#i’ve found that particularly motivating!

[megamindsecretlair]

Sweet Escape, Part 3

Pairing: Bodyguard!Terry Richmond x Singer!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Cursing, trying out some angst, teasing, mentions of loneliness, mental health, power imbalance. Mentions of violence, all consensual. Sorry if I missed some.

Summary: You are on top of the world as one of the world’s most popular R&B singers. But behind the glitz and glam, you were unmoored, lonely, and aching for something you couldn’t put a name to. Finally landing in LA, your boots hit the ground and you’re off in a whirlwind of getting prepared. During rehearsal, your agent shows up causing a ruckus. After you take a break, you wake up to the sound of desperate pounding on your door.

Word Count: 6,676k

AO3 Link | Part 1 | Part 2

A/N: WHEW. Sorry for my absence yall. My brain got hands. And I didn't mean to scare folks away! You can absolutely ask about my fics! Asking for an update just doesn't help. But sharing your love for it motivates me a lot faster! And you can thank @onherereading for gently bullying me to post sumn! LOL, love you. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

Male dancers lifted you into the air and you continued singing the hook to your most popular song, “Eat It”. It stayed on the charts, week after week, remaining strong and steady. And it was the song that most got you in trouble for the explicit lyrics. 

You sang, testing the sound as well as the choreography on stage. Coming to LA had been a non-stop shit show of rehearsals and talk shows and radio interviews. God, you were tired. And you wanted to lay down and pig out in front of the TV. But nooooo.

Plus…well….you weren’t feeling particularly sexy at the moment. Terry rejecting you the other night shook you up more than you cared to admit. Why would he reject you? You were beautiful, smart, and funny on a great day. And yet, nothing.

There were just lingering glances and moments where it looked like he wanted to say something but never did. You didn’t like the cold front you suddenly found yourself in so you kept yourself busy, distracted, and left no room for you to be left alone with him for longer than a minute or two. 

But the hit to your confidence bruised. You didn’t feel normal. Like none of this was real. It was a cruel illusion that could be snatched away from one viral tweet, one public meltdown, or one scandal to torpedo your career. The stalker ate away at your life until you couldn’t even get a guy to fuck you stupid. 

It was embarrassing. It was stupid. He was stupid. 

“Stop! Stop! What the fuck is that?” A booming, obnoxious voice echoed in the empty stadium. 

“Down boys,” you said. The male dancers moved safely, bringing you back down to stand on your own two feet. One of their hands lingered a fraction too long, but you didn’t know if you were being paranoid or not. 

Jake, your stupid agent, came huffing down the front area aisle, a skinny tie swinging behind him. “What the fuck is that? What are you doing?” Jake demanded. He stomped onto the stage and approached you.

“Lower your fucking tone, I’m not a child,” you said. You sneered at him and then crossed the stage, taking the three steps down to the backstage area. You refused to be chewed out in front of your team.

Jake stomped angrily behind you. Terry leaned against the wall near the exit but when he saw you approach, he straightened up. You looked away from him quickly, not wanting him to see what must be written all over your face whenever you looked at him. 

“Who do you think you are?” You asked, pulling on that bitchy persona. 

“The man making sure that fat ass stays rolling in money. You are selling a fantasy up there. Every guy needs to feel like he’s fucking you and every woman needs to feel like they want to be you,” he said.

“Really, tell me more about the job I’ve been doing for years,” you said.

“Thanks to me, sweetheart. Don’t you fucking forget that,” Jake spat, pointing his finger in your face. Ugh. You smacked his finger away and crossed your arms. Jake was back on that shit. His neck and face was flushed cherry red, his eyes were glossy, and he sniffed every two seconds like he smelled something bad. 

“You can’t stay sober for two fucking seconds, Jake. Is that what happened at the club?” That would explain the bullshit he pulled.

“Hey. You’re fucking welcome. That free publicity gained you a million more followers and featured on Spotify. Who takes care of you?” Jake asked, spreading his arms wide. 

You were so disgusted, you didn’t know what to do with him. Ugh. You breathed through your nostrils, centering yourself on the feeling of it rather than wanting to wring Jake’s neck. 

You leveled him with a glare and leaned in. “I take care of you, you piece of shit. And if you pull something like that again, I’ll fire you. Stay off the drugs, Jake,” you said. The last thing you needed was to end up on TMZ, because your agent was out on another embarrassing bender. 

Jake pressed his lips together and threw up his hands. “Alright, alright. Look at me. I ain’t on no shit, okay. I heard you the last time. Clean my act up and I can stay, right? I got a suit on and everything,” he said. He spread his arms out and smiled but you weren’t in a smiling mood.

Jake pouted and wrapped his hands around your waist. A waft of cigarette smoke burned your nose and made your eyes tear up. Terry pushed away from the wall but you held up a hand to him. “Remove your hands before I break your fingers,” you said, as calmly as you could muster. 

You didn’t have time for this fucking clown. And where the fuck was Joya or Mirage? They knew better than to let Jake near you while you were in work mode. 

Jake squeezed your hips once before he removed his hands and held them up like he was so innocent. He grinned and looked down his hooked nose at you. “Just remember what’s standing between you and popping your pussy for any producer that wants to sniff after you. Clean this shit up, we have money to make,” he said lowly for your benefit. 

You didn’t know how much Terry could hear but it stung either way. Jake loved throwing that shit in your face. Loved making you think that you were some gutter rat that no one wanted. Grammy Bean wanted you. You were somebody. And no agent was going to make you feel less than. 

“Make them think they’re fucking you while you’re up there. Jesus Christ,” Jake said, needing to have the final word. He took off, disappeared to go yell at somebody about something. 

You rubbed your head, fighting back tears. Got dammit. Once you let the dam fall, the whole thing came crashing down. You didn’t have time to cry right now. Now when everyone was expecting you to lead them. 

“You okay?” Terry asked. 

You tilted your head back and swiped at your eyelids, catching the tears before they had a chance to fall. The one blessing about rehearsals was that there was no make up or restrictive clothing. You sniffled once and then straightened your shoulders, rolling your neck to get the kinks out. 

“I’m fine, Mr. Terry, thank you,” you said.

“So we’re back to Mr. Terry?” He asked softly. 

You risked a glance at him. He squinted at you, his face tilted down. You held each other’s gazes for a second longer than what was polite. You went to open your mouth when Mirage tumbled down the stairs and stopped short of where you were standing.

“Jake’s ready to see it again,” she said quietly. 

You turned away from Terry’s intense eyes, and nodded. “Let’s give him a show then,” you said.

You went back on stage and talked to your dancers, letting them know that you were going full out. You signed to the sound engineer to start from the top. 

The choreography began with the dancers standing in front of you. Once the opening lyrics started, you moved around the stage singing and rapping about men catering to women’s needs for once. That if they can’t eat it right then there was no reason to let them hit. 

The male dancers lifted you during the hook, supporting your weight while you sang and rubbed your hand along your body. You were a master at pretending. At working off the energy in the room. 

You fed off of the song and the lyrics. Embodied what you were saying. Pulled on your inner sex goddess to coo to the invisible audience. Even though you wore your favorite blue joggers and a tank top, you felt like you were scantily clad in your performance outfit. You were selling a fantasy. A fantasy that everyone wanted a ride but no one met the height requirements.

The dancers put you down and then held your hand up while you dropped it low on one of them. From this angle, you faced the side of the stage where Terry stared at you. Stared as you rapped and sang about getting ate out and having a super soaker to make him drown.

He may have turned you down the other night, but the heat of his gaze made your belly flip. Made you move harder, rap faster, and sing better like you were a siren luring men to do your bidding. 

Your eyes almost never left his as you pretended to sing to him and make him think about what he turned down. Let him think on it. Because he couldn’t have you now. You were off the menu. 

He was too far away and you were moving too fast to get a good read on his expression. He stood stiffly, feet shoulder width apart, and his hands clasped in front of him. As the song drew to a close, you winked at him before tilting your head back and belting out the final notes.

When the song ended, you tore your eyes away from the intense static of his stormy eyes to the sound of clapping from somewhere.

“Yes! Yes! That’s what they’re coming to see. Do that! Exactly that!” Jake yelled out to you. 

“Take a thirty everyone,” you said, panting from going full out for rehearsal. You stood on stage with your hands behind your head, panting, trying to catch your breath and cool the desire low in your belly.

Fuck. Singing to Terry like that affected you way more than you realized. It maybe wasn’t the smartest move in hindsight. You just needed a good twenty minutes to get yourself off.

Joya climbed onto the stage to hand you a bottle of water and some orange slices. “I put some more fruit in your dressing room in case you wanted it,” she said. 

“I love you, seriously,” you told her with a smile. 

She clutched her calendar to her chest and beamed at you. “I love you too, miss lady. Though you’re probably going to hate me now. They need you back for another fitting. Francois changed his mind,” Joya said.

You emptied the bottle of water she handed you in one fell swoop and wiped your mouth. “This is bullshit. We made a whole schedule to make sure everyone, including me, was happy about this tour,” you said.

You hated to sound like a whiny brat but fuck. It seemed like more and more things were getting added onto your schedule, things you didn’t approve of. You weren’t a machine. Did they expect you to keep working until you collapsed on stage? 

Joya smiled and rubbed your shoulder. “I’m gonna check with Mirage and see what we can do about sneaking you some off time. We have a week before the LA leg starts. Surely we can move something,” she promised.

You sighed. “I don’t want you to do all that extra work. I need to yell at Jake some more. He can’t keep adding in stuff last minute. I’m so fucking tired, bro,” you told her.

“It’s our job to make sure you’re good. Let us,” she said. She took your empty water bottle and scurried off to tend to her duties. 

The dancers were all standing around talking and laughing. Stage hands moved around the stage, talking into their microphones, and moved prop elements as they did so. As much as you wanted to join the dancers or speak to the choreographer, you also wanted two minutes of peace. 

But that meant…stepping past Terry. You rolled your shoulders. You were a big girl. You could handle rejection. It wasn’t the end of the world. 

You turned and headed off stage, taking three steps down to the main floor. There were boxes and studio equipment spread out back here, each tagged with different colored tape. Terry eyed you as you approached.

“I’m just heading to the dressing room for a few,” you told him. 

He nodded and fell in step behind you as you walked through a set of double doors, then into a plain hallway backstage. Stage hands moved around but they all moved with focus and purpose. Your sneakers squeaked on the shiny floor. Terry was so quiet behind you, you were tempted to look back to make sure he was still there. But you also got the funny sense that if you did, he’d disappear.

When you approached your dressing room, you hesitated one step from it. Logically, you knew that there was nothing in there. Terry had his team triple the security around you and you hadn’t heard from your stalker since that incident.

It’d be so much easier if you knew what they were after. Did they want to be with you? An obsessed fan you could deal with. You just ignored those wackadoodles until they made themselves known somehow. 

Did they want to kill you? Clearly he had a way to get in and out unseen. Was he someone on your team? You didn’t want to turn into a paranoid loon, looking at everyone with suspicion and further isolate yourself. But fuck.

“Would you like me to check?” Terry asked.

You stared at your navy blue door and bit your lip. Yes….no….you wanted to be brave. Wanted to handle this yourself. But you didn’t know if there would be some other disgusting rendition of your dead face staring right back at you. 

You took a deep breath and prepared to tell him no. Terry stepped forward. “There’s no reward for being a martyr,” he said.

You deflated with a sigh. “Can you check please?” You asked.

Terry moved around you and then unsheathed his weapon. He held it down and away from him and then opened your door. He went in first, moving around the space, holding the gun up. You stayed outside of the door, watching him flit through the crack of the door jam. 

The air turned colder now that he wasn’t beside you. The hallway seemed to close in on you, getting smaller and smaller. Your breathing turned choppy, looking down one way and then the other. 

When you simply couldn’t take another second, Terry emerged from your dressing room and holstered his gun. “All clear,” he said.

You nodded and refused to look at him. “Thank you. I just need some alone time,” you said.

You shuffled past him and he held onto your wrist to stop you. You didn’t want to turn around. Didn’t want to face him. 

“You don’t have to be formal around me. If I crossed the line the other day, I can transfer…”

“No!” You practically screeched and turned to him finally. You licked your lips and smiled. “I mean, no, no. If anything, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made it uncomfortable –”

“I wasn’t uncomfortable.”

“I’m the boss, you’re in my employ. Please, don’t think nothing else about it. Okay?” You asked.

Terry’s jaw flexed but he nodded. You snatched your wrist away and entered your dressing room, rubbing the spot where his fingers had been. It was as if he seared you with his light grip and the burn lingered.

You damn near slammed the door in his face, locking it behind you. You just needed a second. A moment to breathe and not have to be “on” for people. 

You crossed the small room to the black leather couch and sat down. The coolness of the leather did precious little to calm you down. You weren’t in danger. You weren’t immediately in danger. 

Terry checked the room, he came highly recommended by the firm, and so far, he had been nothing but the consummate professional, taking your safety seriously. 

As you sat there, however, it just drudged up all the horrible shit from your past. Breaking away from your user family. On your knees begging producers to give you a chance, only for them to use their position and power to solicit sex. One talk with Jake shook you up so bad that it reminded you that every day you breathed was a gift, thanks to what you had to do to survive. 

But it had been a long, long time since you had to be this on edge. This hyper aware of your safety and mortality. Someone out there wanted to cause you harm. They wanted you mentally, emotionally, and physically cowering.

Even as you knew that, even as the logic of it settled in your bones, the only thing you could think was that someone wanted you dead. Someone deemed your life less than theirs. Someone felt angry enough about your existence to make your life a living hell and ultimately, remove you from this plane of existence. 

It chilled you to the bone. To your absolute core. One wrong move and then this would have all been for nothing. All of the struggles, all of the navigating, all of the ways you had to scrimp and scrape to be somebody. 

In the end, you were the same, lonely teenager who didn’t want to be invisible anymore. 

The sweet scent of fruit reminded you of Joya’s thoughtfulness but you were too sick to eat anymore. Maybe you just needed to lay down. You scooted along the couch until you could recline. 

You shoved a throw pillow behind your head and closed your eyes. You just needed to breathe. Just needed to focus on that and nothing else. Nothing else. Just that.

You breathed in through your nose and out through your mouth. You felt your body sink further into the couch and before long, you were out like a light.

Loud banging disturbed you from your sleep. You woke up in a pool of cold sweat running down your neck and into your tank top. You groaned and blinked into the harsh overhead lighting. 

Your eyes cracked open, heavy with sleep and eye crusties, as your eyes swept through the room. There was a director’s chair in front of the vanity, lit up by giant light bulbs all around the mirror. The countertop was littered with makeup, tissues, and hair products. 

Dressing room. “Fuck,” you sighed, rubbing your eyes. 

The banging continued, sounding louder than normal. “I’m up, I’m up, I’m sorry!” You groaned. Fuck, you felt like you had been drugged.

Your rapid heart beats only sped up as you thought about what you had earlier in the day. Had you been drugged? Was it Joya?

The banging increased and the door shook with the force. It disrupted your thoughts enough to know that Joya would never, ever do something like that to you. Besides, she’s had years to take you out. 

You still made a mental note to give her a pay bump. Mirage too. You keep them happy and they’d keep you happy. 

Three succinct booms hit the door and you jumped up. “Okay, I said I was sorry! Damn! It couldn't have been more than…” You stood up and crossed the room, unlocking the door to discover no one on the other side. “Ten minutes.” 

You stepped out of the room and looked both ways down the empty hallway. Terry was nowhere to be found. 

“Terry?” You stepped further into the hallway but it was as quiet as a tomb. The space felt empty and that freaked you out more than anything else. 

How long had you been sleep? Why did no one wake you? Where was everyone? 

A tremor made your hands shake and your fingers turned numb. Did…no one care? If they couldn’t find you, did they all just pack up and leave? 

“This isn’t funny,” you called out but there was no answer. Not even an echo. Your throat turned dry as you made your way back to the stage. Maybe everyone was having a team meeting. Maybe Joya and Mirage found a way to give you some breathing room.

You pushed open the door to the stage and walked up onto it, only to discover no one in sight. The main stage lights were off, leaving the stage bathed in a swirl of blues, purples, and reds. 

You shielded your eyes. “Hello? What the hell!” You yelled. This was beyond fucking uncool. And your phone was either in your room or with Joya, so you had no clue what time it was.

Panic clawed its way from your belly to your chest, scratching your insides with thick, angry nails. Did everyone just…forget about you? 

You brought your hand to your chest as if that would do anything. All it did was call attention to your thumping heart, beating incessantly. Everyone forgot you. No one needed you. 

“Okay, okay, okay, that’s okay,” you murmured to yourself as you paced around the stage. There had to be a reasonable explanation for all of this. 

If everyone left, that was okay. You were paying them to care, but it didn’t mean that their lives ended just to serve your overinflated ego. You would just…go find your purse in your room. You would grab your phone. Order a car to take you home. Easy. Simple. You had this. 

You told yourself that as you left the empty stage, back down the stairs, and away from backstage. You headed down the hallway, rubbing your sweaty hands on your joggers. You were just stressed, that was it.

You approached your dressing room, it had been left open from when you left it. There didn’t seem to be anyone in there. But…still.

You approached cautiously, wondering what the fuck was going on. How did everyone just leave like that? No matter their personal lives, this was unprofessional as fuck. If they called it early, they should have had the decency to let you know. And why would Terry abandon his post? It was quite literally his job to guard your body.

Highly recommended, yeah right. 

You made it to your dressing room and peered inside, stepping inward to check behind the door. Good. No one there. You stepped further into the room before it dawned on you that if no one was there, if no one was around…who the fuck banged on the door? 

You turned slowly just as a bat came swinging towards your head. You leapt out of the way with a scream, throwing yourself against the vanity. 

A figure dressed head to toe in black lifted the baseball bat to his shoulders. The figure was on the small side, but broad. Had to be a man. 

“What do you want from me?” You yelled. You moved the director’s chair in front of you, to deter the figure. He only kept advancing, holding the bat like you were the game winning ball and he needed a home run. 

You lifted the chair and threw it at him, running from the room. Facing three possible directions, you forgot where the exit was. You also forgot how to read, because there were signs but it didn’t make any sense at the moment.

The figure groaned and it spurned you to run, to flee, to find the exit however you were able to. Thundering footsteps boomed behind you as you ran away. Your lungs felt like they were going to go flying out of your mouth. They burned and ached as you ran and ran.

