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mostlysignssomeportents · 8 months ago

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“Humans in the loop” must detect the hardest-to-spot errors, at superhuman speed

I'm touring my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me SATURDAY (Apr 27) in MARIN COUNTY, then Winnipeg (May 2), Calgary (May 3), Vancouver (May 4), and beyond!

If AI has a future (a big if), it will have to be economically viable. An industry can't spend 1,700% more on Nvidia chips than it earns indefinitely – not even with Nvidia being a principle investor in its largest customers:

https://news.ycombinator.com/item?id=39883571

A company that pays 0.36-1 cents/query for electricity and (scarce, fresh) water can't indefinitely give those queries away by the millions to people who are expected to revise those queries dozens of times before eliciting the perfect botshit rendition of "instructions for removing a grilled cheese sandwich from a VCR in the style of the King James Bible":

https://www.semianalysis.com/p/the-inference-cost-of-search-disruption

Eventually, the industry will have to uncover some mix of applications that will cover its operating costs, if only to keep the lights on in the face of investor disillusionment (this isn't optional – investor disillusionment is an inevitable part of every bubble).

Now, there are lots of low-stakes applications for AI that can run just fine on the current AI technology, despite its many – and seemingly inescapable - errors ("hallucinations"). People who use AI to generate illustrations of their D&D characters engaged in epic adventures from their previous gaming session don't care about the odd extra finger. If the chatbot powering a tourist's automatic text-to-translation-to-speech phone tool gets a few words wrong, it's still much better than the alternative of speaking slowly and loudly in your own language while making emphatic hand-gestures.

There are lots of these applications, and many of the people who benefit from them would doubtless pay something for them. The problem – from an AI company's perspective – is that these aren't just low-stakes, they're also low-value. Their users would pay something for them, but not very much.

For AI to keep its servers on through the coming trough of disillusionment, it will have to locate high-value applications, too. Economically speaking, the function of low-value applications is to soak up excess capacity and produce value at the margins after the high-value applications pay the bills. Low-value applications are a side-dish, like the coach seats on an airplane whose total operating expenses are paid by the business class passengers up front. Without the principle income from high-value applications, the servers shut down, and the low-value applications disappear:

https://locusmag.com/2023/12/commentary-cory-doctorow-what-kind-of-bubble-is-ai/

Now, there are lots of high-value applications the AI industry has identified for its products. Broadly speaking, these high-value applications share the same problem: they are all high-stakes, which means they are very sensitive to errors. Mistakes made by apps that produce code, drive cars, or identify cancerous masses on chest X-rays are extremely consequential.

Some businesses may be insensitive to those consequences. Air Canada replaced its human customer service staff with chatbots that just lied to passengers, stealing hundreds of dollars from them in the process. But the process for getting your money back after you are defrauded by Air Canada's chatbot is so onerous that only one passenger has bothered to go through it, spending ten weeks exhausting all of Air Canada's internal review mechanisms before fighting his case for weeks more at the regulator:

https://bc.ctvnews.ca/air-canada-s-chatbot-gave-a-b-c-man-the-wrong-information-now-the-airline-has-to-pay-for-the-mistake-1.6769454

There's never just one ant. If this guy was defrauded by an AC chatbot, so were hundreds or thousands of other fliers. Air Canada doesn't have to pay them back. Air Canada is tacitly asserting that, as the country's flagship carrier and near-monopolist, it is too big to fail and too big to jail, which means it's too big to care.

Air Canada shows that for some business customers, AI doesn't need to be able to do a worker's job in order to be a smart purchase: a chatbot can replace a worker, fail to their worker's job, and still save the company money on balance.

I can't predict whether the world's sociopathic monopolists are numerous and powerful enough to keep the lights on for AI companies through leases for automation systems that let them commit consequence-free free fraud by replacing workers with chatbots that serve as moral crumple-zones for furious customers:

https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S0747563219304029

But even stipulating that this is sufficient, it's intrinsically unstable. Anything that can't go on forever eventually stops, and the mass replacement of humans with high-speed fraud software seems likely to stoke the already blazing furnace of modern antitrust:

https://www.eff.org/de/deeplinks/2021/08/party-its-1979-og-antitrust-back-baby

Of course, the AI companies have their own answer to this conundrum. A high-stakes/high-value customer can still fire workers and replace them with AI – they just need to hire fewer, cheaper workers to supervise the AI and monitor it for "hallucinations." This is called the "human in the loop" solution.

The human in the loop story has some glaring holes. From a worker's perspective, serving as the human in the loop in a scheme that cuts wage bills through AI is a nightmare – the worst possible kind of automation.

Let's pause for a little detour through automation theory here. Automation can augment a worker. We can call this a "centaur" – the worker offloads a repetitive task, or one that requires a high degree of vigilance, or (worst of all) both. They're a human head on a robot body (hence "centaur"). Think of the sensor/vision system in your car that beeps if you activate your turn-signal while a car is in your blind spot. You're in charge, but you're getting a second opinion from the robot.

Likewise, consider an AI tool that double-checks a radiologist's diagnosis of your chest X-ray and suggests a second look when its assessment doesn't match the radiologist's. Again, the human is in charge, but the robot is serving as a backstop and helpmeet, using its inexhaustible robotic vigilance to augment human skill.

That's centaurs. They're the good automation. Then there's the bad automation: the reverse-centaur, when the human is used to augment the robot.

Amazon warehouse pickers stand in one place while robotic shelving units trundle up to them at speed; then, the haptic bracelets shackled around their wrists buzz at them, directing them pick up specific items and move them to a basket, while a third automation system penalizes them for taking toilet breaks or even just walking around and shaking out their limbs to avoid a repetitive strain injury. This is a robotic head using a human body – and destroying it in the process.

An AI-assisted radiologist processes fewer chest X-rays every day, costing their employer more, on top of the cost of the AI. That's not what AI companies are selling. They're offering hospitals the power to create reverse centaurs: radiologist-assisted AIs. That's what "human in the loop" means.

This is a problem for workers, but it's also a problem for their bosses (assuming those bosses actually care about correcting AI hallucinations, rather than providing a figleaf that lets them commit fraud or kill people and shift the blame to an unpunishable AI).

Humans are good at a lot of things, but they're not good at eternal, perfect vigilance. Writing code is hard, but performing code-review (where you check someone else's code for errors) is much harder – and it gets even harder if the code you're reviewing is usually fine, because this requires that you maintain your vigilance for something that only occurs at rare and unpredictable intervals:

https://twitter.com/qntm/status/1773779967521780169

But for a coding shop to make the cost of an AI pencil out, the human in the loop needs to be able to process a lot of AI-generated code. Replacing a human with an AI doesn't produce any savings if you need to hire two more humans to take turns doing close reads of the AI's code.

This is the fatal flaw in robo-taxi schemes. The "human in the loop" who is supposed to keep the murderbot from smashing into other cars, steering into oncoming traffic, or running down pedestrians isn't a driver, they're a driving instructor. This is a much harder job than being a driver, even when the student driver you're monitoring is a human, making human mistakes at human speed. It's even harder when the student driver is a robot, making errors at computer speed:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/01/human-in-the-loop/#monkey-in-the-middle

This is why the doomed robo-taxi company Cruise had to deploy 1.5 skilled, high-paid human monitors to oversee each of its murderbots, while traditional taxis operate at a fraction of the cost with a single, precaratized, low-paid human driver:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/11/robots-stole-my-jerb/#computer-says-no

The vigilance problem is pretty fatal for the human-in-the-loop gambit, but there's another problem that is, if anything, even more fatal: the kinds of errors that AIs make.

Foundationally, AI is applied statistics. An AI company trains its AI by feeding it a lot of data about the real world. The program processes this data, looking for statistical correlations in that data, and makes a model of the world based on those correlations. A chatbot is a next-word-guessing program, and an AI "art" generator is a next-pixel-guessing program. They're drawing on billions of documents to find the most statistically likely way of finishing a sentence or a line of pixels in a bitmap:

https://dl.acm.org/doi/10.1145/3442188.3445922

This means that AI doesn't just make errors – it makes subtle errors, the kinds of errors that are the hardest for a human in the loop to spot, because they are the most statistically probable ways of being wrong. Sure, we notice the gross errors in AI output, like confidently claiming that a living human is dead:

https://www.tomsguide.com/opinion/according-to-chatgpt-im-dead

But the most common errors that AIs make are the ones we don't notice, because they're perfectly camouflaged as the truth. Think of the recurring AI programming error that inserts a call to a nonexistent library called "huggingface-cli," which is what the library would be called if developers reliably followed naming conventions. But due to a human inconsistency, the real library has a slightly different name. The fact that AIs repeatedly inserted references to the nonexistent library opened up a vulnerability – a security researcher created a (inert) malicious library with that name and tricked numerous companies into compiling it into their code because their human reviewers missed the chatbot's (statistically indistinguishable from the the truth) lie:

https://www.theregister.com/2024/03/28/ai_bots_hallucinate_software_packages/

For a driving instructor or a code reviewer overseeing a human subject, the majority of errors are comparatively easy to spot, because they're the kinds of errors that lead to inconsistent library naming – places where a human behaved erratically or irregularly. But when reality is irregular or erratic, the AI will make errors by presuming that things are statistically normal.

These are the hardest kinds of errors to spot. They couldn't be harder for a human to detect if they were specifically designed to go undetected. The human in the loop isn't just being asked to spot mistakes – they're being actively deceived. The AI isn't merely wrong, it's constructing a subtle "what's wrong with this picture"-style puzzle. Not just one such puzzle, either: millions of them, at speed, which must be solved by the human in the loop, who must remain perfectly vigilant for things that are, by definition, almost totally unnoticeable.

This is a special new torment for reverse centaurs – and a significant problem for AI companies hoping to accumulate and keep enough high-value, high-stakes customers on their books to weather the coming trough of disillusionment.

This is pretty grim, but it gets grimmer. AI companies have argued that they have a third line of business, a way to make money for their customers beyond automation's gifts to their payrolls: they claim that they can perform difficult scientific tasks at superhuman speed, producing billion-dollar insights (new materials, new drugs, new proteins) at unimaginable speed.

However, these claims – credulously amplified by the non-technical press – keep on shattering when they are tested by experts who understand the esoteric domains in which AI is said to have an unbeatable advantage. For example, Google claimed that its Deepmind AI had discovered "millions of new materials," "equivalent to nearly 800 years’ worth of knowledge," constituting "an order-of-magnitude expansion in stable materials known to humanity":

https://deepmind.google/discover/blog/millions-of-new-materials-discovered-with-deep-learning/

It was a hoax. When independent material scientists reviewed representative samples of these "new materials," they concluded that "no new materials have been discovered" and that not one of these materials was "credible, useful and novel":

https://www.404media.co/google-says-it-discovered-millions-of-new-materials-with-ai-human-researchers/

As Brian Merchant writes, AI claims are eerily similar to "smoke and mirrors" – the dazzling reality-distortion field thrown up by 17th century magic lantern technology, which millions of people ascribed wild capabilities to, thanks to the outlandish claims of the technology's promoters:

https://www.bloodinthemachine.com/p/ai-really-is-smoke-and-mirrors

The fact that we have a four-hundred-year-old name for this phenomenon, and yet we're still falling prey to it is frankly a little depressing. And, unlucky for us, it turns out that AI therapybots can't help us with this – rather, they're apt to literally convince us to kill ourselves:

https://www.vice.com/en/article/pkadgm/man-dies-by-suicide-after-talking-with-ai-chatbot-widow-says

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/23/maximal-plausibility/#reverse-centaurs

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

#pluralistic #ai #automation #humans in the loop #centaurs #reverse centaurs #labor #ai safety #sanity checks #spot the mistake #code review #driving instructor

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harstyle · 8 months ago

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the styles' nanny: part two

Summary: Harry finally realizes his mistake, but is it too late? Featuring a strange encounter with Jamie’s mother, another sad drinking session and an unfiltered conversation that changes everything.

Pairing: plussize-nanny!y/n + older-singledad!harry

Word-count: 10.2k

Warnings: age gap (13 years), mentions of alcohol and drinking, kissing, mentions of sex

here’s part one!

A/N: guys!!! It’s been three months!!! I hope you haven’t completely lost interest in this story :( I’m sorry I’ve kept you waiting for so long, I just didn’t expect so many things to come up (plus somewhere along the way I lost motivation). I also hope you enjoy this second and (at least for now) last part. No smut, but maybe in a blurb/oneshot of some kind? Anyway thanks for waiting and happy reading!

—

I’m resigning. I will stay until we find a replacement but not longer than necessary. I thank you for your generosity during my time working for you, but I’m ready for a fresh start as I think it’s what would be best for me right now.

I’ll see you soon,

Y/N

That was the text Harry had received at 11am, just one hour ago. He’d called profusely, probably ten times in total, and had sent out a pathetic amount of text messages that had all gone ignored and unanswered.

Harry had lashed out— he could see that now; he’d been horribly unfair and he had taken advantage of Y/N’s inability to express herself in situations of distress. Harry’s worst trait was his short-temperedness and while he had gone through years of therapy to work on it, sometimes it took ahold of him in ways he couldn’t realize until after the fact.

Of course the last thing he’d wanted was for her to resign, which was exactly why her message had twisted his stomach a bit more intensely than he would’ve liked; he had no idea how to rectify this situation. Most things in his life went as he wished and if they didn’t, he found it was easy to make it so they did. But not now— no, he had to think about this carefully.

It had turned one when his phone rang; he was typing away in his office, trying to distract himself. Her caller ID flashed on his screen, but it wasn’t her voice that caught his ears— it was a man’s. A man’s whose name was Andrew.

“I’m from the viper,” he said, and Harry could swear he started seeing red, “your friend Y/N got a little too drunk for me to feel comfortable sending her away on her own. Is there any way you could come pick her up?”

Harry couldn’t help the string of curses which left his mouth as he gathered his house key. “Is she okay?” He asked, only to receive a conflicted hum.

“She had too many martinis and she was crying earlier. She said something about a fight.”

“Yeah, okay. Thanks, man. Will you keep an eye out until I get there?”

“Of course.”

As Harry got into his car, he felt the overwhelming urge to chastise her, to keep talking until she finally listened to him when it came to her own safety. Not even one day had passed since he’d had to pick her up the last time— no lesson learned, no regrets.

But then, as he neared the bar, the rational part of his brain advised him against it. Y/N was no child, she was aware of her actions and she knew what was best for her— so for Harry to act high and mighty would be wrong and uncalled for.

He needed to just be there for her. Drop the barrier and be there.

He was ready to offer that to her.

—

Y/N could swear her eyes were playing tricks on her. It wouldn’t be unrealistic, really, her vision had become blurry about an hour ago— but, well, she would probably recognize that silhouette anywhere. He wore jeans and a shirt and his hair was still styled for work; Andrew was pointing at her, and so his green eyes followed. When he spotted her, Y/N felt naked under his gaze.

And before she knew it, he was walking toward her.

“What are you doing here?” She demanded, lower lip jutted out in a pout. Y/N had gone drinking in the hopes of distracting herself— and yes, maybe it wasn’t exactly working, but it definitely wouldn’t start working if he was physically here.

“Andrew called me. Stand up, I’m taking you home.”

Andrew was somebody she‘d met a few hours ago. Originally he‘d flirted with her, asking questions about her as she sat at the bar willing to answer all of them soberly— but once eleven had struck, all she could talk about was Harry. Y/N wasn’t fond of airing out dirty laundry so she‘d left the gory details of their fight out, but Andrew knew of a fight.

She was starting to regret it now that Harry was here.

Instead of doing as he’d asked— or ordered, more like, she leaned into the booth further.

“No.”

His eyebrow raised, “no?”

“I don’t leave or go out with dickheads. You taught me that.”

He looked ticked off and it satisfied something within her that had been needing it all night. When he breathed a sigh, eyes closing momentarily, she knew she had him.

“Y/N, would you please humor me and let me take you home? We can keep talking in the car, but not in front of these people.”

“What if I don’t want to go home, huh? Why are you always telling me what to do like you have the right? You’re not my dad.” Her words were slurred and her expression loose. Then she laughed to herself, giggled actually, ridiculously loud. “That’s funny, of course you’re not my dad cause he’s dead! Dead, six feet underground, you know? Probably lower, cause he definitely didn’t go to heaven! He’s, like, really deep underground.”

Concern warped his features.

“Y/N,” he warned, “please.”

She’d turned heads.

“But you know what you and my dad have in common? Yelling. Just yelling, for no fucking reason— yell yell yell, make it feel like my fault even though it isn’t. Right? That’s what my dad used to do to my mom, you know that? That’s why he’s in hell.”

