#i feel like i’ve been very down horrendous for him

[luminique]

tying a bow on lighter’s biceps……mwheeheh

ANON IM GOING INSANE THINKING ABOUT ITT trying to keep this sfw but just know i’d do more than tie up his biceps 🤭

i think he would question it a little when you come up to him with some rolls of ribbon in your hands. he thought this was something about ‘coquette’ that lucy had talked about the other day, so he initially didn’t refuse.

but now here he was in your shared room, shirtless while his eyes followed your hands. you had told him to relax, not to flex his muscle and stay still as you snipped a piece of ribbon off of the roll. you took his arm and began tying the ribbon around his bicep.

you checked in with him, asking if it was too tight. he was still confused but shook his head, letting out a low “no” right after. once you were done, you gave a couple soft pats on his arm. a pretty pink bow tied up around it, feeling satisfied with yourself.

“now flex your muscles.” a big mischievous smile on your face as you waited for him. at this point, he knew you were teasing him in some way but he’d at least entertain you.

it didn’t take much strength for him to make the ribbon pop right off, as if it wasn’t even tied on properly in the first place. “what’s this for?” his eyebrows raised as he picked up the ribbon. he pulls down his sunglasses just a little, his eyes capturing yours.

“just for fun. you’re really strong aren’t you, undefeated champion?” hearing you call him that with your oh so teasing voice made him weak in the knees. he pushes up his shades, trying to hide the blush behind them. you were already cutting up more pieces of ribbon before he could say anything else, not like he could say anything else without sounding like a lovesick fool. little did he know, you’d have a lot more than ribbons for him. stickers, cute bandaids and more were in your pocket but you’ll ease him into that…

[moonstruckme]

ok yeah. i can't stop thinking about that doctor pls i need doctor remus follow up or something im dead

Based on this ask

cw: mention of giving blood, lightheadedness

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 447 words

You rouse to hands on your shoulders. Cold tile against your backside, and the hum of a nice voice. 

“Hi, love,” it says. The hands seem to get you where they want to, your neck and shoulders resting against something warm and soft. One cups the back of your head gingerly. “Could you open your eyes the rest of the way for me, please?” 

You think you’d do anything for someone who talks to you like that. The lights in the room are harsh, but a figure cuts through them, a man perhaps just older than you. His head, gentle features and a mop of tawny brown hair, hovers over yours. It’s then that you remember where you are. 

You’re at the doctor’s office, in the small private room they took you to for your blood draw, and you appear to be in this doctor’s lap. 

“There we are,” he says, using a hand to shield your eyes from the fluorescent lights. “I’m Remus. Do you know where you are?” 

“Doctor’s?” you mumble. 

Remus smiles. “Very good. I have some juice for you here.” He looks away from your face, reaching for something on the floor beside you. “Could you tilt your head down a tad to drink it, please? Yeah, like that. Thank you.” 

You drink from a juice box with his hand supporting your head. Remus encourages you to take small sips, wiping the corner of your mouth gently when you’re done. You worry you might faint again at the brush of contact; though, really, you probably ought to be more concerned about the contact you’re having with the rest of him. 

“It seems like you had some trouble with the blood draw,” he says in a kind voice. “Is that something that happens often?” 

You try out your voice, clearing your throat. “No. No, I’ve never done that before.” 

Remus hums. “Do you feel okay?” 

Honestly? You’re not sure. You feel deeply, horrendously out of sorts, having woken to find yourself in the lap of the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. At the same time, you think you might be the best you’ve ever been. 

“I—I think so,” you manage. 

Remus gives you a little smile. “It would be perfectly normal to be a bit shaken up,” he says. The hand not behind your head has found your forearm and begun tracing small, seemingly thoughtless, circles into your skin. “Losing consciousness isn’t easy on the body. It’s alright if you feel out of sorts.” 

“Yeah,” you breathe, woozy all over again. “That must be it.” 

Remus hums sympathetically. “Let’s just stay here for a while, then. I’ll have someone get you a snack.”

[g4rvez-r3id]

Bad Day

Boyfriend! Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Synopsis: You come home from a really bad day and your boyfriend, Spencer is there to save the day… and hold you while you cry.

Category: Fluff, some Angst

Warnings: reader having the worst day of her life, crying, mentions of having bad days, kissing, spencer being the best bf ever- ig that’d be it 🤷‍♀️

Author’s Note: hey lovelies! so this is more of a blurb bc i had a bad day today soooo this was the outcome of said bad day and how spencer would be 😌 can you tell i’m projecting again? oops. oh well.

This was probably the worst day of your life. Okay, it may not have been the worst day of your life per se, but it seemed like it was in the top ten at the very moment.

Everything that could’ve happened today happened. You woke up late, causing you to be late to work, you missed the bus on top of that, the customers in the store were horrendous and rude and you’d miscounted the deposit in the store at least a hundred times, causing you to be late to your other bus. Oh, and it was raining. Today was just not a good day.

And after your ten hour shift, all you want to do is just go home and cry yourself to sleep and forget this whole day. You’d arrived back home, holding yourself back from crying until you got into your bed. But you unlocked the front door and came home to a pleasant surprise.

Your boyfriend, Spencer was in the living room, reading a book, feet rested on the couch — showing off his mismatched socks — with a small smile on his face. “Hi, angel!” He diverts his attention from the book to you, closing it as he stood up from his spot on the couch. “How was work?”

You look up at him and his face makes you sad. He’s so happy to see you, so joyful even if he has a job being one of the most important people in the world, catching serial killers. He was a hero, essentially and had seen the worst of the worst out there and still managed to put a smile on his face whenever he saw you.

Your shoulders sank and your head fell against his chest and you began to cry into his sweater. And you cried hard. To the point where you were soaking Spencer’s sweater with your tears. Spencer, being the concerned boyfriend he was frowned and rubbed your shoulders, pulling you away from him so he could see you. “Hey,” He spoke softly. “Hey, honey, what’s the matter? Come here.”

He led you over to the couch where you sat down and he kneeled in front of you. “Are you okay? Did something happen?” Spencer asks as he rubs your thigh soothingly and your eyes are shut as you cry but you can feel him staring at you, awaiting an answer because he hates seeing you in this state.

“Everything that could’ve happened happened,” You sniffle. “I’ve had such a horrible day, Spencer.”

Spencer frowns as he sits next to you on the couch and lets you lean on him as you continue to cry and cry. “It was a bad day, that’s all it was.” He says as he rubs your arm. “Shh.” He says as he holds you close.

Eventually, you’re done letting it all out and take a deep breath and you look up at Spencer. You had kept your feelings in all day today until you got home and the minute you saw Spencer, you broke. Mostly because it was easier to be vulnerable with him. He made it easy to. And you were never afraid to express it to him.

Spencer looks at you with a fond, sympathetic smile as he takes the opportunity to wipe the tears away from your cheeks. “I’m sorry.” You tell him as you looked down at his soaked sweater. “Don’t be,” He assures. “It’s normal to have bad days. Bad days are a common human experience, it happens to everyone. It often stemming from stress, poor sleep, or a series of minor inconveniences and while they can feel overwhelming, they can also be a learning opportunity to build resilience and understand yourself better.” He gives you a tight lipped smile after his little fact. And somehow, it makes you feel better about your bad day. “Do you feel any better?” He asks and you shrug with a sniffle, “A little.”

“Well, then how about you hop in the shower and I’ll get your bedroom made up since I put your sheets in the dryer —” He checks his watch. “A little under an hour ago — and I’ll order us takeout and we can have a movie night. And I’ll put on a Disney movie since those seem to cheer you up a lot. Is that okay?” Hearing him say that just makes you want to cry again. Not because you’re ungrateful but because you feel as if you don’t deserve a kind man like Spencer in your life.

Often, people told you to suck it up and get over it and grow up. But Spencer never did. He listened when you had bad days, he sat there when you vented and needed someone to listen to and vice versa. You’d felt vulnerable with him like he had with you. And at first, you weren’t like this. You never opened up to him because you were scared you’d get the same reaction — telling you to get over it, but he never did. He wouldn’t dare to.

“Please don’t cry, my love. I’m sorry.” Spencer says with a small loving smile, holding your face in his hands but you shake your head as him, “I’m not sad,” You tell him. “I’m just… emotional now because… you are seriously my dream man.” You say to him with a small smile and he chuckles at that and pats your thigh as he stands up and goes to the bathroom to get your shower ready.

After you get out of the shower, you go to your room and find Spencer has made your bed, the takeout is here and your TV is on, ready for any streaming networks.

You get into the bed and Spencer happily joins you, opting to turn on Wreck-It-Ralph since you both agreed on it and as the movie starts, you watch him with a small smile.

As he focuses his attention on the screen, you focus your attention on him. His perfect nose, the way it twitches when he’s happy. His brown-on-the-outside, gold-on-the-inside eyes, always so mesmerized in you. And the way they crinkle up when he smiles. And speaking of his smile, the most perfect you’d ever seen it. Next to his hair, which you are currently raking your hands in and brushing through with your fingers. He was so lovely, in your eyes. He was the flower petals to a beautiful rose, he was your everything. Just as you were his. What did you do to deserve him, you wonder.

“No wonder I had a bad day,” You spoke, causing him to turn his head to you and furrow his brows in confusion. “I didn’t have my lucky charm with me.” You say as you brush through his locks.

Spencer has a baffled look on his face at that sentence alone. “I’m your good luck charm, huh?” He asks, raised eyebrows and a small smile appearing across his face.

“The best good luck charm ever.” You lean close and peck his lips with your own and that’s what you’ve missed this entire time. His lips against yours and you can’t help but smile in the kiss.

Blushing like a schoolgirl, you back away from the kiss but he wants seconds. And he grabs you by the chin gently and kisses your lips one last time, so passionately and lovingly and he waits there after the fact, faces close and looking into your eyes as if you made the world stop turning.

You rest your head on his shoulder as you get impossibly close to him as you watch the movie with him and fifteen minutes later, Spencer looks over and sees that you’ve fallen asleep and he lets you rest. And he hopes that your bad day may have turned into a good one at the end of the night.

Spoiler alert: it did.

[corseque]

On the scale of 1 (Rise of Skywalker) to 10 (Shadowbringer/Endwalker), where would you place Veilguard?

critical post

I’ve burst into enraged tears like 5 times since I finished it, which is not nearly even close to as many times as Rise of Skywalker, but still 5 times too many. Just the shallowness of the writing, the obviousness, the incredible frustration at the simplicity, the ignoring so much of my favorite character in order to make a stupidly simple plot work, the horrendous time I had trying to ignore Rook’s annoying stupid fuckass pov while just trying to self-insert myself into the end of my favorite fictional character of all time’s story after waiting 10 years. I screamed in frustration that I had to hear the painfully obvious commentary these brand newcomer characters who I did not give a shit about, explaining to me like a toddler how I should feel about revelations I have been writing about for 10 years, especially when what they were saying was stupid as fuck. I cried at the thought of so many cutscenes and so much effort went into stories I found very forgettable and went nowhere, while they were able to only scrounge up like 10 total animated shots reuniting Solas and Lavellan. I mourn that I could not make any decisions in a BioWare game. I mourn Solas’ story so much, and probably will for years. I will never get over the way they talked down to him and never listened to him for even a second, lest they actually have to write a branching path into their game. I hate that the theme was regret but Rook regrets nothing ever so (shrugs) regret doesn’t affect them or mean anything to them. I mourn the loss of the voice and point of view of his people, the ones he was fighting for, the ones who are alive. I mourn that it turns out that he’s just a stupid feral dog who is 100% wrong about everything always and he always has been from the beginning of time. I cried that the game said the answer was that Solas should NOT try to help his people and they never even discussed it as a philosophical question or the ethics of it or anything, or playing as a character so dense they never once even wondered if accidentally freeing the gods killed more people overall than the veil coming down would have. (We avoided this question like the plague, lest we feel less like purely Good Heroes who could talk down to the gods with righteous fury). I mourn that I’m never going to know what would have happened without the Veil. I feel so stupid for thinking that elves or spirits as factions would appear in any capacity with lines and perspectives in this game. I’m so angry at how safe and smoothed over everything in the setting is, and how it felt like the main characters never struggled with anything and have nothing to say. I can’t believe Dragon Age is so shallow and unsatisfying and head-empty. I mourn that the story of Dragon Age is Over to me and I will never play another game.

I’ve also cried a few times at the completely separated and individual imagery and music in the last scene. I’ve cried that my favorite character didn’t die in any world after 10 years of being at death’s door. I’ve cried at the thought of him being a little worm spirit, and that I was right about him the whole time. I cried when activating Felassan’s crystal in the final fight and seeing all the buffs. I cried when I turned the page and realized the default inquisitor was exactly the same as my personal Lavellan, down to hair style, eye color, hair color, vallaslin removed. I cried when I realized Solas thought he should have died as a spirit rather than be born. I cried that the main story Dragon Age has been telling the whole time has been about the reconciliation and freeing of my favorite fictional character. I cried that Solas and Lavellan got married in the end, when I genuinely wasn’t expecting either of them to even be alive. They’re both still alive and in love in every single world. I can’t wrap my head around that.

I have no idea where to put it. It’s a few high highs but some intolerably low fucking lows. It could have been so much worse but the bar is on the fucking floor. I go back and forth between moderate enjoyment to just being so angry. It could have been so much more and I do not know who to bite for it.

I have no idea.

[lucysarah-c]

Fifteen, what an age to be alive. Dad!Levi

Summary: Steal your father's car! What could go wrong? Author note: Since the Marley world seemed to be around the 30s-40s, I’ll set this idea in a world that looks like the mid-50s. This is POST WAR. Warnings: Cursing 'cause Levi, obv. And slightly mention of a group taking advantage of a girl, nothing really happens and there's no graphic description at all. Word count: 3.9k Pairing: Dad! Levi x Mom! Reader

His hands gripped the big round wheel of the car as his eyes scanned the dark night with a nervous smile, quickly turning into clenched teeth. His attention shifted to the passenger seat, soft as if it was a scene from one of the horror pictures he saw at the drive-in.

A light blond girl lay unconscious, her head resting against the door, appearing lifeless. She wore a typical sleeveless red button-up shirt and very short white shorts, with white socks crumpled down to double-coloured loafers. Her hair was still in a ponytail, exposing her face completely. It was August, plain summer break, and he knew that most of his classmates wore shorts or even swimsuits at the pool or beach. But somehow, her exposure made him blush and feel ashamed, as if even staring felt wrong.

Turning to the back seat of the car, he picked up his letterman jacket and placed it on top of her, covering her as much as possible. It looked big on her, and somehow, Adrien blessed every deity mentioned; he probably was inheriting his father’s uncle’s height and not his father's, a fact becoming rather obvious every day, as he was only 15 and already almost 1.80m.

“Calm down, Adie… you got this,” he whispered to himself, “I’ve no idea what I'm going to do but I got it.”

How did he get into this situation? It was supposed to be a silly night out; one of his friends invited him to a party of the seniors who were graduating from high school that year. What was the issue if he was just a freshman? Fifteen, eighteen, it’s the same! Plus, it was some party at some old forgotten building, half destroyed during the rumbling around ten years ago, in the middle of nowhere. Nothing wrong with that.

Yes, perhaps he stole his father’s keys and car. Yes, perhaps he lied about sleeping in his room. Yes, maybe he stole a bit (a lot) of money from his parents. “I mean… deep down, it’s my father’s fault for not allowing me to come legally,” Adrien argued with his own reflection in the car's mirror.

But everything went downhill when he saw a group of guys dragging a girl who was clearly not feeling well and decided to step in. Now, here he was, the party had turned into a mess as the fight happened, he got kicked out with an unconscious girl, and who knew what they had given her. He hit his forehead against the wheel as time slipped through his fingers; he was supposed to be back home already.

“Fucking shit! Who told me to step in!” he cursed under his breath. Deep down, he knew stepping up for what he had been told was horrendously wrong, knowing he had the strength to fight those assholes back. ‘The curse of being a fucking Ackerman, man,’ he thought.

He had done the right thing, at least one right thing during the entire night, but now he had to face the consequences. Muffled cries mixed with distressed groans filled the car, “My father is going to kill me!”

His forehead kept hitting the wheel repeatedly as if that would knock some common sense into him or perhaps give him a concussion and fake that he had been kidnapped or something. Surrounded by trees in a dead-end road, it wasn’t even paved. Only the footprints of multiple cars to follow back to civilization. The distressed teen didn’t even know where he was; his older friend had guided him there and left with his girlfriend at some point of the party.

Slowly raising his head up again to admire the endless kilometres of dim nothing, contemplating his options, seizing his courage. “Come on, Adie. Be a man, be a man!”

The trees’ branches creaked in the middle of the night, the car slightly swayed under the strong summer wind. “I want my mommy,” he muttered.

