#how to reach out to someone who is struggling

[fanfoolishness]

Just losing my mind at the implications that the companions have all been trying to help Rook grieve Varric, and Rook doesn’t know

Emmrich, wise and long-familiar with grief, being told by Neve and Harding what happened; understanding why sometimes he overhears Rook’s muffled voice in the Infirmary, talking to no one. He takes Rook to the Memorial Gardens and mentions he talks to his parents, thinking Rook might be comfortable with the same. Rook lights candles and rings bells but Emmrich watches, sorrowed, to see Rook still seems in deep denial.

Neve takes Rook to the Wall of Light; a Shadow Dragon Rook knows just what this means but any Rook can understand the solemnity, the power of remembrance. Neve reenergizes Brom’s light and looks to Rook, hoping Rook will mention wanting to make one for Varric. Rook is kind and comforting to Neve, but Neve is lost in wondering why Rook doesn’t take the chance to open up. She can’t figure it. Maybe Rook just can’t face it, not yet. Maybe Rook does something privately. She isn’t sure but it nags at her.

Davrin’s not big on talking about feelings. He’d rather just move on. But he sees the way Rook seems a little hollow sometimes, a little distant; he sees how Rook takes so quickly to Assan. “Hey Rook,” he says, and invites them to come with him and Assan to safe places in Arlathan, where the woods are clean and green and growing, where real sunlight dapples through the trees. Rook always seems to love these outings, seems lighter afterwards. But Davrin feels a little confused in that Rook never seems to realize the outings are mostly for them.

Taash is another person not big on feelings. But they know how much feelings can twist you up and mess with your head. When Lace tells them about Varric they feel badly for Rook, and think to how they feel when they’re struggling. Epic fights, dragon fights, drinks with the Lords. Taash is perfectly capable of doing all that on their own. But maybe bringing Rook along will help get them out of their head a little bit. Does it help? Taash isn’t sure.

Bellara’s double-versed in grief after what happens to Cyrian. Rook helped her through trying to reach him, and Bellara wonders, in her own pain, if she can help Rook a little bit too. Especially if Rook is elven, teaching Rook about the braziers and the challenges is another tool she can share about her or their people, another way that might help Rook with their grief. Neve’s told her that the Wall of Light didn’t seem to help Rook much, but maybe a different funeral tradition could help them instead. Rook helps her light the braziers and Bellara feels her heart lightening, though she wonders at Rook, who seems more moved by Bellara’s reactions than anything else.

Lucanis is nearly as allergic to dealing with feelings as Davrin is, but he immediately clocks how Neve and Harding are acting, and asks what happened before he joined them. They tell him about Varric and that they’re worried about Rook, that Rook seems to just be shoving those feelings down without dealing with them. Lucanis is no stranger to that, but while it’s fine for him, he doesn’t want to see someone who risked their life to save him share that struggle. He brings Rook to Caterina’s funeral planning to show Rook it’s okay to admit the loss and honor it. When that doesn’t seem to make a dent, he falls back to his standard - lavish meals, small gifts, coffee. He knows it would help him. He just wishes it helped Rook too.

Lace hurts the worst after losing Varric and Lace is where Solas’ magic comes the closest to faltering. Rook can see Lace is down, she’s quiet, she’s afraid after what happens with the gods escaping; but Solas’ magic holds and Rook can still never see quite why. Lace would love to sit over drinks one night and share stories about Varric, but she sees that Rook doesn’t seem ready, and she doesn’t want to push. Instead she writes letters to Ma, to the Inquisitor, to Cassandra, to Aveline, maybe even to Hawke. She writes out her stories with Varric’s old quill and she carries a bolt of Bianca with her. A dozen times she goes to talk to Rook about him, and when she tries Rook turns away or changes the subject. It hurts, but Lace knows she can’t make Rook talk about him, and she hopes in time it will get better.

This just absolutely crushes me the more I think about it 😭

Edit: Varric’s death is Rook’s personal companion quest every other single companion tries to help them with, and can’t 😭😭😭

[glitter-stained]

I always feel like a little sad seeing posts about how Jason's character is inherently tragic and that's what makes it good, how him being unloved, a tragic consequence of his own actions, is inevitable, and how that shouldn't change because any change on that regard is a fundamental misunderstanding of his character. Yes, Under the Hood is a tragedy. Yes, Jason survived and for a long time people have been pretty confused at what to do with the character that survives the tragic ending. That doesn't mean he should continue to be trapped in the tragedy, that there's only value in him as long as he's unloved. And maybe that's me preaching and being a party pooper again but the idea that the teenage-to-young adult character with a mental illness that has damaged all his relationships is doomed to be lonely and have bad/upended relationships forever, that he's only good as a character as long as he's hurting others and/or himself (and usually both) and isolated because of this... It's sad, at the very least. I refuse the presumption that tragedies are the only stories wise and worth telling.

Also I personally really dislike the idea that Jason isn't and shouldn't be anyone's favourite, because he made himself nobody's favourite on purpose. Did he make himself a villain on purpose? Fuck yeah. Does any of his early attempts at reaching out to people hurt them? Indubitably. I maintain that this is because he wants to be someone's favourite as he is, at his worst, with his hands covered in blood. And I think he should be. (Without contradicting or damaging, by comparison, the relationships between other characters, that's the tightrope we need to be weary of when making such things, of course.)

It's like this: love, in most relationships, is conditional: you don't owe your friend or your partner to continue to love them if the relationship changes, if you change, if you become violent etc. If my girlfriend started murdering puppies, I would stop loving her. Ideally, however a parent's love for their child is unconditional. That's very often unfortunately not the case, but ideally it'd be, it's really not great for a kid to have zero parents that love them unconditionally. And most importantly, it's not just about actual unconditional love, it's about it being perceived. So it doesn't matter in the debate if Bruce actually loves Jason in spite of the murder, it matters that Jason asks for confirmation of it at the end of UTH and receives a negative answer. (similar arguments to be made about Catherine loving Jason and dying of drug overdose and Willis going to jail and dying - it's the potential perceived abandonment of it that would matter, not their agency and actual love. And it's not a question of whether he would be angry at it so much as that he'd yearn and hurt for it. And of course Sheila didn't love him at all.) That's why he, upon learning about Mia and reaching previously unknown to man levels of projection*, tries to rally her with the hope that, because she's "so similar to him" she would understand him. That's why upon learning about Dick "killing" Blockbuster Jason, again projecting more violently than a bullet, Jason makes Dick into his new favourite person (god, the concept behind BiB has so much potential why did it have to suck so bad...) Anyway, Jason to me is a character with a very intense, very overwhelming conception of love both in who he loves and how, who struggles to understand that other people love and show it differently, and it makes so much sense for him to keep looking for a person who will love him unconditionally (something that's both very rare and not necessarily healthy since, again, most relationships aside from parent-child relationships do not and probably should not include unconditional love). This is particularly interesting in the context of him having bpd (again, using bpd because i'm focusing on the interpersonal dimension that's been mostly studied within that frame) because BPD often functions around a vicious circle of "is afraid of rejection/abandonment -> does maladaptive behaviour in attempt to prevent rejection/abandonment OR protect oneself by being the one to leave first" which is what leads to the instability in relationships. It's a doomed prophecy: i have maladaptive patterns that make me think my girlfriend is gonna leave me at any time, I keep demanding to see her phone, assuming she's cheating everytime she leaves and thus demonizing her even though I was glorifying her five minutes earlier" then she's going to leave me, which is gonna reinforce my thought pattern that everyone always leaves me. But that also means that in rare instances in which the other person in the interact, for whichever reason, sticks around through that, then these incorrect thought patterns begin to change through the sheet logic of extinction: if i think that people always leave me because of something fundamentally wrong with me and people don't leave then eventually the idea that people are doomed to abandon/reject me is going to lose its power. That's, btw, an important part of why therapy works.

(*that one's a joke, btw. He's not projecting onto mia and dick to levels impossible to mankind, just pretty intensely. Very human levels of projection, might I add'. Just to clarify.)

Now, be mindful: I'm not saying make Jason an abusive boyfriend. I'm not saying put him in a relationship where the other stays because they're afraid of him, that's not unconditional love or acceptance that's just fear. Of course, the ideal version of it would be Jason goes to therapy but because dc hates me specifically this is never gonna happen, but imagine him being in a relationship, romantic or otherwise, with someone who is as intense and "unwell" about him as he is about them. I'm not saying it would fix him (again, get him so goddamn therapy jfc) but it would change him. And just as it doesn't have to be healthy it doesn't have to be tragic.

I was asked a while ago my thoughts on Jason's current stagnancy as a character and if I thought he could become interesting again, and I said yes and talked about the directions I dream would be explored with his character and their potential. My answer hasn't changed, and it's completely compatible with this, but I will add: I think Jason as a character has largely and for long enough been defined through his yearning to be somebody's favourite, and that if you want his mode of interacting with others and dynamic with different characters to change then this is a very logical way to do it. And it would make a lot of sense for it to be the catalyst for other changes in his character (ie in his name or philosophy).

Get that boy into a super intense long-term codependent situationship, is what I'm saying. Please.

[alexvolleyball]

🧸ྀི A man! 🧸ྀི

What lads men doing for you?

characters: Sylus; Xavier; Zayne; Rafayel.

a/n: English is not my first language, so I apologise for any mistakes. Requests are open!!!

It's New Year's Eve in four days. I would love for you to decorate my Christmas tree!

warnings: Mentioning clubs, drunk people, clingy men, kids, not highly toxic jokes.

Sylus:

• He won’t let you feel uncomfortable.

• Is the club music too loud? Sylus will throw out the DJ to lower the volume.

• Is the company unpleasant? He will wrap his arm around your shoulders and lead you away.

• Is some guy staring at you strangely? Sylus will take care of him without hesitation.

• Today was another visit to the club. You didn’t give Sylus a heads-up, and now you regret it. You’ve had too much to drink and are struggling to walk. It feels like you might break your ankles in these heels. Leaning against the wall of a tall building, you touched your hot face with an equally warm hand. Your eyes struggled to make sense of the figures around you.

• “Hey, gorgeous! Need some help?” a strange male voice called out. The stranger stood too close, his hands already reaching for your shoulders when suddenly, black and red threads wrapped around him and lifted him away.

• “Keep your filthy hands to yourself.” Oh, that voice—you could recognize it anywhere. Your man arrived just in time, as always. You heard the man's screams, the crack of bones, and Sylus’s heavy footsteps. “Here I am saving you again, kitten.”

• “Sylus?” You swayed and fell right into his arms. “I missed you so much!” To be honest, Sylus likes it when you’re drunk because you become quite clingy. “These stupid heels hurt! Can I take them off?”

• He supported you with one hand while the other removed his shoes. Then he crouched down and placed you on his knee. Sylus began to take off your heels and slipped on his shoes instead. “Is this better?” he asked, gently standing while holding your heels.

• “Oh! So comfortable!” You clapped your hands joyfully, and in response, he leaned down to kiss you on the forehead.

Xavier:

• He always walks ahead of you, shielding you with his broad back.

• As one of the top Hunters, Xavier takes on the most perilous missions. When you join him on assignments, he turns into a protective hen. “Hold on. I’ll check it out.” Or “Shh, there’s someone over there. I’ll handle it; you stay put.” Or “Don’t interfere; I’ve got this.” At first, it stung, making you feel like a burden. But that couldn’t be further from the truth! Xavier just wants to keep you safe and sound.

• His worry for you even led him to argue with his superiors. When they refused to make any changes (Xavier believes you should get easier tasks), he got angrier than ever before.

• It seems that Hunter has everything under wraps, but when it comes to his beloved, he just can’t keep his emotions at bay.

• He protects you even during casual strolls. Xavier is always alert, ready to take on any threat just so you’re okay.

• When unfamiliar guys approach, he draws you in closer and shoots them a cold glare. With that displeased look, he wards off anyone who dares to come near. “Wow, you’ve really got a jealous streak!” you chuckle, watching him shoo away yet another suitor.

• “Jealous?”

• “Well, it’s when you think that someone you care about might go off with someone else. You’re deeply attached, and you feel a pang when someone tries to steal your partner. Something like that.” You smile awkwardly, realizing how silly it sounds.

• “Yeah, probably.” Xavier’s words hit home. “I’d protect you from anyone in this world.” He gently brushed your cheek and pulled you closer. “Especially from men who have their eyes on my treasure.” His soft lips brushed against yours. Through that tender kiss, he tries to convey what he can’t say aloud.

Zayne:

• This doctor won’t let you lift anything heavy.

• Heading to the store? He’ll tag along to haul all those bulky bags for you.

• Want to move the couch to make the room look nicer? Better step aside. Zayne will handle it all.

• Right now, you’re secretly trying to drag heavy boxes filled with useless junk up to the attic without your husband knowing. But you miscalculated the distance from the wall and crashed into it, sending the boxes tumbling. The racket alerted your husband, and he surveyed the scene with a disapproving look. “Why didn’t you call for me?” First, he helped you up, then you both gathered everything that tumbled out of the boxes back inside. After a heavy sigh, he stacked the boxes and lifted them effortlessly. Once everything was stowed away in the attic, Zayne came back down to you. “So, why didn’t you tell me?”

• “You were busy working, and I didn’t want to bother you.”

• “And that’s why you thought it was a good idea to do this on your own? Y/N, you’re my woman. You shouldn’t be doing all the heavy lifting when I’m around.” He pulled you into his chilly embrace, but the warmth of your body soon turned it cozy. “You could’ve hurt your back or worse.” Zayne pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

• “Sorry for worrying you.”

• “It's all good,” he sighed. “But don’t let it happen again. The mother of my future children needs to stay healthy.” He smiled and ruffled your hair.

• “Mother of your future children?”

• “You thought you could get away from me? Not a chance. I want to build a family with you. I want kids, and only with you.” Zayne's words made you blush. Despite his serious nature, he loves to playfully tease you just to see the flustered look on your face.

Rafayel:

• He always opens doors for you and pulls out your chair like a true gentleman.

• This man is far too glamorous and sophisticated for this world.

• Today, like usual, he decided to take you to the most upscale restaurant. You’ve realized time and again that in his suit, Rafayel is just too hot to handle.

• He loves it when your outfits match; it shows everyone around that you’re a genuine, loving couple.

• As he opened the car door, he waved his hand gallantly, inviting you to hop in. You laughed, lifted the hem of your dress, and slipped into the car.

• Once you arrived, the artist was the first out, opening your door and helping you out. Wrapping your arm around his, you beamed and rested your head on his shoulder. “Today, you’re glowing with happiness—it’s nauseating,” your husband joked, pretending to feel ill.

• “Oh, you rascal! I’m just…” you turned away, slightly embarrassed. “I’m just happy to have you with me.”

• “Ah, that’s it!” He said, holding the door open and ushering you inside. “How adorably sweet!” The artist chuckled, and as you made your way to the table, he pulled out your chair, sat you down, and scooted you in. “In that case, order whatever your heart desires, babe! Let’s blow this card’s limit!” He slapped the table, placing his credit card beside your hand.

• “Wow, what a surprise!” You feigned amazement. As you browsed the menu, you sneaked glances at your man. Rafayel met your gaze. “Why are you staring so hard?”

• “I love you.”

• “What?”

• “I said, ‘hurry up and order.’ I’m starving over here.” You noticed his ears turning red, and with a giggle, you intertwined your fingers with his. Rafayel looked at your hands, half-lidded eyes taking in the moment. He brushed his thumb over your knuckles and gently raised your hand to his lips, kissing it. “I want to spend my life taking you to fancy restaurants.”

© 2024 do reblog, but don’t copy or publish my work on other platforms, or translate (without my permission) into other languages. Any coincidences are coincidental! The dividers belong to me! If you want use them, just tag me: @alexvolleyball

[severinewrites]

Finding Independence Without Love

Musings of independence with the absence of love feat. Moominvalley

Dependency is common in some relationships and could happen in both platonic and romantic relationships. We see our partners/friends as a source of happiness every time we feel down. Our clinginess strengthens when we have a special person in our lives, thinking of them as a person without flaws or perfect. This can be an unhealthy way of how we act or think in our relationships with other people, we can’t expect they’ll satisfy our needs immediately, it’s like you are viewing them as the top of our pedestal, admiring them a lot.

