#ive never made one of these before hopefully this is right

[shatteredlamppost]

realign - red vox stimboard

ihave no idea what im doing but this was fun to make

[misfortunegirl]

anyone who is inlove with me 👉👈

[golden1u5t]

i’ll guide you | s.r x fem!reader

ꨄ requested: anonymous

ꨄ genre: smut

ꨄ summary: spencer goes down on you for the first time.

"Ive never done this before." Spencer muttered shyly as he situated himself between your thighs, he looked up at you before adverting his gaze to clothed cunt that was directly in front of his face. You smiled at him and ran your fingers through his hair, trying to soothe his nerves.

"That's okay, do what you think is right and i'll guide you."

Spencer nodded his head and swallowed the lump in his throat, he knew that the first thing he needed to do was take your panties off, so that's what he did. You could feel his breath on your cunt, you didn't urge him forward or rush him.

Spencer took a deep breath and tried to recall all the things he knew about the female anatomy, he knew that a woman's clit at thousands of nerve endings so he couldn't go wrong with starting with that, right? He hesitantly licked through your slit before pressing his tongue against your clit, your body jolted and your hand tightened in his hair, he took that as a good sign.

"Good, baby. You're doing good." You smiled at him. Spencer wrapped his arms around your thighs and pressed into you more, he started to get bolder with each noise you made. Your head fell back and your eyes closed, a soft moan falling from your lips. You felt Spencer's finger hesitantly press against your entrance before he pulled it away. "You can use your fingers, it's okay."

Spencer looked up at you for a quick second before closing his eyes, he brought his fingers back up and he carefully pressed them into you. You gasped when you felt his slender finger press into you. Spencer closed his lips around your clit and gently sucked, opening his eye and looking up at you to see your reaction.

Spencer kept pumping his one finger inside of you until you told him that it was okay to add another one. Your moans increased in volume as time went on, you couldn't figure out how it was his first time doing this when he was already so good at it.

You made sure to tell him how good he was doing and how good he was making you feel, every time he would respond with his own moan or whine. You could feel the knot tightening in your stomach as Spencer worked you to your release.

Spencer curled his fingers before taking them out and replacing them with his tongue, you cried out and held him into your cunt as you came on his tongue.

"Holy fuck, Spencer-" You huffed and fell back onto the bed. Spencer pulled away from your cunt and wiped the bottom half of his face with the back of his hand but not after trying to lick it off first, he found himself actually enjoying the taste of you.

"Can- Can I go again? You taste so good." You looked at him and chuckled, reaching out for him.

"Give me a minute, pretty boy."

ꨄ a/n: i don’t know why i’ve been so slow on my blog lately, i literally have to worst case of writer’s block on my wips and no motivation to post all those old works. i’m going to do a little spam and hopefully that will get me motivated to do the repost.

[pupyuj]

[cw: cnc (reader receiving ofc), g!p ive, somnophilia, exhibitionism, degradation, humiliation, spanking, slapping, etc. (there’s just… a lot going on)]

been having cnc thoughts with ive so this is what i came up with! i’ll try to get some asks done and ehehe i’ve been working on a new fic for a while but ofc i get the block sdkdhsj.. BUT i’ll get out of this little predicament and hopefully come back w more food for you guys 🥰 i hope this was okay! i’m still tryna get my groove back 🤕🙏

p.s. this is like, long asf for no reason so have fun guys! 😭😘

everybody knew (y/n) (l/n) as ive’s brightest little star that was pretty much perfect in all aspects ☺️ nobody adores you more than your members though! you’re their battery, their personal motivational speaker.. but sometimes there’s a better use for you than simple bear hugs and little kisses.. you were the elder members’ toy, and they all love to use you in different ways… 😵‍💫

yujin gets real busy so she doesn’t have a lot of time to relax and do whatever she wants 🙁 poor girl barely has enough time to just sit and watch her favorite show before she has to leave for another schedule! she’s exhausted, angry, and most importantly, so fucking needy 🤭 so one day, she'd come home all tired and grumpy as she usually was... walks lazily towards the bathroom to get changed and wash her face when she notices an underwear of yours haphazardly thrown on the floor, missing the laundry basket nearby... and ofc yujin gets hard! it was annoying, really! how easy she gets horny whenever she sees you or thinks of you—you were too pretty! soon enough, yujin would sneak inside your room all hot and bothered, more than grateful that you were wearing the shortest shorts and the thinnest tank top in your closet.. fuck, yujin could practically cum at the sight of you alone!! yujin never liked touching you without your permission, but she remembered how you never fail to tell any of the unnies about how they "can use you however and whenever they want" and how "you wouldn't have a problem with it".

you were in deep sleep, so you didn't do or say anything at all when yujin swiftly gets rid of your shorts and it turns out you weren't wearing panties at all! god, you were such a slut—you just figured one of the unnies would come into your room and fuck you silly while you're asleep 🤭🤭 best believe yujin would be fully erect with even just the thought of fucking you in your sleep, so taking off her pants was quite ‘liberating’ in sense! ugdhhfhcbsig baby whimpering as she slowly inserts her cock inside you, practically drooling at how tight your pussy was! 😵‍💫 she gets a little scared when you stirred slightly, but then starts thrusting into you in a steady pace once she realizes you weren’t going to wake up any time soon 🫣 omgomg her whining in your ear bcs it’s been so long since she’s been inside you 🥺 sure it might be more fun if you’re awake (yujin needs a good riding right now actually…) but yujin couldn’t wait for that!! and now because she was thrusting inside you so fast and deep, naturally you’re wake up 😰 but you couldn’t even do anything bcs yujin’s pushed your head down to your pillows, telling you to “not say a fucking word” and “take it” and ofc you do that bcs who were you if not yujin’s stupid little pet?? 😋

biting your lip while yujin’s grip on your hair tightens more and more the closer she gets to her climax, afraid of waking the other members up and disturbing their rest :(( yujin pulling your head up roughly just to get a mix of a moan and pained sound out of you.. oh she fucking loved it 😙 seeing you look at her with both fear and lust in your eyes was what made yujin cum! filling you up to the brim but the two of you were far from finished! you haven’t cum yet after all… so expect yujin to manhandle you for the rest of the night bcs one thing she wants more than fucking the lights out of her pretty doll? control.

now… gaeul doesn’t know why but you had a real knack for pissing her off 😒 she never had too much of a problem with it before bcs most of the time you were just doing it for the camera to establish a cute little dynamic between the two of you for the fans to see! it was all fun and games until one day you went too far and gaeul just snaps 😔 the two of you were fooling around in an empty waiting room—making out and being touchy and all that, then you made a stupid joke which gaeul laughed off at first… but then you started to outright insult her and it wasn’t until gaeul has slapped you to shut you up that she realized that oh!! that was what you wanted out of her!! well, that angry reaction anyway… the whole bending you over in front of a vanity mirror and forcing you to watch yourself get fucked from behind was a surprise, but a welcome one 😋😋 she’d ignore your whining about how your hair, makeup, and outfit’s gonna get ruined, only grinning in response when she sees your shaking your head at her desperately bcs it was all becoming too much :(( her cock and her grip on around the back of your neck.. her other hand holding your hip, keeping you steady while she slams into your walls… and now what gaeul couldn’t ignore were your tears, and the pitiful way you’ve started sobbing ☹️

gaeul would’ve stopped right there (she would never want to hurt you on purpose! well except when she slapped you earlier—)… if it wasn’t for the fact that you subtly started to push back into her when she slowed her thrusts bcs she had been worried 🫣🫣 gaeul looking at you all confused and a bit conflicted bcs you literally were sobbing but you looked back at her, urging her to keep going, to keep ruining you… and you didn’t have to tell gaeul twice for her to do just that! “look at how much of a slut you are for me.” her now gripping your hair and pulling you up so you’d look directly at her through the mirror… oh that condescending look in her eyes mixed w disgust and annoyance.. you could’ve cum right there, really! but you knew gaeul would be disappointed if you did so you just stayed there, bent over and spread open like the good pet that you were 🤭 with how loud the two of you were, you were surprised that nobody has come in and interrupted you.. or maybe the noises drove everyone away! 🤔

eughfhdhc the thought of people outside the room hearing all of this.. somehow the idea did nothing but turn you on even more!! now you were moaning gaeul’s name even louder, calling her all of the names she likes through your sobs and whimpers… eventually gaeul feels you claw at her wrist, and that was when she finally came and with you, too!! 😋 as mean as she was, gaeul will definitely kiss the cheek she slapped an infinite amount of times and apologize 🥺 even though she knows it wasn’t going to be the last time you were gonna pull that stunt on her…

rei loves taking care of you! out of all the members, she was the one you stuck to all the time! everyone knows rei and (y/n) are attached to the hip, the pretty best friends who have the best instagram feeds due to each other being their own personal photographer… basically, you and rei were inseparable! 🥰 she knows you like the back of her hand, inside (😉) and out—all that stuff! the two of you didn’t fuck much, mostly bcs all you wanted to do when you’re together was gossip, make jokes, go to pretty places to take pretty pictures of each other… sure you’ll make out every now and then but ultimately, rei doesn’t touch you unless the mood strikes her 😙 and apparently, you coming home drunk out of your mind after a fun night out with your other friends was a good time for ‘the mood’ to hit rei 😚 her swinging the door open and seeing your flushed face, lazy smile, and messy hair.. she didn’t like the smell of alcohol no matter how fancy it was but when it came from you, it smelled nice enough! and then partnered with the very outfit rei helped put together… well, who could blame her for getting so hard?! by the time she sat you down on the couch, her cock was practically begging to be freed but she ignored that feeling for a while! giving you a glass of water to drink, taking off your jacket for you, caressing your hair and pushing strands away from your face.. god, who allowed you to be this pretty??

as rei slowly left kisses from your collarbone up to your jawline, she wondered if it was okay to take advantage of your dazed state like this.. it had to be, right?? you were the one who said the unnies can do whatever they want to you whenever… and rei wasn’t stupid—she knew you just wanted to get fucked for no reason bcs you were a stupid slut. she knew you better than anyone! in fact, she gets a pass for all of this, she’s your best friend after all 😚 it didn’t take long until she had you laying on the couch, with your pants and underwear removed and legs wide open and ready just for her… rei licking her lips at the sight of your wet pussy clenching around nothing, oh how she couldn’t wait to make your scream her name tonight.. 😋 you were exhausted though, barely processing anything that was happening until you felt something stiff and hard entering your pussy.. panic rushes into you until your eyes met rei’s, and then it was just a wave of emotions flooding through your head… confusion, lust, thrill.. and then even more panic when rei pushes in further, moaning loudly at the feeling.. you don’t know why it pained you so, perhaps you weren’t used to feeling rei inside you or maybe it’s bcs you clearly weren’t in the right state of mind to be doing this but fuck, why did that fact turn you on??! but your mind goes blank when rei decided to just force her entire length inside you, her ears tingling at the sound of your choked moan, wanting to hear more until your voice was gone...

"s-so big..." aww you were so cute underneath rei as you whined and weakly tugged on her shirt 🥺 but ugh as much as this all ‘weirdly’ felt good, you just wanted to have a good shower and sleep till the next afternoon.. but rei was intent on keeping you where you were when she pinned both of your hands above your head, using her other hand to clamp your mouth shut when you started to whine in protest 😤 tells you to “be a good slut” and ofc you didn’t want to disappoint your best friend so laid there and let her use you to her heart’s content! rei needed it anyway, what with everything she’s had on her shoulders as of late.. and you would never pass up on the opportunity to be of use to your unnies! after rei’s breeded you for hours on end, expect to be coddled and babied for the next week 💕 perhaps even spoiled 👀 (maybe it’s time i write sugar mommy rei actually…)

now wony… wonyoung’s got a lot to express, okay?! between living up to her ‘perfect idol’ image, schedules, and practices, you can’t exactly blame her when she suddenly just decides she wants to pull you to a corner and fuck you like it’s her last! every time she fucks you there’s always a sense of urgency in her actions… as if the world will explode if fucks you a second longer than she planned 😗 sometimes you feel like just another ‘activity’ in wonyoung’s calendar, there would be a specific date, time, and location when she wants to play with you and truthfully, it makes you feel shitty! she makes you feel shitty! god, the things she does and says to you??? you’re so lucky you’re such a slut that’s super into being practically bullied and humiliated… otherwise you’d be crying while she fucked you (but she’d probably love that) 😙 that ‘urgency’ makes wonyoung do a little of risky things.. especially if she’s desperate and wants to get off to let her frustrations out! all of ive would be alone in a waiting room and she’d literally daydream about fucking you right where you sat and laughed with yujin and rei… then she’d send leeseo out on an adventure (the baby will NOT see this fucking shit AT ALL in her life, wonyoung will make sure of it) before asking you, from across the goddamn room, to suck her cock 😀😀 there would be a pause, then the change in the atmosphere would make you shiver as wonyoung held your confused stare with a confident glare of her own… her ego only getting bigger when yujin nudges you and tells you to obey wony with a knowing smirk… evil, evil girls 🫣

ofc you were scared so you’d be frozen in your seat, trying to figure out if they were all joking or not but nope, they were 100% serious!! frustrated, wony takes up the space in between you and rei, not even giving you a minute to form a thought before lifting her skirt up, pulling her dick out of her compression shorts, and grabbing you by the back of your head 😵‍💫 “you know i don’t like repeating myself, (y/n)-ah.. nor do i like being denied of my pleasure…” and then she was balls deep inside your throat 🤤🤤 she simply loved how your mouth fit around her cock like a glove, making sure to control your pace so that your lips drag on her entire length.. finding joy in the way you’d gag and choke whenever she hits the back of your throat… even your tight grip on her thigh added to the fun—your tears too, ofc!! she’s sick, smiling wickedly while she listens to your muffled moans and your attempts to breathe but failing.. wony would feel bad but you clearly liked this! you weren’t protesting, you weren’t tapping out, you weren’t looking around trying to ask the other unnies for help… in fact, gaeul had already pulled her phone out and started recording you but you didn’t seem to mind! 🫣🫣

“f-fuck, really..? in front of your u-unnies and in a p-place where—oh, shit..!—we could easily be caught?? you’re disgusting…” you can’t see wonyoung but you can just imagine a psychotic expression on her pretty face while she said those words.. nothing makes her more happy than knowing that she can do literally anything and everything to you whenever and wherever… “where next, hm..? o-on stage? in front of dives? y-you wanna show them.. ahh… who you really are?” wonyoung, as well as the rest of the unnies, would burn the entire world if anybody else saw you like they do but it was a nice tease… pulling you up briefly so you could answer.. you frantically shaking your head no bcs the thought genuinely mortified you, then wony laughing at how panicked you looked bcs you knew that if she was pissed enough she would terrorize you during a fansign or something… after a while, she’d be done playing games—moving your head up and down so fast that you can barely keep up ☹️ she’s so desperate to cum it’s not even funny!! and when she did, she came a lot 😋 yujinnie making sure that every single drop is not wasted so she keeps your head down since wony had gone limp, they’re all cruel really 😣😣 but wonyoung, being a gentlewoman, is the one who cleans you up and returns you to your presentable state! becomes super soft bcs she knows she goes overboard sometimes 💔

jiwon is one strange case! she’s lowkey a perv and touches you inappropriately all the time but when it comes to actually fucking… well, suddenly she’s stupid 😭😭 either way, when you told the unnies they can use you… jiwon got more than a few ideas as to how exactly she’ll use you, but never had the courage to do it all! ☹️ but then you’ll find yourself in a situation that completely mirrors that one drunken experience with rei… this time around, jiwon came home completely wasted! she and yujin apparently had too much fun and now you were left to take care of the blondie 😙 she’s slurring, she’s stumbling, falling all over… can’t even take a step without needing to lean towards the wall to support herself 😭 she was GONE gone 💔 and when you hurried over to her side to help her, jiwon catches a whiff of your perfume and her entire demeanor completely changes!! 🫣 “w-what is that perfume you’re wearing..? smells nice… can i…” then she’s hugging you?? face down on your chest, sniffing your shirt, while her hands groped your ass?? “unnie.. come on don’t do this here… we need to get you to your room so you can rest up..” but nope jiwon refuses to listen! your scent alone was enough for her cock to stiffen right up…

first things first though—she has to feel how tight you are with her fingers 😵‍💫😵‍💫 subtly unzipping your jean shorts and slipping her hand inside your panties… literally moaning at how soaked you were, trailing her fingers along your folds as she leaves sloppy wet kisses on your neck.. god it was as if jiwon was completely hypnotized by your scent, going as far as to inhaling your hair and getting her boxers all wet bcs of all the precum that was leaking out of her… being so weak that you don’t do much when she presses your back against the wall 🫣 now rubbing your clit gently.. who knows how many marks she has left on your neck and chest at this point?? she doesn’t care! and jiwon barely bats an eyelash when she hears a pained squeak from you as she suddenly inserts two long fingers inside in your cunt 😵‍💫 she could practically cum at how your tightness just sucks her fingers in.. you’re squirming but you were clenching all around her! and she doesn’t miss the way you’re slightly grinding on her hand.. so she continues her work, fingering you in the best way she knows how… her free hand roaming anywhere she could touch until she grabs a fistful of your hair so you could look at her before she crashes her lips into yours 😋 jiwonie kissing you feverishly and getting so lost in your taste that she doesn’t notice you tightly gripping her wrist bcs she was going too fast… not that she’d care if she noticed anyway 🤭

“mmhn.. need to feel you on me…” jiwon moans in between kisses.. her being so knuckle-deep inside you that it hurts a little but jiwon showed absolutely no signs of stopping! she needs to hear you scream her name, needs to see you cream all over her hand… you looked so pretty with your neck all marked up and a bit of your lower lil bleeding bcs jiwon bit you while kissing you… nobody can blame her for pushing you over the edge to the extreme and making you cry as you came!! 🫣 jiwonie shushing you bcs you ended up being so loud, giggling a little seeing your tears and your swollen lips 🤭 definitely makes you clean up the mess you made on her hand, barely giving you time to react before she’s dragging you to her bedroom by your shirt, more than ready to ruin you until sunrise 🤤

[imagine-darksiders]

Absolute Anarchy

A Darksiders/SCP Foundation crossover nobody asked for but is here regardless.

Summary: SCP-8103. Object class; undetermined. There's a new entity at the Foundation. Four D-Class have already been supplied with weapons and pitted against it, only to be cut down before they could get more than a couple of shots in. Eager to determine which calibre of rifle can pierce its armour, they send you in next - D-1935 - to accomplish what your predecessors couldn't. It's too bad they never taught you how to actually use the rifle...

This has the vague semblance of a plot btw, but I'm trying not to be too finicky, and just to write as it comes to me, so hopefully it'll still be easy enough to follow and enjoyable at the same time.

Tw: Blood, guns, death, imprisonment, threat, violence, trapped, typical SCP violence.

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

If there was ever a moment where you should have felt the stars aligning to determine the path your life might take, it would have to be the moment you decided to steal that godforsaken sports car.

It was an instance born of desperation – a tantalising lure cast by the owner of a chop-shop who made heartfelt promises to lift you out of poverty, only to throw you under the proverbial bus when the heat ventured too close to his illicit operation.

He only wanted the money from that Ferrari.

You reduced yourself to grand theft auto for a chance to escape the homeless shelter and land on your feet.

And where did you land instead?

Behind bars, that’s where. Tossed into some dingy prison that seemed only built for the sole purpose of hiding away society’s miserable, forgotten dregs.

You thought you knew what rock bottom looked like.

How were you to know the depths this pitiless world could drag you down to?

“D – One-nine-three-five!”

A strident voice bellows a set of all-too familiar numbers at what must be the top of his already bursting lungs. The door to your cell is wrenched violently open, spilling light into a room that’s a damn sight smaller and bleaker than the one they pulled you from in St Ives.

Bureaucracy had been your ultimate enemy, in the end. A signature in the wrong place, a ‘t’ dotted where it should have been crossed, and an ‘i’ absent from your paperwork had all lead you to a place you couldn’t have imagined in your most turbulent nightmares. A place that shouldn’t - and so far as the public is aware - doesn’t exist.

The SCP Foundation.

Specifically, site 12; a rancorous offshoot of what you’ve come to learn through eavesdropping and rumour, is a worldwide operation.

It turns out the people in charge here couldn’t less of give a hoot whether you’re a petty thief or a renowned and unrepentant serial killer. If your name is on their list, they won’t bother to see a difference. You’re all Disposables, in the end, and no amount of pleas for your innocence or requests for an evaluation will get you any closer to that glorious taste of freedom.

You’ll serve your time or die trying. And as of yet, you haven’t heard of anyone who’s reached the end of their ‘sentence.’

The bed springs underneath you shriek with relief as you scramble up onto your feet, nearly tripping over the long hems of your jumpsuit.

Heart thundering like a jackhammer, you cower before the imposing shape silhouetted in your doorway, warily eyeing the M9 Beretta that’s being aimed directly at your forehead.

You’d hoped that by now the guards here would have learned that you’re not a threat. Hell, it didn’t take you long to figure out that anybody even vaguely considered a troublemaker in this place will earn themselves a one-way ticket to a fate that would make you beg for a bullet between the eyes.

That first week, you ended up trying to plead your case to the wrong scientist and wound up on the bi-weekly rota to clean SCP-173’s cell. Twice.

How you got out of there with your neck facing the right way is one of life’s greatest mysteries. If it hadn’t gone for your poor cellmate first…

“You listening, Scuzz!?” The handgun jerks to the left of your doorway. “Get your ass outta that cell!”

Ah... Mullins. One of the guards assigned to your particular block.

A meaner son of a bitch, you’ve never known. Rumour has it that the towering brute used to be a D-Class, like you, but through shows of force, an unflinching disregard for his fellow man, and an uncanny ability to survive, the Lab Coats bumped him up to guard status, if for no other reason than to keep the inmates in line.

You’re loathe to admit it, but he is damn good at his job.

Ducking your head, you scurry from your bed through the open door, pressing yourself as close to the frame as possible to squeeze past the Beretta that he keeps trained on your head. You don’t even have to look at him anymore to know that there’s a wide smirk on his face when he jabs the barrel at the back of your skull, shoving you into an awkward stumble down the hallway.

“Move. Got a new assignment for you today,” he goads, falling into step behind you, his thick, rubber boots thudding purposefully on the linoleum.

In contrast, your plimsoles make rather pathetic ‘slaps’ with each, hurried step you take.

You know the drill by now. Head down. Eyes front. Mouth shut.

You’ve walked this path to the lifts a hundred times before.

It's been weeks since you stopped asking him when you can go home.

‘When you’ve served your sentence,’ became ‘When we damn well feel like it,’ became ‘You still think you’re getting out of here?’

“SCP-Eight-One-Oh-Three~,” Mullins sing-songs at your back, entirely too cheerful all of a sudden, “This one just came in. The Lab coats don’t know nothin’ about it. And guess who’s the lucky little D-Scuzz who gets to ‘further the advancement of science?”

Although your body trembles like a leaf in a hurricane, you don’t make a sound, not even when the moisture in your eyes wells up into a fat, salty teardrop and breaks over the dam of your lash line, carving a damp path down your grubby cheek.

An unknown SCP?

Your odds of making it to the end of the day in one piece have just plummeted into the single digits, and you once again find yourself asking, 'why me?'

‘We’re doing this for the good of humanity,’ one doctor with a particularly punchable face had once announced to a room full of orange-clad prisoners, and you can still remember wondering when you and your fellow inmates stopped being a part of that same Humanity this Foundation seems to keen to protect.

The cold steel of a gun jabs you again in the base of your neck, pushing a quiet sound of protest from your lips that you hurriedly clamp down on, fists balling up at your sides.

“That’s right!” Mullins continues, “Damn, you gotta be feelin’ proud as a peacock, kid. Not every day someone gets to be the first to make contact. Hell, maybe you’ll get lucky, and it’ll be a Euclid.”

The row of lifts appears as you turn the next corner and come to a stop obediently in front of the closest one, head still hanging nearly to your chest as you wait for Mullins to reach past you and jam his thumb on the ‘down’ button.