All of the exercise and training you kept up with did fuck all when faced with an actual attacker. Your brain was mush, operating on some basic instinct to survive. You were supposed to be smarter than this, right? 

You risked a glance behind you just in time to see the bat swinging for your head. You fell to the floor to miss it, landing hard on your thigh, and then scrambled across the floor to avoid another swing for your head.

You pulled nearby crates towards you, dollies, and anything else you could pull. One of the crates managed to trip up your attacker. You rushed to your feet, running through the nearest door.

The door banged open against the wall, echoing in the larger chamber. You made it back to the stage and those same lights blinded you as you ran across the stage. Your body felt stiff, achy, as it wanted nothing more than to stop and evaluate.

Stopping meant death. Stopping meant that your attacker had another chance to get you. 

Stopping meant – you were pushed forward and you fell, sliding across the stage. Your chin bounced against the hard floor and you groaned as your teeth clacked painfully. Pain shot through your jaw and you groaned.

A strong hand gripped you by your ponytail and yanked. You screamed as your head was pulled backwards. This couldn’t be it. This couldn’t be what took you out. This couldn’t, this couldn’t–

You kicked and flailed until your shoe connected with something. There was a harsh, low growl as the grip around your hair lessened enough for you to break free. 

You got to your feet, thigh screaming in pain as you limped back to your dressing room. If nothing else, you could lock the door and call for help. It was your final hope. You weren’t going out like this. You didn’t need anyone.

You limped past the door to the hallway, stopping long enough to bar it momentarily with a cart. It wouldn’t hold the attacker for long, but it’d buy you some time. Fuck. Everything fucking hurt. 

Liquid dripped down your chin. You swiped at it and it came away red. You groaned as you stared at your own blood. Literally at your life leaking from your body. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” you huffed as you limped to your dressing room. 

Metal double doors slammed up against the crate you pushed against the door. You looked back to see an arm flailing through trying to push the crate. Fuck, fuck. Your vision turned blurry as you limped.

It seemed like every step you took only made the dressing room seem further and further back. It looked so far away, like you were never going to find salvation. 

“Someone! Please,” you called out.

You tripped over your shoes and went tumbling forward, landing awkwardly on the same thigh that already cried out with pain. You sniffled as tears ran down your face. You didn’t know what to do. You didn’t know what to fucking do.

The crate crashed against the wall as it finally rolled free. “No!” You yelled out, finding enough strength to get back to your feet. So close, so close, so close, so close –

Your name echoed down the hallway as a thunder of boots ran closer to you. You turned around, expecting to see your attacker and that damn bat, but there was no one behind you. Nothing.

You shook violently and swayed to your right, nearly colliding with the wall. You held out your hand to stop your entire body from crashing against it and then used the wall to hold yourself up. 

The storm of boots turned the corner. Terry lead the charge and checked your room first and then swiveled. He called your name. Fuck, you’d never been more happy to see someone. 

“Terry!” You yelled. 

His head snapped in your direction and he crossed the hallway in long, determined strides. You swiped at your tears and leaned on your good leg, trying to make yourself look less pathetic.

Terry slowed as he approached you, holding up his hands. He stopped short when he got a good look at you. 

“Who the fuck did this?” He asked, his chest heaving with harsh breaths. 

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” you said, your voice pitching higher and higher. You began to slide down the wall, all fight leaving you completely. He was here. He was here. He didn’t forget about you.

Terry caught you around your middle, shouldering most of your weight. He reached out and gently cupped your face, moving it from one side to the next. His jaw flexed as his eyes scanned over you, taking in all of your injuries. 

He was joined a second later by members of his team and the studio security. Questions were lobbed at you in rapid succession but your brain had turned cloudy. 

“You’re in shock. She’s in shock, back up!” Terry yelled. The mass of bodies dispersed as Terry half-carried, half-walked with you to your dressing room. 

“I woke up and there was no one–”

“Shh, shh, not yet,” he said. 

Just this once…this one brief moment, you let yourself lean on someone else. Terry handled everyone with all the command of a general, parting the sea of looky-loo’s, likely taking photos of you at your most vulnerable. 

Fuck, this was going to end up on TMZ. You groaned at the thought. Terry helped you into your dressing room and then sat you down on the couch. He produced a jacket from somewhere and draped it across your shoulders.

You shook so badly. You were freezing, sore, and achy. You wanted to crawl up like a little baby and never see the light of day again. 

What was the reason? What was the fucking reason? Who the fuck went through the trouble of all of this? What the living fuck? 

All you ever wanted to do was sing and now…you didn’t even have that. The last thing you wanted to do was quit. The very last thing. Singing was your passion, your very being. It was the reason you woke up day in and day out. Because for three hours or so on stage, for hours in the studio, for every interview and fan interaction, you never felt more alive than when you were singing. 

And someone hated you enough to take it away from you. Your mind spun with crazy scenarios. This had to be a deranged fan. This had to be one of those crazy moms who blamed you for corrupting their youth. This had to be someone.  

Someone tangible. This was the work of one person. A smart, deranged person, but just a person. Someone who bled. Someone you managed to fight off. 

Distantly, Terry’s deep timbre barked orders but you weren’t paying attention. You wanted to sleep. 

“Let them through!” Terry’s voice boomed. You jumped from the sudden explosion, before Mirage and Joya squeezed past Terry.

He stood as a stop gap to the onslaught of activity outside the dressing room. No one was getting through him if he had anything to say about it. But then why did he abandon you earlier? 

Mirage and Joya hugged you gently, careful of your injuries. They treated you with kid gloves and that pissed you off more than anything else. You weren’t a fragile flower. You fucking survived. 

Joya cried, swiping at her tears. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. We were told to leave and then we couldn’t find you and then I remembered that I had your phone and we couldn’t even call you–”

You hummed. Even if you made it to your dressing room, there was no phone in here to help you. If Terry hadn’t come when he did, would you be dead right now? 

You hated that you had to rely on others for your safety. You hated that you were a second away from being permanently removed from this earth and it was only by a stroke of dumb luck that the idiot was scared off. 

Joya and Mirage filled you in on their side of things. They were waiting for you to return when one of the guards told everyone to clear out. There was a bomb threat that had been called in and they needed to sweep the building to get everyone out. 

But why didn’t Terry take you with him? 

Your eyes kept glancing over to him as he coordinated with the police and with his team to secure everything back down. His menacing scowl intimidated those around him as he barked orders and commanded everyone. 

Terry glanced at you from time to time. He would give one nod of his head and you returned it. But his whereabouts were more concerning to you. Over the past year, he had been your constant shadow. Nothing fazed him. Nothing tore him up. So where the fuck did he go? 

Terry re-entered the room and stopped short of you. He dropped down into a squat so that he could look you in the eye. “Feel up to talking?” 

You took a deep breath. “Not really. But I know I need to,” you said. The question you most wanted to ask stuck in your throat. You were to afraid of the answer. 

“You don’t have to. We can tell them to meet you somewhere else,” he said. 

You shook your head. “I’m a big girl. I want to get it over with,” you said.

His chin dipped once as his eyes roamed over you. You must look absolutely horrendous. To his credit, he didn’t say anything as he stood and went to the door. He waved to someone and then two men followed behind Terry into your dressing room.

The room grew stuffier, filled with too many bodies. Crowding your space. You dug your nails into the palms of your hands to ground yourself. You were safe. You survived. 

One of the men introduced himself as Henry Bell, a detective with LAPD who was coordinating with the detective in charge of your stalker case. Because you were hopping through multiple cities, it was hard for any one detective to handle it. 

The other man was Patrick Rollins, head of security for the venue. The men asked you to run through what you remembered and what happened. 

You pulled the coat around your shoulders and Mirage and Joya scooted closer to you but you still felt alone. Abandoned. Cold. Like the heat of their bodies couldn’t penetrate the dense fog around you.

You pushed that from your mind as you told them what happened, starting from when you woke up to when Terry found you. You glanced at him as you spoke, wanting to see his reaction yet still afraid of what his excuse was.

He didn’t owe you a damn thing. But you still needed to know why you weren’t important enough to take with. 

They asked more questions, pushed to see if you recognized anything about your attacker. You kept telling them no, getting more agitated the more they asked. How many other ways could you say that you didn’t recognize the loser? 

“Alright, you should have enough,” Terry said. 

“We still have questions–” Rollins started.

“You have enough for now,” Terry reiterated. Rollins sized up Terry but Terry didn’t blink. Didn’t move. He merely kept his open stance and faced the detective and head of security. 

Rollins pushed boyish blond hair out of his face and then nodded. Detective Bill rocked back on his heels and then shoved his notebook into his coat and clicked a pen. “If you think of anything else, let us know, please,” he said. “And I’m sorry this happened to you.” 

You nodded to them and mumbled your thanks. They left with lingering, heated glances with Terry. He saw them out and then he half closed the door. 

“There’s a few things I need to handle and then we can get out of here.” 

You nodded, staring towards your shoes. Everything fucking hurt. You just wanted to turn into a giant baby. But people like you didn’t get to be coddled. You didn’t get to be human. It shattered the illusion and the fantasy.

You picked at the dry blood on your chin. Angie was going to kill you for messing up your face. You sighed and leaned forward.

“Do you have a headache, babe?” Mirage asked. 

You nodded. “I’ll check with a paramedic. They should be here by now.” Mirage stood up and grabbed Joya by the elbow. She protested for half a minute but you didn’t see what Mirage did to make Joya grow quiet. They left the room, leaving you and Terry alone. The last time you had been left alone together didn’t exactly go as planned. 

“Hey,” Terry said. 

You bit the inside of your cheek and then reluctantly looked at him. “How are you really doing?” 

You took a deep breath. “I’m fine,” you said. 

He crossed the room and then dropped into a squat. “There’s no reward for being a martyr,” he said.

You rolled your eyes but you smirked, refusing to smile at his words. “Everything hurts. But I’ll be okay,” you said. 

He nodded. You held each other’s gazes for a moment, just taking him in. His eyes scanned over you, jaw flexing. You didn’t know what he saw. Probably a terrified mess.

“I should apologize–” he started.

“Where were–” you said at the same time. 

He shook his head. “The bomb threat smelled like bullshit so I left a guard to watch you while I checked it out. I was locked in a closet and by the time I burst free, everyone was gone. I went looking, but the guard left his post. Fresh out the military, the bomb was triggering,” he said. His jaw flexed after he said that. 

“You couldn’t know it was triggering,” you said. Well, that explained that. You weren’t sure what you were looking for. An undying apology while he was on his knees? For him to acknowledge that he never would’ve left you voluntarily? He didn’t owe you anything. No one did. 

“He left his post. He’s fired,” Terry said with venom behind his words. 

You smiled ruefully. “That’s a bit harsh,” you said.

Terry blinked at you and you decided to drop it. Apparently, it was important to him and you didn’t know enough about the nuances about this stuff to comment. 

“We’re going to find this motherfucker,” Terry promised.

“Thank you. For coming when you did,” you said quietly. 

“I’m not leaving your side again,” he said. 

Your teeth clicked shut, drawing attention to your bruised chin. You didn’t know how to respond. He wasn’t supposed to leave your side earlier. But he did. You settled on a nod. 

Terry lifted from his squat and then returned to his duties, ordering people around, coordinating with others. 

Everything else moved along in a blur. First, you were checked out by a paramedic while Terry watched him like a hawk. You were treated for the scrape on your chin and your thigh was merely bruised. No sprains, no injuries. The paramedic called you lucky. Yeah, right. 

Terry managed to escort you to a truck that had been brought round back and off to the hotel room. The city nightlife went on without you. Though you did pass by a restaurant in downtown LA that played your latest song with Lord A.K. That sort of made you smile. 

You didn’t remember much about the ride to your hotel room besides one minute you were at the venue and the next you stood inside your hotel doorway while Terry checked around. 

“We’ll switch hotels tomorrow. For now, you can rest.” 

You nodded and went to your room without a word. Though you did stop just outside your bedroom. 

“Terry?” You asked.

“Yes, princess?” He asked.

You huffed with a smirk and then turned to him. “I want to learn how to defend myself. Will you teach me?” You asked. 

It wasn’t enough to survive anymore. It no longer suited you to just wait around for this lunatic to kill you. Clearly, your security wasn’t up to snuff. Clearly, this person could get to you at any point and at any time. The only person who could save you was you.

“If that’s what you want,” Terry said.

“That’s what I want.” 

Thank you, my loves. The Secret Terry Richmond Files | Part 1 | Part 2

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[reidsworld]

Unveiled Secrets

Summary: The BAU team has a sneaking suspicion that their stoic leader, Aaron Hotchner, is in a relationship, but they don't know the extent of it.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader

Category: Fluff

Content Warnings: Jack and Haley do not exist in this, kissing, cuddling, allusions to sex, light teasing, use of Y/N, pet names (my love, baby), that’s it I think, lmk if I missed any! Oh and pure fluff!

Word Count: 1.8k

Mars speaks… hi my loves, I was motivated to write so I am using this to figure out my writing style a bit and how I want to format my works! I’ve been going through a bit of a Hotch phase lately so I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Masterlist

The BAU office was slowly quieting down as the day turned to dusk, the last rays of sunlight casting long shadows across the desks. Aaron Hotchner, head of the Behavioral Analysis Unit, stood in his office, the soft light of his desk lamp highlighting the stress lines that had deepened over the years. He checked his watch—almost time to go home. A rare, soft smile touched his lips, a sight reserved for only one person.

He closed the case file on his desk, slipping it neatly into his briefcase before reaching for his jacket. His phone buzzed just as he picked it up, and he glanced at the screen to see a text from you, Can’t wait to see you. Should I pick up dinner?

That smile of his deepened as he quickly typed a reply, I’ll pick it up on my way home. See you soon, my love.

He hadn’t planned on keeping his relationship with you a secret, nor did he have any grand strategy for revealing it. He assumed that given time, his team would figure it out on their own. After all, they were profilers—eventually, they would notice the subtle shifts in his behaviour, the unexplained absences, the slightly more relaxed demeanour after particularly stressful cases. He hadn’t intended to hide it forever, just until they pieced it together.

As he opened the door to his office, however, he nearly collided with Spencer Reid, who was walking by, engrossed in a file. Reid looked up, startled, his eyes wide with surprise.

"Sorry, Hotch! I didn’t see you there."

"It’s alright, Reid," Hotch replied, a calmness in his voice that belied the momentary flicker of surprise in his eyes. He wasn’t often caught off-guard, especially not in the safety of his own office.

Reid, however, had a habit of noticing things others missed. His eyes flickered to the phone still in Hotch’s hand, the screen just dimming from inactivity. Before Hotch could slip it into his pocket, Reid’s sharp eyes caught your name on the screen. His brow furrowed in confusion as he processed the information.

“Y/N, as in the academy’s Y/N?” Reid asked, the question out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

Hotch froze for a fraction of a second, but it was enough for Reid’s sharp mind to pick up on the anomaly. Reid’s brain worked at lightning speed, connecting dots that others might have missed. He knew Hotch was fiercely private, but this reaction was new.

“Goodnight Reid” Aaron replied, quickly, shutting down any further questioning that may have come from the young genius.

Reid blinked, taken aback, but his curiosity was now piqued. However, years of working with Hotch had taught him when to push and when to back off. “Have a good evening, Hotch.”

As Reid walked away, Hotch let out a slow breath. This wasn’t how he wanted the team to find out, though he couldn’t say he was surprised. He had always assumed it would be Reid who would notice first; the young profiler missed nothing. Still, he had hoped for a bit more time. But the cat was out of the bag now, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before the rest of the team found out.

The next morning, the BAU office was abuzz with more than the usual activity. Reid’s brief encounter with Hotch had set off a flurry of curiosity and speculation among the team. They were profilers, after all, and even the smallest clues could ignite their imaginations.

“I’m telling you, something’s definitely going on with Hotch,” Reid said as the team gathered in the bullpen before their morning briefing. He couldn't shake the image of your name on Hotch's phone from his mind.

JJ, trying to keep things under control, said, “Come on, guys, it could just be a friend. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

Morgan leaned back in his chair, a knowing grin on his face. “Reid’s onto something. Hotch has been acting a bit differently lately. He’s not staying late like he used to.”

“And he’s been smiling more often,” Garcia added, her excitement barely contained. “The man’s practically glowing sometimes.”

Rossi, with a teasing tone, suggested, “Maybe he’s just getting better sleep. But I have to admit, there’s definitely something different.”

Garcia’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Don’t you want to know? If Hotch is seeing someone, that’s huge!”

Rossi shrugged, still smirking. “Of course, I’m curious. But let’s give him some space. If he wants us to know, he’ll tell us. And if we’re lucky, we might even get to meet her.”

Prentiss grinned, "Do you think it’s serious? Like, she’s ‘the one’?”

“I think,” Rossi said thoughtfully, “if Aaron is keeping this under wraps, it’s because it’s important to him. He wouldn’t be so secretive if it wasn’t serious.”

Just then, Hotch entered the bullpen, and the conversation quickly shifted to a quieter, more focused buzz. The team members turned to their desks, but the air was charged with unspoken questions and speculative glances. Hotch, sensing the change in atmosphere, gave a brief nod before heading to his office.

As the day dragged on with paperwork and case briefings, the undercurrent of curiosity remained. The team exchanged looks, clearly eager to discuss Hotch’s secret, but they were careful to avoid bringing it up directly. The excitement about Hotch’s personal life was palpable, and everyone was waiting for the right moment to address the topic.

Later that evening, Aaron finally headed home after a long day. As he walked through the front door, he found you curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over your legs, and a glass of wine in your hand. You looked up from the book you were reading, a smile spreading across your face when you saw him.

“Hi, baby, how was your day?” you asked, setting the book aside as he walked over to you.

“Tiring,” he admitted, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “And eventful. Reid saw a text from you last night.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Oh no. What did he say?”

“He asked if it was from you,” Aaron said, sitting down beside you. “I shut him down, but I think I gave myself away. The team’s been acting strange all day.”

You chuckled, leaning your head on his shoulder. “So, they’re onto us?”

He nodded, slipping an arm around you and pulling you closer. “It was bound to happen eventually. I just didn’t expect it to be now.”

“I’m surprised they didn’t figure it out sooner,” you said, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest. “They are profilers, after all.”

He smiled down at you, his expression softening. “I never planned on keeping it a secret forever. I just figured they’d figure it out on their own time.”

“So, what’s the plan?” you asked with a playful grin.

He sighed, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on your shoulder. “I suppose it’s time to tell them. They’re already curious, and I’d rather they hear it from me than through rumours.”