I am saying this from my perspective as a young adult, I’ve experienced the first time feeling disappointed in my ex-crush when I hear he likes someone else. It hurts a lot to hear from the person you’ve admired for so long like someone other than you, I mean, it’s a universal experience, right? Getting disappointed or rejected, you start to get mad at yourself like hitting, pulling your hair, or even slapping yourself for not getting chosen, you feel like an idiot for being delusional thinking you’re the “one” for them. It’s a tragic feeling, I know—but I tried to forget about them, not as a friend but as a “crush”.

During my Christmas break, I struggled to cope with my feelings, so I doomscrolled YouTube for 10-12 hours for 3 days straight without reaching out to someone because I needed to isolate myself from what happened, trying to forget it ever happened. Then, I stumbled upon a show called “Moominvalley” on my for you page, I decided to watch the clips, and guess what? I fell in love with it quickly even though it’s been 3 days since I knew about this show. Moominvalley is a comforting show, and what intrigued me about the show is the character Snufkin, an easygoing and carefree enjoys thinking about things and always comes and goes as he pleases, going on adventures. Like Snufkin, I enjoy solo trips, I'm not a big fan of trips with my friends (depends on my mood but I prefer solo to groups) since I do treasure my alone time a lot, able to think about stuff or explore everywhere without any people around trying to drain my energy emotionally and physically. With my solo trips, I'm able to reflect on many stuff without any distractions. Just because I enjoy being alone doesn't mean I don't feel lonely… I have friends who care about me a lot—including my ex-crush but despite them being overall supportive and approachable, I can't help but try to push them away from me—isolating myself, especially what happened between my ex-crush and me, I can't face them anymore something that leads me to isolate myself from them and my friends, not wanting help or comfort from them anymore. I shut myself from them, I don't want to make things complicated. Snufkin really relates toMoninn on a deeper level, making him my kin since he does push away friends, has abandonment issues, fears getting attached, is sad on the inside, and struggles to talk/chat with someone.

Through the show Moominvalley, I’ve learned the hard way that even the people you deeply love and admire, you need to accept that you can’t control how they feel or act, because well… they are humans, right? They deserve to feel or act what they want, even having feelings for somebody they like, even if it’s not you. It’s sad because that person made you feel alive or wanted, through the physical touch, words of affirmation, and more—makes me so special to them. Maybe that’s the reason why I fell in love with them in the first place. This also relates to the relationship between Moominttoll and Snufkin, Moominroll being clingy and a bit obsessed to Snufkin makes him admire him because of his adventures but unlike Snufkin, he tries to avoid any attachment to Moomintroll, resulting him to leave everytime to get some alone time or to isolate himself in his adventures. Moomintroll is also one of the characters I've kinned too, him being so clingy towards Snufkin reminds how I acted towards my ex-crush but not as obsessive, just right. Moomintroll has longings for Snufkin, always wanting to be in his side everytime, like how I've wanted to be in my ex-crush's side whenever I have a chance too—but sadly they found someone they always want to be close with… I'm glad for them but I tend to feel lonely without them around, yearning for some message or conversation from them—nothing is the same anymore as before… but that's life, there will be changes, whether you like it or not.

Therefore, I still need time for myself and watch more Moominvalley to find my purpose in life outside heartbreaks. Even I would love to talk/chat with them, it’s time to use this vacation to take a break from them for a while, giving myself time to grow as an independent person—not needing their comfort or help and focusing on my passion for writing, like what I am doing right now. Sometimes, we need to depend on ourselves, without needing anyone to fix us. That's what I did to cope.

To end this, I would like to add a quote from Moominvalley from the character Snufkin, he once said:

“You can't ever be really free if you admire somebody too much.” - Snufkin (Moominvalley 2019)

This quote explains we can't really be free if we admire that special person too much, draining your energy mentally and emotionally. I wish I've heard this show during my childhood then I wouldn't have to deal with heartbreaks all of the sudden. But I guess things happen for a reason. Moominvalley is truly a masterpiece, especially the creator itself Tove Jansson, the one responsible for making this beautifully crafted show for us to love and enjoy, making us learn meaningful lessons.

We humans seek longing, wanting be loved by that person we admired but I know we're better than that—I’m better than that anyways! We know that those people we love are humans too, so why waste our time waiting for approval from them? We could try to look after ourselves and be a independent with or without them—needing no love from them at all! Love can wait but not with hopes and dreams, our passions in life are much more important than some hopeless romance. We don't need that person we deeply admire to take over our lives, we should move forward and never look back! It's such a shame not to take a chance to do what you're passionate about when we only live once.

With Moominvalley, It's possible for us to grow to independent individuals thriving to make the world a better place! With my strong love for writing, I could write freely, writing down my musings, feelings, and emotions. I’m grateful to be alive where the world is filled with endless possibilities, where you can be free from everything! Be who you want to be, explore everything until you find your purpose—that’s the beauty of independence without love!

“It is simply this: do not tire, never lose interest, never grow indifferent—lose your invaluable curiosity and you let yourself die. It's as simple as that.” - Tove Jansson (Fair Play 1989)

[sailornymph]

‘ALL FOR ME’

naruto dilfs with younger s/o

cw : nsfw, age gap (reader is 21-23, they are 30+), implied size difference, etc.

authors note : wow i am really appreciative of the followers and requests i have already received, welcome! and thank you :)

not hcs just short pieces that i came up with :)

♡︎ kakashi hatake

dipping your feet in the lake, you laid back, book in your hands. the sun felt so comforting, shining down on your skin. your dress pulled up above your knees, your toes buried in the rocks — a ticklish sensation on your ankles from the small fish swimming by.

“you shouldn’t be this far out, alone,” you heard, making you sit up, and turning around.

kakashi, always trying to look cool and nonchalant, stood, leaning against the tree, his arms crossed. playfully rolling your eyes, you stepped out of the water, approaching him.

“i thought you had to train your students today,” you raised your eyebrow at him.

“i did, then i found out you carelessly came out here alone”

“so you came after me?”

“i’m here, aren’t i?”

“how do i know i’m not talking to one of your clones, or someone pretending to be you?” you squinted. you were only a bookstore owner after all, and you oftentimes struggled to determine what or who was a clone — despite kakashi attempting to teach you.

shaking his head, he approached you, pulling down his mask. snaking his arm around your waist, he stared into your eyes for a moment.

“when did you start to read icha icha?” he asked, making your eyes widen in embarrassment. glancing at the book pressed against your chest.

“you left it at my place, so i decided to see what you liked about it,” you said, as he smirked.

“i assume you’ve liked what you’ve read?”

“i-yes, it’s not bad,” you nodded, shyly, but he lifted your head.

“who knew girls like you could become such perverts?” he laughed.

“don’t say things like that,” you shook your head.

“ah, i thought you were trying to figure out if i was a clone?” he smiled.

“i don’t think a clone would have shown me your face,” you said, as he hummed, pulling you close into a hug.

“i‘ve found myself missing you,” he admitted. he had been on mission after mission with team seven and hardly given any time to visit you or your small bookstore.

“i missed you too, are you okay?” you asked worriedly.

“don't worry about me, let’s focus on you, what did you do while i was away?”

“i worked and hung with a few friends,” you said, he nodded, turning you around. your ass pressing against his body, his hand on your abdomen.

“did you hook up with any of these friends?” he asked, his breath on your neck, making you clench your legs together.

“no, i meant what i told you,” you said, your breathing becoming heavy.

“that you’re all for me? what’s the matter, sweetheart?”

“i can’t take this pressure,” you pushed back harder against him.

“oh? then let’s relief some of this pressure?”

“show me where it is,” he whispered.

reaching for his hand, you placed it onto your cunt, moaning as he pressed down on your clothed clit. throwing your head back onto his shoulder, your whispered his name.

“oh kakashi”

“have you hook up with anyone?” you hesitantly asked.

“never, not when i have my lovely bookworm, but let’s continue with this pressure, is it here?” he asked, massaging your clit.

“yes,” you eagerly shook your head.

“we’ll have to fix that, won’t we? you were already being a dirty girl reading my book, you don’t mind if we handle your issue here, use your words, sweetheart”

“please don’t stop touching me,” you begged, as he lifted up your dress, his fingers slipped into your panties.

“you’re already this wet? you’re excited aren’t you?”

“kakashi, i want it,” you groaned, reaching to lightly squeeze his cock. groaning in your ear, he pulled out his hand to unbuckle his pants, while you removed the panties.

stroking himself a few times, he slowly slid into your pussy. standing tall behind you, he held your hips, as he slowly thrusted his cock deeper. reaching to hold his arm, you covered your mouth muffling your moans.

holding your waist, he helped you lower to the grass, taking off his vest in the process, for you to kneel on it instead. your eyes rolled back as he continued thrusting, lowly panting.

“kakashi, i’m so close,” you cried, the sound of skin clapping being drowned out by the waterfall.

lifting your body up, pressing your back against his chest, he continued thrusting, squeezing your breast, just as his cum began to paint your walls.

pulling out, you looked back at him, kissing his lips, his hands still holding your breast, when he froze.

“get dressed, someone is coming,” he ordered.

scampering to fix your appearances, the both of you sat near the water, opening your books, just as kakashi began to lift his mask over his mouth.

“there he is,” sakura screamed.

“where were you, sensei?” naruto yelled.

“and what are you doing?” sasuke frowned, noticing both of you sitting with a book in your lap.

“i forgot i agreed to join the local bookclub, i figured i would show my face, since we are back in the village,” kakashi shrugged.

“i know you, you own that bookstore next to the flower shop,” sakura pointed.

“yes, my name is y/n,” you smiled at the children.

“miss y/n, you look a bit young to be around someone as old as kakashi sensei”

“yeah, you better not be a pervert old man”

“how old are you, actually?” all three children spoke at the same time, kakashi’s face burning in embarrassment.

“i am an adult, kakashi isn’t that much older than me, and we aren’t doing anything, your sensei is just a very, very good reader,” you said, making eye contact with him.

“then can we join this book club?” naruto asked curiously.

“absolutely not,” kakashi finally spoke, before you could say anything else.

“but-

“how about you three beat me back to the academy, the winners will be treated to ramen,” he continued.

“deal, bye y/n,” naruto screamed, running back towards the village, sakura and sasuke following.

“will i see you tonight?” he asked.

“you will,” you nodded.

“see you then, sweetheart”

♡︎ jiraiya

the pervy sage, you could remember the first time you met him. you and another chūnin were sent by the hokage to bring information to naruto. as your partner went to bring the scroll to the boy who had the nine-tailed fox sealed in him, you could feel a pair of eyes lingering on your figure.

turning your head, you raised your eyebrow at the older man, who shamelessly gawked at you, until naruto yelled.

“hey, you old perv, stop looking at y/n like that,” he yelled, before smiling at you.

“sorry about that, y/n,” he called, as you approached.

“it's alright, naruto, how is your training coming along?”

“i’m much stronger, each day i get closer and closer to becoming hokage, believe it,” he cheered.

“i believe you,” you nodded, laughing.

“how about you? is it true that you're going to try to become a jōnin?”

“if kakashi is free to help me train,” you nodded.

“how about the pervy sage helps you-

“oh no, naruto, i can't impose,” you began to shake your head.

“he doesn't mind, do you, pervy sage? and y/n is already pretty strong, but you can just make sure she is ready for her test,” he said, his eyes going from you to the older man.

“i-

“you don't worry about naruto, he’s always trying to help others, if kakashi doesn't train me, i could always ask asuma or kurenai-

“no you don't get it, the pervy sage is one of the sannin,” naruto bragged as your eyes widened, going to the older man, who stood, profusely blushing.

“i am sure i could make time to train you,” he managed to say.

“oh now you’re all shy,” naruto yelled.

“really? i don’t want to take away time for naruto-

“no, it’s alright, i will be picking up missions soon and this old man doesn’t have a life, he can make time for the both of us”

“is that true?” you asked, smiling as he sheepishly nodded.

“of that’s wonderful, i can’t wait to start,” you clapped, gasping, before bowing, thanking him.

“we have to go, i’ll be in touch,” you waved, as you and your partner left.

it wasn't much longer before you were training, sometimes alongside naruto, other times it was just you and jiraiya. you grew stronger, but training with jiraiya was also the beginning of something addicting and you found yourself unable to get enough of — the toad sage himself.

“go away, i don’t want to talk to you,” you pouted, crossing your arms, as jiraiya stood outside of your house, with a small bouquet.

“don’t be like that, princess-

“you were my sensei for the last three months and you couldn’t even come to see me become a jōnin,” you frowned.

“i had important business”

“more important than your girlfriend’s graduation? or do you even care about me? naruto was right, you’re just an old perv and i can’t believe i trusted you and gave you my body. you disgusting-

before you could finish, he dropped the flowers, his hand pressing against your mouth, stopping you from speaking. stepping forward, he easily pushed his way into your small house, before he shut the door behind himself.

“let’s not say cruel things we don’t mean,” he smiled, lightly pinching your cheek, as he pulled away.

“where were you?” you asked him, sadly.

“shopping”

“that’s what was so important? you were shopping, wow,” you said, trying to process what he had just told you.

“i didn’t think i would need to go to two different villages, to find this,” he reached into his pocket, for the delicate jewelry. a lovely sight to see, the beautiful red rubies were cut perfectly, for the dainty necklace.

“you missed my graduation for a neckl-

“a graduation gift for the sexy little jōnin, miss y/n,” he interrupted.

“oh,” you said, your face burning with embarrassment.

“you will be away on plenty of missions, so i figured, i would give you a piece of me to have with you,” he said, as he made you spin around. his hand pressing your body against his chest, slowly traveling up, before unclamping the necklace, placing it around your neck, and closing it.

“it’s beautiful, thank you, i love it,” you smiled, going to the mirror to examine it. slowly making his way behind you, he massaged your hips.

“you look incredibly sexy in red”

“red is your color, people may begin to think i am copying you since you trained me-

“or that i’ve made my claim before anyone else could,” he said. he was practically drooling, as he watched your body.

“maybe,” you shyly agreed. after all this time, you still couldn’t take his shamelessness.

“tell me, my little jōnin, are you all for me?” He asked, pulling you back into his embrace, his large hand resting on your lower back.

“y-yes”

“are you still upset with me?” he tilted his head, grinning as you shook your head.

“then kiss me,” he instructed, your eyes searching for his face.

standing on your toes, you were nearly climbing up a tree, to kiss his lips. swiftly picking you up, his tongue slipped into your mouth, your fingers going to long white tresses. moving from your mouth to your neck, you moaned, holding his head closer.

“don’t stop, sensei, i want more,” you moaned, breathlessly.

“such a needy girl,” he grinned, his tongue brushing against your sensitive skin.

carrying you upstairs to your bedroom, you were plopped onto the bed with ease. squeezing your thighs together, you watched as jiraiya undressed. he always praised you for your looks and body, but he was amazingly attractive and fit for his age.

“when did you become such a little perv?” he asked, stroking himself. you could see the precum already leaking out, as his cock grew harder.

“i learned from the best,” you bit your lip. as excited as you were, you were also nervous. as many times as he had fucked you, and you still weren’t use to his size.

“hey, don’t be nervous pretty girl, do you trust me?” he asked, smiling as you nodded.

“good, i’ll take care of you,” he reassured you, pulling off your panties, leaning down to place a single kiss on your clit, before getting up, continuing to stroke himself. aligning with your entrance, he slowly pushed himself in.

arching your back, your body began to relax at his sweet words of adoration and reassurance. interlocking your fingers with his much larger hand, he brought your fingers to his lips.

“you’re already a whimpering mess and i hardly touched you, princess,” he laughed, remaining still, allowing your cunt to take as much as she saw fit.

“ji-raiya, y’re s-so big,” you moaned.

“and you’re so tight, you’re squeezing the tip of my cock,” he hummed.

pulling his large hands, you moved them to your breast, biting your lip, as he lightly squeezed them.

“fuck me, please,” you told him, your mouth instantly in an ‘o’ shape, as he pushed his cock in deeper.

watching himself fucking your pussy, barely able to fit, stretching your little cunt out, he wouldn’t last long before he was cumming.

“it’s amazing how you can go from being a feisty little jōnin, to a cute pillow princess, you’re amazing,” jiraiya moaned, as he continued thrusting into your cunt. both of your moans filling the walls.

“i’m close, i think i’m close-oh kami,” your eyes rolled back, your leg shaking, as you clenched around him repeatedly, your cum coating his big cock.

