#in her defense these jerks hurt what is hers >:( they deserve a bit of getting knocked around >:(

[dualogical]

Quiet remembers things in MoC. He remembers everything else, that is.

"Shit! Shit! What the hell was that? Who are we? What are we doing?" That was Paranoid, too tense to the point of looping back into distracted. He had heard all that before. When?

"There was a Princess, I think. It’s all so fuzzy. It hurts when I try to remember." Broken, living up to his name, even though there was another way, even though it didn't have to be like this-

'Not a Princess. The Shifting Mound.' He corrected, mind starting to reel with the information.

Collective confusion for half a second, shattered by the Narrator, of all things.

'Where have you heard that name?!'

He -- Quiet, he remembered that now -- tried to ignore the echo in his head.

'You jump to one of the floating trees and make yourself comfortable in the exposed base-- Really?! I don’t know how you came across that name, but you're here to slay the Princess who will end the world!'

"She can wait a few more minutes,' his voices needed, deserved the break, even without the memories threatening to overwhelm him. 'How about we rest here for a bit when nothing's chasing us?'

"Decider, we’re supposed to let her out. It’s really the only way this works out for us, if you think about it. She’s the one with power here. Nobody else can do much of anything," and that was Opportunist, beaten down by one of the cruelest iterations of Her.

They went quiet. Maybe they were seeing everything too.

This was far less one-way than it seemed. If he focused inward, if he let his eyes drift shut and dreamed, he could feel the tiny jerks and tugs of his Voices acting on him, and...

Even Cold, too regular to be noticed unless he actually focused, lost to sensory fatigue. Creeping up on him like ice.

A wave of memories assaulted him. His actual identity, the Princess', the one path when it seemed like Cold, not Hero, had nested close to his heart.

"So you did listen to me," Cold’s voice was usually monotone and deceptive in its softness, but approval was something Quiet had never expected from him.

"And he was miserable for it!" Smitten seemed to have regained life at the novelty, at the realization that the eternity of torture that they had suffered could pass. "Whatever vision that was, please don't let it come to pass!"

"How could you call that being unfeeling?" Hunted asked, "There was so much fear."

"You wrestled control away from everyone. Impressive," Opportunist said. "Good thing I've always been on your side. We can turn this around, aren’t we a God?"

As if karma had decided to fuck that voice over in particular, what they saw next was betrayal, in different ways.

Opportunist, Broken, Smitten. With more or less intent, but still.

"Are Icy, Loudmouth and I the only ones who didn't think the decider was a puppet out of the blue?! What's wrong with all of you?!" Stubborn, coming to his defense.

They kept coming. Eating and being eaten. Betrayal and being betrayed in turn. Submission and rebellion. Love turning sour. Pain for the sake of it. A cycle of pain that he kept perpetuating by choosing to go back go the beginning. But this construct had cracks, in the end. All those memories were a consequence of it.

It was his fault. It was his mistakes and failures that destroyed everything again.

And then the visions that, he knew, could come to pass someday.

Hero getting him to the Heart and they left as mortals, with him choosing to stay behind.

Killing Transformation and exploring a world with his Voices, always together. Or reaping the consequences of his actions. Hero was the most disturbed by that one, for some reason.

Quiet accepting Her request to leave as Gods and-

They reeled as the vision simply stopped being something their minds could interpret. Quiet felt a part of what he called his sanity crumble. Paranoid seemed fine.

'Enough data for you, detective?' he couldn’t help but ask, memories too fresh considering Skeptic’s metaphorical flinch.

"You've been doing this for a long time, haven't you?" Contrarian was uncharacteristically subdued, but having several lifetimes' worth of memories would make anyone slow down and process.

The question remained, now that they knew, what would they do with that information?

[what-th3fucc]

@badgestxr I was inspired by one of ur fics to make my own of Cassidy and Potato Head interacting lolllkwhgwgshdhshvsskwy C:

angst mostly, also cringe 😌

UNDER THE CUT

Cassidy, the small fox plush, decided it would be nice to plop down on the table next to Mr. Potato Head, who she noticed was alone all day. She sat there for a bit before getting bored. How could he sit there all day? She turned to look at him, and from what she could tell he wasn’t in the mood to talk. Perfect.

“What’s with you?” She asked, her tone purposefully condescending to pry an answer from him. When he didn’t respond, she nudged him. Twice.

“Hey,” she said, nudging him a third time. “What’s got your pegs in the wrong holes?”

“What?” Mr. Potato Head finally asked, turning to look at her. He looked as though he couldn’t believe what she just said and she didn’t understand why.

“You know,” she inquired, tilting her head. “What’s got your parts loose?”

“Just stop,” Mr. Potato Head groaned, rubbing his temples. Cassidy rolled her eyes. Why was he so bothered by her metaphors? Well, he was bothered by everything, but this time he just looked uncomfortable.

After a few moments of silence, which were unbearable for Cassidy, she looked at him again. He stared ahead again, but was more tense than before she came to sit by him.

“So, what’s wrong?”

“NOTHING.” Potato Head let out quickly, almost frustrated.

“Okay, geez.” Cassidy said, putting up two defensive paws. She felt kinda pissed that he was being such a jerk for no reason. “Y’know, Woody’s better than you.” She let slip, looking back at him again.

“So I’ve heard,” Potato Head grumbled, looking away and trying to hide how much the remark hurt.

Cassidy let out a sigh of annoyance, tired of how the spud acted. She leaned forward to get a look at his face after he turned. Was he angry or upset by what she said? He deserved it anyway. Why should she care?

“Why do you always act like this?” Cassidy asked, a feeling of irritation bubbling inside. “Woody’s just better than you. At least he actually cares about me. You can’t even take care of your own kids. You just neglect them..” she trailed off, noticing how the spud tensed up. Maybe she went too far? What did she know anyway? She just kind of let it spill.

“Why?” She finally asked, her tone slightly softer now. She remembered how Woody taught her that there’s always more than what meets the eye. Maybe that’s what was going on. Maybe she went too far.

Potato Head slowly turned to look at her, unsure of whether or not he should tell a kid this. Having it brought back up to his face killed him inside, but he knew she was right, even if she’s just a kid. He turned his face ahead again, not looking at her. He looked down at the ground below and took in a small breath, afraid that anything larger would trigger panic mode.

Cassidy stared at him for a few moments, her hope of him actually responding slowly dying. This wasn’t what she expected from simply sitting by him. She stared ahead too, biting her lip. She felt horrible, not knowing that her words could hurt a hardass so much.

“Because I’m a coward,” Potato Head whispered, still not looking at her. Subconsciously, he started fidgeting with his hands, something seemingly everyone but him tended to notice whenever it happened. She looked down at his fidgeting, trembling hands, then slowly up at his face. She leaned forward again, slowly to get a better look at his face. He looked deep in thought, except his thoughts were a train wreck.

“Cass!” A voice called. Woody. “Whatcha doing up here? Trying to cheer up this grumpy old spud?”

Cassidy turned back around, taken aback at how quickly Potato Head’s mood shifted. He went from on the verge of tears to his usual— well, just usual— self.

“Shut up, Woody.” He said, standing up and rolling his eyes, putting his hands on his hips. Cassidy could tell he was trying to mask whatever he was feeling. And he was really good at it too. But she could still hear that strain in his voice to keep it together. She stared at him, her brows furrowed. How fast did he do that? A second? Usually it took her a couple minutes to finally go back to being normal after getting upset.

“C’mon, I was looking for you,” The sheriff said, taking her hand and leading her away. She looked back for a few moments to witness Potato Head’s facade fade back into how he’s actually feeling. He broke eye contact with her turning away once again. Cassidy tried pulling back slightly to check on him again, but Woody just kept walking. Eventually she silently complied and turned, walking close next to him and off the table.

part 1/2

[generalluxun]

Ya know I think I finally keyed in on something that often nettles me with some stories where Chloe either confronts Ladybug but gets checked, gets chewed out by Ladybug for her behavior in general or finds out she's Marinette go.

IE, either Chloe is upset about how LB handles/handled her in one way or another and gets a talking to. Or she finds out the truth and is overwhelmed by gratitude.

The thing is though, while I can maybe see the characters having these kinds of feelings, it feels a bit off when the narrative seems to go along with it too much.

Mostly because it feels kind of like it draws too strong a parallels between "Is kind of a dick" and "deserves to be in danger & to be largely disregarded."

Like, it took until Season 2 for Marinette to have enough of a heroic game face to even say "No not even Chloe deserves to be fed to the zombie hordes."

As said, I get why the characters might be upsets, she does hurtful or frustrating things. Sometimes she can be detrimental to the plot, though other times she can be quite helpful too. But like, at the end of the day, if the narrative, yes in the show but also in fics, feels like it backs that frustration up it feels skewed to me.

Low key in this regard Derision would almost be helpful, but meh.

Like, say Chloe finds out Marinette's identity post S3 and goes to angrily confront her about the whole "A supervillain was targeting me. You knew this & not only used me anyway but took away my one means of self defense, ETC" thing.

A counter along the lines of "Well you can be kind of an asshole and I don't like you" makes Marinette feel super petty given the scale Chloe's problems are operating on compared to the local jerk being rude to you.

I'm not aiming to minimize Marinette or other characters legitimately hurt feelings. Especially because they are fourteen ETC as well, so expecting them to be perfect is unfair. As said this is more of a narrative issue I guess. It feels like authors lack self awareness if they feel the conflict between real danger and being jerk are the same.

Does this make sense? How would you square such a confrontation if you were writing it?

I mean *waves at Chasing a Dream* I kind of did that, didn't I? The confrontation I mean.

What lots of people forget is that Marinette is not *just* a 14 yr old girl. She's both a hero and a protagonist. The themes of ML should have her trying to achieve good outcomes for everyone. The show *literally* has a reset power to be sure that there is no collateral.

It is *possible* to let Marinette be petty in the moment, to let her get a catharsis, but if she doesn't feel bad about it later and try to fix things then you aren't writing Marinette, you are writing revenge fantasy. -Which if you want to write that, go shead it's your story. It's just best to call a pot a pot.-

How the confrontation would go down would depend on so many things. You would need to give me a setup for me to answer 'How would you write it' 😁

Heck I even have it somewhat hallen in my current fic, Barren Soil, (no ID reveal) but since neither are PoV characters it isn't as spelled out.

[svetree]

Hate You.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader/Unnamed OC Words: 542 Warnings: jerk Jungkook lololol Summary: basically Jungkook's song "Hate You".

That day when all hell broke loose, all ties were cut, and it was the end of them. He had made a mistake so grave, nothing will turn back to the way it was. All things he did, he blamed it all on everything but himself. Not even deep down, he knows, it was all on him. The way that the words left his mouth, all the profanities and blames were thrown like they had no weight. He regretted it. Even though it has been years and all are forgotten, he knows he won’t be easily forgiven. Would it hurt to try?

Perhaps, today might be the day he can piece them all back together. Everything will be forgiven and they will have a fresh new start. Little did he know, too many things have happened outside his lonely life for the past few years. Her heart is whole again, but his is chipped here and there. She had accepted his offer to talk and catch up, but she had no intention of repeating the past.

When it comes to Jungkook apologizing and forgiving another, it all will come down to his unhealthy defense mechanism. One to protect himself, so he blames others. Her soul might be healed, but it was once wounded. No matter what she says to herself to calm down, it would be the biggest lie to say meeting him again didn’t faze her a little bit.

“Why did you leave then?”

“I didn’t leave you, you did,” she didn’t want to do this, she knew if they were to argue, it won’t end.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about– hey! Where are you going!?”

The moment she got up from the chair, his legs were glued to the ground for a hot moment, trying to decide whether it’s better to let her go or chase. He ends up choosing the latter. A few steps outside the shop, he grabs her wrist, stopping her from fleeing. She yanks her wrist out of his grip. A sharp pain pierces through his chest when he sees the first tear fall out of her eye. 

Not able to hold herself back anymore, she yells, “what did I ever do to deserve this? Jungkook, tell me, what did I do?”

You did nothing wrong.

“Everything, you did everything wrong!” he argues.

“I see, if you can tell me just one thing I did wrong, I might just apologize and end whatever this is once and for all.”

They stand there, ignoring all the people walking past by giving them weird stares. She waits for his answer with dread. He’s searching for a mistake she made but can’t think of any. All he can think of is all the things he did that turned them the way they are right now. He croaks out, “I hate you.”

The tears return as he watches her wipe them away, rubbing way too harsh on her skin. Her nose turns even redder from the cold and crying. He wishes she could say it back. He wishes she said that she hated him more, but she just gathered herself together. She gives him one last look that he can’t decipher before walking away, and gone for good. 

[iviarelleblr]

I hope you don't mind me highlighting/peer reviewing these tags, because, exactly all of this:

#i wanted to come back to this post after scrolling past it because a lot of things were just coming up for me and op i hope it's ok to #think out loud for a bit. first of all i think this is a very fair request and it makes me kind of regret not giving more attention to the #validity of being triggered by something in a story. i didn't experience that from this but i have experienced it before and i know how #terrible and overwhelming it feels. and especially for non writerly types it's also not very surprising that many ppl who feel that would #go to the conclusion that it is bad writing and it's a mistake and even a kind of crime. natural thoughts to have when you're triggered #it feels very much like violence and like a violation so it's tough not to respond as if that's the literal situation happening to you #and i do want to say i get that. the hurt is very real the feelings come from something real. its never our place to say someone's feelings #are not real and are not justified.

#i guess coming at this from the opposite side because i was a queer fan of the 100 who was not really into clexa at the time #and so didn't have the same reaction to her death (i could see why it was considered homophobic and hurtful but what hurt me personally more #was other fans invalidating the queerness of anyone who was not triggered by her death or wasn't into the ship) #the stuff im coming in with also kind of comes from a triggered place. when i see ppl not processing their trigger response AS a trigger #response and instead heaping blame on whoever they see as responsible for their being triggered #(in this case mostly rafe but for example that ignores that this was also sophie's decision) i am triggered by that. i am very upset by that #and so even though when i see a post like this that is such a sensitive thoughtful request for some empathy and consideration i immediately #see the total validity of what op is saying and want to walk back some of my prior tone on the subject #i also feel just as it would have been a lot to expect people who are triggered to magically be ok with what they just saw #it also would have been equally a lot to expect others incl me to come into the situation not triggered or upset or defensive toward that.

#so to conclude let me just apologize for being dismissive and not welcoming these emotions to begin with. i do want to welcome them now #along with the explanation that i was triggered by the reactions i was seeing from ppl & their seeming sudden hatred of rafe and the show. #i also feel an instinctual defensiveness of queer creators who are suddenly turned on by the queer community. i think my dominant emotion #when i was responding initially was fear that the trigger response was going to be totally unchecked & dominate the conversation #around the show. so again op im sorry and you're right. i think you guys do deserve empathy. i know this situation sucks for you #and i hope there can also be some space for the feelings of people who kind of got triggered the opposite way like i did. #thanks for tolerating my ted talk 😬

Because, a lot of people don't know how to acknowledge what they're feeling, don't know how to look inside themselves and figure out why they're feeling it, and don't know how to walk themselves through managing those emotions healthily. I'm absolutely including a lot of people on my own side of this disked horse in this, and I'm so sorry that this goes both ways and you've been dealing with the other side of the same coin for nine years. We should all have had each other's backs a lot sooner. We all need space to feel and express and work through it!

But we don't live in a world where we're taught to validate our emotions as just existing. We live in a world with so much social media and so many algorithms that reward knee-jerk reactions with immediate gratification instead of thoughtful interaction. We live in a world where it is so easy to slip into the comfort of "my opinion must be factually correct, and I will make up the facts to prove it so I don't have to be wrong about anything". And that happens to all of us all of the time with the very rare exception of "people for whom high school English class had the expected outcome". If we like a story we find the reasons to justify it, and if we don't like something, we dismiss it as "bad writing" or something in that same vein, and we aren't effectively taught on the grand scale to slow down and interrogate that. We don't learn to separate our opinion from some arbitrary metric of quality and it's leading to this kind of trouble happening all over the place, in every fandom.

That's why we're developing rifts that nobody wants to build bridges over. Because neither side is willing to step back and say, "maybe I'm wrong". Well, maybe we can all take turns at doing this in different places and with different people until it starts to stick. Because I know I don't want to hate on anyone just for having a completely normal opinion that's different than mine! I don't even want to hate the bookcloaks, and I wouldn't have to if they'd just admit that their experience wasn't universal and leave everyone who doesn't share their experiences alone.

We have to be the kind of fans we want to see in the world. And I'm not self-centered enough to think I'm the first to say this or the one to say it best, but I am willing to stand on the side of "can we just talk this out though because we don't have to get so mean to each other and maybe everyone's a little right and everyone's a little wrong and that's actually normal and good and we can learn from each other instead of picking sides".

I just feel like this is something that ought to be shared. For WOT in particular but for a lot of other stories as well.

I know my feelings are still very chaotic about the whole thing in 3x08. A lot of people, myself included, have entirely valid trauma (and no I'm not exaggerating by using that word!) related to multiple things that came up in that episode. You can't help what your triggers are, you can only control how you act in response.