She was pointing an accusatory finger at him, slurring even more than before.

“And you know what I said to her when she left him? That I would never let a man treat me that way. Never! Promised, hand on my heart and everything, I promised. But you’re different, aren’t you? Cause I like you, cause you’re not like my dad.” Her face fell again into the surfaces of her palms, “you’re not like my dad, but you reminded me of him. And I feel— feel like I’m betraying my mom.” Y/N hiccuped quietly, stumbling over a few words.

The gravity of her words were not lost on him— in fact, he’d never felt as guilty in his life.

“Hey,” he beckoned her to look at him, placing his tentative hand atop her arm, “we’ll talk about it. About everything. But not now. Not here.”

“You’re so confusing, you know that? One second you’re really nice to me and then— and then you aren’t.”

“Sweetheart,” he grasped her face as a last attempt to catch her undivided attention. Harry thumbed at her cheek and stared dutifully into her clouded eyes, “let me take care of you tonight. I’ll make it better.”

In all fairness, she’d lost the fight the second his eyes had met hers. There was something about them, maybe their deep shade of green or how effortlessly she could read them, that could probably persuade her into doing anything.

“Fine,” she mumbled after a minute, letting Harry wrap an arm around her waist as they walked. On their way out Y/N said goodbye to Andrew and stayed quiet otherwise, choosing to give Harry the silent treatment. Harry knew he couldn’t expect her to speak to him, so he didn’t force it.

As they drove, Harry couldn’t help glancing over every once in a while to study her expressions. There was barely a moment she wasn’t staring out the window watching cars drive by; even when his hand instinctively landed on her thigh she didn’t react, only moving it away slightly from his touch.

“Are you driving me to my apartment?”

And although both of them knew he’d really been directed toward his house, Harry still pretended to have chosen to take another route. “Course,” he muttered hoarsely, trying to mask his embarrassment with a quiet cough. Y/N sighed, her eyes pressing shut for a moment as she tried to let the guilt roll off of her back. He doesn’t deserve your sympathy.

“Where’s Jamie?”

He clicked his tongue. “Still at my mother’s.”

“Oh.”

The stubborn thing she was, Y/N refused Harry’s help getting out of the car. Instead she opened the door by herself, almost tripped when she jumped down from her seat and kept a distance anyway. Harry still watched, though, ready to help if needed.

Y/N unlocked the door (failing to find the keyhole several times) and kept it wide open for Harry to follow behind. The first thing she did was toe off her shoes followed by falling into bed.

“Y/N, have some water.”

“Stop telling me what to do,” she uttered, but accepted the glass of water anyway.

He ignored her. “Are you hungry?”

“I’m tired.”

“You can sleep as soon as you’ve changed and washed your face.”

She groaned, pulling a blanket over her head, “Harry…”

“Y/N.”

That stern mention of her name was enough to get her out of bed, limbs pretty much hanging loosely from her body as if she had no control over them— and honestly, it felt like she didn’t. Her eyes closed as Harry wiped a cool cloth over her face, ridding it of a light layer of makeup and sweat, everything that had accumulated at the bar. There were times she leaned into him, forehead falling to his shoulder and arms wrapping instinctively around his waist for support. She could swear that for a moment he’d pressed his lips to her forehead, but the daydream she was in barred her from really registering it.

“Why’d you go out drinking again?”

“Wanted to.”

“Told you not to do that. I meant it.”

“Well people keep hurting my feelings,” she mumbled, “and drinking your pain away is kind of a tradition in my family, so.”

Y/N had never really shared personal details about her family to Harry, but… well, the words were flowing right out of her mouth and the memories reincarnated newly in her head. She was referring to her mother, the former alcoholic in the family. Growing up her mother had drunk so much that she’d almost died from liver failure. As a small child Y/N had promised herself never to end up like her, but she was starting to understand more and more why her mother spent so many years drinking.

Harry‘s thoughts stayed internalized, but he made sure to make her feel heard. Rubbing over the top of her eyebrow, his breath hit her forehead as he spoke, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. You didn’t deserve it.”

Her eyes peeked open, the previously warm towel no longer warm. Harry ran it under water again. “Deserve what?”

“Everything, especially the way I behaved earlier. I should’ve taken a moment to myself, instead I lashed out on you.”

It wasn’t until now that Y/N noticed the close proximity between her and Harry— obviously she knew he was cleaning her face for her, but it didn’t really click until now, she supposed. She could see everything, but it didn’t really matter; there was nothing about Harry, especially on him, that could deter her from thinking of him as the most beautiful man alive. Imperfections and all.

The towel met her neck this time, the other side held upright by his steady hand. She could feel his thumb tracing shapes on the surface of her skin and although she was trying very hard not to think of him in any inappropriate way, the image of his hand wrapped around her throat awakened something horrible within the confines of her intoxicated mind. It stayed there.

It was self destructive how often she spent thinking about him, really.

“You still there, baby?”

And he was so gentle— whenever he wasn’t yelling at her, of course— and soft, knowing the lines of what she could handle and what she couldn’t. No man had ever been this considerate and while it may just be his nature, it meant everything to Y/N. As the boundaries had begun to blur more and more, it became easier to misinterpret normal gestures for something more, something so much realer than it could ever be.

But he was calling her baby, and nobody had done that before.

“Yeah.”

“You were much more mouthy back in the bar,” he breathed out, an amused smile tugging at his lips. “Don’t wanna yell at me anymore?”

“No, I‘m not like you.”

“Ouch.”

Harry was humoring her and while it was really really nice; this whole thing, the gentle touches and the giggles shared in between a serious conversation, Y/N couldn’t let it get to her head.

“You were really mean to me and I didn’t do anything.”

His eyes searched for hers, but hers were stuck to his chest. “I know. I don’t know how to make it up to you, but I’ll spend a long time trying, I promise. You’re so sweet to me, so nice, I don’t mean to hurt your feelings. You know that, right?”

And although her heart was still furiously bleeding out, she was willing to ignore that for now. Throw bandages on and refuse a trip to the hospital because really she was just fine. There was just something about how he spoke to her that made it feel like she was floating— like she really was fine.

“Yeah.”

“Good, it’s very important to me that you do.”

Y/N’s eyes nearly glazed over when she thought about Harry being like this on the regular. It was a dangerous game they were playing.

“Look at me,” he breathed, beckoning her to do so with the grip he still had on her throat. Her eyes looked so innocent in this moment and although Harry knew Y/N was nothing if not tainted, she looked like she’d never been touched by the realities of life. “So pretty, you know that? So beautiful.”

She felt smaller in his gaze. “You think so?”

Y/N didn’t think anyone had said that to her ever. Nothing of the sort.

“I know so.”

“Thank you.”

“How about we go find you something comfortable to sleep in, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Y/N shook her head, willing to rid herself of this weird tension in her body before allowing Harry to lead her back into the bedroom. She sat on the edge of the bed as Harry retrieved some clothes and looked up at him expectantly when she could barely keep upright.

“You sure?”

“I physically can’t stand up, Harry.”

And though he looked torn, he ended up reaching for her sweater to pull it over her body, revealing the lacy bra she hid underneath. Y/N’s breasts had always been the biggest ones amongst her skinny friends and growing up she often felt ridiculed for it, though she supposed she could count on Harry not to judge. They were just there, so why pretend like they weren’t?

For Harry, taking off Y/N’s sweater was a completely different experience and although he didn’t wish to be a creep, he couldn’t help but letting out an awkward but knowing cough when he accidentally stared right down them. He hastily threw the shirt he’d brought her onto her torso, scared of what would happen if he were to delay it any longer. Harry prided himself on being a respectful man, but being with Y/N had always tested that quality of his.

“What?” She asked, a touch of feigned innocence to her tone, and he rushed to shake his head.

She knew what.

“Nothing.”

“M’kay.”

“Stand up for me?”

Y/N felt less amazing about her thighs, to be frank. She couldn’t really explain it, but they weren’t visually pleasing to her; cellulite littered the back of them and she obviously didn’t have a thigh gap, but that had become less of an issue. Y/N felt like her thighs had no real redeeming quality. It was a destructive way of thinking, she would admit, but… well, she’d carried that around since childhood.

As Harry pulled down her jeans, she felt void of anything. She didn’t exactly feel great, but better than when other guys had taken off her trousers. It was probably his age. She figured maturity increased as age did, and if Harry were to dislike the look of her body, he would be graceful about it.

“Hold onto my shoulders and lift your right leg.”

He got on his knees in front of her, pulling one leg in after the other. After doing so successfully, he allowed her to get under the covers.

“I’m still mad at you,” she mumbled into the covers, eyes fluttering to a close.

He hummed, “I know.”

“But thank you.”

“Don’t have to thank me for taking care of you.”

“Mhm,” she breathed, “it’ll be the last time, I promise.”

Sleep was pulling at her eyelids.

“Last time what?”

He received no answer. Upon a closer look, he saw Y/N completely overtaken by sleep. Her lips were situated in a pout and her foot peeked out of her thick comforter in the way he had already seen last time he’d brought her to bed.

He allowed himself more time to watch over her this time, scared that if he were to leave it would be the last he saw of her. The anxiety settled on his chest in heavy waves and the image of a precious Y/N was slipping further away from his mind. He had been a horrible person, allowing himself to become the type of man he’d always tried not to be… and he couldn’t do that to her. He couldn’t let this be that with her. He couldn’t bare it.

Harry had always thought of himself to be tattooed with imperfections. As he stared down at Y/N’s sleeping body, he couldn’t help the guilt that wrapped around him like a torture blanket. To him, she was perfect. She was kind and beautiful, she carried her heart out on her sleeve and overcame her past to grow in spite of painful trauma.

What he didn’t know, though, was that she thought the same of him. She thought of him as the most capable person, strong and kind. Her heart yearned for him in ways no one could comprehend.

She thought of him as everything but instead of embracing it, he’d pushed her away… and now both of them had to suffer the consequences.

—

Harry had stayed the night, but he hadn‘t slept; he‘d spent the night lying on Y/N‘s uncomfortable couch with various thoughts swirling around in his head. At eight he‘d stood up, started preparing breakfast and wasted time looking through social media to distract himself from the girl sleeping in the next room.

Y/N slipped out thirty minutes later, surprised when she saw Harry moving through her kitchen as though he knew it like the back of his hand. She coughed, not knowing where to put her arms and folding them in instead.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he tried to smile, “I hope you’re hungry, I made you a bagel with eggs if that’s okay.”

“That’s… yeah,” she swallowed a lump in her throat, stepping close to the counter, “thank you. You didn’t have to.”

“My pleasure. You—“ he pointed at the side of her face, “you have something there.”

“Oh, I—“ Harry reached forward to swipe at it, wiping his finger clean on his trousers and stroking her cheek once for good measure. “Thanks. Probably toothpaste.”

“Probably.”

Silence decorated their next few seconds, awkward glances and uncomfortable tension felt down to the bones. Then Harry straightened up and breathed in, simultaneously Y/N opened her mouth.

“I—“

“Are you— oh, sorry.”

“No, you go on,” she urged, waving a dismissive hand at him.

Harry smiled, “are you okay?”

“Uh, yes. Yeah, I am actually. Bit of a headache but that‘s expected. Thanks for…picking me up, I guess. I didn‘t want to be a burden, but I kind of told Andrew about you and he got a hold of my phone…“

Harry’s eyebrows drew together, “no, I’m glad he called. You should always reach out to me when you’re in trouble.”

“Yeah, but last time didn’t go over very well, so…”

Harry cleared his throat. “Right, I’m sorry about that. I was out of line, but that doesn‘t mean I don‘t want you to call when you need help getting home. There’s nothing more important than your safety, Y/N.”

“Yeah, but…” Y/N shook her head, overwhelming thoughts swirling endlessly inside rendering her speechless. There wasn’t anything she could say to efficiently express these concerns to him— Y/N had always been bad at communication and the last thing she wanted was to poke the bear even more.

“No go on, tell me.”

“I just… I don’t know. I felt like shit after last time.”

“I know,” he breathed out lowly, “I know you did, and I’m sorry. I didn‘t mean it.”

“But clearly you did if you felt the need to say it. I mean, it doesn’t just come out of nowhere, those accusations. You felt them. And I was thinking about it all day yesterday and… you were probably right, we are too unprofessional.”

“No, sweetheart. I enjoy our dinner sessions and I appreciate that you feel comfortable to talk to me when something bothers you—“ It didn’t matter, though. There was nothing he could say to change her mind.

The words that left her mouth were mostly involuntary. They were a protective barrier, a reason to say no, back off and a clear indication that she had no capacity for this. And although it hurt somewhere deep within her chest to express them, to become a viscous reminder of last night, especially when Harry’s eyebrows drew together in deep regret, it needed to be said.

“Harry, I meant it when I quit last night.”

A reasonable response was lost on Harry. For a moment he needed to think, to gather his thoughts— not that there were very many. He had to admit, he’d hoped they would gloss over her drunken text and pretend as though it hadn’t been. He’d hoped that Y/N felt a small spark of embarrassment when she thought about it, that she looked back on it with regret. Alas, she didn’t.

“Oh.”

He pulled back, shoulders tensing when the gravity of her statement had pulled him down along with it.

“Yeah. I mean, I love working with Jamie, I do, but I—“ I’m scared that I’ll form an attachment I will never recover from. I’m scared of the proximity we share, of how sometimes you let your fingers brush over my thigh. I’m scared because I don’t know what you mean, scared because psychoanalyzing doesn’t work on you. Or maybe— maybe I’m scared of love. With you. Or with anyone. Maybe I’m not capable of being loved. And maybe I’m not even capable of loving and maybe— just maybe, this will be the end of me. And for what? For you to say that the affection you extend to me is customary? That I have a tainted perception of reality, of love? Because I know I do. I know I do, and yet hearing it from you would hurt much more. And so maybe… maybe in this case, finding out isn’t worth the hassle. You’ll probably find I’m not either.

There was so much to say and such little capacity to say it. All Y/N could think to do was sputter words she didn’t mean and hope he understood because the alternative was ridding herself of every. little string of dignity she still possessed and she simply couldn’t do that. She couldn’t allow herself to unfold in front of the only person who’s perception of her she wanted to nurture most. No one had stayed. Even if he would come to leave, she wanted him to leave with a sound picture of her.

“But you…”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t… because of yesterday?”

“No. I mean, I guess that was a bit of an eye opener, but I—“ Y/N breathed in, “I think I’m getting too attached to you. You and Jamie.”

His eyes widened just a bit and he took a small step toward her. It was so small she hardly felt him entering her space. “I don’t mind that, Y/N, you don’t need to quit—“

“I do though,” she interrupted him, a stern undertone to her voice. She coughed and said again, “I mind.”

“I think you’re still angry about yesterday.”

She had to contain the urge to roll her eyes, “I’m not. This is separate from that.”

“So it’s the attachment that’s the problem?”

“Yes.”

Harry scoffed, “that’s ridiculous. There’s nothing wrong with attachment.”

“It depends on what kind, doesn’t it?”

“Enlighten me then.”

Y/N’s mouth closed. She couldn’t do that.

So she deflected.

“Harry, my contract says that as long as I stay long enough to find a fitting replacement—“

“Fuck the contract, Y/N,” the volume of his voice almost caused Y/N to flinch into herself, “I know what my contract says. What I don’t know is why you’re giving up a job that you love, a job that pays you well, for reasons you can’t even explain to me.”

“Is my resignation not enough for you? Would hearing my reasoning really change anything if I will keep insisting on resigning no matter how often you’ll advise me against it? I doubt it matters. I doubt you would even so much as give a shit, Harry."

Y/N shook her head, tears building in the ducts of her eyes. Her father had been of great emotional abuse, her mother had spent half of her life drinking herself to liver failure and her brother had moved to Madrid as soon as he’d turned eighteen, leaving Y/N to fend for herself in a household that contained not one ounce of love— and yet this felt worse. This felt like her heart was being ripped from her chest, dropped on the floor beating and bleeding.

“You think I don’t give a shit? Really?” Y/N couldn’t help rolling her eyes, huffing when he tapped her on the wrist, muttering with a steady furrow in his brow, “don’t roll your eyes at me.”

“You know why I’m quitting and yet you want to hear it come out of my mouth. I’m not going to do it.”

“I don’t know.”

She almost laughed, “sure”

“Sweetheart—“

“Don’t call me that.” She gave him a sharp glance before heading back to her bedroom, arms falling to the sides of her timid frame. Harry stopped her just short of the door, a steady hand gripping around her wrist. She couldn’t help the gasp that left her mouth, built up tears finally streaming down in heaps— embarrassment brewed in her stomach and she couldn’t bare to look him in the eye anymore. Harry’s touch elicited a spark on her skin, blistering with uncomfortable heat. “What?”

