#i'm ??? she got over her fear??? my child lol

[earthchica]

sweetest things | 2

terry richmond x black fem! reader

summary: take a chance with Terry and see how things go.

warning: explicit smut (18+), fluff, unprotected sex, slight daddy kink, foreplay, oral (f & m), light choking, light spanking, dirty talking, friends to lovers, pet names { baby, baby girl, angel & more }

note: Sweet and nasty, Terry is everything lol. here's part two! please enjoy!

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It's been at least a week, and you've been avoiding Terry since his confession and the kiss you two shared.

Oh, the kiss.

That's all you could think about: the way he held you close, how soft and sweet his lips were, and how his tongue danced along with yours.

You've never felt this way about anyone else in your life; you thought you did with your late fiancé, but this was different.

Terry was everything you hoped to find again, and honestly, you wanted him to be more than your friend, but you were afraid.

Meanwhile, Terry wasn't upset that you left; he was more concerned, he didn't know what went wrong.

He tried talking to you, but clearly, you needed time to think, so he didn't push.

"However, the more he gave you space, the more he missed having you around.

You felt terrible leaving him hanging like that, but your fears were clouding your judgment.

You had gotten used to being alone, but now that you had found someone like Terry.

You knew you were missing the one thing you had been yearning for: and that's love.

"Why are you over here, huh?" your mom asked, and you straightened up and gazed at her.

"What, you don't like my company anymore?" You inquired, settling onto the couch beside her.

"You know I didn't say that, girl. I'm just saying I don't want you to end up like me...alone" She says sofly.

"You're not alone, Mama. You got me." You softly uttered those words, gently taking hold of her hand, causing a warm smile to bloom on her face.

"I know, sugar, but I don't want you to miss out on love like I did after your father died. I want you to move forward in life and take a chance with that sweet man, Terry, you always talk about," she said, placing her hand under your chin barely.

"I'm just scared, Mama," You said, looking down with an emotional expression.

"I understand, sugar, but it's okay to take a chance and see how things go. Don't you think Scott would've wanted you to move on and be happy?"

You paused, letting her words sink in. It was a moment of decision and she was right.

The burden of loneliness and the remorse of moving on had exhausted you, and you were done with it.

Scott would not want this pain and sadness for you; he would have wanted you to experience love and happiness again.

You looked warmly at your mother, knowing she was always right and gave the best advice.

"You're right, mama," You said lightly.

Your mom affectionately says, "I know I am. Now, go get your man, child."

You couldn't help but giggle, leaning in to gently kiss your mom's cheek before you grabbed your bag and headed out the door.

You pulled up in front of Terry's house, feeling excitement and nervousness.

Taking a deep breath, you approach the door, and with a thumping heart, you knock.

The door swings open, and you immediately meet his eyes as his voice softly utters your name.

"Hey, Terry, uh, can we talk?" you asked with a hopeful smile. He nodded and moved out of the way to let you in.

You both walked into the living room and sat on the couch silently until Terry broke the silence.

"Shit...I'll get it if you don't feel the same. I just wanted to tell you how you-" He began rambling, and you tried to get a word in.

"Terry...Terry...Terry" You repeatedly said his name to get his attention, but he kept rambling on.

"Terry...I love you," you blurted out, catching him off guard. He glanced over at you with a genuine surprise on his face.

"What did you say?" He asked with a frown, trying to make sure he heard you correctly.

You moved closer to him on the couch, taking hold of his hand into yours.

"I love you, Terry, and I'm sorry I didn't tell you right then and there last week. I was scared and a little overwhelmed with feelings, but I realized I had nothing to fear." You said, getting a little teary while holding his hand.

"You've shown me who you are, Terry; you're everything I've ever longed for. I thought I could never love again after Scott, but you've proved me wrong. I love being around you and how you make me feel. I want to have another chance at love again, and I want that to be with you." You finished with a kiss on his hand.

Terry smiled, feeling bliss burst through his body after hearing your beautiful confession.

"Damn, baby girl, I'm so fucking happy to hear that. I-I love you," He said, which made you giggle and lean in, crashing your lips against his.

Terry wrapped his strong arms around your waist and pulled you closer.

You moaned as he started kissing your neck, and you began lifting his shirt, feeling his abs.

He pulled back before things could escalate further, resting his forehead against yours.

"There's no rush into this; we can take it slow, baby," He whispered, brushing your hair out of your face.

"Do you want me, Terry?" You asked, gently rubbing your forehead against his, feeling his breath on your cheek.

"Fuck...I do. I want you, and I want to show you how you make me feel! I just want to make sure you're ready," He says sincerely, his tone of voice turning you on.

"I am...I want you, Terry. I want you so badly; please show me, and don't hold back!" you purred into his ear.

He kissed you, lifted you from the couch, and carried you to his bedroom.

Terry positioned you on the edge of the bed, tenderly kissing you once more.

You brought him down to the bed with you, swiftly taking his shirt off as his hands reached to start unzipping your dress.

He pulls your dress over your head and starts kissing your neck and grasping your plump breasts in his hands.

You moaned at his touch, holding his arm as he unhooked your peach-colored bra before moving down to your matching panties.

"Mmm, baby, you're already wet for me? You've been waiting for this to happen, huh?" Terry's voice rumbled with a deep, lustful tone, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Does this feel good, baby?" Terry asked, started circling motion through your panties with his fingers, making you moan with pleasure.

"Yes...Terry," you whispered his name softly. He hovered and began leaving kisses down your stomach to your inner thigh.

He was teasing you, and you didn't like that at all. You needed him; you wanted him.

"Terry, please," You begged desperately.

"Please, what, baby girl? You use your words. Tell me what you want?" He said it so dominantly, which you loved in a man in the bedroom.

You sit up slightly, letting out a whimper while looking into his eyes that were filled with lust and love.

"I need you, Daddy. I need to feel your mouth; I need your everything," You begged, eyes wide and filled with an irresistible lust and love.

"That's it, baby, that's what I want to hear," He said in a hushed tone, ripping your panties, causing you to gasp in surprise.

Terry chuckles, removing the rest of your panties before spreading your legs a little wider for him to plunge his tongue between my wet folds.

A moan escaped your lips as your head fell back to the bed, hands finding Terry's head.

The grip of his strong hands on your thighs as he devours your pussy has your head spinning.

His lips capture your clit, and suck it into his mouth, alternating between flicks with the tip of his tongue and light nibbles with his teeth.

"Ahhh....yes, Terry...yes!" you moaned, gripping his arm, your fingers digging into his flesh as steading yourself on the bed.

Terry muffled in your pussy, sending wild rumble through your body; he slid in one finger, then two, crooking them to massage your sweet spot.

"Fuck..you taste so good, baby girl. And doing so well for me," He said, gazing up at you from your pussy, overflowing with praise.

His eyes shimmered with pride and love, and you returned the same look, eagerly wanting, needing more from him.

"Keep fucking lookin at me like that, beautiful girl. and you'll get what you want," He says in his deep voice.

You kept your eyes on him as his tongue flicked hungrily over your clit, the way his mouth just worked so hard to make you squirt.

Terry was truly fingering and eating' this kitty kat as if it was the last official meal of his life.

"Shit, daddy. Oh my god, I can't...I can't...I can't take it anymore." You moaned and struggled to break free, but his grip kept you in place.

You feel him pull his fingers out and focus all of his attention on licking your swollen, sensitive clit.

"Shhh... you got this, baby. You've been doing so good for Daddy!" Terry says, going back in.

You cried in pleasure, feeling your body tense; you knew you were close to the edge.

You grasped the crisp sheets of the bed as you felt the rush of exhilaration coursing through your body.

"Oh my god, oh my god, I'm gonna fucking cum" You cried, exploding on his lips with a gust sound.

"Mmm, that's it, baby, you taste so sweet," Terry said with a smirk while your juices were all over his face.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm down from your high. Terry wiped his mouth before slowly moving up to hover over you.

Terry began planting soft, lingering kisses up your body until he finally reached your lips, almost stealing your breath away.

You smirked into the kisses at him and flipped him on his back down to the bed.

You unbelt his jeans and, taking them down with his underwear, gasped at the sight of his thickness.

"You're so big...and juicy, Daddy," You said softly, started stroking him a little bit before taking his throbbing dick deep in your throat.

"Fuck!" Terry grunts, holding your hair back with both hands. You start bobbing up and down his shaft heavily, your hand stroking him.

"So fucking good, baby, Taking me in so well, fucking gobble on that dick," He says, gently placing his hand on the back of your head, cradling it with care.

You loved how dirty he was talking to you. It was turning you on more—a sweet, caring man who knew how to talk dirty. *love it*

Terry sits up on an elbow to start fucking your face, making an even pace to thrust into your mouth.

You moaned, enjoying every minute of it simply because his dick tasted so heavenly in your mouth.

You popped him out of the mouth with a gasp of saliva before biting your lip to stroke him between your plump breasts.

"How does this feel Daddy?" you asked, sensing he was about to bust with the expression on his face.

"Fuck, baby. So good, so fuck....I'm about to" He stopped mid-sentence, feeling his cum shoot out of the tip of the dick.

Went all over his stomach, your breasts...a little bit of your face. You smiled happily, cleaning it up with your tongue.

You lay next to him, kissing his neck while observing him slowly calming down from his high.

Terry looks over at you with a grin before he reaches your lips; he gently moves on top, igniting a fiery and passionate kiss that leaves your heart racing.

His dick rubs against your wet folds, not daring to enter but just rubbing and teasing.

Terry slowly enters your wet pussy, which makes both of you moan at the same time.

He then wraps your legs around his waist, burying his face into your neck before starts thrusting slowly while kissing your neck.

You placed your hands on his back as he went faster than before.

"Yes...Yes...just like that. It feels so good, Terry," You whispered in his ear.

He moves away a little bit to grip your waist as your hands move to grip his strong, toned arms.

Both of you stared at each other while moaning and groaning at the great pleasure you two were receiving from one another.

You were loving the way every inch of his dick was pounding inside your soaked, wet pussy.

You began rubbing your clit to feel yourself rising again. "Oh, Terry, it feels so good. Don't stop, don't stop."

"I won't ever stop, baby...fuck...that pussy clenching that dick," Terry groaned, pushing you to lay sideways.

He grips your ass cheek, pounding into you, making your eyes roll in the back of your head.

Your breasts bounced with every rhythm of thrust he gave you. He wrapped his hand around your neck while putting a finger in your mouth.

Your body again began to shake as you felt your second orgasm begin to build and rise quickly.

You both kissed entirely in sync, feeling your walls tightening around him, and the next thing you knew.

Both of you came together.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." Terry repeatedly cursed, slipping out, resting his dick against your ass cheek while stroking the cum out of the tip.

You and Terry gradually eased back from the intense rush before tenderly assisting each other in tidying up.

His chest rose and fell gently beneath your head as his left arm lazily draped over your waist.

"That was amazing!" you said while gazing at Terry, who responded with a tired, soft smile.

"For sure, baby girl," he whispers with a chuckle, tenderly pressing his lips against your forehead.

After that evening, your routine with Terry remained the same, except you two were now a couple.

And after dating for months and establishing boundaries, everything was going amazingly good.

Eventually, Terry met your mom, and she adored him; they got along so well.

Months passed by swiftly in years, and you both faced ups and downs, but you overcame them, and your relationship strengthened.

Your love has deepened, and you find yourselves falling more deeply in love with him each day.

You remembered the day your mother advised you to take a chance with Terry, and you were so glad you did.

"What's going on, that pretty little head of yours?" Terry inquired, gently drawing you away from your thoughts.

You both just left a charming seaside restaurant after celebrating your third anniversary.

The sound of waves crashing in the distance filled the air, drawing you two for a nice walk on the beach.

"I'm just thinking," You said with a soft chuckle, wrapping your arm tightly around his, holding on closely.

"About?" he asked with a playful grin, gently nudged your arm, eliciting a joyous giggle from you.

"How amazingly you and I worked out. How lucky I am that I got to meet and fall in love with you," you said, stopping you two on the beach.

Terry looks at you with such love and warmth before kissing your lips and wrapping his arms around your waist.

He pulled away, cupping your face with his hand before speaking so sweetly and softly.

"You know, baby girl, I feel the same. I always wondered how lucky I am to meet and fall deeply in love with such an angel. You know you always ensured I felt your unconditional love and sense of security. You embraced every part of me, the good and bad, and never judged me. I want to be with you for the rest of my life, baby," he says, getting down on one knee.

You gasped in disbelief at the scene before you. The love of your life was asking you to marry him.

You had a hunch this moment would arrive, yet you were a little overwhelmed by it.

"Baby, I wanna get married, I wanna have a family, and I wanna see our kids grow up while we grow old together." He shared with a tearful chuckle, and you laughed alongside him.

In a trembling, anxious voice, Terry asked, "So..will you marry me?"

Overwhelmed with emotion.

You replied, "Terry, yes! I love you so much. Yes, I will marry you."

"Really?" he asked happily, and you nodded excitedly; he stood up and gently placed the ring on your finger.

"I love you so much, baby, "Terry said, lifting and spinning you around in pure joy.

You found immense happiness and overcame guilt by following your heart all those years ago.

However, this was only the start of your happier ever after with Terry.

[maikeymonroe]

undefined

Maika Monroe uploaded to their story!

[lady06reaper]

Viking x Sweetheart reader. Who on the outside is a big sweetheart who wouldn't hurt a fly. Said Viking got her from a village.

Only when alone with her husband does she cuss like a sailor and scream when she wants to. Just a overall temper (Viking finds it hot tho-)

She also acts like this around her kids (if she has any) and her kids are absolutely flabbergasted to see how their mom acts outside of home. Often getting secretly slapped upside the head when they say something smart only to realize no one saw it.

- Marshmellow (bit of a crackfic lol)

ya know, this the OPPOSITE of me, I'll cuss anytime, it's only when I'm alone I'm a total "sweetheart"

NSFW lines are slashed, the rest is SFW besides the cussing

HOW THE RAGNARSONS REACT TO YOU HAVING THE MOUTH OF A SAILOR

Bjorn wouldn't know it was coming, you were the sweet and doting wife, helping neighbors and playing with the local children

Your were a delicate flower in his eyes, but he knew you could hold your own when need be

Until you came home and slammed your dagger into the table where he was eating

"That mother fucking no tits asshole of a cunt! Who the hell does she think she is?! Talking about my damn husband in that fucking manner!"

his hand stopped mid path to his opened mouth, his eyebrows rose away from his widened eyes

did he hear that correctly? or was the mead taking effect already?

he stayed like that for a few moments until you snapped at him to say something

"Your mouth, where'd you learn to talk like that?"

little to Bjorns knowledge, you had always had that vocabulary, it just only came out when you were pissed

not to mention you prefer to keep the innocent facade up in public, but that doesn't you can't flip the switch if you get pushed more than what you did that day

More occurrences like this happened, though he was prepared to just let you go and cool off

that doesn't mean he didn't help you let out your frustrations with sex either

Now he knew that this delicate flower of his was poisonous

Ubbe had a feeling that that mouth of yours was dirty, he just never witnessed it

unless you were going down on him

the feeling stayed dormant for the longest time, until he came home to the long house turned upside down

furniture was strewn across from its original places, some were broken too

You were sitting on the throne throwing daggers at a table you had propped up on its side, cussing every time the enlarged knives left your hands

"That *thud* little dicked *thud* no balls *thud* bastard child *thud* of a fucking merchant! *thud*"

he now knew his feeling was right, as they normally were

he was grateful you ran out of daggers when he reached you, or otherwise he feared one would end up in him

he didn't need no explanation, he knew that the merchant you were lewdly referring to must've tried something on you to woo you away from him, it wasn't the first time, but you were so sweet in public that you didn't want to ruin your public look by cussing the man out in public

no words were spoken as he picked you up bridal style and carried you over to the bathtub where you and Ubbe would share a relaxing soak

Ivar knew from the start that you had a mouth, there was no way you were as innocent as you portrayed

there was always two sides to sword, he just hasn't seen your sharper, more deadlier side

until he about took your blade to his throat when he approached you in the woods while you were hacking a tree with your sword

"What's the matter my dove?" Ivar cocked his head to the side.

"That god damn fish fucking tree humping shit eating whore of woman your brother keeps closely by his side! Bitch tried to say my form was wrong during training!"

and there was your sharper edge

Ivar never understood why you kept this side hidden, especially from him

he figured it was a threat to everyone to have your meaner side out in public, and keep your softer side for him only

but Ivar wasn't you, you preferred to keep this side a secret incase you truly needed it

he thought it was hot watching those profanities drip from your mouth

like his cum did last night when you two were fucking

but, I also know that if he encouraged the sailor talk he would also receive it too, which would most likely turn into a battle of who can come up with the worst names

he liked the fiery side of you and wished you would show it more often

the villagers did not as they heard every cuss word that came out of your mouth, including the whore

[m0nsterqzzz]

Happy Wife Happy Life

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pairing: Clarisse La Rue x fem!reader

summary: being Clarisse's "wife" will always have it's perks

a/n: honestly don't know how to feel about this but I'm tired. anyway, kinda hate the ending. and my writing lol.

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Love is the greatest thing.

At least, in your eyes it is.

It can bring the strongest people to their knees, risking their lives or others lives just so that they can keep their person happy. It's always been amazing to you.

Not so much in your best friend Clarisse's. She'd much rather have the glory of being the strongest kid in school, or be feared by your classmates. "Love is stupid." She always tells you while she watches you study under the willow tree she likes climbing.

"No, it's not. It's powerful. You like powerful things don't you?" You'd say back with an airy laugh, then forcing her to come back down from the branches so you can help her with her math homework.