“You know they’ll be happy for you,” you said, squeezing his hand. “For us.”

“I know,” he agreed. “But there’s a part of me that’s nervous. I’ve always kept my personal life separate from work, but with you… it’s different.”

You leaned up and kissed him softly, the warmth of the moment lingering between you. “We’ll do it together, then. When you’re ready.”

Aaron’s gaze softened, but a playful glint sparkled in his eyes as he pulled you closer. “Right now, I want to do anything but think about the team,” his voice dropped to a low murmur.

You felt the heat of his words and smiled, leaning in closer. “Sounds perfect,” you whispered, as he nuzzled against you, his lips brushing yours with a grin.

A few days later, Rossi had decided to host a dinner party for the team. The team was eager to catch up and enjoy the evening. Aaron knew it was the perfect opportunity to introduce you to the team as his girlfriend. 

As the doorbell rang, Rossi answered the door to find Hotch standing beside you. As you both entered the living room, the atmosphere in the room shifted instantly as Hotch introduced you with a genuine smile.

“I’d like you to meet Y/N, my girlfriend,” Hotch said, his voice steady but warm. 

The room fell into a stunned silence before erupting into excitement. Garcia’s face lit up with recognition and delight. “Oh my God! It’s Y/N! I knew it was someone! This is incredible!”

Morgan’s grin widened as he approached. “So, this is the elusive woman behind Hotch’s new smile! You’ve been keeping us in the dark for too long, Hotch.”

JJ smiled warmly as she extended her hand. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you, Y/N, we’re really happy for both of you.”

Reid, ever the profiler, couldn’t resist asking, “How long have you two been together?”

Hotch laughed softly, putting an arm around you and smiling fondly. “Almost five months now. Y/N works as the unit chief for the BSU in the academy. I met her when she invited me to guest lecture.”

Garcia’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “I knew it! You two have that perfect power couple vibe. We have to plan another get-together so we can hang out more!”

Rossi, enjoying the moment, gave Hotch a friendly pat on the back. “Well, I guess this means you won’t be around for poker nights as often.”

Hotch chuckled. “I’ll still make time for poker nights, don’t worry.”

As the evening continued, the team enjoyed getting to know you better. The atmosphere was filled with laughter, light-hearted teasing, and genuine happiness for Hotch and you.

“So, when do we get to do this again?” Garcia asked eagerly.

Hotch smiled, feeling content. “Soon. We’ve been talking about having you all over for dinner. Now seems like the perfect time.”

As the team chatted and enjoyed the evening, Aaron felt a weight lift off his shoulders. Introducing you to his team had been a significant step, but their warmth and support made it all worthwhile. The thought of merging his work family with his personal life filled him with quiet joy.

As the party wound down and the team began to leave, Morgan gave Hotch a sly grin. “You know, Hotch, we’re happy for you, but don’t think we won’t give you a hard time about keeping this a secret for so long.”

Hotch chuckled, appreciating the camaraderie. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

With that, the team said their goodbyes and headed home, their spirits high. Hotch followed them, feeling grateful for the support of his team and looking forward to the future with you.

Mars speaks... (again) Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Also, would anyone be interested if I wrote for other fandoms such as F1 and Marvel? Any feedback is greatly appreciated🫶

[sunnami]

the (poly) marauders + lily as reversed tropes.

a/n: i tried moving to a new blog.. possibly got shadowbanned... that other blog is now my dump blog, LMAO. pls enjoy this drabble!

i. academic rivals except it’s two teachers who compete to have the best class.

“It’s driving me mad, Prongs,” says a frazzled Remus Lupin, pacing back and forth in his nearly-empty classroom. Sirius watches from where he sits backwards on a wooden chair—not at all concerned with the woes of his lover, rather preoccupied with the derriere of the DADA professor, hugged beautifully by his trousers. (He makes a mental note to thank Lily and her shopping sprees in Muggle London later. And, thoroughly.) Lily eyes Remus warily, ignoring the way James is tugging at her newly-trimmed hair like a lovesick fourth-year. 

“I’ve fought in the bloody war, what do you mean my ‘pronunciation could do with some work’?” Remus scoffs, a bewildered expression on his flushed cheeks. Then, he points to the basket of lemon poppy-seed muffins, “And, the gall to send me that. Can you believe it?”

“No way,” Lily widens her eyes in mock outrage, gasping for melodramatic effect. “How dare anyone send our sweet, darling Remus homemade muffins?”

Remus dangles the swing handle of the wicker basket by his hand, nose scrunched in disgust as though it could turn him into a werewolf for the second time. “It’s not about the baskets, Lily! It’s a fear-mongering tactic—a threat, if you will. If Gryffindor doesn’t win the house cup, I might as well resign from my post.” 

James chortles, leaning back against his seat to fully stare at Remus. (And what a lovely face he has.) “Don’t you think you’re going overboard there, Moony? We’ve won the bloody thing every year—and if we’re running behind Hufflepuff, I can always give ickle Harry a hundred points for being our son. Quite a feat, wouldn’t you agree?”

Lily smacks him on the arm. “Don’t you dare, James Fleamont Potter!” 

Sirius whistles. “Full name. Yikes. You’re on your own there, mate.” 

James glares at him. “I’ve had my tongue down your throat, don’t call me ‘mate’.” 

Grinning, Sirius diverts his attention back to the pouting werewolf, struck by whatever magical spell you’ve cast on him—and their happy little wedded bunch. (He particularly likes the way you raise your voice when the Weasley twins charm your greenhouse with the colors of maroon and yellow. The upturn of your nose and raw fury in your eyes does something funny to his heart.) “Be honest, Moony, you’re just frustrated because our favorite professor is wearing those bell-bottom jeans that make their legs look just utterly delectable,” he grins salaciously. 

“Can confirm,” replies Lily with a chirpy nod. “The back view is even better.” 

“Well, yes, but that’s beside the point, my love,” Remus splutters with a cough. “It’s a matter of legacy and pride now. If—”

“While I appreciate being the topic of conversation, I’ve come to collect my students’ papers on Hinkypunks and Dugbogs,” you enter the fray with a knock on the door, startling them from their conversation; a wide smile on your face and a yellow scarf around your neck. “You see, I like to give them points myself when they score above a hundred percent. It really motivates them for the end-of-year exams.” 

James beams at your arrival, like a sunflower blooming under sunlight on a summer day. He stretches his arms wide, a space perfectly carved for you. “Come here, darling,” he calls out for his spouse, quickly affirming that the jeans you’re wearing is a blessing to the wizard kind. (He wonders if you’d let him peel it off you tonight.) As you perch yourself atop his lap, James nuzzles the crook of your neck, pressing soft, butterfly kisses to your skin. “How was your day?”

He captures your lips and you eagerly lean into his warmth. “Perfect now that I’ve found you all. Why were you hiding here, anyway?” you ask innocently, fluttering your lashes at Remus. “Did you get my gift, Moony? The elves helped me with it last night.”

“He’s just cross because you’ve become the entire castle’s favorite teacher in your first year,” Lily points out treacherously, flashing her doe eyes at Remus. (Great, now he’s got two pairs of the prettiest eyes on earth staring into his soul. He’s so beyond in love with everyone in this room.) “Not even the Malfoy kid complains about you, and he still grumbles when I have to do my yearly check-ups.”

You laugh knavishly, beckoning him over. “Is it my fault that I’m so lovable?” 

Remus scoffs, yet finds his feet drawn towards you in long, impatient strides. He leans down until the scent of ambrarome and coconut overwhelms your senses. You tug on his duck-printed tie, smiling as he grumbles lightheartedly into your lips, “Not at all, darling.”

“Shall I lock the doors now?” Sirius offers mischievously. “I’ve always wanted to do it in a classroom.”

ii. it’s too hot to cuddle!

“Mmmrgh, Lily, get off, you fiend,” you groan into the sweat-soaked pillow, suffering from one of the worst heat waves Godric’s Hollow has ever seen—swatting your wife away as she throws her leg over your thigh, impishly nibbling on your neck. On any other day, you’d relish the feel of her skin on yours, the tendrils of her flaming red hair tickling your bare arms—or the times you’d wake up to a tangled mess of crimson in your mouth. But today is just not that day.

Lily sniffles. “Ah, woe is me. My own son doesn’t want to hug me anymore, and none of the people I married want to cuddle me on this dreadful—what ever happened to ‘til death do us part’, you traitors?” 

You roll over on the bed to face her with an incredulous glare—the pretty witch has the nerve to smile at you. “Don’t be so dramatic, Lily. Just cast another cooling charm, or something.”

Lily flops onto her side of the king-sized bed, breathless and flushed, arms splayed out like an octopus—wincing apologetically when she hits you in the face by accident. “I already did. We might just have to get naked to put up with this heat.”

James pokes his head through the door, glasses forgone and black hair messily strewn over his eyes; the damp fabric of his white shirt clinging to chiseled, dark skin. (Ah, the joys of marrying an active Auror and former Quidditch prodigy.) “Did someone say get naked?”

“Way ahead of everyone,” says Sirius as he steps out of the bathroom, having taken his fourth shower today, and wearing nothing but his birthday suit, face towel strung over his shoulder and toothbrush in the side of his mouth. 

“Oh Gods, Sirius!” Lily squeals as she throws a pillow at him. “Get back in there and put some clothes on!” 

“What?” he retorts quizzically, swirling around to give everyone a show—and a generous view of his abs and firm backside. And, well, the other thing, too. “It’s not like you haven’t seen any of this before.”

Last to join the party is Remus, who barely spares a second glance to the naked Sirius Orion Black. “Pack your things, I got us a room at a Muggle inn for an hour. Harry’s downstairs waiting for everyone. He says he’ll rip off the stuffed Padfoot’s head if no one accompanies him to the pool later.” 

That is all he says before swiftly exiting the room.

You stare at the spot where he had been standing previously, whispering in awe, “God bless the Remus Lupins of the world.” 

iii. too much communication.

“—and the thing is,” you say through your weepy blubbering, nose swollen and eyes stinging from crying for the last thirty minutes. “When you guys get all secret-ey and start avoiding me, it really makes me feel like shite. And. . . and then—!” you pause to hiccup, breaking down into sobs once more when Sirius gathers you into his arms, laying his love all over your skin, kissing your tears away as he coos into your ear. “And then, Gilderoy Lockhart comes and says that you all hide away in this h-house, or shack, or whatever and meet your secret girlfriend there! I know you said it was just us and you’d never, ever cheat—and I trust you all more than life itself! But I have to know why you disappear from me every month on a particular night. A-Are you tired of me or something?”

Sirius hushes you with his lips, brows contorted—as though he’s in pain because you are in pain. He cradles the back of your neck, placating your worries with whispers of devotion. “Oh, darling, I’m sorry. We didn’t mean for it to get this far. We just wanted to keep you from harm. You’re our world, our entire heart. If you’re hurt, it hurts worse for us, little love.” 

Remus kneels by your feet, grabbing your hands in his; eyes dripping with fondness and warmth. The gold flecks in his eyes glimmering like stars in the night sky. “There’s something you have to know about me, love. We should have told you this long ago—but I was afraid you would look at me differently.”

You end up in another crying fit, overwhelmed by his kindness and sincerity. “I’ve seen you when you had food poisoning, Remus Lupin, I was the one who cleaned your vomit on the floors—nothing on this earth can make me look at you differently.”

Remus chokes, before gathering his bearings, hiding wet chuckles in your lap. “I’m a werewolf, my darling. That’s why we avoid you during full moons. To keep you safe. Your safety is always going to be one of my highest priorities. I’d die before I would let Moony harm a pretty hair on your head.” 

“Is that it?” you croak, whimpers subsiding as relief floods through your veins. “Truly?”

Remus nods. “Truly.”

“Oh, our poor love,” Lily murmurs, delicately running her hand through your hair, a worried knit in her brows. “I’m sorry we let it get to this point. Look at you—you’ll cry yourself sick.” She procures a daintily-embroidered handkerchief from her skirt pockets, gently dabbing at your damp eyes, eyes creased with love. “I’m sorry,” she says once more, pressing her lips to yours until all you feel is her instead of hurt. “No more secrets, I promise.”

James scratches the back of his head with a crooked grin. “Well. . . there is one more. Remember that time you saw a stag in the corridors? That was me. And, the dog trying to get a look under your skirt was Sirius.”

You blink. “What?”

iv. child hero has very involved parents.

Harry James Potter is known as the Boy-Who-Lived, the beloved Chosen One of the wizarding society, if you will. He has a destiny to follow and all that—well, if he could actually do anything heroic.

“What do you mean there’s a basilisk in the castle!” you shriek, a poor vase in Dumbledore’s office shattering to a million pieces. Harry drags a hand down his face—this is going to be a very long night. Suddenly, he regrets writing a letter to home about the happenings in the castle. (How was he supposed to know that all five of his parents would march into Dumbledore’s quarters the moment they heard about the blood on the walls and the petrified students?) “Why haven’t you shut down the school yet? Are you waiting for more students to get hurt?” you press on heatedly, James and Sirius flanking your sides like protective bodyguards. 

“Have you taken any protective measures?” Lily asks worriedly, holding onto Remus’s hand that’s resting on her shoulder. (Honestly, Harry thinks, rolling his eyes inwardly. The lot of you are worse than Molly Weasley at this point.) She turns to Harry, “What about Hermione? Is she safe? Oh, her parents must be worried.”

“You know what,” you say standing up, pivoting on your heel as your flock of lovers follow in suit. “We’re leaving, Harry dear, let’s go.” 

“Go?” the twelve-year-old echoes dumbfoundedly. “Go, where?”

“Home,” you reply with no room for arguments. “Until the matter is resolved, you are staying home. And tell Hermione she’s welcome to stay with us, too. And, Ginny. Ronald, as well. Actually, darling, why don’t you just tell all your friends the Potter manor is open to them whenever.”

Harry thinks you’ve just decided that on a whim, but he knows that Lily and his fathers will go along with whatever you want, regardless.

Your gaze slices to Dumbledore with a low hiss, venomous enough to rival a Slytherin’s taunt. “Fix this or I shall hunt down that basilisk myself.” 

Harry’s shoulders slump. 

So much for fulfilling prophecies and defeating dark lords.

a/n: drabbles are so fun!! this was so fun to write (but not trying to set up another blog.. NEVER AGAIN, I AM STAYING HERE!) i might do some more drabbles since my brain is fried after my last few fics which were long as heck.

[sayruq]

Amid Israel’s ongoing genocidal war on Gaza, maternal healthcare faces excruciating challenges. Deliberate and systematic Israeli attacks on hospitals and medical centers, and critical shortages of humanitarian aid, including medicine, have created a crisis that is endangering the lives of both mothers and newborns. The situation is critical. There are an estimated 50,000 pregnant women in Gaza and some 180 births every day. Israel’s decision in October to prevent food, water, fuel and electricity from entering Gaza created a desperate situation. Inadequate nutrition, exposure to cold and hot weather, the absence of clean water, and poor sanitation weigh heavily on the wellbeing of women and children. The circumstances force them to consume contaminated water, heightening the peril of dehydration and waterborne diseases, particularly among vulnerable groups such as expectant mothers, new mothers and young children. Fuel shortages and the constrained capacity of the few remaining medical facilities exacerbate the difficulty for women in labor to access hospitals. Um Amin, a mother with a few children, confronted with the harsh reality of displacement, recounted her family’s struggles during Israel’s aggression. As bombs relentlessly fell on their neighborhood, reducing their home to rubble, Um Amin had to seek refuge at a school run by the UN agency for Palestine refugees (UNRWA) in the northern Gaza Strip taking only very few belongings. She was pregnant. And in the school there was little by way of basic necessities such as clean water, food or even clothes for her children. She considered moving south, where food might be a little more accessible. Her husband refused, causing conflict between them.He feared not being able to return. And while she believed that the Israeli army was attempting to force them to leave, she also felt it was a matter of life and death for her children. “It was heart-wrenching to witness my kids fighting over scraps of bread. My 4-year-old started stashing away bread in his pocket for later. I was shocked. Before the war, I never slept without knowing my children were fed. Now, most of the time, I am certain they never feel satisfied.” Her entire motivation to carry on became a matter of feeding her children She denied herself food for their sake, but had also to remind herself of the child within her. “The baby inside me is also a priority, so I had to eat too.” She found the balancing act incredibly challenging, an unbearable burden of motherhood. “I am going to share something I’ve never told anyone I know: I contemplated suicide to escape the weight of this responsibility.”

After the Israeli army unexpectedly stormed al-Rimal, a Gaza City neighborhood, for a second time, Um Amin panicked and fled again, this time going from the UNRWA school to a relative’s house. But her fear caused her to enter preterm labor. A doctor, at the nearby al-Sahaba medical center, had to resort to a cesarean section. It was hell, Um Amin said. There was insufficient anesthesia and she could feel the scalpel cutting into her body. There was no electricity; the doctor had to use a handheld flashlight to see. Um Amin’s cries of pain could not drown out the crashing of shells around her. The operation left her utterly drained. She couldn’t believe she was still alive.She needed nourishment to recover what she had lost during the bleeding and to breastfeed her son. But hunger was stalking Gaza. Food was scarce, there was no white flour in the markets, and Israel was blocking aid trucks from entering the north. “All I had to eat was bread made from animal feed and water. When I had my other children, I relied on foods rich in animal proteins, but it was impossible this time. The price of meat was five times higher than normal.” Unable to adequately breastfeed her child, she had to find infant formula. But the price was multiple times higher than it used to be and more than she could afford. Eventually, she was forced to buy formula that was past its expiry date. “You might blame me, but there was literally no other option. I didn’t have enough money. It wasn’t clumped together, so the doctor told me it could still be used.” She would never find out. Due to the lack of clean water, she prepared the milk with non-potable water from a well. The baby refused to drink.

[theeredwitch]

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Non-Cliche Astro Takes:

☾𖤓 hey there! I’m Deidre, I’m a professional tarot reader and musician, and I’ve been studying the occult for about a decade. Here are some less-commonly noted astrology observations that I’ve picked up on over the years. For more posts like this, tarot readings, esoteric content, and music, give me a follow. Enjoy! ☾𖤓

꩜ Aries aren’t loud for no reason, and depending on their aspects to Mercury/where Mars is, they may not be loud at all. What people mistake for “loudness” is them being chronically unheard and/or repeatedly needing to express their softer feelings by way of frustration. They often feel that their softer emotions aren’t taken seriously until it turns to anger. It’s the only time their feelings are seemingly given any attention.

