#i get because as shown i definitely do it way too much but like stop it dude you can't run

[georgia-stanway]

Watching kane play when he's obviously injured/in pain or whatever reminds me of when I force myself to do something even though I'm objectively not well enough. It never ends well.

[sophiethewitch1]

What We Want - Chpt. 6 - Round Two. Fight!

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

Damn. Your indulgent TV stalking of the Wayne’s really doesn’t hit the same once you technically knew them. And you were hiding inside one of their bedrooms, inside one of their clothes, using their TV subscription. It just didn’t feel right. Morally, of course, but that wasn’t what you were talking about. No, you were just pissy your favourite pastime was basically ruined. You shovel another spoonful of cookie dough ice cream into your mouth, glaring through tired eyes at the screen.

There’s an up-close shot of Dick Grayson’s abs. The presenter ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ over his physical form, and you have to agree. You wish you had abs like that. Unfortunately, you did respond to most unwanted experiences with stress eating. As always with these celebrity figures, you can’t really tell if you want to be Dick or be with Dick. Your butt is nowhere near the level his is at.

While you hadn’t really set out today looking for shirtless pictures of the Waynes, it wasn’t like you were going to say no to them. So, when the gossip channel had switched from the reactions of the Waynes to last night’s fiasco to… this… you’d just kept watching.

You wonder if you should stop doing this. It’s definitely kind of creepy, and now you’d technically once been his… step-sister. What a mind fuck. You’ve been crushing on these dudes for a while, and now they were your ex-step siblings. This was like the start of a bad porno, but you knew you were not that lucky. And it wasn’t like you were going to start thinking of him as a brother any time soon. You hadn’t even met the guy. No, he was still firmly in the ‘celebrity crush’ section of your mind. Pretty and untouchable. The way things are supposed to be.

Which was also bad because you would probably have to meet and interact with him at some point. Probably in the near future. God knows you’d absolutely humiliated yourself in front of the fucking Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne,. Twice, in fact. You didn’t even want to think about the display you’d shown for Bruce Wayne or Damian Wayne.

You didn’t really know what to do with your slightly obsessive crushes. And you could see it definitely being a problem in the near future.

…You decide that what you do in your private time is absolutely nobody but your business, and keep watching. It’s a mix of bitter spite and genuine mental breakdown levels of desperation that leads you to that decision. You feel like you’re a child with their toy being taken away, and it’s making you mad. And sad too. Even if you shouldn’t do this anymore, you still want to keep the habit. You’d mentioned before your creature comforts were one of the few things that kept you going. And while you were mostly very good at not being the jealous, heinous creature you really are, you knew you wouldn’t be giving this up.

They’d have to tear your gossip channels from your cold dead palms. You weren’t giving them up, not without a fight at least. Unfortunately for you, the universe seemed determined to wrestle away literally everything you loved.

Guilt’s for tomorrow. Today is for ice cream and purposefully ignoring everything. Speaking of which, you can not remember the last time you had a good Ben & Jerry’s. They were so expensive these days, as all groceries were. You simply couldn’t afford it. The Waynes, of course, had multiple tubs in multiple different options. Alfred had seemed delighted that you’d taken the ice cream, for which reasons you could not perceive.

Oh, yeah! His name was Alfred. Very butler-y. You’d remember it this time, he was a very nice man. And he called you ‘young miss’ which earned him points. He also didn’t seem to hate you on sight or treat you like a two-headed freak, like some of the other people in this household. Not naming names. Yeah, fuck that noise, Damian Wayne obviously has issues and it’s much less attractive in real life.

The woman drones on, and your eyes flick to your phone. Yup, she’s still yapping. It’s not like you don’t appreciate Dick’s abs or anything, it’s just that you think she might’ve been talking about this one specific photo for over half an hour now. Lady should get a hobby. Wait, wait, this is her job. Maybe you should start a podcast where you rant about the Wayne’s exercise regimes. It seems to be quite a lucrative field.

You shriek when the door slams open, nearly tumbling backwards off the bed. Hands manage to grip the bedcovers before you tip over, not making a complete fool of yourself. As it goes, you lose your spoon to the carpet. Bits of cookie dough spread over the floor in a divine sacrifice. And you lose your sanity to the man standing in the doorway. To be fair, he looks just as confused as you feel.

You blink at the physically perfect form of Dick Grayson and then turn your head to the TV to look at the other physically perfect form of Dick Grayson.

…You really wish you had a good explanation for this.

He mutters out your name, lips parted. Dick Grayson seems absolutely shocked to find you here. His eyes flick around the room and eventually land on the TV. Said baby blues widen to the size of saucers when the reporter makes a really, really unnecessary comment.

“And in news that broke the hearts of both ladies and gentlemen everywhere in Bludhaven, Dick Grayson has announced he will be returning to Gotham to assist his family in this difficult time. My cousin in the Blud is probably crying right now. There’s no ass out there quite like his, and there’s no replacement for Bludhaven’s favourite young rich bachelor,” she winks at the camera, and then the shot of his toned stomach phases forward to take up the entire screen.

Well, there’s a lot to say about that. First of all, fuck. Second of all, shit. Third of all, she really couldn’t have said that part about Dick coming back to Gotham sooner? Perchance, before you’d found yourself in this situation?

You said you weren’t that lucky, you meant it.

“But still, ain’t that lucky for us Gothamites? I myself have spent a lot of time on Dick’s Tiktok and Instagram, and his acrobatic videos have been used in a lot of my personal-”

You snatch the remote from the sheets and pause it right there. The silence is tense. You wait for him to say something, but he just stares at you. Completely stunned, mouth-catching flies. You want to pull the covers up and hide under them, but you don’t think that’d make him leave.

“I couldn’t find my room,” you finally manage to say. It’s the worst excuse you’ve ever heard, sounds like a complete lie. And yet, unfortunately, it is the truth.

Dick’s eyes drift to the TV, which you still haven’t unpaused. You can’t tell if it would be worth it, just to get rid of his golden brown abs staring at you judgementally, even if you’d have to deal with the extra embarrassment of the dialogue over them. Maybe if you muted the TV? It wouldn’t make up for the insult of his paparazzi photos on a widescreen.

It takes you even longer to come up with an excuse for… that.

“I was checking the news about last night,” you continue, the panic in you rising like a tea kettle left on the stove for too long. You might start shrieking like one too.

You don’t think he believes you. He looks down at the Beatles shirt you’re wearing. You know what he’s going to say before he does, but you still dread it.

“You’re wearing my clothes,” he mutters, his voice awed.

You want to say, ‘Nooo! No, no, no! Don’t do this to me, damn it! Not anymore! No more, please! It’s enough, enough suffering! This is genuinely ridiculous, damn you!’ but instead you reply with a shaky, “…Didn’t have any of mine.”

Also, you’ve been huffing Eau de Dick Grayson? That’s definitely in character for you. You want to beat your own head in with a stick.

“And I couldn’t find my room, and uh, thought this one wasn’t being used,” you continue, daring a glance back at him. He still looks completely stumped.

“It wasn’t,” he answers, but it sounds like he’s a thousand miles away.

You know, Dick Grayson was supposed to be a lot more charming than this. You’re almost proud you managed to stun the man into near speechlessness. Almost, almost. Almost not going to kill yourself once he leaves.

If he leaves. He doesn’t look like he’s getting up. You eye the gap between you and the door. Your animal brain is telling you to just run for it. But Dick has Olympic level athletics, and you don’t doubt he could catch you if you ran. Would he try though? That’s the deciding factor here.

He doesn’t seem like he’s actually going to fucking do anything though. He just keeps staring, like if he looks for long enough, it’ll all start to make sense. Which, you wish.

“Do you know where my room is? I couldn’t… remember…”

He nods, instead staring at his own abs on the TV.

“Can you take me to my room?”

He nods again. Still doesn’t look back at you.

“…Mr. Grayson?” you say, and almost immediately regret it. ‘You’ wouldn’t have used his last name, even though you might’ve. ‘You’ had been a casual person, as far as you could tell. That was the kindest way you could say it, at least.

His head snaps to you. He somehow looks more confused. You wonder if you should pinch him or something, god knows you’ve done your fair share of pinching yourself recently.

“Yes, right, sorry. Let’s… go,” he gives you a cheery smile, shaking his head, but it seems quite strained. You’re probably matching. This is the most humiliating moment of your life, and of course, it’s with the most beautiful man on earth right beside you.

A break. You want a break.

The two of you quietly shuffle out of the room, and when he guides you forward, you follow him obediently. Your head naturally bows, shame making it hard to look at him. You stare at the wooden floors as you walk. Watching it shine in the morning light that filters through the windows.

Eventually, he comes to a stop in front of a door that has obviously been avoided. Though it’s as clean as every other inch of this house, there are no marks in the rug from the door opening and closing. And even then, it seems… well, it sounds silly, but the door seems sad to you. Too many things seem sad to you these days.

Your thoughts must show on your face because Dick clears his throat and gives you a worried look. Is it rude to say you’re sick of those sorts of looks? That they just make you feel sick and burdened these days? It’s not like you could bring your family back from the dead, or convince your cheating boyfriend to not be a piece of shit. It was out of your hands.

“…Are you alright?” he asks you, blue eyes sincere. You tilt your head to the side.

“No?” you say, but it sounds more like a question. No, you are not alright. Yes, you will be okay. It’s the only option. It’s one of your rules. You have to be okay. You just have to.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You almost laugh.

“No,” this time your voice is firm, confident. Dick seems like he’s going to push it, but something in your eyes makes him stop. You give him a forced smile and say goodbye, closing the door gently in his face. Once you do, you crouch down and once again, press your face to your knees. Then you press your hands to your mouth and let out a scream that had been bubbling up for a while. After that, you feel you can live with the humiliation that is your existence without jumping out the three-story-height window.

You stand up, turning to the room. The first thing you notice about it is that there’s dust in here. Same as Dick’s old room. Now that you think about it, Alfred doesn’t seem the type who’d randomly leave certain rooms uncleaned, so it must be something he does out of respect for the tenants of Wayne Manor. Or maybe the old you requested it? God knows.

Sitting down on the old bed, your eyes rove around the room. It’s well decorated, as the rest of the manor is, but you can’t see anything that would make it your room. There’s none of the novels you’d collected from the used books store, no dorky little items you impulse bought, no pictures of your family. The apartment hadn’t had those either.

‘You’- she- seemed like a ghost to you. While you’d often felt like you’d barely been alive, simply going through the motions, this girl seemed like she hadn’t even been conscious half the time she was doing it. It made your stomach swim, your face pulls taught.

While you’d had few things holding you afloat, it’d been enough to keep you alive. Molly, your co-workers, the need to work so as to not starve to death. She hadn’t had anything like that. No liferaft. You’d been sputtering and gasping your way through life, and she’d been drowning. Maybe already dead, at the bottom of the sea, hair tangling with the seaweed.

This room feels like a coffin, and this manor like a cemetery. It makes you physically sick.

Showing off your fickle-mindedness, you realise that despite this being the Wayne manor filled with all your idols, you actually don’t want to fucking be here. You need space to clear your head, and the creaking floorboards that echo down the creepy hallways just don’t offer that. The atmosphere at your too-modern, too-minimalist apartment is leagues better than the atmosphere at this gorgeous old house which you’d usually love spending hours getting lost in.

Usually. Unfortunately, this place was more suffocating than the workplace when you knew you were about to get fired again. And you weren’t getting paid to stay here, so why the fuck would you?

Once you realise you’ve decided to run, you’re quick to pack up your shit. There’s not much in the room you need. A pair of sneakers, because you would rather die than put those heels on again. And you’ll grab some shirts because they’re comfy and remind you of home. Hopefully, it’ll make everything… grate… a little less. All of this is thrown in an old ratty backpack, which is then tossed over your shoulder. Shoes slipped on, and tapped against the floor so they’re on comfortably. And then you’re ready. Ready as you’ll ever be. With one hand on your phone, you take a peek outside the door. Coast is clear.

You press call for ‘The Wicked Witch of the West’. Jeanine picks up on the third ring.

“Hello, Jeanine Ryans here,” she says, her voice all business.

“Jeanine, I need an evac, stat,” you whisper to her, creeping down the hallway of the manor. The floor is unbelievably creeky, so it’s pretty fucking difficult to be stealthy about it.

“…What?”

“Get me out of this fucking manor, please,” you beg, now going down the stairs. Almost out, almost out.

“Right, on it. I’ll have a car outside in ten minutes if that’s alright?” Jeanine replies, immediately on the case. It almost makes you cry. You know she’s being paid for this, and very desperate for the job for some reason, but it’s still a hail mary that you are so grateful for.

“Thank you, thank you so much,” you say, turning a corner and-

Oh, fuck. Damian Wayne glares down at you, green eyes cataloguing every single guilty piece of you in existence. He sees your hand tighten around your backpack, hears Jeanine telling you not to worry through your phone, and probably notices the way your eyes desperately flicker behind him to the door. To your goal, to the exit to this labyrinth.

You can practically hear the wind blowing, see the tumbleweed drift by.

And then, he moves past you, twisting his body so no part of it touches you. There’s a moment where your brain freezes, something spicy smelling (cinnamon, maybe?) flowing past you, and by the time you turn around, he’s gone. Your deer-in-headlights tensed-shoulders look falls, leaving you confused in the foyer. He didn’t even say a word to you. You felt like you just got passed over by a boss from a Dark Souls game.

…Well, you’ll take the wins where you can find them! Quickly, you hurry out the front door, skittering down the steps like some sort of rat. It’s a long walk to the gates, and you don’t really know how to open them to let the car in, so you decide to take your time and enjoy the walk. The early morning dew apon the clean-cut blades of grass glint and sparkle, the gravel on the road crunches under your technically-not-stolen sneakers, and even if it’s a miserable life, it’s a pretty day. From the hill the manor lives upon, you can see Gotham’s tall skyline, cloaked in its characteristic fog.

Eventually, you find yourself in front of the gate, where you can see Jeanine waiting with a black car on the otherside. There’s a big green button next to the side gate, which you press, and it clicks open. There’s a moment where your neck tingles, and you glance up at the camera pointed down at you. The red flickering light beside it holds your attention. You can see your bedraggled reflection in its lense.

Shaking your head, you move on, greeting Jeanine. She gives you a quick bow of the head and opens the door for you. You hike the bag over your shoulder, give the Wayne manor one final, lingering look and then you step into the car. Jeanine starts speaking to you about some future appointments you have, and you’re too tired to understand a word of what she says. She realises you’re not processing anything she says, and hands you a pair of headphones with a wire adapter.

You could kiss her right then and there. You don’t because that’d be weird, but you definitely think about it. Headphones on, you watch the rolling hills and luxurious manors turn into highways and honking traffic, to finally the upside part of town which was now apparently where you lived.

Eventually you find yourself being delivered in front of your swanky new apartment. With a passing goodbye, Jeanine tells you that she’ll be busy for the rest fo the day so if you need anything to call the number on the card she hands you. You tuck it in your pocket, certain you’ll lose it like every other business card you’ve ever been handed.

The elevator ride up to your room is contemplative. The music is boring, your reflection is bedraggled and tired, and the gentle feeling of gravity under your feet tugs at you. You rock slightly when you finally reach your floor. The doors open, but you don’t make any move to leave. They shut again, and you’re left staring daggers at your mirrored self.