I will say, most of the counterpoints I've seen here aren't trying to invalidate the feelings of people who are upset about certain things in the episode, but some of them feel invalidating anyway. It feels like you're saying, "why are you even upset, there's [mitigating factors]".

And it's true that not a single one of the issues happened to a tokenized character, nobody is the only person who looks like them, who loves like them, in the show. There are other women of colour, there are other *queer* women of colour even, right there.

But when you've seen a pattern play out a dozen times, when the very same writer was a writer on the show that may have even given you that initial trauma,* and was hailed by the showrunner of this show as the premiere writer for these two particular characters especially... People who remember all that, consciously or just in their bones, were always going to be upset, even if we weren't just here for the Siuaraine of it all.

I'm not threatening to quit the show or anything over this. I'm not suggesting anyone else should or shouldn't keep watching. It's something every individual will have to decide for themselves: they've got other queer characters and ships to sail, but there have been an awful lot of dead beloved characters of colour this season. Colorism isn't an automatic argument-winning word the way some people on Xitter treated it last week, but it is a problem the show has struggled with.

I'm just asking for a little compassion for those of us who are working through a lot, y'know? Like, this is where a lot of us are coming from. It may very well lead to a better story, I've seen plenty of very convincing arguments, but that doesn't stop my heart from hurting in an echo back along all the queer characters I've lost along the way so that their partners could go on being main characters. It doesn't stop me from feeling how similar this could be to those, even if it doesn't end up being the same at all. I think all sides of these discussions could use a little more nuance and thought and a little less reflexive responding (hence my posting this the day after, to make sure I'm not jumping the gun or making an ass of myself), but that goes for everything, always.

Bonus * note: The 100 wasn't my first buried gay, but not only was JJG writing on it in the very season the Clexa controversy went down (though not the same episode), that show's showrunner had also been overpromoting the queer relationship between Clarke and Lexa, had been hyping them up in interviews and promotional stuff, all season leading up to Lexa's tragic pointless death so the actress could go work on another show. I WAS THERE, GANDALF! I don't think it's overblown or exaggerating to say a lot of people are having extremely large feelings right now over this, especially if they were in that fandom in 2016, especially if they're a little younger than I am and were that little bit more impressionable at the time. We are feeling a lot of parallels and it fucking sucks, to put it lightly.

[imaginingmanyfandoms]

Paul's Lullaby | part one

| next>

"Sam?" Paul was, he was in pain. He respect Sam and Emily's privacy, but he needed to talk to Sam now.

Paul wasn't angry, he was in pain. He felt like the world had opened up and swallowed him whole. He ruined his own life, and he didn't know where else to turn.

"Paul?" Sam asked, opening the door. Emily was behind him, face covered in concern.

"I imprinted tonight," Paul said, "but she hates me. She really, really hates me."

"I'm sure it's nothing you can't fix," Sam said, ushering Emily to come closer.

"Sam, I'm not exaggerating, she told me that she hates me. In fact, she should hate me." Paul looked at his feet, but only to try and hide the distress on his face. "If anyone treated her that way I used to, I'd rip them apart."

"Paul," Emily said, reaching out. Paul flinched back.

"I don't deserve your sympathy. I just, I don't know what to do."

"Be patient. Maybe you just have to prove you're a different man now," Emily offered a sad smile, but it was the exact thing Paul didn't want. He shouldn't pitied, he didn't deserve it. He could feel his heart bruise and falter. He broke his own heart and has no clue on how to fix it.

Emily had to go back to sleep, but Sam sat up with Paul for a while longer.

When Paul finally left, it was almost two in the morning. He took off running through the woods, shifting when he knew he was hidden by the tree line. He tried to outrun the heartbreak, but obviously it didn't work.

You were sitting at your desk, staring at your computer. You wanted to work on your writing, but you were so angry at the audacity that Paul had.

You had done everything you could to avoid him the last couple years - and you managed to make it to the first day of summer after graduation. You'd run into him on the beach.

He was just such a jerk, acting like his words had no effect on anyone. Like he could just laugh behind your back and it wouldn't hurt.

But he used to tell people nasty rumours about you. Until nobody really wanted you around them. And then he had to take it that much farther, when you were both fifteen, he took you on a date, acted like he'd changed and grown. And right before he kissed you he said, "I know you fall for it."

That date alone triggered years of trust issues. You'd felt alone ever since.

Back to the beach, he was blocking the trail you needed to head down to get to work on time. You'd hoped that putting your head down and just trying to slide passed would work, but he recognized you. He tried talking to you, but you ignored him.

After taking a couple steps down the path he said, "don't be like that."

This made you look up, astounded that he would even say something like that. Until you finally looked into his eyes, and you recognized how beautiful he was. He also looked stunned, like he'd run into a glass door. He reached out to you, but recoiled, dodging his touch like he was on fire. Somehow, you'd felt even lonelier than ever.

One look at his face and you felt like you were missing something. You tried to keep your cool but you just couldn't. Tears brimmed at your eyes, and his friend Jared Cameron coughed, before walking to the water just to give you two some space.

"Y/N," he said, his voice low and hesitant. Making you panic, thinking he was toying with you again.

"Stay away from me," you warned, taking a defensive step back.

That hit Paul harder in the heart than you would ever know. His soulmate, his imprint, recoiling away from him defensively. He found the person he was supposed to protect, to be needed by, and you couldn't stand the sight of him.

"Just wait a second," he begged, not moving towards you again. He didn't want to scare you.

"I hate you," you whispered, and then louder said it again. And louder again. Until you had screamed it, and the tears had taken over your cheeks. Every time you said it was an arrow to Paul's heart. He nodded, and let you turn around to run off without another word.

You didn't notice him run into the woods, followed by his friend.

You called work saying you had a personal emergency, and then went back home for the night.

Back in the present, you were tearing up at the memory of it. You were sick, you think. Addicted to red flag behaviour because there was no way you were thinking of Paul's hurt face, and feeling bad for causing it. He should feel bad for all the pain he caused.

You looked at the clock, it was almost three in the morning, but you were too caught up in all your feelings to send yourself to bed. You walked to the window, and noticed some kind of animal by the tree line. You lived in the middle of the woods, in an old cabin your grandma used to live in. You moved in when she got sick but never moved out. You liked it. It was cozy. It was private.

Finally relenting, you crawl into bed and did your best to sleep.

The next day, you were walking along the same path on the beach. You offered to cover the shift of the girl who had covered yours at such last minute.

Paul was in the same spot, but alone this time. You tried to walk passed him without acknowledging him, but something stopped you. You didn't want to see him sad again, it hurt you. And it made no sense why, you'd spent two years hating him.

You were only a few steps passed him, so you turned around, gripping the end of your sweater sleeves in each hand.

Paul had his head down, but looked up when he heard you sigh. You were standing in front of him, looking so terrified to speak to him. Paul could've started crying.

"I'm sorry about yelling at you like that yesterday," you said. "I should've just walked away so... sorry."

"Don't be sorry," he said, a flash of excitement crossed his eyes, and you mistook it for something sinister. You tried to remain calm, but you were feeling lightheaded. You just couldn't trust his motives. "I deserved it."

Now that, threw you for a bit of a loop.

Fool me once, you thought.

"I still think we should just keep our distance," you said. "You kind of broke my heart."

"I'm really sorry about that, I was trying to impress the seniors. I was a tool. An idiot."

"Finally we agree on something," you said. He looked at you, and you both let out a small smile. He pushed some sand with his foot. His bashfulness made you want to believe him. "I work just up the hill. You can walk me if you want."

"Can I walk you home when you're done?" he asked, quickly falling in perfect tandem with you.

"No," you said. "But you can walk with me right now."

"I'll take it," he said.

"Why do you want to talk to me anyway? I thought you hated me," you said.

"I could never hate you," he said. "I do hate how I treated you though. Not my finest hour."

"I think your finest hour remains to be seen."

Paul stayed quiet after that. And you were oddly comfortable in the silence. You're not even sure why you invited him to come along, but some sick part of you wanted him to. You wanted to reach out and touch him. His arms just looked so welcoming, and the way he stretched his hand open and shut made you think he wanted the same thing. But you couldn't let him in, not after one day.

"Have a good shift," he said, putting his hands in his pocket.

You smiled at him ,and thanked him for walking you. When you smiled, he smiled. And you caught onto that.

Paul had been standing in the same spot every day to walk you to work. Out of curiosity, on one of your days off, you snuck close to the spot to see if he was there. And he was, leaning against the same railing, in the same spot that he waited for you everyday.

You got comfortable in a cozy little spot in the trees. You wanted to see how long he waited for you. You dozed off before you could get your question answered.

You woke up hours later, when the sun was already setting. You hated walking through the trees in the dark. You started walking on your own, but you had a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach. So you swallowed your pride and called someone you knew would answer.

Paul was sitting at Sam and Emily's table, enjoying the dinner she made while waiting for his turn to go on patrol. It was Jared and Quil out there now. Paul could hear Seth snoring on the couch, making him laugh. Things that used to annoy him, didn't really seem to annoy him anymore. Not since you started letting him walk you to work. He even got Sam to let him change his patrol times to make sure he could be there every day.

His phone rang, and with a mouthful of food checked the number. He almost chocked on his food when he saw your number. He answered, hitting his chest to dislodge the food.

"Y/N, hi," he said, big grin on his face as he stood up and walked outside. Behind his back, Emily and Sam shared a knowing look, and he leaned in to kiss his wife.

Paul noticed Jared sitting nearby with Kim, and didn't think too much of it with you on the line.

"This may sound stupid," you said, "but can you walk me home? I don't like to go in the dark."

"You never let me walk you home," he said.

"If this is a bad time, it's okay," you said, disappointment clear in your voice.

"No, no... where are you? I'll be right there." He stepped back inside the house to grab his shoes, but the sound of you gasping stalled his movements.

"I'm by our meeting spot," you said. His grin returned when you called it that. "It's so dumb, I wanted to see if you went there when I didn't work and fell asleep."

"You were spying on me?" he asked. You were silent on the other end and he laughed. "I'll be right there."

"Who are you?" you asked.

"Huh?"

He heard you scream, as did Sam and Emily who's cheeky glances turned to concern quickly. "Y/N?" he asked, panicked. He was already running outside, Sam on his heals.

"Jared!" Sam shouted, "Why aren't you on patrol?"

"Seth said he'd do it!" Jared yelled back. Paul dropped his phone, and shifted, running top speeds to where you said you were.

Never in his whole life had he been this scared. He could hear Jared apologizing for the mixup in his thoughts, but Paul didn't really care what he had to say. If you were hurt, Paul would die. Paul would simply die.

He needed you to be there safe.

I knew something was wrong, Embry thought. Paul didn't even see him show up. Sorry I didn't act on it.

Shut the shit up and run, dammit!

When he got to the meeting point, you were gone, but your bag was abandoned nearby. Paul sniffed it, getting your current scent memorized. He took off when he found the trail. He also smelled a retched, filthy bloodsucker. It wasn't one of the Cullens. No, this was different. And it started at the water, that's how it got passed their lines. Not that they had enough people around.

Paul howled, the pain in it was evident for anyone around. It was him saying get here, or suffer the consequences.

I don't smell their blood, Jared thought.

You don't get to talk about them. This anger didn't derive from a bad temper, it was fear. It was just fear talking.

Paul kept running, catching a fork in the scent trails. One way was Quil, Leah and the bloodsucker. And the other was you, all alone. Alone but alive. If he couldn't hear Leah or Quil think, that was a good sign. Meant that they'd changed back, and Leah would never do that unless she killed them.

Go to her, we'll find Leah. Sam nodded at Paul.

You were crying as you ran, clumsy feet stumbling over tree roots and your own blurred vision totally betrayed you. Someone had come out of the water, eyes red like rubies. And they were so pretty that you just had to look at her. Until the showed her teeth, forcing you to flee in fear. She was faster than you, but you think she was playing with you.

And then if that wasn't scary enough, when she was jumping down from a tree to kill you, a wolf jumped from the shadows and grabbed the woman. And it was her turn to flee. Another wolf jumped out, and you were sure you were a goner.

But it just chased after the other two. Leaving you alone and confused.

You stumbled back to your feet, running as fast as you could towards your cabin. You would be safe in there. Maybe. It was the best you could do right now.

You cried harder when you thought you heard more rustling in the trees. You were at your door, struggling to get your keys out and unlock the door. When you did, you slammed it shut and locked it behind you. You dove over the sofa and kept your eyes on the door, as if that's all it took to keep you safe.

Your phone was lost somewhere in the woods, but you could still hear them. Out there. Maybe it wasn't real.

There was a feverish knocking on your door, and you couldn't peel yourself away from the couch.

"Y/N! Are you in there," Paul shouted. Oh my God, thank everything, it's Paul.

"Paul, I'm coming," you struggled, fighting through your tears to answer. It killed him, but he was so happy you were okay.

You opened the door, and cried even harder when you saw his face. You couldn't hate him now, now when he came running for you. He ignored his usual boundaries and pulled you in for a hug. He was so warm wrapped around you. Your arms were still tucked into your chest. And his totally encompassed you.

"Just breath, honey," he said, rubbing his hand up and down your back. You tried to take his advice, but you couldn't focus.

"You came for me."

"I always will, you can always call me. I will always come running," he said. And you believed him.

"Will you stay with me tonight?" you asked, pushing yourself away from him enough to look up at his face. His features were uncharacteristically soft as they looked down at you.

"Of course," he said. He kissed your forehead, and you felt the instinct of pushing him away - but you ignored it this time.

"On the couch," you said.

"Sure, honey." He brushed his hands up and down your biceps, helping you take a few deep breaths. "I'm not going anywhere, don't worry."

"I don't understand what happened," you said, pushing yourself away from him. "She came out of the water, and then she..."

"It's okay," he cooed, "you don't have to say anything."

"And this doesn't change anything," you said. "I trust you with some things but not other things."

"Some things?" he asked, more amused than anything.

"I trust you with my life, not my heart."

"We'll work on it," he said, pulling you in close for another hug.

"Yeah," you agreed. "We'll work on it."

[requested] [part 2?]

I kind of love this?

[the-badger-mole]

Congratulations! You have now been teleported into the world of Avatar The Last Airbender, what advice do you give each of the characters?

OOOO! I love this! I have so much advice to give so many characters! Okay, let's see...

Katara: It's okay to be vulnerable. It's okay to be the one who gets taken care of every once in a while. Your strength is undeniable, but you can't shoulder everyone's load. It's not fair to ask of yourself. Surround yourself with people who give you the space and freedom to be vulnerable, even if in the middle of it, it gets a bit ugly. You deserve support and love and understanding even at your lowest points.

Now that the war is over, take a step back and ask what do you want? Forget what's expected of you, or what ahem someone else may want. This is your time to forge your own path. Your friends- your true friends- want to see you grow and be happy and do amazing things. If along the way you disappoint someone's expectations, that's fine. They will either get over it or get out of your way. You're bound for incredible things. Don't dim your shine to make someone else look brighter.

Zuko: I really can't do much better than Iroh, except to say this- you are not your forefathers. Whatever evils they committed may color how people see you at first, but they don't define you. You're not destined to make the choices they made. You are far kinder, stronger, braver, and more compassionate than any of them. That has nothing to do with one side of your bloodline winning out over the other, and you don't have to worry that someday something will shift in you and turn you into Ozai or Sozin or Azulon. The fact that you're even worried about it means that you won't make the same choices they made. Now, you may not be the perfect Fire Lord, but it's not fair to expect yourself to be. War is messy. Recovery from war is equally messy. You won't undo 100 years and 3 generations' worth of damage in your lifetime. Focus on giving the next generation a solid foundation to build on and you will have been more successful than any of them.

Keep yourself open to receiving constructive criticism, but also make sure that you're keeping yourself open to receiving love and support. The people who love you will not go out of their way to make you feel bad about yourself. They will not make you feel they aren't safe to confide in. Love will help you to see the best in yourself and be there for you to lean on when things get tough. It will not threaten or berate you. It will not betray you or insult you for expressing doubt or fear. Don't accept less than you deserve.

Toph: You're amazing! You're smart and talented, and when you allow yourself to be, you're a darn good friend. I know it's hard to not bring past trauma into new relationships, but you don't need to be on the defensive all the time. You have done a good job surrounding yourself with people who love and fear you. Keep letting them in- especially if they happen to be offering the nurturing care you missed from your family of origin. It's okay to give people a second chance after they've hurt you, and it's also okay to set firm boundaries with them.

I cannot stress this part enough- DO NOT BECOME A COP! You are way too talented to waste your time and energy using your bending against the poor and downtrodden to protect the property of the rich. If you really want to be involved in the field of law, consider becoming a defense attorney. You can stick it to the rich jerks and save people who have no power themselves. That's just a suggestion, but there are literally thousands of other much more worthwhile things you could do with your time.

Sokka: You've done a lot of growing and self-work in a very short amount of time. Kudos! We love a king who can admit when he's wrong and learn a valuable lesson about being sexist. Now take that same energy and apply it to your sister. Acknowledge all she's done for you over the years (to her face, and preferably with a nice gift), and then do your share! You are too old to have your little sister have sole responsibility of keeping you fed and your clothes right. You know that's not going to fly when you marry Suki, so practice sharing the load with Katara.