꩜ That stubbornness in Taurus that y’all love to poke fun at? A lot of the time, that’s them recognizing what they’re worth and accepting nothing less. They’re the type to turn down a “chump change” gig because they know it’s a waste of their energy and effort. Additionally, being Venus-ruled, they tend to are good at being “home-y” people. This only becomes a problem when they extend that cozy energy to the wrong people — they’d do well to learn from their sister sign’s (Scorpio) knack for privacy.

꩜ Gemini (especially Venus’) mean what they say when they utter the phrase “oh, I listen to anything.” Their playlists have the widest genre variety, easily. Their wardrobes are the same. One day, they’re rocking a goth getup, and the next they’re sashaying around in a Gunne-Sax gown like Florence Welch. Their versatility knows no bounds, which is often mistaken for being a “poser.” Their Mercurial minds hold much more information than they get credit for.

꩜ Cancer are much more vindictive than we realize. I’d argue much more than Scorpio (especially Cancer Moons). Don’t get me wrong, they’re sweethearts and are quite sensitive to the energetic world, but they pack a punch. Never forget that they’re a Cardinal sign just like Aries! They are most easily motivated when their tender hearts are considered by those around them.

꩜ Looking for a hype-person? Look no further than Leo. They’re like the intimidating “it-girl” except they want YOU to be the “it-girl” alongside them. Don’t be turned off by their confidence and bold exterior because they’re more than willing to spread that light to their loved ones. They are judged for being a bit selfish, but selfishness is not inherently bad/negative. Leo shows us how to shine without being ashamed.

꩜ Virgo is so much more than Excel, deep-cleaning, and organization. While yes, they value order, they only do so because they are a purifying energy. It’s easier for them to be their best selves and truly lean into the ‘healer’ archetype if their space, and mind, is clear. I’ve personally found that they have incredible intuitions, particularly Virgo rising. Being ruled by Mercury gives them one hell of a perceptive mind. They also are very good teachers/work well with children (Virgo moon/Mercury especially).

꩜ Why does everyone think that beautiful Libra is all golden-hour, Aphrodite, and Coquette aesthetics? As much as those things do play into Libra’s energy, we can’t forget that this sign is exalted in Saturn. Their shadow side is often over-looked or assumed not to exist at all because they are ruled by Venus. Many people are drawn to Libra initially because of their beautiful aura and natural glow, but those that understand Libra stick around because they recognize their depth. Libras can’t forget how multifaceted they are, though — don’t fall victim to the short-sighted projections of others!

꩜ Scorpio, the fiery water sign! Similarly to Libra, I see Scorpio get labeled as moody, brooding, dark, suffering artists. While they do have a tendency for the macabre at times, they cherish the opportunities they get to embrace their lighter side. Curling up with their favorite person and playing Animal Crossing on a couple of bean bags is a dream night to a lot of Scorpios. They have a vast inner world and a similar temperament to Aries (they’re both ruled by Mars, traditionally).

꩜ Sagittarius are, arguably, one of the more open-minded energies in the Zodiac. I feel sometimes their endless questions come across as judgmental to others, when it’s truly just them trying to satiate their curiosity. At their worst, they play Devil’s Advocate, but it’s mainly because they know what it feels like to have your voice dismissed (Sag moons/Mercury, imo). They are open books and love to spend time around different cultures, belief systems, languages, or anything considered “foreign” to them. Very prone to go down Wikipedia rabbit holes.

꩜ Capricorn is often viewed as rigid and cold, but that’s just their auto-pilot persona for before they’re comfortable. Their dry, sardonic humor is truly goat’d (pun intended). As with any Saturnian sign/aspect, these folks tend to carry a heavy burden from a young age. Often times, they love things from the past. History, literature, music, clothing styles, etc. Their “obsession” with money is more so a craving for stability. Capricorns (moons especially) have no problem playing the long game so…do with that information what you will.

꩜ As much as I love the alien Aquarius stereotype, these folks are truly outside-the-box thinkers. They seem “alien” and unable to relate to because they do not fit into any mold that has ever been expected of/placed on them. Also ruled by Saturn (traditionally), Aquarius takes the lessons they go through and usually want to use them to improve the world/their community. I think of them as the more “public” provider rather than an “interpersonal” provider like Capricorn.

꩜ Finally, my lovely Pisces. They’re not crybabies (really, they’re not…that’s Aries)they just have really bad allergies this time of year so give them a break! These little fish are hard to pin down and that’s how they like it. Being perceived really does bother them at times (Pisces stelliums/Moons, esp) so a healthy amount of alone time is a must. I’ve noticed they tend to love statues, plushies, and other artsy/collectible figurine-adjacent things. They’ll also watch holiday movies year-round (Halloween, Christmas, doesn’t matter).

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[suugarbabe]

magical creatures | m.r. x reader

prompt: may i suggest hufflepuff!reader, or just shy reader who often hangs around by herself or at hagrids hut helping w the magical creatures. yknow the type of person who no one notices is in class cuz she’s so quiet and he’s like,, enamored lowkey bc she’s so gorgiana but so shy. maybe draco calling her a mudblood and matty’s like abt to get in a fight w his own cousin bc of it.

word count: ~2.1k

warning: fluff

an: the end is a little shite, but the rest is good so bare with me.

It was both a blessing and a curse to see thestrals. They were very unique magical creatures in that only those who have seen death can see them. It makes sense, given their appearance. The black skin, the skeletal body, the reptilian face and the wide leather wings. To the unknowing wizard, the animal looked like it came straight from muggle hell. Historically, it was an omen of misfortune to see one, but they were protected on school grounds and oddly enough, they gave you comfort. 

You often found yourself out in this part of the forest after you had a particularly hard day. Hagrid was always kind enough to give you some raw meat to feed them, and this was the first day you could see the new foal since she was born. You tossed a portion of meat its way, the foal slowly coming up to sniff it. Once it had a taste, it came up to you, sniffing your bag and begging for more. 

You laughed at its enthusiasm, gently petting its neck, “You’re just trying to find your way, aren’tcha bub. That’s okay, me too. This world is hard, but you’ve got your mummy here, she’ll protect you.”

A snapping of twigs made you freeze. No one came to this part of the woods, no one but you and Hagrid, and he was going to be gone for another few hours. You stood up slowly, taking your wand from your jacket pocket. 

You held it tight to your side, trying your best to make your voice sound intimidating, “W-who’s there?”

A boy slowly crept out from behind a tree, his hands up in a surrendering position, “Don’t stupify me, please. I didn’t mean to startle you.” 

Your grip on your wand loosened slightly, but to say you were confused was an understatement, “Riddle? What’re you doing out here?” 

“Could ask you the same thing. What’s a badger like you doing out in the forest?” He wore his infamous smirk, and you weren’t sure if he was trying to be charming, or getting ready to bully you. The lot he hung around, was the leader of more like, made it tough to decipher his motives at times. 

“I was just…feeding the new foal,” you gestured towards the creatures behind you. 

He looked at you curiously, “You can see them, too?” 

You stood up a little straighter, “Yes, Mattheo. I can see them. Slytherin’s aren’t the only ones who can come from a tragic past.” 

Mattheo chuckled at this, “Okay, fair point.”

You looked at him curiously, “What're you doing out here?” 

He smiled sheepishly now, “I was watching you.” You raised your eyebrows at this.

“Not in a creepy way!” He tried to assure you, hands straight out in front of him. “I just, I’ve been noticing you.”

“You’ve been noticing me?” 

“Yeah, I mean. You’re…nice to look at. And you’re…cute when you’re with animals.” His cheeks tinted pink at the confession. 

You couldn’t help the blush that crept up your neck, definitely not expecting that from him. You offered him something to feed the foal and he quickly accepted. You watched at he knelt down to the ground, hand extended as the foal slowly walked up to him. 

He spoke in a hushed tone, “S’alright, mate, I won’t bite.” You smiled at the scene before you, rough and tough Mattheo Riddle being soft and gentle. He stayed with you in the forest for another hour or so, both of you getting lost in conversation. 

He had offered to walk you back to the castle, but you insisted on needing to stop by Hagrid’s before dinner, encouraging him to go on without you. 

After that first encounter in the forest, you expected yours and Mattheo’s relationship to go back to the way it was, which was nonexistent. But the next day, when he saw you in the hall’s he ran up to you, quickly falling into step to ask you how your day was going and if you planned on “feeding any strange animals after classes”. He started doing that often, finding you in the hall or after class, asking when you were going to visit some magical creature and asking if he could tag along.

He found himself fond of how soft you were with them, no matter how rough the creature seemed. He would tell you about the grindylows he could see from his dorm window, and the way your eyes lit up made him wish he could take you there and show you himself, just to see your smile take up your whole face again. 

He had made a vow to himself to never subject you to the ridicule you would get if he brought you to the Slytherin dorm. Not because you were a hufflepuff, but because of your blood status. 

As a half-blood he knows that most Slytherins would look at you like a roast to feast on and their utensils would be harsh words and hexes. Over the last several weeks he found himself growing protective over you. 

Around you he didn’t have to put on a mean face, didn’t have to act tough, he could let his guard down. The Mattheo you knew was not the Mattheo that everyone else saw. Where others saw brooding and flying fists, you saw gentle touches and whispers. 

You never expected you would ever call Mattheo a friend, but it seemed that’s what he became. Where you were once invisible in classes, you found Mattheo staring at you. When you were always able to slip past your peers in the corridor, his hands always found you, pulling you to his side. 

You weren’t naive, you knew the looks you were getting, but with Mattheo near you, you just couldn’t find it in yourself to care. At least that’s how you thought you felt, until you found yourself being dragged by said boy to the Slytherin table for lunch one afternoon. 

“Mattheo, no, there’s no way,” you really thought he had lost his mind. 

“Oh c’mon, darling, it’ll be fine. We’ll sit at the end or something. I just wanna have lunch with you, pretty pretty please?” He was batting his eyelashes at you. His stupid, dumb, long and beautiful eyelashes and looking at you with the most pleading amber eyes. 

You huffed out a long sigh and Mattheo cheered silently in victory, slinging his arm over your shoulder and leading you to the table. 

You sat down across from him, listening to him ramble about his latest potions assignment as you filled your plate. The longer he talked and joked the more relaxed you felt. It seemed like it was not going to be as bad as you had made it out to be, until a head of bleach blonde came into view. 

“Ya lost, badger?” Pansy Parkinson thought she was clever, but in reality she was just the same as a lap dog, following Draco around like a pathetic lovesick puppy. 

You shook your head no, looking down at your plate. “Fuck off, Parkinson,” Mattheo’s harsh words head your head snapping up to watch the scene that was unfolding in front of you. 

Draco tsked, “Oh cousin, ran through the lot of Slytherin women already? Needed to find yourself a little mudblood to entertain you?”

Mattheo was up so quickly it seemed like your eyes had glitched. The smirk was immediately gone from Draco’s face as Mattheo gripped the collar of his robes, teeth gritted as he spoke to him, “Don’t use that bloody fucking language around her, you understand me?” 

If looks could kill Draco’s funeral would’ve been yesterday. He seemed to understand how serious Mattheo was because the most he answered was a grumbled ‘yes’ before brushing his robes off and walking away, not even sparing you a second glance. 

When Mattheo turned back to you his eyes were full of remorse. You spoke before he got a chance, “S’okay, Teo. Let’s just go. We can feed the thestrals before curfew if we leave now.”

You started towards the doors, Mattheo quick to fall in step beside you. When you reached the top of the hill you stopped. Mattheo looked at you quizzically, “Y’alright, love?” You nodded your head, giving him the biggest grin before taking off running toward the forest. 

Mattheo stood frozen for a moment, in shock of how cheeky you were being before his brain caught up with him and he darted after you. 

“You know I’m captain of the quidditch team, love!” he shouted towards you. You shouted back over your shoulder, “Yeah, well you seem to be struggling without your broom, sir!” 

This bit of banter seemed to spur Mattheo further, his feet seemingly moving faster and getting closer and closer to you. You could sense him getting closer, and you could help the butterfly feeling that started to build in your chest. 

You reached your familiar spot, bracing yourself on a tree when you felt hand grab your waist and turn you to face him. “You cheated,” he was breathing heavy, but his tone was still playful. 

“I thought Slytherin’s were cunning, guess I was wrong,” you shrugged your shoulders, biting your bottom lip gently. 

He reached up, cupping your cheek. The pad of his thumb tracing your lower lip, dragging it down slightly. Your breath hitched slightly, watching as his eyes flicked from your lips meeting your eyes again. 

You stared into his eyes, wondering if what you think is going to happen is about to actually happen. 

“Can I…” he questions, trailing off tilting your chin up. You nod slightly, then his lips capture yours. It was tentative at first, like he was afraid if he kissed you any harder you’d disappear like a dream. 

He pulls back, breathing slightly heavy, giving you a silent look as if to ask, ‘is this okay?’ You press your lips back to his as an answer, with more passion this time. It’s wet and messy, tongues dancing as his hands caress the soft curves of your body, pressing you harder into the tree.

He bites down on your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth causing a whimper to leave your throat. You pull him back by his hair and he lets out a desperate huff. You start to kiss down his neck, finding his pulse point and sucking a fresh hickey to his otherwise flawless tan skin. 

You lean back, a smirk spreading on your face as you admire your work. “Proud of yourself, love?” Mattheo’s voice vibrates against your skin, his nose nudging playfully along your jawline. You nodded your head, “Very proud.” 

He was looking at you now, hands resting on your hips, but still pressing you into the tree slightly. His face had fallen ever so slightly, looking a little sadder than the moment called for. 

“I’m sorry for Draco earlier,” his tone was pained, like he was hurting just thinking about the earlier interaction. 

“S’okay, Teo. It’s not the first time someone’s said that to me. Honestly I don’t even think that’s the first time Draco has said it to me,” you laughed a little, but Mattheo could see it didn’t reach your eyes. 

He cupped your face again, thumb rubbing soothingly on your cheek, “He’s never going to call you that again, I’ll make sure of it. He should’ve never said that to you in the first place, or ever.”

You grabbed Mattheo’s face, holding it in your hands and making him keep eye contact with you, “Thank you for being so protective of me. It really does make me feel safer.” His cheeks were straining against your hands as he smiled. 

“Please, please understand that as long as I’m with you, it doesn’t matter what other people say. Even your cousin, okay? And if he is ever ever mean to me again, which I think is likely. You have my full permission to transfigure him into a ferret again.” 

Mattheo laughed at this, a full hearty, deep laugh and you wanted to hear that laugh all the time. Wanted to bottle his joy and happiness and release it on your toughest days to bring you cheer. 

Mattheo followed you back to Hagrid’s hut, getting the supplies you needed to feed the thestrals. You watched as he played with the foal. He looked as carefree as you’d ever seen him as you wished he could feel this way every day. The way he looked back over his shoulder, child-like grin adorning his face, you knew you wouldn’t want to be here with anyone else.

[nina-ya]

NINAAAAAAAA!!! MAY I REQUEST: " i don’t think i’ve ever seen you smile" FROM THIS PROMPT LIST PLS WITH LAW OR POST TIMESKIP ZORO (istg he stopped smiling as widely as he did b4)

A/N: HAPPIEST OF BIRTHDAYS TO YOU MY LOVE I do hope it's a great one I love you dearly!! Pairing: Law x Reader CW: None, fluff WC: ~800

It was during these quiet moments that you often found yourself drawn to Law. You found yourself leaning against the railing, your eyes following the sun’s descent as it slowly gets swallowed by the ocean while painting the sky in hues of fiery oranges and yellows. Law stood beside you, leaning against the railings of the Polar Tang, the breeze subtly ruffling the tufts of raven hair that poked out from beneath his spotted hat.

Law wasn’t always so serious. A playful glint in his eyes often revealed itself when he was being particularly mischievous. He wore that smirk more often than not, his humor sharp and always ready with a quick and witty counter during moments of chaos- whether that be in battle or in more lively moments on the submarine. But a soft, genuine smile, the kind born from hours of shared laughter or the quiet contentment of being in the presence of someone that you love, those were the smiles that you rarely saw. The ones that you wish to see more of and the ones you were determined to pull out of him.

You turned to him, drawn to the way his amber eyes fixed on the horizon. His lips flushed and slightly chapped from the sea breeze, were set in a contemplative thin line, hinting at the thoughts that ran through that mind of his.

“A penny for your thoughts?” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence, your voice carrying a subtle playfulness as you turned your body towards him.

Law glanced at you, that usual smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he replied in a teasing tone, “That’s all they’re worth?” 

You raised an eyebrow, a playful challenge underlying your features. You brushed off his last comment and jumped right to the point. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile. Like really smile. Not just those little smirks you give when you’re being cheeky.”

His gaze shifted, easing into something more introspective. It was almost as if he was carefully considering your words. The longer he stood there in thought, the more his facade cracked, and you could see something beneath all of that outer shell.

“Maybe I just need the right motivation,” he murmured, amusement laced in his tone as he shifted, turning to face you more fully.

You decided to take matters into your own hands and you reached out and gently poked the side of his torso, testing the waters. At first, his brows furrowed in confusion as he merely shot you a skeptical look, but as your fingers continued and danced along his torso, his lips twitched, and he let out a few huffs of laughter despite himself. 

“Stop that,” Law protested, taking a step backward to escape your assault, yet you stepped right forward and continued, each poke sending ripples of laughter through him until he finally broke, the sound of his snickering filling the air.

You grinned in triumph, your laughter filling the air alongside his. It wasn’t long before Law had to physically restrain you, capturing your wrists in his larger, inked hands to halt your tickling. As you looked up at him, it occurred to you how unusual it was that he had resorted to physically holding you back rather than using his devil fruit abilities. Law had the power to simply teleport either of you away from the other, to escape the situation with the twist of his fingers and the incantation of the word “shambles”. Yet, here he was, gripping your wrists and laughing, his touch unexpectedly tender. It was an odd choice that hinted at something more than what’s on the surface—perhaps a desire to remain connected to you, to experience this moment fully with you rather than having it slip away. The two of you paused, breathless and heaving, the proximity leaving you two staring into each other’s eyes, smiles born from laughter lingering on your faces. 

“There it is,” you said softly, breaking the silence. The satisfaction of seeing him smile with such a rare and genuine expression was something unlike any other and you attempted to commit the sight to memory, afraid that it would be lost just as soon as it appeared.