You’d woken up, still here. It wasn’t a dream. It was reality. And more than that, it seemed more and more like you’d be staying in this reality. You didn’t think you could go home. Sure you were rich but… but your home. Your few things you’d managed to save. Your meagre group of friends and your hard-sought job. It made you nauseous. Where had you lost it all? Why were you here now? Why did you keep having to lose everything?

You manage to snap yourself out of it before someone else calls the elevator. Striding out of the space, you look to the right where you remember your apartment coming from. It’s not hard to find the unit, as there are only three on the entire floor. Rich people.

The door closes with a satisfying thud behind you, and you nearly melt with exhaustion.

This apartment is the ninth circle of hell for you. Scrambling around on your knees, you’re desperate to find the damn phone that won’t stop ringing. You can’t understand where the sound is coming from.

Under your bed? You shine your other’s phone’s light under it. Nope. Behind the dresser? Nada. You search inside the drawers and then peek inside the fancy lamp. Absolutely nothing. You’re ready to tear your hair out when you spot something… odd.

There’s… You think there’s something stuck in your floorboards. You dig at the space with your fingernails and the piece of wood pops open. Inside is… a cardboard box. An awfully familiar cardboard box, actually. The sight of your Mum’s old keepsake box makes you cry out with joy, lifting it from its little enclave. You’d lost a lot in the past few days but at least the old you knew how to keep your family’s stuff safe.

This apartment looks brand new. And apparently the past you dug into it to hide her stuff. You can’t really judge, you have a hidey-hole back at your apartment. It was a brick that had already been loose in the wall, so it didn’t feel quite as criminal as this.

The ringing is coming from inside the box. When you pull the lid up, you find a keepsake box a little different from yours. While yours only ever had your family’s old passports and photo albums, this one had a sleek phone sitting on top of all the mementos. It’s an exact copy of the phone on your bed- or well, it would be, if you hadn’t dropped it.

Two phones? This bitch was greedy. And so are you, eagerly sweeping the expensive item into your gremlin hands. Your thieving high is instantly quashed when you see who’s calling.

Of all fucking… George.

You roll your eyes before hanging up, tossing the phone to the side as you start rifling through the old keepsake box. You flip through family photo albums and lovingly cradle old stuffies. The phone buzzes. You ignore it. You find one of your mother’s old necklaces, and because you’re desperate for anything that can ground you, slip it over your head. The cool heart locket rests just under your collarbone, and you clutch it with one hand as you keep exploring. The phone keeps buzzing. It’s only almost half an hour later when you realise something about this is strange.

Why is George… not blocked? You glance down at the vibrating object like it’s radioactive, a despairing frown pulling at your face. Cautiously, you pick it up, making sure not to open the notifications lest it tell George you read any of his messages.

He’s… apologising for not being there for your birthday. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. And it’s not even a proper apology, it’s one of those ‘I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings’ bullcrap. He keeps spamming you, and eventually, you realise that he’s not going to just stop.

You decide to nip this in the bud quickly because even remembering his cheating face makes you feel like throwing up.

‘You’: Why are you contacting me?

‘George <3’: Seriously? Look, I’m sorry I wasn’t there yesterday. I was busy, you know that.

Stupidly, you reply:

‘You’: ‘No, seriously, why are you contacting me? I’m done with you.’

You wonder how you ever loved this jackass. Even if he was obviously more of a jackass here, than where you’d come from. He was just better at pretending there. You keep scrolling, ignoring the new texts that pop up. Your stomach sours at the number of texts he himself had ignored, of the amount of ‘sorry baby, can’t come tonight’, the begging, the pleading.

No, he wasn’t worse at pretending. He just didn’t care.

You wonder if this could have been you, further along down the line. Abuse happens slowly, right? Like a frog in a pot. You’d have forgiven and forgotten, written away his worse behaviours till you couldn’t anymore. Till you couldn’t leave, till you were trapped.

You think George Lancaster would’ve tried to. He would’ve isolated you from everyone you had left if he hadn’t screwed up and got caught.

You realise now there were a lot of red flags in your relationship with George. Molly always hated him and he hated her. He’d constantly complain about how much time you spent with her, spamming you with texts when you went out.

You were only… only two days since you’d actually broken up with him. Which was sort of crazy to think about. You feel like you’ve lived eons since then. Like that one traumatic incident aged you thirty years. Anyway, you still hadn’t processed the whole George thing. You’d been sort of busy fighting for your life.

‘George’: I’m here, can you at least open the door so we can talk face to face?

Freeze. A knock sounds, and your head snaps up to the front door. You don’t move. You just wish it away. The knocking only gets louder and louder.

You feel like a dumb girl in a horror movie as you walk towards the door, unlocking it and creaking the knob open. George Lancaster stands on the other side, and before you can slam it in his face, he grabs you by the arm and yanks you out of the door. And then he’s pulling you to the elevator, even as you try and get your bearings, get yourself away from him.

“You can’t just ignore me like this,” George says, pissed off to high hell, “We’re going to miss the reservation I booked specifically for you. I told you it was happening today and-”

There’s white noise between your ears, you can’t hear what he’s saying. Told you? It wasn’t in any of the texts. He’s still talking even as the elevator dings, even as he shoves you in a white sports car that’s half parked on the curb. Even as he drives his way through Gotham’s streets, he won’t fucking shut up.

Why are you letting this happen to you? Why aren't you fighting back, wrenching yourself from his grasp? He takes you into a restaurant, one so upscale that normally you wouldn’t be able to get in for months, and your head snaps from staring socialites to watching politicians to gawking celebrities. You have the eyes of the world on you right now, and they’re all watching George yell at you.

And you can’t find your voice.

It's like a scab you can't stop picking at. Like you think this is what you deserve or something. And it's not. You know it's not. And yet you follow obediently, chastised and embarrassed, as he pulls you through the restaurant. When he picks a table in the centre of the room, you don’t protest. When he chooses your meal for you, even though it’s not to your taste, you don’t protest.

Looking at George, scrolling lazily on his phone, your hands clench against the table. They’re sweating, shaking, nails digging into your palms.

You… you didn’t have to break up with him again, did you? You realised it earlier, but you didn’t- it didn’t really sink in. Your first breakup with George Lancaster was a miserable traumatic experience, and it had been in the solitary streets of Gotham’s Narrows. This one, this one would be seen by literally everyone.

Nauseous. You feel so damn nauseous, your mouth dry as you swallow down bile. This was ridiculous. You couldn’t stand seeing his face. Was he texting her right now? God, did she even know? You’d just stormed out that night, running from what you’d seen.

George had chased after you. Had he left her there? Your stomach churned at the idea. You had to hate her on principle but, well, you also had to sympathise with her. Contradictions, that was the average you. You didn’t want to help this random girl. Didn’t want to have to ever think of her again.

…Staring at George, a definitively awful person, you can’t do it. Can’t just leave her to it.

“I’m breaking up with you,” you say.

“What?” George replies, not even looking up from his phone.

“I’m breaking up with you!” you shout. It’s not even intentional, just a result of being pushed too far, of breaking too easily.

The restaurant goes quiet. Guess you’re up for another scandal then. Whatever, it wasn’t like you would’ve lasted much longer anyway. This was all too complicated for your recently traumatised mind to handle. And it was just too damn stupid to bother with anyway. All of this was fucking stupid.

You included.

Just pull the bandaid off, right? You could already see how this version of you had so many scandals to her name. You probably should start giving a shit. Or at least trying to. You don’t think you want to, though.

George puts his phone down face down on the tablecloth, giving you a calm look. That slightly pitying stare activates something in your brain you didn’t really know was there. It’s a type of rage you haven’t known since you were a kindergartner and one of the other girls said you couldn’t play princesses. Since your first service job where your manager felt you up. Just pure, petty, anger. The type of anger ready to burn the world down as long as it burns whoever pissed you off as well. He opens his mouth, probably to say something condescending, and your hand whips out and snatches his phone.

“Hey!” George says instead, his eyes widening.

You turn the phone back on. Hm, passcode. You flip it around and use facial recognition to open it. Despite the fact that George wears the most comically shocked expression, with saucer-wide eyes and a mouth open to catch flies, it unlocks. Nice.

“Hey! What are you doing?” George demands, reaching over the table for his phone.

You twist away from his reach. Password. You flip the phone, and despite George’s comically shocked expression, it still unlocks. He shouts again when it does, probably realising that you might be taking this seriously. That he might actually be in trouble. That his sugar mummy might not take too kindly to the numerous texts to other women on his phone.

…You really can’t believe you’re a sugar mummy. And for George of all people. What a horrendous waste of money, it’s fucking tragic.

He’s got the texts with someone known as ‘Pizza Hut’ pulled up, with some very flirtatious messages. You scroll up furiously, ducking under George as he gets up from the table and tries to get the phone. Still, backing up, the sight of a very poorly shot dick pic of George’s has you grimacing. Your focus on the picture, trying to decide whether his penis looked so unappealing before you’d learnt of his betrayal, has you distracted when one of the servers come around.

And, well, shirt, meet soup. Very, very hot soup. Everyone? Meet a screeching, klutzy moron.

George takes the chance to advance on you, snatching his phone from you. He doesn’t even seem to care you’re currently getting third-degree burns. The sting scorches through the thin fabric of your dress shirt, burning your skin. George grabs you again, his grip harsh enough this time you know it will bruise, and you can’t really say why you do what you do at that moment.

Your aunt used to have a chihuahua. It was an ugly, grumpy thing. She’d rescued it late into its life, and it had been treated poorly beforehand. It didn’t like to be touched at all and used to run from anyone who tried. And if you tried to touch it? Cornered it?

Well, of course, it started biting.

George’s howl is the most satisfying thing you’ve ever heard. His squeal of “bitch!” might be even more so. He slaps you away from him, and the sound echoes in the restaurant. Your face stings. When you land ass first in the puddle of still-too-hot soup, you wonder if you might try and bite him again. You don’t think you even broke the skin, considering you can’t taste blood. The other patrons stare on in genuine horror, like they’ve never seen a messy breakup before. One woman raises a hand to her mouth, and gasps-

You find yourself staring up at a furious George, one with a menace in his eyes you’ve never seen before. You wonder, idly, if he’s ever hit you before. Well, not you, but ‘you’. You realise now that he has the capacity for it, that he probably always did.

“What the fuck!?” he hisses, angry eyes darting from side to side, “Biting me?! In fucking public?! Have you lost it, you crazy bitch?! And you got my phone fucking soaked in soup!”

“Did you buy it?” you ask, wiping your mouth with your sleeve to get George’s dirty taste out of your mouth.

He blinks, confused, thrown off by your question, “Huh?”

“Did you buy that phone?” you repeat, your staring starting to turn into a furious glare.

You don’t think he did. Your George had never been able to afford those sorts of things, he’d been as broke as you were. Of course, you’d seen him lust over those items, but you’d always managed to convince him not to go into debt over silly things like sports cars and fancy phones. And even then, you’d been the one to buy him a PS5.

He looks down at the phone and back at you, and you can see his jaw tick.

“I bought it. That’s mine.”

“It was a gift. You’re going to be such a bitter bitch to take back everything you gave me? Gonna leave me out on the fucking street?” he says, spittle flying with angry words.

This was escalating fast. Maybe before you’d have been cowed by his words, but you were genuinely off your rocker by now and were very much willing to tango with this bastard. Like yes, he did terrify you, but so did everything else. You could handle this much at least. You weren’t ready to back down.

“And if I did? What then George? What could you even fucking do?” you throw back, voice rising to match his.

“It’s not your money either, it’s theirs, you little leech!” says the pot.

“Does it matter?” replies the kettle.

Pushing to your feet, you find George without another answer. He stands between you and the exit. With the plain murderous rage on his face, you think he’ll try to grab you again if you run past. He wouldn’t bite you back, but he might slap you or something. So instead, like any good coward does, you run straight to the girl’s bathroom. It hasn’t failed you yet, and you doubt it will today.

You shove into the bathroom, past a woman doing her makeup. Her head bobs up and down as she takes in your seemingly infamous face, and your stained shirt. You stride as far away from her as possible, darting into the last bathroom stall and sitting on the closed toilet lid. You pull your knees to your chest and hiss out a sound of frustration when that presses the sticky liquid against your chest and pants. Not your brightest idea, but you were sort of running on fumes right now.

The bathroom stall is extremely clean. One thing you were quickly realising about rich people is they didn’t have to suffer shitty public bathrooms. You didn’t think they deserved it. Like customer service jobs, and traffic, they built character.

What were you doing? Right, trying not to cry. You’re doing much better than yesterday. Still, sitting on top of the toilet’s closed lid, your phone pressed to your face, you wouldn’t say you’re doing ‘good’.

But because you knew George was too much of a pussy to ever enter the woman’s bathrooms, you refuse to move a single inch. You don’t want to go out there. At all. At all, at all. You’d tried to call Jeanine, but she hadn’t answered. Some P.A. she was. You still weren’t going to fire her. Then you remember that she told you she was going out later, and that she’d left a card with you. Digging through your pocket, you decide it’s finally time to die when you realise you lost the card somewhere along the line.

So, she wasn’t going to come save you as your knight in shining armour.

You can’t remember Molly’s number. Who did these days? That was your phone’s job. So you were left with… this. You were left with this. Four blocked numbers and a third had sent an automatic reply because he was driving. Alfred was probably busy. Weren’t butlers always very busy?

…Rich people weren’t often very busy. They had butlers and assistants to do all their chores. You unblock all four of the Waynes that you have on your phone.

The first thing you notice is the amount of texts between ‘you’ and Dick. Scrolling and scrolling, you find most of them are him checking up on you and one-word replies from the old you. He’s friendly and accepting, even when you respond in cruel and aggressive tones. The further back you scroll, the kinder your replies are. At one point it seems like the two of you had a good relationship.

You check the other chats. Tim’s message log is filled with coffee requests sent back and forth between you, Damian’s is completely empty, and Bruce’s has had no response from your phone in years. But eventually, you scroll back far enough that you find an actual conversation instead of just ‘Call Alfred’ repeated every few days.

‘You’: I miss them.

‘Bruce Wayne’: I know. I miss them too.

You press the back button, sighing. That felt like you’d seen something you shouldn’t have, like you’d peeked into someone’s diary. Which was unbelievably stupid. All of this is unbelievably stupid. You should just leave, you should just be brave. Two days ago you faced off against one of your worst fears, but today you couldn’t even handle George Lancaster.

You want someone to rescue you. You know no one will unless you ask. It makes you choke on your own self-disgust. This is the second time in one day. God, maybe you should just do it yourself. It’s not like you couldn’t pay for your own Uber.

And still, you find yourself clicking on a name and begging. Skin crawling, you type and retype the text probably a hundred times. You go from long apologies to begging to rants you never intended to send in the first place. Tap, tap, tap, and then you delete, delete, delete.

What you settle on is simple.

‘You’: hey. can you come pick me up? thx

Maybe a bit too simple. You cross your arms and tuck yourself in the good ol’ fetal position. You feel like you’ve spent half your time holding yourself like this the past three days.

‘Dick Grayson’: I’ll be there in five.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

[justnatoka]

The Lost Boys headcanons

How they would behave in a relationship

Warning: possessive behavior, some smut (mainly in Paul's and Marko's parts oops)

The reader is body and gender neutral.

David

He’s definitely the possessive type. You’re his and he lets everybody know it.

He either has his arm around your shoulder or his hands on your waist. He also probably gives you hickeys in very visible spots for the same reason ;)

Or he simply just hovers over you. Like all the time.