“You’re being rude. I really think you should consider this.”

“There’s nothing to consider, okay?! I… I feel too much for you, there’s too— there’s too much, okay? There’s too fucking mu—“

What would transpire between them next was a kiss. Initiated by Harry.

It was barely a kiss, more of a brushing of the lips— tentative movements, gentle breaths. It was the minimum and yet it was more than enough. There was an electric feeling that dragged through Y/N’s entire body as she closed her eyes and let herself feel. Harry didn’t seem very much like a gentle lover— generous, without doubt, but Y/N had always pictured him as a pin-to-the-wall, bite-to-the-lip type of man and she quickly received confirmation when he began squeezing her hand as if feeling restrained.

Y/N hadn’t kissed many people; less than five, probably, but she could say with certainty that this was already better than all of the other ones combined. She knew why. She knew the reason was that she genuinely liked Harry, that he made her feel things she’d never felt before.

But then again, Harry was her boss. He was off limits, taboo. And he was absolutely out of his mind right now.

“Wait.”

His breath fanned against her chin. “You don’t want me to?”

“No I do, I just—“ she shook her head, thoughts in a disarray like they’d never been before.

“Tell me to stop and I will.”

Her mouth opened but nothing came out, merely staggered breaths as she tried to regain the ability to think. The interruption came when Harry’s phone rang on the counter.

He groaned, took a glance at the screen and broke away when he saw his mother’s name flash as the caller ID.

“Yes?” He called into the speaker, frustration molding his features as he kept on listening. “Yes, okay, tell him I’m on my way. Give me twenty minutes… Love you too, bye.” When he turned to her, phone slipped into his back pocket, she could tell that he yearned to say more, that he yearned for her to say more. She knew he would halt his actions, leave time for her to get her words out before he left for whatever emergency he’d been called in for, that if she only said something he would consider putting her as a second priority after his son. She knew that he would make her feel important. But she said nothing. And nobody, not even the most patient person in the world could work with nothing. “Jamie’s asking for me. I need to go get him.”

She only nodded.

He sighed, running a tired hand down his face. “Alright. I need to go. I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

She stood at exactly the same spot as Harry slammed the door shut, unwavering.

Her heart was still pounding as the words she should’ve expressed minutes ago died on her lips.

—

Résumés had been sent to him, interviews were lined up, and Y/N had received no reply back. She hadn’t received anything, really, just a text on Thursday that he would arrange for another babysitter to come in for Jamie while he left for his late meeting, to which Y/N had typed a dry ‘ok’ and left it to sit in her inbox.

The week had started fresh and Y/N had finally left home again (only to her classes, but still). After days of not working, she was scheduled to pick up Jamie at two thirty and hoped for these last weeks to resume seamlessly. She’d gotten the car from the house, locked the door back up again and made the ten minute drive down— everything was fine.

Until now. Until Y/N set foot on preschool grounds and noticed another woman hugging her arms around Jamie’s shoulders. She seemed unfamiliar at first— glasses tipped back on her long blonde hair, a pencil skirt concealing her toned legs. Y/N had no idea who she was dealing with until she took a closer look and recognized this woman to be Stacie. Y/N had seen a picture of Stacie up in Harry’s study— she seemed to have changed a little, but the structural features she associated with her still remained intact through all these years (big blue eyes, defined cheekbones).

As soon as Jamie’s eyes set on Y/N, though, Stacie’s hands were torn away from his shoulders as he ran for her. She got on her knees, his familiar smile melting away all of the cold spots she’d developed in over a week of not seeing him.

“I miss you!” Jamie pulled away to plant a kiss right on the top of the apple of Y/N’s cheek, something he only started doing recently. She guessed he’d only really learned how to. “Daddy said you pick me up today.”

“I missed you too, buddy. I see somebody else came to see you?”

“Oh, Stacie. She wants to take me home but daddy said you pick me up.”

“Yeah, okay. Do you want to wait a second while I talk to her?”

Jamie nodded, moving to stand next to her (small hand clutched in hers, of course) while Y/N greeted Stacie. Well, greet was a bit of an exaggeration; she didn’t get to before Stacie decided to introduce herself first.

“I’m his mom, I called Harry in the morning telling him I’d come for pick up. I have a packed schedule, so I’d appreciate it if you could let go of my child.”

Y/N almost laughed, the audacity of this woman a damn near mystery to her. “Wait. Don't talk about him like some sort of property. Harry never told me about anyone else coming to pick up Jamie.”

“He must’ve forgotten. He’s a busy man, I’m sure he would confirm—“

“Well then let’s call him, shall we?”

Stacie wanted to interject, she could tell, but Y/N had dialed way too fast for that to happen. The phone only had to ring once before Harry picked up, his voice coming in clear.

“Hey, you‘ve got Jamie?”

“I’m here at preschool but Stacie showed up before me and wants to take him home. You didn’t tell me, so I…” she trailed off, hoping he’d fill in the blanks.

It seemed to take a minute to click. “Stacie? His mother showed up at school?”

“Yes, was this arranged beforehand or…”

“No. No, don’t let her take him home. Shit, we talked about this last week, I don’t—“

“You… you talked about this last week?” The confusion dripped from Y/N’s voice and all she could hear was Harry’s attempt at concealing profanities. “What did you talk about last week?”

“It doesn’t matter. Just get home, tell her to call me to clear this up. I don’t want Jamie knowing Stacie is his mother yet, okay? So just get out of there before she tells him herself.”

A frown settled over Y/N’s features before she continued to end the call, scoop Jamie up into her arms and walk away after quick word. Stacie protested, but both her and Y/N knew she wouldn’t do much more than that in fear of causing a scene.

Y/N failed to pay attention to Jamie as she fastened the belt on his seat, only registering when she looked back into the rearview mirror and noticed the little pout starting to pull at his small lips.

And when he finally asked her, little quips of fear polishing his quiet tone: “is Stacie my mum?”, all Y/N could do was pretend she hadn’t heard and hope he would forget, knowing he wouldn’t.

—

Y/N bombarded Harry with questions the second he‘d unlocked that front door.

“Y/N—“

“No, I’m entitled to know this time. I’m entitled to know when she ambushes us at preschool. Don’t you want me to know what I’m dealing with if it happens again? That woman almost fucking kidnapped him—“

“Calm down, Y/N. Sit down and I’ll explain it to you.”

She huffed in annoyance, listening nonetheless. She set herself down on one of the kitchen stools and tried to take control of her breathing. She watched as he took a seat opposite her.

“Stacie came to visit last week on Wednesday. She’d called beforehand, asking if it would be okay. She came and we had dinner, we talked some things out while Jamie was in bed. She apologized, asked if we could start working things out again. I agreed under the condition that she would approach the idea of Jamie as a friend first. She said that she would respect my wishes and that she wouldn’t come near him unless I gave my permission. That’s it. So far all Jamie knows is that she’s a friend of mine. I didn’t—god,” Y/N felt bad when Harry buried his head in his hands, itching to reach out in comfort. She chose to play it safe, settling a gentle touch over his thigh. “I didn’t think she’d do this.”

Y/N hadn’t seen Harry this distraught over anything. “I’m sorry. That’s heavy.”

“It’s—“ he sighed, “it’s something I keep having to deal with. All she wants is to have him on the weekends, have him pose as her cute son. But she doesn’t actually care about him.”

Y/N couldn’t do much more than nod. She was caught between playing the comforting role and being honest. She wasn’t sure if this was the place, if her opinion would be welcomed or if it would contribute to Harry’s sorrows. “She seemed… uncooperative when I spoke to her at school. Like she was in a rush or something, it scared me.”

“Yeah, she’s hardheaded.”

“Right.” Y/N pulled her hand away when Harry lifted his head, clearing her throat and averting her eyes. The change in her behavior didn’t go unnoticed, though he knew he shouldn’t ask. “So when you talked… when you agreed to working things out, you meant that in a friendly manner? Or were you going to be… a couple again?”

“We… I don’t know. We kissed— well, she kissed me a few days ago when we met up again for a playdate with Jamie. Never discussed it any further.”

“Do you love her?”

Y/N had begun to hold her breath in, but she didn’t notice it.

Harry did. He noticed the suction of a deep breath and he noticed how his own hands got clammy with sweat.

Harry looked skeptical, as though there was something on his tongue ready to peek out tentatively, only it couldn’t because he had to spare her feelings. Because there was little Y/N, intimidated by everything she’d ever had to face in her lifetime— little Y/N who had rejected him and still expected loyalty. Little Y/N who couldn’t have him, but had always wanted to.

“I think a part of me will always love her. I mean, she gave me Jamie and he’s… the best thing to ever happen to me, really. I love him, and I will always love her for giving birth to him. I will always love her for the good parts of our relationship.”

Y/N hated herself for hating his answer. It was a perfectly reasonable answer, truthful as Y/N expected, yet her mind wandered past the barriers, past the barbed wire. She couldn’t fully grasp how he could still love her— and yet she understood perfectly. There was Jamie, of course, but there were many other things. There was her hair, her bright complexion, the beautiful curve of her hips and the effortless look of her makeup. There was the fashion, the business-casual look that seemed to mesh so well with Harry’s. There was this calling when Y/N pictured the two of them standing side by side, almost like they were destined to be together. She could imagine it perfectly, the many years they had spent together. She could see it. And it looked perfect.

Y/N coughed, head nodding along to his words as if she were listening to instructions and not some heartfelt confession. It felt instinctual, though.

When it came time for her to speak, she let a smile mold her lips into a perfect crescent moon. She never thought faking a smile could hurt more than a physical injury, but she’d been proven wrong. Everything looked intact— Y/N was sure she almost seemed unaffected from the outside. She wasn’t, though, and she wondered if Harry would recognize that.

“That’s… yeah. I get that.”

This was the first time Y/N actually felt the age gap between her and Harry. He sat here, ready to air it out. He spoke about his concerns, about the state of his son, and the only thing she could fret about was herself. Her sadness had no weight, it was too insignificant in comparison to his and it made her feel pathetic. It made her feel young and stupid and pathetic.

Harry deserved better than this. He deserved careful consideration, security for his child. He deserved trust and honesty, a sort of transparency Y/N couldn’t afford to offer to him yet.

“That’s not to say that I want to approach her in that way, especially after today, but…” he trailed off, only finding his words when it’d clicked that she wasn’t responding, “I just want you to understand that it’s complicated.”

Y/N nodded. Then she cleared her throat, ready to rid herself of this spotlight. She always messed up in the spotlight. “Um, Jamie asked me if Stacie was his mum today. I didn’t answer, but you might want to think about what you’ll say to say to him next time. I also sent you a few résumés, I’ve talked to a few people and have set up interviews, the first one is scheduled for tomorrow—“ she visibly flinched when his hand came down on her thigh, “please, Harry. I can’t. Please just let me finish this.”

“Okay.”

A deep breath, “it’s scheduled for tomorrow after you come home from work. Do you want me to come on the call, or are you okay interviewing yourself?”

“I’d like you to come.”

“Okay. I’ll stay longer tomorrow.”

“Can we talk about us now? Properly?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

Harry almost laughed, “there’s a lot to talk about. We just added on a good bit today.”

“I’m quitting. That’s it.”

“You know, I don’t understand why you insist that there’s nothing going on—“

“Because there isn’t,” she snapped. “There isn’t. I’m going to check up on Jamie.”

She was teary-eyed as she slipped from the stool, ready to conceal it all for the ball of sunshine sitting in the next room. She could do it all for Jamie— she would do it all.

Before he could say any more, Y/N disappeared behind the door. Harry could hear the two of them converse in the next room and his heart felt heavy as the gravity of the situation dawned on him. Harry had always known what to do— he was a CEO, for god’s sake. He was trained to find solutions, take control of seemingly unfixable problems, to make life easy. And yet, this girl thoroughly baffled him. He had no idea what the fuck to do anymore.

And yet, he was determined to keep trying.

—

Two people had interviewed over zoom and Harry had hated every one of them. His excuses were vague, something about the lack of experience (even though they both knew that Y/N hadn’t had any when she’d started either) and the supposed ‘wrong vibe’. One time he’d criticized a woman for her ‘ridiculously shrill voice’, at which point Y/N had rolled her eyes and proceeded to walk home in a fury.

The next day Y/N showed up again, ready to interview three more people. She sat beside Harry as he set up the video call and listened as he asked questions. Y/N was mostly in attendance to listen and give her honest feedback by the end (she really did want to find someone spectacular for Jamie), so the difficult part came later. For now she could be quiet.

This woman, aside from qualified, seemed very kind. So far, it’d been the best candidate.

“So how flexible is time for you?”

“Very. I do online classes for uni, so I can very well manage my time how I see fit.”

“That sounds fine. And you’ve had plenty of experience, I see.”

“Yes, I started babysitting when I was fourteen, so for more than ten years now. The last family I worked for just moved out of the country, which is why I’m looking for something new, but I was with them three years.”

This woman had nothing but good evidence she would be the best for the job; no doubt better than Y/N. She had the experience, she seemed mature, she looked kind— she would act in a professional manner, something Y/N had never quite figured out yet.

That didn’t matter to Harry, though, because as soon as she’d gotten off the call, he muttered a ‘no’.

“Why not?” Y/N asked, bewildered by his blunt response, “she was literally perfect for the job.”

Harry lifted his shoulders in a shrug, busying himself with his laptop, “just didn’t feel right.”

“Okay, this is just getting too unreasonable at this point. You didn’t like the lack of experience, fine, that one woman’s shrill voice, fine— but this? She just didn’t feel right?”

“I don’t expect you to understand—“

“No. We’re not doing that.”

“It’s a feeling, Y/N. When I interviewed you, I got the feeling that it’s right, that I’d feel safe leaving Jamie with you. It takes trust.”

“But she’s— she’s so qualified, she—“

“Experience isn’t everything. It’s important, but not everything. You weren’t experienced when you came for your interview but you gave me the right feeling. Thus you were qualified for the job.”

And she understood, really, but it still fucking pissed her off. “That’s fucking— you’re being too picky.”

“For good reason.”

“At least two of the people we interviewed were qualified enough for a test run.”

“We still have about fifteen to go and there’s no rush.”

Y/N found this ridiculous. She muttered under her breath, pushing some hair back with a sweaty palm.

“Why is it that everything I do makes you angry?”

“Because you’re fucking infuriating.”

He breathed a chuckle, “that’s nice,” and closed his laptop. “Are you hungry?”

“No.”

“Don’t lie to me. I’ll make your favorite pasta.”

“I don’t—“ but Harry had already gotten to work, tuning her voice out without much trouble. He smiled at her, almost mocking.

“Do you have another job lined up?“

“Uh,” Y/N didn’t want to admit no, that she hadn’t even begun looking properly (save for that one café down the street from her apartment), knowing the consequences and aware of the tiring reprimanding from Harry ahead. A pitied glance. A pathetic speech. “I’ve applied.”

“Where?”

“A cafe.”

“Where?”

“You wouldn’t know it.”

“Are you hired?”

She huffed, “no.”

“Where else?”

“Um, a… another café. It’s in... near my apartment.”

“Would be bad if it wasn’t,” he quipped, paying her a shortened glance from over his cooking pot. “Do you need help?”

“No.”

“Financial help, maybe?”

Y/N groaned, “no.”

“Because I wouldn’t mind sending you some money—“

“Harry,” she cut him off in an instant, glaring daggers at him, “I’ll just send it back. I’ve saved up enough to get by for a few weeks.“

“That doesn’t exactly ease my—“

“Can we just— can we not?”

And they didn’t. Harry closed his mouth— forced it closed, actually— having to clench his jaw to stop himself from voicing unwanted thoughts. Y/N looked away, pretending this conversation hadn’t happened at all. It was easier that way, to pretend he hadn’t conveyed such an open and honest display of care, to pretend that it hadn’t ripped her heart to shreds.

There was so much he wanted to say, but he couldn't. It was the first time in a while that Y/N stayed (somewhat voluntarily) after her shift, and he couldn't risk pushing her away further.

For now, he had to be okay with this.

—

Y/N couldn‘t keep her eyes off of Harry, images of last night flashing in between conflicting thoughts.

She was in bed. She was clutching her blanket, a wet spot and the outline of her body marked by sweat on the sheets. He‘d looked so real fucking her, he‘d sounded so genuine whispering into her ear as he thrust up into her cunt.

He‘d called her a good girl, and she‘d run with it, afraid to look back.

But it hadn‘t been real, had it?

It‘d been a dream. But god, was it a good one.

