#it at work all day.... the fights are challenging but actually not as difficult as i thought considering how much ppl complain

[aspho-bell]

Very well-put thoughts and I totally agree that there's some problem about Ifan's characterization. To be honest, I think there's a part of a coward move ( thing unfortunately too present in art these days ) as it feels like the dev's didn't want to push the "bad guy" too much far, fearing that, us, players, wouldn't like him.

The problem resides ( for me ) mostly in the rupture Act I-Act II. Ifan, a so-called selfish man, didn't think twice between his old crew and some folks he fled with. I think Larian forced too quickly the "found family" trope on him, eager to highlight how much he's a good man and how much the world had been too cruel to him. He's a damn fucking cornelian tragic boy and he should have been struck by dilemna, which didn't happen, and that's a loss. The evolution should have a been a slow rise and we were given a sudden rupture - it didn't feel right.

Of course, we also can't ignore that fact that your player character have probably killed tens of people before you arrived here. It's generally a dnd & cie problem, as killing your adversaries often came as the only way to go further. Understandable for gameplay, but narratively, they don't challenge it enough ( I could go on again and again how killing the Seven feels so unrewarding in term of narrative, but that's another story for another time ). So yeah, difficult to actually hold Ifan against his actions when you are yourself a mass murderer.

"Those hands have killed" during the love scene. Both of you have mentioned this quote, and indeed, there is a lot to say. The immediate context isn't off by itself - this duality could have worked if the overall context of the game played along and showed a violent, more ambiguous Ifan. Indeed, and it was great to notice it, more people should be afraid of him.

Ifan should have been a fucking shadow over you. People screeching when seeing him. People running away, going silent right now, refusing to talk to him - a constant reminder that he had killed, and that he was a cruel man, once.

And I think Ifan should have been more violent, or rather he should have tend more to violence. He was a soldier ( and a crusader, and we know from history they weren't the greatest guys in the world ) then a mercenary. Violence should be his initial response - we already see how it drenched his whole quest with vengeance, but he is too tamable. You can stop him whenever you feel like it, and all of that tends to suggest that his violence is "not that big of a deal". It lightens the impact over the player : sometimes, the Lone Wolf card looked more like a bad boy card, and I say that in the meanest way possible.

On the contrary, the idea that you can't totally control him would give him more agency over his own quest, and all the more impactful. Betrayal is indeed a great idea. People should be more afraid of Ifan - in fact, I'd add that the narration should make the player afraid of Ifan. Seeing him ignoring your advices despite you begging him to spare somebody would had have a great impact. He's a wolf - we should have seen him as uncontrollable.

A way of showing you that, sometimes, the leash isn't enough.

And even if he doesn't act violently : the game would have gain to show his hesitation, his contradictions. Ifan's morals are very complex, ( I would even say that he has literaly two wolves fighting in his mind ) and we should have seen more of this inner battle.

Maybe it's my liking for dark fantasy which alter my judgment, but I wouldn't mind for a much darker, somber Ifan ben-Mezd. The man he was ( and still is, at the beginning ) when he was a Lone Wolf. It would have been all the more disturbing to see a friendly man, capable of kindness, being so relentlessly cruel against some.

Im throwing rocks at my own roof here, but unfortunately I'd wish that Ifan's characterization was more consistent in-game. Like yeah I'll play and pretend he's a bad boy for ship reasons but 99% of in-game interactions are him being good-hearted and a kind person.

AND DON'T GET ME WRONG there is nothing I love more than a kind rough man, but that leaves scenes in which the narrator has to verbally remind you that that man is a mercenary, or him casually dropping that he kills people. Sure we see OTHER Lone Wolfs do bad shit; but any in-game violence is either something that the party started; or that they are okay with. So when you get into a romance scene and the narrator reminds you that he is a "dangerous man", it falls a bit flat imo

[phagodyke]

told my coworker I just started elden ring and he was like fuck me playing souls games is more stressful than a full time job I had to quit ER when I started this job so I could just chill out when I got home instead.... 💀

[damiansgoodgirll]

Hiiii!! I hope you’re doing amazing! I’m sorry you’re having a bit of writers block at the moment as I know how difficult that can be!! I saw you opened your requests to see if that would help so I figured I would request something!

Maybe Rhea x Reader, where Reader is also a wrestler and her aesthetic is super girly and cute and bubbly (kinda like Tiffany Stratton) and something about it just draws Rhea in. Like she tried to act like she hates it and doesn’t like Reader, but eventually she just can’t and caves to how adorable Reader is and it brings out Rhea’s sweet side! 🩷

rhea ripley x reader

likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

‼️nothing major, rhea’s sexual thoughts tho…a lot of fluff and sweet moments, reader being a tease (let’s pretend rhea is still champion here) ‼️

heartbeat

rhea hated when someone tried to take her title away. but she hated even more when you became her main opponent for a title run.

you and the dark haired woman were completely the opposite. you were a face, she was a heel. you wore pink, she wore black. you were kind and loved backstage, she was a menace with anyone who dared to even look into her eyes.

she hated the idea of having to fight with you. she already handled a liv morgan, a tiffany stratton and now she had to face you.

she absolutely despised having you as her main opponent and no matter how many times she tried to resonate with adam, he said that you deserved that title run more than anyone. and she knew it too. she observed you. you were good, you were smart, you worked more on psychological fights than physical fights and for the first time, rhea was afraid.

you and her never really talked outside of the company. she wasn’t in your group and you weren’t in hers.

so the first time you got to share a few words was when you two had a promo and even if rhea looked so intimidating, you were ready for a challenge and you showed her who you really were.

“so you think you can take my title?” she shouted into the mic, staring at you. she looked for something that could have scared you away but she find nothing.

you simply laughed, taking a few steps forward her “i’m damn sure i can” you stated making the crowd cheer.

she was ready to reply back. she was so ready to put you in place but having you so close to her made her freeze. your vanilla scent intoxicating her. your challenging eyes never leaving her face. something about you made her even more interested into this feud. you made her heart beat fast and she couldn’t understand why.

“cat got your tongue, mami?” you teased her, hearing even more chants from the crowd.

“stay out of my way” she said coldly before dropping the mic to the ground and leaving the ring.

as days passed, rhea moved cautiously around you. observing you at the gym, observing the way your body moved inside the ring as you trained. she couldn’t help the filthy thoughts running in her head when she saw the sweat dripping down your body.

watching you fight other opponents and she hated admitting it but she found you extremely attractive. she never imagined herself being attracted by some barbie doll prototype but here she was.

you, flaunting your pink gear, your perfect make up and curled hair, ready to fight liv morgan - once again.

you knew it was going to be an easy match. you fought liv multiple times and you always won but somehow it didn’t go exactly as you planned. sure, you got your win but liv managed to injury you.

rhea watched all the match behind the scenes and a lump form in her throat.

how the heck did liv manage to injury you? she was supposed to keep you safe inside the ring just like you did with her and instead she fucked up and probably costed you a title run.

she should be happy that you weren’t her opponent any longer but she was actually looking for a chance to fight you.

you struggled walking back, helped by some trainers, they let you sit comfortably in the medical area as a doctor checked upon on you.

sprained ankle.

a couple of weeks of no fighting, no training at the gym and no title run opportunity. this was definitely not what you were expecting.

as you slowly walked back to the locker room, you were stopped by the infamous rhea ripley.

“hey…” she greeted you, making you look at her with a confused expression.

“i’m out of your way now, are you happy?” you sarcastically asked her but you saw how serious she was.

“no, not really…i was really looking forward to fight you, can’t believe im stuck again with that mid morgan girl” she said, clearly mad.

her words made you laugh “it won’t be for too long, give me a month to recover and then i’ll happily pin you down the floor” you teased, seeing her blush.

her strong facade fell when you talked dirty to her. she felt her cheeks burn but she tried to keep up with you “i can’t wait for that moment to come then…”

you were absolutely in for whatever rhea was trying to do with you “challenge accepted then, see you in a month” you winked but as soon as you tried to walk again, a sharp pain rang through your foot, making you flinch a little.

“hey, you okay?” rhea immediately asked when she saw the pain expression in your eyes.

“i have to get used to walk with just one foot” you laughed.

“here, let me help you…” her hand softly moved around your hip, helping you back to the locker room so you could gather your belongings and then go straight to the hotel. she walked slowly, never forcing you or your body.

“i didn’t know rhea was a kind one” you joked, making her laugh.

“i’m not. i never liked you y/n…this bubbly energetic person you are, i always hated it…too much pink, too much kindness” she whispered.

“why is it in the past?”

“because somehow your annoying personality caught my attention” she confessed, making you look at her with a teasing face.

“that’s good to keep in mind next time i’m facing you in the ring…” you said making her roll her eyes.

once you got to the locker room, rhea packed all of your stuff. your make up, your clothes, your perfume - the vanilla perfume - and she took the bag over her shoulder.

“do you need a ride to the hotel?” she offered and you couldn’t turn her offer down so you agreed.

as you were settled in her car, you found her to be a comforting presence. maybe she really wasn’t the mean one everyone talked about.

before you could speak, metal songs blasted through the speakers and it took you a couple of minutes to realise that you and rhea couldn’t be more different “do you really listen to that?” you asked, a little confused.

“yeah…it’s amazing” she happily said as she drove.

“it’s giving me a headache” you complained, making her roll her eyes for the second time that night.

“what do you listen uh? let me guess? taylor swift?” she said almost too annoyed.

“hey! she’s a good artist! and no, i listen other people too! i listen to people who actually make music and not scream into a microphone for three minutes straight” oh you were so in for a tease right now and seeing how she scrunched her nose made you feel like you were hitting the right buttons.

“let’s not start or i’ll drop you here in the middle of the road” she joked, clearly amused by the whole situation. you ended up sitting there and watching her driving fast around town.

she helped you with the bags and only left your hotel room once she made sure that you were okay. she even left you her phone number so you could call her in case something happened - as she said.

a week has passed and you couldn’t even lie to yourself - you were actually enjoying texting rhea and having random conversations in the middle of the night with her. you remember texting her once you got home and asked her if she wanted to come over as you were bored and reluctantly she accepted.

she would be lying to herself but you attracted her. you were like a magnet and she couldn’t get enough of you. she would help you any time you asked her.

randomly going through your tiktok, you heard the bell ringing and without thinking twice, you slowly got up and opened the door, finding an adorable rhea ripley with junk food in one hand and a pink fluffy blanket in the other.

you looked at her for a second, too stunned to speak.

“you letting me in or are we going to stare at each other all day long?” she asked, her usual sarcastic tone lingering with some sneaky jokes too.

“oh sorry, yeah, come in…i wasn’t expecting you with food and a pink blanket…i actually wasn’t expecting you at all” you joked, trying to ease the tension a little bit because you had no idea why was rhea in your living room now.

“i was at the supermarket and i had my day off, i saw the blanket and i thought you would like it…here” she handed you the blanket almost as she was annoyed by it, trying to maintain her dark and mean side but deep down you knew that she was a softie.

you gladly accepted the gift and invited her to sit on the couch with you “what about the food?” you teased her, seeing her rolling her eyes at any remark you made was now a habit.

“i was hungry and i thought you would like some food too…” she tried so hard not to go soft with you but your smile and bubbly personality were making it hard for her.

“rhea ripley thought of me? i feel honoured” you laughed making her giggle.

“shut up and eat while i pick a movie…” she stated as she started swiping movies catalogue on netflix.

she chose something fun, something romantic, knowing that it was your favourite genre of film.

“i’m pretty sure you’re studying me so in two weeks you know how to make me lose against you for the title run” you joked, making her laugh.

“honey, there’s no way you’re gonna beat my ass during that run, that’s my title and my title only but i’ll happily pin you down” she turned her face to you, a sneaky smirk on her face as her mind fantasised about the idea of having to pin you down, under her body.

“you so sure about that ripley?” you tested her “what if i am the one to pin you down?

rhea wouldn’t mind having you over her to be honest. in any other situation she would have let you being in charge but not when there was her title on the line.

“we will see in a couple of weeks” she winked “now watch the movie before i put some freaky horror on” she teased you knowing how much you hated horror movies.

“okay mami” you whispered making her roll her eyes - again. you displayed the pink blanket over your body and over rhea’s body too “before you say anything, it’s cold outside and i don’t wanna hear you complain for the next two hours” but rhea definitely wasn’t going to complain. she never had you so close, your body was like a magnet and was so close to hers that it was enough to keep her warm. your head softly laid over her shoulder and even if you couldn’t see her, you felt her body relax against you.

maybe she was going to pin you in the ring but you knew who was really in charge outside of the company and seeing her so calm and relaxed in your presence made you feel something different about your friendship, as if there was something more but you couldn’t really point it out.

spending the rest of the night in each other’s company, joking and laughing about the smallest things.

as the second movie of the night ended, you really needed to stretch yourself out as you grew a little uncomfortable sitting for almost four hours in the same position. she helped you standing up and you slowly tested the water, instead of putting your hands around her shoulders as you always did, you put them around her waist.

the height difference between you two was pretty obvious but that didn’t stop you to have your way with her “i have a feeling you feel something for me” you teased her watching her in her eyes.

“i don’t know what you are talking about…” she tried so hard to maintain her composure but she was struggling, especially when she had you so close.

“so what if i asked you to kiss me? would you back up?” you always been a tease but this was something else even for you.

“no…” she whispered, her eyes softly looking down at you.

before she could make any move, you kissed her. your lips meeting her soft ones, a smile pressed on her face as you kept kissing her “i’m definitely gonna pin you rhea” you whispered, making her chuckle.

“keep dreaming barbie” as she grew more comfortable, her hand moved behind your back and pressed you against her body “remember, it’s always monday night mami…” her devious look was back as if you helped her gain her confidence back around you.

“you know…i’m always in for a challenge…”

yeah, maybe she was the rhea ripley but you knew how good you were and being able to tease her and make her so flustered around you was definitely a weapon in your sleeve.

“we will see pretty girl…” falling in love with the enemy wasn’t definitely her plan but somehow you managed to make her heart beat faster anytime you were close and now she felt like she couldn’t get enough of you.

————————————-

i’m receiving a few requests and i’m trying to overcome my writer block 🤞🏼🩷 thank you for your patience and kind words 🩷🩷

[mactiir]

The other day my girlfriend and I got to talking about our strategies for self talk especially re: hobbies and sports.

She was talking about how she has read study after study about the effects of positive talk. if you have a group engaging in negative self talk, one engaging in neutral or solutions-focused ralk, and one engaging in flatly positive self talk, and set them to complete a challenging task -- say, a climbing problem -- the positive talkers will come out leaps and bounds ahead. As a result she has adapted the Bob the Builder theme song into her rock climbing anthem, and she softly sings it to herself on difficult or frightening problems.

Meanwhile, I've been getting into fantasy lit again. As you might know, fantasy heroes occasionally encounter awful mind-warping psychic baddies, who always have some brain attack in their arsenal that tells the hero to give up! you're worthless! you could never win anyway! with the motivation behind the psychic attack being that actually, the heroes are a HUGE threat to the bad guys and will probably thwart all their plans, and that if they could shrug off the mind assault they would absolutely body the bad guy in a fair, non-psychic fight. So whenever I start to beat myself up I internally pretend I'm a Force for Good or like, an anime protagonist so I grit my teeth and go "No... you will not Corrupt me, Demon! I am destined to become the one to defeat you!!" and imagine the unkind words burning away and shrieking like, AIEEEE NOOO.

Anyway, all this to say that the end result of us both having Succeeded at Therapy is that when we run into a really difficult climbing problem she ends up breathy-singing Bob the Builder while I sit broodily on the mat with my brow furrowed doing my best impression of an anime protagonist with beads of sweat dripping down his temples from the psychic exhaustion. Yes, it works. No, we haven't made many friends at the climbing gym.

[jarofstyles]

The Favor 13

I know it's taken a million years. I'm so sorry my ducklings. but the good news is that it's here! I hope you love it.

The Favor Masterlist

Check out our Patreon for early access to the next part up now and over 260 exclusive writings! (Sign up on your web browser to save $$)

WC- around 3.5k (next part is way longer)

Warnings- dom/sub dynamic, spanking, gagging, knife used in kinky way (briefly), edging, ,pain kink, he's a cutie pie, etc etc etc

----

Having Harry as her official boyfriend was weird. In a good way, of course! But it was something she was getting used to. 

She had spent plenty of days longing for this sort of relationship. Longing for him, honestly, considering he had shown her the sort of attention she had been craving since she could conceptualize it, only to have obstacles make it seem impossible. Self inflicted obstacles, but still challenges nonetheless. 

The terror of the unknown, the realization of the fact she wasn’t in love with her now ex boyfriend and only there out of routine and a self made obligation, the nerves over thinking Harry wasn’t actually into her and instead just teaching her out of pity- all of it had been things that were a bit self explanatory but she had gotten there eventually. 

Breaking up with Danny and leaning into the man who had shown her how she should been treated had been the best thing she ever did, because now she had Harry. 

It was still a bit to get used to, though. It wasn’t a bad thing at all, but having someone so attentive had been a bit of a culture shock. He was so kind, so sweet, checking in on her multiple times a day to make sure she was happy, doting on her when they were together, and doing things that Danny had never even thought of doing. That included taking her car to the car wash for her while she slept in, then coming back to make her breakfast all in the same weekend of them becoming officially exclusive.

One thing that got her in particular, though, was when she was at work and got a text from him saying he was outside. Danny had never visited her at work even when she had asked him to, and Harry was doing it unprompted. 

Talk about a full 180. 

H: Hi, sweetheart. I hope I’m not too late but I’m outside. I thought I could get you some lunch x 

Y/N: Really?? 🥺

H: There is nothing I’d like more. I’m in the lot, but I can come up if you’d like. 

Y/N: I’ll come down to see you!!! Be right there. 

The vision of him leaning against his car in a blazer and trousers nearly got her weak in the knees, but the giddiness in her body nearly had her bouncing over there with a smile so wide it nearly hurt. It only got bigger as she saw him perk up at the sight of her. 

With no hesitation, she walked into his arms that quickly wound around her body, inhaling the scent of him as she hugged him tight. Monday’s were particularly difficult days for her and he knew that now. It shouldn’t surprise her how thoughtful he was after spending so long getting to know him, but it still did. “Hi.” The muffled greeting in his shirt made him chuckle, slowly peeling her back so he could hold her cheek. 

“Hello, gorgeous.” He spoke lightly, tapping his thumb over her lips. “You alright?” 

