#i made these instead of studying oops

[daily-odile]

odile with a gun perhaps

gun

[bluenightfm]

[francy-sketches]

trying to get better at capturing likenesses so heres a quick(ish) alicent portrait study :3

[averlym]

"what could possibly go wrong?"

[just-slightly-chaotic]

i need someone to poke me with a stick every 10 minutes and tell me to study

[purgaytorysupremacy]

The Paris Review and John Updike getting me in my teenage Dean feels.

[k2padfoot]

Shadows of the Past

Rafe Cameron x Y/n

summary: After escaping an abusive ex, you find love and safety with Rafe, your best friend turned boyfriend. When your ex’s obsession escalates into violence, Rafe does what he has to, to save you.

warnings: TW!! Domestic violence, violence, fights, blood, lots of angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, soft rafe.

notes: yall this is a long one, i should’ve made it two parts but oops! i promise it’s worth it<3

You stared out the window of your condo, watching as the rain tapped rhythmically against the glass. The mug of tea in your hands had gone cold, forgotten in your grip. Across the room, Rafe moved easily in the kitchen, his voice filling the space as he hummed some tune he’d probably heard on Spotify earlier.

“Found them!” he called out, holding up the coffee filters he’d been hunting for.

You smiled despite the weight in your chest. Rafe’s presence was a warm blanket on a freezing night—comforting, grounding, and so unlike the chaos you’d known before. Being with him was the first time in over a year you felt like you could breathe, even if it was still shallow at times.

He turned, coffee filters in hand, and grinned at you. “What are you thinking about over there?”

You blinked, quickly forcing a wider smile. “Nothing. Just tired.”

He frowned slightly, walking over and sitting next to you on the couch. His arm draped over your shoulders as he studied you with those piercing blue eyes. “You sure? You’ve been kinda quiet today.”

“I’m fine, Rafe,” you assured him, leaning into his touch. “Promise.”

He didn’t look entirely convinced, but he didn’t push. That was something you appreciated about him, Rafe always gave you the space to open up on your own time. You’d never felt pressured, never felt the looming weight of expectations. It was so different from what you’d known before.

Your ex, Jack, was charming at first, in the way that all toxic men are. He’d swept you off your feet with grand gestures, sweet texts, and a charisma that felt like sunlight after years of loneliness. For a while you thought you’d found everything you ever wanted.

But the cracks began to show. Slowly at first—a comment about the way you dressed, a critique of how you spent your time. Then came the accusations, the jealousy that lurked behind every question, and the sharp words that cut you down whenever you didn’t comply. But the worst part came when his anger turned physical. No matter how hard you tried to avoid conflict—carefully choosing your words, keeping your tone soft, doing everything you could to keep the peace—it was never enough. The smallest mistake, the slightest misstep, would ignite a storm. And once his temper reached that breaking point, you knew you’d bear the brunt of it.

By the end, you were a shadow of yourself, constantly walking on eggshells, wondering how to avoid setting him off. Even after you’d finally found the courage to leave, Jack hadn’t made it easy. He’d called, texted, begged for forgiveness, and then turned cold when you didn’t respond.

It took months before the calls stopped and even longer before you felt safe again. And after months of constructing walls around your heart, letting Rafe in was nothing short of terrifying.

Rafe had been a part of your life for as long as you could remember—your best friend, your rock, the one person you could always rely on. But then came Jack. Jack saw what you and Rafe had, the unshakable bond, the quiet understanding, and he couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t stand him.

So, out of fear, you drifted away. You stopped hanging out with Rafe, stopped calling him, stopped being his friend.. But not because you wanted to, but because Jack made sure you felt you had no choice.

And when you finally broke free from Jack, Rafe was there. He didn’t question you, didn’t get angry or demand explanations. He didn’t judge you for pulling away. Instead, he met you with patience and understanding, quietly reminding you why he had always been the one person you could trust.

He was everything Jack wasn’t. Rafe never raised his voice, never made you feel small. When you told him about your hesitancy to date again, he’d nodded, saying simply, “Take your time. I’ll be here.” And he had been.

You’d let him in, piece by piece, until it felt natural to have him in your life. He made you laugh, made you feel like you were worth something. He’d brought light into the dark places you thought would never see the sun again.

That light, however, had begun to dim in the last few weeks, ever since Jack resurfaced.

It started with the texts. You didn’t recognize the numbers, but the messages were unmistakable:

I miss you darling.

We really need to talk.

You can’t ignore me forever.

At first, you’d brushed it off. Blocked the numbers and pretended it was nothing. But then you started seeing him.

The first time was outside your work. You were on your way out of the office, when you spotted a familiar figure across the street. Jack leaned casually against a black car, his eyes locked on you. Your heart stopped, and for a moment, you considered calling someone—Rafe, maybe, or your coworker Liz. But you didn’t. Instead, you ducked back inside and pretended to be busy until he left.

The second time was worse. You were at the grocery store, balancing a bag on your hip while fumbling for your keys, when you felt it, that prickling sensation on the back of your neck. Turning, you spotted the black car parked at the end of the lot. You couldn’t see inside, but you didn’t need to.

The worst part was how easily you fell back into old habits. You locked yourself in your condo, closed the blinds, and tried to convince yourself it was nothing. And when Rafe came over later that night, you acted like everything was fine.

“Good day at the work?” he’d asked, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Yeah,” you lied, your smile forced but convincing enough.

You hated lying to him. Rafe deserved the truth, but you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him. The thought of dragging him into Jack’s mess made you sick. So you kept it to yourself.

Even when Jack showed up at your office.

You were alone, finishing some paperwork when the chime above the door rang. Your stomach dropped as Jack strolled in, his eyes scanning the room before settling on you.

“Hi darling,” he said, his voice calm and casual. “Long time no see.”

“What are you doing here?” you demanded, gripping the desk to steady yourself.

“I just wanted to talk,” he replied, taking a step closer. “You’ve been ignoring me.”

“I have nothing to say to you,” you said, your voice shaking.

His expression darkened, but before he could respond, Liz walked in. Jack’s mask slipped back into place, and he gave you a pointed look before turning to leave.

You thought about telling Rafe that night. You almost did. But the words caught in your throat, and you convinced yourself it wasn’t worth worrying him.

It wasn’t until the night Jack broke into your condo that you realized you couldn’t keep hiding.

The sound of the window sliding open woke you instantly, the rush of cold air sending a chill down your spine. At first, you thought it was a dream, but then you felt Rafe stir beside you.

“What was th—” he mumbled, his voice groggy but alert.

You both turned toward the window, your heart stopping when you saw the shadowy figure climbing inside.

“Stay here,” Rafe ordered, his voice sharp as he slid out of bed.

But you couldn’t move, frozen as Rafe crossed the room. The intruder froze, too, his eyes meeting Rafe’s before narrowing.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” Rafe muttered, his voice low and furious.

It was Jack.

Before you could process what was happening, Rafe lunged. The room filled with the sound of fists colliding, furniture scraping against the floor, and Jack’s muffled curses.

“Rafe, stop!” you cried, scrambling out of bed to grab your phone and call 911.

Rafe didn’t stop until Jack was slumped against the wall, clutching his face.

“Why the fuck is he here?” Rafe demanded, turning to you.

Your mouth opened, but no words came out.

“Y/N,” he pressed, his voice softer now. “What the hell is going on?”

And that’s when you broke. The tears came fast and uncontrollably, and before you knew it, you were spilling everything. The texts, the car, the nights you’d spent too afraid to sleep.

Rafe listened in silence, his jaw tight and his hands curling into fists at his sides. When you finished, he shook his head.

“You should’ve told me,” he said, his voice steady but filled with something dangerous.

“I didn’t want to drag you into this,” you whispered.

“That’s not your call,” he said, stepping closer and cupping your face in his hands. “You’re mine, Y/N. No one’s gonna hurt you while I’m around. You hear me?”

You nodded, tears streaming down your face as the distant wail of sirens grew louder. Regardless of what just happened, you felt a flicker of hope. Because with Rafe by your side, maybe, just maybe—you weren’t as alone as you thought.

Rafe had been relentless in his efforts to keep you safe since the break-in. Every morning, he was parked outside your place before sunrise, his truck rumbling softly as he waited to drive you to work. Even if you told him you could handle it, he didn’t waver.

“No chance,” he’d said the first time you brought it up. “I’m not letting you deal with this alone.”

You tried to argue, but his resolve was unshakable. He made sure to stay involved in every part of your routine: texting you during your shifts, picking you up without fail, and spending every night either at your place or having you stay with him.

At night, he held you close, his warmth and steady breathing lulling you into the first semblance of peaceful sleep you’d had in weeks. But no matter how safe you felt with Rafe, a part of you couldn’t shake the fear that Jack was still out there, lurking in the shadows.

And you were right, Jack wasn’t gone.

You saw him again a week later.

It was during your shift, just as you were finishing up with a client. When you glanced up at the window, your stomach dropped. Across the street, parked under the dim glow of a streetlight, was the black car.

You couldn’t see his face, but you knew it was him. The way the car sat idling, its headlights off, was enough to send a chill down your spine.

You stepped back from the window, your hands trembling as you tried to focus on anything but the car. The rational part of you screamed to call Rafe, but you didn’t. He’d been doing so much for you already—driving you everywhere, checking in constantly, ensuring you were never alone. You didn’t want to be a burden.

You convinced yourself it was fine. Jack wouldn’t try anything again. Not after what Rafe had done to him that night.

But the sightings continued.

Every few days, the black car would appear, parked across the street from your work or down the block from your condo. And the texts—always from new numbers—started up again.

You can’t hide from me Y/n.

I’ll make you see that we belong together. You’re mine, don’t forget that.

Each time, you blocked the number and deleted the messages, determined not to let him win. You told yourself that ignoring him would make him go away. That he’d get tired eventually.

You didn’t tell Rafe about any of it. He’d done so much already, and you couldn’t bear the thought of adding to his worries. Besides, you convinced yourself that Jack was just trying to scare you. He wouldn’t actually do anything.

You were wrong.

It was a Thursday night when everything changed.

Rafe had called earlier to tell you he’d be late. He rarely stayed late at work, always finding a way to pawn off extra shifts or swap with a coworker. But tonight, it wasn’t possible.

“I’m so sorry, babe,” he said over the phone, frustration heavy in his voice. “I tried to get out of it, but I’m the only one here tonight.”

“It’s okay,” you reassured him. “I’ll be fine. You don’t need to worry.”

“I don’t like leaving you alone,” he muttered.

“You’ve already done so much for me, Rafe,” you said softly. “It’s one night. I’ll lock all the doors and windows, and I’ll be asleep by the time you get here. Promise.”

He sighed heavily. “Alright. But I’m calling you as soon as I leave work, and you better pick up.”

“I will,” you said with a small laugh.

After hanging up, you went about your nightly routine, double-checking the locks and closing all of the blinds. By the time you stepped into the shower, you felt more relaxed, the hot water washing away the stress of the day.

But you failed to notice the bathroom window was left unlocked.

It was nearly 12:30 a.m. when the loud bang jolted you awake. You sat up in bed, your heart racing as you strained to listen. For a moment, all was silent. Then you heard it, the creak of a floorboard just outside your bedroom

Panic gripped you as the door swung open, revealing Jack.

His face was contorted with fury, his eyes wild as they locked onto you. “Get up,” he hissed, stepping closer.

You froze, your body paralyzed with fear.

“Get up!” he snarled, his voice rising. “Or I swear, I’ll kill him. I’ll find Rafe and I’ll kill him.”

The mention of Rafe sent a jolt through you. Your mind raced, trying to figure out what to do. Jack was bluffing—you were sure of it. But the rage in his eyes made you hesitate.

Slowly, you swung your legs over the side of the bed, your hand brushing against the lamp on your nightstand.

Jack was too focused on his anger to notice as you gripped the base of the lamp. Summoning every ounce of courage, you swung it with all your strength, the sound of glass shattering filling the room as it struck his head.

He stumbled back, clutching his face, but his fury only grew.

“You stupid bitch,” he growled, lunging at you.

He grabbed you by the arm, throwing you to the ground with a force that had your head cracking against the floorboards. He straddled you, his fists colliding with your face in a brutal rage.

“You think you can just leave me?” he spat, his voice venomous. “You think you’re safe with him?”

The blows left you disoriented, pain radiating through your body. But the adrenaline coursing through you gave you enough strength to knee him in the balls.

Jack let out a guttural cry, rolling off you, and you scrambled to your feet, desperate to escape.

But he was faster.

His hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking you back down. This time, he wrapped his hands around your neck, his thumbs pressing hard against your windpipe.

“You really fucked up darling,” he hissed, his face inches from yours.

You clawed at his hands, gasping for air as the world around you began to blur. Your vision darkened, and in that moment, you accepted death.

Then the door burst open.

Rafe stood in the doorway, his face a mixture of shock and fury. In an instant, he was across the room, ripping Jack off of you with a strength you’d never seen before.

“You’re never gonna lay a fucking hand on her again,” Rafe growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Jack barely had time to react before Rafe’s fist connected with his face. The room filled with the sound of flesh hitting flesh as Rafe unleashed his rage, pummeling Jack with a fury that left you trembling.

“Rafe!” you croaked, your voice hoarse from the assault. “Stop! Please!!”

Rafe froze at the sound of your voice, your cry cutting through his rage like a blade. His fist hovered in the air, knuckles already raw and bloodied, as his gaze shifted to you. Jack lay crumpled and unmoving on the floor, but Rafe didn’t look back at him again.