Would he do it all the same? Would be hold her close, spreading his fingers over the expanse of her breast as he kissed her neck? Would he glide them up, and wrap them around her throat? Would he— fuck. No. She couldn’t.

But he would. And they‘d look so pretty resting there. And she‘d feel so pretty as he overwhelmed her with his presence, his chest pressing against hers. He‘d look so right as he danced along the fine line of praise and degradation— the line of rough and sweet, cold and warm. Because he would know. He would know exactly what she would need.

Wouldn‘t he?

He would. As she watched him move through the space of his living room, she knew he would. She‘d always known, really.

And Jamie wasn’t here anymore, he’d fled up the stairs. And Y/N really, really shouldn’t be here with him alone.

She was biting on her nails, eyes cast downwards in avoidance as Harry read his book on the other end of the couch. He had an arm stretched along the back of the couch and her legs were tucked to her chest as she scrolled on her phone, trying her hardest not to let her gaze run wild. It proved especially difficult when his arm fell mere inches from her legs. And when he touched her, warm thumb rubbing comforting circles into the cold of her skin, she couldn’t help biting her lip.

“You okay?”

“Hm? Yes. Why?”

A smile stretched his mouth wide, “just seem distracted, is all. Squirmy.”

“What? No, I’m fine.”

God, she was feeling small under his gaze.

“You sure?”

“Yes,” she mumbled. Harry saw her eyes, though, tired dark circles resting where they didn’t belong. He saw how they widened, how desperate they seemed for something she didn’t want to disclose to him and he wanted so badly to satisfy that need for her. “I should go home.”

His grip tightened ever so slightly. “Would you like me to drive you?”

“Um, no. It’s okay. Thank you.”

But she failed to move.

Y/N had shut him out for so long that the effect he’d always had on her multiplied by ten. It was much much worse and the finger on her leg burned through her skin with ease.

“Sweetheart?”

“Hm?”

“Come here,” he demanded softly, watching as a war unfolded on her face. He could read her like a book, sensing the exact moment her heart won and her head gave up. He pulled her to him, fingers dancing up and down her shoulder. “You seem tired.”

Y/N cleared her throat, tips of fingers holding onto the edge of safety and threatening to let her cascade into the depths of danger. “I had three classes in the morning and I’ve been writing this paper, so—“ she allowed him control as he made her face the other way, legs outstretched, her back just inches from his chest and his hands massaging her tense shoulders. Her eyes closed in pleasure at the sensation. “And last night, I—“

“Last night you what?”

“I had… I had this dream and—“

She didn’t want to finish and he didn’t need her to.

“Is this okay?”

His voice felt soft and comfortable against her neck. “Yes, thank you. You’re good at that.”

He hummed.

“I really should go home though,” she mumbled, getting quieter with each word. She knew she wouldn’t dare push him away now, but she supposed it was more about convincing herself that she’d tried. “Cause I have classes early in the morning.”

“It’s only seven.”

“Yeah.”

Harry snickered quietly, her awful try at resistance not surprising him in the least. He had never seen her quite like this though, weak and smitten in his arms, on the verge of purring like a cat. He definitely couldn’t complain when she inched closer and dropped her head back so it could rest comfortably on his shoulder.

“Can you do my arms?”

“Of course, baby.”

She could’ve melted. In fact, she probably had without noticing.

And when she felt his lips pressing to her skin… well, then it was game over.

“Is this okay?”

She nodded promptly, heart racing.

Y/N was tired of rejecting this feeling, tired of pretending as though she didn’t want or need Harry’s affection. Because truly, it was all she wanted, all she’d longed for.

A love like his would feel so great.

“You look really beautiful, you know that?”

“Thank you,” she squeaked, sensing Harry’s chuckle rolling against her back at the response.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

“Me neither.”

“You’re the one who keeps running.”

“I know.”

“Why?”

Y/N took her time answering, grateful when Harry didn’t rush her. He would sit here waiting for an hour if he needed to, she was confident in that. There was no hurry, just soft hands on scalps and warm kisses on necks— Y/N hadn’t experienced such an overwhelming feeling of comfort in the arms of a man.

“I’m scared to stay.”

He sounded unfazed, giving her a surge of confidence when he asked, “why?”

“Because we’re such different people. You’re a dad, a very accomplished ceo. I’m a student, so much younger—“

“Don’t make me out to be so old, love.”

Her eyes rolled. “A little younger than you. And last week when I saw Stacie, I don’t know… it did something with my brain, I guess. You seemed so right together, you know? I didn’t want you to wake up one day and regret anything, don’t think I could bear that.”

“Look at me,” he muttered, tilting her head so that he could pin her down with a stern stare, “I couldn’t regret you, sweetheart. I regret much in life, but I wouldn’t regret you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Eh, I’m a pretty good judge of character.”

“Harry,” she warned, “I’m not the most lovable person once you get to know me.”

“I doubt that,” he retorted.

“Past experiences have proven as much.”

He gave gentle strokes to her cheek, a glaze he didn‘t expect overcoming her eyes, pulling him in, “so let me show you.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, his nose mere inches away from hers. “Show me what?”

“How easy it is to love you.”

Time stood still, but it couldn’t not have with a statement of that kind. It seemed so easy for him to brush off concerns as something undeserving of thought, to create an allusion of simplicity where it didn‘t belong. Those words meant everything to her.

“You must know how wonderful that sounds coming from your mouth.”

Harry breathed a chuckle, nose nudging against hers softly. When he asked for permission, Y/N couldn’t deny him of another kiss.

And if it could’ve gotten any better than their first kiss, then it definitely had. There was a newfound sense of freedom and security with this kiss, unspoken thoughts reduced to small details rather than what had been when they’d spent time together last.

When they parted, nothing needed to be said. They already knew it all.

—

A month later.

“Y/N, will you hand me another bowl for the soup, please?”

As Y/N fulfilled Harry’s plea, she couldn’t help but let giddiness dictate her movements. Things were fresh, things were good— but they were also scary. He was scary. Anxious butterflies spread in her lower tummy at the mention of his name and infested it with the low sound of his voice.

She waited by his side as he tidied up, ready to be of assistance. It was pathetic, really, how awfully smitten she’d become for him.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

She hummed in reply, scared that if she were to speak all that would come out was a squeak. Harry chuckled, smirk molding into his cheekbones as he grasped Y/N by the waist and pushed his lips against hers in a gentle kiss. His hand slid lower, giving her a squeeze.

“Are you nervous?”

“Yeah.”

“It’ll be great, I promise. And whatever he says, we’ll work it out.”

“Okay,” a surge of confidence rode her to sunny dry shores, shoulders sacking in comfort, “yeah, okay. I trust you.”

“You ready then?”

“Yes.”

Things proceeded as they always had; Y/N and Jamie shared funny anecdotes of their day as Harry mostly listened, admiring the two of them with love filling his eyes. It wasn’t until desert had come that the setting changed, unbeknownst to Jamie, and Harry took the lead.

“Jamie, we want to talk to you about something.”

Jamie stared between the two of them, waiting.

“Do you remember when you came home from school and told me about Katie and Josh? That they’re boyfriend girlfriend?”

“Yes, they still are.”

Harry chuckled, “and do you remember what I said when you asked if I had a girlfriend?”

“You said that you don’t.”

“I did. And while that may have been true for that moment, things have changed.”

Her heart melted and sank all the same when his little green eyes lit up, “do you have a girlfriend now?”

“I do,” Harry laughed, “you know her.”

“Who?”

Harry smirked, motioning to Y/N with a nod of his head to draw Jamie’s attention away. Jamie’s gaze landed on Y/N and in the matter of a second it filled with excitement. His mouth dropped open in surprise.

“Are you okay with that?” She asked, timid at first but becoming more confident when a genuine smile imprinted small dimples in his cheeks, a feature he’d been lucky enough to receive from his father.

He nodded, full of movement, and hummed in confirmation.

When Y/N and Harry had put Jamie into bed later that night, and had vacated to the kitchen to enjoy a glass of wine together, things finally fell into place. The thought of happiness within a relationship was no longer a distant one— no, it had become a reality. Harry had kept up with his promise, he had shown her easy, he’d shown her effortless, and while there was no doubt in her mind that hard times were still to come, she was confident that no matter the circumstance, her gratitude for his open portrayal of love could never be put into question.

“I love you,” she shared, eyes glassy, head tilted. “You don’t have to say it back, but I just want you to know. I think I’ve loved you for quite some time, I just didn’t want to realize it.”

The silence was short lived.

He placed his glass back down on the table and smiled, though to her it almost looked awkward. “Wow.”

“I know, you don’t have to�� cause I know it’s a big deal, so you don’t have to say anything.”

“I do too,” he then offered, hand traveling to rest on her knee. “I love you.”

“Really?”

“I do.”

This stumped her.

And now it was her turn: “wow.”

Harry’s laughter spread everywhere on Y/N’s skin, engraving itself into her soul and staying there to be kept and remembered forever.

“Good. Now that that’s cleared…”

She couldn’t deny him of a passionate make-out session, hands on thighs and lips everywhere they fit, everywhere they felt right. A moan slipped from her mouth, his smirk molded into her hot skin.

“Move in with me,” he muttered, dirty against her mouth, “we’re finding a new nanny for Jamie and you don’t have a new job planned yet. Just focus on university, move in with me, with us. Let me take care of you.“

“Harry—“ his mouth collided against her neck, her eyes closed shut, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Why?”

“We’ve only been together—“

“Doesn’t matter, I’ve fought for a long time to have you. I believe in us, I trust this.”

“I…“ Y/N felt torn— on one hand, she really wanted to move in with him. On the other, was that really wise? To move in with a man after a month of dating him? Albeit this was Harry, and she trusted him too. Fully. It was herself she didn’t trust. “Are you sure?”

And when she looked into his eyes, there was no not one ounce of doubt in them. They welcomed her.

“Jamie would love it just as much as me.”

“Would he?”

“Are you kidding me? He loves you so much.”

“I love him too,” she played with a strand of his hair.

“Then move in with us.”

A smile began to pull at her lips. “But I pay for groceries.”

“No,” he mumbled, “you’re too broke for me to let you do that.”

“Harry!”

“It’s true!” He laughed, massaging her thigh. “Baby, I don’t expect you to pay for anything living here. I’m more than capable—“

“I know you’re capable, but I just… I was taught not to burden other people.”

“You’re not burdening me,” he insisted, finger sliding under her chin, “it’s okay to let other people do things for you. It’s okay for others to show their love.”

“I know that.”

“So please don’t worry about it. Focus on your studies and make me proud in that way.”

“I need to make money somehow.”

“No you don’t. I’ll support you.”

“No,” she breathed right away, “I won’t depend on you for money. You’re not my… my sugar daddy.”

“Why not?” He grinned, “you call me daddy either way—“

Y/N’s eyes rolled, “shut up.”

“Told you not to roll your eyes at me.”

“Sorry.”

Harry hummed, “try it for a month. If you want to move in after, you can. If you don’t, I’ll help you find a new place. Or I’ll pay your rent while you’re here so you don’t lose out on money.”

Comfortable silence dictated the next few seconds as Y/N thought about her boyfriend’s offer, and then: “fine. We’ll try it for a month.”

Harry’s smile widened, “yeah?”

“Yes.”

“You won’t regret it."

He'd been right.

The end! Would love to hear your feedback :) but also like… don’t be too harsh cause I can’t handle it

tags:

@tpwk-mia @gem1712 @behindmygreyeyes, @sinarainbows @infixinfinity @adkmermaid2399 @daphnesutton @imaginexxharry @bry211 @haliastyles @watarmelon212 @impossibleme @cali-888 @dreamybabbyy @evie-119 @cumuluscranium @c-a-b3002 @buckybarnessimpp @freckles-things @harryedwardstylesluva24 @ihavesimpedovermanyfictionalmen @angelbunny222 @ivegotthecinema @harryscowgirl

I hope I didn’t forget anyone!

#harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles x you #harry styles one shot #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles series #harry styles materlist #harry styles x plus size reader #harry styles x nanny #harry styles ceo #harry styles fanfic rec

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souvenir116 · 18 days ago

Note

I’m sorry, but can you please recommend me some fics, where Max is a kind of bad guy who scares everyone around because of his rude and cold personality, but not Charles. Idk maybe something like Max bully everyone in school and a real asshole but he is very protective of Charles

I’m really sorry, I’ve read so many such fics with other ships, but really can’t find something like that with Lestappen for few days. I think it is kind of strange because of their behaviour in real life 😂

Thank you 🙏 (and sorry if I made some mistakes, English isn’t my first language, but I tried)

so anon, I'm not sure if those are fitting with your agenda but I tried to go through my bookmarks a bit (I have to say I havent been reading fics for months so dont count on me too much😭) and I got some where Max is cold and has that heavy aura around him.

this one is cold/unable to love, rudeish, CEO of ferrari Max getting into an arranged marriage w ferrari driver Charles. one of my all time favorites. Max learns loving someone with Charles.

this one's a mafia fic. with a very good plot. low key short read but golden. it has soo much tension- sexual and enemy-ish

from the same author stripper Charles dark ceo max (my favorite)

my own fic where Max is rude and a cunt to Charles' current boyfriend Carlos but hes very kind to Charles and protects him from Carlos. with a little kiddo part too.

my two favs of all times.. both mafia aus where Max is the usual cold rude mafia boss but hes loving Charles like his baby... its like charles is his only weakness/ soft spot. both are very long which i so much love in a fic since you really get into the builded world. also can i rec my own mafia au since it fits the narrative

not sure if it fits your wants but very possessive, first time sex fic. strongest alpha of their pack Max chases Charles down in the traditional hunt of being the first of an omega (Charles is down bad for him)

i tried my best but if anyone wants to rec more fics to anon id be so glad 🥹🥹

#i hope you like them but all are very top tier anon #ALSO i hope i didnt mix up any links lol #asks #lestappen

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santaasi · 9 months ago

Text

WAITING FOR YOU

pairing: bsfljames potter x fem!reader

summary: loving James Potter has become the biggest mistake of your life

warnings: hanahaki au, pure angst, no happy ending (sorry), english is not my first language

word count: 1.4k

a/n: feel like i'm in my angst era, but i rly love this oneshot with all my heart. so, hope you'll enjoy it <3

You're in pain. You feel white roses growing inside you and breaking all the bones. You can feel their thorns painfully piercing your already crippled heart. It beats rapidly in your chest, begging for help, bleeding. But you don't hear its pleadings, coughing up white petals with an admixture of blood over and over again, lying on the floor of your dorm room. You're crying.

You're crying because you're a fool for falling in love with your best friend, crying because you might die soon, crying because you're worthless.

You're in pain. You are awake at night again, completely exhausting your body, because in dreams you see him again and again and again... You see how his eyes are looking lovingly not at you. You see how his lips are kissing not yours. You see how his arms tenderly encircle not your waist. And you cough over and over again, choking on your blood and leaving white petals on the floor.

You're still in pain. As soon as you step over the threshold of the great hall, James Potter comes up to you again, excited about the upcoming date with the perfect Lily Evans, your friend and former roommate. You listen to him with half an ear, looking at how his eyes light up at every mention of Lily. You always dreamt of him looking at you with the same sparks in his chocolate eyes.

James thanks you a hundred times for bringing them together after so many years of his unsuccessful pinning. He says that he will never have a better friend than you, and that he loves you immensely. He loves you. But only like a sister. And you feel a lump rise in your throat and the thorns pierce your heart again, from the realization that you have made the biggest mistake of your life. You signed your own death warrant.

Feeling everything inside you break down, as tears come to your eyes, and a lump rises in your throat, you quickly run away. You excuse yourself, saying that you have a lesson soon, that you don't want to be late, leaving James Potter alone with his thoughts. Thoughts of Lily Evans. Which clouds his mind, preventing him from noticing how you, his closest person, are suffering because of him.

You don't go to the first lesson and the next either. You go to an old abandoned toilet, which everyone has long forgotten about, and sit down on the cold tiled loor, feeling the tears roll down your cheeks, and the bones break again under the onslaught of the stems. Your heart screams again from the pain in your chest as the spikes hit deeper than before. You're in pain, crazy and fucking painful. The only thing thundering in your head is the thought of imminent death. After all, people like you don't live long. And you cough and cough and cough, scattering white rose petals with red spots on the dirty tiles.

You're scared. You don't want to die before you're twenty-one. You don't want to die without attending your graduation and becoming an aurora, as you always dreamed of with James. You don't want to die without getting married and having a perfect family like your parents. You don't want to die without going with Dorcas on fake IDs to one of these Muggle clubs in secret from your parents.

You're scared because you don't want to die at such an early age. Who the hell wants to die at seventeen anyway?

