo moves to stand in your way towering over you, “what’s wrong? Did someone hurt you?” he says with genuine concern in his eyes. “It’s none of your business, why would you care anyway” you say conflicted, does he really care? You thought to yourself.

You turn and walk to the opposite side of the tower and lean against wall with your arms crossed around your chest. Avoiding eye contact you look towards the stars attempting to not feel his burning gaze. You turn your focus to him, his hands in his pockets as he tries to figure you out.

However you can’t look at him much longer without feeling weak. You take a few steps to the railing putting your hands on the bar, looking out to the black lake as the moon illuminates it. Mattheo walks over next to you mimicking your movements, minutes pass without any communication just the two of you standing there.

Though quiet it didn’t feel awkward or forced, his presence calmed you, you hated it. However all Mattheo could do is stare at you as the moonlight enhanced every single one of your features. He’d never seen you like this, casual clothes, no makeup, and especially not this vulnerable. This new side of you made him want you even more, he didn’t think you could be more stunning but somehow you proved him wrong once more.

“Why do you wear makeup?” Mattheo says suddenly, the question catching you off guard. “Well..no matter what I’ll never look good, so I guess I wear it just to look a little less worse” you say continuing to look out at the stars. “For what it’s worth, you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen” he says. You look up at him in shock as he admires you. Your heart flutters not to mention the sight of him, but you know this truly isn’t real, this is Mattheo Riddle we’re talking about, you know how this really goes. Out of everyone in hogwarts he would never…and beside he hates me, you think to yourself.

You snap your head back try to contain yourself, gripping to the railing as you look down, “I hate you” you say. “What?” Mattheo says confused. “I said i hate you” you say louder, “Y/n what the fuck is your problem?” Mattheo replies now fully turned towards you. Tears start to fill your eyes looking at him, “You. You are my fucking problem! I hate you! I hate your pretty eyes and your stupid smile and how contagious your laugh is and how thoughtful you are and I hate you! I hate you for make me love you! And..I hate that you’ll never feel the same” , “god” Mattheo says as he rubs one of his hands on his face. Gently he grabs the sides of your face, “I hate to see that you’re so stupid to think I don’t feel the same. I hate that you think I haven’t felt this way since the second I saw you. Y/n..I love you too”

The same time you put your hands on Mattheos sides he pulls you in and finally connects your lips together. The kiss is soft but passionate, full of pent up emotion finally escaping.

It’s perfect, your lips fit like puzzle pieces meant to be.

[stararch4ngelqueen]

A Compromise

—

Time Written - 12:44 p.m

Jason Todd/pregnantfem!reader

(Again, if you don’t like how rugged he looks, bite me)

“Y’know, sometimes you stink when you come back,” you say, making him both aware of your presence behind him, attempting some form of amusement to break the ice.

His fingers halt on the buckles on his gun harness upon hearing your voice, his back facing the doorway from where he sat on the bed. He doesn’t turn around, not moving in response to what you say. You hadn’t spoken much to him since the night before, and this is what you say?

Of course he knows he stinks. After every patrol, he reeks of wet dirt, filthy water from putrid puddles lining the alleyways, and blood. Or something similar with a rusty, metallic tinge, and that’s not exactly a clean scent.

Jason halted his actions, not sure how to answer that. Sure, maybe he’s not all that hygienic when he’s out on a mission, but that’s a normal thing right? That’s what he comes home for, for nice hot showers and time with his girl.

He grumbles silently to himself, knowing you only make such comments to annoy him. Given the tension between you both was a still little rough, maybe you weren’t as angry as before, given how you started talking to him again.

“Do I? Only sometimes?” He sounds oh so surprised whilst peeking a glance over his shoulder, a sheepish grin playing across his face. One that he couldn’t hold back when he sees you there, all ready for bed while he was gearing up for ‘work.’

“More like all the time, right?” he adds, his tone dripping with a light hint of sarcasm as he pulled his gloves on.

“A good eighty percent,” You muster up another comment, your fingers fiddling with your shirt.

"Eighty, Doll?" He sighs heavily, his arm crossed over his chest in mock distress over this. How he was choosing to act this way slightly caught you by surprise, given you had limited view of what he was doing.

Of course he wouldn’t admit it yet, but he had missed the way you would tease him about variously stupid things—your attitude was what he really enjoyed the most about you.

“So you’re saying I don’t smell about two out of ten times?” he counters confidently, gazing up as if in deep thought. “Not a horrible percentage. Not great though, either.”

A faint tongue click erupted from the front door, causing a tickle in the corner of his lip.

"Why not just say I always stink, huh?" he asks, his tone slightly playful, a faint smile growing his face.

"I guess I could take a bath, but.." Jason trails off, exaggerating his shrugging shoulders. "You do know I'm a guy, right? Baths aren't my thing."

You then scoff, rolling your eyes after his little arrogant display. How does Jason manage to be so frustrating with his undivided attempt at cocky humor?

“Sure, whatever.” You mumble, lightly settling a hand on your protruding stomach.

Jason stood from his perch on the edge of the bed, fully taking in your slouched stance along the doorway. Fresh out of a shower, hair styled for sleep, wearing a purposefully oversized shirt to accommodate your expanding bump you mindlessly nestled along your palm.

He sighs, unable to help feeling a little more guilty by the second. His gaze lingered along your bump, slightly chewing on the inner corner of his cheek.

“Fine, Fine. When I get back I’ll go take a damn bath.” He groans as if it’s a massive chore thrown on his shoulders while reaching for his jacket. “But only because you asked.”

“Jason,” you gruff, watching him put on another sly grin before adjusting the rest of his uniform, tugging his jacket over his shoulders.

"And I still think baths aren't necessary. Showers? Sure, soaps are a necessity. But baths? Complete waste of time."

“That’s not what I’m—“ you start, but ultimately stop and sigh.

His unnecessary ranting just proved he was sidetracking off the topic that hung over both your heads. The reason you both yelled at each other the entire night before he vanished from your sight. The reason you were left in an empty house until his usual return around six in the morning, but even then silence was the main music that filled the space.

Safety; the whole topic had been about Jason’s safety.

He knows you’re concerned every day he heads out the door each night. He knows you want him to be safe, or as safe as he can possibly manage whilst carrying two guns and a plethora of hidden knives on his person.

He remembers being so frustrated, so damn angry, though he even wasn’t sure what had brought it on. You weren’t even hostile when you sat down with him to talk about it, never raised your voice once until he did it first.

He remembered how much he wanted to make you understand that he has to be out there. Very very few people in Gotham do what Jason does, but truly, no one does exactly what he does.

Straightening yourself, you glance off to the side, fighting back an irritating groan before sighing in defeat.

“Look Jay, I’m not gonna push it.” You look him in the eyes, taking your genuine, honest approach, just like you had done before all hell had broken loose. “Just understand, I just want you to be more careful, okay? That’s all I wanted.”

Doing what he does never guarantees he comes home unscathed. His sides still ached from deep bruises along his ribs, a gash along his back was still tightly shut with dissolvable stitches. The clean cut along his lower right cheek was still secured with butterfly bandaids.

You only suggested he stayed home to rest. To recover, to heal. You never called him weak, though he was weak minded to take your words the wrong way.

“No, I get it,” Jason mumbles, his brow furling as he approaches, heavy combat boots creaking against the floor. “You’re right. About all of it.”

He wasn’t ashamed to admit it, despite the conflict rattling in his brain. It’s not just them anymore. The two of you’ve come so far together, your biggest worry was the two of you not being on the same page.

Jason moves a hand towards your stomach, gently rubbing his palm around the most precious part of of your body.

All he just wants is for you to understand that he’s not the same Jason he was all those years ago, not the Jason you remember. Not the man who allowed his anger to slaughter crime lords and take a role into a drug ring.

He’s much better than that. He struggles, yes, but he tries.

“I just want you and the baby to be safe,” He states, watching your brows soften with a slow nod.

“I know you do.” You whisper with understandable certainty. Not once did that doubt ever cross your mind, and it never will.

He can’t help but smile, his forehead resting against yours. So close together that your noses touch.

Now, last night feels like an eternity ago. Jason didn’t storm out of the house with a bubbling bottle of unfit rage, you didn’t cling to your phone and have trouble sleeping over his whereabouts throughout the night.

“You worry about me, babe. I appreciate that more than you can know.” He murmurs, exhaling softly through his nose. “But this is … think about this being another way I can take care of you. Of us, alright?”

You blink, swallowing slowly before nodding in acceptance. Your eyes flutter, the bottom of your throat slightly burning, but you maintain your composure.

Jason was going to keep doing what he does; continue being Red Hood, continue keeping you safe. That’s just the way it was going to have to be, even after the baby becomes a babbling bundle in your arms.

“You could just stay here tonight at least. Hang out with us instead,” you casually insist, raising a hand to stroke his uninjured cheek. “We can order in pizza, find something on Netflix. Cuddle under a thousand sherpa blankets.”

Jason exhales, tilting his head back with closed eyes.

What he would give to drop it all and commit to such a tempting suggestion. Really, he would.

If what he did wasn’t do damn important, if they didn’t live in such a crooked city, taking up your offer would be a lot better than a chest of ten grand abandoned on the street.

“Another time, princess. I can always make it up to you.” He smiles back down at you, settling both hands on each side of your hips.

“How do I smell, by the way?” he questions. “Because if I smell so bad you aren’t going to kiss me.”

Your response was to smile and playfully shove his shoulder, only for his hands to hold you closer, fingers squeezing your plush body.

“That’s mean, Mister Todd.”