Hand on the wheel and turning on the car, one step at a time, he took a deep breath and then decided to go out on the road again. Forgotten somewhere, his father’s car’s papers and driver's license. In them it read “Levi Ackerman.”

Each branch from the forest that scraped the car was a personal pain, praying to any god's existence that it didn’t scratch it. Of course, his father had filled up the tank, obviously he had. Levi was like that, always cautious. Adrien did a personal wish his father had a map stored in the glove compartment, but obviously, he didn’t. After all, Levi knew the streets of the city like the back of his hand. He drove a lot, especially since his legs weren’t what they used to be anymore. Perhaps he didn’t need any support for walking any longer, but walking long distances wasn’t in Levi’s plans anymore.

“Perhaps I can… drive to the hospital, leave her, and like run away,” he contemplated, before groaning loudly, “No, I can’t do that. God, I’m dead.”

‘I could have walked away, but no, Mr. Adrien Ackerman has to be a hero. Mr. Ackerman has to do the right thing.’

Adrien had driven twice in his life; this one was the second. The first was a few years ago when his father sat him down on his lap and let him do it for a little bit. He was happy he hadn’t encountered much traffic and only had to drive ahead because he wasn’t completely sure yet what the third pedal was for.

“I got it, do not worry,” he said, trying to sound reassuring to the unmoving girl on his right. Adrien’s grey eyes checked on her from time to time, but she seemed deeply asleep, or so he hoped. “I’ll get to the hospital in no time, and you’ll be alright,” he promised.

His smile created a couple of dimples on each side of his face, but it quickly faded as fear kicked in. “And if you’re not alright, do not worry. I’ll throw myself off a bridge, and we can be not alright together,” he kept joking as if, by some miracle, the girl would reply.

He didn’t even know her name, and somehow, that made him feel even guiltier. As civilization began to appear and the sky began to lighten up, he lost hope of not dying at the hands of his own progenitor, but he was also hopeful that at least he was getting somewhere without crashing. The sun hadn’t shown up yet, but the deep blue of the sky had a particular glow to it that made it imminent.

The streets were deserted, and rightfully so; it was the middle of the night on a Monday. Adrien tried to park the car as best as he could, finally reaching the only hospital he somehow remembered the route to. Rushing to the other door, he carefully picked her up.

When he crossed the doors of the main hospital, which was almost empty at those hours, the doctors on duty quickly took her in, some searching for identifications inside her clothes. The police officer at the front gates forbade him from leaving the place.

“Alright, please hand me your ID,” the front gate secretary asked after informing him that the girl was out of danger, but she would have to stay for monitoring. Adrien’s suspicious silence made the woman raise her eyes from the form she was filling out to look at him. “You know that carrying IDs is obligatory, right?”

“Yes, madam…” He felt his palm sweating as he feared being taken to the police station.

“How old are you?”

Her voice sounded calm but tired as she quickly understood the issue, “… eighteen.”

With a loud sigh, she took off her cat-eye red glasses and then slowly blinked back at him. “Look kid, I’ve been on night watch for three days straight. I’ve no energy to deal with this.”

Adrien’s eyes remained glued to the floor, feeling small despite his stature. “… fifteen,” he admitted reluctantly.

Her unpleasant groans echoed in the empty walls that reeked of disinfectant. He slowly turned to the gates, and the security guys began to chuckle as they drank coffee. Feeling the need to clarify, he said, “I swear it wasn’t me who hurt her.”

“Kid, people who drug girls don’t carry them to hospitals,” she replied disinterestedly, pouring the information into the typewriter, the typing echoing in the place. Finally, she picked up a post-it with a pencil and raised it to the top of the reception table. “Your parents' contact number, please.”

Her eyes quickly moved to him and then back to her writing as he hesitated to fill out the paper. “You know I’ve done nothing; can’t I just go?” Adrien insisted, trying to escape the situation.

“Kid, you’re breaking national curfew and walking around without identification. A responsible adult must come and sign for you to leave; otherwise, you’ll live here until you turn 18.”

“Could you at least wait until 9 am to call my mother’s work number?” He smiled awkwardly, trying to find a way to avoid his father’s rage. The secretary looked up at the clock; it wasn’t even 5 am and then back to him, deadly. Unpleasant complaining groans echoed as he reluctantly wrote his house’s telephone number. “Sorry.”

Sat down at one of those uncomfortable waiting room’s seats with a latte and chocolate donut he brought at the cafeteria, he waited as someone waits to be hanged. The doctors and nurses moved here and there attending to the few people that came in with emergencies. Until the secretary walked by and said, “Your father picked up the phone; he said that getting the car and coming this way.”

Adrien’s grey eyes quickly turned in fear to check out of the window, grimacing uneasily as he admired the family's car parked outside. “Great…”

The longer it took, the more Adrien knew he was in trouble. Pressing his eyes closed and clenching his jaw, as if he could already feel the kick in his ass. Despite the nerves, his head bobbed forward as he fell asleep, and the tug of falling forward snapped him back awake. At some point, he rested his head on the joined seat and fell asleep, mouth open.

The front gates snapping open woke him up, and he wished to make himself smaller so he could hide behind the back of the seats. But as he turned backwards, Levi was at the front desk talking to the secretary and security guards. His dark hair was a mess, and it seemed like he had just put on some shoes and a shirt because he still had the pyjama pants on. Outside, the cap that his father had probably been forced to take there.

As the secretary picked up the forms for him to fill, his father quickly raised his grey eyes to shoot him across the room the deadliest glance he had yet to witness. ‘Goodbye everybody, it was nice knowing you.’

Avoiding facing death, Adrien remained seated, giving his back, but he quickly heard the footsteps of his father, characterized by the slight hobble he had after the war. With his presence looming, he looked down at Adrien, who slowly raised his attention up.

Smiling innocently, “Hi, dad.”

Levi didn’t smile back; quite the opposite, he frowned even more and extended his right hand that was missing two fingers. “My fucking keys.”

The teen searched for them inside his jeans and quietly handed them over with puppy eyes. Levi snapped them, but his hand didn’t withdraw. “And my damn money.” Repeating the same action but with the bills, Levi grabbed them and began to count. “And the rest?”

Adrien mumbled some incoherent groans as he refused to make eye contact. “Tch,” Levi clicked his tongue and gripped his shirt neck, raising him from his seat, pushing him to the exit. “Get in the fucking car.”

The walk of shame only accentuated as his father's angry tone didn’t match the polite one he used to greet the secretary and guards on his way out. He cowered in the passenger seat, trying to make himself a tiny ball as Levi slammed the door shut. Loud sighs that didn’t withdraw the deep frown before he turned on the car again.

“You’re so fucking wrong if you think I’ll stand this type of behaviour; I'm telling you,” Levi spat the words as he drove back home. “What the hell were you thinking?!”

“Adrien!” Levi insisted as the kid didn’t even reply, looking to his right as he waited at a red light. “You don’t want to talk? Fine, fucking ungrateful brat. You know how fucking worried your mother was when we received a call from the shitty hospital? Eh?”

“The drive-in the other day, the supposed hang out at your friend’s house that you were never fucking there, and now this. Are you fucking proud?” the ex-captain of the scouts kept going as his eyes were glued to the road despite only one of them working anymore. “You’re grounded, you’re so fucking grounded that I’ll fucking die, and you’ll have to get a damn Ouija board to contact me to see if you can go out to buy groceries.”

The teen just silently rolled his eyes as the long list of unhappiness of his father about his behaviour couldn’t care less. “Don’t you dare to roll your eyes on me, brat. You heard me? Drop that fucking attitude.” Somehow his father always seemed to have eyes everywhere. “Happy now? You ruined your entire summer break; beg all you want later on. You’re not leaving the house.”

“As if you’d let me go out anyway,” Adrien murmured mockingly under his breath.

“What?” Levi demanded. “If you’re going to have the guts to steal MY car, MY money, and break MY orders, then grow the guts to speak the fuck up.”

“That you never let me go anywhere!” Adrien shouted back angrily.

“For what? To go to this damn party in the middle of nowhere to hang out with fucking rapists and get

shit-faced?” Levi argued back. “You think I was born yesterday? I know exactly which places I don’t want you to get involved with. You think you’ve everything figured out, but that’s not it, Adrien! You’re 14! Fourteen!”

“I’m fifteen!”

“You turned fifteen two weeks ago, for fuck’s sake!” Levi shouted, slightly turning to his right before focusing back on the road. “I’m telling you, better fix your attitude or this is not going to end well. You may be getting big and feel cocky, but you won’t play smart-ass with me. You can grow up to be as tall as the fucking Colossal Titan, and yet you would do whatever the fuck I tell you!”

“I did the right thing! I stood up for her; I’m not stupid enough to do whatever my classmates do. Why can’t you see that?!” Adrien complained as they reached the front of the house, and Levi stopped the car.

“’Cause you were stupid enough to steal my car even when you don’t know how to fucking drive!” Levi complained as he got out of the car, walking to the front door. He kept going with the lecture but lower as he didn’t want to wake up the neighbours. “You don’t like it? Choose another father in your next life; in this one, it’s me, and I’m not going to let my teenage kid not give a fuck about the decisions I take. I’ve gone through too much shit for a fucking brat to tell me what I believe is the best for them.”

They both walked in, and Levi locked the door behind them. The room was still dim for the early hours, and their dog greeted them enthusiastically. The keys dropping at the front plate echoed loudly, and the tuxedo cat of the family finally appeared to rub himself against the legs of the teen, who quietly picked him up. Y/N quickly rushed to check on her kid.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did they hurt you somewhere?” She seemed clearly agitated, and Adrien remained with his eyes glued to the floor.

“No, mom,” he murmured, downcast. “I’m fine.”

“Oi, to your damn room,” Levi quickly ordered. “and clean it up; I won’t say it again.”

The kid left, cursing under his breath as he went upstairs and slammed the front door shut.

“What happened?” she asked Levi, who was preparing himself a tea to calm down, enveloping herself in a negligee.

“What happened? That kid is driving me nuts, that’s what's happening,”

Y/N sighed loudly, positioning herself behind her husband and running her hands through his arms, seeking to provide some comfort. She then switched to hugging him from behind. “He’s going through a phase… his new classmates are mostly kids who survived the rumbling, and some of them aren’t the best influence. He just wants to fit in, you know how important that is at his age.”

“Tch,” Levi kept facing the countertop, murmuring as the anger didn’t quickly wash away. But eventually, he closed his eyes and sighed loudly as the adrenaline slowed down. “The audacity of that kid, where the hell does he get it?”

Y/N couldn't help but chuckle against his back, “MH, I wonder,” she said sarcastically. “If they were still around, perhaps we could have asked some senior MPs… perhaps they could enlighten us on how you were as a teen,”

“I wasn’t like that,” Levi softly replied, almost ashamed of the point out.

“No haha you were worse,” Y/N was entertained as she kissed his shoulder blades tenderly. “Or do I have to remind you how you made me sneak out to meet you after curfew?”

“That’s different…”

Forcing him to turn around to place a kiss on his scar as she caressed his face softly, “He’s your kid,” she murmured against his lips. “He hates to be told what to do and has the strength to know he can get out of almost any situation. Asking him to be submissive is like asking him not to be an Ackerman; he got it in his genes,”

Levi just groaned, accepting the caress, her loving his face as if he was brand new and the residues of the war had never happened.

Days passed by, and while the mood in the house was slowly returning to calmness, the punishment still stood, and Adrien was reading in his bedroom, suffering the heat of summer without being able to go out with his friends. He couldn’t even play his record player because if in normal cases his father tolerated him to play his favourite bands loudly, now he was almost cursed to quietness. Levi didn’t seem to be very fond of Rock; perhaps Paradise music was too behind, and the period of adaptation was lacking. It sounded like loud noise to him.

A quiet knock at the front door was heard, mostly because the dog that was resting beside him in his bed raised hastily and rushed downstairs. The noise was almost imperceptible as his father was vacuuming the living room’s carpet while his mother prepared dinner. Adrien was about to raise himself from his bed and open the door himself, but the overwhelmingly loud noise of the vacuum stopped, so he guessed his father was on it.

Levi opened the front door without checking; he had faced so many adversities in life that he hardly doubted that anyone who rang his bell at 6 pm on a Thursday in their quiet family neighbourhood was a threat. “Yes?” he crossed his arms as he admired the young girl at the front gates. She was wearing the usual outfit of the time, white and brown loafers, crumpled low white socks, an inflated pastel yellow skirt that was tightly around her waist with a white blouse. The matching light cardigan was hanging from her shoulders, but she didn’t seem to put it on, another thing that Levi thought was some stupid new fashion trend from teens. That and his son’s imperious necessity to fold the sleeves of his t-shirts. High ponytail and blushed cheeks.

“Good evening, Mr. Ackerman,” The girl greeted him with kindness and politeness.

“Hello,” Levi replied, almost uninterested, his usual unfriendly nature not withdrawn even after years of not being on service.

“I was wondering if Adrien is at home,” she asked, and Levi wished he could roll his eyes at how almost immediately the girl blushed at the mention of his son’s name. “I’m the girl from the other night; I wanted to thank him…” seeing Levi’s slight frown at the memory of that early morning, she nervously added, “And you, of course, for what he did for me,” The young girl handed a package that was easily deduced to be a cake.

“He’s grounded,” Levi quickly replied. “And you don’t need to thank him; he did the only right thing to do. I don’t raise abusers,”

“Oh…” the disappointment in her voice was palpable, “Well, but please at least take the cake? For all the inconvenience,”

“No, kid, it’s alright-”

“Hi, sweetie! Adrien will be down in a minute!” Y/N popped behind Levi, slightly pushing him to the side and smiling softly at the girl. “Do you want to wait inside?”

Levi looked at his wife, confused and slightly offended by how quickly she overstepped him in the conversation.

“Ah, no, it’s alright; I don’t want to be a bother-”

Adrien appeared behind his parents, wondering what the whole issue was, and his mother quickly pushed him forward. “There he is!” She added while tugging Levi back inside. “Let’s give him some space,” she whispered to her husband, who was refusing to move.

“Oi,” Levi complained as he was forced back inside.

Both parents faking to be doing something in the living room to not be seen; Levi wasn’t spying, but his wife was. “She’s so cute,” she whispered, “and she’s crushing so much on him.”

Levi clicked his tongue, “He’s tall. All girls of that age crush on tall boys,” he argued back.

Y/N chuckled and turned to look at him, “talking from experience?”

“Ha ha,” Levi faked a sarcastic laugh. “He’s supposed to be grounded,”

“Shh, I can’t hear!” She hushed him back and then moved slightly as Levi joined her next to the window.

“Great,” Levi said annoyed, “she’s fucking bonnie,”

Confusion was written all over his wife's face as she grimaced dazed and raised an eyebrow, silently asking how those words could be said with such disappointment.

“Now I won’t only have to buy him all those stupid vinyl records, textbooks, and uniforms for the school team, but I’ll also have to start buying condoms; there goes my fucking salary,”

Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @i-literally-cant-with-this @angelofthorr @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @s0meb0dy-0nce-t0ld-me @trashblackrainbow @l3visthighs @hum4n-wr3ckag3 @hannieslovebot @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored @flxrartsstuff @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 Wanna join my tag list? Here!

[harryforvogue]

a fic about harry and faye where faye needs to be picked up because it's snowed so bad and also she's feeling very very needy. has smut so be careful. or not. do whatever you like. DO leave feedback though or else i will fucking haunt you

***

Faye calls Harry at around 6pm.

He’s asleep, his iPad abandoned by his side with the pen still between his fingertips. He doesn’t know what time he dozed off, but he’s got to thank Faye for the portable heater she bought him for Christmas. It’s magnificent.

Getting himself out of bed to reach for his phone is difficult. When he finally manages, the only thing that makes him pick up is Faye’s photo.

He brings it to his ear. “Hi, baby.”

Immediately, he can hear the frown in her voice. “Oh no. I woke you up.”

“It’s all right,” he says, rubbing his eyes. “I wasn’t supposed to sleep anyways. I’ll barely get a few hours at night if I nap now.” He brings his phone back to his bed and sits down. “What’s up?”

“Um, well I just finished rehearsals.”

“Yeah? That’s good. Got out early?”

“Yes, it’s snowing pretty bad now.”

“Mm, is it?” He forces himself to get back up and take a peek out his curtains. She’s right; the snow lays on the roads, flurries all around still. “You wanna stay on the phone with me until you get home?”

“That’s kind of the thing. I’ve been at this bus stop for 15 minutes and my app keeps saying the bus is about to come, but the roads aren’t properly cleared so I don’t think it’s coming.”

Harry frowns. “You’re outside?”

“Yeah. I walked to the stop, but it’s like a ghost town here. Nobody’s out driving. The buses may have all been canceled.”

“Oh shit. Are you wearing warm clothes? Gloves and all?”