You hate yourself for falling in love with your best friend. For plunging into the sea called "James Potter" with your head and getting sick of what you always warned your friends against. You hate yourself for the fact that your death will hurt everyone you love so much, and you can't do anything about it. It's too late. The disease decided everything for you.

You didn't go to class. Instead, you slowly took all your things and returned to the dorm. Throwing the bag somewhere at the entrance, you took out an old photo album and carefully began to review page after page. Tears were rolling down your cheeks when you looked at the photos where you, James, Sirius and Remus were so happy standing waist-deep in a black lake. Where Dorcas, Lily, Marlene and you are sitting in Three Broomstick and drinking butterbeer for the first time. Where you and James are lying on the grass in his backyard, looking up at the blue sky. Back then, no one even suspected that this would happen sometime in the future. No one could even suspect it will happen to you.

After all, you and James have been best friends since early childhood. You played in the sandbox together when you were two, went to your favorite ice cream cafe together when you were four, went to Hogwarts together when you turned eleven, and spent your whole life together. You were like a younger sister to James, whom he loved more than life. And you thought of him as your brother, too... until six months ago you realized that you were head over heels in love with him.

You knew from the very beginning that this was a losing game for you in advance. And that was the end of it.

You've been lying in your bed all day, not letting anyone into your private dorm room, which Dumbledore allocated to you when he found out about 'the problem'. You didn't want your friends to see how you were dying, and how your whole floor was strewn with white and red petals. At the same time, you didn't like to say goodbye and didn't want to see Lily's tears, who would blame herself, or the tears of Sirius, who was always strong next to you, but this time he would cry like a little child.

But most of all, you didn't want to see James, who knocked on your door several times all day, which you didn't open to him, hearing his soft muffled voice. You knew that once he saw you, he would understand everything. And you weren't ready to look at his confused look, and then listen to his pleas not to leave him, that he would find that guy who did this to you and make him love you, not even suspecting that 'that guy' was him. And you couldn't tell him that harsh truth.

You couldn't break his heart like that.

Still, James Potter's feelings have always meant more to you than your own.

And you'd hate yourself even more if you did it. Although it seemed to you that it was simply impossible to hate yourself more than now. How could you have made such a mistake? How could you fall in love with your best friend and pick up hanahaki? Another batch of petals fell on the blanket.

You were dying. You felt the stalks reach your lungs, how slowly and painfully they knocked out the last air, and the thorns pierced the thin membrane of your lungs. You felt the bones shatter under the onslaught of the growing flowers. You felt your heart bleed when the thorns pierced it deeper. You could never describe the pain you were feeling right now. The pain was everywhere. You coughed over and over, spitting out bloody white petals on the bed. Tears flowed from your eyes like a river, with every second you wanted to live more and more. You wanted to go shopping with Lily, Dorcas and Marlene, you wanted to spend more time with your parents, you wanted to have more pranks with Sirius and Remus, you wanted to graduate from Hogwarts and get married. But you were dying.

You were dying out of love for your best friend, who never found out how much you loved him.

You died. Alone. Surrounded by the bloody petals of white roses. The first flowers that James gave you for your seventeenth birthday six months ago. You died with a smile on your face because when you closed your eyes, you saw him.

James Potter, who was standing in the back yard of his house with a smile on his face, was waiting here for you.

He's always been waiting only for you.

tried for the first time to use 2nd narration... kinda liked it but at the same time kinda not. but i think it's a matter of habit... idk

pt2 -> read

but, nevertheless, thankx for reading <3

- your santi ✨

masterlist

#– santi 🪐#james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #james potter fic #james potter angst

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ancha-aus · 5 months ago

Text

RealAgeAU Drabble - Progress

I am here! And I made this drabble! @spotaus get in here! We got a new update :3

This one i had to take the time for haha Also I am fucking dying it is so hot and warm and everything is moist and i hate it and please end me i am not made for this heat. and as i am melting so his my sanity and mental health

anyway hahahah it is warm :') I dislike the heat.

First drabble Prev drabble Next drabble

And no beta or edits. I write these in one go and hope for the best lmao.

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

Dream watches as the bear walks through the stream. looking at the water and following movements Dream can't see.

The bear eventually gets to some mysterious perfect spot and stays put. it opens its mouth and waits.

For a moment. nothing happens.

Then the fish start to jump and rush and one ends right in the bear's mouth. The bear bites down and starts eating.

It is fascinating.

Nature in motion.

Dream continues to lay right there on top of the branches as he watches the bear continue hunting and eating. at ease with what it does and who it is.

His phone ringing ruins the silence and Dream curses as he grabs his phone quickly checking who is calling now. He sighs at the sight of the caller ID and answers it "Hey Core."

The child, is core still a child?, sounds frantic "Dream? Where have you been!?"

Drema hums as he leans against the tree, watching the wildlife again. Good to see the bear has dismissed the noise he made and it went about its day again "out and about. learning stuff."

core sighs "Dream... the people here need you and-"

Dream hums "No they don't. They can do their chores and tasks themselves. I told you and all of them this before." he is not going to fall into the same trap as always. cutting himself apart to please others. He needs to figure himself out first.

Core sighs loudly again "Dream... If you like it our not. You are still the guardian of positivity to them! They are nervous and you can relax them."

Dream sighs annoyed himself "No Core. I can't. Or at least, i don't want that role anymore. Correction. I never should ahve had that role. I already told you that what i did before was a mistake." he had explained this so many times already. Explained that he shouldn't have tried to stop what Nightamre had been doing.

Yet no one understood!

They kept demanding him to keep doing what he had been doing before.

It is exhausting.

Dream sighs loudly and cuts off whatever Core is saying "I am not coming back to the omega timeline. Let it rest Core and move on. That is what i am doing." and he hangs up the phone. He leans against the tree and calls the number he knows by soul.

one ring later and "Dream! How is your break going? Seen any cool things?" Blue sounds excited.

Dream smiles as he leans against the tree already feeling relaxed. Just hearing his friend and hearing him respect what dream wanted makes everything right. The need to complain disappears and he focuses on the good "Yeah it is pretty cool. I am in a large forest. Saw a bear catch a fish with its mouth." the bear moves towards the side to eat some of the fish it caught.

Blue groans "lucky!! I am stuck in another reset. Kid got stuck somewhere in hotland and my bro and I are trying to figure out a way to hel them progress quicker."

Dream chuckles "You and your brother gave up on acting as if you don't notice the save, loads and resets?"

Blue hums "Well... yeah! I know it is a large risk and a big show of trust... but my brother explained to me that knowing I was there for him? With him in the resets and that i truly understood how it felt? He said it gave him peace and hope. that he felt less alone. And that got me thinking... Maybe... maybe Chara would feel better if they knew they weren't alone? That they didn't need to figure it all out alone? Papy had been unsure but he ended up deciding to trust my opinion and decision..."

Dream hums and nods "how did that go?"

Blue is silent for a moment before answering "Well... we dropped hints first and tried to ease them into the idea... then they ended up having a panic attack and apologising over and over again. We just sat down with them and we spoke it all out. they ended up sleeping over at our place for a while and would ask us everything about how we experienced it. So... I think it helped... thanks by the way."

Dream blinks and laughs "Why thank me?"

Dream can hear the smile in Blue's voice "Because you gave me the idea of it all! You were the one to trust me and share your worries with me. and once you shared those pains you felt better. You explained how the powers and responsiblity got too much and painful... That is when i realised. If you, an actual adult and god already felt like that... how would a child feel with so much power and responsibility but no guidance?" Blue is silent for a moment before he speaks "I know we aren't... we arent suposed to mess with the past or what happened or the anomaly but... How can there be any change if we don't try? Be it for the better or worse? At least we won't be stuck in the same loop anymore."

a moment of silence and Drema speaks quietly "What if they end up deciding to use this for bad stuff? To betray that trust and beleive?" what if blue gets hurt?

Blue hums "That is their choice. My choice was to be willing to trust and help. To beleive in the better and do waht i needed to do to take a step in the right direction."

Dream stares down before chuckling "You are truly one of the few between all of us who is sane and has healthy mental health."

Blue laughs "I have struggles too Dream. everyone has! we all do waht we can to cope. talking about struggles... did something happen?"

Blue is too damn smart and knows him too damn well.

Dream sighs "Smething did but... I honestly don't want to talk about it." he chuckles and rubs his new outfit. a more neutral grey with just a few yellow accents "You already need to listen so much to my problems. I want to be there for you too!"

Blue hums unhappily "dream."

Dream sighs and folds immediantly "just... Core calling again."

an even unhappier hum "We need to get you a new cross-multiverse phone. with a new number that Core doesn't know."

Drema can't help but laugh "maybe we can go shopping later? When your loop calms down a bit?"

Blue cheers "Yes! That sounds great! Oh! Did you want to come over for dinner? Chara is going to be friends with alphys and stuff which leaves me free early!"

Dream smiles "gladly. be there in a bit!" blue replies with his own goodbye and Dream hangs up. feeling much lighter and better than before. he opens a portal and makes the multiverse jump.

dinner is amazing and Dream takes some time to catch up wiht both Stretch and Blue. enjoying hearing more about the updates about their universe and how tlaking with Chara has helped them all a lot!

Dream is just happy with Blue is getting closer to the happy ending he deserves. To finally be free and explore the surface world he longs for so badly. Dream is also happy that Stretch seems to be doing better mentally. Dream may not be close with Stretch like with Blue but he still likes the other skeleton! Stretch is nice and can be a true sweetheart. Stretch just has to battle depression and hopelessness at the same time.

Blue once asked Dream if he could heal that for Stretch. a desperate plea from a worried brother. Drema had tried but he couldn't. He had once again remembered that it have been the purple apples that could heal mental illnesses. and he did not have a connection to those. Dream never told Blue that and just told him that Dream could only heal the physical body. That mental health was something that needed other and special care and support of loved ones.

Etiher way. it is great to see both feeling better and happier!

They relax and enjoy their time when Dream's phone rings again.

Stretch shoots it a curious look "I thought you muted that?"

Dream groans and nods "i did." he always does. one check later and a frown "Core again."

Blue sighs and steals his phone. he answers it and speaks right away "One. It is rude to call people at dinner time. two. Learn to take no. three. Stop, you are starting to appear obsessed. solve your own problems. It isn't Dreams issue." and hangs up again before handing it back.

Dream stares dumbfounded but Stretch just chuckles "Careful Blue. YOur protective side is showing."

Blue huffs but doesn't appear embarresed at all "Well! They should learn to take no and solve their own problems instead of trying to make it Dream's issue!"

Dream rubs his cheek "I am not much better... I keep asking you for your help..."

Blue looks at him and shakes his skull "Dream that is different. You ask for help. You accept if I am busy. Core demands help and doesn't accept a no." Blue smiles "See the difference?"

Dream feels himself relax again as he happily takes another bite. He enver needed food but it is nice.

a whistle "impressive."

Drema turns quickly and stares "Reaper."

Reaper grins and waves "Hey Dream. Blue and..." he needs a moment "Stretch right?"

Stretch looks a tBlue.

Blue shrugs at his brother "aparently I, or we for that matter, don't know how to not mess with things and cause alternative worlds. it is a long story. also. Don't touch reaper. everything reaper touches dies."

Reaper nods "it is why i float. Anyway. I had a moment and figured i should check in on the whole god thing and had to tell you guys soemthing but well... dinner." he waves at the table and grins "I didn't mean to be rude but..."

Stretch shrugs as he continues eating "I don't mind. talk god stuff. I am gonna keep eating."

Blue smiles at Reaper "I agree! You can just tell us now.. want a plate?" he waves at the dinner served.

Reaper chuckles and waves it off "I don't need food."

Blue huffs "neither does Dream but it is still a nice experience!"

Dream nods as he eats another bite "very nice. also. Blue and Stretch with all the timeloops are good cooks." Blue is already getting a plate and fork ready for the other skeleton.

Reaper blinks but takes the plate thankfully and carefully. he joins in and hums happily "It is great." and continues eating.

It is nice. a little strange but nice. Dream hasn't felt this relaxed and happy in a long time.

Reaper eats antoher bite before starting to speak "Anyway. I came with a mission." he eats antoher bite.

Dream nods and knows where this is going "Is this about... my job?"

Reaper nods as he eats antoher bite "Pretty much. Got any idea on what you want to focus on as domain yet?"

Dream sighs and shakes his skull "I... I hadn't... I had... wanted to wait with picking... until i foudn Nightmare and could talk things out first." he had wanted to pick soemthing together with his twin. make sure they still matched...

Reaper blinks but grins "you dont need to worry! you two are twins after all. if one of you picks a domain the other will automatically lean towards something that matches." he shrugs "god and twin magic stuff."

Dream blinks and feels a bit better. Their magic will always match?! That is great! That is fantastic and-

No.

Dream shakes his skull "Then I really don't want to decide without him!"

Reaper looks confused "But you will match anyway?"

Dream feels himself shake "Like with positivity and negativity?! No! I am not going to pick anything that can cause that kind of mess and split again!" He isn't going to do that to nightmare again!

Wait...

What if he can pick something that is the negative of the match? That would mean Ngihtmare immediantly gets the positive side right? But it hardly ever has only one opposite! Happiness can be the opposite of both sadness and angry to just give an example!

Or people often say love and hate are opposites but then people say it is love and indifference!

There are too many options and he isn't going to do it!

Reaper frowns "Dream. You can't keep going around without somekind of purpose. You are already heavily leaning on Blue as it is."

Dream looks away embarresed while Blue just frowns "Wait how do you know that?"

Reaper raises a brow "Because you are starting to get a boon."

Blue blinks while Stretch frowns "A boon?"

Reaper nods "Yeah. Gods can give boons to mortals who helped them. The more help and support given generally the stronger the boon. Normally these are given on purpose but well... with Dream's magic slightly all over the place." he just waves in their direction.

Blue frowns "what happens if i get one of these?"

Reaper hums "it depends on the god, the boon and the person. YOu could just be kinda like a workshipper if you get a tiny one. High priest kinda deal is also possible. But... with how involved you are with helping Dream? Probably an acolyte. Very strong powers... and pretty much automatically an outcode if not you just surpass that straight to something between mortal and demigod. Acolytes are powerful blue."

Dream shoots blue an anxious look before staring at Reaper "How do i stop that?!"

Reaper shrugs "Now you know about it? And you know you could do it? It is less liekly you will accidentally do it. especially if you don't want to. Boons are suposed to be a thank you kinda deal after all."

Stretch shares a nervous look with Blue but blue pats his hand "I am okay bro." Blue looks at Dream anxious "Dream... You know I love helping you. Really! But... i don't want to be an acolyte or any boon okay? I am just happy to be able to be friends."

Dream grbas his shoulders and stares at him "Blue. I promise and swear! I will never actively give you one unless you ask me okay? And I will try my hardest and best to never accidentally give you one okay?"

He wills himself, his soul, and magic to get the message. Blue doesn't want a boon. Blue doens't want a title. Dream doesn't want to give Blue either of these. Dream does not want to force either a boon or title on blue.

Reaper puts his plate away and floats at a distance "Sorry for the whole... bad news situation. I just figured... fi you are going to keep dodging picking a domain you need to understand this possibility..." he waits a moment before his phone gives a ding. he frowns at it "Work demands me again. Give it some thought. think about your domain and keep an eye on yourself." and Reaper disappears as if he was never there.

Blue frowns at where Reaper left and gives him a reassuraning smile "Hey. If you don't want to give me one you won't give me one. I trust you to not do it on purpose. And we will just make sure I stay in my own universe more! Not tempt fate!"

Dream frowns as he rubs his arm "Maybe i just need to pick a domain... but i don't want to accidentally force nightmare into a role he doesn't want..." it wouldn't be fair.

Blue frowns but Stretch speaks up "makes sense. fuck knows i would never have willingly picked Blue to also rememebr the resets."

Blue shoots him a look but Dream looks a thim confused "But i thoguth it was helping you?"

Stretch nods "It is. it is nice to have his support and everything" he smiles a tblue sadly befor elooking down "But it is a lot. the resets are a lot. i didn't... i didn't want to force him to deal with that." he shoots blue a look "I didn't want to force you to experience the same thing that i saw as hell. I didn't want to do that to you."

Blue frowns and goes to his brother to give him a hug. Dream relaxes and smiles a bit. because Stretch understands. Stretch understands why Dream can't make this choice just yet. Blue understands as well and... and trusts him.

Dream nods to himself and focuses. He doesn't want to give blue a title or boon. He wants blue to just remain his best friend. he wants blue to get the choice. He wants blue to get his chance to pick his future. He wants Nightmare to get his chance to pick his future.

To make their own paths.

To progress and grow in the way they want.