“Wouldn’t bet on it though… That thing has Keter written all over it.”

With the damning chime of a bell, the heavy, metal doors slide open, and Mullins shoves you roughly into the claustrophobic space with one fist to your spine. Jesus, trapped in this finite space with him, the smell of cheap brand cigarettes wafts from his jacket and drifts up into your nose, sitting stale and musty on the back of your tongue.

The walls are dull in here, unreflective, which you nearly count as a blessing.

It means you don’t have to see the mess you’ve become.

----

It’s only when you’re standing outside the containment cell that you realise Mullins was either lying, or just plain wrong.

You aren’t the first D-Class to make contact with this SCP.

In fact, if the stiff-faced scientist shoving a rifle into your hands is to be believed, you’re precisely the fifth.

“That,” he begins with an aloof air of bored professionalism, watching impassively while you fumble to find purchase on the heavy gun, “Is the CZ-Five-Fifty. And today, you will be testing its armour-piercing capabilities.”

‘Armour?’ you think, swallowing thickly, ‘What the Hell kind of monster have they brought into this place?’

The cold circle of steel still pressed to your shoulder blade reminds you of Mullins’s unpleasant presence.

“No funny business,” he growls, “You couldn’t get the safety off before I put you down like a lame bitch.”

Charming.

You don’t fancy telling him you couldn’t get the safety off anyway. And that it... hadn't occurred to you to even try and turn it on him and the scientist, though it probably should have been the first thing you thought of.

The weapon sits like a dead weight in your hands, heavy and fundamentally useless. You don’t know how to fire a gun, let alone one this powerful.

But the scientist doesn’t seem to know that, lazily racking off the terms of your contract and your ‘obligation’ to the Foundation.

Yes, you imagine it would get tiresome having to rehash the same speech five times in a row… Perhaps he just assumes you know how to use it?

Bastard.

Wetting your lips, you peel them apart and croak out a question, wincing at the pathetic crack in your voice, dry and reedy from disuse. “What happened to the others?”

At that, the scientist’s lips purse, and an eyelid twitches then settles.

They all hate being interrupted. Especially by a D-Class.

At least the guards acknowledge your autonomy through rage and demeaning names and acts of violence.

To the Lab Coats, you’re just cannon-fodder. Nothing. Empty vessels for them to use as they see fit.

Even so, the one in front of you straightens up and peers down the length of his nose at you, sighing as though he were trying to explain the concept of algebra to a dog. “The D-Class personnel-“ he begins, and you have to bite your tongue to hold in a scoff. ‘Personnel’ is a funny way of pronouncing ‘Prisoners.’

“-who came before, all failed their assignments.”

Behind you, Mullins pipes up with a distinguishable sneer. “Emptied their whole clips into the thing before they got turned into Swiss cheese.”

Oh… God.

“Didn’t even make a dent,” he concludes, sounding not in the least bit sad to have wasted four lives.

“Yes, well-“ the scientist clears his throat, “The first step to knowing your enemy is knowing how to kill it. And the supplied Rugers proved… ahem… inefficient. But at least we now know the three-five-seven calibre isn’t strong enough. We’re hoping the point six hundred will be.”

 “Six hundred Overkill…” Mullins whistles appreciatively. “Elephant killers.”

Your stomach twists into a tight, clenching ball. You think you might be sick if there was anything to bring up except bile.

So, this is the SCP that finally kills you.

Shit.

In a whirlwind of sudden, dizzying movements and barked orders, you’re unceremoniously surrounded by three more guards who bodily ‘escort’ you into the loading dock – an empty room set in the midway of two descending doors that are made from several feet of a solid titanium alloy. The primary door slides open with a mechanical hiss, and you’re shoved roughly into the space between it and the secondary door.

On trembling knees, you gape up at the grey metal, noting with no small degree of alarm that it’s tall and wide enough to admit the shipping container of something titanic.

Above your head on the wall, an orange light pulses as the primary door slams shut behind you, and the sound of enormous locks sliding into place fills the room. Your rifle almost slips from your grasp, leaving you to fumble for it with sweat-slicked palms.

The drawback of not being a hardened death-row inmate is that when it comes to moments of great danger, you’re inclined to neither fight nor flee.

Instead, worst of all, you’re the type to freeze solid.

Now is no exception.

As the light flashing above you turns green, signalling for the second door to ascend into its slot high in the ceiling, your spine promptly goes rigid, fingers locking up around the gun whilst your feet turn to two blocks of cement.

All of a sudden, you can’t help but let out a shriek when something flops down onto the ground on your side of the door once it’s been raised a couple of feet, and at first, you assume something is trying to crawl through the space to get at you.

Once you realise what the dark object actually is, you almost wish your initial assumption had been correct.

What lays on the ground, spread across the threshold between the dock and the cell, is a body. ‘A human body!’ your addled brain registers.

Or what’s left of a human…

Swiss cheese might not have been an exaggeration after all.

Entry and exit holes have torn the poor bastard apart from head to toe, shredding to ribbons what remains of a grubby, orange jumpsuit, much like the one you’re currently garbed in. Bones and muscle and sinew show through torn flaps of skin, and the stench of blood mingles with gun smoke, seeping into your nostrils before you can scrunch your nose up to block it out. You could have done without the acrid taste of iron resting on the back of your tongue.

‘That’s gonna happen to me,’ you gasp silently, choking on a sob, unable to tear your gaze from the body, ‘Oh god, that’ll be me in a minute!’

Jesus Christ, they hadn’t even waited for the blood to dry, the assholes!

With a ‘click’ and a ‘thud,’ the door slides gracefully to a halt, utterly and completely open, exposing you to whatever entity lays in wait beyond the threshold. The fear of what lies ahead outweighs your horror of seeing a fellow D-Class on the ground. In an instant, you wrench your eyes away from the body and gape out into the room in front of you.

Sturdy, grey walls lit by an overhead fluorescent light are a familiar view, as are the bloodstains spattered across the stone slabs.

The pockmarks littering the adjacent wall are new however, each about the size of your fist. There are hundreds of them, like someone took a gatling gun and sprayed it all over the cell. They look… far too large to have been made by any ordinary rifle…

A hard blink sends twin tracks of tears leaking down your face. The room beyond angles sharply to the left right outside the door, and it plucks at your frayed nerves to realise you can’t see what’s around the corner…

Nearby, facedown on the floor just several feet from the entrance, is the second body, a gun laying close to their side and an arm outstretched towards you, their final act in the throes of death. They must have skidded around the corner and were making for the door when they were cut down…

Despite the carnage, the cell is eerily silent, not a breath nor a shift to give away where the SCP might be.

Is it lurking just around the bend to ambush you?

Is it seconds away from tearing into the pocket of space and doing to you whatever it did to these sorry sods?

Aside from quivering fit to bust, you can’t move a muscle.

You won’t.

You won’t go in there, they can’t –!

“D-Class!”

A sharp staccato shout is thrown from a speaker in the corner of the dock, causing you to nearly leap out of your skin. But worse than your visceral flinch is the sound the voice elicits from something inside the cell.

It’s like a roll of thunder, soft then loud then soft again, a guttural growl, so rich and deep it shakes the walls and travels up through your plimsoles, undulating across each section of your spine until you can feel it hum behind your eyes.

The reverb hasn’t even faded before the same voice barks, “Proceed into the containment chamber at once.”

“To Hell with that!” you retort, feet still rooted firmly to the ground.

“You will proceed or you will be reassigned.”

It’s a threat that’s worked before.

And Hell… It works again now.

Reassignment is an absolute. A guaranteed death sentence. At least in here, even with an unknown entity, there’s a slim, albeit nearly imperceptible change of survival or at the very least, a quick death. Besides, the previous victims look well and truly dead, and that’s frankly a fate that’s a Hell of a lot better than becoming a living hive for a colony of insects or a tumour-riddled larder for giant, cave-dwelling rodents.

“D-Class. You have precisely three seconds to-“

The inescapable terror of a worse ending is your greatest motivator down here. You don’t even wait for the countdown to start.

Heaving in a wet breath, you squeeze your eyes halfway shut and yank one leg stiffly into the air, planting it forwards, once, twice, three times until you pass the body on the threshold and step out into the cell. Into the open. Like a doe entering a meadow when she damn well knows there are hunters lurking in the trees nearby.

Your eyes are still clenched almost shut when you turn yourself to the left and spot the remaining pair of bodies, one almost laying on top of the other, weapons still locked in their cold, dead hands,

Another, blood-curdling growl blasts through the air around you, sudden and violent enough to nearly send you toppling over onto your backside.

Flinging your eyes open with a gasp, you immediately wish you’d kept them closed instead. You wish the SCP had just killed you outright.

You wish you never stole that wretched car.

You were expecting big.

This SCP is bigger.

You can see why the scientists want to find a calibre that can pierce armour.

The creature that hunches before you, eating up ample space between the floor and the ceiling dozens of feet overhead, is almost solid metal from top to bottom. And armoured, you realise in horror, covering flashes of grey, scaly skin the colour of iron.

Bipedal, is the second thing you note, towering all the way to the roof on a pair of long, lithe legs, each ending in a three-toed foot with claws that remind you of some long extinct theropod.

A scrawny waist feeds into a contrarily powerful chest and monumental shoulders that are made even larger by the armoured struts encasing them.

Your eyes, wider than saucers, travel along the length of its arms – the first hanging down to its bent knee with a hand that looks large enough to wrap around your whole body and crush you between its fingers. The other arm, however, doesn’t end in a hand – clawed or otherwise.

It ends instead, from the elbow down, in a four barrelled gun the size of cannon.

And all four of those chambers are aimed directly and unwaveringly at you.

Behind the sights, several cylinders spin over one another like a minigun ramping up to fire, clanking angrily in an obvious threat.

You don’t dare pull in a breath, not when your gaze locks onto one of the chambers of the gun arm, and from somewhere deep in the pits of those long barrels, a dim, red glow sparks to life, the same light you imagine the fires of Hell would kick out if Satan ever eventually sets foot in this horrible place.

And that’s without even mentioning its other apparent weapon.

You think it must be some kind of tail, arched up and over the SCP’s head like the tail of a scorpion, swaying very gently from left to right and back again. Whip-like, it tapers to a point, and from what you can see from down here, the grey of its scales beneath the armour fades into an angry red right near the tip, glowing the same colour as the lights in the barrels of its gatling arm.

Vivid images of your body being impaled on the end of that wicked appendage flicker through your mind’s eye, and you have to drop your gaze to banish them, moving on to take in the rest of the monstrosity.

A pair of metal horns sweep forwards from the sides of an avian helm, long and sleek and ending in deadly points perfect for goring, like the tusks of an elephant. There’s a mane sprouting from its back too, a vibrant purple that stands out fiercely against the silver of its armour. Each strand of hair seems to wave and snake about through the air as if they’re alive.

And then you make the mistake of meeting its gaze.

You’ve seen SCP’s with no eyes, some with too many eyes, a few that are made up entirely of eyes and even those that have eyes in places where eyes have no business being.

These though… you don’t like these eyes at all, even despite the fact there are a regular number of them.

Gold as gleaming bullion, unnaturally bright and forward-facing, all nature’s warning signs that you’re staring up into the eyes of a predator.

Once they’ve locked you in their sights, it’s nigh on impossible to tear yourself free.

The snarling visage opens up like a steel trap, baring black fangs the size of axe heads, and a burning heat behind its jaws that rises like-

“D – One-nine-three-five!”

“Shit!” You don’t mean to yelp aloud, nor do you intend to nearly drop the gun, scrambling to secure your grip on it before it can fall from your hands. In the blink of an eye, the entity’s gigantic head swings around to hiss furiously at something you’d missed completely when you stumbled into its cell.

An observation window dominates the far wall, and behind it, several figures donned in white coats stand watching, their faces only slightly blurred behind the thick – presumably bullet-proof – glass.

Just above the window on this side of the cell, another speaker has been fitted into the wall, and from it, the same nasally voice as before barks a command.

“You are to proceed with testing the Overkill’s capabilities.”

… Are they serious?

The SCP’s tail has swung around to follow its head and aims warningly at the glass, though its weaponised arm stays fixed on you.

Your own weapon remains useless, hanging from your grasp, pointed at the ground. You can’t muster the courage to raise it.

What defence could it possibly provide? What could such a tiny rifle do, really, against a weapon that made holes that size in the concrete walls?

The scientists are insane. The lot of them...

Well, to Hell with them, and to Hell with this stupid experiment.

Still blurred over by salty tears, your eyes reluctantly trail back up to the entity’s head. If you’re to die, you want to look this thing in the eye when it kills you. You might have lived as a coward, but you’re not so eager to die as one.

You’ve been afraid to defy them for so long, terrified – paralysed by the possibility of what these people might do to you in retaliation of defiance. But somehow, being here surrounded by the bodies of your fellow prisoners, knowing you’re about to meet the same fate, you can’t think of anything more satisfying than not giving the Foundation what they want.

Oh certainly, you imagine they’ll soon get some other D-Class to do the job you failed to do, but if causing the Lab Coats a mild inconvenience before you die is how they remember you, you think you’ll be okay with that.

You have to be okay with it. There’s nothing else you can be now, seconds from having your body turned into, as Mullins so eloquently put it, Swiss cheese.

Stiffening your upper lip, you aim a shaky scowl at the window, eyes bloodshot with tears and fatigue. And in an act you hope looks as rebellious as it feels, you open your arms and let the gun fall to the ground with an almighty clatter, drawing the SCP’s attention back onto yourself.

A strangled noise escapes the speakers before you hear, “D – One-nine-three-five! Retrieve your weapon at once!”

Ignoring him, you roll your gaze over to the SCP and let your arms flop defeatedly to your sides, teeth clenched shut to try and hold onto your sobs.

That enormous, horned head cocks sideways at you, and through your tear-streaked vision, you almost believe you can see its gatling arm drop ever so slightly, and the glow in its barrels fade from red-hot to warm-orange.

“Please,” you find your voice, blindly toeing a plimsole forwards and giving the gun a weak kick, listening to it slide a few feet away from you. You’re unaware that the beast’s gaze tracks your discarded weapon across the room. “Just… make it quick?”

The body closest to you still has his eyes intact, and they stare up at you from the floor, glassy and unseeing. You wonder if his death was quick. You hope so. It looks like it should have been.

The entity regards you with its wide, fiery snarl, unblinking, calculating. As the seconds tick by, you find yourself fidgeting and sparing glances between its gun and its armoured face.

What the Hell is it waiting for?

All of a sudden, two slitted nostrils appear above the SCP’s mouth, glowing with the same liquid gold that shimmers in its eyes. They flare hotly for a moment, kicking out a noisy whumph of air, and then…

Against every odd…

The SCP snatches its head away from you and… and drops its gun arm with a gruff snort, glaring at the wall opposite the scientists.

You blink once.

Seconds later, you have to blink again, clearing your vision slightly.

Why… are you still alive?

“Um…” you utter, for lack of any better ideas.

The SCP doesn’t turn to acknowledge the sound of your voice. In fact, it seems entirely adamant in subjecting the concrete wall to a fearsome glower instead as it thumps the barrels of its gun to the ground and leans its weight on that arm, its mighty chest heaving in and out with a huff.

… Perhaps you’re going mad. That’s it. That must be part of its power. It makes people go mad. Why else would you be plagued by the feeling that you’re being deliberately ignored?

On the other side of the glass, a young scientist hovers over the microphone, trembling with unprofessional agitation and apprehension.

“D-Class!” he barks shrilly, pushing down on the button so hard his fingertip turns white, “If you don’t pick up your rifle at once, I will have no choice but to-!”

“- Quiet Spencer…” Another voice - older, authoritative – snaps, causing the shrieking man to immediately fall silent and cower away from the microphone as obediently as a beaten dog. It even hushes the mutters of every other scientist in the observation room. Narrow eyes stare unblinkingly through coke-bottle spectacles, observing the interaction beyond the observation window with cool interest. “This is the longest a D-Class has survived with this specimen…” she points out, listening to the intern beside her scribble down the minutes, “I’d like to find out why.”

She watches the Disposable’s face turn towards the glass, trying to meet any of the scientists’ gazes, apparently seeking some sort of explanation to the SCP's behaviour.

Join the club.

“… Ma’am?” someone asks after several seconds pass without an answer, turning to face her, their expression inquiring.

For a further minute, she elects to stand there in silence, thoughtfully tapping a manicured nail against the microphone button, contemplating the magnificent creature and the miniscule human currently sharing a space.

Then, with a deliberate slowness, she slides her finger from the button and folds her arms, lab coat wrinkling around her elbows.

“The D-Class gets five minutes inside before extraction,” she declares, shooting a nod at her intern who scrambles to fish a stopwatch from his pocket and stabs his thumb on the button. Once she hears the sharp ‘beep,’ she returns her attention to the staff around her and adds, “No external input.”

There are murmurs of varying approval rising and falling all throughout the room, but once again, she only has eyes for the SCP.

“Let’s see if this D-Class proves more useful than the predecessors…”

---

“Hello?” you whisper-shout at the scientists behind the window, keeping the entity in the corner of your eye, “Um...”

Christ, this is awkward... "Can I... Can I leave, or...?"

Silence.

Impassive, boring silence.

Aside from the occasional motion made to scribble something down on a clipboard, none of the scientists seem inclined to offer anything more through the microphone.

Gradually, the tired muscles in your shoulder tighten.

You’ve seen this before. D-Class call it the ‘silent treatment,’ where scientists are more interested in seeing what you can find out about SCPs of your own volition.

Are you supposed to have survived for this long? Your mind races with the thought that your predecessors might have been subjected to the same thing before they met their end. You may end up a smear on the wall yet. Half of you is weary enough to hope that’s the case. You’ve just defied a direct order from one of the Lab Coats. You shudder to imagine which SCP they’ll toss you to after this.

It’s that thought alone that spurs you to take a single step towards this entity, intending to get this over with, but no sooner have you moved closer than it whips its head towards you again, and that gun is back up, the cylinders clicking furiously in response to your proximity.

You realise at once that you’d become too bold without its weapon pointed at you because now, that same fear has returned tenfold, sending you staggering backwards again to put some more distance between you and that deadly arm.

Slamming your eyes shut, you raise your hands up in front of your face, breath hitching as you wait to feel the first of many bullets slamming into your flesh.

… You count no less than ten heartbeats without feeling a thing.

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

“Two minutes to go, ma’am,” the intern quibbles at her side.

Eyes gleaming, she watches you stand shaking in front of the SCP, arms lifted in what she presumes must be surrender. “Fascinating,” she murmurs, “The entity still hasn’t fired a single round…”

“You think it’s run out of ammo?” one of the other scientists asks, bolder than his fellows in the face of their superior.

“Perhaps,” she muses, eyeing the SCP’s ‘tail’ that hangs slack behind it this time, not poised to strike over its head like a cobra, “But perhaps it’s just as likely that it won’t fire unless it’s fired upon first.”

The intern, apparently emboldened by another voice speaking up before him, says, “Um, would that class it as a Euclid then?”

Someone scoffs derisively.

“That cannot be determined at present,” she returns cooly, “We haven’t enough data… That being said...”

Stepping closer to the window, arms coming to clasp loosely behind her back, she tilts her head sideways and regards you with the mild interest of a spider watching a fly struggle in her web. “Thanks to this D-Class, we now know far more about the SCP than we did before… And all because an order was disregarded…”

“Impertinence,” someone spits.

“Initiative,” she returns sharply, the beginnings of a rare and pensive smile lifting her cheeks, “Mullins.”

The guard near the back of the room snaps to attention.

“Prepare for extraction in one minute’s time… And return our lucky D-Class to isolation. Forty-eight hours, I think. Regular meals. That should give us enough time to make arrangements for the next test.”

“Ma’am,” he grunts, moving up to the primary door.

“Er…” The intern beside her shifts on his feet, casting apprehensive glances between the SCP and the D-Class, “What is the next test…? Oh-! Um, Ma’am?”

What indeed? Her mind is already swirling with possibilities, the first of which sticks in place as she contemplates the logistics of it, turning it over and making mental arrangements that’ll need to be put in place.

“The next test?” she replies absently, gazing up at the entity’s fangs that are still being bared down at you, though it hasn’t made a move against you yet, “We’re going to see what, if anything, this SCP likes to eat.”

[back2thebasics]

Charlie Swan x Fem Reader - Target Practice

Hopefully you guys like it! It's my first time trying to write Twilight fanfic but I had lots of fun writing this so I would be down to make more in the future if there is an interest.

Charlie Swan X Fem Reader- Target Practice -

Summary: You work as a Private Investigator. You first met Charlie at a gun range and ever since you saw him for the first time, you can't stop thinking about him. He notices you right away, not being able to keep his eyes off of you, intrigued by you. One day, he finally musters up the courage to approach you and start a conversation.

Content: 18+, MDNI, sexual content, guns, oral sex, public sex, age gap, 

WordCount: 4k

You had moved to Forks recently from a big city, looking for an escape from your stressful job as a private investigator. You had covered anything from cheating to much darker things that you were trying to forget about. You needed some time off, so you decided to switch things up and move to the small town of Forks, Washington. Not long after arriving, you discovered through a local newspaper that there was a gun range a few minutes out of town. The first time you shot a gun was for your weapon training course. It surprised you how easily you took to it and how you somewhat enjoyed the experience. The small rush of adrenaline and the focus required made your blood rush and made you feel alive. Luckily, you never required a gun for work, but you always kept one hidden in the glove box of your blacked out Mustang. The first time you went to the gun range, you had just wanted to check it out, but once there you felt stupid turning around. You entered the old looking concrete building, which almost looked like an old prison but smaller. You could already hear the loud gunshots, slightly muffled through the front door. 

Once inside, you went up to the front desk, which doubled as a large gun locker. The old man leaning back in an old wooden chair polished a gun looking up at you. He put the rifle down and stood to greet you. You pay the admission fee and the rounds of ammo and you, as you enter the second section of the range where the targets are, you feel the old man's stare. He probably knows every single customer, but you are new here and also the only woman in sight. You feel pairs of eyes on you as you go to your assigned booth at the very back. That's when you see Charlie for the first time. He is in the booth right next to yours, his focus remaining on the target ahead. You find him handsome from first sight. He was just your type. A little older, rugged, strong looking, with a full head of dark hair and a nicely trimmed mustache. He seemed quiet, observant, but discreet. You caught him glancing your way as you settled in your own booth at the very back. As you prepped your gun, you felt his eyes on you again, lingering, but not constantly. During your first visit to the shooting range, he stayed silent but sneaked intrigued glances towards you when he thought you wouldn't to notice. You had good aim the first visit despite being a little rusty. His was near perfect, you noticed. He pulled the trigger like it was breathing to him, never straying too far from his intended target. He also looked detached a little while he shot round after round like he did this every Sunday. Did he? You thought to yourself. It was only on your way out that first night that you noticed a patch on his jacket telling you he was a cop and the chief of police of Forks. 

The following two weekends, you made the trip to the gun range to shoot a few rounds, and you saw Charlie there each time. He seemed to allow himself to look at you more and more each visit, his gaze lingering longer than before. Then one day, he finally broke the silence at the end of a session. 

“Where you from anyway? Ive never seen you around?” He asked as you were taking a break. You pushed back the large noise canceling headphones that you wore while shooting. 

“I just moved here about a month ago. I’m from Seattle.” You explained, happy that he finally spoke to you. 

“Ah, that explains it. If you don't mind me asking, how did you learn to shoot like that?” He asked, arching a brow slightly. The sight made you hold in a giggle. 

“I'm a Private Investigator so the training came with the job but I ended up enjoying it so now I do it as a way to unwind, I guess.” You told him, looking up into his dark eyes. He nodded, as if finally able to solve the puzzle he’d been constructing in his head.

“Well, I have to say after me you might be the best shot in this town.” He chuckled softly, and the praise made your stomach do flips. You didn't think a random man’s opinion would mean so much to you, but you cared about what he thought of you. 