“Yup.”

“Good. Which stop are you at today? I’ll come get you.”

There’s instant relief in her voice. “Thank you.” She tells him which stop and then sighs softly. “It’s not that cold which is good. I suppose I should sit down on the bench but there’s ice on it and I already slipped while walking here. My butt still hurts.”

Harry groans as he tugs his jacket on and grabs an extra beanie. He shoves his feet into his shoes and grabs his keys. “Don’t tell me that,” he says. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” Faye laughs. “I’m okay.”

“Think you can hold on for 15 minutes?”

“Yes, but Harry you have to drive safely, okay? The inner roads aren’t cleared at all.”

Harry sticks a piece of gum in his mouth. “Yeah, love, I’ll be fine.”

“Okay.”

“Wanna stay on the phone with me?”

“Um, I would, but I can barely feel my fingers.”

Harry has to groan again. He’s outside now and thankfully his car isn’t looking too bad. He’ll still need to defrost it a bit. “Faye, you just told me you had gloves!”

“Whoops.”

“Okay, I’m going to hang up, but please try to get warm. Go into one of those shops nearby.”

“The only shop open near me is the chicken shop.”

“Go in there.”

“I don’t like the smell of chicken.”

“I must say that you are insanely difficult today.”

Faye giggles. “I’m not.” She must hear him turn his ignition on. “Okay, bye now. Drive safe.”

“I will.”

She hangs up. Harry has to step out of the car with his snow brush, pushing his way over to clean his windshields. He’s blasting the heat on the inside, and within ten minutes, he’s ready to go. When he gets back in his car, he’s muttering swears, trembling with the cold. “Not that cold, my ass.”

And Faye’s right. The inner roads are horrendous. He drives so below the speed limit, he may as well walk to get her. 15 minutes turn into 20 and by the time he’s pulling up to her bus stop, he’s very worried Faye may be a frozen block of ice. 

Faye wobbles her way over to the car, yanking the door open and all but throwing herself inside. She’s shivering so bad, Harry puts the car in park and reaches over the console to hug her tightly.

“For fuck’s sake, Faye,” he mutters, suppressing a shiver at her cold face pressed into his neck. “I told you to go into the shop!”

“If y-you made me wait any longer, I would have!”

“I drove as fast as I could.”

Harry turns the heat up higher and rubs her arms firmly, trying to get her tight muscles to relax. She’s wearing a winter jacket, yes, but her head is uncovered and she doesn’t even have a scarf. He pulls back to look at her, hoping there’s disappointment on his face. But Faye’s eyes just light up and then she’s lifting her head to get a kiss.

He can’t say no.

He cups her face and softly kisses her. Her lips are cold, but he can still taste the cherry chapstick as if she kept reapplying it every few minutes. She kisses him several more times, but when she places her frozen hands on his neck, he pulls away sharply.

“Faye!” He holds his neck as if wounded. “That’s so cold!”

Faye’s knees bounce. “Sorry!"

She doesn’t look sorry.

He grabs the beanie he’s brought her and throws it onto her head. Her bangs get caught on her forehead, momentarily blinding her, and she laughs, fixing the hat. Her black hair frames her cheeks. She reaches in for another kiss, but Harry stops her with a shake of his head.

“Get warm first. Or else you’ll get hypothermia and then I’ll have nobody to kiss.”

Faye says, “Wow you sound a lot like me.” She holds her trembling hands by the vents, shivering so bad, she’s compelled to make audible noises to show how cold she is, her jaw quivering. Harry starts driving the car again, and once he gets off the main street, he reaches for her hand and holds it in his lap.

“How were rehearsals?”

“Okay,” she says, shoulders shaking. “Maybe people couldn’t come in today because of the snow. I had to do, like, three roles.”

“Opening night is next month, right?”

“Yup. I got you your tickets.”

Harry kisses the back of her hand, squeezing her pale fingertips hard. She's painted her nails dark blue, he notices. “Thank you. Are you hungry?”

“Mhm.”

“Let’s get something to eat then. I don’t have anything at home. Didn’t cook today.”

“Oh. Are we going to yours?”

“Yes.”

“Can I stay over?”

Harry smiles. “Yes.”

“Is Timmy home?”

“Nope.”

“Can we play that video game again?”

Harry sends her a look. “I thought you’d want to watch a movie or something.”

“Well, if you want to. But I had a lot of fun playing that game.”

“Yes, you were so good at it.”

She was not. Harry spent the entire night trying to save her, getting himself killed, and then yelling and begging her to stay alive until he could be revived. Faye had a lot of fun it seems, though Harry wouldn’t say it was a very productive night.

But, if she wants to do it, then they will.

“I feel like I’ll be better tonight,” Faye says, leaning forward to put her face against the air vent. Her eyes flutter shut. “We’ll get to the next level.”

“You mean level two.”

She laughs.

Harry’s pulling up to the take out shop they’ve agreed on when his phone goes off. He answers it on the car’s speakerphone.

“Yeah, mate?”

“Hey,” Timothée’s voice rings out. “Where are you right now?”

“I’m with Faye picking up food.”

“Oh cool. Hey, can you pick me up from the shop, man? My car’s fucking buried.”

Harry sighs. “Yeah, that’s fine. When are you off work?”

“Twenty minutes.”

“Yeah, I’ll get you.”

“Cool, and hey–”

“Yeah?”

“Can you grab me some food? I’ll pay you back.”

Harry says, “I’ll think about it.”

There’s silence on the other line until Timmy says, “Faye?”

She leans in. “Yeah?”

“Can you make sure he gets me food? I’ll Venmo you right now.”

“Will do.”

“Thanks. Bye!” And then he hangs up.

Harry rubs his eye and then unbuckles his seat belt. Faye goes to do the same, but he stops her, shaking his head. “No, you need to stay warm.”

“I’m fine!”

“Nope.” He locks the car after opening his door and gives her a meaningful look. She watches him disappear into the shop.

When he comes back, he thinks she’s looking a lot better. The red in her cheeks has returned and she’s reapplying her chapstick without shaking fingers. He leans over and kisses her, pleased that her lips aren’t frozen anymore. Unexpectedly, she holds onto his collar and kisses him harder, and she doesn’t let him go until he’s chuckling against her lips and trying to pry away.

“What’s gotten into you?” he murmurs, peppering kisses down to her jaw. She shivers, but not from the cold this time.

“Just missed you.”

“Mm.” He kisses her cheek. “I missed you too.”

It’s a lot harder to drive after that, especially because Harry’s hand rests on Faye’s thigh, and she keeps playing with his fingers, occasionally pulling his hand up to kiss his palm. 

When they get to the shop, Timmy rushes into the car and slaps a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Thank you, man. This is great. Thanks. Hey, Faye.”

“Hi.”

“You’re coming over?”

“Yup.”

“Cool. Did you get me any food?”

“Yes we did.” She hands him the aux cord when he asks for it. They listen to his odd taste in music for the ride home.

Harry takes Faye up to his room when they get home. Timmy’s nearly falling asleep so he eats his food quietly and then heads to his own room with a reminder through the walls that he’d appreciate it if Harry and Faye kept it down.

Faye says, “I don’t know why he always says that,” as she’s climbing into Harry’s lap on his bed in his shirt only. He looks up at her, eyes shining, his hands resting just below her butt. She wraps her arms around his neck. “We’ve never been that loud.”

“I mean I certainly haven’t,” Harry teases, pulling her down onto his thighs.

“Me neither!”

“Sure.”

Faye can’t come up with a response, so she kisses him, and then turns around in his lap, back pressed to his warm, strong chest. He places his hand on her thigh, holding her to him. As he’s setting up the game, she reaches over and grabs his iPad, turning it on to see his latest sketch.

It’s a very daunting looking dragon with detailed wings and scales. She zooms in to see all of it, thoroughly impressed. “This is so cool, Harry!”

“Yeah? Thanks, baby. Had a client say she wanted a big dragon piece so I’ve been brainstorming.”

“Where does she want it?”

“Around her bicep.”

“It must hurt like crazy.”

Harry hooks his chin over her shoulder and hugs her tight to him. “Yeah, but as long as they’re happy with it, right?”

She turns her head to look at him with her devastatingly pretty eyes. “Have you done any cool ones this week?”

He makes a show of thinking really hard. “Did a decent snake two days ago.”

“Ooh. Will you post the pictures?”

“Yeah. Haven’t had the time to.”

Faye cradles his face and kisses his cheek. “I’ll be the first person to like it.”

“You always are,” he murmurs, tilting his head back so she can continue her kisses down his neck.

His eyes flutter shut as Faye’s hands run over his arms, gently pressing herself back against him. He feels her breath hitch.

“Faye,” he softly admonishes. “You said you wanted to play the game.” 

“It’s still loading,” she whispers back, shaking him off to be able to turn in his arms again. The force she kisses him with throws him off. He’s pushed back, hands flying out to steady himself against his mattress. She wraps her legs around him and kisses him breathless, her fingers trailing up the sides of his head and then burying themselves into his curls. She presses herself against him again, and then she gently licks at him. Harry welcomes her tongue when he parts his lips.

She kisses him like she hasn’t been kissed properly in years – which is simply untrue because he kisses her until she forgets her name on a routined basis. Faye presses herself even closer, and when the first whine leaves her throat, Harry’s arms are around her, dragging her hips against his. She sighs as if that small contact between them has caused her such release.

The TV makes a noise to tell them the game has finished loading. Faye’s mouth shows no signs of letting him up. Harry pulls up for a second to breathe, and then kisses her again, leaning into her with his hands spread out against her back. They stay there until he’s sliding his fingers under his shirt that she wears, slowly pushing her until she’s laying on her back and Harry’s hovering over her.

“The game,” he whispers.

“Hm?” she manages, rolling her hips against his again, her eyes both innocent and flirty.

He breathes out a swear and then works on pulling the shirt off of her. Faye shivers immediately, but he kisses down her neck and collarbones to warm her up, letting her adjust when she catches onto what he wants to do. She slides back and lets him move further down her body.

“Harry–”

“Yes, baby?”

She changes her mind when Harry’s fingers hook into her underwear. “Oh. Oh, nothing.”

“Tell me,” he says, dragging them down. 

“Well, it’s only that I thought I’d do this for you. Because you, um, picked me up and I wanted to thank you.”

Harry chuckles. “You can do that after this, but right now I have a feeling you’re going to explode if I don’t touch you. Care to tell me what’s got you so worked up? I fucked you so well just two days ago.”

Faye throws a hand over her eyes and Harry doesn’t know if it’s because she’s forced to answer his question while unclothed or if it’s his words that embarrass her. Possibly both.

“It’s because you came to get me and your voice was so deep and raspy and tired and your hand on my thigh and–”

Harry situates himself between her legs and lets her knees come up besides his head. He kisses her soft inner thighs and wraps his arms around them. Faye lifts her head to glance down at him and then moans softly when he licks into her. Slowly. Teasingly.

Her black hair is fanned out around her, her breath coming hard and fast. Her lips are parted, pink and swollen from their kisses. She looks ruined already. Harry will never get used to the sight. He never wants to.

“Fuck,” she whimpers, throwing her head down. Her eyes flutter shut as Harry leans in and takes over completely, his skilled mouth ruthless against her. His fingers dig into her hips, holding her down though she desperately raises herself to meet his mouth.

“Oh, I love you,” she whispers, threading her fingers into his hair. “So much.”

He sucks and licks and laps diligently until her back is gently arching off his mattress and she has to bite down on her knuckles to keep her noises in. Seeing her like this turns Harry on, his body on alert. He feels like every cell of his body has been electrified, but despite his arousal, all he wants is for Faye to fall apart against him.

It doesn’t take her long. Her thighs tremble. She cries out and yanks his hair. The pain is distant to him. Harry lets her use his tongue to ride out her high, and when she’s done, she’s whimpering from sensitivity. Harry only pulls away when she’s whining, “Ah, okay, okay, that’s it, please. No more.”

He grins at her, gently wiping the corners of his mouth. “Always so good for me.”

Faye covers her face. Harry helps her back into her clothes and then lays beside her until she’s ready to turn to him and kiss him. He kisses her hair. “My darling girl,” he whispers. “My baby. So perfect."

She’s straddling him before five minutes are up, her hands resting on his chest, hair falling like curtains around her flushed face. The strands hit Harry’s cheek. His hands are on her thighs again, and he’s smiling lazily at her.

“I love you too,” he murmurs, running his hand up to her waist. 

Faye swallows and grinds down on his length through his sweatpants. “My turn?”

“We can take a break if you w–”

“No,” she says immediately, fingers already pulling Harry’s shirt up. Her eyes hungrily take in every tattoo she slowly reveals. Harry lifts his head to pull the shirt off.

Faye seems to have something in mind already. So Harry just lets her undress him, enjoying the kisses she trails after her hands. She has plenty of energy, preferring to stay on top of him instead of switching back over. 

She works herself over him until she’s throwing her head back and nearly sobbing with relief. Harry watches the pleasure roll over her, her hands in tight fists against his chest. 

“I love you,” she says again, taking deep breaths when it’s over. Her face is a gentle pink, her chest flushed. “I love you so bad, Harry.”

Once he’s pulled out of her, he’s grabbing her waist and pulling her down to him, wrapping his arms around her tight. “I love you,” he says, kissing all over her face, wiping the corners of her eyes. “My pretty girl, I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Spent, Faye lets him cuddle her, her face pressed against his neck. His body is warm and as comforting as always. He mutters how much he loves her several more times.

Some time later again, Faye raises her head from his chest and says in her scratchy voice, “Should we play now?”

And Harry kisses her and says, “Yes, baby.”

[vanillaanillav]

Something I’ve been thinking about is that Till and Ivan knew from as soon as they got the layout of the bracket that they would end up against each other. And while we know what Ivan’s plan was—he would likely throw their match—what the hell was Till thinking? Was he trying not to think about it? His focus in the first round was to confess to Mizi, but he also Very forcefully ensured his success by pulling the rug out from under his opponent. 

Of course they both knew Ivan would win his match. Did Till think he had a chance, or did he think he’d lose? Before Mizi went missing and he suddenly got super popular, was he planning to give his all? I imagine he must have been. Maybe justifying it with the idea that Ivan would win anyway, so he’d go out with a bang, as was his pre-depression philosophy. 

There’s still so much we don’t know about Till’s feelings about Ivan—I think a purposeful move from the creators. I know they chose specifically to make Ivan’s feelings unrequited to contrast Mizisua, but they were friends! And if not friends anymore, there was some sense of comfort and familiarity in just knowing each other. Till acted aggressively to Ivan, but all in reaction to what he thought was intentional provocation (see: cheer up comic). And despite that, he let him follow him around.

In the scene where Ivan touches the cut on his face, he initially reacts aggressively and then sees that it’s Ivan and… calms down? Or gives up? It’s bizarre, I don’t think he’s scared of Ivan exactly, but in these tiny windows we see into how he feels about him, it’s very mixed. I wonder if he feels guilty about turning back when they were kids. Or he doesn’t know how to process Ivan’s attention or what to do about it. 

It should be clear that Ivan is like, embarrassingly horrendously terribly in love with him, but when Ivan kisses him he’s SO shocked. He pulls away, but after the second kiss he looks like he starts to realize that like, oh, this is for real, and there’s just a tiny moment of that before he thinks Ivan is trying to kill him and he gives up. 

There’s something to be said about how he just accepts that Ivan is trying to kill him after he kisses him. After going through what he went through with the aliens—there’s the split second of confused realization, and then he accepts it as just someone else taking something from him, violence and physical intimacy irreparably intertwined. 

I wonder what he thinks when Ivan gives him that last small kiss. If he took the other kisses, this one he gave, this one a gift, a tiny reassurance. I wonder what he thinks after all of it—it’s so much to process in such a short time. I would pay a hundred million dollars to know his thought process in that moment like holy shit man. 

Also, in relation to Ivan’s dislike of Sua and then his later hypocritical sacrifice, a lot of people have talked about how he wasn’t being a hypocrite because she was leaving behind a lover and he was leaving behind the object of his affection, not someone with a mutual feeling. And I think that’s true. I imagine he knew he was going to do the same thing as her and lashed out partly as a kind of projection. Partly out of jealousy that she Had a lover to leave behind, while he thought Till wouldn’t really care about his death.

But I also think (based on the Stage 6 comic) that he gets a brief moment of clarity at the very end where he realizes that their situations aren’t so dissimilar after all, hence the “I shouldn’t have been so hard on her.” He really cocooned himself in the idea that Till didn’t care and would never care, in a way where it almost became comforting to him. But, in those final seconds, after choosing to be selfish with the kiss and then be selfless with his sacrifice, he did realize that Till will be affected by this. Hence, thanking him for being the victim of his fragile feelings. 