Dream smiles at the two brothers "Thank you two. for being my friends. real friends." he doesn't have many. which makes the two all the more special. and if they want to remain exactly as they are then Dream wants them to stay the way they are. because that truly gives them the chance to be and become who they want to be. instead of being what Dream wants.

Dream just hopes this will work. Because he also wants a chance to figure out who he truly is. And who he wants to be and what he wants. a chance to change and be. a chance to try and grow as a person.

Maybe that is all he ever really wanted.

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

Meanwhile Nightmare already figured his own domain out and is working on it. Also. No one tell Dream he already picked one. it just isn't as obvious. after all... Blue did mention that Dream helped him find a way to progress and move forwards :3

First drabble Prev drabble Next drabble

#utmv #realageau #dream sans #blue sans #swap sans #swap papyrus #stretch papyrus #core frisk #I once again did not have a drabble wiht the baby #It is a crime #But good news! Dream also already picked his domain of progression! He just isn't aware of it himself #It is okay. he will figure it out eventually :3 #progression is also part of character growth and development. and dream needs this freedom to form himself.#by giving him this domain he also gets to be and change as he grows and time passes. Dream will no longer be stuck in the 'perfect' role #anymore. He will get to be selfish and possessive. he will get to make mistakes. he gets to be annoying and weak.#He just gets to be a person now. instead of being stuck as some symbol of pure goodness and innocence and perfection.#Which i can only imagine will get sufacating quickly.#Dream also went through a lot of trauma and this? This is his chance to heal and be who he wants to be.#Not that he realises it quite yet.#He thinks he doesn't have a domain. Not realising his very domain now gives him the freedom he craves and needs!#I hope that all makes sense... I tried my best hihi

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linalaine · 1 year ago

Note

ARLECCHINO insists we call her daddy in bed, and one day we call her daddy infront of other harbingers/fatui by accident 😌🤭

- Slip of the Tongue -

hii !! ive been sick recently so i honestly havent been doing anything but resting bc i didn't think id get as many requests as i did!! but im gonna start clearing them out so pls bear w me yall 🙏

also u guyss have been so sweet tysm ! <33

Arlecchino x Reader (Smut ??)

🪼🌸 cw: gn reader, daddy kink, mentions of hooking up/sex/fingering, humiliation?, self explanatory, kinda short .

It was no secret amongst the fatui and harbingers that you and Arlecchino were sleeping together. It really was just something you both started out of boredom! But it grew into something more. It turned into the two of you being a lot closer. Though you guys definitely weren't dating (yet). Ever since you and Arlecchino started hooking up, you've come to find that she had a daddy kink.

You discovered that during one of your hook ups. She had you splayed out on her bed with 2 fingers restlessly abusing your hole. You were a moaning, babbling mess begging to cum, only to be met with a harsh smack to the ass! She refused to let you cum until you called her daddy. Which, at the time, you did with no hesitation as you were too focused on your own release. Fucked dumb just by her fingers.

Then, you two started getting closer. And you let it slip a few times when you guys were alone of just hanging out. It started by you accidentally calling her daddy when she would ask you to go do something for her.

"Hey, mind go grabbing me something from the kitchen?"

"Okay, daddy!"

To say you were embarrassed at first was an understatement. But Arlecchino didn't mind in the slightest! It just became a thing when you two were alone. Something natural.

Which is how you accidentally let it slip during a harbinger meeting..

You were gathered at the large table in the conference room with the other harbingers. Pierro was going over something to do with the archon of Fontaine when he asked Arlecchino for something. You weren't paying attention. You were too busy staring at her fingers and fantasizing about them when her calling your name snapped you out of it.

"Y/n, can you hand me the report we talked about?" Arlecchino asked.

"Oh! Sure, daddy!-" You handed off the report like nothing.

Then you realized your mistake once you noticed everyone staring at you. You could've died on the spot. You were mortified. You opened your mouth to say something. Anything! But you had no words!

The only thing that broke the horrible silence was Childes and the Balladeers laughter. Followed by Columbia and Sandrones giggles while the others just stared in shock for a few more moments (Dottore looked disgusted).

Pierro cleared his throat and grabbed the file from Arlecchino, trying to continue the meeting after everyone stopped laughing.

"Uhm. Right- Well.. As I was saying.." Pierro continued. Your head fell into your hands so you wouldn't have to see the mocking faces Childe and the Balladeer were giving you.

You wanted to die. Arlecchino snickering in your ear and calling you her baby did not help at all as she continued whispering all sorts of dirty things she was going to do after the meeting. Oh God.

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i-politely-disagree · 9 months ago

Text

Sprace- Call

MODERN AU TW: Swearing??

(I've never posted on here lol)

Spot cringed as his phone call was answered. Usually, it just went straight to the far too familiar “Hi it’s Racetrack! Don’t leave a message!” voicemail to hurt him even more with the fact that he was either blocked, or Race was declining all his calls. A harsh ‘What do you want?’ may not have been ideal, but Spot still smiled softly at the sound of his ex’s voice.

"Hey…Race," He started. The same words he had said almost every day a month ago. Throwing his bag down as he got back from work, striking up conversations at 2 a.m even though they both needed to be up early, Starting a call much like this one if anything happened. "Do you still have my white shirt with the sleeves?"

When Race’s phone displayed Spot’s caller ID, he didn’t know what to expect. Maybe yelling, maybe an explanation that it was a dare, or maybe some tearful confession about how his love never died. Anything with more emotion than requesting an old shirt.

“Um… I’ll look around.” The conversation was too stiff, too formal. Race fiddled with the cuffs of the white shirt that definitely wasn’t Spot’s (it was) that he was wearing and paced around the couch he slept on.

“What do you need it for?”

He’d never admit it, but Race missed Spot more than he could tell. Hearing his voice again was painful, but something to feel. He had been a mess the last month, living with his best friend, missing sleep and working his ass off to help pay the rent when it was paying the rent that got him into this mess. Spot had walked out after the topic of money had come up, only after many anger-clouded words had been thrown between him and Race. Just thinking about it, Race could taste the regret and adrenaline and feel the knot of codependency tighten as it had done that night when he realized how alone and helpless he was. Even though he hadn’t anticipated a break-up, it wasn’t like Race was expecting-

“A wedding,” Spot answered coldly and quickly. Dwelling on love around him wasn’t going to help him swallow the lump in his throat.

He regretted walking out every day. He knew deep down, that he could’ve walked back in at any moment with nothing fixed, another argument ignored, but weeks passed and Race lost the apartment he could only afford with Spot’s help. Spot lost the one stable thing in his life, the one person he felt like he could talk to, the stupidity, wittiness, energy and affection that came with Race and he missed it more than he was willing to admit. He knew it was his chance to salvage any scraps of a relationship but didn’t know how to begin.

“I’m sorry.” It was a struggle to force the words out of his mouth, but Spot managed to sound a lot more stable than he felt.

Race’s reply was so emotionless it hurt. No sadness, not even a quiver in his voice, no hope. Just a bland question reminding Spot he’d made more than enough mistakes;

“About what?”

“Um, This. Calling you, acting like nothing’s happened, acting like I don’t care.”

There was silence on the other end of the phone and Spot knew he would have to address the elephant in the room.

“...And leaving. I was- I am so stupid for walking out. It sounds pathetic but I didn’t mean any of the things I said. I really lo- I really loved you.”

Race’s soft smile threatened to fall at the use of past tense. His mind tried to object, but a smirk tugged at his lips and words crawled out.

“You miss me.” He observed, a mix of teasing and astonishment now unmistakable in his voice

“No, I just really want my shirt,” Spot said sarcastically, rolling his eyes as if Race could see him over the phone. “Yes, I fucking miss you.”

Spot hated himself for giving in that easily. But at the same time, he knew lying wasn’t going to get him anywhere or anyone for that matter.

Warm hope bloomed through Race at the less-than-heartfelt confession, sudden longing for the one person he thought he’d never be allowed to long for again. A million hazy emotions flew through his mind but he couldn’t articulate everything he was feeling and couldn’t force every heavy sentiment through the phone. He needed to know this was genuine before pouring his heart out.

Spot’s finger was over the ‘End Call’ button when Race interrupted their silence, “But you said-”

“I said a lot of things,” Spot cut him off, “We both did. But I’d bet this month's rent you didn’t mean half of it.”

Race wanted to object, but it was true. He hadn’t meant anything close. And while he prayed to every god that he wouldn’t regret it again, heavy words slid off his tongue;

“I miss you too. But look, we can’t just…go back to whatever we had a month ago.”

“Bad communication and not-yet-healed commitment issues?”

Race exhaled deeply, “Yeah, that. But I can’t- I mean- I’ve got your shirt. Please just come and get it so we can at least talk in person.”

Spot running down apartment stairs full speed to reunite with his ex-boyfriend was probably something countless medical professionals would advise against but, quite frankly, he was more than willing to break a wrist or two for another shot. He managed a couple of breathless words that were essentially just ‘See you soon’ before falling into his car in a haze of nerves and emotions pretty damn close to excitement. Serious conversations weren’t his forté but were better than a familiar voicemail.

#sprace #newsies #newsies fanfiction #spot x race #racetrack higgins #spot conlon #fanfiction #my fic

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danikatze · 18 days ago

Text

I drew this in 2018 (omg it's been ages) and I love it sm still so I wrote a little (700 word) story to go along with it now <3

[ID in alt text]

Public Displays of Allopreening

Matsu did not approve of public displays of affection, naturally, but damn did he crave it sometimes. Despite being big and strong, Masa had that puppy kind of quality, where people (who liked him) often just wanted grab hold of him and squeeze. Generally, said people respected him enough to restrain themselves, but ever since he and and Masa had gotten more.. a thing, Matsu found that increasingly difficult.

His solution was to invent an inky, greasy or muddy smudge on Masa’s face, which he could then rub off. Not too often, of course; it was about as common for Masa to have dirt on his face as it was for anyone else.

Matsu found the idea really clever, though, because there were two reasons this particular scheme worked perfectly. Firstly, people did often think Masa was much clumsier than he actually was, so Matsu could get away with enough to soothe his urges.

And secondly, Masa tended to get flustered and thus unable to process any directions to the smudge in question. The quickest way for his friends to help him was to just remove it themselves. By now, whenever someone said Masa had something on his face, he would just automatically move a little closer and ask: “where?”

Matsu always removed the imaginary blemish with great care. The warmth of Masa's skin, the way Masa subconsciously leaned into his touch, Masa's closeness in general made Matsu’s chest swell with affection every time.

“You can’t walk around like that, Masa,” he sometimes complained, “people’ll think you’re a slob.”

This was a mistake. The others - usually Otake, Ginta or Okinu - would insure Masa that they hadn’t noticed at all. Apparently, the more often Matsu removed a smudge that no one else had seen, the more Masa suspected that there had been nothing there to begin with, because one day he confronted Matsu about it. As was Masa’s habit, he was quite direct and Matsu felt obliged to confess to his deceit.

“If you do it any more frequently, people will actually think I have poor hygiene,” Masa said. Matsu could tell he tried to look stern, but there was a smile in Masa’s eyes that betrayed excitement. He still often expressed amazement that people liked being around him, nowadays, so perhaps the idea that someone even had a hard time keeping his hands off him was extra novel.

Matsu didn’t reply. He felt annoyed that he’d forgotten about Masa’s perceptiveness. He should really stop underestimating Masa.

“I could do it to you every now and again,” Masa said, “if you like?”

Matsu could think of a number of reasons why his plan would not work in reverse, but the thought made his insides flutter and he wanted to entertain it a bit longer, before he had to start being rational.

A little mischievous smile appeared around Masa’s mouth. Matsu figured he was already mentally practicing, finding the phrases he might use, the spots on Matsu’s face he might like to touch in public.

“What’s that?” Masa said, just when Matsu wanted to respond to the proposal. He pointed at Matsu’s chest. When he looked down, Masa quickly and precisely flicked Matsu’s nose.

Gone were the gentle butterflies.

A nervous chuckle escaped Masa’s lips. “Sorry,” he said, hastily, “it's been done to me so many times and I was curious if it would be funny, should I be the perpetrator.”

Matsu appreciated the gravity of that word: “perpetrator.” Made that stupid joke feel like the crime that it should be. Nobody had dared subject Matsu to it since he was a child, but he could definitely see Masa being fooled by it as a grown man. In his mind’s eye he saw Masa, pouting amidst a crowd roaring with laughter. And he felt himself soften with empathy.

“Hm,” he hummed, “it is kinda funny coming from you.”

Masa sighed with relief.

“Do it again, though, and I'll bite your finger off,” Matsu said.

After a moment of silence, Masa started giggling.

“I mean it,” Matsu couldn't help but smile.

“I believe you,” Masa snickered, “lucky for us both, I still don't understand the appeal, so I won't be tempted to repeat it.”

#House of Five Leaves #Saraiya Goyou #Akitsu Masanosuke #Matsukichi #MatsuMasa #it feels so nice posting about hofl again #I also have a Matsu & Otake comic sketched out - waiting to be inked.. <3 #and a chapter of that UmeMatsu fic practically ready to be posted :/#while I draw for other things so much more often I still feel like hofl is my primary fandom #I think about it so often guys - it's my comfort fandom in the truest sense of the word lol #fanart #danikunst #described #2024 #1 #fic

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toasterhasabucket · 9 months ago

Text

Topic: MALEVOLENT PODCAST (PART 20)

TW : this whole thing is about !death and suicide! and very very much just me complaining and crying about the POEM TO HIS PARENTS

Starting off strong, Arthur's parents killed themselves when he was young. He wrote a poem about it, about his parents, about his grief and wanting it back, wanting comfort and boy, oh boy! I am SOBBING. I couldn't find a written copy of his poem so I just kept replaying it and writing it down in my notes app

This is the poem ( if I misspelled anything, don't tell me, just ignore it please)

"I don't recall how we met

as I was far too young

I knew you not as you are now

because to me you were the sun

and always present warmth and glow

a light that's always there

to wipe the teas from out my eyes

to brush my matted hair

and I would lie if not to say our relationship was pure.

I am young

a cause of grief of this I am quite sure

despite all this id be remiss to say there was no love

a calmness and a careful word

a nudge not a shove

there were nights I recall

I needed you the most

I'd crawl from bed and walk to you

and you would hold me close

between the love of both of you

to ail my sleeping strife

I never felt so safe

yet so cold

in all my life.

I too recall a time I was trying to impress

a goofy boy named Arthur dressed in his mother's best

was only dad who laughed with me

as mother you withdrew but

when he joined in dressing up

you cried in laughter too

and there was the time we all did find ourselves stuck in the rain

mother had her gown near soaked

and dad was much the same

and though we were miserable

mother found us a spot of dry

which we all ate a pretend meal

jelly and sea pie.

and now you're gone

and I can't explain the loss that lingers here

the size of a young boys parents

he wishes could be near

and there are nights

where he needs you

and he still crawls out of bed

and walks toward your bedroom door

before recalling you're dead.

and I want someone to tell that boy

to swallow all the hate

that nothing he could have said

would have changed his parents fate

and I want that someone to be you

as I write this

but alas

this pain will linger with me still

I pray this too shall pass."

Oh my God. That's emotional and so important to him I wonder if the people in the YouTube comments had anything to say about it?

NO THEY DIDN'T

One person said "glad we got to learn more about johns backstory" WHAT ABOUT HIS SOUL CRUSHING POEM

Sorry forgot some of your parents didn't kill themselves, my mistake, so so so sorry that you're crooked and evil and didn't sob your eyes out when he recited his poem. (I am completely normal and chill)

Another person said something like "Arthur, the boy who lived" and yk this could mean many things, maybe because he's survived many life threatening situations and actually escaped death, maybe it's because of the ending of the episode. OR it's because his parents are dead and if that's why

I am going to roll myself into a hole and throw UP.

There's nothing terribly wrong with the joke I'm just dramatic and a crybaby

I need to stop complaining so NOW I'm going to take in this poem like it should have been.

Let's point out my "highlights"

"because to me you were the sun" when you're young and have good parents you like them most the time, he was young when they died, he looked up to them still and saw them in such a bright and amazing way

"and now you're gone and I can't explain the loss that lingers here the size of a young boys parents he wishes could be near and there are nights where he needs you and he still crawls out of bed and walks toward your bedroom door before recalling you're dead"

This whole part has me in FUCKING SHAMBLES, IM SHAKING AND SOBBING, IM GOING TO BE THINKING ABOUT THIS ON MY DEATH BED.