He laughs, slowly leading to a snicker. “Don’t deny it—I know you.”

His voice lowers towards the end of his sentence, leaning closer to kiss you. With an additional squeeze, Jason feels your arms lock around the back of his neck in a warm embrace.

Your soft bump lightly pressed against his lower waist, nudging against the buckle of his gear belt. In a few more months, their growing baby would be putting physical distance between them, resorting in him picturing more intimate methods he could hug you as closely as possible.

A emphasizing reminder of his priorities for fighting crime nearly almost every night.

“I’m thinking it’ll be a boy,” you whisper, watching his head lower to settle against your shoulder, his gaze trailing straight down in between your bodies.

“Think he’ll wanna take after me?” He asks, heavy lidded eyes flickering up towards yours in question.

“Well, boy or girl, I would hope they have your eyes,” you reply, enjoying the warmth and comfort of him against you. Just having him close made your heartbeat relax, having you feel nearly good about life. Just for a minute.

“In attitude? I would absolutely think so.”

Jason smiles, returning his attention back towards your bump. He tries to make that thought more comforting, but he’s nervous and tense just as you are at the end of the day.

He hopes they turn out as warm as you are. Warm, comforting, happy and safe. A safety Jason adores every single time he comes back to you, a comfort that made him regret leaving you alone the other night.

You’re his weakness, and he knows it.

“You can make it up by bringing back pizza.” You suggest, hearing him snort.

“Doll, What kind of pizza place is open at five?”

You purse your lips. Valid point.

“I guess Benny’s will work,” you mumble, hands trailing over his shoulders. “Or you’re not allowed back in the house.”

A short smirk invades Jason’s face. He had to come home with a maple sausage breakfast sandwich from a local diner, or face the wrath of locked doors and windows.

Luckily for him, Benny’s opens at five in the morning. Four on weekends.

Jason exaggerates another exhale through his nose, thankful he didn’t slip on his mask as he spares a kiss on your right temple. Whatever you want, even if it was the keys to the Batmobile or the rights to a planet, it’s yours, as long as he gets to come home to you.

“I gotcha, mama.”

[thatnonameuser]

I like how Winston is rightfully pissed at MC. Her horrible naivety, the dumb hopeful behavior really fucking both their lives up, sad. MC still believes that she can change things to morph her perspective and ideals (ie. Save lives and escape or talk things through) which makes everything much more easier for the others to twist and manipulate. She's still playing by her own rules;; That's why I believe she's losing. That and major disadvantage when facing all these magically equipped yandere, 100% the worse place to be a darling ngl. If Riddle can fix your injuries with a swoosh of a hand, who's to say he's not afraid of you getting hurt so you can learn your lesson? If Chenya can hold you and follow you any time with his UM, who can say whether or not he's always there.

I can't wait for her to succumb to the world and realize, she's going to have to rewire herself if she doesn't want to be "just a darling". The only people hellbent on helping her are those in her dreams.. which gives me an idea. How will we escape? The key to escaping seems to have been broken but.. Winston's wedding ring seems to still have remnants of it. Will the other darlings have one too? Will we need those to escape? Are they hidden somewhere in the school? Just what ifs scenarios

He has every reason to be angry with her. If she never appeared his last strand of sanity wouldn’t have snapped and the only real, working exit he had would still be usable.

Winston sees her as a hallucination, a cruel voice promising him freedom that made his life worse (sort of like the Cheshire Cat in Winston’s recollection) while she ‘tried’ to help him, her decisions tore what was left of him to shreds. Winston’s madness isn’t just directed at her for putting him in this situation, it’s also at himself for perpetuating his suffering by rebelling against his wife. His mind was already in tatters, MC and Alice were just the final straw. 

You can’t completely fault her for being naive, she’s still not completely used to this world yet. A few days isn’t enough to completely rewire herself to adapt to her new, crappy and extremely disadvantaged situation, and she needs to learn and experience things to adapt to them. In later chapters, she’ll go very far to protect herself, stumble a few times and screw up even more, and maybe threaten her own life in the process, but she’s going to learn. Besides, she made one smart decision, learning how far they’re willing to go and willing to lie, is a decent first base for her on her path to fighting back.

For MC, Winston is a lesson in not being naive. He was naive, look where that got him once he opened his eyes. Should she try to bury her doubts with the idea of, ‘I just have to talk my way out of this, be cautious and I'll be fine.’ she’ll end up the same way he did. Miserable and terrified. Later on, she’ll grow to be less empathic and more distrusting, and how to manipulate her situation to her advantage. (She’s still going to suffer though)

Now for the part of her, finding a way back….. I’m waiting for TWST to tell me how the hell that’s going to work. I don’t want to write a way out yet because TWST still needs to confirm some things for me, but since there is one more Earthling Darling she’s yet to meet, maybe I’ll figure it out. Mostly since I have my own idea of how Book 8 is going to go, I want to see what happens first before I make the story’s way out.

Huge downside about the ring though, unfortunately, is that what remains of it is locked away in the Queendom of Roses, where only the royal family can access it. So unless MC goes heisting she’s not going to be able to get it. 

One little thing though, MC's presence won't have as big of an affect on all the OG stories. For this one she's a participant, for a few others she's mostly an observer with the ability to communicate with the other darlings.

[mikareo]

“ ࣭⸰ ★ WHEN SPRING COMES . . . ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀呪術廻戦 ; megumi fushiguro x fem reader

⊹ ⠀⠀ your love for megumi can be compared to a snowflake; delicate and beautiful, stunning and unique. however, spring is coming— and eventually, all snowflakes have to melt. (1.2k)

contains; hanahaki au, rejection, angst, implied death author's note; this is 2 years old pls forgive me,, n hanahaki used to be my favorite trope IM SORRY I POST IT SM ajskl

it’s been over a decade, fifteen years really, of the never-ending winter that you’ve grown so accustomed to. the settled snow has been your comfort zone, a weighted blanket tying you down to his presence since primary school, freezing the ribbon that tied your heart to his for eternity— though only now, you realize that ribbon is a chain, shackling you to a hopeless series of unrequited feelings that could never be returned. you’ve imprisoned yourself to an idea of love that never was. love that you viewed as your personal one-of-a kind snowflake between the two of you; something special and passionate with no barriers or boundaries, which softly flurried around you for your entire lives...

...but snowflakes melt when they touch the ground.

the soft powder is nothing but water now; dirtied water on the blood-ridden pavement, speckled with pink petals of a flower that you used to love. the snowflake is dying. it’s dead. and spring has come.

“tilt your head up,” megumi murmurs with the softest, most lovely voice you’ve ever heard. “you’ve still got some on your chin.”

he’s being generous with his words. you know your skin is stained red, dripping with blood and broken leaves that refuse to be wiped away. luckily for you, he tells you that red is his favorite color— that the scarlet shade compliments your complexion and makes you look beautiful— but you know he’s lying.

the deep clots and black chunks would send anyone into a nauseous fit, he’s too kind to you.

you wish he would be horrible. that he’d hurdle insulting comments, awful remarks, and unforgivable curses— but he’d never.

— and you love him for that.

it’s too bad that he doesn’t feel the same.

he never has. 

he never will.

“does that feel alright?” his washcloth is cold and damp. it’s a muddied mahogany after previously being a gorgeous forrest green. “it’s still warm, right?”

you nod, believing that one more lie won’t hurt your already dreadful situation. “i think you’ve got it all,” the reflection before you is one you recognize, a person of the past that you can’t seem to let go of no matter how many hours you spend wishing them away. “thank you, really.”

despite the normal appearance you now display, with rose-tinted cheeks and swollen eyes, there’s a garden growing in the sink. vines slithering their way down the drain as the water stream attempts to rid them from view. torn tulip petals are strewn across the bathroom floor, and in another life perhaps it would have been romantic to see a flower petal pathway leading towards the bedroom— that’s not your life though. you’ve been left with emptiness and a void of feelings with no return. 

“i’m always here to hold your hair back, i hope you know that.” he smiles with kindness, a genuine goodness that can only be portrayed by him. he’s the best person you know. there’s no mystery as to why you fell for him all those years ago, and why that love has followed you through adulthood. “it’s almost pretty…y’know, in a morbid way.”

hm, funny. morbidly beautiful.

“yeah,” you reply in a snap. “maybe they can be my funeral flowers.”

you've made him angry.

“don’t even joke about that, what the hell?” megumi always gets upset when you say those type of things. his vision turns red and he’s blinded by his own sadness that he forgets that he’s the cause— he’s the calamity that uprooted your formally blissful life. he’s the one who fell in love with someone new. 

winter could’ve lasted forever had he not gone to class that day.

it could raged onwards had he not met her.

you could’ve been hand-in-hand dancing beneath the moonlight on a snowy eve if she hadn’t asked for directions to the library. his kisses could’ve been peppering your face rather than hers if only you’d been more fun, more outgoing, more persuasive, more everything, then maybe he would’ve stayed. 

but megumi didn’t stay...

...he left.

he left as the leaves grew on the barren trees and pollen drifted through the breeze. he said his brief goodbyes to your heart while his chased her’s in yearning. he didn’t so much as glance your way as the hanahaki roots planted themselves in your heart— only choosing to show concern after they’d already grown terminal. he disappeared from your point of view before you could even acknowledge his absence— which was and continues to be unfair.

megumi was yours and now he isn’t. it’s as simple as that. as awful and simple as that. 