He was at your side in an instant, his eyes wide and frantic as he took in your bruised and battered face. “Y/n,” he breathed, his voice trembling. “Are you okay? Please tell me you’re okay.”

You tried to nod, muttering out a faint, “Yeah,” as tears streamed down your cheeks. But your body felt weak, your vision blurring at the edges. Rafe’s hands cupped your face, his thumbs gently brushing away your tears as he rambled.

“I’m so sorry. This is my fault—I should’ve been here,” he choked out. His voice cracked with guilt as he frantically looked over your injuries. “I should’ve protected you.”

You tried to shake your head, your lips parting to reassure him. “It’s not your fault, Rafe—”

But the words barely escaped before the room started spinning, the world growing dim. You slumped against him, your body going limp as unconsciousness took over.

“Y/n?” Rafe’s voice was high-pitched now, panicked. “No, no, no. Stay with me!” He shook you gently, his hands cradling your lifeless form as tears filled his eyes.

The sound of sirens outside grew louder, but Rafe barely registered it, too focused on you. “Come on, baby, open your eyes,” he begged, his voice breaking. “Please don’t leave me!”

When the paramedics rushed in, they had to forcefully pull him away from you. “Let us work!” one of them barked, but Rafe fought against their hands, unwilling to let you go.

“She’s not breathing right! Help her!” he shouted, his voice raw with fear.

The medics worked quickly, loading you onto a gurney and securing you for transport. Rafe followed close behind, ignoring their attempts to hold him back.

“You can’t ride with her,” one of the paramedics said firmly, blocking his path. “We need you to stay here—those hands need treatment too.”

“I don’t give a shit about my hands!” Rafe yelled, his voice thick with desperation. “She’s all that matters!”

Eventually, he relented enough to follow in his truck, but the second you arrived at the hospital, Rafe was back by your side. He pushed past nurses and doctors, ignoring their protests as they wheeled you into the emergency room.

“Sir, you need to wait outside,” one of the doctors said sharply, stepping in his path.

Rafe didn’t listen. “Is she going to be okay? Please just tell me she’s going to be okay!”

“She’s critical,” the doctor replied, moving swiftly. “She might have a brain bleed. We need to get her into surgery now.”

The words hit Rafe like a punch to the gut. He froze, his hands trembling as he watched them wheel you away.

One of the nurses gently guided him back, urging him to sit. “We’ll keep you updated, but you need to let them work.”

For the first time since the nightmare began, Rafe let himself collapse into the nearest chair. His bloodied hands hung limp at his sides, his mind consumed by a single thought: you had to be okay. You just had to be.

The bright lights of the hospital waiting room buzzed softly above him as he sat, motionless. The metallic scent of his own blood clung to his hands, but he didn’t care. Nurses had already tried to approach him, insisting he get his knuckles cleaned and bandaged, but he’d waved them off every time. His focus wasn’t on himself, it was on you.

The minutes crawled by, turning into hours, and every horrible possibility ran through Rafe’s mind. What if the surgery didn’t work? What if you didn’t wake up? What if he’d walked in just a second too late? His jaw clenched as he fought against the rising tide of guilt and fear.

“Rafe.”

The familiar voice pulled him out of his spiraling thoughts. He looked up to see Sarah standing in front of him, her face a mix of worry and determination. She’d clearly rushed to get there, her hair pulled into a messy ponytail and her expression urgent.

“Hey,” she said softly, sitting down beside him. Her eyes flicked to his hands, which were still caked in blood. “Have you let anyone take care of those yet?”

He shook his head, barely acknowledging her question. “I don’t care about my hands, Sarah,” he muttered, his voice hoarse.

“I know you don’t,” she replied gently, “but you can’t sit here like this. Let me get someone to clean them up. I’ll wait with you for Y/n—okay?”

Rafe hesitated, his gaze flicking toward the double doors that led to the surgical unit. He hated the idea of leaving for even a second, but Sarah gave him a look that told him he didn’t have much of a choice.

“Fine,” he muttered, standing reluctantly as Sarah called over a nurse. While the cuts on his knuckles were cleaned and his hands were wrapped, he sat in silence, his jaw tight. Even Sarah’s presence wasn’t enough to soothe the storm in his mind.

When they returned to the waiting area, Rafe fell back into the same chair, his hands now bandaged but his heart just as heavy. Sarah sat beside him, offering quiet reassurance while they waited.

Hours passed. Each tick of the clock on the wall felt like a punch to his chest. He barely moved, barely blinked, until a figure in scrubs approached. He didn’t even register their presence until Sarah nudged his arm gently.

“Rafe,” she said softly, “they’re here for Y/n.”

His head shot up, his back straightening so quickly it made Sarah flinch. “What? How is she? Is she okay?” he asked, his words tumbling out.

The doctor gave him a kind but measured look. “She’s stable,” he began, his tone professional. “She did have a brain bleed from the impact to her head, but we were able to relieve the pressure, and the surgery was successful. She also sustained a broken nose, a fractured eye socket, and significant bruising across her body. Her face will remain swollen and bruised for at least a week, but the discoloration and swelling will subside over time. The rest of the bruises should fade in the next week or so as well.”

Rafe’s heart pounded as he processed the news, a flood of relief mixing with a lingering dread. “She’s going to be okay?”

“Yes,” the doctor assured him. “She’ll make a full recovery. However, she won’t be awake for the next 10 to 12 hours as she recovers from the surgery. You’re welcome to sit with her, though.”

Rafe didn’t even wait for the doctor to finish before he asked, “What room is she in?”

The doctor gave him the room number, and Rafe stood immediately, turning to Sarah. “Thank you for coming, Sarah,” he said, his voice softer now. “You can go—I’ll let you know as soon as she wakes up.”

Sarah hesitated, clearly reluctant to leave him alone. But she saw the determination in his eyes and nodded. “Okay. Call me if you need anything,” she said, squeezing his arm before heading out.

Rafe made his way to your room, his heart pounding as he stepped inside. The sight of you hooked up to monitors, your face swollen and bruised, nearly broke him. He pulled the uncomfortable hospital chair closer to your bed and sat down, his eyes fixed on you.

For the next eleven hours, Rafe didn’t move except to use the bathroom. He ignored the stiffness in his body and the ache in his hands, his sole focus on you. Each beep of the machines was a small reassurance that you were still here, still breathing.

“Come on, baby,” he whispered at one point, his voice raw. “Wake up. Just wake up.”

The room was silent, except for the hum of the machines and the occasional murmur of nurses outside. And though exhaustion pulled at him, Rafe tried to stay alert, to make sure he could see your eyes open again.

When your eyes finally fluttered open, a low groan of pain escaped your lips as the harsh fluorescent lights overhead pierced through your disoriented state. Every inch of your body ached, a deep, relentless pain that made it hard to focus. But amidst it all, one sensation stood out—a warm, familiar hand clasped tightly around yours

You didn’t have to look to know whose hand it was. It was Rafe’s.

Turning your head slightly, you let your gaze drift toward him. He sat slumped forward, his exhaustion etched into every detail of his face—the disheveled hair, the dark circles under his eyes, the vacant, almost numb stare he had fixed on your joined hands.

You gave his hand a small, deliberate squeeze, and his head snapped up instantly, his blue eyes locking onto yours. For a moment, his expression froze, a mix of disbelief and relief washing over him.

“You’re awake?” he breathed, his voice trembling before it turned into an almost frantic exclamation. “Oh my god, you’re awake!”

He practically leapt out of the chair, his hands cupping your face with a gentleness that contrasted with the desperation in his movements. His eyes searched yours, as if trying to convince himself this was real. “I’m so sorry, baby,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m so fucking sorry. I should’ve been there—”

“Don’t, Rafe,” you cut him off, your hands reaching up to cover his still resting on your face. Your voice was soft but firm, even as tears blurred your vision. “It’s not your fault. You saved me, Rafe. I’m here because of you. Don’t you dare blame yourself for a second.”

His eyes glistened with tears he couldn’t hold back anymore. “I was so scared, Y/n,” he admitted, his voice cracking. “I thought—God, I thought I was going to lose you.”

“I know,” you whispered, your own tears slipping down your cheeks now. “I know, baby. But I’m okay, and it’s all because of you.”

Rafe leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was tender yet filled with an aching intensity. It was a kiss of relief, of longing, of all the pain and love he couldn’t put into words. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“I love you,” he murmured, his voice steady this time. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Rafe,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, but the weight of your words clear.

Moments later, the doctors came in to explain your condition. You listened as they laid out everything: the brain bleed they had successfully treated, the broken nose, the fractured eye socket, the extensive bruising across your body. You nodded along, but it was Rafe who absorbed every word like his life depended on it. He asked questions, made notes in his mind, and ensured he knew every detail about what your recovery would entail.

When the doctors left, Rafe stood silently for a moment before moving toward your bed. Carefully, he adjusted the wires and tubes connected to you, making room for himself to climb in beside you. He wrapped an arm gently around you, mindful of your injuries, and pulled you close. For a long time, the two of you stayed like that, the steady rhythm of his breathing grounding you.

Eventually, you broke the silence, your voice tentative. “Rafe… what happened to him? To Jack?”

Rafe tensed at the mention of his name, his jaw tightening as he exhaled slowly. His fingers brushed a stray strand of hair from your face as he met your gaze. “The cops brought him to the hospital after… after I dealt with him,” he said, his voice calm but edged with anger. “Once he was stable, they took him straight to the station. But you don’t need to worry about him anymore. Ward made sure they threw the book at him. He’s not getting out anytime soon.”

Relief washed over you, and you nodded, your gaze drifting away as your mind tried to process everything. Rafe noticed the shift in your demeanor, his hand gently tipping your chin so you’d meet his eyes again.

“He’s not going to hurt you again, Y/n,” he said firmly, his voice steady and filled with conviction. “I promise. Never again.”

“I know,” you replied softly, offering him a faint smile before settling against his chest once more.

After a moment, Rafe spoke hesitantly, “I had cleaners go through your condo—it was such a mess. And Sarah’s ready to pack up your things whenever you say the word… I mean, if you want to come stay with me. But if you don’t, that’s totally okay too, I just—”

“Rafe,” you interrupted, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the pain, “I’d love to come stay with you.”

Relief flooded his face as he nodded. “Okay. I’ll let Sarah know.”

The room fell into a comfortable silence after that, broken only by the faint hum of the machines. After a while, you tilted your head to look up at him.

“Rafe?”

“Hmm?” he hummed, his fingers brushing gently over your cheek.

“Thank you. For everything. I know this probably isn’t what you signed up for when you asked me out, but… I’m so grateful you’re still here.”

Rafe’s eyes softened, his thumb tracing small circles on your cheek. “Don’t thank me, baby. I’d do anything for you. And I’m not going anywhere. I love you—all of you. There were moments I didn’t think you’d wake up, and just the thought of losing you…” He trailed off, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t ever be without you.”

A single tear slipped down your cheek, and you reached up to brush it away before smiling faintly. “I love you too, Rafe. So, so much.”

He leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, holding you as if he’d never let go. And you knew he wouldn’t. You knew you’d be okay with him by your side.

[mackiebeth]

so high school

Pairing(s): Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: Growing up, you could never understand how people your age were so romantically interested in other people. You begin to understand for the first time, however, when you encounter a certain Sokovian during your first semester of university.

Warnings: mentions of underage drinking, college!au, friends (?) to lovers, college au, making out, slight angst (but not really)

Word Count: 4.0k

Author's Note: everyone say thank you taylor swift for the spontaneous new fic! also this is lightly proofread, so edits might be made later oops

Main Masterlist | ao3 | Wattpad

...

Growing up, you never truly dated anyone. Sure, you had crushes on fictional characters in the media you consumed, and you allotted arguably too much time to admiring celebrities online; but, you never saw anyone in your personal life in such a light. At various hangouts and sleepovers over the years, you noticed just how much your friends discussed their love lives. Hushed whispers and sighs of the same phrase, “I really like them,” flooded your ears in the hallways at school. You had originally tried to join in on the conversations, not wanting to be excluded, but you simply couldn't engage in them wholeheartedly; eventually, the inability to relate began to upset you. You naturally boiled it down to something that must have been wrong with you — how could it possibly be normal to be like this when everyone else around you seemed to share these romantic sentiments?

Thankfully, you became completely preoccupied, both mentally and physically, by the prospect of university. By the time your junior year of high school had started, your love life — or lack thereof — no longer held too much importance to you. Instead of keeping whimsical love letters on your desk like others your age did, you opted to pile various books. From Camus to Aristotle, you discovered a deep fascination and affinity to the field of philosophy and the metaphysical discussions it posed. Therefore, when your senior year had arrived, you threw yourself head first into your studies, determined to build up your application in order to get into a top university.

After accepting your offer into one of the best philosophy programs in the nation, you anticipated your time at university, daydreaming about all of the things you would study and all of the people you would meet there.

But never could you have anticipated someone like Wanda Maximoff.

You had met her during one of your introductory courses in your first semester. Wanda was the type of person that, upon first glance, you would be scared. Not just because she was undeniably pretty, but she also had this stone cold exterior to her. Her lips were permanently etched into a slight frown, and she never really showed too much expression while she spoke during class. To put it simply, she intimidated you; so, you settled on admiring the brunette from afar (two seats up, one to the left — if you were to be specific).

Your plans changed, however, after the two of you got assigned to be partners for a class project. It was just a presentation, but it required you both to meet outside of class to work on it. You would be a liar if you said your heart didn't skip a beat at the thought of seeing Wanda outside of these four walls of your classroom, even if it was just to work on this assignment.