“Well Chief, thank you. My name is Y/N.” You stuck out your hand for a handshake, not yet knowing his name.

“Please call me Charlie.” He shook your hand, giving you a warm smile. His touch lingering slightly on your smaller hand. His hand slightly calloused and rough felt warm in your grip. You both pulled away and went back to your own thing. He kept shooting a few rounds. You found yourself simply watching him for the rest of the session. 

A few months later…

After settling in fully into the Forks' lifestyle, you noticed a few things. Charlie was everywhere, and everyone in town knew and respected him. He was also a very quiet, reserved man who was impossible to read at times. You always felt nervous talking to him for some reason despite his trustworthy reputation as the town's hero. You were sitting in the only bar in town. You rarely went out for drinks, but tonight you sat on a high stool dressed in a nice black jumpsuit. You took the time to do your hair and apply a little makeup, which was a rare sight. While you were lost in thought, a person suddenly occupied the empty seat next to you.

“Fancy seeing you here.” Charlie sat with an ease that made you think this was his usual spot. You flashed him a smile that he returned.

“Yeah, what are the odds?” You joked back, knowing it was the only bar around for miles. 

“You come here often?” You add in teasing him.

“Probably more than I should.” He joked back and gave the bartender a little signal. A few minutes later, a tall draft beer sat in front of him. Your cocktail sat half empty as you nursed it, taking your time to make sure you could still drive home after. The two of you sat and talked for a while, the time slipping by as easy conversation flowed effortlessly. 

“I have this cabin up in the mountains with an outdoor practice range. I usually go up there with my buddies during hunting season, but I was wondering if you'd maybe want to go there to shoot. I mean you don't have to but if it interests you, I could um.. take you.” He seemed to get flustered by the proposition. Was he asking you on a date? “Yeah, that sounds great. I'm free next weekend.” Your answer eased his antsy demeanor, and he settled back into the stool, smiling at you, pleased.

“Perfect then. Ill pick you up and we can go.” He confirmed and the thought of going on a weekend trip to his cabin excited you more than anything had in the past 2 months . 

The weekend came, and you felt like a teenager as you paced by your window waiting for his truck to pull into the driveway. The outfit you had spent hours debating was a functional but cute ensemble consisting of a pair of jeans, a black tank top paired with a soft Forrest green flannel, and a pair of lace up hiking boots. You heard the gravel crunch and then saw his truck slow to a stop. To your surprise, Charlie exited the truck and approached your front door. A loud but still polite knock sounded a few minutes later, and you had to stop yourself from running to the door like a love-struck teenager. Opening the door, you admired him for a moment. He had shaved, leaving only his signature mustache perfectly trimmed. He wore dark-colored jeans paired with a gray t-shirt and a faded leather jacket. He looked so handsome that you had to stop yourself from ogling too long and making things awkward.

“Ready to go?” He asked, flashing you a smile that almost took your breath away.

“Yeah, but I don't have a gun. Sorry, I forgot to mention that earlier.” You usually borrowed one from the range. 

"No worries, I got you covered." He replied, smirking. Walking back to his truck and you followed instinctively. He opened the hatch of his truck to reveal a black trunk of some sort. He pulled it towards him and unlatched the cover to reveal a whole arsenal of firearms, from pistols to rifles. 

There were loads of ammo and other things as well and you were relieved he came prepared. You were willing to simply watch him shoot if it had come to it. You climbed in the truck after Charlie held the door open for you. He drove the both of you into the mountains, the forest getting thicker the further you drove. You filled the silence with pleasant conversation. You couldn't remember feeling this comfortable with anyone on this level before meeting Charlie. He made you feel seen, safe and fuzzy inside. Like a warm roaring fire was slowly building within you every time you thought of him or saw him in town. Once you arrived at the cabin, he helped you out of the truck and gave you a quick tour of the property. He showed you around the little clearing where he had set up many targets of varying distances, sizes and difficulty. He seemed proud of his hard work as he walked you around, showing you all the little details he had thought of and engineered himself. He then brought you inside the cute little log cabin that had a small kitchen, bathroom and a single bedroom. The inside was decorated with memorabilia that had been collected over the years. The cabin had charm and you couldn't help but walk around appreciating all the little momentos that made the cabin feel alive. This place was Charlie's space and you could tell he had fun times here in the past with his friends. 

“Its so nice Charlie, wow.” You told him, admiring the little metal fireplace in the corner of the living room. He saw you looking and approached to start making a fire. “You like it?” He smiled, crouching down to add logs to the fireplace. 

“Yeah, I love it.” You replied, still finding more things to look at. Everything in here had a story behind it and you couldn't wait to ask him more about his different adventures. 

“We can take a little break and eat before we go out to shoot.” He lit the fire and then stood to cross the cabin over to the fridge.

“You brought food?” You asked confused, not remembering a cooler of any kind. He open the fridge door and the fridge was fully stocked.

“I came up here yesterday to make sure we had food and other supplies we might need.” He pulled out a few things, placing them on the counter and closing the door once more. The thought of him going through all this effort for you made your belly warm and a rush of butterflies to flutter around. There was a tension in the air but it wasn't the bad kind. You went to his side to help him prepare the food. You made some steak and potatoes along with some steamed green beans. 

“My daughter showed me how to cook. Without her I would still be eating tv dinners every night.” He laughed to himself, draining the boiling water from the potatoes carefully.

“You have a daughter? I didn't know.” There were still a few things you wanted to know about him and you were curious to learn more.

“Yeah, Bella, she doesn't live with me anymore. She has a husband Edward and they live together with their daughter, Renesmee. I go visit them as much as I can nowadays.” He seemed wistful but the love that shined in his eyes made it clear the level of affection he held for his daughter and her family. 

“Hopefully, I can meet her one day.” You smiled at him warmly.

“Yeah, that would be nice.” He agreed, looking into your eyes, his dark pupils flaring slightly. He looked away, going back to preparing the food. Once you were both done, you sat and ate in a peaceful silence. Then it was time for some fun.

You fired round after round, enjoying the rare sunshine that made the day even more special. You had friendly competitions with Charlie, who liked to tease that you were cheating by distracting him. In the end you won fair and square and you celebrated by opening a beer and sitting tother in the clearing on a large fallen log. He smiled at you as you took a sip of your beer. You were a little sweaty, your hair clung to the back of your neck from the beaming heat of the sun. Charlie seemed lost in thought, so you broke the silence first.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked softly.

“I can't remember the last time I was this happy.” He said simply, and the words flared something inside you like the fire that was building before it came to a roar suddenly. It gave you the confidence you needed to say the words that had been on your mind for the past month.

“I like you Charlie.” The words came out in a single breath, softly spoken, making you feel vulnerable.

“You do?” He asked, looking at you with a fierce look of longing. His question seemed like it served for his reassurance. Like he couldn't believe that someone like you could ever like someone like him.

“Yeah, a lot.” You replied nodding, a small smile forming on your lips. You felt nervous, giddy energy bubbling inside.

“Fuck sweetheart, you sure? I am a lot older than you are.” He seemed to be having an internal battle. You did have a considerable age gap between you, but that did not stop the attraction that you felt. He was kind, charming, warm and considerate, along with incredibly hot, which helped.

“I know, but that doesn't change anything for me. If it doesn't bother you then it doesn't bother me.” You said softly, scared he would reject you after bearing yourself to him. He looked torn and intense, and it made you nervous. 

“Listen, I don't want you to think I have ill intentions. I like you too, trust me. Shit, I don't remember the last time I felt like this. It makes me feel young again.” He swore and chuckled, shaking his head.

You felt hopeful, so you decided to take a leap of faith. You knew he would never make the first move, so you did. You leaned in slowly, giving him time to pull back if he wanted to. He instead pulled in closer as well and your lips met his. The kiss started slowly as you sighed into the soft contact of your lips. His mustache brushed against your upper lip and you gently griped the back of his neck with your hand. The kiss grew more intense as he brushed his tongue against your bottom lip mid kiss. You opened up for him and let your tongue explore as well. You pulled back breathless and the both of you held each other's eyes. Heat was building low in your stomach, sending a pool of liquid to your core. 

“Do you want to go inside?” He asked gruffly, his voice thick with desire.

“Yeah.” You led the way, standing from the log and feeling charlie follow behind you. Once inside, you couldn't hold back any longer and you almost pounced on him. Turning back to him once he closed the door and pressing him up against it, resuming the kiss you shared outside. It took him a split second to return the kiss, gripping your hips firmly with strong hands. He surprised you by turning the both of you suddenly so your back was pressed against the door. You released a small breath and looped your hands around his neck. He grabbed behind your thighs and lifted you effortlessly so your legs wrapped around his torso.

 The kiss continued fierce and passionate. Your hands gripped the back of his hair slightly, tugging the short strands between your fingers, earning a rough rumble from Charlie. The sound set another wave of lust to your core. You broke the kiss panting and looked into his blazing dark eyes that devoured you. 

“Charlie, I need you.” You spoke the words sounding needy even to your own ears.

“Fuck sweetheart, are you sure?” He asked for your consent, his eyes hopeful but careful, making sure you felt comfortable.

“Yes, Ive never been more sure.” You answered with a small smile, knowing this was important to him. 

“I don't have any, um, protection, darling.” His low, almost embarrassed voice made your heart swell. You stroked your thumb on his cheek. “I'm on birth control. It's okay.” You answered, soothing his worries.

You saw the restraint in him give in that moment as he carried you to the bedroom. You felt the excitement return, and you started peppering kisses to his jaw, down his neck, over the strong column of his stubbled throat. He groaned deep in his throat, a sound of pure male pleasure and it encouraged you. He set you down gently on the queen size bed hovering over you and leaning down to return the favour. He trailed kisses down your neck to your exposed collar bones, spreading kisses across them like he was appreciating every inch of your skin. You shivered with pleasure beneath his strong frame. He gently helped you out of the flannel you wore and then the tank top and jeans, leaving you in your underwear. Then you went to work on his clothing, shedding him of his layers until he was in his boxers and socks. 

The two of you continued the frenzied kissing like horny teenagers because that's what you both felt like. He was hard and you could tell it was big. It excited you and your hand trailed down to pull out his large cock from the confines of his underwear. He let out a huff of breath and he groaned when you started stroking him slowly, teasing him a little. He sat back and pulled you up with him so you were straddling his lap. He expertly unclasped your bra, and the look of admiration and pure lust thrilled you. He spent time appreciating your breasts, kissing them, licking your hard budding nipples, and then gently nipping the tips with his teeth, sending you twitching of pleasure in his arms. He made another guttural sound of pleasure and then you were beneath him again. He was trailing kisses down your stomach, going lower and lower until he reached your soaking wet clothed mound. He peeled your wet underwear from your legs and flicked them on the floor. He looked up at you with an intense lustful gaze, his dark eyes asking before his lips spoke the words.

“Can I?” The question was almost whispered against your core, sending shivers up your spine. You nodded quickly, flustered. Your cheeks felt warm and your breathing was still a little erratic from the intensity of the moment. He dipped down to your slick folds and got to work, starting with slow teasing licks that made you crazy. Your hands instinctively flew out to grip his dark brown hair. You felt his facial hair brush against your inner thighs and it turned you on. He devoured your pussy like a starving man, with languid strokes of his tongue that increased in speed slowly, followed by slightly sucking on your sensitive clit. You pulled harder on his hair, releasing little moans and soft cries at the pleasure. He increased in speed and intensity until you felt the slow climb of your orgasm forming. It came like a crashing wave, strong and sure. The white hot pleasure peaking and sending you free falling of the ledge. Your legs shook as you came on his tongue, moaning loudly and releasing his hair to grip the sheets tightly with bunched fists. He pulled back after you were done riding the comedown of your dizzying orgasm.

“You taste so good, Princess.” He praised low and throaty from his own desire. 

“Charlie, I want your dick.” The request left you without even thinking, you were still hypnotized from the rush of coming hard for him. He seemed pleased at the words and he pulled down his boxer briefs, his fully erect dick touching his happy trail. He was a good 7 inches for sure and the sight of him in his full glory made your mouth water. He positioned himself until he was lined up to your slick entrance and then, with a smooth slow thrust, he pushed in. The feeling of him filling you slowly was exquisite. He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut in pleasure.

“Fuck you're so tight.” He cursed under his breath as he started to test out a few thrusts. You moaned as he slowly picked up the pace. He braced himself on his elbows, caging you into him and sending his smell to flood your senses. He smelled faintly of pine and sweat and it turned you on more than any expensive cologne could. He fucks you deep, powerful thrusts and your moans increase in volume. He looks down into your eyes with lust, sweat beading on his forehead from the exertion. He lets out little groans and muffled curses as he fucks you. 

“You're so pretty when I fuck you, sweetheart.” He coos, pounding into you and sending you close to a second orgasm already. 

“Fuck yes Charlie.” You moan out his name, clutching the surrounding sheets in pleasure. 

Your back arches and you feel one of his strong, calloused hands on the small of your back, holding you up and pressing your front to his chest as he thrusts into you fast and strong. 

Your sensitive nipples rub against his hairy chest and it sends sparks of electricity through your body as you feel the peak of your second orgasm approaching. It rocks through your body and you pull him in for a needy kiss. You come while kissing him, breaking apart to moan out his name as you convulse in his powerful grip. Your toes curl, your back arching even more and then you come even harder than the last time. Your vision blurs a little as you come down from the high, still pressed close to a panting Charlie, who came at the same time. He pulls out slowly and then stands to grab tissues from the wooden side table next to the bed. He wipes you first, then himself. Then he approaches where you sit at the edge of the bed, watching him with a loving smile. He settles into the bed, pulling you close to him, and you cuddle with him in the drowsy post orgasm haze. His hairy chest serves as your pillow as you gently stroke his shoulder and then trail your fingers on his chest. You sigh happily.

“You know that was the best sex I've ever had.” He smiles down at you, flashing you with one of those breathtaking smiles.

“Me too.” You agree, smiling wider and then pulling him in for another kiss. 

[arkjamkson]

UHHHH IVE NEVER WRITTEN BEFORE, Don’t know how to tag and I didn’t proofread cause I’m real lazy. also kinda stupid, i probably used the same metaphors and similes like a million times. So uh, yeah. Read at your own discretion, I’ll tag what I think is important so read pls

TWS & MENTIONS—— Torture, blood, goreish, betrayal, heavy angst, overall gruesome and violent, mentions of relationship with simon ghost riley (implied but heavily), angst angst angst and more angst with a side of angst. Did I mention angst.

That’s it I think lmk if I missed any? Okay enjoy, hopefully!

Inspo and plot credit to users ghouljams & criminalamnesia !!!

————————————————————————

When your vision blurs and your eyes fog up— you can’t make sense out of the coarse pangs of pain running up your sides, down your legs and through your nose. For the first time in your life, it’s a weary weekend evening and you happen to be tied up to a splinting wooden chair in the middle of a dark warehouse. You think the red running down and dripping onto the floor is your own blood, but again, you can’t see. A fist collides against your stomach once, twice, then thrice, and finally relents.

"P…please— stop," You recognize your voice alongside the ringing in yours ears. Panicked— desperate. Your hands twitch behind your back on instinct, a deep familiar instinct to grab those hands and soothe your thumbs over those scared knuckles.

“Fuckin’ hell.” Price grumbles. This wasn’t what he wanted to happen— not your betrayal, not the torturing, and most insistently— not the feelings that hit him when it all came crashing down. The pang in his heart planted the thought and truth that you were practically family. He shakes his head before slamming a door behind him.

“Fuckin’ hell is right!” Simon yells back, slamming down his mask onto the table. He catches a look at your blood smeared over it and anger flares up and over his lips again.

You look at his face and you think you’ve never seen him make that expression. You’ve seen the best and worse of him. You’ve seen the face he makes when he’s afraid, the one he’s made when he cries and his shoulder shake with sobs. It scares you how foreign they he looks now. Ten feet can’t feel anymore distant than right now. Tears boil over onto your red and purple cheeks, voice cracking and quiet.

“I didn’t— I wouldn’t! I was with Gaz all the whole time, tell them Gaz!” You manage and don’t notice how through your fading conscience, you omit and slur words together. When Gaz averts his eyes you can’t help but wonder who’s the real traitor in this whole ordeal.

“You abandoned your post, left Sergeant Gaz to fend for himself, didn’t answer none of your fuckin’ callsigns,” Simon steps closer. You flinch.

“Why?” He yells. “Fuckin’ speak!” Fear runs rampant through your veins and you can’t recognize this man. This man is angry and unrecognizable, and you can’t for the life of you believe why.

“Please, Simon— I didn’t. I wouldn’t.” A few words go unsaid in the wake of pain.

“Good at lying, aren’t you?” Simon steps close. He’s quick to pull out his infamous sleek knife out one of his holders and slice it across your shoulder. Warm blood trickles down and you let out a cry so raw it hurts your throat. It hurts, burns— but nothing sears more than the look he gives you.

You shake your head and sob out. This can’t be seriously be happening. You were just returning from hiding after the Mexican cartel stormed you and Gaz’s recon location. You ran until your lungs gave out and when you thought you were safe, Johnny had tied your wrist behind your hands and forced you down onto your knees with a rougher than usual hand.

Confused, you panted out. A joke, perhaps? You look around with a small smile. It drops as quick as it formed and it’s almost comical how fast it all happened. One second your legs were aching from running and the next it was from the cut of a choppy knife. The hand that used it was just as choppy, rigid, tense.

“Please, I didn’t do it! I didn’t fucking do it!” Your voice shakes with hurt and anger. “Why won’t you all believe me!” Your voice tears out of your throat. Simon slams his hand down on a table and the noise beats fear into you and gets your heart pounding.

Silence ensues and you could’ve sworn it was worse than being tortured. Your own fucking force members. Eight years, rough and painful years, for one bark from Shephard to tear everything down and away from you.

It takes a few more beatings from Simon for it to get through your hazy mind—He’ll kill you; Right here, right now. Your history can’t save you in the face of betrayal.

When your body is bruised and raw with cuts and you can’t place anything anymore, only then are you granted a silence. Like a madman, captain Price swings open the door of the room he had cowered into.

“Fucking hell, Simon! Stop!” He pulls Simon’s arm back, voice taut and if you could see, you’d see the guilt in the blue of his eyes. His words are like a bite in the neck to everyone in the dark room.

“Shephard conned us. He— Fuck!” He grabs the bloody knife out of Simon’s hand and throws it onto the ground.

“He and graves fucked us over. Lied to Laswell and the rest of us ate it up like fucking dogs!” He yells. Frustration pounds guilt into his head.

Simon’s hand goes limp and you don’t get the satisfaction of seeing guilt seep and set into his face. It would’ve been funny had it not been due to the weight of it all.

“Shit. Shit, shit!” Price runs up to you, eyes frantic as he look over your wounds. Raw, teared and sliced open. Bruised beyond recognition.

You can’t even respond to his hands holding together some of your wounds, the panicked yells between Soap and Gaz, the pale silence from Simon. It’s too quick, you think. That or your mind is slowing down. Most likely the latter.

[rollingsins]

all hers, epilogue

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v | part vi | part vii | part viii | part ix | part x | part xi | part xii | part xiii | part xiv | part xv | part xvi | part xvii | part xviii | part xix | part xx | part xxi | part xxii | part xxiii | part xxiv | part xxv | part xxvi | epilogue

summary: Tara and YN try their hand at some healthier habits.

warnings: (+18), Tara is Ghostface, mention of violence. Smut.

word count: 5.3k

a/n: it's been a wild ride. thanks for all who have come along. all hers is over, but I will still be writing gf!tara drabbles in the same universe - maybe some college oneshots in the drabble files. Until then: enjoy the final chapter! :)) 

As the days turn into weeks and the weeks turn into months, slowly, the pain subsides.

Your normal? It’s potentially forever gone. It shouldn’t be a surprise, at this point.

Once you’d just been a teenage girl, crazily in love with another girl.

Who turned out to be a serial killer. Who’d somehow turned you into a killer.

Who’d made you cry, and laugh and love harder than you’d ever loved in your entire life.

In the grand scheme of things - the scar on your belly is probably the least of your worries.

But that doesn’t stop you toiling on it.

It always seems to be the way, doesn’t it? Worrying about the things that don’t really matter.

You worry nonetheless.

“It’s pretty,” Tara murmurs in comfort when you’re staring at yourself in the bathroom mirror, shirt lifted slightly, eyebrows pinched in dismay.

It’s not pretty.

It’s wiry and long and stems from the tip of your bellybutton down to your navel.

“It’s hideous.” You say, voice a little fraught.

It’s hideous and permanent.

You’ll never be able to wear a bikini again. You’ll never be able to take your shirt off again without being reminded of it.

Of her.

The woman who had tormented you for weeks.

The woman who you’d tormented for weeks. The woman whose son you’d taken from her. The woman who’d repaid you in mental scars to last a lifetime.

A belly scar to last a lifetime.

“It’s beautiful,” Tara says, pressing her lips to your shoulder, “It means you’re alive.”

She squeezes your hips, then lifts her own shirt.

“And it matches mine,” She says, eyes shimmering, “Matching knife wounds. Like soulmates.”

You snort.

Because of course Tara tries to make stab wounds romantic.

But to her credit - it works.

Your heart sings.

Soulmates.

Because that’s what you are.

“Who needs a wedding ring, right?” You say, biting your lip, insecurities suddenly fading.

Tara entwines your hands, lifts the back of your hand to her lips.

“You do,” Tara says, “And you’ll have one. Soon. I promise.”

You pull back.

“Not before-“

“College,” Tara says, rolling her eyes, “I know, babe.”

You press a lingering kiss to her cheek.

“I just don’t want to be one of those couples who rush into marriage and fall apart the moment they turn twenty-one.”

“That won’t be us,” Tara whines, and then she pouts, “Plenty of high school sweethearts get married right after high school.”

You groan.

“Tara, we talked about this already-“

“I know,” Tara says, voice hasty, “I’m just excited. I want you to be Mrs. Carpenter already.”

“Mrs Carpenter, huh?” You say, ignoring the fluttery rush that blooms through you at the thought, “And what if I want you to take my name?”

Tara cocks a brow and considers this.

“I don’t care, babe, I’ll change my name to garden gnome if you want, as long as I get to be your wife.” She says after a moment.

You smile. Squeeze her hand.

“You’d suit it,” You tease, “But Mrs and Mrs Carpenter has a nice ring to it.”

Tara tilts her head hopefully.

“So, maybe a high school wedding?” She asks, voice sly, “Mrs Carpenter would look good on your college application forms.”

You press a warm kiss to her lips.

“There’s no rush, babe,” You tell her, “And I need to save up. Get you a pretty ring.”

Tara squints.

“I’m proposing first,” She says immediately, “You promised, babe.”

You roll your eyes.

“Yes, you baby, I know.”

Tara tilts her head, seemingly satisfied.

You press a kiss to her lips. She’s cured your insecurity, for now.

But a new feeling gnaws at the bottom of your stomach.

Dread.

As you realize what comes next. You try to keep your voice light. Lighter than the heavy pit at the bottom of your stomach.

“Come on,” You say, trying and failing not to sound anxious, “It’s time for therapy.”

-

Dr Colmann is a five foot woman with long, flowing blonde hair and piercing blue eyes.

Her office is bland. Gray walls. Little decoration.

Like she wants your attention on her.

You’d met her first, a few weeks ago. Like a pterodactyl scouting out a potential nest for her baby.

Your situation is tricky - there’s only so much you can tell her.

And you’re no doctor - but even you know surely it’s impossible to diagnose an illness without knowing all the symptoms.

“I want to get something out of the way,” You’d said after a long moment, clearing your throat.

Dr Colmann had looked over at you, pen tilted and ready to write. With all the intimidation of a woman who was about to change your life.

“I’m aware my girlfriend is…” You had paused, trying to think of the right word, “A little… possessive.”

Dr Colmann said nothing.