“almost there princess,” he whispered, doing a few more thrust, before he was pulling out, stroking himself.

sitting up, you slid to the floor, sticking your tongue out. letting his semen squirt all over your tongue, you swallowed it, sucking his tip, as if it was a lollipop.

“i think i’m going to miss you when you’re away on these missions,” he admitted, hovering over your body. he was a tower compared to you.

“aw, i promise i’ll make it up to you each time, i’m back,” you replied, reaching for his jaw, kissing his lips. who knew you would fall for a pervy old sage, but you couldn’t get enough of him, and had no intention of leaving him alone, for the time being.

♡︎ hashirama senju

“the final exam will take place in three months from now, from this moment on train as hard as you can, for your tournaments, many will be watching you, i wish you all the best of luck, you are free to leave,” you announced to the genin. watching as the young shinobi cheered, you huffed in exhaustion.

since being placed over the genin and chūnin exams, you had been exhausted, constantly working — courtesy of hashirama, of course. perhaps it was his way of keeping you from going on missions.

“y/n,” you turned hearing your name being called.

“izuna, when did you get back?” you smiled.

“this morning, did you do something? the hokage hasn’t taken his eyes off of you since you started speaking,” he laughed. turning, your eyes widened as you made eye contact with hashirama. his straight face remained, but you could see his posture relax.

“he probably just doesn’t want me to mess up,” you said.

“i doubt he thought you would mess up, it’s your first year as a jōnin and you were chosen to instructed the very first exams, i wouldn’t be surprised if he offered you to become a sensei of the new school,” he teased.

“oh please, let’s talk about madara, glaring at you for talking to me. you know you aren’t supposed to associate with us outsiders,” you snickered, but he rolled his eyes.

“most of the pupils are uchiha, it’s only right that i’m here, and when isn’t madara grumpy? i’m just saying hello to an old friend-

“y/n, the hokage would like a word with you, when you are finished,” tobirama interrupted. the look of disdain and disgust as he briefly eyed izuna. you nodded, glancing at the uchiha, as the senju brother left.

“sorry about him, hashi-the hokage has been trying to help stop his brother with these negative feelings-

“it is alright, y/n, i should go, we have to guarantee all uchiha students get into this school,” he told you, walking away.

“i’m sure they will,” you called out. turning around, you were surprised to see the hokage gone.

raising an eyebrow, you made your way to the hokage residence. a few shinobi stood around, as you made your way to the main office. gulping, you hoped there weren’t too many men inside. it wasn’t common for women to become a shinobi, let alone a jōnin at only twenty three. truthfully, if it wasn’t for your secret relationship with the first hokage, you wouldn’t get half of the respect that you already received.

knocking softly on the door, you opened it, freezing seeing the few men standing close to the desk.

“i was told you asked to see me,” you bowed.

“yes, leave us,” he said, watching as they all left, shutting the door behind themselves. almost as if he could sense them, he didn't make a move until they were completely out of the residence. a large smile appeared on his lips, as he stood up.

“you were wonderful with the children, they will make excellent shinobi,” he said, as you rose from your bow.

“thank you, lord first,” you said, as he approached you, wrapping his arm around your waist.

“even with you being over the exams, i miss you too frequently, maybe i should give you something less demanding,” he said.

“about that, after this year’s exams, i’d like to go back to accepting missions,” you said, trying to have a serious conversation with him, but he was too busy, taking in your scent, as his hands explored your body.

“i’m afraid your request will have to be denied, tobirama and i were thinking making you a sensei at the academy that will be opening,” he said, making you gasp.

“izuna was right-

“when did you and izuna uchiha get so close?”

“hashi, this isn’t right, i am the only woman jōnin in this village-

“and that is even more why you should become a sensei, little girls will see you and know that they have a chance to do the same thing,” he said. as true as that statement was, you knew that wasn’t why he wanted you to become a teacher, instead of taking missions.

“is that what you’re telling yourself? you and i both know you’re keeping me here so i can be near you, and it isn’t fair, you have a wife, hashi. i shouldn’t have to put my career on pause because-

“i worry about you, every time that you are away. i trust that you are strong, but i don’t know who could be your opponent. you can still protect konoha as a sensei, and i can protect you. as for my marital status it is irrelevant, you are all for me, are you not? hm, sunshine?” he asked, smiling at you.

“yes,” you nodded. as much as you wanted to be angry, it was hard to resist him, when he had such a cute, goofy smile.

“good, i like the uchiha clan, but not enough to share you,” he admitted, leaning down to kiss your lips.

“i won’t be a good sensei,” you said, breathlessly, as he moved down to your neck, his hands swiftly opening your kimono.

“you will, the very best, it is for your safety and my peace of mind,” he said, allowing you to open his kimono, your hands brushing against his toned abdomen and chest.

“you’re a selfish man, senju,” you moaned, as you stepped out of your undergarments, your kimono falling off your shoulders.

“i am, when it comes to those i care about,” he agreed, lifting your leg. his cock pressing against your pussy. groaning, he pulled you closer, biting down on your neck.

“i don’t know if i should thank you or scream at you,” you bit make your moans, his cock rubbing back and forth between your legs.

“you should do as i say and let me protect you, as your hokage and your-” he paused, his face turning red.

“my lover?” you tilted your head, smirking, as he nodded.

“just this once,” you gave in, moaning as he kissed your lips, slipping his tongue into your mouth.

stroking his cock a few more times, he pushed himself into your cunt. throwing your head back, you moaned out, as he left a trail of passion marks on your neck. you stood on your toes, as he held one of your legs in his arms, driving his cock deep into your pussy. his pussy.

you were his, only his. no one else could ever fuck you like he could. not a uchiha, and certainly not any ordinary shinobi. the way you slurred his name, drool leaking from the corner of your mouth. the way you became angry at him, saying small remarks as if you would cut ties with him. the way you claimed to want so much independence, and became a whiny baby when he protected you instead. you were just as wrapped around his fingers as he was to yours.

“hashi, i’m going to-i’m going to cum,” you moaned.

“so pretty and tight for me,” he panted, speaking in a hushed tone.

“just like that, hashi,” you whined, as his hand went to your neck, thrusting faster, as he lightly squeezed.

“y/n,” he hissed, his cock twitching, his thrust becoming more sloppy and uneven.

“cum in me hashi,” you purred, rubbing your hands up his chest.

nodding his head, concentration in his eyes, he kept thrusting, before holding you close, his cum filling you up, before he pulled out.

“i hope everyone has left for the evening,” you sighed, fidgeting with your clothing, as you began to redress. it was one thing to deal with sexism from men who were weaker than you, but to deal with a rumor that held truth, that would be the end of you.

“don’t worry about any of them, and when you take on your role as sensei i will make sure it stays that way, don’t give me that look, they will give you respect, not just because you’re with me, but you are their superior,” he said.

“okay,” you nodded.

“shall i walk you home?”

“i think i can manage from here, lord first,” you bit your lip, as he pulled you closer, once more.

“then i shall see you in the morning, to discuss your future role?”

“yes, i will be here,” you nodded.

“then goodnight, my sunshine,” he kissed your lips.

“goodnight, hashi,” you quickly bowed, making your way home for the night.

♡︎ minato namikaze

“he’s too old for you and you shouldn’t tell anyone else about it, it might cause trouble,” your best friend, mei told, as he walked you to work.

“i know, i can’t help it though, isn’t he dreamy?” you spun around, squealing in his face.

“he is probably the best looking hokage, but i’m serious, who knows the drama it might bring, or even danger,” he said, as you finally stopped in front of the hokage’s office.

“i know, you’re right,” you slumped your shoulders.

“hey, after work, i’ll treat you to ramen, okay?”

“and desert?” you pouted.

“and desert,” he laughed, before you were making your way inside the building.

who knew the internship as secretary would cause such trouble. you didn’t expect the hokage to be as charming as he was, to be as handsome up close as he was, to eat pussy as good as he does — the taboo relationship, as mei called it, would cause issues, but why is it that you couldn’t bring yourself to care?

he was nearly a decade older, recently separated from his wife and they shared a son. why is it you couldn’t care about how scandalous it would be for the two of you? how you could become a target if anyone found out about you being his little secret.

going to sit at your desk, you began to organize the paperwork that had been given left on your desk. “good morning,” you spoke to the shinobi, as they left the hokage’s office.

the time went by painfully slow, minato nowhere to be seen. although you were certain he was in his office, plenty of shinobi coming and going out of the double doors. checking your lipstick in your small mirror, you stood up, leaving a note that you were on your lunch break, before knocking, then entering the room.

he sat at the desk, reading through the papers, when his eyes shifted to yours. you smiled, but he kept a straight face, going back to reading.

“i haven’t seen you all morning,” you mumbled.

“i’ve been busy”

“too busy to even say good morning, that is unlike you,” you said, locking the door, approaching the desk.

“unlock the door”

“i want to talk”

“i have work-

“what is the matter with you, why are you acting like this, minato?” you pouted.

“who was that boy you were talking with, this morning? the one who is taking you out for ramen after work,” he said, jealousy all over his face. stopping in your tracks, you covered your mouth, trying to hold in your laugh.

“go on, laugh, did you want to be able to tell your friends what you've done with the hokage, and then get with a guy your age?” he asked, making you stop laughing.

“that was mei, we’re only friends, he’s handsome, but he already has a boyfriend,” you said, crossing your arms, as the crimson tint appeared on his cheeks.

“i see, i may have misinterpreted what i saw, i apologize,” he said.

“he doesn’t think i should be seeing you, you’re too old for me”

“oh,” he says, sheepishly.

“i told him i knew he was right”

“oh,” his eyes widened, realizing where this was headed.

“but lord fourth, can i ask you a question?”

“of course,” he nodded.

“why do i not care?” you pouted, as you walked around his desk, leaning on it, in front of him.

“i’ve been asking myself the same thing,” he admitted.

“he says there will be rumors, and i could become a target, if anyone found out-

“i will protect you,” he interrupted, shaking his head.

“how can i believe that when you were ready to shut me out over your assumptions,” you looked away from him, as he stood up.

“and i apologize for that love, but i will keep you safe, i just let my jealousy get in the way,” he said, lightly grabbing your jaw, and turning your head back to him.

staring at him for a moment, you couldn’t hold back anymore, your pussy had been getting even wetter, the longer he stared at you with those blue eyes. pecking his lips, he smiled, pulling you closer to kiss you again.

his hands trailing down, he began to pull up your dress, while you reached to lower your panties. quickly moving his papers to the side, lifting you onto the desk.

“so perfect and all for me,” he said, in between each kiss.

“i need you so bad,” you whimpered, as he unbuttoned his pants, reaching to stroke himself. grabbing your thighs, he pulled you to the edge of the desk, before pushing into your wet hole.

burying your face in his shirt, you moaned, your arms going around his neck. “so good,” he whispered in your ear, slowly grinding his hips.

“more, minato, i need more,” you whimpered to him.

“you have to be quiet love, someone might hear you,” he smirked, holding your hips, as he thrusted deeper.

“fuck, it’s so good,” you cried, pressing your mouth deeper into his shirt to muffle your moans.

“we have to be quick, i have a something coming up, fuck me back,” he said, grabbing your waist, lifting you, and sitting in his chair.

holding onto his arms, you began bouncing in his lap. he bit his lip, his cheeks rosy as ever, lowly moaning. with each thrust, you clenched around him, drawing closer and closer to his orgasm.

“i’m cumming,” he said, his hands going to your ass, squeezing as you continued bouncing. grunting ruggedly, he pulled you close, kissing your lips, just as you came.

“is that a good enough apology, my love?” he asked, his hand going to rest on your cheek.

“i suppose it will do for now,” you said, accepting his kiss, before pulling away.

“i will be out for about an hour or so, how about you run home and freshen up and after work instead of going get ramen with your friend, you join me instead?” he asked.

“okay,” you agreed, trying to bite back your smile.

fixing your clothing and hair, going to leave his office, just as you were opening the door, kushina could be seen approaching.

“hello,” she smiled at you. you returned the smile, but couldn’t deny the jealousy brewing in your heart.

handing the small child to her ex husband, she was soon on her way out, as you pathetically sulked.

“don’t you start with the jealousy too, we’re not together, it’s just my turn to take naruto to the doctor,” he reassured you, winking.

“naruto, have you met y/n?” he asked his son, who shook his head.

“hi, you’re pretty,” he smiled.

“she is, isn’t she?” minato grinned, his eyes lingering on you, before walking away with the small boy.

grabbing your purse, you tried to calm yourself down, pressing your hand against your stomach. you knew that look from anywhere, tonight would be a continuation of what had happened only minutes ago, and you couldn’t wait.

♡︎ orochimaru 

a pawn. you were nothing more than a pawn to him. the womb of a beautiful youthful woman, meant to help him procreate, to provide a legacy, outside of his clones.

how could you be such a fool? to think a man of his caliber, who was wise beyond your years would want anything serious with you. you would bear his child, then what? tossed to the side, or worse, killed.

you couldn’t stay here, not when you now knew his goal. maybe you could seek refuge in another village? you weren’t as vital as certain people to him, leaving room for the conceivable idea, that he wouldn't care. you could be replaced by the next girl he came across.

“and where do you think you're going?” you could practically hear the smirk on his face. gulping down the fear that was creeping up your throat, you faced him.

“i’m leaving,” you said, you could feel yourself shrinking, as he approached.

“without an announcement, or even saying bye?” he tilted his head. lowering your head, he simply lifted your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his own.

“i didn't want-i don't think i want to see you anymore, orochimaru,” you said. although, you hated how your statement came out sounding too much like a question. his smirk widened, humming at your lack of formality.

“oh, is that so?” he said, a dark chuckle escaping his lips.

“you used me, i gave myself to you, and you made me into one of your experiments. i refuse to be a part of this,” you frowned. he stared at you for a moment, before laughing aloud.

“you're forgetting one thing,” he said, his snake-like tongue swiping across his lip.

“you are no captive, you came here willingly, you accepted all of my advances, gave up your pretty little pussy, you've even been a good spy for me. whatever village you go to, i wonder what will think when they find out, i’m sure someone will eventually recognize you,” he continued, snaking his arm around your waist.

“no,” you cried, shaking your head.

“oh yes, my darling,” he nodded, tauntingly.

“this isn't fair,” you cried, letting him lay your head on his chest.

“life isn't fair, but you, my dear, are a greedy little vixen, you want more than you deserve. i have mentored you, guided you, protected you, fucked you as much as you wanted, but once you hear of my desires, you're running off without another word. however, if you think you are better off without me, i will not stop you,” he said, suddenly turning away, his smirk widening.

“wait, i-i didn't mean it,” you called out, the fear of what could happen to you setting in.

“oh, but you did, you don't like it here and i don't need another prisoner-

“no i do, i was scared of the unknown, is all,” you rushed to say.

“apologize to me and i will consider it,” he said, turning back to face you.

“i'm sorry, sensei, you’re right, i have been selfish,” you said fidgeting with your fingers.

“good girl, there is nothing be scared of, you will look exceptional, your belly swollen with my offspring, you can do that for me?” he asked.

“yes, lord orochimaru,” you said, smiling as he pat your head.

“fear is normal, nevertheless, speaking to me as if i am of your equivalent, you will not go unpunished,” he said, his smirk dropping.

biting your lip, nervously, you nodded your head, reaching for the bottom of your dress. you could take whatever punishment he saw fit, it it meant you could stay in the safety of his hideout.

“oh, kami-

“the gods cannot save you from me,” he grinned, fucking deeper and deeper, as you laid across your bed.

“sensei, please-

“is my cock too much for your pretty little pussy?”

“yes, i-ah”

“you can hardly speak, although, i prefer when you don’t speak, just keep taking my cock like the little vixen you are,” he grunted.

“yes daddy,” you moaned, sending a wave through his body. daddy, he never thought such a stupid title would arouse him to this point.

“i’m cumming,” you cried, just as orochimaru came in your pussy.

“good girl,” he said lowly, pulling out.

“daddy, am i yours? am i more than a pawn to you?” you asked him, your hand going between your legs, dragging your fingers across his semen, before bringing it to your lips.

“you’re all for me and worth much more than you think, get ready for bed, you’ll need the energy tomorrow,” he told you, leaving the room. his grin dropping, as he became further away. ‘that was a close one’, he thought. if it wasn't for the evidence of his success already developing in your womb, which he only recently realized, he would've killed you instantly, who did you think you were?

although he couldn't deny it, he could still feel his cock hard after hearing you call him daddy.