“we both know i’m dying.” you murmur, hands folded together as if they're the only things you have left to hang onto. you wish one of those hands could find their place in his warm palm, but the black marker ink etched onto his skin in the shapes of mini hearts and smiley faces are more than enough to drive you away. “there’s no point in denying it anymore. i can barely breathe.”

he shakes his head, backing away from you despite your obvious need for physical comfort.

you thought he knew you better than that. you thought he’d know exactly how to ease your pain, but he doesn’t. he’s very clearly not your soulmate, but for some reason your heart tells you otherwise.

“you’d be able to if you’d just get the surgery,” he says. “please.”

he's begging for something he could solve.

megumi's eyes look dark under the overhead light. “please don’t make me have to see you in a casket.”

the surgery in which the roots are removed from your heart is a tricky one. a procedure that many endure and survive, where they get to continue living their lives healthy and happy— though, are they truly living if they’re void of the love that once consumed them?

“i wouldn’t be able to live with myself, you know that.” your voice is firm, after having had this conversation many times before, “i’d know a part of me was missing. you’re too important for me to just…erase.”

if you’re being completely honest with yourself, you’d rather remain in your eternal winter for the rest of your soul’s existence. yes, it’s cold and dreary, with little to no sunlight and hope of a new love or progression in your relationship with him— but it’s familiar. you find it comfortable and there’s no fear in the feelings that you’re already so accustomed to living with everyday. the thought of spring is terrifying. the season following your beloved winter that represents rebirth and new blossoming love is one that you’ll never come to know— which is completely by choice. there’s no point in limping yourself towards spring when there’s no one you’d rather love than megumi. 

these hanahaki tulips won’t see the sunshine they yearn for when the grass regains its color. they’ll simply wither away with you and the lock that refuses to fall, holding your feelings for him in an eternal slumber that will never be woken. 

“i love you.” you say, whilst knowing that that’s the last thing he wants to hear. “i love you so much.”

your confessions of love are a reminder of your little time left, and he hates it.

he wishes it would all stop; but it can’t and it won’t.

perhaps he should’ve given you a chance when the opportunity arose. then you may have been happy. however, he knows that there’s no forcing love.

you’ve been doomed since the moment you’d laid eyes on him. 

love isn't your happiness.

“i’ve only ever loved you.”

it's your demise.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⊹₊｡ reblogs are greatly appreciated! ˚₊⊹

[vacate-et-scire]

I saw your matchup post and l've never done one so l'm not sure if I'll try my best to be detailed

I'm an infp-t! A virgo (September Virgo if that matters). My favorite colours of all time are definitely blue and pink! And my fav animals are dinosaurs and owls! I grew up in a Southern California so l absolutely cannot do the cold (despite loving snow) I love the beach and my favorite "sport" to do myself is swim! I play a bit of tennis and used to ice skate. I'm actually like I'm pretty laid back with everything and calm, until everything that annoys me kind of accumulates and I get really angry . It's the same with sad emotions too, I hate crying or anything like that because it makes me feel dumb but I definitely do it in private.

I'm pretty bad at talking to new people, I'm polite enough but usually won't start a conversation if I don't have too. Most of my now friends talked to me first, kind of the opposite of I was younger. I definitely had a habit of talking to everyone. Now, it just turned into a bad habit of overexplaining everything.

My favorite musical artists include Enhypen, Jaehyun, Cigarettes After Sex, The Weekend!

But honestly it changes a lot, I'm pretty indecisive like my music taste and often have

"phases" of hyper fixations.

I like art, but I'm not very good at it, and only paint (my favorite) when I get the urge to (every couple weeks. I also really love to cook and bake, I like to think I’m pretty decent at it and it’s my favorite thing to do for people I care about. And of course reading! I love books and manga!

My style of dressing varies day by day (I love fashion!), but my makeup stays pretty consistent, usually softer looks inspired by igari, douyin, and korean makeup styles and i looove manhua lashes!

I love going out, trying new restaurants, attractions, shopping, book stores! My sleep schedule is honestly horrible, on weekends I won’t fall asleep until 2-3, I just get so distracted by different things I’ll totally forget about sleeping.

sometimes I can be a bit of a do-it-my-way kind of person, and I like telling people what to do instead of being told what to do. sometimes it’s a problem.

A few fun facts to end!

- I’m planning to study international relations (to hopefully be a diplomat!)

- I speak 3 languages

- I’m super short (imo), 5’3!

- I have one younger brother

- dream is to own a bakery/bookstore when o retire!

- I was valedictorian for my middle and high school

- (☀️)

p.s. Srry if it’s a little much I wasn’t sure how much was enough! and I’m not sure if you have anon emojis but if you do I’d love to be the sun!

Your Blue Lock Matchup: Nagi Seishiro

Nagi Seishiro would be your match, you’re very good at taking the initiative and Nagi would thrive in your presence. He’s lazy we all know that, but as we’ve seen with his interactions with Reo he can be productive-ish, and if he’s already put in the effort of being in a committed relationship with you, he’ll most likely listen to whatever you tell him to do.

Nagi thrives in his own world and doesn't particularly enjoy being forced into a box, and that independence would work well with you, especially as someone who loves having the freedom to do things your way.

Your love of food and baking would create an excellent foundation for a relationship with Nagi. He's the type who loves being pampered just a little, and he cannot cook himself, I have no faith he ever bothered to learn. The fact you could cook and bake, while also enjoying it could go two ways, one he’ll beg you to cook for him in exchange for doing cleaning chores or he’d beg you to teach him.

As someone who is not fond of being overly emotional, Nagi would understand your need for space when emotions build up. He's emotionally reserved himself, though he's far less outwardly expressive than others. His way of handling emotions is often to retreat into himself, and this would create an unspoken understanding between the two of you. When you get overwhelmed, you could rely on Nagi to give you the space you need without making things awkward or forcing conversation. In fact, he'd prefer silence and calm moments over long emotional talks.

Nagi would likely leave the choice of where to go for dates or outings up to you, showing his laid-back approach to life. He’s not the type to get worked up over decisions, so he’d allow you to indulge your interests and preferences, especially when it comes to the food and fashion scenes you enjoy.

However, Nagi’s lack of drive at times might be a challenge for you. Your ambition and goal of becoming a diplomat and your dream of owning a bakery/bookstore could clash with his more “live for the moment” mindset. You might find his lack of forward momentum frustrating at times, especially considering your own energetic pursuit of your dreams.

At his core, Nagi values simple pleasures overcomplicated emotions, he might not always be as quick to engage with new people as you, but he’d be supportive of your desire to engage with different cultures and languages, especially as you pursue a career in international relations. His “chill” nature would help balance out your more intense, indecisive moments, providing you with a sense of stability and comfort.

[starrz-n-waffl3-fries]

Whenever one refers to the angel, they say they are watched by the moon

I think there’s been a misunderstanding

Now make no mistake, the moon helped a lot with the angels creation. But it’s been framed to believe that the moon conceived the angel

No. The angel found the moon at a vulnerable time out of pure coincidence, and instead of lashing out at him like everyone else, they pulled him up and dusted him off

Kissed him on the forehead and told him that things would be better now. Because they are here for him

The moon was the Angels love.

They only say that he’s watched by the moon because the moon is significantly better than his real guardians

More mature, more confident, less quick to anger

He feels safer in the moon’s presence, so whenever he’s asked about who created him, he says the moon did

But an angel will always have a guardian.

That guardian that Angel has, he’s

Manipulative

Loud

Terrifying

Angry

And has a history of violence.

Just like the beast.

Is that why he bothered the angel so much?

Must’ve been. Don’t think I would suspect any different of a reason for that.

They’re just like each other.

The beast is just like his guardian.

The only difference is one is older

Taller

Whiter

Louder

And has shot a real gun.

Must additionally be why the Drake gets uncomfortable at the mention of his name.

The angel gets uncomfortable at someone mentioning him! It’s understandable. The guardian isn’t good at hiding his cruelty.

Not when people have seen it head on. Not when he’s written those notes to the angel, expecting only the angel to read them, to find out that the Drake was over the Angels shoulder.

The way the guardian defensively yelled at the angel for not having a semblance of privacy.

He has a sense of privacy, you’re just too obvious. And it’s not the Drake’s fault you don’t know how to act more human when you’re upset.

The guardian used to pluck the feathers of the angel’s wings, one by one when he wasn’t listening

He was a damn child.

How do you look someone so small and vulnerable in the eyes and do something like that to them?

Why must someone be so cruel for that to be your impulse?

Sometimes

The guardian and the angels maker get into arguments

Wanting to separate.

The maker. Poor maker. She’s just looking out for her young.

She’s seen the Guardian do horrible things to the angel, the human, and the star.

And the nerve he has to shout at her newest creation for being too loud and acting his age.

Why is the guardian so cruel?

Furthermore, why does he make the angel feel bad for his resentment?

The guardian is old.

Sick.

Breathless.

On the edge.

So it’s not his fault he’s cruel. He can’t breathe.

That’s what the maker says.

What the maker doesn’t understand is that he has left undoubtable scars on the angel.

Though they are not visible directly, one can bear witness to it.

I’m sorry sir.

I’m sorry, guardian.

As your angel, I should know my place, and I should know that resentment and hatred isn’t what I should hold for you.

But the way you’ve gutted me from the inside out throughout my life.

One cannot forget that.

Dad.

You’ve hurt me.

And I’m tired of you using your mental health as an excuse and cover-up for your horrible actions.

At this point,

Therapy won’t fix what doesn’t want to change.

And you’ve made that point very clear.

When I leave, I never want to speak to you again.

And I hope that you can accept that, sir.

I’m sorry.