Seemingly unbothered by it all, she gave you her number for you to set up a date and time to meet. Her messages were all business, but they still made you feel like a dopey teenager every time her name showed up on your screen.

The day quickly came for you both to work on the presentation. Ultimately, you had settled on the two of you meeting in your dorm, which you made sure to deep clean before she came. You were not necessarily messy by any means, but the idea of Wanda, the most daunting person you could imagine, stepping into the safe space of your room made your blood run cold for some reason.

As Wanda knocked on your door, you rushed to open it. The two of you stood face to face for a moment, divided only by the doorframe. She still had her typical frown, but you noticed it shift into the slight uptick of a smirk. After a moment had passed, she finally broke the silence. "Are you gonna let me in, or...?" she asked, teasing you and your awkward nature.

Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment as you stepped aside for her to enter, "Oh, right... Sorry."

You led her to your side of the room, where she stood for a moment analyzing all of your possessions. You felt small as she did so, like a tiny insect under a bright, unsettling microscope.

She suddenly turned to face you, dropping her bag on the floor, "So, are we gonna work on this or not?"

That is how you found yourself on the floor, her laying on her back and you on your stomach. You had your computer in front of you, typing furiously as she provided you the words and ideas. You glanced over at her every now and then, especially if she was being awfully silent.

Most times, she would just be looking up at the ceiling in thought, her brown hair sprawled in random patterns underneath her; however, after a particularly long bought of silence, you looked over at her to find her gaze directly on you. You quickly returned your eyes to the screen of your computer and began typing whatever came to your mind. You hoped she did not notice the blush rise to your face.

She did.

She sighed, turning her body to lay completely facing you. "You're very quiet, you know," she stated, closely observing your reactions highlighted by the light of your screen.

Unsure of how to respond, you simply say, "So I've been told."

"Oh," she exclaimed, her smirk from earlier returns. "She has jokes."

You hum in agreement, "Just a few, unfortunately."

With the project now finished, the two of you abandoned it in favor of simply talking to each other. Never would you have guessed that Wanda could be this... warm. Unlike what you had witnessed in the classroom, she was very friendly and sarcastic in the privacy of your dorm.

You discovered a lot of information about the brunette during this conversation, such as how she loved coffee but only if its iced, how she never loved texting (preferring to call or talk in-person) but will do so if she must, how she immigrated with her twin brother from Sokovia when they were children. As she recounted her memories from Sokovia, you could hear the accent she once had poking through the surface; although, you did not point it out, afraid it was an insecurity of hers. Maybe you would tell her another time how nice it sounded, but for now, you bonded with her about collecting CDs and vinyl records from various artists.

While the two of you casually spoke, all you could think about was her — how pretty she was under the dimmed lighting of your dorm, how every joke she told was the epitome of humor, how much you wanted to stay in this moment with her. She was perfect.

Is this what people were talking about in high school?

As the night came to an inevitable end, you found yourself feeling quite sad, for you no longer had an excuse to hang out with Wanda. Though she had her number, you did not have the confidence to use it and ask if she wanted to meet up again.

You did not have to worry too much about it. As she packed her belongings back into her bag, swinging it over her shoulder, she spoke, "You know, you're pretty cool, Y/N."

You tried to hide the shock caused by her words, "Thank you, I think?"

She chuckled lowly, "My friends are having this thing at my place this weekend, if you wanted to join?"

Your head perked up, eyes blinking rapidly in shock. Unable to deny her offer, you nodded, "Yeah, sure... okay."

“Great,” she replied, walking toward your door. You followed behind her and reached around to open for her. She smiled at the gesture before speaking again, “I’ll text you later with the details and everything. See you in class.”

“Yeah, see you,” you returned. As you closed door behind her, you feel your mind finally catch up to reality: you, the stereotype of a nerd with very few friends, are going to hang out with Wanda and her friends.

You close your eyes, leaning your head onto the back of the door. “Oh, shit,” you whisper aloud into the open air. What have you just gotten yourself into?

Decoding your own thoughts and feelings about the Sokovian in the days leading up to your next class had revealed just how infatuated you had become; yet, you didn't even know how to act upon them. For years, you had only observed romantic behaviors from the outside looking in, whether it be through your friends' dating experiences or the words on a page from whichever sapphic novel you had picked to read. Now that you finally found yourself in the loop, what were you supposed to do?

Should you message her about whatever? No, that would come across as needy and overbearing.

What if you found her after class and ask to hang out again? No, that's even more overbearing than the text message.

The internal war waged on, resulting in your mind and body being paralyzed out of anxiety. For now, you have settled on simply waiting for her message regarding this weekend and presenting your assignment with her this week during class.

Days later, you walked into the class, practically shaking from your nerves about the presentation and the girl that you had to present with (who had just so happened to become your first teenage crush over the span of weeks).

You sat down in your unofficially assigned seat. Being so focused on the way your leg bounced repeatedly, you failed to notice the familiar brunette enter the classroom. Instead of sitting in her typical seat, however, she dropped her bag on the floor by the seat directly next to you.

Wanda instantly noted your nervous demeanor. While she had her own anxieties regarding the presentation and such, hers remained within her mind. She never showed such things outwardly, unless she was with someone with who she felt undeniably comfortable expressing those thoughts.

She slid into the seat and reached over to place her hand on your bouncing leg. Immediately, you noticed the feeling of someone's hand, breaking the chain of your anxious thoughts; upon glancing to your side, you discovered the culprit: Wanda.

"Hey," she started. "Everything is going to be fine, I promise."

Unable to find the words currently, you opted to remain silent, but you provide her with a uncertain nod in return. With a squeeze of her hand as a final attempt at reassurance, she placed her hand back within her lap and waited for the class to begin.

As always, Wanda was right. Your presentation went well; there were a few instances of stumbling words on your part, but otherwise it went great.

When the two of you returned to your seats, she leaned over and muttered under her breath for you to hear, "Told you so."

As you began to do your typical nighttime routine that evening, you heard your phone go off. Unsuspecting to who it was, you tapped on the screen under the assumption that it was just another email added to your overflowing inbox. You were wrong yet again.

Wanda: hey y/n !! are you still able to make it to the thing this weekend?? its gonna be on saturday at my place... lmk !!

You stared at the message for a moment before confirming you would still be in attendance, of course. Was it normal for your heart rate to speed up this much from mere words on a screen?

Saturday night rolled around quicker than you had anticipated. It was almost time to leave, yet you were currently standing still in your pajamas, surrounded by the miscellaneous clothing items you had thrown around. Ultimately, you had settled on the outfit you had first chosen, resulting in a bunch of unnecessary cleaning afterwards.

When you arrived to her place, you promptly knocked on the door. A moment passed before the door creaked open to reveal the Sokovian. Her outfit was considerably more casual than others you had seen her wear around campus. She stood in front of you, adorned with an oversized band tee and jeans; her fingers were still littered with her usual assortment of rings. However, the thing that surprised you the most was her lack of makeup. Not that she needed it, of course; in fact, it was quite the opposite. Tonight she seemed to have abandoned her typical heavy eyeliner and rose-colored shade of lipstick, choosing to only use her mascara and some chapstick.

"Sorry for the jumpscare," Wanda joked, her nose scrunched in amusement from your reaction. She continued to explain, "I know I'm dressed down compared to class. I just don't like putting in the effort to get ready sometimes, especially to just hang out with friends."

"No!" you exclaimed, quickly trying to backtrack the way she took your shocked expression. "No, you're fine. You're beautiful, actually, I just- I was just surprised to see you without the eyeliner and all."

Her cheeks became flushed at the compliment, but you seemed to miss it being overly concerned with your own response. She chuckled at your awkwardness, "Thanks. Oh, you can come in, by the way. I think everyone is here now."

She introduced you to each friend, after which you gave an insecure wave in return.

As the night progressed, you gradually loosened up. Whether it was time or the alcohol in your bloodstream, it frankly did not matter to you. You were not drunk by any means but definitely buzzed enough to not worry about every single decision you made. You even talked to one of Wanda's friends, Natasha, for awhile without the Sokovian present (given that she had left to use the restroom, but it still counts in your mind).

Suddenly, you were sat on the floor, playing childish party games with the others. It was fun, you couldn't lie... until it wasn't. You had already survived Truth or Dare, but someone (Tony) had suggested Spin the Bottle. With no romantic history, it was practically a given that you subsequently had not kissed anyone yet. For your first kiss to be during a stupid game of Spin the Bottle would be depressing; but, you didn't want to be the loser who said no to playing because the reason would be too humiliating to explain.

So, you elected to power through the hesitation, hoping the bottle just would not land on you.

At first, you were confident. The game was now three rounds in, and you remained lucky.

Eventually, the group had noted your lack of participation and had chosen to give you a "free spin." You silently prayed it would at least land on someone with whom you had become somewhat acquainted. With a shaky hand, you reached forward, spinning the emptied beer bottle. In the moment, it felt like the bottle would never stop spinning, but, once it did, it felt like time froze altogether.

It landed on Wanda.

Though you liked the brunette, you truly did not want your first kiss to be this way, especially with her.

She instantly noticed your apprehension. Turning to where Tony sat in the circle, she offered, "Hey, what if we did a hybrid of this and Seven Minutes in Heaven?"

Your eyes widened at the question, feeling unsure about all of this.

With a smirk on his face, Tony agreed, "I like the way you think, Maximoff. Alright, new girl, go follow Maximoff, and don't have too much fun while you're gone."

Before walking off with Wanda to the nearest bathroom, she briefly turned around to aim her middle finger at the boy. Though you were extremely overcome with anxiety about what was about to occur in the bathroom, you released a chuckle at her response.

She pulled you into the bathroom, flipping the lights on. As the door clicked shut, you faced her with your back against the wall.

"So, um, what are we supposed to do?" you asked.

"We don't have to do anything, Y/N," she replied, leaning against the bathroom counter. "I just noticed you weren't very comfortable with the idea of kissing me out there, so I improvised a little bit."

"Oh, okay," you breathed out. "Just for the record, it was not the idea of kissing you that made me uncomfortable. You- You're cool, so, it's fine."

Wanda tilted her head in curiosity, clearly not expecting that response. "Oh?" she questioned. "What was it then? Because I could clearly tell you were not very comfortable in there... I mean, you were visibly stiff."

"It's not you, I just..." you looked away, unable to meet her gaze.

"'It's not you, it's me'?" she joked, narrowing her eyes.

"Yes! No! I mean..." you exhaled. "It's not that the idea of kissing you makes me uncomfortable because, believe me, it very much doesn't. I just- I've never done this before."

The blood rushed to your cheeks during your admission. You felt utterly embarrassed, wishing you could just be back in your dorm in this moment.

"Y/N," she called softly. Despite every ounce of your body screaming at you to not do so, you returned your gaze to the Sokovian. "Do you want to kiss me?"

You couldn't read her tone. A part of you was nervous, maybe this was all some sick joke between her and her friends; yet, the other part of you was thrilled by the proposition alone.

"I wouldn't oppose," you muttered, automatically employing humor as your defense mechanism.

Wanda rolled her eyes at your antics, "Ok, then, let's play a new game." She looked down at her phone, checking the time. "We have less than four minutes in here."

Confused by the sudden change, you acquiesced in her request, "Okay?"

She stepped closer to you, standing a foot away.

Her tongue escaped her mouth, briefly licking her lips, before she proposed, "Are you going to marry, kiss, or kill me?"

Your eyes widened at the unexpected question, but you attempted to recover in order to return her playful energy, "Can I choose all three?"

Her eyebrow had risen, the infamous smirk forming on her lips. Slowly, she inched closer and closer to you until you could feel her breath on your skin. One hand found refuge on your hip, while the other she brought to the side of your face. She used her fingers to tuck a few loose strands of hair behind your ear then cradled your face. You licked your own lips and closed your eyes in anticipation.

Then, you felt it. Her lips brushed against yours, softly and slowly as if she were testing the waters. It was only a peck, but you swear your heart burst from the experience.

A moment passed before she pulled away enough for her to speak.

"Was that okay?" she inquired, ensuring you were still interested in this.

"More than," you affirmed.

She smiled, "Good, because we still have a few minutes left, and I intend to use them."

Without another second, she connected your lips once again. This time was different, however; there was a newfound fervor behind it. Her kisses started slow like the initial pace, gradually becoming quicker and deeper. Uncertain about what to exactly do, you continue to follow her lead. You felt her slide her tongue across your lips, asking for entrance. How could you ever deny her that? As her tongue began to clumsily caress with yours, a familiar feeling settled in the pit of your stomach, but you ignored it and kept kissing her.

A knock at the door pulled you both back into reality.

"Time's up, lovebirds," the voice called. "Clothes better be on and straightened when you leave."

Wanda chuckled at her friend's words and bit her lip. For the first time, you think you see her outwardly nervous. She swallowed as she shifted her gaze from your lips to meet your eyes, "Hey, I um- I hope this wasn't a one time thing."

You sighed in relief, "With you? Never."

She leaned forward once more, placing a final peck on your lips before grabbing your hand to return to the circle. Instead of your prior placements on the floor, in which she sat on the other end, Wanda refused to let go of your hand, instead pulling you to where she had been sitting.

Thankfully, no one mentioned how your cheeks were now incredibly plagued with a pink hue, allowing the game to continue onward.

After the group decided to finish playing games and turn on a movie, you followed Wanda to the couch in order to sit next to her. As soon as you found your place at the end of the sofa, she gravitated closer, leaning into your side. Her head rested on your shoulder as if you both had been close for years.