She's heard lots about the emotion called jealousy, but she'd never truly felt it until she saw Holly Bracken kiss your cheek during recess one day. The tightening of the chest, the way her throat went dry and she clenched her fist by her side from the other end of the black top and tried to stop herself from throwing the basketball in her hands towards the blonde girl's head. It wasn't a feeling Clarisse liked, and the feeling only went away when you were laying in her arms under the tree after school that day.

That warm afternoon, she'd asked you to marry her with a paper ring, one that you cherished for a whole week until it got caught in something and broke. You'd obviously said yes, the fact that you had a huge crush on her not exactly helping as you forced yourself to remember she was obviously kidding. Sealing the marriage with I do and then placing a chaste kiss on the back of your hand like she'd seen done in the romantic movies her mother likes watching, you were officially hers. As long as you were her wife, Holly Bracken could no longer kiss your cheek with that ugly smug smile.

She went on to make sure of that, introducing you as her wife to anyone and everyone that was willingly to listen. You two were young, and nobody took it quite seriously until she saved up almost a full year's allowance money to buy you a nice looking- but still cheap- promise ring from the jewelry store downtown. It was a silent promise, one that she eventually voiced as you were sleeping over at her house.

"I'll be with you forever." She'd whispered in your ear, and you foolishly believed her.

She was gone three weeks later.

You didn't get a phone call, an email, or even a letter. She just....disappeared.

Her family stopped answering the door for you, seemingly purposefully avoiding you in town. It was months before you finally gave up, and it was obvious to anyone that looked hard enough you were slowly becoming a shell of yourself without her. Without your girl.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

The only thing in your life that is weirder than Clarisse's mysterious disappearance, was the fact that a boy just told you you're a child of one of the Greek gods. You couldn't believe him. You'd learned about the gods in school, but there was no fudging way they were real. You'd only finally agreed to go to some place called Camp Half Blood when he rolled up one of his pant legs to reveal furry goat legs. Nothing will ever be weirder than that.

Just in time too, because right after you left the school building and started sprinting towards the forest across from the place, some giant winged creature that no one else seemed to see crashed through a window and started flying towards you.

Your protector, someone you learned is a satyr named Joey, lead you to camp with minimal death, which you learned is very rare when it comes to leading a demi-god to camp. It didn't help with the newly installed fear inside you, but you just simply nodded along with what he was saying as your eyes scanned the crowds of campers that are doing their own thing below the hill you stand on.

The moment you step past what Joey calls Thalia's tree, all eyes are on you. A new camper means special events so they feel welcome which means more fun for the campers and the drama of figuring out who their godly parent is. 

You don’t have any belongings other than the clothes on your skin and the school pencil that’s brought you a strange sense of comfort on your long trip. A female camper with blonde hair and gray eyes comes up and introduces herself as Annabeth, helping you to the “Hermes” cabin to give you a camp t-shirt and new pants. She explains all the new campers go there, at least until they get claimed, which means the kids in there are either children of Hermes, unclaimed, or new just like you. 

Since everyone is gone doing daily activities, you decide to just change in the cabin. It’s peaceful, the sound of campers laughter, birds in the trees.

Your blissful silence is broken when someone tightly wraps their arms around you from behind you and lifts you up in the air with a squeal, your hands flying to cover your bra-covered chest. “What the hell?!” You scream, but the profanities you were going to yell out die down in your throat when the person sets you down and you turn around to see Clarisse.

She doesn’t look much different, her hair a little bit grown out and her band t-shirts and jeans have been replaced by camouflage pants and an orange camp half blood shirt similar to the one you’re trying to put on. You’re so starstruck that you just stare, her arms still loosely wrapped around your waist as you stand there in only a bra and jeans. “Clar?” She nods, grinning brightly as she pulls you into yet another hug.

You’re much more aware this time, pushing her away harshly as you hurry to put on the shirt and then leave the cabin with a quick roll of your eyes. The curly haired girl is hot on your tail, attempting to grab your wrist to stop you before you pull it away as if she’s burned you. Her face is full of hurt, but your voice shows the same amount as you ask, “Why didn’t….why didn’t you call? Or email? Or-or send me a fucking letter? Just to let me know you were okay? That you came here.”

She sighs, eyes full of regret as they fall to look at her doc martens so she doesn’t have to see your sadness. “I couldn’t call you because a phone call is like sending a message out to any monsters that could be listening and find out where we are. Email, I don’t have any electronics cuz of the whole call thing.”

“And letter? I bet monsters don’t know how to read Clar.” The girl is silent for a minute, and as the silence continues is when you realize she doesn’t have an answer for you. You scoff, beginning to walk to who knows where again before she runs to catch up with you.

“I’m sorry, okay? I was scared. Gods, I was scared.” The worlds tumble out of her mouth before she can stop them, and the campers around you fall silent as they stare with mouths agape in shock.

“Scared? What’s there to be scared of? It’s just me.” She nods, wordlessly reaching out to hold your hand. You let her this time and she feels relief flood through her. “Scared. I was scared….scared that you would hate me for leaving. I mean, what kind of woman leaves her wife?” She attempts a small laugh, and she takes it as a win that the corners of your mouth twitch upwards in the start of a smile. “I promised you forever and then left without another word. You had been looking at me through rose colored glasses our entire lives, I was scared those glasses were shattered. It’s not an excuse though. I should’ve sent you a letter, told you I was okay and told you how much I missed you.”

A small smile works its way onto your face, but she can still see the sadness in your eyes and she hates it. She hates it when you're sad. “Come here angel.” The girl hesitantly pulls you into her arms, almost crying when you relax into her hold and hug her back before she remembers where you guys are and how many campers are staring in shock at how sweet she’s acting.

“You have to understand that I’m still mad Clar. Even if you were scared, I spent years living in fear you were dead.” You mumble against her shoulder as you grip onto her like she’s going to disappear again if you let go.

The girl nods in agreement, cradling your head to her chest as she glares at the campers in an attempt to get them to leave you two alone. They do it.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Clarisse brings you to her cabin, cuddling with you in her bed as she tells you anything and everything that has happened over the past. She’s a child of Ares, and you spend several minutes that it makes sense after the amount of times she threatened other kids by saying she should hang them from the top of the flagpole. 

By dinner time, it’s like no time has passed, and everyone’s eyes are on you as you two walk in with her arm casually placed on your around the back of your waist as she leads you to her table where her siblings are trying not to make fun of her. After a lot of begging and threats, Chiron agreed to let you sit at the Ares table for your first week at camp. “Hey guys.” Her happy tone is a rare one around her by the look on their faces, the smile even rarer as she sits you down next to her spot on the bench. “This is my wife.”

The whole room goes silent, all eyes trained on you as your eyes dart up to stare at her. “What are you-” She cuts you off with amusement dancing in her brown eyes.

“What do you want to eat, honey?” Clarisse asks you, and a son of Ares you know as Mark scoffs before he says, “The last time I asked you to get me food, you poured your drink in my lap and told me it wasn’t your job.”

The smile falls from your friend's face as she glares at him. “That’s because it isn’t my job.”

“Then why are you getting her food?” 

“Because a happy wife equals a happy life alright? Now shut the fuck up.”

The smile is back as she turns to face you again, taking your order before she leaves to get that and her own food. 

The rest of the campers go back to their meals, though they’re clearly gossiping about Clarisse’s supposed wife as they eat. It doesn’t make you feel very happy, but all the doubt is gone as your girl comes back and sits down next to you, setting the food down before her hand falls to hold your hand under the table the way she used to during lunch at school.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

A little bit later, you finish eating and join in the group of campers leaving the dining hall towards the campfire with Clarisse walking beside you. “My legs hurt.” You mumble while leaning closer to her. She doesn’t miss a beat as she picks you up bridal style, casually carrying you to the bonfire like you weigh absolutely nothing. Smiling at the sound of your laughter, she sets you down on one of the logs surrounding the fire. “What was that for? I could’ve walked.” You say as she sits down next to you before pulling you into her lap.

“What kind of wife would I be if I let you walk around while in pain?” She grins before leaning her head on your shoulder. She seems happy, and you recently learned she hasn’t felt that way in a very long time so you simply smile before leaving a kiss on her forehead. Her fingers lace with yours, her thumb caressing the back of your hand as she talks to her brother. It’s like no time has passed. Although you’re still upset, it’s nice to have her again.

Clarisse makes you guys some smores, a few people coming up every once and a while to introduce themselves and your friend introduces you the same way every time; “This is my wife.” By the time you’re making your way to the Hermes cabin with her walking by your side like a bodyguard, everyone in camp is aware of the “marriage”.

“I wish you could come stay in the Ares cabin.” She mumbles into the crook of your neck on the porch of Hermes cabin, and you chuckle while rubbing circles on her back. “I think you annoyed Chiron enough for one day.”

The daughter of Ares sighs, reluctantly nodding as she gives you a gentle squeeze before walking away. You watch her walk to her cabin for a few seconds, a permanent smile on your face before you walk inside your crowded cabin.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

The next morning, it’s time for you to join in the routine of chores and training. It seems tiring, but Clarisse is by your side to help you with anything and everything so it’s okay.

“You’re getting better, hon.” She repeats for the 100th time in an hour, and your trust in her words is slowly fading as you sling the sword in your hands awkwardly towards the dummy covered in greek armor in front of you. The girl seems to notice your mood dropping, so she sighs and then stands up and walks towards you. You think she’s going to tell you to take the armor off just stop trying, but you shouldn't have. Clarisse was never one to tell you to give up on something. Instead, she places her hands on your hips, brown eyes straying from your face as she gently moves your body until you're standing in the correct way. You feel like clay under her grip, simply allowing her to position you as your face scans her features. 

It’s like something pulling you to lean in, and it’s only when you're inches away from her face do you realize she is leaning in too. As if realizing where you are and what you guys are doing, she clears her throat and backs away, her hands following to rest at her sides. “There. Try again.” She begins to awkwardly walk away, her confidence gone as she almost trips over some armor left on the floor by another camper.

You nervously laugh, taking a deep breath before you slash the sword forward again. The sword feels much more natural in your hand, and it’s almost like an instinct as you angle it so it hits the unprotected parts so it cuts open the material. 

Your friend cheers, rushing over to you and easily lifting you off the ground like you just won the olympics. Clarisse has always been that way, proud of every thing  you could ever do. With a small laugh, you thank her and finally get her to set you down. “Well done wifey.” The words flow out of Clarisse’s mouth like they’re the most natural thing, and you fake an annoyed sigh.

“You know I’m not your wife right?” You say with a laugh, but she clearly doesn’t find it very funny.

“Then what's this?” Her hand moves to grab your hand, holding it up in front of your face and you try to ignore the way butterflies explode in your stomach from the touch as her eyes lock on yours. With rose colored cheeks- you decide to blame it on the heat and not the feeling of her hand in yours- you finally take notice of what she’s talking about; the ring she bought you when you were kids, snuggly placed on your left hand ring finger. It was a bit too big when you guys were younger, but it fits basically perfectly now.

“It’s a promise ring.” You mumble, walking away to take off the armor and put away the sword. “It’s the closest thing to a wedding ring I could get. And besides, red is my favorite color, the jem is red. It’s basically me, in a ring.” “I didn’t understand a single thing you just said.”

Clarisse sighs, wrapping her arms around your waist from behind the same way she did your first day at camp- though this time she doesn’t lift you up. “Sorry. Let me summarize. You’re my wife, and that is your ring.” You chuckle, turning around in her arms and trying not to think about the way you’re so close you can feel her warm breath on your face. “Fine. I’m your wife.” She takes the win, leaving a chaste kiss on your cheek before she makes her way out of the training grounds to go wash up for lunch.

This girl is gonna be the death of you.

 -*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

That night, Clarisse sneaks into the Hermes cabin. She’s used to sneaking out, but she’s never had a reason to sneak into this specific cabin and she almost bursts out laughing when she gets through the window and almost steps on a kid laying on a sleeping bag on the floor. 

She easily manages her way through the sleeping kids to get to your bunk in the corner, cringing every once and a while when floor boards creek. You’re awake, staring at the wall and you reach under your pillow to grab a dagger Annabeth gave you when someone puts a hand on your shoulder and tries to shake you away so you can hold it up against their neck.

“Why the hell do you have a knife to my throat?” Clarisse quietly squeaks out, and you sigh in relief before putting the weapon back under your pillow for safe keeping. “I just…I’m sorry.” You think about telling her about the nightmare you were having not even ten minutes ago, but it looks like she’s already aware of it as she sends you knowing eyes.

“You can make it up to me by following me.” One look into her pleading eyes is all you need to reluctantly agree, and she helps you out of the window and then onto her back so she can carry you to the surprise she set up in the forest.

The sight makes you want to grin and cry at the same time; it’s a picnic set on the cliff overlooking the waterfall you told her was your favorite part of camp, all your favorite foods from the outside world placed accordingly on the blanket. There are little lanterns placed all over, lighting up this specific part of the woods. You can clearly see the stars, one of your favorite things, and the cozy feeling of the date-like setting goes against the summer breeze of the night.

“So? What do you think?” Clarisse nervously asks as you look around in awe. “I….I love it Clar.” You reply, pulling her into a tight hug. “How’d you get all these foods?” You quest with a grin. She innocently shrugs, but she’s got a mischievous look in her eyes that only appears when she does something bad. She won’t tell you that she snuck out of camp the same way she snuck out of her cabin to go to the mortal world, sneaking back in a throwing herself into a bush when Mr. D almost caught her.

She sits down on the blanket, patting the spot next to her and then pulling you into her lap when you sit down. “This is so nice….but why?” “Why?” “Why’d you do it?”

Clarisse chuckles; “Because my wife deserves best.” There it is again, the phrase that brings a blush to your face no matter how many times you hear it. “Well, thank you.” She nods, grabbing a chocolate covered strawberry and taking a hesitant bite before humming in satisfaction. “That’s really good.”

You two spend the rest of the night talking and giggling as you cuddle up to her and eat the delicious foods, and by the end of the night you’re lying with your head in her lap as she runs her fingers through your hair. “One day,” She starts, leaning down to kiss your forehead before she continues speaking; “I’m gonna marry you for real.”

With a small laugh, you nod, staring into her brown eyes as you sigh. “I’m okay with that.” You whisper, and for a second it seems like she’s leaning down again. It’s proven she is when her lips connect with yours. Her lips are slightly chapped since she always forgets to put on chapstick before she leaves the cabin, but that doesn’t matter as she’s kissing you like she’s been starved for years. Technically, she has been.

She pulls away, watching with a nervous smile as you attempt to catch your breath and stare up at her in awe. “Was that-was that okay?” You slowly nod, sitting up and then turning to face her before you grab her face in your hands and kiss her once again. She seems surprised, but she quickly adapts as her hands move to your hips and firmly grip them.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since the day you agreed to be my wife.” She whispers as she pulls away and leans her forehead on your own. You giggle, giving her a quick kiss in between love sick giggles. “Me too.”

She begins to talk again, but the sound of hooves galloping near and a loud voice calling out, “Who's there?!” makes her panic. Chiron. You panic as well, and you both messily pick up the empty plates and blanket, shoving it all in the basket and taking your hand in the one that isn't holding the basket.

The galloping is getting closer, and you both begin to run back into the forest- on the way back to camp but still in the opposite direction of Chiron.

You both begin to laugh as you almost trip over a branch, and you have to bite your lip and hold a hand over Clarrise's mouth so Chiron won't hear. 

You eventually make it back to the cabins, and you both slow down to a light jog as you near the Hermes cabin. She brings you back to the still open window, and helps lift you up into the slightly cold room. You take off your shoes, and are about to wish her a goodnight and go to bed when you turn around to see her lips playfully puckered. 

You chuckle, walking back to the window and giving her a small peck on the lips. “Goodnight Clar. and thank you for a wonderful night.” She smiles. “It was only wonderful because you were there. Goodnight angel.” With that, she leaves towards her own cabin, and you're left staring at her leave with a love sick smile and look in your eyes.

At the edge of the forest, Chiron watches the sweet goodnight with a small smile. “Well I'll be damned….Clarisse La Rue is a softy.” He begins walking to his own cabin with a content sigh. “But they better not sneak out again.”