"and I want someone to tell that boy to swallow all the hate. that nothing he could have said would have changed his parents fate"

God Arthur you just like to kick me right in the stomach don't you, this almost brought me to my knees I'm not even going, I almost went onto the floor. Put this into perspective, you're a kid who is around your parents ALL the time then one day they kill themselves, even as a kid survivors guilt is a thing, most the time survivors guilt is seen in like horror movies and shit but dude, when I found out my mom committed I thought smth like I wish I could have done something, it should have been me, even though I was ten I felt accountable for what happened because it feels like all the love you gave was never enough because in the end they left by choice. That will LINGER that will STAIN and it is forever, not matter how faint it seems at times it'll never really go away. So I know like first hand, a child who's parents killed themselves or even just have dead parents, all have thought at one time "why not me."

"nothing he could have said would have changed his parents fate"

I'll never get over this line, EVER.

Not only do I relate I FEEL this, this whole poem was like a slap in the face, hit after hit, I felt seen but in a way I didn't want to be. I felt like I was exposed and I don't think I've ever read anything that's made me feel so read to.

See this is the part where I explain that I am not complaining about people not caring about his poem and this very important part to him, it's more of me really complaining that I care and relate to much so it's overwhelming

I am not here to be like "you don't care about this like I do? Die" and if I sound like that I was joking or having a moment because I'm going off the rails with a crazy train (I love that song)

And obviously of course it's sad and everything but not everyone can relate and think about it from the way I do and I get that

Not everyone has experienced something like this and I'm glad!

But I guess since I related I was just so shocked and a little confused on why I didn't see anyone talk about it

Sure the poem isn't metaphorically fancy and is more blunt then most but it's gets the point across and I like that. I like that a lot

Anyways I'm going to draw Arthur angst, love you guys bye!

#arthur malevolent #john malevolent #malevolent podcast #malevolent #malevolent angst #tw: suidice #tw: sui mention

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wc-confessions · 5 months ago

Note

this is in response to this ask https://www.tumblr.com/wc-confessions/756445980081225728/can-warrior-cats-please-stop-with-this honestly I agree with this other ask in such a way, like i have never felt something so deep in my bones. so many years of "tortoise shell" and "tortoise shell and white" have driven me insane. i saw people in the comments on that original ask saying something about how "calico" is only an american term? honestly i've never heard of that being true, and even if it were true, it's crazy to me how the authors will never describe what a calico actually is when they mean to say a cat is calico. there are other ways of saying how a cat's coloration is predominantly white without specifically saying calico. "tortoise shell and white" doesn't cut it. torties can have white on their coat!!! they can have white spots or white paws and still just be tortoise shell, not calico. but after so many books, it feels very apparent that the authors ONLY say "tortoise shell and white" when they want to describe a calico cat, not actually just a tortie with a little bit of white. it's so frustrating that they so rarely clarify how much white vs tortoise shell these cats have.

i didn't realize that characters like Sorreltail and Poppyfrost were meant to be calicos for YEARS AND YEARS. they are basically never described as such!!! i remember after getting through almost all of TNP before they ever mentioned that Sorreltail had more white in her coat that anything else, and i honestly thought it was a simple mistake akin to when they get a cat's eye color wrong and i ignored it. i'm just saying, even if the authors don't use the word calico they need to do better at actually describing the cats the way they're supposed to look. it's frustrating to picture a character one way for a decade, only to find out that the author did a bad job of describing them and they actually look completely different. i propose a simple change - "tortoise shell and white" = cat who is a tortoise shell, but with white paws or ears or the tip of their tail "white with tortoise shell" = calico cat. cat with a large portion of their body being white, with tortoise shell throughout or in small patches

"tortoiseshell and white" is actually what most non-north americans call calicos!

calicos are distinctly different from tortoiseshells due to the fact that tortoiseshells have a black undercoat rather than a white one. so when the erins are describing a cat as "tortoiseshell with white x/y/z," they are describing a calico

[ID: A calico cat (US English) is a domestic cat of any breed with a tri-color coat. The calico cat is most... /end ID]

[ID: A calico cat is not to be confused with a tortoiseshell, who has a black undercoat and a mostly mottled coat of black/red or blue/cream with relatively few to no white markings. However, outside North America, the calico pattern is more commonly called tortoiseshell and white. Calicoes... /end ID]

[ID: The fabric called "calico" was originally from the city of Calicut in southwestern India.[11] Printed calico was imported into the United States from Lancashire, England, in the 1780s, and a linguistic separation occurred there. While Europe maintained the word calico for the fabric, in the US it was used to refer to the printed design or pattern. These colorful, small-patterned printed fabrics gave rise to the use of the word calico to describe a cat coat of tri-color; "calico" as an adjective being synonymous to "mottled" or "resembling printed calico". /end ID]

-mod ashensky

#anonymous

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monsterfloofs · 1 year ago

Text

Carroigne (Bird creature / plague doctor creature) He/They/It x Anonymous Reader (Sfw)

( An scp inspired story, I luff plague doctor creatures and took a stab at making one of my own! I hope you enjoy! :3c Tis Floofy writing hours again wheeeeee💖)

Your job had begun easy enough. Working as a janitor in a top secret facility. With a keyring of important items that consisted of your ID badge and multiple personnel keycards. Accessing just about any level required your ID, a keycard, a number of passwords, a retinal scan, and sometimes even a list of security questions to get into certain spaces. Within your time working for said non-disclosed facility, you have signed a folders worth of waivers, and disclaimers. Many personnel lived within the building while they weren’t on vacation and you were no exception. Your little home away from home space held folders bursting full of paperwork.

That was just from working a small janitorial job. You couldn’t imagine what kind of work loads the clinical lab coat wearing scientists had to deal with on a daily basis. Many things were kept on a need to know basis, and you were the last to know about a lot of things. Still, that didn’t exactly deter you from this job. The money and the roof over your head was convincing enough to have you keep updating the necessary forms you needed to have to stay at the facility.

You took your mop and cart of supplies past heavy steel doors with windows that looked in on an assortment of inhuman beings. The hallway's bright sterile lighting hurt your eyes when first entering the “dorms”. A few of the menagerie of creatures would press their faces against the glass, jaws working in an attempt to say something to you past the barrier.

"It's no place for sympathy," You had been briefed, "Many of these monsters would happily take the opportunity to tear you limb from limb."

You would recite those words in your head as you walked by the rows of containment units.

Yet as you look back now, that was the first mistake you ended up making.

Engaging.

Past the slithering forest of tendrils, gleaming eyes in shadowy corners, and aquatic creatures that floated suspended in the water, among them sat a humanoid shape at a simple table and chair. Something both strange yet familiar that sat out of place.

It was like looking at a Halloween decoration, an animatronic that sat amongst all the other oddities. It could have almost been laughable, back then. Like a prank someone had set up in the room and left for the other workers to stumble upon. The being was swathed in dark clothes, with black leather gloves, a victorian cloak, dark pants down to the knee-high boots with silver buckles. The outfit gave no hint at the skin underneath, even its face was adorned with a mask that obscured their visage. The mask itself resembles a plague doctor’s, with the long pointed beak, and dark glass where the eyes would be. The material was hard and better quality, than what you would find compared to the halloween costumes that mimicked the look. Black leather, with neat stitches that ran around the entirety of the mask. Metal rims inlaid around the round glass lenses.

You had stopped, to peer at the figure inside the room. It had sat so still, like a life sized doll. You were just about to move on, before one gloved hand raised up in a silent wave.

You had stood transfixed on the spot, eyebrows knitting together. You tilted your head, and the being on the other side of the glass mimicked you. The beaked mask resembled more and more like a wide glossy eyed bird. You shuddered, and backed away.

After that one day, whenever you traversed that corridor you could feel eyes watching you intently as you passed. Many times you couldn't help but to turn your head. Though you already knew who it was, typically they sat upon a chair. Hands clasped over a crossed knee. On one occasion you had jumped nearly out of your skin. Seeing the beaked figure inches away from the glass, a piece of paper pressed against the wall with its fingers.

"I have not seen you here before, are you new?" The letters scrawled in a spidery cursive. You felt chills creep up and down your spine, you looked around the deserted passageway, before giving a brief nod. With a flourish of their hand, they produced a fountain pen from their breast pocket. However, whatever spell that had kept you in place was dissolving. You had moved on while they had begun to write something. Taking nervous glances around you as you had sheepishly gone about your business.

The facility had many rules and regulations about the different creatures and anomalies that lay housed inside. After your shift you had sat cross-legged on your bed, flipping through the files you had the authorization to see. Chewing on your bottom lip as you ran your fingers through a thick stack of papers again and again.

Nothing.

There wasn’t any information on the so-called plague doctor. You could only guess that this particular being wasn’t one that was accessible for cleaning personnel. You unceremoniously dropped the stack of papers to the floor. Laying back in the small bed that took up half your living quarters.

You turned this way and that, laying with your hands clasped over your stomach, your eyes trained on the ceiling. This knowledge did very little to clear your conscience. While this being wasn’t one that you were briefed on, that didn’t indicate that they weren’t a threat. Your mind was an ocean of twisting thoughts, you had previously heard accounts of people spiraling into insanity just by hearing some of these strange creatures speak. Your knuckles balling into uneasy fists as you gripped your blanket.

Sleep was uneasy, with many rounds of jolting awake between dreaming. By morning you were exhausted, slumping forward out of bed to head out to the mess hall.

You were greeted by the sight of a bustling space. The clamorous cacophony of voices that were making small talk during breakfast making your head spin. It felt as though you were still dreaming. Grabbing a cup of coffee and a try, wading through the line until you found a seat.

“Unit 1779336 of the Janitorial department?”

You raised your head groggily, close to dozing only moments before, yet you stiffened to sit up straighter. Your eyes falling to the badges of a military uniform.

“Sir?”

“Hate to take you away from your breakfast so early in the morning, but you and I have some things that need to be discussed.”

You feel your chest tighten as you move to stand. The man in front of you stood with his hands clasped behind his back. A stocky man with a neat salt and pepper beard, and piercing green eyes.

You could feel curious gazes directed at you as you walked. You Hunched your shoulders defensively as you trailed behind the uniformed man. You were led down a series of corridors into a large circular office. The man’s wide shoulders slopped as he let out a heavy sigh. He settled down at his desk and tapped a folder on the polished table top.

“You’ve been requested for a promotion.” He said grimly. “This isn't a standard issue. . . but this is a special case.”

You nodded, as a weighty silence hung in the air. He took off his hat, running a hand through his slick backed hair.

“How much do you know about Caroigne?”

“P-pardon?” You inquired, the man’s expression turning stormy as his eyebrows wrinkled his brow.

“Caroigne, the so called “in-house doctor” as it likes to call itself,” He growls “That bastard seems to know an awful lot about you.”

“But I— Sir, I’ve never spoken to—“

His green eyes flashed, and your voice died in your throat. He pauses to take a tempering breath through his nose. Then he pushes the manilla folder towards you across the desk. You glance from him to the manilla, before nervously flipping it open.

In that same spidery hand, that you remember seeing on a scrap of paper, was written your full name. The one you had been sworn to relinquish while you were inside the facility, your age, your job, and a short synopsis of your medical records. There was a smaller footnote underneath the scrawl.

“This subject would be an ideal companion for me while I am enjoying my stay at your facilities.”

“Subject,” You mouth faintly, before staring up at the man, “Y-you’re j-joking. . . r-right?”

He crosses his arms, glowering at you, “Caroigne has refused to speak with all scientists and attendants. If they are willing to speak with you, then it’s a risk we’re willing to take. I will get you the necessary papers you need to have, and you will start in two days.”

Fragility hit you like a freight train, how easily replaceable you were if things were to go sour. The feeling of having the air punched from your lungs continued after you had taken your new briefing papers. The last words of wisdom he had threatened in a grave timber.

“Whatever you do, don’t talk about illnesses in front of it, don’t let it know there is anyone sick, or if you yourself feel ill. Not unless you want to be the new cadaver we have to drag from its room.”

You sat curled into a corner of your bedroom. Legs tucked into your chest as you stared numbly into space.

Those two days were days where you barely left your room. They were spent between reading over your assigned documents and sleeping. The times you did leave your dorm room, there were guards stationed outside of your door to discourage any plans of leaving. You had broken down and cried in the bathroom on that last night, the sleeve of your shirt between your teeth to muffle your sobs.

You stood between two soldiers carrying assault rifles. Your eyes blinked painfully from the tears you hadn’t been able to stop. Head pounding with an ache as you were led into an interrogation room. You entered alone, finding doctor Caroigne already sitting across the table.

“Well hello there~ How delightful that you and I finally get a chance to spea— Oh, oh dear you aren’t looking very well at all.”

You blink at the blurry figure in front of you. Compared to the other people you had encountered the past few days, this was a voice that was filled with what sounded like genuine worry. You swallowed hard, eyes turning to look at the papers in front of you, shuffling them nervously.

“I-I’m fine.” You breathed, “You are. . .”

“Doctor Caroigne dear, but you may just call me Caroigne. And I suppose you’ll want to know my pronouns, that is the new rage nowadays.” they chuckle benignly, “I don’t think I have ever had the pleasure of having any, many scientists in this facility call me a ‘he’ in any case. I truly don’t mind what you choose, but it’s best not to upset the other doctors in this facility. Between you and me, they are dreadfully foul tempered.”

A weak smile graces your lips before it disappears. “You seem to know your way around the staff.”

Caroigne folds their fingers together, tapping his thumbs against each other.

“You could consider me to be somewhat of a flexible individual. One does not simply settle into their surroundings without some difficulty. However, I am proud to say that I have managed quite well.”

You paused, frowning at the papers in your hands, you were going to have to be more direct with these questions. After a moment of hesitation you finally relented, “How. . . did you get my information?”

“Ah, I am assuming ‘they’ would like to know?”

Your eyes slowly moved from your papers to watch them.

Caroigne bobs their masked head in the direction of the dark one way viewing windows.

“I. . . I would also like to know.” You mused softly.

“Hm. . . “ A pause before they give a tsking noise, a tone between amusement and disappointment. “I can’t be giving away all my secrets.”

Your eyebrows furrow, “But,” He says, raising a finger, “I might be able to part with a few of them, for a small price, a token, if you will.”

“And that price would be. . .”

“Oh nothing taxing,” Caroigne huffs, “This,” He spreads his arms, “Is all that I require. It’s been so long since I have talked to someone. Truly talked to someone. Tis a breath of fresh air. As a beast of science myself, I do not mind the others, but all they want to do is batter me with questions, questions, questions. It is that, or I dare say isolation.”

You bobbed you head wordlessly, as the doctor took a breath and continued.

“Furthermore, I liked the look about you, curious, inquisitive, I like that.” They chuckle warmly, “I have a bit of a nose myself~” They joked as they tapped at the mask's beaked visage.

The first meeting was odd. The doctor was well mannered if not very chatty. They asked many questions about yourself, where you had grown up, your childhood. You spent a great deal of time stepping around its questions and asking ones of your own. It had felt stiff with politeness at first, but it had become more natural the longer you talked.

When you had been finally taken and led away, Caroigne impressed just how lovely it had been to chat. Wishing you well, and eager to speak again. Back in your room, you looked back at his case folder, picking up the single photo that was in your file. It was a picture of Caroigne hovering over a mutilated corpse and holding a pen and clipboard. Blood smattering the walls and floor, as the guard had tried to defend themselves. You shuddered, placing the photo back into the folder, the image facing down. It was proof to remember, that no matter how kindly this being seemed, they were dangerous.

You had to be careful.

And you were! For a time. It fell into a routine, a weekly dance the two of you had. You asked him questions and he asked you things as well. You talked about your work, and the folks you missed at home. Somewhere along the way, you could notice yourself changing, the way you talked to them. Less sterilely polite, and more heart. You would laugh at the jokes they had tossed your way, and you spoke more sincerity than you had expected.

Then one day, you messed up.

You hadn’t felt well that day. The beginning of a headache pulsed across your forehead. You settled down at the other side of the table. Cariogne had leaned forward, “And how are you my dear?”

It was just a simple slip up, an off-handed comment. One derived from familiarity and not caution.

“Oh, I’m doing alright, I just have a little bit of a headache.”

You could feel the room go deathly still, “A. . . headache you say?” The calm voice drifted behind the mask. The room fell into pin drop silence as you realized the mistake you just made. Then began a tapping, a sudden drumming of the doctors fingers against the table of the interrogation room. They sat unmoving except for those fingers. The rhythmic tone was the only thing that showed a sudden change in their mood. An almost strained kind of excitement, like a cat ready to pounce.

“What. . . kind of headache, tension? An oncoming migraine, perhaps?” Their voice was casual, off-handed even. But your eyes were transfixed on the four fingers of his right hand.