-The Angel

[tojikai]

OH GOD KAI… (sorry in advance for the thesis that is this message)

I know that Satoru always plays it safe with condoms/plan B but birth control isn’t 100% 😭 she could still be pregnant 😭

I’m going to find comfort in the fact that Satoru probably would’ve had a more emotional reaction on the spot if Naomi was pregnant. (I’m coping so hard right now) I’m hoping that Satoru finally cuts his mother out for good and let’s his father know how fucking disgusting she is.

I can’t imagine what Satoru was thinking. The woman that raised him using him as a security blanket for her own selfishness and then the woman he thought he could have a companion in proving that she’ll do whatever it takes to tie him to her even if it’s not what he wants. aside from himself… who does he really have as a support system? he has his therapist yeah, but that’s not the same as having your person. my heart definitely goes out to him.

What the fuck was Naomi calling his mom for??? “Hey I tried to r*pe your son and it didn’t work and he’s really angry what do we do now?” YOU made the decision to follow through with it knowing damn well he doesn’t love you, you own it. don’t try to blame literally everyone else for your cruel actions because no one forced her to do anything. she made the decision to take the decision away from satoru and for that, she’s scum 🤷🏽‍♀️

i sincerely hope Satoru does put Naomi behind bars… and his mom, or at least gets a restraining order on the two of them. they’re horrible people worth less than the ground they walk on and i hope satoru’s dad lets him rain hell on them two.

now toji… i’m happy they’re both open about not being each others first choices but that’s Yui’s dad. he has every right to be uncomfortable with the fact that Satoru has openly confessed his love for y/n but i hate that he invalidated her feelings of being uncomfortable and told her to get over it when it came to a pet name she didn’t wanna be called. y/n even said it’s not the fact that he talks about his late wife in general, it’s about HOW he makes her feel when he does mention her. there’s a big difference because he only does it in a way that compares the two. and then weaponizing her pain to drive home his point??? that’s definitely not cool.

it’s safe to say the honeymoon period is over and now they’re going to be dealing with the baggage of their past relationships. satoru is always going to be a presence in their lives and so will megumi’s mother (through toji’s words) whether they like it or not. i kind of hate that satoru is willing to give up time with his daughter to make sure toji doesn’t get upset (don’t punish yui 😭) communication is going to be key and they’re going to need to see if they want to work through it because love isn’t enough sometimes.

i wonder what y/n would do if satoru told her what naomi and his mother tried to do… i think she probably should know since it involves yui’s grandmother and who knows what that crazy bitch will do (to yui) to keep satoru. personally, i think that y/n should beat the shit out of her, for EVERYTHING that woman has done. to y/n, to satoru, to yui, to satoru’s dad? i know for a fact she wouldn’t let him deal with everything alone if she found out and part of me hopes they can rely on each other for this.

i’m still hoping for a gojo endgame with a reunited family myself, but i mostly just want everyone to be at peace regardless of what happens 😭 i think satoru has shown actual progress and willingness to ensure y/n and yui’s happiness at the cost of his own and i’d love to see them reunite and get through this stronger than ever 🥹

you killed it again kai! i have so many emotions and thoughts and i can’t wait to see what happens next. thank you for sharing your work and i hope you have a fantastic week! much love 🥰

OMGGGG i enjoyed reading this a lot !! esp. the part where you pointed out how yn's problem was not just toji mentioning his late wife. but rather, how it makes her feel. it wasn't a surprise to her that he'd talk about her at times since she knows about his past, what made yn sad was how it seems like he was trying to tell her to do what she does. that's why she said she felt like a 'placeholder.' :'(( and yeah, the betrayal satoru felt when he found out how his mom spoke w naomi abt it is just too much, and the fact that he has to bear it by himself too :((( as for him giving up their time together w Yui so as to not upset toji, does not only show selflessness but also his hopelessness. he's thinking abt long term, like the school events thing mentioned, which implies that he really thinks that he's got no chance w yn anymore yet he's still trying to make it all up to her 🥹 i feel like satoru's been through too much during these past few chapters😭 anyways, thank you much for sharing your thoughts and for your support <33 it took a bit for me to respond to asks, but i hope you're doing well~ take care !!

[pokenoire]

I’m sorry you are feeling horribly. It’s hard, especially when you are having self harm thoughts as well. Please don’t do it and reach out for help if needed! Harming yourself is never the answer. Sending happy thoughts your way! Maybe thinking of your comfort characters and ships will help? Here’s something fun you could do. Make Pokemon teams for Hanako and Yashiro! Combine the two things you like the most ⚡️🐭

Thank you for the affection. He is just angry because I do not accept his toxic behavior and I did not accept him on my main private account and block him whenever he reappears, he arrived now at a particularly bad time, I'm trying to ignore these thoughts and put them in the back of my mind for now, simply... I have people to live for

The fact that I'm like this because of the ppl haye for Amourshipping makes it all the more ironic. They are my comfort ship because it was for them that I lived in 2014-2015. Even though they are part of the reason I met the toxic person in my country

A while back I answered this so I think now I can say why they are important enough...

I was just upset because Saturday was my dad's birthday, I couldn't spend Saturday well, I also had to pretend that nothing happened, I also went to wish him a happy birthday and kept it strong because of that...despite not having a 100% good relationship with my mother (not quite like Lillie's) it's still Serena and Grace here...

Too complicated. I also have God on my side (I'm a Christian by the way) and that also helped me deal with everything in a better way because His presence is with me then and now. No one needs to believe in him in my view but I can't even be agnostic or deist (I've tried).

My best friend recommended that I take a break from the fandom and get away from the negativity towards Amourshipping and Serena. I'll do it.

I hope you are feeling better from your crises. You are important, you have people who love you and are by your side and if you want to talk about it I may not always know how to help but it is good to let it out.

[elfboyeros]

Pride

I spent to long staring at this image while I did it and thought to long about Neon and Indigo holding a conversation, so here we go! @karaboutmyart @jj-pines @lerenee

Indigo groaned, “Goddess, I don’t wanna be here!”

“I know, Angel eyes. We just need to stay for 10 minutes and then we can go back home,” Calvin replied.

Indigo sighed as Calvin led her into the banquette hall, “You look really good,” she muttered, “You always look good in green.”

He chuckled, “Thank you, Angel.”

He was in a dark green suit matching her spring dem dress, “I’m gonna meet up with your parents,” Calvin added.

Indigo nodded, beginning to feel nauseous, strolling through about the great hall greeting partygoers, truly trying to be a good hostess. Whilst grabbing whatever drinks were non-alcoholic to curve her nauseas.

Keeping to herself with a drink in hand a masculine presence behind her before he cleared his throat, “What do you want?” she asked, coldly, “Neon.”

Eggshell skinned man much taller than her let’s a green gem charm hang from his fingers in front of her face, “To give you a gift,” he replied, with his stupidly posh British accent.

Indigo took the charm from between his callus fingers, studying the green gemstones as the ribbon holding the charm together sat grasped under her thumb and index finger. She doesn’t bother to turn around and look at him. She knows that he is smirking, standing behind with his hands in his suit pocket.

“Is this little shitty present because I am pregnant or because I beat up your little boyfriend?”

Neon chuckled, “Can I not just congratulate you on turning into such a fine individual?”

Indigo rolled her eyes, “No thanks to you.”

“Ha, if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be such a talented mage,” Neon commented.

Indigo sighed, “I have also heard you have an apprentice,” he added, “I see I have rubbed off on you in some way.”

She instantly turned around, “You don’t get to take credit for this!” she growled, “You were my teacher, and I learned my skills from you, yes, but I mastered my skills on my own! I did not become a teacher to be like you, I became a teacher to be better than you!”

Neon’s smirk turned into a fine line across his lips as he continued to stare down at the tiny mage, “You out because everyone knows that own of your own students is better than you and I now revel in the fact that I am in fact better than you ever could be!” Indigo continued.

She is right, deep down in his ancient bones, he is just an old man who is still angry that a little French girl surpassed him. He done nothing with his life for over a decade but be a glorified lap dog for the man that’s now locked away in the basement.

“I’m proud of you, Indigo.”

Yes, most of his being is proud of her, for being one of his students that is now so accomplished and so young.

And to her it sounds like shattering and nails scrapping a chalkboard at the same time.

“No…”

Neon nodded, “I am, very proud actually.”

“Y-you don’t get to be proud of me!”

Neon laughed, “But how could I not be?!”

He’s been nothing but self-centered, narcissistic, and pity for years, how could he now tell her that he is proud of her.

“You are horrible,” Indigo sneered, as she clenched that charm, he gave her in her fist.

“Even before you agree to take over Duke’s place, I knew you would become dean,” he added, “And you could not be a better fit to be his replacement.”

“Stop it, I don’t want your praises.”

“Well to bad, little mage, I will sing praise for you until the world implodes in on itself because I am proud of you,” Neon remarked, “And I know your child will be just as great.”

She feels too nauseous to continue talking to him. Pushing past him and heading for one of the many doors outside.

“Calvin, mon cher,” Amethea sighed, making Calvin turn away from the group conversation, as she watched her daughter run out the west door, “She needs you.”

“Which way did she go,” Calvin instantly asked.

“West.”                      

He curved his back, kissing the lavender-haired woman on the cheek, “I’ll call you later tonight.”

“Tell her I love her,” Amethea replied.

“Of course, momma,” Calvin remarked, walking towards the west exit, finishing his wife retching over the stair banister.

He held back any of her hair that had risk of falling in her face, handing her a handkerchief to wipe her face once she was done, while rubbing her back, “I want to go home,” she whimpered.