It’s such a sad idea… only being willing to contend with the possibility that someone cares about you in some capacity when you’ve already made your exit. It’s cowardly and I think he knows that, but I also think it’s part of that final indulgence he takes. He gets to kiss Till and gets to avoid a world without him. Till gets to live. It’s hard to say which is the better path.

[frvnkcastles]

hey i hope ur okay❤️ can you do Frank x Reader where she has an alcoholic and abusive father who has been in prison for two years and one day he is released and shows up at her house and she is very scared so Frank protects and comforts her

FIND MY PEACE OF MIND ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: When your abusive father turns up on your doorstep, Frank takes care of it.

Warnings: Mentions of past abuse (not specified), alcoholism, hurt/comfort, feminine nicknames

Word count: 1.7k

Author’s note: I know what it’s like to have alcoholism in the family (parents especially) and how dire the consequences of it can be, so you have my absolute sympathy, anon! I’m sending you so much love, and I hope you’re doing alright <3 I added a little detail of Frank offering to make it a completely alcohol-free home because that’s something I’ve thought about a lot, I personally don’t drink at all because of my family and I don’t think I’d be able to share a space with someone who drinks regularly. We see Frank drink occasionally on the show but I don’t think it’s ever implied he has a problem? So I 100% feel like he’d give it up if you asked. Anyway, I hope you enjoy :)

Upon meeting Frank for the first time and subsequently learning he had been in prison, you were understandably sceptical about getting involved with him. You already had a man in your life who had deep-seated anger and hatred within him, manifesting in violent tendencies, and that had scarred you for life. So, you hesitated, and he had immediately seen the doubt and even fear on your face, and although he couldn’t explain why he wanted your approval so badly, he did.

”Hey, if you don’t wanna see me again, I ain’t gonna hold it against you. But you, uh… maybe you should read about me first. Judge for yourself”, he had suggested before parting ways with you, and you had promised to do just that. You had a napkin with his phone number scribbled on it, and against your first instinct, you didn’t throw it away. His words stuck with you, and when you got home that night, you searched up his name and were smacked in the face with a flood of news articles about him.

Most of them were negative, and you had quickly questioned why he would encourage you to read them. Journalists hadn’t hesitated to write horrendous things about him, but they had also dug up his past and spread it all over the internet for everyone to learn about. And it was those tidbits that soon opened your eyes to the enigma that was Frank Castle. He wasn’t a senseless killer and he wasn’t an abuser or a tormentor of innocent people — he was seeking justice for his brutally gunned down family and cleaning up the streets from evil.

You had been wary because of your past with your father, but the more you read about Frank, the easier it became to see that he was nothing like him. In fact, your father was a man who would sicken Frank, a man that Frank wouldn’t think twice about hurting, and that realization welcomed an odd feeling of safety into your heart.

You called Frank the next day, and it was the beginning of him always hanging around you. Before you knew it, your life had turned from bleak loneliness and anxiety about your father’s eventual return to endless kisses, late-night dates on the rooftop of your apartment building and sitting on your boyfriend’s lap while icing the newest bruise on the corner of his eyes. He was a whirlwind but in the best way, and you found yourself completely enamored with him.

He felt the same way, certainly not having expected falling in love with someone, and especially as hard as he had with you. He had tried so hard to stay guarded and deny himself the truth, but it had been impossible to resist you, and so, inevitably, he let his heart be in the driver’s seat for a change and admitted to himself that he adored you.

With your new relationship came opening up to each other about everything you had been through. You had already learned so much about Frank on the news that it felt like an invasion of his privacy, so you had asked him to tell you in his own words when he was ready, and in return, he was all ears when you shared the story about your father and his issues with alcohol. Frank had been more than understanding, immediately insisting that cutting out drinking entirely was something he was willing to do for you — whatever it took to create a safe environment for you. On top of that, he had assured you that he’d do his everything to keep you safe from everyone, but especially your father, and you fully trusted him to keep that promise.

Still, you didn’t expect that hypothetical situation would come to life. You were used to worrying about your father and the eventual time when he’d get out of prison, but when Frank began spending more and more time at your apartment, you lost track of that nervousness and it became an afterthought. You felt safe for the first time in years, but it all came crashing down on one otherwise regular Sunday.

There was a knock on your door and it caught both your and Frank’s attention in the kitchen where you were cooking dinner together. ”I’ll get it”, you smiled at him before he could jump at the opportunity, gently squeezing his arm before you left him with the chopped vegetables and headed for the front door.

You swung it open, and at the sight of your father, your face lost all vitality and your heart sank all the way down to the floor. ”There you are! At least you had the decency to open the door”, he slurred, clearly already intoxicated, and panic emerged in your chest. He had to have been only just released from prison, and here he was, already drunk and tracked you down.

”You’re not welcome here. Leave, okay?” you stuttered, far less demanding as you wanted to be, and the attempt made your father snort. He tried to step inside, but you quickly narrowed the doorway, not letting him invade your home. He reacted with a mean stare, calling you an ungrateful brat under his breath, and you tried your best to fight off tears.

”Sweetheart, who is it?” Frank called to you from the kitchen when you didn’t return, and with a shaky exhale, you realized you didn’t have to face your father alone. You had the city’s greatest weapon right there with you.

”It’s my father”, you declared loud enough for him to hear, and you instantly heard him drop the knife in his hands. Not more than two seconds later, Frank was stomping from the kitchen, fueled by his concern for you but his face twisted into something furious.

”And who’s this?” your father chortled, swaying back and forth in the hallway, barely able to stand up. Frank assessed the situation, and he swiftly understood that there was no talking sense into a drunk man. That was fine with him — he wasn’t really in the mood for polite conversation, anyway.

”Get the fuck outta here. This is your only warning”, Frank grunted, leaving nothing up to debate. He stood in front of you, shielding you from your father who was hardly impacted by Frank’s thinly veiled threat, and you quietly cried from the sheer terror.

”Hey, you can’t tell me—”, your father began, but Frank was having none of it. He shoved your father into the hallway and closed the door behind him, not wanting you to witness their bickering and get upset even more. You were scared for him, but realistically you knew that Frank could take care of himself, especially against someone absolutely wasted and delirious.

Frank dragged your father outside by his arm, his grip enough to leave bruises in the shape of angry fingers, and he wasn’t stopping despite the drunk man’s feeble protests. He was fuming, absolutely livid that your father had had the audacity to show up and put your life in shambles all over again, and he couldn’t stop thinking about all the abuse you had endured. The man under his grip deserved nothing but the worst, and he would have been honored to be the one to give it to him.

Once outside, Frank pushed your father forward, causing him to stumble down onto the pavement. ”You’re a pathetic asshole, y’know that? You don’t deserve someone like her. You don’t deserve to call yourself a father. And if you come here again, I’mma make sure you regret even thinkin’ about it”, Frank seethed, standing above your father menacingly. He didn’t get up or argue back, so Frank considered his job done for now — but he was going to stay true to his word if he’d ever show his face again. The only reason he hadn’t killed him yet was knowing that you struggled with the idea, and he didn’t want to hurt you by hurting him.

He made his way back inside where you were a trembling mess, and instantly softer, Frank closed the door behind him and pulled you into his arms. ”It’s aight, darlin’. He’s gone”, he soothed you, his heart breaking when you burst into sobs against his firm chest. He felt sickened by the thought of what you had suffered through. As a father himself, he could not imagine ever doing that to his children, and he couldn’t fathom how broken a person had to be to resort to abuse the way your father had. It was the lowest of the low in his opinion, and he was almost hoping your father would give him further excuse to royally beat him up.

”I was so scared”, you confessed through cries, and with an understanding nod, Frank kissed your forehead and caressed your hair. He didn’t consider himself to be an expert at giving comfort, but for you, he would always pull out all the stops.

”I know, baby. It’s over now. He ain’t comin’ back, I promise, I’ll make sure of it. He can’t hurt you no more”, he swore, swallowing down his rage before withdrawing from you enough to look down into your eyes. ”I’mma help you file for a restraining order, yeah? And if he still won’t listen, I’ll break his fucking legs”, he guaranteed, entirely serious, but it still got a little laugh out of you.

”I’d like to see that”, you pointed out, and with a small smile, Frank swiped his thumb across your cheek in a comforting motion.

”There’s my girl. Hey, I’ll always keep you safe, you know that, right?” he reminded you, and slowly, you gave him a nod to confirm you trusted him.

”Thank you, Frankie. I’d be lost without you”, you sighed, hugging him again, and he enveloped you into his strong arms while resting his chin on the top of your head.

”You know I feel the same way about you, sweetheart”, he whispered, always so grateful to have you in his life. He found you so utterly perfect and beautiful inside out, he couldn’t believe anyone would ever hurt you. And even though your father had done exactly that, you were still so strong and kind, something he didn’t think he always was himself.

He admired the hell out of you, and he was going to do whatever it took to help you keep your peace of mind.

[cameronspecial]

Let Me In, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Having a Stomach Ache and Being on The Toilet

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.7K

Summary: Y/N isn't feeling well and Rafe can't accept that she doesn't want him in the room.

Masterlist

Whatever Y/N ate has been wreaking havoc on her stomach. She came back home from shopping with Daisy and she had to make a mad dash to the bathroom. That was half an hour ago. She has been on and off the toilet the whole time and this is now her fourth go. Her posture is horrendous as she hunches over with her hand on her stomach. It is the only position that gives some sort of relief from the stabbing pain. It’s been a few minutes since anything has come out, but she is worried if she gets off the seat, it will start back up again. Tears start to well in Y/N’s eyes because she has never felt this type of ache before. Her period cramps are bad, yet manageable with ibuprofen. Something tells her the medicine isn’t going to help her at the moment. 

Rafe pushes the unlocked door open with ease, even with his hands full. He flicks his head in greeting Dylan, who is watching TV. “Is Angel back from the mall yet?” he asks his frat brother. Dylan nods, “Yeah. Although, she’s been really quiet and holed up in your room the whole time. She hasn’t come down to get a snack or anything like she normally does.” “Perfect. I got her a chocolate chip muffin on my way home from class. Thanks for telling me. I’ll go check on her,” he states, heading upstairs to his room. 

Y/N can hear the keypad of the door from inside the bathroom and squeezes her eyes shut. She leans over to lock the bathroom door. Rafe will insist on coming in when he finds out she is in there because they are the type of couple, who is comfortable with doing that; however, the smell she has created in the room is not one she wants to subject Rafe to. His knock reverberates around the room before she can hear the wiggle of the doorknob. “Angel, the door is locked. Can you open it so I can come in please?” Rafe calls out from the other side. She grimaces as another pang shoots through her abdomen, “I’m on the toilet, so no.” “Come on, Angel. It’s nothing I’ve never seen before. I want to tell you about my day,” he points out. 

“Well, I want my privacy. So… no, you can’t come in.”

Usually, he would respect her wishes, except that he can hear the strain in her voice, which concerns him. Either she is hiding something or sh,” he orders, trying the door handle again. Y/Ne is hurt and he likes neither of those options. “Let me in, Angel sighs, “I can’t because.” “Why not?” he inquires. She rubs her stomach to soothe herself, “I’m scared if I open this door, you won’t love me anymore.”

“And why would you think that? Nothing you do could make that happen, Angel.”

“It’s just… My tummy is hurting a lot and the smell in the room right now is not very pleasant. I don’t want to subject you to that, so maybe wait until I’m done to tell me about your day. I really do want to hear about it, I promise.” 

“Angel, if you are feeling sick, then I should be in there comforting you. I promise that whatever it is like in there will not make me stop loving you. Nothing could do that.”

“You promise?”

“Yes. Now, can you let me in please?”

Y/N exhales in relief and unlocks the door. He pushes the handle down, entering without a second thought. Embarrassment runs through her when she notices the small scrunch on his face. He is quick to wipe any emotion from his facial features as he rushes to her side. He squats near the toilet and takes her hand into his. “You don’t have to stay. I know this isn’t the most pleasant environment,” she whispers, wanting to die a little bit inside from the humiliation. He runs his thumb over her knuckles, “It’s not that bad. I live in a frat. I have smelt and seen worse. Don’t worry about it. You are in pain and you need me, so I’m going to be right here for as long as you need.” Globs of water stream down her face. “Thank you. I really don’t deserve you,” she mumbles, resting her forehead against his. Rafe kisses her hairline, “This is the least you deserve, Angel. And I’m going to make sure you are treated like a queen.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

The Avocado & The Turnip (The Surprise, Part 8)

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: established relationship, pregnancy times, fluffy fluff, kind of hurt/comfort (?), mentions of some pretty horrific crimes (duh), gunshot wound, some explicit language Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: A series of hard cases puts a strain on your relationship with Emily. Anxieties run high on both sides, and the reality of Emily's job–and the risks the come with it–feel even more real than usual now that there's going to be a child in the picture.

Week 16: The Avocado

“I just don’t know what to say to him,” Emily exclaimed, resting her chin on your stomach, a worried look on her face.

Your plans for an adorable evening of talking to the baby had backfired. For unknown reasons, Emily had come home in a bad mood, anxious and on edge. Somehow, the news that the baby could likely hear you now had only made her more anxious.

“You can say anything, Em. She’s the size of an avocado. She’s not gonna remember what we say; she’s gonna remember our voices.”

You ran your fingers through Emily’s hair, trying your best to alleviate some of her stress. You’d meant for this to be good news, to be a fun, cute little moment she could have with you and the baby after a brutal day at work.

“Tell her about your day,” you suggested.

Emily glared at you, and you felt yourself shrink. “I can’t tell him about my day!” she yelled, her voice angry. “What am I supposed to say? Hey, little man! I have to leave you tomorrow to go find a guy who’s murdering teenage boys by ripping their throats out with his teeth and then eating them. But don’t worry, I’ve only had to deal with, oh, ten or so cannibals over the years. The chances of you being cannibalized are slim. Never zero though!”

In your head, you knew that Emily’s outburst had nothing to do with you, nothing to do with the baby, and everything to do with the horrendous things she saw at work. She tried very hard not to bring work home with her, not to carry the weight of the horrors she saw every day into your house. But sometimes they stuck to her. Sometimes they dragged her down, and she couldn’t quite shake them. But it wasn’t often that she was mean. She hardly ever raised her voice at you. She knew it scared you.

You sat up and placed a hand protectively over your stomach, trying to keep your face set, impassive, but flinching a little as Emily moved toward you.

She was instantly full of regret. Her face fell as she noticed that your posture had changed from open to defensive, noticed the way your eyes had glazed over–a remnant of trauma.

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry,” she breathed, cupping your cheek. “I’m so sorry.”

You softened when you saw that she was close to crying–a rarity for Emily–and pulled her head to your chest, pressing kisses to the top of her head.

“I’m sorry, baby,” she mumbled against you. “It was just a hard day.”

“Tell me about it.”

“What?” she asked, lifting her head a bit.

“Tell me,” you insisted. “I can handle it. You’re my wife. You had a bad day. I want to hear about it.”

Emily shook her head, her voice so quiet you almost couldn’t hear. “No, you don’t.”

“Hey,” you said, tilting her chin so she was looking in your eyes. “I can decide what’s too much for me, okay?” You rubbed your thumb back and forth along her cheek. “If I say I can handle it, I need you to believe me.”

Emily sighed, exhaling shakily. “You remember after we started dating?” she explained, her voice low. “And I had a really hard time at work because every victim who was a woman made me think of you?”

“I remember,” you answered. And you did. If there had ever been a time in your relationship when you would’ve broken up with Emily, that would have been it. She’d been angry, on edge, paranoid, and even more obsessive about work than usual. It had eventually gotten so bad that you’d given her an ultimatum–start going to therapy or this isn’t going to work. Nearly six years later, Emily still had a biweekly standing appointment with her therapist–unless, of course, she was in the field.

She played with your fingers, quiet for a moment. “It feels like that all over again, but with kids. Child victims are hard anyway, but… every tiny body I see, I just think of him and–” Her voice broke, and you held her a little tighter. “It scares the shit out of me.”

“Of course it does,” you assured her. “That just means you love her, baby. It means you’re gonna be a great mom. It makes sense that those cases hit closer to home right now.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to take it out on you. Or him.”

You exhaled slowly, kissing the top of her head again. “When was your last appointment with Angie?”

Emily sat up, stretching, and shrugged, looking guilty. “Last month, maybe? I just–I’ve been out on cases and…”

“I know, baby,” you said, taking her hands in yours before she could start biting her nails. “It’s okay. But, maybe you should call her and see if she can get you in. Even tonight, you know? Before you leave tomorrow. She does telehealth, doesn’t she?”

Emily nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

She still looked guilty and nervous. It broke your heart.

“Come here,” you said, tugging her onto your lap. She wrapped her arms and legs around you and hugged you like you were the only thing keeping her tethered to this world. And for your part–you held on like you’d never, ever let her go–and you never, ever would.