If someone tries flirting with you, he’s behind you in an instant, and all he has to do is look at them menacingly. You’re not even surprised anymore that every guy seem to run off scared after just a few words, even if they started talking to you for a completely innocent reason. Now you just turn around with a “really?”

I imagine him to be less into PDA. But when you’re just with the boys he sits you into his lap and rests his hand on your thigh while talking to the others.

He probably shows you more physical attention in front of them, because he’s more comfortable around them.

Even though he’s possessive, he doesn’t really get jealous, at least he tells himself he doesn’t. He trusts you and knows you wouldn’t cheat on him, it’s other people he doesn’t trust. Scaring off guys is just him protecting what’s his.

I can imagine him trying to control you in some small ways, like not letting you wear stuff that shown too much skin in public or trying to keep you from hanging out alone with guy friends that he doesn’t know well. It comes from his protectiveness over you. But I also think that if you talk to him about these things bothering you, he will stop doing it.

You’re one of the few people who can get him relaxed when he feels stressed out. Like when he comes back frustrated from a meeting with Max, or when leading the group and keeping them in line (looking at you, Marko and Paul) gets to him after a long day.

He just walks over to you and sinks into your embrace, resting his forehead against yours with eyes closed and just listening to you breath for a few minutes.

He likes it when you give him shoulder massages when he’s feeling tense. He probably also likes in when you make him tea to relax (though he wouldn’t admit that one).

Types of kisses: on your knuckles when he holds your hands. On your forehead. More passionate kisses on the lips when you’re alone. You’re his queen/king/precious person, and he definitely treats you like one.

His nicknames for you: kitten, darling, love

Dwayne

He’s a man of few words, who shows his love through his actions.

He’s a very attentive partner, always notices when you’re feeling tired, sad, stressed or anxious. He immediately gives you a questioning look or a soft “are you okay?” and makes sure to make you more comfortable.

Like he lets you play with his hand, caress his palm or fingers when you’re anxious and fidgety and need something to ground yourself with.

He’s also a good listener. He will gladly listen to you complain when you have a bad day, even if he can’t really give any advice.

I feel like he would try to learn as much about you as he could, so he can take better care of you. This obviously includes stuff like your interests or dislikes, but also a lot of small things, for example how you behave when you’re feeling sad or anxious, what are some unconscious habits you do when you’re deep in thought. He stores all this information in the back of his mind so he can use it later.

Like he observes how your eyes light up and your features change when you’re excited or happy about something, remembers what caused you to make that lovely expression and then makes sure to present you with that exact same thing later again and again so he can see you glowing like that again. He surprised you more than once with gifting you little things you briefly mentioned liking or being interested in.

He’s the type of guy who looks out for you all the time when you’re out at the busy boardwalk. He makes sure you’re always in his sight, and if he loses you, he will scan his eyes through the crowd until he finds you. In turn, if you get separated from the guys, your first instinct is to search for him, cause he’s tall and stands out anyway, but also you know he feels calmer when he can see you, even if you’re out of reach. You both feel relieved when you’re eyes finally meet through the gaps between the bodies of other people.

He’s probably more casual about PDA. He will hold your hand, wrap an arm around your shoulder or give you small pecks on the top of your head, on your cheeks or your lips.

He gives the best hugs. I mean he’s a big guy who can envelop you in his arms. When you’re having a bad day, all you have to do is ask for a hug, and you immediately feel better. I imagine that he likes hugging you from behind, pulling you to his broad chest.

Slow and deep kisses are probably his favorite.

His nicknames for you: sweetheart, honey

Paul

He’s very vocal about his love for you, the man is a flirting machine.

He’s also like a lovesick puppy, always excited to see you, always hungry for attention, and starts pouting if you don’t give him enough. He can be a bit needy at times.

Even though he can seem like a dumb blonde to the casual observer, he’s actually more in tune with your emotions than most people think. He can immediately tell when you’re feeling down, even if you try to hide it. You’re emotions also affect him a lot. When you’re sad, he’s also lethargic and does everything in his power to cheer you up, be it taking you out to have fun, staying at home and cuddle or shower you in small kisses until you start giggling.

On the positive side, when you feel happy, he’s absolutely in the clouds, and your giddiness feeds off of each other.

A LOT of PDA. He’s touching you all the time, holding your hand, pulling you into his side, hands on your legs if you sit next to him or in his lap, or quite literally draping himself all over you.

He also likes to use your legs as a pillow. Just imagine him totally high, babbling about random stuff that comes to his mind while laying his head on your lap, you running your hands through his hair.

Also, HIS HAIR. He loves it when you mess with it, doesn’t matter if it’s playing with the strands while listening to the others talk, or tugging on it in bed.

Yes, he’s an absolute manwhore in my humble opinion ;)

He’s definitely a switch in bed. Like he can be a dom and worship you, but he can also definitely be a sub and just fall apart under you, loving every second of it.

Ever since @sunkendreams said they think Paul likes it when you choke him, I can’t stop thinking about it.

I think he would also like it if you kiss his neck, or leave your mark on him by giving him hickeys. He would show off that shit so proud!

Lots if kisses all the time. He wouldn’t start making out with you in the middle of the boardwalk like Marko, but he would pepper small kisses all over your face, pecks on your lips. I feel like he’s the type who randomly starts kissing your neck while you lean on him regardless of the setting.

His nicknames for you: babe, dollface, beautiful

Marko

This guy is a fierce protector who isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. I mean it’s known that most times he’s the first to jump into action when there’s a fight.

He can be a knight in shining patchwork jacket, but he can also be a little demon with the most angelic face when it comes to show you just how much he loves you.

He protects your honor then when you get back to somewhere private he doesn’t hesitate to absolutely ruin said honor, but in the most pleasurable way imaginable.

I’m sorry, but I’m just obsessed with the thought that he’s an absolute beast in bed.

But I think he’s also such a dork. I can imagine him grabbing your hand and pulling you into a dance in the middle of the boardwalk if he likes the music they play that night. And at the end he dips you back, his hand firmly holding your back, with the widest playful grin on his face, making you break out in giggles. Then he leans down to kiss you on the lips.

He’s not the jealous type, he has absolute confidence in himself and in your loyalty.

He’s big on PDA: holding hands, hand around your waist, probably groping your thighs or butt once or twice. He’s also not shy to kiss you in public. You’ve definitely had a few heated makeout sessions before against the railing of the boardwalk.

I think he also like catcalling you or whistling at you, but only if you’re also comfortable with it.

He basically loves to let everyone know that you’re his gorgeous partner as loudly and as visibly as he can get away with. He would shout his love to you on the top of his lungs if you hadn’t scolded him for it before.

But other than that time, you love it that he’s not shy about showing you his love.

Just like David, he would also definitely like giving you hickeys in very visibly places. I also imagine him to be a bit of a biter during sex, leaving small and harmless ones all over your skin that doesn’t even leave a mark, or ever getting a bit rougher and giving you ones that do. It all depends on what you like.

Cursing in bed in Italian ;)

His nicknames for you: sugar, baby

[rawbin-hsr]

Aventurine x Reader

You treat Aventurine with more respect than he deserves.

Read part 2 here !

Only barely proof-read, guaranteed to have lots of grammatical errors, English is not my first language and I am experimenting with my writing style <3

CW: smut, handjob (Aventurine receiving), dehumanisation (internal, thoughts Aventurine has of himself, referring to himself as a “monster”), feelings of inadequacy, hurt/very little comfort, crying, mentions of death, at some points this seems like dubcon because Aventurine speaks of feeling “dread”, but it’s NEVER intended to be read as him not wanting to receive touch from reader, it is meant to convey how little he thinks he deserves this. The smut is soft and gentle, but Aventurine’s internal thoughts definitely are not <3

Lmk if there’s anything else I should warn about !!

18+, minors will be blocked <3

Your touch is so kind. Soft and gentle, as if he is made of the finest porcelain, as if he is a fragile flower, as if he is delicate. It is cruel, he thinks, that he has made you think he is any less than a monster. It is cruel that he hasn’t pushed you away, when he knows he will devour you. It has become part of his nature.

But how can he push you away when you are so persistent? How can he push you away when you roll with his punches, when you go along with each and every one of his pushes and pulls? It is hard to keep you out when you insistently pry your way into what’s left of his soul, when you gaze upon the rotten corpse that he is and still claim him to be beautiful. He thinks you must be blind at best and naive at worst.

“You’re so pretty,” you whisper reverently, and though Aventurine knows his body is, he also knows that is not the part of him you’re referring to. Not when your hand rests on his chest, above the empty cavern where his heart is meant to be.

You kiss his neck and he shivers. There’s a pit in his stomach, knotting his insides with dread.

He should tell you to stop, should warn you that he’s deceiving you, that he’s not the person you think he is. Should show you that he is a wolf in sheep’s clothing, that he is a bad omen. But he can’t bring himself to. Not when being with you feels so good, not when he’s self-indulgent to a fault, and he can’t help himself with you. He is the worst mistake you could ever make, in part because he can’t even stop from letting you continue to make it.

His hands rest on the back of your neck, fingers tangled in your hair. It is unfair how good your touch feels, his back arching just from mere caresses upon his skin. You play him like he’s an instrument you’ve practiced for years, despite never having fucked him before. He digs his heels into your back as your hand wraps around his dick, and he whines into your shoulder when you lovingly stroke it.

“I love you,” you murmur as he pulls on your hair, as his nails dig into your skin, and he wants to cry. He will destroy you from the inside out, he knows, or maybe he will kill you before he gets the chance to. He can never keep the things he loves alive.

Your lips kiss his skin, and he moans brokenly as your thumb glides over the head of his cock, pushing down on the tip. His hips rock up to meet your hand, and he feels ashamed of how blatantly he allows himself to enjoy you, how blatantly he allows himself to use you. You deserve so much better, but you are the best thing that he has ever managed to get his bloodstained hands on, and so he can’t help himself. He wants you to remain unaware of how much better you could do. He wants you to stubbornly remain by his side even when he makes it hard for you to do so. He wants to bare every part of his being to you so you can see how little worth he is to you. He wants you to run from him before it’s too late.

But part of him knows he already has shown you himself, that you’ve seen who he is and you still love him. You must be stupid.

“Use me,” he begs you, wishing you’d do something with him to alleviate the guilt he feels, so it would at least be mutual. His hands cling to you, and he whimpers pathetically when you lean back to look down at him. “Use me, please. Please…”

And your eyes are so kind. Your eyes are so sweet and soft and human, and everything he is not.

“Shh,” you hush him, tenderly pressing a kiss to his lips. He sobs, feeling embarrassing tears fill his eyes as you press closer to him, the touch so caring and innocent yet so lewd as your hand tugs at him. “Just let me make you feel good, okay?”

And you do. You always keep true to your words, unlike him. It’s barely a minute later that his breath hitches and he keens, nearly wailing into your neck as he comes undone under your too loving hands. It’s obscene, and he feels filthy as his semen paints your hand and splatters on his lower stomach. He has soiled your perfect skin, has dirtied your perfect body. He hopes you will let go of him and wash yourself up, then leave him here, broken on the bed in the mess he’s created. That you will leave him to pick up the pieces of himself he has left. He is undeserving of you.

And yet he only feels your love swaddle him when his body relaxes, adoring praises and sweet words tumbling from your perfect lips as your perfect hands gently stroke his body, soothing him as if he is deserving. Your perfect body presses closer to him, no doubt getting his mess on your perfect abdomen as you almost lay yourself flat on him. You pepper perfect kisses all over his face, and he realises belatedly he’s crying. For the first time in ten years. Fat tears rolling down his cheeks, and he doesn’t know for what reason.

But you seem like you do know. You look so understanding, wiping his tears with an achingly kind, perhaps slightly sad smile, and you don’t ask him why.

“I’ve got you now, it’s okay,” you say instead. And you do, because you always keep true to your word.

And he is selfish, because he doesn’t stop you. He lets you clean him up, lets you kiss his tears away, lets you take care of him. Lets you climb into bed with him afterwards, unaware that you have brought the monster under your bed up into your loving arms. He hasn’t felt so much love since he was nine.

And he is selfish, because even though he can already feel his claws dig into your flesh as he holds you in return, he cannot bring himself to pull away. He can only hope he won’t dig in his heels when you eventually see reason and try to leave. He can only hope you will have the time to get away before he kills you.

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My inbox is open, feel free to send in asks or requests, I'd love to ramble about things <3

[visual-freak]

Saiki Kusuo Headcanons

Note: doing this because I need a way to let these thoughts out of my head

- he’s definitely the type to eat & drink your own food the second you turn your head away and will pretend as if your piece of cake missing a bite wasn’t his doing

- he’ll buy you a new one don’t worry (and proceed to take a bite out of that one too) (yall he literally drank teruhashis smoothie while invisible simply because😭)

- DO NOOOOOT try to engage in PDA with him. He will find and try every way to avoid it at any cost. It creates to much attention towards him.

- he’ll make up to you later in private

- the type to teleport to your room at random times when he “needs your help” with something

- he wanted an excuse to be around you, though if you try and say that to him he’ll leave to try and prove a point. (He’s gonna come back eventually)

- He will stalk you

- this is canon, and if you say otherwise..you’re lying

- he literally stalks his friends all the time in the series to make sure they’re okay. Though he claims it’s because if he doesn’t then it’ll inconvenience him in some way

- but yeah, you’re not at school one day? Using clairvoyance to figure out where you at

- decide to take a walk alone at night for some reason? He’s using invisibility and is lowkey right behind you

- He practically has your entire routine memorized to the beat

-How’d he know you love coming to this corner store afterschool to get this specific snack? Lucky guess🤷🏾‍♀️

- He was most definitely not the one to confess

- how you got him to actually commit to being with you is beyond my abilities as a writer ✋🏾😔

-but he is extremely loyal

-buddy does not play about his partner

- teruhashi? Now he’s definitely working overtime to get her to get OVER him, avoiding her like the black plague

- might even use his annoyed face (jkjk he knows that her minions might actually murder him somehow someway)

- it’s going to take him a LOONG time for him to tell you about his powers.

- like he would need to trust you A TON

-but when you do find out and you’re cool with it, it’s definitely a lot of weight off his shoulders

- someone he can actually talk to about his problems openly

- speaking of his powers he’s not letting kusuke ANYWHERE NEAR YOU

-ABSOLUTELY NOT

- his brother as shown in the series will use anything and ANYONE to get to kusuo just so he can beat him at SOMETHING

-God forbid his brother tries bringing you into his sadistic little game of his, who knows what kusuo will do

- also his parents adore you. Especially his mother

- she invite you over a lot, whether it’s for tea, cooking lessons or a special event

- his grandparents are waiting for your wedding (to kusuo’s displeasure, he’s sick of hearing them saying that)

-there’s been multiple times kusuo will simply just drag you to his room for some privacy or just go somewhere outside the house.

- but that would usually mean bumping into your others nuisances friends.

- which he will ever so slightly lean into your side as a way of telling you he wants to leave

- ok my brain has stopped functioning. Good night and enjoy!

[rlimagi]

Life was Sweet

Pairings: Queen of Hearts x Reader

Request: hi!! could i request the queen of hearts x mad hatter!reader, whos known her since before the prank, and still stuck around with her because theyre loyal. and theyre always trying to help her open up and have a little fun, so she can be her true self again!

Genre: Fluff

Note: it was kinda hard to write for the Queen of Hearts as only her mean side was shown but I truly believe that Bridget is still in there somewhere.