He knew there was a point in asking her what happened or why, she’ll tell him eventually.

Once they were home and Indigo was comfortably in bed, she continued to stare that stupid little green charm in her hand. Calvin sat on the edge of their bed taking the charm for her hands, “He said it was a gift for becoming such a fine individual,” she muttered, “Then, he told me he was proud of me.”

“And he can’t be proud of you?”

Indigo shook her head, “If he is so proud, why is so bitter?! Why is this after all time the one time he holds a conversation with me?! All I have ever wanted as is student is his praises, his approve, and now when he gives to me it doesn’t seem sincere.”

Calvin sighed, placing the charm on the bedside table, taking a hold of her hands, “I think he’s just an old man that wants to stir the pot.”

“You’re probably right…”

“You are far better then he ever could be,” Calvin cooed.

Indigo smiled as he kissed forehead, “You should just leave him be to do whatever weird shit he does with Duke in the basement.”

Indigo giggled, “Do you want me to throw this away?” Calvin asked, picking the charm back up.

“Non, I’ll keep it, maybe put it with the baby’s stuff.”

Calvin nodded, “Hopefully it doesn’t mark our kid as his.”

“I’ll kill him if it does," Indigo giggled.

[that-transsexual-slytherin]

i don’t miss you, i miss the misery

Ship: Werewolf!Severus Snape x Sirius Black (Hateship)

Word Count: 1372

Summary: To explain the AU a bit, James didn't save Severus from following Remus into the Shrieking Shack and Remus attacked him, but Severus managed to survive the ordeal. Dumbledore provided Severus with a safehouse after he graduated while Remus was carted off to Azkaban sometime after, and James and Sirius walk free. This fic takes place between graduating from Hogwarts and Severus returning to Hogwarts as a teacher, basically pre-James & Lily's deaths. Sirius appears on Severus' doorstep to announce Remus' capture and to seemingly apologize for treating him so horribly... one can imagine how that turns out.

🗡️NO TERFS NO BIGOTS NO PROSHITTERS🗡️

It was late autumn in the Scotland woodlands, on the cusp of winter, a thin layer of frost covering every dead leaf and frozen trail. The cold crept into Severus Snape’s cabin, even when he kept it as hot as he could stand it without burning the place down. Even upon contracting lycanthropy, his blood continued to run cold. Still, that was the only thing he felt remained the same, besides the solitude. That night in the Shrieking Shack back in Hogsmeade had upheaved his life beyond words. He didn’t know what had happened to those involved that night, and he preferred to keep it that way. Dumbledore had found him his safehouse, and he was convinced that was where he would stay for the rest of his days. It seemed not even the Death Eaters could reach him here, though he swore he had seen Lucius combing the woods some evenings.

Buried in three sweaters, his cloak, heavy pants, thermal underwear, a lengthy scarf, and two pairs of fingerless gloves, Severus tended to his fire, poking at the logs and feeling the warmth on his pale face. His muscles stilled, hair standing on end, ears prickling as he thought he heard a knock at the door- he knew he heard a knock at the door. He could smell them, too. Sweat and musk and oils on their skin, the dirt under their nails, but stronger yet, plain soap and… pomade. He was torn between throwing the door open and thrusting his wand forcefully at who he knew was out there, and simply ignoring it altogether. Unfortunately, the knocker wasn’t patient, and pounded on the door a second time, shaking it in its frame. Severus could make out a muffled yell.

“I’m knocking because I’m trying to be polite- don’t make me blast down the door, because I will, Snivellus!”

Full of rage in the blink of an eye, Severus rose from where he crouched before the fireplace and whipped his wand out of his pocket, yanking open the door. “How did you find me?” He growled.

Before him stood Sirius Black, tall, well-built, and horribly, deceitfully handsome. “I asked Dumbledore. They locked up Remus.”

Chest still heaving, Severus blinked, realizing how tired and lost Sirius looked. He kept his wand pointed at his chest, hand steady.

“Azkaban,” Severus said it aloud to confirm it for himself. “If anyone should be locked away it should be you and James Potter!”

“I know.” There was a hard glint in Sirius’ eyes and his jaw locked slightly as he admitted this. “May I come in?”

Colour rose in Severus’ face as he began to splutter in disbelief. “You- you really- after- what- who do you- Come? In??” He spat, his wand hand jerking forward almost of its own accord and angry sparks flying from the tip, missing the hem of Sirius’ travelling cloak by inches.

“May I please come in?” Sirius pleaded through gritted teeth before holding up his hands and wiggling his fingers. “It’s getting a bit nippy out now that the sun’s gone down, Snape, and I forgot my gloves.”

“The gall of the Black family knows no bounds,” Severus hissed as he reluctantly stepped aside, his eyes not wavering from Sirius for a second. “What?! What could be so important, besides telling me your so-called friend received what should’ve been your downfall, that you need to violate my home with your presence on tonight of all nights?!”

Sirius entered the cabin and closed the door behind him, pinching the bridge of his nose and muttering something… something that almost sounded apologetic. It was such an odd noise to come from the man before him that Severus faltered, lowering his wand slightly.

“What?”

“I said I’mf… sfrrfymf…” Sirius mumbled, trailing off again and refusing to look him in the eye. Severus opened the door again.

“If you’ve nothing to say, get. Out.”

“Severus, I’m sorry I goaded you into going after Remus!” Sirius barked, still not looking him in the face. A shiver ran through Severus’ body as he slowly closed the door again. His eye twitched as he stared ahead.

“You’re lying to my face.”

“I’m not! I was stupid, it was stupid, I didn’t understand--”

“You understood full well that I would be maimed if I went into that house. If I had died, my blood would’ve been on all of your hands. James and you and Remus, the whole damned lot of you.”

“I should’ve taken Remus more seriously!”

“That you should’ve, Black. You were a terrible friend amongst terrible friends.” Severus sneered, relishing in the fact he could insult Sirius in this state, yet he still did not trust that the man was entirely remorseful. It had not been that long ago that this all had happened, after all, and Sirius seemed very set in his path. So desperate to shake off the name “Black” that he did not care who he hurt along the way.

“I know,” Sirius wrung his hands. “I haven’t slept since I saw it in the papers… Remus’ sentence, I mean.”

“Did it take his wrongful imprisonment to shock you into reality, Black?” Feeling more powerful than he ever had while being in the same room as one of his tormentors, he couldn’t help himself. With a passionate thought and a subtle twitch of his wand, Sirius suddenly flew into the air, hung upside down by his ankle by an invisible force. He yelped in fear while Severus’ breathing quickened in excitement. “Do you see how it feels, now?”

Sirius struggled in the air, red in the face. “Put me down Sni- Snape! I’m trying to be nice, please, give me some credit!”

“Nice? Don’t kid yourself…” Severus spoke disgustedly as he settled into his armchair, bemusedly eying Sirius’ floating body. “You haven’t a nice bone in your entire body.”

“I could say the same for you.” Sirius’ face grew dark as he glared down at him. Suddenly, Severus was back on his feet.

“Only because you and your friends exacerbated what problems I already had! You didn’t give me a chance to be ‘nice!’ Even Lily…” He froze, choking on his own breath, eyes bulging. Silence, aside from the crackling fire, descended upon the cabin like a wake of buzzards upon a carcass as Sirius and Severus shared a long stare. For the first time that evening, Severus’ hands began to shake, and his sense of power began to diminish.

“You’re not wrong, you know,” Sirius finally spoke after a moment or two. “But really, whose fault was it that the two of you fell apart? She tried to show you kindness, expecting the same in return, but you couldn’t even handle that.”

Severus settled back down into his chair, still silent.

“Maybe we’ve both been daft this whole time.”

“Watch your head.”

“What--?”

Suddenly, Sirius came crashing back to the floor, landing on his back and knocking the air out of his lungs. Severus watched him lazily as he slowly resumed a standing position.

“I don’t accept your apology. I don’t trust you. And I certainly don’t feel like ‘bonding’ over mental instability, Black.” Severus stood once more. “In fact, I believe you’ve only come here because they carted off your boyfriend and now you’re looking for another emotional support werewolf to fill the void and, forgive the expression, lick your wounds.”

Subtly, Sirius swallowed as Severus continued. “I now ask you, as kindly as I can, to fuck off and never bother me again.”

“I suppose I can tell you then that it was Lily’s idea for me to visit you in the first place.”

Severus’ eyes blazed with fury and a loud bang filled the room, along with a flash of light and a wooshing sound that passed within seconds. When the light cleared, Sirius Black was nowhere to be seen, having clearly apparated from the scene. Instead, there was now a large, black scorch mark on the opposite wall, where Severus’ hex had missed.

“Blast it all…!” He snarled and kicked out angrily before swearing as his foot connected with his coffee table, gripping it and hopping up and down for a moment. How I hate that man.

[transsexualbloodlust]

-

[intoxicated-chan]

Hey so I was wondering if you could do an Valeria x f reader where the reader goes to infiltrate the cartel instead of soap and the reader gets like scared and starts tearing up a lil bit yk?

Anyways thanks if you do it 🫶

Learn and Convince Me

♡o。.✿ฺ Paring // Valeria Garza x F!141!Reader

♡o。.✿ฺ Summary // With the rest of the men being too military, you went instead but what you hoped would be a walk in a park became a fear for your life.

♡o。.✿ฺ (A/n) // Thanks for requesting! Sorry for the errors in the Spanish translations… Yes I did use google translate, please don’t look at me like that. I decided to make this a bit longer since I feel like there wasn’t enough Valeria in it. I hope this is all to your liking and hope you enjoy it!