[blissfulrain12]

why do you think Anya told Jimmy she was pregnant when she did?

she clearly knows jimmy might become violent. did she just want to rip the bandaid off, so to speak? did she think he'd be weirded out by the pregnancy and stop abusing her sexually? did she just panic?

this is one facet of the story I'm still scratching my head about. maybe there isn't a clear answer, but you have a ood grip on the characters and their motivations. what do you think?

Anya's hard to pin down but from my understanding of her so far she tells Jimmy because she's trying to regain control of her situation. She's telling Jimmy, in her own way, that he messed up. He can't hide what he did.

Anya and Curly are paralleled, so where Curly is defined by inaction Anya is defined by action. Anya is smart, determined, and a planner. She's a problem solver. When she was denied medical school she found a way to be a nurse anyway. When she met the crew of the Tulpar she started studying psychology. When she noticed her Captain was stressed she reached out. When Jimmy made his psych eval hard to do she told someone. Post crash she basically leads Jimmy around by the nose.

So when it came to her SA she took action. When Anya confronts Jimmy she's made her position as favorable as she can. The most lethal weapon on the ship is under her control and the Captain believes her. So yeah, I can see why she felt she could take back control here. She has evidence (the pregnancy) and Curly will back up her word when/if she goes to authorities so Jimmy better back up.

The thing is Anya is amazing but she's not perfect and sometimes action isn't the right thing to do either. She misjudged the level/type of danger Jimmy was. In the way that Curly failed to see the abuse for what it was while Anya did, Anya failed to see how Jimmy reacts to things while Curly did.

Curly fawns and freezes because Jimmy escalates. Jimmy's the kind of person who matches what's given to him. The type that thinks it's unfair if he doesn't have the last hit even if he hit first. When Curly brings up that Jimmy struggled Jimmy tells him the praise he gets is annoying. When Curly tries to argue back during the birthday scene Jimmy slams his hand on the table. When Swansea kills Daisuke with the axe Jimmy gets the gun.

So Anya wanted Jimmy to back down but he escalated instead. He leaves her sobbing and wanting him gone. I think if she knew this side of him pre crash she would have handled things more like she does post crash: carefully and indirect.

So Anya told Jimmy because she's a proactive problem solver that thought if she had the gun under control and Curly's support she could get Jimmy to back down not realizing he's more likely to escalate instead.

[hedonisticeiram]

I woke up out of the dead of my sleep with a cute fic idea. All I ask is if you write it,tag me I want to read this so bad. 🫠 I might write it eventually..

James was an up and coming businessman his family owns a toy company. Regulus doesn’t want to take over the family business which is shady in some of its deals. (Think blood diamonds) He wants to make candy and start a chain of candy stores. They dance around Sirius hiding their relationship in high-school but end up being highschool sweethearts.

Sirius refuses his seat on the board and denounces being an Heir to the company. Their parents found out about James/Regulus. They force them apart. There’s some abuse/darker themes here. Regulus gets sent overseas to apprentice as a punishment learn the trade if you will. He never gives up on his dream, eventually he leaves his family, he struggles and starts to experiment making candy again.

Meanwhile heartbroken James starts his own ventures in building his own branch of his company and expanding the business.

When they were younger Regulus used to make personalized candy for James for Valentine’s. They would experiment and make them together. One of their first inventions together were candy gummies that you could write notes with.(Think letter shapes/Anagrams) Regulus wouldn’t write love letters but every Valentines he would leave James a sweet message. (Pun intended.)

One day on a business trip James hears about these anagrams candies that are popular from a colleague. Thinks nothing of it, boards a plan goes about his business.

Insert time skip. 1/2years

Regulus starts to gain traction in his business opening an online candy store. Making all kinds of candy but specializing in sweet hearts, and gummy anagrams. They take off he builds a brand on it, they start shipping worldwide.

James goes to visit a new store of his for a soft opening. Lily is his chief of operations, Peters in accounting, Sirius is a partner, Remus is in charge of production. James gets the final say so on the arrangement of the store, ideas, products exc. Walking along the store he stops in front of a box that’s barely opened. Inside is Regulus candy to be sold as a product at his store. Thinks nothing of it till they start selling and he has to keep ordering. One day he unpacks the box himself and restocks the store. Grabbing one for himself he realizes they are anagrams. He solves them and to his delight gets them right and they taste great. It’s fun, he gets it and before he knows it he’s smiling. That’s when the ache begins, he realizes who it reminds him of. Someone he hasn’t thought of in years, yet was never far from his mind… the memories come flooding back. Surely it can’t be him. Too scared to look and reach out he doesn’t. It inspires him to create so he starts to make Toys inspired by Regulus. (Think Lego Bouquets/Flowers, squishmellos) Every-time he launches a new product he scrambles the name. Post is on their website. This catches the medias eye,and Regulus’s.

Regulus thinks it’s cute and starts to write messages of his own via social media. So theres this flirting of these companies online if you will. Eventually he comes out with a cosmic gummy line. Pouring his heart out into the anagrams. An apology his brother will never receive but he gets it now and misses him dearly. A lost love letter to James. People start to notice the themes changing.

The media has now taken notice of the Toy company that flirts with the Candy shop online.

They are flirting on a grand scale, in the media, with the idea of each other.

Eventually someone solves the anagram for Regulus most recent cosmic collection kit. It’s sun themed tropical flavors.

In big letters across the TV screen the message reads.

"Oh my sun, you shine so bright how could I ever deny you. "

James sees it the same time Sirius does. They look at each other in shock. Things start to slot in place, James is visibly shook leaves the room. Sirius shuts the store down and grabs all Regulus new gummi kits clears a table and starts looking for the message. It eats away at James but he doesn’t want to know. He caves investigates the company realizing it was Regulus all along. Running to tell Sirius he finds him sobbing at the table. In front of him sits the gummies spelling out.

“Sirius, you were always the brightest.”

My dreams ends there.🥹

[woobiedoovo]

Read a really tasty platonic Yandere Ford fic and now I have Yandere brain worms once again, so here’s a brain dump :))

Also I’m going a romantic Yandere route because Stancest my beloved <3 and I feel like this could go many ways. Once again, everything is under the cut!

I can see Ford developing his Yandere tendencies either at a young age, after Stan is kicked out, or when Stan gets his memories wiped. All options are fun, but I’m going with Paranoid Ford and Mullet Stan because that dynamic is so fun!!

Ever since Stan got kicked out and Ford went to college, he had something in the back of his mind that was always telling him things were wrong. Food didn’t taste as good, colors were duller, and life just seemed so much more… bland. Lifeless. Ford refused to acknowledge that he’s feeling this way because Stan was gone and threw himself into his work.

He was going to prove to everyone that he was a genius. The brightest mind of their age. So he studies, gets his 12 PHDS, heads to Gravity Falls, and life continues to be a little less exciting the longer he’s apart from Stan.

Then he meets Bill, and everything makes sense again. Bill reminds him so much of Stanley that he quickly latches onto him, falling for all his tricks and lies. He should have known better. And now here he was, being taunted and tortured by a triangular demon. Every night Bill enters his dreams and tries to get him to open the portal. He takes control of his body and threatens his safety, making Stanford question if his body is even his anymore, but he wouldn’t break. He wouldn’t. He just needed something. Someone. He needed… Stan.

It all started to go wrong when Stan left. Life seemed to lose all meaning without Stan there. The more he thought about his twin, the more he regretted the day their Father had kicked his brother out. His brother was his biggest hype man. He always believed in him, supported him, loved him. And it was love, wasn’t it? Pure, unadulterated love. Stanford had always thought Stan was trying to get attention from Ford’s achievements, showing him off like he was a prized puppy. But why would he do that when Ford always ended up getting the compliments?

He was an idiot to overlook it. To overlook him. He needed Stan. They were meant to be together. It took one night for Ford to finally make his decision after fretting for days on whether or not to reach out to Stan.

Bill had went a different route that night to mess with Ford. He showed Ford how Stanley had been living since he got kicked out of the house. How he was homeless, on the run, and struggling. He threatened Stan’s life, and that was the last straw.

It wasn’t just Ford’s life that fell apart without their twin it seemed. Ford was filled with rage at the sight of Stan hungry and alone. Furious at the fact Bill would even dare look at Stan.

He had a new goal now. He needed Stanley’s help to defeat Bill, and then he was going to kill anyone who dared hurt his baby brother. He sent out a postcard the same night with only two words on it.

“PLEASE COME.”

Ford was afraid that Stan wouldn’t come at first. If he didn’t show up then Ford mused that he would have to deal with Bill on his own and then hunt Stan down, but not even a week later Stan was at Ford’s door, as beautiful as the day he lost him.

He just needed to deal with Bill, and then he and Stanley could be together again.

It took him longer than he liked to deal with Bill, even with Stan’s help, but when they found out that aluminum foil blocked Bill from entering his mind they made quick and efficient work of the demon. Apparently being able to work on more than 2 hours and 27 minutes a sleep a day helped the mind. Ford couldn’t help but feel like an idiot when he realized something as simple as a kitchen wrap was able to counteract Bill’s influence.

It was Stanley who first came up with the idea after Ford had explained everything to him. He had scoffed at the idea, but at Stan’s insistence he tried it out. He was never happier to be wrong and almost kissed Stan the next morning when he woke up from a dreamless sleep.

After banishing Bill and beginning the process to dismantle the portal, Ford realized he had to make his move. Stanley was growing antsy the longer he stayed, and had even brought up the fact he would have to “hit the road,” soon.

He should have been more clear. It was his fault, really. Of course his brother would think all Ford wanted was his help. Then back to the life of a homeless drifter, not even knowing when he’d have his next meal.

Ford wasn’t going to let that happen.

The brand was simple, but elegant. Intricate Rune’s weaved into sleek, sweeping lines. It had taken Ford three days to get this far, but it was still unfinished. He just needed more time, time he didn’t have.

He had to take drastic action when Stan tried to leave. He had come upstairs for a cup of coffee only to be met with Stan bundled up, front door halfway open.

“Stanley? Where are you going?”

His voice seemed to startle his twin, the man turning towards him with a sheepish grin.

“Just getting out of your hair. Don’t want to over stay my welcome and all that jazz. Think I’m going to head down to Utah, heard it’s nice around this time of year.”

It was a lie. Stan was banned from Utah. Stanley was banned from a lot of states actually, which made Ford’s life a lot more easier if Stan did make it out the door that night.

But he didn’t.

With a smile, he reached out his hand, a silent offer to carry his twins bag.

“Ah, no need Sixer. I got it. You can go back to your nerd stuff. Nice seeing you.”

Was Stan’s gruff response, clutching the duffel bag tightly.

“At least let me walk you to your car.”

Stan seemed to hesitate, before nodding. Even when he was trying so hard to push Ford away, Stan still craved his attention. His brother was adorable, like a cute puppy who couldn’t decide if he wanted you to pet him or to bite your hand off.

The two walked out in the snow, the only sounds being the soft crunching of their footsteps. The snowstorm had slowed down to a soft drizzle, snowflakes falling lazily down from the sky.

And in the middle of the beautiful snowy landscape was Stan’s car, its tires slashed.

“What the fuc-“

It was a quick sedative, one that only took a few sniffs to make a grown man pass out. Ford hadn’t accounted for Stan’s resistance to drugs, though. His brother stared at him with cloudy eyes, a betrayed look on his face, and all Ford could do was quietly shush him.

“Shh, it’s okay Lee. I just need a little more time, then we’ll never be apart again.”

[rotten-pomegranate]

What about some light non-con drabble with yandere Shalnark?

Hear me out. He is just cruel in his own way.

Imagine how he fucks his beloved until exhaustion. And after all, as if nothing had happened, he falls asleep hugging her like a teddy bear���🫢

Yandere shalnark x virgin reader

Yes, I see this, the kind of yandere I see him as matches this so well, this kinda got away from me, thank you sm for your patience

Tags: @shalscumbunny

Warnings: Noncon, light Noncon but still some struggling, reader is being pinned down, forced kissing, hickeys, groping, afab, he lays on her and she’s getting crushed

/|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\

It starts like normal, him groping and touching you , his hands are always on you when he’s around normally, but as soon as he gets back from troupe business he’s all over you a little more then normal

He’s gone as far as groping you under your shirt but never this far, he has your pants off, discarded somewhere in the room, his face is in your neck while one of his hands hold both your arms above your head while his free one gropes whatever he can reach, you could feel his hot breath every time he came up m from the assault in your neck

Before you know it he’s grinding his clothed cock against you, it’s already hard, there was nothing you could do, no begging our promising to give up something else he could take just as easily as he was gonna have what he wanted

His hand goes to the waistband of your underwear while still pinning you with the other one and quickly gets to work pulling your underwear down just enough to have easy access to your most precious bits, parts of you you’ve done your best to keep him away from

“Aww, it’s just as cute as I imagined, I can’t believe I waited so long” his eyes are wide and bright but there’s no remorse or sympathy behind them, only lust and want

Lust and want that could match the fear and sadness he’s most definitely choosing to ignore in yours

“Your not very wet” he has a little frown on his face when he brings his mouth down and give an experimental lick, your arms now pinned down to your stomach

You jump and try to wriggle your bottom half away from him only to have his free hand pin down you hip without pausing his assault

The way he was eating you out was clearly not to provide pleasure rather to get you wet enough for him, a fact you where almost grateful for

When his head comes up his smile is back, “that should be good” he makes brief eye contact with you while he’s coming back up

He takes of his boxers and to your horror he pushes them in your mouth “just incase you wanna scream” his smile is mocking

You couldn’t bring yourself to look down, you didn’t wanna see what would soon be in you

“This is probably gonna hurt so just try and relax” he pauses, thinking for a moment “or don’t haha” his laugh so light as if he wasn’t about to do something irreversible to you, you feel him line himself up, his tip kissing your entrance before he starts pushing, his grip tightening around your wrist when he finally gets the head past your tight muscle

It hurt, bad, you could feel yourself breaking, and the small trail of something wet going down your thigh could only be blood

He thrusts his hips again, you felt to full, stretched to wide and he was unnaturally deep

Your body begged to let sound out, but the cloth in your mouth only allowed for your cries of pain to come out distorted and muffled

“See, It’s not to bad” not to bad, he says that as if he wasn’t holding your down and forcing himself on you, as if your couldn’t feel yourself breaking just for him to pleasure himself with your body

He doesn’t start slow, he starts with one big thrust and then a steady flow of them, pain, that’s all you can feel, you suppose it would be different with someone you love, with someone who prepares you for it and takes it slow, but as of now you couldn’t imagine how anyone would want this

“I shouldn’t have waited this long” he’s breathless already, the pain was dulling but not enough to be comfortable, you were still tense

His pace was forcing pained sounds out of you, sounds that couldn’t be mistaken as pleasure

“Just a bit longer” he says in between breaths, just a bit longer before he’ll let you get up, before most of the pain will be gone, your sure there will be a lasting ache, no matter how long you wait

“Hmm, I’m almost there” his fae goes down to your neck, sucking leaving more purple marks to stake his claim on you

“A-ahh” his grip on you tightens and an uncomfortable warmth fills you, this was truly the worst thing he could do to you

He stays in the same position with the exception of letting his weight crush you, ignoring the way your breath gets lighter

“That was good, I have some ideas on what we could do next” his face is still in your neck but you could feel his smile, “oh right, I forgot” his hand goes up to pull his boxers out of your mouth “ew haha, you got them all wet” he tosses them to the other side of the room with the rest of your cloths

“Let’s go get a bath” he finally lets your hands go but your not free from his grasp, as soon as you can move them you feel his arms going around you, presumably to bring you to the bathroom to wash, wash all his filth off you

“I hope I wasn’t to rough, I don’t wanna hurt you to bad”

To late

[broidobe]

𝔯𝔢𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔪𝔢

requested! thank youuuuuu! i can make a part two if you'd like!