You had been by The Queen of Heart’s side even before she was The Queen of Hearts. Your best friend used to be Bridget, one of the sweetest princess in Merlin academy.

But now, in everyone else’s eyes, she was the cruelest Queen there had ever been. ‘Off with their heads’ rolls down her tongue as natural as walking for a normal person.

Any normal human would turn their backs against the Queen once they knew it was too late for her to be the sweet Bridget again, but you were never normal.

“Bridget, you’ve gotta stop being so harsh on Red.” You tried to reason with the Queen as she walked around your room and you were starting to feel dizzy.

It was midnight when a sudden explosion bursted your doors open, revealing the Queen of Hearts. Then 2 hours later, she was still in your room complaining about her daughter while touching and messing up your precious stuff.

“I told you to address me by my title!” The Queen glared at you but you chose to ignore her fiery gaze, no matter how much she threatened to chop your head off you knew she would never find the heart to do so. No matter how small it became. “And last time I checked, she is my daughter! Not yours!”

“She might as well be, I helped raise her!” You shouted, startling Bridget and even yourself at the outburst. You muttered an apology before taking a sip of focus potion to wake you up fully. You were so out of it after only getting 2 hours of sleep.

“Whatever, the point is she’s only a kid, she’s in the phase where she needs to figure out who she is. And who she is definitely isn’t you.” You slowly approached her, putting a hand on her shoulder In comfort while also trying to knock some sense into her.

“Remember when we were teenagers and all the fun we had? Your parents were never as controlling as you are with Red. Maybe we should bake cakes together again like the good old days!”

“Fun? I remember how much fun they all had when I was weak, gullible, and humiliated! Luckily you were sick or you might as well be dead to me like everyone else that was there!” The Queen exclaimed, her hands laid on a knife you were heating up earlier.

Your heart sunk deeper at the reminder of the day when your lives changed forever. You and Bridget had always been friends, since babies. Your parents practically raised you both together as both of your Kingdoms were united.

Ella came in view when you and Bridget arrived at Merlin academy, in a way she was her own person but she just felt like one of you guys so it wasn’t surprising how quickly the three of you got along.

Your friendship was great, well until one fateful day when everything changed. For worse.

The three of you planned to go to the dance together seeing as Bridget badly wanted to go, you and Ella never really liked those things but agreed to go anyways, for Bridget.

Just a day before the night of the dance, you had gotten terribly sick and chose to stay in your shared dormitory with Bridget. Your friends wanted to stay and look after you but you didn’t want to ruin their fun, especially Ella after you overheard Prince Charming talking about asking her out to dance.

If only you knew the outcome, you would’ve begged them not to leave your side.

A few hours after the night started, you were woken up by loud noises wandering around your dorm. You couldn’t make out who it was as you were too sick to move, but you knew it was Bridget from the second she mumbled about getting revenge of some sort.

But that was it, after that night, you weren’t getting any better so your parents took you back home to let the family doctor take care of you.

When you became healthy enough to go back to school, everything changed. Everyone avoided Bridget as if she was a plague, even Ella. And it pained you that you never asked what really happened, all you knew was that you’ll be by Bridget’s side no matter what.

So when King Beast and Queen Belle decided to unite all the Kingdoms, only yours and Bridget’s Kingdom rejected their peace offering. And as a result, your Kingdom and hers were forever blocked from ever going out of your Kingdom’s land.

“Bridget! Are you alright?” You immediately dropped all your belongings and rushed to her aid. The Queen flinched in pain when you accidentally pressed on her wound, “Sorry!”

You gently pulled her to sit down on a chair before using your free hand to grab one of your healing potions. “This is going to stink for a while. Are you okay?” you gently held her hand before looking up, right into her eyes. The same eyes you would get lost in every time you looked, and she looked at you the same way.

Suddenly it was like she was a teenage girl again, when life was sweet. Remembering the sparks that would go off whenever you held her hands as you placed on a bandage when she accidentally burnt herself while you guys were on your weekly baking date. The way you would hold her so warmly that all her senses would go off and all she wanted to do was be in your arms forever.

The feelings she had that got locked up when she became the Queen of Hearts, what she didn’t know was that she had already taken yours and you had forgotten it too.

You both came back to your senses when the sound of a thunder was heard, immediately moving apart from each other. You dropped her hand in panic and she was starting to miss that feeling. And she didn’t like feeling that feeling one bit.

“Oh, umm…do you want to bake a cake together? Unless you want cookies or cupcakes or both!” Your question was more like a demand since you gave her no chance to speak, grabbing her hands while ignoring the old butterflies that had finally grew wings again.

“We’re going to make cookies!” You claimed once you and Bridget arrived at your kitchen, you usually prefer for your bakers to make whatever you desire but baking it yourself just felt perfect at this time around.

The whole situation felt awkward at first, you weren’t used to being the one talking. Bridget was usually the one who starts and ends the conversations, mostly ranting about problems in her own Kingdom and her daughter.

But ever since that moment you shared, she had been quiet and weird, it was like her body was there but she wasn’t quite herself. It wasn’t too bad since she actually did help with mixing up the ingredients. But you really hated feeling awkward around your best friend. You terribly wanted to break the ice, so you did.

“Oh, you got something there.” You slowly headed her way, reaching out near her face pretending to get a non existent thing off her face. “Right…there! Ah HAH!” you grinned as you threw flour to her way.

Bridget stayed still, at first you thought that that would be the end of your precious head but then you saw a smile grew on her face as she did the same back. “I’m not letting you get away so easily!”

After almost 17 years, you finally found a way to see old Bridget again. You really never appreciate the small moments until it is taken away from you.

“Game on, my Queen!”

Half an hour later and the whole kitchen was filled with flour, the room was basically whiter than Snow White herself. You and Bridget laughed all night before taking a break on the floor.

“Remember when we used to have those weekly baking dates and it would always end up with flour all over the place?” You reminisced of your younger days as you settled yourself down next to Bridget. Leaning on her shoulders gently, a habit of yours since long long ago.

“Your mother would get so disappointed and made us clean it ourselves but we still did it again. Of course I remember.” Bridget smiled but not like the smile she usually does when ordering guards to cut people’s head off, this was different, genuine, and for a moment you saw the same look she used to hold before everything changed.

The look that had you lost in time and all you could do was look at her like she was the only one who existed in your world.

“I love you.” You nervously blurted out. One of the things you hated the most since birth was hiding your own feelings, it was suffocating, especially since you were hiding from the person you practically spent your whole life with.

And for a moment, you thought she won’t feel the same way. After all, you guys never addressed the situationship you had going on. It was greatly pushed aside after all the problems Bridget faced after that sorrow night.

“You do?” The Queen’s eyes grew soft as she looked back at you, her hands gently caressing your face.

“I always have, and always will. I loved you since that day you defended me from those bullies even though they were twice your size, we were twelve. You were always the sweetest, even to people who never deserved it.” You chuckled, it was bittersweet but at least you and Bridget had always been by each other’s side, no matter what.

Even if, for the past 20 years you guys had to push aside your true feelings for each other.

“I planned to come clean about my feelings to you years ago but as you know, time loves to mess with u-“ your words were cut off when Bridget leaned in, using her finger to lift your chin up before pulling you in for a long much needed kiss.

The softness of her lips almost took your breath away. The longing and desperate feelings that had been built up were release as you melted into her hold.

[ancientgoddessofegypt]

Astrology Observations Pt.4

Long time no see everyone :) i have a few astro observations i wanna share so lets get to it

Lilith/Mars individuals carry an unspoken confidence that ignites a fire in the eyes of other people and can make others fall in love with them. Their self expression comes in through the form of bravery and letting the world see their raw truth unfiltered, not giving a damn about what others think. This makes for strong attraction and they have a hard time getting people off of them, and i mean this in two ways: one way being that others have 'feelings' for them 'down there' *wink wink* causing them to show a deep sexual attraction to them whether they are uncomfortable with it or not. their unconscious thoughts will be shown to the lilith mars person with seemingly lil to no effort. they wont know why they just know it feels good (or embarasing/harboring a lot of guilt) however these lilith babes are about exploring parts of ourselves that we mask and no judgement zones are a necessity when in their spaces. the other way is others will be triggered by them due to the octrasized lililith/mars person embracing their freedom and living their truth no matter what. all in all, both fall under secret (or not so secret) admiration.

Lilith/Pluto are the powerhouses of being who they are and when they want to be it. Literally octrasize by people all their lives and wen through lots of trauma. the way they express their power is through their traumas and taking back what was stolen. People have a hard time looking to them as real people because of their auras they possess. their sexuality/sensual energy is unmatched and is hard to tame. at some point they know when to let go and let this energy in them grow. if it makes people go crazy then so be it. naturally hypnotizing i cannot tell you how bad this cause you could definitely give away something to them and all they did was look you in the eye with a smile. Their natural aroma scares others but also perplexes them. its like damn are you a witch? maybe, maybe not. its just so much deeper than that. a personal message for them is being aware of yourself and the world around you is gift. People that dont know themselves will look up to you in the long run, you are the underdogs of your generations and you're healing a lot of wounds that most people will never face because they do not like what they see in the dark. You like your freedom and do not care what others think, you make your own rules because thats what we're meant to do. Be humans who create our own paths for ourselves and move to the beat of our own drum. Dont take what people say too close to the heart, youre mirroring back the shadows they hate in themselves.

Venus/Mercury has a gift of gab. Highly inspirational and their words connect you to the divine. The heart space opens up when they express their truth through the power of words, the use of their hands and the beauty of their minds. A rare placement since its only in conjunction and sextile. Not too many people have this one. Venus/Mercury babes channel from a source that connects them to the power of love, and when you speak you touch people and we fall in love with you all over again. If you have a voice please sing, speak, share with us your gift of light. Thats what you're called to do. If you are a writer share your stories with the world, your creative mind takes us back to the inner child. Enjoy it while its here!

Mars in Saggitarius. Go. GETTERS!!! When they want something they will not stop to get it. Their fire burns to achieve something bigger than themselves and with the right amount of optimism they will make it if they put the work in. One of the signs that mars works wonders in, because they can achieve their dreams quickly because of the excessive amount of fire in this house. Saggitarius only grows, never limits itself. The more they work hard the more good fortune comes their way. Others can get nervous around their because of their boastful confidence. Its too big.. its too wide. its too strong.. it wont fit or whatever beyonce said LMAOO thats yall. Very big egos and for a good reason. Yall get what you want when you want it. Nothing can stop them from getting what they need and mars sag babes wanting more in life is whats going to keep them moving.

Pisces Ascendant babes are the muses, the stars, the messengers, the oracle, the originators. These dreamers are capable of seeing the beyond even when the world doesnt see it yet. The world could doubt them but if they believe in themselves more they will prove to the world that all dreams are possible. Their reality is formed through subconscious thinking, so they must pay attention to what goes on in the inside of their minds because thats what controls their day to day reality the most. Shapeshifters who naturally move with the beat of the universe, their new look can be formed not just from an idea but because something new is changing in the world, and they are normally the first to get this information first. This is why some of them are trendsetters in fashion. Everything happens in spirit before it is physical, however for them the spirit and the psychical will always meet. And with their transformations it can sometimes be a message from the divine. Before anyone says its not that deep, i wanna tell you that anything with pisces is going to be that deep LMAO no other way to spin that. Their connected to the cosmos and their pineal glands connects them to other worlds we just havent tapped into yet. Its a gift. So a lot of times when they change, something in the environment changed too. All in all, pisces asc are good at picking up on other peoples energy. they can absorb others vibrations and anything around them and this can be a problem for them. Pisces asc will consistently have to connect to nature and cleanse more often than most because they can feel that sense of foggy-ness around them due to picking up on energy that is not their own. They will have to strengthen their discernment skills, level up with shields for the body and wearing certain garments/jewelery for protection because their auric fields naturally take in more than what they can handle.

5th House Plutonians are strong powerhouses in the form of creation. Their dark power is spilled out into the world of arts, giving them the nutrients they need in healing traumas or any dark thoughts thats been held in themselves for so long. Outlets that form a stage for these individuals makes for incredible perfomances that nobody will ever forget due to the way they make others feel. In this life time, they will learn to accept this power with grace because even if the way they feel performing for others makes them feel uncomfortable, someone is being triggered to feel those raw emotions that we hide in us. If they cant find an outlet for their creative expression, they will start to 'go crazy' and be more into psychotic behaviors that will make them lose touch of reality. This raw power that they have must be fed to others as we need to feel the deepness of our own bodies so that we can grow into the beings we are meant to be. Pluto in the 5th house can create an influencer who is just being themselves and the world around them is either inspired by or deeply maddens them. The gift of being yourself is their strongest attribute to society, and can be one of the ways for them to have power and establish some sort of wealth. If they never use this gift to soar into any artistic expression, the world would be missing a fine piece to the puzzle: Raw Truth. I hope this helps!

i hope yall enjoy!

[azfell-ajcrowley]

Something we didn't notice (part 2)

part 1

Overall, the meta is based on close observation of Aziraphale (for the most part) and Crowley. Without speculation or trying to guess what we haven't been shown (well, almost).

The Metatron makes it clear that he is watching Aziraphale delivering the "good news". Aziraphale looks back at him.

The first thing I'd like to explain. The Metatron is talking to Muriel, and then he stares at the window of the bookshop duplicating that gaze toward Crowley. The frame changes and we see Aziraphale looking out the same window, just for a second, but he will do it repeatedly.

As Crowley starts his monologue, Aziraphale tries to stop him by gesturing for him not to say too much, while looking out the window himself. Aziraphale continues to turn to the window with every meaningful attempt to speak.

Let's also note that Aziraphale doesn't usually behave in a similar way in conversations with Crowley. Yes, Aziraphale is characterised by active gesticulation, but the constant pauses, averting his eyes from the interlocutor, nervous and jerky movements - these are messengers that angel is holding something back, hiding or simply doesn't want to tell. Most often we see this Aziraphale in conversations with the leadership - God and Archangels.

https://commonmexicanname.tumblr.com/post/734305363759890432/good-omens-thoughts

Here's a prime example, comparing his interaction with Archangels when he's caught off guard and frantically trying to figure out how to get out of the situation.

I don't think Aziraphale is just lying to Crowley here, no. He just has an audience beyond Crowley. He tries to tell everything, knowing he has more than one viewer.

When Aziraphale mentions the Metatron, he is not just hinting, he points his index fingers - one at the window, another at Heaven, and then in a distinctly active quick motion once more at the WINDOW.

And again - turns his face to the window at the words about Gabriel failing, and then tilts his head towards the transparent panes of the bookshop.

The conversation with the Metatron is important, among other things, to assess Aziraphale's behaviour when Crowley is mentioned by his superiors. At the words about their partnership Aziraphale looks frightened: his facial muscles are tense, his forehead and eyebrows are furrowed, and there is a terror in his eyes.

When the God's spokesman concludes his really suspicious speech, Aziraphale swallows nervously and averts his eyes. He certainly doesn't look like someone who's been offered the fulfilment of his cherished dream. And not like someone who believes it.

Aziraphale looks like someone who has just found out what an enormous amount of incriminating information is in his opponent's possession.

"Tell me you said no. Tell me you said NO." Crowley is definitely shocked and horrified, he thinks the best of his angel. He can't believe what's going on (and he isn't supposed to).

Aziraphale turns his head towards the window again as an answer.

He actually said:

And

We see him right before he walks into the bookshop, he never says yes to the Metatron.