The movie American Pie started playing, all of her friends too engrossed in it to note how the two of you were cuddled up together. She picked her head up from its place on your shoulder. You didn't think too much of it, imagining her neck must have simply gotten uncomfortable in that position.

However, she turned her head to face you, taking in the sight of you and her friends all hanging out and watching a movie. Unable to resist herself any longer, she leaned in closer, her breath hitting your ear as she whispered to you, "I can't focus on the movie. All I can think about is kissing you right now."

You rotated your head to face her, biting your lip at her words. "Shush, your friends are here," you quietly argued, but you were secretly enjoying her antics. You peered over her shoulder, observing her friends who sat quietly with their attentions fully focused on the film.

Wanda pressed a soft kiss to the base of your neck prior to returning to its original position on your shoulder. You sighed at the feeling of her affection, wondering if it would linger forever.

Soon enough, the movie ended, and it was time to go home for the night. Her friends had left moments ago, but not without saying how you should "come around more often." Honestly, you were deeply excited that you received their approval, especially after the recent developments with Wanda.

You stayed behind for a little, attempting to garner as much alone time with Wanda as you could without being interrupted.

With the others now gone, you allowed Wanda to be more affectionate; or rather, you allowed her to give in to her desires and kiss you again, and again, and again.

After the final peck, you pulled away with the cheesiest smile and swollen lips. She loved seeing you this way: giddy and carefree.

"I really like you, Wanda," you proclaimed with a sigh, effectively breaking the comfortable silence between the two of you. "Like, a lot."

"I really like you, too," she replied. "You know, in case it got lost in translation with the kissing and everything."

You playfully slapped the side of her arm. "I'm serious," you started. "You make me feel so... high school."

She raised her brow, gesturing for you to continue.

You resumed, "I never felt like this, especially during high school. For a while, I actually thought something was wrong with me." Her lips formed a slight pout at your past conflict. "I was always so... jealous of others my age, having all of these teenage experiences with crushes and romance. Since I never did, I just assumed that it was my fault, that something was wrong with me. It was isolating; it felt like some inside joke that everyone else knew about except me. But, I'm happy I waited, truthfully, because now I can experience all of those high school feelings with you."

End.

[lilacxquartz]

OBEY || Makima x Fem!Reader

summary: Makima loved girls like you, so pretty and compliant. She had it in her mind that she could get you to do anything she wanted and as it turned out, she was right.

tags: (warnings in red): manipulation, coercion, dubious consent, forced masturbation, some pet play, dom!makima, porn with plot, toy usage, vibrators, one shot

word count: 2.4k

You messed up this time.

You really did.

You weren’t great at your job, half of the time you wondered why you were even here, but everyone beyond that point was happy to remind you that you were just an intern—of course you messed up, but that’s not something to worry about, they don’t suffer from your mess.

All of your end of the week paperwork was always run through Makima, the one they all warned you about instead. You hadn’t yet experienced her supposed wrath, by some miracle escaping the rumours.

But something felt different this time.

She wasn’t the type to slip up her mood, always so professionally calm and composed as she wore her white button up and black slacks, fiery red hair tucked neatly away into a tailed braid.

She skimmed the paperwork with the tip of her finger, making a smacking noise with her lips as disappointment seemed to brew. She wasn’t happy with you, but her wrath declined, she wasn’t punishing you just yet.

No, there was something playful in her glare instead.

“Your work ethic is lacking,” she simply said, her voice cutting through the air, she tempted you closer as she walked you into her office.

Your heart dropped as she shut the door behind you, swivelling a lock as the key turned, the blinds falling shut against the window. It wasn’t all that late outside, but she made it night.

Listening in, you could hear a button fumble and then flick, a dim light spreading a warm glow around the office space. Next, you watched her move her hands over the drawer of her desk, another key striking into something locked away, pulling something out that she left hidden to you, at least for now.

“Now then…” Makima purred, taking a step closer and leaving the item she fetched on the chair behind the desk. You couldn’t quite see what it was. “Let’s try encouragement in a different way.”

Your heart dropped.

Were you about to get beaten up at your own job? (that you weren’t even getting paid for, it was an internship)—at least not yet, you had to survive the whole assigned duration to land a paid spot in this place.

Still, the atmosphere suddenly became something different entirely, the air thicker than blood, something that stagnated and caused your breath to hitch. Was this her presence alone that made you feel that way? The rumours felt suddenly real, your mind begging for you to run away but your fate already sealed itself the second you stepped inside.

“A-another way?” you asked.

“You’re a pretty girl,” Makima said, approaching closer, the carpet absorbing her steps—she moved quietly like a siren, her intentions feeling seducing almost as she reeled you in with those anchoring eyes, “so why are you trying to get a job here?”

You couldn’t quite reply, you weren’t even sure what to say. You gulped as her touch felt gradually invading, fingertips tracing along your jaw as her knuckles met with your cheeks. She felt soft. Tempting. Dangerous.

Her eyes narrowed as she studied you, the lack of reply grating on her nerves even if it wasn’t shown.

“Well?” she demanded.

“I want to make a difference, you tried to say, what a cliché excuse—oops.

She flashed a curt smile, “Very novel.”

Her fingers drifted down to your chin, pinching it and tilting your head to align with her line of sight. You avoided her gaze but she made you follow it much to your impending dread.

She parted her lips once more.

“You could have been someone’s pretty little wife or a mistress even, life could have been easy, especially for someone like you.”

You couldn’t respond, feeling insulted.

“A shame, but…” she let her words trail off, a glint of pure curiosity sparking in her eyes, the look she gave you was a dangerous one, “at least it means that I can have my fun instead.”

“I-I’m sorry?” you finally replied, fluttering a couple of blinks as your body froze.

“Mhm,” she hummed, finally letting go of your face—her eyes darkened, any light that indicated care now faded away, “so kneel.”

You tensed up even more, unsure how to react.

“I know you’re not deaf, my pretty, so let’s try that again,” she cooed again, her voice flipping a switch, it felt like an illusion though, there was a looming threat in her tone, “…kneel.”

You gulped as you knelt after a long moment, her eyes fixated on yours as she remained silent beyond that point.

Her lips curled as she watched you surrender to her will, “Good, I’m glad I didn’t have to repeat myself again—wouldn’t want to bruise such a face.”

You had no idea how to react, so you simply gulped. All of a sudden, it felt like you couldn’t talk, your replies congested.

Makima moved towards you next, taking a domineering step as she moved your chin to secure eye contact with you once again, her face showed zero praise but the warmth she offered from her touch told a different sort of story.

“So compliant,” she cooed.

She grabbed at your jaw next, fingertips trailing your lips.

“Show me your tongue, my pretty.”

You complied with her for now, showing her your tongue like a dog, panting with the muscle out in the open. You shuddered as you drooled, saliva dripping onto the floor.

She studied you for a moment, making a slight humming sound as she then let go of you and stepped away.

“I’ll go easy on you today,” Makima said, seeming to decide.

You put your tongue back into your mouth, fearful of the consequence but she didn’t seem to scold. Instead, she made her way back to her desk, taking a silver looking object, fiddling with the base as a droning whir emitted from the thing.

A vibrator?

She slid it into your trousers, making you freeze as she just nearly avoided the cotton underwear line that piled at your crotch; she then pushed your knees shut, keeping the vibrator running between your thighs and right next to your heat.

“Let’s keep that there,” She nodded, taking a step back again as though to admire the sight of your gradually undoing being; your complexion slowly blooming into rosy red, your eyes so trusting and so afraid.

Yet observant, so ready to give and to obey.

The setting on the vibrator felt like eventual torture, shuddering against your clothed clit as pleasure built up in between the seams—your thighs attempted to reel it tighter, squeezing the toy to give it deeper focus, but no matter what you did, it wouldn’t go beyond a certain point.

Your hands drifted towards your legs, attempting to alter its course but Makima was quick to deny you such relief.

Her eyes narrowed as her lips crept up into a smile, “Not yet, my lovely.”

She watched as your body began to writhe under impossibly low vibrations, tempting your teased sex again and again—you couldn’t help but squirm as a rising heat coiled in your lower stomach, clenching and tightening as waves continued to roll to a tweezed point.

Crouching down, she cupped your chin and brought it closer, planting a warm kiss upon your lips. You could taste her lipstick, feeling it stick to your own flesh and her breath shudder into your throat; tasting of stale coffee but just barely. Her eyes were half lidded as she continued to press her lips onto yours, her tongue working its way inside pushing—moving, wrestling your own muscle away almost as it dared to follow her lead.

“Delicious,” Makima purred as she pulled back, her amber eyes scrolling to your quivering thighs, igniting a feverish stare upon your body.

You shuddered, both scared and aroused almost, your core tightening against such intense pleasure that it almost hurt. Torture it was as it continued, your legs clenching to burrow the toy in but with no such release.

Makima moved back a little, pulling up a chair to sit right before you.

“Now my lovely, undress for me,” she spoke, demanded almost. Her expression hardened, a faint blush forming upon her skin.

“But, I-“ you tried to retaliate, already feeling so embarrassed and broken down.

“I like my pets compliant, [name],” Makima warned, her tone taking on something colder. You watched as she unbuckled her belt, ever so slightly and as her delicate fingers fumbled the button and then the zipper—fingers slipping into her black slacks.

Reluctantly you nodded in such a stiffened stance that you could have been chiselled from marble yourself. Slowly, you removed your clothes at a slow rate, her eyes silently blessing praise and approval.

Once you were in just your underwear, you stopped and she seemed disappointed.

“I didn’t say stop, my pet,” she warned again, this time oozing much more of a threat behind her tone.

“I-Of course…” you shuddered with a jittering reply, your entire body shaking as you slipped gently out of your bra, kicking off your socks and finally allowing the cloth that clung against your heat to finally drop to your knees.

“So beautiful,” Makima praised as she seemed genuine, “now crawl to me.”

“I-I’m sorry?” you blurred out unintentionally again, feeling your voice next anchor in your throat out of accidental resistance. You knew not to question her and yet you did.

“Obedient pets listen to the commands they’re given, do they not?” she smiled at last, seemingly finally entertained with you albeit at your expense.

You swallowed away the final part of your dignity, surrendering to moving your body into a position on all fours as you leaned towards her. The carpet felt rough against your knees and uncomfortable, your palms barely tolerating the sensation until you were met right by her knees.

“Good girl,” she praised, “now lean back for me and open your legs.”

“But that’s too much-“

“—You misunderstand, I only keep good pets employed,” she smiled, “you want to work here, don’t you?”

You were starting to wonder if you did.

“I…I don’t kno-“

“Beautiful girls like you are wasted on this place, but I can offer you something more,” she said, “if you listen to me then you will be rewarded in much more than a safer world and a mediocre salary.”

“W-will I?”

“I take care of my loyal pets, [name],” Makima promised, offering deceitful hope, “your life is worth so much more when it’s in my hands.”

You gulped, something about her words started to swoon you.

“Now, show yourself to me,” she repeated again, her tone warmer yet lacking patience.

You reluctantly listened as you spread your legs for her; your lips parting by the will of your fingers slipping inside and seeking out your clit.

“Such a pretty cunt,” Makima commented, her own hand exploring below the waistline of her black slacks, “pleasure yourself for me.”

You spat a little on your fingertips, swirling circles on the bud as it slowly grew swollen, your breath heightening in such a bizarre situation that you couldn’t quite tell what you wanted to do.

Surprisingly you were already soaked, seeking lubrication from your sopping sex instead, avoiding eye contact when you could but ultimately going back to her gaze to seek approval.

“A-am I doing good?” you asked, desperate for praise.

Makima didn’t reciprocate your need though, simply offering a slight curve of her lips as her stare intensified. She knew what she was doing though, true praise was given through actions rather than words and as her own arousal grew, her silence was the truest form of praise there was.

You continued anyway as you on and off stole glances at her, certain things turning you on more than other elements. The way her eyes looked down at you, reminding you of your place below her. The way her hand likely was doing the exact same thing, but she kept it hidden from you. The blush that started to form, matching the shade of her hair.

You didn’t quite mind, as it turned out.

Focusing on those points, you felt yourself melt into something that went beyond simple arousal. Your body flushed with fear and warmth and acceptance, almost. Your own stomach coiled as you approached your initial end, your fingertips pushing out an orgasm out of you that your whole body rode out.

Makima’s smile curved again, something devious forming in her eyes.

“Again,” she commanded, “use the toy.”

Still feeling sore but in need of more, you shook as you reached for the toy and held it against your clit. The toy felt sore against your now swollen point, immediately causing you to shudder and whine, a reaction that made her eyes widen with sheer excitement.

Your thighs trembled as you felt your whole body flush with enveloping fire, a shaking release daring to swell within your core. Your thighs clenched as you held the toy to your bud, daring to surrender to yet another climax as it edged near.

Makima kept watch of you the whole time, lips curling to meet a satisfied smile; her eyes were relentlessly boring into yours, as though captivated by your own arousal—her own overlapping, feeling almost vicarious pleasure.

“Cum for me, my pretty,” she commanded, her voice sounding as silky as ever.

You listened without question, finally feeling the coursing waves roll through your stomach and all across your body, leaving you behind as a sweating mess.

“What a sight,” Makima purred, taking her hand out of her trousers and cupping around your cheeks.

You could smell the scent of her, feeling almost intoxicated as she hovered so closely by.

“I-I did well?” you asked in a scrambled way, your mind not fully there just yet.

She continued to talk to you as her body leaned in, her form crouching right beside you as she held your head in between both of her hands, “So pretty, so obedient.”