Aside from that, you're a bright, charming, occasionally funny young man. You're going to go far, kid.

Suki: I don't have much to say to you. I don't know you that well, but what I do know of you, I like. You're a strong, capable young woman who understands that you don't have to be all warrior or all woman. That's amazing honey! There are older women than you trying to figure out how to balance the different sides of themselves, and you've started to figure it out before you've even finished being a teenager. Keep it up! Don't ever let anyone make you doubt yourself.

It's amazing that you were able to help Sokka see the error of his sexist ways, and I hope you continue to call him out when you see him doing something stupid. However, it's also important to remember that his growth is not your responsibility. You can offer advice and point out blind spots, but his growth is his responsibility.

Aang: IF IT'S NOT A YES, THEN IT'S A NO!!!!!!

No one owes you a relationship. You do not get to violate anyone's personal space. If you are interested in someone, talk to them about it. If they aren't interested (whether it's a no, or an I'm not sure), BACK. OFF!! That's not an invitation to pester them. That's not a challenge for you to change their mind. Leave them alone! If they change their mind, they can tell you. If you ever approach anyone disrespectfully again, I will arm them with pepper spray.

Your point of view isn't the only one that matters. You have been given a huge load to bear at much too young of an age, and there's a lot of pressure on you. It's okay to be overwhelmed, but in the end, you need to be willing to share your burden with the people who love and support you. Listen to the advice of wiser people. They may not be able to understand the unique challenges of being the Avatar, but they have far more life experience and understanding of the world's complexities than you have. Your own wisdom is based on concepts you only have a 12-year-old's understanding of. Work on continuing to grow in your understanding and be humble. Other cultures have worth, too.

Hakoda: Look, I get it. You're doing your best. It's not your fault that you missed so much of your kids' growing up, but they need you. Take them home for a while. Put in the time to get to know them again. Now is not the time to jump right into a serious relationship. Especially not with a woman that is trying to open up your home to a soft invasion of the Northern Tribe. Give yourself time to breathe, grieve and take account of what you and your family and your tribe need. You are a father and a chief. There are responsibilities in both those roles that need your attention. That's not to say you can't date at all, just be wise and remember that it's not just you that will be affected by your choice.

Iroh: Listen... you have done a great job with Zuko. You provided as stable and loving an environment for him as was possible, and in no small part thanks to your influence, he's a kind, compassionate, selfless young man. He's exactly what the Fire Nation needs, but you dropped the ball, Iroh. I get it. It's been a long life and you've put in a lot of work, but with all due respect, you're not freakin done! IF YOU DON'T TURN YOUR BEHIND AROUND AND GET BACK TO THE FIRE NATION, I WILL KICK YOUR TEA SODDEN BEHIND FROM STREET TO STREET! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU???

Zuko is 16. He's just been given this huge responsibility that he has never been prepared for, surrounded by people he can't trust, and you are the only consistent guiding presence in his life. Why would you leave him? What were you smoking when you made that decision? What on earth makes you think Ba Sing Se wants you back, Dragon of the West? I know you've done a lot to make amends for what you did, but what you did was lay siege to that city, and it's insane that you think they'd want to buy tea from you now that they know who you are. If it means that much to you, open up a tea shop in Caldera. Just make sure you're close enough to Zuko to help him navigate his new role, you befuddled meatball!

Ty Lee: Girl...go back to the circus. The Kyoshi Warriors is not for you, and you deserve a clean break from everyone back in Caldera. Go live your best, sparkliest life, queen.

[hrtiu]

i couldn’t find anything written for these two online so i thought i’d give it a shot! this is katy x shang-chi. what should their ship name be? i vote for shaunty. continue if you love friends-to-lovers 🥰

For Katy, the weirdest part about coming home after nearly dying and saving the world from a soul-sucking monster was realizing that she needed to find a new job.

“You could always apply to be an archery instructor at that place in Golden Gate Park,” Shaun said, looking over her shoulder at her laptop.

“Yeah, I don’t think my three days of experience will look very good on the resume,” Katy said, balancing the laptop on her thighs as she sat cross-legged on his bed.

“You could always put, ‘fired the shot that saved the universe,’” Shaun said. He leaned just a little too far into Katy’s space for comfort. “What should matter are results, right?”

“Ha ha,” Katy said, her throat suddenly dry. She didn’t bother to tell him she’d already inquired with the place and they weren’t hiring.

It had been like this since they’d gotten back from Ta Lo. Just… a little off. How was she supposed to act around her friend after going through an experience like this? How was she supposed to act after discovering a whole new side to someone she’d thought she knew so well? How was she supposed to breathe around Shaun now that she knew what he looked like with his shirt off?

Katy caught Shaun’s eye in the mirror of her laptop screen and swallowed, slamming the laptop shut before she or it combusted. It was all getting to be a bit much.

“Is everything alright?” Shaun asked from somewhere behind her.

Katy nodded, Shaun’s garage studio suddenly stifling despite the constant San Francisco temperature of 60 degrees outside. “Yeah, I’m just… I think I’ll maybe look again tomorrow.”

Shaun moved around the back of his bed and sat next to Katy, his thigh touching her knee. “Come on, Katy. What’s up? It couldn’t possibly be any weirder than the stuff I’ve told you recently.”

“Plenty of room at the Hotel California…” Katy started humming, her hand tapping against her leg in time to the music.

Shaun grabbed her hand and tugged, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Come on, you know that only works on idiots.”

“Well then it should have worked on you.”

Shaun frowned, then rested his other hand on top of the one he was already holding, his thumb sliding soothingly back and forth across her skin. “Seriously, Katy. Are you alright?”

Katy bit her lip and looked down at their connected hands. “It’s this!” she burst out, jerking her chin towards their hands. “Since when did we do this?”

Shaun let go of her hand and scooted away immediately, leaving a good foot of distance between them on the bed. Hurt lit his eyes. “Maybe since we almost died together?” he said defensively. “But you could have just told me you were uncomfortable. I won’t do it again.”

“No, wait. Shaun!” Katy fumbled over her words. “It’s not uncomfortable, really. Or well, it is, but it’s not a bad kind of uncomfortable. It’s just weird because I’ve never felt awkward around you before. But now I do and I don’t know what to do about it or what’s changed or even if you’ve noticed it or not.”

“You feel awkward around me?”

“Yeah! And you seem totally fine which is… great for me,” Katy said, her neck heating. This sucked. She hoped she’d be able to get over this soon so she could go back to singing karaoke late into the night without worrying if she was going to make a pass at him when she was drunk.

“I’m fine because it’s you!” he said. “I’ve known you for forever! What am I doing that’s making you uncomfortable, because I can stop.”

Katy cast a sidelong glance at him, her eyes tracing up the exquisitely-defined muscles of his forearms. I wonder if I could get him to take his shirt off again, she thought longingly. “You could eat a few Ho Hos with a side of pizza, I guess.”

His forehead crinkled in confusion, which drew attention to his eyes, which then led her down to his lips. Ok, maybe there was no leading going on, and Katy had just decided to look there herself.

“Look, normally I’m pretty good at interpreting Katy,” Shaun said, “But I think I might need a little help today.”

I could help you out of your clothes. Woah. That thought had better not come out of her mouth.

Katy jumped to her feet and turned from Shaun, her eyes struggling to find something else to focus on—anything else. “It’s fine, alright. I’m just being weird because I realized you’re hot and now it’s hard to stop thinking about it.”

“Woah! I’m hot?”

“Shut up, you know you are.” Katy moved over to the garage door and turned back to him, confident she could face him with some distance between them.

“No, I don’t! You used to call me shrimp cracker back in high school!”

“Yeah, well, all those shrimp decided to start swimming in the formation of an eight-pack on your torso, so…”

Shaun walked over to her, a grin spreading across his face. “All those times you made fun of me in gym class, and look at you now.”

He was getting too close, and Katy backed along the garage door away from him. “I’m glad you’re enjoying this.”

“Hey, I think I deserve to bask a little in your admiration,” Shaun said, still advancing on her with a smirk she knew was just teasing.

“Shut up, Shaun,” she said, taking one more step behind her.

Her foot caught on the backpack she’d tossed carelessly by the door, and just like that she was going down. Then Shaun grabbed her arm and pulled her to him, just barely managing to keep her from dropping like a bag of rice.

One of his hands gripped her wrist while the other wrapped around her waist, holding her flush against him. Her nose was only an inch or two from his, and she could see her own reflection in his eyes. She stopped breathing.

Shaun’s eyes widened, and his fingers twitched nervously at her waist. “Oh,” he said, voice quiet and surprised. “Yeah, this is weird.”

Katy’s heart dropped into her stomach, and it was only at that moment that she realized how far gone she already was. Well, that was that.

She dropped her eyes, but there was nowhere to look but him, so she fixed her gaze on the zipper of the coat he always wore.  There was a stain right around the hem. He should probably get a new coat now that he was important and all.

The hand holding her wrist dropped, and suddenly his warm palm was pressed against her cheek, lifting her head up. She looked back into his eyes and found a familiar warmth there. It was unquestioning friendship and loyalty. It was love.

“It’s a good thing I like weird,” he said. Then he leaned in and kissed her.

Katy wrapped her arms around him, pulling him harder against her and finally—finally—getting to feel those muscles. When she’d privately fantasized about this moment over the past few days, she’d always worried it might feel strange or wrong—like kissing her brother. But it turned out she’d worried for nothing. Shaun’s hands on her hips felt right, and his lips moved against her mouth in a way that made her knees week. No, this was definitely not like kissing her hot, super hero brother.

After a few minutes Shaun pulled away, his expression dazed but smiling. “Ok, I take it back,” he said. “Not weird at all.”

Katy smirked up at him. “I guess I wasn’t trying hard enough.” Her phone chimed her text alert and she jumped, nearly forgetting it was in her back pocket. “Oh, damn, I forgot I told mom I’d be home to help her restock.”

“I can come with,” Shaun said, his hand moving experimentally up and down her waist.

“Sure.” A thought occurred to Katy and she stopped typing mid-text to her mom. She looked up at Shaun, her eyes wide. “Shaun. Waipo is going to be so psyched.”

[thefanficmonster]

Rumors

Corpse Husband x Bimbo!Reader (Female)

Warnings: Mentions of Slut Shaming, Swearing

Genre: Fluff, Tiniest bit of Angst, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: When some rumors start floating around, every content creator does their best to either ignore them or defuse the situation. However, sometimes, the fans attempt to do the defusing themselves which only leads to a worse disaster. That’s the case for Corpse whose fans were quick to jump to his protection of some ‘false’ rumors.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for your request, it was a joy to write. I’m sorry for how long it has taken me to complete and post the fic but here it finally is and I hope you enjoy reading it at least half as much as I enjoyed writing it! Love, Vy ❤

Corpse cracks his knuckles, then his shoulders, then his collarbone, then the his neck. He clenches his jaw as he breathes steadily and rhythmically, trying to control an overwhelming wave of anger that he has never felt before. This is a situation he’s never had to deal with nor did he ever think he’d have to deal with and address on a fucking livestream on top of all, but here he is now, doing his best to count to ten and not go on a Twitter responding spree, calling people out on their bullshit. He wanted to do so, he still wants to, but he was stopped in his intentions and brought to a calm mindset where he was swayed into dealing with this the civil way and not by roasting the fuck out of any and every foul-mouthed person he’s seen on his Twitter timeline.

He can’t really guarantee and civility during the stream either, he’s aware his tolerance is as thin as a stretched out, old rubber band and is a slight tug away from snapping and allowing him to unleash hell on these people because of who he’s been seeing red these past few days. 

Let’s not risk a misunderstanding here - Corpse absolutely loves and adores his fans, but seeing this behavior from them is quite upsetting and disappointing. When he uses the terms like ‘assholes’, ‘jerks’ and ‘rude motherfuckers’ he isn’t referring to them. He knows they are good people, but are using the completely wrong tactic of defending him, not to mention he doesn’t even need defending. Even if he did, he’s more than capable of doing it on his own and not getting other people involved.

“Hello everyone, hope you’re doing well.“ He finally settles on saying, officially kicking off the stream. If there’s any indicator of the serious nature of this stream, it’s probably the lack of lo-fi and the lack of even attempted playfulness and cheeriness in his voice. That’s how you know shit isn’t to be messed around about. “I just realized I didn’t specify what I’ll be doing in the Tweet, but I’ll tell you now, so those who aren’t interested in the subject or want to steer clear of the drama can leave. However, I wouldn’t advise clicking off considering this will be an overall, how do I say this, rant, of sorts? It’s meant to knock some sense in the people who have been spreading hate for a specific person on all social media platforms she’s active on.“

The majority of the viewers are already familiar with the subject, some even guilty of spreading the hate Corpse mentioned, but there are a few that are completely clueless - the ones actually not interested in online drama, not just saying they ‘hate drama’. With those people in mind, Corpse takes to addressing the issue from its very beginning.

“So, for a month now, me and this streamer, who’s also a TikTok star, by the name of Y/N have been interacting a lot on social media. She’s an incredibly sweet girl that a lot of people have prejudice towards. She’s very misjudged and misunderstood because people see he solely as her content, if that makes sense. They only know she’s that streamer who wears revealing clothes on her streams and posts risqué pictures on her Instagram. Like, no.“ Corpse cannot even fully believe he has to address this and that slut-shaming people is still a thing in the twenty-first century. He closes his eyes for a moment, fist tightening and his knuckles turning white, “I don’t understand how so many people can be so shallow and just plain jerks towards her in general, but then again - this is especially for my fans, the members of my fandom - I don’t understand the need you guys feel to put Y/N down to defend me from some ridiculous rumors as if it’s the first time I’ve had to deal with people talking shit for attention or to get someone canceled.“ He sighs, reminding himself to slow his roll as to not confuse any viewers who still don’t know the full story, “Anyway, back to the timeline of events. So, considering we’ve never interacted before, all the replying to comments, retweeting, liking posts and whatever sparked some dating rumors. Isn’t that just fucking hilarious - you see two people interacting on social media and the first thing that comes to mind is that they’re in a romantic relationship. Where did the friendship go? Does no one value or consider friendships to be a valid type of human relation anymore?“ He runs a hand through his hair, making another pause to clear his mind and prevent his frustration from overflowing. He promised he wouldn’t lose his cool and would remain calm and collected, but the more he talks about it the tighter he clenches his fist and the faster his heartrate is. His neck and ears are red from the tension he feels all over, almost like he’s physically restraining a raging wild animal and not just his own thoughts and emotions.

There’s layers to his anger, the lower ones - aka the ones he’s yet to get to - will be a nightmarish test of his self-control, he already knows it. Judging by how much of a toll this rant has already taken on him, his patience and control growing thinner and thinner, he’s not sure how he’ll power through the last layers without his voice raising awfully high in volume and his fists searching for some object to punch. To an ignorant eye, his reaction would seem exaggerated and overboard, but little does that ignorant eye know...

“When some of my fans saw those rumors, they reacted very badly. It was quite disappointing to see. Guys, I appreciate you standing up for me even though you shouldn’t do that - I can defend myself, not that this was a matter I needed defending from to begin with. But just the way some of you went about it was horrifically wrong and quite upsetting, to me but especially to Y/N herself.“ He can feel it, the aggravation growing, bubbling up in his chest, “What I saw disgusted me, I’m not gonna sugarcoat it. The things some of you were saying...I couldn’t believe you are in fact the same people who are my fans, my lovely fans who I’ve always thought so highly of. Never did I think you could be able of slut-shaming so vulgarly and grossly, I couldn’t believe what I was reading.“

He has every right to be upset - the things being said about Y/N were truly awful and a lot of things being said were meant to defend Corpse and defuse the rumors, doing so while stomping all over Y/N and her content. Rightfully so, many of her fans were outraged and quick to jump to her defense but were unfortunately outnumbered, leading Corpse to believe not many of her fans are actually real or as dedicated as his which only fueled his fury further.

Anyway, let’s take a look at Y/N’s point of view. Being a content creator for as long as she has, refusing to change her style no matter how many people disagreed and insulted her about it, she’s grown quite used to people spitting insults at her on every social media possible. It’s sad how throughout the majority of her content creating career she’s only had haters, creeps and fake fans watching her videos and streams. Rare are those in her fandom who’d actually stick up for her and defend her in ‘scandals’ such as this one. However, no amount of experience with dealing with hate could have prepared her for this outpour of some of the meanest shit she’s ever heard and been called in her life.