Aziraphale utters his most delusional words while looking out the window. Of course, they're not meant for Crowley. Aziraphale hasn't believed it for a long time, Crowley even more so.

And then Crowley says "Oh, God", without correcting himself afterwards, because this demon can only hope in God here.

For a second Aziraphale has a look of hope on his face that Crowley has realised what he's getting at. Then Aziraphale realises that Crowley is trying to confess. He's waited for so long not to realise. He was about to confess too.

Aziraphale already knows everything Crowley is about to tell him, but more importantly, literally everyone already knows it. It's impossible to stay and start pretending again that there's nothing between them.

Aziraphale has a completely blank stare past Crowley, and then he looks out the window. Again.

And then the most interesting thing happens. Crowley starts his line "And I would like to spend…" But he turns his head and finally looks out the window, where Aziraphale has been pointing so hard since the beginning of their conversation.

Maybe that's the reason Crowley doesn't complete the sentence. And he begins to pick up different words. Maybe not, maybe the sun from the outside is preventing him from seeing the Metatron.

In the final part of their conversation, when they move closer to the bookshop's door, Aziraphale looks towards the window again.

After "no nightingales" line he turns away to hide his feelings and pain.

The cherry on the cake is the kiss, Aziraphale is falling into the abyss. He averts his eyes trying to figure out if the Metatron could have seen what just happened.

When Crowley leaves, Aziraphale thinks he's lost him. But then, even when the Metatron walks in and says devaluing words about Crowley, Aziraphale can't tear himself away from the window, because now he can see Crowley there. Maybe not everything is lost.

Aziraphale retreats back to the clock - to the very spot where Crowley was standing a few minutes ago. He looks out the window at Crowley, as if to say, "I stand where you stood, you stand where the Metatron stood."

[redmyeyes]

Fellow Travelers sex scenes

I can't stop thinking about what Matt and Jonny keep repeating over and over again in interviews, regarding the FT sex scenes. That, in the writing and filming it was important that:

No two scenes were the same.

Every sex scene informed the story.

The characters were not the same before the scene as they were after. That they were changed by it.

So, let's talk about them.

"Pretend"

establishment of hawk's usual modus operandi -- brief fucks with strangers. he keeps a tight rein on his desires and won't allow himself to want more.

2. "Fold them."

establishing dynamics, hawk is in control, tim is being (happily) led. par for the course for hawk (or is it?)

3. "I'm your boy, right?"

tim can play, too. this dynamic is not one-way. the 'power' in this relationship definitely does not lie solely with hawk. you might even say this flips the power dynamic on its head. hawk is GONE.

4. "Do you like it this way? Your life, like this?"

not a sex scene, but one of the first slow, tender aftermaths. clear now that, for both of them, this goes much much deeper than just sex.

5. "I belong to Hawkins Fuller."

tim showing that he's willing to meet hawk on his level. the submission and dominance are so intertwined here they can't be separated. it's the willingness of that submission, the willingness of that Belonging, that changes everything.

and tim begging (through provocation) hawk to acknowledge him / what they have, out loud. "who do you belong to" = "i love you, i need you, tell me you need me too."

6. "It's your turn tonight."

a fucked-up goodbye, on hawk's part. he really thinks this might be the last time he's allowed to see tim, and he says 'i love you' the only way he knows how -- with his body, with service.

7. "Your Honor, I stand before you accused of being sweet."

crucially, not a sex scene. even more crucially, there is no sex at all in episode 5, where they separate for the first (and, they think, last) time. instead, we're shown what they're really giving up -- this too sweet (painfully sweet) domesticity.

8. "We don't have to do what we used to do."

the horribly empty aftermath. where they give in to "sex", of a sort, but it's dry and horrifically painful and NOT AT ALL what either of them want. because what they want is intimacy, not sex. and they're not allowed this.

9. "Stay with me."

the botched threesome, where craig is an afterthought, an excuse for hawk and tim to be together, and even then, horrifically painful in the way they LONG for each other and for what they can't have.

10. "I want you to fuck me."

a true surrender. again, hawk showing what he wants the only way he knows how -- through his body -- giving tim his willing submission, body, heart and soul.

11. "We'll be colleagues. We'll see each other every day."

not technically a sex scene, but the truest expression of them 'making love' that we ever get on screen. returning to #1, it's the polar opposite of what hawk had previously allowed himself, and it's what he really wants -- all the intimacy he'll shortly be sacrificing.

12. "That better?" "Oh yeah."

finally, finally, after all those years, a return to the true intimacy they were craving.

[denwritesandcries]

Dating Tara having a scary dog HCs

Pairing: tara carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: You didn’t expect your girlfriend to act like that around your dog, but it's still pretty funny though.

Word count: 1,4k.

Content: cursing, fluff, tara being dramatic and a caos gremlin, author never had a dog, mentions of scream V.

Note: Still don't think I'm really good at hcs but I had fun writing these!

English is not my first language.

- Tara could admit that she didn’t know much about you when you first started to go out, which probably would have caused Sam to have a meltdown if she’d found out about it, but, well, making impulsive decisions was her specialty.

- One of the things Tara had come to learn about you — details, mere details — was that you had a dog, after hearing you mention it once or twice.

- Tara, who had never had a pet before, was immediately excited with the prospect of meeting and having one in her life, wondering what it would be like.

- You hadn’t shown her any pictures, and on your Instagram there were a surprising amount of different dogs for her to be sure which one was yours, so Tara tried to guess. Would it be a puppy, happy and gangly? Or even an older, relaxed and well-behaved one, a childhood dog maybe? Would make a good cuddle buddy.

(Whichever one it was, she hoped it to be a short-haired; her asthma and allergies would be very grateful.)

- What she hadn’t imagined, however, was to come across her girlfriend smiling and waving brightly, with a damn hound on a leash on what should have been a perfectly romantic and uneventful date.

“What is that?”

“Hi, baby!” you greet, oblivious to her incredulous and apprehensive tone, “That’s Cujo.”

“Cujo,” she echoed, hesitantly, “Like… the rabid, murderous dog from the movie?”

“No, not the movie, the book,” you corrected. “Don’t worry, Tar, she’s a sweetie.”

“Your Cerberus is a she?”

“It’s just a doberman, babe.”

Great.

- Tara’s definitely scared of your dog at first, but she won't admit it. She's faced crazy killers before, for God's sake! A little pet was nothing.

- You know she's scared from the start. It's honestly kind of funny how she tries to act all brave, especially since you know Cujo wouldn't hurt a fly if she could (and she could), so you do your best to make her relax.

- Trying to get her used to it at first by asking if she'd like to hold the leash on walks, even though she always refuses it, “If it decides to start running I might get dragged across town until I fall down some drain. Would you dare do that to your poor asthmatic girlfriend?”

- Trying to avoid situations where your dog is involved doesn't work for long, though, it lives with you, after all – duh, Tara, really? – and your house is the only place you two can have some privacy without Sam hovering like a hawk all the time, so she has to get over it, like, urgently.

She stops you at the door the first time she comes over:

“So, is there any more… unexpected pets I should know about?”

You shrug, “I have some sea monkeys too.”

- She’s completely dramatic about it at first, as she always is when things don’t go her way. But it’s endearing, and it’s one of the reasons you fell in love with her anyway.

- So… Tara, who has staring contests with your dog every time she comes over for the night or to just hang out, because she can’t stop squinting suspiciously every time she gets too close to the furry form you idolize so much.

- Tara, who gets upset and sullen when you’re gonna cuddle and the dog is faster, taking up your entire lap, the place she should be.

“You can just lay or rest on her, baby, I swear she won't bite.”

“No freaking way! Here, just hold me closer.”

Well, she swears that your dog would have laughed at her if she could.

- Tara, who's sure your dog has something against her and chases her around for the pure pleasure of it, no matter how much you argue about projecting, dark eyes making her jump in fright whenever they're in the same room.

- Tara, who huffs and whines when you go to sleep and the dog follows you, sprawling at your feet in the bed like she's its owner.

“Oh man, even here?”

“Tar, she's sleeping. It's a dog, it's not planning something against you.”

“She's threatening me on purpose!”

“She probably knows that you dislike her, you know, it's pretty obvious.”

“Whatever, I'm not apologizing to a dog.”

- Tara, who actually finds it pretty comfortable sleeping next to the furball, who keeps the bed less lonely and stops the heat from escaping when you get up early to make breakfast.

- Tara, who warms up and attaches quickly afterward, even if she doesn't want to admit it out of sheer stubbornness.

“Awn, I see you guys are getting along. You're petting her now! That’s so great, honey!”

“I'm not! I'm just checking to make sure she didn't bring any dirt from the park earlier.”

- Tara, who turns into an absolute menace once she and your dog bond and you honestly don't know if that's a good thing or not, but it's chaotic anyway.

- Tara, who struts around, holding on to the leash to save her life and still managing to look completely smug like a damn small gangster, laughing at those who stray from their path or get scared by the sudden barking.

“Ha, look at them! Scared of such a little pup, losers.”

“If she ever gets up she'd be literally bigger than you, Tar,” you sigh, “And you acted just like them too.”

“Liar! All lies!”

- Tara, who spends her money on thousands of clothes and accessories that she thinks would look good on the dog, even though your pet already has a lot. Most of them are silly costumes from movies she likes, and one day you come home to find your dog on the couch wearing a cheap Michael Myers costume and you can barely breathe from laughing when she comes running up to greet you by the door.

- You definitely notice your dog wearing a big colorful bow that conveniently matches your girlfriend’s shirt and teases her shamelessly. All you get is a ‘she looks like a princess, leave her be!’

- She calls the dog by cute pet names and talks in a baby voice – which she denies to death – when she thinks no one is listening. Sometimes you even get confused about who the ‘hi baby!’ is for when she walks through the room.

- You're a little jealous when she prefers to snuggle with your dog instead of you, but you end up finding it so adorable that the problem is solved by cuddling them both together and that way everyone’s happy and content.

- Sam almost has a heart attack the first time she sees Tara with the dog, as do Chad and Ethan; Mindy’s a little hesitant and Anika’s the only one genuinely excited and happy about everything, wanting to pet it as soon as she sees her lying on the carpet.

- With that, Tara also defends your dog from anyone who dares to open their mouth and say something bad about her, whether they're your friends or the Karens you meet when you're out together (you have to stop her from throwing hands with them occasionally).

- Teaches the dog to purposely bark to scare Ethan every time he says something stupid and inappropriate and you're left wondering when the hell she had time to do that without you knowing, completely ignoring your claims of 'being a bad influence.'

- Protects the dog from absolutely any of your scolding, no matter what the reason, dramatically covering its ears and looking personally offended by your complaints. You can never stay mad for long with the sight of your girlfriend trying to cover up a dog who's clearly more intimidating than her and literal puppy eyes staring at you with intensity, letting go even if your couch or plants have been destroyed.

- You end up with a happy little family before you finish college without even realizing it, which ends up being the best thing that ever happened to you.

- Tara's favorite part of all of this is the slow and warm mornings when you two don't have to be anywhere and can sleep in, feeling your arm around her waist and your dog curled up between you – under the covers too because it got cold during the night – when she can sigh contentedly and enjoy what you have without any more fears about the future.

“You know, remembering how scared you were of Cujo in the beginning, I never would have expected it to end up like this.”

“That name still doesn't fit,” she says stubbornly, “And I’ve never been scared of our dog, I just wasn’t a pet person.”

“Our dog?”

“Oh, shut it.”

She would never admit it anyway.

- Tara could admit, though, that you were right: your dog really is a sweetie.

[juicedaloe]

Mithrun and brain damage

I'm not sure if anyone is interested in this, but I wanted to make a post talking about why I think that Mithrun has brain damage from a traumatic brain injury instead of him being a representation of other neurological disorders or mental illness. I'm not that involved in the dunmesh fandom so I don't know how common this headcanon is, though I've seen a few people mention it here and there.

This is just my own opinion so if you disagree then that's fine. Some of this is just speculation and I can't say what Kui's intentions were. This post isn't meant to be that serious. I just wanted to talk about it and hopefully inform about how brain damage can affect some people in a way that I hope is interesting and relevant.

This will be kind of long because I like to talk so it will be under the cut. Apologies for the length and how much I ramble. Feel free to give input especially if I got anything wrong or if this is too confusing.

Okay let's go

Traumatic brain injury (TBI) is incredibly complex. The long-term effects of a TBI include a wide array of symptoms. Each injury is different, and some people can completely recover rather quickly while others can become permanently disabled, even for seemingly "minor" injuries. What I'll cover here isn't a definitive representation of the experiences of all those who have long-term effects from TBI, nor do I speak for everyone with brain damage.

Here are some long term symptoms relevant to this post:

Alexithymia (inability to process and name emotions)

Inability to process and name physical perceptions

Mood swings and emotional regulation difficulties

Communication difficulties

Social impairment

Apathy about caring for oneself

Lack of motivation

Alexithymia and inability to process physical perceptions

This one is rather obvious. While Mithrun is shown to feel emotions and have physical sensations (for instance, describing his location when he gets lost in the dungeon as "a cold place"), he is also apathetic to how this affects him. This means that his physical and emotional perceptions are reduced in some way. He says that becoming lord of the dungeon will leave someone "empty", showing he is aware of his dulled emotional state.

A good example of this is can be seen here in a bonus comic where he doesn't give much of a reaction to burning his mouth on hot food.

(I love these two a lot, by the way. Pattadol is really under appreciated.)

He is also not able to recognize bodily signals, such as hunger or when he is tired. Despite collapsing from exhaustion and not eating for long periods of time, he still insists he is not tired or hungry.

Mood swings

Mood swings in combination with alexithymia can be an especially disorientating experience. Those who struggle to perceive their own emotions can still feel them even if they don't know how to recognize it.

Individuals with brain injuries often experience drastic mood swings, particularly anger. To those around them, they can appear to go from 0 to 100 in an instant.

This is more speculation/headcanon on my part, as the strongest emotion Mithrun has for most of his appearances is anger. However one could interpret this as being unrelated as he is seeking revenge for a traumatic experience.

Communication difficulties and social impairment

Not only can naming personal experiences be incredibly difficult with a brain injury, but other areas of communication are often affected as well.

Mithrun is not able to set boundaries for himself even if someone is doing something he would not actually want them to do, which can leave him in a vulnerable position.

People with brain injuries can sometimes have a paradoxical experience when it comes to communicating with others. They can go from being very quiet to speaking at length about one topic, seemingly without regard for the importance of each bit of information. (I see it like Newton's first law of motion. It is hard to start speaking and it can be just as hard to stop.)

I really like this aspect of Mithrun's characterization. Usually, he is very quiet because he has no reason to speak. However, once he starts talking he is shown to be overly specific and goes on for long periods of time. Kabru has to spend multiple days figuring out his story.

In a side comic, Kabru tells Mithrun he should condense some of the personal details that Kabru finds irrelevant to the topic of the dungeon.

Mithrun shares many details about himself because his desire not to do so is gone. This mirrors the experience of many people who have brain damage to overshare and not understand how their words will come across to others. Sometimes they say or do things that are insensitive or inappropriate for the situation.

Caring for oneself and motivation

In the dungeon, Mithrun becomes reliant on others for self care. He also seems especially incapable of motivating himself to take care of his body when he is particularly focused on his goals.

In these panels, thus far he had been fairly receptive of Kabru trying to take care of him. However, he could sense that the demon was close and was too focused on that to care to eat.