“I-I-“ you stammered again, feeling something warm from the praise.

“You’re my favourite toy so far you know,” she smiled, pushing her lips up against yours for the second time, “now get dressed, you’re invited for after work drinks with me.”

With your mind still fried, you nodded in a dazed state as you got back dressed again and stood statued into place as Makima brushed you up, straightening up your clothes and brushing any loose strands of your hair out of the way.

You followed her as she walked, your head still spinning from what just happened.

Yet Makima knew exactly what she was doing.

And now, she had a pretty little pet on her leash.

Ready to obey whenever she pleases.

[spdrvyn]

vyn's ao3 fic reccs — went on a bookmarking spree yesterday (instead of studying oops) so here we are. please enjoy and make sure to check these creators and their lovely, lovely fics if you have the time!

maybe things were going to be just fine? by gogoberry2 — i really enjoyed the banter between miguel and reader here! author makes miguel so sassy that it's pretty entertaining to read.

amor vincit omnia by ely__sia — absolutely gut wrenching yet wholesome knight!au with miguel. he's so incredibly broody in this one yet so, so loveable.

of apples and oranges by bloodstained fingers — it's such a simple idea yet so well-executed and all with our favorite spider-man <3 miguel's really cute in this one, i love the domesticity of it

the world is full of noise (and i hear it all the time) by music4masses — miguel and reader's relationship in this fic feels very natural. made it feel real butterflies when i read tbh! should defo check this out

there's no distance (between you and me) by dylf — miguel really showing his role and instict as a protector/caretaker in this one! the spanish also feels natural and very in place (that's coming from someone that BARELY speaks spanish btw)

because by Vesss23 — maybe it's because i like seeing miguel a little angry but who knows! this is a good fic, with some ahaha. very nice. descriptions. of miguel so go, go read it neow!!!!!

the grump & the drunk by t_lostinworlds — by far, my personal favorite. miguel is just so, so charming and handsome yet i can't even see him. the tension is absolutely palpable and the writing just makes you fall in love with him even more

just stay here with me, cariño by kuko_field — i'm such a sucker for clingly, sleepy miguel that it's so bad. this is also another favorite of mine. i have no words, just read it.

[becca-e-barnes]

The Study

Not only is this the start of my 'Moving In' series, I'm also calling it my birthday piece! I turn 24 on Tuesday and I'm trying hard not to think about the fact I'm overdue a quarter-life crisis.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2.7K (oops)

Warnings: Pleasure Dom!Bucky, sub! reader, spanking, use of a vibrator, forced orgasms, kinda Dom vibes but totally consensual, degradation, safe word system but safe word not used, pet names

Summary: Bucky spends the weekend at your new house and you take him on a tour.

Minors, do not interact

Turning the key in the front door still feels odd. One of the very first changes you made to the house was installing a new locking mechanism on both doors and it hasn't had a chance to stiffen up yet.

The smell of paint is starting to dissipate but it hits you hardest when you open the front door. The hallway was one of the last areas of the house to be redecorated so the smell seems to be most noticeable right at the door.

"Damn, this place is deceptive." Bucky's remark makes you smile to yourself while you hang your jacket up. "It's a whole lot bigger on the inside than I thought."

"It surprised me too. All of the rooms are a nice size."

The house had ticked so many boxes for you. More than two bedrooms in a quiet development, a low maintenance garden, off road parking, a downstairs bathroom and the whole house has plenty of potential. The plan isn't to live here forever, after all. It should be easy enough for you to sell when you decide to move on.

You flick a few lights on in the hallway and toss your keys into the bowl on the hall table before you turn your attention back to Bucky standing in your living room. Despite the fact you hadn't removed your own shoes, he's taken his off, leaving them neatly at the doorway of the living room beside his travel bag.

He's respectful of your space; he always has been but it's nice to just have him in your space. It's nice to have him be part of it.

He walks slowly around the little living room, looking at the few ornaments and picture frames you'd collected. "That's cute." He's looking at a picture of you and your best friend, sitting on the floor of your old kitchen, laughing yourselves to tears over the fact your Christmas tree was three inches tall and cut out from the back of a cereal box. The photo brings a smile to your face every time you see it.

"Are you hungry? You've had a long day." You move over behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist and kissing his back through his clothes while he looks at your pictures on the fireplace. He's had to travel for a few hours just to get here so you imagine he's bound to want something.

"I'm okay for now." You nod at his response, taking in the fact he's actually standing in your home.

The time you have with him is limited. That's how this works but for just less than two days, he's yours. After that, he'll go back home so you've learned to make the most of the time you have with him.

"Help yourself to whatever you like. Kitchen is down the hall." You don't even really want to move but you can't stand like this forever.

He turns in your arms so he's facing you and captures your lips in his. It's a soft, slow, gentle kiss; the kind you've been dreaming of since you last saw him. You need him to feel exactly how much you've missed him without having to tell him.

The kiss lasts for minutes, far beyond its natural end but neither of you care.

After what feels like forever, your lips part but your foreheads stay pressed together, both of you determined not to pull away.

"I still haven't gotten the grand tour." He's got the most beautiful eyes and they're locked on yours to the point that you'd almost forgotten he's never been here before. "But I want to start in your favourite room."

"Well, the study is my favourite. I converted one of the bedrooms into an office space."

"Show me."

You don't protest. Instead you head out of the living room and up the stairs to the furthest end of the hallway, with Bucky following closely behind you.

"These all used to be built-in storage units around a headboard for a bed. I took all the doors off the cabinets and made it into shelving." You'd turned the room into a space that you love. The walls are painted a light shade of cream with houseplants lined up between books on the shelves. Instead of storage around a headboard, you now have book shelves, arching around your desk. The other side of the room has a sofa that converts into a bed for extra guests and there's a beanbag in the corner by the window to read on.

"I see why it's your favourite. Odd mix of books here though." Bucky's eyes flick over the titles, ranging from your collection of political figures' autobiographies, the 'Diary of an Oxygen Thief' trilogy, the selection of books providing commentary on the criminal justice system and a good few classics.

"It is. But I like this room. It'll be cosy in winter once I get some fairy lights and nice and bright in summer. Somewhere to unwind." You're thinking out loud as you reach up to close the window and that's when you feel Bucky step behind you.

"I think we should celebrate." Bucky’s voice is low, his lips trailing up the side of your neck, heading towards the spot just behind your ear that he's always loved to kiss.

"I think..." He stops briefly on his path, taking a second to inhale deeply, determined to slow down. "I think we should make love in every room of your new house this weekend."

Fuck.

"Are you sure you're up for that? Because I can really stretch it out. I'm not sure how we're going to make it work in the pantry or the downstairs bathroom but I'm happy to try."

"Your 'pantry' is a cupboard." Bucky's breath is hot on your neck, and you feel his lips have curled into a smile.

"I know. You promised every room though." You can't help but tease him, although you're half serious. It's not your fault that you're keen. Not when he's kissing down your neck like that and holding your waist so your back is flush against him.

"You're a handful." You feel his fingertips graze the bare skin of your waist and you remember how nice it is to just be touched the way he touches you.

"I might be a handful but I can promise if I have my way, after you leave here on Sunday, you won't even be able to think about cumming again until Thursday at the very earliest."

"Jesus, that's one hell of a promise." He turns you around to face him and you notice his eyes are damn near twinkling with excitement.

You've got all weekend together; there's no need to rush but you can't help the overwhelming need to feel him sliding into you. That's when you feel closest to him and it's the closeness you're craving more than anything.

Your hand cups the side of his face, your thumb tracing across his freshly shaved jawline and you allow yourselves a second to just be together.

He smells familiar. The heat of his body against yours makes you feel safe. He makes you feel safe.

"I want to start with you though. I brought you a little something." He kisses your lips gently and smooths a hand down over your hair before he retreats downstairs to the bag that he'd brought a few changes of clothes in.

He returns with a small cardboard box with the tape on one end already cut.

"I didn't have time to wrap it. It arrived last minute." You're so busy trying to get into the box that you hadn't even noticed.

Inside the box are a few instruction manuals, a thin white cord and a black satin pouch. Inside the pouch is a neon pink toy that's thicker at each end, narrow in the middle and nicely curved.

"I've already charged it and paired it to my phone. This end slips inside you." He points to the thicker end, studying your face to make sure you're okay with this.

And why wouldn't you be? This is pretty damn close to a dream come true.

"Remember what you said last time I saw you? You wanted me to spank you. Maybe we should take it a little further." He's always been hesitant to do anything that would hurt you and that fact is the very reason you want him to. You know how much he wants to protect you and knowing he cares about you has you convinced that he's the right person to explore this with.

"Please." You whisper, beyond excited at the thought of getting everything you've begged him for. "What did you have in mind?"

"I'm thinking about you bent over this desk with this inside you and we'll start off with a couple of light taps to that pretty ass." He presses the button on the narrow part of the toy and it give a short buzz, coming to life in his hands.

Fuck, you're into this man. You're into his hesitation just as much as you're into his willingness to try something new.

"Traffic light safe word system. 'Red' and I'll stop, 'amber' and I'll give you a break, 'green' to keep going." He wants to be fully sure you know you're in control here, not that you ever had any doubt.

You nod and stretch up on your tiptoes to kiss him, this time with as much passion as you can manage. Your hands run through his hair while his trail over your body, your tongue flicking gently against his.

Just being around this man makes you wet, not that you'd ever admit that to him. Even the thought of him has you throbbing with arousal so now that he's here in front of you, your whole body feels like it's buzzing.

He touches you like he can't get enough. He can't get you close enough and it's beyond thrilling to be the subject of his need.

It's almost embarrassing that you get yourself worked up so easily but from the hungry look in his eyes when you undo the button of your jeans, he doesn't seem to mind.

You step out of your jeans and panties and Bucky helps you out of your top and bra, leaving you naked in your study.

"Look at you." Bucky sounds like he's almost in awe, no matter how many times he's seen you naked.

He kisses you again, matching the same passion he'd had earlier, trailing his hands over your soft, warm skin until his fingers are nestled between your thighs.

"Fuck, you're soaked." His fingertips trail between the folds of your sex, gathering the wetness he's responsible for. "Good girls don't get this wet at the thought of being spanked. You know that, don't you?"

You're almost too turned on to even respond to him. "Bend over. I want to see how well you take your toy."

You do as you're told, bending over your desk while Bucky drops to his knees behind you to slip the toy inside you. You feel him trail the thicker end of the toy against your slick cunt, gathering enough wetness to let it slip inside you comfortably.

Within a minute, the toy comes to life inside you and there's no way to stifle the moan that catches in your throat.

Not only is the internal part vibrating at a low, delightful buzz, the other end is pressed right to your clit and is stimulating it at the same strength.

"Did I say you could make a sound?" Bucky quizzes, sounding harsher than ever and when he gets no response, his hand comes down on your ass with so much force that it makes you yelp.

It was a hell of a spank and you can feel heat blooming under the skin of your left cheek, quickly followed by another spank to the right.

"For the record, you can make as much noise as you need to. But only because I've told you that you can. You see the difference?"

You force yourself not to nod and it has the effect you were hoping for. Two more harsh, painful spanks are delivered, one to each cheek, the same as before.

You don't know if you imagined it but the toy inside you feels stronger. You can't be sure if you're just focusing on the pleasure over the pain or if Bucky really has turned it up.

"Does that feel nice, sweetheart?" He needs to know you're enjoying this because a little part of him is surprised at just how much he's into it. He gets to control both your pleasure and your pain because you want him to and the trust alone is enough to get him off.

"Feels amazing, fuck. Making such a mess." Stringing sentences together isn't easy but you swear you're about to cum already. Your nipples rub delightfully against the wooden desk and you swear every sensation is heightened.

"I wish you could see the mess you're making. Looks fucking delicious." He turns the toy up ever so slightly but that's enough to send you spiralling, gripping the edge of the desk as pleasure ripples through your entire body.

You can do nothing but sob, cumming relentlessly because he's refused to turn the toy down. Even after you're done, he keeps it at the same intensity, moving on like nothing happened.

"You say the sluttiest things. That promise of yours to totally drain me. Who says shit like that? So fucking filthy."

"I mean it. I want every drop of cum you can give me. And then more." You know saying something like that will earn you another spank and it does.

"You're not just acting like a slut. You are a slut. You spend your life hiding it from everyone else but you can't hide it from me." A shiver runs down your spine. You almost feel like you've been caught. Like he's figured you out and now you have nothing left to hide. "Say it."

It's a clear instruction but saying it makes it real.

Your hesitation earns you another sharp spank, heat prickling both your face and your ass at the same time.

"Don't make me tell you twice." For someone hesitant to slip into a dominant role, he's absolutely nailing it.

"I'm your slut." Your voice is less steady than you would've hoped but the words at clear at the very least.

"My slut?" He almost sounds like he can't believe what he heard.

"Yours. Your slut." You repeat, wishing you could see his face.

"Oh sweetheart, that's cute." He means it too. He turns the toy up as a reward and even though it's only at half its full strength, you can't help but cum again, pleading your way through another blinding orgasm.

"Such a good girl for me. That's it. Cum nice and hard. Give that slutty little pussy what it needs." He lands one more harsh spank on your ass and you swear it only makes you cum harder, to the point that your legs are shaking.

But all of a sudden, the sensation stops completely.

"B-Bucky?" You ask, turning around to look at him, wondering if something went wrong.

"Don't want to wear you out, sweetheart. I think that'll do for now." You agree that it's probably a good place to stop and you have no problem taking the toy out for a while.