“I know that, and that’s why we’re looking for help.” You’d bitten your lip, nervous, “And I’m also sure the first thing you’re going to tell me is to leave her. But that isn’t going to happen. I love her. And she loves me. We’re looking for coping methods. I want to help her feel secure. But I will not break up with her.”

Dr Colmann had just listened.

Her silence, if possible, made you all the more nervous.

“She’s not abusive or anything,” You’d clarified, hastily, “She doesn’t hurt me. She just gets… jealous.”

“And what does she do when she gets jealous?” She’d asked, finally breaking her silence.

“Um-“ You’d said, voice a little high. Memories flashed before you like nightmares and you’d been entirely grateful your thoughts couldn’t be seen.

“She lashes out. Not at me. At other people.”

Dr Colmann scribbled something in her notepad. Long, wiry, black inky marks.

You’d squinted, trying to make up the words, but she’d looked back at you before you’d had the chance.

“Do you have any examples?” Dr Colmann prompted.

You paused.

You had a fair few of those.

None of which you could disclose.

“Little things,” You said, “I used to play soccer. But I had to quit because Tara thought some of the girls might become interested in me.”

You chew your lip.

“And… I was just in the hospital. She got jealous of the nurse.”

“The nurse?”

“She tried to… give me a sponge bath and Tara freaked out.”

Dr Colman stared.

You swallowed. The words out loud somehow seemed even more ridiculous than they are.

“How did she freak out?” Dr Colmann asked.

“She tried to…” You swallowed again, “She didn’t want the nurse to touch me again. Not even to change my bandages.”

Dr Colmann pursed her lips.

“I told her that was stupid,” You’d said, hurriedly, “But when she gets like that, nothing can stop her. She calls it The Rage.”

Dr Colmann tilted her head.

“The Rage?”

You’d nodded.

“Yeah. It’s like… it’s like something takes over her. Like a demon or something. Something she can’t control.”

Dr Colmann had closed her notebook. She’d looked over at you, surveying. You’d blinked back, eyes wide, surely screaming help me, or something to that effect.

Then, she smiled.

“When can I meet her?”

-

You’re no less nervous the second time.

You greet Dr Colmann with a tight smile, draw Tara down into the seat next to you. Your knee bobs up and down, unable to quell the tide of anxiety rising deep within you.

Please, you think, a little desperate, please help her.

As Tara and Dr Colmann exchange pleasantries, you blink. Too many times.

Like you don’t know how this is going to go. The worst case scenario flashes before you: Dr Colmann in a body bag.

Tara in a jail cell.

You in a jail cell.

Never able to touch her, or hold her, or kiss her ever again.

You need therapy, the little voice in your head leers, judgmental, not being with Tara is worse than a woman dying?

“So, Tara,” Dr Colmann says, when you’re all seated. With all the cheeriness of someone who isn’t aware you’re imagining her as a corpse.

“Tell me about The Rage.”

An awkward silence settles over the three of you.

Tara shoots a hesitant look towards you.

You squeeze her hand and nod.

Then, she looks over to Dr Colmann.

“It’s an anger thing,” Tara mumbles, not looking her in the eye, “I’ve seen shrinks before, none of them can fix it.”

Dr Colmann tilts her head.

“And what did these other doctors do?” She asks, “Anger management classes? Medication?”

“Both,” Tara says, “Nothing ever worked.”

Dr Colmann hums.

“I’ve read through your file, Tara,” She says gently, “Fourteen different therapists across the state. That’s a lot of doctors. Especially for such a young girl.”

Tara assesses her. Her face is tight, guarded. Like she’s not sure if she can quite trust her.

Dr Colmann scribbles something in her notepad.

“Lots of kids have problems with anger,” Says Dr Colmann, “But anger is just a symptom, like any other emotion. From what YN has told me, anger isn’t the problem. Sharing is the problem.”

Tara frowns.

“Plenty of children have issues with sharing,” Dr Colmann continues, “Usually, it’s the parents who stamp it out. But not always. I see in your file your sister used to bear the brunt of most of these anger issues.”

Tara folds her arms.

“Not always,” She says.

“But most of the time,” Says Dr Colmann, pointedly. She squints, reading through her notes, “It says here you attacked your sister when you were four years old because she tried to play with one of your Barbie dolls. Then again, later that week for taking a bigger slice of pie.”

“Four year olds are allowed to have boundaries, aren’t they?” Says Tara, defensively, “That Barbie was mine.”

“And YN? She’s yours too?” Asks Dr Colmann, evenly.

Tara blinks.

“She’s my girlfriend.” Tara says, diplomatically. The question is a trap, one she’s determined to avoid.

Dr Colmann tilts her head.

“And you don’t like when other people play with her? Is that right?”

Anger flickers through Tara’s features. You bite your lip, and squeeze her hand. Try to keep her grounded.

“I suppose not.” Says Tara, voice tight.

“YN told me about the nurse,” Dr Colmann says, “And the soccer team. You made her quit? Why?”

Tara looks over to you, a little helpless.

“I didn’t make her quit,” She says, slowly, like she’s being very careful with her words, “I just… suggested it. Strongly.”

Dr Colmann makes a noise of dissatisfaction.

Then returns to madly scribbling on her notepad.

Tara frowns again, looking self-conscious.

Dr Colmann looks up.

“And what if someone on the soccer team had been interested?” Dr Colmann asks, “What would you have done?”

You avert your gaze.

Kill them, is the answer.

It’s already happened.

More than once.

Tara shifts.

“I wouldn’t like it.” Tara says.

“No reasonable person would like that, Tara,” Dr Colmann prods, gently, “But what would you do?”

“I don’t know,” Says Tara, sounding aggravated, “Not let her see them anymore.”

“And do you think that’s an appropriate request?” Dr Colmann asks, “Do you really think you should have control over who your girlfriend associates with?”

Tara narrows her eyes.

“YN would do it for me,” She says, “We’re in a relationship. Relationships are about compromise.”

“That isn’t compromise, Tara,” Dr Colmann says, gently, “That’s you demanding she do something and her complying. Do you not trust her?”

Tara blinks.

She looks over to you, then back to Dr Colmann.

“Of course I do,” She says, voice soft, “It’s other people I don’t trust.”

“And what do you think these other people are going to do?” Dr Colmann asks.

“I don’t know.” Tara says, voice small, as if she’s never really thought that far ahead.

She looks like a little lost puppy. You want to wrap her in your arms and tell her you’ll never talk to anybody else again if that’s what she wants.

You resist.

Healthy wife, happy life, is what you tell yourself instead.

Dr Colmann’s face washes with sympathy.

“Jealousy is pointless, Tara,” Dr Colmann says, voice gentle, “Worrying is pointless. If YN is going to cheat on you, she’ll cheat on you. If she’s going to leave you, she’ll leave you. There’s nothing you - or The Rage can do about it.”

Tara blinks.

“I-“ She says, as if Dr Colmann has just spit in her face “What?”

Dr Colmann sits forward in her seat. Her notebook discarded.

“What you need to do - is trust. Your girlfriend loves you. Clearly. She wouldn’t be here with you if she didn’t.”

Tara frowns.

“You’re afraid of losing her,” Dr Colman says, eyebrows knit, as if Tara is a particularly difficult puzzle she can’t quite get her head around, “But why? We’ve already established she loves you. She wouldn’t be here with you if she didn’t.”

Tara blinks. You soothe a finger across the back of her hand. Resist the urge to press a kiss to her pretty forehead.

You let the doctor do the work.

“Have other people you loved left you, Tara?” Dr Colmann prods, gently.

Tara’s shoulders tense.

Dr Colmann waits a moment.

“Who?” She asks, "Your Mom? Your Dad?”

“Both.” Tara says, voice small, “They both left me.”

Your heart aches.

If you could - you’d sucker punch the two of them right now.

It isn’t an option. Instead - you grip her hand tight, offer her a small smile of encouragement as she speaks.

Tara swallows.

“My Dad tried to fix me,” Tara says, “For years. I was an angry kid. They could never figure out what was wrong with me. Eventually he just… gave up. He walked out on me and My Mom and my sister. Left us, just like that.”

“That must have been very traumatic,” Says Dr Colmann, “How old were you?”

“Thirteen.” Says Tara, “My Mom never left. I mean, she did. She threw herself into work to cope with my Dad leaving. She started going on these long business trips. But she never officially left.”

Dr Colmann offers her a small smile, “And that’s why you get so jealous, is it Tara? You’re afraid YN will leave you? Like your Mom? Like your Dad?”

Tara hesitates.

She looks down at her hands.

“Yes.” She says, after a long moment.

“Baby,” You say, voice hushed. Tara squeezes your fingers.

Dr Colmann hums.

“That makes a lot of sense, Tara,” She says, her voice kind, “That gives us something to work with.”

She closes her notepad, offers the two of you a reassuring smile.

“Your anger - we can work through that. We can figure out some coping methods. But the main problem here isn’t anger, Tara. It’s trust. I know you said you trust YN but you’re still scared. Deep down you’re scared she’ll abandon you, just like your parents did. We need to work through that.”

“Is it something we can fix?” You ask, a tad desperate.

You’d lost count of the amount of times you’d promised Tara you’d never leave her.

And each time it seemed to fall on deaf ears the moment The Rage was invoked.

“We can try,” Dr Colmann says, “I can try. And it’ll take some hard work. But Tara, it’ll only work if you’re open to it. If you’re open to changing. Is that something you can do?”

Tara thinks for a moment.

And then she nods.

“Yeah,” She says, “I want to do it. I want to be different. For you, babe,”

She squeezes your hand. Thinks hard.

“And for me too."

-

You’re silent the entire way home.

Tara too.

She grips your hand so hard you think it might fall off at one point. It’s only when she pulls into the driveway, she speaks.

“I didn’t scare you off, did I?” She asks, chewing her lip as she looks over at you, “With all my… problems.”

“Never, baby,” You say immediately.

You lean over to kiss her cheek. She relaxes.

“I’m going to need a lot of therapy, aren’t I?” She says, sounding worried.

You press another warm kiss to her cheek.

“I’ll be with you the whole way,” You assure, “I'm not going anywhere, Tara.”

You hesitate.

“You know I’m not like your Dad, right?” You say, “Or your Mom. I’m not going to leave you.”

Tara offers you a small smile.

“I know, babe,” She says, “At least in theory, I know.”

You press a kiss to her lips.

“I guess I’ll just have to remind you then,” you say, “Everyday. I love you. You’re stuck with me. I’ll say it until you believe me in theory and in practice.”

Tara rests her forehead against yours.

“Okay,” She says, “And keep saying it after that, okay babe?”

You kiss her.

“Deal.”

-

Your Mom’s still in the hospital.

Her leg had been amputated after the attack, and the procedure hadn’t been easy on her or your Dad. She’d come home after two weeks and then been admitted once more when the wound became infected.

“Are you feeling okay?” You ask her now, chewing your lip, phone pressed to your ear.

Tara finishes up the dishes, setting down the washcloth to nestle in beside you, squeezing your hip comfortingly.

“I’m okay, sweetheart,” She says, “Will you come and visit tomorrow?”

“I’ll be there,” You promise, “Sam is going to pick us up after school.”

“And everything’s alright at the house?” Enquires your Mom.

You were staying at Tara’s place until your parents came back home, a decision that was quickly agreed on, for once.

“Everything’s fine, Mom,” You assure, “Sam’s working now, but she’ll be home in a couple of hours.”

Your Mom hums.

“And Tara’s there with you, isn’t she?” She asks, sounding a little worried, “You’re not alone?”

“Tara’s here,” You say and Tara kisses the back of your neck, “You don’t have to worry, Mom.”

“Is that Tara?” Asks your Dad through the phone, a little gruff, “Can I speak with her?’

“Dad wants to speak to Tara, YN, bye for now,” Says your Mom, “See you tomorrow.”

You barely get out the goodbye before you hear your Dad’s voice once more.

“Tara?” He asks.

“It’s me Dad,” You say, and he makes a noise of vague disappointment.

You roll your eyes.

“We’re fine, thanks for asking.” You say.

“Yes, yes, I heard you speak with Mom,” He assures, “Put Tara on the phone.”

You hand off the phone to your girlfriend and pry yourself out of her grip, busying yourself with playing the leftovers into their containers.

“Hello, Sir,” Says Tara, the way you might speak to the President.

She bobs her head, eyebrows knitting.

“Yes, I did see the 49ers play.”

You huff.

Tara averts her gaze.

“Yes, I did think they played like a bunch of seven year old girls.”

You roll your eyes once more.

Tara’s newfound friendship with your Dad is better than the alternative, at least. You’d lived the alternative.

It hadn’t been much fun.

“We’re okay,” Tara promises, suddenly, “I have every door locked down, alarms set and cameras operating.”

Your Dad murmurs something down the line you can’t hear.

Tara smiles, and then reaches for your hand.

“I’m not letting her out of my sight, Sir, you don’t have to worry,” She says, “I won’t let anyone hurt her. I promise.”

She hangs up not long after.

You should be used to it by now, the flutter in the pit of your stomach every time she gets protective, or calls you hers, but you’re not.

Butterflies cascade through your belly, branching out to the tips of your fingertips where they settle. You curl in around Tara and press your lips to her neck.

She smells good. No perfume, just the tinge of her skin and her coconut body wash.

You squeeze her hips and nip your teeth against the nape of her neck.

“Oh.” Tara sighs as you slip your fingers into the waistband of your jeans. She leans back into your touch, titling your head to capture your lips.

“Really?” She asks, a little excited.

You laugh.

You’d not had sex in a few weeks, hardly in the mood. Your wound aches most days, and the rest are spent really remarkably unsexy, despite Tara’s constant reassurance you’re the most beautiful girl in the world.

She turns in your arms, pressing another kiss to your lips.

“Sam won’t be home for hours,” You murmur against her lips, “Just you and me. The way it should be.”

“Your stomach doesn’t hurt?” She asks, a little soft. Her eyes swim with concern, “We can just watch a movie, if you want?”

You shake your head.

She looks good. Her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. No makeup, her spill of freckles poignant, her pretty lips pouty and red and kissable.

“I want you, baby,” You murmur, nuzzling your nose to the side of her face, “Do you want me too?”

You don’t have to wait long for a response.

She presses a searing kiss to your lips.

“Do you even have to ask?” She says, biting her lip.

“No,” You smile, “But I want to hear you say it anyway.”

“I want you,” She says, immediately. She’s excited again, you can tell by the way her eyes flicker, “I want you all the time.”

“Come take me then,” You murmur against her mouth.

She doesn’t have to be told twice.

She leads you up the staircase, walking backwards. Her mouth fused to yours, her careful hands roaming every span of skin she can get her hands on.

She helps you onto the bed, far gentler than her usual gig of wild hands and wild lips. Instead, this time she touches you as if you might shatter into a thousand pieces.

You make an annoyed murmur as she pulls your jeans down your legs. It feels like an age, the way she softly untangles the button and the zipper. Her touch is light, so un-Tara.

When she finally pulls your legs from your jeans, you almost cry out of frustration.

“Babe, I’m not going to break.” You tell her, but it falls on deaf ears.

She’s pressing her lips to your thigh, tiny, gentle touches as she pulls your underwear down your legs at a pain-stakingly slow pace.

“Don’t rush me, babe,” She says as you reach down to help her, “And lie back. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I feel fine,” You say, tilting up to meet her kiss, “Please hurt me.”

Tara huffs, drawing back slightly.

“It’s not fair to say things like that when you know I can’t.” She pouts, “The things I want to do to you will almost certainly rip your stitches.”

Arousal coils deep in your belly.

Then annoyance.

“Now who's not being fair?” It’s your turn to pout.

Tara nudges her lips to your neck.

“I’m going to make love to you, baby-girl,” She promises, her eyes dark, “That’s more than fair.”

You tilt your head up and press a lingering kiss to her lips.

“Besides. If I rip your stitches I think your Dad will have something to say.”

You wrinkle your nose.

“Let’s not talk about my Dad when we’re getting naked, babe,” You suggest.

She hums in agreement.

And then you reach for her shirt.

“Off.”

If she’s going to spend the entire evening getting your underwear down your legs, the least she can do is give you something to look at, you reason.

Your touch is impatient.

You pry off her jeans like there’s a time limit. Strip her of her shirt and her bra until she’s hovering naked above you, making your mouth water.

And suddenly, what little patience you had left is gone.

You rise up, starling her.

“Babe-“ She protests, but you can’t be reasoned with.

You tilt her around, until she’s lying back on the mattress, nudging her bare legs apart with your thighs.

“Too slow, my turn.” You murmur.

Your lips are hungry.

You kiss her, fierce, groaning slightly as your hands get to work. They work down the curve of her hips, to her thighs. You squeeze her, a little rough, and then move your hands to take her nipples between your fingers.

She gasps, her hips involuntarily jerking up towards yours. You detangle yourself from her lips, leaning down to press hot kisses against her neck.

She threads her fingers through your hair, tugging, tugging, as she moves against you. She’s still holding back, being careful not to touch your stomach.

You can tell by the way she’s groaning it’s hard for her.

And so you make it easy.

Your lips move down from her neck to her breasts. You circle each nipple once, then twice, before you’re taking her in your mouth, curling your arms around each of her thighs.

“Baby,” Tara murmurs, “Baby, your stomach-“

You release her nipple with a wet pop and a frown.

“I’m fine, babe.” You say, and it’s true.

It aches, slightly, but it always does nowadays. No matter what you’re doing.

And if it’s her you’re doing, at least the ache is dampened by the forest fire of arousal surging through your veins.

You return to your pilgrimage down her body.

Your lips graze her belly-button, your tongue slips down over the jut of her hips to the crest of her thighs.

She sighs, seemingly satisfied as you slip down further. Moving your body to settle nicely in between her legs.

Then, she tilts her head up, biting her lip.

Her eyes are hesitant, though encompassed with want.

“Tell me if it hurts,” She says, “Tell me and we can stop. Or…re-adjust.”

You nod, impatient.

“Alright babe, I will,” You say, raising an eyebrow, “Can I go down on you now?”

Her cheeks flush red with arousal.

“Please.” She whispers.

She’s beautiful, as ever.

You press your lips against the soft skin of her inner thighs, grazing your lips just gently. You use your tongue to work your way inwards.

Your breath catches in your throat the moment you taste her. Wet, syrupy, bittersweet goodness.

You lick it up, greedy for more. You press your lips to her folds, use your hands to spread her open for you. You lose control of your tongue.

One minute you’re ready to tease, the next, you’ve worked yourself up too much.

Your tongue moves hot across her folds and then down to her entrance. Your top lip brushes her clit and she sings.

A low moan that vibrates through the room.

A moan that indicates it’s been far too long since you’ve touched her like this.

You apologize with your mouth.

Low strokes of your tongue at her entrance. The quiet murmur of your own moan as your tongue moves up to circle her clit.

Lazy, slow, movements.

Then fast.

Like you’re changing your own mind too quickly.

You settle for writing words with your tongue.

babygirl, is what you spell out against her clit.

Your name. Her name. You connect them with a heart.

And then: mine.

Tara lets out a quiet moan as you take her clit between your lips. Sucking gently until her thighs are gripping like iron bars around the side of your head and her nails against your scalp bruise.

You give up on using the alphabet.

You slip two fingers inside her, sighing as she encases you. She’s tight and wet and begging for more.

You give it to her.

Curl your fingers up in just the right way. Lap your tongue over her clit just the way she likes.

And then she’s gasping as she tightens around you. She cries your name in a breathy moan as she cums hard around your fingers and mouth.

It’s always over too quickly, you think briefly as you reluctantly slip out of her. You need to learn patience. You need to learn how to tease.

But there’s something about her, and you don’t know how she does it. You just have to give her what she wants.

She lets out a happy sigh as you climb up her body and press your lips to her forehead.

She’s still a moment, but you know better. She recovers quickly.

In less than a minute she’s shifting.

You groan as your back hits the mattress.

Her hands slip down to your thighs, gripping you like she has an agenda. And she does. You know it by heart.

First, the gentle touch of her lips against your neck.

Then she’s sliding your underwear down your legs.

She kisses your lips, slips her tongue into your mouth for only a moment. And then she’s trailing kisses down your body.

Your chest. Your breasts.

She pays special attention to your nipples. Her eyes locking with yours as she sucks, ever so gently.

Your body feels hot.

You grip her face, holding her in place.

And then she’s nudging out of your grip, dipping down to press her lips to your navel.

She doesn’t kiss your scar, but you can tell she wants to.

She looks up at you, eyes wide and vulnerable as she squeezes your hips.

“You’re beautiful.” She murmurs. She ducks down and presses a kiss to the top of your inner thigh, “You’re perfect. My perfect girl.”

“Tara,” You say, voice a little gravelly, “Baby, please.”

She doesn’t make you wait.

One moment she’s pressing her lips to your thigh. The next, she’s dipping down between your legs. You lean back onto the pillows with a sigh.

Her lips graze.

She kisses your inner thigh.

Drags her tongue over your entrance and you gasp.

Then, her lips are on your clit.

You moan as she snakes a hand around your waist. The other slips between your legs. She teases for only a moment before she’s slipping her fingers inside you. You gasp at the sudden intrusion.

It’s not as though you’re not ready for it.

You’re so wet you’d give her a snorkel if she wasn’t such an experienced sailor.

But she rides your high seas like it’s her full time job.

Lips on your clit, fingers working in and out. She squeezes your hip with her free hand. Her talented mouth is like fire. Dancing around just where you need it most.

You close your eyes and let out a low moan.

She’s being careful.

Gentle.

Loving you like she doesn’t want to hurt you.

You take back the impatience. You take back the need for more, more, more.

Your sweet, loving girlfriend is all you need.

Gentle mouth. Careful tongue.

Her between your legs, working you into oblivion like sex is just a vehicle to express how deeply she loves you.

“Tara.”

You cum with her name on your lips. Her mouth fused around your lips. You cum feeling safe and wanted and needed.

And when she’s done, she climbs back up your body and presses the softest kiss to your lips.

Nestles herself with her head in your chest. Right next to your heartbeat.

Where she should be.

You close your eyes once more.

Thread your fingers through her hair. Press the softest of kisses to her forehead.

And then she looks up at you, her pretty brown eyes shimmering.

“Love you.” She murmurs. She punctuates her words with a kiss.

Your chest is heaving. You allow yourself the moment. Body thrumming with your orgasm, the love of your life pressed tight to your side.

Tara curls into you. She waits a moment, then looks over at you,

“I’m going to be better for you,” She murmurs, “I’ve put you through hell, baby, and I know that. But it all ends now.”

You frown.

“I’m in heaven with you, no matter what you’ve done,” You say, after a quiet moment, “After what we’ve both done. Right or wrong, I love you. And you love me. And that’s all that matters.”

Tara tilts her head to yours.

She takes your lips in a long, searing kiss.

She says what she can’t with words.

You say it too.

And when you pull back, you know she understands.

She’s yours.

And you are undeniably, irrefutably, entirely:

All hers. 

[hotch33tos22]

Ahhh, I love your writing hotch33tos! May I request a fluff between Tomura Shigaraki x fem reader who's quirk is healing. One night she's healing Shigaraki and she just can't stop looking at him leading her to blurt out if she can do skin care on him. That or just a fluff scenario between him and a fem reader healer🫶💛

Thank you sm for my first Request! You asked and will receive! (Hopefully it’s to your liking🫶🏼)

Shigaraki x Reader Healer

“Skincare”

🌙scenario

"What- What the hell? It's 2 in the morning What are you doing in my room?!" Tomura looks up from his gaming set he was surprised to see you up so late.

"Hey... I noticed you had some scars that needed healing and I thought I might come check them" you softly replied as you walked in closing the door behind you as you turned on the light.

He flinched as the light turned on, the brightness was unexpected for him. He sat up on the edge of his bed, looking at you.

He rubbed his neck, his eyes looking you and your hands up and down.

"You- You want to heal my scars?"

"Shigaraki im the leagues healer it’s my job remember" you laughed softly.

He rolled his eyes as you spoke as if he could've forgotten that, a hand going up to rub one of his scars.