Refusal of care and treatment is often an effect of traumatic brain injury. This can be for seemingly no reason, even if the person knows that this will help them. Sometimes people will lie about receiving treatment or doing things to take care of themselves, either so they can avoid it or avoid having someone take care of them.

He knows that eating regularly and not pushing himself too much will help him - he's been told multiple times on-screen - but he still has to be continuously told by others to give him that motivation to take care of himself. He's very apathetic to his physical state, even if it seems his only desire is for revenge and he should be doing anything he can to achieve that.

Other things of note

I wasn't sure where to put this, but while Mithrun's sense of direction is speculated by Kabru to be left over from his time as lord of an ever-changing, confusing dungeon, having poor sense of direction in the way he does could also be indicative of brain injury as well.

While the dungeon is confusing and illogical, he is known to have a poor sense of direction and to get frequently lost by those around him, even trying to exit an entrance he just came through. He is shown to be very intelligent, but memory is greatly impacted by brain injuries which affects a person's sense of direction and location.

Something that really stands out to me about Mithrun is how much the things that help him are particularly helpful to those with brain damage. He is physically capable of performing tasks, but he needs an outside source to remind him and get him started. He relies entirely on routine, and when that regularity is taken away he shows extreme difficulty taking care of himself.

Sometimes, the care that some people need is simply someone else to encourage them or to tell them when to do things. The care that he needs is pretty consistent with a person with a brain injury who does not need a full time caretaker and would prefer to have some independence.

Also, healing magic is specified to not work with brain injury unless the person is killed and revived. Mithrun had not been revived after his injuries, so it is entirely possible for him to have sustained a TBI. I don't think this matters that much because one is still allowed to have headcanons even if there is a magical explanation or isn't really possible in canon, but I thought it was an interesting detail.

In conclusion

Because of all this I don't believe that his lack of self care is due solely to mental illness. While mental illnesses like depression or PTSD can cause a decline in self care, the reasons why the affected individual is avoidant of these tasks differs. These disorders can also cause cognitive difficulties and emotional regulation issues, but not to the same extent or in the same way that brain damage would. I think that he does have both depression and PTSD (both are common after a TBI) but those are not his only disabilities.

And on a personal note, I just think that having a character with brain damage is really cool. Most of the time I've seen it the characters are not given very much respect and they are treated as comic relief and a joke. Regardless of whether you agree with this post or not, it is still nice to see a character with a disability like this.

Thank you if you read all of this. I hope it was easy to understand and I did not ramble too much. I don't have anything else to say but I've been wanting to write this out for a while.

Okay bye

[venerawrites]

Hi! I feel so blessed to have found your blog, your fluff is top tier 🫶🏻 Can I please request fluff for Kakashi x fem!reader where they take their son (who looks exactly like Kakashi) to meet Team 7 and they're all enamoured by baby Kakashi and how happy he is with wife reader? I feel like it'd be so cute~ I hope that's an alright request. Thank you so much! 😘

author's note: this is such a cute request and it has been sitting in my drafts for a while, since I have been waiting to be in the right mood for it! It was such a pleasure to write it and I hope you enjoy it as much as I do! Thank you for requesting! <3

If there was anything Konoha did best, it was celebrating.

Compared to many of the other villages, the Leaf had some form of a festival almost every month. The first Sakura trees have blossomed? Celebration. The war is won? Celebration. The Hokage has a birthday? Celebration. 6 months without any outside threats? Celebration.

For the outsiders these constant festivities were both bizzare and a bit foolish. They could only imagine how much money were spend from the yearly budget, yet somehow the village blossomed economically. The other Kages tried to ask Lady Tsunade more than once in the past how exactly do they manage to do that, but they could never get anything more than a smug smile from her.

You, unlike your husband, loved a good party. During events like this everything felt different - the people were happier, the streets were busier, even the air felt more fresh! You have been waiting for the Spring festival for a while now - not only because you loved trying all the delicious street food, but also because this year you were taking your baby with you.

Being only a few months old, your son was an exact copy of Kakashi. His hair, his eyes, his nose, his lips, even the way he pouted was absolutely the same as your partner. There were times when you sat next to his crib, looking at him for hours, trying to find at least one thing in his appearance that he may took after you. While there were none, you found solace in the fact that he showed at least some traits of your personality - the main one being obsessed with Kakashi, of course.

As you watched your husband gently rocking your child in his arms and whispering sweet words to him, you couldn't stop the smile from spreading wide on your lips. Kakashi hasn't noticed your presence by the door yet, too busy booping your baby's nose and listening to his happy laughter.

He was definitely the favourite parent.

"I can't believe I carried him for nine months and I am still the second best in his eyes", you finally said, making Kakashi whip his head in the direction of your voice. He smiled sheepishly at you, his one free arm extending for you to take.

"You know that is not true, my dove", he tried to reassure you, his attention moving back to the bundle of joy who kept twitching in his grip, "No one can replace mommy! Isn’t that right, little man?"

Almost if understanding his words, the baby turned toward you, reaching one of his small hands toward your face. You immediately melted at the gesture, before carefully grabbing it in yours and lying numerous small kisses on his little fingers.

“Do we really have to go?”, your husband groaned, looking at you pleadingly. If it was up to him the three of you would stay in your house, enjoying a cosy evening just playing and goofing around the living room. With his new role as a Hokage, your time together was limited anyway and he liked to grab any chance he got to spend a few hours with you at home.

“You were the one that promised Naruto you would finally let him see the baby”, you cocked one of your eyebrows and Kakashi immediately shut his mouth, knowing he cannot argue further.

Even since you told Team 7 that you are pregnant, Naruto has shown an enormous enthusiasm about welcoming the baby. He self proclaimed himself “the best uncle to ever exist” and has bought dozen of plush toys and clothes before you even found what the gender is. Both you and Kakashi found this amusing, yet cute, promising him that he would be one of the first people to see your son once he is born.

However, things didn't go as planned and since he was on a mission outside Konoha for the last three months and a half, Naruto was now one of the last people to meet your child. Sakura has asked you countless of times during this period to let her and Sasuke come to your house, but feeling it was unfair to Naruto, you refused every single time.

Now that the blonde was back, however, all three were eagerly waiting to meet the young Hatake.

Kakashi gently passed you the baby, while he went to the corridor to grab the baby carrier wrap he liked to use. One thing about your husband was that he absolutely refused to use a pram.

"It is safer for them to be close to me", he often said, not even hiding his overprotectiveness. Despite your baby already being the village's favourite, he only allowed people to watch him, but never touch him or hold him. It was almost like your son was some kind of a rare jewel, which was so delicate, it had to be admired from a far. And while you found Kakashi's behaviour funny, he was being very serious about it, going as far as to glare and hiss a warning at Guy and Genma every time they tried to pinch your baby's chubby cheeks.

Once the little one was safely wrapped against your partner, you both made your way toward the village centre, where you could already hear music sounding. The streets were flooded with both adults and children, who were all eager to try some foreign food and watch special performances. Every year there were entertainers coming from different lands, performing traditional songs and dances from their cultures. While you knew you couldn't stay for all of them, since you had to put your child to bed quite early, you were excited to see at least some.

You felt one of Kakashi's arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer to him, while he shielded your son's body with the other one. While there were none real threats or risk for any of you, the amount of people made the man anxious. You were just about to grab his hand and try to make him relax, when Naruto's loud voice sounded from somewhere in front of you.

"Kakashi-sensei! Y/N! Over here!", he waved his hands energetically in the air, while both Sasuke and Sakura looked away embarrassed from his behaviour. Your smiled at the blonde, waving back, while your husband couldn't do anything else than let out a sigh.

Once you were a few meters away, the Uzumaki ran toward you, his whole face lighting up once his eyes met those of your son. He pushed past you, without even paying any attention to you, before leaning his head close to the baby's.

" Kakashi! That's your twin, dattebayo!", he shouted and moved his finger between his sensei and your son. Kakashi flicked his hand away, glaring harshly at his student. You sniffled a laugh, before you felt Sakura's hand on your shoulder. Turning around, you offered a smile to both her and Sasuke.

"Don't touch, step back and only watch from a distance", Kakashi instructed, his eyes narrowing at Naruto. The blonde, however, didn't acknowledge his words in any way, instead turning toward you.

"Can I hold him?", he asked, his blue eyes sparkling.

"No!", Kakashi immediately answered for you and you rolled your eyes at your husband, before moving toward the males.

"Of course you can!", before your husband can protest, you gave him a stare and he reluctantly picked up your son from the carrier wrap. He held him in his hands for a few more seconds, eyeing Naruto with suspicion.

"Be very, very, VERY careful!", he said, while passing the wriggling baby to the boy's stretched out arms, "And make sure to support his head! No, not like that... Naruto, I swear to Kami-"

You cut off the white haired male's rambling by wrapping your arm around his waist and placing your head against his shoulder. The Uzumaki was doing just fine, but Kakashi being Kakashi started to panic just at sight of someone else holding your little treasure.

The baby seemed to like the blonde, as he giggled, stretching his small hand toward his face. Sakura, who has been patiently waiting for her sensei to relax a bit, immediately rushed to her teammate's side, uncapable of controlling herself longer. She wriggled her forefinger in front of the child's face, her heart melting once he caught it.

"Hello, little one! I am auntie Sakura!", the baby grinned at her with its toothless smile and she let out an "aww" sound, before turning to you and your husband, "Kakashi-sensei, he really is your exact copy! Y/N, are you sure that's your child?"

You laughed at her joke, before shrugging your shoulders and pressing yourself closer to Kakashi.

"Trust me, I ask myself that every single day!"

Finally tearing your gaze away from Naruto and Sakura, you looked over to Sasuke, who remained frozen in his place. His eyes were focused on the little baby and there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, but unlike his teammates he maintained a safe distance. Feeling someone was watching him, he turned his head in your direction, his cheeks going bright red once he realized you caught him staring.

"Sasuke", you smiled at him and everyone's attention went to the Uchiha, "Do you want to hold him too?"

The dark haired male gulped, his eyes widening. He nervously scratched his shoulder, his gaze going down to his feet.

"I...", he became silent, stealing one more glance at the baby. You found it almost amusing how he was a fearsome ninja that could take dozen of enemies at the same time, yet he felt scared to hold a tiny human.

Looking over at Naruto, you nodded your head, signalling him to pass your son to Sasuke. The blonde let out a huff, dragging his feet toward his teammate.

"Be careful! And hold the head!", he warned the Uchiha, who rolled his eyes in response.

"I know how to hold a baby, dobe! I am not stupid!"

"Language!", Kakashi warned next to you and you looked up at him, only for him to shake his head. It must've been hard dealing with these two for so many years, yet you knew your husband wouldn't had it any other way.

At this moment, surrounded by so much love and happiness, you felt like you finally had everything you wanted in life - an amazing husband, a healthy child and enormous support by anyone around you. If you could choose to re-live only one moment of your life, it would be this.

"You okay, my dove?", Kakashi whispered and you nodded your head, laying a small kiss on his covered chin.

"Never been better."

Unbeknown to you, all of Team 7 smiled at both of you, admiring how happy their sensei was. After decades of suffering and loss, Kakashi took the leap of faith and opened his heart to you. While he was unsure in the beginning if he was ready to be with someone and have a family, looking back he was glad he did.

Pulling down his mask, he laid a soft kiss on your forehead, before nuzzling his nose against it.

"I love you."

"I love you more."

cc artwork: Pietro Smurra

[graysturns]

𝕗𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕣𝕠𝕠𝕞 | 𝕞.𝕤.

note: hey guys this is my first time posting my actual work and i’m kinda new to tumblr so pls be nice or i will cry ok thanks bye

warnings: idk smut ig

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"babe please hurry up, we're already running late," matt sighs as he shuts the car door.

"i just need to get some shorts or something, i can't show up to your mom's house in these jeans, look at this" i lift the sweater wrapped around my waist, revealing the rip around my inner thigh.

he rolls his eyes and sulks behind me as we make our way inside the old navy in our hometown. i begin to scan the various women's clothing, looking for something basic, because it's too late to go back home and figure out a new outfit.

"will you hurry up and pick one? please, y/n. chris is texting me wondering where we are. they want to start eating without us and he's most definitely gonna eat all the mac and cheese."

i roll my eyes at him. "first of all, never call me by my government name. rude. and second, we just got here, breathe. we wouldn't be here if you hadn't grabbed my ass so harshly when we stopped at the gas station. you caused this by manhandling me, matthew." i shot back.

he sighs again as i grab a few different options in my size and head towards the fitting rooms. upon arrival, we notice there aren't any employees so i pick a stall and wave matt into the small room.

he looks up at me, then around at our surroundings, "are you sure? i don't think they allow multiple people in at once, i'll just wait here."

i roll my eyes again. "matthew! get in here! i need your opinion. this store is basically empty anyways. it's not a big deal, you've seen me naked before. let's not act so innocent."

he follows me in and takes a seat on the bench facing the door. i untie the sweater he lent me and throw it at his face. "rude!" he exclaims sassily, throwing the wad of clothing to the ground.

"uhm, excuse me, you're rude. you're the whole reason we're in this mess." i begin to remove the ripped pair of pants and pull a new one off its hanger.

facing the mirror on the door, i begin to pull the pair of mom jeans on before matt looks up from his phone and stops me.

"baby, i've never seen these panties on you before, are they new?" he smirks at me. i nod, swatting at his hands.

"wait stop, they're super cute, why haven't you shown me?" he looks up at me with those hypnotic blue eyes, brows furrowed.

i turn around, with the jeans still around my ankles and my hands on my hips. "do i need to inform you every time i purchase a new article of clothing, matt? it's just panties."

he wiggles his eyebrows at me, "when they make your ass look like that, then yeah, i must be notified immediately." he places me onto his lap, pulling the jeans all the way off my ankles so i can straddle him.

"baby we're running late, you're the one who keeps insisting, as much as i want to, we don't have time to fool around" i say to him between the open-mouthed kisses he begins to place on my neck.

he starts to take my top off, then gasps. "fuck the mac and cheese! it's a matching set, now i really can't believe you kept this from me." he drools at the sight of the lacy see-through bra, rubbing his thumb over my visible nipple. he yanks down the thin fabric, causing my boobs to spill over. with one arm wrapped around me, clutching my ass, he uses the other to massage my breast, all while kissing my neck. i feel myself starting to give in, biting my lip to stifle a moan. "matt, i-i don't think we can do this here." i slightly protest, but he reaches up to kiss me, and bites my bottom lip.

i'm done for.

he's kissing and grabbing and rubbing all over me and i'm a mess. i can never say no to him, he knows how to manipulate my body to want exactly what he wants. i can feel his bulge through his jeans, and i grind on it slowly, making my clit throb against it.

suddenly, he lifts me and flips me around so im sat on his lap, and we're both facing the mirror. he's unbuckling his belt, then his pants. he wraps one arm around my waist and lifts me slightly while he pulls down his pants and boxers, revealing his dick, standing tall and proud.

he makes eye contact with me in the mirror and grabs my face, smushing my cheeks together, and whispers in my ear, "i want you to watch baby, watch how good you can take my whole dick inside of you, pay real close attention."

he smirks at my widened eyes, and moves the panties to one side, rubbing the wetness all around and then on my clit.