♡o。.✿ฺ Word Count // 3k

♡o。.✿ฺ Content Warnings // Female reader, violence, murder, profanity, blood, guns, drugs, death, horrible flirting, pet names (cariño, crybaby?), incorrect medical stuff…

“I’ll do it.”

Why the hell did you do it? Like Ghost said, make your presence known and show that you mean no harm. Like it was so easy for him… You peer from the car, with no radio in your ear and no weapon, fear became known when the guard caught sight of you. They shouted, guns aimed. One marched over and dragged you forward and pushed you down to your knees.

“¡¿Quien diablos eres tú?!” (Who the hell are you?!) Feeling the barrel of his gun pushing into your head, and arms held high.

“I’m (Y/n) (L/n).” You spoke, not even attempting to look up from the ground, “I have information that El Sin Nombre would like to hear, I can tell him who attacked them.” One guard stepped aside, speaking into his comms.

“Stand up.” He ordered.

Even with your pace, the other grabbed your arms while the other threw a bag over your head and roughly pushed you forward. You were lucky not to fall on your feet, but you continued your way blindly into the mansion of one of El Sin Nombre’s members.

You could hear whispers of others in the mansion, some in Spanish and some in english. All eyes were on you as two guards held their grip on you, leading you to the elevator. You were too focused on memorizing the path that the two left you alone and another was waiting for you.

Suddenly the bag was pulled off your head and you were faced with a man, “You’re alive.” Alejandro spoke, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You let out a sigh of relief, “Alejandro, thank god it’s you.”

“Listen…” He comes in closer, “Give them good intel, American PMCs, the Shadow Company, Mexican Special Forces, everything.”

“Even you?”

The elevator doors open before he can speak, Alejandro steps to the side to which you are greeted with a new face, Diego, “¿Es esta ella?” (Is this her?) The man asks Alejandro who nods, “¿Cómo se llama ella?” (What is her name?)

“...(Y/n).” You answer.

Diego laughs at the tone of your voice, “¿Trajiste una perra tímida?” (You brought a shy bitch?) It was difficult to tell if he was angry or not. He grabs you by the collar of your shirt, “Listen here.” His breath reeks, he smells of gunpowder and men’s body spray, “You give me some good information or I’ll let my boys finally have some fun.” He laughs in your face, finally letting go of your shirt, “Get the fuck out of my elevator.”

Another man pushes you out of the elevator, seeing it close on Alejandro, “This is my house. That means you don’t meet the boss until I say so. You don’t speak unless spoken to. Y lo mas importante (And the most important thing) tell the who fucking truth.” Diego is brought to a halt when one of his men is sniffing cocaine, you don’t need to watch what’s gonna happen, all you need is the sound of Diego’s fist coming into contact with the man, and his shoe stomping on his face.

You open your eyes before Diego can see, “Las Almas is at war. You want to win? Don’t disobey.” The guard following you pushes you again, “That is how the organization survives, and that is why the boss is here tonight.” Diego brings you to a door.

“El Sin Nombre is here?”

“Heh, no... Sin Nombre’s personal sicaria is.” Diego opens the door as he and you enter the room. A woman and another guard with three soldiers tied to their chairs, one is struggling against the bag tied over his head, the other is alive and not harmed, but the third…

“Valeria, il y en a une de plus.” (Valeria, there’s one more.) Diego walks down the steps, leaving you standing there, “A gringa.” He stands next to Valeria who eyes you carefully.

“Come…” Valeria pushes the dead soldier off the chair, “Take a seat.” You’re slow to move down the steps, shaking, “We don’t bite, that’s unless you tell us something we don’t want to hear.” She warns, giving you a push of encouragement.

You sit in the chair, anxiety feeling your stomach as well as worry, was it the right choice to offer yourself up so quickly?

“¿Quién es?” (Who’s this?) Valeria asks Diego.

“Su nombre es (Y/n). Ella vino a nosotros.” (Her name is (Y/n). She came to us.)

Valeria walks behind Diego, “¿En serio? ¿Y la dejaste entrar?” (Really? And you let her in?)

“Ella dijo que tiene información-” (She said she has information-)

Valeria kicks Diego behind and brings him to his knees, then she takes her knife and holds it close to Diego’s face, “¡No la conocemos y ha visto caras!” (We don’t know her and she’s seen our faces!)

“Valeria, necesitamos la información. Ella podría ayudarnos.” (Valeria, we need the intel. She could help us.)

Valeria drags her knife across Diego’s face, “Ella debería o después de que la mate, estarás en la silla.” (She should, or after I kill her, you’ll be in the chair.)

Valeria releases Diego, who gets up and rubs his throat. Valeria unholsters her pistol and walks up to you. With a happy and kind smile spread across her face, she pats your leg when she comes in close.

“¡Niños y niñas! (Boys and girls!) This is simple. I ask questions. You answer truthfully. Do not lie to me.” knowing she meant Nunez, “Recently someone attacked us up in the mountains while we were protecting a friend... Who?” Now looking at Nunez.

Nunez shakes under her glare, “Era un caos... yo no-” (It was chaos… I didn’t-)He stammers before Valeria angrily cuts him off.

“¡En inglés!” (In english!) You could’ve swore you saw him jump the second he heard her shout.

“I-I think it was the Rivals Cartel.” Nunez finally comes up with his answer.

Valeria cocks her head to the side, then turns to you, “Your turn, cariño. Who attacked us?”

You feel your hands start to sweat, feeling your heart beat rapidly, “It… It wasn’t cartel.”

“Then who was it?” Valeria asks, coming in closer.

“...I-It was-” Suddenly you’re pistol whipped.

“¡¿Podrías responder más lenta?!” (Could you answer any slower?!) Valeria growls growing frustrated, “Who attacked us? Or do I need to beat the answer out of you?”

Your vision went hazy for a second before focusing. Your head sting, letting out a hiss which made Valeria more irritated.

She again pistol whips you, “Answer me!”

“Valeria!” Diego shouts, “We need her alive.”

You hear her scoff as a warm feeling falls down your face and onto your lap. You’re beginning to bleed, “I’ll ask one more time, who attacked us?”

“It was Mexican Special Forces.” You finally speak, giving her a satisfying answer. She backs off and you let out a soft groan.

“We found the bodies… Fuerzas Especiales.” She smirks. She now looks back at Nunez, “Now, how would an outsider know they were Mexican Special Forces and not you?”

“M-Maybe she was there!” Nunez said.

“Tú también estabas allí, imbécil. Tal vez ella también…” (You were there, asshole. Maybe she was too…) Diego offered Valeria another question.

“Were you there?” Valeria asks, her grip tightening around her pistol.

“I-I was.” You spoke before she could even lift her arm threateningly.

“Looks like you’re learning.” Valeria comments, “So then, there were outsiders helping the Mexican Special Forces… Who were they?” Asking another.

“W-We heard them yelling, some in English. They were with the-”

“Enough.” Valeria ordered, “Your turn.” Now looking at you, again her grip tightens on her pistol.

“Shadow Company, private military companies.” You tell her, feeling more of your blood.

Valeria takes a few steps back and confers with Diego, “Los vaqueros están trabajando con mercenarios…” (Los Vaqueros are working with Mercenaries…)

“Esas malditas serpientes.” (Those damn snakes.)

“¡¿Verás?! ¡Yo tenía razón!” (You see?! I was right!)

Valeria scoffs and comes back to her original place, “Can you even prove this ‘Shadow Company’ even exists?” She asks Nunez whose face shows fear.

“H-How can I prove this…?”

She turns to you, “What about you cariño? What proof do you have?” Again ready to whip you.

“My pocket. Left.” You feel her left hand pull the patch out of your pocket.

Valeria hums, observing the insignia, “How did you get this cariño? Come on.”

“Off one of the dead Shadow.” You lie.

“I’ve told you before that I do not like lying.” Valeria hands the insignia to Diego, she comes in closer than she was before, “I’ll give you one more chance, who?” You feel the cold serrated steel against your neck, slowly pressing into your skin, burning…

“I-It was given to me!”

Valeria sighs loudly, dramatically, “You were doing so good.” Shaking her head, pulling the knife back. But she doesn’t move, still too close, “Now, who leads this Shadow Company? Give me a name.”

“Phillip Graves.”

“And is he the one who gave you the proof?”

“...Yes.”

Valeria moves back, “See? That wasn’t that hard.”

“Fill Graves… Me gustan.” (Fill Graves. I like that.) Diego smirks.

“This man… Graves… What does he want?”

“He wants the Iranian you’re protecting, Hassan.”

“¿Cómo sabes eso?” (How do you know that?) Diego asks, getting in Valeria’s way and now the one in your face, “Answer me! How the fuck do you know?!”

You choked on your words, trying to come up with a reason that’ll not blow your cover. But you couldn’t find any, you shook under his glare, his voice scared the ever lasting shit out of you.

Diego is pushed back, “¡Bastardo! No te atrevas a interponerte en mi camino.” (Bastard! Don’t you dare get in my way.) Valeria warns him, she then looks at you, “But like he said, how do you know?” Valeria spoke in a more softer tone but you knew the venom behind it as she was filled with it.

“I-I… um…” You couldn’t say it, you couldn’t do it. You couldn’t risk blowing not only your cover but Alejandro who was still somewhere in the penthouse. Your eyes begin to water as you panic, “I…”

“What? You what?” Valeria asks, “Don’t you lie.” She warns.

You’re tearing up and now head hanging low, you say, “...I can’t.”