Week 17: The Turnip

“She what!?” you yelled into the phone, launching yourself off the couch and scrounging around in the junk drawer for your keys.

“Calm down, mama,” Derek soothed through the phone. “It’s just a surface wound. The bullet grazed her shoulder, that’s all.”

“That’s all!? My wife gets shot, and you’re telling me that’s all!?”

You heard a scuffle on the other end of the phone, a distant, sharp Give me the phone! and then there was Emily’s voice, flooding you with relief.

“Honey, I’m fine, I promise,” she said, and she certainly didn’t sound like she was dying.

“You got shot!”

“Just a little bit…” Her voice was sheepish.

You threw up your hands in frustration. “Emily Elizabeth Prentiss! You have a child coming. You can’t be getting shot!”

“I know, I know.”

You sighed, rubbing your forehead. “What hospital are you at?”

“No, baby, you don’t need to come,” she protested.

“Don’t need to come, my ass,” you grumbled. “Where are you?”

Another scuffle and Derek had the phone back. “Y/N. Hey. We’re just in Baltimore, alright? She’ll probably be discharged here in a few minutes, and I’ll bring her home.”

You were still a little suspicious. “Straight home?”

“You have my word.”

It was the longest hour and a half of your life, sitting on the couch, watching the Find My dot of Emily inch its way home. You frowned when you saw her stop at El Rinconcito. That little shit. She was trying to buy you off with pupusas. Well, it wasn’t going to work. Your stomach rumbled. Well, it might work a little bit.

A half hour later, you heard the door unlock. Derek held it open for a very guilty looking Emily, who walked through the threshold with her arm bandaged and wrapped in a sling.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, your hands fluttering all over her, gingerly touching the bandage and turning her face this way and that to check for more damage.

“I’m fine, honey,” she said, pressing her good hand to your face and kissing you.

“Mmhm,” you mumbled, unconvinced. “Tell that to your unborn child.”

Emily crouched down and pressed a kiss to your stomach. “Mommy’s just fine, little guy, don’t you worry.”

It was so cute, you couldn’t even be that mad.

“Alright, lovebirds,” Derek said, gesturing to the couch. “Get comfortable and let Uncle Derek take care of you.”

You grimaced, thinking of straight people things. “Eew.”

He rolled his eyes at you. “Not like that. Sit down and eat your pupusas, woman.”

You and Emily giggled, plopping yourselves on the couch, one on either side.

Derek threw blankets at you, and you got yourselves situated, your legs tangled in the middle. Derek plated the takeout and brought it to you.

“I could get used to this,” Emily said, taking a bite and running her foot up and down your leg.

“You better fucking not,” you mumbled through a bite of pupusa. “I don’t want you getting shot every time you want a lazy day.”

Derek brought you both glasses of water and set a bottle of pain meds on the side table next to Emily.

“Anything else I can do for you, ladies?” he asked. “Foot rub? Serenade? Grocery run?”

You smiled at him. He was so good to you. Both of you. “You’re gonna make some straight woman very happy.”

He bent down to ruffle your hair and to squeeze Emily’s good hand. “I’ll settle for my favorite lesbians for now. You need anything else before I go?”

Emily shook her head. “No, I think we’ll be okay. Thanks, Morgan.”

“Anytime, Prentiss,” he replied, giving her a small salute as he walked out the door. "Call me if you need anything."

The moment he left, you shot a glare at Emily. 

“What?” she said, trying and failing to shrug, thanks to her injured shoulder.

You couldn’t help the worried expression that took over your face.

“Please tell me you’re careful,” you pleaded, brushing a few unexpected tears from under your eyes.

“Y/N.” She sat up, alarmed, and reached for your hand. “I’m careful. I swear.”

“I just… I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“And you’ll never have to find out,” she reassured, rubbing her thumb across the back of your hand.

“We need you, Em,” you whispered, placing your other hand over your baby bump.

She winced a little as she moved forward, pulling your face toward her so she could stroke your cheek. “I’m never reckless, honey. I do everything I can to stay safe. I promise. I will always come home to you.”

You were quiet as she pressed her forehead to yours, breathing in the smell of her, the warmth. You both knew it was a promise she couldn't make, not with her job. But you needed Emily to understand that it wasn't just her she was staying safe for anymore. It was you and the little one, who deserved to grow up with both of her moms.

“Sometimes it scares me how much I love you,” you said, so quiet she almost didn’t hear.

Emily kissed your forehead, then pressed her lips to yours, soft and gentle. “Me too.”

She pecked you on the lips again, then brushed her thumb over your bottom lip. “But you don’t need to be scared today, okay?”

She smiled a little, and you nodded, taking a deep breath.

“Now, eat your pupusas,” she grinned, pinching your cheek.

[tmntxthings]

一∑ All For You・゜・。

author’s note: nice song, idk how I got the yandere vibes, but here we are, also it’s late soooo unedited and prolly horrendous >.<

warnings: yandere!donnie, toxic relationship, gaslighting, lies, manipulation, controlling, cursing

song: “ Feather by Sabrina Carpenter ”

—————————————————————————

Donatello didn’t feel any remorse as he hacked into your phone.

You obviously needed help.

You couldn’t do this yourself.

So he took it upon himself to help you out with this one.

It was honestly torture to watch you with your toxic partner.

And he was past the point of caring about the repercussions you may force upon him.

Donnie was actually pretty sure you would be grateful. This favor he was about to do for you.

It was too easy to get into your phone. Donnie sat in his swivel chair, music playing around him as he dabbled with the keys on his keyboard.

After he had cornered his resolve it was only a matter of time. He knew most of your passwords and while he could’ve just stolen your phone to do this… he didn’t want to chance it.

Donnie wouldn’t just block this asshole. No no. He was going to eradicate this fool from your phone. Wipe it clean of your partner's existence. There would be no way they could reach you and if they tried instead it would alert Donnie.

You were unhappy with your current situation. You came to the lair moping, and in a depressive state due to this punk! And it seemed every time you did go through with breaking up, it would last only a couple of hours before this irritating charmer found their way back into your life. Back as your partner.

Well Donnie had enough. And he was positive you felt the same way. You just needed his help. Needed him to take control and save you. Make all the hard decisions so you wouldn’t have to feel guilty.

Gladly! He would gladly do all these things and more to get you back into a happier state. And you would see! Once you got over the fact that he intruded into your space, and completely blocked someone out of your life… all that was missing was the irl part.

Donnie didn’t know if he was ready to commit murder on your behalf yet. So this would have to do for now.

It had worked too. Initially you had wondered why they weren’t responding to you, messaging or calling you. But as the days went by you were brighter, lighter.

And Donnie had to keep it together to not verbally ask for a gracious thank you. No, this was enough. Just seeing you smile. Yeah. A feather is what you became. You floated into his lab, giggling about some comedy movie you had just finished. Asking him about his latest and greatest.

Now usually Donnie was very attentive to you. Especially when you came in his space. He had to make sure you didn’t accidentally light something on fire or god forbid press a button that should probably have a fingerprint approval on it.

So yeah, he was halfway listening to you. His headphones buzzing from a tune, typing something on his monitor when he got a blip of a notification. One that you clocked in on.

“Who’s that??”

And like a cat he jumped in his seat. Realizing it was a message from your asshole of a partner. He was trying to close out his screens and his fingers flew to cover up his mistake. But the world was against him as your head leaned past his shoulder, scrutinizing the screen as he missed the escape button a trillion times.

“Fucking Asshole?”

You questioned and as you read the message. No the loads of messages that had gone between Donnie and well..your soon to be ex! You took a sharp intake of breath.

“Donnie what the fuck is this??”

He cringed. Finally closing, it made a resound click. “Before I admit to my crimes I’d like to point out how happy you’ve been these past couple of days! Just think, you could be this way all the tim—“

“Donnie!!” You yelled, staring him down now.

He pulled down his headset. “Really Y/n you’re overreacting right now. All I’ve done is block them permanently off your phone and rerouted everything they send to me instead.” He listed all of this off nonchalantly. It was all totally cool. It was chill! It was fineeee!

You just continued to stare, though your eyes had widened incrementally as you assessed the bigger picture. “And you’re responding to them??”

“Ahh well.. I couldn’t help myself. I told myself I wouldn’t but.. pretending to be you and slowly breaking their resolve was just too fun to miss out on! Pretty sure they're gonna break up with you soon!” Donnie tacked on the last sentence as a bonus! A super positive plus that surely you were happy about.

“Donnie this is fucked up. You can’t just do that! You can’t just, UGH! I can’t even right now Dee. I’m leaving.”

You were bolting. And Donnie wondered if he should follow. He swiveled. Once. Twice. Fuck it he was going after you! To explain better.

“Y/n! Wait!” He called out, jumping from his chair and pressing on his wrist tech to call for a battle shell. It shot out from the charging station and latched onto his softshell. Once in place he went in jetpack mode, flying through the sewer and assessing you had already made it topside.

You were steps from walking out onto the sidewalk and into the flow of commuters. That was before his hands found your waist, gripping tightly as he picked your weight up off the ground and he shot into the air.

You screamed, flailing before deciding you didn’t want to fall and clung to him instead. Now you were cursing as he slowed down to land on an empty rooftop.

“You’re no better than them! Doing all of this by yourself! Doing things I never asked for and don’t want!” You hollered, getting heated even though you were still trying to catch your breath. Wind whipped past the both of you, leaving trails of goosebumps on you.

Donnie let you get it all off your chest. And by the end of your rant, “now get me off this roof and leave me the hell alone!” You wanted away. Still trying to run. Well now you had nowhere to go unless you wanted to fall six floors down.

“I think if you just took a moment to look past what I’ve done you’ll see I only did it for you! And it’s benefitted you so far! Why do you want to go through that cycle of breakups again? When I could just take care of this problem for you!”

This all sounded reasonable to Donatello. Nice even. “I know it may look bad to you Donnie, but I really do like them. Despite our ups and downs.”

“More downs than ups..” Donnie muttered. Rolling his eyes at the word you used ‘like’. Whatever. There was no way you liked them. Why were you over all the time then? Why not hang out with them? And brimming with excitement too whenever you hung around? When you did come over after a date with your partner you were never that happy!

“I’m serious Donnie, fix what you did or else this will be the last you see of me.”

What?!

You were threatening him now?? After all he had done? His eyes darkened. A sneer appearing on his face as he stalked forward, “Really now? Where you gonna go Y/n?” Donnie looked out at the empty rooftop. No door, no staircase/fire escape. You took in your surroundings too. Your mouth going into a grim line.

“I’ll call the police. I’ll call your brothers!” Again with the threats!

Donnie expanded his tech bo. And while you jumped back thinking he was about to attack, he just leaned over it, bored to bits already. “Go ahead, try calling up a hero. We’ve got all the time in the world up here for you to understand my side of things.”

You didn’t know why every call you tried failed. Well that was until you looked up to see Donnie canceling it on his end. On his wrist tech. He shot you a swarmy wink when he caught you staring. Fuming. You’d see his point of view soon.

—————————————————————————

below are answered anon asks from this post:

thoughts on ‘jumping’

thoughts on ‘pretending’

thoughts on ‘layers’

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hello~ I don't know if someone has already ask this but I'll just ask anyway. What made you so interested in Jade? I'm not saying it's a bad thing or anything of the sort. I'm just very intrigued.

Also to feed into your J-word brain rot I present to you this, but picture Jade. Lol I saved this photo as hot damn Sebastain.

Hello, hello!! ^^ I’ve made a post before that explains my interest in Jade, but if I’m being entirely honest 💦 it’s all over the place and difficult to read because of how often I go all caps and keyboard smashing. I’ll try to summarize my thoughts here in a way that’s more digestible and calm.

I love many of the little details about his face: the shape of his eyes, the curve of his mouth, how his brows are arched, etc. I also have a visceral, near animalistic urge to tug on that black bit of hair he has sprouting out...

His manner of dress also resonates with me! Jade is usually well covered and in formal attire, and I think that makes it more exciting on the instances when he dresses down (whether that be going without his gloves or choosing something more casual to wear).

His intelligence. I've always preferred characters who rely on their smarts over their strength to achieve their goals, and Jade fits the bill. One particular example is how his UM is limited in scope and usage, so he has to carefully plan and strategize about how and when he casts it. It's nice that Jade can also loosen up and use his cunning not necessarily for nefarious deeds, but just to tease others.

He plays support and he plays it well. I also have a tendency to like "helper" characters (butlers, bodyguards, knights, etc.), which is another archetype that Jade slots into. He is highly competent as a vice dorm leader, personal assistant, and right-hand man (eel?) to Azul. Plus, Jade knows when and how to play to his strengths (especially when it comes to deception and disarming others) and adapt to any situation he is placed in. Jade has even earned the approval of the notoriously hard to please Vil!

He keeps you guessing, and you'll still never even see it coming. I think it's interesting that he appears more docile than Floyd, yet Azul warns his peers that Jade is the more dangerous twin since Jade won't telegraph his schemes or bad moods (unlike Floyd). I 100% agree with Azul; not knowing what Jade has in store or when it will hit you is much scarier--but also much more thrilling in a way, haha...

Similar to the last point but much more specific; I love Love LOVE those moments when he's smiling while saying the most horrendous things (the infamous "what I'd do to anyone that betrays me" line lives rent free in my head). I also adore it when Jade is lying to your face and overacting (like when he pretends he got dust in his eye in book 4). He's so dramatic while lying his heart out, it makes me giggle.

Jade works with many of the tropes I like to go for when I want comfort. Househusband/domestic life stuff, butler looking after you, etc. I have a habit of overworking and forgetting to take care of my needs, so it's easier for me to remember if I pretend like Jade's the one doing the self-care for me.

I appreciate that he appreciates nature. I don't get to touch much grass (not that I don't go outside, it's that there isn't much grass in the area I live in)... so I get very excited whenever I get to just enjoy nature in its purest form, taking in that fresh air. It makes me feel like we're kindred spirits.

The duality of eel. Overall, I'd say that the reason I like Jade so much is because he can be many things which typically run contradictory to one another. I think that makes for a fun character that keeps me on my toes ^^

NOT YOU USING “J WORD” TOO… 💀 It’s spreading… just like a bunch of spores…

Aaaah, it’s Sebastian!! It’s been years and years since I read Black Butler (I think I stopped around the Blue Cult arc?). He’s still just as effortlessly elegant as I remember him being… I guess that’s par for the course for one hell of a butler, huh?

Here, lemme just… *crudely draws on him* THERE WE GO, THE J WORD SSR FOR AN EVENT WHERE WE VISIT THE LAND OF CRIMSON LONG :>

Thank you for your question and the rot fuel 🥰

[thenerdofthegroup]

I will be talking about AAA Episode 5 here so if you don’t want spoilers, don't read. This also is very long. So buckle in…

Right. I will put it into facts and theories and then my actual emotions on what has come out of this. Becausem god... But we will get to that.

Fact: that episode was off. What do I mean by off? I’ll tell you:

BIG ONE: the aspect ratio didn't change. First time this happened for a trial. This is a stylistic choice to tell us it’s wrong

Another big tell: the witches road is going down. Every trial they exit going DOWN. HERE THE EXIT WAS UP

Many people have pointed out how out of character they all are. And my friend gave a great sentence: “They are what Agatha fears”. Jen becomes vile. She is usually a bitch (love you girl) but she was down right horrendous. And after the whole endearing speech in her own trial. I can maybe reason at the end when she was reasoning that Agatha was the problem. But every other time she spoke it was with such viciousness when they were all laughing together mere hours ago. And LILIA AND ALICE! They have never talked like this. Agatha has helped Alice and she wants to ‘humiliate her’? Lilia immediately turned cold and dark? It felt like it was too quick. I would get it if there was build up but Rio outright said Agatha was scared. So to treat her like that isn’t right.

The trial itself. We’ll talk about the building. I’ve looked back and there is no moon engravings on the door. Yes there is the window BUT there are no other references to the moon when every trial has an abundance. And it was not complex. It was just… do ouija, talk to a ghost and leave. Which leads onto my next point

What the actual fuck was that trial?!? Every other trial has been about uplifting these witches. This trial only uplifted Billy. That's not fair. If this was agatha’s (only) trial then it was to literally punish her and leave her with her abusive mother. I know we laugh and go ‘oh yeah Evanora bad’ no. If you don’t understand abusive parents you will not understand HOW BAD that is. Its not being told ‘yeah you should have died’ over and over. I fully believe that Evanora beat her or at the very least was so emotionally abusive that even Rio (and if you know who Rio is then you’ll want to k ow I want to stress that name) literally screamed at her. Rio is most likely the only person Agatha has confided in with what happened. And that's just talking about it. So clearly Evanora is horrible on a degree greater than most parental figures we have seen in marvel.