“Mhm. Now.” She puckered her lips to kiss his thumb, making his eyes narrow playfully at her. It was thrilling just having him here, but getting to be given affection so openly was something she had been looking forward to with him. The majority of the time with their prior arrangement, she’d been fighting off the urge to cling- and now he was more than encouraging it. It made him happy; even! 

“Want that answer t’be always good, my sweet. But we’ll work on it.” Removing his thumb, he replaced it with a soft press of his lips. And another, and another as Y/N leaned into him. “Mm.. my sweet girl.” He sighed against her lips, something dreamy in his tone. “Could do this all day, but I can hear your belly rumbling from here. S’time to get you some good food. Know you barely ate this morning.”

That had partially been his fault, though. They’d gotten distracted in their riveting conversation last night and she had forgotten to set her alarm, which made a mad dash for the door with an apple in her mouth like an afterschool sitcom where the family has elaborate breakfast set up and the character chooses the opposite. She’d always thought breakfast had been more important than school- but not her job, it seemed. 

“I know. I’m sorry.” The apology was sincere. Harry had told her how much it meant to him that they looked after her health. It meant him providing the resources and her using them. It had been one of his rules. “M’sorry, sir.” 

His demeanor shifted slightly as he gave a squeeze to her jaw, nodding down at her. “Know you are, m’good girl. Didn’t mean to. But we’ve got to work on that, yeah?” Y/N’s mind was scrambled and she genuinely forgot to eat sometimes. It wasn’t a problem or a conscious decision, rather an oversight until her tummy hurt and she realized she hadn’t properly eaten. 

He was adamant that her vanilla iced coffee was not ‘breakfast.’ Only slightly less irritated when she used her protein drink as a creamer. 

The use of the praised nickname had her relaxing slightly, nodding in agreement. “We’ll work on it. Promise.” She waited a moment before requesting her want. “‘Nother kiss, please.” 

His demeanor softened, smile tilting on her lips as he leaned forward to give her what she wanted. 

That whole thing was something else she was getting used to. How easily the dynamic flowed in and out. It wasn’t 24/7 in the way she expected, no, but it was better. He took a stronger hand when he felt it necessary, and she realized afterwards that it had been exactly what she needed. His dominant side was definitely present a lot but not in the glaringly obvious way, like when they were doing a scene. It was an undercurrent, the energy rising up if she disturbed the surface or needed some guidance. 

Even more than that, it was more check in with her emotion than she had ever experienced in her life. Every day, multiple times a day, he made sure she was okay. Happy. If she wasn’t, doing what he could to talk through it and see why. 

They’d only been an official couple for less than a month, and Harry had shown her more patience and emotional understanding than she’d experienced in her years long relationship. It was why she believed more and more that there was such a thing as right person, right time. 

Harry did as he usually did, opening her car door and making sure she was settled before running back to his side. It was the little things like that that had her wondering why she had settled for so long. Harry was her ideal. As much as she tried not to romanticize him in her head, it was really fucking hard when he was as good as he was. 

“What did you want t’have?” The large expanse of his hand settled on her thigh, curling around it like he owned it. He did. She knew it, he knew it, and that seemed to make her melt just a little bit more as she tried to think of an answer to his question. 

“Do you want to try that taco place I saw on-“

“If you say tiktok, M’gonna spank you here and now.” Harry groaned, partially kidding- and partially not. He was what Y/N jokingly referred to as a ‘metaphorical boomer’ when it came to that specific app. While she was sure he didn’t exactly hate it all, she did know he hated misinformation and it seemed he couldn’t get past the few times he’d heard of the instances of that. Hard headedness was one of his traits Y/N was more aware of now. 

“Is that a threat or a promise?” Her grin was coy, but she did love a spanking. Truth be told, she probably didn’t get enough of them. Harry had gone a little soft on her lately but she was having her fun. Part of her wondered if it was because of how they were learning to navigate an actual relationship but she knew he still was very eager to be a Dom when the situation called for it. 

“Don’t be a brat.” He grunted, pinching the soft skin of her thigh and making her yelp. The fabric covering it did nothing to help the little sting. He’d be well aware that the action itself would make her a little wet as it was. Pain was a motivator, she was also finding out. 

The last month had been an very interesting time of discovery. 

“Or what?”

——

Y/N was squirming. 

Harry was well aware, but he chose to ignore it as he put some tapatio onto his lunch, humming under his breath. As it turned out, Y/N did enjoy showing a little bit of brat- and he had taken matters into his own hands. 

Her ass still stinging a bit was one of the most beautiful and infuriating displays of the power she had ever experienced. 

“Hands on the wall.” It was probably nasty, but she did it immediately. The bathroom at the restaurant was absolutely not the time or place to be flexing this dynamic- but she had asked for it. She’d been calling his bluff just a little bit and he had decided she’d had enough coddling. One too many smart comments he’d let go of in the last few days, trying to give her some room to be a bit disobedient… but it was obvious to him that she longed to be the good little sub she had always been meant to be. 

It how quick she had obeyed, it was even more obvious that this was the exact thing she needed. “Stand still. Do not move, I don’t want to accidentally get you.”

“With what-“ Y/N froze as she heard the flip she knew all too well. The pocket knife he always kept on him. More like a multi tool, with a bottle opener and a screwdriver that folded into it- but that didn’t matter to her. Feeling the brush of cool metal against the hot skin of her inner thighs, she couldn’t help but shudder. 

Of course the man laughed. “Yeah. Y’know what.” He chuckled, letting it turn into a warm hum as she caught herself before pushing back into him. “Don’t get too excited, pet.” His voice was syrupy and deep and she just wanted to melt into a puddle- filthy bathroom be damned. “M’not going to fuck you. Honestly, you don’t deserve it today. Not with how much of a brat you’ve been.” 

Damn it. It felt like she had gotten her favorite treat taken away, a sad sigh replacing the way she wanted to protest. “I’m Sorry, sir.”  Was what came out instead of the ‘you haven’t fucked me in three days and I want you to ruin me, please don’t take your cock away.’ She had wanted to say.

“Are you?” He tapped the flat side of the blade against her hip bone, yanking the bottom of the shirt up. “Because you’re been a brat. So rude t’me. Mumbling when I ask you something. Huffing when you don’t get your way… even spent half the day not answering my message when I asked you want y’wanted for dinner.” His tongue clicked as his free hand brushed her hair out of her face, knowing it was falling from the way her head was tilted forward. 

“I know.” She sighed, heart feeling a little fuller from how he’d taken care of her comfort. Even if she was being punished, he made sure she was alright. 

“Yeah. You’ve been doing it on purpose. Thought something may be up, but I don’t think you were lying t’me about feeling fine. So I figured it must be something you aren’t sure of talking to me about yet.” He paused. “Is it because I have t’go away to grab that book next month?” His tone softened, gathering her hair in his hand. “I don’t think that’s what it is, but give me a yes or no.”

“No.” 

“Mm. So…. Do you think I’ve been going a bit too easy on you?” His lips brushed her ear, breath washing over the more sensitive skin underneath it. “Because I was trying t’be nice, you know. Give us time to develop our relationship outside of all of this…. But it’s a part of our relationship, isn’t it?” 

“Yes.” She swallowed thickly, eyes fluttering shut as the hum of agreement sent vibrations through her. “I… I don’t even know how to say what it is.”

“Then we figure it out together. Even if you don’t have the words, I may know the feeling. Y’can’t bottle shit up like that.” With an ease that took her by surprise, she felt the metal slip up and under the waistband of her panties and straight through it. The quick sound of the cut had her gasping. “Shh. You’ve been wanting to keep your mouth shut about this, so you need to practice that skill while I give you a reminder of why you shouldn’t.” Another slice, the cool air hitting her cunt as he gripped the fabric in his hand. 

“We will need to have a conversation on what you want the mix to truly be with this as a staple of our relationship. I love it. Want you in any way you want me t’have you. But we’re not going to do it now.” His voice turned firm. Dark. The voice that had her understanding he was in charge, he was her dominant right now. Not just her boyfriend. “Open your mouth.” 

Y/N hadn’t been sure what the purpose had been- but she had her mouth full of the panties he had just cut off before she could think twice. 

“Need t’keep you quiet. You’re loud and fussy.” His hand smoothed over her ass, giving it a rough squeeze as he let out a sigh of admiration. “Such a shame you chose to be a brat instead of talkin’ to me. You want me to hold your leash a little tighter, pet?” He let his fingertips dig into the soft flesh, surely to cause bruises as she let out a whimpered moan muffled by the panties. The nod was hesitant, but truthful. She did was a tighter leash. It was so much easier that way.

“Fine. Since you’re fuckin’ with our communication rule, M’gonna punish you.” He gave her thigh a little swat, making her jerk. “Try and keep quiet. Don’t move those hands off the wall. And don’t be fuckin’ greedy. To you understand, pet?” Harry repeated it after she nodded in agreement. “Need to color out? Stomp your foot or hit the wall three times. Don’t care if it’s a punishment, don’t want you to hurt that bad.” 

Y/N was dripping at the mere thought of it- but when she felt his hand stripe across her ass? She nearly came. Pathetic, yes, but she had missed it. Craved it. It was a shame his rings had been tucked into his pocket because god, would she loved that bird of pain. But it wasn’t up to her- this was his punishment to dish out. 

Her job was to take it. 

It was humiliating in a sense, acting out and needing a spanking- taking a spanking- in a bathroom in public. Panties in her mouth getting soaked in her spit and muffling the little squeak that tried to get out of her. 

“That’s one. You’re getting 20.” 

Each one melted her a bit more. The slap of his hot palm against her increasingly hot skin… the prickles, the cool breeze stinging her skin? It had her fall farther into it. Yes. She needed to talk to him. Make him understand she needed this more often. She didn’t want to have to be a complete brat just to get him to do this- though the trill was quite nice. 

Her cunt was pulsing. Dripping. She could feel it against her thighs as her body moved from the impact of his hand. The gurgled moan was hidden away, but he didn’t mind giving her a reminder. “Said to shut the fuck up, Puppy. Keep quiet.”  The message was sealed with a spanking.

It nearly made her cum. 

She needed him now. At number twenty, she felt his hand slip between her legs and get slick with her, a sigh of disappointment. Giving her cunt a quick little set of taps, he pulled his hand away- and from what she could hear- lick it clean. “Such a shame to waste this.” He hummed, reaching for her spit soaked panties and pulling them out of her mouth. “But I need you to eat.” 

“What?” Her pulse was thundering from pure need, but he was pulling her arms from the wall and leading her towards the sink to wash her hands. “But I… I took it. And you felt….” She looked at him in confusion. “Aren’t we gonna…” his cock was hard. She could see it here. He could tell, a shake of his head making him smile. 

“Oh, no. The spanking isn’t the only part of the punishment, pet.” He laughed. “I know how much you love them. Knew you get wet and achy. The punishment is, you’re going to sit out there and be aching and horny. I’ll drop you back at work and when you come home, I’ll take care of it.” He said it so matter of fact, like it didn’t nearly take her to her knees. 

So badly, she wanted to beg. Plead. But after being punished… she didn’t want to push it. Silently washing her hands, she watched him gather up some napkins to clean her stickiness up before righting her skirt back to where it belonged. “I’m sorry, Daddy.” She repeated. 

“Know you are, my sweet girl.” He was back to half and half. Half boyfriend, half dom behavior. “You’re amazing. Take everything so well. I’ve got some salve in my car that we’ll put on before y’go back into work.” 

——

He was acting unaffected, as if he wasn’t hard and tucked away. She wanted to glare at him, but he had a weird sense of attitude that a mother had when their kids said a cuss word under their breath. 

“Had t’ask you something.” Harry asked, breaking the silence. It perked her up, feeling embarrassingly needy for some more attention. “The club is having an event night next week. Wanted t’know if you’d want to go.” 

They hadn’t brought up the club since they’d gotten together. At first, she was curious if maybe he felt like he didn’t want to share her to anyone else’s eyes for a bit- but she didn’t know much about how often people went. She’d been wanting to go back really badly, but hadn’t had the balls to ask. “Yeah, that would be fun.” Her smile got a little bigger. “What the event?”

“S’a serious of events. It’s…” he looked around the place. “Probably a better car discussion for what it’s. A little out there.” He gave her a little wink, making her fluster. It had to be filthy considering he usually didn’t shy away from things in public… and that excited her. 

“Oh, wow.” She cleared her throat, squeezing her thighs together again. Fucker. He did it on purpose. “Okay. We can talk about it in the car, but I’d love to go. I had fun last time.” Being able to fall into that space in her mind had been a good time. 

“Alright, sweetheart.” He pushed her foot with his own. “Finish your food, please. Need to keep your energy up for tonight, mm?”

[blughxreader]

platonic yandere batfam thoughts...

how you end up integrating into the family.

I think we often forget how insidious the long-term effects of kidnapping are. Your whole world narrows and you have nothing fulfilling outside of them.

Realistically, how many weeks straight can you do nothing but look at your phone/watch TV? I know we do this every day, but we have school/work/friends/family to provide actual fulfillment and joy. But when you take that away? And have to decide whether you should scroll through monitored social media or talk to your captors?

Especially because the TV doesn't distract from the cold, hard gaze of the surveillance cameras in your room.

Even if you read and craft and cook, it's so difficult to keep your mental health in-tact without having a positive interaction with another human being.

It would start small.

It's morning and Cass smiles at you from across the breakfast table. Not wanting to be rude, you smile tightly back.

Jason wordlessly slides you a book. You take it.

After a few months, you feel slightly more comfortable about taking up space in the manor. Alfred is out of town for the weekend, so you make a sandwich with Tim.

Bruce talks to you about the new scientific breakthrough at Wayne Enterprises and keeps you relatively up-to-date on major world events. You begrudgingly learn more interesting facts than public school has ever taught you.

Soon, you've watched everything good on Netflix. You exhausted your tolerance for social media. You've given yourself headaches reading so much. You've hit an art/writers block like never before because your input has run dry.

With no other source of entertainment, you become more attentive to the Bats.

Of course, you've always watched them out of fear. But as months tick by and you've learned their hearts (and delusions), it's obvious that they would never hurt you. Furthermore, operating within their expectations is easy enough as long as you never challenge them, so the constant danger-sense slowly turns off.

However, because you don't have any outside noise to occupy your mind, drama in the house becomes almost life-and-death to you.

Peace is so fragile, and it's all you have.

Damian and Bruce return from patrol in a rage one night. Damian's furious echoes bouncing upstairs, followed by Bruce's low, indistinguishable scorn.

Fuck, you think. Now your and Bruce's talks are going to be stilted and uncomfortable. Now Damian is going to sulk in your room for hours, unwilling to talk about what happened yet wanting some kind of reassurance.

You can't keep them from fighting, but you want to protect your peace.

When you first arrived in this dreadful manor, you never would have imagined you'd offer them kind words and affection. However it's the only thing you can do now.

There's conflict. The house is tense--your world is tense.

Should you call Dick? He has a day job again, so he can't come over until tomorrow night. It's up to you to ease the tension.

So you do, slowly, with homemade food and Bruce's favorite coffee blend and Damian's favorite hot chocolate. You sit with them individually, shoulder to shoulder (much closer than you would normally sit), and pretend everything is alright. They're surprised but very quick to snap back into a good mood.

The house is suddenly back in order and you did it all by yourself.

And with these vigilantes, conflict is ripe. There's always people coming and going, fighting and playing, and you're unwillingly the most in-tune with the well-being of everyone's relationships.

You protect your peace. You protect the house.

this shit makes me gnaw at my enclosure. if you're fem, it's worse because ✨ stereotypical woman archetype ✨ anyway this has been on my mind because i've been taking care of my baby chicks and cooking dinner most nights, so i'm like 💁‍♀️ i could be a captive house wife click here for my yandere batfam masterlist

[bunnysdollette]

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁ start acting your age and not your shoe size love 👟✨

⟢ hey my wonderful angels! here are a few tips to start building maturity and stop doing little girl activities. this is your wake up call. the faster you realize this, the better

(also love this photo of brina)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ GET SERIOUS ABOUT YOUR GOALS

in this life I would say there’s about a 5% of people that actually become successful and fulfilled. which one do you want to be; the person who is happy and living comfortably years from now or the person that chose to follow what everyone else was doing like a sheep and ignored what they wanted to accomplish?

NO goal is too difficult. NO dream is too big. Muhammad Ali once said, ``If your dreams don't scare you, they aren't big enough.'' So get serious about what you want in life or be left behind in the dust.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ STRIVE TO BE AN INDIVIDUAL

It’s OKAY to be different. Our differences are what make us unique and capable of what the next person can’t. Your strengths and your weaknesses will both push you forward in life if you learn how to use them properly.

You have to strive to take pride in your differences and be confident when people challenge your identity. Because at the end of the day the only person that knows YOU best is YOU. When you develop that confidence and self-assured mindset that nobody can tell you who you are because you already do, NOBODY can take that away from you.

Stop following the rest of the flock. If there’s something you dream about or want to accomplish that’s outside of the norm, that’s where your purpose probably lies. If you are a person different from the collective, you are meant for bigger things.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ LEARN WHEN AND HOW YOU SHOULD RESPOND

there’s a time and place for everything. I’m not saying you shouldn’t respond to disrespect, because that makes it like other people can do the same to you and you won’t do anything, but depending on the severity of the situation, sometimes it’s just better to ignore that shit.

if there are people you know who are partaking in these little kid activities like making up silly lies about you, trying to get you to fight them or argue with them, DO NOT feed into that.

They will call you scared, stupid, or whatever else, but that’s all because they’re mad they can’t get that reaction out of you. If someone is trying to take you off of your path, the last thing you should do is spend even an ounce of energy on them.

Your energy is sacred. Use it wisely.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ STAY FOCUSED ON WHAT MATTERS

one of my favorite quotes ever is “it is what it is”. Whoever came up with that quote was extremely wise because it’s the exact embodiment of staying focused and not worrying about little kid shit that nobody will remember in the next five years.

What is Important to you? Drama, trying to conform, chasing things that aren’t meant for you, or reaching your goals, achieving success, and achieving fulfillment?

YOUR values should dictate YOUR life. You can’t say you want to become “that girl” and “level up your life” then turn around and invest so much energy in unnecessary shit that serves you no purpose.