"Yeah yeah I know idiot, but can you heal all of this? I have a lot of scars you know..."

"I'm sure I can" you walked over to him, "can I sit down?"

He nodded, shifting over slightly incase you wanted to sit on the bed. He eyed your hands, still unconvinced you could heal any of his scars.

"Go on... Try it. You probably won't heal anything anyway..."

He smirked, a bit of skepticism in his voice.

"Are you doubting me?" You chuckled as you looked at his scars on his arms.

He chuckled back, letting you get a good look as you came closer. He held out an arm, waiting for you to try and heal it.

"I'm just saying, ive had these for quite some time though they haven’t healed. I doubt a healer would be able to do anything about them now. Go on, try."

You picked up his hand gently as you traced your finger over the scar before leading it do your lips giving it a soft kiss.

To say he was surprised at the kiss would be an understatement. His eyes widen, face turning slightly pink as he stares at your lips for a few seconds.

"Wha- What are you doing...?"

His voice is quieter now, trying to hide the surprise. No one has ever gone so far as to kiss his scars, let alone kiss him in general...

"Healing you" you chuckle before you noticed his scar was gone you looked up at him admiring his other scars they made him seem like so much more...

His eyes widen again as he looks down at where the scar once was, watching as the skin completely healed over, as if the scar was never there. He glanced up at you in disbelief, almost not believing what just happened.

"You- You actually just healed it... I can't believe it. Can you do the others too?"

You nodded as you traced and placed kisses on the other scars and injuries on his hands, you felt yourself blush a little you finally stopped to admire his face... it look okay right now it wasn't the best skin he's had which made you think of something... skincare.

With each kiss that healed on of his scars, his face got more and more red. He was starting to get flustered from all of this affection, glancing down as you finally stopped. Seeing you studying his face, he raised an eyebrow, looking curiously at you

"Why are you looking at me like that? What is it?"

"Can I do a skincare on you!?" You blurted out as your ears turned red "ah.! Sorry i didn't mean to-" you waved your hands trying to take back what you said.

Shigaraki blinked, completely taken aback by the blurted question. His cheeks were a deep blushing red at that point, but he didn't hate the idea at all...

"Uh... Yeah sure... Go for it I guess. Just don't make me look like some damn doll, got it?"

You chuckled at his doll comment,

"I won't" you covered your mouth with one hand trying to lower your laugh.

He gave a small pout at your laughter, crossing his arms in a jokingly upset state.

But he was secretly enjoying the attention you were giving him. He tilted his head at you, his messy hair covering his left eye like a curtain

"What? Why are you laughing at me? Just do your damn skincare already, woman."

"okay 'll be right back" you got up in a hurry to your room while you were walking you wondered why he had agreed it seemed odd but you were glad he didn't decline your sudden offer

He sat there on his bed, watching you run out of the room in a hurry.

He still questioned himself on why he agreed to letting you even touch him, even more so with the thought of doing a skin care routine on him. Shigaraki shrugged, sitting back in his bed and waiting for you to return.

As he sat there waiting, he let his mind wander to his feelings towards you. He had to admit, you were attractive. But he never thought he would ever get any affection from you, yet here he was, agreeing to you to do a skincare routine on his scars and skin. Shigaraki leaned back in the bed, thoughts of you still in his mind...

A few minutes later, he heard your footsteps approaching his room.

He slowly sat up, waiting for you to come back in. He was still questioning why he was letting you do this to him, but deep down, the idea of having your hands touch his face excited him, just a bit.

You opened the door, holding your skincare products in your arms. You looked up to see him leaning back on the bed, waiting for you with a neutral look on his face. He glanced down at your arms, looking over the products you brought with you.

"Looks like you brought a lot of stuff...Are you gonna put all of that on my face?"

"Well if I want your face to be smooth and glowing yes!" You chirped as you placed everything in the bed in order.

He rolled his eyes at the thought of his face being 'smooth and glowing.' He had never had a full-blown skincare routine before, so he had no idea what was coming for him.

He looked over each product you had laid out, seeing so many creams, lotions, and other stuff.

"Yeesh... You need all of that to fix my skin or something?"

"Just to make it better trust me you'll relax just lay back on the bed and let me handle you" your lips Curley into a smile as your cracked your fingers, one thing about you was out LOVED doing skincare's and when you did them you always did them right.

He flinched slightly, hearing you crack your fingers. It seemed so... Professional? He let out a low sigh, laying back on the bed, his head laying comfortably on the pillow. He closed his eyes, preparing himself for whatever you were going to do to his skin.

Despite the skepticism about the skincare, in the end, he just wanted to have your hands touching him...

As you begin to work your magic on Shigaraki, he can feel the various creams being applied to his face, followed by the gentle feeling of your hands rubbing his skin. As much as he wanted to act cold and distant, your touch was soft and gentle, making it impossible not to relax and enjoy the feeling of your hands on his face.

"Damn... Your hands are softer than I thought they'd be..."

"Well ill have you know I do hand-care too" you softly spoke as you applied a cleansing cream rubbing it over his safe as you waited a couple of minutes before wiping it with a damped towel

As you gently rub the cleansing cream on his face, he couldn't help but let out a small sigh of relief. The cream felt cool and soothing on his skin, and your soft touch made the entire experience even more pleasurable. He couldn't believe he was actually enjoying something like this

"Hmph, you seem to have a lot of knowledge on this stuff... Where'd you even learn all of this from anyway?"

"I watch a lot of videos and before I joined the league I did not have this pretty face" you smirked

He raised an eyebrow as you mentioned not having a pretty face before. He found that hard to believe, as his own opinion, you were very attractive. But he was curious now about what you looked like before.

"Oh really? Well, now I'm interested to see what you looked like before this 'pretty face.' Got any old pictures lying around?"

"Maybe I'll see if I can find any later" you wiped his face before turning in the air mister you had

He watched as you turned on the air mister, the cool mist spraying lightly on his face.

The sensation was unexpected, but not unpleasant. He closed his eyes, enjoying the coolness as the mist touched his skin.

"Hmph... I guess this stuff isn't half bad. What else you gonna do to my face?"

"Well I'm going to hydrate it,moisturize, pluck any hairs,massage it..."

His eyes widened as you rattled off the list of things you were going to do to his face.

Plucking, massaging, what the hell did you have planned on doing to him...

"Plucking hairs? And massage? You gonna turn my face into rubbery mush or something?"

"Just close your eyes and relax" you huffed as you started to place under eye and mouth hydrating patches.

He gave a slight eye roll at your comment, but closed his eyes nonetheless, letting you place the patches on his skin. He had to admit, the feeling of the patches was slightly soothing, almost like a small massage of sorts.

He let out a small sigh as he laid there, wondering if all these products were actually necessary for a skincare routine.

You took out your phone raising it up as you took a picture quickly putting it away

The sudden sound of your phone camera clicking made his eyes shoot open in surprise. He turned to glare at you, a small pout forming on his face

"Hey, what was that for? Were you just trying to snap a picture of me with this stuff on my face?"

"no! just shush!" You closed his eyes as you grabbed your eyebrow pluckers.

Shigaraki grumbled, but obediently closed his eyes once again. He knew there was no point in arguing with you when you were so determined. He held still as you picked up the eyebrow pluckers,

"Damn... You really gonna pluck my eyebrows?"

" you know you talk to much" you giggled as you began to pluck his eyebrows but you realized... he had none...

He rolled his eyes, but he couldn't help but chuckle a bit at your comment about talking too much. As you started to pluck his eyebrows, he noticed that there was nothing there to pluck.

"Uh, you do notice that I don't have any eyebrows, right? What's the point of plucking something that's not even there?"

"Shigaraki... I just noticed." You busted out laughing.

He looked at you, his face a mix of confusion and annoyance. But seeing you laugh so openly made it a bit impossible to stay frustrated with you. He sighed, crossing his arms in a pout

"Well, I'm glad you find humor in my lack of eyebrows, but seriously, what were you planning to do to my nonexistent eyebrows anyway?"

"Okay okay let's just move on to something else oh I know let's take off your blackheads!"

His face twisted into a look of discomfort at the mention of blackheads. He hadn't even thought about the possibility of having blackheads on his face.

"Yeesh... You sure you're gonna find any? I don't even remember the last time I looked at my face up close in the mirror..."

He laid back on the bed, resigning himself to letting you do whatever you wanted. He just hoped the blackhead removal wouldn't be too painful, especially since he wasn't sure how many there were on his skin...

You placed a nose patch in his skin and waited for it to dry before peeling it softly

"okay we got some just need to take off the rest..." you mumbled as you started to press down his nose with a blackhead removing tool

Shigaraki watched as you placed the nose patch on his nose. He wrinkled his nose at the feeling, but said nothing. Once you started to press down on his nose with the tool, he flinched, feeling the slight pressure of each blackhead being removed.

"Damn... that feels weird. How many of those are you gonna get out..?"

"Just a little more..." you mumbled focusing

He huffed in slight annoyance, but he knew better than to question you when you were so focused. He closed his eyes, letting you continue to work on his nose. The feeling of each blackhead being removed was... strange. It wasn't painful, but it wasn't pleasant either.

"Hurry up... I'm starting to feel weird just laying here."

"Okay okay I'm done" you replied as you cleaned his face with a makeup remover and removing all the hydrating patches you had placed on his under eye and lips

"Wow your lips look just a bit better but it’s missing something.."

He opened his eyes as you removed the last of the patches, feeling a bit lighter now that all the products were off his face. He sat up slightly on the bed, his hand coming up to touch his cheek.

"Huh... I have to admit, that actually did feel kinda nice. And you really think my lips look better already?"

"I'm not done yet!" You pushed him down softly as you began to grab your watermen lip mask and spoon some out gently rubbing it on his lip

He grunted as you pushed him back down, a small pout forming on his face. He watched as you rubbed the watermelon lip mask on his lips, the cool sensation on his skin feeling surprisingly refreshing.

"Hmph... This stuff better be worth it. My lips better be as soft as yours by the time you're done with me."

"Yeah yeah well I'm trying my best" you huffed as you took a bad and opened it revealing a face mask

He chuckled at your huff, knowing he could get under your skin with just a few words.

As he watched you rummage through the bag to pull out a face mask, he raised an eyebrow

"Are you seriously putting a face mask on me too? What the hell is the point of that?"

"Don't worry just know you'll skin will feel much better" you smirked as you placed it over his face

He let out an exaggerated sigh, but remained still as you placed the face mask over his face. He had to admit, he had never done anything like this before, and having you take care of his skin felt a bit nice.

"This is so ridiculous... I feel like a damn doll being pampered right now."

He laid on the bed, his face covered in the mask, feeling completely ridiculous. He could faintly smell the scent of the face mask, a bit of chamomile and lavender.

"You better hope this stuff actually works, or I'm gonna look like a complete fool for letting you to this to me..."

"Well don't worry about it just relax.!"

He rolled his eyes, but he had to admit that the face mask actually felt somewhat nice.

He closed his eyes, trying to relax as you instructed.

"Easier said than done... When will you take this damn thing off my face anyway?"

"Just 10 minutes even tho it's suppose to be 15 but you get impatient"

He sighed in annoyance, not wanting to admit you were right about him being impatient. 10 minutes... he could handle that.

"Hmph... fine. 10 minutes, but I better be getting something good at the end of this. Better be some smooth skin at the very least."

He laid there, feeling the minutes ticked by slowly as the face mask stayed on his face.

He tried to distract himself by thinking about other things, but every minute felt like an eternity.

"Ugh... How much longer do I have to keep this thing on? It feels like it's been 10 minutes already..."

"It's barely been 3" you chuckled

He grumbled at your comment, feeling even more impatient now knowing it had only been three minutes.

"Ugh, seriously? Only 3 minutes? I feel like I've been laying here forever. I don't even think this damn thing is doing anything to my skin anyway..."

"Oh my god okay well just leave it for 5"

He huffed, but resigned himself to waiting another 5 minutes. He knew resisting would be pointless, especially when you were so determined.

"Ugh, fine. 5 more minutes. But if it doesn't do anything, I'm never letting you touch my face again."

You huffed in annoyances as you waited for 5 more minutes to pass, after they did you took off the sheet mask and began to massage his face with cream

He grumbled as he lay there patiently, time seemingly dragging on forever. But finally, after what felt like an eternity, you removed the mask from his face.

He opened his eyes expecting to see the same old dry skin on his face, but instead, his skin actually felt surprisingly smooth and supple. The texture was completely different than what he was used to.

"Wait.is this real? My skin feels different... Did the face mask and cream actually work?"

"Well just a little you don't care much for your skin huh" you messaged his face softly

He chuckled at your comment, feeling a bit embarrassed.

"Yeah, I guess you can say l've never really paid much attention to my skin. I've always just thought it's skin, why worry about it? But I have to admit, it feels kinda nice having you take care of it like this..."

He let out a small hum as you continued to massage his face, the feeling of your fingers on his skin was surprisingly soothing. He closed his eyes, letting himself relax into the comfortable rhythm of your motions.

"You sure know what you're doing. My skin feels so much nicer than before. I might have to let you do this more often..."

You chuckled "well l'd be happy, to I enjoy these kinds of things anyway..."

He smiled slightly, feeling surprisingly relaxed with you taking care of his skin.

"I have to admit, I didn't think this whole skincare routine thing would be so... nice.

I always thought it was just for girls, but having someone pamper me like this feels kinda good."

He opened his eyes, looking up at you as you continued to massage his face. The feeling of your fingers on his skin was strangely comforting, and he found himself wanting the moment to last longer.

"You know, I never would have thought that l'd be the kind of person to enjoy getting pampered... But here I am, lying here letting you touch my face and treating me like royalty."

"Well you have to take care of yourself now and then" you smiled softly as you finally stopped

"god my back hurts..." you whined as you sat back all the standing up while bending your back did a number one you

He sat up as well, noticing the tired look on your face.

"Hey, you look like you're exhausted. You were standing over me for like an hour, no wonder your back hurts."

He couldn't help but chuckle as you complained, but he still felt somewhat guilty that you were tired out from pampering his skin.

He patted the empty space on the bed next him, gesturing for you to join him on the bed.

"Come here, sit down for a bit. I feel a little bad that your back is so tired because of me..."

"It's okay this is the pain of a successful skin care routine " you laughed as you laid down on his bed enjoying the softness

He chuckled at your comment, feeling slightly guilty but appreciative nonetheless.

"Yeah, I guess that's one way to look at it. But still, you worked hard pampering my skin, the least I can do is let you relax a bit on the bed."

He laid back on the bed beside you, feeling its softness beneath him. He looked over at you, admiring your tired but satisfied expression.

He reached out a hand and gently touched your hair, running his fingers through it.

"You look exhausted, but happy. I guess pampering my skin really was that much fun for you, huh?"

You felt yourself shiver from his touch enjoying yourself get pampered by him now

"pampering me now Mh?" You softly spoke as your eyes closed

He chuckled softly as he saw you shiver slightly from his touch.

"Yeah, I figured I could return the favor and pamper you for a bit, since you did such a great job pampering me."

He continued to run his fingers through your hair, his touch soft and gentle, enjoying the way your eyes closed in contentment.

He leaned a bit closer to you, his hand moving from your hair to gently caress your cheek.

"You know, seeing you so relaxed like this is... nice. I never would have thought doing something like this together could feel so good….” He mumbles before he notices you drifted off to sleep..

[httpseungmxn]

Hallucinations 

Yang Jeongin x Reader(afab)

🍰🍬 - suggestive and fluffy

Authors note: Hai Angels, been a while, hm? It hasn’t been too long but I have definitely been denying you guys some works, especially my kpop readers. So to end the long wait for my series, i have decided to write a quick suggestive mini-fic for i.n:3! This will be a part 2 to the one I did a while ago named Sweet Siren! It will be suggestive since its a part two, the first part was suggestive! 

Warnings: Suggestive, heavy spit-swapping, groping, dry humping, touching under the clothes but over the undergarments, not much talking happens except texting, I think thats about it!

Triggers: None as far as I am aware!:3

Despite Jeongin telling you to keep your hands to yourself, you couldn’t help but slide a hand up to your chest, gently groping at your left tit. A soft moan falling from your lips at how sensitive your chest was, your nipples hardening and showing through your shirt, Feeling startled when you heard a knock on your front door not even five minutes later.

Patting your cheeks to get rid of the redness from them and getting up from the couch, making your way quickly to the front door and opening. A yelp leaving your lips as you were nudged backwards and pulled into a kiss faster than you could say the word ‘supercalifragilisticexpialidocious’. Melting into jeongins lips as he shut the door behind himself and leaned back into it. 

His tongue made quick work to slot between your lips and explore your mouth. Humming into your mouth as he sucked your tongue into his mouth, your spit swapping with his. The kiss feeling very sloppy and fast but neither of you seemed to mind at all, that must’ve just been the mood he was in. Your arms wrapped around his neck and your legs wound around his waist as he lifted you into his arms.

Allowing him to carry you to the couch where he sat lazily with his legs spread and you on his lap. His left hand rested on your hip while the other slid under your shirt to paw at your right tit like you had done not too long ago. Parting from the kiss to drop your head back and moan out softly. Lifting your hips when jeongin pulled up your skirt over your hips so he could grope your ass with his left hand. 

Out of instinct you ground yourself down against the bulge in his sweats. Gasping softly at how the friction felt against you. You had never had a dry orgasm before in all of your life but you had heard about it. You wondered if Jeongin would be able to bring you to one over the clothes. Your thoughts melted away as he began to grind up against you lazily.

Your lips met his in another messy kiss as you both grinded in sync with each other. You were already wet before from jeongins texts but now that you guys were in such a position, you were sure you had gotten wetter. Feeling like your orgasm was already fast approaching from the coil winding up in your lower stomach.

When he parted from the kiss it was just to let out a soft moan into your lips while he wrapped his arms around your waist to get you closer. Tears welling in the corners of your eyes from the intense pleasure you were getting right now. His hands gripped your ass and helped guide you in grinding down against his crotch. He must’ve been very pent up because he was the first to let go. Creaming in his pants and causing a wet spot to form in his sweats.

His grinding didn’t stop though, wanting to help you get to the sweet release you craved. Shortly enough he was able to get you there with a soft cry of his name. Your body collapsing against him as he helped grind you through your climax. Panting softly against him while he held you close to his body. The both of you just laying there and relaxing for a while before he laid you down and walked to run you both a bath.

You were definitely in for a long night

Authors ending note; Sooooo, that was mighty intense, huh? This might have made it to the top of my favorite suggestive fics ive ever written! I will hopefully be posting the first part to my new series soon! Putting in the work on these fics so they are perfect for you guys! Also make sure to leave me requests for whatever you want and whoever you want because I get no requests and it makes me sad:( so start requesting! Let me know what you all thought of this in the comments! Until next time, My Sweet Angels 🫶

[1d1195]

Dolcezza IV

Read Dolcezza here

A little fluffy, a little angsty; hope you like it! :)

~8.6k words

“Who’s Harry? He’s cute,” she smiled excitedly.

Shaking her head, she sighed. “Harry’s a friend.”

“A cute friend,” she whispered peeking over at him still chatting with her father and sister.

Her face warmed and she shook her head. “Stop.”

“Don’t know many boys who would drive them home to their crazy family and spend the day baking and running errands.”

She nodded. “I know.”

“Yes Mom, I know. I understand,” she listened to her mother at the other end of her phone. She piled her stuff in the back of her car and rubbed her forehead. Slamming the door shut, she continued listening to her mom ramble on and on. “I’ll be there in an hour and a half,” she assured her rolling her neck from side to side. A day off was rarely a day off for her. The peacefulness of her personal day was over. It was onto the chaotic portion which would no doubt leave her feeling unrested and anxious.

Thinking about her book, she heard her mom’s continued chatter. Her complaints of how no one helped her around the house and “did I tell you about who I ran into at the grocery store?”

“Mom! I have to go!” She longed for the book she was reading only an hour prior. Thought about the deep breathing from the online yoga class she followed from YouTube only two hours prior. Ending the call, she sighed heavily again, squared her shoulders, and fell into the driver’s seat.

With a frown, she looked at the empty restaurant, lights off, closed sign hanging in the window. She didn’t even get to see Harry before she left, and she really wanted to. Since Harry took care of her, she ached to see Harry more frequently but was trying to keep her distance so as not to overwhelm him. The last place she would ever want to see her stalker was at work (not to mention it would be worse since she mostly worked from home). For anyone, it was uncomfortable when someone was flirty and there was no escape (because it was their job to be there).

She should have just texted him. That’s what Harry gave her his number for right? To be friends?

To flirt, hopefully. She thought to herself.

But since he had given her number, she hadn’t been the first one to text. Call her ridiculous or playing hard to get. Part of her couldn’t believe someone as handsome and wonderful as Harry wanted to chat with her. She never wanted to bother him, and she imagined that if she started talking, she would never want to stop. Harry would need space and...

Well, it spiraled pretty quickly.

So, all their conversations over text had been through Harry sending the first message.

Since she helped that busy night a few months back, she made her way to the kitchen at least once a week. Antonio enjoyed her help and found her adorable and helpful in a way that he couldn’t find in many employees. “Don’t get me wrong tesorino, I love my employees. They’re family. But they’re also in high school and college and they don’t care nearly as much as I do about this place.” She overheard him tell Niall, “It’s nice to depend on her as a tenant, someone I can trust Leo with, and someone that cares for the restaurant like she’s worked here her whole life.”

It made her feel warm, and she loved helping. It had been nearly routine; working from home, going to the gym, running errands, eating eggplant and spaghetti, and smiling at Harry through the kitchen window. It was so nice to relax and be around people who liked her company. People who didn’t make her feel crazy like her family.

It was nice to relax and not worry about being followed for the first time in a really long time.

I could send a simple, “good morning, have a good day” text. She thought. It was harmless. She could do that.

Right?

Sighing, she decided against it. Maybe he was sleeping in. She tried to remember what day he had off that week but was coming up short. Maybe she would come say hello at the end of her long day if she wasn’t too exhausted. But it was unlikely that would be the case at the end of what would be a long, long day. There was always tomorrow.

Plus, if Harry ended up texting her back, she would probably crash her car to answer him. Shoving the key in the ignition, she was trying to be positive, but it was hard to do so when she was not going to see Harry and she was not looking forward to the rest of her day off.

The feeling was only amplified as her engine did not turn over. She groaned. “No, no, no…” she whined. She knew very little about cars. Every year she asked her parents to renew her AAA membership for her birthday. She was ever practical, and it was a huge joke among her extended family. It was something she hated paying for herself but wouldn’t be caught dead without.

Right when the car didn’t start, she should have just called AAA. But instead—maybe because she was already frustrated and anxious about dealing with her family—she got out of her car to look at the mechanical engineering, as if she even knew what she was doing. With her phone’s flashlight, she peered under the hood, like she would suddenly know what she was looking for. She readjusted the strap of her purse to keep it from falling into the greasy, mechanical things and getting disgusting. Always one to take the time to learn a new skill, her dad showed her how to change a battery, check her oil, and replace various things in her car once she got her license. She was praying the battery was somehow disconnected. Because even if she had called AAA right then and there, it would ruin her whole schedule. Her whole day. She would let her family down and that would...well that would be really bad for her psyche.

But at the heart of it, it really made no sense for her to look under the hood. The thought of seeing her family tended to wreak havoc on her mind and make her do things like this.

A gust of wind made it’s way down the road. It blew her hair in her face and as she tried to blow it back out of her mouth, she heard the thunk of her car door closing. She bounced at the sound because it scared her. Making her hit her head on the open hood. “FUCK!” She hissed, rubbing the sore spot. She hurried to look at the door that had betrayed her. “No, no, no,” she whined reaching for the handle, but her gut already told her it was too late.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me!” she groaned rubbing her eyes with the heels of her palms. After thirty seconds of silence and utter disbelief, she began smacking the window with the open palms of her hands repeatedly. She made grunting and grumpy noises and kicked the tire for good measure. “You stupid piece—!” She hissed and continued to beat up the inanimate object.