Law’s grip on your wrists relaxed, and he chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “You something else,” he said, the tone of voice and his words making it seem like the words were more of an admittance of something he had felt for a while but couldn’t quite articulate properly. 

Whatever it was, whatever unspoken words remained, it created layers upon layers of complexity that you wish to peel one by one as the days passed. For now, the tension was masked by the warmth of your smiles, and the silence filled with an intimacy that spoke louder than words could ever convey.

[girlactionfigure]

AUGUST 5, 2024

TOKENISM 

Tokenism is the practice of selecting a person from a minority group to give the illusion of diversity or of representation of the minority group’s opinion. Tokenism is racism — or in this case, antisemitism — because it weaponizes the identity of the marginalized person to justify things that hurt that very same marginalized group. 

In other words, when you tokenize someone, you’re using them in a way that ultimately will hurt them or the group they are affiliated with. 

BECAUSE I KNOW I WILL BE ASKED…

I often highlight the voices of Palestinian dissidents, anti-Hamas Palestinians, and of Palestinians seeking to make peace with Israel. People tend to ask me a very good question: how is this any different than “tokenizing” fringe Jews?

Firstly, I want to make it clear that when I highlight the voices of “fringe” Palestinians, I am in no way claiming that they are necessarily representative of the majority. The overwhelming majority of past and recent surveys and statistics I’ve seen unfortunately suggest otherwise.

Secondly, there is a major, major difference between tokenizing the voices of Jews who minimize antisemitism, both in the Diaspora and in Israel, and uplifting the voices of Palestinians who seek to make peace. Tokenizing Jews who dismiss left-wing or Islamist antisemitism or who believe Israeli Jews are fair targets endanger the rest of us. That’s a far cry from Palestinians who wish to live side by side in peace.

Most importantly, the overwhelming majority of Jews worldwide have all the freedom of speech in the world. They are not risking their lives by sharing their views. Palestinian dissidents in the West Bank and especially in the Gaza Strip are quite literally putting their necks on the line to speak out against their tyrannical leaders. To not understand the difference between this and a Jew living comfortably in Brooklyn is a sign of privilege, of not understanding authoritarian societies. When dissidents speak, whether in Iran or the Palestinian Territories, I believe it’s the duty of the people in the free world to uplift their voices.

SELF-TOKENISM: ASSOCIATION OF GERMAN NATIONAL JEWS 

In the earliest days of Hitler’s rule, there was a small group of Jews that supported Hitler. In 1921, a Jewish man named Max Naumann founded a group known as the “Association of German National Jews.” 

Following Hitler’s rise to power, the Nazi regime itself never tokenized the Association of German National Jews, but the members of the organization tokenized themselves, particularly when speaking to the press. In 1933, a member of the group, Hans Priwin, issued a statement alleging that reports of the Nazis’ mistreatment of Jews were “stupid lies.” In 1934, the Association issued a statement of support for Hitler. 

The Association of German National Jews was especially hostile to the less assimilated Jews from Eastern Europe, who they considered backwards and “racially and spiritually inferior.” They were also hostile to Zionists, as they believed that they were a threat to Jewish integration into wider society. The main goal of the Association of German National Jews was the self-eradication of Jewish identity. To accomplish this sinister motive, they weaponized — and tokenized — their own Jewish identities. 

After Hitler’s appointment as German Chancellor in 1933, Jews worldwide protested, boycotting German goods. Instead of supporting the protest, the Association came out against the boycott and issued a manifesto that the Jews in Germany were being “fairly treated.”

In 1935, the Nazis declared the Association of German National Jews illegal and dissolved it. Naumann was arrested by the Gestapo the same day.

TOKENISM: HELENE MAYER

German Jewish fencer Helene Mayer is considered one of the best fencers of all time, having won gold at the 1928 Amsterdam Olympics and placing fifth at the 1932 Los Angeles Games. After Los Angeles, Meyer stayed in California to earn a law degree. In 1933, Adolf Hitler rose to power in Germany, stripping Mayer, who was then banned from her old fencing club, of her rights.

Leading up to the 1936 Berlin Olympics, the United States Olympic Committee was under tremendous pressure to boycott the Games. The head of the US Olympic Committee, Avery Brundage, was a Nazi sympathizer, who convinced Germany to allow one German Jewish athlete to compete to give the impression that Jews in Germany were being treated fairly. In other words, the Nazis needed a token Jew.

Enter: Helene Mayer. Mayer had been living in the United States since her expulsion from her fencing club. Desperate to reclaim her old Olympic glory, Mayer tried out and was selected for the German team. She placed second and gave the Hitler salute on the podium. 

After the Olympics, where the Nazi press and government ignored her, Mayer returned to the United States, thus saving herself from the Holocaust. She moved back to Germany in 1952 and died a year later. She never publicly addressed her decision to participate as an athlete under the Nazis, a decision which temporarily sanitized Nazi Germany’s image. 

TOKENISM: YEVSEKTSIYA

In 1918, the Soviet Communist Party established a “Jewish branch,” with the consent of Vladimir Lenin. It was named “Yevsektsiya,” meaning “Jewish Sections of the Communist Party.” The mission of the Yevsektsiya was, quite literally, the “destruction of traditional Jewish life, the Zionist movement, and Hebrew culture.”

From the outset, the Yevsektsiya began harassing Zionist Jews. Initially, the Yevsektsiya legally abolished the “kehillas,” the traditional Jewish community organizations. Sometimes, they even burned their offices down. They shut down everything from Jewish political groups to theaters to sports clubs. They raided all Ukrainian “Zionist” offices and arrested every single one of their leaders.

Until their dissolution in 1929, they imprisoned, tortured, and murdered thousands of Jews. The fact that the Yevsektsiya was “Jewish” was central to its purpose. After all, the Soviet regime couldn’t be accused of antisemitism when those shutting down all Jewish cultural and spiritual life were Jews themselves. In other words, the Soviets tokenized the Jewish identities of the Yevsektsiya members to legitimize their systematic persecution of Jews. 

According to historian of Soviet history Richard Pipes, “In time, every Jewish cultural and social organization came under assault.”

The Soviet government dissolved the Yevsetskiya in 1929, claiming that it was no longer needed. During Stalin’s Great Purge in the 1930s, virtually all its members were arrested and executed. Some were shot by bullet, some were tortured, and others were sentenced to hard labor in Siberia. A former member even died when the prison he was in refused to supply him with insulin.

TODAY 

NETUREI KARTA

Antisemites today continue to uplift fringe Jewish groups to deflect from accusations of antisemitism. The Neturei Karta, for example, are a staple at pro-Palestine protests, despite the fact that they share just about zero values with the progressive left, given their sexism and homophobia, among other things. Their membership does not surpass 5000 people, and they are considered so fringe that even other anti-Zionist Orthodox groups, such as the Satmar, have disavowed them, issuing a cherem (censure, similar to excommunication) against them. The Neturei Karta have friendly relations with the Islamic Republic in Iran and even attended a conference in Holocaust denial in Tehran. 

JEWISH VOICE FOR PEACE, IFNOTNOW

Surveys consistently show that between 80-95 percent of Jews support the existence of the State of Israel. Yet politicians and activists often uplift anti-Zionist Jewish groups such as Jewish Voice for Peace and IfNotNow as though they are representative of “true” Judaism. These groups have a long history of regurgitating the propaganda and glorifying, excusing, or justifying the actions of terrorists and terrorist groups responsible for heinous attacks against Jews around the world, including October 7.

HOW NOT TO TOKENIZE JEWS 

#1 Before you amplify a Jewish person, pause to think: is there anything in it for you? Are you amplifying us because you care about what we have to say or because our words validate your pre-existing opinions?

#2 Some discussions are intracommunity discussions. You don’t need to speak for us, over us, or weaponize intracommunity discussions to demonize the Jews you dislike.

#3 You cannot adequately support Jewish people if you are not open to hearing about our experiences, even when they don’t align with yours.

#4 Listen to many Jewish voices, and not just voices that you always agree with. It’s also important to listen to Jews of diverse backgrounds, races, sub-ethnic groups, social classes, genders, sexual orientations, and more.

This also means that if you disagree with a person about a topic unrelated to Jewishness or Judaism, you should still be willing to listen when they talk about their Jewish experience. People — Jews included — are multifaceted individuals. You might not always agree with us, but you should understand that no one can speak to the Jewish experience better than we can.

#5 No Jew — not a single one — deserves antisemitism. Antisemitism is not a valid punishment for bad behavior; it’s an ancient, senseless form of hatred that has gotten innocent people murdered for thousands of years. All Jews deserve protection from antisemitism, no matter how good or bad their views and/or behavior. Additionally, antisemitism targeting Jews you dislike always spills over and hurts other Jews. If you do not pursue safety for every single Jew, you are not an ally.

#6 To adequately represent the views of the Jewish community, share the views that are representative of the majority of the Jewish community, not fringe opinions. Don’t uplift a minority voice to pretend that that’s how all of us feel.

#7 Understand that Jews can very much perpetuate antisemitism. Agreeing with a Jewish person doesn’t mean you are not antisemitic.

rootsmetals

Olympics x As a Jew crossover

Sources

[run2gyuz]

★𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙠𝙨 𝙀𝙣𝙝𝙮𝙥𝙚𝙣 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 ★

Enhypen x fem!reader

𝘼/𝙉: TY FOR OVER 300 VOTES?

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: exhibitionism, overstimulation, brat taming, phone sex, mention of pornography, masterbation, somnophilia, pull out method (put a rubber on it guys!), oral fixation, cum eating (one line), Hoon cums in his pants, edging, dacryphilia

𝙬𝙘: 1069 :p

MINORS DNI

★ 𝙅𝙪𝙣𝙜𝙬𝙤𝙣 ★

~ exhibitionism

HEAR ME OUT OKAY… I feel like it wouldn’t be hardcore, but if someone walked in on the two of you he’d definitely cum harder than usual :p I feel like he’d fuck you in his room when he knows you’ll be loud and his members can hear you, relishing in the way they’d all know just how good he fucks you. Or in the sitting room at night, knowing Jay was due home any minute now. Jungwon would also love it when you’d fuck in public, but only slightly hidden from other people, like the bathroom in the airport, the changing room in a store, or his personal favourite, the corner of a club, knowing full well that the guy who was shamelessly flirting with you was now trying not to pull out his dick at the sight of Jungwon ruining you.

★ 𝙃𝙚𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙪𝙣𝙜 ★

~ overstimulation

Like I can imagine you being a brat gf who just wants to be edged and cum so hard so you tease him all day, hoping that when you both got home he would fuck you until you came so hard you saw white. The boy wasn’t stupid, he knew exactly what you were playing at, fucking you like you wanted, and as he felt you reach your orgasm, instead of slowing down like you expected he carried on fucking you hard, letting you cum around him. If you wanted to cum he was going to make sure you did just that, pounding into you post release, bringing his hand down to rub at your clit. You attempted to push him away telling him it was too much, but he only smirked, leaning down to whisper, “you wanted me to edge you right? So you tried to rile me up? Such a slut, you’re gonna cum again and again until I’ve decided you’ve learnt your lesson okay?”. Heeseung’d do just that, fucking you until you were crying, close to passing out from overstimulation.

★ 𝙅𝙖𝙮 ★

~ phone sex

I feel like before the two of you we’re together Jay watched porn a lot, not like he was obsessed or anything, he just needed some motivation. But why would he watch anyone else when he had you in front of him? But due to his work he was away a lot, but because you were such a wonderful girlfriend, you’d post pictures of yourself on your instagram knowing that they’d rile him up. You’d get a call at 3am, expecting to see your cute boys face, only to be met with Jays fucked out face, hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. “can’t cum,” is all he’d mutter before turning the screen around so you could see his aching cock. “You want me to help you baby?” You’d question as you intently watched Jay helplessly fist at his dick. He’d mumble a yes, whining and picking up the speed of his movements as he watched you massage one of your tits, other hand going down to your core. Why would Jay ever watch porn when you were one call away?

★ 𝙅𝙖𝙠𝙚 ★

~ somnophilia

Jake gives me the vibes that he’d always get horny in the morning, the sight of your sleeping figure getting him horny. He felt a bit guilty but you were just so beautiful. He wouldn’t want to wake his pretty little girl so he’d tug at his cock, biting his lip as not to wake you with his sinful act, mind going wild at the sliver of stomach he could spot, you looked so innocent :( Once he let out a particularly large groan, accidentally waking you, the quiet, “Jakey?” You let out sending him over the edge as spurts of cum found their place all over his hand and thighs. The boy looked at you with panic, “m’ sorry baby, can’t help it when you look so pretty,”. You’d then tell him that next time he wakes up horny he can fuck you, you really didn’t mind, just wanted to make him feel good. He’d make sure you were sure, silently screaming at the thought of fucking you awake. The next time he woke up with a hard on, he wasted no time shoving his dick inside of you, pushing your night shirt up to reveal your perfect tits. And you know what, waking up to Jake cumming over your tits wasn’t bad at all.

★ 𝙎𝙪𝙣𝙜𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙣 ★

~ oral fixation

Sunghoon has such pretty hands, why wouldn’t he want them to always be in your mouth. He always finds some excuse to put his hands in your mouth, mind spinning at the feeling of your tongue sliding against his didgets, the face you give him when your shamelessly sucking his slender fingers. Not just during sex are his fingers finding their place in your warm mouth. Got some food on his hand? In your mouth. Cut his finger? In your mouth. You came on his fingers? “Open wide baby, want you to taste how sweet you are,”Horny? In your mouth. You’re being to loud? In your mouth, “gotta be quiet baby, just suck on my fingers and don’t make noise mk? Don’t want Jake hearing what’s mine do we?”. Just the feeling of your lips around his fingers is enough to make Sunghoon cum in his pants, which he won’t deny happening before.

★ 𝙎𝙪𝙣𝙤𝙤 ★

~ dacryphilia

I’m not going to lie I get hard dom vibes from Sunoo, Ik he’s like the sweetest cutest person ever, but the sassy side of him makes me think he’d be so unfair! Like he’d edge you until all you could think of was his cock, you’ve been begging for hours, tears falling from your eyes as he pounded you to your edge for the nth time. “Please Sunoo, just wanna cum,” you’d choke out. Sunoo snickered, you looked so pretty, sobs leaving your body, inflating his already huge ego, he made you feel so good you cried? Damn. “You wanna cum? You should have just asked pretty girl? Go on, cum for me yeah?”. Your body would shake underneath him, ignoring the fact that he was teasing you again. Your cunt pulsated around his painfully hard cock, as you let out one of the most beautiful noises Sunoo had ever heard, sobs leaving your body once more. Sunoo brought his hand down to your face, wiping away your tears all while chasing his orgasm and helping you ride out yours. Finally cumming over your stomach mumbling, “so pretty when you cry,”.

𝘼/𝙉: like + reblog pls <3 requests are open! :)

[velvetsainz]

summary: [ cl16 x fem!reader ] charles is in maranello but that doesn't mean he can't help. part one.

word count: 1.3k

content warnings: smut under the cut (minors dni pls!), porn with a dash of plot, use of explicit language, phone/skype sex, masturbation, toys, overstimulation, praise kink, google-translated french (kay strikes again), fluff, i still really like em dashes

a/n: part twooooooooo! (you can totally read this before part i—this is just a sister smutlet ;) ) i've been really pleased with the response to part i, so i was super duper motivated to get this cranked out for you guys. there's mentions to previous encounters, and i'm very tempted to flesh those out in the future along with the allusions to future events. anyways, eat up! enjoy, loves! xx

You could be a tease, but Charles Leclerc was a bigger one.  

“Charles, I swear to God that—”

“That what, chérie? Hm?,” he asked as he quirked an eyebrow to you, waiting for you to answer as he watched over the Skype call.  You let out a frustrated sigh, sinking back into the bed and allowing your thighs to relax once more.

“So impatient, mon ange…,” he chided, hand working slowly, lazily over his length.  You were on the doorstep of your climax when he’d suddenly cut the power to the delicious little bullet in your hand.  He’d been teasing you for a solid thirty minutes now, listening to soft moans and needy whines as he built you up before allowing your orgasm to recede away once more.

You scoffed, brow furrowing and lid heavy with need.  “Well yes, but-but–,” you stammered as you tried to think of some good reason why you just needed to come.  You couldn’t—no reason that would be particularly compelling when he was like this.

As much as you enjoyed your games with your fiancé, your thighs were beginning to cramp and you swore you were going to have to change the sheets now, too.

You’d gotten on your usual Wednesday night call, mood worse than usual.  It’d been a long day and you were just ready to put it all behind you, bury yourself in the fluffy duvet of your shared bed, and scroll TikTok aimlessly for a few hours to allow yourself the time to rot in peace.

Charles, on the other hand, had other ideas.  If he’d been there, he’d have happily buried his head between your legs until you couldn’t put together a coherent thought and the tension had melted from your shoulders and jaw.  Seeing as he was in Maranello, though, he had to find another way to get you in a better headspace.

Enter: the vibrator.

Well, a remote-controlled bullet.  One that he could control with an app on his phone, the bastard. Some men found toys in the bedroom to be a competitor, but the Monégasque saw them as an accomplice of sorts; they were friends, not enemies.

In the moment, though, the little fucker sure as hell seemed like an enemy to you.

“Please, baby,” you whined for him, pouting with glossy eyes to the camera, “you already know it’s been a long day.”

Charles hummed, taking pity on you as he turned the vibe on once more to a low-power setting. You took a stunted breath, eyes closing as pleasure rolled through you once again.  The sound went straight to his cock, angry red in his hand as precum leaked over the vice grip he held it in.

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou,” you whimpered fervently as the toy kicked up another speed, sending you careening towards your climax.

“I wish I could be there, chérie,” he coaxed as he watched you start panting once again, breaths coming in stuttering bursts with whines trapped in the back of your throat. “J'adore entendre tous ces jolis sons, ma jolie,” Charles purred, pulling a particularly pitiful moan from you. He laughed as he ticked the power up another notch, “Oui—juste comme ça, chérie.”

You could feel your orgasm coming at you hot and fast, mouth falling open as your hips dug into the soft material of the mattress.  A tear spilled from the corner of your eye at the sheer sting of need coming into full view, one of your hands planting hard into the bed beside you as your eyes rolled back in reflex.

“Charles, please, I-I-I—”

“C’est bon, minette,” he soothed, his own desire starting to rear its head, “Let go—let it all go for me, mm?” He set the devilish little toy onto full blast, and you didn’t wait for him to rethink his offer.