Y/N likes the content she makes, she’s comfortable in her skin and loves her body. She loves showing it off too and nor she nor anyone who wants that deserves to be shamed for who they are and what they do, especially when they aren’t hurting anyone and their content is still appropriate. People have always bashed her for all elements of who she is: her appearance, her clothing style, her streams, her gaming skills, her voice on occasion. She can count the instances when she’s received positive feedback on the fingers of her hands which would depress anyone else but not her. She’s always created content for her own amusement and entertainment so people’s opinions never really bothered her. Until now, until this very drama that has hit a specific nerve, an insecurity of hers she’s never talked about. The comments such as:

(Vy Speaking: Comments containing slut-shaming ahead, go to ### if you want to skip)

“Corpse would never date a slut like her“

“Corpse dating this thot? Please internet stop being ridiculous“

“Corpse ain’t a pimp, y’all need to chill“

“Even if they datin they gon break up soon - whore stays a whore“

###

bothered her far more than she’d like to admit. She has no one to open up about it either, she knows what she’ll get in response if she does - she’ll be told it’s her fault. Her fault because of the way she dresses, the way she talks and acts, because she chose this career to begin with. All her fault. The only person she can turn to she refuses to because she doesn’t want to be a bother - not after so many people confirmed her worries that she’s not good enough for him already anyway, the least she can do is avoid bothering him the best she can.

And that is exactly why this has upset Corpse so much.

“Here’s a little message specifically meant for those who claimed I’d never date someone like Y/N or specifically Y/N. You better listen carefully: Don’t you ever, and I mean EVER slut-shame my girlfriend or any other person ever. I cannot believe I have to explicitly remind you that your behavior isn’t ok. You should fucking know that your behavior isn’t right and that you’re a massive piece of shit for saying those awful things about others you judge solely on appearance and clothing. Does it surprise you that I am, in fact, dating Y/N? If you say yes for the reason you think she’s not good enough for me or that I deserve better, please get the fuck out of my fandom. No one disrespects my girl and gets away with it. That’s final!“

Though still under the influence of a flurry of negative emotions, overhearing Corpse literally telling people to exclude themselves from his fandom for being mean to her, Y/N’s taking a step towards emotional recovery knowing her boyfriend will always have her back. He’ll always be there to prove people wrong, defend her and stand by her. He’ll be there to catch her when the hate knocks her off her feet.

But most importantly: he’ll never ask her to change. Not her style, not her clothes, not her personality, nothing. He fell for her the way she is and for who she is, and he will never allow anyone to try to change her either. For someone who’s never had much support all her life, a single speck of support overpowers all the hate within the blink of an eye. Corpse will always be her knight in shining armor, the knight who defeated all the hateful demons by just entering her life. And though she’s still struggling with the ‘Am I good enough for someone so wonderful?’ and ‘He deserves better, doesn’t he?’ questions, with his hand holding hers, she’ll never let those doubts and insecurities overpower her.

@maat-the-prescriptive  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @itsminniekat  @hacker-ghost  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat  @idontknowwhatthisisfam  @evi-ka  @classyandfabulous00  @redperson58  @lilysdaydreams @solowheein  @mythicalamphitrite  @axen-gers  @luckygirl144  @nj01  @buddyemily   @the-albino-lioness  @stardream14  @gdhdkfnn  @nomadicgypsyy  @preciousskye  @fluffysuicideunicornsworld  @o-kaelin  @manacharlotte  @awkward-youtube-trash  @lolalee24  @bonky-beerns  @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian  @strawbrinkofdeath  @teenloves  @tams0527  @browneyespinkhair  @starstruckllamapuppy  @daisychains012  @y0ulooked  @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life  @jula-pauline  @melodykitty  @just-that-bi-girl  @crazybutconfidentaf  @lowellshade @alphakees  @bellero  @weallneednamjesus  @starryhanji  @boiled-onionrings  @husherstan  @fockingwhore  @melaningoddessthings  @prettypastelpetals  @haleypearce  @godwhyamiawkward  @y-napotat  @daisychainyoonmin  @little-miss-rebel3  @free-wheelin-bi-sexual  @redmoon261 @darkacademic2  @wiseflamingoqueen  @into-the-end  @namikhai-i  @nastiablr  @thelittleplantlover  @mirktuan  @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny  @vintagegothlover  @easygoingtheatre  @itsrandombooklover  @miiaivi  @emmybaybee  @befourgolden  @jjk-is-my-shit  @eternalteaaars  @spacebadgerx  @princesslunalight  @acequinn14  @samm48  @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa  @fo-love  @marishimomura-blog  @therealglenncoco  @cinnamonbun332  @killtherandomness  @sanshinexxxsan  @fee-btheweeb  @press-lay  @cathleenpotgieter16  @jazzydoesstuff  @moonlxghtbay  @forestrain2000  @hyunjinhugs  @blood-of-fandoms  @lovellylies  @ukiyolixx  @simpforhpcharacters  @chrisdylan17  @parkerjisung  @pedernille  @theodonyous  @wineandionysus  @malfoystilinskii05  @morbid-x  @coryisagee  @jessewa26  @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365  @raeanneinwonderland  @indecisive-empanada  @gluttonypalace  @loriane2503  @btsiguess-kpop  @khaoticbunny  @lucidlycactus  @smiithys  @rottenroyalebooks  @kpopgirlbtssvt  @fangirl-tc27  @fr0z3n-1  @notmesimpingfortechno  @shotarosleftpinky  @kunoi-chan  @idk-whats-wrong-with-me  @yikeroonie  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @poetry-and-tea  @ama-do-writing-stuff  @wishbonewolf  @emeraldxhope  @t0xick1tty  @kusuinko  @speakyourselfloveyourself  @sophia902103  @lo-manburg  @classsykittykat  @dmgama  @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee  @btsiguess-kpop  @akaashi-baby  @gun-jong-simp  @geschichtenfee  @yerapotato-wp  @browneyedgirl365  @thysagclub  @sparklycloudnight  @helloatomicshadow  @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal  @lucy-bunny17  @aaliyahh0  @katluckybear  @boyleanti  @straybids  @franchesca-791  @cosmicstorm19  @averyisbackinthetrashcan  @hisokaslefttiti

[theringers]

watch me burn - pierre gasly

illicit affairs, part seven

summary: “oh baby, I've been thinking about it, you know that I've been dreaming about it” watch me burn / michele morrone

a/n: hi:) still a few more parts to go but i went a few chapters without smut and this was needed so enjoy:) also if u listen to the title song while u read its a whole new experience lmfao

warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, semi public sex

2 months ago, to the day

Your eyes met his piercing blue eyes in the garage once again. It had been a month since you slept with Pierre and you haven’t stopped thinking about it. The way he stared at you as he fucked you was the exact same way he was glaring at you across the paddock. Needy and desperate.

You shook yourself back into focus and listened as Max’s strategist reiterated today’s race strategy but you couldn’t help daydreaming about what that man could do in bed.

You drowned out the conversation about tyres and looked over to Alpha Tauri at the perfect time. Pierre had his bottom lip between his teeth while he examined his car. He ran his hand slowly over the chassis seductively like he knew you were watching. His fingers grazed the metal in painstakingly slow circles. After he removed his hand from the car was when he caught your eyes. He gave you a smirk, not even a smile, and turned away. It was good to know that you weren’t the only one thinking about what happened.

The race started and you were in the garage, cheering on Max. He had started second on the grid but due to a first lap incident, he was fifth. He was not going to be happy after the race. He can tolerate if he fucks up but having other people interfere with his race is something he takes particularly hard.

Pierre’s car came up behind Max’s around a corner and got too close for comfort. Max jerked his steering wheel too much as he tried to turn, sending Pierre’s car straight into the barriers.

You stood up out of your seat and gasped. Everyone in the garage was relieved to see Max still racing and no one seemed to be concerned about Pierre. You took off your Red Bull Racing branded headphones and slammed them on the table before rushing over to the Alpha Tauri garage.

Anna was seated in her chair, looking worried, but not enough for you. She should be close to tears like you were.

“Have you heard anything from him?” You asked and Anna looked up, almost annoyed.

“He’s conscious,” his race engineer said, “but hurting.” You heard the groan come through followed by a bunch of curse words. He apologized profusely for his move but it was all Max’s fault.

You watched on Alpha Tauri’s monitors as the race was red flagged and decided to head back to Red Bull’s garage. “Let me know when you hear something,” you said to Anna. She nodded and looked back down to her phone. Fucking bitch. Her attitude made you not even feel bad about sleeping with her husband. She didn’t deserve him.

Max walked back to the garage looking like a life size bobble head with his heavy helmet swinging around. “Is Pierre okay?” He asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

“He’s conscious. He took a nasty hit.”

“I know, I feel bad. I didn’t mean to, the steering wheel just got away from me. I saw him crash in my rear view mirror.”

You were visibly shaken and Max always knew the right things to say when you weren’t feeling okay.

“He’s gonna be okay,” Max said, rubbing your back.

You nodded in agreement. “I know he will. I’m going to check on him at the medical center once the race starts again.”

Max smiled at you. “That would be good. Make sure you tell him I’m sorry.”

An engineer put his hand on Max’s shoulder and shoved a spreadsheet full of data in his face. He shrugged his shoulders and walked with the engineer to the monitors.

It wasn’t long before the race got underway again. Max made it up to third, podium position, but there were still at least 30 laps left. You started the trek through the paddock and over to the medical center. You were just a bit too late as you saw Pierre walking out down the ramp. He smiled when he saw you approach him.

“How ya feeling champ?” You asked him.

“I’m a bit sore thanks to your husband.”

Your face fell. “He sends his apologies. I promise he was actually remorseful.”

“Max? Remorseful? What did you do to him?”

You laughed. Max did have a temper and tended to be extra competitive but he had formed a special bond with Pierre these last few years. They weren’t friends by any means but they helped each other out whenever possible. This was one of the times that it wasn’t possible.

“He does genuinely feel bad, Pierre.”

“I know he does, it was a racing incident. I saw the footage.” He limped slightly through the paddock and winced when he put pressure on his left leg. “I think I should go lay down for a bit.” He took another step and lost his balance. You grabbed his arm and held him, making sure he stayed steady.

“This is it right here,” he pointed to his motor home.

“Do you want me to help you up there? I don’t want you to fall.” You said with a soft smile on your face. How could he resist your offer of help?

“Sure,” he limped over to the door and you aided him up a few stairs. “Shouldn’t you be watching the rest of the race? Last I checked, Max was doing really well.”

He sat down on the luxe white leather couch in exhaustion and you sat at the table across from him. “He wanted to make sure you’re okay. He’ll be fine.” You looked around the motorhome, observing your surroundings to seem busy. “So Anna’s nice…” you said, followed by a laugh. You had known Anna for a few months now. Their wedding was right before the season started and you really hadn’t known her much before then either. She tended to keep to herself and you wanted to respect that.

“She can be a bit…”

“Yeah, I know. I went to check on you after the crash and she looked like she wanted me dead.”

“In her defense, she caught me checking out your ass this morning. She was not very happy with me after that.”

You leaned forward to give him a light smack. “Pierre!” You shook your head in disappointment. “What did she think of the way you were practically fingering your car this morning?”

He played fake shy. “Oh, you saw that?”

“You make my heart beat crazy fast.” You admitted, putting your hand to your chest. “That didn’t help.”

“Well, as long as you enjoyed yourself.”

Enjoy yourself you did. He was in his same fireproofs from earlier and you were sure he didn’t know how turned on they made you. They were pulled down to his waist, the sleeves hanging low off his hips. His white undershirt was tight to his body, putting his abs on full display. His legs were spread wide, inviting you in. Was it hot in there? Was the air conditioning on?

He ran his hands over his abdomen and leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling. He groaned, sounding like he was in pain, frustrated, and horny at the same time.

Why did he have to be so unbelievably irresistible to you? When you were around him it was almost impossible to contain yourself. There was a magnetic force dragging you to him constantly. You moved yourself to sit next to him, earning his attention and popping his head up.

“You look really hot right now,” you giggled to yourself. He made you feel like a teenager experiencing her first love. The nerves were through the roof.

“Well, I feel hot.” He looked around the walls of the motorhome. “Where the hell is the air conditioning and who turned it off?”

You let out a sigh of relief. “Oh thank god it’s not just me.” He looked over at you examined your face. He placed his hand on your red cheeks. “You’re flushed.”

When he touched you, a chill ran through your body. Your body felt on fire and he had the power to send a freezing cold chill through it all.

“My cheeks get really red when I get nervous.” You blushed even more having to admit that. It was your least favorite characteristic of yourself. Everyone always knew flat out when you were nervous.

“I can’t tell if it makes you look cute, like I want to hug you, or if I want to fuck you.” His hand still rested on your cheek as he looked back and forth between your eyes and lips. “You look so god damn innocent. Like I could totally ruin you with just a few minutes alone.” His thumb ran over your lower lip and you instinctively stuck your tongue out to meet his thumb. He took the opportunity to put his thumb in your mouth and you suctioned around it, keeping eye contact with him. “Y/n,” he breathlessly begged, “please.”

His lips crashed to yours, feeling warm and secure the moment they touched. His hands held your neck and you moaned into his mouth, forgetting what it felt like to be touched by him.

He hoisted you onto his lap, wincing a bit when you grazed his knee. His hands fit perfectly in the curves of your waist as he pulled you closer to him, grinding your hips. “Don’t do this to me,” he said into your neck.

“Why not?” You said cheekily.

“We don’t have much time.” You almost forgot that there was a race going on right now.

“I can be quick.” You hopped off of him and locked the motorhome door as he undressed out of his fireproofs. He looked so good in his white suit but he looked even better naked. You slipped off your underwear and hoisted your sundress up to your waist before going back to his lap.

He guided your body on top of his, settling you down as you took all of him in, deep. “Shit. A condom.” You said, after the bare feeling of him inside of you set in. God did it feel good but it wasn’t right.

“I don’t think I have any in here.” He said. “I promise I’ll pull out. I need you so bad.” He lightly bit your nipple through your sundress.

“I will kill you if you’re lying to me.” You started to move your hips and moaned at the sensation. He felt so good filling you up all the way.

He took your ass in his hands and started to bounce you up and down on his cock. “That’s it baby, just like that.” He said, admiring your movements. “Fuck me like a good girl.”

Your head fell forward, the feeling running through your body getting almost unbearable to handle.

“Jesus, Pierre, you feel so good.” You pulled your hair into a makeshift ponytail and arched your back, feeling like all eyes were on you in the best way possible.

He watched you in awe as you rode his cock without a care in the world. “Your pussy is so tight baby. So tight for me.” A breathy moan escaped his lips and his face looked like he was in pure bliss. There’s nowhere else he would rather be.

“Shit, shit, I’m gonna come.” He said, panicking. You rushed to get off of him as you saw the liquid pool on his abs.

“Did you…?”

“I don’t think I got any inside of you.”

You took a deep breath to collect your thoughts. God, you hoped not.

next part

[paralleledmediaexperience]

right before my birthday back in May someone made a post about Jack needing more love and hugs, and I had this idea in the tags and then went and wrote about a thousand words of this and then. forgot it existed!! anyway I’ve mostly polished it up now. enjoy Jack telling one of his dads he loves him and then not only being hugged but also hearing it back!! it’s what our boy deserves!!!!!

Now with part two!!!!!

-

Jack hadn’t meant to fix everything, in his defense. Yes, they’d defeated god with his powers, which had unintentionally released Amara, who had agreed to take her brother’s powers from Jack and then let the world mostly be as long as she got the chance to see him every once in a while. She’d returned the universe to normal, with a few additions for their happiness, as Amara had said. Dean had choked out Cas’ name, and Amara had frowned before replying that it might take a bit more time. 

They had gone back to the bunker and then the bunker had been thoroughly overrun the whole next week by- it seemed- everyone the Winchesters knew, including a few faces who were apparently as back from the dead by Amara’s hand as Mary was last time she owed a Winchester a favor. Through it all- old friends and odd allies and more- Jack knows Dean isn’t doing well. Isn’t sleeping well. There’s only been one night- well, Jack hadn’t seen Dean drinking but he’d heard Sam’s arguing and Dean’s short, choppy answers, and it was familiar enough.

He’d googled “what to do when my dad misses someone and we can’t talk to them yet,” and wikihow had good suggestions- he’d read through the sections for both short-term separations, and managing the death of a loved one. He hadn’t really been able to figure out which would be more helpful. It had turned out to be the death of a loved one, which… shouldn’t be surprising, no matter that Cas would be back. Soon. 

He couldn’t make Dean do any of the things on the list, but it had suggested that the person would like to feel loved during their time of grieving.

And when he’d searched “how to make someone feel loved,” the first article had said the easiest way was simply to tell them. So when Dean hands him a plate of pancakes with the bacon cooked just how Jack likes it, Jack thinks it’s such a small thing to make his heart feel so big and warm. And he smiles and says, “Thanks Dean. I love you.”

Unfortunately, Jack hasn’t actually grabbed the plate when he says this, and Dean’s hands drop it. The sound of the plate shattering on the tile is only half as upsetting as the wounded look in Dean’s eyes as he looks back at Jack. And Jack isn’t sure why it went so wrong but he looks away immediately, the shame of causing that hurt somehow and the slow horror of realizing he’d ruined the breakfast that Dean had made him turning his stomach into knots. He steps back almost unconsciously before remembering the plate had just broken, and in just his socks, a piece of ceramic jabs into his heel and slices him open, and he actually can’t help the small cry of surprise and pain that slips out.

“Jeez, kid,” Dean breathes out, and Jack gets pushed into the nearest chair. “Get that out of your foot while I clean this up.”