He pulls you in close, resting your head on his chest, letting you catch your breath while he holds you and kisses your forehead.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" His voice is soft, hoping that you'll tell him the truth.

"No. It was perfect." You smile, capturing his lips in yours, hoping to relieve some of his fear. You're almost giddy with excitment. It truly was everything you needed and you fully intend to thank him for it before the weekend is over.

"Good. I enjoyed it more than I thought I would." He's back to the gentle, tender touches that you're so used to from him and it's a blessing that he can flick so effortlessly between both personas.

"How about we order in and stick a movie on?" He suggests, kissing the tip of your nose. "Go put on something comfortable. I'll find a takeout."

[alley-roses]

First Meet

malleus draconia x reader

reader is not yuu and is placed in pomefiore

summary: you’re a new student at NRC who caught the attention of malleus draconia, and he makes it his mission to recruit you for his club and get to know you.

p.s this is a repost of an older fic I wrote and then deleted, in case it seems familiar to anyone. The structuring may be different, though.

—————————————

The hustle and bustle in and around the hallways of NRC was something you’d have to grow used to, being a new student here was exciting, and also the cause of a little nervousness. It was reminiscent of your first day at school. It was of little surprise to you when you were initially placed in pomefiore, despite it seeming that many of the students there were carbon copies of each other and that you didn’t perfectly fit the mould, you appreciated beauty and perfection.

No longer feeling like a deer in headlights, now that your first couple of days had past, you felt it necessary to go for a wander, and explore the school you were destined to spend the next four years in. It was a spectacle to behold, the school was made in resemblance of the finest castles and littered with intricacies despite its large size. At certain points and corners of the school, you could even observe many different gargoyles and grotesques and even though you may not have not known a lot about them or the differences, they caught the interest of your artistic eye.

After nightfall, you headed out with a canvas in tow. Partly (mostly) because you didn’t want to appear strange by painting a picture behind the school, during the middle of the day, but there was also a nice serenity that accompanied the quiet of the night and the dark, enthralling sky, lit with stars.

Malleus was out on one his daily, late-night escapades, and this time saw an unfamiliar person en route. Usually, this would be something to ignore, but this time it was a little different. They were quite studiously examining a gargoyle, and eloquently relaying it’s features onto a canvas.

Perhaps clouded in a moment of hope, the fae forewent any thoughts that the person may not have any personal interest in gargoyles, but rather just the art that they were to produce, instead, he set his sights on recruiting them as a member of his club.

After roughly an hour and a half had passed since you’d initially went out, you decided it was time to pack up and go back to pomefiore. You opened the door to your room quietly, careful not to wake any of your other roommates up, and went to sleep - completely unaware of who you’ve recently intrigued.

Morning arrived, and the sunlight seeped through the windows, letting you know it was time to wake. After letting your eyes adjust to the light, you got up and readied yourself for the day. There was of course still a hint of mysticism that accompanied attending NRC, but there was also a newly found comfort in the normalcy you’d just attained.

Having finished a fair share of your classes for the day without any major difficulty, your next stop was to the cafeteria for lunch. There were always a surprising amount of options available, and you were in the middle of deciding which one to pick, when something - or rather someone would happen to snap your newfound normalcy right in half.

Wait, what was happening right now? THE Malleus Draconia had waltzed up to you and started talking out of nowhere? Well, this was unexpected. You looked around to make sure he was definitely talking to you, but with how he was staring right at you and how everyone else was occupied with their own business, he was definitely talking to you.

“And I do believe that you would make a good member of the Gargoyle Study Club, if you would like to join.”

Oh, oops. You hadn’t really listened to most of what he’d said, but why was he wanting you to join a study club for gargoyles? Was that even a thing? You looked up at him, only to notice the seriousness on his face. It seemed that this was something he truly cares about, and honestly despite the randomness of it all, you couldn’t help but find it a little cute. Not wanting the situation to turn awkward and not knowing what else to say, you plastered a dorky smile on your face and said “Sure, I can do that!”

His eyes started to sparkle like a child on Christmas at your response, before he nodded and walked away again. This was actually a pretty good thing, in all honesty! With how exclusive and secluded this school is, you didn’t have any previous connections or friendships with anyone around, and joining a club would be a great way to solve the issue.

There was one small problem though, you couldn’t recall Malleus giving any details about when or where the club was. You’d just have to find out on your own, after you’ve eaten your lunch, that was.

The day had ended and ultimately you’d obtained no new information about said club, it seemed like most people didn’t even know that there was a gargoyle study club. Could this have just been an annoying prank?

Maybe, but he did seem quite serious… it was a good thing you’d made a mental note of the green band around his arm when he’d originally started talking to you. He was a diasomnia student, and tomorrow was a Saturday. That was your mind made up, you’d just have to ask Malleus for details about the club yourself.

Once again, daytime struck and you got ready, this time heading for diasomnia, instead of the main building of NRC. When you arrived, you noticed that their dormitory was also quite fantastical, it was however quite different from the interior of pomefiore.

Now that you were here, you felt like a fish out of water, and you also couldn’t be sure if malleus would even be here or where he would be, but it’s not like you’d be here for long anyways. Your eyes landed on a tall boy, that stood out due to his light green hair that was slicked back. Might as well ask him, right?

Hesitantly you walked up to him and greeted him to catch his attention. As if he could immediately tell you weren’t a student of his dorm, he gazed at you with a look of scrutiny. …aha, that was off-putting but you’d already started talking to him, might as well finish it, right? “Hi, do you know where I can find malleus, or if he’s even here?” Seemingly upon hearing the fae’s name, the green-haired boy went off on a tangent. Switching between droning on about how perfect malleus is and how a ‘mere human’ shouldn’t even think of interacting with him. It was as if he was having an argument with himself, and if his boisterous shouting wasn’t directed towards you, would’ve been quite funny.

Upon hearing the commotion, another boy you hadn’t seen before decided to make an appearance. He asked you why you were looking for their dorm leader, but not before scolding the other boy for making a commotion before even hearing you out. You explained that you were looking for him to ask for details about the club he’d invited to you, much to the surprise of the two infront of you.

The second boy simply let out a chuckle, “I think our Malleus is finally making friends! You’ll be able to find him in the library.” You nodded and thanked the boy before leaving, diasomnia having certainly left a unique impression on you. After arriving at the library, it didn’t take long to find the man you’d been looking for. He was sitting in the library, focused on reading a cook-book. He looked quite elegant and paired with his focus and not wanting to disrupt his reading, you were slightly apprehensive about approaching him.

Luckily or unluckily, you didn’t have to, because he picked up on your absentminded staring, and approached you himself. “Did you need something, Y/N?”

“Oh, yeah! It’s about that club you mentioned, I wasn’t too sure about when or where it was, or even if I needed to officially sign up, I was wondering if you could tell me about it?”

Malleus looked contemplative for a second before speaking, “Yes, it seems that I’ve neglected to properly inform you.” Malleus continued, giving you the details on the club, and to your surprise it seemed that the club was in fact, a real thing. Solving the mystery of the gargoyle club let you enjoy the rest of your weekend, all the way up until Monday.

Once again, it was lunch, and this time you were going to spend it with malleus whilst studying gargoyles. You walked out to the front of the school, spotted malleus, and said hello. You were however, wondering where everyone else was. When you asked, malleus kept up a neutral facade, but felt slightly defeated in having to say, “regrettably we are the only two current members”

Oh, well I guess that explains why barely anyone knew about the club. It seemed kind of sad though, being the only one fascinated enough with gargoyles and running a club all by himself, wasn’t he lonely?

No matter, the two of you would just have to make the most of it! Malleus showed you many different gargoyles around the school, it was nice for you, getting to discover a little more of NRC, though Malleus was also a little surprised by how inquisitive you were - his assumption that you were also a gargoyle enthusiast seems to have been incorrect.

Regardless, he enjoyed it, your lack of knowledge surrounding the subject allowed him to discuss and explain his passion to another person who was willing to listen. To you, it was quite endearing how someone regarded as a person to be scared of was also at heart just another normal person, getting incredibly excited and focused about an unusual topic.

These meetings, as a club activity were weekly, but it didn’t take very long for you and malleus to genuinely become friends, every now and then you’d wave to each other in the halls - and your weekly meet-ups were no longer strictly about gargoyles. The two of you would take the time to talk about your day or anything new catching either of your interests.

A couple of months into your friendship, you’d realised you hadn’t even exchanged numbers with malleus, so you asked him about it. Instead of getting his phone number though, you found that he was truly quite… hopeless with technology. This was unexpected for someone like malleus, considering how knowledgeable and apt he was with just about everything. One thing it wasn’t though, was an issue.

It was your turn to take the dragon man by surprise when you’d sent a carrier pigeon to his window, with a letter clutched between its claws. Not having many friends here aside from his dorm-mates, who could freely speak to him in person, had him questioning who the letter was from, could it have been someone from Briar Valley? No, it was just you, his first friend.

The letter was penned in purple ink, and with no specific subject matter, simply talking about random things and asking questions about his well-being. Malleus smiled, holding the letter in his hands, it felt nice having someone care for him instead of being scared of him. But recently he may have started thinking that it’s also nice to care about another person.

He tucked the letter away into a drawer, but it would take him a little longer to tuck it away in his thoughts, as he started penning back his response. And again, just like your Monday meetings, penning letters back and forth quickly became the normal between the two of you.

Despite the familiarity he now associated with you, there was a strange unfamiliarity to the whole situation. Never in malleus’s life did he thing he’d be snuggling into the crook of a human’s neck, whilst listening to them read, studying with someone else, being friends and being vulnerable with someone else. It felt like he’d experienced a lot of firsts with you, and that was something he wanted to continue doing.

Yes, that was right. He’d have to come to terms with it. He cherished you, the way you could make him feel special, how you’d accepted his quirks with open arms and befriended him regardless of your weird, first meet, the way you took an interest in him - exactly how he’d taken an interest in you. That’s why he had to come to terms with it when he cupped your hand in his and said ever-so-gently that he loved you.

[azumasoroshi]

suzume no tojimari spoilers ! hi guys im Insane

literature analysis brain is going haywire so here’s a bunch of incoherent ramblings some themes motifs and symbolism i love in this movie because AAAAAAA

Love and Sacrifice.

Obviously, but like the different kinds of love and devotion and how they’re never perfect and sometimes self-destructive but they’re so powerful and just waughhh. It was so important to me how after exploding at her Tamaki (suzume’s aunt, ik im not the only one who forgets names) was like “you know I don’t feel that way all the time, right?” like not denying that yes, she has felt exhausted of taking care of Suzume and sometimes wished she didn’t have to take care of her, trying to be the parental figure she needs while also trying to not encroach on her sister’s memory. It means so much to me that she didn’t deny those feelings but instead told Suzume that it’s not how she always feels, because loving someone means sacrifice and ewughghgghfgfh im not putting this into words well but htrggfhgf.

and ALSO the reciprocation of kindness with daijin - as thanks for the taste of freedom at last, and wanting to be with someone whom you love but not really comprehending that what they want (that “suzume doesn’t love me” killed me) and how by the end daijin helped her pull souta out and sacrificed himself for suzume because he really loved her ggrgfggfhfnfnch

And just. everyday love. This is kind of a mix of themes and motifs but every time we flashed back to the memories of whatever abandoned place they were in - the simple “good morning”s and “be back soon” and “it’s so hot”s made me choke up. the mundane love of Chika and Suzume in their newly found friendship, Rumi’s kindness in picking Suzume up off the street and her love for her children, Serizawa’s platonic love for Souta letting him drive these two crazy women with crazy beef for 7 hours across Japan, there’s just so much expression of love and the hardships people go through because of it and rhgrjgrjhgdhgjhb

Mourning and Closure.

Makoto Shinkai himseld said that he wanted to write a story about “mourning deserted places” (at least according to Wikipedia) so this one is all but textual but like yeah. the motif of opening/closing/locking doors and locking the bike and things like that? AaAAaAaa

To close the gates, you need to imagine the emotions of people who once lived there - i can only imagine what Souta was thinking in the abandoned bathhouse area, but hrhggejghw the school and the amusement park and the shots we got of normal life in tokyo before the worm revealed itself in the climax, it just. really speaks to the beauty of everyday life. im a sucker for that kind of stuff as both a psychology major and just a weird person who thinks “man i wonder what happened to this person for the past 22 years of their life that led them to be here with me in this moment” whenever i pass someone in the grocery store. Hodaka could let japan be flooded in weathering with you because of his love for hina, but suzume’s whole arc was learning about the common people and living their lives and embracing all the kindness they had to offer to herself and others and it really hits that like. of course she can’t just let tokyo get destroyed to save Souta, every person in all of tokyo is just like Rumi and Chika and Serizawa and they’re all people who love and are loved. She finds herself in Souta’s place as one who stretches himself thin between being a gate closer and studying to be a teacher because he loves life as well, and-

oops i forgot i was talking about mourning and closure

anyway the doors keep getting reopened because the grief never fully goes away and the worm of “calamity” is letting yourself be consumed by the grief and destroying the people around you and not being able to move on, and it comes from the Ever-after becomes ever-after is a place where time doesn’t exist and you wish you could be there forever because it’s where you can relive the events of your past, it’s where you can live in denial that time moves forward and you have to move with it, it’s where Suzume goes after her mother dies because she wants people to stop giving her condolences and just give her her mom back. “Ever-after” in itself is a “happily ever after” - a place where mortals aren’t meant to go, no matter how beautiful it looks. Souta goes there too because he is the catalyst Suzume needs to go back and face Ever-after - and it’s no longer beautiful, but it’s torn apart by grief and everything is in flames. The idea of a keystone as well, locking the memories and hurt away, is one that Suzume removes to relive her memories and puts back in place when she’s ready to move on. htrhgfhgfghfghf. she won’t let souta be the keystone because she refuses to move on without him.