You babbled half-coherently as something melted in the pit of your belly, washing over your senses until your ears rang and your legs buzzed.  You could feel your sweat pooling in the small of your back as loose strands of hair stuck to your forehead and neck from the matching sheen that covered them, and your partner had turned the bullet to its lowest power setting to nurse you through the aftershocks that rocked your hips.  You were well and truly dripping at this point, a small wet spot forming under you on the white sheets. You really should have put down a towel before you got yourself into this mess.

But with no warning, as you basked in the afterglow of a much-needed orgasm, the toy went into full power once more.  Your eyes shot open and hips jolted away from the sensation as you looked to the screen after a moment of realization.  “Baby, no, I–t-too sensiti—,” you started to whimper to Charles as you heard the sounds of his own pleasure growing more prominent.

“Yes, mon ange,” he said firmly, hazel eyes dark with pleasure, “Just one more—I know you can.”  He watches as your brow furrows once more and your hand disappears between your legs once again.  Never did he ever think he could be so jealous of a fucking hand.

You mewled as you fought the stuttering of your hips each time you pressed the toy to your already-aching clit.  Still, in no time you were there once again, and Charles cursed and muttered under his breath as he watched the show you put on for him.

“Merde—”

“Such a good girl, yes—”

“Going to fuck you so good—”

“Fuck…fuck—”

He grunted your name once more and came with a growl, jaw slack as he spilled over the fist that held him so tightly. Meanwhile, you were coming down with glazed eyes and parted lips, breathing hard as you let out a quiet “fuck.”

“Oui,” Charles agreed teasingly as his head dropped back behind him lazily.

Toy discarded onto the bed next to you, you rolled onto your side to face him on the video call. “Why do you have to work so far away sometimes?,” you grumbled rhetorically, pouting as your body pooled in one of his old t-shirts and your breathing started to match something more normal.  Your body had lost the tension it had been carrying, those dual orgasms working to relieve the stress you’d felt when you’d started the call.  Still, a toy was a poor replacement for the man on the other side of the call, and you wanted him there with you more than you’d wanted that first orgasm.  You hated making him feel bad about being away, but damn did you need to be fucked within an inch of your life right about now.

He tsked softly, lifting his head once more to see your pout.  “I know, mon cœur,” he nodded, adjusting the lid of his laptop to angle more towards his face, “but if I didn’t come to Maranello, I wouldn’t get anything done. We’d be like bunny rabbits—like Corsica.”

Memories of that trip came back, causing your tummy to flip at thought.  You really had fucked like rabbits on that trip, and no surface was safe from the fury of your shared lust. Nothing was sacred and anywhere that had just enough privacy was good enough for one to start tormenting the other with their fingers…their lips…their—

“I don’t see why that’s a problem,” you teased back, smile finding your lips once more as you shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly.  One elbow helped prop your head up while the other hand rested between the soft skin of your thighs.

“My sunburn disagreed,” Charles chuckled as you found yourself laughing with him.  “I looked like a…a—what’s the word? Homard?”

“Lobster?,” you chimed in with a smirk as you remembered just how red he’d been. You swore you‘d slather a metric shit ton of aloe on him during that holiday. The way he’d keep you warm in the cold showers, though…

“Yes, a lobster,” he sighed, dropping his head into his hands at the thought.  “Chérie, it hurt so bad—and Carlos wouldn’t wouldn’t stop laughing at me in the paddock in Spa!”

“But you would taste wonderful dipped in butter!”

“You are an idiot, chérie.”

“And knowing that, you still wanted me to be your wife.  So who’s the bigger idiot in this equation, baby?”

[euseokz]

@ sohee — i’ve been wanting you for so long, how could i say no when you finally feel the same way ? . cws : unprotected sex . creampie . oral (f) - only one mention . wc : 1.4k+ . genre : smut

a/n : this might actually be my favorite thing i’ve written so far i swear 😭 i also 100% blame @dearmyouth for this, thank you for giving me the sohee brainrot i finally get the hype 🙌🏻

BEST-FRIEND! SOHEE who has never been particularly good at hiding his attraction towards you.

it wasn’t like he ever acted on it or made you feel uncomfortable because of it, all the glances he took up and down your body discrete enough, and any riskier touches he dared somehow always safe enough to still be passed as coming from a friend who just happened to be a bit clingier. you were pretty close after all, so no one ever suspected a thing — however, you did notice those small details, to you they were pretty obvious at least.

you knew how sohee looked at his other friends, and you also knew how he looked at the girls he found attractive, and his gaze towards you somehow always seemed to lean more towards the latter. you also knew that even on his clingiest days he was never as clingy as he always seemed to be when it came to you, especially when you two were alone. you had always known he liked you, and assumed it was just a small crush at most, so you never cared, thinking it would eventually go away, that he’d get tired of it and move on.

apparently though, that wouldn’t be the case.

over time sohee seemed to get more desperate. he was still never disrespectful, but you could see his slip ups, how he’d make comments that had a double meaning without noticing, ending up blushing and getting a bit awkward when he did process his words, or how he’d reach out to hold your hand or hug you when he had never seemed all that inclined towards that sort of more intimate gesture in the first place. it was getting to be too much, and what you thought would be something temporary, was very quickly proving itself to be quite the opposite. you almost felt bad for sohee, because you could see how guilty he felt over the whole thing, and you thought that was endearing, how he valued your friendship enough to not wanna risk losing it over his own feelings.

maybe all he needed was a little sign, something that would let him know that maybe you weren’t so against exploring a romantic relationship with him after all — so you gave him just that, asking him if he wanted to kiss you one night when you found yourselves all alone in his apartment, the tv screen the only thing lightning up the living room as you both talked to each other, barely paying attention to whatever was paying.

even in the dim-lighted room you could see how sohee’s eyes kept darting towards your lips when you spoke, how his own stayed parted whenever he didn’t chew on them anxiously. how his hands seemed to seek yours, inching closer to you under the wide blanket you shared only to snap back to his lap when he noticed what he was doing. you thought you could also see a faint blush adorn his cheeks up to the tip of his ears, and as if that wasn’t enough motivation for you to want to tease him a bit, you eventually noticed the small tent forming on his crotch once the topic of your conversation turned to one ever so slightly spicier — that truly being the last drop, the last reason you needed to ask him if he wanted to kiss you.

sohee stumbled on his words when the question left your mouth, and you could almost see the gears turning inside his head, temptation and lust very clearly starting to cloud his judgment as he looked at you, eyes focused on yours. he did utter out a small “yeah” though, immediately taking the first step and guiding you to lay down on the couch, going to hover over you, his face mere centimeters away from yours. you could also see the last bits of self-restraint leaving his body when he asked you if you were sure, and as soon as you said “yes”, he was on you, his lips ravaging yours as if he had been dreaming of that moment for years (which, all things considered, he had).

sohee’s touch could only be described as curious and desperate at that moment. his kiss was needy, thirsty, tasting every bit of you he could and damn near begging for more when he felt you pull away for a breath of air. both your lips were red and shiny after the first round, the seconds you spent in silence being occupied by your eyes locked on each other, as if you were having a silent conversation, wordlessly agreeing that a kiss, although nice, wasn’t enough.

when he leaned down again, sohee kept up the energy. his lips pressed into yours frantically, his teeth even clanking against yours and his tongue reaching to explore every bit of you it could. this time though his hands didn’t stay politely by your sides, instead traveling up and down your body, sneaking under your shirt and feeling up directly against your skin, smiling against your lips because of the small trail of goosebumps his cold fingers left behind. somewhere along the way, between a lot of kissing and small, shy moans being shared, you finally found yourselves naked, distinct piles of clothes scattered around the dark living room’s floor and your bodies back on the couch, sohee sitting down in the middle of it with his legs spread while you were on top of him, slowing lowering yourself on his cock. you were absolutely soaked — he had made sure of that by making you cum on his tongue once before — and his dick was as hard as it had ever been, his erection painful if he was being honest, fat beads of pre-cum slipping past his slit and dampening his pink tip, leaving a shiny trail from it down to his base.

once you had finally pushed all of sohee into your heat, you both sighed in relief — said relief being short-lived because your combined desperation quickly kicked in, leaving you both eager for more. you started moving up and down on sohee’s lap, his hands resting at your waist, helping guide you, while loud lewd sounds spread across the room, your moans shameless and the sticky sound of your slick mixing with his pre-cum as your hips hit against sohee’s didn’t help in any way. you didn’t care though, already too overtaken by your own arousals, only focused on each other, on how you felt.

sohee filled you up perfectly, as if his cock had been made for your cunt, his tip hitting the perfect spot when he bottomed out, making you mewl his name, asking for more — and because he could never say no to you, sohee stopped you for a second just so he could flip you both, changing position so you laid on the couch and he was on top of you, your legs circled around his waist tightly and his chest pressed flush against yours, one of his arms laced around your waist while his other hand had it’s fingers digging into one of your thighs. your bodies were glued to each other, so up-close you swore you had never been as pressed up against another person. you felt every single one of sohee’s movements — felt his abdomen tense when he pistoned his hips into yours, his thighs tense with every thrust, even how uneven his breath was because of the way his chest moved up and down. it was personal, as intimate as sex could be, and you weren’t sure you would be able to live without it now that you had experienced it.

sohee kept going, moving in and out of you swiftly and whispering small nothings against your neck, telling you how pretty you were, how good you felt, how badly he had been wanting this. he was so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn’t notice his orgasm approaching, only taking note when it was too late and his dick was twitching inside your pussy, filling you up with cum to the brim. you didn’t mind though, and although the feeling of his seed spilling into you brought sohee out of his trance almost immediately, barely even able to enjoy his orgasm out of worriedness, it only heightened your pleasure, his high triggering yours as you came around him, plush walls pulsing around his cock and milking him dry, creaming around his girth as you screamed his name. seeing your state made sohee get back into it, his apprehensiveness lasting nothing more than a few seconds as he continued with his movements, thrusting into you now at a slower pace, letting you both catch your breath while you calmed down.

it all felt a bit surreal, how sudden everything seemed to have happened and most of all how good it all felt, but you knew that wouldn’t be the last time you’d experience it — you’d make sure it wasn’t.

[ikinremu]

more harry content please. that is all i ask.

Hi anon!! I’ve been meaning to work on some more Harry content, and this really motivated me so thank you!!! Hope you enjoy :)

Distraction

Harry Potter x Fem!Reader

! Smut Warning !

Tags: P in V, Praise, Unprotected Sex

Your tightly balled up fist propped your head up, forcing your gaze down at the text before you - not that you were absorbing any of the information. Truthfully, you didn't particularly mind studying when it came to certain subjects, though you were growing tired of spending your evenings begrudgingly hunched over your desk.

"Harry?" You sighed heavily, peering at the, rather sizeable, book you'd slammed down on the desk just over an hour ago, "Can you help me?"

"Sure, sweetheart." Your boyfriend mumbled from this rest upon the bed not far behind you, rustling the sheets a little as he took a stance. Suddenly, the large familiarity of his hands found your shoulders, thumb gently sweeping back and forth over your jumper. Tension unwound, your body soothed by his light touch.

"I'm so bored." A weighty exhale escaped your lips as you turned to stare up at him, desperation gleaming through your eyes.

Harry offered your shoulders a kind, soft squeeze, "I know. You've been sat here for an hour and you've hardly turned any pages."

Despite your self-awareness, you scoffed, eyes flitting to the dusty book cover as Harry suddenly flung the novel shut. You shot him a puzzled glance - although you couldn't deny the relief of a possible break.

"You're not concentrating." His lips tugged up, supporting a playful smirk, "Come on, it'll help if you have a distraction for a bit."

A sultry cloud of his breath grazed your neck, as a tempting kiss pressed to the angle of your jaw.  Your cheeks swarmed with a sudden heat, breath caught in your throat, "Harry.."

"Hm?" He mumbled, quietly satisfied as he observed your failure to follow through with whatever was to leave your lips.

Quickly, he discarded the clutter atop your desk, callous palm patting at the surface as his mouth left the crook of your neck, "On the desk."

Unable to deny what was before you, you hopped upon the - now uncluttered - table, perching yourself right at the edge.

Harry parted your legs slightly, stepping between them, your skirt naturally riding up your thighs. His hungry mouth connected with your own, bringing a newfound ferocity as your tongues collided rather immediately. You flung your vacant hands to the broad of his back, fingertips pressing against the fabric of his jumper.

His low groan seeped into the kiss, and he trailed a single hand upon the small of your back, the other snaking beneath your skirt. Heat buzzed between your legs as the familiar sensation of his touch met your panties, tracing soft circles over your clit through the damp material. You whimpered faintly against his mouth, feeling his lips curve into a satisfied smirk against yours.

Harry's fingers moved quicker, causing your body to shudder as you shattered the kiss, head falling against his shoulder.

"F-fuck.." Your hushed, sultry moan vibrated against his shoulder, endlessly fuelled by the flow of his digits.

"That's it, sweetheart." He encouraged, "Let me hear those pretty noises."

His lustful words struck your arousal, spiking it rather drastically. Harry's skilful fingertips slipped easily beneath your sodden underwear, tugging them aside, cool air hitting your bare cunt.

With a gracious chuckle, he tilted your head back from its fallen rest upon his shoulder, gaze flickering to yours, “I need to feel you."

Harry made light work of his trousers, pulling them downward, freeing his hard, bare cock with a deeply relieved groan. Craving the feel of your skin, his large hands splayed over your ass, finding a tender hold under your skirt.

"Ready, angel?" He braced, aligning his tip with your drenched, achingly unfulfilled entrance.

"Mhm.." You uttered, somewhat masking your need, fingertips digging into his back, his eyes trailing over your flushed face.

Harry eased his hard, unattended length between your legs, sliding between your slick folds, pulling an airy moan from the pair of you as he filled you.

"You feel so fucking good.." He praised with a heavy exhale, lips spilling gruff groans as your tight cunt squeezed at his cock.

His naked hips bucked against yours, tip hitting deep within your soaked pussy. His callous palms caressed your behind, the warmth of his mouth capturing the skin of your neck once more.

Your walls clenched around his length, the pulses of his tip reaching your g-spot, drawing a loud whine from your lips.

"So pretty." Harry cooed, giving your hips a motivational squeeze as he abruptly picked up the pace of his thrusts. The desk wavered slightly beneath your flushed, quickening bodies.

You couldn't help but allow your head to fall back a little, both overwhelmed and thrilled by the stimulations. Harry switched a single hand to your jaw, tipping your chin back down, forced to focus your gazes to one and other, "Eyes on me."

The intense buzz of his words lingered in your abdomen, your teeth puncturing the pillow of your lower lip.

Alternating his grasp from the tip of your chin, he returned attention to the swell of your clit. With present amusement, he applied just enough pressure where you most yearned for it. Breathy noises flooded the room, nude hips slapping against eachother, his hot breath tickling your cheeks.

“Right here, hm?” Harry smirked, heat-ridden bodies rocking together, bringing yourselves closer and closer.

“F-Fuck, yes..” You whined, back arching invitingly, a release brewing inside the both of you.

"That's it, fuck, just like that.."  He grunted, the jerking of his hips growing much lazier.

Practically melting against the work of his fingers, the sheer strength of your orgasm seized you, washing over your entirety. A breathy, passionate sound rolled off your tongue as you revelled in the climax. Tortured by the sensation of you clenching around his cock, Harry panted, sliding out as a burst of warmth painted your inner thighs.

Breathing far from steady, your glistening foreheads leant together, Harry’s lips parting to speak with a familiarly charming smile, “Better?”

Thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed! Please feel free to use the requests/asks feature on my page - it’d be so greatly appreciated!

[myrtlebranch1019]

Why Davrin is my favourite companion in DA:TV.

With characters like Neve and Emmrich in the game—both of whom are well-written and fall under my favorite character archetypes—it was surprising to find Davrin climbing into the number one spot on my list. For starters, I’ve never been particularly invested in the Grey Warden storyline outside of Origins and my Hero of Ferelden. I don’t typically gravitate toward Grey Warden romances either. All things considered, I would’ve expected Davrin to rank lower for me, certainly not first. But I always try to keep an open mind about characters, even if I’m not initially drawn to their subplots. Surprisingly, not only did Davrin become my favorite, but the Grey Wardens turned out to be the only faction whose writing I genuinely enjoyed.

Why Davrin stood out to me

Let’s start with what made me connect with Davrin specifically, because at the end of the day, preference is deeply subjective, and relatability is often a key factor. Nonetheless, I do feel Davrin's writing doesn’t get enough credit for how realistic his arc is. Everything we learn about his past points to him being the classic "small-town misfit" (in his case, a Dalish clan misfit) who wanted to break free of his bubble. Growing up, I had a similar mindset. I believed there had to be more to life than seeing the same faces, hearing the same perspectives, and following the same predetermined path.

In one conversation, Davrin mentions how his clan felt rejected by his decision to leave. That resonated with me, but what struck me more was the subtlety in how this rejection was portrayed. In my experience, the person who leaves often carries the weight of perceived rejection far longer than the community they leave behind, which typically moves on. This nuance was reflected in Davrin’s journey—how that sense of rejection motivated him to pursue his path without looking back. It’s a mix of choice and pride, and it’s telling that he only becomes eager to reconnect with his clan near the end of the game, after he’s accomplished what he wanted.

Then there’s the moment of failure that every person faces when they leave behind everything they know—when the unknown turns out to be far more brutal than anticipated. Davrin doesn’t shy away from this, admitting that he “got his ass kicked” and went broke. That particular conversation during his first personal quest hit close to home for me. As a Dalish elf, Davrin likely faced additional obstacles, such as the pervasive discrimination elves endure in this universe. His banter with Bellara (easily missed but incredibly insightful) sheds light on those early days of hardship: how he came to appreciate the things he’d once taken for granted, how he desperately sought purpose to make all his struggles worthwhile.

What I appreciated most was how realistic and difficult his journey felt. He didn’t simply leave his clan and immediately flourish; he had to mold himself into who he wanted to be, enduring setbacks and moments of doubt along the way. Leaving wasn’t painted as an objectively good or bad decision—it was a necessary step for his self-discovery. It also wasn’t framed as a critique of Dalish culture, which I found refreshing given BioWare’s frequent criticism of the Dalish. Davrin wasn’t used as a narrative tool to disparage their way of life; instead, his story highlights that he didn’t fit in and needed to explore a different path. Which is why he is the perfect character to decide the future of the Griffons, whether they will follow tradition or the road less travelled. (By the way, I felt the moment lost its impact when the final decision was left to Rook. I firmly believe that Davrin should have been the one to make the ultimate choice, with the outcome influenced by prior conversations.)