The warm feeling in his chest was gone, pressed into something cold and tight in Jack’s throat. He’d just- the article had said it makes people happy to hear they are loved in times of grief. 

He watches, silent as Dean turns off the stove and sweeps up the wasted food and plate pieces, soundly dumping it in the trash before digging under the sink for a second and coming out with a clean dishrag and a box of bandaids. It’s only when he sees Dean stop and take a quiet, private shuddering breath to forcibly relax his tensed shoulders that he lowers his gaze again. He picks the sharp sliver of plate out of his skin through the sock before peeling it off to examine the cut it left. Very shallow, but it still stretches two inches along on the inside of his heel, the blood sluggishly dripping out. 

It’s not bad, but very inconvenient, so he almost heals it before remembering that Amara had said not to use his powers after she took Chuck’s powers. Not until she returned and okayed it, at least. He sighs, pinching it together with his fingers, half heartedly wishing it had been more awkward and antagonistic between his aunt and his dads, so he could have maybe convinced Dean that they shouldn’t listen to what Amara told him to do. It probably wouldn’t have worked anyway.

He hears Dean turn the water on to damp the cloth, but he can’t make himself look back up again. His gaze goes back down to the floor as Dean starts to turn back toward him, focusing on the small smear of red on the floor, where Dean had dragged the broom through the spots of blood he’d left.

He raises his hands as Dean approaches, ready to be handed the stuff to bandage himself up, but Dean just beats them away as he sits down next to Jack, hunching in as he grabs the injured foot. Jack still feels unbearably small in the silence between them, both him and Dean leaning in and feeling small and unwilling to speak as he wipes away the blood and then dries the skin around it. Jack grabs two of the bandaids and opens them, and Dean wraps them around the cut before patting it and drawing away, and Jack doesn’t know what else to do.

“Sorry,” He says softly, because he isn’t sure what he did wrong but it hurt Dean. And he wasn’t even angry, Jack could tell, cause his shoulders hadn’t tensed the way they did when Dean was trying not to lash out- they’d tensed the way they did when Dean was trying not to fall apart. Jack’s felt like he had to know the difference for a while now.

“Jack,” Dean says, and it’s so sharp that Jack jerks up to look at him. Had he read that wrong? Was Dean angry? But when he meets Dean’s eyes it’s still that hurting, the one that Jack could remember all the way from back when he was a newborn, or something close to it. “No, you don’t-” Dean lifted a hand to his face and dragged it down with a rough breath, and Jack wasn’t expecting him to look back at him but he did, eyes burning into Jack’s. “You don’t have to be sorry. That was on me- I dropped the plate.”

Jack tries not to squirm, because it’s not about the plate, is it? The food had been thrown away and the plate had hurt him, but he’d said he loved Dean and that had made him drop it. “I’m sorry that I-”

“Jack,” Dean cuts across again, and this time his brows are drawing together the way they do when he’s angry. But he looks away from Jack again, and he can tell somehow that it’s not anger at him. Dean doesn’t even want Jack to be looking at this anger. “You say whatever you want, okay? I’m not upset that you said it.”

It isn't that he thinks Dean doesn’t mean the words, but Jack’s also not sure Dean believes them either. “I am, though,” he says, petulant, crossing his arms and letting his foot fall back down to the ground, ignoring the bite of pain from treating the cut so roughly. “If it hurt you, I shouldn’t have-”

Dean cuts him off again. “No. Jack, that’s-” He struggles for a second, but Jack just wants to understand. Unbidden, he holds his breath and Dean draws his in, trying to find the words.

“You get to love me if you want to,” Dean grinds out, and Jack realizes there are tears gathering along his lower lashes. “And you get to tell me if you want to. This hurt ain’t about you.”

That does clear it up, somehow, and Jack nods and looks back down at his hands, realizing there’s still blood on his fingers, too. Dean turns away enough that they can almost pretend he’s not rubbing the tears out of his eyes. “I won’t say it if you don’t want me to either, though,” he says, and he grabs the cloth from the table where Dean had left it, finding a clean spot on the damp corner and using it.

“That ain’t how it works, kid.” He doesn’t elaborate. He just grabs the box of bandaids and closes it before gathering up the paper wrapping. It gets thrown out, and the box stowed back under the sink, and then Jack is just staring at Dean.

“How does it work?” 

They both stop. Jack didn’t expect to actually let the question out, but it’s off of his lips before he can seal them. 

Dean is frozen, staring at him.

“Not like that,” Dean says eventually, weariness dripping from each word. “Jack, do you… do you want us to say…”

He doesn’t say it, the kitchen fan blowing white noise into the quiet air between them. Jack knows that he could ask and Dean would say it right now. Dean always gives the people he loves what they want, what they need, and this would just be the next thing he could offer. Something he could give.

“I don’t need you to.” Jack says, honestly. “I know. I just wanted you to hear it, because I don’t think I’ve ever gotten to say it to you.”

Dean squints at him. “You... “ His eyes are wet again. Without warning, Dean grabs him and pulls him up, into a hug, and Jack grabs back as tight as he can, feeling lost. But it’s good, it’s good just like every time Dean hugs him. He squeezes his eyes shut tight as if he can’t feel the tears welling up in his own eyes, hot and stinging. “I love you too, Jack. I don’t get- you and-” Dean sputters off, still holding him. “If you want to hear it, you let me know. I’ll get better at it.”

“Maybe every once in a while,” Jack says, trying not to let his voice sound like he’s crying. It does anyway.

“Alright then,” Dean says, and he squeezes him one more time before letting go, turning away abruptly and bustling back to the stove. Jack wipes his eyes on his sleeve, his whole chest feeling empty and full all at once. The rag had fallen out of his hands sometime in their conversation, and he leans down to grab it, pausing to wipe up the blood on the floor. Dean comes back a minute later and pulls it out of his hand before passing him another plate. “Here, since the last one humpty-dumpty’d.”

They don’t continue the conversation. Jack eats his breakfast as Dean fixes himself another cup of coffee, and they sit quietly, waiting for Cas to come home.

[boredfanwrites]

Infinitesimal Shift

Am I jumping on the Buddie stuck in an elevator bandwagon during the blackout? Absolutely I am.

- Buck is walking Eddie down to his truck from the apartment when the blackout happens.

- They're two hours out of a 36-hour shift and Eddie wanted to shower before picking Chris up from his Abuela's.

- Buck's apartment was closer to the station - not to mention Eddie had met Buck before their shift and carpooled in the Jeep.

- Either way, they're stuck between the second and third floor when the blackout strikes.

- The elevator lurches loudly, metal grinds and the boys plaster themselves against the wall as it jolts to a stop.

- They're both on their phones in an instant, no signal and the electronic alarm obviously isn't working.

- 'I think my landlord said there was a failsafe alarm built into these that works off its own battery,' Buck says, trying to pull off the panel.

- Eddie hums, sitting down with his back against the wall of the elevator, watching the blonde finally manage to get behind the panel.

- Buck's right, of course. They hear a ringing bell.

- 'Hopefully, landlord hears that and calls dispatch.'

- 'Dispatch? Who also probably have no power?'

- 'I did not think that far ahead.'

- Buck takes a seat next to Eddie and they sit in silence for a few minutes.

- Buck keeps looking at Eddie, making sure he isn't panicking. They've both had their share of small spaces, but he knows Eddie isn't quite over the well.

- Eddie can feel Buck's staring and makes a point to not look at him. If he looks at Buck then he'll smile and Eddie will smile back and all the feelings he's been ignoring dealing with will come out.

- He fails.

- In less than 30 seconds after thinking it.

- 'What?'

- 'Just making sure you're ok.'

- Because of course Buck's first concern is Eddie's well-being.

- 'Are you?'

- 'Coping,' he laughs weakly. 'Did you know we're more likely to die in a shark attack than an elevator?'

- 'Surely that's the other way around?'

- 'Yeah, I think it might be. I was just trying to lighten the mood.'

- And wow, Eddie thinks, I'm such a jerk.

- He'd gotten used to bantering around with Buck. Sarcasm disguising his endless fondness for the younger man.

- Now isn't the time.

- 'I'm glad I decided to walk you down, so you're not in the elevator alone,' Buck starts rambling. 'Not that I wouldn't have come to check up on you if you had gone alone. I would've run out the second everything went dark. Maybe we should've taken the stairs. I mean I know it was a joke 'cause that was your first shift back and you're not quite in the same shape you were a couple months ago and...'

- It's adorable. It is. It's all Eddie can think and focus on.

- He knows Buck is doing it as a distraction from their situation but right now it's making him fall more in love with the man.

- He has to do something. Say something.

- 'Ana and I broke up.'

- Buck stops short. He stares at Eddie for a bit and the older man shrinks under his gaze.

- Neither say anything for a while and Buck tries the failsafe alarm again.

- Eddie stares at Buck's back, straining his eyes at the height. He's trying to telepathically get Buck to speak because he doesn't want to have to explain.

- He doesn't know how to.

- It was an inevitable event.

- 'Not long after I was shot, actually. Maybe two weeks?'

- Buck spins on his heel and stares at him.

- 'You have been single for a month and a half? And you didn't think to tell me until we got stuck in here?'

- 'You were with Taylor?' Eddie knows it's a weak defense.

- 'Why does that matter?!' And Buck sees right through it.

- 'I don't know. I just thought that maybe you'd want to focus on your own love life for once, instead of getting dragged in to the end of mine. Again.'

- Buck is silent again, judging Eddie from the corner. Feeling out what he should say next.

- Except he doesn't.

- Silence again.

- Eddie complains a lot about needing peace and quiet, but now that he has it, he's not sure he wants it.

- He'd give anything for one of Buck's signature smiles right now.

- That hasn't happened since the elevator first stopped and god how long has it even been.

- Eddie checks his phone. An hour. It's been an hour.

- His background of Chris and Buck smiling and building Lego together mocks him.

- He realizes he would never have made Ana his background and isn't that what couples do?

- 'Hey Buck? What's your cell background?'

- 'You and Chris tackling that pancake stack at Ellie's your last birthday?'

- 'Not Taylor?'

- 'Why would it be Taylor?'

- 'Because she's your girlfriend?'

- 'She's not.'

- Buck sounds exasperated. Like he's had to explain multiple times.

- Eddie guesses he has, back before they were a thing. But he told Eddie she kissed him after he was shot and that the two were going to try dating.

- 'I thought...'

- 'You thought wrong. I couldn't. Don't like her like that anymore.'

- 'Wow you sound like one of Chris' friends with a crush,' it comes out before Eddie can stop it.

- Hurt fills Buck's eyes and Eddie has to look away. He can't deal with being the reason for it.

- 'And if I told you there's someone I'm in love with but can't have? There's someone who actually thinks I'm worthy and deserving of love? But for two months I thought they were taken and I couldn't keep hurting myself anymore so I thought I would move on?'

- Eddie gulps. He can't. He can't be talking about Eddie. Life doesn't work that way. Not for him.

- 'Except I couldn't. It's too soon. I still love him and I can't imagine life without him and now that I know he's single it's all I can think about. Us. How well we work together. How beautiful we could be. Do I sound like an adult again?'

- Buck's glaring but it doesn't have as big of an effect when there are tears in his eyes.

- 'Evan.'

- His face softens. He's smiling at Eddie again.

- Granted, Eddie may have taken some liberties with calling Buck by his first name.

- It was only reserved for serious conversations. Times when Buck needs to listen and believe what was coming out of Eddie's mouth.

- 'I love you, too.'

- 'You do?'

- 'How could I not? I broke up with Ana because I was trying to deal with my feelings for you. I wasn't sure, you know? You're such a big part of my and Chris' life and I was trying to rationalize it as appreciation for you. You do so much for us and never ask for anything in return. But I was wrong. It's love. It's been love for at least a year and I was just too afraid to accept it.'

- Buck just smiles, reaching out a hand.

- Eddie takes it easily.

- He leans into Buck's side, pulling the other's arm around him.

- He knows that Buck is feeling for a heartbeat, Eddie's listening for Buck's too.

- They stay like that until the doors creak open and Albert's face pops between the gap.

- 'Hey, they're not dead!'

- The team gets them out pretty easily and they both agree to come in on shift to help with the fall out of the blackout. It's mostly going to be driving around in the rig, trying to spot problems as they occur.

- Buck walks Eddie to his truck and grabs the extra LAFD hoodie he keeps in there for emergencies.

- The same hoodie that Eddie has stolen on some of the harder nights when he was alone.

- He realizes just how entangled Buck had become in the Diaz's lives. Buck keeps a change of clothes in the truck, Eddie keeps a set of his own in the Jeep.

- Buck has his own drawer at Eddie's house, but Eddie doesn't have anything at Buck's.

- Buck spends more time living on Eddie's couch than either of them spends in the apartment.

- Buck belongs at home. With Chris. With Eddie.

- 'You know, if you moved in with me, you wouldn't get caught in an elevator in a blackout again,' Eddie tries.

- 'Yeah?'

- 'Yeah.'

- Buck moving into the Diaz residence was an inevitable event.

- Eddie was right - the next blackout, Buck didn't get stuck in an elevator. He was surrounded by candles and blankets, cuddled up with his boyfriend and son.

https://ko-fi.com/boredfanwrites

[littlemissnoname13]

Wisps of Smoke (Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!Reader) - Part three

Summary: Draco and Y/n find themselves drawn to an abandoned classroom every single night

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!Reader

Warnings: excessive smoking, mature language and themes, smut, oral (male receiving ), 18+ content, reader discretion is advised.

A/n: two more parts to go and the story is done!!!

once again, thank you to everyone that read part one and two and asked to be tagged. I love you guys.

I’d like to stress that smoking is injurious to health. (*lights up another cigarette and types furiously*) This part is a bit lengthy so bare with me.

Word count: 4000

Part 1 & Part 2 (if you haven’t read them already)

Thursday (Continued)

Was he dreaming? 

No, he definitely was dreaming. 

How else could he explain this recurring dream, fantasy, vision—call it what you want. 

You, down on your knees in front of him, pushing his knees apart and palming him through his trousers. 

You, fumbling with his belt buckle and slowly unzipping him, letting him spring free. 

What had he done in this life to deserve this?—to deserve you and your full red lips slowly wrapped around his hardened cock. 

You kept your eyes fixed on his though. Shiny, playful eyes looking up at him as you hollowed out your cheeks taking him in even further. 

“Fuck—y/n.” He let out a groan and gripped firmly onto the windowsill as you sucked him off. 

This definitely wasn’t a dream—it was far too real to be a dream. 

The way you hummed while you bobbed your head up and down and the vibrations that he felt all over his length was a reminder that this was in fact, happening. 

“That’s it.” 

Draco dipped his head backwards and closed his eyes. His cold hand caressed your face before slowly making their way through your tousled locks. 

You gripped his thighs and went in deeper, making the tip touch the back of your throat as tears started to spill out of your eyes. 

“Such a good girl.” He praised holding your hair up into a makeshift ponytail. "You look so perfect with my cock in your pretty little mouth." 

It was surprising how his words only made you tighten your lips around his cock and jerk off the bit you couldn't fit in your mouth and this only made him groan and tighten his grip on your hair—fucking your face.  

Friday

“It’s been raining quite a bit these days.” Adrian commented as you both walked towards the dungeons. 

“It has.Hasn’t it?” You mumbled, turning to take a long look at him. There was no denying that he looked good in his Quidditch uniform—with his dark hair complimenting the Slytherin green. 

Both of you quietly entered the common room and sat down on a couch surrounded by an uncomfortable silence that was getting far too familiar at this point. 

Both of you spent time together just for the sake of both of your parents who’d carefully set up your relationship.

Sometimes, you went on dates and stuffed your mouth with food just to avoid having a conversation.

And then there were nights of efficient and routinely sex and ignoring each other’s presence afterwards. 

You picked on the ends of your hair and wondered why you were still with Adrian and vice versa. 

Sure you’d known him for years, sure he’d held your hand through every awkward dinner and other miscellaneous and pretentious strictly pure blood events but there was a difference between loving someone and being in love with someone. 

Still, that didn’t justify your clandestine rendezvous with Draco and the guilt was slowly eating you up. 

“Everything alright with you y/n?” Adrian asked, placing his hand on top of yours. 

“Yes—I mean no. Yes.” 

Adrian raised his eyebrows, looking befuddled. 

“Adrian, there’s something I need to tell—”

“That won’t be necessary.” He said as he quickly cut you off. “I already know what you’re about to tell me—you are rubbish at glamour spells, you know.I can still see most of the bruises on your neck.” 

You touched your neck and drew in a sharp breath when your fingertips landed on a fresh one from last night.

“May I ask who?” Adrian cleared his throat, instantly making you retrieve your hands from your neck.

And as if on cue, the Slytherin seeker who’d marked your neck up walked into the common room still in his Quidditch fit.

His hair was ruffled up due to all the flying and there was a slight cut near his left brow. You wondered if he’d gotten that cut during practice or if he’d started a brawl with someone. 

When it came to Malfoy, you could never be too sure. 

Adrian’s eyes followed your own and he shook his head in disbelief when he got the answer to his question.