□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□

[novembermorgon]

How do you feel about all of King Jaehaerys' daughters? 👀

all of them... WHEW ! heres a saera to break up the text block

i'm admittedly not the biggest fan of many of the pre-dance targs . not in the sense that i dislike them it's just that i've never been all that invested in their characters the same way i am, say, the dunk and egg era ones ... but theyre fun! i think all of jaehaerys kids are definitely really interesting by default on account of being born to a guy who people in-universe tend to praise very highly only for him to turn out a shitty horrible dad that fucks you over for the sole crime of being born as his child. lets take them in order! (it's been a while since i read fire and blood now so bear with me . might have missed or forgotten stuff ...)

daenerys ... to me she's kind of a victim of grrm seeming to kill off a lot of female characters specifically because they don't have that much of a role in the story. sort of a nothing-girlie unfortunately . i do think it's interesting that alysanne went to jaehaerys with the hope of daenerys being heir as the then-eldest child- sort of a harrowing premonition of his treatment of his future daughters. i wish we got more on her.

alyssa is fun! i think she's one of the stronger (in terms of writing quality) of jaehaerys kids, at least early on. she does end up, again, kind of suffering from grrms writing in the sense that she starts having children and suddenly almost loses that .. spirit ..? of her character ..? if that makes sense. i feel that he fumbled a little bit with wrapping her story up and once again falls into the pit of 'women who die in childbirth just because'. not to say i inherently mind that conclusion to a female character's story.. i think it's necessary in a universe like asoiaf to portray the difficulties that come with pregnancy and how that changes a person, but it often feels like a bit of a crutch in asoiaf to write a female character out of the story . other people have had more eloquent critiques of her character than me. but overall she's up there in the ranking for me :-)

maegelle is one of my favourites if only because she hits on a lot of notes i like in asoiaf! being a septa she kind of escapes a bit of the family horror that her sisters has to endure - but that also means she has to watch it from afar. alyssa, daella and viserra all die in relatively quick succession and she's not in any real position to do anything about it. even having escaped the family terrors you are still a victim of them etc. i like that she's got a bit of an attitude lol even though she's clearly a very compassionate kind person ('This is foolish, Father. Rhaenys is to be married next year, and it should be a great occasion. She will want all of us there, including both you and Mother. The archmaesters call you the Conciliator, I have heard. It is time that you conciliated.') - and her ending i think is very tragic, but in an almost sweet way. caring for children that most others are repulsed by, selfless to the end ... i like her.

daella is just tragic. other people have said more than i could ever about her but to me her marriage is truly one of the most horrific things that jaehaerys ever did in part because it's just so simple and not-so-dramatic. he tells alysanne that daella has to be married at the end of the year and she is. she's excited to be a mother to the children he already has. she's happy, despite the horrific situation she's put in - only to be doomed to die after a pregnancy where she has to beg her mother to come see her out fo fear. so terrible. makes my heart ache.

saera... there's a lot you could say about saera. inherently i'm a little bit opposed to stanning on the basis of the optics of prostitution in asoiaf and what it means for her to become a brothel proprietor in a city where there are five slaves to every free man - you can definitely critique her but she IS exceptionally interesting and i do like her. such a character. i feel like her defiance of her father gives such a good insight into how terrible jaehaerys was as a father- even in a book so almost distanced from its characters (in that it's a history book) you can really feel the frustration both of her parents and of saera herself and it really does make for good family drama. i feel bad for her just as i feel that she falls into the pitfall of the endless, vicious cycle that drives forward so many of the themes in asoiaf. delicious and horrifying . i wish we got to know more details about her children and what happened to her during the dance

viserra... ohhh. she might be my number one! right after the saera situation i feel like viserra, in the eyes of her parents, was almost like a reflection of her sister. there were many reasons for them marrying her off (none of which were good) but i think there really is that bite of saera leaving just a year earlier that stings in the back of their minds. just as with all these girls she's tragic and so very interesting and i wish we got to understand her better. trying to 'seduce' baelon is such a harrowing thought - like a cry for help, a need for somebody, anybody to save her from the same fate as almost all her sisters and grandmothers and great-grandmothers before her. it's horrifying to be a woman in westeros and no matter how loudly she cried for an out, nobody would give it to her. she was only fifteen when she died! how horrific is that! her last ride is such a terrible terrible visual to me. she deserved better and nobody around her was there for her in any regard. jaehaerys alysanne baelon i will haunt you for the rest of time.

gael.. :-( there's not much Here but for what it's worth she does intrigue me. the story of her and the mystery bard seducing her... i want to know more!! her mother dying just a year after losing her last daughter - so, so tragic. i think ive said this way too many times now. i don't know. what a horrible collection of fates. jaehaerys you will burn.

[selineram3421]

*has a little idea* I've gotta listen to brain commands.

First Day

Alastor and Child Reader

Warning! ⚠

⚠ implied murder, mention of kidnapping, mention of heart attack, shake of head=no, fake crying lol, italic red=Alastor's thoughts ⚠

Alastor didn't understand why some demons worried over the little children that ran amuck in Hell.

That is until he adopted one himself.

Small, wide eyed, and frail looking. Of course he'd worry after a glance. But after seeing the pile of dead bodies beneath their feet, it seemed like there wasn't too much to worry about.

So all he had to do was teach them how to make others fear them. Especially after the whole kidnapping fiasco with Valentino.

And what better timing than their first day of school.

.

You were playing around in the hotel.

Most of it was following Husk around and scaring the other hotel guests. But then Charlie told Alastor the number of complaints from guests about you and your pranks.

"They are absolutely harmless! What's a little scare going to do?", the deer demon said.

"Someone had a heart attack.", Vaggie piped in.

"Nuh-uh!", you popped up out of nowhere, making the two females jump in surprise. "That frog demon croaked! He's just mad that I made him make a funny sound."

The blonde sighs before holding out a flyer to the red dressed demon.

"Look, I know you're just having fun but not all demons think its funny.", she tells you before looking at Alastor. "There's a school for demon children not too far from the hotel, maybe they can meet demons their age and make friends?"

After dinner you and Alastor sat down on the couch in the hotel room and read through the flyer.

"I don't want to go.", you pouted.

"Don't worry my little terror, we'll think of something.", he booped your nose. "Perhaps we can use this as training!"

"Training?", you repeated.

"Yes! We'll use this as an opportunity!", Alastor said as he stood from the couch, turning to hold out a hand for you to take. "Come little one, there's much I have to teach you."

.

"Remember what I taught you little one!", Alastor says, fixing their coat. "Anything can be a weapon..."

"With enough force and creativity!", they said confidently.

"Correct!", his smile brightened. "Now, let's go show the ladies that you are a proper demon with manners so they feel bad for sending you out. Remember to look sad."

"Hmhmm!", the nod again before taking a deep breath, putting on their sad face and looking down at the floor.

"Perfect.", he approved before leading them by the hand down to the lobby.

Both of the girls were waiting by the entrance doors to say their goodbyes to the little demon.

"We are ready!", Alastor announces.

"Hey! We got them a-", Charlie starts before noticing the little demon's sad face. "..lunch box."

Vaggie squints at them but doesn't say anything.

Though the Radio Demon can see that his little one's sad face is affecting her as well, the moth demon clenching her fists.

"Now, what do we say mon petit?", the deer demon pats their back.

"I'm..", they say but don't look up yet. "I'm sorry for being bad and I'll go to school so..", finally they look up at the girls with little tears starting to well up. "Please don't be mad anymore."

Charlie is obviously affected the most and looks over at her partner, receiving a shake of the head from the white haired demon in response.

The princess takes a breath before handing over the lunch box to the little demon. "Its only for a little bit, alright?"

"Ok..", they say, still keeping up with the act before turning to face him. "Bye Alastor."

"It won't be for long, don't worry.", he 'reassures' them. "I'll pick you up when school is out."

They nod before hugging his side.

He pats them on the head before waving them goodbye as they walk out of the hotel and to the school bus.

Bidding the ladies adieu, Alastor lets his smile widen after turning away from the two, wondering how his little demon will cause chaos.

I can't wait to hear all about it~

*wipes away tears after typing out the fake crying* I was that child huh.

~Seline, the person.

Part 2

Taglist@

@willowaudreykeyes @kiraisastay @c4rved-pumpk1n @stolas-thebirb @scary-noodlesblog @naelys-the-aster @ducky-died-inside @biromanticboba @+?

ML for Alastor🎙

[ddollfface]

Can I please request a Yandere Hanayama Kaoru head canon?

𝐀 𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦

𝙆𝙖𝙤𝙧𝙪 𝙃𝙖𝙣𝙖𝙮𝙖𝙢𝙖 𝙔𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙣

Warnings; reader is afab/described a girl, yandere behaviors, stalking, I talk a lot, lots of ramblings, probably doesn't make any sense, bad writing, more stalking, Tumblr is trying to silence me, ngl Hanayama is growing on me... If I missed anything, then please let me know ♡ Bro, I'm so sorry that this is super rushed, seeing as I hit the word limit??? I'm super confused because I barely wrote anything, but whatever. A lot of my headcanons are based around @yandere-writer-momo. Also, sorry for being offline for so long lol, kinda forgot I had Tumblr ngl :/

Okay, to start this off, I think that realistically, it'd be very, very, very hard to get Hanayama's attention. He's shown to be stoic and stone-faced, only showing respect and warmth toward specific people (Baki and Shiba included). And I think it's important to mention that the people he does respect is due to their fighting spirit and/or strength, that or they were there during his childhood (like Kizaki and his mama).

And that's just for him to show basic affection toward them, not even accounting for being loving. For you to catch his attention, I think that you'd have to be either a really strong fighter (meaning having impressive skills of some sort) or have a strong will, either one will work. (Though, a lot of the time, both go hand-in-hand).

When I say a strong will, I don't mean you get up after being punched over and over, instead, it can just be standing up for others. Similar to Katsumi, I can see Hanayama being attracted to a person who's selfless, in the sense that they're brave. Someone who's willing to push through their fear and do it, whatever it is. Now, that catches his attention.

There's a never-ending list of cowards who'll run with their tails between their legs at the sight of discomfort, willing to abandon everything just for their own gain, and Hanayama encounters these men all the time. Let's just say that it gets boring, annoying even. So when you see someone who's spitfire, ready to jump into danger for themselves or others. Now, that's impressive.

Whether or not they can actually carry through doesn't matter too much, it's the fact that they got back up, not letting their dignity lay to rest. Personally, I find that Hanayama would be far more interested in someone who's genuinely acting selfless in this way, acting from the heart.

Going more into his childhood, I think this type is rooted in Hanayma's relationship with his mother. Though I haven't read the manga, from the wiki, I've gained that he was close to his mother, loving her very much. We don't know much about her. Hell, we don't even know her name, but we do know that she was kind.

That's the only information we're given, but even from that, I can make an analysis. From this, I know that Hanayama was likely a Mama's boy, though still being trained to be a Yakuta. I don't mean Mama's boy in the traditional sense, I mean it in the way that she was his peace, his way out of the Yukuta world, his destiny. Being raised in a gangster lifestyle isn't easy, nor is it soft, so just imagine the damage that type of environment can put on a child's brain?

Horrible, huh? So I like to think that Hanayama's mama, before she passed, was far softer to him, giving him some sense of security. this is possibly why he felt such sorrow after she passed, discarding the natural pain we feel when our mama dies (seeing as there's a primal connection we have with our mama, but that doesn't matter too much at the moment).

Hanayama is a very monotone kind of guy, who, I imagine, doesn't like people with some type of alternate motive. Like, y'know how politicians or businessmen talk? Like they're hiding something from you? Yeah, Hanayama loathes those kinds of people, especially if they're trying to pursue him. I belive that he wants someone who'll keep his life steady; be his calm, if you will.

He wants someone who will be upfront, express themselves clearly, and won't keep what they're thinking from you. To him, this is a breath of fresh air. Hanayama is constantly surrounded by lackeys trying to kiss up to him, speaking with a hidden motive (which isn't really hidden in retrospect). If they're not trying to appease them, then they're quacking in their boots, ready to piss themselves.

But you're not like that, no, not at all. You're different. Hanayama can tell, you aren't some coward, instead, you're someone to respect. He can imagine you sitting next to him, all pretty as a Yakuza's wife. Yeah, he likes the sound of that. Well, the only problem is that you don't know who he is, not yet at least.

I imagine that you wouldn't know who Hanayama is, at first, seeing as he never spoke to you. He likely witnessed you acting selfless in some type of way, expressing your kindness by helping a grandma get across the street, something like that.

You didn't notice him, but he sure noticed you. At first, it wasn't anything too special. Hanayama just found you interesting, wanting to see what you'd do next, so he had one or two of his men keep a tab on you--nothing serious. It continues like that for quite a while, and Hanayama learns more and more about you. He knows that you like to sing when you cook, tapping your feet to the beat, and swaying side-to-side. It's cute, he thinks. And Hanayama feels closer to you, as if you know each other, like you're friends.

But then one of his men reports that you're not at home, not following your usual schedule. Instead, you were at some dingy cafe, drinking crappy coffee with another man, some slumbag who looked like he hadn't showered in a hot second. For some reason, which Hanayama doesn't know, he gets ticked off.

Someone as sweet, kind, and damn pretty as you shouldn't associate with someone like him, someone so gross.

He doesn't do anything, no, no yet. It'd be too brash, and too stupid. And Hanayama isn't stupid. No, Hanayama can keep himself composed, now knowing that he needs to get your attention. Afterall, he can't have you running around with other men, not when he's right here! Well... you don't know that, yet.

Few weeks pass, and you've completely forgotten the trashy date you had gone on, but Hanayama hasn't. You begin to notice new outfits appearing in your closet, clothing you certainly didn't have previously. They're far too expensive, too revealing for you to own.

You'll be confused, especially when these dresses, heels, and coats are no longer just appearing, but instead, being presented. Now, instead of being hung up or nicely folded in your closet, they're being laid out on your bed, accompanied by a pretty, black leather box with silk insides. A little note is stuck on top of the shimmering dress, causing you to gulp, looking around as a shiver racks through your body.

Who the hell is buying you a dress? (though, it looks far more like lingerie, seeing as you'd never be able to wear it out in public). You don't know, but you can't help but feel the heat rise to your cheeks as you lift the velvet cloth, feeling the lace slip through your fingers. Once you tried it on, listen, you couldn't help but feel curious, you gawked at how it fit you like a glove, hugging your curves, and accentuating your hips and bust.

It's fucking creepy, that's all you can think, but it gets worse, way worse. Throughout the weeks, you notice more and more gifts show up at your doorstep. The dresses get severely revealing, much to your discomfort. So do the notes. They get too detailed and too accurate to your day-to-day. By now, it's clear that you have a stalker, a rich one at that.

I'd have to say that this is the worst part of being with Hanayama: the courting. It's hella weird! You'll never feel alone, always having someone watching you, mostly Hanayama. He doesn't have his lackeys watching you anymore, seeing as he's far too jealous for that. He doesn't want someone as low at them to see you in such an innocent, vulnerable state. No, that's only for him to see.

Don't be surprised when he shows up at your door, your last hookup's head in hand and a bundle of roses in the other. After all, it's time for you to come home, no?

[goldustwomun]

pacifier (s.b.)

pairing: sirius black x younger potter! reader

summary: something about your relationship with sirius black had never sit quite right with you, and now that he's back after two years of travelling the world, you're beginning to think that you'll soon find out what'll happens if the two of you finally fall over the edge of whatever precipice you've been teetering close to all these years. anyway, you've got to work with him all summer, so what's the worst that could happen?

warnings: allusions to sex (minors dni!!!), swearing, cocky sirius and like kind of an annoying younger sister reader (but also that's literally me lol), bad transitions between light hearted banter and angst but i'm trying my best RIP, i imagine sirius to be mid-20s and reader only 3/4 years younger (but everyone is OF AGE), mommy issues if you squint

wc: 4.9k+

note: soooo i'm back :D again :D i'm almost done with second year and actually somewhat ahead with all my papers (with very minimal finals; def recommend being a history major x) and i've just been missing the community so enjoy this! i had this first chapter posted a while back (like maybe a year) but it was actually ass so i've redone it a little :)))) as always, reblogs and comments are MUCH appreciated and i can't wait to interact w/ y'all over this because i have been DAYDREAMING about brother's bf sirius :')

Oh but, babe, you know I've tried and failed But you just don't know how it feels To lose something you never have and never will

“What do you mean he’s working at the shop as well?!” you all but screeched, chasing your Mother around the kitchen, feeling a lot like the pesky youngest child you were. 

“He needs some help so we offered to give him a job. Honestly sweetheart, aren’t you too old for this childish feud?”

“Too old? Shouldn’t you be saying that to him? He’s like– thirty or something, and still continues to be the bane of my existence. Fucking Bla–”

Your Mother whirled on you abruptly, brandishing the wooden spoon she was about to stir the boiling pot with right in your face.

“Oi, language! I would tell him the same but unluckily for you, you’re my daughter and currently living under my roof, so you get to hear it first.” She gave you a saccharine sweet smile, the kind that had you biting back the urge to roll your eyes.

“--now, he’s been gone for such a long time, and we’re all very excited to see him, so don’t ruin this reunion with any more of your tantrums.”

You opened your mouth once more, intent on not letting the argument die there, but your Father bounded into the kitchen at the same moment, ruffling up your hair with a “Hey there, kiddo,” before promptly moving on to snake his hands around your Mother’s waist.

“Looking as beautiful as always, my dear,” he cooed into her ear. She let out an uncharacteristic giggle that had you bolting from the kitchen before you were scarred any further.

Your parents’ tooth-aching affections for each other was just that: sweet, but sickly all the same.

Somewhere inside of you, in between the urge for unattainable perfection and the fear of failure, you yearned for a love like theirs. Something genuine but passionate, able to withstand the test of time.

James, your older brother, had found it with Lily, and their son Harry being a product of their young but no less intense love. 

You loved that kid like he was your own. Would beg James to let you come over, play with the babbling toddler for a few hours, even going as far as to offer up your weekends, encouraging the young couple to “go out, live a little!”. But they were about as infatuated with their own child as you were, and had a never-ending supply of friends who were equally as eager to help out.

And one of those always eager friends was currently pounding his stupid fist against your stupid front door, and you were already riled up from the news your mother had broken to you only moments earlier, head pounding and fists balled into shaking fists, that you couldn’t take seeing his face quite literally in front of you, as well. 

You shoved past James, knocking him back a step as his hand reached for the door to let his best mate in. You caught a glimpse of him on the doorstep, the first in almost two years– hair unruly like he’d just rolled out of bed, long, black strands; newly tanned skin blushing under the heat of the sun; those thick, brooding eyebrows that raised up in your direction – eughh. 

“What’s got your knickers in a bunch?” James called at your retreating figure, shouting loud enough to be heard over your heavy footsteps despite the carpeted floor. 

“Ask your best mate over there!” you answered back with a bite, slamming your room door shut.

“Fuck,” he sighed, defeated, yanking his confused friend in and a chucking a thumb towards the stairs. “How’ve you managed to piss her off before you even got here?” he asked incredulously. “Peace– we had peace in this house for the past two years since you’ve been off, and now look–! It’s a bloody riot!”