And don’t think I’m saying this with any level of elitism or like I’m better because I’m saying this, I’m not. We all have shit to work on. But some of you have a lot more work to do than others and a lot more work to do to stay on the right path. This is your sign. Stop that nonsense

[xzaddyzanakinx]

Not That Kind of Guy

Part Nine: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker × femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, sexual content/fantasizing, pervy behavior, panty/scent kink, mask kink (Ghostface), gaslighting/manipulation, nude vids/pics, rape mentioned (somnophilia), gen. sexual content, Panic/Anxiety Attack, forced nudity [Be sure to pay attention to future warnings in the series]

Info: Anakin/Ghost having thoughts?? Unselfish ones?? Luke can’t stop roasting/sassing you [diary entries from Ani] [texting/letters/notes]extremely not proofread. MDNI 18+

Diary Entry: August 10th

I think enough time has passed. I think you’re ready to see Ghost again.

I thought it would take longer for you to recover, but as always, the little fawn in you is curious as ever. Quick to forget fear and ready for the newest challenge.

You’ve responded so well to everything. I’m very proud of you.

I’ve been keeping up with my visits, still cleaning, still watching, still following and protecting.

Now that you know of Ghost, I’ve started completing my tasks. I don’t have to leave anything halfway finished, the dishes are done everyday along with the vacuuming and dusting. I even mop twice a week.

And change the cat litter, which might I add, is disgusting. (Worth it though because I love that little menace.)

I thought for sure you’d run and tell me that you didn’t think the alarms I installed weren’t working, but you didn’t, you just repeatedly tested them yourself. It was very loud, very annoying and I know you could hear the woman down the hall banging her pots and pans together to fight back with her own noise. You didn’t care though, you just wanted to make sure the alarms worked.

They do work, I wouldn’t have installed fake ones, that would be stupid. I’m all for keeping you safe so… what’s one more safety measure?

I just know that they can also be very easily disarmed. Even through the inch and a half thick wooden door to your apartment. A piece of sheet metal (credit card sized) and my handy dandy super strength magnet works like a charm.

You’re such an odd bird. You haven’t told anyone, I don’t think it’s really even crossed your mind too much either. You’ve begun to pretend the cameras aren’t even there. You just go about your normal day to day life and occasionally squint and stare at random objects.

You never actually go check them out though. Is it all for show? I think it might be.

I think you like being watched. I bet it makes you feel safe doesn’t it? Knowing I’m always there for you?

——————————————————————————

You know what the best part of all this is?

Ghost will let me love you in the way that is natural and normal to me. I just hope that you’ll be willing to accept that we are one in the same.

Ghost can comfortably do all the things that I’ve been afraid to. I didn’t want to scare you, but it really was difficult not to leave you things. I’m so glad that you brought that up in your list of questions because it gave me the opportunity to act on it without you flipping out.

Do you like them? I love leaving things for you. Especially little notes.

Ghost has been kind enough to stay out of your way when I’m around, but I can resist making you squirm occasionally. Remember when I left you a note, KNOWING I’d be coming home with you later that day?

Oh babe. It was so oddly intoxicating to see the way you reacted when I got back home and pulled up the footage. You snatched up that slip of paper didn’t read it and didn’t toss it in the trash, didn’t put it in your pocket.

You shoved it in your mouth so I wouldn’t see it. Freak.

I saw it all chewed up and gross in the bathroom trash. You didn’t read it. I know you didn’t. So I’ll have to get alittle more creative.

Don’t ignore me.

DATE

August 13th

For the third morning in a row you woke up to a text from your own cellphone number.

‘Sleep well deer?’

Idiot. Can’t even spell. So finally on this third day, you sent a text back and corrected him.

‘Dear*’

Immediately a response buzzed through.

‘No.’

No? What does he mean no?

‘Little doe. My deer. 🦌’

Oh great, so stalkers use emojis and he’s given you a nickname. How cute.

You laid back in your bed and tossed your phone aside, hands covering your face as you rubbed the sleep away.

The longer this went on, the more insane you felt. This wasn’t normal, of course it’s not normal. So why are you allowing it?

You could ask yourself that a million times and you’d never find an answer.

You could throw away every flower he brought you and they’d still keep coming. You could burn every piece of paper in the city and chew every pen until it’s broken beyond repair and he would still find a way to write you a note.

You could swallow every word he writes, throw it up, flush it, whatever. It’s just going to pop back up. Gross and soggy with an amendment attached and in your panty drawer.

You thought maybe it was an important one. So you read it. Quickly discovered it was semi-important, Ghost just wanted to remind you that he loved you and he was proud of you for continuing to drink your tea even though you knew it was drugged. Once you’re out of it, he’s going to set the pills out next to your birth control. So he ‘doesn’t have to fool with measurements anymore’.

The addendum to the note was tucked inside the original:

‘Good girls swallow.’

You could ignore the trinkets, the jewelry or the pretty stones and shells. But he would just move them to a different spot and force you to eventually set it in your jewelry box along with all the others.

He’s not been bold enough to come around with Anakin in your home. The nights that Anakin sleeps over, there are no gifts, no cleaning done. No disturbances.

But Anakin doesn’t deter him completely.

He’s left you one note at Anakin’s apartment, the first time you’d slept away from your own home in ages. Ghost had the audacity to slip a note into the pocket of your shorts while you slept in the same bed as Anakin in his apartment.

It didn’t say anything, no words, just a heart in red ink. Like he just wanted to remind you that he was there and you were his whether you wanted to be or not. Anakin or no Anakin, Ghost didn’t care.

It’s been horrible lying… omitting the truth to Anakin. Sometimes you feel like blurting it out, but something always stops you. Morbid curiosity maybe. Or maybe you just like the thrill of it, that little shiver of adrenaline you get every time he makes himself known.

It would all stop if you told Anakin. Neither would quit until he’d hunted the other man down and gotten rid of him.

They’d kill each other.

——————————————————————————

Anakin worked tonight, so you had plans to meet up with Luke (sans his pet leech) for a late evening dinner. As much as you loved Han and appreciated everything he did for Luke, how happy he made him, you really just wanted some time alone with your best friend.

So you were thrilled to receive a text around 1:00pm from Luke:

‘Don’t be late. I’m dying to catch up babe.’

You quickly opened the message but before you finished typing, a voice message popped up in your notifications, sent from your number.

You abandoned the chat with Luke and opted to open the voice message instead.

‘I’m coming home.’ then a long pause, ‘have fun with Lukey.’

That scratchy filtered voice; you’d yet to hear it over the phone and this being the first time… it sent you right back to the very first time you watched Scream. That icy chill that snuck up the back of your neck, the tightening of your chest… you felt it now, just not because of fear.

You felt it because you were excited.

——————————————————————————

“Okay, seriously what do you keep looking at?” Luke prodded, snatching your phone and sliding it into his jacket pocket.

“Nothing it’s just-“

“My phone is on ‘do no disturb’, because I have missed my buddy, my pal, my best friend.” He paused, his pointer finger jabbing the table between your plate and his.

“I’m sorry,” you sighed. “I haven’t even unlocked it! It’s just sitting there.”

“True, but the obnoxious tapping to check whatever it is you’re hoping for is getting annoying.” Honesty, brutal or not, was Luke’s love language.

“Fine. I’m sorry, I’ll put it in my pocket.” You agreed, holding your hand out palm up.

“No ma’am. This is mine until the check comes.” His answer was definitive, no room for argument there. “What’s so important anyway? I know Anakin is at work.”

“It’s just work stuff.” You huffed.

“Oh? What’s so pressing at the diner?” He scoffed, “got a big shipment of ketchup coming in? Are you ‘on call’?”

“Luke.” You rolled your eyes at his jab. “No and yes. I am ‘on call’ actually. Sara’s son has been sick.’

Not a total lie, he has been sick. Poor guy. But her husband was home with him and he was being well looked after.

“Okay? That’s your problem how?”

“God you’re so negative sometimes.” You sighed. “Her babysitter hates vomit. If he throws up Sara will have to go home.”

“Ew.” He scrunched up his nose. “I’m eating.”

“Okay? That’s my problem how?” You said mockingly.

“Really? Like for real that’s why you keep checking your phone?”

“Yes really.” Giving him a look that screamed duh’. “Her baby sitter is the 14 year old girl that lives next door to her. Do you really suggest leaving a 14 year old in charge of a vomiting 2 year old? When that 14 year old is disgusted by puke? That’s a recipe for disaster.”

It would be a disaster, her sitter is 14. She just happens to be on vacation with her mother right now. Hence the temporary stay at home husband.

“Okay, first of all, 14? Isn’t that alittle young?”

“No? I started babysitting when I was 12.” You shrugged.

“Fine.” Luke sighed. “Here.”

He slid your phone back to you and propped his chin up on his fist. Watching you check it one last time before turning on the sound and putting it in your back pocket.

——————————————————————————

‘I’m walking home now!’

You shot off the text to Anakin after saying your goodbye to Luke at the restaurant. You’d refused his offer to walk you home, you didn’t want him anywhere near your apartment building knowing that Ghost would be there.

Six minutes later he replied:

‘Good girl.🥰 let me know when you get there safe.’

‘Will do💕’

And you did, the moment you stood outside your apartment door.

‘Made it! See you tomorrow💕’

You waited in the hall to receive his response. You didn’t know what would be waiting for you on the other side of this door, and you didn’t want to chance it.

‘Perfect. Sweet dreams doll!’

Your hand poised at the door knob, you inserted your key to discover your door was already unlocked. You very slowly opened the door, but saw no one in your kitchen or living room.

But your bedroom door was closed, boogie hadn’t meowed as loudly as possible and sprinted to you, demanding to be fed. He did say that they were good friends. So they both must be in your room.

Would it be wise to lock your door? The few precious seconds leaving it unlocked would save if you needed to run… no, no. Just lock it. Doorknob. Deadbolt. Chain.

‘Just stay calm’

You kicked off your shoes and tossed your bag to the floor, walking quietly across the carpeted living room to pause in front of your bedroom. A soft yellow glow shone beneath the door, your lamp must be on. You could hear your tv playing something, not quite sure what it was, but it had the all too familiar cadence of a horror flick.

The audacity of this man astounded you.

When you pushed open the door, he was laying in your bed, shoes off, legs crossed at the ankles, propped against the headboard, arms behind his head. He looked like he belonged there. As big a contrast as it was… your soft, pink, feminine room and him. All black, the mask. He just looked so comfortable.

Your cat, the little traitor, was curled up on his chest. It was kind of sweet. How could such an inherently terrifying scenario seem so normal?

Ever so casually he tilted his head toward you, his right hand raising from its relaxed position to lazily give you gloved finger waggle for a wave.

“Have fun?” The filtered voice drifted over to you.

“Yes.” You answered quietly, glued to the spot.

“Are you just going to stand there?” He laughed. “I would come pick you up, but it’s illegal to move a sleeping cat.” He gestured to boogie who had still not moved from her human pillow.

You couldn’t help but laugh, eyebrows raised in an expression of awe filled shock. This was too weird. Too normal. Too scarily alluring.

Yet you found yourself at the edge of the bed, not really knowing how you got there to begin with.

“Sat you some pajamas out.” He said dismissively, the mask fixed onto the tv screen. “Figured you’d wanna change.”

“Huh.” You snorted, seeing that he had.

You expected to see one of your lacy lingerie sets. But he’d chosen something much more modest that you would’ve ever imagined. Loose, thin, stretchy fabric pajama pants, the matching cropped tank top, and fuzzy socks.

“Um. Thanks?” You said awkwardly, picking them up and turning on your heels to change in the bathroom.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He chuckled.

“To the bathroom?” You scoffed, looking over your shoulder at him.

“You can change in here.” He wasn’t offering. He was telling you.

“No way.” You shook your head. “No I’m not-“

“C’mon little doe.” The filtered voice left little room for change in tone, but you could tell from his body language that it was a challenge.

“Ghost. No! I have Anakin I don’t-.”

He laughed. “I don’t care.”

“Well I do.”

“Mmm… not enough. You’re letting me be here. You didn’t tell him. You didn’t mention me to anyone at all actually.” He pointed out.

“Well that’s not-“

“Hush.” He snapped, making you stall. “I’ve seen that pretty little body of yours plenty of times. What’s one more?”

“But-“ your face was so red hot that you could feel the heat spreading down your neck.

“What? I’m not gonna get up.” He said plainly. “I’m comfy right here where I can watch you.”

“I don’t… this isn’t right.”

“Don’t pull that bullshit with me.” He scoffed. “Nothing about this is ‘right’. But you’re letting it happen, yeah?” He said and got just a nod from you in response.

“That’s it.” He moved his arm to point two fingers at you, “get on with it sweetheart. I wanna see my girl.”

“I’m not your-“

“You were mine first.” He snapped.

“Well, that’s not very fair.” Your voice shaking. “I didn’t even know you were…. I didn’t know about you!”

“That might be true.” He growled, “but it’s your fault for being so ignorant.”

“I-I don’t…” you felt like you were on the verge of a tantrum. This man was outrageous, coming into your home uninvited, being a fucking perv, acting like he owns the place, and now he’s calling you ignorant?

“Do you realize how stupid it is for you to argue with me about the morality of all this?” He asked, going back to his former relaxed state.

“You. Are allowing me to be here. You had all day to call the cops if you wanted to. But you didn’t.” That smug little bastard laughed. “I’ve been here for over two hours. You knew I’d be here when you got back.”

“That’s not-“

“I’m not finished.” He held up a finger and silenced you. “You’re mine. You’ve been mine and you will continue to be mine.”

“I don’t care that you are pretending to be appalled by the situation you are in.” His voice was even and unyielding, he was so confident in his statements.

“You know why I don’t care?” He asked, tilting his head toward you condescension oozing from every pore.

“Why?” You squeaked.

“Because I know, without a doubt, that if I were to stick my hand down your pretty pink panties; you’d be wet right now.”

How did he know what color your underwear is? Better question: why is that the first thing you thought of when there were much more pressing matters at hand?

“That’s not true.” Your voice sounded hollow.

“It’s not?” He laughed. “Show me then.”

“What?” You whispered, eyes bugging out of your head.

“Do it. Prove to me that you’re not soaked.” He snickered.

“That’s not fair you can’t just-“

“You’re not running are you? You haven’t said no, you haven’t come over here and smacked me.” He interrupted.

You stood there with your jaw dropped, you needed a dustpan and broom to sweep up your shattered facade of denial. How could you dispute that?

“Fine!” You shouted. “Fine. I’ll just change in here.”

“Don’t raise your voice at me.” He growled. “You’re awfully bold for a spoiled brat.”

“I am not a-“

“When will you stop disagreeing with me?” He laughed. “You know it’s true. I’ve spoiled you so much that you’ve rotted to your core. You weren’t always a brat, but you are now. You like being spoiled don’t you? Being taken care of, being treated like a princess?”

“Your little boyfriend does the same thing doesn’t he?” He snickered. “Spoiled. Brat.”

“You’re just a little girl who needs a man to hold her hand.”

“You’re being mean.” You whispered, your voice breaking.

“The truth is hard to hear isn’t it little doe?” He said, his voice going back to its nonchalant, flat tone.

You couldn’t argue. He’d been right about everything and it’s difficult to argue with someone who throws fact after fact at you like he’s doing. So you took a deep breath and closed your bedroom door.

“Atta girl.” He nodded. “Show me.”

So you did, you turned around and began undressing, you could feel his eyes on you, soaking up the display you were crafting for him.

“Turn around.” His voice alittle quieter, the voice box crackling.

Slowly you complied, swallowing your fear and embarrassment. You kept your eyes closed, it made you feel the slightest bit better, I’m the way a kid would think ‘I can’t see you so you can’t see me’.

“Gorgeous.” He breathed out.

Behind your eyelids you swear you noticed a change in lighting, briefly, but enough to take note of. Your eyes snapped open and saw him holding up his phone.

He’d taken a picture of you.

“Ghost, no! Delete that right now!” You squealed, quickly getting dressed in your fresh pajamas.

“Cool it.” He waved you off. “Just gonna add it to my special folder just for you. See?” He turned his screen toward you and you inched forward.

He wasn’t lying. He scrolled through over one hundred images and videos, some of you in public, some nude, some of you sleeping. All in a folder titled ‘little doe’.

“These are for me.” He said simply. “They’re not going anywhere so don’t worry about that.”

“But these…” he turned the screen back to himself and tapped twice, scrolled and then tapped again before flipping it around.

The images in front of you made you nauseous.

You, spread legs and wet cunt, up close.

You with your hand being held up by Ghost, your fingers buried deeply between your folds.

A short video of your pussy being lovingly stroking by a leather glove. Another of one long digit pumping into you slowly.

A picture of your lips wrapped around his cock.

“S-so you did… you did touch me?” You recoiled.

“No.” He said flatly, before you could protest he laughed.

“You loved it.” He snickered. “Never let you cum. I wanted you to be needy for me.”

“Until… until I saw you.” You whispered.

“Mhm, that’s right.” He nodded. “Took care of your poor swollen pussy properly that time.” He cooed, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

“You’re sick.” You breathed out. “That’s disgusting… you-“

“Call the cops.” He said gesturing to your phone laying on the bed.

“What?”

“You heard me. Call ‘em.” He snorted. “If I’m so sick and disgusting and you’re soooo horrified by my actions; call the cops. I’ll wait right here.”

“Are you gonna send those to Anakin?” Your voice wobbled as you ignored his challenge. You both knew you wouldn’t call.

“Not if you’re good.”

“Are you gonna hurt him?” You asked quietly.

“Now why would I do a thing like that?” He scoffed. “I want you all to myself, but I want you to choose me. I’m not gonna go all Dexter on your boyfriend.”

“You promise?” You sniffled. “Swear it?”

“Pinky swear.” He said confidently, holding out his hand with his little finger raised.

For some reason you took it. You believed him. He hadn’t gotten up and forced you to do anything, he stayed right there the whole time. He had yet to share those pictures with Anakin. A million other twisted reasons you’d started to accept that this was becoming a new normal. A thousand other things that pushed you to believe him.

He’d only bruised your self image with his cold, hard truths about you. That’s not a crime. That’s a reality check.

“Good choice little doe!” You could practically hear the beaming smile on his face behind the plastic mask.

“Now come up here.” He patted the spot next to him. “I don’t like seeing you upset, I’m sorry.”

He was apologizing? He was apologizing.

“You’re sorry?” You repeated in shock.

“Of course I’m sorry. You’re on the verge of tears and I’ve caused it.” He said, holding out his hand palm up for you to take.

“I’m not a monster.”

You hesitated before accepting his hand and climbing into bed beside him. You sat a safe distance from him at first but he lolled his head to the side in what you assumed was a dramatic eye roll and tugged you to his side in a one armed swoop.

The action had you frozen. This was it. He was gonna hurt you. You’d been naive and stupid and he was going to violate you, this time while you were conscious, you’d remember it this time.