“Malfoy?” He asked while you stared at the ground below hoping it would swallow you whole.

“I’m sorry Adrian.”

“I don’t know what to tell you y/n.” Adrian whispered using his hand to lift your chin up. “You and I both knew this relationship was going nowhere didn’t we?”

You nodded and you slowly stretched out your arms and wrapped them around Adrian’s waist as he rested his head on top of yours. 

“I’ll see you around y/n.”

~~~~~~

“And there goes my peace and quiet.” Draco muttered, flicking the ashes away from the lit cigarette between his index and middle finger as you entered the classroom that night. 

The scent of soap and the water droplets at the ends of his hair indicated that he was fresh out of the shower. 

“Well, hello to you too.” You retorted as you got comfortable on the windowsill next to him. 

He simply scoffed and continued to smoke his ridiculously expensive cigarettes and instinctively, you drew in a long deep breath.

You tried to talk to him but all you got were clipped responses and curt nods. 

“What’s gotten you in such a mood today?” You asked firmly as you got down from the windowsill and took a step towards him with your arms crossed over your chest. “I can usually tolerate you but Merlin!”

“If you can’t tolerate me, why don’t you just run along to your dorm then?”

“Okay—You really don’t want me here do you?” You asked trying your hardest to ignore the sudden hurt you felt. 

“I never said that. I just don’t think it’s a smart idea on your end to be here when Pucey is probably waiting for you in your bed.” 

“I share my dorm with Pansy and Millicent.” You pointed out as you took another purposeful step towards him until you were standing in between his parted legs. “Not everyone here has their own room.” 

“Well, that is hardly my fault.” He shrugged, flicking the ash off of his cigarette with another swift motion of his hand before placing it between his lips again.

You pulled the cigarette out of his lips and pressed the lit end on the windowsill extinguishing it.

“You really are a frustrating little git you know.” 

He looked up with you, quizzically with his silvery eyes that looked like they were made of pure mercury as you cradled his face in the palm of your hands.

“You frustrate me Draco Malfoy and yet, I find myself in this classroom every single night.” 

He drew a sharp breath sliding both his hands on your hip before pulling you down towards him until you were straddling him.

Seeing you with Adrian had ignited this peculiar kind of stabbing sensation inside the pit of his stomach. 

“And I find everything you do rather infuriating.” He murmured cupping your face in his hands—his rings cold on your cheeks. “You talk too much, your potion making skills are abysmal and did I tell you that I had to refrain from pushing Pucey off his broom at practice today?” 

“In my defense, I like talking, I hate potions and Adrian broke up with me..” 

He blinked a couple times before pressing his forehead to yours. “Y/n, you can’t just spring out information like that so nonchala—”

“Kiss me Draco—take me. Make me shut up, make me yours.” You whispered, cutting him off, shocked at your confidence. 

And before he could utter another word, you slowly closed the gap between your lips. 

He felt like a man coming out of a fog when your lips touched—he adored your lips. They reminded him of ripened cherries and he wanted to bite them till they were bleeding with sweetness. 

It wasn’t long before his hands made their way to the hair along the nape of your neck and he deepened the kiss by grabbing a fist full of your hair and pushing your face closer to his.

And as much as you loved the way he kissed you, you were aching for something more. 

You broke the kiss to place greedy kisses along his sharp jawline causing a groan to escape his lips.

The way you gripped onto the collar of his shirt and bit onto his exposed flesh was a far cry from being ladylike. 

No. 

The way you started to grind your hips against the growing bulge in his pants, desperate for friction against your clothed core was enough to make any uptight pure blood girl with her “proper etiquettes” blush. 

You never really did care about all that rubbish anyway. 

The amount of self control Draco needed to grip your hips firmly in place so that you’d stop moving was astronomical. 

“Not here.” He whispered staring into your eyes.

~~~~~~

“Draco put me down! Filch is going to see us!” You protested as he lifted you up in his arms and started to walk towards his room. 

“Then stop it with the yelling.” 

“I’m not yelling.” You pointed out as Draco muttered the password to the Slytherin common room and before you knew it, you were in his room, spread out on his bed.

Your clothes were long gone—thrown away somewhere in his room and you could feel the softness of his sheets against your naked skin. 

“So fucking beautiful y/n.” He said, staring at you longingly. 

Draco was too awestruck to tell you but he’d wanted this for so long.

He’d stayed up late, lost sleep, and spent too many mornings invested in the thoughts of you on his bed—your cheeks flushed, your hair tousled and your legs pushed apart giving just the perfect view. 

The boy had fucked his fist in the thoughts of you, let’s be honest. 

Fuck. He wanted to destroy you—push himself inside of you till you were screaming his name.

There was a fervent kind of lust burning in his veins as he leaned down to crush his lips onto yours.

He didn’t want to hold back. 

He wasn’t capable of holding back anymore. 

Not with his lips when he parted your lips apart.

Not with his hands that roamed all over your bare skin—feeling every curve, every valley,  every mark, even the tiniest birthmark that made you so uniquely you. 

“Draco..” 

“Don’t say my name like that.” He said in a raspy voice as his tongue lapped against your taught nipple. “I won’t be able to restrain myself if you do.” 

You used your hands to grasp his hair and hold his face firmly in place as his tongue alternated between your nipples. 

“Then don’t...fuck yes..Draco..I want you—you know that I want you.”

“Oh?” He smirked looking up at you making your cheeks glow red.

He came back up and continued to kiss you as your hands started to work to get rid of his shirt. 

Both of you paused for a minuscule second as you stared at each other and the second your eyes met, something snapped and the rest of the world faded into a void. 

Lips against lips. 

Skin against skin. 

His hands grasping your hair and your nails digging into his biceps. 

His mouth attached themselves to your nipples again in an aggressive kind of way and all you could do was whimper out his as you writhed underneath him. 

He languidly ran his fingers up and down your slit, barely making enough contact with your clit. 

“So fucking wet..” 

You whimpered and arched your hips upward as he continued. 

“Tell me y/n, is this what you mean when you say you want me, hm?” He whispered softly against your skin and all you could do was let out a cry. 

“Draco...please..”

Two of his fingers pushed into your folds and you clutched hard into his shoulders.

And when he suddenly removed his fingers from you, you winced at the sudden feeling of emptiness. 

Draco stuck his fingers into your mouth and murmured into your ears. 

“Suck.” 

You closed your eyes and began to suck on his fingers while your hands hurriedly reached for his belt buckle. 

“So pretty.” He said in a low voice as he moved his tip up and down your slit not entering just yet. His eyes, clouded and saturated with desire met yours searchingly.

“Are you sure you want this?”

“Yes—fuck me already.” You pleaded. “Please I want you so fucking—oh..fuck...mmmm…..”

He rammed himself inside of you as soon as the words fell out of your mouth. 

At first, he took his time with you—trying to commit himself to memorising just how you took him, how his cock felt inside your warm cunt.

He then thrusted hard and deep as he kept himself propped up on top of you, supported by his elbows.

The sight of you underneath him, with your soft hair flowing down his pillow in all directions, the warm flush on your cheeks and the way your face contorted in pleasure drove him wild. 

Each of his kisses were accompanied by hard thrusts and you fisted the sheets and clenched his cock inside of you making him cuss and groan. 

"Fuck, You take me so well y/n—so fucking tight..your cunt is fucking perfect...fuck.." 

He moaned, increasing the speed of his thrusts causing you to clench him even more. 

"Fucking do that again." He hissed thrusting deeper inside of you hitting just the right spot. 

“Oh...Fuck...Draco…”

“Fuck y/n...say my name” He demanded as he leaned down and his tongue lapped against your taught nipple. “Fucking scream my name—” 

“Draco...Oh..Draco...Draco!” You whimpered, gripping his hair while he sucked on your nipple. 

He most certainly didn’t not hold back with his skillful tongue when he cleverly suckled on your sensitive nipples, timing the movement of his thrusts pumping in and out of you perfectly with his licks. 

“That’s right..” he said with his thumb now pleasuring your clit. “Let the whole of Slytherin know who you belong to.”

It was strange how the possessiveness turned you on even more and a tight knot started to form inside of your stomach as the sound of skin slapping against skin started to get louder and louder in his room. 

"Oh my god...fuck..right there—Draco!" You cried out when he hit your sensitive spot over and over again with each thrust.

Draco's breathing soon got increasingly strained as he picked up the pace. "Fuck y/n. You’re gonna make me fucking cum if you keep screaming like that—fuck.” 

But to his absolute pleasure and dismay, you just couldn’t stop moaning. 

It was too much. 

You always thought people were exaggerating when they said they could see stars and celestial whatnots when they approached their highs but now you yourself we’re seeing them. 

Time and space became non-existent to you as he pounded into you. 

"Oh fuck..I’m gonna.." You bit your lower lip as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. 

"Cum for me." He groaned. "Cum all over my cock." He wrapped his ring clad fingers around the base of your throat and that did it for you really. 

"Draco!" You moaned in complete euphoria when your orgasm hit you, causing your legs to spasm as you clenched him. 

"Fuck—" he let his own orgasm wash all over him as he released is load inside of you.

He had never before seen a prettier sight than your cunt—fucked out and leaking with his cum.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Saturday 

You sipped on your Butterbeer and glanced at the people seated with you at the three broomsticks.

Pansy was explaining something animatedly to Theo while Draco and Blaise were talking about the upcoming Quidditch match against Ravenclaw. 

The tiniest of smiles crept up your lips when you observed your long time friends. 

You could still remember the excitement you all felt when you got your hands on your Hogwarts letter.

And the elated expressions all of you had exchanged at the great hall after being sorted into Slytherin was still fresh inside of your mind. 

As you looked around the table, Draco’s stormy grey eyes caught yours. 

You always did think he looked fucking attractive in his Quidditch jumper, especially with his icy blonde hair combed neatly to the side. 

The sight made you want to chew on your bottom lip and he smirked when he noticed how flustered you’d suddenly gotten. 

“Y/n. It’s your turn to fetch the Butterbeers.” Pansy’s voice interrupted your supposed eye fucking  staring contest with Draco and you quietly stood up and walked towards the counter. 

“Looks like Cormac Mclaggen has taken an interest in y/n.” Theo commented, making Draco’s head snap at your direction.

You were waiting for your Butterbeer, blissfully unaware of the way Cormac eyed you from head to toe. 

“Draco—Mate is everything alright?” Blaise asked looking at how white Draco’s knuckles had turned from gripping onto his glass. 

“Just perfect.” Draco said through gritted teeth. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sunday

“We..mmmm..really can’t—oh fuck—do this here right now—oh yes Draco right there—” You whimpered trying your hardest to suppress a moan. 

It was way too early to be at the library, especially on a Sunday. 

You could have been at Draco’s room curled up under his sheets but Blaise insisted to meet up at the library to get a head start on your Potions essay. 

To your absolute delight, Blaise seemed to be running late and thus, you were pressed against a bookshelf in the far corner of the library—your palms and cheeks touching the book spines as he pushed in and out of you. 

“Okay y/n.” He half whispered and half nibbled on your earlobe as he slowed himself down. “I’ll stop If you say so.” 

“No.” You whined pushing your hips backwards.

“But you said we shouldn’t be doing this.” He chuckled.

“Please Draco..” you whined and Instantly made him pound right into you. The way you said please had destroyed any semblance of control he had over himself. 

“Sorry I overslept this mor—SALAZAR FUCKING SLYTHERIN!” Blaise’s hands Instantly flew over his eyes when he saw just what was happening. 

Oh Fuck.

Monday

“What is happening to this world?” Pansy asked bewildered—rubbing her eyes and trying to digest the sight in front of her while Theo opened and closed his mouth in an attempt to answer but the words seemed to have disappeared inside of him. 

Draco was seated on an armchair in the Slytherin common room with you on his lap. You had your arms wrapped firmly around his torso while your head rested on his chest. 

Both of you had fallen asleep in front of the Fireplace.

“Never thought I’d get to see this. Not in this life anyway.” Theo quipped, scratching his chin. 

“Oh, I’ve seen worse—way worse.” Blaise shuddered suddenly appearing in between Pansy and Theo. “I have seen things I cannot unsee. I have seen things that make me want to scourgify my eyes.”

“Should we wake them?” Blaise asked, looking at Theo and Pansy. 

“I say we act like we don’t know and fuck with their heads a little.” Pansy suggested. 

“Im in too. But for now, Let them be.” Theo put his arm around the other two as dragged them away. “The world seems so peaceful for once.” 

Tuesday 

After a long day of classes you changed into your silk night dress and headed towards the kitchen to sneak in some late afternoon snacks but you felt someone grab your wrist in the middle of the shadowy hallway. 

“Merlin Malfoy! You have to stop it with the lurking.” You complained as he started to kiss the base of your throat. 

“Oh please y/n.” He smirked. “You fucking love it.” 

You did. 

You loved it. 

So much that you ended up sullying the nearest classroom desk and he somehow ended up destroying your favorite slip dress.

Draco watched with fascination as you tried to slip back into the remains of your silk slip dress.

“I’m sorry about your dress.” 

“That’s okay.” You mumbled absently as you tried to get your dress to stay on your body. 

“Here.” He said hesitantly before handing you his blazer. “Wear this.”  

“Going back to my dorm with your blazer doesn’t seem like a good idea.” You chuckled as the fabric drowned you. “What am I going to tell Pansy?” 

His lips quirked into a faint smile.