“Oi– I’ve done nothing,” he moaned indignantly, hanging his coat and scarf on the gold-crested hooks by the door. “--I think,” he added for good measure after a beat. "I mean, I've only just stepped inside."

Sirius had yet to quite grasp why you got under his skin so quick, squirming between his nerves like a misfired electrical impulse.

You’d grown up together, spent every waking moment in each other’s presence when he was at the Potter residence (which happened to be just about always given his own family situation). If books and movies were to be trusted, what with fiction being so reminiscent of real-life, he'd have expected be like some sort of brotherly figure to you.

But even the thought of it had bile creeping up his through, as if it was so unfathomably wrong his body refused to entertain the possibility of it.

So no. Something about you and your irritatingly know-it-all personality, shrill when indignant voice (which was rather often around him), your need to always be right – something about you brought the worse out of him.

Had him constantly searching for something new to point out, to irritate you all over again, hit the nail on your specific head - something to really push you that little bit over the edge. 

It wasn't even like he enjoyed it, watching you get all huffy, nostrils flared, brows knitted together, face verging on a flushed red. Sirisu was well aware that with every jab the two of you threw at each other, things got a little more out of hand.

Right before he had left, two years journeying through the glades of Scotland, then France, Greece, Türkiye, India, Taiwan (he'd been close to everywhere), he had made the mistake of aiming a particularly ruthless dig at you, and watching your face crumple, devastated and defeated, it had finally cracked him inside.

But there wasn't anything he could do about it then, what with leaving the next day, and two years later, it seemed a little too late.

The rest of the Potter family didn’t share your sentiments about Sirius, and rather adored him immeasurably. Had since he’d taken to hiding out in their house after a particularly brutal fight at home when he was only eleven. Heck, he’d even attended every Potter-family gathering, dinner, birthday, you name it, since then. It was why he came over every Sunday for a roast, pudding and some chat – he could never put into words what your family had done for him, the safety, security, home, even, they'd given him when he’d been lost and entirely clueless of what a real family looked like.

So he made the thirty-minute drive, every Sunday, much to your irritation. He plastered on the biggest smile for your Mum, complimenting every minute detail of the meal she cooked for the family, drank a glass of whiskey and smoked a cigar with your Dad; he was even Harry’s favourite, always humming quiet melodies into the youngest Potter’s ear.

With him away, he’d missed out on the family time he usually looked forward to every weekend. Mondays seemed a lot less dreadful after having a belly-full of Mrs Potter’s food.

Still, he’d sent postcards and printed pictures of everywhere he went, the sights he’d seen, people he’d met. It wasn’t the same, not without the lot of you to pester him but he’d needed some time to find himself.

He still wasn’t sure if he’d found what he was looking for, but the money had to have run out eventually so he was back home, ready to work and settle down in his life for once after graduating Hogwarts. 

Sirius followed James into the living room where he found Lily, sipping on a glass of red, sitting by the empty fireplace. Instead, a window had been cracked in to let the temperate wind in.

She perked up as they entered, waving with that soul-wrenching smile of hers that could persuade even the most strong-willed of men into submission. 

“Pads, you’re back!” she called from her seat. "And you've grown a moustache-- interesting choice of facial hair." Sirius, however, raised an eyebrow at her questioningly, ignoring her greeting-slash-judgement as he peered into the empty crib by her side, even going as far as to search under it as if the toddler might have escaped.

“Harry’s gone to bed in the guest room. There was a bit of a shouting match before you arrived,” James explained, sinking into the space beside his wife and pulling her into his side. “Actually, now that I think about it, there was a lot of shouting after you arrived as well.” 

Lily snorted, snuggling into her husband without hesitation, and Sirius couldn’t help but avert his eyes, feeling entirely like he was imposing on an intimate moment as the two of them whispered in the other’s ear.

“Well, don’t mind me. Sitting here, all by my lonesome, no company or polite chatter to partake in, not even my dashing God son to entertain me” he sighed, dramatically, to no one in particular. James rolled his eyes at his best friend’s antics, chucking a frilly throw-pillow at his face (that’s what they’re for, right?) which he just as easily caught. 

“Har-Har! Ever the clown, Paddy,” James mocked, flipping him off just in time for his Mum to walk in and see.

“James! Don’t aim such crude displays at my son,” she scolded, wrapping her wrinkled arms around Sirius’ shoulders from behind his chair. She leaned down, kissing the top of his head affectionately. Sirius only whimpered in agreement, leaning into her motherly touch and whining on and on about how James was being a right bully. 

“My sweet child, I’ve missed you!” She beamed down at him, and that longing Sirius sometimes felt for his own Mother’s approval, her devotion or fondness, it lessened. 

“But you didn’t– He was just!-- You missed– arghh!” James groaned defeatedly, head flailed back to rest against the sofa, receiving no sympathies from his giggling wife and glaring Mother. “I’m starting to understand why she hates you.”

Sirius’ eyes flashed at that– did you really hate him? Had it gotten to that point?

At the mention of your name but current absence, Mrs Potter ordered, “Go call your sister for dinner, I’ve set the table.” 

He began to protest, failing to come up with a half-decent reason why he can’t walk up the two flights of stairs and pull your petulant frame from your bed– but Sirius interrupted in time, before James could make any more of a fool himself in front of his own Mother.

“I’ll go get her. Got to figure out what I did this time,” he offered coolly. 

Euphemia, that is, Mrs Potter, had a strict no-apparting rule in her house, had lost too many expensive vases from James and Sirius’ apparition-sprees the second they’d turned seventeen.

You already had your licence, having been of legal age for some time, and had, since graduating (top of the class, as you tended to point out, much to your Ravenclaw friends’ dismay) from Hogwarts, found a job at a school in the muggle world, teaching children English Literature in preparation of some exam -- O Levels, you’d called them. 

Sirius thought it to be some sort of torture device - these O Levels – but you’d smacked him across the head in admonishment with whatever book was in your hand before he could say much else. Having a family-run bookshop made it so that the books, or the weapons (in Sirius' mind at least), were in endless supply for you.

Your love for reading had come from him, your Father, from when he’d stay up till the late hours of the night, hushed whispers under your bed sheet so your Mother wouldn’t hear, as he read you the Classics in animated voices that had you completely enchanted. He made sparks fly from the tip of his wand, bright colours that your little eyes couldn’t quite get enough of.

You loved being a wizard, were eternally grateful for the world you lived in and the undeniable awe of it all. But words, books, literature – they were enough magic for you, took you to places you could only ever dream to visit, and had you feeling such all-consuming emotions that sometimes, you wondered if you’d ever make it to the end of the page, or chapter, or book. 

“Oi– your Mum’s put out dinner, she’s calling you downstairs,” he called through the thick wood of your door. 

Sirius didn’t know why he such an uneasy feeling settled into the pit of his stomach, like he'd swallowed some moldy bread or a particularly strong cider.

He's known you your whole life, watched you graduate from pencil to quill, and then again from Hogwarts.

Two years was a long a time, and the thought of you holding what he had said all those months ago -- what he hadn't meant, not really -- he was dreading the confrontation.

He nudged the door open when you didn’t respond, only to find you slumped across your bed, glaring, silently, at the ceiling and the pale-orange ring of light from the lamp on your bedside table.

You certainly looked different– older, possibly? He couldn’t quite place what had changed, only that he knew something had. In the way you dressed, styled your hair, held yourself. Even the look of your room– no longer plastered in repeated patterns of owls and roses, but instead a single wall painted a burnt umber and with the remaining covered in tapestries and muggle band posters hanging across every wall.

A stack of vinyls were shoved into one side of your room, along with stacks of books, some old and missing a few pages, while others were untouched. 

You heard the door click open, sitting up on your elbows to see a Sirius, oozing an annoying amount of effortless confidence, and leaning against your doorframe. 

Something in your chest stumbled almost immediately. He looked the same as the day he'd scolded you before leaving, and those stupid, brown eyes of his, like murky swamps you wouldn't be caught dead looking into, were training on you.

Though, he might’ve managed to actually tan, now that you really looked at him, imagining the broad planes of his shoulders, hidden by a thin linen button up, were more sun-kissed than milky-pale now. 

Except you refused to even entertain the thought. You were not thinking of him or his skin or his bare chest or--

“What’s with your face?” you asked, already knowing you'd regret the answer.

“Was that meant to be a greeting?” His eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Hi Sirius-- what’s with your face?” you answered, again, between clenched teeth. 

“You changed your room,” was his only response, and really, what did he expect to say to that?

"I did. Figured I'd use your absence wisely," you snarked back, meeting his gaze as you continued, "--you know, finally grow up and all that."

And you hadn't forgotten, but he didn't blame you.

You got up at his lack of silence, walking the few steps up to him, head tilted like a cat, wary of her surroundings but curious nonetheless.

"Was there something you wanted, Sirius?"

And fuck if the way you said his name didn't have him fighting whatever foreign feeling, urge, instinct was shouting at him in that moment.

You walked past, trembling as your shoulders touched, making it all the way to the bottom of the stairs before you had your moment of revelation as well.

Somehow, whether it had been a slow process over his two-year absence or something far more sudden in the past few minutes, he'd wormed his way back between the cracks of your heart, and this time, you worried you wouldn't survive.

The quiet jingle of the bell tickled your ears as you opened the door to the bookshop, dust immediately invading your senses as you fought back a harsh cough.

Your Dad pushed in front of you, forcing the door to stay open by propping a stack of intimidatingly large books in front of it. You laughed silently to yourself, noting how they were all Dickens (he hated Dickens, said his novels were disturbingly boring and unnecessarily detailed). 

“So, you can dust a little, and sweep the floor, before we open. Count the money in the till, as well, that’s very important,” he noted off, and you suddenly wished you had a pen and a pad of paper to write it all down.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t been helping out at the shop since when you were younger, but this was the first time you’d been granted the responsibility of having it all to yourself (minus the inconvenience that was Sirius Black). 

You were deemed an adult now – loved to point it out any chance you got, and that meant that your Dad trusted you enough to not hover over your shoulder every time you took a shift. He was working fewer hours, though now, none, as he wanted to finish the novel he’d been writing for the past decade after melodramatically announcing at the dinner table that “It’s time!” 

You weren’t sure what that exactly meant, but you weren’t about to argue with the man paying you an overly generous ten pounds an hour. 

You didn’t need the money for yourself, what with still living at your parent’s house, but you wanted to contribute to the house and expenses and what not, even if it was a minuscule sum. 

“Another thing,” he added, stopping, rather abruptly, in front of you, voice worryingly grave as he placed his large palms over either of your shoulders. “Please,” he begged, brows dipping, “don’t fight with Sirius in front of the customers.”

“I haven’t even done anything and you’re already after me,” you objected, pulling back from his usually comforting hold and pulling the broom out from behind the counter. His hands fell defeatedly against his sides as he sighed, standing in your way before you could mope yourself into a tizzy before the work day had even started. 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he ensured, pulling you into his tight embrace once more. “You know you’re my number one, sweetheart. Just don’t like seeing you so upset.”

James always teased you for being your Father’s favourite, and you’d never argue, relishing in his pointed fingers and sneering words, because it was true– there was something between you and your Father, an understanding that no one else had clued in on.

He eased your worries like no one else could, smoothed irked creases across your face, replacing them with belly-hurting laughter lines and a grin so wide, you were worried it would fall off your face.

Anyway, James was the same with your Mum. You found her difficult to communicate with, what with her being as hot-heated as you were, so as much as you and your Dad got along, you butted heads with your Mum just as much.

“It’s ‘cause you two are so similar, like twins, I tell you!” But it did little to calm your nerves around her, or stoke the flames of anger you so often felt. 

You were about to respond, ready to tell your Dad just how much you loved him, when someone crashed through the door, slamming into the counter you were standing behind. You turned, eyes connecting with your (late) colleague. He looked utterly windswept, as if he’d run – or been chased – the whole way there. 

“You okay, son?” your Dad asked, worry shifting from you to the panting, bent-over Sirius. 

“Me? Oh– peachy, just– peachy,” he answered between heavy breaths, waving off his doting hands. “Sorry I’m late, got a little carried away with something and lost track of time.”

You were conscious of how your Dad didn’t offer Sirius the same advice, to not pick a fight or argue or whatever it was the two of you did, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at how he had everyone charmed.

So you busied yourself behind the till, doing as you were instructed and counting the money, writing down the number of each of the bills on a notepad you pulled from the drawer at your waist. 

Your Dad left soon after, turning the closed sign out front to open as he wished you, and Sirius, good luck. 

“Guess it’s just the two of us, little Potter,” Sirius pointed out, already sounding bored as he fell into a stool at your side. He leaned his head against his arm, stretching it from side to side as he groaned at his tense muscles.

You didn’t mean to stare, swore it wasn’t something you’d let become a habit, but your gaze immediately travelled to the exposed skin of his neck, zeroing in on the trail of newly-formed purple bruises  down the side.

You snorted, shaking your head at him, slamming the money compartment shut a little too aggressively so that it caught Sirius’ attention. He recognised your expression to be something close to amusement, jabbing you in your side until you were scowling and slapping his fingers away.

“What’s wrong with you– you’re acting like a fucking child,” you admonished, moving out of reach and resting a hand on your hip. 

“Why’d you make that face?” he asked instead of answering your question, nodding at you like it was you who had started it.

“It’s nothing,” you went with, hearing your Father’s words echoing in your mind from just moments ago. You needed to diffuse the situation before you really got mad, because past that point, you weren’t responsible for what you said– or did. 

So you ventured into the aisles of books, a curious Sirius on your heels, following you like a lost, yapping puppy. “If it’s nothing then why are you running away?” he pushed back.

You ignored him pointedly, stopping to stack a few books and dust along the shelves. No one had come in yet, still too early in the morning for any tourists to stumble upon your admittedly quaint but bursting shop. 

The sunlight barely filtered past the dense collection of books and mahogany shelves that lined the walls, but the windows stretched to the tall ceilings, and if you went up the spiralling staircase at the centre of the store, you’d find yourself in a cosy loft space, bathed in gold and stuffed with arm chairs and sofas for people to sit and read in. 

It was your favourite part of the store, and you were seriously debating hiding up there on your first day, just to get away from the walking-plague that followed you. 

“Come on– tell me,” he whined, standing too close for your liking. You side-stepped away, brushing a cloth against the worn covers of the Mystery section. He followed suit, returning to his previous position, and this time, you had no way out with the wall of books you’d met. 

You turned, facing him and finally acknowledged his presence. “You lied,” you stated matter-of-factly, loving that you actually had the upper-hand with him. As much as you prided yourself with being quick-witted, Sirius always seemed to find a way to stay on-top.

“Gonna have to give me something more than that, darling. Lied about what?” he countered, raising an eyebrow at you. 

You bristled at the endermeant but continued nonetheless.,

“You weren't busy. You were screwing some girl according to the bruises on your neck,” you stared pointedly at the affected area now, though it was covered by his hair in this position. His hand flew to his neck, as if hoping to shield them from your gaze.

“That’s none of your business Potter,” he countered, irritated. 

“It actually is my business when you’re both late to your job and lying to my Father,” you threw back, shoving forward and relishing in his slight stumble back– as if he hadn’t yet noticed the two of you were so so close. 

“You can’t–” his eyes were wide, worried, as he grabbed your elbow, forcing you to meet his gaze, “You can’t tell him. He’ll be so disappointed and I can’t–”

You frowned at the look of genuine distress written so plainly across of his face. If you two were anyone else, you might've let it go.

Might've--

“Well tough shit, Sirius. You’re an adult, now. This is the real world we’re talking about and not whatever fantasy you've been frolicking about these past two years." You were fuming, unnecessarily so, but both of you knew this was fight had been years in the making.

"I understand you lack the ability to form real, genuine connections but come on, Sirius. You're not a fucking teenager. Grow a pair and take some responsibility for once in your life!"

And really, you deserved it, now that you thought back. His anger was reasonable but your need to poke straight through his ribcage, wrap your fist around his heart and squeeze tight, was not. 

“Fuck you, Potter.” he bit out. “Just because you're not getting any doesn't mean the rest of us have to be equally as miserable."

It was already going to shit, Sirius was well aware of it, but he couldn't get himself to stop. To just shut up.

“Maybe if you weren’t so fucking uptight all the time someone might actually give it to you too," his voice now barely above a whisper with his anger deflated as he stared, pained, at your reaction.

And it didn’t take long for you to react -- for your hand to fly up and connect with his cheek, hard. You hadn't done anything two years ago but he thinks he saw you consider it. So the fact that you had finally, struck across the face, spoke to how different things really were. How different you were.

"Potter, I--" and he was speechless when he really shouldn't have been. He swallowed, trying again. “I’m sorry,” he whispered then, fighting the urge to look away from your glassy stare. “I’m sorry, Potter. You know I don’t mean it.”

What you hated most was that you did know. You knew you both brought out the worst in each other. Only, you could never figure out why that was. Why you wanted to hurl insults at him for every comment or look or the stupid way he’d string together the most perfect sentence and his irritating eyes and mouth and–

“Excuse me? Is anyone here?” 

You inhaled, all sudden, as if only just realising what you had done. You brushed past him without a word, needing, more than ever, to put some space between the two of you. If not for your anger then for whatever pesky emotion was seeping through your cracks.

You were (reluctantly) pulled from wherever your thoughts had been racing to as you called into the store, “Just one moment!”

Sirius debated if this was a sign for him to get back onto a train to anywhere you were not. It didn’t matter if he had no money or nowhere to be, but if it meant he could avoid maiming you with his words, he couldn’t quite see a way out of his predicament. 

“Sirius!” you shouted again, no longer faking your emotions but rather genuinely just exasperated by him once more. 