Additionally, while the stoic warrior archetype isn’t typically my cup of tea. (For example, while Blackwall is a complex and well-written character, I never really connected with him). With Davrin, I enjoyed that the stoicism is tempered by his snarky sense of humor, boldness, fiery passion and a softer, nurturing side that emerges in his relationship with Assan. Beneath these layers, there are moments in the game when his dialogue hints at deeper fears and vulnerabilities. His line about Wardens having an “expiration date” stood out to me, overall, the post-Weisshaupt conversation is a fascinating moment that deserves more attention. While the game resolves it quickly, there’s something poignant about how Davrin’s overwhelming need to belong and have a purpose makes him the quintessential "army dreamer." This aspect of his character—the drive to prove himself and tie his self-worth to a cause and subsequently an accomplishment is subtle and easy to miss beneath the more heroic motivation to protect others, but it’s still there.

For the Adventurous Misfits

I could write much more about Davrin (and probably will in future posts), but ultimately, he’s my favorite because he represents the adventurous misfits. He’s for the ones who leave their safety bubble only to get brutally punched in the face by life. For those who tie their self-worth to their achievements and set impossible standards for themselves. Anyone who tries to avoid caring, because they’re only capable of caring too much. And lastly, for those who despite everything, refuse to give up. Davrin’s journey is one of self-discovery, resilience, and growth, and it's a story that feels both deeply personal and universally relatable.

[royboyfanpage]

Okay, let's talk about Ollie's experience with fatherhood.

I'm an Oliver Queen apologist forever, but I think that there's a tendency in fandom to go one of two ways- "absolutely perfect dad, no flaws whatsoever" or "evil abuser who shouldn't be within six miles of a child". This isn't an Ollie exclusive phenomenon, a lot of characters and topics do fall into that black-and-white mindset. But the thing is- Ollie doesn't have to be either extreme. Particularly with Roy, who most of the debate centres around, Ollie wasn't perfect! I think there's such a rich discussion point in terms of young Roy's relationship with Ollie, so much more than just That Panel. Because, in my interpretation, Ollie absolutely cared about him, absolutely saw him as a son, but also the idea of being a father is something that deeply terrified him. The idea that this literal child being dependent on him made it feel more real, if that makes sense. Coming to terms with the fact that he was responsible for another person's life was difficult for him, and so he put up this wall- hero and sidekick. A conceptual dynamic, one that's not based in reality. He can keep that distance between himself and Roy and decide what that means, he doesn't have to be a father because that word has so many strong connotations, but he can still express that he cares about Roy, in his own way. That's why he always calls Roy 'Speedy' even out of costume, that's why his first thought is that Roy's undercover in Snowbirds. He can focus on being a good mentor to Speedy, which will have a trickle-down effect to being a good guardian to Roy, right?

Unfortunately, kids' brains don't work like that! Especially not a kid who's already lost two fathers. Roy needed a stability in his teenage years that Ollie just wasn't able to give at that time. He didn't see "Ollie's nice to me as Speedy because he loves me and doesn't know how to show it", he saw "Ollie's nice to me as Speedy, which means I'm only good as Speedy". This, at least in my opinion, is a major factor in Roy’s later self-esteem issues. Roy’s constantly underestimating himself as a hero, constantly comparing himself to Dick, and pushing himself 24/7 to improve because he internalised the idea that if he’s good, if he’s the perfect hero, then he’ll be loveable. He can’t be bad, he can’t fail, he can’t back down because if he does, he’s nothing.

It’s absolutely not Roy’s fault, but also this doesn’t mean that Ollie’s an evil neglecting abuser, either. Even the best parents fuck up, and Ollie was by no means the best parent. He took in Roy as a sidekick, as a buddy, and then never really found a way to combine the ideas of sidekick and son. He assumed that Roy would be able to interpret meanings behind gestures, which is something that Roy seems to struggle with even into adulthood. I’ve talked about it a fair bit, Roy’s absolutely someone who relies on the explicit, but he’s also not someone who’ll ask for clarification, which has caused conflict in his relationships time and time again. And while it's something he has gotten better at as he's gotten older, a 12-18 year old Roy would absolutely not be able to read Ollie's motives.

And Ollie's fear of fatherhood isn't something exclusive to Roy, either. Sure, he'd gotten better at it by the time Connor and Mia entered the picture (speaking as an oldest child myself, we are the guinea pigs of parenting, I was my mum's sibling), he absolutely still expresses this with them. I mean, just look at his face when he finds out Connor's his son.

That's the face of a man who's just had the crushing weight of parenthood slammed down onto him again, the moment Connor stopped being an ally and started being his responsibility. He's scared, because Ollie absolutely does not see himself as a good father for someone to have. This was very much present during Roy's teenage years, but particularly since this is post-Snowbirds. Both in terms of Roy developing a drug addiction and in terms of Ollie's own initial reaction to it, he immediately spirals. And, since we've already established he does not know how to process things, he lashes out at Connor.

And as for Mia, he's definitely matured significantly by the time she comes into the picture, and compared to with Roy he's a lot more open with his feelings. However!

He still won't explicitly accept the responsibility of fatherhood! Despite acting like a father to Mia in every way through his actions, he still won't use his words! Even though in the issue following, he expresses a paternal protectiveness over her.

And I think Mia's HIV diagnosis is maybe one of the biggest examples of his distancing himself and hiding his feelings, particularly when Connor asks him how he's feeling about it.

He's so fine, so totally fine, trust him when he says he's fine, totally not freaking out. He's absolutely not terrified for his not-daughter, no way.

Ollie has this fear that if he gets too attached to his kids, he's gonna end up failing them. If he keeps a distance from them, then he can't blame himself when they get hurt. Is this good parenting? No! Absolutely not! But this is also the man who dresses up as Robin Hood and who chose to die rather than lose his arm. This is not a healthy man.

But he tries, he tries so hard, even if it's in his own way. And he recognises when he fucks up! And he tries his best to mend it later on!

He's not the best at showing his kids that he loves them, but he's so proud of Roy when he becomes Red Arrow. He comes back to life to save Connor. He stands by Mia's side when she gets diagnosed and becomes Speedy. He's not a great dad, but goddamnit he's trying to be.

In conclusion, no, Ollie is not the perfect father. He's deeply flawed, and his own emotional incompetency has been and always will be a point of conflict between him and his kids. But he's not some uncaring abuser, either. He's trying.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

“Where would be the fun in telling you the whole story?” the villain asked. They leaned forward in their chair, handcuffs rattling. “C’mon, you’re clever. Surprise me.”

“I know you’ve murdered a supervillain. An incredibly powerful non-human being. Someone, well, something I’ve been chasing after for years.” The hero crossed their arms in front of their chest. Was it really that easy? An entire threat being reduced to nothing because of the villain? “People might start calling you a hero.”

“A hero? Would that make me your what? Partner?”

“Well, right now you’re under investigation for murder. Even if it’s a supervillain, it’s still a crime.” The hero couldn’t wrap their head around why the villain would kill an ally that easily. It wasn’t like the villain was a particularly active one. More or less, they were like a puppet master, controlling other people from behind the scenes. That was dangerous enough in itself but the villain being active, being a threat instead of controlling the threads was even more worrying.

“You are the one who questioned the supervillain’s humanity just now. They’re something, not someone,” the villain pointed out.

That was foul. Using the hero’s words against them wasn’t new but both of them were fully aware of the contradiction here — was it wrong to kill a bad person? And was it right to get convicted for that?

“Is that a confession?”

The villain cocked their head, smirking even.

“You tell me. Is that enough to lock me up?”

“The evidence speaks for itself.”

“You’re drawing conclusions based on assumptions,” the villain argued. “And after all, they were a friend of mine. Why on earth should I kill someone who’s my friend?”

Indeed, the motive was the only inexplicable part in all of this.

“We have found samples of your DNA at the crime scene.”

“The victim and I used to meet there quite often to discuss work. You can ask my employees, I have a perfect record of my whereabouts for the last few months.” They looked the hero up and down, as if this was a date instead of an interrogation. They smiled when the hero’s eyes met theirs.

“You have bruises on your arms,” the hero pointed out. “The…victim was struggling before they died. There was quite the fight.”

Suddenly, the villain didn’t look as amused as before.

“You have bruises on your arms as well,” they said.

The hero blushed.

Unfortunately, a week ago the hero had actually attempted to take down the supervillain. They’d been beaten to a horrific degree and only thanks to modern medicine, they were walking and breathing.

Two days ago, some of the supervillain’s henchmen had “visited” the hero to make sure they’d gotten the message. They were still limping, refusing to go back to their medic again.

“My bruises are from practice. You can ask my martial arts teacher, I was with him yesterday.” They eyed the hero’s bruises, so the hero pushed down their sleeves.

The hero sighed.

“I’m sure all your ‘employees’ and your ‘martial arts teacher’ are in on this?” The hero closed their eyes, letting their hand go over their face a couple of times. “I know it was you. But…why? I’m a good detective. I will get more evidence. And I will most certainly figure out why you did it.”

The villain stared at them, their interest focused on the index finger the hero was holding up. They looked up at the hero eventually.

“Don’t break your pretty little head thinking too much about it, hm?”

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman-Part 42

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe : Military School

Words : 5k

TW : Violence

Masterlist

———————————————————————

 Tuesday, February 2nd; 06:00 AM -  Lucy’s Room 

I jump slightly when the alarm goes off in the room. I blink, trying to make sense of what’s happening. Once I do, I sink back into my pillow, muttering softly. It’s already morning. I have absolutely no desire to leave my bed.

“Ona, wake up,”  Lucy orders me as soon as she turns off her alarm.

I sigh, not moving an inch.  Lucy has decided to take control of my nights again. Our relationship hasn’t progressed, but now she forces me to come straight to her room after dinner, for the past week. This means I go to bed an hour earlier, without even being able to text Mapi. What  Lucy hasn’t realized yet is that this doesn’t affect my exhaustion at all. It’s still there since I still struggle to fall asleep and wake up during the night. Lucy, on the other hand, must think the problem is solved. If it wasn’t, she wouldn’t keep doing this. Knowing her, she would have found another solution. Today, though, waking up is particularly hard. On other days, I managed to get some sleep, but that wasn’t the case last night. I really don’t want to get out of bed. I have no motivation left.

“Ona,” she growls.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m getting up,” I reply sharply. “Just give me two minutes…”

“You said that yesterday and didn’t do it. So get up, now.”

I sigh and kick the blanket off with my feet. Once I’m up, I give Lucy a mocking bow, accompanied by a fake smile before locking myself in the bathroom. I don’t miss the opportunity to slam the door loudly to show my displeasure. It’s childish of me, but I’m fed up. All my troubles have worsened in just a few days, including my relationship with  Lucy. I had forgotten how resourceful she could be. She figured out that the only way to get even a bit of my attention is to become the commander I despise. She gives me orders and threatens me at the slightest protest. The worst part is, I still can’t get her out of my head because of it. She continues to take care of me. It’s as if she’s trying to make up for her mistake. Even though I try not to show it, the fact that she’s looking after me affects me deeply because I already miss her so much. Alexia is right when she says I’m slowly destroying myself with my methods. She’s going crazy because she sees me falling apart without giving her a chance to help me get better. She’s started insulting Lucy because, in her opinion, she’s not reacting when she could. It’s funny to hear her talk like that when she’s always respected  Lucy so much. It seems that Mapi is also going crazy. Since I no longer have the chance to reply to her, she’s driving Alexia mad to get news about me. Of course, Alexia keeps her informed of every detail since she’s closely following our situation. The only thing I can still hold on to are my friends. I’m so glad I’ve opened up to them. Alessia continued with evening classes after ours. I really need them, even though I doubt they’re as effective as Lucy’s lessons, but there’s no way I’m giving her that satisfaction. Spending more time with her wouldn’t help me.

“Ona, hurry up! I need to use the bathroom too, remember?”  Lucy scolds from behind the door.

“Yeah, yeah,” I grumble.

I make sure I’ve hidden the signs of my sleepless night and fix my hair before coming out.  Lucy takes my place, and I move toward my bed. I stop when I see it’s already made, which surprises me. Since we stopped talking and I’ve been refusing to sleep with her, she hasn’t touched it once. I must have been staring at it for a while because  Lucy snaps me out of my trance.

“Let’s go.”

Without a word, I grab my bag and jacket before heading out. She closes the door behind me, and we walk down the stairs in silence. Usually, I would go straight to the cafeteria. However, since she changed my nighttime routine, she now makes me accompany her to the back of my dorm, where she waits for Ingrid every morning since I’ve been sleeping in her room. According to her, it’s to make my presence near their dorm less suspicious. I think it’s just an excuse to spend a few more minutes with me. I didn’t argue, as it would have led to another fight for sure.

“Have a good day,” she wishes me.

“Thanks, you too.”

I force myself to keep a cold, unwavering demeanor so I don’t lose my composure. I wish I could tell her that none of my days have been good since we became distant, but I don’t. I mustn’t. As I leave, I give her a final small wave, which I immediately regret, realizing how friendly it seems. Finally, I head to the entrance of our dorm where Alexia is the first to come out. She’s gotten used to hurrying so no one discovers what’s going on. We’ve been quite discreet, surprisingly. I prefer that no one knows, even though I’ve gotten closer to some people. Our friends come out one by one, barely giving us time to ask each other how we’re doing. Once everyone is there, we walk to the cafeteria. I smile when Alba walks up to me and gives me a playful shoulder nudge. She’s one of the people I’ve gotten closer to. She cares a lot about me and has become almost as protective of me as she is of her sister. I find it really sweet of her. Judging by her expression, I must look terrible or something. I mean, I’ve lost all my joy of life.

“How are you today?” she asks me.

“The same as usual.”

“You started your exams this week, right?”

“Yeah. Yesterday,” I sigh. “And I’m failing all of them. I didn’t understand any of my classes.”

“It’s because you don’t focus enough when we study,” Alessia, who was nearby, comments. “But if it helps, the exams were really tough.”

“It doesn’t help, actually. And I’ve already told you, it’s not my fault if I can’t focus on this crap.”

“Why did you choose management anyway?” Alba laughs.

“It’s better not to know,” Ale interjects.

No, indeed, it’s better not to know. I’m liking my field less and less. I get no enjoyment out of it, and I’m losing sight of my initial goals without Lucy. Even though Alessia is helping me, I’m still lost in the important subjects. The only thing I can confirm is that there’s no connection between literary letters and mathematical letters. Lucy tried to push her lessons on me again last week, but that’s the one thing I managed to refuse. Alexia encouraged me to accept, but that’s out of the question. Doing it with Alessia allowed me to spend more time with her outside of class. I definitely don’t regret apologizing to her last week. Our relationship has taken another leap forward because of it. I’ve never known a girl as open-minded and wise as her. Even after everything I’ve done to her, she continues to act like nothing happened. I also discovered her well-hidden sense of humor, which allows us to have a lot of discussions and even playful jokes from time to time. I don’t regret having her in my class. Not to mention Lotte and Leah. Although Lotte is the one I’m least close to, I’ve been able to open up to her because we rotate seats to sit with everyone. Lotte seems to be uncomfortable around me, as if she’s afraid to say something. If she’s waiting for me to break the ice, she can keep waiting. My lively conversation with Alba and Alessia made me forget to be aware of my surroundings. That’s not a luxury I can afford these days. As a result, I didn’t see the clearly intentional shoulder bump from a young student I recognize as a friend of Korbin’s. It’s the first time I’ve been attacked while surrounded by my friends. Alba doesn’t miss it and doesn’t hesitate to hit her back from behind. The girls guys glare at each other with dark looks.

“Got a problem?” the girl spits.

“What about you?”

“Let it go, it’s fine,” I murmur, holding Alba back by the arm.

If I don’t, she might do something reckless that would have repercussions later. Plus, it’s not the time to make a scene here, in front of everyone. The young woman gives me a nasty smile, as if this situation won’t end without consequences, just as I thought. I still don’t understand why Korbin and her friends are bullying me so much, but I’ll need to figure it out soon to stop them. It’s no longer just taunts in class; it’s starting to go much further. If it were up to me, I would have already dealt with her, but there’s a lot at stake, and violence certainly isn’t the best defense. I’m the best person to know that.

“Come on, let’s go,” I say, pulling Alba with me.

“They won’t get away with this, those bitches!” she swears angrily once inside.

“You really should tell someone,” Ale adds from my other side.

“You know that would only make things worse.”

“Maybe, but it won’t get better if you don’t do something!”

“Mind your own business, please.”

I love Alexia, but lately, she’s been meddling in my problems a bit too much. I hate it when people do that. I ignore her grumbling complaints and follow her sister in the line. At least she doesn’t insist when I say no. I fully intend to deal with this issue myself, even though I still don’t know how I’m going to do it. All I’ve concluded is that Korbin has noticed the coldness between Lucy and me and is taking advantage of it to make my life hell at every opportunity. Is it related? I couldn’t say.

- “They’ve been bothering you for more than a week, seriously! How do you stay so calm and not react?!” Alexia hisses harshly at me.

- “Alexia, leave her alone,” her sister reprimands her.

I’m far from calm. I just don’t show it openly to avoid making things worse. I promised myself I wouldn’t ask  Lucy for help anymore. So, it’s up to me to handle this on my own. I roll my eyes as Korbin and Emma, her little lapdog, giggle while passing by our table. I’m determined to find out what she has against me that makes her and her friends use me as a punching bag. They regularly switch between physical attacks, like earlier, and even psychological ones. I’ve lost count of the homophobic remarks they’ve thrown at me or the little shoves against the wall in the hallways. It’s as if they’re constantly trying to put me down. The worst part is when I’m alone. They take advantage of my defenselessness to attack. Because of that, I make sure to stay mostly in the company of others. Just thinking about it gives me chills. If Alexia knew about this, she’d definitely pressure me even more to speak up, but I’m stuck. There’s no way I’m going to do that. I’m already shaken enough. I don’t need  Lucy or anyone else getting involved. I eat my Nutella toast without much enthusiasm. My appetite hasn’t returned, not even for breakfast. If Mapi were here, she would’ve already made a comment. As usual, we linger in the cafeteria for a long time. It’s the only time we’re sure to all be together, so we always spend more time than planned. However, today is different for me. I decide to leave earlier than the others to use the bathroom before going to class. I’m taking a risk by being alone, but I need a moment to breathe. In my rush, I realize halfway there that I’ve forgotten my bag. This is the first time it’s happened to me, how stupid of me. My mind is definitely elsewhere today. I hope someone will think to bring it to me, otherwise, I’ll have to go back and get it. After I finish in the bathroom, I wash my hands before heading out. I sigh when I come face-to-face with my two current enemies. It’s actually surprising I haven’t run into them earlier.