Harry saw her from his own car when he pulled into the parking space nearby. Niall looked up from the passenger seat while Harry checked to make sure he was safely and adequately in the spot.

“Oof, that doesn’t look too good,” Niall murmured, just as she began attacking her car.

Harry hurried to throw the car in park and get out of his vehicle.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Harry rushed seemingly from nowhere. He quickly raced to her, pulling her by the hips swiftly so there was small distance from her vehicle to keep her from hitting it and preventing her from self-injury. “Principessa,” his voice was so soothing. Even though she was livid and frustrated, she couldn’t help but feel like he was speaking directly into her soul, his voice warm and perfect.

The few times she ended up in Dolcezza’s kitchen, Harry was somehow kinder to her than when they were interacting elsewhere. His voice was gentle as he walked past her with a hot tray. “Behind y’principessa,” or “watch y’hands, kitten, this one’s hot.” Something of that nature. Even when it was busy as could be, he would gently place a hand on her lower back and walk by her making her stomach flutter.

Harry touching her and physically pulling her away from her vehicle, on top of that soothing warm voice, almost made her feel remorse for attacking her car. “The car is gonna win, every time, kitten.” His hands now gripped the top of her arms holding her in place even though she strained ever so slightly against his hold to return to her frustrated movements. Niall was close behind. He tried all her doors to see if they were unlocked. But no dice.

Her face crumpled and Harry thought he would cry if she did. “This is the worst day off in the history of days off,” she moaned.

Harry released the top of her arms, skimmed down the length of them and rotated her hands for injury. All the while she explained the awfulness of the last ten minutes, all the things she had to do and why she was upset that this was the time her car had chosen to break down. Niall frowned at her story, no doubt feeling bad for her, but Harry could see the delight in his eyes. “Well, tesorino, don’t count today out just yet. Harry also has the day off. I’m sure he would be happy to drive you to your mum’s,” he clapped Harry on the back of his shoulder. “I’ll keep an eye on your car. Make sure they get your keys safely in my hands and your car to the dealership.”

Harry smirked awkwardly and coughed as Niall volunteered him. Of course, he would do it, but he knew that she would be upset.

It was evident by the way her skin pinked with the suggestion. The thought of Harry doing something kind for her without any return on his time investment? “No way,” she snorted almost bitterly. “This is an all-day expedition,” she shook her head. “I can’t ask you to give up your day off for me.”

This was great for Harry on fifty different levels, minimum. He would get to see her in her element, talk to her about a ton of stuff, meet her family, and see her hometown. There wasn’t a better day off to be had. Except she looked infuriated, and Harry wasn’t sure he was exempt from her frustration. She texted rapidly on her phone. “Could y’go another day, kitten?” Harry asked softly. She shook her head. Tears were definitely filling her eyes at the mere thought. “Okay, so let’s go,” Harry shrugged and walked toward his car. She frowned.

“You really... don’t mind?”

“Not at all.”

“Harry,” she whispered so quietly, and he turned around as he held the passenger door open. Her heart nearly stopped. She forgot why she was so mad. She wasn’t sure anyone had held a door open for her like that. Ever. “It’s... a lot,” she told him.

He smiled looking back over his shoulder. “Then we better get moving.”

She stayed put and felt so utterly awful, but Harry was waiting. It felt wrong to keep him waiting. Especially when she could only imagine what the day would bring without him really knowing.

“Did you desperately need anything in your car?” Niall asked, trying the handle once more.

“Yeah, like all that baking stuff,” she rubbed her forehead not having any kind of backup plan for that scenario. Harry frowned and closed the door to the car and started for the restaurant. At least Harry could come up with a backup plan for her.

“Why are you bringing baking stuff?” Niall peered into the backseat to see a bag of groceries and three cupcake pans, ignoring Harry’s path to Dolcezza’s front door.

“Uhh…” she swallowed hard. Obviously, whatever the reason was not something she felt like sharing. At least not right then. Harry frowned.

“It doesn’t matter, Principessa, don’t worry. Ni, can y’help grab some stuff,” he said opening the door to the restaurant. In a matter of minutes, she had replaced the groceries and metal pans that she had brought from her apartment.

“Niall, can you give them to Antonio when you get the car open?” She asked her eyebrows pinched together in worry.

He nodded. “Course, tesorino,” he smiled. “Don’t worry about a thing.”

“I would wait and ask Antonio for his key, get my spare car key, everything...but—”

“Principessa,” Harry said pressing a hand on her lower back making her feel like she might pass out. It took every ounce of restraint to not let the shiver threatening to roll through her body viciously for him and Niall to see her completely lose her mind over Harry’s touch. “S’okay. He’ll understand. Let’s go,” he smiled opening his car door again for her to sit in the passenger seat.

“Thank you,” she said gratefully. Harry rolled down the window as he started his car.

“It’s what friends are for, tesorino,” Niall winked at her. She was only a half hour behind schedule. An easy comeback.

She nodded. Other than Eleanor and Louis, she wasn’t sure she knew what that was like. “Well, still,” she said softly. “I’ll make it up to you,” she promised.

Niall smiled gently at her and caught Harry’s gaze very briefly before he pulled away from the curb.

*

Once on the highway, she made a call to her sister, and explained the problem. At the same time, Harry called Niall and gave specific instructions not to let her keys out of his sight. Overcome, once more by the worry of someone stealing her keys and finding her apartment upstairs. Throwing that thought out of his mind, he told Niall that he had to pass the car one off to the tow truck driver and hold her other ones until they got back. He also left him in charge of making sure her car was properly taken care of, and he was to text Harry if there was an issue. She spent the first hour of the drive near silence. Instead, texting and scrolling on her phone. It didn’t upset Harry, but it did worry him. “Do y’need anything kitten? Wanna stop for coffee or...?”

She shook her head. “Maybe later,” she answered.

He nodded. “Alright.”

It very much seemed like she didn’t want to talk. But right as the GPS alerted her that they would arrive in half an hour she started to squirm ever so slightly.

“Y’okay, Principessa?”

She sighed and put her head in her hands. “My family is a lot,” she told him. “Like just chaotic and a little crazy; it’s embarrassing.”

He frowned. “Okay, I’m... I’m sorry that y’feel embarrassed. But... every family has something, y’know?” His voice was gentle and quiet. Encouraging. “M’not going t’like... say anything.”

She nodded. “Thank you,” she looked at her lap, inspecting her fingertips.

“Plus, if... if you came from them... they’re already the most wonderful people I’ll ever meet,” he shrugged as if that wasn’t the sweetest, kindest thing she’d ever heard. He didn’t get a good look because he didn’t want to take his eyes off the road, but he hoped her cheeks were that pretty pink color.

“They’re good people...but...” she sighed.

“Kitten,” he reached over and put his hand on her squirming fingers. He gave them a reassuring squeeze. “S’okay. I promise,” he whispered.

She took a deep breath and looked out the window. Harry glanced at her briefly. It was the safest he had ever driven in his life—and he was already a safe driver. But even though he was desperate to hold her hand the way he was right now; he couldn’t help but feel bad about removing his hand from the two-position. She was the most precious thing he had ever had in his car and wanted to keep her safe no matter what—even if he really wanted to keep holding her hand and assure her it would be alright.

She looked at Harry in her peripheral. “My sister is going to fall in love with you.”

He smirked. “M’a bit older than her, yeah?”

“She’s eighteen,” she sighed. “But we think she was born as a thirteen-year-old.”

“S’a bit young for me,” he winked. She squeezed his hand as she smiled softly. Harry wondered if she knew she did that but didn’t want to bring it to her attention.

“Also,” she took another deep breath. “They don’t... I’ve never told them about the person following me,” she mumbled. Harry very nearly stopped the car.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Oh?”

“They would...” she shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“Isn’t y’brother a dispatcher? Does he want t’be a police officer?”

“Yeah...but...” she shrugged. “I don’t know. Please don’t mention it, not that I think you would but—”

“Kitten,” he frowned. “S’a pretty big thing t’hide from your family.”

“Well,” she was skimming her thumb along the back of Harry’s hand, and he had never enjoyed hand holding so much in his whole life. “It would just worry them,” her voice was quiet. Like she wanted to tell them. Maybe she wanted them to worry about her. “I don’t... they don’t need to worry about me,” she mumbled. “It’s not a big deal, really. You know?”

It was. Every time Harry saw her, there was the smallest part of his brain thinking about how someone was so obsessed with her that he watched her every movement for over a year. So much so that she had to move. It wasn’t a way to live, and she didn’t see it as a problem. Didn’t see it as something that people who cared about her should worry about. Harry wanted to cry about how sweet she was. She deserved... everything.

“I won’t say anything, Principessa,” he squeezed her hand. She smiled.

“This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me... someone that isn’t Eleanor or Louis,” she explained.

“Eleanor...” he followed the GPS’s directions to get off the highway. It wasn’t quite a city, but not a small town either. There were lots of stores and restaurants right off the exit and Harry stopped at the red light. “El mentioned y’had an ex-boyfriend—”

“Course she did,” she rolled her eyes.

Harry ignored her comment. “—he must’ve... helped.”

She shrugged. “Yeah... but...” she looked at how her hands were holding Harry’s. It was so warm and somehow more intimate than every kiss she had with her ex. It felt like holding Harry’s hand was holding a piece of his heart and she didn’t necessarily think it was as simple as that... but she really liked it. “He... he complained a lot,” she mumbled. “I told you my family is a lot, and they are. But... they’re good people and I love them so it’s...” she sighed. “It’s complicated. I shouldn’t have dated him for as long as I did. Eleanor was probably right to not like him. By the end of it... it was like we lived two separate lives. I just did what I wanted and he...” she shrugged nonchalantly.

“You deserved more,” he finished.

“Well...I don’t know about—”

“No, Principessa,” he interrupted, cutting her off. “S’not a negotiation. You deserved more,” he promised squeezing her hand. They turned off the main road. Harry let her contemplate his statement in silence and continued following the GPS.

Her neighborhood was quaint and looked like a great place to grow up. It was the type of neighborhood little ones probably loved to Trick or Treat in. The kind where you could go to a neighbor’s house and ask for a cup of sugar and chat for so long you forgot to finish baking. Harry wondered if people sang Christmas carols or had block parties. But her grip had stiffened around Harry’s hand, and he could see her physically steeling herself. Her shoulders stiffened, everything about her seemed to be almost defensive. “If it’s too much for you,” she said getting out of the car and grabbing the baking items out of the back seat, “you can leave... there’s a cute mall with shops and restaurants back toward the highway if you need time to get away. I wouldn’t... I won’t blame you,” she turned her attention to the house she grew up in and looked at the Christmas lights still hanging from the gutter, draped on the shrubs.

It was February, now. Her heart felt heavy.

Harry had gotten screamed at during culinary school four and a half out of five days of the week. She was the kindest sweetest soul on the planet. There was no way her family could be so bad that he would feel the need to leave. “Thank you, kitten. M’going t’be fine,” he winked at her taking the bag of supplies and the pans from her, so she had free hands to open the front door. With a deep breath, she turned the knob and stepped inside.

It was loud. That was the first thing Harry noticed. There was yelling from one room to the other. In her defense, it wasn’t angry. It was as if they didn’t want to leave their rooms. The smoke detector was going off and a clang of pans coming from the kitchen. “She’s here!” A voice shouted from somewhere upstairs. Harry glanced around quickly catching pictures of when she was younger. He hoped he had a chance to look at them again later.

Harry watched her as she took in the scene. The living room and dining room were a bit cluttered. But it wasn’t as bad as she thought it was going to be. She hoped after she told them a friend was driving because of her car situation that they would clean up a bit. Maybe they did, or maybe her sister finally found better lighting in her room to do her makeup and skincare routine each morning instead of the living room. She pulled the items from Harry’s hands so he could take his coat off. He did so silently, and quickly took the items back from her so she could do the same.

Obviously, the smoke detector and kitchen were her first stop. “Mom,” she said evenly as she walked into the kitchen. Harry followed behind. It was a little more cluttered. Especially considering they knew she was coming over to bake cupcakes.

“Hey sweetie!” The woman turned. Harry could see his future. The sweet girl would grow up to be a pretty mom just like the woman in front of him. “Oh hello; I thought Eleanor was driving you.”

Harry saw her entire body flinch then, somehow, stiffen more. “Eleanor moved, Mom. I told you that.” The smoke detector was still going off and it somehow wasn’t fazing any of them and Harry found that rather funny and cute. But he was surprised that her mom didn’t remember her best friend had moved.

“Silly me, must have forgot,” she laughed and shrugged. She turned and took Harry’s items once more and set them on the little space left on the kitchen island.

“This is Harry,” she gestured to him.

Harry held his hand out. “Nice to meet you. You have a lovely home.”

She grinned and Harry could see every facial feature of the sweet girl had come directly from her mother. It was almost uncanny. “Thank you, Harry. Thanks for driving her,” she smiled. “Emma, honey! what are we doing with the smoke detector?”

“Nothing? Why?” The female voice responded.

Harry watched the girl’s face drop with exhaustion. The poor thing. They hadn’t been there longer than two minutes. Her mom rolled her eyes. “Can you turn it off?”

“I don’t know how!”

“I got it!” A male voice answered.

There was a clatter and a thud, but the alarm stopped. She felt the ringing of it still in her ears. “Honey, your daughter is here,” her mom sang.

After a moment, her father stepped into the kitchen joining them. “Hey sweetie,” he smiled. He nodded at Harry and gave his daughter a hug. She returned the hug, the light in her eyes seemed dead making her look stoic and tired. “No Eleanor?”

She nodded. “No Eleanor,” she sighed.

“Eleanor moved,” her mom answered pulling a casserole dish out of the oven. It smelled delicious.

“Really?” her dad said in surprise.

“M’Harry,” he said holding his hand out again for him to shake next. She was watching her mother with her casserole dish, she quickly moved things off the counter, so she had room to set it down. It wasn’t the most unusual thing, but it was very obvious that she was used to anticipating her family’s every movement. Maybe that’s why it was so nice to work with her in the kitchen at Dolcezza.

“What brings you here?” He asked.

“Emma’s bake sale,” she answered and began throwing used cooking utensils in the sink. She peeked into the dishwasher and noticed it was full. “Is this clean or dirty?” She asked.

“It’s clean. I asked Emma to empty it.”

“When?” she muttered under her breath looking at the stack of plates and dishes in the sink piling high enough that she thought she would have to run two loads while she was here. Harry was taking it all in, looking at the pictures on the fridge. “What’s she doing?”

“Who knows,” her mom smirked with an eyeroll. “Our princess is something else,” she explained to Harry with a smile.

Harry returned the smile but didn’t think Emma could be a princess. Not if she didn’t unload the dishwasher when she was asked. Nor if she knew how to handle a smoke detector. Harry got the sense that she was perhaps a bit spoiled—not through any fault of her own but ten years younger than her oldest sibling, she had to be waited on throughout her childhood.

Not to mention the only Prinicipessa in Harry’s life was the sweet girl he had spent an hour and a half with in the car. “Emma!” Her dad called.

“Coming!” She shouted and Harry heard a flutter of footfalls on the stairs coming from around the corner.

Her jaw dropped when she entered the kitchen. “You’re not Eleanor,” she said in surprise. Harry smirked. The poor girl looked ready to cry right there. Not one of them remembered. He wished he had her brother’s phone number just so he could warn him in advance. If he said Eleanor later Harry would lose it. He found it so unbearably sad, he thought she was going to cry. She flexed her jaw.

“Eleanor moved,” her dad explained.

“Huh,” she shrugged.

“M’Harry,” he said for the third time and held his hand out.

It seemed the genes she got from her mom were extremely strong. The three of them could have been mistaken for triplets. Her sister stared at him in surprise and nodded. “Emma,” she mumbled in surprise.

“Emma, can you empty the dishwasher since we have to make cupcakes and need space?” She asked.

Her sister rolled her eyes and Harry turned his attention again to the pictures on the fridge. Harry had his fair share of arguments with Gemma growing up. But he knew two sisters who argued could be on another level. “Did Mom ask you to ask me?”

Their mom opened her mouth, but she spoke before her mom uttered a syllable. “No Emma, but it’s courtesy to do what mom asks you to do, you know?”

“I was going to get to it after I finished my makeup.”

“Right because the dishes need you to be looking your best to get in the cabinet. Forget it. I’ll do it,” she sighed rubbing a hand on her forehead. “Why are the Christmas lights still up? I thought you were taking them down last week while James was home?” She wondered.

“James didn’t want to,” Emma shrugged. “Who cares? It’s pretty in the snow.”

She shared a look with her mom who once more looked so much like Harry’s sweet Principessa. She looked exhausted.

Oh.

Her mother’s genes were really strong. The exhaustion wasn’t something that just happened to her, it had been happening for longer than she had been alive.

“Alright,” she sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. “I will...manage that too.”

“Sweetie, you don’t need to do everything,” her dad said.

She turned to him briefly with an irritated expression. One that said, by all means, you do whatever you want. But it stopped as quickly as it started. After her expression returned to neutral, she began to unload the dishwasher. Harry wanted to keep a mental list of things to mention to her while he was here. The first being the look she gave her dad.

“Why are you making cupcakes?” Her mom asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” she sighed in frustration. “The winter carnival is expecting them or something...” she rolled her eyes. To her sister’s defense, she used to always make them when she was in high school. A “secret” recipe of hers (even if it was by all accounts a pretty standard cupcake recipe). But it had been talked about since she graduated. She made them for her brother and every year someone’s sibling of someone she knew from high school knew her and would ask.

Unlike her sister, everyone else had the courtesy to ask months in advance. Not a week like Emma. “I thought you knew!” She had exclaimed when she told her about it. “You always make them!”

“You didn’t ask!”

“I didn’t know I had to!” Emma was nearly hyperventilating on the phone thinking that she wasn’t going to make them because she had waited too long. But that was too much to explain to her mom. It was expected of her, and she should have known that she needed to make cupcakes. How could she not?

Harry was chatting with her father. Inquiring about how they had met and so forth. If Harry was into sports or if he liked fishing. She hoped Harry wouldn’t let it slip why she moved. “We haven’t seen her new place,” her dad admitted.

“S’nice. Y’should come by. We’ll make y’a delicious dinner too at the restaurant,” Harry promised.

She continued glancing over while the dishes were put in the correct cabinet, and she reloaded items from the sink to the machine. “Why don’t you make her do things, Mom?” She asked tiredly. Emma was inserting herself into the conversation with Harry and her dad. Her mom helped by clearing off the counters as quickly as possible.

She shrugged. “You know how Emma is,” she said.

“Kick her out,” she knew it was dramatic, but maybe even a threat would be helpful.

“Sweetie,” she rolled her eyes and shook her head. “You know that’s not how I operate. I could never kick out the three of you.” Plus, if she did kick her out, she would end up right at her doorstep. Right outside Dolcezza. “Who’s Harry? He’s cute,” she smiled excitedly.

Shaking her head, she sighed. “Harry’s a friend.”

“A cute friend,” she whispered peeking over at him still chatting with her father and sister.

Her face warmed and she shook her head. “Stop.”

“Don’t know many boys who would drive them home to their crazy family and spend the day baking and running errands.”

She nodded. “I know.”

Once the kitchen was mostly cleared, she was certain her dad loved Harry. To be fair, it was pretty easy to fall in love with him. She had done it about a thousand times. Emma was starstruck. She eyed his tattoos and his muscular arms. Harry had the best smile and the nicest eyes. Emma was going to be a giggly mess.

“Alright, I made shepherd’s pie for when you finish baking and before you go see James. What did he say he needed that you had to come?” Her mom asked.

Harry turned his attention back, wondering as well. She hadn’t said anything about the reason for her brother and added it to the list in his mind for when they headed to his off-campus apartment. “Just haven’t seen him in a while,” she shrugged.

“Probably needs money,” Emma snorted.

Her mom looked at her. “Sweetheart, don’t you dare give your brother money.”

She rolled her eyes. “Better me than you,” she mumbled.

Harry was starting to understand why this was going to be a long day.

*

Everyone left the kitchen and she got to work getting bowls, preheating the oven and all the other things she needed in a flurry of activity.

“M’not much of a baker, kitten. S’gonna have t’be all you. But m’really good at taking direction,” he promised with a smile. “Jus’ tell me what t’do.”

It was the cutest thing ever to see her put an apron on that was decorated with flowers on the print. She rolled her sleeves up to her elbows and twisted her hair back out of her face. She was adorable. “You’re sure?” She asked.

“S’all you, Principessa.”

“Okay, I just work really quick because I have to do other things so—”

“Okay,” he interrupted with a nod and a deeper smile. One that made the dimple in his cheek poke through. It poked right through her heart. “S’fine. I can do that,” he assured her with a head nod.

“Thank you, Harry,” she said gratefully.

“Course, kitten. M’happy t’help you. You’ve been helping so much in the kitchen. S’least I can do,” he squeezed her upper arm as he gazed at her hoping she would just see how much Harry liked her. They worked quickly, stirring all kinds of batter. They were making three different cupcakes: chocolate, vanilla, and red velvet. Her recipe was easy to follow. He liked her extra touches that made it her own and he thought that he would have to tell Antonio to hire her full time just to make cupcakes. “How come y’not a baker?” Harry was pulling the cupcakes out of the tins so he could place more paper cupcake holders to dole out more batter. He lined the cupcakes on every available surface. He insisted on this job since as he kept telling her, his fingertips were immune to the hot temperatures of the cupcakes right out of the oven.

“It’s a nice little hobby,” she smiled. “I don’t think I have enough good stuff just to open a little shop and sell cupcakes.”

“Would y’want to?” He wondered.

She shook her head. “No...I like my job. I’m good at it.”

“M’sure you are jus’ good at everything y’do, kitten,” he chuckled.

She smiled and put her hand on Harry’s arm as she walked behind him. In between rounds of trays going in and out of the oven, she was working on the pile of dishes and the dishwasher. It was almost done, and he was impressed (but not surprised) by how efficiently she worked. They chatted more about her job—she was a finance manager for a big company in the city near Dolcezza. She enjoyed it; her coworkers were nice, and people valued her skill. Not that that surprised Harry in the slightest. She found it nice to work from home as long as she maintained specific working hours.

“That was the hardest adjustment about working at home. I was worried I would just work all the time.” He nodded understandingly enjoying the passion she had for everything she did. “I think maybe if I wasn’t doing this, I would want to teach people about finance,” she shrugged.

“Y’would teach bratty teenagers?” Harry asked in surprise with a smile.

“I’m pretty good with them,” she winked and jutted her chin toward the empty hallway coming off the kitchen indicating Emma, of course. Harry laughed and shook his head at her.

After more chit chat, there were about 130 cupcakes cooling and waiting to be frosted after a while. “Do you mind helping with the lights?” She asked quietly. The last batch of cupcakes just went in, and all the cleaning was almost done.

Harry turned to see her pink cheeks. It was hard for her to ask for help, Harry could see that. But it was really exciting for him to hear her ask. It was a huge step. Even if it was already implied that he would help her with whatever. “Course, Principessa,” he smiled. “M’happy to.”

“This has to be the worst day off in the history of the world for you.”

“I don’t know. Cupcakes and a pretty girl?” She dropped her gaze to the sink and Harry smiled at her shyness. “S’better than me jus’ sleeping the day away,” he smiled.

“Don’t you have... a date or something?” She wondered, looking as far away from Harry’s face as possible. She didn’t want to catch his expression in her peripheral. “It’s Friday. I imagine you only get a Friday off once in a while.”

He smirked with a shake of his head. She was oblivious.

Or maybe she just didn’t want to see it because of who she was. Harry adored her and that probably scared some part of her, even he could recognize that. “It rotates,” he agreed. “But... no. M’not really interested in dating anyone,” he told her.

“No?” She frowned before she could stop herself. Immediately, she regretted saying it. But was desperate to know the answer.