“I’m coming! I’m coming!” He managed to not get lost in the labyrinth of books, and found you by the travel section, chatting good-naturedly with a blonde in a tight dress.

“How can I help, doll?” he asked the blonde in question. His one tactic for almost every conundrum he’d ended up in was avoidance. And bloody hell was he good at it. 

He smiled at her, the customer, doing little to hide his admiration for the legs she had on display. She flushed a pretty pink, averting her gaze, lip between her teeth. Bingo! 

“Christ, you’re disgusting,” you muttered, mouth pouting and quiet enough that only he could hear.

“Only for you, sweetheart, only for you,” he bit back, not wanting the currently oblivious customer clue in on their conversation. “So, how can I help?”

“She needs that book–” you pointed to the top shelf, well out of reach. “--the green spine that says Amsterdam, but I can’t reach it and the step ladder is too heavy.”

“Alas! Only ever needed for my body, it seems,” he moaned with an irritating amount of flourish. 

“Whatever it takes to get the book down– do what you must, Black.” You patted his chest reassuringly, taking your spot, once again, behind the cash register.  

“So– planning a trip are you?” Sirius asked in between excessive displays of strength as he hauled the bulky ladder with a single hand. You glared at the girl as she swooned at him, wanting, rather unreasonably, for her to combust right where she stood.

But that was a ridiculous thought to begin with. You could barely stand to be even within a metre’s distance of the guy, let alone on the receiving end of his affections. You were tired, emotional and dehydrated. Must be. Though a glance at the clock had you realising it had barely been an hour since your day had started. 

So, maybe just emotional and dehydrated. 

“I’m going to get a coffee from across the street,” you announced, slugging your tote bag onto your shoulder as you walked past the preoccupied pair. Not waiting for a response, you stepped out into the early morning sun, frowning, for once, at the glare in your eyes and not the irritant you’d left behind. 

It was easier to refer to him as something pesky, infectious, fungus-like even, rather than the only person who knew how to break your heart (and despite your somewhat impenetrable facade, you let him do just that every time).

please please PLEASE reblog & leave some feedback <3 i'll boop you if you do x

[gravedigginbbydoll]

Phantom of the Night

Phantom! Eddie x Fem! Reader Smut Blurb

AN: Hello! I am a huge POTO fan, and obsessed with men in masks. I wanted to write this for fun and for spooky season. It's a length and smut filled blurb. I'm sorry about the college of pictures not being as inclusive as I'd like (it's hard asf to find POTO aesthetic in varying body types :/ ) but promise that the description is vague and meant for anyone AFAB or feminine leaning :) (psst: this ones for my ghouls @eddies-house @xxhellfiregirlxx @ghost-proofbaby who I adore and feed my delusions lol)

Warnings: MDNI! mature themes, dubcon, vouyerism, somnophilia, mentions of exhibitionism, corruption kink, bondage, biting, oral, penetration, virginity, loss of innocence, masks, dom! Eddie, posessive, body worship, stalking and obsession, kidnapping, etc.

As a child, you had been brought up in the exquisite opera house that your town boasted of, your father taking you often to see the shows and ballets performed there. He was a violinist, a talented one at that, and had many close friends who performed at the opera. Growing up, it was just the two of you. Your mother had grown deathly ill when you were five. She passed there soon after, leaving you and your father alone. In womanhood now, you sensed that he brought you to the opera so often rather than get you a nanny to distract you with elaborate performances in order to hide your fearful loneliness that a young girl got with losing her mother. 

But now you were a woman, a member of the opera yourself in the corps de ballet, your years of training under Karen, your father’s old friend, finally coming into play. You took the job soon after your father's death when you turned 20, desperate to keep the estate he left you and not leave the home and comfort of the opera house. Besides, you loved ballet and the elegance it left you feeling, despite the pain. But it was nothing compared to your true love. Singing. Music. 

Your father had you take singing lessons as a young girl, but those lessons were now lost in years of memories. You tried to practice alone but felt off-pitch. It was disheartening. You mostly had done so as a hobby rather than a real-life pursuit of the stage, not believing yourself to be skilled enough. You kept it hidden from the rest of the troupe, embarrassed over what they would say about a grown woman attempting to learn to sing and having daydreams of the stage. 

Which is what led you to this point. You had found a few places to practice in the opera house, the building so old that there were many hidden passageways and nooks and crannies. You often tried to use these locations in order to practice. Your betrothed, Steven, constantly scolded you and claimed one day you would get lost and no one would be able to find you in the maze that was the opera house. (Steven meant well, but could sometimes be more like a mother hen.) Still, you found yourself overwhelmed by curiosity and in need to explore more and more of the building. 

You looked around, curious to see if anyone was nearby. You had found this entrance behind a mirror in a makeup room, the dark and almost damp hallway confusing you. You walked on further, the long skirts of your white gown brushing the cold stone floor, probably dirtying the edges. You held the candle you used as a light in a shaky hand, goosebumps erupting on your skin at the chill. This place reminded you of dreams you so often had involving a dark dim cave, some mysterious yet enchanting man…no, creature…whisking you away with his lulling voice and seductive tones. You felt your heart race and your thighs squeeze together at the thought. 

You were ashamed of these dark desires. You were always told that women weren’t meant to feel lust. Ballerinas were not meant to daydream about dark and haunting shadowy figures whisking them away into the night against their will. That was why you were so passive in your arranged engagement with Steven. What did it matter that you felt not a bit of swirling desire for the man if you were not meant to? He had good money and was kind and treated you well, despite your less-than-normal childhood. Maybe after the wedding, you could squash all these horrid and sinful feelings in your belly. 

While lost in thoughts, you heard a gust of wind brush by you, the sudden draft blowing out your candle. You gasped, your heart racing as you caught the sudden flash of movement by you, fear squeezing up your throat. The figure moved in a flash, clearly tall and lean. 

“Hello? Who goes there?” You called out, willing yourself to swallow down the frightful feelings in your belly. 

Nothing could be heard but the faint drip of aging pipes and the rustle of the wind in the ancient hallways. You sighed, turning back to where you came from. Perhaps Nancy was correct and you could stand to stop reading things filling your head with the idea of monsters lurking in the night. 

You laid on the gaudy chaise lounge, restless and unable to sleep. Karen, in an attempt to be motherly with you, was earlier discussing ‘wifely duties’ with you, well aware that your education on the matter was crude at best from the words you heard other girls in the corps giggle over. Or occasionally, the male singers would boast of their escapades. She filled you with this idea that women were to lay there to be for their husbands and bear children. But you couldn’t shake the feeling of wanting more. For the past few months, you had been…exploring your own desires. You found you couldn’t sleep without it. And yet…

Tonight you were staying at the opera in an attempt to curb the dark desires in your belly. You knew nothing of a man’s touch but did not want to sully Steven with your lustful and seductive thoughts. You hoped staying in a room not your own would discourage your brain from such thoughts.

You agreed with Karen to stay in the private dressing room, despite the fluttering gasps of your peers in the corps. There were rumors of a dark figure that haunted the opera house, always causing mischief, running around and stealing props, leaving notes on the music sheets, and even occasionally harassing the singers by wrecking their rooms. You weren’t one for superstition, but felt also that perhaps the girls had a point. You had felt a presence near you often, something lingering but still there. 

Just as you did lying there. You were only in your nightgown, the fabric thin and not modest at all. You could feel a presence despite the room being empty. You stared at the ceiling, your heart racing and an even more sinful thought entering your head. 

What if you touched yourself with that presence watching? 

You felt the heat creep from your neck to the tips of your ears, clearly embarrassed despite the lack of company. The thought excited you, the heat growing between your legs and your nipples pebbling at the thought. You sighed, cursing yourself but knowing you could not rest without the feeling of release. 

You shakily grabbed at your skirt, pulling it up while turning to look at your reflection in the mirror. The mirror faced the chaise lounge. You felt a gasp escape your mouth as you looked at yourself. You looked…delectable. Absolutely depraved. Your eyes were dark with lust and your nightgown revealed most of your bare legs, part of it tugged down to reveal cleavage as your hardened nipples poked through the delicate white fabric. 

You began to rub at the wetness between your legs, mewling pathetically at the friction and staring at yourself losing control. You felt your mind go foggy, your wetness growing as your moans became more desperate. You felt your eyes flutter, feeling as if the presence was staring at you. And whether it was the small sip you had of wine earlier you had with Karen or the lust clouding your thoughts, you swore you could see a shadow within the mirror, a pair of warm and sultry brown eyes slightly visible. The sight of the shadow caused you to reveal more of yourself, feeling the need to put on a winning show. You threw your head back, pulling the nightgown down more to free your breasts to the chilly air as you rubbed at your clit more ferociously, your moans and whimpers growing in desperation. You felt the tension in the room grow as the feeling grew before the tension snapped, leaving you shattering to pieces.  

You panted as you came down from your high, letting yourself catch a breath and trying to fix your appearance. You turned towards the mirror slowly, your body heavy and worn. You saw only yourself. No warm or sultry eyes. No shadowy figure. Just you. You let your eyelids flutter as you head off to sleep, sure to dream of the dark presence once again. And just before you do…you swear you see the shadow flash across the mirror. But maybe it was just your tiredness affecting your sight. 

The second time you experienced the presence was another night sleeping at the opera house in order to assist Nancy with her duties in the morning, since her mother, Karen, had left her in charge of the duties this time around, scolding her about needing to be responsible. You were asleep, dreaming and tossing while imagining that dark presence looming over you, your lust creeping in. In the dream, the dark shadow was looming over you, kissing up and down you, as silent as possible. You watched as the shape kissed its way down, growling hungrily at your entrance. You couldn’t see much but felt, almost as if it were real, lapping at your sensitive clit. You woke dazed, lust pooling between your thighs as you tried to sit up, sure you were feeling something licking and sucking on the swollen bud between your thighs. A gloved hand clamped down on your eyes and prevented you from seeing who the culprit was, your heart racing. You smelled the familiar mix of cinnamon and orange peel, along with sharp notes of rum and ginger, a tonic you knew as familiar among the singers in the opera to keep their vocals sharp. You felt your thighs shake, and moans leaving your mouth despite your brain's conflicting thoughts. 

This is wrong. I don’t know this person. But…the pleasure…they are so skilled with their mouth…I’m so close.

You writhed, whimpering and attempting to escape the mouth to discover who was there, only to feel the other hand hold you tightly in place, a deep and fearful voice growling lowly. 

“Stop your infernal movement, little angel. I would like to worship this beautiful cunt to the best of my ability,” The masculine voice ground out in agitation, the words sending chills up your spine and desire to build to the breaking point. Worshiping you? Men in high society didn’t worship working women like you. You were lucky to even find a betrothal while most dancers were considered ‘low and loose’ women who needed to work in order to gain money. This man was odd and…so very skilled at making you unravel. 

You were drunk on the eroticism of it all. A stranger licking at you like a man starved of a month’s worth of meals, the inability to see his appearance, his demanding tone and forceful hand. You saw stars and felt your pleasure overcome you, your body shaking at your release that he seemed to slurp up, the noises so vulgar they would make a lady of the night blush. You lay there, eyes closed, catching your breath slowly. When your eyes finally fluttered open, you sat up, hoping to get to know the man behind your most recent confession in church, only to be met with silence, not a soul in the room. You felt your heart sink as you tried to fall back asleep, your mind swimming with thoughts of the mysterious voice and the warm, strong hands. It seemed the ghost of the opera might have been real after all. 

Nancy and the other girls in the corps began to notice your distracted gaze, your prolonged nights at the opera, and your skittishness, trying to catch a glimpse of the shadowy figure when people claimed he zipped past. You felt a strange obsession, a need to follow the dark shadow and discover who was consuming your dreams. 

You heard him at night occasionally, humming or singing. Or at least you thought it was him. It was a low and chilling sound. Your body thrummed with excitement anytime you thought you saw a flash of him in the rafters or heard a stair creak. You began to notice little gifts waiting for you in the dressing room, in your favorite nooks and crannies in the opera. Red roses and small notes in the messy script, usually referring to you as Little Angel. Nancy was worried about you, trying to escort you home often and getting Steven to dote on you more.

But you were done. Corrupted. Filthy. And you wanted nothing more than to be in the Phantom’s embrace once more. You wanted him to explore you. Ruin you. Your mind was riddled with him day and night. 

You kept it hidden from everyone, but you often explored the ancient passageways now with the intention of finding him. Occasionally you left gifts. Your most used lipstick, a snippet of a poem, a book you had just read. You would come back to the spots to find the items gone, occasionally a rose left in their place. You felt giddy, like a schoolgirl. Your ghost…your Phantom… seemed to acknowledge you. 

If only you could catch him…

It was a few months after weeks of giddy gift exchanges and running after shadows. The notes and roses stopped. The flashes of a dark figure ended. Perhaps it was a dream. Maybe you were just a fool who imagined or dreamed of the interactions. 

On a dark night, you were aimlessly wandering the halls, singing to yourself a song you remembered your father singing. You had abandoned all hope of your dear ghost coming to capture you. Free you from a loveless marriage. You were set to marry Steven next week. Abandon the opera. Become a proper lady in society. At least Steven would not be disappointed when you laid there and bled for him, giving him a child 9 months later. You sighed to yourself, twisting your engagement ring, displeased with the thing. You wandered the underground tunnels, the candlelight dim in the dark halls. You felt your heart pick up as you heard a soft yet low voice, singing aloud. Your skin erupted in goosebumps, and your heart was racing. 

“Phantom?,” You called out sheepishly. 

The singing stopped. A deep voice coming from a direction you couldn’t discern. 

“Little Angel. What is a lamb like you doing in a dangerous place like this?” called the voice, rough and cold. Was he upset with you? You were unsure. 

You felt a tug at your heart, looking around and trying to find him. “Please, Phantom. I have only one week more at the opera. I cannot bear to not feel your touch another second,” you whimpered out. 

“Ah, so you can crawl back to that insolent boy who does not deserve your glory? My heart cannot bear the rejection, Little Angel. Leave this monster be,” He growled out, still within the shadows. 

Your heart leaped in your throat as tears entered your eyes, feeling your knees wobble as you crumbled to the ground. “Please, Phantom. I cannot bear to be without you. I do not want Steven. Forgive me, please…,” You sobbed softly, your emotions in a tangled mess. 

You heard a sigh and felt yourself get grabbed from behind swiftly, a soft yelp about to leave your throat. That familiar gloved hand snuck over your eyes. 

“Alright, Little Angel. On one condition…You mustn’t, under any circumstances, remove my mask,” He warned, his tone stern. 

You nodded wordlessly, allowing him to pick you up, dropping your lit candle onto the damp floor. The light went out, but as he picked you up in his arms, you caught a brief glance of him. He was a tall and lean figure, his hair a long and curly mess, his face halfway covered by a mask. You could see his plush pink lips and long lashes, warm and enticing brown eyes. 

He was beautiful.

You were tempted to remove the mask, curious as to why such an enticing man would haunt the opera. You refrained, however, out of respect. He tied a loose piece of fabric around your eyes, shielding your vision. 

You were enthralled and scared. 

You were laid down gently on a plush cushion and fabric, the cover softly removed from your eyes. You slowly opened your eyes in a dim and candlelit room, surrounded by aging theatrical props and the most plush velvet fabrics. You were on what appeared to be a bed, the dark figure standing before you. He wore a dark and long cloak, the hood down. His shirt underneath was a silky black shirt with a wide opening, displaying his chest. He wore dark pants and what seemed to be dress shoes. The items were all of high quality but it seemed they were at least a decade old. Upon looking up at his face, you saw he wore a white mask on half of it, his lips and half of his nose visible. His features were mostly soft, though he appeared worn from the years of seclusion and hiding. 

You reached out to touch his cheek, only to have him grip your wrists. His hands were shaking. His dark eyes were swirling with desire and sorrow. Was he shaken because he needed you so fervently? 

“You cannot touch me. I cannot bear it. If you were to touch me only to marry that…that damned fool later. My heart could not take it,” He growled out, his face twisted in sorrow and pain. 

You felt a tug at your heart, your hands aching to touch him but deciding to respect his wishes. 

“Alright.” 

He got up, running over to a pile of old props from past shows, grabbing at one, and walking over to you, grabbing at your wrists before tying them quickly to the frame of the bed. Your heart began to race as your body heated up, your skin erupting in goosebumps as you bit softly at your lips. Phantom groaned softly, looming over you, his warm brown eyes stirring desire in your belly. 

“Do not make such faces, Little Angel. You are so delicate, and I fear I will become without reason,” He groaned out, his eyes intense in their desire, his expression clear that it was hurtful to hold back. 

You could feel your back arch, his stiffening member brushing against you, causing you to whimper. “Please Phantom…Abandon reason…ravage me,” You mewled, writhing under the dark figure. 

His eyes became dark, his snarl deepening as he leaned in, his expression both terrifying and enthralling. “Be careful what you wish for, Little Angel. I am not too short of becoming a monster, devouring you.” 

You whimpered, desire pooling as your eyelashes fluttered, and your body leaned towards him. Two could play at that game. “Please…I’m frightened. R-release me, monster,” You whined, writhing under the Phantom’s dark gaze. A smirk fell upon his lips, dimples evident as the smirk broke into a villainous grin. 

“Oh, you should not have wandered into my lair, Little Angel. Now I must have you,” He growled lowly, taking his gloved hands and ripping open your corset before tearing at the chemise, the fabric pooling in shreds around you, your chest heaving in fear and excitement. 