“T-tension,” You replied, flinching as your voice cracked. You could already feel your pulse begin to quicken as gooseflesh began to creep up your arms. With all the briefing you had done, and reading his file countless times. Going over the information just before you left for these visits, the simplest most easiest rule to remember.

“Ah.” His hand froze, before his hands steepled themselves together.

“I see,”

You nodded your head jerkily, looking away, your eyes scanned the sealed room.

“I see, I see,” He muses, his voice sounding much closer than before. “Our little visits must put a strain on you, I hadn’t realized that.”

You hadn’t seen him get up, and they had moved across the table to stand across from in a blink of an eye. You hadn’t even had a chance to pull away. He leaned down, almost hovering on top of you.

“I wish to impress this upon you, little fledgling, you truly have nothing to worry about.”

The gloved hand touches your chin, raising your head up to stare back at the mask.

You begin to blink back tears as you watch little dots of laser light blink all over his form.

He turns his head, not aware of the sudden change of atmosphere, examining your face until there is a bark from one of the guards behind you.

“Release them Carriogne, and we won’t have to use force,”

He turns his attention away from you finally, “. . . That is quite rude.” The doctor scoffed, “I had known there was someone listening in to our chats. Haven’t you chaps heard of privacy?” He retracts his hand and you can breathe again. Taking the distraction to push out your chair, hastily stepping backward until you reach the threshold. The guards in their heavily armored uniforms push past you to get a clearer aim.

“He’s out of his cuffs again,” One of the soldiers shouted back to the main guard.

“Well, of course I am,” The doctor quipped cheerfully, “I told you they don’t work. I don’t know why you keep trying to use them.”

“That’s enough humor for one day doctor,” Another of the security personnel grunted, tension coloring his voice, “Make a note that the silver handcuffs have no effect, we’ll have to try a different pair next time.”

“Alright, alright, I’m going, no need to cause a fuss.” The doctor huffs, his calm voice sounded only mildly harassed, due to the circumstances. He is jostled out of the interrogation room at gunpoint. He turns his head towards you, sounding apologetic.

“I’m so sorry my dear, for this abrupt change of plans. I also apologize for these men, the lot of them could do with a lesson in manners. . . I would see to it myself but I don’t suppose that would do me personally any favors. I shall see you anon, next week at the latest. If they allow me.”

You don’t respond, but rather watch him being led away. Your heart hammering in your throat, and only finding the energy to sob until you fell into a crumpled heap on your bed. You weren’t sure how close of a shave that could have been.

Due to the events of the last appointment, you were briefly taken off of doctor Caroigne’s appointed meetings. However, word leaked through the grapevine that the doctor hadn’t taken the news well. The whole right wing of the facility had gone on a code red lockdown as they had muscled his way past a squad of guards, sending one of them to the hospital with shattered ribs.

There were about three weeks of bated breath after the lockdown, when things were quiet and you hadn’t heard word of any one being reassigned to Caroigne. Then an envelope had been thrust into the small mail slot in your door, and your heart sank.

You had gone from being a nobody, happy to clean and do janitorial tasks. Avoiding high risk jobs, to now being an imperative piece in dealing with a high risk entity.

Bright lights beating down from above as you were acutely aware of your footsteps. Your breath sounded loud and unnatural in your ears. When the room came into view you saw Carroigne, no simple handcuffs with time, but a full body straight jacket, mingled with heavy metal chains that were also wrapped across their form.

“Y-y-you’ve been a bad birdie,” Your voice shook slightly as you whispered the words, sitting down at the table.

Caroigne’s chains shifted around them as they gave a bemused shrug, “Why, I would contest to this, but I fear, perhaps you are alright. Is the chap in the hospital doing alright? I could take a look at him,”

You shook your head, “He is alright, he is being looked after.”

“Hm.”

“. . . How can you be so calm about this?”

“Should I not be?” The strange masked face tilts, “Perhaps I also should not overlook the fact that I am held here against my will.”

You feel your expression falling. “I. . . I don’t think I can do this, I’m s-sorry.” You had begun to get up, signaling to the guards that you wanted to conclude the session.

“Wait— Mon cher-“

Caroigne must have moved too quickly for the guards' liking. As the door opened and two guards stepped inside the space weapons raised.

You glance back before your eyes go wide. An inhuman noise comes from behind you. You are roughly pushed behind the guards. You let out a strained noise as a clawed hand shoots forward, a wrenching of strained metal and tearing fabric. The hand itself was scaly and ribbed like a birds, past that the skin was dark with veiny irregular skin. Keloid bumps are peppered up the arm and a small smattering of feathers like a molting bird.

“Stop, stop, STOP!” You realize you were the one screaming, voice high and frantic trying to push past the guards. As they opened fire upon Carriogne, his stance hunkering down to shed the cloth to ribbons and toss it aside. The next moment you were alone, the two guards in the room and the others that were trying to rush inside, had been knocked over like a set of bowling pins. You reacted by freezing, covering your face with your hands as a shadow looms over you.

You could hear more inhuman noises above you, a clicking sound making your ears ring. You let out a shuddering breath of air, keeping your hands pressed tightly to your face. Like the mentality of a child afraid of what lurked in the dark, if I don’t look, it can’t see me or can’t hurt me.

The softness of a glove caressed your cheek. Your knees buckling as you are coaxed against a velvety form.

Worker Update

Worker ID Number: 1779336

Previous Position: Janitor

New Position as of September 8th 2021: Interrogatee of entity 275

Status: Employee Terminated

Reason: Unknown Disappearance

!: Emergency Update as of August 6th 2023

Disappearance of entity 275, site wide lock down initiated.

Entity was last seen with employee 1779336, recovery of both Entity 275 and 1779336 is in progress. Any sightings of either should be immediately reported to C. Ivan Willowicke, head of security.

#YOU DUN GOT ATTACTCHED #They told you 'not that bad don't do that'#and you did it anyway like >:3 #if you ever get rescued birb babe is just a ball of chains with their beak peeking out #like oopsie you got me officer #I kissed the hooman and got jail time #plague doctor monster x reader #plague doctor monster x human #bird monster x reader #bird monster x human #I also kind picture them doing a Howl kind of thing with their feathers =o #which makes my brain go ✨️

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my-mummy-dust · 2 years ago

Text

I’ll carry you

Just a little ficlet based off a dumb idea I sent to one of my moots, who responded with ‘that’s hot’ ?? Like ok now I guess I have to write it. 😒 (ily)

Warnings: none? Some cm violence but no blood or anything. Misspelled words and grammar mistakes? Word count: 2.1k

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

You grunted softly in pain, limping your way over to hotch and Rossi. Putting your hands on your hips, you shifted all your weight onto one leg, extending your other to alleviate the pain, but appear as un-injured as possible while doing so.

‘Is everything alright?”

Rossi said, turning to face you, one of his eyebrows raised in questioning.

“Yeah, I’m all good. Where’s everyone else?”

Aaron chimed in, turning to face you like Rossi had.

“They started walking back with the unsub. We couldn’t fit the SUVs or sheriff cars onto the road leading here. I thought you went with them?”

In all honesty, you wish you had. If you could you’d be chatting it up with prentiss, Morgan, and Reid; but the unsub had other plans. It took you a solid couple minutes to get out of the room you were in and into the main part of the old building hotch and Rossi were in.

“Yeah, i got caught up with..stuff.”

Shifting in your spot, you were about to move your weight to your other leg, a habit you’d picked up, but the moment the smallest ounce of weight was put on your leg; a sharp pain tore through your entire leg. From your thigh all the way down to your ankle. You had to bite down hard on your lip to stop from audibly wincing.

Hotch and Rossi Boeing profilers trained to pick up on even the smallest of details about a persons demeanor noticed this. Hotch took a step towards you, a look of concern coating his eyes.

‘Are you hurt?”

One of the many things about Aaron hotchner that never failed to amaze you was how quickly his tone can change. Not just his tone, his whole demeanor, everything. He could go from so stern and professional, to the most caring, lovestruck idiot in the world. Like now for example, when you hobbled over he was talking to Rossi in a relaxed, but still professional manner. But now, his tone changed completely. When he asked if you got hurt, his face looked worried, his tone mirroring that but without the sharpness his facial features has.

Weighing your options, you sighed, running a stressed hand through your hair. You could lie, and just say that it hurt from the hours you had been in a car today, or tell him the truth and deal with clingy ‘doctor aaron’ as you called it. Anytime you’d get hurt he would be all over you. It was sweet, but embarrassed you to the highest of heavens and back. Not that you hated it.

‘Y/n?”

The use of your first name brought you out of your careful decision making. Snapping back into reality you shrugged.

‘It’s nothing, just a little sore. No bleeding, no broken bones.”

You watched carefully as hotch’s brows knitted together. None of you noticed that heheh bent down just a bit to look over your face until he stood up fully, straightening himself out and checked his watch.

‘Well the road to the cars is a considerable distance, and if we want to catch up with the others id suggest we start walking now.’

Rossi said as he started walking out of the building, leaving the two of you behind. Once Rossi had left the building, he stepped a little closer, bringing his hand up under your chin to tilt your head up so he could make absolutely sure your face was ok.

You felt a red tint taking over your face as you diverted your gaze away from his, the butterflies in your stomach going feral.

‘Aaron, really…I’m alright. We should go catch up with Rossi.”

After another moment of him just staring at you, he bent down and kissed your cheek, a stern look still on his face.

‘Let’s go then”

You nodded and watched him walk for a few steps, then took a deep breath in and out, and started walking. Biting your cheek to keep quiet, you slowly hobbled behind him; having to stop every couple steps to catch your breath. You held it when you were in pain; a habit you cursed as you started to get lightheaded.

He stopped in his tracks after catching up with Rossi, who, thankfully wasn’t too far ahead. He turned around to look at you, Rossi following hotch’s motions. The look of worry on hotch’s face was unmistakeable as he walked towards you, new wrinkles appearing in his face.

“What?”

You asked, trying to deflect the fact that you were out of breath and on the verge of ripping your leg off completely.

‘You cant walk.”

It was a statement. He wasn’t asking for your protest, he was telling you to stop walking.

“What are we gonna do? We’re not even halfway to the cars”

Rossi thought aloud, eying your leg.

‘She cant walk’

Hotch said, turning his head to face rossi.

‘Well we cant drag her’

Rossi’s half-assed comment made you smile a bit.

‘Then I’ll carry her’

He said, turning back to you. Walking over to you with steady strides, he stopped in front of you; momentarily searching your face for any outright rejection to his proposal.

‘Really, i can walk,’

‘No. And it’ll be faster this way’

He stepped forwards, extending his arms. For a moment, you caught his worried gaze. His brown eyes staring into your soul.

‘Turn to the side for me, hurt leg facing away from me.’

You nodded and did as you were told, pivoting on your heel so your injured leg was facing away from him. He shuffled forward, one arm wrapping around your lower back. As he bent down to wrap his other arm under your knees, he stopped momentarily right by your ear, lowering his voice.

“Are you ok with this?”

He wanted to make sure he wasn’t making you uncomfortable. He knew your interjections and protests were shallow, but he was a cautious guy. You nodded, all you pain melting away for just a second while you basked in the sweetness of his voice.

Hotch bent down a little more, bringing his other arm under your knees and scooping you up. With a low grunt under his breath you were in his arms. You winced at the suddenly contact of your legs hitting each other, and herd hotch softly apologizing. Turning around he walked back over to Rossi, motioning towards the cars in the distance.

‘You cant carry her the whole way Aaron’

‘Says who?’

“Me”

You smiled once again at hotch and Rossi’s banter, clasping your bangs together because you honestly didn’t know what to do with yourself. Aaron leaned his head down a little so it was closer to your ear once again.

“Here, wrap your arms around my neck so you don’t fall”

His voice was so soft and gentle. It was low but not threatening, in a caring way. You nodded and wrapped your arms around his neck, interlocking your fingers with each other on the back of his neck.

‘So care to tell us what you did princess?”

Rossi’s tone was dripping in sarcasm, the new nickname causing you to laugh. Hotch raised a brow as he kept walking, taking extra caution to walk steadily.

‘The unsub kicked my knee pretty hard and i fell, when i was down he landed another solid kick just below the other one’

You suffered at the thought, the pain growing the more you thought about it.

‘Was this before we got in there?”

Aaron interjected. You simply nodded. He hummed in response, but you could tell he wasn’t happy.

~~~~~~~

After a little more walking, the sound of gravel crunching under his boots almost lulling you to sleep, the three of you finally caught up to everyone else. They were all talking by the ambulance as Morgan was getting looked over. He got a small cut just above his eyebrow, though it wasn’t deep enough for stitches.

All of them went dead silent as they looked first at hotch, then you in his arms.

‘My, my. What do we have here?”

Morgan called out with a smirk on his face. You turned tomato red, not sure if you could bury your face in Aaron’s chest to hide, or if that would make it worse on your end.

‘She couldn’t walk all the way.’

Aaron stated as he walked next to Morgan, urging him to move from where he was seated on the bumper. When he moved hotch gently set you down, kissing the top of your head as he stood up. To your dismay, there was a symphony of ‘ooooh’s and little comments that reminded you of elementary school, when a kid would get called into the principals office.

Prentiss and JJ walked over to you, standing next to you as hotch told the ambulance workers what happened to your leg.

‘What was that all about?”

JJ asked with amusement in her tone.

‘I couldn’t walk.’

You repeated Aaron’s words, wishing they would take that and be happy. But of course, they weren’t.

‘I saw the kiss on the top of the head’

Prentiss stated matter-a-factly, almost sounding like Reid when he would correct something you’d said that wasn’t ‘scientifically accurate’. You looked at Aaron, and he stared back. You silently asked if it was time to tell the team or not. He nodded once, stepping back to let the medics do their work.

‘Hotch and i are kinda…dating”

“What?”

The whole team said in unison. Well everyone except for Rossi. He knew for a while. Aaron nodded, watching you carefully as the medics pulled your pant leg up, revealing a pretty nasty bruise in its early stages.

You winced as the medic poked around your leg. You knew it was only to make sure your leg wasn’t broken, but it didn’t have to hurt so much.

‘I really don’t think its broken….i can walk on it, just hurts..’

You trailed off, being hit with a small wave of nausea from the pain. After another very painful moments of poking, turning, and having you bend your leg the medic nodded.

‘It’s not broken, just make sure to rest and ice it when you can. Don’t put any extra weight on it.’

You nodded, thanking the medic for looking you over and stood. You stumbled for a moment, tying and failing to balance on your good leg. A firm hand grabbing your forearm steadied you. Aaron checked his watch, looking at everyone on the team, as if he was taking mental attendance.

‘Well its getting late. Let’s head back to the sheriffs department and when they’re done with us, head back to your hotel rooms and start packing up. We’ll leave tomorrow after breakfast.’

Everyone nodded and made their way to their respected vehicles. You started to walk away, but got tugged backwards by the hand on your arm.

‘Where do you think you’re going?”

Hotch asked, raising a brow in a joking manner.

‘To the car? Where are you going?”

You raised both of your brows, leaning back a little for dramatic affect. He cracked a smile and bent down a little, bringing your arm over his shoulders as he walked you to the passenger side of his SUV. He opened the door and helped you into the car, clasping it behind you. The car ride was peaceful until he started the scolding. It was a stretch calling it that, but he wanted to get it into your head that you cant just barge into the unsub s territory by yourself not expecting to get hurt.

You could hear the worry in his voice, and when you looked over at him you saw it painted all over his face. Reaching your hand out a little, he took it and rested both of your hands in your lap, his thumb rubbing the top of your hand gently.

‘I’m sorry for worrying you like that’

You sheepishly murmured, staring out the window at the passing scenery.

‘Don’t apologize sweetie, I’m not mad, just worried.’

He squeezed your hand a little when he used the name, still rubbing the back of your hand. The butterflies in your stomach had returned full force, and your felt like you were floating. After a second he spoke again.

‘Hey,’

You looked over in his direction, humming softly in response.

‘I love you’

‘I love you too’

The two of you smiled, basking in the comfort of each other, enjoying the comforting silence. He brought the top of your hand to his lips and kissed it, before resting your hand back in your lap, his still holding yours. You learned the side of your head against the cold window and closed your eyes, not realizing how tired you were from the action of earlier. Once the pain meds had finally kicked in, you fell asleep, still holding onto Aaron’s hand.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

A/n: I loved writing this!! Sorry if there’s any misspelled words or anything, I didn’t spend as much time going over it as I usually would, bc I’m in that mood where if I stare at my writing too long I’ll keep changing it and it’ll lose its charm.

@hearthotchner 🥰🫶🏻

#criminal minds #agent hotchner #super sexy agent hotchner #criminal minds fanfiction #fluffy fluff fluff

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