His heart sped. He wondered if the strong, rhythmic beating would break one of his ribs. Closing the oven, he turned to see her still working on the dishes. But after a near silent moment, he stopped her movements, grabbed her by the wrists and turned her around from the sink. Her hands dripped water on the floor, and he shifted her so that her back was to the counter. His hands pressed on either side of her hips against it, and he put a breath of space between them. “I’d make an exception for you,” he promised and scanned her face. Her eyelashes fluttered and she swallowed hard.

“Yeah?” She whispered.

“Always, Principessa,” he murmured and dropped his gaze to her lips.

Her brain got the better of her again, making her mouth speak before she could comprehend what she was about to say. Her breath was airy, her mind spinning with the scent of vanilla cupcakes and Harry’s shampoo filling her nose as he leaned toward her. “You’re really going to kiss me in my parents’ house? When it’s crazy, and I’m crazy, and they’re—”

Harry chuckled, bringing a hand to the side of her face, and brushing his thumb against her cheek. As hard as his heart was beating, it felt so suddenly slow. Like this was normal and what he was supposed to do. It didn’t need a crazy heartbeat. It was simply what he was supposed to do. He glanced briefly around to see if her family was nearby—he wouldn’t want to intentionally embarrass her. “Yeah, kitten. Guess I am,” he shrugged and leaned the final distance to press his lips solidly between hers.

The moment his lips touched her, she felt her knees soften. Like she was going to fall over. All the blood in her body rushed from her extremities to her heart. It made her feel weak all over. His lips were so soft, like little down pillows. They weren’t chapped at all like she thought they’d be. Her whole body felt a rush of warmth, like the oven was open and brushing hot air over her. Her lashes fluttered, making her eyes close and she wished she dried her hands because she wanted to hold onto him, but didn’t want to get his shirt wet when he had nothing else to wear.

She sighed deeply. It was so sweet. It made his chest ache with want; he wanted to be closer. Wanted to kiss her longer. Wanted to wrap her in his arms and never ever let her go. Harry had never kissed anyone that had sighed so softly like that while kissing him. It was so very her and it made him feel like he was going to melt into the floor. Her lips tasted like chocolate from when she tested the batter. His hand kept hold of the side of her face while he nipped and pecked at her lips. The other pressed against the counter, the length of his body pressed to hers, the only two things keeping him upright and not bringing them down to the kitchen floor.

He released her lips after a moment causing a beautiful breathy sigh to leave her lips. His gaze was so intense she felt it in her stomach. It couldn’t have been more than forty-five seconds of kissing, but he would have taken an hour, and it wouldn’t have been enough. She wiped a hand on her apron and then brought it to her mouth to touch her tingly lips.

Harry’s breath was a little shallow and she was grateful he sounded a little worse for wear only because she was worried, she was going to pass out right in the middle of the kitchen. “Thanks,” she whispered.

He chuckled, shaking his head. That was very much a her thing to say at a time like this. It made his stomach flutter with excitement. “Pleasure was all mine, Principessa,” he mumbled pressing a kiss to her forehead and gently squeezing the side of her face as he held her cheek.

They stood for a moment staring at each other like they had never seen each other before. As awful as her day was, and as frustrated as her family could make her feel, this was infinitely better than what she thought it would be.

“We should... take care of the lights,” she whispered. Not that she wanted to, but kissing Harry with three quarters of her family one room away did not seem ideal.

He nodded. “Okay,” he released her cheek making her regret her choice because she felt utterly cold. She shivered and Harry sighed as he stepped away from her. Right as she turned back for the sink, the water still running, Harry caught her wrist again and pulled her so quickly to him her heart skipped a beat. “One more,” he mumbled and brought their mouths back together just as quick as he pulled her toward him, she hardly had time to react. His tongue gently tracing the length of her lip making her sigh again and he thought he would surely explode from how much he liked her.

*

“Where are the boxes?” She asked as she put her coat on. Harry pulled her hair from getting trapped and smoothed it softly on the back of her jacket. He found about a hundred excuses to touch her in the last half hour while they waited for the cupcakes to finish and for her to finish cleaning. The kitchen looked better now that she had been in there.

“In the attic,” her sister said looking up from her phone briefly. She sighed, frustrated that her siblings hadn’t even gotten the boxes down last week. Harry followed her upstairs. In the little hall between all the doors leading to what he assumed were bedrooms and at least one bathroom, was the ceiling door for the attic.

She pulled the cord to bring down the ladder, the hinges of the door groaning.

“Sweetie, wait!” Her mom shouted suddenly. Harry yanked her so hard around her waist as the door opened widely. He pulled her back toward the empty half of the hallway, causing them to fall in a heap right as the ladder half fell, dangling, unhinged to half of the frame of the opening. She would have gotten a serious smack to the face had Harry not pulled her out of the way. She felt so warm in his arms. Even if her falling on top of him with her full weight could not have felt good. She could feel her face burning in embarrassment.

“Emma, are you fucking serious?!” She screamed. She scrambled to get to her feet. She helped Harry back to her feet. “Are you okay?” she asked nervously, her eyes looking him over quickly and her mom had reached the top of the steps. Her eyebrows pinched together. She looked so emotionally hurt. The poor thing.

Harry shook his head looking at the ladder and then at her, still worried she hurt herself. He definitely yanked her really hard, and he did his best to take the brunt of the fall, but that couldn’t have felt good. “M’fine, Principessa, are you alri—”

“How is that my fault?!” Emma shouted.

“You knew it was broken and didn’t tell me?!” She hurried down half the steps to yell at her sister.

“Harry, I’m so sorry,” her mother said.

“It’s okay. We’re alri—”

“Is that why you two didn’t do the decorations?” She was seething. From the top of the steps Harry could see her shoulders heaving with each breath. “Are you serious?”

“What?!”

“The ladder almost hit Harry and I!”

“Kitten,” he started down the couple steps and he touched her shoulder gently.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Her mom asked.

“I was going to fix it tomorrow,” her dad called from another room.

“I’m fine, I promise,” Harry smiled gently at her mother wondering how she could be ignoring the screaming match.

“Why are you even dealing with the decorations, you came to bake cupcakes!”

“Emma you’re being a selfish brat, not once did you say thank you—”

“Principessa,” Harry’s voice was low, and he moved his hand to her lower back.

“You always make cupcakes!”

“—you do nothing but make messes that Mom has to clean up you could have at least put the decorations away!”

The screaming was reaching levels Harry hadn’t heard before. Especially not from his sweet, pretty angel. He worried about how her throat would feel from yelling so loud and of course the anger that was rippling through her made him worry she would shake so much she would fall down the steps.

“Sweetie,” her mom said pushing past Harry very gently. “It’s okay—”

“Mom, it’s not okay. She is a lazy, spoiled brat and you don’t—”

“Just because you’re older doesn’t mean you get to come over and act like you run everything! You act so high and mighty! We’ve been fine without you living here and bossing all of us around. Can’t you just relax for two seconds and stop being a bitch?!” Emma did not once get up to look at her sister during this conversation.

She finally stopped. Her breathing no longer heaving, she stopped shaking. She flexed her jaw. “The cupcakes need to cool. We’re going to see James and I’ll be back to frost them when we get back,” she snapped and headed down the steps.

“Sweetie,” her mom said softly.

“Dad,” she called stiffly.

Harry followed as quickly as he could.

“Yeah?” His voice was quiet.

“Can you bring the ladder inside that will reach the attic while I’m gone?” She asked.

“Sure thing, sweetie,” he promised.

She walked right out the door and closed it behind her.

“I am so sorry, Harry,” her mom whispered.

“It’s alright. M’gonna make sure she’s alright. I have a sister,” he said encouragingly with a gentle smile. “I get it,” he shrugged. “We’ll be back,” he promised following after her.

*

They drove in silence to her brother’s apartment. Harry reached over and placed his hand on the top of her thigh, but she didn’t hold it the way she had when he drove earlier. She stared out the window the whole time. There wasn’t a word of discussion. Harry didn’t speak, he didn’t play music, just gently moved his index finger back and forth, trying to soothe her as much as possible from the small movement.

James was a half hour away from their house and when there was only ten minutes left of the drive, Harry cleared his throat. “That wasn’t nice of your sister,” he whispered.

“Can we do this later?” She answered.

He frowned. “Principessa.”

“Look, it was really bad and I’m so embarrassed that you saw that and heard that. I’m sad you gave up your day off to deal with my insane family. I feel bad you’re stuck with me for the remainder of the day so I would rather just have you tell me to leave you alone when we’re on the way home—”

Shaking his head quickly, Harry thought about pulling over because surely they had entered an alternate dimension. “Kitten, what on earth are y’talking about?”

“I don’t want to do this, Harry. I’m so close to crying, it’s not even funny.”

He was quiet for a full minute. “Y’don’t have t’be embarrassed around me, Principessa. M’not going anywhere. The only reason I wish we were on our way home is so I could walk y’upstairs and kiss y’outside your door for a lot longer than we did,” he squeezed her thigh gently.

Another silent minute. They were five minutes from James’ place. “Really?” She whispered.

He glanced at her. He could see her teary gaze. The one that broke his heart when she wasn’t feeling well. It broke his heart all over again. “Really, kitten,” he promised. “We can talk ‘bout it later. But y’family doesn’t make me like y’any less. Other than worrying ‘bout you, m’having a lot of fun,” he promised. “Got a new cupcake recipe, got to see cute baby pictures of you, and got to kiss you. So...this is pretty much the best day off I’ve had in years.”

Her heart felt splintered and broken by her sister’s mean words. She was certain Harry would hate her and wouldn’t want anything to do with her. “You still want to kiss me?” She asked.

“Always, Principessa,” he nodded. “I’d ‘ve kissed you the whole way here if it were possible,” he assured her.

Taking a deep breath, she nodded. “I’d like that,” she admitted.

He chuckled, smiling happier than he felt the last twenty-eight minutes worrying about her. “I really, like you Principessa,” she turned that pretty pink that Harry liked so much. He could see it in his peripheral. “I don’t think you’re bossy or mean. I think you are the kindest, most caring person ‘ve ever met,” he put his car in park outside the apartment building the GPS directed him to. He cupped her face again and kissed her forehead. It felt perfect. Like Harry had kissed her a hundred times before. He peered into her eyes with the same look he had right before he kissed her in the kitchen.

“I’m sorry. I think... we have to wait,” she whispered her breath catching in her throat. She felt dizzy with his breath filling her senses. He frowned.

“Don’t want to kiss?” he asked worried she was still going to push him away.

“No... no...” she shook her head her breath uneven. “I do. I very much do. But I won’t...” she sighed nodding quickly. “I won’t want to stop. And I—”

Harry chuckled dropping his lips to press a line of kisses from one cheek to the other over the bridge of her nose. “S’okay, kitten. I’ve waited nearly nine months t’kiss you. Can wait a few more hours,” he promised.

--

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[nobodysuspectsthebutterfly]

hello, I've sort of migrated here from Twitter. If you have the time I was wondering if the things I got from twitter/tiktok are correct.

In the books valyrian's are the only people in world who can bond with dragons?

In the books Targs are immune to heat/fire and sickness because their blood is magic?

Hightower's tower was made with dragon fire despite it predating Valyria?

There are other buildings around the world in asoiaf which also used dragon fire but also predate Valyria and their dragons?

Someone told me on tiktok that the OG asoiaf dragons went extinct and Valyrian magicians bred other magic creatures together until they got their version of dragons?

thank you for any help 🙏. I want to get around to reading the books but it's kinda daunting because there's so many of them and they're long and I'm a slow reader 😭

Hey, welcome to Tumblr! (Hope you survive the experience.) Sure, I can answer your questions (certainly better than tiktok and twitter lol sigh), but I do definitely recommend reading the books! Some people find it easier to go with audiobooks (I personally don't, since auditory processing isssues make me tune out in five seconds, same with podcasts, sigh), and that might be a big help for you? But anyway, answers below...

1. Yes... um... it's a question. It's stated that Valyrians are the only ones that can bond with dragons, and furthermore, only ones from the dragonriding families of Valyria. (This is part of the "Doctrine of Exceptionalism", which I'll describe later.) The "dragonseeds" who rode dragons during the Dance were supposedly bastards or descendants of bastards of Targaryens (I'll get to the details in a moment), and we have the example in the current books of Brown Ben Plumm, who Dany's dragons adore, and he is an extremely distant (by like 120 years) descendant of Elaena Targaryen and Aegon IV Targaryen.

However, the dragonseed and dragonrider Addam of Hull, per the histories a bastard of Laenor Velaryon (son of Rhaenys Targaryen), was almost certainly actually the bastard of Corlys Velaryon, and the Velaryons were not a dragonriding family. Though it's possible that one of the pre-Conquest Targaryen ladies married into House Velaryon, so it's not that exceptional. The greater problem is the dragonseed Nettles, of no known background, called out by the narrative as looking distinctly un-Valyrian (she's brown, and note the Velaryons are white in the books), who tamed her dragon by feeding it sheep until it started to like her. Many theorize that while Valyrian blood makes it easy to bond with dragons (due to likely blood magic/genetic bonding with dragons in ancient times, as they claim to be descended from dragons), it is still possible to create that bond the hard way, as the early Valyrians were once a mere tribe of shepherds who discovered dragons nesting in a local chain of volcanoes. The full answer is one of the greater mysteries of ASOIAF, and will hopefully be resolved in later books. (Along with whoever the riders of Dany's other two dragons will be.)

2. Per GRRM, Targaryens are not immune to fire, but they do have some heat resistance, and enjoy things like hot baths and hot weather. The only one actually immune to fire was Dany, and specifically only during the miracle of her dragons' birth. (During her taming of Drogon right before she rode him the first time, she received burns on her hands.) Many Targaryens have died or been injured by fire, including Viserys Targaryen (Dany's brother and his "golden crown"), Aerion Targaryen (he drank wildfire because he thought it would turn him into a dragon. It didn't), Rhaenys Targaryen the Queen Who Never Was, Daeron "the Daring" Targaryen, Aegon II Targaryen, and Rhaenyra Targaryen.

As for illness, the "Doctrine of Exceptionalism" was a religious precept that King Jaehaerys I worked out with the Faith of the Seven, to give the Targaryens an exception on the Faith's anti-incest stance. It stated that Targaryens were different, exceptional, special people, closer to gods than men, because of their unique silver-gold hair and purple eyes, because they alone rode dragons, and because they never got sick. "There was fire in the blood of the dragon, it was reasoned, a purifying fire that burned out all such plagues." However, only a few years after Jaehaerys made this agreement (and married his sister Alysanne), their 7-year-old daughter Daenerys died of the Shivers, a severe-flu-like epidemic. (This put great doubt in their heart, but did anyone do anything about it? lol no.) Their daughter Maegelle later died of greyscale, and their son Baelon died of appendicitis. Later Targaryens have died of other epidemics, of the pox, of tuberculosis, and other diseases.

However -- some Targaryens have shown surprising resistance to illness. Aegon III sat with many victims of the Winter Fever epidemic, and never showed any symptoms. Dany herself cannot recall ever getting sick. (She is not immune to being poisoned, though.) There may be something specifically connected to being a dragonrider (though Baelon was one), or more specifically being a potential Prince That Was Promised? Again, this is connected to the greater mysteries of ASOIAF, to be resolved later.

3 & 4. The base of the Hightower -- not the tower itself, but its first level -- is an ancient fortress made of fused black stone, which is similar to Valyrian construction made by melting stone with dragonfire (such as the castle of Dragonstone, the walls of Volantis, and the Valyrian roads). However, it predates the Valyrian empire by millennia, and is plain without decoration, unlike how the Valyrians would twist the melted stone into artistic forms. There are also other ancient structures in the world, the Five Forts on the eastern border of Yi Ti, that are also made of this fused black stone in this plain style. Some maesters also think the Hightower fortress's labyrinthine design is similar to the Mazes of Lorath, also ancient structures, made by a vanished giant not-quite-human species (called the Mazemakers) in pre-history. GRRM has said "there were dragons everywhere, once" (there are indeed records of dragons in Westeros before Valyria, and dragon bones found in far distant places in the world) and the truly ancient Asshai'i histories claim to have taught the Valyrians the secrets of dragons, so there's a theory that there was a dragonriding culture long before the Valyrians who left behind these fused black stone structures. (More on this in the next answer, and you can see an older theory post of mine on the subject here. Also note I am certain this culture was not the Great Empire of the Dawn, they're unrelated.) One more great mystery!

5. Yeeahh... this may be true. Or it might not be. Septon Barth (Jaehaerys's Hand of the King, and a great researcher into the origins of dragons, with theories that made maesters call him crazy and the Faith burn his books) apparently theorized in his Unnatural History that the Valyrian dragons may have been created via bloodmagic, possibly by breeding wyverns (flying reptiles that do not breathe fire), possibly with firewyrms (wingless/legless earth-boring creatures that do breathe fire). There's also (as I said above) Valyrian legends that claim they found dragons nesting in the Fourteen Flames, but ancient texts from Asshai claim that dragons first came from the Shadow (the mountains around Asshai), and an ancient nameless people brought them to Valyria and taught the Valyrians the magic needed to control them. And there's a myth from Qarth that there used to be another moon that cracked open like an egg and millions of dragons came out. We do not yet know the true answer.

GRRM recently said "Septon Barth got most of it right", but what is "most"? Was there an incredibly ancient vanished species of dragons that the original Valyrians re-created? Did these Valyrians somehow breed these new dragons with themselves to make them easier to control? What we do know is that occasionally Targaryens have had monstrous dragon-like stillbirths. We do know that very rarely a dragon egg has hatched a "broken thing" that dies quickly, or a monstrous wingless wyrm that attacks its cradlemate, with no known reason why. We know that in the ruins of Valyria since its Doom, there are apparently mutated creatures that can lay eggs containing "worms with faces" and "snakes with hands" in human flesh, a horrific experience witnessed by Septon Barth that sent him on his path. It's a great great mystery, and there will apparently be an answer one day.

BTW, many of these huge mysteries were introduced in The World of Ice & Fire, if you want to read just one book. However, TWOIAF is not a story like the actual books, it's a history/geography book, and if you want more than lore, if you want addictively enjoyable characters and amazing dialogue and a truly excellent story, again I highly recommend reading the main books. The lore and the mysteries are very interesting, sure, but they're not what's really kept me in this fandom for 13 years now, you know?

[anti-the-glitch-bitch]

The Phantom Soldier 2

The first thing that Danny notices when he comes back to consciousness is the sound of a machine beeping. The second thing is the smell of cleaning chemicals, making his nose wrinkle in disgust. He hurts everywhere, but he couldn’t deny the cool warmth surrounding him. He just wants to go back to sleep. To avoid the pain that he knows is coming any minute now. The pain that has happened every day since he’s been captured.

It takes Danny a moment to realize that he’s lying in a semi-upright position in a comfortable bed. Shock filters through his battered brain and he slowly opens up his eyes in the dimly lit room. It doesn’t look like any room that he’s been placed in before. If he’s being honest, it kind of reminds him of a hospital room, but that’s not possible. His kidnappers would never let that happen.

Continuing his inspection of the room, Danny notices a large window with shades pulled down to dim the bright light trying to come through. It almost looks like sunlight, but it could also be a trick. 

Danny slowly removes the blanket covering him, wincing from the pain that shoots through his body as he does so, and notices the IV in his arm taped down so that it doesn’t move. He can only imagine what these people are pumping into him this time, but he's learned it's best not to fight it if he doesn't want a beating later.

Hopefully it doesn't make him sick this time. 

Danny is weak from the lack of human food and ectoplasm. While he doesn't really need to eat that much anymore, he still needs a good amount of ectoplasm to survive. Hydra wanted to see how long he could last without either, and now it's taking everything he has not to completely collapse. It doesn't help that he had put so much of his energy into his ghostly wail before he passed out. 

Slowly, he positions himself on the edge of the bed. The IV bag is connected to a pole that he grabs with weak hands so he has something to help hold himself up. He isn't the steadiest, but hey, he's standing. 

With a deep breath, Danny moves towards the only window in the room trying not to die again. He's too focused on trying to put one foot in front of the other to look around. He's not even sure how much further it is to the window. 

Honestly, Danny's surprised a scientist or guard hasn't come in by now. This has to be another trick on their part. Something else to force him into obedience or get him another beating. He shudders at the reminder, almost losing his grip on the pole. 

He's nearly to the window when the pole wheels catch on something, tripping Danny up. He loses his grip on the pole and cries out as he falls. He's too weak and too hurt to be able to get up and now he'll never feel the sun on his face. If that's even what the light was. 

Tears don't come as Danny lies on the tiled floor in despair. Hydra made sure to beat those out of him long ago. No, he simply stares at the wall that he's fallen next to, hoping that he isn't punished for getting out of the bed they put him in. He holds onto that hope as he hears the door open and footsteps rush towards him. 

Voices swirl around him, but he's disassociating and can't understand them. Danny remains limp as someone picks him up and gently places him back on the bed. More voices sound, but they slowly stop when he doesn't respond. He doesn't look at them. Doesn't acknowledge them in any way as he stares at the wall. 