Your body was bared save for the underpants that exposed your ever-wet entrance, your legs shutting in embarrassment. The Phantom growled, kissing at your lips with hunger and desperation, moans lost on his lips. He kissed you until you gasped for air before biting, nipping, and kissing his way down, focusing on your breasts. You pinched and sucked upon your nipples, heightening your pleasure and making you writhe more under him, whimpers echoing in the cold and dim room. He bit and marked you, his movements like that of a wild beast. 

“Ph-Phantom…Master… Devour me as you have before,” You whined out, meeting his wild brown eyes behind the mask as he looked up, snarling. 

“Beg. Beg for it,” He snarled, hands continuing their tortuous teasing on your breasts. 

“P-please… Master… Dev-devour me…I beg of y-you! I beg of you. I beg of you. I beg of you…,” You babbled, brain foggy with lust and his touch. 

He grinned devilishly, his white smile making your heart race. “As you wish, Little Angel.” 

He slowly made his way down, sure to kiss and mutter praises over you the entire time, letting you know how divine you were, leaving marks with sharp bites here and there. Finally, he reached your entrance, diving in as if it were his last supper. He flicked his tongue across your clit before sucking on it, alternating that and nibbling at your inner thighs, your body writhing like a woman possessed, your eyes rolling in pleasure. 

He truly was wicked, worshiping you beyond your wildest dreams, his words meeting your ears and deepening the carnality within you. You were gone. Lost to this bodily sin. 

“So divine. I do not deserve this beautiful cunt, these heavenly breasts, your godless moans… If this is the price I pay to become Lucifer’s lackey, I will happily pay the toll,” He babbled, fingers curling up into your entrance, his mouth still latching onto your clit. 

You felt your back arch and felt a ripple through your body. You shattered around his finger, your orgasm taking over your mind. You whimpered as he continued to touch you past your high, your nerves so sensitive you felt tears come to your eyes. He stopped short, growling lowly. 

“I’m going to condemn you, Little Angel. Fill you full of my cum. Mark you as mine and mine alone. You are my pet. My divine creature,” He snarled, his face twisted as you felt a shock of fear and lust overtake you. He could have you. You were his. 

“P-please Phantom…Pl-please,” You whimpered, lip trembling in longing as your body shook with terror. 

You suddenly felt a slow thrust into your entrance, the fullness causing a sharp pain, your head thrown back in a silent cry, eyes watering. The thrusting continued at a slow pace, the Phantom’s arms shaking as he appeared to hold back. You looked up at him, the desire growing sharper in you, your dull pain now adding to the pleasure, your legs slightly writhing. You fought against the ropes, whimpering. Phantom seemed to catch on as his brown eyes met yours, something in him snapping. He began snapping his hips at a ferocious pace, making you cry out as he continued to growl but also began to whimper and moan. 

“Such a perfect cunt. A vision. They don’t deserve you. So flawless…Cannot wait to fill your belly with my seed…Corrupt and condemn such a goddess…Ravaged by a monster…What would Steven think…?”

You moaned at the suggestion, thinking of how scandalous the situation would be. Your high was coming along a lot faster as the Phantom growled in your ear, hand at your throat while squeezing the sides and cutting off air. You felt your mind panic suddenly as you writhed but moaned louder, the lightheadedness causing immense pleasure. You were so close. 

“Oh, does my Little Angel enjoy that? Would you like to put on a show for the opera? Singing that beautiful song of pleasure?” He moaned out, his thrusts getting sloppier. 

You felt yourself climb higher and higher towards release, reaching it finally when Phantom growled in your ear making you grow with a child, making everyone know you were his. You saw stars behind your eyes, your heart bursting from your chest as you panted. The Phantom chased his own high, filling you up shortly after, making you moan softly. 

You attempted to catch your breath as the Phantom went to grab you a washcloth, wiping away at the spilling fluid. He released your wrists allowing you to rub at them. You flushed, your body limp and warm, worn out by the activity. You lay beside Phantom who held you to his chest, singing softly as you drifted off. 

You woke up once in the middle of the night, Phantom asleep. You stared at his face, only noticing how much more peaceful he looked in his sleep. You bit your lip, wondering why a man would wear a mask, even during sexual activities. Curiosity always got the better of you. You reached out softly, peeling away the mask, being careful to make sure he didn’t stir. You gasped softly at the reveal. The man's half of his face seemed to have large scars as if someone had taken a chunk of flesh in a bite, perhaps an animal. His cheeks were riddled with them, and half of the tip of his nose also with a chunk missing. 

You frowned, cocking your head. Sure he wasn’t gorgeous on that side but why was he here. He just seemed a little scarred. You softly touched the scars, the Phantom twitching at the touches in his sleep. You stop for a moment but again, only to have the mysterious man's eyes flutter open and horror and realization cross his face and he shoots up and snarls at you. 

“You broke the one rule?” He growled, his eyes dark and anger-filled. 

“I didn’t mean-” 

You felt a quick hand tie you up again, the ropes had been on his side of the bed, You tugged against them, feeling panic come up your throat as he tilted your head up, eyes gleaming with villainy. 

“From now on Angel, you belong to the Phantom of the Hawkins Opera. Edward Munson. But you may call me Master,” He growled out, his eyes swimming with possession, desire, and fury, your mouth opening to let out protests and failing to make a sound. There was no escape. No way to save yourself. You were his. 

Be careful what you wish for. 

THE END?

[ughgoaway]

playing on my mind

content warnings: swearing, referring to Matty as tall (look we all lie for plot purposes okay), dilf Matty and rushed writing... i think that's it? word count- 3.3k ish

a/n: woah this was quick but I am nothing if not impulsive!! this is just a one-shot but if y'all want a series I might do one?? idk it depends on how inspired I am lol. but yes this is just my little blurb-thing from yesterday fleshed out into an actual story!! I'm so glad people liked the idea, I hope this doesn't disappoint <333

(I didn't proofread this so I apologise if its utterly shit </3)

“And off you go! If you need your pencils sharpened or help, make sure you raise your hand! I’ll come to see you!” You say to the group of 30 little balls of energy in front of you. 60 eyes looking up at you might seem intimidating to most, but when it's a hyperactive group of 5-year-olds; the fear wears off slightly.

It was family tree week in your classroom, and you had given your little ones the usual task of drawing their family, each set up with pieces of paper and various pencils and pens to create their masterpieces. Seeing them smile and talk about their older sisters and brothers or how much they love their parents always warmed your heart. 

You originally got into teaching with every intention of working with teenagers. You were sure you shouldn't be moulding such young minds - you were never sure your mind was a very good example. But one test week in a year 1 classroom changed your outlook entirely. Seeing the pure, unadulterated joy on a young child's face was something beyond comparison. 

Getting to watch them grow and develop into little people brought you so much happiness that it could never compare to standing in front of a group of grumpy teenagers. Each teen boy clearly trying to get you over to their desk to “flirt” with you, well as much firting as a 15-year-old boy can do.

Seeing a child come out of their shell, make friendships, and discover their passions made your heart warm in a way nothing else did. So as soon as you qualified you jumped at the opportunity to teach these little ones, this class might be your first but you are sure it will always be your favourite.

And of course, despite what every teacher tells you, they have a favourite student. You were adamant when you began that you really wouldn't have a favourite but then little Annie Healy came bounding into your classroom with a mop of curly hair, untamable energy and the cutest slightly wonky smile you've ever seen. 

She very quickly stole your heart, always wanting to tell you stories and going off on tangents rather quickly, organising tea parties but soon getting distracted leaving you at a small table surrounded by teddy bears giving a toast. Her little body seemed to be filled with enough energy to power the world 3 times over, and you couldn't love her anymore. The idea that she would be leaving your class broke your heart every time you thought about it, despite people telling you not to get attached - you did,

You had just settled at your desk after explaining for the 4th time to Zach that sticking pencils up our noses isn't a very good idea. You ended up telling him if he pushed too far, he'd touch his brain, and soon after that, the pencils stayed firmly in his hand rather than up any nose. If any student was the problem child, it was him. You couldn't hate any student, but let's just say he's given you one too many impromptu haircuts this year to be in line for your favourite.

Soon your real favourite student stuck her arm into the air and wiggled it around in an attempt to get you to see her sooner, little Annie Healy was ever impatient- a trait that is only endearing on her. You quickly nodded and started wandering over, trying not to laugh at her large toothy grin back at you.

“Hi sweetheart, do you need some help?” you say, crouching down to her eye level, flashing a sweet smile.

“Hi miss y/n!” she began, her eyes flittering around your face before landing on your hair, and soon, her hands were stroking your head.

“Wow! I like your hair! It's got sparkly clips in it! You know I asked my daddy for some like that, and he said-” you gently placed a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to stop the tangent before it started. You knew she'd somehow end up keeping you there for 20 minutes, giving you a detailed list of all of her Barbie dolls and their jobs if you didn't redirect her quickly enough.

“Thank you, Annie! I saw your arm wiggling in the air earlier. Did you need some help?” her eyes light up as she remembered why she called you over here.

“Oh! Yeah, I want to write what's in my daddy’s hands, but I don't know how to spell it. Will you help me?” she says, bringing her attention back to her drawing and grabbing the black pencil to continue her work. It's the first time you actually looked at her drawing, and to say you were concerned would be an understatement.

Most drawings of family consist of the same basic elements; a mum, a dad, a sun in the corner, and a house that is wildly disproportionate to everything else.

So imagine your surprise when you look down to see 4 men in what seems to be leather jackets, holding various musical instruments, and a very tall dog next to them.

You blink a few times. Just checking what you're seeing is right. The lineup starts with a tall man holding a guitar, next to a slightly shorter man also holding a guitar with a mess of black scribbles on his head. Next up is a very tall man with drumsticks in his hands and a kit behind him, and finally another very tall man with a beard and a bass. The concern briefly melts away as you consider how impressive it is she knows the difference. In the bottom left corner is a black dog with very long legs and a big pink tongue sticking out, the dog was almost as tall as the first man but you're aware kids aren’t known for their skill with proportion.

No one had prepared you for this in teaching school, there was never a lecture about what to do if one of your kids does a mildly troubling family drawing of 4 men in leather jackets and a horse dog. You try to stutter a response to Annie, but no real words are leaving your mouth. Just a jumble of sounds, each one sounding more confused and stressed than the last.

You flash a look at her only to be met with a confused head tilt and sad eyes. Oh god. She thought you hated her drawing. Shit.

Time for damage control.

You make the decision then and there not to ask her about the details of her drawing, desperately trying not to make her cry. 

Maybe you could go and see her mum in the playground? Yes, that's what you'll do. You'll walk her out, have a brief discussion with Mum, and make sure Annie knows her family isn't 4 men in a band and then leave her be. That sounds like the professional thing to do.

You take a deep breath and smile at Annie, and soon her downturned lips flashed that cheesy grin you knew so well. You tighten your hand on her shoulder and grab a pen, ready to help her any way she needs. 

“Do you mean the word ‘guitar’ Annie?” she gives you an excited nod as you continue speaking, “Ah yes, that's a really hard word for even grown-ups to spell. Let's work it out together, hmm?”

With your mind racing you help her sound it out and label her drawing, even stopping to sharpen her black colouring pencil for her- there's a lot of black for young girls drawing but she's committed to an aesthetic, and part of you respects that.

On the walk back to the desk, you begin practising your speech in your head, trying to figure out how to ask why she’s drawing a band as her family without unknowingly offending mum. Maybe she just really likes music?

You run through your memories trying to think of her mentioning a band before, but nothing comes to mind, Annie doesn't even stay on track long enough to talk about her family. Always seeing something shiny and discussing that instead. 

You flick your eyes to her one more time just to see her animatedly talking with another little girl on her table, her hands gesticulating wildly and her curls bouncing as she tells her story.

The sight calms you slightly, seeing the little girl you know so well acting exactly as she should be. You have the fleeting thought that you might be overreacting, but eventually, you collect the drawings to see Annie had dated her work “1975”. Yup, that discussion with her parents was definitely happening.

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

The bell rings, and you manage to catch Annie just before she runs off into the playground without you, “Hi Annie! I have your drawing from today. Should we show it to mummy and daddy together?” her eyes light up as her curls bounce from her excited nods. 

You walk hand in hand out onto the playground, crouching down you make eye contact with Annie before asking, “Can you point out your mum or dad Annie?”

She nods and begins scanning the playground. You stifle a laugh at the look of concentration on the young girl's face. Her nose is scrunched along with her eyebrows, one hand pulling at a curl by her ear and the other holding yours. Soon, you see her face brighten, and her eyes fill with joy. 

“DADDY!!” is the scream that comes from the little girl as her hand shoots from her head to point to the corner of the playground, she starts dragging you before you even look up but as you do, you feel your heart drop.

As a student teacher, you'd definitely seen some hot dads, but they were still dads. Most were slightly creepy, partially balding, and talked about nothing but golf and their “annoying” wives. You were used to that kind of dad, not exactly this kind.

Standing nonchalantly in the corner of the playground was a tall man. A pile of salt and pepper curls sat on top of his head; untamed but effortlessly and obnoxiously cool. The white t-shirt he was wearing did nothing to hide the patchwork of tattoos that snaked up his arms. The low neck of the top even teased the top of his chest tattoo. Sunglasses sat on his face, they gave him an "I'm too cool" rocker vibe that, for some unknown reason, made you dizzy.

In one hand, he had a lit cigarette, something that was not allowed on school property, but the way his cheeks hollowed as he took a drag had you forgetting that rule completely. He dropped the butt of the cigarette to crush it with his heavy boots before taking a sip of the can of coke that was in his other hand. 

As he noticed you coming over, a dazzling smile broke out on his face. You felt your knees weaken as you tried to brush off how hot he was. 

You then realised you actually had to speak to this man. Fuck. You're not sure you even have a voice currently. If you opened your mouth, you're sure incoherent noises would come out, followed by wild hand motions trying to explain your insane behaviour.

The closer you got, the less you stared at him, feeling too intimidated to keep looking in his direction. This did mean you almost tripped 3 times, but you would rather fall than risk making eye contact with this intimidatingly attractive man.

Annie dropped your hand as you finally reached the man, and she jumped into his arms. He grunted at the force but soon began pressing kisses all over her face, smiling at her uncontrollable giggles.

Quickly, the man noticed your presence and stuck a hand out to introduce himself, “Hi! Sorry about that, you know what it's like when kids miss you. I’m Annie’s dad, Matty.” 

And this is where a normal person would introduce themselves, stick their hand out, and shake Matty’s. Maybe even say their name and start talking, but oh no. Not you. You stood there motionless and just said “Matty” breathlessly to yourself 3 times over.

Time dragged on in the 10 seconds Matty stood there with his hand out. If you weren't aware of how time worked, you would swear you stood there in stilted silence for 10 minutes. 

By some grace of god, little Annie Healy saved you and introduced you, “Daddy. This is Miss y/n. She wanted to come and show you my drawing." 

Matty retracted his hand and pushed the sunglasses that sat on the bridge of his nose up to his mess of curls, just as wayward as his daughters. His deep brown eyes met yours as he tilted his head questioningly at your behaviour. His smile remained wide at you, his tongue swiped over his bottom lip, and you felt your heart stutter. A litany of inappropriate thoughts swirling through your mind.

He quickly diverted his attention back to his daughter, “Oh really munchkin? Is your drawing just that amazing? Is Miss y/n going to send it to all the museums?” he said whilst tickling her sides. You smiled at the pair of them watching Annie throw her head back with erratic laughter. 

Finally, you manage to right yourself and begin speaking, “Right. Sorry about that, long day,” you explain, looking apologetically at Matty, who only nodded and tried to hide his widening smile at your flustered state. 

“I'm just here to talk about Annie's drawing,” you pause briefly and look at Annie in her dad's arms. Not wanting to disappoint her, you form a plan in your mind. “Hey Annie, why don't you go practise some hopscotch! I'm just going to have a quick chat with your dad, okay?”

Before you’d even finished your sentence, Annie was wiggling out of her dad's arms and running off.

“She's got endless energy that one hasn't she?” you say wistfully, staring off in the direction she ran, watching her jump around and giggle with some of her friends.

“Ah like father like daughter, I suppose” Matty says, grinning at your clear love for his little girl. He feels his heart warm at your caring eyes. “So what seems to be the issue? I'm sure you're not over here because the Louvre has asked for Annie’s drawing?” 

You laugh at Matty's joke, perhaps a little too hard. Nervous laughter was one of your less attractive traits, but you try to shake it off and have an actual adult conversation with Matty. 

“Ah no, no phone calls from Paris yet,” you begin laughing lightly, you pull out Annie's drawing and pass it over to Matty and start to analyse his reaction as you finish speaking, “I was just coming over to ask why Annie's family portrait is seemingly a band? I wanted to make sure she knows her family isn't 4 tall men in leather jackets and a surprisingly tall horse dog.”

As you finish your sentence, Matty bursts out in hysterical laughter, folding over as his chortling laughter takes over his whole body. Your face scrunches up at his reaction, your eyebrows are pinched, and a small frown overtakes your features. 

Eventually, Matty catches his breath and looks up at you only to realise how strange his reaction appears. His hand shoots up to your arm and begins to stroke it lightly as he attempts to explain himself.

Each featherlight stroke of his fingers made your breath hitch. You felt your eyes fogging over, and your ears felt as if they were stuffed with cotton wool, the surrounding sounds suddenly becoming muted.

A shake of your head brought you back to earth as you fought to focus on the words Matty was saying.

“Oh I'm so sorry, once you know the story you’ll understand my reaction” Matty began explaining with wide apologetic eyes, “basically Annie's mum isn't in the picture, it's just me and my 3 best friends,” he said smiling.

You lightly laugh and say, “Ah I'm assuming they are the man with the guitar, the one with the bass and the other with the drumsticks?” You finish with a teasing tilt of your head.