“Relax.” He soothed, tucking you comfortably against his side, his bicep behind your head as a pillow and his gloved hand on your side in a way that was almost comforting. “I mean it. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You whispered, what the fuck is happening?

“No, it’s not okay. I could’ve been more gentle with my words.” His opposite hand rubbing his knuckles across your cheek lovingly.

You were quiet for a moment, debating on the course of action you should take. You were in fact very much allowing this to occur. Would it be so horrible to try and enjoy it? He was warm. He smelled nice and familiar, the cologne… you must have a subtle memory of it from all the times he’d been here while you slept. He was comfortable. He was surprisingly kind.

What’s the worst that could happen?

“Before you get comfy.” He spoke quietly, the voice box crackling from his low voice, “you didn’t take your pill.”

“Oh yeah you’re right.” You moved to get up, pink cheeked because once again he proved that you were in fact helpless without him.

“Don’t get up, I have it right here.” He chuckled, reaching over to the nightstand and handing you the pill packet and a thermos. “Tea.”

“Huh.” You stared at him. Gods this was so fucking weird. “Well… wow okay.” You huffed out a laugh and took your medicine with a sip of your tea.

“Tastes different.” You said, handing the packet back to him.

“Mhm. Yeah I poisoned it.” He said nonchalantly, making you almost choked on your second sip.

“You what?” You shrieked, waking up the cat who bolted from his lap.

“Aw look what you did,” he groaned gesturing to the empty space with a few stray cat hairs.

“You- are you serious?” You started to almost hyperventilate. “Should I make myself throw up?”

Why are you asked the man who poisoned you that? Like he’d tell you.

“No, that would be a waste of good tea.” He snorted. “I put cinnamon in it you idiot.”

“What?”

“Cinnamon.” He repeated. “It’s just cinnamon. It was a joke.”

“That’s not fucking funny!” You shouted, smacking his shoulder.

“Ive already told you once.” His hand shot out and grabbed your jaw firmly. “Do not. Raise. Your voice. At me.” He growled.

“I believe you meant to say ‘ha-ha, ghost that was funny. you got me!’” He snickered and released your jaw, soothing you with his hand now gently raking through your hair.

You were stunned. Absolutely shook by his quick turnaround, this should be terrifying. This man can be so gentle one moment and the next he’s speaking to you like he’s ordering you to lay down at the guillotine. It wasn’t terrifying in the right way. Not the type of fear you should be feeling at his unpredictable actions.

You weren’t scared of him at all. But yourself? Yes. Who is this girl? Why is she… why do you like this? It’s scary because you’re not scared. It’s horrifying because you want more. It’s terrifying because you’re morbidly curious about what he’d do if you acted out again.

You shook your head and picked your jaw off the floor, deciding the best course of action was to just tuck yourself back under his arm and watch whatever movie he had paused when you entered the room.

Might as well. You’ve already come this far.

Date

August 14th

When you woke up the next morning Ghost was gone. Your home was devoid of any trace of him, no note, no gift, no messages. Nothing.

He had hardly moved while you sat with him, the only consistent movement was the gentle twist and twirl of one long lock of your hair around his finger. It was repetitive and soothing, just like the calming rise and fall of his chest.

How could he be so calm? So off guard?

You could’ve turned on him at any moment. Ripped off his mask and saw who he was, grabbed your lamp and wacked him with it. Punched him in the nuts and ran.

But, to be fair, he could’ve done the same to you. Yet you stayed there, albeit anxious and on high alert for majority of the time spent with him. Despite the fact that you knew he carried a weapon, even though you were well aware of what he’d been doing to you all this time, even after he’d manhandled your face when you smarted off to him.

It must be a twisted form of mutual trust.

Or you might just be delusional.

Either way, it was wrong and you knew that. You intentionally got naked in front of another man, while he laid on the bed your boyfriend so sweetly makes love to you in. You fell asleep in the arms of this man. Not just *any* other man, the one who has been stalking you relentlessly for months.

You’ve cheated on Anakin. If he knew, it would crush him. It would break apart his big, soft, velveteen heart. Your betrayal would rip a hole right through the middle and slice up the fabric so badly it couldn’t be sewn back up without ending up smaller, weaker, and deformed.

What could you do? Was there anything to do? Telling him to his face… the thought of it soured your stomach so badly you thought you might form an ulcer.

Telling Ghost to fuck off and leave you alone wasn’t an option either. No matter what you did, the precautions you put in place; he would find you. Not only would he find you, but he wouldn’t allow Anakin the privilege of breathing anymore.

You couldn’t tell Luke. He’d lecture you until your ears bled while he dragged you to the nearest police station. Then Luke would be in danger, Anakin would know, and Ghost would still be your problem. And if Luke didn’t believe you, he’d ship you off to the long term care loony bin.

Your sister? Of course you couldn’t tell her either. She has her own family. Ghost already knows where she lives, he’s told you so.

He knows everything about you. Your family tree, your friends list, your schedule, your medical information, banking account, he has complete access to your home, your phone…

You are a canary in a cage and he is a cat pawing at you through the metal bars.

It’s only a matter of time before one of those claws nicks you. A feather or two might come loose, open up a weak spot on your frail body. The next swipe might draw blood, maybe it won’t. Or maybe he’ll be lucky enough to bat you to the bottom of the cage.

It’s hard enough to escape when there’s someone always watching. When there’s a lock on the door. But to attempt to flee with broken wings? You couldn’t hobble your way to safety anyway. Bird cages don’t have doors at the bottom, they’re halfway up. They don’t have horizontal bars. You can’t climb.

You are stuck.

It’s up to you if you want to be trapped there intact, or if you’d rather wallow at the bottom in pain.

——————————————————————————

Maybe you should just break up with Anakin.

Ghost said he wouldn’t hurt him, but how long will that last? How long until he gets tired of waiting? Should you ask Ghost again? Just to make sure? Make him sign a fucking contract?

Maybe it would be best if-

“Sweetheart?” Anakin whispered softly, waving his hand in front of your face. “What’s going on? I’ve been standing here for almost a minute.”

Anakin was here.

“What?” You whispered back, suddenly overwhelmingly aware of your surroundings.

The diner. You were at The Bluebird. You were working. A glance to the clock told you that you’d been here for over two hours, a quick scan of the tables and the counter proved that you hadn’t neglected any customers. Your notepad and pen were in your hand, there was money in the tip jar.

Anakin was here.

“Hey, c’mere.” His voice soft and concerned.

He gently took the pad and pen from your hands, put an arm around your shoulder and held your hand as he led you through the kitchen. Not an uncommon occurrence, Anakin was well known to everyone at the Bluebird due to his frequent visits to see you. He often walked with you out through the kitchen to sit on the curb with you while you took a break and he smoked a cigarette.

“Vigo, I’m taking her out back.” He said quietly, speaking to the dishwasher.

“I was about to call you man.” He spoke back in a hushed voice. “She’s been actin’ like that since she got here.”

“Yeah? Well next time don’t wait to call.” Anakin grumbled, scowling at your coworker.

The heat of the afternoon sun soothed over your skin, making you painfully aware of the cold sweat lacing the back of your neck. You blinked and it felt like it was the first time you’d closed your eyes in hours. Your mouth was dry, your teeth felt cold and your brain might’ve been better described as soup.

Anakin sat down on the curb and pulled you down with him. Placing you sideways between his legs, your arms immediately threw themselves around his neck and you curled up into him.

“Jesus baby.” He whispered, the wind getting knocked out of him at your aggressive tackle.

“An-” You started to sob before you even finished his name.

“W-what’s wrong?” You could feel his heart beat quicken beneath you, hear it pounding in his chest. He was feeling real, true panic.

“Hey, hey talk to me. Breathe.” He tried to soothe you by petting your hair, rocking you gently, kissing your forehead… anything, anything he could think of and nothing was working.

You were sobbing so loudly that Anakin was glad there wasn’t a back parking lot. If someone wanted to see where this horrible wailing was coming from they’d have to walk all the way around back, thankfully most people didn’t care enough to do such a thing.

Unfortunately though, your coworkers did care.

The back door creaked open and you could hardly hear the conversation over your own tears.

“Anakin!” Vigo whisper shouted. “What the fuck did you do to her?”

“What do you mean? I didn’t do this!” His voice angrily gritting through his teeth. “What happened today?”

“Nothin’ man! I dunno!” Vigo squeaked raising up his hands in surrender. “She just clocked in like that, no cryin’ though. She’s hardly said a word.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t call me!” Anakin grunted, “I’m her emergency contact for a reason you idiot.”

“Hey? Don’t get mad at me!” Vigo scoffed. “I figured she was in a funk because of you, why would I call if I thought it was boyfriend troubles?”

“Jesus- did you even ask her?”

“What?”

“Oh my fuckin’-“ Anakin took a breath to regulate himself, one arm firmly holding you while the other was wildly gesturing as he spoke. “Did you ask her what was wrong?”

“No?”

“Are you stupid? God just fuck- go back inside before you end up crying on the ground too.” He snapped at him, huffing as the back door shut behind a quickly retreating Vigo.

“Sorry baby, I’m sorry,” He whispered, petting your head and squeezing you tightly. “I’m sorry, that probably didn’t help did it?”

“N-not really.” You hiccuped out a laugh.

“She speaks.” He gasped, “want me to yell at him some more? I’ll do it just say the word-“

“Anakin-“ you snorted, wiping your eyes and nose on his shirt. “Aw shit sorry.”

“You think I’m worried about alittle snot?” He scoffed, “Sweetheart, I’d lick it out of your nose like a cow if you’d let me. C’mere I’ll prove it.”

He stuck out his tongue and flicked it at you, chasing your face as you squirmed away from him. Despite to horrible ache in your lungs and the scratchy feeling in your throat, Anakin had a way of making everything better. Even if it was accomplished by making a fool of himself.

You laughed in spite of trying to catch your breath, fighting those awkward stalled inhales with a the goofy little giggle only he could force out of you. He relented finally when you gave up struggling, opting for a kiss on the tip of your nose rather than his tongue up your nostril.

“Wanna talk to me now?” He asked quietly, his playful attitude tucked away and replaced with seriousness.

“I don’t know Ani.” You sighed, feeling horribly conflicted. “I just want to go home.”

“Then I’ll take you home.” He said, not leaving room for argument. “But I’m not letting you get up until you tell me what’s going on.”

“Please? Please I don’t wanna talk about it.” Your eyes already filling back up with tears.

“It’s nothing really! It’s okay.” You pleaded with him, “I’m just… I’ve been thinking about a lot of stuff and it’s all overwhelming.”

“That’s not okay, don’t say it’s okay. You just wailed like a banshee.” He said sternly. “Talk, let me help.”

“I just feel like I’m losing my mind.” You scoffed, “Im going nuts. I don’t… I don’t know. I don’t know how to explain it without you thinking I’m insane.”

“Princess.” He said, his voice cracking with pain. “You can tell me anything. You know that.”

“W-what if hypothetically…” you whispered. “It’s only hypothetical okay?”

“Okay. Imaginary scenario, let’s hear it.” He nodded solemnly.

“Hypothetically, if I was having… nightmares of someone being in my house. What would you say.” You whispered.

“Hypothetical nightmares?” He asked, one eyebrow raised. “Well… I’d suggest that maybe you… go to therapy? See if you can find the root of the problem.”

Therapy? To find the root of the problem? That would work if you didn’t already know where to find the problem: in your apartment at any given moment. Hell, he was probably there right now.

“Are you having these dreams because of that night at the bar?” He asked softly, tucking loose hairs behind your ear. “You know we didn’t see anyone put anything in your drink. No one left at the same time as you but your friends.”

“Now like I said before, just because we didn’t see it on camera… it doesn’t mean that no one slipped something in your drink. Stuff like that unfortunately happens all the time.” He sighed.

“I know.” You nodded, your eyes wet and sad, you knew you weren’t drugged there. You were drugged in the security of your own home. “I know, I think maybe I was just alittle more tipsy than I thought I don’t-“

“Hey, no… it’s okay.” He soothed you. “I believe you.”

“But there was no one who followed you home from the bar. I can say that with 100% certainty okay?” He said sternly.

“Ani but-“

“Look at me.” He said sharply, his voice turning soft again immediately after. “No one followed you home. I watched that video a hundred times over from every angle possible. No one else left the bar until about 17 minutes after you and your friends left.”

“Now don’t get upset baby okay? Listen I know, I know that it scared you shitless.” He said in a pained way, his face not quite matching his tone of voice like he was having a hard time trying to decide how to respond.

“Which is perfectly valid. It’s totally okay to be terrified if you saw something like that.” He soothed you, squeezing your upper arms. “I’m not saying it didn’t happen, I would never say that. If you say that you saw something, I believe you.”

“But, just because you saw it… doesn’t mean that it was truly there. Those kind of drugs can really fuck with your head baby.” He said gently.

“I know.” You sniffled, wiping your eyes and hiding against his chest again.

Gods… this man. He really was one of a kind, not just any man or person in general for that matter, would respond so well to such a strange temporary delusion. Your past boyfriends would’ve run for the hills. But not Anakin. It was clear he wasn’t deterred easily, he was your personal emotional support pet leech.

It was strange, feeling so comfortable like this with someone you hadn’t known for very long. After this conversation you thought maybe it would be okay to tell Anakin the truth about it all. He’d handle it perfectly well wouldn’t he?

But, you can’t risk putting him in harms way. You wouldn’t know if Anakin would be safe without first speaking to Ghost. If Anakin was your pet leech… Ghost was the the neighborhood street dog who’d decided your porch was the safest place to sleep. Who would be heartless enough to kick the poor thing out without a proper meal first?

That’s the problem with strays. Give them a scrap and they’ll love you for life.

Diary Entry: August 14th

Jesus baby I’m sorry. I thought things went well last night, I didn’t mean to make you so upset. I really didn’t. I guess you weren’t ready to see Ghost after all.

That’s my fault, I apologize. I should have known better.

It’s just… you seemed kind of excited for it you know? I thought we had a good time. Was the stripping down in front of me what freaked you out so much? Or seeing the pictures? I shouldn’t have done that. I really shouldn’t have, that was too far, too fast.

I see now that I made a mistake and I plan to rectify it as soon as possible. I’m going to give you a choice, one that I really don’t want to give you. But I will for the sake of your sanity.

I’ve been selfish for too long.

I’ve not truly considered your feelings on the situation, I’ve taken your response at face value and never attempted to dig farther than that. It won’t happen again I can assure you of that. Ghost will still be Ghost, but perhaps just a bit more considerate of your opinions and boundaries.

You must understand though, it’s hard to deal with this for me too. I know it’s not fair to compare our separate sides of the situation like this, but it’s true. It’s painful to watch you get so upset over something I’ve done, knowing I can’t really resolve the issue. I don’t know how to help, or fix this.

I’ve dug myself into a hole. A Pit if you will.

How could you ever forgive me now? After all this time that I have been so stupidly self-centered… I imagine it would be unlikely that you could find it in your immensely kind soul to forgive and forget my transgressions.

Maybe not though? I do see you as a godly entity, my own personal deity. If I leave enough at the altar, bow at your feet for long enough, serve you unconditionally… maybe then you would see that I have discovered the error of my ways. You could see that I am truthful in my pursuit of repentance.

Date

August 15th

Anakin drove to the opposite side of the city to purchase your apology gifts from Ghost. He knew well enough that Luke never had a set schedule, Han was always at the gym and you were at book club. There was limited space in time and even smaller proximity of location for him to safely collect the supplies he needed.

If someone saw him buying a dozen red roses and told you about it without his knowledge… well there goes Ghost. It’d be real hard to explain that away.

So he went to the florist, chose the most beautiful bouquet he could find and tucked it away in a large brown bag with tissue paper over the top so he wouldn’t accidentally bruise the petals.

He strolled down the side walk to another small mom and pop store, just to browse through stationary and cards. Ghost needs to be alittle more classy in his opinion. Maybe if his notes are on nice paper and written in plain black ink… that could ease the discomfort of it. It’s probably not super welcoming to find a ripped scrap of paper with red ink scrawled on it now that he’s come to think of it.

It was amusing to him before, but after your display of emotion, he’s feeling guilty. Very, very guilty. There was no reason to go the extra mile on stupid little things like that.

So, pretty grey paper and matching envelopes join the bouquet.

Now he just has to find something else. It can’t be chocolate or something generic. It has to be something meaningful. Something thoughtful to solidify the sentiment behind his offer for you. Something that will push you to make the right decision.

——————————————————————————

Anakin walked into your apartment, and went straight to your bedroom, it was time for Ghost to set up his apology present.

The big red bouquet was carefully placed in the center of your bed along with the pretty stationary propped against it. Your name carefully and neatly written in **black ink** on the envelope.

Your other gift, had turned into two. A small black box accompanying a short and squat black gift bag with grey tissue paper.

He was proud of his staged display, so proud that he couldn’t wait for you to see it. He was itching for you to get home, he needed to know what you’d choose. He was dying to see your pretty face light up with joy at his thoughtfulness.

So against his better judgement, he snapped a picture of himself standing at your bedside. The photo taken from a high angle to capture just the corner of your red rose bouquet, with himself taking up majority of the frame. His mask tilted to the side and his free hand held up a gloved peace sign.

He’d wait to send it.

He wanted to see your face when the message came through.

Anakin was prepared to be patient, but he didn’t have to be patient for long. He got the notification that there was movement out front of the building, he pulled up the live feed from the stairwell camera on his laptop and excitedly jolted up out of his seat before sitting back down quickly to scoot his seat back up to the table.

He rubbed his hands together and practically combusted from the inside when he confirmed it was you. His fingers moved quickly to send the text message and just as he thought you would, you paused and pulled your phone from your hoodie pocket.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, a bit of panic and maybe a bit of excitement. But mostly, Anakin was saddened to see fear. You were scared, but so brave as he watched you sprint up the steps. He shook his head and let out a deep breath, pulling up the split screen of all the cameras in your home.

You burst through the front door and slammed it shut, tossing your bag aside. Anakin turned up the volume just a bit and immediately realized that was a mistake because you yelled directly underneath the kitchen camera. The audio crackled as you shouted out for Ghost, Anakin realized then that you must think he’s still inside your home.

‘Just missed me.’ He texted quickly, watching you check your phone quickly and let out a sigh of relief as you muttered under your breath.

He thought you might text back, but why would you when you knew he was watching at that very moment?

“Hey!” You said, spinning in place, your eyes darting around to scan the room. “Where did you go? I didn’t see you!”