So to have Agatha’s trial be A) The shortest B) just to punish her C) Everyone suddenly acts the way she fears

Because back to my first point: its all what she fears: everyone she is getting close to turns on her, she accidentally kills one and feels pleasure in the magic but you can see how taken aback she was (I'm not even going to because people saying she did it all on purpose and rebelled in the death needs to actually get checked by a doctor my god, if you can't understand the very obvious drugs metaphor for a morally grey character you may need to rewatch), being left with her mum because her mother was right, Billy being like Wanda, more powerful than Agatha, and punishing her. All of it was exactly what she feared

And the reveal was… well Agatha is the smartest one there. She is my girl… but it was kinda dropped.

And he just has magic… and has a crown. This will be explained next episode but… no there is a bigger part to this. Think about Agatha’s, now THAT was a reveal. The drama, the build up. There were hints throughout the ENTIRE episode. This was dropped. There were hints to him being nick. That’s it. It will be explained next episode but

It was the shortest episode. Just no

There were Westview and Eastview flags above the door… for Agatha? Nah

Everyone just… got over Alices death I mean Agatha looked more upset than Lilia and Jen. I mean, I guess its the most explainable part, maybe they came to the harsh realisation but SOMETHING was wrong

And I would like to state now, Agatha is a BAD PERSON. But she is STILL A PERSON OH MY GOD. We literally saw that in WV. Jac HERSELF said that Agatha wants colleges and friends. Not above power but you could see on her face, you can see in the way she was staring at her hands and- Christ I didn't think people would be oblivious. You could see that so clearly. It was not even a ‘read into it’, she was upset. Whether it was for killing Alice OR because she couldn’t control it again is up to you but she was upset. She is a bad person, and that's why I love her. At the end, she realises that no one is on her side (but Rio but she wasn’t there) and she puts all the masks back up. She becomes horrible because she has just been reminded of EVERY BAD THING that has ever happened (her childhood and nick) and accidentally, once again, killed someone and felt good about it. But this time she knew Alice was helping her. She can be both upset and enjoyed the physical sensation, they can both exist. And that’s the complexity. She is a bad person and you should not be surprised when she does bad stuff, but she does also feel things…

It’s a drugs metaphor. If you need it spelt out, Magic is her drug. She has been put on a cold stop, she now has nothing. It's like, let's take something pg, if you loved eating incredibly sweet things and then suddenly don’t eat anything with sugar in. Losing all of her magic must feel horrible on an atomic and spiritual level. So Alice attacked her and the rush of euphoria after being left with NOTHING hit her as she was being possessed. Evanora left her body and she couldn’t come to her senses because of how euphoric it felt. After having nothing against her will she finally feels something. And then it stopped and you can see the confusion and shock. She can both have enjoyed it and regretted how it hurt Alice at the same time. Because the lesson has never been ‘Agatha is a downright terrible person’ and if you think that you're watching the wrong show. She is a dark character. At the end, she shuts off all her emotions and goes back to what everyone thinks anyway, her safety blanket: being horrible, being the villain and pushing everyone away. If you believe she truly loved that she killed Alice or that she felt no remorse, I will be nice and stop swearing. But rewatch. Because that's not what happened. And the mask only came on when she realised the one person there who was standing up for her (except Rio) now sees her the same as everyone else and realises he is connected to Wanda, I don't blame her for being a bitch! And what a great bitch she was! Kathryn, you are a goddess-

Anyway. Lets stop collapsing her character. She is a bad person but she is a person. She did want to get closer to these women and she did feel bad. Kathryn did not act her ass off there for people to strip it of any emotion.

Right, so, theories because this episode can't be this off for no reason.

Someone said it was a vision. I don’t think so. Good theory but Alice did die. Rio stayed behind (and anyone who knows who she is will know why). I think that did all happen but not the way it should have

Someone said when Lilia removed her hands it let lose a spirit. It didn’t. Agatha didn't start the ritual because she said “Mother maiden crone”. She said it out of turn to not start it

Theory 1: Evanora ruined it. So, someone said that it should have been nick to talk and I slightly agree. Or at least, it shouldn’t have gone that way. Evanora put new rules into the trial. It should have been Agatha fighting through it or something (kinda loose here) but she turned it so that Agatha had to stay with her. Don’t mind this theory but it doesn’t explain why everyone was a bit whack and that ending. Also, the of character stuff only happens after she removes her hands and its her fear. Did Evanora affect how she sees things? Hmmm

Theory 2: This was someones vision. I mean… maybe? But what happened at the end was real because we see them covered in mud later. I think there is mental trickery but not all of it.

Theory 3: kind of my theory that I'm slightly alright with. This was all warped by something. By the seven. I'll explain

They are fighting. What a brilliant scene. But then they fly through a crowd of insects left by vertigo. Alright here is the factor. The Salem seven are finally joining the story and they are just… left? They are just there and then leave them alone? We know they can go around trials because they went around Alice’s so why not wait on the other side for them? Why be so utterly pathetic. If these are the ‘worst’… fuck me because Lilia was harsher in that trial than they were.

Now here is where my autism kicks in and my dedication to knowing everything about Agatha comes in handy: Vertigo is the leader of the S7. She is the insect lady. In the comics, she has telepathy on a level that can incapacitate and make them see things. She is ‘the mind’. Now my friends comment made it click for me, this is what Agatha would perceive as her fear. And it only really kicks in when she removes her hands.

We see her flick a lot of bugs off of her. She is the first one through the bug crowd and clearly the ones most attacked by them. I mean none of the rest have them on them as they enter the trial but they are all over Agatha. So, there's my proposition

What if the bugs affected her mind slightly? What if they adjusted her mind ever so slightly to see her fears OR equally it affects all of them but her the worst. I may even stretch it to say they orchestrated the whole thing. Because its the third trial and it skips right to blood moon AND it’s about Evanora right when they come in, the leader of the coven they are daughters of? Too many coincidences.

This explains a lot. Maybe also with how Billy and Rio are the least affected. Billy was at the back so didn't get hit and Rio is… well Rio.

And everything is attached to her fears: everyone hates her after they were being nice, Billy turns on her and becomes more powerful and punishes her over her mistake, Rio isn't there when it happens, her mother being right. EVERY SINGLE WEIRD THING aligns with her deepest fears. So it has to be directed at her.

Theory 4 that attaches to this slightly: so lets ay this is true and explains the behaviour. We have now TWO options in my mind:

A) The trial wasn’t a real trial

B) The trial isn't over

For A, the Salem seven could have affected it? Maybe? Maybe made it themselves to purposely break them up. I think their whole gambit is to tear them apart to pick them of so Agatha is left alone. So a lot can be explained through that. Also explains the aspect ratio, this is a part of the road

For B, It says that the end is when it clicks goodbye. The trials aren't affected by what happens to the people, its what happens to the danger. Here, nothing was completed. Alice died… and that's it. The ghosts business wasn’t completed. They failed because nothing was done. And what was the objective?!? Every other trial was to uplift each witch or to complete something. In the first, they got poisoned. They solved the poison. Second, stuck in a room with a curse. Killed the curse. Third, ghost appears, ghost… abuses the main character and only leaves after showing Agatha she was right. There was no objective. And at the end, nothing was completed. They distracted Agatha, after a fucking poor performance by Jen and Lilia. They had ages to try and wretch Alice away or stop Agatha and they stood there. And he said it too late. The 0 hit just as he said it. And then they heard Nick’s voice. The trial was still happening. The ouiji was still open. They didn’t accomplish anything.

The door unfolds way too late too. All the others, the exit appears mere seconds after. This took too long. And after Alice dies. That wasn’t the point. And IT GOES UP. It mostly likely responded to them failing OR it wasn’t real. This whole thing is not right. So I think they didn’t do anything. I think the actual trial will continue, maybe connected to the weird morgue room we see later with purple hues. Idk but it either wasn’t agatha’s real trial or it wasn’t completed. No way this was it. I prefer B out of both

Theory 5: love this one. My friend explained it better than I can so here we are,

And to add, it was Agatha’s idea to summon people to the road. I know nothing happened with Rio but Rio is an exception (spoiler once again). The seven aren't. So the seven came on BECAUSE of Agatha, this could add to it

Because also… all of them just disregarded all the rules the entire time.

Theory 6: It wasn’t her trial. It was Billy’s. Honestly don't hate it given his spirit is from Wandas kids and blah blah idk. Kind of fits

Right so we all know that this whole thing was wack and will have an explanation later? Great! Onto my opinions. Lets start off with what I loved:

Kathryn.Fucking.Hahn. Her uncomfortability as they ‘ouija’ (not a verb, hehe), her humour at the beginning, the look of longing on the brooms, her hurt at her mother, her confusion and conflicting over Alice, and the end. THE FUCKING END OH MY GOD GET HER AN AWARD. THAT CHUCKLE. The chuckle made my bones chill. It was outstanding.

Rio this episode was the best she has been. Her defending Agatha. Ooooo you know that’s right.

I loved the broom scene. And their opinions. Agatha is more powerful than a broom. Its ‘undignified’ as she says. Lilia hates the stereotypes. Rio along for everything. Jen and Alice too. It was great

Alice. My girl… the way you could see her immediately soften when Evanora said it. She literally screamed for her to stop and tried to save her. Love you Alice. I know you coming back somehow because in the very first trailer we see a scene of her in a purple lit empty room. Can’t wait to see you again girl

The parallels between Alice and Agatha too. Alice’s discovery was that her mum was better than she thought. She was protecting her. Agatha’s is that she is worse. Even after centuries she is asking others to kill her. What a twat.

All the actors were phenomenal. That's a given

The entire thing looked beautiful

That whole talk with Evanora was heartbreaking. And clearly so much had happened and Evanora was clearly a terrible terrible person. And when someone said it mirrored homophonic religious parents my hear shattered. So good. Just so so good

I don't mind knowing rio’s spoiler now because it's an explanation on such a mysterious and… confusing episode. I like spotting the things now. One thing that makes sense 😭

What I am about to say is not a reflection on Joe. Although I did giggle because… well when Kathryn is giving an award winning evil performance and acting circles around everyone after such a devastating scene… eh I won’t make a joke. But I think he is a great actor and Billy is a good character. He's not my favourite. When you have an entire show of women I will only look at them. I will say the ‘BILLIE’ Eillish song at the end was a good touch. That aside I didn’t mind the reveal. I am excited to see what he looked up for Agatha in the flashbacks next episode. I’m just not fused about him 🤷‍♀️ not everyone has to love every character. I only care about him in relation to Agatha

Right, criticism now, and I hate criticizing this show. I have never done it properly before for this show because I haven't found anything to criticise, so the fact I'm doing this shows how weirded out I was. Most of this is based on people though:

Why the fuck was it so short. This must mean the other episodes are much longer but to have Agatha’s trial, real or not, and the centre episode the shortest? I didn't like that

These are now about the people

My own personal annoyance: we are now going to have to have a whole week of having to now focus on Billy when so much Agatha trauma was there. I knew billy would have his spotlight but now for everyone talking about the episode, that is the only thing that they will focus on, instead of everything else. But I can deal with that because I won't be focusing on it, because to me it is not the important part of the episode. My own annoyance is explainable and irrelevant.

I theorise on what I like. I will not be focusing on Billy unless it relates to Agatha. So I am not mad about that, it just ticks me off it happens in the episode they finally show a bit more of Agatha’s backstory

Right, my complaint about people. Fuck all of you saying that ‘this show has finally gotten good’ because billy has been revealed. Genuinely fuck you. Because once again, and I'm shockingly surprised because a LOT of these people saying billy is the only good part are coming from Wanda stans on twitter. But whatever. People are allowed to be a bit annoyed that, from surface level, 1) ‘Agatha’s trial’ episode was the shortest and then revolved around Billy in the end 2) people are allowed to criticise what happens. They should never hate on Joe, but I have seen people send threats over some people saying they don’t like billy. It is a fair criticism for some people to say that they don’t like that the one man that is is now going to get the attention of this episode

Also very mild proof that this is happening:

Right, point two about how people have reacted and this is real. This is Stan feud, I’m not a child. I like hoes acting. I liked heartstopper and I think he’s doing great. This is about real life consequences: that fucking article. If you have been on Twitter you most likely know what I'm talking about. But a magazine article published an article saying “Billy has made MCU history” and the only article about Agatha, you know the MAIN CHARACTER with a ROMANTIC STORY WITH ANOTHER WOMAN, was basically saying “Are they gay? Hm I don't know”. And then, they released ‘all the gay characters in MCU’ and LEFT OUT AGATHA. FUCK YOU SINCERELY. This is why so many women struggle with coming out. Because no one takes us seriously. His boyfriend had been mentioned ONCE ON A FUCKING PHONE and he’s making history when the entire C plot of this show is about Agatha and her ex-wife and her relationships with them all. Fuck you. People in my life ask me why it took me so long to figure out I was gay. It's because of this. People don't take us seriously and this is EXACTLY what a lot of us feared. Billy, yay, amazing. I like that they are showing him a bit more. I want all of these characters fleshed out. But now, everyone's reactions to it are reinforcing that we are not taken seriously by the wider world, including some of the queer community. Agatha’s whole B plot is about her and Rio. And it was so beautiful in this episode. And even if you aren't interested in the romance, Agatha’s story was amazing! Painfully short but amazing! But now people only want to focus on the man. It's one thing to fear it because originally I dismissed it. But everything that has come out since then has reaffirmed this fear queer women hold. That sapphic relationships will NEVER be taken as seriously and will always be secondary to men. So fuck all of you contributing to that. Truly fuck you

Breathes in, breathes out okay. Rant over. I can just ignore these things. And I am. Its just infuriating to be reminded.

But in the wait, this feeling for many will get worse especially because some of you stans are reinforcing it. I think Billy is fine. I think his backstory will be interesting. But I saw someone try to theorise and someone said ‘Who the fuck cares. Billy is finally here to save the show’. It’s one thing to have a favourite character, it's another to do all of this

On the other side, people who are attacking Joe, that is not fair. Every character will have their spotlight. My critique is that it takes away from Agatha’s trauma this episode a lot but it is not his fault. So let’s never attack the real people

Also if you like his character, amazing. I like that every character is full rounded. But if people have genuine critiques, don’t be mad. People can have opinions. Just as don’t attack people for like him.

Let’s just be nice. Some of you need to go back to preschool “lets treat others how we want to be treated” my god

Rant over. Yay

Thank you to anyone who is still reading. I hope this bring to light a lot of the ‘off things’ with it and maybe show some opinions. I needed to rant because my god some of the things I've seen… But conclusion: everything is wrong. Its one thing for people to be out of character. Its another for the whole trial system to be fucked, the S7 sidelined again, Billy etc. Its wrong on purpose.

I think I will only form an actually feeling in this episode when I see the next one that will explain everything. I need an explanation to say whether I like it or not. But I will say, the other 4 are to me some of the best things ever produced ever. I want to desperately love it but I need to wait.

Anyway, hopefully now that the emotions have died down we can all start theorizing based on that. Here is my attempt haha

I would love to hear any ideas or thoughts! Just please be nice. I'm fragile haha

Your reward for reading to the end: Agatha and Rio being gay

[sxddekarios]

a very wholesome magic lesson

i am back with a bg3 rebranding!! this is the first fic i've ever wrote, and it's my take on Gale's act 1 romance scene at the tiefling party. Him and Tav are both oblivious to the others' feelings. read on ao3 or here!

2.2k words (of fluff)

---------------------

“I think it’s best in my condition if I don’t get too excited,” Gale reminds himself.

“Well, who said anything about excitement? Surely you’re not *that* keen on a little magic trick. I’ve seen you do plenty of other magic.” Tav responds with her signature furrowed brows.

“It’s not … the magic, per-say. More what comes with it. Though perhaps I’ve had too much wine for this conversation.” Gale attempts to stop him self, as he usually does when he’s bitten off a bit too much to chew in the flirting department.

“For what conversation? I just want to learn some more magic. There’s no way I can go enjoy our celebration, and sleep, after this cliffhanger…” Tav trails off, trying to bait him into explaining without having to fish too directly (or embarrassingly) for it.

Gale raises an eyebrow at Tav, knowing that he’s never been able to turn down an ask of hers before. He got into this mess with the orb by being a pleaser, after all. “Have a glass of wine and I’ll see if I can handle making this much of an ass of myself” Gale sighs.

Tav grabs his glass of wine and takes a tentative sip. She makes a face, disgusted by the tartness. Luckily, she manages to swallow the offending liquid. “This is all you’re getting from me, I’m afraid. Unless you can magic this into something bearable, or you’re hiding some other vices somewhere in that tent of yours, you’re gonna have to deal with talking to a sober person right now.”

Gale looks at her in mock astonishment — “Have you no taste? Have you never drank wine before? This is a *delectable* indulgence that clearly you have not been educated on. Or, perhaps, you lack the sophistication that i’ve grown terribly used to in Waterdeep.”