- “What do you want from me, idiots?”

- “Don’t get all high and mighty, you filthy lesbian.”

I roll my eyes and make sure to bump their shoulders, just like they always do, as I pass between them. I don’t really feel like getting into their games today, but that doesn’t stop me from physically shoving back.

- “So, what? Did you screw your roommate too much last night to fight back today?”

I don’t have time to respond before I’m violently shoved against the wall. I groan as I slide down to the floor from the impact. Damn it. Haven’t they had enough of tormenting me? If their goal is to provoke me, they’re going to succeed because I won’t hold back forever.

- “Are you going to answer, you worthless piece of crap?”

- “You’re the ones who are going to answer my questions.”

I lift my head, relieved to no longer be alone. Who knows what they might have done this time. They’ve never physically hit me before, but they’re certainly capable if I were to respond to their provocations. Lucy pins my two troublemakers by placing her hands on their shoulders while keeping her eyes on me. I turn my head away to avoid her gaze. I know her well enough to know she can read me just by looking, and I don’t want that. Korbin and Emma stay silent in the face of the question hanging in the air.

- “Well? Are either of you going to explain what’s going on?! And you’re all late, too,” she retorts sharply.

Now that she mentions it, I did hear the Alba. I could have done without it. I haven’t been late in a long time.

- “I- um…” Emma stammers.

- “Ona insulted us. We just wanted to make sure she doesn’t do it again,” Korbin finally responds, leaving me completely stunned.

- “I’m sure there are worse insults than ‘idiot,’” my supervisor replies coldly. “And if she said it, there’s probably a good reason.”

I bite my lip to keep from smiling. Maybe luck is still on my side a little bit. If she’s saying that, it means she’s been following our altercation from the start. The girls in front of me turn pale at her response.  Lucy removes her hands and offers me one. I take it hesitantly. I don’t even need to support myself against the wall; she lifts me up with ease.

- “Here, you forgot this in the cafeteria.”

I’m surprised to see her with my bag. I thought someone from my class would have taken it. I frown, realizing it’s impossible she found it herself. She left the cafeteria well before I did since she goes for a run after breakfast. She must have sensed my confusion because she explains without me asking.

- “Alexia ran into me on her way to class and asked me to bring it to you since she didn’t have enough time herself.”

- “Thanks…” I murmur, sliding the bag onto my shoulders.

- “Alright,” she says, patting the two girls on the shoulders. “You two are staying with me today.”

- “What?! Why?” Korbin exclaims.

- “Keep playing innocent, and I’ll take you straight to the principal’s office so you can explain your unjustified homophobic comments towards Ona.”

Korbin pales as she realizes the situation she’s put herself in. I can’t help but be happy that  Lucy found out this way. At least I won’t have to confess it to her.

- “What about her?” Korbin retorts, pointing at me. “She just gets off scot-free?”

- “She didn’t do anything, so we’re going to escort her to class.”

- “You just said it yourself. She’s late.”

- “And whose fault is that?! Anyway, I’m not asking for your opinion. As far as I know, I’m still the one in charge here! You don’t realize how lucky you are that it’s me you’re dealing with,” she says sarcastically.

She orders them to walk ahead so she can keep an eye on them. As for me, I quietly stay by her side with my head down. My shoes suddenly become very interesting. Did  Lucy know? It seems like it, but how? Could Alexia have dared to say something to her? Maybe I’m just overthinking, though it wouldn’t surprise me much. I have other worries for now. If the girls get punished because of me, it won’t go without retaliation. Even if  Lucy chews them out, I doubt it will change anything about their intentions towards me.

- “Come to my office after your classes tonight. We need to discuss what just happened,”  Lucy tells me. “Understood?”

Her voice softens suddenly. She seems genuinely concerned about what’s going on right now. I nervously bite my lip. This doesn’t help my plans.

- “Do I have to?”

- “Do I really need to answer that? If you don’t come, I’ll drag you there by the skin of your neck. That would be unpleasant, if you know what I mean.”

- “Fine,” I mumble. “I’ll come.”

I give in to avoid making her anger worse. I still know when to stop. Besides, I owe her one now. Without her, who knows how this would have ended. We arrive at my classroom. I hope my teacher will let me in. He’s not obligated to, even if Lucy excuses me. If not, I’ll have to stay with them. I’d rather be in class than deal with these two bimbos. My supervisor knocks on the door and opens it after getting permission. The whole class has their eyes on us. Lucy pushes me to the front.

- “Good morning. Sorry for the disruption. I’m bringing you a student who was held up,” she adds, pointing behind her.

- “No problem. Take your seat, Ona.”

Luckily, I start with my management teacher. Since he’s young, he’s more understanding and cooler than my other teachers. It’s a shame I don’t like his subject. I sit down in my seat, trying to ignore the knowing look between my supervisor and my teacher. I shouldn’t feel this damn jealousy, but I do. If only that poor guy knew he didn’t stand a chance.  Lucy has clearly told me she prefers women over hairy men. Still, I have a feeling their looks weren’t innocent. Could she have lied to me...? That would explain a lot of things.

"Don’t forget we’re meeting later," she reminds me finally. "Sorry again for the inconvenience."

"No problem, I assure you," he smiles at her. "Goodbye."

Keep that sweet voice for someone else, jerk. I sigh, cursing myself for thinking something like that. I pull out my things, ignoring the persistent gaze of Alessia on me.

"Is everything okay?" Leah murmurs as he turns around.

"Yeah, I’m fine."

"Alright, let’s get back to it," says my teacher. "We’re continuing the lesson, Ona," he tells me. "Grab a new sheet of paper. You can catch up on the rest later."

I nod, and he offers me a smile that I can’t bring myself to return. The scene between  Lucy and him has irritated me. He turns to continue his lesson, writing a few words on the board. I pick up my pen and leave half a page blank, as Alessia suggested, to get back into the lesson as best as I can.

 Tuesday, February 2nd; 4:40 PM - Restroom. 

Twenty minutes have passed since I sat on the floor of a restroom stall. I told my teacher I wasn’t feeling well. Well, it’s not entirely a lie. He let me come here, and now here I am. I wipe my face with my sleeve to remove the remaining tears. I couldn’t hold them back this time. I’ve never had good luck in my life, and I probably never will. My morale being so low is really starting to weigh on me. At this moment, I feel like I could relapse at any moment. I try to calm my trembling. It’s as if I’m going through withdrawal, even though I haven’t touched anything like that in months. I’m just at my wit’s end. I take five minutes to collect myself before standing up. I splash some water on my face to hide the damage. My teacher will probably never let me go to the restroom again after this incident. With my things still in the classroom, I have no choice but to go back. It’s my last hour anyway. What’s waiting for me afterward is even less appealing. When I return, I apologize for taking so long. Against all odds, he doesn’t seem to be mad at me. My awful appearance probably had something to do with it. I go back to my seat, and he resumes the lesson as if nothing happened. I finish the class with my head resting on my arms. I’ve missed most of my lessons anyway, so there’s no point in trying to follow along now. Besides, I don’t understand anything. I’m lucky my math teacher doesn’t reprimand me for my posture. The bell finally rings ten minutes later. I leave with my friends but abandon them on the way to head to Lucy’s office. I hope I’ve regained some color; it would save me from some comments. I wanted to stop by the restroom again, but I’m running out of time. I’m afraid  Lucy might carry out her threat if I don’t show up within ten minutes. I tap softly against the open door of the office. My facade drops when I see that only Ingrid is there. Either Lucy is already out searching the halls for me, or she’s not here yet. Either way, the answer won’t please me.

"Wow, Ona," she says, surprised. "What’s going on? You look awful."

"Nothing," I mumble. "Where’s Bronze?"

"You know you don’t have to call her that in front of me," she replies. "She told me you’d be coming. Have a seat; she shouldn’t be long."

At least she’s not looking for me everywhere. This is the first time she’s been late after giving me a time. I slump into one of the chairs in front of me and place my bag on the other.

"Can I go to the restroom?" I ask.

"No, sorry. I’m not allowed to let you leave before she sees you."

Of course. That answer doesn’t surprise me. I slump onto  Lucy’s desk while I wait. She better hurry up.

"You know, Ona, just because things are tense with  Lucy doesn’t mean you have to ignore me."

"Sorry," I mumble. "I tend to avoid anything related to Lucy, if you know what I mean."

I turn around as she sighs. She nods, giving me a sad smile.

"I understand. Just know I don’t agree with her decision, anyway. I hope she realizes it soon enough."

She falls silent as a noise at the door catches our attention. Lucy has arrived with slightly red cheeks and nose from the cold. She sighs in frustration as she takes off her jacket and scarf. At least I know neither of us seems to have had a good day. I glance over at Ingrid, who gives me a sympathetic smile before getting back to work. I didn’t expect her to be aware of what’s going on with  Lucy. Anyway, it’s nice of her to let me know. It makes me feel somewhat supported.

"Damn, it’s cold today," grumbles  Lucy. "Sorry for being late, Ona."

"Hmm."

She hangs up her things on the coat rack, then comes to sit across from me. She gives me a small smile that I don’t return. Her eyes then drift to my bag on the other chair.

"Perfect, you have your things."

"Yeah… And?"

"Take them out, please. We’re going to study together."

"What?" I frown incredulously. "I thought we were going to talk about this morning!"

"You should have guessed I already have all the answers on that. Come on, take out your things."

I sigh in frustration, running a hand through my hair. I knew it. She already knows. How did she find out? From whom? Anyway, she lured me here like a fool. This confirms that I’m far too naive under her influence.

"How do you know?" I snap.

"I never stopped keeping an eye on you," she says calmly. "Your things—I won’t repeat myself. You need to make up for your missed tests."

"Who do you think you are?" I spit. "How can you know something like that? I never asked for your help, as far as I know!"

We stare each other down, our eyes as fiery as the other’s, for a long moment before a chair scrapes the floor. It’s neither of us, so it must be Ingrid.

"Seriously, girls, this is getting ridiculous. You’re only hurting each other. I’m going to leave, so take this chance to talk and sort out your problems."

I puff out my cheeks and turn my head away, crossing my arms. There’s no way I’m talking to  Lucy when this is all her fault. We’ve said everything we needed to say to each other. Ingrid finally leaves the room, closing the door behind her. This is the first time she’s ever locked us in.  Lucy’s first reaction is to fix her hair.

"There’s no need to sulk," she scolds. "Take out your management course. You’ve got a test tomorrow."

"I had it on Monday," I reply.

"It was so disastrous that I convinced him to let you retake it tomorrow."

"Again, I didn’t ask you for anything."

"A simple ‘thanks’ would have sufficed. Now hurry up, you’re wasting my time."

"But I didn’t ask for anything, damn it!" I shout, standing up. "I might as well leave if I’m wasting your time so much!"

"That’s not what I meant," she sighs. "I’m sorry. I really want you to pass this year, so please, come sit down next to me."

I was about to turn on my heel, but her gentle eyes won me over. I hate the influence she still has over me.

"Fine," I sigh. "I agree, but this will be the last time you interfere in my life."

I openly challenge her, feeling a certain pride at having found this compromise so quickly. She tilts her head as if considering my proposal. I need compromise with her. It’s how we’ve always operated.

"Alright, I won’t intervene in your life anymore. But it will take more than just one lesson to satisfy me. We both know you’re struggling in this field."

She raises an eyebrow, challenging me in return. Always and forever with the negotiations. I suppose I can come back here, knowing she won’t interfere in my life anymore.

"Fine. Your promise not to meddle in my problems in exchange for evening study sessions."

"We’re in agreement, then."

I don’t know why, but I feel like I’m losing in this deal. She may not meddle in my life anymore, but we’ll be spending more time together. Despite this thought, I conclude our arrangement with a handshake. I then move my chair to sit next to her. I pull out some scrap paper and my notes, which look like complete gibberish to me. I had never studied management before today.

"Let’s start from the beginning. Stay focused."

I listen closely as she explains the lesson in her own way. I can already see the difference compared to Alessia. I hope this time I’ll be able to understand something; otherwise, I’m in deep trouble and should really worry about my future.

 Tuesday, February 2nd; 8:45 PM - Student Dormitory. 

I spent my evening avoiding  Lucy. After our study session, I slipped away to the cafeteria to join my friends. I felt Lucy’s eyes on me the whole time I ate. Unfortunately for me, our study session went well. I feel even more unsettled than before. Why is she doing this? She’s acting so contradictory. I mean, she pushes me away, but she continues to help me and worry about me. Someone is going to have to explain her behavior to me because I don’t understand it anymore. Maybe I should talk to Ingrid. She’ll probably explain what’s going on, why Lucy is still keeping an eye on me. Maybe she even knows what  Lucy really thinks. No one keeps an eye on someone they don’t care about, right? She’s going to drive me crazy.

"You know you need to go back, right?" Ale asks me.

"Yeah. I'll go soon...," I sighed.

Before leaving the cafeteria, I asked Lucy if I could hang out in my room for a bit, and surprisingly, she agreed. I slightly regret not asking her earlier. Maybe she would have let me do it on the other days as well.

"Hey, Ale? I had a question."

"Yes?"

"Did you tell Lucy about Korbin and her friends?"

"No," she replies, frowning. "I just asked her to find you quickly. Why?"

"You're not lying to me?"

"Why would I? I know I insist a lot, but you asked me not to do it, so I didn't."

I sigh as I get up to put my sketchbook away in my empty wardrobe. All my stuff is still in  Lucy's room since I haven't left the school since I spent the weekend at her place.

"She knows, anyway," I announce. "Unless she was bluffing, but I doubt it."

"Knows about the harassment?"

"I guess," I shrug. "I don't know exactly what she knows. Anyway, she punished Korbin and Emma today for making homophobic remarks towards me."

"That's good, isn't it?"

"We'll see when I have to face them tomorrow. Don't you think?"

I see her nervously biting her lip as if she's thinking it over. I sincerely hope she didn't say anything to  Lucy like she claims. I would be upset if she did. I decide not to push the matter and put on my jacket, then adjust my bag on my shoulders. It's time for me to return to my cursed den. I give her a quick hug and kiss her on the cheek.

"Goodnight, Ale."

"Goodnight, ex-roomie! Please come back soon, okay? I'm starting to miss you in the evenings. I feel lonely."

"Be happy I’m not hogging all the hot water anymore," I tease.

"That's true," she giggles. "You did that to me a lot! Doesn't Bronze complain about it?"

"I apologized for weeks! And no, she showers in the morning."

"Oh, you two even have your routines..." she chuckles.

I roll my eyes at her remark, though she's probably not wrong. Even though we’re not on good terms, we live together quite well. I say goodbye one last time before leaving. I walk calmly down the hallway until someone suddenly shoves me hard against the wall. I don't have time to react before the person grabs my throat to strangle me. I close my eyes, trying hard to hold back the tears that are threatening to fall. I grasp at her wrists, trying to pull them away, but the surprise of the attack makes it impossible. She’s managed to lift me onto my tiptoes. I quickly start running out of air.

"You bitch," spits my attacker, whom I recognize as Korbin. "You’ll pay for ratting us out! Don’t think you’ll get away with it so easily, and you’d better keep your mouth shut this time!" she snarls.

She suddenly lets go, making me collapse to the ground. I stifle a groan as she kicks me in the stomach. She giggles as she walks away down the hallway. I cough, gasping for air, before finally letting my tears fall. This girl is insane. She'll never stop! Why does this kind of thing always have to happen to me? I stay on the ground for a moment to recover from the attack. Then I force my trembling body to get up and quickly leave the hallway, heading to  Lucy's room. I don't hesitate to use the instructors' access route. Lucy has given me permission to use it in the evenings to be more discreet. When I reach the other side, I immediately lock myself in the bathroom after grabbing my things. Luckily,  Lucy was too absorbed in her computer to notice me. Maybe she watched me over the top of her screen, but I didn’t see it. I expected my shower to clear my head tonight, but it's no use. I can still feel those cursed fingers on me. I only return to the bedroom once I feel ready. I expected to have to face  Lucy for taking so long, but the room is plunged into darkness. I move blindly to find my bed. I find it without difficulty and sit on it. I wait a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. In front of me is  Lucy, who has her back to me. It's the first time she’s ever ignored me, and it’s happening at the moment when I need her most. I’m almost certain she’s not sleeping. Her breathing isn’t as steady as it should be. I glance at her clock, which shows 9:45 PM. I close my eyes to chase away the moisture starting to form.

"L- Lucy?" I attempt.

I bite my lip when I get no response from her. I know she's not asleep. I lower my head, playing with my fingers. This is the first time I feel ready to set my pride aside, but this situation is too much for me.

"I-I-... Uh... C-can I sleep with you?"

I feel so desperate asking her something like that, but I know full well that I won’t have a peaceful night after what just happened. I lower my eyes at her silence. I sigh in defeat as I start to pull up my blanket when I hear her move.

"Come here," she murmurs.

I blink, not expecting a response from her. To confirm her words, she gently pats the empty spot on her bed.

"You can come," she confirms.

I quickly move around the bed before she can change her mind and lie down next to her. Now I can see her face. Our eyes meet for a moment, but I quickly turn my back to her, keeping a reasonable distance. She doesn’t seem to agree with that, though, as she wraps her arm around me, pulling me close to her. She holds me tightly, as if she’s afraid I’ll leave. This thought brings tears that start streaming down my cheeks. I had terribly missed the feeling of having her close to me. I try not to choke so she won't notice, even though I think she can feel it given our proximity. Yet, she doesn’t say anything. I intertwine my fingers with hers, which are resting against my stomach, seeking as much contact as possible. Since I’m here, I might as well fully embrace the moment. A whimper escapes me unintentionally when she kisses my head.

"Goodnight, Princess."

Not feeling capable of replying, I just tighten the embrace between us. I try to calm the anxiety gripping me, but it's difficult. Yet, in her arms, I know that everything will always be okay. I finally close my eyes, trying to enjoy the moment and relax. Tomorrow is another day, and who knows what awaits me after this night.