☾izzy and the reader were once in love before his fame, but after years of silence, he returns wanting to reconnect☽

⁎⁺˳✧༚guns and roses masterlist

you remember when it was simple. when it was just the two of you—izzy and you, before anything had the chance to change. it wasn’t about fame or recognition. it was about the music, late nights, and dreams that felt so tangible you could almost reach out and touch them. you’d meet up at his apartment or at dive bars in the city, the sound of a jukebox playing in the background, the clink of glasses and the murmur of quiet conversations surrounding you. but the two of you were in your own world.

back then, no one knew who guns n’ roses was. it was just a band with big ambitions. and you were with izzy through it all—through the struggles and the small victories. it felt like the two of you were unstoppable. he’d look at you with those wild eyes, that mischievous smile, and talk about the future, the one where he was going to make it big. you believed him, of course. you always did.

then the band exploded. one minute, he was the guy you saw in the studio, getting better every day, and the next, guns n' roses was everywhere. the tours, the interviews, the screaming fans—it all came crashing down on him. the world was now watching, and izzy became a part of something bigger than you could have ever imagined.

at first, it wasn’t so bad. you’d talk on the phone when he was free, send a few letters, but slowly, it began to fade. he’d get caught up in the whirlwind of it all, and you would try to understand, but there was a growing emptiness in your chest.

the days turned into weeks, then months. izzy stopped calling. he stopped writing. you would hear his name everywhere, see his face on magazine covers, hear his songs on the radio, but he was no longer there for you. you’d sit in your room with the phone on your lap, waiting for a call or a letter, but it never came.

you told yourself it was just the way things were now. he was living his dream. he was busy, right?

but it didn’t stop the hurt.

you tried moving on, but how do you let go of someone who was once everything to you? how do you erase the memories of those summer nights, the way his fingers would brush against yours, the way he would laugh so easily? you couldn’t, not really. you learned to live without him, though, and maybe that was the hardest part. you learned to exist without him.

years passed. you found your own way, built a life that didn’t revolve around his absence. but in the back of your mind, izzy always lingered. that small flame that never fully went out. you pushed it down, buried it deep, but there were moments—late at night or during a quiet afternoon when a song would come on the radio, or something would remind you of him—that flame would flicker again.

and you hated yourself for it. for still thinking about him. for still waiting, even though he’d never promised anything.

then, one day, the phone rang. you didn’t recognize the number at first, and when you picked it up, there was a moment of silence. then you heard a voice. his voice. it was deep, familiar, the same but different, like it hadn’t aged at all.

“hey, it’s izzy,” he said, and your heart skipped a beat. “i… i’ve been thinking about you. a lot. i’m leaving the band.”

you blinked, not understanding what he meant at first. leaving the band? after all this time?

“i just—” he sighed, the sound heavy in the receiver. “i had to. it’s not what i thought it would be, and i’ve realized i’ve been running for a long time. i need to come back. come back to you.”

you didn’t know how to respond. your heart was pounding in your chest, your mind racing with confusion. the years of silence, the pain, the heartache—it all came rushing back.

you thought about everything you’d lived through, how much you’d changed, how much he had too. but you also thought about that flame—the one you’d kept alive, buried deep but never truly gone.

izzy was here now, saying all the right things. he was leaving the fame, the band, the life he’d built for a new one. with you.

but you still didn’t know what to feel.

“can we talk?” he asked, his voice quieter now, unsure. “i just want to see you. i miss you.”

and just like that, everything seemed to pause. time seemed to stand still. the world outside faded, and it was just you, standing in the quiet after all these years, waiting for something that had felt impossible. you had the choice.

you could let him back in.

or you could keep going, as you had been, without him.

but deep down, you already knew.

[eliza-and-her-monsters]

the tortured poets department

Bonus Chapter

Info Post

Moodboards

Part I

Prev Part <> Next Part

Contains/TWs: a flashback essentially of reader and ellie whenever they were at the psychiatric hospital/wellness retreat together, the sweetest most gentle and soft ellie of all time. HELLLLAAAAA angst like next level angst. discussions of mental illness, hospitals/psychiatric facilities, and mentions of s**cide, sh/scars from sh. (this is not meant to romanticize psychiatric hospitals/care, mental illness s**cide or sh in any way. if you or someone you know is struggling please reach out. you are loved 💛)

WC: 2.5k

A/N: merry christmas eeeeve!! oh my ellie girls- did i ever cook for you 💛

Bonus

gold rush

I think the first time we actually talked was during one of the first nightmares. I hadn’t grown used to the big unbreakable windows or the heavy hospital beds and the idea of having a roommate who saw every one of my little quirks made it even worse. In fact I was even convinced she hated me after a while. She had tried so many times to be friends and I had blown her off every time. Why wouldn’t she?

It was in the middle of the night, one of the few nights I had actually gotten myself to fall asleep in which was promptly ruined. I don’t even know what had alerted her at first, she was such a light sleeper it could’ve been something as small as the change in my breathing. At any rate though before I could fall too deep into the hole I felt the grip of someone’s hand on my upper arm giving me a firm shake awake.

My vision was already so blurry because of the lack of glasses and the tears didn’t help. My breathing came out sharp and fast as I lifted my hands to roughly wipe at them. “No, hey, stop, don’t do that.” Ellie spoke as she passed off my glasses where I promptly slid them onto my eyes with shaking hands. And whenever I couldn’t find anything to wipe the tears away with she chose her sleeve, yanking it down far past her hand and pressing the fabric underneath my eyes until they coated it.

Normally, I would’ve pulled away. I would’ve scrambled and begged her not to. But the fact that for once someone besides my sister wasn’t looking at me like there was something wrong with me… I guess you could’ve called it an early stage trauma bond. Because all it did was pull me towards her. My hand was flying to hers before I know it, wrapping around her wrist as if to hold it into place.

I let out a tiny gasp in embarrassment, shaking my head to unravel my fingers as I stammered out an anxious apology. “I’m- I’m sorry-”

“It’s okay.” She spoke, the corners of her lips upturning in a weak smile as she inched herself closer. “The first week is usually the hardest. And you get pretty touch starved at some point so… you’re okay. I-I probably need it just as much as you do.”

I sniffled as I nodded, still trying to regulate my breathing as I pushed myself up to a sitting position, still desperately clutching at her arm with a trembling hand like she was the only thing I had left to hold on to. “How did you make it to England?” I whispered, subconsciously scooting aside so she could take a seat on the bed next to me, her shoulder just slightly brushing mine.

“Turns out whenever the US Army really fucks you up, they’re willing to shell out a shit ton of money to send you to the best mental health facilities in other countries to hopefully fix it.”

“Geez…” I muttered underneath my breath as I hugged my knees to my chest. “So you’re like, proper scarred then?”

I wasn’t expecting the massive laugh to burst from her lungs next, almost needing to slap a hand over her in order to not alert any of the nurses probably more than we already had. “You could say that.” She answered, resting her back against the wall before giving my arm the smallest of nudges. “What about you? What are you in for?”

“My parents… really just don’t know how to accept the fact that I’m… different. So they’ve stuck me in here hoping to find some kind of ‘cure’ I guess.” I shrugged, arms hugged around my knees. “Turns out just being extremely neurodivergent isn’t enough to fit the criteria of being put in a long term residential psychiatric care facility though so-”

“Oh yeah? Tried to check out too early too, huh?”

“Wow, it’s like you know me already.” I added with another tearful chuckle, Ellie already pulling at her sleeve to catch the strays before they could roll down my cheeks.

“I do know you.” She added, her tone shifting in a slightly more serious though still gentle tone. “I am you.”

For some reason the words brought forth another shuddering sob. A level of understanding I hadn’t seen in anyone else before, not even my sister. “C’mere.” I heard her whisper, pulling away her already halfway up short hair as she extended her arms out to me like we had known each other for years. The sound of my sob was muffled by her hoodie as she pulled me in, my face hidden in her chest as I let the broken cries finally escape.

It sounded so stupid, but I had tried my hardest not to cry while I was here. I thought if I acted like it enough maybe, finally, magically I’d become stable enough to not have to be here and it could even translate to my life outside. Turns out it didn’t work that way. Ellie brought out a new side of that though, she made me feel like it was okay to cry. And she’d be there every single time. Brushing away my tears or letting me hide my face in her shoulder or her chest until I didn’t have any left to cry.

“From now on… you’ve got me and I’ve got you, deal? So no more trying to check out too early, okay?” I wiped at my eyes with a gross sniffle, and whenever I pried myself from her hoodie I could see her staring at me with an expectant gaze and a lifted pinky finger. It was hard to say no to with that dorky little smile on her face. It was hard to say no to also whenever I knew she had been through so so much worse.

I nodded, weakly, but hoping it was enough enthusiasm for her as I wrapped my pinky around hers and feeling her give them the tiniest squeeze. “Perfect, now I’m never gonna leave you alone, squirt.”

The nickname brought out a tearful laugh from me, and I realized I couldn’t exactly remember the last time I had ever truthfully laughed as she tossed her arms back around me and decorated the top of my head in a dozen kisses. Whenever the nurse came at the usual 5 am to check vitals I distinctly remembered being curled up to her chest like she was my own personal pillow, dozed off to the sound of her breathing.

I knew it was an intense friendship, I knew it could’ve signified more. And honestly maybe that’s what I was afraid of. Growing so close to somebody only to have it brutally taken away from you by nothing more than the complication of love.

~

The wellness retreat we were at prided itself on trying to be just that, a retreat. They put a big emphasis on the great outdoors, courtyards and swimming pools and gardens, including a significant amount of grounds for us to go on walking trails. Ellie, I think, was determined to explore every inch of them before she got out and judging by both of our appointments we’d have the time too. So it was no surprise we frequently found ourselves on one, conjoined hands swinging back and forth like careless middle schoolers wanting to show off their very first relationship until Ellie’s long legs and curiosity got the better of her and she ended up trotting forward. She was after all exceedingly more fit than me.

“So, I don’t mean to pry or anything.” She spoke up after a moment of silence masked by our lazy footsteps.

“That’s never stopped you before.” I giggled before breaking out into a skip to catch up with her.

“Ha ha… very funny.” She snickered with a roll of her eyes. “So, I think I already know the answer to this but- it’s pride month, so humor me? Your sister’s an absolute fruit basket, right?”

I burst into laughter at her words before shrugging in response. “I mean, that’s certainly one way to put it.”

“So… what’s the likelihood your parents ended up with two gay daughters?” She wondered as she held up the number on her fingers.

A tiny smile stretched on my lips at the question, no sign of offense in sight from my end as I slipped my hand around the crook of her elbow. “I’d say… pretty likely.”

“Wicked.” She grinned a bit to herself as she rose her arm ever so slightly as if she was a gentleman escorting me to a fancy event. I chuckled once more at her old school slang, catching my bottom lip in between my teeth as if to avoid smiling even harder.

I released a sigh of relief the moment we approached a clearing enveloped perfectly with its high trees. “Can we stop for a second? I’m totally roasting out here.” I huffed as I trudged forward to find a comfortable seat and slip the psych issued backpack off of my back.

“It’s because you’re always wearing those flannels and long sleeves… even outside. No wonder you’re burning up.” Her voice noticeably got softer as she stepped up behind me with a soft hand on my back. “Why do you do that, by the way?” She questioned, gently slipping her hands up my covered arms to the elbows nearly making me tremble.

“You- You know why.” I mumbled, feeling our bodies naturally inch closer until I pressed my hands to her chest.

“No I know why I guess I just… don’t really know why you wear them here, you know? And around me? I-I mean we all have scars.” She wondered, her careful hands sliding around my back. Somehow despite all of our previous touches and general antics and even falling asleep in the same bed it felt as if this was the most intimate we had ever gotten. Stood like two high schoolers at a dance who had no idea what they were doing, yet everything at the same time.

“I guess I just- I never wanted to bother anybody else. Especially you. They’re- They’re not pretty, and they hurt and- I don’t know.”

Ellie let one of her hands encircle around my forearm against her chest where one of my hands held onto her shoulder. On instinct I tensed up, expecting the worst, expecting the judgemental eyes of doctors and the saddened ones of nurses. “I think scars are a sign of strength- of bravery.” She spoke, gently turning my wrist until the scars were pointed upwards where she gradually rolled my sleeve.

“Your’s are maybe. Mine aren’t brave. H-Hurting yourself isn’t brave.”

Ellie’s brushed a tender thumb along the raised skin, the healed markers of stitches. Normally the touches would’ve caused the slightest sting or even a throb. Healed enough to have faded ever so slightly but not enough to have stopped the pain entirely. Ellie’s touch was so gentle though, so careful and delicate. “Surviving through it is though.” My eyebrows knitted together as a waterfall of tears burned behind my eyes.

“That doesn’t mean do it again-“ she ordered as she held up a stern finger with her free hand. “But… just don’t be ashamed either, you know?” Ellie caught a stray tear with her thumb just before carefully lifting my scarred arm until she could brush her lips against it. Placing delicate featherlike kisses against every little wound.

“Thank you.” I sniffled, a soft sob catching in the back of my throat just as I felt her pulling me in, my face muffled in the crook of her shoulder as she wrapped a strong arm around me. “I think you might just be the sun.”

“Darling…” I could feel her shaking her head from just above me as she still held my wrist with such care. “I’m far from the sun. I’m just a girl who… who really really cares about another girl.”

It almost felt like a declaration of some sort, my eyes flickering upwards to meet her softened green eyes, her star-like freckles that I could trace like constellations, down to her curved lips. Maybe I was hallucinating and delusional, looking back on it I probably was. A one-sided magnetic pull towards her perfectly pink lips. So why did she seem to get closer too? Why did she wrap her arms around my waist to pull me in? Why did she let my hand caress her face in the way it did? Why why why why?

At the last second I felt her lips shifting, pressing softly to my cheek instead of my own and I could nearly feel my heart shatter right then and there. “Baby, I can’t do this to you.” She whispered with a shake of her head, the step backwards only sending me reeling as I fought the urge to dive after her.

“But I- I thought-“

“I know- I know but- fuck, please don’t cry, Millie, I’m sorry.” Ellie didn’t cry often, so whenever she did it was a big deal. But in that moment I could see the tears welling up in her own eyes as she drew back to me so quickly I nearly lost balance. “I can’t- I-I can’t give you your first kiss in here. We- We can’t do this, Millie. I love you s-so fucking endlessly but I- y-you deserve to have your first kiss be from somebody special and somewhere romantic and… not with me.” She sighed a bit to herself, clenching her hands at her sides as if it killed her to say any of this.

“I just can’t give you what you need i-in that sense right now and I- I hate myself for it and I feel like I’ve screwed up the most important and precious thing in my life because of it but… I can’t lie to you. I just can’t.” A weak sob fell from her lips as she let her hands fly to her eyes as if it’d somehow hide all the evidence.

If she were a selfish woman she would’ve gone through with it. She would’ve pushed her lips to mine and held on for dear life and maybe it would’ve gone farther. But she wasn’t selfish. In fact she was probably the most overwhelmingly selfless person I had ever met.

“Ellie, love.” I gulped back my own tears as I stepped forward to take her body into my own arms, lifting up onto my tiptoes so she could nuzzle her face into my own shoulder. “I’m not mad at you. You didn’t screw anything up. You could never screw this up.”

Ellie’s arms squeezed around my waist as she let her tears soak into the crook of my neck with a shuddering sob. “You are the only good thing that has ever happened to me.”

“And you’re still the sun.” I spoke softly, inching away only to cup her freckled face in my hand and press my forehead to hers. “You saved me. So you’re my sun.”

[blckstarcal]

Why Won’t You Love Me?

MDNI

paring: calum hood x reader

summary: your life is falling apart, and in a desperate attempt to find some semblance of comfort in your chaotic world, you end up at the doorstep of one of your best friends.

warnings: mentions of a toxic relationship with luke, mentions of substance abuse, mentions of rehab, weed usage, safe sex teehee, oral (f receiving), fluffy desperate sex, whimpery calum, slight body worship, angst for days, unrequited love

word count: 5.7k

a/n: this story is really nothing like the ones i have up before truthfully, it’s because it wasn’t meant to be published. i wrote this based on some of my own struggles, but i kinda love how it turned out. quick disclaimer, although i use peoples names in this fic, it’s not a reflection of who i think they are as people. this is all in good fun, not meant to be a serious attack on anybody’s character. anyways, enjoy.

as always, thank u to zuza for editing this ur the best 🫶

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You weren’t entirely sure why you had ended up at Calum’s doorstep. Your cheeks burned, chest tight with emotion as you hesitated, then rang the doorbell.