Tav grimaces while preparing herself for her next attempt to shut Gale up …. at least telling him how he *should* shut up, that is. Letting out a deep breath, she grabs hold of Gale’s glass and chugs it. As much as she can anyways, which still takes an eternity too long to ensure she doesn’t choke. “It’s still horrendous. But we’re even now. Spill, before I do.”

Gale glances at the empty glass in disappointment, but holds onto it. He steels himself for his next words while keeping his eyes downward. “If you must know, I speak of … physical excitement. I can handle magic, but my heart may not be able to handle … more carnal conditions of the flesh. With the orb, I risk exploding with any activity, or *feeling*, that gets my heart beating too fast, my blood pressure too high,” Gale explains.

Tav raises an eyebrow in response. “Like, you’re gonna explode as in ….” she trails off again, hoping he’ll take the hint. She knows he must be referring to the catastrophic Netherese blast they had spoken of before, but she couldn’t help herself from teasing him about the double entendre.

The blush taking over Gale’s face and neck came on far too suddenly for him to blame it on the wine. “No! Gods no, not like that! The magic in the orb will destroy me and everything around me,” Gale exclaims. Much to his avail, Tav still doesn’t stop her line of questioning.

Crossing her arms, Tav decides to enjoy the flustered nature of a blushing, tipsy Gale. “Okay, but you’re still saying you’d explode …. literally …. because you’d explode …. sexually. You said you wanted to show me a *magic* trick, not fuck my brains out.”

She pauses for a second when he lets out an indignant gasp at her directness. “Unless I’m mistaken on what a magic trick is, in which case I think you should’ve lead with that,” Tav finished with a smirk, finally meeting his eyes. She can feel the exasperation exuding from the wizard, and she loves every second of it.

Gale has no choice but to shake his head in lack of a coherent response to Tav’s brazen words. “I suppose you’ve got me there. I can show you some magic, no nefarious subterfuge. And no explosions of any kind, mortal *or* magical,” he emphasized.

Tav worries at her lip for show. “You really won’t blow up, right? Or you’ll at least warn me if you feel too much … *excitement*, stirring? We can’t leave scratch an orphan.” She thinks of mentioning the chaos that Astarion would unleash without them to reel him in, but she didn’t want to darken the mood too much.

Gale smiles at her words and lets out a little laugh as he promises that they’ll be safe. He holds out his hand, palm up, for her to take. Tav takes a hard look at his fingers for a moment, trying to commit their beauty to memory, before gently laying her hand atop his and intertwining their fingers to be led farther out of the camp. Once they reach a more quiet spot a few minutes later, Gale stops, forfeiting her warm hand to turn to her.

“This will do. Now, I want to show you the true embrace of the Weave. It’s a full-body experience to wield the Weave and feel its support of your magic,” Gale says with a smile on his face and wonder in his eyes. Tav categorizes this as his professor face, imagining him introducing lessons to his students with this pure enthusiasm.

Nevertheless, she’s more comfortable bickering with Gale than sharing that heart-warming thought with him. “You know i’m a sorcerer, right? I’ve been using the Weave my whole life. Unlike *some* people,” she pointedly includes to rile up the wizard.

“Of course. You’ve received the gift through your ancestor’s carnal relations with some dragon, while ‘some’ of us have *worked* for it,” Gale smiled, letting her know that he was joining her sarcasm in jest. “Nonetheless, there’s a very different feeling to using the Weave that comes with the years of study a wizard has. *That* is what I wanted to show you. I know you can call on the Weave as second nature, and you do a wonderful job with it, but I want you to experience the pleasure of embracing the environment, carefully going over the incantation and hand gestures, and using this to manipulate the Weave to bring your spell into reality.”

Tav felt her heart rate sky rocket with Gale’s praise for her sorcery. She wondered if the feeling he spoke of was really common to all wizards, or if he had a deeper connection as Mystra’s former lover … or victim, if you ask her. Still, she tried to focus on the positive.

“Ah, so you took me here to teach me slow careful pleasure,” Tav teased. “Get on with it then,” she encouraged with a wave of her hand.

Gale laughed in response, a deep sound that flooded Tav’s head with a light feeling, and took over her lips with a full grin.

“As you wish,” Gale bowed his head towards Tav, and proceeded with his magic lesson.

—

After an hour of teaching Tav how to connect with the Weave in this almost spiritual manner, Gale smiled at her once again. “I know you’re genuinely a natural at magic, but you did a wonderful job with this. It’s hard for someone to harness this connection without the education of a wizard.”

Tav smiles back at Gale and considers herself. “Or, maybe you’re just a good teacher.” As sure of herself as she was in magic, she was more sure of Gale’s ability to educate others. From his admirable desire to help others to his enthusiasm for knowledge … to the voice, face, and *hands* that made it impossible to zone out on him. He didn’t need to know that last part, though.

Gale chuckles at her praise, a light blush spreading across his face. “That too. How are you feeling now?” He asks, hoping his little magic lesson has been half as joyful for her as it has been for him. He felt relaxed, renewed, grounded, and more connected to her than he had ever felt. Although, that last part may be because he’s still standing so close to her, holding her hand as he needed to guide her through the more intricate parts of spell casting.

Tav allows herself to stare into Gale’s glimmering brown eyes, feeling a psychic connection between them where her thoughts could become his without the need to be verbalized.

After a lifetime of men being upset at her, accusing her of expecting them to read her mind, here is a man who can simply do so. Of *course* it’s Gale. Tav feels her eyes well up as she revels in the intense hope, adoration, and yearning she feels for him. Gazing into Gale’s eyes, their hands still intertwined, she imagines what it would be like to press onto her tiptoes and softly kiss him.

Gale’s eyes widen with shock as the thought dances into his mind. “I - I didn’t think -” he stutters, “I wasn’t … expecting that. Not that it’s unwelcome — it was a most pleasant thought,” Gale adds in hopes that Tav doesn’t take his surprise as disinterest, or even disgust. “It just took me by surprise,” he reiterates.

Tav takes a moment to compose herself before exhaling a shaky “okay.” Then, she whips her head around as she smells bergamot wafting in from the distance. Gale follows her gaze until they both see Astarion stumbling into the clearing … closely connected to Shadowheart.

“Well, looks like we’ve got company,” Gale tries (and fails) to keep the annoyance out of his voice. “We might want to get back to camp before we have to witness whatever is going to happen here.”

Tav slowly turns back to gale, smiling as she notices his stony stare at the oblivious couple. “As long as we’re not able to hear them from camp…”

“Oh gods, I don’t even want to think of that,” Gale grimaced. “Why don’t we head back, and if we hear anything, you could come sleep in my tent?” He quickly adds,” I have a silencing ward. I’d cast one on them before we leave, but I’m afraid my concentration won’t last once I fall asleep, and I know how fitful your rest is.”

Astonishment, anger, and amusement fight for dominance over Tav. She conveys a mix of them with her slack-jawed expression. “You had a *silencing ward* on your tent this whole time? And you didn’t *tell me*?” She kept her outrage playful, although she was disappointed that he hadn’t shared this with her earlier.

“I’m sorry,” gale said in earnest as he took her hand and started leading her back towards camp. They left a wide berth for Astarion and Shadowheart to continue ripping each other’s clothes off.

“I started working on a ranged ward for your tent after I earned of your insomnia, but I never quite got it to stick. I didn’t want you to think I was coming onto you by offering a place in my tent to get some good rest. I don’t expect anything, and I could even sleep outside of it if you’re more comfortable with that.” He felt a bit less forward with the offer now that he knew she thought of kissing him — at least in that moment. Still, he never wanted her to feel pressure.

She gazed up at Gale as they reached their camp. “Really?” she asked, unsure if someone could genuinely be so kind. Last time she had an offer like that …. well, they lied about expecting nothing.

Gale squeezed Tav’s hand in reassurance as he took in the concern in her voice. “Of course. I’m sure our adventure would benefit from a well-rested leader… do you want my tent alone, or …” he trailed off, his bashfulness returning.

“No!” tav exclaimed. “I’m not taking your tent from you! We can share it, if you’re okay with that?” She hurries along in an attempt to be thoughtful and nonchalant at the same time, “whatever you want. Sleeping on opposite sides, together … I’m fine with either. Well, by together I mean … you know what I mean,” she shook her head as she tried to explain herself.

Then she remembered their little joke and smirked, “no undue *excitement* is what I mean.”

Gale returned her smirk with a laugh, “Right, always looking out for me. It’s lady’s choice though, and i’m happy with either as well. But I will say, I know you run warm. I also know that I can use a frost enchantment to keep you cool so long as we’re touching.” This was his masterful attempt at sweetening the deal without pressuring her by saying how much he longed to hold her in his arms … and damn him if it wasn’t going to work.

“Gods, you’ve really been holding out on me, haven’t you?” Tav admonished. “I’ll just, get some of my stuff, and then I’ll join you. I’ll bring my blanket so I hopefully won’t steal yours, but I make no promises.”

He smiled as he met her serious gaze at the threat of stealing his blanket. “Two is always better. I’ll see you when you’re ready,” Gale said softly, watching her head back to her tent. He silently thanked her for wanting another blanket, giving him a moment alone to bask in the excitement of a night with her. And calm down this excitement before she returns so he doesn’t scare her off.

[pxgeturner]

kiss it better - t.m riddle

prequel to “milkshakes & confessions” told through mainly his pov

an. all of my tom writing takes has the golden trio cast in modern day. i like his era friends like rebastan, abraxas, rosier. i just don’t know enough about them to write in that era. And also it just easier to write them in a modern setting as i can sprinkle in some modern muggle things. also i’m kind of tired of tom calling hufflepuff r “badger” in so many fics, so she has a much cuter animal nickname. also.

warnings: tommi is down horrendously for r. also theo is an asshole in this.

m.list

he sits a row behind her, next to his friends, listening to her giggle at something her lab partner said. He thinks they’re roommates.

theo leans toward him, whispering, “y’know, riddle, i was walking through the halls yesterday, and that one fell and scraped her hand,”— theo gestures first to the partner, then her— “and she takes her friend’s hand, kisses it fucking better. like a pathetic child.”

tom tilts his head. “hm.”

she leans forward, presumably to note one of professor snape’s remarks, tom isn't sure. he hasn’t paid attention in weeks since he read ahead in the textbook.

“you shouldn’t be so rude, she’s a nice girl.” pansy shoves theo’s shoulder.

“she’s a hufflepuff.”

“so?”

“she’s probably making chocolates or writing secret admirer letters for tomorrow.”

“no she’s not. she’s going to be studying divination tomorrow in the library. she asked me if I wanted to but blaise is taking me on a date.”

“why would she ask you to study with her?” theo scoffs.

“because i’m her friend you idiot. where do you think i’ve been eating my lunch?”

“you’ve gone completely mental.”

“that’s you, you absolute wanker.”

tom sees a hufflepuff who hangs around her quite often. he watches them. soon she approaches them, embracing excitedly in a hug. she squeals unnecessarily. she does it cutely.

“your friend is over there,” he says to pansy.

as pansy looks over, the cute hufflepuff girl notices the group of slytherins and rushes over. “hey, pans!”

“hey.”

“guess what?” “what?”

“professor sprout gave me extra credit on my paper! she was very impressed that i knew about the roots of the bone thistle plant because it wasn’t something that we studied.” her eyes are bright with excitement and her hands dance around as she talks. sometimes her ‘r’s come out a bit too soft and sound like ‘w’s. she smiles widely and it shows her lovely crooked teeth. the sheer nail polish she put on last week is chipping and fading at the tips. she’s wearing her favorite lipgloss and shoes. they’re the ones she wears most often. the lipgloss is red and the shoes are platform mary janes. he likes red lips and mary janes. he likes girls that have lisps and imperfectly lovely teeth. he likes girls who fidget and have chipped nail polish. he likes girls who do all those things and are her.

by the time tom tunes back in, the subject has changed.

“you should have tom study with you. he doesn’t understand the arcana.”

she turns to tom. “i’ll be in the library tomorrow evening studying for the quiz on monday. you should definitely join if you need any help. if you do come, you should bring the deck you borrowed from professor trelawney.”

tom hopes she can’t hear his heart beating, and nods. she says something more to pansy. he leaves, theo follows.

“oh my fucking god. oh my fucking god, pansy, i hate you.” she giggles.

“all of you slytherins are preying on my downfall.” she glares at pansy, enzo, blaise, and draco.

“we’re trying to help,” blaise snickers.

“by having me make a fool of myself!”

mattheo passes by, and then backtracks. he moves around the sucker in his mouth and chuckles. “this is absolutely rich.” he turns back around, “i’m gonna go talk with my brother.” that didn’t make her feel any better.

...

it’s so romantic to spend valentine’s night hunched over a desk with a tarot deck, pendulum, and a mug of now-mostly-cold tea. of course a notebook is part of the party too. she checks the clock and the surroundings compulsively, worried that tom might not show, but she has no idea what she would do if he did. it got excessive, so she forced herself to stop.

tom finally makes it to the library. he sees her at the table, her supplies sprawled out in front of her. he approaches the table, pulling up a chair and sitting across from her. she doesn’t look up, which is fine; tom has plenty of patience. he watches her flip a card and write something into the notebook, and flip another, write something else, periodically sipping from her mug, for five minutes. as she’s about to flip over another card, he uses two fingers to tap the table twice. she yelps, the card leaving her hand and flicking him in the chest. her eyes are wide, and bright, like a bunny.

“hi,” she whispers.

he returns the card. “i’m sorry for being late. a first year needed homework help.” he doesn’t really like lying this time.

“that’s all right! i’m glad you could make it.”

tom nods.

“what kind of things were you hoping to cover?”

“i don’t quite understand why we must take such a useless class. it’s not even magic.”she looks at the table, suddenly interested in her pendulum.

“something wrong?” he wasn’t expecting that kind of reaction.

“i’m, uh, planning on studying divination in university.” oh. “but i know it’s an acquired taste, no biggie.”

“i didn’t mean to offend you. i suppose i should try to understand it. for the class at least.”

“i think i could help with it. who knows, you might like it.”

tom gives a small smile.

“all right, so in a tarot deck there are five arcana.”

“suits.”

“yeah. there’s the four minor arcana: wands, pentacles, swords, cups. the major arcana are the unique cards, like the empress, magician, devil."

he nods.

...

as the two of them are packing up, her bag’s zipper gets stuck. shepulls at it, trying to unstuck it.

“move.” he’s right behind her. she can feel his shirt rub against hers. she slides to the left to give him room. his long fingers manipulate the back of the zipper, quickly freeing the zipper from its thread prison and zipping the bag up the rest of the way.

“pfft, that’s so obvious, why didn’t i think of that? i swear i can be so dumb.” she takes the bag as he offers it back to her.

“you’re not dumb,” he says. “you’re one of the smartest girls in your year.” if she didn’t have such a brain-melting crush on him, she’d laugh. “but you’re definitely the prettiest.”

her cheeks are hot and she doesn’t know what to do. “wow, thanks.” she wants to slap herself.

“there’s a café in hogsmeade that is still open, do you want to go get a drink?”

he just asked me on a date. it is a date, right? “won’t we get in trouble for being out past curfew? pretty much everyone is back already.”

he leans in close to her, fixing a strand of her hair. “relax, you’re with a prefect. nothing bad is gonna happen.”

“let me drop off my bag first?”

...

the two of them talk about everything-- and nothing-- all at once. he pays; she tells him he shouldn’t’ve. he says, “don’t worry, bunny,” which makes her blush once again. once the order is ready, he is the one who goes to pick it up. when he gets back he places a brown pastry bag on the table with her drink. he sees her eyeing the lemon poppyseed scone. she tells him he shouldn’t have, and he says it wasn’t a problem. she insists they share the pastry.

she talks about her family, he tells her about his. the two of them share stories of his brother being a distraction. both of them recommend books to the other. her hands keep brushing against each other as they pick off pieces of the scone. tom orders another. the barista makes a last call for drinks, and he orders her a decaf lavender latte, because he can’t have his girl sleepless, now, can he? she stays until closing, not wanting to leave the bubble she’s created here, with this sweet boy.

before they head out into the frosted air, he zips up her jacket. as they walk back to the castle, he holds her steady. going uphill, the two of them reach a particularly slippery stretch of sidewalk that wasn’t slick on the way over.

“if i fall, you’re buying me dinner as compensation,” she tries to joke. she feels like she’s two seconds from being flat on her face, but tom isn’t wavering at all.

“oh, of course, and i’ll kiss any bruises better as a bonus.” that makes her quiet real quick.

she survives the hill, slightly disappointed that she didn’t slip. once they’re back in the castle, he even walks her to the hufflepuff dorms. “i’ll see you tomorrow, bunny,” he whispers in her ear. he takes note of the smell of the shampoo she uses.

he returns to his dorm, and theo is still awake. he’s at his desk, finishing an assignment. “you studied divination with her,” theo states.