“You aren’t going to your dorm y/l/n”

~~~

You were in the middle of picking up your clothes when there was a knock on Draco’s door. Thank Merlin you managed to get dressed in whatever you could find before the door unlocked. 

“Um hello Mr. Malfoy.” You squeaked at the figure standing outside Draco’s door.

You’d forever found Lucius Malfoy intimidating to say the least, his sneering expression and patronising attitude didn’t help much either. 

“Ah, Ms. Y/l/n.” Lucius responded. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” 

“I could say the same father.” Draco added, crossing his arms against his chest. 

“I was just on my way out.” You mumbled quickly summoning and collecting your things. 

You used your right leg to kick your brassiere under his bed praying you were discreet enough.

It was just one of the many things Draco’s father wouldn’t be hearing about. 

“I’ll see you around Draco.” You gave him a quick nod and turned towards Lucius. “It was good seeing you Mr.Malfoy.” 

“Likewise, y/n.” He responded. “I do believe Draco had told you about the New Years Ball.”

“Somewhat.” You lied after seeing Draco’s pale features turn as white as paper. 

Lucius hummed. 

“Please send my regards to Mrs.Malfoy.” You said before closing the door behind you. 

Safe to say, Draco didn’t show up to the classroom that night. 

Wednesday 

He cornered you into a wall before your first class for the day—kissed your lips in a “desperate measures” kind of way and vanished into class before you could say a word. 

Thursday 

You’d waited. 

Waited all alone in the classroom without him and his wisps of smoke to accompany you for the third night. 

Your thoughts ran rampant as the night faded away into morning. 

You knew he wasn’t obligated to come to the classroom but his absence bothered you nonetheless. 

Having waited for him for three whole nights, you weren’t even going to deny the idea that you had harboured feelings for him. 

Had he though? 

Would he meet you halfway even? 

What even were you two?

You shook your head and decided to head on back to your dorm and get ready for the day but the second you entered the dungeons, you realised that your feet had plans of their own. 

After a short sprint this door came into view and your heart beat started to accelerate.

"Draco!" You knocked, panting and out of breath. "Draco. Open the door!" 

You stood there knocking continuously before the door flung open. 

"Draco I need to talk to—"

A slender looking brunette girl stood on the other end wearing his Quidditch sweater that you loved so much—Sharp features, rosy cheeks and rosier lips. 

She wasn't in your year but you knew her. 

"Astoria?" You spluttered unable to get any other words out of your mouth.

"Hello. Can I help you?" 

To be continued...

__________________________________________

Part 4 Teaser:

“I could get used to waking up like this.” Draco smirked looking up at you. His platinum blonde hair was slightly wavy and kind of fluffy, falling on his forehead but not yet covering his stormy greys. 

“Like what?” you teased. 

“Don't play with me y/l/n.” He warned with a wicked gleam making the grey hues in his eyes brighten into a brilliant blue. It was almost like his eyes changed colors from blue to grey according to his moods. 

“I could get used to waking up like this too.” You said softly

Before Draco could reply, his door creaked open. 

“Malfoy, Astoria is waiting for you in the commonroo—fuck not this again.” Blaise groaned covering his eyes as you pulled the sheets over your body. 

Part four available here

___________________________________

Taglist: @maybesandohnos @justfangirlthingies @lieswithoutfairytales @dracomalfoys-wh0re @hannahhobnob @sycathorn-slush @mxl-foyrecs @daringvixon @linetteyde @imbadwithunsernames @dracoswhore007 @myunngi @goawayimreadingbeach @loxbbg @icedlattewithalmondmilk @paulina1998 @fa-me @loganrwebb @nee-naw-nee-naw-beepbeep @leaveittobecca @dummythiccwitch

I absolutely adore each and every one of you guys! Thank you sm!

[skylarmoon71]

Nick Jakoby x Reader Oneshot- (Bright)

“Oink, oink over here piggy!” 

The group of men standing in the doorway made you grimace. Damn they pissed you off. Nick walked pass them with his head lowered, trying his best to ignore the rude remarks. You’d just clocked in, and this had become a regular. Their tauntings. You really wanted to body slam all four of them. But you restrained yourself. “Don’t bother with them Nick, their dick heads. “ It was no secret that they hated the male Orc. Nick was by far the sweetest man on the force, and he wasn’t even a man. Which really said something for the unit. 

“I’m used to it, it’s fine.” you frowned. He shouldn’t have to get used to it. He was just as hardworking and diligent as any other cop. You nudged his shoulder with a smile as you walked with him. “Cheer up, in a couple of hours we have that awful dinner to attend. You have worse things ahead." Nick shook his head with a shy smile. “Is that supposed to make me feel better.” 

“Not really.” with a small giggle, you met your partner. Nick headed over to Ward, and your eyes wandered, just admiring him. You had no idea why people gave him such a hard time. It’s true that Orcs sided with the enemy in the past, but that was thousands of years ago. The world had changed so much since then, apparently not in the ways you hoped. 

Nick was so misunderstood and underappreciated. He had so much to offer if he was just given a chance. Not to mention he was a total sweetheart. Pretty handsome too. The final thought erupts a blush to your cheek, one that doesn’t go unnoticed by your partner.

“What’s got you all red in the face?” Jacob, your partner raises an eyebrow, and your face gets darker. “Nothing let’s get going.” he doesn’t quite believe you, and you try to steal one last look at Nick before you have to get going, but Jacob catches the action, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“Shit I knew it!!” His yell catches the attention of everyone in a five mile radius and as the officers stare, you feel Nick’s stare follow. You cower, smacking Jacob who just waves everyone off. When their gazes have diverted, you glare at the man before you. He raises his hands defensively. “Sorry, sorry didn’t mean to cause a scene. Not everyday you discover your partner has a crush. Damn Victoria owes me twenty bucks!” 

“Y-You betted on my love life with your wife!!” 

“Umm, hell yeah I did. Why are you even surprised?” he was right, you shouldn’t have been. You just roll your eyes, and soon the both of you are headed to the squad car. Jacob is still wearing that smug grin as you jump into the vehicle. “So when are you gonna ask him out?” 

“I-I’m not!” 

“You’re kidding, you have to (Y/N)!” Jacob has always been majorly supportive, but you’re still a little anxious. Your head lowers. “Y-You don’t think it’s weird that I..I mean I don’t  care if anyone says anything but I just..I..” The way you're struggling with your words, it’s not hard for Jacob to understand. “Listen, I’d never judge you for something like that. We’re partners (Y/N), practically family now. And honestly Nick is awesome, dude brings me scones every Tuesday cause he passes at my favorite shop on his way to work. He’s a hero in my book.” He lets out a few fake sobs to get his point across and you just groan at his childishness.

“Seriously though, Nick’s a really good guy. Everyone treats him like shit, yet he comes back and tells them to be safe. If it were me, I don’t think I’d be able to handle it that well. He could easily quit, probably just become the monster everyone keeps accusing him of being. But he wakes up and he does the job, all because he loves it, he generally cares about protecting people who don’t give a shit about him. It’s inspiring to watch. There aren’t many people like left in this world (Y/N), if you find someone like that, you should do what you can to hold onto them.” His finger ran over his wedding band, a smile playing on his lips. “That’s what I did.” His smile makes your face brighten, and you nod. 

“I’ll do my best. “ 

So maybe your partner wasn’t a complete idiot. 

That afternoon when you get home, you’re on a mission. Jacob’s advice is ringing in your head. He’s right. So you’ve decided this annual police will be your best yet. You were gonna go all out. You rarely ever get dressed up, too accustomed to dark suit pants and uncomfortable belts. You wanted something to catch Nick’s attention, then maybe it would give you the confidence to finally own up to your feelings and ask the guy out. You jump into the shower. 

“Time to knock them dead. “ 

~Three hours later~

“Quit fidgeting, you look fine.” Ward smacks Nick’s hands away from the tie. He’s been messing with it for the last ten minutes, mostly out of nervousness. This is his first time he’s worn a tux. He feels a bit ridiculous, but with Ward’s assurance, he can only hope he’s pulling it off. They stand at a table making small talk, mostly Ward. 

Nick offers a word here and there. By the looks he keeps getting, he can tell that his opinion isn’t really wanted by the people there. So he busies himself with watching the other people mingling around him. Everyone looks relaxed, sipping wine, helpling themselves to food. He’s never been a fan of this. Every year they hold these little banquets to treat the new recruits and commend exemplary performances throughout the unit. It’s a fun event for the most part. But his fellow coworkers never rest with their harsh opinions. It isn’t even verbal, just by the looks he knows. 

The sound of a few whistles catches his attention. There’s a small commotion at the doorway. He vaguely makes out the edge of purple, and that’s when he notices the man that walks in. But that isn’t what captures his eyes, it’s the woman he’s escorting on his arm. 

Golden orbs widen, and his ears twitch a bit too quickly. He wants to control it, but it’s hard, because the smile that lands in his direction knocks the wind right out of him. “Wow, your girlfriend cleans up nice.” Ward whispers. 

“S-She’s not my girlfriend.” he grumbles back. Now that you’re clear in his view, he can fully admire your dress. It’s a velvet luxe maxi dress. The color is a beautiful lavender. Thin straps at the shoulder, low cut displaying just enough cleavage. And a slit that stops mid thigh, with matching heels to complete the whole look. Your hair is loose, and a very light amount of makeup, highlighting your features. Nick thought you were gorgeous before, but somehow you’ve outdone yourself. He can’t look away, and he really should before you take notice.You settle at a table not too far from him, pulling the focus of a few males present there. With polite smiles and little words, Nick feels a bit envious. 

“Now’s your chance hotshot. Ask her out before one of those hyenas beat you to it.” Nick wants to convince Ward that it’s useless, there’s no way you’d go for someone like him. You’re completely different in every sense of the word. He doesn’t have a chance. As he opens his mouth he’s about to lay out his case, but a sweet lavender scent fills his nostrils, and he wants to question the origin, just then he feels a light tap on his shoulder. He turns, and the heavenly aroma hits him tenfold. Somehow you’ve walked over without him realizing. He’s supposed to be more aware, he’s a cop after all. Your glossed lips turn into a smile as you bat your eyes. 

“Nick..do you wanna maybe dance?” 

The slow sound filling the room, doubled with the couples now filling up the floor catches his eyes. He’s tongue tied, because you can’t really be asking him. Out of all the guys there, why him? Yes, the both of you have been friends for months now, but he’s sort of assumed your kindness was due to pity more than anything else. 

You're still watching him hopefully, and Ward gives an encouraging push. He stumbles, grabbing your shoulders lightly. When he’s steadied himself, he pulls back. “He’d love to.” Ward says. Nick doesn’t get a chance to put in a word for himself, because you smile, taking his hand and pulling him to the center of the dance floor. Nick is staggering behind, trying not to knock into anyone. When you get to your desired area, you turn back to him. Nick is stiff, the both of you are just standing there, a number of eyes on you. “I-I should probably just go, everyone is staring and I’d hate to make you uncomfortable.” 

“I’m not uncomfortable.” His eyes lift, and the way you look at him, it makes his heart hammer. What has he done to deserve your kindness, he has no idea. 

Deciding that you need to be the one to make a move, you take his hands and place them around your waist as you step closer. You can feel the slight tremble in his palms that are pressed to your body now. It’s so adorable. He’s still stiff as a board, but you know he’s trying. He’s probably so touch starved. It hurts to just think about it. Your hands are resting on his chest lightly, and you sigh, swaying with the music. Nick swallows, he’s a bit taller than you, and he’s trying his best not to look down directly at you. With you so close it’s hard for him not to pass out at how amazing you smell. Your hands slide up, going around his neck. His eyes finally meet yours, and the meaning in your eyes, it triggers something in him. “Nick..” you’re whispering, and it breaks his train of thought. “Yeah.” you lick your lips, and he wishes he could just kiss those plump lips. They are begging to be touched.  

“Do you possibly want to-” a hand pulling you from the Orc in your arms makes you jerk. Nick looks just as surprised. The officer standing between the both of you, suddenly it makes sense, and you're pissed. “Run along pig face, she’s tired of you.” Pollard rests a hand on your waist, pulling you into his side, and you shove him back. “You’re the one who’s interrupting, what the hell we were dancing!!” you're enraged. Not only has he messed up your plan to finally ask Nick out, but he’s also insulted him. Nick can see the displeasure on your face, and he’s about to suggest that maybe you leave. The last thing he wants is for you to get caught in the middle of this. He could take Pollard’s insults any day. But he doesn’t want any negative attention drawn to you. 

“Come on you don’t have to give anymore charity, we all know why you do this. You feel bad for little piggy here. Don’t waste your evening on him, how about you come with me. Have some real fun.” It’s almost laughable that he thinks you’ll drop everything and just run off with him. Nick now looks less sure of himself, a bit defeated. It’s then you realize that he must have assumed the same. You’re being nice out of some foolish obligation. You open your mouth to assure him, but stop. This time, words may not be enough. It’s time to take action. So with two swift strides you grab Nick by the lapels of his shirt and pull him in for a kiss. Pollard gapes, and Nick is tense and wide eyed. 

“I’m dreaming…” He has to be. You couldn’t be..kissing him. Your eyes are closed, and you still have a firm hold on his clothing. A few more seconds pass and you pull back slowly. Your eyes move from Nick’s soft lips, to his topaz eyes. The bewildered expression is highly anticipated. 

“If you’ll excuse us, we have business to attend to.” you take Nick’s hand, leaving a stunned Pollard, and a few surprised officers. You don’t even look back, you do however pass Jacob on your way out of the building. He’s grinning probably wider than you. When the door snaps shut behind you and you're free of the intrusive stares, you look at Nick. He’s still in a mid state of shock. “I’m sorry..” you mutter. 

Now that the events play back, you’re bashful. You didn’t even get to ask him out. Nick collects himself slowly, shaking his head. “N-No it’s fine.” An awkward silence follows. You want to say something to cut the tension, but Nick interrupts. “I should take you home.” He doesn't look at you when he says that, and now you're a bit scared that you’ve crossed a line and misread all the signs. Self conscious and mortified, you just nod. Nick’s car is parked close, as he opens the door, you jump inside. He does the same, pulling off. 

The ride is anything but pleasant. It’s so quiet you can hear a pin drop. Nick is staring ahead, and the look he wears is unreadable. 

“I ruined everything.” You should have never done that, especially since you weren’t even sure of any feelings. He must be completely disgusted with you. You're thankful that the ride isn’t long, because in a few minutes he pulls up. You don’t make any kind of eye contact, just whisper a thanks, opening the door and stepping out. 

You want to cry, how did the night turn so horrible that quickly. As you close the vehicle door, you all but sprint to your house, taking out your keys and opening your front door. You don’t even bid him goodbye, you just focus on getting inside. You do, stepping in and leaning back as you shut the door. “Idiot!” you scold yourself. “I’m an idiot..” you bite your lip. How would you ever face him again. 

The knock at your door makes you jump, and you turn, opening the door hesitantly. You peek outside, a bit surprised. “N-Nick..” He’s staring at you, maybe wanting answers for all that happened. You step back, letting him inside. He’s the one that closes the door this time. 

“Why did you kiss me?” Blunt, to the point. From the look, you know he’s just as conflicted by all of this as you. Now might be your last chance. You’ve already kissed him, what was the harm in telling him the truth. It might help you both.

“Because I..It’s what I’ve wanted to do for months now. “ you confess. His forehead creases in astonishment. “Nick I’ve..I’ve had it bad for you for so long and it makes my blood boil every time I hear the way they talk to you! You’re so caring and selfless and goddamn hot to me and I wish everyone could see how amazing you are if they’d just give you an opportunity.” you’re rambling, but you don’t care. “That jackass Pollard ruined everything I had this whole night planned out, I was gonna wow you with this dress and then finally ask you out but then he came with his false macho bullshit and it just pissed me off and that’s why I grabbed you like that to show him that this isn’t some charity I actually am crazy about you and I..” you heave, for a minute there you forgot you should breathe. “I’m so crazy about you Nick.” 

He’s still just standing there, and now you’ve given him a chance to speak. From his expression, he doesn’t know what to say. You were so out of his league. 

“I don’t understand why you would..why..” that self conscious  look, you’ve seen it many times. 

“Nick, I want you.” he stops, eyes opening a bit wider now. “I’m tired of you being so hard on yourself. You have nothing to be ashamed of.  “ you take a step forward, and he doesn’t move a muscle. “Truthfully, when I saw you earlier in this tux, I almost passed out. “ your hands reach out, going back to where they had been before Pollard stepped in. Resting right on his broad shoulders. Another thing about him that made you swoon was his build. He was nicely muscular. It just messed you up. He needs a moment to gather his breath. “Nick do you..want me?” 

“Of course!” his shout, as unexpected as it is, it makes you smile. He looks away at how desperate it sounded. “That’s good..” you don’t clarify, just lean in, and this time when your lips meet, he still doesn’t really prepare. It’s so tender, almost tentative. When he finally convinces his mind that it’s real, his hands wrap around your body, pulling you in. You sigh, and Nick responds, returning the kiss. Your head is in the clouds, You feel like you’re dreaming, if that’s the case you want to stay forever. You open your mouth, urging him to do the same, he does, taking control. 

You moan when he pushes you up against the door, now kissing you hungrily. One of his hands drift down to your bare thigh, and another needy sound releases. You can’t stop it and you don’t want to. His free hand presses to the door, and your hands grip at the clothes on his back. You’re trying to pull him forward, and he complies, pressing into you. It feels so great, his firm body trapping you there. There’s a low growl that comes from Nick, and somehow you’re even more turned on. Your hands have ventured back to the front of his tux, unbuttoning it quickly. It falls open and your fingers slip under the jacket, reveling in the taunt muscles. 

Gosh does he feel amazing. Nick feels you start to pull at the shirt, he forces himself to part. When you’ve separated, you’re both flushed and panting. Nick still believes maybe he’s at home sleeping somehow. The new scent that fills the air nearly makes his knees buckle. Your lust is so prominent, he can almost taste it. Your chest is still heaving, but you're slowly coming down from your high, so is Nick. It’s then you realize what was about to happen if not for Nick’s pause. You feel a bit embarrassed now. You hug yourself, blushing a deep red. 

“S-Sorry, guess I kind of got a bit crazy..” Nick smiles. “You don’t have to apologize.” He’d be stupid to make you feel bad about such a thing. He was just as equally responsible. Fact is, it took everything in him to stop himself. As much as he wants this to progress, he also wants more than just a heated night with you. He wants so much more. 

“(Y/N), I’d..really like to take you out sometime..” he mumbles it, still fairly insecure about it all. The way your eyes light up though, his fears are all gone. You don’t respond, and he doesn’t need one because you jump into his arms, pressing a kiss to his cheek, grinning like a child on Christmas.

“You don’t even have to ask, it’s a yes.” you  whisper in his ear. He holds you close, breathing in your scent. He wants to lock that away forever. He wants this to last forever. For now though, just being with you now, it’s enough.

[tsukibraun]

Pragma Love; Jean Kirschtein x reader

genre: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

type: series, blurb

summary: you and jean slowly develop feelings for each other over time, but you both quickly learn that love isn’t as easy as you thought

warnings: feelings of worthlessness (you get better in the end tho cause you’re a legend, obviously)

listen to: Crush- Yuna, Usher

part 1/2

read part 2 here!