“You can’t or you won’t?” You don’t respond but you shake your head, refusing to answer. Valeria grabs your hair and pulls your head up, she sees you beginning to tear up, “Oh, now you’re gonna cry? Like a little crybaby.” She growls, she releases your hair, “Go on, cry!”

“¡No puedes confiar en ella, no puedes! ¡Te lo estoy diciendo!” (You can’t trust her, you can’t! I'm telling you!) Nunez shouts.

“¡No nos ha dicho nada!” (You haven’t told us anything!) Valeria retorts, looking at Diego.

“Te pagamos bien, y este llorón sabe más que tú.” (We pay you well, and this crybaby knows more than you.) Diego comes around as Valeria holsters her pistol.

“Es hora de matar a este inútil hijo de puta.” (It’s time to kill this worthless son of a bitch.)

“Con mucho gusto Valeria.” (With pleasure, Valeria.)

Nunez is next to beg and begin to cry, sobbing on his words, he shuts his eyes as he could hear the sound of Diego’s gun before the sound of the gun going off makes you jolt and turn away. Diego comes back to Valeria’s side who is just staring at you.

“Mira a este llorón.” (Look at this crybaby.) Valeria snickers with Diego, “But I do love the ones that cry.” She comes back again, taking your chin into her hand, titling your head to look at her, “I’ll let it slide… For now.”

Again, Valeria unsheathes her knife, and cuts on the zip tie off, “You’re bleeding all over the place, get this llorona fixed up, I’ll have your head if she dies.” Valeria walks out of the room.

“To be clear we are not done with you.” As you walk towards the open door, you take one final glimpse at Nunez’s body, “¡Vamos, llorona! (Come on, crybaby!) We don’t have all day.”

You follow back into the elevator with Diego and you see Valeria waiting, you’re pushed again inside. You feel cornered, maybe because you are cornered, feeling so small and helpless…

It wasn’t long before Diego’s inside, swiping his keycard on the sensor before pushing the three buttons on the elevator wall, “Los Vaqueros se están moviendo rápido.” (Los Vaqueros are moving fast.)

“When can I talk to him?” You ask, quickly regretting your choice of words.

“Valeria is going to speak with the boss, now. You will wait with the others.” Diego tells you.

“I have a feeling El Sin Nombre will be very interested in talking to you.” The elevator doors open to outside where another guard is there waiting, “Fix her up and keep a close eye on her, I have a feeling she’ll try something.” Valeria orders.

“Sí, señora.” (Yes, ma’am.) The guard has a tight grip on your arm, pushing you up against the glass, ready to pat you down.

Alejandro appears, “Lo tengo. Te necesitan afuera.” (I got it. They need you outside.)

“Bueno. Dale una máscara y obsérvala. Haz algo con el sangrado también.” (Okay. Give her a mask and watch her. Do something with the bleeding too.)

Alejandro begins to pat you down until the guard is no longer in view, “¿Qué mierda te hicieron? (What the fuck did they do to you?) He brings you into one of the bathrooms, sitting you down on the toilet.

“Valeria. Pistol. Head.”

“She pistol whipped you?”

“Two times.”

“Two times?”

“Or was it three?”

“Fuck.” Alejandro curses, “Ghost, we have a problem.”

“What is it?”

“(Y/n) my have a concussion, and it looks like a bad one.” Alejandro holds your arm to keep you upright.

“Bloody hell, they must have a good arm. Soap get in there.”

“What about (Y/n)?”

“I’ll leave (Y/n) here, you’ll be taking her place.” Soap appears suddenly, nearly scaring Alejandro.

“El Sin Nombre is on the third floor.”

“We’ll be back.” Alejandro hands you a pistol, “Let’s go Soap.” Handing the mask to Soap, “Comms are hooked in.”

“We’ll need a keycard.”

“Diego has it.” You tell them.

“Just don’t sleep.” Soap warns before following Alejandro out and turning off the lights. You hid from view and from the door, anyone could walk in and that’s what scared you the most. Your head felt heavy and your eyes were ready to shut, it was a struggle to stay awake in a quiet environment.

But you were jolted awake by shouting outside, “¡¿Dónde diablos está ella?!” (Where the hell is she?!) It wasn’t just any guard, Diego… He was marching through the halls of his penthouse looking for you.

“¡Se suponía que debías vigilarla!” (You were supposed to watch her!)

“¡Me dijeron que me necesitabas afuera y cuando regresé ya no estaba!” (They told me you need me outside and when I came back it was gone!) The guard tried explaining, obviously scared.

“¡¿Qué tan estúpido eres?!” (How stupid are you?!)

His voice became louder and louder, and stopped at the bathroom you were in, “¡Lo siento señor! Te prometo que la encontraré.” (I’m sorry sir! I promise I will find her.)

“Será mejor porque él te despellejará vivo.” (You better because he'll skin you alive.) The doors are slammed open, scanning through the room. Did you forget to say that you shoved yourself into the cabinet under the sink, a tiny movement would make a sound but your pistol was aimed right at the doors.

“Señor, Valeria lo está buscando.” (Sir, Valeria is looking for you.)

“Bueno.” (Alright.) He walks away with the guard.

The instant relief washed over and you quickly relaxed, but your eyes were too heavy to stop them from closing on you. All you heard was you dropping your pistol and a thud of your head lightly hitting the cabinet, falling asleep.

“How’s the damage?”

“She received a head injury which caused the bleeding and considering she was hit twice, there was no internal bleeding, only external. We have her hooked up to an IV and she may receive additional transfusions later. I recommend that she physically and mentally rest to recover.”

“For how long?”

“At least two days, limit activities that require thinking and mental concentration.”

“That means she’ll be put on bed rest?”

“Yes.”

How many hours passed since that conversation you overheard. You sneaked out of your room late at night and headed towards one of the buildings, where you found a shipment container. Slowly you opened the door and found Valeria leaned up against the wall.

“I see you’re still walking.”

“And you’re still talking.”

“When I say I’m surprised, I am. I didn’t think you had the nerve to sneak into the penthouse and lie to me. It explains everything.” Valeria now stands.

“Then you understand how I was able to get the insignia for the Shadow Company. I offered myself to get in and Graves gave me the proof I needed.”

“Come on, cariño. Talking to me like I’m a criminal.”

You scoff, “Because you are a criminal, hoarding a terrorist while a narco. You think it’s good for business and I say you are just digging your own grave.”

“You dug yours the second you stepped foot on my grounds.” Valeria gets in your face, “This isn’t what’s good for you cariño. I know it, Alejandro knows it, hell I think that gringo knows it too.”

“I can’t wait to watch you burn.”

“You’ll be burning with me, cariño.” Valeria laughs, “We’ll burn the world together, I can be very convincing.”

“...Then convince me, I don’t have all night.”

© Intoxicated-Chan, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without permission.

[mxngldmxdnsss]

noize - michael afton

based off of this song

pairing - michael x reader

cw! michael and the reader are both 18 | chair sex, unprotected sex, breeding, slight mention of impregnation, praise, vulgar language, slight degrading, humiliation, hair pulling and cigarette use

michael is a slight douchebag in this. he has a mullet, and this takes place in 87’ a bit before william dies. yes michael is into rock, yes he’s emo.

sexual content ahead: proceed with caution!

Michael was always a bit difficult to communicate with, being that when you two were in school, he was notoriously known for being a bit of a bully, and well, scary. The complete opposite of you, nice and mannerable. People were always surprised when Michael came from behind and wrapped an arm around you pressing a chaste kiss to your temple, before dragging you away to have you just sit in his room, your presence comforting him. Distracting him from his old man, always fighting, yelling erupting at the dinner table every time you went over, which was practically daily, you basically lived with them. Your family hardly saw you anymore, constantly irritated that you ‘chose some boy over them’ always belittling you and laughing when you were embarrassed about being accused of a future single mother.

You and Michael had been dating since you two were sophomores, about three years, and your sex life with him was rather full. Either finding his fingers working between your wet walls, or trying to muffle your moans when Michael stuffed himself inside of you, hating that his father seemed to resent the fact that he was fucking you, his idea of perfect legacy, tarnished by teens who simply were just teenagers. Talk about jealous, it was no wonder Michael joked about his dad not able to keep a woman around. Making you choke on your food as William grew red with anger. You followed suite after Michael as he stormed up to his room, whispering soft thanks to William for making dinner, even if it was horrible.

As soon as you shut the door behind you, you were pulled into Michael’s arm, a quick kiss pressed against your lips before you felt nibbling on your neck, whimpering you wrapped your arms around Michael’s hunched form. “What’s the matter?”

You pressed a kiss to Michael’s head before pushing him back, watching as he huffed and reached over and turned his record player on, music blaring out before being turned down a bit. “He always got to think low of me. It pisses me off Y/N, why can’t he realize I’m just as capable of carrying his ‘legacy’ as anyone else.” You sighed before you dragged Michael to sit in his desk chair, leaning down and pulling him into your arms. “I can’t say I know exactly how you feel Mikey, but I do know that regardless of your dad’s views, you’re capable of changing the way he feels about you. You just have to realize it and prove him wrong.”

Michael knew you were right, you always were good at saying the right things. That’s what he loved about you. You reminded him a lot of his mom, caring and always finding ways to make him feel better, he was just afraid of becoming his dad, who ended up pushing everyone way for selfish needs. The thought made him both angry and sad, pulling you onto his lap and pressing his lips against yours. Even when you fisted through his hair and struggled to keep up with Michael’s pace, he didn’t pull away. When he did though, he left you heaving for air. “Michael-”

But before you could protest, Michael pulled your shirt off and made you straddle him. You knew what Michael wanted, every time he got worked up you ended up being his way to release stressful thoughts, making him forget what was on his mind, zeroing in on making you feel good, never failing at making your sure you voice was hoarse the next morning. You whined as Michael pressed kisses to your collarbone, helping you take off your bra, and taking your nipple into his mouth. Slapping a hand over your mouth as you heard heavy footsteps outside the bedroom door, followed by a heavy knock. “If you’re going to ignore me then do it outside of my home Michael.”