You rushed over to the living room window and down to the alley below, then up the fire escape, your gaze traveling over to the next building’s roof.

‘You won’t see me unless I want you to.’ He texted back.

“Jesus.” You muttered, rubbing your wrist anxiously. “I guess you want me to go to my room huh?”

‘Yes please.’

“Fine.” You sighed, kicking off your shoes as you walked over to the bedroom door, flinging it open quickly just incase he was still hiding out.

Your eyes drew to the center of your bed, the roses, the bag and box, the envelope. If the situation weren’t so strange you might consider this a romantic gesture. But it’s not, it’s not romantic and you shouldn’t want to open the gifts and sniff the pretty, sweet smelling flowers. You should want to call the police and have them haul the shit off for evidence.

“What’s all this for?” You asked alittle quieter than before, holding up your phone to read the text as it came through almost instantly as you knew that it would.

‘Letter.’

“Letter? That’s all?” You scoffed, “you did all this for a letter?”

‘It’s important.’ The response came quickly, followed by a second in rapid succession. ‘Gifts first.’

“Okay… alright. Gifts first.” You sighed, pulling your hand back from where it was inches away from the grey envelope.

The small box seemed like a good first thing to open, easy enough to snap shut if you didn’t like what you saw inside. Tentatively shifting the lid back and forth you wiggled it free and lifted the small square of padding to reveal a very nice, very ornate, obviously hand crafted hair-pin with a silver rod for the pin.

You gingerly lifted it from the box and held it in your hand to examine it, walking over to the window to open the curtains and see it more clearly. Smooth, black ceramic, gorgeously curved and curled silver fittings. But the most intriguing, the most breathtaking part of it, was the delicate lines and the daintily carved cameo in the center of the ceramic oval.

A woman standing under a willow, with a fawn at her feet.

You wanted to hate it, but how could you hate something so beautiful? How could you pretend to be unappreciative of something that clearly took time and effort to find, it wasn’t just vintage, it was antique. The fact that he’d searched for and seized the jewelry was a feat in itself.

You gingerly laid it back in its box, almost too afraid to hold it. Afraid of its fragility, afraid of what it stood for, how it made you feel. The tiny claws of emotion ripping at your throat stole your voice, you could only hope that Ghost couldn’t see your face from where you were standing or he would clearly see what he’d stirred up inside you.

You picked up the small bag and lifted the tissue paper gently, hoping it wasn’t another emotionally draining surprise.

It wasn’t draining, but it sure as hell was a surprise.

“What’s this?” You snorted, turning the bag over and dumping out a few cat toys.

You waited, checking your phone periodically but got no response. You knew he was still watching, so why wasn’t he answering? Sighing you shook your head and opted to take a look at the toys.

A felt kicker toy shaped as a bloody knife. A couple of fluffy spiders, eyeballs with bells inside, and a little vampire bat that was almost too cute to be a cat toy.

“Thanks.” You said quietly.

It was infuriating how well he knew you, he knew how to crawl into your brain and make you want more. How could you not when he did things like this? Thoughtful, well planned gifts, including your pet too. He knew that your cat was your baby and he’d taken the time to befriend her, cared about her enough to buy her things.

It made it all the more irritating that his choice of toys was just alittle funny. But you’d die before you admit that seeing the knife made you crack a grin.

Finally you decided it was time to open the envelope, as soon as you did, you understood why he’d asked you to open the gifts first.

LETTER

Little Doe,

I’m sorry for the pain I’ve caused you. The hurt I saw, the words heard… I felt it in my soul when I watched you crumble.

My purpose is to love you, my job is to keep you safe, my goal is to make you happy. I’m only doing one of those things, it’s selfish of me to love you the way that I do. I know that.

What I’ve done is wrong, I’m aware. I can’t justify or explain it to you. Just know that the long and short of it is love, it’s not a normal love, but it’s mine and I’m giving it all to you.

There’s no way you’d understand the lengths I’d go to, the things I would do for you. You’d never comprehend how deeply I adore you. That’s okay. It’s hard for me to understand myself too.

The hairpin, it’s the goddess of the hunt and her fawn. I thought considering it all, it would be more than suitable for our situation.

You’re a saint, a deity, someone worth the labors of worship.

Goddesses aren’t meant to be touched, held, loved corporally. They’re meant to be imagined, a comforting presence that you feel all around you, bowed to in hopes of receiving grace. I’ve tried to go beyond the altar to reach you and for that I’m truly sorry.

Please, please take my offerings.

I love you, I need you, but I don’t deserve you. No one deserves attention from the heavens, especially not me. But if you are listening, if you’re willing, I’ll try my best to be the perfect follower.

So I’ll ask for a boon from my goddess:

Grant me passage on the road to repentance, or take my hand to walk through the valley.

You sat on your bed in silence for a long while, your cat coming to join you and accept the gifts left for her excitedly. It brought you a moment of peace to watch her waller around and smack the eyeballs across the floor.

So the overwhelming weight of the thin grey sheet of paper in your hand felt even heavier when she scampered off with her brand new bag toy hanging from her mouth like a fresh kill. She’d left you alone and undistracted again. Just you, your thoughts, and the suffocating silence surrounding you, the creeping tingle on your neck that told you he was still watching the cameras.

He was waiting.

So you sighed and crawled off the bed with your bouquet in tow, cutting the stems into the kitchen trash can and filling a glass vase with water to display them on the counter.

The grey paper followed you from room to room, seat to seat, from one hand to the other as you read it over and over. You could recite it by memory, it was burned into your retinas, you could still feel the indents of his pen on the paper long after you’d sat it aside, the smell of the paper dye singed your nostrils and didn’t leave even after your shower.

You thought you could clean yourself, wash your hands of the problem both literally and metaphorically.

No amount of scrubbing could rinse your brain well enough to wash away the thousands of jumbled words swirling around. You’d been trying to formulate one, just one, coherent sentence for a response. But each time you made progress, you changed your mind on the decision, you scrapped the idea, sent it to the shredder and recycled it into a slightly different, just as illegible mess.

He’s giving you an out. Take it.

Who cares if he still watches you? He won’t interfere. He won’t show up for visits, he won’t leave you gifts or notes.

He’d left you with an offering. A little piece of himself in exchange for your so called ‘divine intervention’. He was asking for the hand of god to stir the pot and serve it too. At least, that’s how he saw it.

For you it was just an awkward toss up of a bunch of jumbled pros and cons.

On one hand he was offering you freedom. Opening the bird cage and giving you the option to escape but clipping your wings, ensuring you can’t go too far.

He’d still watch, just not make an appearance… keep himself hidden like before.

This would also solidify Anakin’s safety, which you valued highly. You’d be free to have your beautiful blossoming relationship, without the worry and stress from the Ghost that haunts your apartment.

On the other hand he gave you the choice to join him in some capacity. To walk through the valley with him; would he walk two steps behind? Two in front? Or side-by-side?

It’d give you the opportunity to explore this stranger you’ve discovered living inside your mind and body. That weird itch that only Ghost can scratch, the thought of him alone just doesn’t do it for you anymore.

You’d have the chance to see who is under that mask and that was more intriguing than anything. You felt like the more you spoke to him, the more you watched him in person… maybe you’d be able to narrow it down to a few people. That might be worth the risks that come with allowing him to continue visiting.

So, you swallowed your fear and closed your eyes. A few silent moments later you spoke aloud, assuming Ghost was still listening.

“I’ll walk with you.” You said slowly, tasting the words as they left your lips. “On two conditions.”

‘What are they, deer?’ His response came instantaneously.

“You leave my friends and family alone. You swear on your life they’re safe and that includes Anakin. I mean it, I’m not fucking around about it okay?” You said confidently. “I already feel guilty enough, don’t make it worse for me.”

‘Guilty?’

“Yes guilty! I have a boyfriend, who I really, really like.” You said, feeling exhausted from the complexity of your choice. “This isn’t fair to him!”

“But it’s… it’s not fair to me either!” You said frustratedly as you blew out a long breath of air through pursed lips. “I deserve to know who you are! You’ve been watching me for god knows how long and I haven’t even heard your real voice.”

“And… and it’s not fair for you either.” You admitted quietly.

‘Why?’

“You’ve been… mostly harmless. Kind.” You confessed, considering saying more, much more. “You’ve been helpful. Despite everything you’ve done, you obviously care about me. I can’t ignore that especially now.”

‘Mostly harmless??’

‘Why ‘especially’ now?’

“You’re joking right?” You snorted in disbelief, shaking your head and trying to stifle a laugh of indignation. “You… well I mean it feels wrong to call it what it is. But- you.. you know what you did!” You crossed your arms frustratedly.

‘Ah… the extracurriculars.’

“Sure if that’s what you want to call it.” An expression of, strangely enough, amusement, crossed over your features. “What it is… well you know what it is.” You sighed.

“But for some reason… I don’t want to call it that.” You said quietly.

‘Hm. I’ll remember that.’

“I’m sure you will.” You huffed in spite of yourself, because if you were honest you’d be telling him you liked it. Your body liked it, your brain liked it, asleep or not, he’d affected you in ways you were unsure you could get with anyone else. Including your sweet and precious boyfriend, he’s too tender and loving.

“Second condition: you promise me that you’ll eventually tell me who you are.” You said firmly. “I deserve to know.”

‘I accept.’

“Okay then.” You sighed with relief and a bit of resignation. “You still have to warn me if you’re gonna be coming to visit though!”

‘Yes ma’am.’

“Ew. Add that to the list. Never call me ma’am again.” You snorted and it rolled into a full laugh when you finally looked up and caught your own gaze in your bedroom mirror. You were sitting in your room alone, speaking aloud, having a fully fleshed, seemingly one-sided conversation.

If anyone were to walk in on this scene playing out, they’d think you’ve lost your mind.

Maybe you already have.

Part Ten

The pendant that inspired the hairpin! I forgot to add it in sorryyyyyy

Tag-List:

@wickedtactics @tsugumiholic @kingdomhate @burnthecheshirewitch @exquisitcorpse @arzua10 @bby-imasociopath @depressed-kay @aliciaasky @naty-1001 1@mrsmikaelsxn @bunnylovesani @ausskywalker @angelsadmired @slut4starwarssmut @chocolatepalacecloudhoagie @starkiller419 @hearts4mitski4 @lethargic @allhailbuckybarnes-blog @shadowhuntyi @mortalheartache @fallinlovewithevil @sythethecarrot @chaoticantihero @vadersslut @luvvfromme @anakinsbaee @sweetcheesecakesblog @luvskywxlker @angelsadmired @kaminokatie @anakin-pilled @graveyard-stray @chiaraanatra @jediavengers @zapernz @lunalitva @salted-snailz @queenofchaos99 @ellie-luvsfics @dazednstars141 @rorysbrainrott @hopesworlld @lonaah @guiltycherries @syralix @doblasftcisco

THE TAGS LIST IS FULL! But if you want to be tagged I will comment ur username for you. Love you all so many.

[rocknrollsalad]

rating: T cw: abandoned pets tags: modern au, platonic stobin, first meeting, animal shelters, another universe another menial job, bad holiday innuendo, implied hook ups word count: 995 written for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt "mistletoe"

there's now a part two

One of the fun bits about running the social media for the animal shelter was naming the animals that came in. Crafting something just unhinged enough to be spread around which lured people in was Robin’s jam. Yeah, her creative skills could be better used but they weren’t going to waste. And this way cute animals got loving homes.

As fun as it was to name a litter of kittens things like “Left Sock” and “Stolen Pants”, Robin also had to play to the season. Though her and her supervisor went rounds about this. Robin didn’t want to entice parents to adopt a kitten for their kid only for them to get the thing back in four months. She didn’t make the big bucks though so she had to do what she was told.

When the large litter of kittens rescued from a cold and abandoned barn came in? Robin knew what she’d be forced to do. The props would be cute but the names would be lame and overused.

It wasn’t a shock to anyone that she dragged Steve into the process. He was her best friend, they applied for the job together and wanted matching schedules, but he also actually had Christmas cheer.

Best friend, decorations, and kittens all wrangled into the same space, they set to the difficult task of naming each of these adorable little furballs. There were eight of them and that number was the only thing stopping Robin from bringing home the whole litter.

Latkes, Kugel, Lump of Coal, Winter Solstice, Krampus, The Ghost of Christmas Past, Cheeses, Meeces, and Mistletoe were all photographed and the colors of their colors logged before Robin and Steve went to the office to edit pictures.

Steve had Latkes in the pocket of his hoodie, sleeping away in the comfort and warmth, and Mistletoe wandered from shoulder to shoulder. The rest were happy back in their homey pen, heating blanket and food freshly stocked. Robin wanted to be annoyed but Steve always had at least one animal in tow, he couldn’t help that they were drawn to him. Or that he couldn’t say no to them.

“We oughta take a picture of you like that, imagine the dates you could get asking people to meet you under this mistletoe,” Robin said, turning back to the screen.

“Wouldn’t that be better if she was the one in my pocket?” Steve asked.

“Oh my god, why would you say that?” Robing aggressively clicked the ancient mouse to try and make the computer load faster so she didn’t have to think any more about the implications of that.

“You set me up for it!” Steve said, that same indignation he always had that made Robin want to punch him.

“Whatever. Not even you could get a date with something like that.”

Robin didn’t turn around, she could feel Steve accepting the challenge she absolutely had not issued. No way he got it to work.

—

The day had been slow, boring but expected. Robin was the only one on duty right now. The two others went off to take their lunch knowing Robin was fine with Steve there. He’d come in to hang out, a pretty typical thing when they weren’t scheduled to both work.

Steve was sitting on the counter, Robin in the chair with her feet up and next to his leg. They were on their fourth Buzzfeed quiz when the door opened. Steve and Robin both had to fight glaring at whoever interrupted the scientific “what type of fruit are you” quest.

“Hey, do you guys still got Krampus?” the guy asked, skipping all greetings.

His lack of manners had Robin staying in her seat. She wasn’t going to overdo it if he couldn’t manage the bare minimum. Steve, however, was on his feet all Christmas cheer and eager to help. Robin knew what that meant.

Added confirmation came as Steve leaned over and whispered “I think he needs to take home Mistletoe.”

Sticking her finger toward her mouth, Robin gave a half-hearted gag. If anything, she was annoyed with how easily this all came to Steve. This guy was so his type there was no way he wasn’t going to try something and Robin supported that but did he have to be so good at it?

“We do,” Steve said. It shouldn’t have been a seductive statement and yet…

Of course, it worked. The guy was the first person Robin had ever seen do a spit take without having anything to drink.

After an awkward stare-down, Robin cleared her throat as the only professional for miles around, “Would you like to see him?”

“Yeah, yeah, man. I think I would,” the guy said.

Rolling her eyes, Robin lifted a foot to kick at Steve's hip. “Show him the cat, you idiot,” she groaned.

Since he was almost out of reach, the kick did nothing to Steve as he flashed that award-winning smile that drove everyone wild and he had the customer follow him.

Just once, Robin would love to channel whatever magnetism Steve had. There’d been so many girls that had come through the door, single girls who talked about their ex-girlfriends, and Robin couldn’t so much as give them her number. Steve was going to walk out of here with a wedding ring.

Sure enough, twenty minutes later, Steve and the guy walked back to Robin looking like they’d solved world hunger. Thankfully Steve was smart enough not to hook up with people at the shelter but Robin knew that look, both on the customer and Steve, a hook up would happen.

In case that wasn’t enough, the guy was carrying Mistletoe and not Krampus like he'd asked for.

Steve stood on the customer side of the counter and said “Hand me the adoption form, wouldya? We’ll get Eddie this adorable little friend and then I’m going to help him set his apartment up to be a cat dad.”

“You’re insufferable.”

[chelseaknoo]

OKAY, SO HOW ABOUT THIS IDEA: The reader is Eminem’s assistant (with major office siren vibes), and Marshall quickly becomes intrigued by her. He finds her serious, focused personality incredibly attractive and can’t resist flirting with her at every opportunity. While she finds his advances annoying and stays professional, underneath it all, there’s a spark she tries to ignore.And at the end they end up together 😍😍😍

Eminem x assistant!Reader

Caution: sexual content ♡

Note:this is the most creative request I’ve ever seen…And I love it!

The famous Detroit rapper, Eminem, was your boss—and working as his assistant was nothing short of stressful. It wasn’t just the demands of the job that made it challenging; it was the fact that your boss seemed to have a noticeable attraction toward you.

He often flirted openly, dropping sly comments and playful remarks, sometimes catching you off guard when you were trying to focus. His advances weren’t limited to private settings either—he’d casually ask you out on dates even in front of his friends, leaving you flustered and unsure of how to respond.

One memorable incident occurred when you accidentally dropped a stack of papers. As you bent down to pick them up, you felt the unmistakable touch of his hand coming into harsh contact with your ass. Turning around quickly, you met his mischievous smirk. "Couldn’t help myself," he had said, his voice dripping with casual confidence.

Despite how overwhelming his behavior could be, there was something undeniably magnetic about him. You tried to maintain a professional exterior, brushing off his advances and focusing on the work at hand. But deep down, his charm was difficult to ignore. Every teasing word, every lingering glance, left a tension between you that neither of you could deny.

One day, while you were busy at the printer, you heard Marshall call out, "Hey, come over here for a sec." Sighing and feeling a bit irritated, you left your work and walked over to him.

“What is it, Marshall?” you asked, trying to keep the impatience out of your voice.

He leaned back in his chair, giving you a playful look. "Come sit on my lap," he said, patting his leg as if it were the most casual request in the world.

Your eyes narrowed. “Absolutely not,” you replied, crossing your arms defiantly.

He raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Alright, but I might have to dock a little of your pay if you don’t."

You hesitated, glaring at him. “Are you serious?”

He chuckled, clearly enjoying your reaction. “I’m always serious,” he replied with a mischievous grin. You knew he was probably joking, but the thought of him actually cutting your pay made you huff in annoyance.

Reluctantly, you lowered yourself onto his lap, trying to keep your posture as stiff and professional as possible. Sitting there, you couldn’t help but notice how close his face was to your chest, and the look in his eyes made your cheeks warm.

"There. Happy?" you asked, avoiding his gaze.

Marshall gave a low chuckle, clearly pleased with himself. "Very," he replied, a glint of amusement in his eyes as he looked up at you. “You’re always so serious… It’s kinda cute, you know.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the urge to smile back. "Are you done now?"

He shrugged, still smirking. “Maybe… but I think I’m starting to like having you this close.”

Despite yourself, you felt a small flutter of excitement. But you kept your expression neutral, determined not to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was getting under your skin.