Self-worth is a tricky thing. You have to know when to be humble and when to humble others. You have to be able to determine what’s just a small flaw in someone’s personality and what’s them trying to walk all over you. You have to have enough love and respect for yourself without becoming a complete narcissist. You have to know what type love you deserve and how to reject the love you don’t like. And when someone tries to challenge your worth, you have to be ready to honestly defend yourself.

This is something you’d struggled with for a long time. It wasn’t easy being able to discern people’s intentions or to come up with a reason for why they treated you the way they did. Yeah, sure, this person could just be a total jerk, or you could’ve done something to deserve the harsh treatment. Maybe you really hurt them without realizing; maybe they’re just reacting that way to defend themselves. They could be a bad person, but what if it was the other way around? You never wanted to assume anything about anyone, but in recent years you’ve learned that sometimes that’s what you have to do.

That was the first thing you noticed about Jean. You witnessed the fight he’d had with Eren in the lunchroom one night. They both retaliated back at each other, but there was something different about the way he was doing it. Eren was clearly angry and wouldn’t let someone challenge his opinions, but Jean- Jean was beyond confident. He wasn’t threatened at all by Eren or his opinions; in fact, it seemed Jean knew he was right, at least in his head, and didn’t mind letting someone know that. He was confident in himself, like he knew he’d come out as the victor; but even if he didn’t, you had a feeling he wouldn’t be too bothered by it. He seemed like the type to just be proud of making his point.

At that time, you couldn’t imagine getting into an argument like that with someone. If they disagreed with you, even if you were clearly right, you would just let it go. ‘There’s no reason to put up a fight’, you’d say, ‘they have a valid reason to think what they think’. Even if they persisted after you clearly would not retaliate, you’d either end up agreeing with them to get them off your back or just sit and take it. Confrontation wasn’t an option and must be avoided at all costs, even if you weren’t the one that started it.

That was the first thing Jean noticed about you.

You were very quiet and laid-back; you often didn’t say much when you guys were in groups. You would just sit back and listen, quietly laughing at jokes from time to time. You weren’t quiet forever, though. After a couple of months you started to open up more; not too much, but it was progress. Little by little you would start to engage in group discussion, agreeing with someone, cracking a joke, or adding to the conversation in general. He thought it was so weird. You clearly had a lot more to say but you just...didn’t. You always bit your tongue and let someone else say it, or just let the idea disappear entirely. He didn’t pester you at first, though. He wanted to see how you would come out on your own.

There was one night, though, where he was really irked by your shyness.

It was late the night before an expedition. You guys were supposed to be asleep by then, but the night before a mission is always a restless one. While some scouts were responsible enough to get some shut eye, you, Jean, Berdolt, Reiner, Mikasa, Eren, Sasha, Krista, and Ymir had other plans. All of you sat in the lunchroom, making casual conversation. It was simple things, like games you would play as kids, things you hated, funny stories from before you became scouts. Eventually, though, you began to discuss your current reality. At first it began with the EDM gear, talking about improvements, how hard it was to use, what you liked about it, etc. Then you came to the topic of Titans. Many different things were talked about here, but there was one question that made everyone tense up: If you could only save your family or fellow cadet, who should you pick?

Ymir asked this question, of course, smirking at the change in atmosphere. This was a very sensitive question for many reasons, but you didn’t think too much of it. Everyone is different with their own experiences and reasons for why or why they wouldn’t do certain things. Eren was the first to answer. “What kind of question is that? You’d save your family, obviously.” No one answered for a while, each person contemplating their answer. “Do you guys seriously have to think about this?” Eren pestered. Finally, Jean answered. “As much as I can’t stand you, Eren, I’ll have to agree with you on this one.”

Everyone else began to give their answers and it started a small debate, but you were still thinking. Jean wondered if you were just gonna sit this one out again, and honestly the idea irritated him. But to his surprise (and everyone else’s) you gave an answer. “I’d save the cadet.” Everyone went quiet and stared at you, somewhat because they were shocked you answered, and somewhat shocked of your answer. Eren in particular didn’t like it. “Are you serious? You’d pick a soldier over your own family?” The tone in his voice made you anxious, but you still decided to explain yourself.

“Well, it’s not like I don’t love my family or anything but...in most cases, the cadet is more important...in practical ways at least. I’d obviously try to save my family afterwards but-“

“How heartless are you?” He interrupted. You felt a lump form in your throat as you predicted the confrontation that was about to ensue. “How could you say that? A soldier is more important than your mother, then? Sister? Father?” You gulped, trying your best not to freak out in front of everyone. You took a couple seconds to make sure he was done before speaking again. “Well...I don’t really view you all as just soldiers,” you trailed off looking at your feet, “I do care about all of you. I don’t hold the people I care about one against the other. I care for each of them all the same.”

“So, in this certain scenario, although I would never want my family to die, saving the soldier is more practical. They’re an extra set of hands, skill, thinking ability- we all know how devastating it is to lose a soldier. Everything becomes incessantly harder. What if they were really needed for future fights? What if they were an important asset? And, if I were able to save them, they could help me possibly save my family.” You finally looked up for a second, seeing everyone’s reaction to your words. You immediately looked somewhere else so you could finish your point.

“Saving a cadet isn’t just saving them, it’s also saving the rest of us. If I were to go after my family, what other things would I miss? More Titans coming? A retreat?A change of plan? And even if I did save them, it’s another liability.” You finally looked Eren in the eyes, seeing his clenched fist and strong glare. “Unfortunately, in this world, we can’t always go after what we want. Sometimes we have to go after what we need, even if that means losing something we want. Our decisions don’t just affect us- they affect everyone.”

A long silence followed the end of your tangent. This was the most you’d ever said in one go, and they didn’t quite know how to take it. They didn’t know you had such detailed thinking, either. They shared glances with each other before some began to speak again. “You know,” Berdolt said rubbing his chin, “when you put it like that, I can see your point.”

“Yeah,” Krista agreed, “I’m not sure I would do the same thing, but I can see where you’re coming from.” Eren scoffed. “You guys are delusional. The only reason you’re agreeing with her is because you pity her.” You straightened up, palms sweating. He could be right; you saw the looks on their faces when you were done. They could just be trying to keep you from feeling dumb. Before you could say anything else, Jean came to your defense. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” He asked, cocking his head to the side and leaning forward.

“You know exactly what I mean,” Eren continued, “the girl never says anything!”

“And so what if she doesn’t,” Jean asked, “she’s not bothering you. Why do you care so much?”

“I don’t-“

“Then leave her alone,” he interrupted, “She’s allowed to have her own opinion just like the rest of us. If you’re gonna get that pissed about it, maybe you should go to sleep.” Eren quickly stood up, ready to fight with Jean again, but Mikasa quickly stopped him. You looked between the two of them not quite sure of what to do; you decided not to say anything more to Eren since you had clearly made him upset. Instead, you quietly tapped Jean’s arm and gave a quiet “Thank you.” He gave you a small smile. “Don’t mention it. You know, though,” he said leaning closer to you, “you really need to learn to stick up for yourself. You can’t be so quiet all the time or else stuff like this is gonna keep happening.” He was so close you swore he could hear your unsteady heart rate; still, you returned his word with a small smile and nod.

Ever since then, you two were close.

It wasn’t necessarily a closeness that was outwardly established between you two, it was just there. If he saw you getting anxious, depending on the situation, he would invite you over to where he was. If not, he would give you a certain look, similarly to asking if you were okay or telling you everything was okay. You sat close to each other during meals; if one of you had a smaller portion than the other, you would give a piece of your meal without saying anything. You made sure you were in eyeshot of each other, whether that be on an expedition or simple training. It wasn’t an obsessive thing, just comforting.

Being around Jean made you open up more. Slowly, you began to be okay with showing others who you were. You began to talk louder, laugh more, speak your mind (with tact, of course), and stand your ground. It wasn’t to Jean’s level, but it was there. You noticed other small differences, too. If you needed help with something, you weren’t afraid to ask for it. You could come into a conversation without overthinking it. You began to speak to other people first instead of waiting for them to speak to you. You could walk up to a group of people without feeling like you were intruding. You were able to really live, now. And it was with his help.

The more you came out of your shell, the more Jean absolutely adored you. Sometimes he would be the one to sit back and observe; he would watch you talk and laugh with everyone and be completely infatuated with you. Your laugh, your smile, your humor, your kindness, your little mannerisms; the more and more he was with you, the more he realized he was in love with you. Completely in love with you. So much so it actually started to hurt.

Although he loved being around you, knowing that any of the cadets could have a chance of sweeping you off your feet frustrated him. Since you came out, everyone noticed your charm. The boys had complimented you a couple times, to which Jean told them all to shut up. He wanted to tell you how he felt, and he eventually would, but he had no idea when. He had to use tact like you did so you wouldn’t be too shocked and reject him, but he wasn’t quite sure how. Although you two were close, he had no idea what you wanted in a guy, especially not how you’d want to be confessed to. You didn’t seem to want much from anyone, but there was a part of you he didn’t know yet; the romantic part- that part of you with anyone was completely closed off. He didn’t want to ask you, either, because it was clearly something you weren’t too comfortable talking about.

He had no idea what to do, which was a pretty rare occurrence, at least when it came to women. Either way, he was going to tell you. He just had to figure out when.

Meanwhile, you were completely ignoring your feelings for Jean. Although you were a lot more open with everyone, there were certain parts you kept from them, even from yourself. You noticed the butterflies in your stomach, a different type of longing for his presence, him popping up in your head at random times. You knew how you felt about him, but you continued to lie to yourself. “It’s nothing,” you’d say, “I’m just overthinking it.”

You’d noticed him staring at you with a certain look in his eyes; the way he’d smile at you, the way he’d purposely brush your hands together when walking by, him being more protective and watchful of you- it was little stuff, but clearly different than what it’d been before.

And you absolutely loved it.

You didn’t notice, but you began to do the same thing. Smiling at him if you saw him sleep, fussing at him if he ever got hurt, making sure he had everything he needed at all times, fixing his collar or hair when it was a mess; everyone else saw it except you.

One day you’d have to come to terms with how you felt, but until then, you’d deny the feelings every change you got.

***

uh...hi!! this is something pretty different from what i normally do 😅 i’m not too comfortable writing stuff like this but i’m trying my best! hopefully this was a nice introduction to this series. anyways, if you read all of it, thank you sm!! i can’t tell you how much i appreciate it. take care and stay safe!<333

[goodlucktai]

What about some hurt/comfort for Natsume & Natori? (Not slash tho)

Natori doesn't seem like he has anyone in his life to take care of him except his shikigami :(

x

"You need to sleep," Hiiragi says. Her tone is unchanging, an unhurried monotone, but somehow it manages to carry a thread of concern.

Shuuichi waves her off, sifting through papers. "In a minute. I just have to finish this."

A group of exorcists in over their heads sent these reports earlier today. Yesterday, now, Shuuichi amends inwardly with a bleary glance at the clock in the kitchen, which reads an inappropriately cheerful 6:07 AM. And they'll arrive to collect them, along with Shuuichi's notes, in just a few hours.

"They are presumptuous," Hiiragi says, "to assume you had this time to spare them, and on such short notice. You're busy."

"Not with anything that matters," Shuuichi laughs. It comes out not sounding like a laugh at all. Hiiragi tips her head incrementally to the side, no doubt staring at him behind her mask.

"Your work does matter."

"This work does," Shuuichi says, laying a hand on the papers scattered across the desk. "The other stuff-- "

"The 'stuff' that pays your bills," Hiiragi says. "The 'stuff' that keeps you fed, and gives you reason to leave your house and interact with people who won't make you think about ghosts."

It's Shuuichi's turn to stare. "I didn't realize you were such a firm believer in my acting career."

"I don't understand it," she says frankly. "But you enjoy it. It may not be.... 'vanquishing evil,'" she goes on, quoting the report the exorcists sent as if it's something slimy she's peeling off her shoe, "but that doesn't mean it doesn't matter."

It might be the lack of sleep talking, but Shuuichi feels strangely touched. He has to swallow before he can reply, something that happens rarely, if at all.

"I'll make sure to sign an autograph for you," he teases, grinning. "But only after I've finished this."

"Hm," Hiiragi says. She doesn't call him an idiot, at least. A few minutes after that she leaves from the living room window, ostensibly to patrol the neighborhood.

Shuuichi will just finish his notes, and then set an alarm for-- he checks the clock again, and winces-- and hour and a half. He'll get that much sleep, at least. He's worked with less.

At some point, the front door opens. That's odd. Only a few people have a key to his apartment, and none of them who do live anywhere near here. His shiki certainly don't use the door.

A familiar voice says, "Hi, Natori-san."

Shuuichi lifts his head, so fast his vision swims. There's Natsume, standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the sitting room, hands full with a cardboard drink tray and a brown paper bag bearing the distinctive golden arches. He looks decidedly windblown, as if he flew the whole way here. He probably did.

His brow is wrinkled, mouth tucked into a frown. It's the way Shuuichi imagines Hiiragi's face looks behind her mask at least ninety-percent of the time.

"What on earth are you doing here?" Shuuichi says, pushing himself upright. He has to lean on the desk to get there. Natsume clocks it with a flick of his eyes but doesn't comment. "Don't you have school today?" Shuuichi goes on, desperately trying to remember what day it is. Friday, right?

"No school," Natsume says, putting the drinks and the bag on the counter. "Teacher's institute."

"Are you in trouble?" Shuuichi asks carefully.

"I have to be in trouble to come visit you?"

Natsume wanders into the sitting room and sets his messenger bag and his ugly cat down on the sofa. He actually points a stern finger at the cat in clear warning that it needs to behave itself, as if it isn't actually a giant monster capable of leveling buildings should it so choose. Something about that manages to be hilarious, where it isn't slightly horrifying.

Shuuichi smiles a bit. This weird kid means the world to him.

"Did you bring me breakfast?" he asks lightly. "I hope that's coffee."

Natsume is so receptive to any manner of kindness, even after the life he's lived, that he smiles back like a knee-jerk reaction. It still feels like an accomplishment when he does.

"Tea," he corrects. "And some egg sandwiches. The sausage ones are for sensei. Can you eat with me, or-- if you're too busy-- "

"I can take a break," Shuuichi says, and slings his arm around Natsume's shoulders, steering him back into the kitchen. "Let's talk about what dragged you all the way out here in the early hours of the morning, shall we? Does your mother know where you are?"

"Of course she does," Natsume insists. "She even sent some leftovers with me. I put them in the fridge already."

Shuuichi is in a vulnerable state, and that just about undoes him. He clears his throat and takes a big, scalding gulp of tea instead of saying or doing anything embarrassing. "Tell her I said thank you," he manages.

"Or you could just call her," Natsume points out dryly.

"Or I could just call her," Shuuichi agrees.

In his defense, Shuuichi truly didn’t stand a chance. The combination of heavy food and a hot drink… the pale fingers of dawn creeping through the shades at the kitchen window… the steady back-and-forth of comfortable, friendly conversation… no one asking anything of him, expecting anything from him, except his company…

He dozes off in his chair at the counter, face buried in his folded arms. He feels someone draw a blanket around his shoulders, their cold fingers lingering protectively near his nape, and Hiiragi’s voice says, “Thank you. He’s very stupid.”

“No he isn’t,” Natsume replies loyally. “Well, not all the time.”

It’s ridiculous how well Shuuichi sleeps after that.

He wakes up a solid ten hours later, the blanket slipping to the floor. The TV is on in the next room. Hiiragi is perched on the counter beside him. Her mask somehow manages to appear both smug and judgemental without actually changing at all.

“Sleep well?” she asks with no inflection.

“What-- time is it?” Shuuichi asks blearily, looking around for the clock.

“A little after four,” Hiiragi says. “Those exorcists have come and gone.”

“What?”

“They didn’t come inside. Natsume dealt with them at the door.”

“Sorry, Natori-san,” Natsume pipes up in the doorway. He shuffles a bit, self-conscious until Hiiragi seems to catch his eye. Then he lifts his chin a little and says, “You seemed tired, so I handled it. Hiiragi and Sasago both said it was okay.”

Betrayal, Shuuichi thinks, glaring hard at Hiiragi. She gazes serenely back, entirely unmoved. He’s firing her.

“Natsume, I appreciate it,” because there’s very little in this life that Natsume could do that Shuuichi wouldn’t back him up on, “but don’t talk to strangers. Even though they’re exorcists, that doesn’t automatically make them trustworthy.”

“I don’t trust most exorcists,” Natsume says plainly. “You’re one of, like, two exceptions.”

And there’s a lot to unpack there, but for some reason the first thing Shuuichi thinks of to ask is, “One of two? Who’s the other one?”

After a beat, in which Natsume looks as though he doesn’t want to answer, he admits, “Hakozaki-san.”

“Hak-- the recluse with the dragon shiki? The owner of that mansion we watched burn?” Shuuichi laughs, unable to help himself. It unwinds tension in his body he hadn’t even realized he was holding. “Natsume, you never even met him!”

“I still liked him!” Natsume says hotly, embarrassed. “He was friends with yokai!”

“And I’m sure if he’d had the chance to know you, he would have spirited you away as his son and heir within two business days.” Shuuichi chuckles, leaning back in his chair. “Lucky for me he didn’t have the chance, I suppose.”

Natsume huffs, but he still climbs into the seat next to Shuuichi. After a beat, Nyanko-sensei hops up into his lap.

“I might have gotten you in trouble with those exorcists,” the boy admits. “I told them to do their own homework from now on. That if they kept taking advantage of your kindness, you wouldn’t help them anymore.” He glances at Shuuichi sidelong from beneath his fringe, and adds, “They got mad, so I sicced sensei on them. I, um, think they thought he was my shiki. I also think they thought I’m from your clan. I couldn’t tell ‘cause they were all, um-- screaming, at the same time.”

And-- okay. There is a right and a wrong way to react to this, clearly. A teenage boy using his terrifying yokai friend to menace people within Shuuichi’s network? Not good! Very bad, even!

But Shuuichi has to lean forward against the counter, face buried in his hands, because he’s absolutely howling with laughter. Natsume is stammering, trying to explain himself, but he doesn’t say sorry. He isn’t sorry for sticking up for Shuuichi. He showed up at Shuuichi’s apartment at seven AM with McDonald’s on his day off from school, and chased a bunch of exorcists out of the building, because his friend needed a break and that’s just the kind of person Natsume is.

The kind of person who deserves something fancy for dinner tonight, Shuuichi decides, and he’s still smiling as he reaches for his phone.

Hiiragi places it neatly in his hand.

“I don’t want your autograph,” she says. She doesn't call him an idiot out loud, but she's probably thinking it.

Hell, he’ll order something fancy for her, too.