Also both Souta and his grandfather tell Suzume to just forget everything she’s seen, but it’s too late for that because connections aren’t so easily forgotten. Even when Tamaki couldn’t remember telling Suzume she’d be her new mother, that doesn’t change that she cared for her for the next 12 years anyway. Suzume visits Chika and Rumi by the end, and obviously she’s never forgotten her mother, both because her chair was still in her room by the start of the movie and because she looks like her by the end. Even though relationships change, they’re never forgotten in the movie, and I think that’s beautiful, really.

(also cool detail: 12 years ago is when the tsunami that killed suzume’s mother struck. the movie came out in 2023, and the touhoku earthquake/tsunami that inspired this film was in 2011. nice)

Reality vs Fantasy

The scenes where Suzume goes out into public again following stopping the worm from destroying Tokyo were especially poignant to me. This girl’s been going on a fantastical adventure with her talking chair and talking cat, meeting nice people and making friends, excited at the idea that she’s doing something important, but after Souta’s gone she shuts down. Her feet are bloodied, her clothes are destroyed, and people keep giving her strange looks and calling her homeless because she may have stopped the worm but even without being consumed by grief, it still isn’t pretty or picturesque. Standing out in Japanese society is discouraged, as most of us are well aware, but she’s been doing nothing but that with all the running around and talking to chairs and flying through the sky she’s been doing. Without a concrete goal in mind, without Souta as company, she’s alone in the world of adulthood and has no one to tell her what she should do, no Souta to guide her through Tokyo. And without that confidence or charm, people don’t come to her aid like they did before. It’s only once she finds her resolve to save Souta, quite literally walking in his shoes/footsteps, that the next helpful stranger (Serizawa) comes in.

She could imagine those abandoned places as alive, but the truth is that they were abandoned and will stay that way - none of them miraculously revived by the end, unless something happened in the credits that I couldn’t see through all my tears. Reality will not bring those places back, but what really matters is how we carry the memories of those places with us? I think. man maybe it’d be easier to write this post if i had actually seen the end credits

this post is really fucking long so im calling it here 😭 makoto shinkai has done it again. goddammit

[emeritusemeritus]

Idk what you think BUT I need the quirky shy reader with glasses who's being bullied for being obviously a virgin and Fred stepping into it because he hates to see her suffering and obviously filling the cliche of falling for her. Hope you like this idea 🥲

My pleasure dear Anon 🖤

Warnings: bullying, sexual harassment, sexual references, love triangle? So many tropes. Insecurities and negative thoughts of self. Fake dating, dating for status, kissing. Love confessions. Inspired by one of my favourite films.

Word count: 3k (oops I got carried away)

Let it be me.

"School doesn't have to be the worst years of your life."

Your mother had repeated as you begrudgingly stepped aboard the Hogwarts Express about to start your fifth year, letting your insecurities get the better of you once again. You'd made friends during your years of magical education sure, but you were shy, almost to a fault and you knew you were far from the most attractive girl at school. You had glasses and were quiet, the usual suspects that made you unattractive in society's eyes. You longed for the moment you could transform like all the quiet, nerdy girls in muggle films that suddenly take off their glasses, let their hair down and were considered the hottest girl in town. Instead you would still just be you, without the ability to see.

The teasing had begun not long after your fourth year, the boys of the quidditch team trying to get a rise out of you, deciding that your quiet and unassuming presence was somehow offensive to them. You were bullied for simply existing and for being you.

"Oooh look, here's Mary," one had said, his acne covered face repulsing you without even having to open his mouth.

"Very original," you'd muttered under your breath, holding back a roll of your eyes at the stupid nickname. Mary was the ultimate virgin, the definition of the good girl, your new apparent namesake.

"Hey virgin girl, can I have your notes?"

"Oi Virgin! Let me break the seal!"

It was incessant, humiliating and utterly soul destroying. The other girls seemed to get away without any of this, Virgin's or not, but you were always singled out, always teased.

You dreamt of becoming the stereotypical bad girl, sleeping around, partying all the things that would alter everyone's perception of you but the thought of even attempting to talk to someone with the aim of having sex was terrifying. Plus, it just wasn't who you were.

Today was a bad day. It had started almost as soon as you walked into the common room, not even fully awake yet when you'd heard someone mutter your despised nickname to one of their friends. You'd been approached by two Slytherin students in the year above who had tried to tease you, to chat you up and feign interest only to laugh at you once you bit back, only you didn't bite back, you walked off and ignored them- not falling for their tricks.

So when Fred Weasley approached you just after study hall, you did the same. Walked off, looked down and didn't even give him chance to speak, preempting the usual conversation.

He tried again later that day and you rolled your eyes, starting to get frustrated with his determination to make a fool out of you.

You knew the Weasley twins and their pranks and you weren't about to have your hair dyed blue for the entertainment of your peers and so you avoided him completely.

"Y/n, wait," you hear once again and pause to take a deep breath followed by an exaggerated sigh.

"Fred, what do you want?" You say, not holding back in frustration.

"I want to help," he says, catching his breath as he jogged across the deserted corridor to catch up with you.

"Why?" You asked bluntly, still not falling for whatever he was trying to do.

"Because no one should feel like they're making you feel," he says honestly, his eyes looking almost completely sincere.

"And that's your concern because?"

He shrugs, "it's not, but I think I can help."

"Oh yeah? How's that?"

"Date me."

You instinctively roll your eyes, huffing and trying to move away from him but he steps around you, blocking the way. "I mean like fake dating, I'll pretend to be your boyfriend and hopefully they'll leave you alone. I'll be honest with you, there's a girl I've got my eye on and."

"Angelina," you say, making him pause and look at you with a shocked expression. "I might wear glasses but I'm not blind."

"If she thinks I'm dating someone then she might get jealous? Never mind it's a terrible plan. Just forget I said anything."

"Fred wait," you say, calling out to him after he changed his mind halfway through, beginning to walk off. "You think it would work? You ask, showing a little bit of vulnerability.

"Can't hurt to try."

Fred had stuck to his word and after a little bit of sorting out, discussing boundaries and so on, you'd gone public with your 'relationship' nearly a month ago. Immediately the teasing had dwindled down to only the harshest of bullies but even then you were never mocked in Fred's presence. Angelina had been affected by the news, as Fred had predicted and he found that he did get more attention from her, making your agreement mutually for both of you.

George was in on it of course, and you'd genuinely enjoyed your 'fake dates' where you would accompany them to Hogsmeade, help them with their products and listen to their dreams of opening a joke shop, like zonkos but better.

They were nice people, as were their friends and siblings, at least the ones you'd met and for once it was nice to feel included and genuinely cared for, even if it was under false pretences.

It was all going well until Cormac McLaggen put a spanner in the works. You'd been walking back from potions last off on a Friday afternoon, eager to meet with Fred for dinner when Cormac had cornered you in the empty corridor, spouting a load of shit about being attracted to geeky girls, that glasses were a turn on for him. He'd tried to kiss you, manoeuvring you until you were backed up against the wall to try and swoop in but you'd managed to push him off just in time and run away. The whole thing had left you shaken and rightfully so, skipping dinner to cry into your pillow.

Fred found you in your dorm, worried because you hadn't shown up to meet him as you'd promised. Upon seeing your tear stained face and little sobbing body he'd immediately rushed over and pulled you into his arms trying to soothe you.

"What happened?" He asked gently, trying to get you to look at him but you couldn't.

"Cormac," you managed to get out, sniffling pathetically, "he tried to kiss me."

"That bastard," Fred said, quickly turning angry once he figured out what you were saying. "Who the fuck does he think he is? I've half a mind to."

"No Freddie please," you said, grabbing hold of his arm to stop him from acting out. Truthfully you were surprised by his reaction, even if you had grown closer over the past month but you didn't linger on it, instead trying to calm him down. "It's not worth it, I just," you paused, embarrassed by what you were going to say.

"What is it?" Fred says gently, listening to your pleading as he pushed down his anger.

"I couldn't let him be my first kiss."

The silence that lingered felt painfully awkward as you sat cringing in embarrassment, having to admit that out loud.

"Let it me be," he says suddenly, speaking a little too quickly as the words were jumbled and rushed. When you looked up at him in surprise, he seemed to snap out of whatever he was thinking. "Let it be me," he says again, much more slowly and quietly now. You don't reply other than to frown up at him in confusion, which he notices and smiles gently at you. "Just a thought, but if you want it to be with someone you can trust, someone who cares about you then let it be me."

The second your lips meet his, it's like he's accidentally set off a full case of whizzbangs around the room, sparks flying in your mind as you feel his soft, puffy lips on your own. It's a little awkward at first and you're self conscious about wether he can feel your glasses, if they'll get in the way but if it seems to bother him, he doesn't let it show. You expect the kiss to only last for a few seconds but it lingers, deepening as you let him guide you. When you finally pull apart, you look up at him with a blank expression, somewhat shaken by how good that felt. You expected him to crack a joke or give you notes or something like that to break whatever spell had been unknowingly cast between the both of you but he doesn't, he simply looks at you with a man expression you can't read, a softness.

The door opening makes you both jump back and the light, pleasant feeling you had felt only moments ago disappeared instantly when Angelina walked through the door. You felt guilty like a child that had been caught stealing a cookie from the kitchen counter. Fred looked stricken, knowing that Angelina had most definitely known what you were doing, if she hadn't seen.

"Don't stop on my account," she'd said in a rather harsh tone, going over to her bed to grab her quidditch stuff before turning to look at Fred, ignoring you completely.

"Practice is at 4, don't be late," she says bluntly, pausing to give you a dirty look before she turns back to Fred as she walks out. "Unless you're too busy."

"Fred," you said quietly as you watch him walk out without so much as another look in your direction. He was mad, and you knew he had every reason to be.

The rest of that week went by in a miserable blur. Though you hadn't officially 'broken up', rumours were flying around the school and the old teasing had begun to reappear, only to change to anything from 'slut', 'Weasley fucker' and 'Fred's ex whore'. You were even more miserable than before; this was so much worse than being called a virgin, because despite what everyone thought, you still were. But now you were completely without the one person who made you feel wanted, safe and the person that you'd stupidly fell for.

Ginny had been surprisingly supportive throughout everything, remaining your friend when you felt lost and cast aside. She'd convinced you to stop moping and join Hermione to watch their Quidditch practice after classes had finished, with promises that they wouldn't mention Fred's name once.

It was all well and good until you spotted Angelina and Fred laughing together, stood next to each-other as she grabbed his arm, both of them so invested in one another that they forgot Quidditch practice was happening around them.

It hurt to see them so happy, to see Fred with someone else even though your relationship had been fake all along. This was what he wanted all along, she was what he wanted, not you. No one would ever want you.

"I'm sorry," you said to Hermione as you shuffled out of the pitch side stands, trying to get away, not wanting to watch this anymore when it hurt so bad.

You'd come so close to successfully slipping out without anybody noticing until a singular loud voice called out, disrupting the peace.

"Where you off to Weasley fucker? Your boyfriend's that way!"

You froze, hearing the laughter of his cronies behind him and reared up, no longer feeling meek and timid but instead wanting to give him a piece of your mind, completely past the point of being able to take this shit. But you couldn't, because as you turned, Fred caught your eye. He looked at you with such a heartbroken expression that it instantly made your resolve crumble, any braveness you held seconds before disappeared under his gaze. So you did the only thing you could do- run away.

You successfully avoided pretty much everyone for the rest of the week, spending most of your time in the library. It was easier to just disappear than having to face the torment from your peers or watch Fred and Angelina together; truthfully you didn’t know what was worse.

The plan with Fred had been an almighty fail, almost comically so. Instead bring of quiet, bookish and virginal you were now quiet, bookish, slutty and scorned, a laughing stock with the addition of having real feelings for someone that would never reciprocate them.

It was the final quidditch game of the season that night, the finale to decide who would win the house cup before summer began. You had absolutely no intention of attending and instead had planned to get an early dinner, pack up your belongings and try to convince Madame Pince to allow you to check out a book over the summer.

Both Ginny and Hermione had tried to get you to come but you’d turned them down, really not wanting to watch Fred parade around the pitch on his broomstick. George was the one to convince you in the end, catching you between classes and asking for you to come and watch them, sad puppy eyes and all.

That’s exactly how you found yourself in the loud, crowded stands, surrounded by the entire school and faculty to watch the House cup deciding game. Gryffindor versus Slytherin, the most tense final imaginable. You stood with Hermione and Neville, much quieter in your celebration than the people around you as you watched the Gryffindor team approach the pitch, dressed in their signature burgundy and gold uniforms and carrying their brooms in procession. The Slytherins appeared mere moments after and with a brief speech given by Dumbledore, the game commenced.

Each goal brought an uproar of cheers from the people around you, as did each save from the keepers. You couldn’t take your eyes of Fred, as much as you wanted to. His precision with the bat, the way in which he made it looked so effortless and fluid was pretty spectacular.

The sky was clouding over, heavy and dark with all the signs of rain but you prayed in held outside long enough for the game to be over, the seekers doubling down their efforts so that they could see the snitch amongst the thick clouds.