He leaned in slowly, his breath warm against your neck as his lips brushed softly over your skin. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt your resolve slipping. His hand moved up to gently caress the soft locks of your hair, his fingers threading through with surprising tenderness. Heat rose to your cheeks, and you found yourself blushing, unable to ignore the rush of feelings that washed over you.

Marshall lifted his head and looked into your eyes, a mix of mischief and sincerity flickering in his gaze. Before you could say anything, he closed the distance, pressing his lips against yours in a slow, lingering kiss. You felt your heart race, and despite every intention to keep things professional, you couldn’t help but melt into the moment.

His other hand cupped your face, and you instinctively reached up, placing one of your hands on the side of his face. The stubble on his jawline tickled your fingertips, grounding you in the reality of what was happening. The kiss deepened, growing more intense, as if the two of you were releasing every unspoken word and every stolen glance that had built up between you.

When you finally pulled away, your breaths were ragged, and neither of you spoke for a moment. Marshall’s thumb traced small circles on your cheek, and he gave you a lopsided grin. "You know," he murmured softly, "you really do drive me crazy."

You bit your lip, unsure of what to say, but knowing deep down that everything between you had just changed in ways you couldn’t ignore.

Without another word, you found yourself leaning back into the kiss, your hand sliding around to the back of his neck to pull him closer. The chair creaked under his weight, but it didn’t matter—you were lost in the moment. His hand slipped from your hair to the small of your back, drawing you closer still, until there wasn’t an inch of space between you. The feeling was overwhelming, but in that moment, all you could do was give in to it.

Marshall’s hands began to roam, exploring the curves of your body with an urgency that seemed to match your own. You felt his hand move up to your waist, and he began to lift you up slightly, adjusting you on his lap so that you were straddling him. The fabric of your skirt rustled as you moved, and you felt a thrill at the thought of someone walking in on you—the scandal of it all.

The chair groaned in protest as you shifted your weight, but you were too lost in the sensation of his hands on your body to care. His kisses grew more demanding, his tongue sliding against yours in a dance that made your head spin. You could feel his desire pressing against you, and it was all you could do not to moan out loud.

Your own hands found their way under his shirt, feeling the warm, firm planes of his abs. His skin was surprisingly soft, and you couldn’t help but trace your fingertips over the tattoos that adorned his body. He sucked in a sharp breath as you touched a particularly sensitive spot, and you felt a surge of power knowing that you could elicit such a reaction from him.

Marshall’s hands moved up to your low cut blazer, deftly unbuttoning it with one hand while his other arm held you steady.

He broke the kiss for a moment, his eyes dark with desire as they searched yours for permission. You nodded, your own eyes glazed with lust, and he took that as the invitation he needed. His mouth descended to your neck, kissing and nipping as he unbuttoned your shirt and pushed it aside to expose your black lace bra. His hand slipped under the fabric to squeeze your flesh gently, and you gasped at the contact.

The chair rocked slightly as he adjusted you on his lap, his hands moving to the clasp of your bra. With a swift motion, he unhooked it, and it fell away, revealing your breasts to the cool office air. He took one in his hand, his thumb brushing over the sensitive peak before taking it into his mouth. You threw your head back, a soft moan escaping your lips, as the sensation sent waves of pleasure through your body.

Your own hands had been busy, too—they found the hem of his shirt and began to lift it over his head, revealing his toned torso and the tapestry of tattoos that covered his chest. You traced the ink with your fingertips, feeling the warmth of his skin and the beat of his heart beneath. His muscles flexed as he removed the shirt entirely, tossing it aside.

With your bodies now fully engaged, you both seemed to be in a silent understanding of where this was heading. You reached down and unbuckled his belt, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet room. The button of his pants followed, and you slid the zipper down, freeing his hardened length. He groaned against your skin, his teeth grazing the soft mound of your breast as he tasted you.

You pushed his pants and boxers down, and he adjusted his position, lifting you slightly to align your bodies. The anticipation was thick as you felt the head of his erection at your entrance. The chair’s leather was cold against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat building between you. With a gentle thrust, he filled you, and you couldn’t help but gasp as you took him in.

The chair rocked rhythmically under the weight of your passion, the sound muffled by the thick office carpet. His hands gripped the armrests tightly as he began to move his hips, his eyes locked on yours, searching for every sign of pleasure. You wrapped your legs around him, grinding down to meet each thrust, the friction sending sparks of sensation through your core.

The leather of the chair was cold and unforgiving against your bare skin, but the heat from Marshall’s body and the passion burning between you was more than enough to warm you. Each time he entered you, a gasp would escape your lips, and he seemed to take it as a challenge to make the next one louder.

Your hands had moved from his neck to his broad shoulders, gripping tightly as his hips drove into you. The chair groaned in time with your movements, the rhythmic sound a testament to the intensity building within. The office around you faded away, the only reality being the two of you, entwined and moving together as one.

Marshall’s grip tightened on your hips, his breathing growing ragged as he fought to keep his strokes slow and measured. You could feel his restraint, his desire to let go and take you harder, faster, but he held back, savoring the moment. His eyes never left yours, a silent promise that he would never let you fall.

With each deep plunge, you felt your orgasm building, the tension coiling in your belly like a tight spring. You bit your lip, trying to hold back the moans that threatened to spill out, not wanting to be caught in such a compromising position by anyone who might walk in. But the pleasure was too intense, and soon you couldn’t hold it back any longer.

Your nails dug into his shoulders as the spring inside you snapped, sending waves of ecstasy through your body. You threw your head back, letting out a loud moan. Marshall’s eyes widened, and he paused for a moment, looking at you with a mix of surprise and admiration before leaning in to capture your mouth again.

He picked up the pace, his movements becoming more erratic as he approached his own climax. The chair creaked and swayed precariously, echoing the intensity of the moment. You could feel the heat of his breath on your neck as he kissed and nibbled, his hands now squeezing your ass as he pushed you down onto him, filling you completely.

The room was a blur of passion, the only clear focus the two of you and the chair that was now the stage of your forbidden act.

“I guess I should get back to work,” you said, reluctantly standing up from his lap and straightening your clothes. You tried to keep your tone light, but there was no hiding the lingering warmth in your cheeks.

Marshall leaned back in his chair, a playful glint still in his eyes. “Or,” he began, a slow smile spreading across his face, “you could take the day off and spend it with me.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “And what about all the work piling up on my desk?” you teased, though a part of you was tempted by the idea.

He waved a dismissive hand, as if it were the simplest problem in the world. “Forget about it. Work can wait.” Then, he leaned forward, his expression softening. “Come on. Don’t worry—I’ll still pay you for the day.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “You really know how to sweeten the deal, don’t you?”

“Is it working?” he asked, tilting his head, a touch of hopefulness in his voice.

You pretended to consider it, tapping your chin with exaggerated thoughtfulness. “Hmm… I suppose a day off might not be the worst thing in the world.”

He grinned, standing up and closing the distance between you in one stride. “That’s what I like to hear. So… what do you say? Just you, me, and no distractions?”

You hesitated for a split second before nodding. “Alright. You win.”

Marshall’s smile widened as he reached for your hand. “Good. I promise you won’t regret it.” And with that, the two of you stepped away from the confines of work, ready to see where the day would lead. <3

[cobaltperun]

Eternal Flame side story 1 - Brave Shine

Jenna Ortega x Female Reader

Chapter Summary: The ghosts from the past come back to haunt you, testing your resolve once more. You've never wanted to fight, to resort to violence, until now. Everything comes at a price, but is there anything worth losing Jenna?

Spotify playlist

Masterlist / First Part

Word count: 3.1k

-If you need a hand to hold, then stay the night, on the darkest of my days, you saved my life-

-October 2024-

Months of hard work, a rather busy schedule with barely any rest was taking its toll on her. The Beetlejuice Beetlejuice press tour slowed the shooting down, meaning they all had to work extra hard to catch up. At least the scenes you and Jenna had went smoothly, ridiculously smoothly at times, and Jenna was thankful for that. Tonight was one of the rare nights she walked back to your apartment on her own. You wrapped up a few hours before her and you were both still trying to keep your relationship a secret, so you went back to the apartment on your own. Perhaps the most challenging part of hiding your relationship was making sure people didn’t figure out you were sharing apartment. How you both managed to do it was still a mystery to Jenna.

She opened the doors, expecting to be hit by the scent of a warm meal you took time to prepare whenever you got the chance. You didn’t have to, it was never something Jenna felt she was owed, it was as simple as you leaving the set in a good mood and promising to make something tonight. Yet when she entered the apartment there weren’t any lovely scents that made her mouth water greeting her. The apartment lacked the usual warmth caused by the cooking, the lights were off, and Jenna cautiously flipped a switch. “Y/N?” she called out, a sense of dread filling her tired body as her heart threated to force its way out of her chest. Everything looked normal, just the way the two of you left it this morning.

“The balcony!” you responded but your voice didn’t bring her any comfort. For a reason she couldn’t explain your voice sounded wrong to her, and instead of relaxing her it actually made her even more worried.

Jenna put her bag away and approached the slightly open balcony doors, she could see you, watching over the city and leaning over the railing, tense. From the corner of her eye, she noticed sliced zucchini on the kitchen counter. Something interrupted you just as you started preparing the meal, and Jenna found it difficult to even swallow the lump stuck in her throat as your eyes remained fixated on the city. “Baby?” she barely found her voice as she reached up, cradling your cheek and hoping her touch would make you look at her. It didn’t. Your breath just hitched, and she could feel a slight tremble of your jaw under her thumb before you clenched it. After three and a half years together this was the first time she was frightened.

You’ve been open with her all these years, always letting her see you vulnerable, always encouraging her to push past her own insecurities, never holding anything back, yet this time she was reminded of you back when you were filming Scream. When she stopped you from going to a fight. The look on your face was the same as it was that night, deep in thought and showing her she wouldn’t be able to get through to you, no matter how hard she tried.

She’d still try.

“What happened?” you were pressed to the railing, and she doubted she could get you to budge now, so she sat on the railing, wanting to look you in the eyes, to see your whole face instead of just the side of it.

Your reaction was immediate, and you grabbed her waist and moved to stand in front of her, steadying her even if she was already certain she couldn’t fall over. The panic in your eyes as you looked at her made her feel guilty. This wasn’t the reaction she anticipated, you’ve never done this before. You held her to hold her, to be close to her, this was different, this was firm, driven by fear and clearly uncomfortable with her sitting there, so, Jenna hopped back down. “Please look at me,” she whispered, making you finally focus entirely on her. “I’m with you. Whatever happened, I’m with you,” she moved her hand from your cheek to the back of your neck and merely suggested a hug, not wanting to push you right now. And relief flooded her as you lowered your head and pressed your forehead against her own, a deep breath later she felt your grip on her changing, turning into a hug. A tight, almost desperate hug, but a hug nonetheless.

“You’re with me,” you whispered, and Jenna wasn’t sure for how long the two of you stayed like that, just embracing as the tension surrounding and engulfing you slowly vanished. “I need to leave for a couple of days, I already spoke with Tim and others,” your words surprised her, made her worry once again. You always told her where you were going, well, other than when you went to film Deadpool & Wolverine, but this couldn’t be for a movie. And normally Jenna wouldn’t mind not knowing where you were, she trusted you completely, but this just reminded her of that night, your fights. “I’ll be fine, I just need to do something alone,” you assured her, but she heard the doubt in your voice, you weren’t even convincing yourself, let alone her.

And she would have argued if she didn’t feel just how much you were hurting right now.

All she could do was trust you, unconditionally, unwaveringly, just the way she did these past three and a half years.

~X~

Tomorrow came way too soon, you felt as if someone tore open the ground beneath you and now you were in a freefall, unable to grasp anything. You were on your own, in a small, bland, rented apartment. It didn’t matter what the apartment looked like, or that the bed was uncomfortable, or the heating nonexistent, the location is what made you rent it for two days. It was facing a local courthouse. You wished you could stop it, but your mind kept replaying the last night’s conversation with your parents’ lawyer. The man was your father’s friend and helped you sell the apartment as quickly as possible after the accident, and he made sure the truck driver got locked up for as long as possible.

He had his limits though.

“There was nothing else I could do,” he apologized to you as he notified you of the truck driver’s release. There was a hearing today, and then that man would walk free, the sob story of a man driven to insanity by drugs that now wished to repent for his sins, as he so earnestly stated, as well as numerous other circumstances made sure he would be let out on a parole.

You clenched your fists, wondering in which courtroom he was, wondering if there was anything you could do. There was something. But what would be the cost?

You could have testified, could have recounted the way his actions destroyed your life, perhaps gotten the judges to reconsider, to at least delay the inevitable. What good would it do? Push his release back for a few months? A year? There was no way your actions wouldn’t cause ripple effects, people would start looking into your story, and perhaps your past as the underground fighter would come out, possibly tarnishing your career.

Your career you could sacrifice, but Jenna’s?

Never.

You had so many projects together, some yet to come out, and you wouldn’t put that at risk. You couldn’t drag her into this. Even if it felt like you were killing your parents again by just sitting back as that monster got to walk free.

Sighing, you reached into your pocket and pulled out your phone. You needed to get your mind off of this, and Jenna was busy filming, so, you went and called Hugh. A few rings later Hugh answered and for a brief moment you felt some respite from the emptiness threatening to consume you.

“Y/N!” Hugh’s tone was full of energy and excitement over you calling, you haven’t really seen each other since you went to film season 2, and with both of you busy you haven’t talked much either. Despite your situation you smiled.

“Hey, pops,” you almost choked on that word as it brought you right back to the reality.

“What’s wrong?” Hugh’s tone immediately changed. He knew you too well, understood the smallest shifts in your tone, let alone something as big as this.

You sighed, as if releasing that breath would release all the burden of this day. It didn’t, the burden remained and all it accomplished was worrying Hugh even more. You made them both worry, and if you somehow got Barbara involved into this as well she’d be just as worried. Jenna’s family as well, they sort of adopted you into their family since they figured you weren’t ever going to hurt Jenna, and while you and Edward weren’t best friends you managed to build quite a nice friendship with Jenna’s siblings and Natalie. All of those people were in your life, were precious to you and would have shown up to support you through this, yet…

“I want to hurt him,” you whispered. Acknowledging for the first time how you truly felt about this, For the first time in your life you wanted to hurt someone, you wanted to rush down the stairs, to run into that courtroom and break him, destroy his life the way his actions nearly destroyed your life, keep him alive so he can live on suffering.

And it terrified you.

“Hurt who?” you could hear Hugh getting up, you could hear the chair he was sitting on scrapping the floor, the worst of all, you could hear the panic in his voice.

“The truck driver. He’ll be let out on a parole today,” the silence that followed was deafening, louder than any words Hugh could have spoken. What was there to say or do?

“For the first time in my life I wish I could resort to violence,” your voice shook, and you caught yourself wondering if Edward was right all those years ago. Were you just one really bad thing away from resorting to violence? You could see yourself doing it, hurting him, punching him over and over again, and the thought alone felt good, it felt like righteous fury.

“Is Jenna with you?” despite how close you and Hugh were, he knew, perhaps better than anyone, just how much Jenna affected you. Over the past three and a half years she was truly the only one who could save you from these thoughts. Yet she was on another continent.

“No, I’m alone,” you shattered what little hope Hugh had that Jenna could chase away this overwhelming darkness shrouding your vision.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, and you could hear him pacing his apartment. “Why?” you understood his frustration, the way it slipped through his composure despite his best efforts. He felt helpless, rendered damn near useless by your own decision to do this alone.

“I didn’t want Jenna to see me like this,” it wasn’t entirely true, though that was a part of it, but you didn’t dare to say the truth, not yet, not to anyone but Jenna.

“Y/N,” he sounded exasperated, all things considered you really couldn’t blame him.

“I’m not going back to fighting,” you said, just as the courthouse doors opened and you saw the truck driver walking out, on a parole, but basically free in your eyes. It would be so easy. Just rush downstairs and follow him. Consequences be damned. You’d never go back to underground fighting, but that wouldn’t be fighting. That would…

You would…

The images of your parents in that hospital room, the memory of letting them die, the empty apartment, and now this.

You could do it.

The price would be too high.

“I know you won’t,” Hugh sighed, and you chose to look away from the window, to erase the man walking away, free, from your memory. To shut any possibility of vengeance down.

“Am I killing them again by letting him go?” you still asked, knowing the only answer Hugh could possibly give you. Even if he didn’t believe it there was only one answer to be given, the only answer that would free you from that burden.

“No, you aren’t,” he believed it, you heard it in his voice, and you had to force yourself to believe it too.

“Thanks, pops,” you whispered, thankful that you had him in your life.

~X~

You couldn’t stay there as long as you planned, so, in the early morning hours you slipped into your and Jenna’s apartment in Ireland only to find Jenna sleeping at the table, her dinner, noodles, left untouched with Raiju dutifully guarding her. “Good boy,” you praised him as he raised his head, looked at you and yawned as his tail wagged from side to side. He got up, stretching as you looked at Jenna, she looked like she just managed to fall asleep, and only because of how exhausted she was. Worse than that it was clear she was crying before she fell asleep. “I’m so sorry, Jen,” you whispered, waking her up enough for her not to get startled as you picked her up and carried her to the bedroom.

Raiju followed after you and patiently waited as you made sure Jenna was comfortable in the bed. “Thanks, buddy,” you pet him and smiled as he nuzzled against your chest before yawning again. “Go sleep,” and he did, after he licked your hand a few times he sleepily went over to his own bed. All that was left for you to do was freshen up and change and you’d join Jenna right away.

“Y/N,” Jenna’s sleepy voice made you halt just as you turned toward the bathroom. She was rubbing her eyes as she sat up and you smiled, walking over to her and sitting on her side of the bed.

Even if you went after that man you would have stopped. You wouldn’t have done anything, no matter how much it hurt to know he was now free. That empty apartment was replaced by a warm home, one you and Jenna built together. Nothing in this world, no justice, or righteous fury, were worth risking this. You wouldn’t trade your future to satisfy your past.

“I love you,” you leaned in, capturing her soft lips and relaxing as she returned the kiss and hugged you. Even as sleepy and tired as Jenna was, she still kissed you like you reunited after months, instead of roughly one day. You made her worry way too much. “I love you so much,” you repeated breathlessly when you separated for air.

“Are you okay?” she asked, trusting that the butterfly kisses on your cheeks and neck would tell you she loved you too.