You had run circles around the idea in your head, knowing how complicated it would be to show up here. Calum was Luke’s best friend, his bandmate, and the last person you should’ve turned to. But the weight of everything—the withdrawal, the breakup, the utter mess your life had become—pushed you forward, even as doubt clawed at your resolve.

Would he even want to see you? Would he resent you for the way you ended things with Luke? You had wrestled with those questions all day, replaying every bitter moment of the breakup. You hadn’t meant to be so cruel. It wasn’t your intention to cut so deeply, but the withdrawal had stripped you of any semblance of patience or clarity.

And then, as soon as you were discharged from the hospital, you had gone running back to Luke. Desperate, aching, hoping to salvage what was left.

But then you saw them.

The door opened before you could spiral any further. Calum stood there, his brown eyes scanning you with a mixture of concern and surprise. “Y/N?” he asked, a small, tentative smile tugging at his lips. “You’re still here?”

His smile brought you a fleeting sense of relief, though you had braced herself for rejection. After all, if Luke could hate you, why wouldn’t Calum? Your mind replayed the raw memory of Luke’s anger when you begged for his forgiveness. The sting of seeing him move on so quickly still lingered in your chest.

It had only been two weeks since your overdose, yet he was already in bed with someone else—Sierra, of all people. You had known from the moment her name flashed on his notifications that her intentions weren’t pure. And you’d been right.

“I’m leaving for rehab soon,” you said softly, your voice cracking. “And I don’t want to be alone on my last night.”

Calum’s expression darkened, his sadness unmistakable. Without hesitation, he reached out, taking your hand and pulling you inside.

You had managed to keep things normal between you after you had drunkenly hooked up last year, but you would be lying if you said you hadn’t noticed the subtle shift. Calum’s gaze lingered too long whenever you were with Luke, his quiet, intense eyes studying you two with something unspoken and unreadable.

“Wanna go out to the terrace?” Calum asked, his voice soft, a faint smile on his lips.

You nodded, taking his hand as you stepped outside into the cool night air. The breeze was crisp, refreshing, and you relished it as a small reprieve from everything weighing you down.

You curled up on one of the couches, pulling your legs to your chest and resting your chin on your knees. Calum slipped back inside for a moment, returning with a rolling tray and a grinder in hand. You laughed lightly.

“I’m supposed to be sober, you know,” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

“From oxy,” he countered, smirking as he sat down across from you. “Isn’t there a thing called ‘California sober’ or whatever?”

You laughed again, shaking your head. “Shut up and roll the joint.”

Calum grinned and got to work, expertly grinding the weed and rolling a joint with practiced ease. He lit the end, taking a long, slow drag before passing it to you. You mirrored his action, inhaling deeply—too deeply—until you erupted into a coughing fit.

“At least I’ll get a decent high,” you wheezed, shaking your head with a small, rueful grin.

“So, rehab,” Calum said, his tone light but tinged with something else—sadness, maybe, or hesitation. His eyes followed yours, searching, as if trying to grasp what wasn’t being said.

You exhaled a plume of smoke, watching it dissolve into the night. “God, don’t remind me,” you muttered, taking another hit before leaning back against the cushions. “Some facility in the middle of buttfuck nowhere, Nebraska. Flight leaves tomorrow.”

The air grew heavy between you, filled with the distant sounds of the city below. You glanced over to find Calum watching you, his brows slightly furrowed.

“I’m gonna miss you,” he said finally, his voice quiet, a casual shrug betraying the weight of his words. “But I guess I’ll see you after?”

Your chest tightened, the lump in your throat rising before you could stop it. You turned to look at him, your voice quieter than you intended.

“Cal,” you began, hesitating for a moment. “I’m moving to London when I get out.”

The words hung heavy in the cool air, their weight settling between you. Calum’s faint smile faded entirely, his expression faltering as your statement sank in.

There was enough space between you that no part of you touched, and for some reason, you hated that.

“You’re leaving?” he asked quietly, his gaze dropping to his shoes. “For good?”

You shook your head, your voice soft. “I’ll be back for filming and work stuff, but I won’t be living in L.A. anymore. I can’t.”

“Because of Luke and Sierra?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. You flinched at the name, your stomach twisting with shame and anger. Every mention of Sierra made you feel small, like a fool for ever trusting Luke.

Luke had lied about everything—about seeing Arzaylea before coming to your apartment and claiming to be in love with you, about Sierra, about all of it. If you hadn’t stumbled into his apartment and seen the truth for yourself, you might have still been in the dark.

“Sure,” you sighed, brushing the thought aside. “And my family will be closer. They want to help me stay sober.”

“I could help you.” Calum’s voice was firm, his gaze locked on yours, determined.

Your heart skipped at his words, and unbidden memories of your moments together flashed in your mind—the way you’d gone from indifference to friendship, to that one night that had blurred every line. He’d insisted it remain a one-time thing, but that never stopped him from touching your shoulder softly, or smiling at you like you were the only thing that made the world spin right.

“Cal… no,” you sighed, shaking your head. “I can’t expect that of you.”

A beat of silence passed, heavy and fraught. Then, barely audible, he said, “I’m in love with you.”

You didn’t flinch. You weren't surprised, not really. A sad smile tugged at your lips as you exhaled. “I know,” you murmured. “But this—” you gestured between the two of you, your voice faltering. “How could this ever work?”

He shrugged, frustration simmering beneath the surface. “Luke started screwing Sierra despite the fact that she and Ashton had a thing before. It’s not like this would be new territory for us.”

“Yeah,” you said softly. “But it’s new for me.”

“So this is it, then? Our goodbye?” Calum’s voice cracked, anger and defeat mingling as his broad shoulders slumped.

Your heart twisted painfully in your chest. You wanted to reach for him, to hold him, but your hands stayed firmly at your sides. A fleeting, reckless thought bloomed in the back of your mind—a glimpse of a life where you could stay, where you could fall asleep next to the boy with warm brown eyes and wake up to him every morning, never feeling the ache of leaving again.

Your throat tightened, the words heavy on your tongue. “I can’t say I love you,” you whispered, your voice breaking under the weight of your truth. “But, God, I wish I could.”

The air between you thickened with unspoken longing, a current of electricity passing between your gazes. Calum’s brows furrowed as he took a hesitant step closer, his eyes glimmering with equal parts hurt and hope. “Why not?” he asked softly, his voice trembling.

“Because it’s Luke,” you said, shaking your head. Your voice cracked under the weight of your confession. “You have no idea how badly I wish it could be you. That I could have you in my head every second of every day instead of him. You’ve never hurt me. You love me wholly. You’d never put that love at risk.”

“Then let me be the one in your head,” he pleaded, his voice low and desperate. “Just for tonight.”

Your breath hitched as his words settled in your chest. You looked at him, your heart hammering against your ribs. He was leaning toward you now, his eyes searching yours, desperate.

“Is that really what you want?” you asked, your voice barely audible.

“Please, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Let me say goodbye the way I want to.”

Your mouth went dry, and you weren't sure if it was from the weed or the way Calum was looking at you. The idea—the possibility—was strangely appealing.

“Okay,” you breathed.

Slowly, you moved toward him, swinging one leg over his lap to straddle him. You stared at each other for a heartbeat, your hands gently cupping his cold cheeks.

He leaned in first, his eyes fluttering shut as his lips brushed yours, soft and tentative.

The second you registered the kiss, all of your composure unraveled. You sighed against his lips, threading your fingers into his curly hair as the kiss deepened with a fervor that surprised you. His hands slid down to your waist, gripping you firmly as he pulled you closer.

Without breaking the kiss, Calum stood, lifting you effortlessly as if you weighed nothing. His hands gripped your waist tightly, holding you as though you were the only thing grounding him.

He carried you inside with steady determination, the world around you blurring into insignificance. When you finally reached his room, Calum kicked the door shut behind you. The soft rattle set off Duke, who began barking incessantly from somewhere down the hall.

You couldn't help but laugh against his lips, the sound breaking the tension for a moment. Calum pulled back slightly after setting you down in the bed, chuckling as well.

“Duke, calm down,” he called out, his voice amused but firm. Then, turning back to you, a playful smile tugged at his lips. “He always acts up when he knows there's something I want.”

“And what is it that you want?” you whispered, your voice low and teasing as your hands slipped beneath his shirt, your fingers trailing along the hard ridges of his stomach.

Calum's response came in the form of another kiss, deeper and more urgent this time. “You,” he murmured against your lips.

The kiss intensified, your lips moving with a quiet desperation that made your heart race and your stomach flutter. Calum's hands roamed your sides with deliberate care, as if he were memorizing the feel of you.

You matched his fervor, your hands trembling as you tugged at his shirt. This felt different—more intense, more intimate—than the last time. There hadn’t been much hesitation then, just two people driven by pure need, but now, you could feel a semblance of giddy awkwardness in the air.

Calum pulled back just enough to shrug off his shirt, the fabric falling carelessly to the floor. His hands immediately found your face, cupping your cheeks as he brought your lips back to his.

Your hands moved across his bare skin, tracing the curve of his muscles, the lines of his tattoos— a detail you had committed to memory. You tugged him down with you, but he stopped, pulling away slightly with a small smirk.

“Nuh-uh,” he teased, his lips brushing yours. “Your shirt's coming off too, Y/N.”

“Then take it off,” you challenged, your voice breathless and filled with need. “Take everything off. I need you.”

Calum's eyes darkened, his expression shifting from playful to serious in an instant. His hands found the hem of your shirt, and with one swift motion, he pulled it over your head, tossing it aside. One hand cupped the back of your neck, holding you close as his lips claimed yours again.

The other hand moved skillfully to the clasp of your bra, undoing it with ease. The garment slipped away, leaving you bare beneath his touch. Calum's lips moved to your neck, pressing soft, lingering kisses along your skin, his hands sliding down your back and pulling you closer.

His mouth trailed down to your collarbone, grazing the delicate skin with soft nips that made you gasp. Slowly, his lips descended to your chest, capturing your nipple in his mouth with a deliberate tenderness. You let out a quiet moan, your hands tangling in Calum's hair as your eyelids fluttered shut, your breath hitching at the sensation.

“You're so fucking beautiful,” Calum groaned against your skin, his voice filled with awe and desire. His eyes lifted to meet yours, darkened with longing, his pupils blown wide. Slowly, he kissed his way back up to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss there before nudging his nose against yours in an intimate gesture that made your chest ache.

But then it hit you—a sudden wave of guilt crashing over you, sharp and cold. What were you doing? Were you just using him? Using his kindness, his patience, and the way he cared about you, all because you didn't want to feel alone? Your body tensed, and you froze, pushing him away slightly.

Calum immediately pulled back, concern flooding his features as his hands cupped your face. “What is it?” he asked softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Are you okay?”

You propped yourself up on your elbows, your eyes darting across his face, searching for something—anything—that might tell you he wasn't as sure about this as he claimed. “Are you sure you want to do this?” you asked hesitantly. “I mean, I can't—I can't give you what you want, Cal. I won't even be here most of the time, and—”

“Y/N,” he interrupted, his voice steady but tinged with urgency. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours. “Stop. I want this. I want you.”

Your heart clenched, but you still hesitated, guilt and uncertainty gnawing at you. “Cal, I—”

“Please,” he whispered, his voice dropping to something raw and vulnerable. “Let me have this. Let me have tonight. Just... just let me. Let me give you a proper goodbye. Let me give us a proper goodbye.”

His words hung between you, heavy with longing and unspoken emotion. Your breath hitched, your resolve faltering as you looked into his eyes. There was no hesitation there, no doubt—only a fierce, aching need for you. “Would you let me?” His lips brushed against yours ever so carefully. “Please let me.”

Wordlessly, you nodded, swallowing down your fears, worries, and the ache in your chest.

Calum's smile was soft yet radiant, a quiet reassurance that melted some of your hesitation. You could feel him smiling against your lips as he kissed you again, and before you realized it, your own lips curved into a matching smile. His hands roamed your body with reverence, each touch gentle and deliberate, as if you were something sacred.

With practiced care, he began unbuttoning your jeans, his lips trailing away from your mouth to press heated kisses down your jawline. He lingered near your earlobe, nipping it lightly, and you let out a small, contented sigh. Your hips rose instinctively, allowing him to tug the denim down your legs in one smooth motion.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his voice rough with want. “You have no idea how long l've been waiting for this.” His mouth found yours again, urgent and insistent, his hips pressing down against your thigh while his fingers trailed lightly down your chest, making you shiver. His lips wandered back to your breasts, lingering there with soft kisses and teasing bites that made you gasp.

“What do you want, Calum?” you gasped, your hips bucking upward, seeking friction with an urgency that made your voice crack. “Tell me.”

When he lifted his gaze to meet yours, the intensity in his eyes stole your breath. They were dark, glazed over, and filled with raw need. He looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered, as though the world could crumble around you and he wouldn't care. “I want to touch you,” he murmured, his voice rough, the words muffled by the kisses he pressed down your sternum.

“Then touch me, baby,” you urged, your fingers threading through the damp curls on his forehead, pushing them back. Your tone was soft, but your words were charged, dripping with encouragement. “Make me feel so good.”

The soft groan that escaped his lips felt almost involuntary, a raw reaction to your words. It sent a shiver through you, straight to your core. His hand slipped beneath your underwear, his fingers finding your clit with precision. He moved in slow, deliberate circles, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips.

When his fingers dipped lower, teasing your entrance, he froze for a moment, as though savoring the sensation. Feeling how ready you were for him, he let out a deep, guttural groan, the sound vibrating against your skin.

“Oh my God,” he whispered, his voice heavy with awe, every word tinged with disbelief. “You're already so wet. Fuck, Y/N... you're perfect.”

His words sent heat rushing through you, your back arching as your body responded to his touch. You bit your lip, trying to hold back the moan that threatened to spill, but the way he touched you, slow and deliberate yet filled with need, made it impossible.

He didn't wait, slipping a finger inside you with ease, watching your reaction with rapt attention.

You let out a sharp cry, your back arching instinctively as pleasure shot through you. “Oh, fuck,” you gasped, your fingers threading tighter through Calum's hair, holding him close. “Just like that, baby.”

Calum moved with deliberate care, curling his finger inside you, his steady rhythm coaxing soft, breathless moans from your lips.

Every movement seemed calculated to draw you closer to the edge, yet it was laced with tenderness that left you dizzy. The way your body responded to his touch had his lips parting, his breath hitching in admiration as if he couldn't believe what he was witnessing.

“That feels so good,” you sighed, your voice trembling as your nails lightly scraped the nape of his neck. “You're doing so good.”

Your praise sent a shiver through him, and his eyes darkened further, his pupils blown wide with desire. His breath came faster, his hips rutting against you involuntarily as though he needed you even more than you needed him. “You sound so pretty,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with reverence, though there was an edge of desperation to it, almost a whine. “I can’t get enough of you.”

You pulled at his hair, your eyes falling shut in bliss. Calum was working his fingers at a steady pace, moaning as if he too was the one getting off. The fact that he was so worked up by the mere fact that he’d been touching you made a wave of heat rush down your body.

His lips kissed down your torso, leaving no mark of your skin unkissed. “I need to taste you,” he gasped, continuing to inch down your body. He was shaking with anticipation, fingers never faltering. “You’re so wet and so pretty, and it’s all for me. I did that to you.”

You nodded rapidly, another moan falling from your lips. “Need your mouth on me,” Calum’s breath hitched at your words, his kisses down your body growing more sloppy by the second. He didn’t waste any time in pushing your legs open, taking deliberate care to suck at the skin of your hipbone.

You propped yourself on your elbows, watching through half lidded eyes as Calum finally pressed a small kiss to your inner thigh. Already fed up, you let out a frustrated mewl. “Cal, please.”

Calum’s entire body shuddered, and you saw the way his eyes widened momentarily before his mouth latched on to your clit. He let out a moan against you when the taste of you overwhelmed his senses, and you didn’t miss the way his eyes essentially rolled back into his head.

“You’re so dreamy like this,” you gasped, his lips sucking at your sensitive bud enough to make your legs shake around his head. “You make me feel so good— oh, fuck, just like that.”

Calum let out a shaky whine, his hips grinding involuntarily against the mattress as he looked up at you, his wide, awe-filled eyes glistening with unspoken devotion. His movements were uncoordinated, almost frantic, as though he was utterly consumed by you, his tongue lapping and sucking at your clit with an intensity so raw it sent shockwaves through your trembling legs.