A ruckus on the pitch dragged your attention back to the game when you saw an altercation breaking out against the teams, the whistle blowing repeatedly as the referee tried to break them up as the game pauses. The entire crowd was booing and there was a portion of the stands on the first Gryffindor tower that seemed to be stood up, everyone rushing out of the way.

“That was a foul that!” Seamus says from behind you.

“Goyle! He just Bumphed the crowd! Surely he needs sending off for that!” You heard one of the Patil sisters say, alluding to the Slytherin beater.

Suddenly, something else draws your attention away as you watch Fred dismount his broomstick, rushing over to Goyle who looks to be mouthing off at him. George is quick on Fred’s heels, trying to hold him back as his temper flairs, lunging at Goyle. Snape appears from the sidelines, gestures for Crabbe to take over and drags Goyle away from the pitch as McGonagall steps into the pitch to deal with Fred, though you find moment later that he’s allowed to carry on playing.

The whistle blows for the match to resume as the entirety of Gryffindor begins chanting Fred’s name in victory for his dealing with Goyle, gearing up for his turn to take the penalty shot.

It’s too much, to hard to hear everyone chanting for Fred, his name echoing around you until it makes you feel dizzy. You see Hermione cast a sympathetic glance in your direction and when you turn to her, she gives you a little nod, signalling that it’s alright for you to leave. You look around at the supporters, in their finest school colours, faced painted, signs made and chanting Fred Weasley’s name and you feel completely out of place, wishing you were anywhere else.

Once again you try to slip out undetected, wanting some air and a break from everything, just as the first rain drops begin to fall. They chant Fred’s name over and over and you just wish he’d hurry up and take the penalty already, to just get it over with.

You get the side steps of the stand, battling your way to squeeze past the cheering crowds until you’re nearly free. Until you feel the cold whoosh of something nearby, making you pause.

Fred.

He dismounts his broomstick, handing it to someone in the crowd that he’s not even paying attention to, climbing up the stairs quickly to get to you dressed in his complete quidditch outfit, leather pads and all. He tosses off his goggles and drops his bat, discarding them on the way to get to you but he doesn’t seem to care.

He appears in front of you and you’re frozen, not knowing what to do. You can feel the eyes of the entire pitch full of people on you but you don’t care in the moment, too confused by his actions.

“Fred? What are you doing?” You say, eyes briefly pulling away from his smiling face to look at the pitch, seeing the entire quidditch team suspended in the ear carefully watching.

“Something I should have done a long time ago,” he says, looking all over your face with a smile before his gaze focuses on your lips.

His lips feel incredible against yours as he pulls you in for a breathtaking kiss, pulling you into his body to hold you close as the crowd roars around you. You feel the thick droplets of rain beginning to descend around you but you don’t pay it any notice, your entire attention focused in on Fred.

The rain begins to pour, the sky opening up and drenching you in what seems to be seconds.

Fred pulls away first and smiles at you, before leaning in once again, capturing your lips and wordlessly giving you everything everything you ever wanted, making you realise that your mother had been right all along.

School doesn't have to be the worst years of your life.

*Alexa play Hear Me Now by Jimmy Eat World*

[andhumanslovedstories]

Hi dear. I saw your post about pain management - thank you so much for it, it was an inspiring read, also it made it so obvious that you are truly passionate about being a nurse or rather, helping people and being present for those who need it the most. I wanted to ask - do you feel your job as a nurse affects the care you give in your interpersonal relationships and if yes, then how? rather negatively or positively? this is something I think about a lot bc my husband would love to study to become a nurse because he has a heart full of love and care, I knew he would be so good at it, but we are also having our firstborn soon and I just worry that being a nurse might be so draining that what if there is no energy for me and the baby. I really want to support my husband and I know this might be a silly question, but having read how you think I would so much love to hear your thoughts on this topic!

My big disclaimer for this is that I'm currently on medical leave for depression that wasn't CAUSED by my work but was definitely exacerbated by it and definitely worse when I was on shift. I've also been dealing with depression for a long time, and it's always interfered with my jobs at some point. The main problem is that it's a lot worse to have brain fog at a hospital than it is at an ice cream shop. I consider nursing to be a protective factor for my mental health SOMETIMES. It is work that I find meaning in and makes me proud. It can be an exhausting job but also a rewarding one. Extra compassion is also a double-edged sword: it can make you a better nurse, and it can also drain you that much faster because you get invested. Self-care is a part of the nursing code of ethics because the job in part because compassion fatigue is so easy to get if you aren't careful with your limits.

It is a draining job. I've begged off lot of things due to my schedule and feeling exhausted (but I am a homebody hermit). It's also a job a lot of people balance with raising children. My mom (who was already a nurse when I was born) liked the flexibility of the schedule. I work with dozens of nurses who have children. Many are mothers who are still breastfeeding infants. Some actively participate in their family life, some don't, and I don't know how much that has to do with their specific job. You know your husband. Does he already struggle to balance work/school/responsibilities and personal life? That's an issue with any career, but I do think healthcare is a profession where it can get even harder.

oops another nursing essay under the cut

(Plus, in terms of timing in with your newborn, congrats btw, your husband will have to go through nursing school first if he decides on this track, and minimum that will take like 15 months if he has all the pre-reqs and gets into an accelerated program. When it comes to dealing with a newborn, schooling might be more of a stumbling block than the job itself. I know a lot of people who consider nursing school to be one of the worst times of their lives. He might be able to do LPN [licensed practical nurse] instead of RN [registered nurse]. RN requires a bachelors and has a larger scope of practice and generally higher pay. I know almost nothing about getting your LPN license so he'll have to investigate that himself. I'll say the hospital systems that I've been in not only prefer RNs but often have requirements that people without a certain amount of experience MUST get their bachelors after X amount of time.)

I would also say not all nursing jobs are created equal in terms of labor, emotional and otherwise. My first job was in home health which got me somewhat emotionally enmeshed with the family I primarily worked with, but it also wasn't emotionally distressing. Nurses on our oncology floors and the ICU have a different experience than nurses who work in elective short-stay surgery. And different people find different things draining. I find working with end-of-life patients to be energizing in my work; a lot of people don't. My aunt worked pediatrics because she found working with children must less distressing than working with a geriatric population. Some people thrive in the chaos and speed of the emergency room, while I find it to be a tremendously depressing place that I hate floating to.

I think you'd have to ask my loved ones if really if it affects how much I care for them. Speaking personally for myself: I think it is overall positive for my relationships. I like the rhythm of nursing, I like the philosophy of nursing, I like who nursing makes me be. I like that nursing work is impossible to bring home. You can bring the emotions home, but you leave the patients at the hospital. It's simple for a bedside nurse to keep a strong division between their work self and their home self, but it's not necessarily easy. And again, I'm off work right now and probably will be for a bit longer so. yknow. He should make sure he's got a good support system in place.

Also some states and cities are far, far better than others when it comes to nursing regulations. Are there legally mandated staff ratios where you work? How many hospitals are in the area? Are any of them union? What does the compensation look like? What is the turnover rate? Nursing could be a great profession in general, but it might not be great in your particular location.

My last point would be that working in healthcare can make you feel...disconnected, I guess, from people who don't. Healthcare is such a culture unto itself. Sometimes I'd be like that meme of guy at party hanging out in the corner thinking, "they don't know yesterday I took care of a patient in a situation so fucked and depressing that it's now an ethics case." Or on the other hand, "they don't know that a patient called me their guardian angel and cried while they thanked me." The fact that healthcare is a different world is neither a pro nor a con, but something to consider. Depending on how you spend your days, his life might start to have parts that look very different from yours. I loved having a nurse as a mother and listening to her stories. My father banned all anecdotes involving poop and gore from his presence.

I hope you and your husband figure out the best way possible for him to use that compassion, which might be nursing or might not be. Either way, good luck to you guys!

[devildom-moss]

I got one!! Lucifer with a GN MC who gets one of those silly chibi plush of him (in-universe maybe Raph made it) and he's low-key jealous they spend more time with it than him. (sfw please!)

I'm going to be honest, there is probably less MC (and Lucifer x reader interactions) in this than expected, but I hope you still like it! It's got a bit of fluff and a lot of jealousy. (Who doesn't love Lose-ifer being all jealous and stupid?) There's also a decent serving of Raphael in this. Oops.

Lucifer being jealous of a plush version of himself

(Lucifer x gn!MC)

(SFW)

Word Count: +1,000

Raphael knew what he was doing, Lucifer convinced himself. That wicked, lousy, no-good, rotten angel was doing this as revenge for something. Maybe leaving him behind during the war? Raphael was aggressive – but petty? Maybe not. No, perhaps he was just charmed by you, too. Now, Lucifer was being replaced.

Oh, no, not by the angel himself, but by some handmade plush – no bigger than a foot long – designed to look like Lucifer. Raphael had given you the plush last week, and while Lucifer had to admit that it was well-made, he didn’t appreciate that you had been carrying that small, poor excuse for a replacement around all week.

 It was embarrassing that Lucifer found himself so foolishly jealous. It was just a doll that looked like him, so why was he so upset about it? If anything, he should have been happy that the doll was crafted in his image. You could be carrying around a small plush effigy of Solomon. That would really piss him off.

What was Lucifer supposed to do with his childish jealousy? Set aside his pride and confront you about his desire for more attention? Admit that he wanted your eyes on him and the fact that you clung to a doll that someone – Raphael, no less – had made for you left him annoyed to the point that he had considered hiding the doll on three different occasions and burning it once – if only the opportunity to pry it from your adoring arms had presented itself? Could you just hold him in your arms for one night instead of that damn doll? Of course, Lucifer thought himself to be above all that honesty nonsense and decided to attack the secondary source of his irritation.

“A minute of your time, Raphael.” Lucifer physically blocked the exit from the House of Lamentation. The angel had been kind enough to drop some fabric scraps off for Leviathan. “Care for a glass of Demonus?”

“Do I have a choice? Are you interested in trying to drink me under the table again?” Raphael looked Lucifer up and down. “Sure.”

Lucifer brought Raphael to his study and poured the alcohol into two glasses. He had selected something a bit bitter – not that Lucifer expected Raphael to be opposed to something bitter.

“Here you are,” Lucifer hummed. There was an off-putting elegance in the gentle motions Lucifer contorted himself into when handing the glass to Raphael. While Lucifer was typically a class act, Raphael picked up on the exaggerated sweetness of it. Lucifer even offered him a polite smile. The Devildom could go through another deadly cold spell before that disingenuous smile would fool Raphael, who waited patiently for Lucifer to take a seat across from him before he responded.

“Thank you, Lucifer.” Raphael smiled and took a sip of his drink. Not half bad. It could be a bit more bitter, though. Then again, perhaps Lucifer is bitter enough. “I take it you have something to discuss with me?”

“About the doll,” Lucifer mused, trailing off to open the way for a confession – to what, he wasn’t sure.

“The one I made for MC?”

“Precisely.” Lucifer set his glass down and crossed his legs.

“I noticed MC has been paying it a lot of attention. What’s the matter, Lucifer? Are you jealous?” Raphael questioned him in a straightforward tone, but Lucifer understood that this constituted teasing.

“Is there a reason it looks like me?” Lucifer slipped around the question.

“That was my intention. It’s obvious that MC clings to you. They adore you. I figured a Lucifer-shaped doll would allow you a bit of space and keep MC from feeling lonely when you are too busy to pay them any mind.” Raphael’s words stung in Lucifer’s ears.

“How considerate of you. Mission accomplished.” Lucifer wished he had put a curse on Raphael’s glass – nothing deadly, just something that would make him feel a bit better about the honesty from Raphael. If only he had pulled a page from Satan and Belphie’s book.  

“Is it serving its purpose too well for your liking? Don’t tell me you’re honestly jealous of a doll, now. Isn’t envy supposed to be Leviathan’s whole shtick? You’re going to give him a complex.” Raphael let out a small laugh and cut it off with another sip of Demonus. “They’d never pick a doll over the real demon himself. Even I know that. As I said before, they adore you.”

Lucifer’s face flushed – and it wasn’t from the alcohol. He was moping, but he needed Raphael’s blunt delivery to knock some sense into him. If only Lucifer had asked, Raphael would have been more than happy to knock sense into him with a spear. That would have been less embarrassing.

“Sorry, Raphael. I forgot that I have business to attend to.” Lucifer stood up and smoothed his vest down. “Please be on your way.”

Raphael’s eyes widened. “I didn’t finish my drink.”

“A shame.” Lucifer smirked. “Next time, perhaps.”

“Based on today’s conversation, I take it that won’t be for a while.” Raphael stood up, glass in hand, and downed the rest of his Demonus. He exhaled sharply at the sudden, mild burn. That was not a chugging drink. “Until next time. Give MC my best.”

“Sure.”

Raphael headed for the door, stopping just short of leaving. “You should try honesty next time. It might save you a glass of Demonus. It was good, though. Thank you.”

With Raphael safely out of sight, Lucifer pulled out his D.D.D. and went into his messages. He couldn’t resist smiling when he noticed the last thing you had sent him was that flapping Blackjack with hearts sticker.

Lucifer: MC, come to my room when you get a chance. I require your presence to put me at ease. I would also like to provide you with a bit more attention than you can get from a doll.

MC: Are you jealous, Luci?

Lucifer: Perhaps. What will you do about it?

MC: I’m on my way, you big baby. I’ll cuddle with you for as long as you wish.

Lucifer: Does the offer extend to kissing as well?

MC: We’ll see.

MC:

Lucifer broke into a large grin, melting at your replies. Maybe while you were cuddling, that plush could just get lost somewhere. Who knows?