Matty's fingers encircle your wrist as that smile you've quickly grown to love appears on his face once again at your teasing.

“Yes those are the ones. You see we’re all in a band - hence all the instruments. I always tell Annie that Uncle George, Ross, and Adam are our family. So when you asked for a family drawing...”

“She drew her family!” You finish his sentence for him, staring at his hand and holding your wrist as you do. He quickly drops it, and you curse yourself for bringing it to his attention.

You wrap your arms around your stomach protectively in an attempt to hide your mounting embarrassment.

Matty smiles and starts to speak again, only to be interrupted by you, “Wait I understand that, but why did she date it ‘1975’?”

Somehow, Matty's smile grew again, “Our band is called the 1975. Weird, I know, but it comes from me being young and pretentious with a Jack Kerouac book.”

Before you could respond, Annie came bounding over and wrapped herself around her dad's leg, “Dadddd” she complained, pulling out the last letter to announce her annoyance to the world.

“Annieeee” Matty teased back in the same tone as her, picking her up as he did.

“Can we go home now? I want to see mayhem!!” she said, excitedly clapping her hands as she finished.

You shoot Matty a questioning look, and he quickly answers your silent query, “the horse dog” he says teasingly, parroting your earlier words back at you.

“Okay darling, let's get going then,” Matty says with a grunt, putting Annie down, grabbing her hand, and taking her backpack from her.

“Say bye to miss y/n Annie,” he says, smiling sweetly at you, but you can see the mischief brewing in his eyes.

His eyes keep your attention so long you almost miss Annie's sweet goodbye, “bye miss y/n! See you tomorrow! Can we talk about your sparkly clips tomorrow?” she asks with a tilt of her head.

“Of course, little miss Annie!” You say smiling at the young girl. You focus solely on her in an attempt not to get lost in her father's eyes again.

You watch them walk away but after a few steps they pause, Matty turns over his shoulder and waves with his free hand, “Bye miss y/n” he says with a teasing lilt to his voice and a flirty wink.

Before you can even process what just happened, he's strolling away casually, and all the mums in the playground are silently lusting after him.

A heavy breath leaves your chest as you start to watch him leave.

“Isn't he gorgeous” a voice behind you whispers, causing you to jump and let out a small scream. You hold a hand to your chest and look at your colleague with wild eyes.

“Oh my god, Amanda, please do not sneak up on me like that! I'm fragile” you say, now laughing at your ridiculous reaction.

“Sorry, sorry,” she begins giggling, “but isn't he just so hot? Annie was in my class last year, and I used to count down the days until parent’s evening! I mean, who wouldn't want to sit across a desk from a man who looks like that?” Amanda says, wiggling her eyebrows flirtatiously.

She begins to teasingly poke your sides at your awkward silence, and you quickly brush her off and straighten up, “Amanda! You can't talk like that about a parent!” You say, trying and failing to have any conviction in your voice.

“I can when the parent looks like that!” she says, smiling and watching Matty stroll away.

You huff at her behaviour and walk away, desperate to sit down and process what just happened.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Your desk chair squeaks as you sit down behind your desk. You spin the chair and pick up a pen to begin marking some spelling tests from last week, but before long, you give up.

Staring off into space with endless thoughts poisoning your mind, only one thing can come out of your mouth. 

“fuck."

[appleblueberry-pie]

How would Yan Miggy feel when his S/O has successfully escaped from him and is moved to another country, she also has a child who is five years old and looks like a carbon copy of him.

So one day the kid decided to write Miguel a letter with their address on it and in the letter the kid talks about how reader never mentions him or talks about him, and also wondering if he's the Child's real father. And so the kid invites him to his/her’s birthday. (plus also having an attached photo of the house that they are living in, in the letter).

Reader is now shocked and immediately pulling her child away from him, and angrily asks Miguel how he got their address.

I love your work💕

THANK YOU <3 also i like this ask lol

Miguel sat in his car, anxiety and happiness causing his stomach to tie in knots. The picture applied to the handwritten note and the house he parked in front of were identical. He saw a children's park and a school on the way here, not too far away. It's also the city you've always wanted to move to to raise a family. This has to be the place.

Dear Daddy,

I miss you alot. Mommy tells me that you were mean to her alot so she left to be happy. I am glad she is happy but i miss being with you. My birthday is on xxxxxxxx and i would be very very happy if you came to selebrate with us!! This is what my house looks like. And i can tell you where we live. PLease coem. i miss you.

Every time Miguel read over the note, the more he felt connected to his little girl, and it pained him it had to come to this. So, he'll make sure that his return in her life is more of a meaningful one. Not one full of lies, excuses and useless arguments that led to nothing but more problems. A year is a long time and Miguel is a changed man. He can make this right.

When he shows up at your door, he takes note of all of the beautiful and small garden growing in the front yard, wondering if the two of you worked on that together.

Your car looks pretty nice as well. Did you buy that on your own? Or did someone else help you? It's pretty difficult to find a house, let alone afford living, in a place as nice as this. Maybe that's why you took money out of his account so often. If you wanted to move, you should've just told him so. Well, it's too late for that now.

As soon as he knocks on the door, it flies open, and there's his little girl he hasn't seen in forever. She gives him that big smile he's always loved and remembered, screaming his name. "Daddy!!" He picks her up and holds her close in his arms.

"Oh! My little ball of sunshine! My favorite girl, it's been too long since I've last seen you, how have you been? How's my birthday girl??"

She laughs when he tickles her lightly and puts her on the ground. "I'm really good now that you're here! Wait, let me tell Mommy-"

She takes his hand to bring him inside, but you appeared out of nowhere, breaking the hand-holding and roughly shoving him by the chest out of the front door entrance. You hold your little girl behind you, your face almost unrecognizable from a mix of fear and anger on display.

"What the hell are you doing here?? How did you find us?" Miguel's face drops at your tone and holds out his arms in the most non-threatening way possible. Yet, his voice showed his true colors. So nervous and....almost scared.

"Hi, Y/n," A crooked smile shows on his face, "Mi amor, it's very nice to see you-"

"I'm gonna call the cops if you don't leave." You scramble to try and pick up your daughter, who fights against it. You aren't in the mind to understand that as you continue to try and back away from who once was your captor.

"No, wait, it's not like that. It's D/n birthday today and......I just wanted to come see my baby." He takes a step inside your abode. Slowly, as if trying to not make things worse. "Please."

You thought you did everything right. You didn't leave any traces. You gained his trust in leaving you to the house all for yourself, which took years and years to do. And when things finally clear and you finally found a normal life to live again, he comes to your doorstep. Was he stalking you this entire time?? Why was he being so nice? So open? You definitely couldn't trust whatever he had up his sleeve, and your daughter....

"I told him where we live!!" She tugged on your arm as hard as she could to get your attention. Your head snaps down to her direction. When she saw your face, she hesitated for a moment but kept talking. "I just wanted to see daddy again.......I-....all of my friends at school have their dads, and i really missed mine. If i wasn't ever gonna see him again, then i just wanted to see him one last time."

[I can't color code anymore😭]

You were in disbelief. As mad as you wanted to be at your daughter for doing something so life changing and unbelievable, you couldn't for the life of you put any of those feelings onto her. She deserved the world. And in all honesty, you took most of it from her. Miguel was a great father despite his many flaws, and all you wanted for her was to experience that perfect family.

And you couldn't give it to her. The rest of the puzzle she needed was right here. You didn't know if you were ready to give Miguel a chance again. But did you really have a choice?

Miguel frowned and dropped his hands.

You promise yourself to deal with it for now. The quicker he celebrates, the faster you find a way to get him out again. You bend down to whisper to your daughter. "Go tell daddy where your bedroom is so I can finish with the decorations, okay?"

Her face begins to beam and, without a second thought, nods her head and rushes off to keep Miguel busy. Miguel doesn't have a chance to see your face, as you already got back into the kitchen to deal with the food, and he lets his lips turn upwards at the corner.

[sebscore]

Hello I hope you are well. Can you write reader who has night terrors with Charles Leclerc? Thank you very much

KICK UP A STORM | CHARLES L.

pairing: charles leclerc x sister!reader 

warnings: thunderstorm. crying. 

author's note: sooo, i just realised it said 'reader’ and not 'sister!reader' lol so i hope you still like it and you're not mad that I made a little leclerc fic. I also totally misunderstood the night terrors and you probs meant nightmares, but oh well 😚

masterlist 

• • • • • • •

''Y/N?'' 

The sudden appearance of Charles made her flinch, almost dropping her glass of water in the process. ''What the fuck.'' She tried not to yell, it was late at night and she didn't want to wake up her family. 

''What are you doing? It's like-'' he glanced at the time of his phone, ''super late.'' Finding his sister on the couch at 4AM was not a sight he was expecting. 

She shrugged her shoulders, placing her glass back on the coffee table in front of her. ''I just can't sleep.'' Y/N answered him, staring at her bare feet. 

''Why?'' 

The young girl shrugged her shoulders, too embarrassed to explain her reason for being awake at this hour. ''Don't know,'' she whispered, ''I'm sorry if I woke you up.'' Y/N apologised, her wavering voice a little louder now. 

''Non, non,'' Charles brushed her apology off, ''my throat is dry, I just wanted some water.'' He grew concerned at her answer. The driver couldn't take a good look at her face due to the darkness of the living room, but he had a small suspicion she had been crying. ''You okay?'' 

''Yes, I'm fine-'' 

Right as she was about to lie and assure her brother she was alright, a flash of lighting lit up the large room. The crashing thunder boomed through the city of Monte-Carlo, and by default through the Leclerc household. 

''Hey- it's okay!'' Charles didn't hesitate and ran to his sister's side, sitting next to her and pulling her closer to him. The tears in her eyes glistened with each struck of lightning that was produced. Y/N hid her head in his neck, staining his shirt with her wet cheeks. 

''You're okay, I'm here. I got you, chérie.'' The man kept a strong hold on her, using his body as a form of shield. ''You're fine! We're inside, nothing can happen.'' He tried comforting her with his words, her obvious distress breaking his heart. 

Her fear of lightning and thunderstorms had been a primary one ever since she was a young child. She and her family had never been able to pinpoint the exact moment her phobia started or what situation had been the catalyst, but it was there and it hadn't gone away with the years that had passed. 

It had begun with rain tapping on her window, which quickly turned into the sky rudely interrupting her sleep and scaring her with a large strike of thunder. As the storm went on, her room felt like it was becoming smaller and smaller by the minute. Y/N moved to the larger living room on shaky limbs and tried to be as quiet as possible so she wouldn't wake anyone up. 

Charles felt like an idiot as he continued comforting his baby sister, guilt filling his mind over not realising sooner why she couldn't sleep. ''Don't worry, it's okay now.'' He pressed a kiss to the side of her head. ''You know you can always wake me up, right?'' 

The young girl moved her head from his neck and rested it on her older brother's shoulder. ''I know, but you've been working so much. I just wanted to let you sleep.'' She sniffled, explaining herself. 

''Oh, bébé~'' He cooed, touched by her consideration of his sleep schedule. 

''If this happens again, just wake me up. I don't want you to be scared on your own like this. If it's you, I don't mind.'' Charles clarified, wanting her to know she could pull him from his sleep in situations like this. 

Y/N nodded, a tired smile on her face. ''Okay, Cha.'' She promised him, her fingers fiddling with his hand. 

An unexpected chuckle from her has Charles turning his head towards her. ''What?'' 

The youngest Leclerc shakes her head. ''No, it's just… you said you won't mind if I wake you up from your sleep.''

''Yeah?'' 

''So who would you mind waking you up?'' 

Her question has him laughing now as well, glad her cheeky personality had gotten back to the surface. ''Well, I think we both know the answer.'' 

''Yeah,'' she mumbled, ''I know.'' 

''Arthur.'' 

taglist :: @missskid @maxiel-jpg @glitterquadricorn @stillbreathin @obsessed-fan-alert @booknerd2004-blog @kageyamama-hinatatata @reblog-princess-blog @maezenin12 @gly-exe @lighttsoutlewis @topguncultleader @jaydensluv @nora_moon @erinisrightheree @7leb-kakaw @theamazingsimp @lovelyxlily @princessmiaelicia @mehrmonga @champomiel @rowansshit @mbappebby @maemaesthoughts @g4ns3y @im_mi @gracesferrari @67-angelofthelordme-67 @harrysdimple05 @ijustwantavacation @livinglifebeingme @Judgemental-Raven

@moony-mari @uhhevie @princesselle2111 @vanishingcherry @simping4marauders @ooooohmicky @gentlemonsterjennie1 @Mayake-1 @awhoreforspencerreid @cl16lvr @skepvids @jason-todd-fangirl04 @lecl3rcw @coffeewhore18 @mikauraur @crueldinasty @anvdala

[forever-rogue]

My partner often joke about how we wouldn’t want each other to find anyone else if one of us were to die, so I’ve been thinking…. Joel x fem!reader where reader had lost her long term partner months before meeting Joel. She develops feelings for him but can’t bring herself to move on. “He would want you to move on.” “No, he wouldn’t.” I’ll leave it up to you if they do end up together or not cuz I just can’t decide lol

AN | Please, this is so soft and everything 🥺 

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language; mention of death (cancer) and grief

Word Count | 2.8k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Just before he could kiss you, you pulled away. You pulled away so fast, you almost tripped over your own feet and stumbled backwards.

"What's-"

"Don't," you held up your hand, shaking your head, "please."

"Baby," the way he whispered was so tender that it almost made you cry. He took a hesitant step closer, "what's wrong?"

"I can't do this."

"Do what?"

"This," you repeated, pointing between your bodies as his entire face fell, "us. I can't do this, Joel. I can't be with you."

"I thought…" he exhaled heavily, hands on his hips as he tried to gather his thoughts. This was not what he had expected, "I thought we both wanted this. I thought-"

"You were wrong," oh. That hurt to say. The look on his face made you want to take it all back. You could see the tears listening in his eyes, "and so was I. I-I'm sorry."

"Can we just talk about it?"

"I've gotta go," before he could do or say anything else, you almost ran away from him, wanting to get home as quickly as possible. This was the worst.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"What's wrong with you?" Ellie could tell something was wrong even before Joel got the chance to sigh as he walked into the house. She set her book down and looked at him with a concerned expression, "what happened?"

"I don't even know," he sat down next to the young girl with a huff as she raised an eyebrow. He said your name softly and she leaned in closer, "she just left. Said she couldn't do this. Whatever this is."

"What did you do?" She asked, trying to keep herself from sounding too judgmental either way.

"All I did was try to kiss her," there's a sheepish blush that creeps into his neck and cheeks, "I didn't think it was out of place. It seemed…"

"Yeah," she scooted closer to him and gently patted his arm, "I think she's just scared."

"I haven't done-"

"Not of you," she quickly shut down that path of worry and fear, shaking her head fervently, "its just…has she told you about her partner? From a long time ago."

"No," Joel's face marred with worry. You'd only vaguely mentioned a partner in the past as he'd been getting to know you, but now he was curious and worried, "she hasn't really talked about that much."

"They were together for a while," Ellie explained, "a lot of years…she said…I think this needs to come from her but she said at one point they had a child. She only mentioned it once-"

"Fuck."

"Fuck," she agreed, "her partner died a few months before she moved here."

"Oh," he ran a hand over his tired face and sighed heavily. He'd had no clue - he still felt like a jerk. He wished he hadn't tried to kiss…not because he didn't want to, he really did, but he hated the idea that he hurt you even more. Even if it was accidental, "oh."

"I thought she told you," Ellie hated seeing him upset and knowing that you were upset, "but I'm sure she will…maybe she just needs a little bit of space."

"Yeah," he agreed with a grimace. He wanted to go over to yours now and work it all out. But he also didn't want to chase you away. You were worth, worth waiting for, "I'll give her time."

"It'll be okay," Joel wished he had as much confidence as Ellie did. He desperately hoped she was right, "I promise."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You felt so stupid for how you just ran away from Joel. The sensible thing would have been to talk to him and explain everything that was going through your mind. But when he leaned in to kiss you, every coherent thought had gone out the window. 

And the thing was that you really liked him. You found yourself falling for him harder and faster than you'd ever dreamed of or imagined. And it was scary. You hadn't felt that way about anyone in a long time…since him. 

It still hurt to think about; it still felt just as fresh and deep as the day it happened. And now you felt like you were betraying him by falling for someone else.

It was odd to even think about. You didn't even have to think about it at all, it happened so organically and everything with him felt so natural. 

Joel was unlike anyone you'd ever met before, in the best of ways. He was kind, caring, smart, funny, and a multitude of other things that became evident after you'd gotten to know him. 

And you knew, deep down, that you owed him an explanation. Even if it hurt and was hard to do, you had to tell him. He deserved it.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A few days had passed since the incident had occurred. It took an entire three days to work up the courage to seek out Joel and talk to him. When you found him working in the small shop you approached quietly, trying not to startle him. He must have felt your presence because he turned around and looked at you with a surprised expression on his face.

"Hey there," you whispered softly, holding up your hand in a meek little wave.

"Hey," the expression on his face was nothing short of relief. His shoulders relaxed and he instantly looked like the weight of the world was off his shoulders.

"Listen, I–...can we talk?" He nodded and he motioned for you to follow him to the back where there was more privacy. It was a chilly winter afternoon, and snow had started falling softly. You held out your hand and caught a few flakes in your palm, watching them dissolve quickly.

"Listen, I want to a-"

"Don't," you touched his arm and shook your head, stopping him before he could fully believe that he was at fault for anything, "don't apologize, Joel. You don't owe me an apology - I owe you an apology."

"You don't have to…" he insisted sincerely, putting a finger under your chin and turning your face up to his, "you don't have to do anything. I just want to know that you're okay."