“yes.” tom starts to change into something more comfortable.

“you took her on a date.” “yes.”

“do you think you could love her?” “yes.”

“i knew it.”

“how?”

“you stare at her. not like how you stare at other people. your expression is fairly neutral, to be fair. but you look slightly peaceful.”

tom makes a soft hum. “then why do you hate her so?"

"i don't"

“you don’t?”

“i wanted to get a reaction out of you, you golem of a man.” tom hums again.

“goodnight, nott.”

“goodnight, riddle.”

as tom is about to turn out his lamp, theo speaks once more. “don’t break her heart, tom. she’s a nice girl.”

and while tom doesn’t answer, he thinks about how he’d try his hardest to never make those beautiful eyes shine with tears.

[pparadiselost]

by the heart.

miya atsumu x fem reader atsumu's courage is commendable, even if a little misplaced. warning(s): nsfw, slight femdom, titjob minors do not interact.

“yer tits are so fucking hot…,” atsumu whines, the usual bravado of the cocky setter disappearing quickly as you kneel before your boyfriend. it’s no foreign scene to you: glancing up at his flushed face in between his legs, with atsumu perched on the side of his bed and staring down at your naked body as if you were crafted painstakingly by god’s loving hands.

if such a god even existed to begin with. 

you keep your face neutral, doing your best to maintain a straight expression as you let his eyes roam all over you. atsumu loves letting his eyes and hands wander, and he never fails to be attached to you in some way if he can help with. most of the time it’s just him being a clingy boyfriend without any other intentions attached, but on the off chance that it isn’t, all you could say was that you had gotten very familiar with the feeling of his hands pawing at your breasts and his cock sliding wildly in and out of you.

and atsumu always ate up any love you were willing to throw his way, eagerly lapping up your time and affection as if he were a kitten drinking up a bowl of milk. but for whatever reason, he had been extra clingy today, practically draping himself all over you and trying to cop a feel at your body whenever the opportunity presented itself.

“i wanna fuck yer tits-,” his rough voice jerks you back to reality. his hard cock hovers just inches from your face, standing proud and tall and yet still craving your attention. “bet yer boobs would feel so good around me… fuck- i’ve always wanted a boobjob from ya…”

“-and where’d that idea come from?” you eye him warily. “lemme guess, some stupid porn vid from twitter?”

you could already envision the scene in your mind. atsumu and his dumb, insatiable cock, beating himself off to a video of a hot girl wrapping her breasts around someone’s hardened length. he’d touch himself the way he liked best, his mouth parting and letting out his usual loud moans, imagining that it was you touching him. atsumu has such horrendous habits that you have yet to fully banish, but he justifies it by saying that being this infatuated with you only exacerbates his vices.

“does it matter? ‘m horny- c’mon, can’t ya do this for me? wanna touch you- want you to touch me…” he grips his dick, giving it a few lazy strokes. he can’t tear his eyes from your chest even once, and he greedily lets his gaze trail over the plush flesh of your breasts. 

he can’t help but be a little bit of a shallow pervert around you. your body’s so ridiculously stunning; how could anyone blame him for wanting to get his hands all over you? your tits are so soft and sweet, and he loves groping at your mounds with his big hands or even sucking on your sensitive nipples. you always act like you’re above getting horny, like you can’t stand the thought of letting your boyfriend do something so depraved to you, but your shy face and pleasured moans betray your true thoughts. 

you frown, but you still inch closer to him. “just once. only once, okay? i can’t keep letting you get away with shit like this, miya. that dirty mind of yours is no good at all.”

“my mind’s only dirty ‘cuz of you. ‘t’s not my fault yer too hot for yer own good.” he swallows thickly. you arch your back slightly, and you press your arms to your sides, letting the plump curves of your breasts perk up as your arms hoist them somewhat upwards. atsumu’s cock throbs painfully in his hands at seeing you offering up your tits to him like that. you look like you want to put a bullet through his head, and fuck- atsumu thinks that’s the hottest thing in the world. 

he taps his cock against one of your tits, letting his heavy tip slap against your nipple. you bite back a small whimper when you can feel the contact. a jolt of electricity rips through your body, trickling like liquid fire down your insides and settling with a simmering aftermath in your core. atsumu looks utterly entranced as he continues to rub his tip against your nipple, and you suck in a harsh inhale. 

your nipple starts to harden and pebble under his teasing, and with each curious prod from him, you shudder and squirm. it’s tantalizing, too humiliating for you to say that it feels good, but enough to let him continue having his way. sticky pre-cum spreads all over your areola and your skin, and atsumu moves his attention towards your other tit. he does the same, panting like a goddamn dog as he prods and pokes your nipples. your body is quick to respond to him, and you feel the way your inner walls twist and pull, the clockwork like signs of arousal flaring up in your cunt.

“here-,” the blond releases his cock, letting it stand as it is in front of you, “-i wanna see ya wrap your boobs around me.”

“you’re a good-for-nothing pervert,” you spit disdainfully. you move your hands up your stomach and towards your chest, and instead of giving him what he wants, you let your fingers wrap around your nipples. you massage your breasts for a little bit, imagining that it’s your said good-for-nothing boyfriend’s hands groping you instead of your own. you roll your hardened buds over your fingertips, letting out tiny gasps as you can feel the pleasure jerk your thoughts around.

atsumu simply laughs, leaning back against the bed as he admires you touching yourself. “god, yer unbelievable… how’d i pull someone like ya? yer always actin’ like some kind of untouchable princess, but look at ya. who’d imagine some as icy as ya on yer knees and touching yerself like that?”

“shut up, miya, i’m getting to it. not everything is about you…,” you mutter. heat flares up in embarrassment behind your cheeks, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of you giving in that easily. you sit up straight on your knees and bring yourself flush to his cock, and you use your hands to guide your tits to wrap around his length. the curves of your breasts eagerly welcome him into the valley between your boobs, and you look up at atsumu with a look as if to ask him if he’s satisfied.

his eyes are blown wide open. the expression he’s giving you is downright sultry and lovestruck, and his cock spasms against your chest. “a-are ya gonna give me a boobjob now then…?”

“yeah. you’re the one that begged for it.” you cup your tits, and you drag them upwards, letting the fat of your chest catch and envelop as much of his dick as you can. atsumu lets out a high-pitched whine, his voice sounding akin to that of a wounded animal. your cunt reacts to his moans immediately, twisting painfully with need. you fondle his dick through your breasts, moving your body in rhythm to emulate the movement of him thrusting his cock against you.

“ah-! ahh-! fuck- ya feel so good already- so soft- so fucking soft…!” atsumu’s head has already lost control of any pride left in him. his mind goes blank the instant he feels your tits pressing up against his cock, rubbing up all lewdly against him. it quite literally is a scene ripped straight from a porno, and he’s sure that he’s going to jerk off to the sight of you with your breasts wrapped around his dick for weeks. shit—with how hot it is, he might even end up with a wet dream or two.

you focus on the task at hand. globs of pre-cum keep escaping from his weeping slit, and it drips down your chest. your skin feels slippery and sticky, and you try moving your breasts in a uniform motion to moving them separately, stroking atsumu in more of a circular motion. it earns you another drawn out, pathetic whimper from him. 

“do my tits feel that good?” you want to make fun of atsumu. who could ever guess that this is the same man that landed himself a position as a setter on the japanese national team? he brags constantly about how much of a wonderful setter he is and how there’s no one quite like him, and you don’t doubt him. he’s handsome and confident, and he has everything a young man his age could covet. of course his ego would be through the roof.

and yet you have him in the palm of your hand. moaning like a bitch in heat, his cock keeps jerking like mad against your chest. he looks like he’s falling apart already, losing his mind completely to the electric pleasure running rampant through his nerves. you can feel his heavy balls on the underside of your boobs, and just the thought of cumming on your tits makes atsumu nearly finish right there.

“love yer tits- love yer hot fucking tits- i’d fuck them every day if i could- ya gotta let me, ya gotta let me fuck yer tits again- i need ya, need yer sexy boobs-,” the blond babbles. his words are quickly slurring, the man getting drunk off of the stimulation on his sensitive organ. the swells of your breasts keep jiggling and pooling out of your hands as you massage and pulse your flesh around him, and it drives atsumu wild. 

you snort at him, half-chastising him in a way you know gets him shamefully off. it’s that masochistic streak in him; he loves it being put in his place just a little too much, and knowing that you’d come crawling back to him even though your words say otherwise does something fucked to his stupid volleyball brain. you shove your breasts harshly inwards before letting go, emulating the sensation of something squeezing around his length. “you’re so goddamn needy. didn’t i say i wasn’t going to do this for you again? that this was going to be a one time thing?”

“n-o, don’t say that…!” atsumu immediately protests. you move faster, your fingers thumbing over your nipples as you jerk him off. his chest heaves as he breathes in shakily. tears dot and blur his vision, and all he can think about is how much he needs you. he’s never wanted anyone so badly in his life, never known how downright torturous it was to crave someone this badly, to the point that it rendered him physically unable to do anything else. “i’ll die if ya don’t touch me! don’t say things like that to me- yer gonna kill me for real…!”

“i’m going to kill you if i withhold sex? now you’re really tempting me.” you raise an eyebrow. arousal twists violently in atsumu’s stomach at your accusatory gaze. he feels like he’s being smothered. he wants you so badly he can’t even breathe properly. all the blood in his body rushes to his cock, and any remaining logic in his brain has jumped ship. 

you’ve ruined him. your body’s ruined him. his dick only ever craves you now, and everything he does boils down to wanting you. you have every right to call him an idiot and pervert that only thinks with his dick, but whose fault is it if the reason why his dick is so responsive is because of you? he’s drooled and masturbated to your tits too many times to count, but this is the only time he’s worked up the courage to actually ask you to get him off properly with them. it feels like heaven to him, graduating from rubbing himself shamelessly all over his hand like some kind of horny freak to having you lavish this much attention onto his throbbing length.

the skin between your tits is entirely slick and slippery, and every inch of his swollen cock disappears quickly and easily in between your boobs. atsumu really wishes he had the brainpower to find suitable words to describe how fucking good it feels, but all his thoughts can hone in on are is how soft and warm you are. 

“ah- hahhhh- i want ya to fuck me to death- ‘s that okay? god, yer making me crazy…!” he moans out. his voice is like honey to your ears. he’s nothing more than an overexcitable puppy dog who deludes himself into thinking he’s so much more clever than he is, but all it takes is a few well posed words and the temptation of your body to get him to crumble like dust. “‘m yers- ‘ve only ever been yers- ya can say ya hate me and can’t stand me, but i’ll do anything to be with ya!”

“don’t make such ridiculous promises. people will misunderstand us. they’ll think we’re in a loveless relationship. that i’m simply using you. that’s not true now, is it?” you slide your boobs around the bottom of his cock, grinding down on his balls. he lurches his hips against your chest, desperately attempting to thrust shallowly into the valley of breasts, willing to do whatever it takes to further get him off. the pleasure is nothing short of addictive to him, and if atsumu doesn’t get enough of a hit, he doesn’t know how he’s going to deal with how turned on he is. 

“take everything from me, if that’s what ya want… my money, my position, everything- i just want ya. that’s all i’ve ever wanted!” his cock won’t quit leaking like a broken faucet. he’s spewing nonsense at this point, begging for you and droning on and on about how he can’t live if he’s separated from you. it’s flattering certainly, but it’s also a signal as accurate as clockwork that your boyfriend’s about cum all over himself. 

“whatever i want, huh? you’re willing to do whatever it takes to have me, ‘tsumu?” the nickname earns a particularly drawn out mewl from the blond man. he wants to be special to you so badly. 

the muted march of your heartbeat seems to match the way his pulse strains in his engorged dick. you can feel the dull rhythm through the blood and fatty tissue of your breasts, and you can hear the way your pulse roars in your own ears. you could always say something scathing back in return, to watch him squirm and fall apart like putty, but you can’t help but notice something so poetic about touching him so intimately with the place physically closest to your heart.

if atsumu knew though, he’d let it go straight to his head. he’d tease you about it endlessly once he snapped out of his horny drunkenness, intoxicated to the nines over your tits.

but you know what you want from your boyfriend. you keep rubbing your breasts against the bottom of his dick, ignoring his weeping cockhead and the rest of him. you want him at the peak of his desperation, to be the only one to wield this kind of sadistic control over him, to relish and revel in the trust he has towards you, to know that no one but you will have him like this.

“tell me you love me, atsumu.”

“i love ya-,” he really doesn’t need to be told twice, “i love ya so much!”

you pick up your breasts with your palms, and balancing them expertly, you forcefully stroke his entire length roughly from bottom to top, engulfing and drowning his cock out one final time in the fullness of your tits. atsumu lets out a strangled cry, and while still buried balls deep into your chest, he cums all over you.

you flinch, instinctively shutting your eyes as semen spurts everywhere. the curves and dips of your chest take the brunt of his climax, immediately coated and drenched all over with his scalding hot sperm. a few stray drops flick onto your face, and you wince. it burns, it burns all over your breasts and collar and face, but you stay latched onto his dick, making sure those tits he loves so badly has milked him down to every last drop before you quit fondling him through his orgasm.

atsumu, on the other hand, swears his heart stopped for a moment there. something deep and primal inside of him snapped when you forced him to tell him that he loved you, and he came all over you before he could even say anything. it feels so dirty but so fucking worth it, to drown your tits in his pearly white cum. his vision is foggy and unfocused, but he can make out the hazy sight of his cum dripping down your chest. the rivulets semen snake down your breasts, dripping over your erect nipples and covering so much of your tits.

it’s a sight for him to take to the grave. 

you wipe futilely at the cum covering you with your hands, trying to get the burning sensation to stop, grimacing at the slight pain that covers your entire rib cage. you know it’s a losing battle, especially when atsumu whimpers in protest, wanting to see your cum-covered body just a little bit longer before you’d get rid of any evidence that any of this even happened to begin with.

“happy now? i gave you the boobjob you wanted. was it as good as you imagined?” there’s really no need to ask him that, especially when his answer is already this predictable. the man nods, not fully sober from his high, and when he leans down to give you a shaky kiss to the crown of your head, you can only laugh and lay your head against his inner thigh.

“i could marry ya right now,” he whispers, out of breath. 

you scowl, making a face as if you’d eaten something sour. “don’t you dare. i want a more romantic proposal from you.”

“yeah-,” atsumu manages to wheeze out. “whatever you want. i’ll propose with the biggest fucking diamond found if that’s what ya asked for.”

“okay, maybe not anything that ridiculous.” you crane your neck to press a kiss to his thigh. you pause, lost in thought momentarily before you steal a glimpse up at your boyfriend. “y’know… if you really want a boobjob from me again, i wouldn’t mind giving you one every now and then.”

atsumu instantly revs to life, straightening his back and staring down at you with a sparkle in his eyes that would rival the aforementioned diamond he thought about proposing to you with. “r-really? then, i want one every night-”

“-i said every now and then. slow down, miya.”

he pretends to pout and puff his cheeks out, and it nets him a defeated giggle from you. you continue to pepper kisses along his thighs, ghosting closer and closer to his crotch, his pubes tickling the tip of your nose. he holds his breath when he can feel you nearing his half-hard cock, knowing perfectly well that this is your way of riling him up.

“then… if i’m allowed to try my luck a little,” he swallows back the lump in his throat. he thinks back to how you forced him to confess his feelings to get him to cum. god, it would be so tempting to ask you for a blowjob right now, to get you to wrap your pretty lips around his thick cock and fuck your mouth senseless, but that would be letting you off the hook too easy.

no, atsumu wants something he can carve into stone too. he licks his lips. “could i ask for something else then?”

you look up at him through your lashes, your eyes playing the perfect support part for your main casting as the coquettish seductress ruining his life. “and what were you thinking?”

“can ya tell me ya love me too?”

you almost laugh at how innocent of a request it is, and you sigh dreamily. you get up from where you were sitting on the ground, and you climb up on the bed and on top of atsumu. you press your body down against him, and you slide your cum-stained tits right onto his broad chest. his breath hitches in the back of his throat as you close the distance between his face and yours, and you kiss the corner of his lips sweetly.

“i love you. i love you too, atsumu. don’t you dare forget it, okay?” you breathe, your voice nothing more than a feather-light sound. “you’re mine, all mine for me to love. you belong to no one other than me.”

he swallows again, and the lovestricken haze in his eyes this time comes from something other than being turned on. it’s a mark of how truly far he’s fallen, and it makes you happy to a degree that you can’t even start to articulate. you can feel his heartbeat match yours from the skin-to-skin contact, your two bodies melding into one connected amalgamation of obsession, lust, and love. 

“all yers.” his arms wrap around your waist, and he kisses you back. “only ever yers.”

KINKTOBER 2023—le deuxième jour.