"you normally get to scream all you want, but not this time baby, okay? you need to be really really quiet for me, got it?" he covers my mouth.

i nod quickly, and without warning, he picks me up and thrusts his entire length into me. i hold back a scream, and i feel tears falling down my cheeks. no matter how many times, how long we've been together, i'll never be used to his size.

he gives me a second to adjust, and then begins to pound into me over and over again, my back sliding up and down his clothed chest. i'm watching as my breasts bounce up and down and his dick glides in and out, in and out. he uncovers my mouth, keeping one hand on my waist, and starts to rub circles on my clit with the pad of his thumb, making me roll my eyes back further in pleasure.

he begins to nibble on my ear, then moves down to suck the spot right underneath. as he kisses down, i feel him bite down on my shoulder to suppress a moan.

"matthew!" i hiss at the pain, but it feels so good.

"shh!" he pinches my nipple, causing me to let out a whimper.

i grab his wrist, stopping his movement, and smile at him, "my turn." i bend down slightly, still facing the mirror so he has a full view of my ass while i bounce on his dick. he presses down on my back, sliding his hand down to secure a firm grip on my neck. he curses under his breath, trying hard not to make any noise while i'm aggressively riding him. he places both hands on my ass grasping and slapping occasionally, until i sit back up and we're making eye contact in the reflection. he's rubbing on my clit again, using his other hand to massage my left breast and i can feel a knot forming in my abdomen.

i turn around so i'm straddling him, and continue to bounce up and down. he grabs me by my throat and kisses me roughly, before planting a hard slap on my ass. i move faster, and he groans, grasping my ass tighter, leaving hand-shaped bruises for him to stare at later.

"i'm almost there baby. fuck, you're the most beautiful thing i've ever laid my eyes on." he whispers in my ear and i close my eyes, feeling my climax creeping close.

we start moving in sync, until my legs shake, and i feel his dick twitch, then shoot his load into me, causing me to finish as well, leaving me trembling on his lap. i drop my head forward onto his shoulder, desperately trying to catch my breath

he wraps his arms around my shoulders, kissing the side of my head. "wow, what we just did was probably super illegal, " i laugh at his comment, but then frown when i realize what we've done.

"fucking hell, matt. we can't buy pants now, i feel too awkward going up to the register after we've been in this fitting room for so long, they probably know what we've been doing!" i cover my face with my hands.

"baby that's alright," he grabs my wrists, pulling my hands away from my face. "just put your clothes back on, we'll go back to the car, and you can just borrow some sweats when we get home."

i stare at him, mouth gaping in realization. "are you serious? we could've just done that in the first place! i'm so dumb, why didn't i think of that?"

he stands and helps me put my shirt on, followed by the ripped jeans, "it's alright y/n, i didn't think of it either. let's go home, i'm starving." he smiles at me, rubbing small circles on my back.

"i love you, matt" i look up at him, with red cheeks, wondering how i'm going to leave this dressing room with any dignity.

"i love you. don't worry, i know what you're thinking. just hold my hand and we'll walk back to the car, c'mon." he laces our fingers together and kisses me on the forehead, unlocking the door and stepping out of the changing room.

luckily enough, nobody seemed to even notice us weaving through the aisles and exiting the store. we managed to get back in matt's car without a single interruption, and soon after arriving at his house, where chris had demolished the entire dish of mac and cheese.

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ahh can’t believe i’m posting this but fuck it we ball

to be added to taglist comment here

[zriasstuff]

First impressions—Lorenzo Berkshire x reader

Lorenzo Berkshire behaves like the perfect gentleman towards you, but what’s underneath that perfect facade? First impressions don’t last forever…

go to pt.2—> Second chances?

“Look, this one’s sooo pretty!”, your friend Jenny on your right hand side squealed excitedly.

“Oh my god, I have to get this dress”, Anya, your other friend, gushed while already holding five different ones in her hands.

You were also roaming through the countless racks, searching for a new and mature looking dress. In Hogsmeade, a new boutique had just opened and soon enough all the girls stormed inside to get the most beautiful pieces.

Inside the boutique everything was laced with delicacy, elegance and maturity. Three things you wanted more than anything to be a part of yourself. It was about time that you changed your appearance and became a young woman. After all, you were in your fifth year at Hogwarts already.

Not being able to decide between all the gorgeous clothing pieces you picked up, you took all ten of them to try on. Ten was definitely too many though, so some would have to be eliminated. The trying on process sadly didn’t do much for you, you still loved every single piece. Eventually, you come out of the fitting room, upset due to your inability to decide.

“Just buy all of them then”, Anya encourages you, “if you don’t they’ll be sold out and you will never get to try them on again”

That was easy for her to say. She was born into generational wealth and could buy all the clothes, or anything at all, that she fancied. On the other hand, you couldn’t just take home whatever you pleased. Still, you felt lucky that you had the money to buy one or two, so you eyed each piece you grabbed carefully.

“Ugh, they all would look so beautiful on me”, you groan, not wanting to give up even one of them.

When you turn around again to get your friends’ advice, they are nowhere to be seen.

Scanning the area for them, you unexpectedly make eye contact with someone who seemed to have been eying you. You stop looking for your friends, and take a moment to glance into this mysterious persons piercing blue eyes, perhaps for a little too long. He, whoever he was, appears to have taken an interest and started inching towards you.

Suddenly, after not having been able to place him, you recognize who he was. He was one of the guys who always hung around Draco Malfoy, who was a year above you. Even though you were in the same house, you have barely even made contact.

“You’re right”, he approaches you, looking you up and down.

“About what?”, you ask, finding it strange why one would approach you in this way. And as a guy, why would he be in this particular boutique. Was he perhaps shopping for his girlfriend or sister, you wonder.

“They would all indeed look very beautiful on you”, he compliments you charmingly, towering over you, a warm smile on his face as he said that. Sounds like he overheard your little dilemma. Surprised that he was so straight forward, you feel your cheeks heating up a little. While you’re smiling nervously, you manage to mumble out a thank you.

“It would be such a shame, if you had to leave them here”, this guy, whose name didn't even come to your mind, continued the sudden conversation. This guy surely had something planned, with the way he was leading it.

“Yeah, sometimes I wish I could just go shopping limitlessly”, you truthfully admit.

“So what’s your name, darling?”

“Y/n”, you answer while a thousand thoughts circled your mind. Such as how you managed to have caught the attention of this gorgeous, older guy— he surely must’ve approached you because he found you pretty right? And he just called you “darling” in such a heartwarming tone.

You didn’t like where your mind was wandering. All those thoughts, simply because a guy paid you the slightest amount of attention.

How long has it been since a guy had shown the slightest interest in you again? As if the exact time mattered, it had been too long anyway. You start doubting that you were maybe reading too much into his behavior—that your feelings were the ones of a silly little girl who just received some candy. So he called you darling, that doesn’t have to mean anything.

“Pretty”, he notes, “I’m Lorenzo by the way, but you can call me Enzo”.

Alright, you rethink, surely you weren’t reading too much into it. He just complimented you again, the second time within five minutes.

“May I?”, he gently asks, disrupting your small talk. Before you could even respond, he takes the clothes out of your hands. You weren’t sure what to make of this, so you threw him a questioning look. “Let me”, he says, afterwards smoothly grabbing your hand. “Let me what?”, you try to understand his behavior as you’re being led by him.

“Let me spoil you with what you deserve”, he responds so genuinely, but also as if it was the most natural thing in the world. You couldn’t even believe it. He had to be an angel fallen from heaven, with the way he was treating you.

This Enzo, whom you just properly met, was willing to spoil you like a literal princess. This is what teenage romance that your favorite authors write about must feel like.

“Are you kidding?”, you ask in utter disbelief. Not that you were complaining, but it simply felt too unreal, that someone would do this for you without even knowing you.

At the counter, you finally catch your friends, who have become victims of a giggle attack. They kept pointing their fingers at Enzo, maybe demanding some sort of explanation, but you yourself didn’t even know what to make of this.

All you knew was that within the next five minutes, he had paid for all ten pieces you picked out and was carrying the bags for you, like a true gentleman.

“I don’t even know how to thank you for this”, you tell him at the exit of the store, hoping he wouldn’t regret what he just did. What if he demanded you to reimburse him? No, he wouldn’t do that right?

“You wearing one of those would be enough of a thank you.” You can’t help but blush at his words, not believing your luck, that you met a guy this sweet. He was truly everything a girl could ask for.

Generous, handsome, tall, and caring—the whole package.

You saw your friends waving you over to them, so you excuse yourself. As he hands you the bags, his hand lingers on yours for a moment, before you let go and go over to your friends.

On your way you hear Enzo’s voice, causing you to turn around briefly.

“Meet me after dinner tonight, yeah?”

“Of course”, you happily obliged. You couldn’t wait to tell your friends about this perfect guy, and they couldn’t wait to hear the story either.

…

During dinner you kept turning your head to the right, hoping to catch a few glimpses of Enzo, who was sitting only a few seats away from you. You became rather disappointed when he didn’t notice you. Instead, he was laughing with all his friends.

“Y/n, what do you think?”, you hear all of a sudden, pulling you out of your admiration for Enzo. Totally in and out of your head, you try to remember what your friend asked you about. You also wondered whether Enzo had told all his friends about you yet, hopefully in a positive manner.

“Are you so in love with this guy you met four hours ago, that you can’t even focus on your real friends anymore”, she jokes, totally calling you out in your lovestruck behavior. The way you were infatuated with him, one could believe that he snuck you a love potion. But no, he was the first guy that you had ever felt this enchanted by.

In the last remaining minutes of dinner, you were mentally counting down the minutes. Only a little longer, you told yourself, then you could meet with him. Talk with him. Get to know him further. And eventually you would both lean in for a kiss and then…

“Dinner is finished, please go back to your respective common rooms”, Dumbledore's voice echoes through the dining hall, interrupting your daydream. As you’re getting up slowly, you tell your friends to go ahead. When everyone walked out, you saw Enzo separating from his friends to make his way to you. You could barely wait, having anticipated talking with him throughout the entire dinner.

“Hey”, he says, coming up to you.

You say nothing, replying with a simple smile. Deep down you were kind of scared of sounding overly excited, which could possibly scare him off.

“How’s it going?”

“Pretty good, how about you?”, you play your feelings down. You were better than “pretty good”, you were floating on cloud nine. If paradise existed, you were pretty sure that you were there already.

“I see you’re wearing a new dress, you look stunning”, Enzo says while looking you up and down, yet again. Your heart skipped a beat, overjoyed that he took notice. He really did pay attention to you.

“I’m glad.” Little did you know, and he did too, that you only wore this for him to see. It made you happy to know that your efforts weren’t in vain.

“Listen, how about we meet in my dorm?”, he suggested, “have us a little quiet place.” You instantly agreed, but told him that you would come by a little later because you wanted to refresh yourself in your own dorm first.

After all, you wanted everything to be perfect for your first date— wait, you stop your train of thought. Was it even a proper date? You weren’t sure, you’ve never been on one. Either way, you hurriedly skipped off to your dorm, informing all your girlfriends on your meeting.

Being the supportive girlfriends they were, they help you and give you pointers on your hair and makeup.

“I cannot believe that you’re going to be Enzo’s girlfriend”

“I’m so jealous, I wish an older guy would ask me out too”, they rave over your incredible luck.

“Well, I don’t even know if I’m really going to be his girlfriend”, you confess. He did seem interested, but after all you two were on completely different levels. What gave you comfort was that he seemed to be one of the nicer guys.

After one more glance in the mirror, you take off and ask everyone to wish you luck. You tried to be as quick as possible, not wanting to miss out on moments that you could’ve spent with Enzo.

Carefully, you sneak over to the boys’s dorms and you realize that you didn’t know which one Enzo slept in. So, you wander door to door, abruptly stopping when you recognize Enzo’s voice. His dorm door was open by a slit, so you lean in a little to listen. You knew it was sneaky, but you just couldn’t fight off your curiosity…

At first you couldn’t make out their indistinct words, but suddenly Enzo got a little louder. He sounded completely different from when you talked with him earlier.

“Fuck no!”, he scoffed loudly. You didn’t know what he rejected so angrily, but it only piqued your curiosity. You guessed that he was in the process of kicking his friends out to spend some time with you.

“Do you honestly think I care about her?” Enzo threw the question around. Upon hearing that you felt your heart standing still. Who was he talking about?

“Ok but if you don’t actually like her, then why go through the effort of chasing her down in that boutique”, Draco’s voice hollered all the way to you. After hearing that, even the tiniest hope—that he didn’t mean you, diminished within seconds.

“Yeah, you could literally have any girl you want, without spending a coin”, Blaise stated so painfully blatantly.

“You guys don’t get it”, Enzo defended his questionable, and apparently exaggerated, efforts to get you.

“My purchase barely cost me anything in terms of money, I have enough of that. But in return, I get a young, stupid and attractive girl who’ll do anything for me, because subconsciously she thinks she owes me”

Never in your entire life have you heard such a disgusting thing. For him you turned out to just be eye candy. A mere investment if you were being completely cynical.

Without wanting to hear more of what he had to say, you ran off back to your own dorm. His words rung in your head, stinging harder than you could have imagined. Back at your dorm, you barge in and burst into tears in front of all your friends. You’ve been holding them in ever since you heard his hurtful words.

After jumping on your bed, you instantly sink your head into a pillow. The darkness helped a little in blocking out everything. How could he have been so manipulative, and how stupid were you to have actually fallen for that?

His words may have been disgusting, but what was worse, was that they were true. Perhaps you would’ve really done anything he asked for in his dorm, had you not overheard their conversation.

With your makeup ruined and mascara running down your cheeks, you finally look up to answer to your friends’ concerns. All of them huddled around you, already comforting you even though they didn’t even know what happened. As you’re retelling what you overheard, you’re barely able to look them in their eyes. That’s how embarrassed you were.

When you were done, none of them could believe how sick and twisted Lorenzo Berkshire really was. Under that nice guy facade, hid a ugly and cunning playboy. At least Draco was open in showing what an asshole he was, this way he couldn’t really surprise you. But with Enzo, his first impressions were deceitful, which was way worse.

But under all your anger for Enzo, you were scared. Scared of the fact that Enzo was the first guy you’ve ever had real feelings for. Of course you only felt that way because he schemed and you fell right into his trap.

Still, a little part of your heart shattered upon the cruel reality. You didn’t want to believe it. A tiny guilt feeling part of you wanted so badly to walk up to his dorm again and to pretend nothing happened. It’d be easier than accepting his true intentions.

A sharp knock suddenly catches all of your attention. You must’ve been bawling out your eyes for a while now. You realize that Enzo had no idea about what happened and was still waiting for you.

“Can I come in”, you all hear him say from the other side of the door.

“FUCK Y-”, Anya begins yelling, before you immediately cover her mouth with your hand. You know she only meant the best, but you did it for a reason.

Everyone looked at you confused, trying to make out what you were thinking.

“Don’t let him know yet”, you whisper decisively, hoping he couldn’t hear you through the door.

They all ask why not, and truthfully you also weren’t too sure. But it felt more secure at the moment to not reveal your cards yet. Who knew how you could utilize the information you had. Ironically you learned that from Enzo in the past ten minutes.

“Is everything okay?”, he asks through the door, unsure of what was happening. What an amazing actor, pretending to genuinely care. How could one be so shamelessly two faced.

“You know what Enzo, I’m feeling a little sick”, you lie, trying to sound composed and calm. You couldn’t face him just yet.

“I'm sorry to hear that, I could-”

“I think it’s best if we just talk tomorrow”, you stop him before he could go on with more of his bullshit. In all honesty, talking to him was the last thing you wanted, but you had to sound believably fine.

“If you say so. Good night then”, and with that you heard his leaving footsteps.