"I am…I think," you found it hard to look into his soft gaze, swallowing the lump in your throat, "there's something I have to tell you. I think it might help explain what happened. But maybe you already know - I have no clue what people spread around."

"Ellie," he answered as you relaxed. You adored the young girl and if anything, you were glad he heard it from her, "told me the shorthand version of what happened. But if you're ready, I'd rather hear it from you."

"Thank you," you blinked back the tears that were already welling up. He wasn't just judging, he just wanted to listen. To support you, "its kind of funny in a way. In a weird, sad kind of way but Ellie…she's almost the same age as my son would have been."

"Oh," he almost choked on the singular word. He knew that story all too well, "sweetheart…"

"My son, he…his name was Benjamin but we called him Benny. I had him when I was really young," you closed your eyes and exhaled slowly. The cold air felt like it was burning your lungs, "he was born into this cruel world that took him from me way too soon. He was just a kid…he was my baby, you know? He was seven. Seven. How is that even fair?"

Joel tried to keep his composure as he wiped away your tears. He'd told you about Sarah; you listened and held him then. Loved him so much it made your heart ache. He'd had no clue that you'd gone through the same thing.

"My baby," you sniffled softly, leaning into his touch, "but at least then I had my boyfriend - my son's father. We'd been together for a long time already, since we were just kids really. I loved him so much. More than anything in this world besides our son. Everything fell apart but we always had each other. We promised each other that we'd always be there for one another."

"Can I…can I hug you?” he wanted nothing more than to wrap you in his arms and make it all go away, and make everything better. You looked at him with big, wide doe eyes and nodded, melting into his touch, “I’ve got you, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

“I know,” you whispered as you buried your face into his chest. You never felt safer than when you were with him, “thank you. Joel, I…”

So many words were swirling around in your head and you wanted to get them all out. You had to.

“You don’t have to say anything more,” he kissed the top of your head and squeezed you tightly, “only what you want to.”

“I want to tell you everything,” you whispered, “Joel, I thought I’d be with him forever. I thought we’d grow old together and experience the rest of your lives together. But then he…he got sick, really sick. They couldn’t…do anything for him. They said it was cancer and that it was too far gone to do anything that could be helpful. They didn’t have everything they needed either. It was a fast onset, but I really wonder how long he’d felt like something was off but didn’t do anything. How long was he suffering without telling me? He was gone so quickly; it felt like I didn’t even get a chance to process everything and then he was just gone.”

“I’m sorry,” he felt his own heart break for you. He hated that you ever had to go through a single bad thing, “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“I lost my son and my life partner,” you pulled back and wiped at your eyes, “the two people I thought I’d have forever. And it still hurts so much.”

“All that grief,” he whispered, “is just all of that love you have inside of you. It’ll never go away, but it will get better. I still think about Sarah everyday too…and Tess. I miss them both more than anything, but I’ll always have them in my heart. Nothing will ever change.”

“You understand more than anyone,” you inhaled shakily, “you know how hard it is.”

“I do,” he agreed softly, “but it’s okay to move forward - we can’t live in the past forever. It took me a damn long time to realize that too, but it’s true.”

“I want to,” you looked at him nervously, “but I don’t know if I can. The hardest part of all is that…I can’t help falling in love with you. But I can’t be with you.”

And there it was, out in the open. All those things that he had been feeling had just been validated; he just knew that the other shoe was going to drop. He tried to control his expression as your lip trembled with effort to keep from crying. 

“I can’t….I can’t do that to him,” your hands balled into fists at your side as you tore your gaze away, “I can’t just…be with someone else. It’s not fair - it’s not…fair.”

“Sweetheart,” the pet name crashed over you and that only made you cry harder. Joel Miller was such a good man that it made your heart yearn and ache for him, “it’s okay to be with someone else. And I’m not just saying that about me - for anyone you could ever be interested in. You’re not moving on, you’re not forgetting him but you’re moving forward with life. That’s okay.”

“It’s not-”

“It is,” he insisted gently, “you’ll never forget him or your son or love them any less. But it’s okay to be happy and to love others. If it was the other way around, would you want him to be able to be happy and move forward?”

“Yes, of course,” you insisted with a fervent nod, “I’d always want him to be happy, even if that was with someone else in his life.”

“Don’t you think he’d want the same for you?” he asked, causing your mouth to open and close in surprise, “wouldn’t he want you to be loved, to love, and be happy?”

“It’s different-”

“It’s not,” but his response was not unkind. It was patient and loving, “you deserve all the love and happiness that you wish for others to have. I know it might be hard to accept that, fuck, it was for me too. But I…I allowed myself to fall in love with you too, and to love Ellie as if she was my own. That never once changed anything I felt for Tess or Sarah. I love them as much as ever. But I…I love you too.”

“Joel,” you were silently pleading with him, wishing you just had all the answers then and there. But it wasn’t that simple. Things almost never were, “I…can’t. I’m sorry, I just…not right now.”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” he touched your cheek, brushing his knuckles gently over your soft skin, “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right here, if and when you ever need me.”

All you could do was nod before turning on your heel and scampering away once again. This time you were left with so many more questions than answers. You had a lot to think about.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was late when the knocking came at his door. Joel grumbled as he got up from the couch where he’d inadvertently fallen asleep to answer the door. Since it was so late, he figured it might have been something important. 

Much to his surprise, when he opened the door, there you were. You looked up at him with nervous eyes and a sweet little smile.

“Hey,” he relaxed as he leaned against the door. It had been over a week since he’d last seen you. And honestly? He’d felt like he was dying on the inside, “what’s going on, sweetheart?”

“I’ve been thinking,” you confessed as though it was some sort of secret, “a lot. About a lot of different things. But also everything that you said. And I realized…”

He remained silent as he gave you an opportunity to compose your thoughts. He was busy trying not to scare you away again.

“I realized that you were right,” it was so quiet that Joel wasn’t sure he’d actually heard you, “you were right. I can’t go through the rest of my life being sad and stuck in the past. I have to move on, but I never have to forget.”

“Yeah?” he tried not to get too ahead of himself. For the most part, he was happy that you felt that way; he wanted you to be happy, truly happy, even if that wasn’t necessarily with him, “I’m glad you were able to work it out. You deserve it - happiness and love, all of it.”

“I know that now,” you shuffled your feet nervously, taking a moment to muster up your courage, “and I want to…Joel. I want to…I’m in love with you.”

Butterflies exploded in his stomach as his breath caught in his throat. You were serious - only this time you weren’t running away. Instead you were looking at him with determined eyes and a nervous smile. 

“Funny,” he tried to ease his and your nerves, “I’m in love with you too.”

“May I…will you…?” you couldn’t even get the words out, way too anxious and nervous to finish your sentence. But Joel, lovely and wonderful Joel, knew exactly what you were asking. He nodded tenderly, taking your face in his hands before leaning in and pressing his lips to yours.

You stiffened for a moment before leaning into his and kissing him back. It felt so different than what you were used to, but also so right and lovely and amazing. When he pulled back, the two of you were grinning at each other shyly, so many unspoken things flowing between you. 

“Everything in time,” he promised gently as you leaned in kissed him again, “I’ve got you, okay? Always, I mean it.”

“I’ve got you too, Joel,” and he knew you did. He knew you were speaking from the heart, “always.”

[impactedfates]

JDBJDBDKN i’m new and in the nicest way possible, your fix’s are so TASTY I WANT TO EAT THEM SO BAD.

Not the same anon who requested the Jing Yuan’s child fics but I really loved them sm, could I get a continuation of that AU on more of reader’s divination abilities and antics and come with it? 💕💕

A/N: YOU'RE TOO KIND STOP INFOAF, I'M GLAD YOU LIKE MY FICS :D MORE DIVINER READER COMING RIGHT UP >:)

Genre/Trope: Platonic + Mainly just more HCs on reader and their antics in the divination commission with Fu Xuan (Auntie Fu Xuan anyone?)

Format: Head Cannons + Mini Scenarios

Warnings: None

Extra: More Fu Xuan in this then Jing Yuan as we're talking about readers job lol // Not fully proofread, just rambles of this AU // Reader is a teen in this // Original Jing Yuans child fic here

I feel like how you wanting to be a diviner was when Fu Xuan had to babysit you once when Jing Yuan was busy. During this time she decided to take you to work and show you the magic future things. This sparked you, you came home and told Jing Yuan you wanted to be like Auntie Fu Xuan. He was happy you took an interest but uh *ahem* (Fu Xuan won that day)

On the rare days you do decide to be nice and not trick whoever your doing a divination for, I feel if you don't laugh or do a dramatic wince and you're serious about it. They STILL think you're pretending, thinking something really bad is going to happen.

To be honest, no matter what you do they'll think you're pretending until you're older I feel. If you wince genuinely or not they'll think you're joking as well.

[Name]: Bro your house is gonna get robbed… Random: Yeah right, what's actually going to happen? [Name]: I'M SERIOUS, YOU'RE GONNA BE HOMELESS :fearful: Random: So I'm tripping on a pebble tomorrow?

You usually have lunch with Fu Xuan, she'll probably take you somewhere peaceful where she'll eat lunch by your side...however, if word got to her that you messed with people again during the job? Expect a big lecture during your lunch break.

Qingque loves you, like. She loves your antics so much. She loves hearing them and if she manages to convince you to slack off with her, better pray Fu Xuan doesn't catch the both of you.

As much as Fu Xuan does lecture you, she cares a l o t for you. If anyone tells her you're in trouble with enemies, best believe the person who's the cause of it will be seeing a VERY angry Fu Xuan.

The two of you gossip ONLY if the both of you agree whoever youse just did a divination for was an ass. And Fu Xuan can be s a s s y.

When you were younger you tried to make some food with the things you found in your kitchen and gave it to both Fu Xuan and Jing Yuan for their lunch at work. Sadly...as a child you weren't exactly a world class chef...but they both still ate it to keep you happy.

Fu Xuan most definitely favours you over the other diviners she works with. It's so clear to the others with how she lectures others more harsher then she does you. Also your punishment for misbehaviour or slacking is always so little. But can they blame her? You're her nibling! (GN! term of nephew/niece I think)

You horribly drew her once as a gift when you were like 6 and it's been on her fridge ever since.

I did add a Jing Yuan header first, but after writing this I realised this is more of a reader and Fu Xuan centered thing so changed it lol. Fu Xuan needs more content I feel, she's so interesting!! My next requests are all fics/mini scenarios so I'll get on those as soon as I can >:D

Also! Recently made an art blog for my ocs and other things, feel free to give it a follow if you want :>>

Art Blog: @argentimybeloved

[centuryberry]

Hey, Berry.

I realized I forgot to ask you in my last question, regarding the idea of Yue being left on FFM as a newborn, how does Macaque react upon seeing her? While he ends up taking her in, was he hesitant at first? Does his initial feelings change once he gets to know her better? I can easily imagine him slowly but steadily growing to love her as he watches over her, especially if she clings to him while she sleeps. Or when she's old enough to stay awake and alert, she enjoys staring up him, touching his face and ears and he lets her, maybe start a tickle fight/kiss bath to get her to laugh.

Also, just for laughs and giggles, given how dramatic he is over Yue, how incapacitated would Wukong be if baby Yue has a cute, big ol' baby sneeze? Or when Yue is old enough to start talking, what would his reaction be if she says 'Baba'? Or would she call Macaque that first?

I had this funny thought that when she was old enough to say a variety of easy words, Yue's favorite word to repeat was 'stop' no matter what's going on, which tickles Red Son to no end.

Macaque's first emotion when seeing her was a mix of disbelief and wonder. There's also an instant feeling of kinship since they shared the same six-eared trait. While he definitely has some reservations and fears about being a single father (and there's no hesitation about that part - he's this baby's guardian and parent now), Macaque knows that he has a strong support system within FFM and countless monkey mothers to guide him.

He feels responsibility towards baby Yue at first. As someone who grew up with six ears, Macaque felt like he owed it to this child and his younger self to protect and prepare her for the world. The softer feelings came in after he got the hang of childrearing. Yue's complete and utter trust in him humbles him and her curious exploration of his face and ears once she opens her eyes has him completely enthralled.

As for Wukong, he's internally exploding from all the cuteness that baby Yue displays by simply breathing. If she sneezes, he's deceased. Yue would say "Ma" as her first word, but once she calls Wukong "Ba" for the first time? He's over the moon. He's overjoyed. There's a party thrown just for that. He immediately tries to get her to say it again.

(Lol, Yue's favorite word being "stop" in your headcanon. It's a funny thought considering the connotations. Personally, I think her favorite word would be "why?" She's a curious little tot, so I'm sure she's bound to babble out a constant stream of questions once she can string together full sentences.)

[inkstainedhandswithrings]

TB S2 EP 13 THOUGHTS!

True, Omega has gotten really good with being a soldier. She's staying cool in high tension situations, she has good aim, thinks on her feet and outsmarts her opponents easily. But Phee is right, Omega hasn't gotten to just be a kid for a while now. She deserves to have a proper childhood

LOVED seeing Hunter's enhanced senses at work. Sometimes I catch myself going "froce sensitive?" just because he's so hyper-aware

^this is just based on him grabbing that dudes wrist when he tried to take his money

THAT MOMENT WHEN WRECKER GOT UP WHEN THE GUY WAS ALL "shoulda brought more muscle" BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR BITCH

Phee shooting that guy under the table like damn girly alright

"Yes, I am playing against myself. It is the only time this game is a challenge." YES BABY TELL 'EM ALL HOW SMART YOU ARE🤍🤍🤍

"We never had such a thing. I do not see the issue." Oh,,,, oh Tech Baby. Stop telling people how dumb you are🤍🤍🤍

Hunter did look like he was mulling over Phee's words

CID CAN GO AND :)

"Our mutually beneficial agreement wasn't so beneficial,,, mutually." Hunter your himbo is showing babes

HHHHH OKAY IT'S SUBTLE BUT!!! When Phee types in the coordinates to Pabu, her hand lands on Tech's shoulder. He briefly glances down at it, somewhat skeptically, and then she lifts it off again, before patting his shoulder and his eyes widen a little bit and maybe im too invested in this ship and I'll be quiet now bye

PABU IS SO PRETTY OMG

I LOVE that Phee isn't like a pirate-pirate. Like I thought she was shady but dang, she's just taking back people's heritage that was stolen from them and I LOVE IT

"Got some competition." WAAAAHH I KNEW IT

"Welcome" "Welcome" "Welcome" "Welc-" "PUT IT THERE" WRECKER I LOVE YOU

"Lots of food, drink and general merrimaking," points at Tech, "You'll probably hate it. It'll be great." Tech rolls eyes

^YOUR HONOUR I LOVE THEM

NO BECAUSE BECAUSE Tech is the sassy b in the squad and Phee switching her flirting technique from "hi there good looking" to "lol dumb b" IS EXACTLY WHAT OUR BOY WANTS AND SHE FCKING KNOWS IT

AND THEN IT WORKS BC TECH TURNS AROUND TO LOOK AT HER WHEN THEY SPLIT AND HE'S LITERALLY THE ONLY ONE AND THEN HE HAS THE LITTLE SMILE AND DOWN ANGLED FACE AND WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

"I have not heard her laugh like that in some time." Heeeeessss learniiiiing (that Phee was right lol)

"As a father, you couldn't ask for a better place to raise a child." Okay, glad we're all on the same page. Like, I'm glad all we gotta do is take one goddamn look at Hunter and just go "Dad."

I know it's supposed to be a joke again, but like Wrecker being full for the first time? That's so sad. Imagine going to bed hungry EVERY SINGLE NIGHT. Being full for the first time is something to remember, Tech should be writing it down.

Omega and Lyana bonding on the boat was so sweet!!

Phee getting Tech away from his datapad to get him to appreciate life's beauty IS MAKING MY HEART SO FULL

"Pretty spectacular, right?" <- Phee using the word spectacular, even though its not in her usual vocabulary, because she's generally more succinct and down to earth, but it's totally a word Tech would use

"I suppose... that is... one way to... quantify it." <- Whenever Tech talks about data or research (topics without emotional involvement) his sentences flow nicely and evenly and he gets about 100 out in 2 seconds. Whenever he has to talk about emotions or emotions are involved in the conversation suddenly he gets quieter and his sentences have less of a flow. He doesn't stutter, but he needs a minute to get them out. hmm yes very interesting.

Hunter checking in with the girls, so cute

Omegas learned a lot and has been pretty secure in her ability, but hearing her sound so scared when the wave came? dang. loved that she immediately called hunter though. V sweet :)

TECH AND PHEE WORKING TOGETHER

PHEE HOLDING ON TO TECH TO GET UP THE WALL HEHEHEHEHEHHE

Not a single 'fear of heights' comment from Wrecker when climbing that ladder. Proud of him :)

Tech pushing through that crowd to check on his bro THE CUTENESS

Wrecker side-hugging the mayor when he's looking at all the destruction I CAN'T THAT'S SO SWEET

So,,, so Phee and Tech just move as a unit now, huh... very interesting

Phee not letting Tech disturb Omega, Lyana, and Wrecker and him listening to her so quickly just,,, I think she'll end up helping him connect to/understand human emotion better and show him how to navigate relationships and I'm SO HERE FOR IT

Like she knows people and is clearly good with relationships, and he recognises that and trusts her to point him in the right direction, WHICH HE DIDN'T AT THE BEGINNING OF THE EPISODE!!!

"We could stay and help out with things."

"I had the same idea."

"Did you, now?"

cue cute smiling at eachother

WAAAAAAAA MY BABIES!!!!

10/10 episode, made my heart v happy. Dave Filoni, I have left your walls, you may live in peace until next week.