“You taste so good,” he panted, his voice unsteady and reverent between his breathless licks. “Your thighs are shaking— fuck, I did that to you. I made you feel like this.”

You bit your lip hard, your eyes squeezing shut as the tidal wave of sensation crashed through you. Every nerve in your body felt alive, strung out on the overwhelming pleasure he was giving you. Calum's hands wandered your torso with a desperation that bordered on worship, gripping your skin tightly, as if grounding himself in the reality of you.

Stars burst behind your eyelids as your body arched into his touch, the sensation cresting to an unbearable peak. The sight of him—his flushed cheeks, his lips glistening with you, his pupils blown wide with adoration—was almost too much. You needed more, needed him closer, needed all of him.

Reaching down, you tangled your fingers gently in his curls, tugging him away from your overstimulated clit. Calum let out a soft, almost pitiful moan of protest, his lips brushing against your skin as though he couldn't bear to let go. Still, he obeyed, letting you guide him back up your body, his warm breath fanning over your skin with each ragged inhale.

Your lips met in a kiss so heated it left you dizzy, your mouths colliding with a fervent need that neither could deny. You could taste yourself on his tongue, a heady reminder of how completely Calum had given himself to you. The realization sent a fresh wave of desire coursing through you, and you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer until there was no space left between you.

Calum let out a broken whimper against your lips, his whole body trembling as though he was barely holding himself together. “Y/N,” he choked out, his voice laced with desperation, his breath coming in shallow pants. “I need you. I need all of you. Please. I don't know how much longer I can wait.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and your heart pounded in your chest as you looked into his wide, awe-stricken eyes. His pupils were blown with need, his lips slightly parted as he hovered over you, waiting for permission like his entire world depended on your answer.

“Fuck me,” you breathed, pulling him down into another kiss that was all heat and urgency. “Don't wait anymore. Just fuck me.”

Calum let out a soft, broken sound, his head dropping into the crook of your neck as he nodded, his curls tickling your skin. He kissed the sensitive spot just below your ear, his lips trailing down your neck with a desperation that made your body ache for him even more.

When he sucked hard enough to leave a mark, you arched into him, your hands tangling in his hair, too far gone to care about anything else.

“Y/N,” he gasped, his voice raw and shaking as his hands roamed your body, both frantic and reverent, like he couldn't touch enough of you at once. “You don't understand. I'd do anything for you. Anything. Just say the word.”

Your breath hitched at the sheer devotion in his voice, the weight of his words crashing over you like a wave. You swallowed hard, your hands moving to cradle his face as you met his gaze. “I just need you inside me right now,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging inside you.

You watched as Calum reached over to his bedside table, pulling out a condom and hardly ripping the packet open with his teeth. Your eyes followed his movements as he rolled the rubber down in his length. Calum let out a shuddering breath, his hands trembling as he positioned himself between your thighs. He hesitated, his gaze flickering up to yours as if silently asking for reassurance. You cupped his face, brushing your thumb over his cheek with a tenderness that made his breath hitch.

“C’mon baby,” you gasped.

With a shaky nod, he sank into you slowly as though he never wanted the moment to end. A whimper escaped Calum’s lips, a sound so deep and guttural that it made you moan. Your nails sank into his back, and Calum’s head fell forward against your shoulder.

Calum was trembling, his breath coming in ragged pants as he pressed soft, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your shoulder. “You feel so good,” he whispered, his voice tight with strain, barely holding himself together. “I never want this to end.”

Your eyes fluttered shut, the intensity of the moment washing over you as you felt him stretch you in ways that made you gasp.

When he began to move, a sharp hiss escaped your lips, and Calum froze instantly, his entire body going rigid. His head snapped up, wide eyes filled with concern as they searched your face.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft but urgent, laced with worry.

You bit your lip, nodding slowly as you forced yourself to take a steadying breath. “Yeah,” you said, your voice airy, cheeks flushed. “It's just... it's been a while, and... you're kinda big.”

For a moment, there was silence, and then Calum let out a soft, startled laugh. The sound was rich and genuine, shaking his entire body as the tension melted from his face. His amusement was contagious, and soon enough, you found yourself laughing with him, the shared moment easing the intensity between you.

Still smiling, you reached up, threading your fingers through his hair and tugging him closer until his forehead rested gently against yours. Your laughter softened into quiet breaths, your noses brushing as you lingered in the intimacy of the moment.

“You can move,” you whispered, your voice steady now, laced with trust and anticipation.

Calum exhaled deeply, his eyes darkening with emotion as he nodded, pressing a tender kiss to your lips before he began to move again. This time, his movements were slow and deliberate, his focus entirely on you, his body attuned to yours as you fell into a rhythm that felt as natural as breathing.

You cried out his name again, your nails digging into his back as your legs tightened around his waist. Calum's movements grew more purposeful, his hips snapping against yours with a need that was almost overwhelming. His eyes never left your face, drinking in every gasp and moan as if they were the only sounds in the world.

“You're so perfect,” he breathed, his voice cracking with emotion. He leaned down, brushing his lips over yours in a tender kiss that contrasted sharply with the intensity of his thrusts. “I don't know how I can-fuck, you feel so good. So perfect, Y/N.”

Your body arched beneath him when he shifted slightly, thrusting deeper and hitting the spot that made your toes curl. A sharp cry tore from your throat, your body trembling from the intensity. “You're doing so good,” you gasped, your praise deliberate as you ran your hands down his sweat-slicked back. “You fuck me so good, Calum. Just like that, baby.”

Calum let out a broken moan, his head dropping against your shoulder as your words seemed to ignite something in him. His hips moved faster now, each thrust harder than the last, as if he was trying to lose himself entirely in you. His hand slipped between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit. He hesitated for only a moment before pressing against it, rubbing fast, precise circles that made your breath hitch.

“You're amazing,” he panted, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. His voice was wrecked, thick with desperation and adoration. “I just want to make you feel good. Tell me I'm doing it right. Please.”

You let out a whimper, your body seemingly on fire with the intensity of the pleasure. You tangled your fingers in his curls, muttering unintelligible encouragement under your breath. You looked at him, the way his cheeks were flushed with the exertion and desire, and you gave him a breathless smile. “You’re going so good, Cal,” you moaned. “I’m so close.”

Calum’s movements were erratic and eager, desperate to feel you come undone beneath him. His hips stuttered as he tried to maintain the rhythm that had you falling apart beneath him. He was panting hard, moaning your name in breathless pleas. Your nails raked down his back, only spurring Calum on.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his fingers continuing their assault on your clit that made your legs shake uncontrollably. “Please, I need you to come for me. God, I need to feel you clench around me— please baby, fuck. Come on my cock, I can’t hold on much longer.”

Your breath hitched, eyelids fluttering close as you felt the familiar coil begin to tighten in your belly. Sweat was building up on your skin, but you didn’t mind. “Calum— oh my God, please don’t stop.” The combination of his desperation, his eagerness to make you feel good, and the relentless pace of his hips and fingers sent you over the edge.

You came with a loud cry, your lips shaping Calum’s name, your thighs shaking as another shattered moan escaped you. Your vision blurred, your nails digging into Calum’s back as you clung to him, peppering his shoulder with kisses.

“Oh fuck,” Calum groaned, his voice strained with desperation. “You look so pretty falling apart for me, making all my dreams come true.” His thrusts became erratic and messy as he chased his release, his hands gripping your waist like a lifeline as you clenched around him, pulling him deeper.

“Y/N, I'm gonna—” His sentence broke off into a loud whimper, his face burying into the crook of your neck as he feverishly kissed your damp skin.

“Come for me, baby,” you panted, your voice thick with pleasure as your fingers trailed up and down his back before gripping his biceps for support. “You did so good, made me feel so good. Let go for me.”

His body shuddered violently, his hips slamming into yours one last time as he spilled into the condom with a raw, guttural cry. He whispered your name like a prayer, his voice trembling as aftershocks wracked his body.

Shallow, instinctive thrusts carried him through his orgasm, his movements slowly stilling as the tension drained from him.

For a moment, the room was silent except for the sound of your heavy breathing. Your bodies were pressed together, skin slick with sweat, and the weight of him above you was grounding, comforting in a way neither of you could fully explain.

Calum finally pulled away with a soft sigh, rolling off you carefully. His hands were gentle as he removed the condom, tying it off and tossing it into the trash can by the bed. You watched him through half-lidded eyes, your gaze tracing the sharp contours of his body, the way the moonlight filtered through the window and illuminated his tattoos in a soft, ethereal glow.

You knew Calum was beautiful—you always had, even when he’d been less than kind to you. But now, there was something different about him, something raw and desperate. You wondered how they had gone from mutual animosity to Calum being so deeply in love with you that he would settle for just one night of your pretending.

But were you pretending?

The thought lingered in your mind, heavy and uncertain.

“You're beautiful, you know that?” you murmured, your voice quiet but full of admiration as your eyes lingered on him.

Calum turned to face you, a shy smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He climbed back into bed, pulling you into his arms and holding you close. “I’m the lucky one,” he whispered against your hair, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. His thumb traced the curve of your cheekbone and then the outline of your lips as though memorizing every detail. Your eyes stayed locked on his, searching for something you couldn’t quite name.

“Stay,” he mumbled, his voice heavy with exhaustion and something softer—hope. “Your flight leaves tomorrow. Just stay the night. I’ll take you there.”

You frowned, your hand instinctively coming to cover his. You didn’t answer immediately, the weight of his words settling deep in your chest. This night had been one of the best you’d had in a long time, a reprieve from the chaos in your mind. And yet, that knowledge brought an ache you didn’t want to examine too closely.

“Calum…” you hesitated, your voice softer now, almost unsure. “I don’t know if I should.”

His hand tightened gently against yours as he leaned forward, capturing your lips in a kiss so tender it stole the air from your lungs. His palm moved to the back of your neck, his touch reverent, urging you closer. Your bare chests pressed together, his other hand settling at the small of your back, anchoring you to him.

When he pulled away, the weight of reality sank between you. You were leaving—leaving this moment, leaving him—and as terrifying as the thought was, it also carried a bittersweet freedom. Leaving Calum meant leaving behind the pain Luke had caused, a fresh start that felt both liberating and heartbreaking.

“Please,” he whispered against your lips, his voice fragile, each word carrying the weight of his longing. He held his breath, his eyes searching yours for even the smallest trace of hope.

You bit your lip, the turmoil in your chest almost too much to bear. You knew what you should do, but you also knew what you wanted—at least for now.

“I’ll stay,” you finally said, your voice steady despite the storm inside you. “Just for tonight.”

Calum exhaled softly, his forehead dropping to rest against yours as relief washed over his features. For now, it was enough. Just tonight, it could be enough.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

i hope you guys enjoyed, and if you sent in a request just know that i saw it and i’m working on it! there are many writing projects that i’ve been juggling so i’m sorry in advance if it takes a little long for it to be posted <33

-allie

[thereoncewasagirlnamedjane]

deck the halls.

‣ pairing — ransom drysdale x f!reader

‣ contents — oneshot, coarse language, fluff, xmas/holidays, mutual disdain but it’s actually just mutual not-so-secret shameful pining

‣ synopsis — for the first time, you think that working for linda drysdale the night before christmas might not be such a bad thing after all.

‣ word count — 3.4k

‣ notes — tbh i’m not very happy with how this turned out but whatever, i’ve been stressing about this for way too long because it’s my first ransom fic, and i’m just done lol. shout out to @intrepidacious though for chatting with me about this fic all winter while i struggled, doing her best to motivate me and letting me vent my writing frustrations through the entire process. ilysm nika 💕

✩ read on ao3 ✩ janie’s masterlist ✩ library blog

Christmastime is here Happiness and cheer Fun for all that children call Their favourite time of yea—

You angrily jam the pad of your finger against the speaker’s power button, cutting off the quaint holiday music and plummeting Linda Drysdale’s normally busy real estate office into silence.

For someone who consistently prides themselves on being so sensible and logical, you sure can be stupid sometimes.

Because you drag a free office chair towards you, anchoring it against the wall as best as you can before climbing on top of it. You teeter precariously, cursing under your breath as you strain to loop a gaudy red and green garland over the push pins above the office doorway.

Linda, however, is even stupider, asking you to put up these god awful decorations before going home, not even providing you with so much as a step stool to do so—even though you obviously aren’t tall enough to reach on your own, even though she said you didn’t have to work overtime today (why, thank you Linda, considering it’s Christmas Eve and all), even though it was already 4:45 when she asked.

One phone call would be all it took to have OSHA crawling up her ass, but because you were only ever a badass in your own head, long after the conversation was over and there was no longer anything you could do about it, you just nodded meekly at your boss instead of telling her exactly where you thought she could shove her precious decorations.

Besides, she’d probably walk away with nothing more than a slap on her wrist anyway—if that.

“A bit to the left, Cindy Lou Who,” comes a voice, the low dulcet baritones that are the bane of your existence, like a persistent under-the-skin itch you can’t ever seem to scratch. You take a deep stabilizing breath upon hearing the nickname, a heat flaring in your cheeks that has nothing to do with the whiskey-spiked hot chocolates you’ve been secretly sipping all day.

You shoot him a withered glare over your shoulder. Ransom, the devil-spawn of your she-devil boss, is lounging lazily in your chair, leaning back with his arms casually linked over his abdomen as he observes your efforts to stay balanced and graceful.

Trust the smug little brat to show up tonight of all nights, when your patience is already wearing thin. No doubt he’s just here to piss you off before swanning over to the posh holiday party happening at his mother’s place tonight—one you’ve never been invited to despite all your years working for Linda, by the way—while you trudge home to a dark and empty studio apartment, with not even so much as a goldfish to welcome you back.

Ransom just smirks back at you through a mouthful of white chocolate chips and macadamia nuts, his hand already rummaging for another cookie from the package he’s stolen right out of the bottom drawer of your desk.

You release a huff of frustration.

There he sits, without a care in the world in his perfectly tailored wool coat and immaculately styled hair that somehow remains untouched by the howling winter wind outside, looking like he’s just stepped out of an issue of GQ.

He doesn’t deserve it, you lament, his coat already starting to pill at the undersides of the sleeves and his sweater probably just a tug at one loose strand away from unravelling completely.

Whoops. You almost fall off the chair for the fifth time since you started this ridiculous endeavour, trying to shake off the mental image of a very shirtless Ransom, tangled in a web of soft white yarn.

What? You can hate someone down to their grimy little bones and still think they’re hot.

Besides, the devil wouldn’t be the devil if he weren’t tempting, would he?

“A real piece of work… the both of you…” you mutter to yourself now, your colourful vocabulary back in full working order now that Linda is holed away in her office and well out of earshot. “She could cut me some slack, you know… Christmas, for crying out loud… and I haven’t eaten all day!”

The asshole nepo-baby just peers up at you past the phone he’s been holding up in front of his face, blinking lazily and not offering any kind of response or assistance—not that you’d expected him to.

“Right, I forgot who I was talking to,” you speak slowly and deliberately, like you’re explaining something rather complicated to a small child. “You see, us humans need to eat food regularly for sustenance.”

“Wow,” Ransom deadpans, his voice muffled through cookie crumbs.

“Yeah, it is terribly inconvenient,” you shrug exaggeratedly, “but not all of us can subsist on the shards of broken souls and children’s nightmares, can we?”

“Calling me the devil again?” He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “You’re so original; how about you get a new thing?”

“Don’t you have some place to be?” You sneer, your grip tightening on the garland, the plastic biting into your palms as you twist a string of fairy lights around the rest of it. “Why the fuck are you even here?”

It’s a perfectly valid question. Linda is always threatening to cut her son off, but that hasn’t prevented him from skipping out on work as much as possible and galavanting around the city, maxing out her credit cards every chance he gets.

But you know she’ll never actually follow through; He shows himself here just often enough to keep her from seriously considering it, doing his small part to show off a carefully crafted picture for the masses—showing the scions of Boston’s wealthiest family in a united front.

And if there’s one thing Ransom likes more than he hates his family or earning an honest wage, it’s the weight of green lining the deep but frayed pockets of his expensive designer pants.

That shiny Drysdale veneer is all that matters, after all, and you know very well that Ransom’s only real job is to keep it nice and polished. But you’ve been working long enough at this soul-sucking place to notice the telltale signs, to see the cracks beneath the varnish.

The way you swear you see a flicker of something that looks a lot like dread whenever Linda calls his name.