“I am now,” you nearly said you were fine because she saved you, but you really needed to go and change, you couldn’t sleep in these clothes. Yet Jenna wasn’t letting go. “I promise,” you whispered, and only those words made her release you. “Just a few minutes,” you said with a small grin on your face and went to the bathroom. The annoyed huff and a body falling back onto the bed made you genuinely laugh.

You could never do something that would cost you Jenna’s love.

No matter what it was.

So, with that in mind you came back to her, dressed in comfortable pajamas, and only wanting to hold the love of your life. Jenna reached out to you, motioned for you to come closer, as if you were approaching too slowly for her liking. Maybe you were too slow, because the moment you were within her reach she pulled you in, making you lay your head on her chest as she hugged you. “Hugh told me,” that explained the crying.

“Remind me to thank him tomorrow,” you swallowed the lump in your throat, thankful that he handled telling Jenna. You probably didn’t have it in you to ease her into it tonight. “He told you everything?” you felt Jenna nodding and taking in a deep breath.

“I could never judge you for wanting to,” she paused. “do that to him. I don’t see you any differently,” Jenna said with so much sincerity in her voice.

“I know,” and you really did know. Knowing that she wouldn’t see you any differently and not wanting her to see you the way you were, however, were two very different things. Besides, there was a much bigger reason why you went alone.

“Why did you go alone, Y/N?” there was so much she wanted to tell you, you knew that. You knew what she wanted to tell you as well, that she had your back, that she wanted to be there for you, that she loved and cared for you unconditionally, and that you never had to face anything alone as long as she was there.

And if it was anything else you would have happily taken her with you.

“The last time he was close I lost the people I loved the most. It’s ridiculous, there’s no logic to it, but I just feared that if you, or Hugh, or Barbara, were with me that it would happen again,” it was irrational, but you were terrified of it regardless of how much sense it made. Nothing would have happened. You were in an apartment, Jenna would have been with you. Nothing would have happened to her. But that man… he felt like death itself to you, like his presence alone could take your loved ones away from you, so you went alone.

“Oh, Y/N,” Jenna sobbed, holding you tighter, knowing that the words wouldn’t help right now. All she could do was just be there, let you feel her presence, let you listen to her heartbeat, because what else was there to do or say. The exhaustion, both physical and emotional, took its toll and the two of you fell asleep like that, silently promising to talk more about what happened tomorrow, when you would once again be able to be vulnerable with Jenna, to talk about what you felt without holding anything back. For now, you could rest.

You were saved by her anyway, in all of the darkest moments that happened since you met her, Jenna always kept saving you.

A/N: Am I happy with this? More or less. At least I went and wrote something 🤣🤣

Taglist: @lilbitdepressed27 @freakshow2501 @osnapitzmel1 @belatrixdragon @ijustlovemaths

@niqmandu @justspance @mirage018 @godamnityess

Masterlist / First Part

[thebroccolination]

THAMEPO'S RELATIONSHIP (AS OF EPISODE 4)

Back when the teaser (made as an appeal to sponsors) aired in part two of GMMTV's 2024 showcase, and especially after the trailer (cut from the actual series) aired, I thought ThamePo looked like it would become one of the strongest series GMMTV has ever made.

So far, even though we're only four episodes in, it's well surpassing my expectations. Apparently, it's a passion project that the director had in the making for five years, waiting for the right casting to come along, so based on that alone, it's a series made with love. And I have a soft spot for passion projects. <3

Still, the top criterion I judge all series by is the quality of the writing, and since ThamePo's director is also a seasoned screenwriter who developed the script, this is one of the strongest aspects of the series so far.

Over the past four episodes, we've seen our protagonist's flaws (people-pleasing, projecting, temper) and strengths (resourcefulness, observational skill, cleverness), what he wanted (to return to the creative working world) and how it's changing (to reunite MARS). We've met the public version of Thame, the shallow version of Thame that Po misread, and the private version of Thame trying to make amends with his friends. We've met three of those friends (Jun, Dylan, and Pepper) and have hints about the fourth (Nano), and each friend we've met has given us more insight into the kind of person Thame is and what he's done to try and protect his group as the leader.

Since the main conflict of the story appears to be Thame being forced to choose between his band or his new boyfriend—

—Thame's relationship with Po has to move at quite a quick clip so he's emotionally invested enough in their relationship that it's a difficult choice. He's already extremely attached to his friends, so I'd argue one of the biggest challenges in the writing was having him fall in love with Po convincingly fast without it feeling forced by the hand of the screenwriter.

And daaamn has that been well-accomplished, in my opinion.

First, Po gets his Y/N moment.

It's established in the first episode that Thame saw Po at a fanmeeting once and remembered him because Po did something kind for someone when he didn't have to. Presumably because Thame's in a fairly cutthroat industry where people are constantly vying for his attention, maneuvering him like a chess piece, or flat-out ignoring him, that small act of kindness was probably one of the bright points of his day, week, or even month. Especially as things started falling apart with the other members.

In that same episode, we see Po projecting the heartbreak from his previous relationship onto Thame.

And in return, Thame—who spends most of the next episode docilely doing whatever he's told to do by the company—allows some of what he's hidden to show out of frustration presumably brought on by being so thoroughly misunderstood and chastised by a stranger he used to think well of and now suspects of being a sasaeng.

Because both characters are in such vulnerable places emotionally, it translates well to the narrative when they start to depend on one another.

On Po's end, his recent breakup has left him feeling foolish and exposed, taken advantage of by a man who refused to acknowledge Po's sacrifices or show any true appreciation for all the work Po did to see him succeed.

Meanwhile, Thame is alone in every way that matters.

His parents are neglectful,

his friends abandoned him,

and his boss is manipulating him.

At the start, Po is quite literally the only ally he has.

It's because Po kept at him to be honest, to be sincere, that Thame woke up and decided to fight for himself.

And because Thame is doing something for himself for a change, that's what wins back his closest friend Jun.

What I love about this whole narrative is that it's already established from Po's previous relationship that he's the kind of person to give himself entirely to a cause for someone else's benefit. He helped Earn to his own detriment, he picked up a small child so she could see, and he's risking his job to help Thame find happiness and peace.

So it's entirely in-character for him to, say, go through a whole room filled with boxes of rejected song lyrics trying to find one piece of paper that he had to tape back together. Only for it not to matter, because Thame mended fences with Dylan on his own.

I'd argue this is what makes Po think, Maybe I'm too emotionally involved in this. Especially after Jun has point-blank told him that Thame would never be interested in him that way.

We see the moment Po doubts his enthusiastic support of this whole project.

And it's clear that this could have been where it ended for Po.

Until Thame, observant and kind and the polar opposite of Earn, says exactly the right thing to him.

Because that was the major breaking point for Po in his relationship with Earn. He was made to feel disposable. Extraneous. Unnecessary. But Thame recognizes the work he's done, the effort he's put in. He may be reuniting the group for his own satisfaction, but he's not so selfish that he can let Po's contributions go unobserved and unappreciated.

Then, y'know. Thame talks to Po until he falls asleep—

—and serenades him in the morning.

And the thing is! Knowing all we know about Thame—that his parents don't seem to care about him, that he's been isolated from his friends, that he's been made helpless in his own career for so long after being manipulated into signing contracts that restrict his freedom—it makes sense for him to be the one pursuing Po this hard. Just as much as it makes sense for recently heartbroken Po to be interested and yet hesitant.

Setting all of this up in four episodes while covering the entire backstory of MARS and their gradual reunion is a feat of excellent writing. We have a reason to care about Thame and Po's relationship, because it's been clearly shown to us that they bring out the best in each other and that they're willing, even at this early stage, to take risks for each other. We've also got reason to care about MARS, because they seem to be more family to Thame than his own, and they're his current priority.

I'm genuinely thrilled to see such solid writing come from a GMMTV series because as I've said before, they seem more and more recently to chuck first drafts on an assembly line and just assume the fandom will watch anything regardless of the quality as long as certain khuujin are cast as the leads (which, y'know, isn't untrue).

While I enjoy some GMMTV QL series as mindless fluff to watch with friends, there are very few I'd say are written well. Apart from ThamePo, only five other series I've seen have what I'd consider well-executed scripts: Pluto (2024), Be My Favorite (2023), Dark Blue Kiss (2019), SOTUS S (2017), and SOTUS (2016). Sadly, I think Not Me (2022) was on track to be one of the best with its first half, but the production was infamously neglected with episodes cut by GMMTV at the last minute and the script deprived of major edits that left the second half almost shallow by comparison. (Of course, Not Me had a host of censorship issues as well, so we may never know how much that interfered with the quality. It's still an incredible series for its ambition and for Nuchy's directing, and I'll be mad every day of my reincarnation cycle that it didn't get the writing support it deserved.)

Otherwise, nearly every GMMTV series I've seen has at least one major basic storytelling flaw (no character arc, a sloppy resolution, unconvincing setup, weak characterization, excess filler, etc.), and they seem to be first drafts with very little depth. With that in mind, I hope to see ThamePo do well enough that it sends a message to GMMTV that they should focus more on the writing of their series. I think based on what we've seen in the first four episodes and in the trailer, the script quality is reliable, and ThamePo's relationship may be one of the best-written we've seen yet. <3

[alwayslurkinginthebackground]

Someone Like You - A Raindro Drabble

Pairing: Harry Castillo x f!reader Rating: I'm gonna say mature. There's a hell of a lot of swearing in here, as well as some more mature themes including violence against Lucy, but nothing explicit. Word Count: 2138 a/n: Raindro concludes with RED and we're just pretending that everything is fine today and nothing bad happened ever hahahahahahaha. Anyway, this was actually a request that came to me from a dear friend, and the moment we began discussing the plot it occurred to me that it might work incredibly well for this final day! I'll admit that this challenge has been a difficult one, but it's also been so fulfilling to try and make each piece feel like the color. I hope, in some way, I've been able to do that. Anyway, without further ado, here's a bit of Harry Castillo to round things out!

You're not exactly sure what color it is that you're seeing, but then again, you're not sure you're really seeing anything at all.

The fucking audacity of this woman. How could anyone be so fucking self-centered, especially someone who claims to be helping people? Honestly, how anyone managed to find a soul mate with her assistance was beyond you, but this? This was a step too far.

"You left him," you shout, far beyond any level of anger you've felt in recent years. "You stood him up at the alter after cheating on him with your fucking bartender boyfriend and now you think you can just waltz back in here and claim him for yourself?" Fierce loyalty is basically written into your DNA, and you'd had enough of her shit even before she'd dumped your best friend, but usually you were able to remain calm and collected, even in the heat of the moment.

Right now, though, you're livid.

Lucy looks shocked, not just by your outburst but by the fact that for the first time she's not in control. "I made a mistake," she emphasizes as though it will do anything to change your mind, her voice lowering as a few people around you at the party begin to stare. She obviously doesn't want to make a scene, but you couldn't care less, especially if it proves to every single person at this wedding that she's shit at her so-called job.

"So what?" you return, teeth grinding and fists already clenched as you try your best to hang onto the single ounce of control you have left, "you think he's just gonna come running back to you?"

"Well," she pauses, drawing out her next words as though she's enjoying this far more than she should, "it just makes sense. We're a perfect match and..."

You don't let her finish, and you're no longer sure if it's adrenaline or loyalty or jealousy that's powering the crunch of your fist against her jaw. There's no pain, none that you can feel in the moment at least, your opposite hand returning with another crushing blow that has an old woman nearby screaming for help.

"What the fuck?" Lucy shouts, stepping back as quickly as she can in a feeble attempt to get away from you. She's clutching at her face, a red mark already forming on her otherwise perfect skin, and it only fuels you further.

"You don't deserve him," you argue as you take another step toward her, landing a strike against her ribs before you even realize what you're doing. She fumbles, just for a second, and then she's fighting back, a scream erupting from her lungs as she lunges at you.

Predictably, she goes for your hair, tugging at the loose strands of your updo until the bobby pins are pulling tightly against your scalp. It causes you to cry out, head thrown back as you try to free yourself, a punch to her stomach doing the trick a moment later. She's yelling, and so are you, as the circle around you both grows, drunken spectators tuning in for the evening's entertainment.

"He's meant to be with me," Lucy shouts, one of her heels flying off as she attempts to knee you. It doesn't work, your body just far enough out of reach that it allows you to land a hit to her shoulder instead. "I know he is."

"Is that why you left him, then?"

Someone in the crowd makes a sound, their surprise evident as you reveal a plot point of the story unfolding in front of them.

"Is that why you led him on for months only to fuck him over in the end and leave him heartbroken?"

Lucy stares at you, breathing heavily. "I didn't mean to..."

"The fuck you didn't," you cut her off again, kicking off your own heels before beginning to circle her. No one in the crowd makes any effort to stop you since the old woman from earlier has presumably gone to find help, so you keep going. "You knew exactly what you were doing when you landed in someone else's bed, only to leave me to pick up the pieces for Harry."

"Oh I'm sure you loved that," Lucy scoffs. "You think I didn't see the way you look at him? Like you couldn't wait for me to leave just so you could sneak in? Like you didn't want to fuck him the entire time?"

There's a whisper of damn from somewhere around you, but you pay it no mind. She's right, of course. You've been in love with Harry for longer than you can remember, emotions disguised as friendship, but that's beside the point. You didn't sleep with him when he was still in a relationship with someone else.

Hell, you haven't slept with him period.

The blasting beat of the DJ surrounds you, your eyes locked on hers, and you know what's coming next before she even says it. In fact, you will her to say it, to give you an excuse.

"Too bad he'd never actually want someone like you."

The crowd roars when you're on top of her again, fully blinded by the pure rage in your veins when you tug at her hair. Lucy scratches along your face, managing to land a decently sized cut on your lip, and you fall back when her elbow makes contact with your side. She doesn't fare any better, your fists pounding against any part of her you can reach, wedding guests chanting around you as the fight continues.

It's only when strong hands tug you backward that you start to break from the haze, even if your arms still flail wildly. You're barely conscious of the fact that someone is pulling Lucy away too, removing her from the conflict as the circle quickly begins to dissipate, and soon you find yourself ushered to a stairwell, the concrete walls immediately dulling your senses.

"What the hell just happened in there?"

You turn, for some reason surprised to see Harry staring down at you even though you came to this wedding together and you just spent the better part of ten minutes fighting with his shitty ex-fiancé. "She had it coming," you spit out before running your tongue over your lip, the metallic taste of blood lingering.

He sucks in a breath, some of your own anger reflected in his gaze, and for just a second you're almost frightened. It's never something you've felt from him before, but just as quickly as the emotion appeared on his face, it's gone, replaced once again by the soft understanding he so often wears.

"Come on," he whispers before grabbing your hand tightly, pulling you carefully down the stairs. They're easy to manage, your heels long forgotten back at the reception, and by the time he has you out in the chilly night air something that feels a little like guilt begins to settle in your stomach.

Harry says nothing as he calls his car, ushering you into the back seat in silence. The ride is quiet too, all the way back to the massive apartment he barely sees these days, more apt to arrive on your doorstep than to invite you past his own, but you suspect he has his reasons for bringing you here instead. You settle on a chair at the oversized dining table when he quickly disappears into his bathroom, returning a moment later with a damp washcloth and a first aid kit that was probably given to him as a shitty congratulations gift for purchasing his twelve million dollar apartment.

He removes his suit jacket and drapes it over a nearby chair before beginning his search through the array of bandages and gauze. You wait, watching as he finds what he needs, your eyes meeting his when he kneels in front of you.

Your breath catches, and so does his. Years of friendship and understanding and shared experiences and heartbreak leading you both to this moment.

"I'm sorry," you blurt out, even though you really aren't. But at the same time, you're well aware that he didn't deserve any of this. Not Lucy, not the breakup, and certainly not you fighting his battles for him with legitimate violence.

He remains quiet, carefully reaching out to dab at the cut on your lip with the washcloth. You can feel the pain now that you've finally calmed down, and it causes you to flinch, head shifting away from him for just a second before he tries again, gentle as always.

"You didn't have to do that," Harry whispers eventually, focus locked on his work. "She knows what she did, and she has to live with it and that has to be enough for me."

This causes you to pause, because he's right, and also because you're not really sure when he got so wise.

"She was going to come after you," you explain, as though that will make all the pieces fit together in his mind. Like it will offer some kind of reasonable excuse for your actions, even though he's not asking for you to give one. "I just wanted to..."

"She's not worth it," he cuts you off, grabbing your hand and guiding it to hold the already bloody cloth against your lip before he stands.

"No," you agree, mumbling a bit as you try your best to speak without further irritating your wound, "she's not." You watch as he finds another towel to fill with ice, slowly making his way back to your side as you contemplate your next words carefully, "but you are."

It's unclear if he's even heard you, although you don't see how he wouldn't have. Not when he's kneeling in front of you again, gently exchanging the cloth in your hand for the one filled with ice. But still, he remains quiet enough to unnerve you, and it's only when your eyes lock again that you finally understand.

He wasn't worried about himself. He wasn't worried about Lucy either, or the way your outburst would likely be the talk of New York for weeks to come. No, Harry was worried about you.

You set the ice down on the table before cautiously reaching out to curl your fingers in the hair just behind his ear. He's nearly eye-level like this, bent down on one knee, which makes it all too easy for you to pull him closer. You drop your forehead against his, eyes falling shut.

"I'm sorry," you say again, your voice just a whisper this time, but the intention behind the statement is far more true than when you uttered it earlier. "I really am."

Harry doesn't respond, not at first, your heart beating loudly in your ears as you wait, but you find some comfort in the fact that he's not pushing you away. He's here, his hand gently finding yours so he can run his thumb over your bruising knuckles.

"She's wrong, you know," he murmurs eventually, close enough that you can feel his words against your lips. Your mind races through the evening, trying to pinpoint exactly what he could be referring to, but he clarifies before you can ask.

"I would actually want someone like you."

The cut on your lip stings a bit as you break into a soft smile. "I didn't think you'd heard that part."

He hums, squeezing your hand, "I did. I heard most of it, actually." His nose nuzzles against your own, the tips brushing in a way that makes you feel giddy. You struggle to contemplate the reality of this moment, so incredibly close to him that you can smell his aftershave and the expensive cologne he only puts on for weddings. You've longed for this for what feels like forever, spent countless nights imagining what it might feel like, but nothing could have ever compared to this.

"She was right about one thing, though," you admit, leaning just a bit closer so your lips brush against his when you speak.

"What's that?" Harry asks, his hand weaving into the hair at the back of your head.

"I did want to fuck you the whole time."

You both laugh, smiles erupting on your faces even as he captures you in a kiss, holding you against him. It makes the cut sting, but you're too lost in the moment, in him, to really care.