“What are you doing?” Jenny asks you with a puzzled expression.

You explain to all of them that you need some peace right now to deal with your emotions and thoughts. The whole Enzo thing needed some time to be dealt with.

Since you were obviously in a bad headspace, they understand and leave you alone.

When lying in bed and processing your emotions from before, all the sadness, anger, embarrassment and fear—you suddenly feel something else too. You deeply wanted him to feel as foolish as you did too. You wanted him to regret his stupid little plan forever. You seeked for more than simply forgiving and forgetting, you wanted revenge.

[yourqueenb]

Oh definitely. It’s because they stayed trying to do those multi-paneled skirts and criss crossing strips of fabric on the dresses in that book as well. But it never works because of the way the MCs’ body sprites are angled. Like I’m sorry, but the outfit in this picture looks a mess to me 😪

Does this outfit just scream ACOR MC to anyone else?

[janeyseymour]

She Didn't, But Melissa Did- part 2

Save Me Before I Lose Myself- Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7. Part 8. Part 9.

She Didn't, But Melissa Did- Part 1.

Summary: Melissa has always shown up for you, from the start, in ways Millie knows Carrie could never.

WC: ~3k

——

For as much as Melissa did wonders with my momma, that’s only the beginning. What Carrie didn’t do for me, Melissa did that and so much more.

——

“I didn’t do much for you, kid,” the redhead looks to your daughter with a look. “You’re giving me too much credit.”

“You haven’t even started reading,” Millie points out. “Stop talking and just read.”

“When did you get so bossy?” Melissa rolls her eyes playfully.

“Being a mother to a hard headed four year old will do that to you,” your daughter quips.

——

Growing up and adjusting to this new life was an easy transition. I had already lived with Melissa for a months at this point, and that was like a whole lifetime at my young age. The woman that would eventually become my step-mother, and then my mother, showed up for me in the biggest ways, but also in the smallest ways- ways I didn’t even realize she could.  A few months into my momma being with Melissa, Momma signed me up for gymnastics class for the first time. I was beyond nervous. But Momma assured me that it would all be fine- it would be good for me. Melissa showed up to the first practice, running into the gymnasium viewing room, after a meeting at her job. My eyes lit up as soon as I saw the red ponytail make its way in. She didn’t have to be there for me, but she was.  Carrie wouldn’t have shown up to my first gymnastics class. She probably wouldn’t have even known Momma signed me up until the money came out of the account despite my mother definitely telling her about it. And because Carrie would have only seen the money come out, she would’ve flipped. But Melissa did. Melissa came to every class from that day on. She bought me more leotards and scrunchies than a girl could need. Melissa showed up to every showcase, every meet- cheering me and my teammates on with the same levels of enthusiasm as any other parent. Thinking back on it, it was probably more than what the other parents did- I could pick her voice out among the crowd every time. My Melly was always the loudest one there, cheering as loudly as she could. Carrie would’ve never, but Melissa did. No matter what I did, my Melly was always there. 

——

“I’m here!” Melissa came sprinting into the gym. “I’m here!”

“Hun, you didn’t have to rush here,” you chuckled as she settled in next to you, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead. It was clear she had pretty much run here. “Mill would’ve told you all about it when we got home.”

“And miss her first gymnastics practice?” Melissa scoffed. “Over my dead body, Y/N.”

Millie caught side of the red hair, and her eyes lit up. The slightly nervous body language turned into the bright little girl that you were used to seeing. Her wave was enthusiastic as ever.

When the practice was over, Millie came running out. When you had expected her to come running into your arms with giggles, showing off the stamps on her hands that her teacher had given her, she went right to Melissa- practically tackling her.

“You came!” your daughter squealed.

Melissa hugged your daughter with the same enthusiasm. “Of course I did, Mill! Did you really think I would miss this?”

It was Millie’s first meet- the first time she would ever stand in front of a judge and do her routines. Melissa and you were sitting in the stands as you watched her warm up. Your heart was racing, but you tried to appear calm. The redhead was decked out in team gear and taking pictures of almost every move your little girl was making.

“Mel,” you chuckled softly.

“What?!” Your girlfriend scoffed. “If you think I’m not taking pictures and videos through this whole thing, you’re fuckin’ crazy.”

“Melissa,” you scolded her quietly. “We are at a children’s gymnastics competition. Watch your mouth please. I don’t want to get kicked out of the first one.”

“If you think I’m not taking pictures and videos through this whole thing, you’re freakin’ crazy. Better?”

“I’ll take what I can get,” you rolled your eyes as you pecked her cheek.

You were a nervous wreck any time that your daughter was on any of the apparatuses. Melissa was all grins, and she was so proud to announce that Millie was her girlfriend’s daughter whenever she’s finished. Millie ended up winning, standing on the top platform of the podium with medals around her neck, a trophy in her hand, and a dazzling smile on her face. She made eye contact with you, and then with Melissa. 

When your daughter was finally allowed to make her way over to you, she came barreling into your arms. It was warm, and it was perfect. And then she was in your girlfriend’s arms, and Melissa told her how proud she was of her- how she was a great athlete, but more importantly she was a great sport to her teammates and the other competitors.

“You should be so proud of yourself,” Melissa had whispered to your little girl, doting a few kisses to the top of her head.

“I am,” Millie replied. “But I’m hungry. Can we go home?”

“Yeah, baby,” you chuckled. “Why don’t we grab some food on the way back?”

Your little girl shrugged. “I’d rather have Melly’s cooking.”

For the rest of your daughter’s gymnastics career, it became tradition for the three of you to go home and enjoy some of the redhead’s cooking.

——

“Those were… I do not miss almost having a heart attack every competition,” you chuckle softly. 

“You’re so dramatic, Momma,” Millie tells you. “I was perfectly fine. Never even got hurt.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you protest. “You just wait ’til Hadley starts doing more than cartwheels and forward rolls, and then come talk to me.”

“Would you quit talking?” your wife groans. “I wanna keep reading about how great I am,” she adds in a singsong voice.

You roll your eyes, but you lean into her touch again and begin to read the next page. 

——

When I was ten, I was hellbent on getting a pet. Carrie never fathomed the idea of having a pet in our house, but Melissa was open to it because I wanted one. She didn’t necessarily want one, claimed that she would be the one to have to take care of it in the end.  Momma wasn’t too keen on the idea either. Still, on a day where Melly and I had off school and Momma was at work, Melissa took me down to the pet store. We left hand in hand giggling about the fact that we had just bought a guinea pig that we both absolutely fell in love with. Momma wasn’t too happy to see that we had gone behind her back and adopted an animal without talking to her first, but when she saw how excited we were, she couldn’t resist.  Melissa and I adored Sweet Cheeks (yes, that was my guinea pig’s name). We spent hours building him a hut from popsicle sticks, laughing until we were red in the face when I accidentally glued my fingers together. We used to practice my reading with him. Having him in either one of our arms at any given time was the usual.  Carrie would’ve never. She would’ve called that thing a rat- would’ve insisted that we get rid of it had Momma and I brought Sweet Cheeks into the house. But Melissa did.

——

“We had that thing for years,” you mumble. “I swear, the two of you were more excited to see Sweet Cheeks than you were me.”

“Could you blame us?” Millie giggles as she leans over her daughter to kiss your cheek.

You gasp, affronted. “Amelia!”

“Had’s the same way with our dog,” Noah promises you. “Don’t take it personally.”

——

When I was eleven, my momma and Melissa got engaged. She even asked me, a silly little eleven year old, for my blessing. And while we had planned how she would propose, Melly blew it the night we got the ring at dinner. Still, it was the perfect proposal.

——

“Millie!” Melissa knocked on your daughter’s bedroom door gently as she pushed it open. “Can we talk?”

“Am I in trouble?”

“No,” the redhead chuckled. “Why do you always think you’re in trouble when you don’t do nothin’ wrong?”

Millie shrugged. “What’s up?”

“I have a serious question for you,” Melissa sighed as she sat on the bed. “You know… your momma and I have been dating for a little bit now.”

“Yeah?”

“And I was wondering… if you wouldn’t mind if I asked her to marry me?”

Millie’s froze for a few seconds before all but launching herself at your girlfriend. “Really?”

“Really,” Melissa smiled. “I- I love your momma, and I love you, and I- I think it’s time we make it official.”

“Ask her. Do it. She’ll say yes.”

It was a week later that Melissa took Millie out for a girls day over the weekend. You were not invited- they were ring shopping.

Three stores and eight thousand dollars later, your girlfriend and daughter came home from their day out. You were settled in on the couch, a book in your hands.

Upon hearing the front door open, you closed your book and prepared for Millie to come flying in. She did exactly that, tackling you in a hug.

“Did you two have a good girls day?” you chuckled.

Melissa nodded as she made her way over to you, leaning down to kiss you softly. “Kid had the time of her life at the arcade.” A lie, but you fell for it- the redhead would take your daughter to an arcade.

“Good. I’m glad.”

“Well, I’m going to start dinner,” Melissa told you. “I hope you’ll join me.”

The three of you made dinner together in the same warmth that you always did- always light, always full of laughter and joy.

But then you sat for your meal, and the redhead began to squirm in her seat. The thought of not being engaged to you was driving her crazy, and the ring box felt like it was burning a hole in her pocket.

“You okay?” you furrowed your brows, concerned for your girlfriend.

The redhead bit her lip, mumbled a soft apology to your daughter, and then dropped to one knee right then and there.

“Melissa, what are you doing?” you gasped, not quite catching on yet. “Did you just- are you okay?”

The teacher pulled the ring box out of her pocket, opened it, and took a deep breath. “Y/N, I was gonna wait to do this at dinner tomorrow with Barb and Ger here, but I- I can’t wait.”

“Melissa,” you whispered, and your eyes began to cloud with tears.

“Y/N,” your girlfriend started. “I am so… deeply in love with you, in love with the family we forged, in love with the life we live. I don’t ever want to lose it, you, or Millie. Will you marry me?”

——

“I still can’t believe you couldn’t hold out one more day,” Millie quips. “I mean, how hard would it have been to wait another twenty four hours?”

“Hey,” your son in-law interjects. “I was the same way with proposing to you, and you loved it.”

“Because that’s us… this is my parents we’re talking about.”

“We never did anythin’ conventional; why would our proposal have been?” your wife teases.

——

When I was twelve, they got married. I still never thought I would call Melissa ‘Mom’. She would just always be my Melly. When I was also twelve, Melly asked me if she could adopt me as her own. As a child who grew up with a mother who hadn’t ever wanted her, to know that someone loved you so much to want to be able to claim you as their own… it’s an overwhelming feeling. I of course accepted her proposition, but I also made her very aware of the fact that I would probably never call her ‘Mom’. I thought that maybe with my insistence that I would never call her mom, despite the legal title she would now hold, she would turn on me. She never did. She was still Melly- always there for me in any way she could be.

——

“I can’t believe you ever thought I would turn on you,” Melissa nudges your daughter. “As if I hadn’t already thought of you as my daughter and had for years at that point.”

“I was twelve, Ma,” Millie reminds your wife. “I was vulnerable.”

——

When I was a freshman in high school, Melly was there for me. For God’s sake, she put together my bouquet. Momma helped, but Melly really outdid herself. And when we all were lining up for pictures at the house, there was Melly, front and center, acting like the paparazzi. Carrie would've never let my friends step foot into our house. But Melissa did- she encouraged them to come over because she knew it would make me happy. When I was fifteen, she caught me sneaking back into the house. She was absolutely furious- and she should’ve been. But where my biological mother, had she still been in my life, probably would’ve whooped my stupid ass, Melly pulled me into a tight hug, looked up to the ceiling, and thanked God that I was safe. When I was sixteen, I had my first heartbreak. Carrie would’ve told me I was lucky to have love in the first place- that I was an unlovable, spoiled brat. She told Momma that nobody would ever love her except her, because Momma was a broken woman. And Momma, for as wonderful as she is, had a hard time dealing with it. It absolutely shattered her soul to see me so broken. Momma did what she could to be there for me, but ultimately, I knew this was an issue I would go to Melly over- seeing my momma so upset was heartbreaking for me. But Melissa, she was there for me. She laid in bed with me, held me while I cried, watched terrible romance movies with me, had Ben and Jerry’s lining the freezer. That was the first time I ever called her by a title other than ‘Melissa’ or ‘Melly’. In that moment, she was ‘Ma’- a title that would become her own.

——

“Mill,” Melissa whispered upon seeing your daughter with red, swollen eyes and curled up in a mess of blankets.

“I’m fine, Melly,” Millie grumbled, not bothering to look at her mother.

Your wife just gave her a pointed look. “Mills, it’s just me. Momma is… sitting outside on the porch right now.”

The blonde bit her lip and finally glanced over to the redhead. “I- I can’t believe he cheated on me.”

“Kiddo, you just say the word, and I’ll have my-”

“I don’t need your cousin beating up my ex.”

“Then what do you need?”

Millie sighed a heavy sigh. “To be told that this sucks, and to cry. Maybe ice cream.”

“Oh sweetheart, I’m way ahead of you. Should I get Sweet Cheeks to sit with us?” Melissa offered as she turned towards the hall.

“Yeah.”

The teacher just gave a sad smile before heading out to where you were sitting on the front porch.

“Hey,” you say quietly. “How’s Mill?”

“I’m gonna be in with her and Sweet Cheeks for a while,” Melissa relayed. “You gonna be okay on your own for tonight?”

You glanced up and looked into those green eyes you had grown so fond of. “Yeah.”

“Okay, honey. I believe you.” She made her way further out onto the porch, just enough to cup your cheek gently in her hand. She pressed a sweet kiss to your lips before wiping away a tear with the pad of her thumb. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whispered. “Thank you for being there for Mill when I can’t.”

The redhead gave you a knowing nod. “She understands this is hard for you- especially with the cheating and your past.”

Then, she was off to the kitchen, grabbing a pint of ice cream and two spoons before heading for the beloved pet of the family and back to your daughter.

Hours later, Sweet Cheeks having been put back in his cage after the first movie, Millie and Melissa sat together in silence as yet another movie droned on.

“Thank you,” Millie whispered softly as she tightened her hold on your wife.

The teacher just dropped a kiss to her forehead. “You know I’m always here for you, Mills.”

“I know,” your daughter breathed out quietly as she rested her head on Melissa’s shoulder. “Thanks. I love you, Ma.”

——

“You know, you callin’ me ‘Ma’ for the first time? It was the best moment of my life.” Melissa’s eyes go soft. “I wish it had been a better circumstance, but… wow.”

“That was the best moment of your life?” you raise a brow. “Not, you know… marrying me?”

“Babe, you know being called ‘Ma’ was the best feeling for me.”

“You know if you never married me, you would never have been given that title in the first place,” you point out, pushing her hand off your leg.

Your wife just shrugs, a twinkle in her eye.

“Melissa Ann,” you pretend to scold gently.

“I love you,” she promises you as she pulls you in for a gentle kiss. Then she turns her head in the direction of the kitchen. “I gotta check on the chili. Give me five minutes, but then I’m sure there’s more than this?”

Millie just chuckles and pulls more papers from her bag. “Go, Ma. It’ll be here when you’re ready.”

Your wife pulls Hadley from your lap and settles her on her hip before heading into the kitchen.

All you can do is look at your daughter with a proud smile.

“Mill, this is… fantastic writing. One of my favorite pieces that you’ve done.”

“Ma deserves to know that she’s somethin’ special.”

——

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