The way his signature smirk twitches with just a hint of irritation whenever some angry coworker, once again passed over for a long overdue promotion in favour of giving Ransom a hefty allowance bonus, calls him a talentless, hopeless, literal son of a bitch.

The way he cracks those self-deprecating jokes about how the only real ambition he has in life is finding new ways to disappoint his relatives, and squander as much of the family fortune as he possibly can.

It’s no surprise, really, that Ransom’s turned out the way he has. You’ve heard the way they all talk about him sometimes, his family seemingly oblivious to your working-class existence.

Never mind the fact that whenever you happen to glance over at him, Ransom’s eyes are almost always on you—watching and assessing with that same inscrutable expression on his face.

Not that you pay close attention or anything.

Not that you care, either.

And never will you admit that it unnerves the hell out of you, almost like he’s trying to see through you—right down to the restless person who hides beneath a false bravado, a sarcastic sense of humour, and mountains of paperwork piled up high on your desk.

The feeling of being seen, so terrible and stirring at the same time.

And yet, you shiver, there’s something about it that rivets you. Something electric, like a live wire running just beneath your skin. It’s the feeling you get when he looks at you with those icy blue eyes, his expression going from scathing to almost inquisitive within seconds, when the two of you are trading jabs and insults like his mother isn’t the one who signs your paycheques.

If you are carbon, then he’s the igniting flame.

But you know better, don’t you? Ransom is trouble, plain and simple—the kind with zero direction in life, the kind with a new girl on his arm every week, leaving them to wake up in the mornings to cold bed sheets and memories of promises he’d never intended to keep.

You will die a fiery death before you come another notch on his bedpost. Not that you even care whether he thinks of you that way at all, because even the idea of doing that with Ransom is—

Shit. You shiver again.

You’re playing with fire by even thinking about him at all, even though you feel the incredibly annoying pull of his presence like a magnet, even though you know you need to stay as far away from him as possible, and even though you are very keenly aware that there’s something here.

It looms large yet goes unacknowledged whenever your eyes lock, when he’s looking at you like he wants to bury you and devour you at the same time, when you’re itching with the knowledge that you’re only keeping him at as much of a distance as you can physically stand.

Why else haven’t you told him yet, in no uncertain terms, to fuck right off?

Because there’s a part of you that can’t help but wonder what it would be like to let yourself burn—to feel the heat of that passion you can see in his eyes that he never seems to give into, to feel whatever warmth he might muster from beneath the complicated layers of that thing beating in his chest, to feel him next to you as that terrible something you won’t ever name finally erupts and consumes everything in its path.

Ugh. You absolutely loathe yourself for it, and it makes you want to bash your forehead repeatedly against the wall.

“Someone’s going on the naughty list,” Ransom snickers, the sound infuriatingly close now. You do your best not to startle at the new proximity; he’s put his phone away, unfolded himself from your chair with that unexpectedly languid grace, crossing the room to toss your now empty package of cookies into the trash. “And is that any way to speak to a valued coworker?”

“You? Valued? Coworker?”

“Oh, don’t be jealous, Cindy Lou,” he chides, leaning against the edge of an empty desk barely a step away, crossing his arms over his broad chest, then lowering his voice to whisper conspiratorially, “I hear it’s a sin.”

“Jealous?” You laugh humourlessly, snorting in a way that is decidedly very unladylike. “Of what? The fact that you’ve never worked a day in your life and have the soft white hands of a geisha?”

“Oh yeah? Been thinking about my hands a lot, have you?” He smirks again, and you bite back an exasperated moan—er, groan.

“Namely,” you say sarcastically, turning away from him and reaching up for a particularly high spot. “Breaking all the feeble little bones in your tiny rat-like claws, preferably with a nice sturdy lump of coal.”

“I’m not the one who’s gone on a rampage,” Ransom gestures to the office, now adorned with shiny little baubles, bundles of sparkly tinsel, and rolls of satin ribbon, “and vandalized the office.”

“Vandal—it looks festive, you heartless ghoul!” You whip around to glare at him again, momentarily forgetting your unstable position. But instead of rolling away from the wall and taking you with it, the chair beneath you stays firmly in place. Confused, you glance down to see Ransom’s outstretched feet casually braced against the legs.

Your head snaps up so quickly you think you might get whiplash, eyes narrowing accusatorially only to see him looking away, feigning nonchalance despite the fact that his ears are turning red.

Blood rushes to your cheeks, a traitorous warmth spreading through them. You curse mentally for the umpteenth time, feeling the corners of your perfidious mouth threatening to curve up into a smile.

The bar really is in hell, isn’t it?

“You…” you squeak, clearing your throat a few times to get your voice back to normal. “It’s five. You should go get your mother now.”

“Why, am I distracting you?” Ransom replies, tucking his hands into his pockets and still not making eye contact. “And don’t rush me. I’d rather eat glass than sit through another one of Linda’s fuckin’ Christmas parties.”

“Right, because of your repellant personality?” You quip only half-sarcastically.

“So I’m told,” he drawls, but strangely he sounds more pleased than offended by your observation. “But then again, you’re no picnic either, are you Cindy?”

“Excuse me?” You finally climb off the chair, the last of the garland securely in place. You ignore those stupid feelings stirring inside you at the sight of him retracting his legs a second too slow, and only when both your feet are firmly on the floor.

“You can’t tell me you work so hard because you like your job,” he chortles, his smirk twisting into something just a tiny bit meaner this time. “Aw, sweetheart, do you not have any friends?”

You snort so loud it almost hurts, trying not to focus on just how much you and Ransom have in common—a fact he also seems content to leave unaddressed. “Oh, like you do?”

The mental image of Ransom sitting in his mother’s living room, laughing and sharing wine with a bunch of people in front of a roaring fire like he isn’t a raging sociopath makes you shudder.

“Although, I guess I am curious,” you relent with an inquisitive tilt of your head, ignoring the weight of his heavy gaze on your back as you rummage through the last of the decorations.

“Hm, do tell,” you hear him chuckle.

“About Christmas, you bumbling idiot,” you retort, rolling your eyes. “Can’t picture you and Linda decorating a tree or opening presents together.”

“Okay, that’s not even funny,” he grumbles, his expression twisting into something sour.

“Never? Not even when you were a kid?” You ask before you can stop yourself. Dangerous territory. You know too much about his personal life as it is, and this would only humanize him and that’s the very last thing you want.

“Sometimes,” he admits after a few seconds of agonizing silence, his voice uncharacteristically quiet, your eyes meeting, as always, when you look up at him. “Only ever at Harlan’s.”

You stare, unsure what to do with the underlying hint of something in his voice that doesn’t really belong. Harlan is the only person in his family you actually like, who exudes warmth and care even towards a spoiled and ungrateful grandson, and it takes you a moment to realize that the thing in Ransom’s voice might be affection.

It’s alien and unnerving, to say the least, but you still feel a traitorous tug at your heart strings.

“I can’t picture you as a kid,” you say, somehow managing to keep your voice from trembling as you quickly change the subject. Sweet Christmases with his adoring grandpa shouldn’t be something you associate with this overgrown man-child. And even if it is, it doesn’t change the fact that Ransom is a giant, gaping asshole. “I just see you, but… smaller.”

“And I bet you were just a naive little princess,” he smirks when you glare at him, “doting parents, thoughtful presents, cookies for Santa—spoiled in your own way.”

“Oh, don’t get it twisted,” you shake your head, putting up a defensive hand, “we aren’t sharing. That’s not what this is.”

“But you know what they say, Cindy,” he says as he leans in closer, stopping just inches away, so close you can smell the lingering scent of cinnamon and nutmeg on his breath, mingling with the saccharine aroma of peppermint and artificial pine clinging to his sweater. “Sharing is caring.”

His eyes blaze in an unspoken challenge, but before you can do anything else, like maybe start thinking that the bad idea that’s been plaguing you ever since you met this infernal man isn’t such a bad idea after all, the sound of Linda’s voice cuts through the air, as sharp as the diamonds she wears on her fingers.

“What are you two doing?”

The spell is broken, and Ransom looks away with that same infuriating smile that makes you both want to punch and ki—

“Hello, Mother,” Ransom all but sneers.

You step away with considerable effort, wringing your hands in front of you. Linda narrows her eyes in thinly-veiled suspicion, but doesn’t say anything as she begins walking towards you.

Ransom steps in front of you, shoving his hands into his pockets and jingling his keys, “We’d better get going. Your chariot awaits.”

“Have a nice evening, Mrs. Drysdale,” you pipe up, watching nervously as her eyes sweep across the office and your carefully placed decorations with cool indifference. She nods slightly and you breathe a sigh of relief; that’s as close to a thank you as you’ll ever get.

“Ransom, be a dear and go start the car,” Linda says, urging him towards the door with a sweep of her hand. Her son hesitates for only a millisecond, not even looking back as he turns on his heels and leaves.

Only you notice that his hands are clenched at his sides.

“Merry Christmas, dear,” she smiles tightly as she hands you an envelope likely containing your holiday bonus, and you snap back to attention. You take it from her with a quiet thank you, but then her smile quickly turns into a stern frown. “But don’t make a habit of having food delivered here.”

“Food?” You repeat, your brows coming together in confusion. Linda puts on her fur coat, pointing a single gloved finger at the doors. There is a delivery person standing on the other side of the glass, lifting and pointing at a plastic bag heavy with takeout containers.

“Air the place out before you leave,” Linda says as she breezes past him, not even turning back while she lifts a hand in dismissal.

Confused, you follow in her tracks, staring after her as she makes a dissatisfied face at Ransom’s car pulled right up next to the curb. You see him roll his eyes, leaning over to unlock and push the door open for her. Linda doesn’t look too thrilled, but steps in anyway. They drive away, a hint of a smile on Ransom’s face even though it looks like Linda’s already started in on him with her usual longwinded lectures.

You tell the delivery boy you didn’t order anything, but he looks just as puzzled. He checks the receipt and says your name, the office address, which you confirm are correct. He then recites the order: scallion pancakes, rice noodle rolls, steamed crystal dumplings, and a small black sesame latte—your standing order from your favourite restaurant in Chinatown, reserved for nights when you were working late.

“It’s already paid for,” he says, “you might as well take it.”

You do, locking the doors once he leaves and set the bag down onto a nearby desk. Before you’ve even untied it and opened the containers to check their contents, the grin that’s been brewing all night finally breaks free.

Because there’s only a handful of people in the world who know you’re here at the moment, but only one who knows you haven’t eaten yet today, and who knows that despite having permission to leave for the night, you’ll probably settle in for another few hours of tedious paperwork.

Still, you finish every last crumb of your dinner feeling lighter than you have all week.

Maybe you’ll ask him next time, despite all the reasons you probably shouldn’t, whatever happened to sharing is caring?—even if it sounds like an invitation.

And maybe you feel cheeky enough to send him a quick email before logging off, cackling to yourself when he finally fires back a scathing reply a few hours later, likely still sitting in a room full of people just like his mother, trying not to be absolutely miserable.

From: “El Diablo” <rdrysdale@drysdaleproperties.com> To: Reception <reception@drysdaleproperties.com> Subject: RE: Merry Christmas Oh fuck off, I don’t know what you’re talking about. ——————— From: Reception <reception@drysdaleproperties.com> To: “El Diablo” <rdrysdale@drysdaleproperties.com> Subject: Merry Christmas …and thanks for dinner, Drysdale.

And if, when you’re finally home long after the midnight hour, you’re tucked into bed feeling full and warm with the temptation to raise your lips into a smile as you drift off to sleep?

Well.

That’s really nobody’s business but your own, is it? 

fin.

[damian-al-ghul-wayne]

ooc ->

This is to inform people of the lore that's happening w dami, so YAY! more yapping from yours truly, damian mun..

Okay, so let's go WAAAYY back from when this account was slowly building up... back then, my plan had been to kill off Damian (mental health reasoning), basically because of an anon I had.... Yada Yada Yada, his relationship with Jon (Superboy specifically) changed that outcome.

Then we bring in @ / sleep-deprived-tim's blog into play for Damian's lore.

If you didn't know, Tim suffered with mental health as well. They were struggling, and Damian had been accused of not being there for them. Tim ended up taking their own life and coming back as a ghost— which, haunted Damian.

Damian felt guilty due to those accusations and took it upon himself to believe that he was the one who killed Tim when he wasn't.

When this is happening, my Damian ends up starting to get more into the medical field because he feels as if he isn't doing much as Robin. He starts taking breaks... skipping patrol... faking sickness... when he is actually just volunteering at the hospital instead.

He's doing this mainly at the moment to try and get rid of the guilt he's holding on to because of Tim's death. It's not working, but he's finding himself really enjoying volunteering.

Back to Tim— Tim's ghost ends up telling Damian where their body is. Damian takes it upon themselves to drag the body of Tim to somewhere that they believed would keep the body in good shape until he was able to find the time to resurrect Tim.

Nothing is helping him recover from the guilt that's eating away at him at the moment. So his last resort is resurrection.

He ends up forgetting about it, leaving Tim's body to rot. Forgetting, though, was actually helping him because he started to be happier around others. He started being more open and expressive of what he wanted (like how he very much yearns to hang out with his older brother / father figure Richard Grayson), but this comes crumbling down when he's reminded of the body he's supposed to resurrect like a month or 2 later.

Guilt comes back. He's overthinking. Rushing everything. Becoming sloppy, if you will.

Takes Tim's body (which is too rotted to resurrect) and throws it in a pit. He cries and begs for tim to come alive —> doesn't work. he feels like a failure. Now, he's struggling to come to terms with what he's supposed to do with himself because of this failure. He doesn't think he's good enough to be Robin because he allowed his sibling to die. He doesn't want to work at the hospital anymore because he believes he'll let someone else fall victim, like how Tim did, under his care. He feels out of place.

(Note; Tim is resurrected, but they're in a different body, which they possessed. Damian isn't able to look at them anymore cause of this. That ISN'T their sibling.)

Now, for upcoming lore or things I need to let people know about is that my Damian is currently canceling plans and avoiding everyone around him. He's eating and sleeping less... He's being dry with the ones he loves because he's afraid of hurting them like Tim. When they reach out to Damian, Damian will only be concerned for their health. That's why if you look at interactions with like @ / dickgraysonfr currently, Damian is only searching for health reasons (sickness, injuries, etc.) If he sees it, he can fix it before it gets worse. Otherwise, he wants nothing to do with anyone unless he's able to prevent their death. (This is really making less sense the more I type, but I'm going to continue anyways.)

There's reasonings behind the drawings of Jonathan and Talia as well... there's so many little details I want to point out to everyone and like all the signs I'm using for Damian, but idk how to explain it properly, I suppose.

Basically, I guess my Damian is shutting everyone out because he's too afraid to face any of them. He's depressed. Idk. HELP this is so bad bye.

I feel like this is easier when I'm actually asked questions about certain things pertaining to lore. 🤕

I hope this covers like some of the things that I'm doing w Damian at the moment. I'll pin this so people can read through it if they'd like to

[chronicallycouchbound]

There is a story told and retold in the Middle East about how to help someone who’s drowning.

The story goes that a man had fallen into a river. He was not much of a swimmer and was in real danger of drowning. A crowd of concerned people wanted to rescue him. They were standing at the edge of the water, each of them urgently shouting out to him:

“Give me your hand, give me your hand!”

The man was battling the waves and ignored their urgent plea. He kept going under and was clearly struggling to take another breath. A saintly man walked up to the scene. He too cared about the drowning man. But his approach was different. Calmly he walked up to the water, waded in up to his knees, glanced lovingly at the drowning man, and said:

“Take my hand.”

Much to everyone’s surprise, the drowning man reached out and grabbed the saint’s hand. The two came out of the dangerous water. The drowning man sat up at the edge of the water, breathing heavily, looking relieved, exhausted, and grateful. The crowd turned towards the saint and asked in complete puzzlement: “How were you able to reach him when he didn’t heed our plea?” The saint calmly said:

“You all asked him for something, his hand. I offered him something, my hand. A drowning man is in no position to give you anything.”

Let us remember not to ask anything of someone who is drowning.

From "How to Reach Out to Someone Who Is Struggling" by Omid Safi

[critter-wizard]

ep 43 had me tearing up in a fucking shopping centre ‼️‼️

b+w alt version that I truly couldn't decide if I liked it more . Also I included a lot of thoughts in the tags but they're somewhat incoherent<3