"But for the record," you continue when you come up from air, "I want a lot more than that, too."

Harry stands quickly, a grin still on his lips as he maneuvers you into his arms, one tucked behind your back and the other under your knees. "I want that too, love," he confirms as he escorts you to his bed, "I want that, too."

[cher-rei]

He takes care of you when you’re sick and over work from having work over time all week. He’s there for you

lovesick– jamal musiala [ J.M ]

you're my sunlight on a rainy day [305– shawn mendes]

pairing: jamal musiala x fem!reader

summary: being sick isn't so bad when you have jamal by your side.

genre(s): f.l.u.f.f and comfort

[w.c: 1.9k] masterlist

notes: I have risen!!!

jamal was supposed to be in training by now, preparing for his match in a few days. but instead, he found himself sitting beside you in bed, staring at you with a pout as you bundled up further into your blankets.

the sight of your sunken eyes and flushed face made his heart ache enough to block out your desperate pleas for him to leave for practice. when you woke up it already took him ten minutes to convince you to cancel on your lectures today, but this was plainly burdensome.

you'd been pushing yourself a lot harder than you'd like to admit these past few weeks. late-night study sessions, early morning lectures, and your part time job had completely ruined you. but you didn't think that it would end up like this, it was just much as a surprise to you.

you'd never experience more than aching muscles and a migraine due to overexertion but your boyfriend was having none of it. he was sick and tired of seeing you drag yourself through the front door in the evening and barely manage to eat before bed. until now.

you were paying the price, fighting back your supper from the night before and a sniffling and coughing mess. your eyes being enough of a telltale that your body was giving up on you. jamal tried to convince you to take it easy, but you insisted on soldiering on.

that was when he took matters into his own hands and declared himself your personal nurse for the day— or however long you needed.

"jamal, please just go to practice," you urged your boyfriend and gently nudged his hand away. "I'll be fine I promise."

your retort was enough to make him laugh but he was smarter than that. "and leave you alone so that you can drag yourself into the lounge and study?" he quirked a challenging brow and got up from the bed, the look on your face telling him all he needed to know. "yeah, that's what I thought."

an irritated groan left your lips and you flopped back down onto your pillow, the harsh movement sending your head into a spiral as your vision blurred further. an unfamiliar churn in your stomach caused you to sit back up, one hand on your stomach and the other on your forehead.

in no time jamal was back— his training kit off and instead dressed in a pair of sweats and a plain t-shirt. a worried look was plastered on his face and he bent down to look you in the eye, the rim of tears forming causing him to place a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"come on baby, let's get you cleaned up, yeah?" you took his hand as he led you to the bathroom where he ran you a hot bath, the comforting overflow of bubbles sending a feeling of warmth through your chest.

you were more likely to cry because of how thoughtful he was than your actual sickness. jamal had always been the one to make everything feel lighter, and he knew exactly how to ease your mind and drown your sickness and discomfort with his heartwarming laugh.

he was gentle in all he did— the way he soothingly massaged your shoulders as you sat in the bath, overcome with emotions at the touch of his hands on your back and hair as he massaged the shampoo in.

it made you forget. instead, you listened to your boyfriend talk about something that happened at practice the day before and the dream that he had about you, which had him mentally cursing his alarm clock for waking him up. for most it was difficult, but jamal could easily draw a laugh from your lips.

"am I getting paid for this?" he asked with a teasing smile, looking at your reflection in your vanity mirror as he dried your hair, his fingers gently tugging at your strands.

your nose scrunched at the question, a distasteful hum leaving your lips. "you're hilarious. it's been 3 hours, don't push it."

he simply shrugged and set the hairdryer down, letting you have the freedom to tie your hair up while he packed everything away. "I could have been on my 4th drill by now, I have a job you know?"

you snapped your head to look at him, your jaw dropped in disbelief. "you willingly stayed out today, don't even try this with me right now."

with an unsure hum he placed the last pillow on your shared bed. "technically, you gaslit me because why would I willingly want to stay at home with my girlfriend that i would literally die for?"

your heart skipped a beat at his teasing quip, watching as he walked up to you with his arms open for a hug. with no objection, you got up and melted into his embrace that had a content sigh heaving from your chest.

"stop being extra," you said, muffled into his chest.

"then stop getting sick, you idiot."

the rest of the day jamal was attentive as ever to the point where he wouldn't even let you lift a finger. he made sure you were comfortable on the sofa cuddled up to his side, his fingers gently playing with your hair and lulling you to sleep.

his attention was fixed on the television until he was sure that you were out cold. he took a moment to appreciate how cute you looked on his chest, your exhaustion showing in the way that you lightly snored. with a smile placed a soft kiss to your forehead and carefully got up.

he tucked you in further before leaving the house to head to the pharmacy for some medication and locked the door behind him. the second he stepped out into the driveway he was hit with a gush of wind that sent a chill through his body.

jamal lifted his head to look at the sky that was overwhelmed with dark grey clouds which meant that it was probably going to rain soon. not wanting to waste any time he made a beeline for the pharmacy in hopes that he'd beat the rain home.

unfortunately, that was not the case and due to the traffic to and from the pharmacy and the fact that there was no parking nearby the store he was drenched from head to toe. the wind fought him but he prevailed and made it back home before you woke up.

you didn't stay asleep long though and weren't too happy to find out that your boyfriend wasn't beside you on the sofa. you also happened to notice the droplets of water on the floor leading up to your bedroom.

"jamal?" you called out and wrapped the blanket tighter around your shoulders, skillfully dodging the wet spots on the stairs as you called out to your boyfriend who eventually responded.

you were met with the sight of jamal standing in the middle of your bedroom with his shirt off suggesting that he just got.out of the shower. "did you go out in the rain?"

your boyfriend stood silent for a moment, his lips parted as he averted his gaze. "I mean not technically." he shrugged his shoulders, hoping that you weren't mad at him. "it wasn't raining when I left."

"oh great, now you're going to be--" you stopped mid sentence to sneeze. "you're going to--" you sneezed again. not once. not twice. and definitely not thrice.

your body recoiled at the uncomfortable and violent force of the sneezes, jamal having nothing to do besides watch with an amused smile as he bit back his laughter.

when you were done with the fit of sneezes you stared at him blankly to recollect your composure.

"bless you, baby," he said with a cheeky smile. but the term of endearment didn't throw you off track and you were back to reprimanding him. jamal thought you were being dramatic and continued to get dressed, humming in agreement to your rambling.

"me being sick is one thing, but you?" you said and threw your hands into the air, the blanket flailing in the air. "you need to be healthy and you know better than to leave the house in the rain."

he took your hand and dragged you back downstairs to the kitchen. "it wasn't raining when I left, I told you." he looked back at you and you rolled your eyes, ready to protest. "my immune system is stronger than yours anyway."

he stopped in front of the kitchen island and put you on the counter with ease. "so please shut up." he unexpectedly pecked your lips, moving away to get the medicine before you could say anything.

"it's like you have a death wish!" you yelled in shock at the kiss.

jamal came back with a glass of water and a few tablets, handing them to you one by one and waiting until you drank them all. "as long as it's you, it's fine."

your face scrunched in slight disgust at the cheesy response. it was nothing new and it was a known fact that somehow jamal's cliché quips worked on you most of the time, but this was not one of them.

he pursed his lips in defeat at your reaction, getting the hint. "not the one?"

you shook your head and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. "and it never will be. never say that again please."

he stifled a laugh and pecked your cheek. "noted."

the two of you stayed like that for a while, just catching up and relaxing in each other's presence. you weren't too keen on having jamal this close to you, but you were grateful for his stubbornness because you would have lost your mind without any form of physical contact.

"yeah and then--"

jamal was cut off by himself by none other than his worst nightmare. the sneeze had you both silent for a moment until you slapped his arm hard enough that he flinched, a pout forming on his lips.

you covered your face with your hands, a sigh leaving your lips. "what did I say? this is why you should listen to me."

jamal tried to argue back that it was just the dust in the air but the sneezes that followed after didn't help his case in any way. but hey, at least he'd be at home with you for a few days. he wasn't complaing at all.

your head began to ache at the thought of being stuck at home with jamal for the next few days, not because you didn't want to be around him, but because you knew how needy he was when he was sick. there wasn't a second where you weren't attached at the hip.

you opened up the blanket around your shoulders and pulled him into the warmth of your embrace. "now you're sick because of me, great."

jamal burried his face into your neck and smiled, the feeling of his lips trailing gentle kisses making you shiver. "oh yeah, I'm sick alright." he lifted his head to look at you with a puppy-like smile. "lovesick."

"get out of my face right now, I swear jamal--"

"so I can't love my girlfriend now?? is that it?"

[l0singsdogs]

tw mention: religion, teen pregnancy, blood transfution. hospital.

Damian Wayne as a doctor. The idea itself is fascinating—Damian interacting with people he cannot control, people who challenge his patience in ways even Gotham’s criminals never could. Parents who think they know more than doctors. Parents who refuse to trust vaccines because of misinformation spread on social media. Parents who prioritize their religious beliefs over their child’s survival. Damian watching, horrified, as so many parents would rather let their child suffer than accept help from modern medicine. He doesn’t understand how any parent could want that.

But Damian does understand children. He treats them with respect, explaining procedures step by step because they deserve to know what’s happening to them. He knows life is complicated, and it only becomes scarier when no one explains things properly. He refuses to patronize them, especially when their own parents insist on shielding them from reality. Damian believes in telling them the truth, ensuring they understand, because fear is easier to manage when you have all the information.

Of course, other doctors don’t always agree with him. It isn’t technically his job to explain every little thing to his young patients, but Damian doesn’t care. He remembers what it’s like to be treated like a child when all you want is to understand the world around you.

And then there are the parents who barely seem to care at all. The ones who neglect their children, who view them as burdens rather than responsibilities. But as long as those kids are under his care, Damian will fight for them. He will protect them, even if their own parents won’t.

He tries to bridge the gap between medicine and religion when necessary. “How do you expect to help your child if you don’t believe in blood transfusions?” he asks, genuinely trying to understand, but it’s difficult for him. Even her mother—Talia al Ghul—acknowledges the power of modern medicine. How is it that these parents cannot?

And then there’s the American healthcare system. It’s broken. Damian knows this—sees it every day. He treats teenage girls with unwanted pregnancies, girls who have no fault in their circumstances, yet their parents stand idly by, expecting the school to have taught them everything about sexual education. As if it wasn’t their responsibility too. He sees it in his colleagues—doctors and nurses burned out, disillusioned, no longer driven by a passion to help but by the need to survive. The system is collapsing, and even with the Wayne Foundation doing everything possible, it’s not enough. It’s not just Gotham—it’s the entire country.

He hears it from a mother who works three jobs just to afford her child’s medication. He sees it in the way insurance companies control medical decisions, calling mid-surgery to deny procedures because they aren’t covered under a patient’s plan. It’s infuriating.

And then there’s the systemic racism. He sees how Black women are dismissed when they express pain during labor. He sees his own colleagues brushing off serious symptoms with a condescending “It’s just a little pain.” But Damian doesn’t let it slide. He steps in, exerts pressure, sometimes even invokes his father’s name—the owner of the hospital. It burns him to do it, but he refuses to stay silent. He knows what it’s like to be judged by his skin tone, to be treated as lesser. The medical system is broken, classist, racist, and resistant to change, run by doctors who have been there for decades and refuse to retire. Damian has seen it all.

And yet, despite the frustration, he doesn’t give up. Some days, he feels like he’s fighting a losing battle. He can’t convince every parent, can’t change every mind. He watches in disbelief as people trust influencers over trained professionals, believing that a green juice will cure diseases instead of actual medicine. Sometimes, he wonders if being a vigilante was easier—or at least less frustrating.

But there is hope. He sees it in the parents who listen, who follow medical advice, who vaccinate their children because they trust science over internet conspiracies. It reminds him that not all is lost. That people can still believe in medicine and in those who practice it.

Damian Wayne is a credit to his family. He fights for his patients, even when the system fails them. He explains things others wouldn’t bother to explain. He ensures that the children under his care feel safe and heard, even in the most terrifying situations.

And yet, the worst patients of all? His own family. Now, he understands why Leslie Thompkins was always exasperated with them. He can’t believe how reckless his brothers are—ignoring recovery instructions, skipping medications, refusing to rest properly. They don’t go to their check-ups unless forced.

Damian may think he’s seen it all, but when it comes to his family, nothing ever prepares him for the chaos. He’ll still take care of them, of course, even if it means graying prematurely. And if they frustrate him too much? He won’t hesitate to hand them another doctor’s business card—just to make a point. But deep down, he’ll always be there for them. Whether they deserve it or not.

[inlovewithquestionablecharacters]

Hey,

could you please write a one-shot,where Hannibal is obsessively in love with an FBI teacher, who is similar to Will. She doesn‘t want to go in the field, because of some trauma and Hannibal needs to help her overcome it, in order for her to be ready.(nsfw?)

Hannibal x Reader: Exposure Therapy

Warning: trauma, smut, p in v (penetration), quickie, kissing, fluff, no use of y/n, female anatomy, not proofread.

Word count: 1,2 k

“I can’t do it.”

“Yes you can. Push me off.”

Hannibals has his body on top of yours. He’s straddling you, his body weight keeping you stuck to the ground. You can feel the panic starting to get to you. Your chest heaves as your breathing starts to pick up. You squirm beneath him trying to get away. Hannibal can see this is starting to be too much for you but he needs to prove to you that you can do this.

“Hey. Look at me.”

Your panicked eyes find him. Even if this is just pretending your body is already in fight or flight mode so the sight of  his eyes doesn't calm you down like it usually does.

“You can do this. Remember to focus on your breathing and use the things the FBI taught you.”

You’d come into his office a couple of months ago. You’d been called to help out on the field but it proved to be a more difficult challenge then you had anticipated. You’d had a panic attack on a crime scene and Jack had thought it was best if you had some sort of support. That's when Dr. Lecter stepped in.  In your weekly sessions you and Hannibal tried to work through your issues. You’d told him that when you were younger you’d been caught off guard by a robber. The man had grabbed you and forced you into the ground. You’d been too scared to move and even though the situation hadn’t escalated farther than just a robbery you still woke up in a cold sweat at night. 

You could feel the pressure of the man's body on yours as you lay still on the ground. Before that day you hadn't been afraid of anything but ever since then every small sound made you jump. It had taken months of work to get you confident enough to step onto another crime scene but there was still room for improvement. You’d been training self defense with the FBI but when it came to defending yourself in real life you still froze up. That's how you found yourself in your current situation. 

Hannibal wanted to test out what you’d learned so he could help you stop freezing up when you were in danger. He’d thought it would be a good idea if he was the one to test you because you’d grown comfortable around him. You knew he wouldn’t actually hurt you so it would make things less stressful. Or so you’d thought. 

You focus on your breathing trying to calm your heart down. Once you manage to steady yourself you open your eyes. Hannibal watches your features shift into a small snarl. You take a deep breath in before you start moving. Hannibal tries his best to keep you beneath him and you put up a good fight. He’d told you to be as rough as you needed to and that was what you were doing. When you saw he wasn’t going to let up you shifted, freeing your hand from beneath him. Hannibal let out a groan, his hands moving to cup his nose. You’d just punched him. Some of his weight was lifted off you causing you to be able to move. You grabbed his shoulders, shoving them to the side with all your might. Hannibal felt his body tip over, his back moving in contact with the ground. You straddled him, your hand moving to grab your gun. Hannibal looked  up at you as you pointed your gun at him.

“Stay down.”

Your chest heaved as you kept your gun pointed at Hannibal. He removed his hand from his nose allowing you to see the grin that was plastered on his face. The sight made you relax a bit. You moved to place your gun back in your holster. Once you had made sure the safety was on you went to get off Hannibal. You began to move your leg up when Hannibal grabbed your waist. You looked down at him.

“You okay?”

“My nose is throbbing.”

“Sorry about that.”

“You could kiss it better.”

You laughed at Hannibal, leaning down to place a kiss to the tip of his nose. He lifted his head a bit allowing your lips to come in contact with his mouth instead of his nose. You smiled against his lips. 

During your sessions you and Hannibal had realized the two of you were harboring feelings for each other. In the last few weeks you’d started taking things to another level. You weren’t dating or anything but you had grown quite intimate.

“You looked hot.”

“Oh yeah?”

Hannibal leaned up to rest on his elbows. His lips move to latch onto your neck. You groaned as he continued to suck at your skin. Your hands moved to grab onto his head, fingers playing with his hair. You could feel Hannibal growing hard beneath you and as much as you wanted to give in you knew he had a client coming soon.

“Hannibal.”

“Yes dear?”

“You have another session soon.”

Hannibal gazed at the clock.

“I still have thirty minutes.”

“We can’t do anything in thirty minutes Hanni.”

“Are you doubting my skills?”

You placed a kiss to his lips, feeling his hand begin to grip the flesh of your ass. He lifted his hips up bucking into you.

“Fine. But be quick.”

A smile appears on Hannibal's lips as he moves to flip positions with you. He settled on top of you, his hands moving to unbutton your pants. You lifted your hips so he could tug your clothes down your legs. A gasp left your lips as Hannibal's fingers moved over your fold.

“This wet?”

You hand moved to grab onto his hard-on. He hissed as you palmed him through his pants.

“You’re one to talk.”

Hannibal let out a growl, his lips latching onto your neck once again. You tugged his dick out from his confines giving it a stroke before guiding it to your pussy. Hannibal helped you out, moving his hips forward. Your head lifted off the ground as you moaned. Hannibal wrapped his arms around your body holding you close to him as he began to move. He wanted to draw this feeling out but he knew he was working on borrowed time. Hannibal sped up his pace. You ass rubbed against the floor as Hannibal continued to thrust into you, the sound of skin on skin filling the room. You clawed at his back gasping as you searched for your orgasm. Hannibal moved one hand to your pussy, focusing on your clit. 

“Hannibal, I'm close.”

“Shhh just a bit more.”

A couple more thrusts and you were seeing stars. Your pussy gripped onto Hannibal's dick like a vice causing him to spiral into his own orgasm. He collapsed next to you on the floor. You closed your eyes trying to regain your breath.

“Told you I could do it.”

“Oh shut up.”

Hannibal laughed, his head turning to look at you. You moved closer to place a kiss on his lips. After a while you got up, tugging your clothes back on. Hannibal lead you to the door, pulling you into one last kiss before saying goodbye.

“You’re gonna be great tomorrow.”

“Hope you’re right.”

“Remember if anything happens I'm just a phone call away.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Bye Hanni.”

“Bye dear.”