You were about to push Michael away so his father wouldn’t grow angry, but he snapped his hips against yours, pressing his hard on against your cunt, stealing a loud gasp from your lips. Now that would piss his dad off. You heard an even louder gasp come from the other side of the door. “Damn you Michael, you can’t even bother to respond to your father. More focused on getting that poor girl knocked up than be a real man.” It made you want to laugh honestly, Michael’s father always seemed more embarrassed when it came to him either walking in on you two or hearing whatever was going on when Michael locked his door. Hearing footsteps quickly walk away from the room, you slapped Michael’s arm.

“What?” A cheeky smirk was spread across Michael’s face, his bangs falling into his eyes, hair pushed onto his shoulders. “You’re horrible.” Giggling along with Michael as you got up quickly to pull the rest of your clothes off, before climbing back onto his lap. Pressing a quick kiss to Michael’s lips before getting ready to push his cock inside of you. Eager for both of you to get off. Finally, Michael’s tip pushed past your hole, and into your walls, twitching as you quietly moaned and sheathed Michael. Rocking your hips against his, you looked to Michael for direction. Responding a quick nod, you began to slightly bounce, it wasn’t the same as riding him on the bed, you had no room to put your knees on the chair, but that didn’t stop you from finding a way to bounce comfortably. “Michael, please.”

Grabbing your hips Michael pulled you closer and took the lead, bouncing you at a pace you couldn’t achieve, and snapping his hips up to meet yours. You moaned, grabbing at Michael’s shoulders as his tip kissed your cervix. The chair creaked as Michael picked up the pace, being a bit rougher than usual. “You always take me so well.” You whined, looking at Michael seeing his half lidded gaze on you. You looked down, staring at Michael’s thick happy trail, before turning your attention to where you and Michael met, a white circle forming at the base of his cock. “No need to get embarrassed. I thought you liked it when I talked like that? Or would you rather me do the opposite? Hm? You like being teased like a little whore.” Gasping, you blushed and looked away, trying to hold in moans.

“Oh now I don’t get to hear how good I’m making you feel?” Michael stilled his hips, taking his hands off of your waist before grabbing a fist full of your hair, forcing you to look at him, your eyes were blown wide as Michael leaned forward pressing you against his desk before snatching your wrists, holding them just at your navel. “What you don’t want the old man to hear you? You scared he’ll barge in? You don’t want him to see you being a slut?” You gasped feeling Michael stand up, the tip of his cock pressing against the side of your wall. Shuddering as he pulled out, before moaning loud enough to muffle the music blaring as Michael slammed back into you.

Rutting his hips into your cunt before beginning a ruthless pace. Ripping screams and moans from your throat before being shut up as Michael forced his mouth onto yours, sucking on your tongue before pulling away and beginning to press sloppy open mouthed kisses against your neck. You legs flailed before finding themselves wrapped eagerly around Michael’s hips. “Oh? You like that? Fuck- you’re sucking me in like crazy, I really should’ve put a rubber on hm?” Shaking your head you tightened your legs around Michael’s waist, his pelvis meeting your clit with every thrust. “No? You like it when we go raw? What if you get pregnant hm?”

Michael groaned above you, panting as his thrusts became rushed and sloppy, god he was so close, you’d really done it this time. Squeezing his eyes shut as you whimpered below him, did he really want to do this? He knew he’d probably get kicked out or worse, be cut off from his dear ole’ dad’s will. Come on? Getting you knocked up would make his heart soar but he knew it’d have consequences, but did he really care all that much? His dad was a piece of shit anyways, so what did it matter? Biting his lip, Michael pressed his mouth to yours, muffling your cries as your pussy spasmed around his cock.

Michael’s hips stilled, rutting into you as cum painted your walls a creamy white. A low grunt leaving his throat as he pulled away. Your face red, chest heaving. Michael let go of your wrists and hair, pulling you into his arms before lifting you up off the desk. Laying you flat on your stomach, and pulling the thin sheets over your body. Michael sat at beside you, pushing hair from your face, before leaning down and kissing your temple, like he always did. Getting up and opening up his drawer to snag a cigarette, which you constantly scolded him for buying. Chuckling, Michael stood at his window, opening it up, blowing the smoke out of his room.

Staring off into space before putting out the rest of the cigarette. Pulling on boxers before heading to the kitchen to get a cup of water for you, finding his dad sitting at the table staring at a picture of his ex-wife. Breezing right past him, Michael groaned hearing the sound of William’s voice. “You truly are a disappointment.” Sass and annoyance laced in his words.

“I take after my father.”

Michael couldn’t wait to get the fuck out of his dad’s house and live life with you.

[tweedlydumbtweedlydoo]

My Queen | Elijah Mikaelson x reader

Requested by anon / Summary: Elijah steals you from another man. It’s justified since the man wasn’t treating you as a queen. 

A/N: I’m in love with how this turned out and I hope you all do too! 

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

Go follow my fic rec blog! ---> @imaginationgonewild0912

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********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS

“Care to explain why you’re here again, crying over him?” Rebekah asks as she slides the tea toward you. You were currently seated at the island situated in the middle of the mikaelson’s large kitchen. Which was ironic since they barely cooked. 

It had been a horrible evening at your boyfriend’s home. Which wasn’t the first horrible evening, there had been plenty more before this and plenty of times where you’d shown up on the Mikaelson’s doorsteps in the middle of the night with only the clothes on your back and tear stained cheeks. 

You take a sip of the tea, sniffling, “Rebekah please, don’t start.” 

“It happens time and time again. He doesn’t deserve you and he’s shown that he truly doesn’t care about your feelings. I mean you walked in on him, AGAIN, with another woman. How could you stay with someone like that?” 

“Rebekah, I have no where else to go.” You set the cup down, growing angry at the woman in front of you. She didn’t understand the bind you were in, “He’s helped me when I had nothing and I owe him.” 

“You don’t owe him anything.” She lays her palms on the cool island, “And how many times have I told you, you have a place here. Always.” 

“I won’t be a burden to you and your family.” You stare at the cup in front of you, tears pricking once more. Your boyfriend had you believing you were a burden and he didn’t mind caring for you. He was doing you a favor. But anyone else would find you a burden, so you couldn’t go anywhere. 

Elijah quietly steps into the kitchen, “I thought I heard your voice..” Elijah presses a soft kiss to the back of your head, his hand lingering on your back. The last thing you wanted to do was wake Elijah. You’d hoped to have been gone before he’d known you were here. 

You always crumbled under him, like his presence was enough to let all your troubles go, let all your tears to fall. He had that comforting way about him and after left your heart feeling confused. You didn’t want to leave him, leave his comforting embrace but felt guilty for placing your troubles on him and would leave to return to your boyfriend. 

You leaned into him and he accepted you. His eyes left you to Rebekah for an explanation, “The bastard had another girl in bed with him, again.” 

Elijah sighs, pressing another kiss to your head, rubbing comforting circles on your back. 

“I think I’ll break his neck,” 

“rebekah!” You and Elijah scold, “don’t even joke like that.” You wipe your tears, “he’s been going through a lot of stress with work.”  “That’s no excuse.” 

“Rebekah, I think it’s time for you to head upstairs.” Elijah motions toward the door with his head, “I have her from here.” He takes the seat at the island next to you, Rebekah muttering things under her breath as she leaves. 

“I love him, Elijah.” You say with defeat, “I love him.” 

“I think you’re confused on what love truly is.” He wipes a stray tear from your cheek, “What he’s showing you isn’t love. No where close.” 

You face him in the chair, shoulders slumping as you listen to him. 

He fixes a stray hair behind your ears, wiping another tear, “Love is giving your absolute all to that person and being committed to that one person. There isn’t another one like them. It’s almost a tunnel vision effect, you see no one but them.” He tilts your chin up to make you look at him, “You’re willing to do anything for that person. Even if it means sacrificing yourself to save them. Do you think he would do that for you?” 

You shake your head, “No,” You laugh half heartedly, “he’d probably sacrifice me to save himself.” 

“You deserve to be worshipped as a queen, a beautiful goddess.” He traces your facial features with his finger, “and nothing less.” 

“Elijah, you’re the only one who thinks that.” Your voice trails off and your gaze focuses on the now cold cup of tea. It never failed that Elijah would remind you that you are a queen to be worshipped. That you deserved nothing less than that. 

“let me show you how to be properly loved and worshipped by a man who would die if it meant you lived another day. A man who would give you his everything,” His hands cup your cheeks, your eyes now locked on his. His eyes were soft, filled with such love and adoration. A begging for a chance, a longing for you. “A man who would rather die than live a day without you.” He’s slowly leaning in, his voice full of desperation, “a man who treats you as his queen.” 

As his lips hovered over yours, you accepted them, your lips working effortlessly against yours. With every passing second, the thought of the man you’d been with was diminishing. You’d never been kissed by a man the way Elijah did that night. It was as if his life depended on it. Your body melted into his as the kiss grew more intense. 

Elijah reluctantly ended the kiss, his hands still cradling your head as his forehead pressed softly against yours, “let me worship you.” His hands are in your hair, desperate to be close to you, “my queen.” 

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