Just that little bit of activity has exhausted him, and he doesn't hesitate to fall back into the comforting darkness of sleep. 

~~~

Murmurs coax Danny out of his sleep. Murmurs that sound unfortunately close to him. Like, right next to him close. 

He tries not to stiffen up, to stay as relaxed as possible but the machine next to him gives away the rapid beating of his heart. The flurry of activity surrounding him makes him afraid of what is going to happen next. Nothing good ever happens when there are this many people around him.

The strangers try to talk to him. To get him to say anything. A few even try to get him to open his eyes, but when he remains still, the voices slowly dwindle until there is only the steady beeping of the machine. 

Danny can feel the IV taped to his skin. Can feel the way the gown shifts across his many wounds that stopped healing a long time ago. He can feel the thin blanket draped across him as he adjusts to find some kind of comfortable position (no position is comfortable).

Danny slowly opens his eyes, blinking his eyes rapidly at the bright light. He closes them and tries again after a few moments, letting himself adjust to his surroundings. 

It appears to be the same room as the one he woke up in last time. With its white walls and large window with the shades closed, though this time there’s no light coming through the shades. Danny doesn’t see any cameras in the room, but it’s best not to test the limits of his freedom.

It’s best not to catch their ire.

So, Danny lays in bed waiting for whatever terrible things the scientists have in store for him today. Maybe, hopefully, if he does whatever they want without complaint, they'll start to feed him again. He doesn’t even know how many weeks it's been since he's had anything to eat.

Voices outside the door catch Danny’s attention. They must be right outside the door because he can hear them clearly. Though, it’s not like they’ve ever tried to keep their voices down around him before. He’s just an object to them anyway.

“-doing?” a male voice asks.

“He woke up a few hours ago, but won’t respond to anyone. He flinches away when we touch him, but otherwise doesn’t object. He wouldn’t even open his eyes to look at us. He’s been through a lot, Tony. It’s going to be a long time before he’s ready to pretend to be human again. Be patient with him. If you upset him, I’ll have no problem kicking you out.” a stern female voice replies.

There’s a small laugh but it doesn’t sound happy to Danny. “Doc, I’ve been through all the files. That kid was an experiment to them. Bucky was more of a person to them than that kid was. They did things to him that I’m not sure even a Super Soldier would survive. I sent over the files but to tell you the truth…from what the files say, I don’t think that kid is alive. If he is then he’s made of tougher stuff than all the Avengers combined.” Tony (Danny thinks it's this Tony person the doctor is talking to) says.

Danny hopes they aren’t talking about him, but he sincerely doubts it. They’re outside his door, after all. 

The door starts to open and Danny panics. He doesn’t want to know what they’ll do to him. Doesn’t want the pain to start again, but knows if he doesn’t let it happen, it’ll only be worse in the end. The machine next to him goes haywire as his heart picks up its pace again.

A stern Asian woman in a white lab coat rushes over to his side, checking the machine and silencing the alarm. Danny takes no notice of her, but he does watch as a shorter man in jeans and a t-shirt comes trailing in behind her. He doesn’t look like a scientist and maybe he isn’t. Maybe he’s the person in charge of the scientists. The person that the scientists always talk about.

“Hey. Can you tell me your name?” the stern woman says with concern and it draws Danny’s attention. Sometimes, they pretended to be nice.

Danny wants to tell her, but at the same time, he doesn’t. His throat aches from the ghostly wail that he hasn’t used in some time. He isn’t sure when the last time he spoke was. He’s not allowed to speak unless ordered. Like the lady wants him to do now, but his throat hurts.

He opens his mouth and…nothing. Trying to talk just causes him to cough. Danny starts to panic, because he knows that punishment comes when he doesn’t do what they want.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything right now. I’ll get you some water and we can try again later. Right now I just want you to rest.” The doctor looks concerned with her soft oval face and the wisps of brown hair that have fallen out of her bun but that’s probably because he’s broken.

 A broken asset is a useless one.

Danny watches the doctor give the man a stern glance as she leaves. The man is staring at him and it’s making Danny nervous. He doesn’t know what the guy wants. He wishes the man would give him an order. Say something. Do something. Just…

“Hey kid,” the man finally says. His voice is concerned and his body language screams awkwardness as he rubs the back of his neck. “Listen. I know you’ve been through a lot, but the people here are good people. You won’t have to deal with anything like what those Hydra goons did.”

The man walks a little closer to Danny’s bed. He doesn’t seem at all concerned that Danny hasn’t said a word to him, he just continues to talk.

“We’ll get you all fixed up and then when the Doc okays it, you can live on the compound with me and the rest of the team. How’s that sound?” The man's eyes soften from that intense stare to something sadder and his smile disappears when Danny doesn’t give a response.

Not answering a question usually gets him a punishment, but the lady told him not to say anything. Is this man in charge or the lady? Who is he supposed to obey? Danny opens up his mouth to try and say something, anything, so the man won’t get angry with him, but nothing will come out. Just a wisp of air and a cough. 

The cough hurts his throat and he tries to swallow the dryness away but it's no use. Thankfully, that doctor comes back. Unfortunately, she comes back with a whole tray of items and it scares him. Danny doesn't show it, though. He just watches with a blank expression. 

“Tony, I told you not to upset him. This is the exact opposite of that,” the doctor says, glaring at Tony as she puts the tray down on a rolling table near the window. 

Tony takes a few steps back, giving the doctor space to roll the entire table over to the bed. “I'm offended, Cho. I didn't do anything. You can even ask Friday. I'm being a good boy. All I did was say that once he heals up enough and you give the okay, he'll be moving into the compound with the rest of us.”

Danny watches the back and forth happening between the two people trying to figure out the dynamics. They talk to each other like equals, making this situation a bit more confusing to Danny. 

Doctor Cho grabs a white styrofoam cup and hands it to Danny gently. He takes the cup and looks inside, finding it filled with little chips of ice. “You are severely malnourished, so no real solids or liquids right now until we can get your body used to nutrients again. You can munch on ice for now to help with your throat, but do it slowly so you don't overwhelm your body.” Danny gives a nod to the doctor and immediately puts a few pieces in his mouth letting the ice melt to help ease his throat. 

The doctor gives Danny a nod and a smile. “That's good. If you need more ice, just press this button here,” She grabs a remote from beside the bed and hands it to him, pointing out one of the buttons. 

“I need to take a look at your bandages and change some of them. Is it okay if I touch you?” the doctor asks, as if Danny has any real choice. He has no idea what their plan is, but it’s best to just go along with it until someone gives him a direct order or his handler comes in to get him.

He looks between Tony and the doctor before giving a small nod. The doctor turns to the table again, putting on some gloves before grabbing a few things. Danny doesn’t want to see what this lady is about to do to him, so he watches Tony instead. Watches the way Tony messes with his phone for a few minutes before putting it up and turning his attention to him. 

“So, you got any parents out there missing you, kid? If you know their number, I can give ‘em a ring so they don’t have to worry about where you are anymore. I looked through all the files but it never mentioned a family and facial recognition can’t seem to get an ID on you. Friday’s still looking, but it’ll help us out if you can tell us anything.” Tony’s eyes never waver from Danny’s and it makes him uncomfortable.

This is a trick that Danny knows well. The trainers and scientists used this trick all the time to see if his time in the chair had any effect on him. They’d pretend he was rescued, ask him really personal questions about his life and family, and then, if he didn’t answer how they liked, they would punish him and put him in the chair. They’d done it so many different ways and times that Danny no longer trusts anyone that asks those sorts of questions.

Danny stares at Tony, swallows, and then says the required response. “This asset has no family.” It comes out raspy and barely audible, but he manages to get the words out. 

Tony looks away for a moment with a frown that he quickly hides. Danny catches glimpses of several other expressions, but he isn't sure how to interpret them. 

A gentle poking in a particularly painful area makes Danny wince and look at the doctor. She’s putting some sort of cream on a nasty gash that’s bruised. “Sorry if I hurt you. I just need to wrap this back up and then I’m done.” She’s very quick with her work, and soon Danny is bandaged back up and bringing his gown back down.

Doctor Cho places the blanket and flips the end of the blanket back over Danny’s waist with a smile. “There. All done. I’ll leave you alone now, but if you need anything, push that little button I showed you." She picks up the tray, leaving the table next to his bed and walks towards the door, whispering something too low for Danny to hear as she passes Tony and leaves the room.

When the door closes, Tony drags a chair over to Danny’s bed and sits down. “I feel like there’s a misunderstanding between the two of us so let’s start over. My name is Tony Stark, also known as Iron Man and a member of the Avengers.”

There's a brief pause from Tony as he waves a hand toward Danny in a flourish that Danny really isn’t sure how to interpret. Is he waiting for a response? There was no order given or question asked for him to answer.

“Are you my handler?” Danny’s head cocks to the side as he watches the man’s shoulders slump just briefly. It isn’t a response that Danny expects or can decipher, but he briefly worries that he might have made a mistake asking that question.

“Oh, kid.” Danny’s maybe-handler sighs, giving him a sad smile. “This isn’t Hydra. I know you don’t believe me, but you will eventually. Do you remember your name? Cause I know it isn’t ‘asset’.”

Another trick.

“My name is the Phantom Soldier. What are my orders?” Danny asks, placing the cup on the table and readying himself for whatever this man demands.

“Just focus on getting better, okay?” 

Not a request that Danny is expecting, but if they want to use him for something, then he’ll need to be in peak condition. He gives Tony a small nod in response.

Tony looks at his watch and his phone before returning his attention to Danny. “Look, I gotta go do a few things, but I’ll check on you before bed. I know Cho said you can use the button to call her, but if you need anything, anything at all, then just let my A.I. Friday know. Say hello, Friday.”

Danny jumps as a female’s voice comes from nowhere. “Hello. If I can be of any help, please do not hesitate to let me know.” Danny can’t see any cameras or speakers, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there.

With no other response, Tony leaves the room.

The minute the door shuts, Danny relaxes. Picking up the white cup, he sucks on a few more pieces of ice. A tentative touch on his neck with the hand that doesn’t have an IV tells him that he doesn’t have that horrible collar. Not that it means much. His throat is still messed up from his last ghostly wail that he can’t even do a small one. He’ll have to hope these people don’t put the collar back on before he can gather his strength again.

Danny’s throat is rough, but his actual neck doesn’t feel bad. He would say the gash on his chest hurts the worst, but honestly he’s so used to being in pain at this point that he isn’t particularly bothered by it. No, the worst is the bone deep fatigue that never seems to go away. The kind of fatigue that can wear a person down until they give up. The kind of fatigue that Danny’s been dealing with for years now.

Settling into the bed a bit more, Danny looks around the room. There isn’t much aside from the medical equipment. The walls are a bright blue that lightens the room up. There are no lights in the ceiling that Danny can see, but the entire room is lit up. The room is also large enough that another bed sits on the other side of the room. Far enough that each person can have privacy and yet close enough that if there was another person, they wouldn’t have to shout to have a conversation.

Two large TVs sit on the wall opposite the beds, though they’re both shut off at the moment. Danny can’t remember the last time he was allowed to watch television. His kidnappers always tell him that objects don’t get to have luxuries, and that’s what he is, isn’t it? 

An object.

A weapon.

Certainly not a person. At least, not anymore.

They’ve made sure of that.

Danny lays his head back, and even with the lights on, falls asleep to the sounds of his heartbeat beeping on the machine next to him.

~~~

Tony paces back and forth in his lab as the anger boils underneath his skin. If he could go back in time, he absolutely would just so he could destroy those fuckers again. Except he’d make the pain last longer. Maybe employ Natasha to use her skills in torture.

“This asset has no family.”

Watching that suspiciously blank face on the kid's face as he’d said that had made Tony's heart shatter. He never wants to hear anything like that come from the kid ever again. Unfortunately, Tony knows he'll probably be hearing things like that a lot until the teams are able to earn some trust and reprogram the brainwashing. 

He's not sure if his B.A.R.F. program will work on the kid as easily as it did on Barnes. From the files the genius had read through and Cho's reports, the poor kid isn't completely human. He isn’t a mutant or Inhuman either, lacking the genes to be classified as such. Something about his DNA is hard to test and his blood deteriorates too quickly to really do anything with. By the third test, it’s deteriorated so much that none of the normal markers will work. 

Tony needs Barnes. As much as he hates to admit it, talking to the guy might give him the insight Tony needs to help the kid.

“Friday, can you ask Barnes to come to the lab?” Tony sits down and pulls up the footage from the kid’s (he really needs to come up with a name for him) room.

A moment later, Friday responds, “Mr. Barnes is on his way down, Boss.”

Tony doesn’t reply, instead he watches the entire interaction between Cho, the kid, and himself, trying to get a clue on what to do. He knows it’s not really going to help, but he needs to do something or he’s going to start throwing things.

Tony is on his third playthrough when Barnes walks through the lab doors. “Friday said you needed to talk to me but she didn’t say why.”

“C’mere and watch this,” Tony replies. “I figured it’s best to go to the expert on brainwashing. Maybe you’ll be able to tell me the best way to help this kid.” Tony restarts the video, not giving Barnes a chance to object.

Barnes sits down on the nearest chair, his eyes not leaving the hologram. If Tony hadn’t been watching the guy, he’d have never caught the rage and fear that passes over his face. It’s quickly replaced with guilt, but Tony leaves his questions until the video is done.

When the video is done, Tony stops it. “What did you see that I didn't?”

The super soldier turns to Tony with that same guilty look. “Tony, I don’t think I'll be able to help you. I don’t remember much, but I do remember them using me to beat the shit out of that kid. He heals from just about anything and I was used as punishment when he wouldn’t do what they wanted. He’d been there maybe 6 months by the time I managed to get away. Anytime they wanted to put him in the chair, they had me beat him within an inch of his life.”

Tony stares at Barnes thoughtfully. If that's the case, then introducing Barnes to Phantom (ugh it's better to just call him ‘the kid’) will be a horrible decision. God, everyone on this team needs therapy.

Except maybe Sam.

And Vision. 

And maybe Rhodey.

Who is he kidding, everyone on the team needs therapy.

“I'm not telling you to go into his room and interrogate the kid, Barnes. I'm asking you what I can do to help this broken and brainwashed kid that's not even fully human.” Tony gestures from the ex-assassin to where the hologram used to be. “From a previously broken and brainwashed person to another. I need suggestions that I can use to help earn his trust so he can get better.”

That seems to surprise Barnes, probably because Tony has never asked for his help before. They usually avoid each other like the plague. 

Tony sees the surprise and shrinks in his chair just a little. He turns and rests an arm on his table. Fiddling with a few metal pieces strewn around, he avoids Barnes’ questioning look. 

“I know we haven't gotten on the best of terms and I know it's not your fault. What happened in Siberia never should have happened. A lot of anger and secrets were thrown around and none of it was your fault. It was equally Steve’s and mine. We both made mistakes.” He runs a hand through his hair, messing up the perfectly styled locks. 

“The two of us have too much pride, and so we walk around on eggshells while trying not to step on each other's toes. I should have talked about this sooner with you, but you run away from me everytime we’re in the same room together and I just didn’t want to bring up something so painful.” Tony drops the piece he’s playing with and turns to look at the ex-assassin. “You went through a lot of pain with Hydra. You had to go through so much on your own just to remember a small part of your past. I’m sorry about what happened that day.”

This appears to completely blindside Barnes. He clearly never thought something like this would happen. Clearly didn’t think he deserved an apology. “I thought you hated me and were just doing this because King T’Challa asked,” Barnes says. “I didn’t want to bring up any bad memories, so I just stayed out of your way. I know things are still a little tense between the teams and I didn’t want to make it worse.”

“Well, gee. Now I feel even worse for not talking to you sooner,” Tony says with a small chuckle. “Nah. Don’t worry about it. If anyone is gonna make things worse, it's probably going to be me. Don’t worry about it, really. Pepper and Rhodey know how to make sure I don’t put my foot in my mouth.”

When Tony doesn’t get a response, he pulls up the hologram again. “Now, how do I help this kid so he doesn’t have to go through the deprogramming alone?”

[ravennaortiz]

One day

Summary: Sequel to Be Okay- A Chibs Story

As always 18+

Chibs sat in the chapel of the hospital. He had been on his knees, hands clasped crying and begging for hours for you too be okay. For the doctors and nurses to put you back together. For you to open those beautiful eyes. For you to say anything at all. To see your smile, hear your laugh, feel you warm breath on his ear as you whispered to him. Once again he found himself traveling down the reason he was here and you were in surgery. “My fault” he said out loud his words echoing off the walls.

 The ambulance ride had been tense and painful. His mind reeling of the what ifs. They were struggling to get an iv when your heart stopped. The drawn out beep and the blank screen had been gut wrenching. He could only sit back and watch as the paramedics fought to bring you back. The crack of ribs, demands to push this and that made him sick to his stomach. He couldn’t look away though. His eyes were locked on your lifeless ones. He prayed to a god he wasn’t sure he still believed in. He prayed for you to be okay. He pleaded for him to fix this, this you. Give you a chance like you had given him a chance. “My fault” mumbled Chibs right as the monitor beeped again and showed a slight pulse. With a shaky breath he exhaled as he closed his eyes, thank you.

“I need to go with her” Chibs had bellowed as he swung at one of the male nurses. Thankfully for him and the nurse Tig and Juice grabbed onto him and pulled him back to the doors of the er. “Chibs, shhh, its okay” murmured Tig as he held Chibs to him. “No no no” grunted Chibs as he struggled to get out of both man’s grip. “You gotta let them work on her. They have to take her somewhere you can’t go. “soothed Tig. “I need her to be okay Tig” murmured Chibs as he slowly dropped to his knees. “We know” stated Juice as he patted Chibs shoulder. “All my fault boys” Chibs murmured as tears poured down his scarred face.

“Chibs” called Tara as she stepped into the chapel carefully. Frowning as she caught the older mans words. She knew there would be no use in correcting him though. Chibs bolted up his eyes red and swollen. He looked frantic. “Is she” he started to ask as Tara smiled softly and nodded. “She’s going to be okay. She is coming off anesthesia and should be awake in hopefully a few hours.” Replied Tara as Chibs moved and pulled her in for a hug. “Thank you. I don’t know how I can ever repay you” sniffled Chibs.

Once you were able to have visitors he was by your side. Holding your hand, fixing you hair, placing gentle kisses over the bruises on your face. He would have climbed in the bed but Tara said you were to fragile. He talked to you, sang to you. Listed all the reasons he loved you. Waiting on you to open your eyes so he could bask in your love that shown through. The club came and went around him. Dropping off fresh coffee, gifts and food.

You were well loved by the club. Each member have a unique relationship with you. You were more than just Chibs Old Lady. You were warm and friendly, always taking care of them. Looking out when you could. Sweet as pie is how Happy described you. Calm in the eye of any storm. Wouldn’t hurt a fly. All this to say is why Tig and Juice were so slow to respond to the angry screams and sound of things crashing from your hospital room. Surely you wouldn’t be yelling and cussing right?

“Lassie stop… It’s me” begged Chibs as he dodged flying medical equipment as you screamed at him to get out. Your eyes full of a fury and hatred he had never seen before.

“What’s going on?” demanded Tara as she pushed the men out of her way.

“I don’t want them in here” you had spat as tears poured down your face. Tara simply nodded as she started to usher the three men out.

“Wait. Love please” pleaded Chibs as he managed to get to your bedside. Your next words nearly killed him.

***

Your words echoed through Chibs mind as he rode back home from the hospital. He wanted nothing more to stay but you had sent him away. He had left like a beat dog with his tail tucked as Tig and Juice tried to plead his case.

"Why did it take you so long?"

He couldn’t blame you. It was a valid question. One he didn’t have an answer for. One day you would forgive him though he prayed.

Three Months Later

"Look at you Lass" murmured Chibs as he sat watching you take your first steps since your attack. You gave him a small smile as tears snaked down your cheeks and your body shook with the effort.

You thought that week being beaten had been hell but nothing had come close to touching the torture that was relearning how to do things that came easily. You were thankful for Chibs sticking by you no matter how mean you were, how many things you threw at him. Him and his love were always by your side. Telling you one day you would be okay.

"Guess one day was today" you stated as he kissed your forehead once you had reached him.

[sunnycanvas]

Hello^^ I have been following your blog for a while and like that you want to explore different concepts with Baldwin IV👑🩵

If you don’t mind, would you like to write either a short drabble or Hcs of Baldwin comforting his wife after a really difficult birth? Like, it all turned out okay, the wife is alive, albeit very exhausted, the Baby came out to be strong and healthy, etc. but it was a very risky and long labor, and the physicians weren’t sure if she and the child were going to make it yk? After all, giving birth was highly risky back then, with a much higher mortality rate.

Anyway, I hope you are having a great day and keep up the good work🥳🌈✨

Yelp! It went longer that I expected. Hopefully it lives upto mark. Thank you for your support and happy reading

It felt so peaceful. So dark. I was exhausted and felt solace in darkness. However in my deep slumber I heard a sound of weeping. Someone calling my name. Begging me to come back. "Your grace the queen is fine but really exhausted" "Please let her sleep" "She needs rest to regain strength" . I think I heard some shouts and I don't remember much after that except the fact that I tried opening my eyes but I felt so tired. When I was finally able to open my eyes. I felt my mouth open and chest sweaty huffing desperate to get fresh air. "When did this happen" I thought. It almost felt like a dream .My head was spinning. My throat felt dry. I tried moving a bit when I could feel sticky wet substance below my waist I tried moving my legs again but realised that I was too exhausted to do so . "What's happening" I thought again worried.

"My wife is finally awake, quickly get some water"

My husband took the glass of water from widwife. Baldwin IV made me sit upright as he quickly fed me water. Baldwin IV didn't realise in state of panic how fast he was being in feeding me water. I started coughing as result

"Easy love". He gently rubbed my back as he handed back glass of water to midwife. My husband started kissing me all over my face and then hugged me tightly.

"Darling, you made it" "I am really happy" "When I saw you laying down like that l" "I was so scared, I thought I will never see you again" I could feel my shoulder getting wet from his tears as Baldwin IV kissed my hair while speaking to me. I remembered that when I was going through difficult labour. Although the baby came out alive and strong they weren't sure I would make it. After hearing this I lost consciousness

Remembering about the baby I asked where is the baby right now. Baldwin IV replied that our child was fine and is currently with the midwife who was taking care of baby

"Moment I heard one of the midwife saying that perhaps you might not survive I grew anxious and prayed to God on my knees for some miracle"

I got really scared remembering the pain I had to bear while screaming in agony. I got really nervous realising how close I was knocking at death's door. My husband the king, Baldwin IV was able to comprehend my emotional state. Without hesitation he took off his white cloak and covered me in it. He hugged me again and started drawing circles on arm while singing a lullaby. It worked and I felt myself getting calmer. "My love I am here" "I'll be there to protect you, even if it's my own battle". Hearing this I immediately voiced my thoughts "It had been a tough experience" ."We will have more children I swear it, it would be better for everyone"

"Was that the reason why you decided to have a baby"

"......."

Baldwin IV understood the meaning behind my silence. Baldwin IV sat on the bed and said "Yes, it's true that I always wanted to have a family of my own but long before I accepted my fate as leper and decided to live my life in chasity" "I am willing to go back to same life" "I thank God every day that you came in my life perhaps God gave you difficult labour because I was being greedy"

"No, love". "The kingdom needs a heir" "And I will give birth to as many children as possible" Baldwin IV understood the pressure I felt as queen replied "I know my (Y/N)" "And if you feel you don't want to go through it again" "I would have no problem with that, I will happily except our child as first and last". Baldwin IV called one of his ministers and said "Tell the council that I will be taking rest, Raymond of Tripoli could rule in my place for the time being". I was about to protest but Baldwin IV put a finger against my lips shushing me. "You were left alone during your labour, but I won't be leaving you alone after I almost lost you" "Come now love, let's sleep together" "After that we will be taking a bath together and enjoy all the activities you prefer" "You need rest" "I will ensure you won't be going out of my sight for the time being". Baldwin IV got next to me and pulled me closer. "I can't sleep" I complained

"In that case I shall tell you stories of brave knights and kings". I smiled remembering Baldwin IV loved history and foundly I watched him and he excitedly recalled the history stories he learned.

[braxlrose]

I miss ur writings sm :(

I am so sorry that I've been gone for so long, I haven't posted any fan fiction in so many months and honestly I lost motivation 😭 so many ppl who were in this fandom and I created a community with, were slowly getting over this "phase" and it definitely affected me. But I'm going to try and get back into writing. I hope this will do good for now! Ive had a lot of ppl recently ask for 2005 bill hcs, and I've done that before so if this is repetitive for something else I've written, sorry!

content warnings: none

a/n: I'll be updating my tag list since it hasn't been updated since like August of last year and I don't want to be tagging people who don't care or want to see these posts anymore. So if you wanna be tagged, let me know!

2005!bill kaulitz x f!reader

sfw:

- I'm an alternative person so whenever I write for bill, I always imagine him with an alternative girl 😞 even though from what I've seen he's never really been w/ an alternative one, BUT LETS PRETEND OKAY 🙏🙏

• he absolutely loves doing hair together, I think he enjoys helping you do your hair in the morning and your make up. And he's even more greatful if you do his makeup. Then he can just relax while you help him.

• pookie has crunchy ass hair at the end of the day when he has to wash it out, don't make fun of him 😞

• getting piercings together is something he LOVES doing with you. Mainly early piercings because he only has a tongue and eyebrow piercing on his face.

• if you made music too, he would always go to your concerts and basically scream the entire time. Hopefully, you'd do the same for him.

• if you have longer nails, head scratches are always a must and he will lay in your lap for literal hours while you pamper him.

- I personally think he would love to learn words in your language if you keep something different than German. And despite what anybody thinks, he finds it hilarious to learn the dirty words.

• if you cook him something from your culture, he will literally die. He basically thinks everything about you is so cool, and learning about a culture different from his is so exciting

• but if you two really want to date, you'll have to both try to learn English or each other language because there is going to be a hard language barrier between you two.

- I think one of the reasons he would've fallen in love with you is because you were upfront with him. He's not the type of guy to just go up and kiss someone so if you confess first, that would make things so much easier.

- obviously, you'd have to get along with Tom, Georg and Gustav. So if you don't, there's no way he'll go out with you, especially if you can't get along or hate Tom.

-Dates together consist of stuff you guys bought somewhere, or if you guys went to a fastfood restaurant.

• He doesn't have a lot of money yet so dates wouldn't exactly be high class, hopefully you don't mind 😉

-Since this is around the time Tokio Hotel is getting increasingly famous, there are fangirls around trying to flirt and ask out bill all the time and he has to shoo them off. He reminds you every night about how much he loves you and that those fan girls shouldn't bother you.

-he likes to spoon you a lot, and you two switch back n forth between him being the big spoon and the small spoon.

• I think he also really likes it when you lay on top of him, with your face in his neck and your legs wrapped around him. (This also works sitting upwards).

• cuddling with him is so nice too because he actually smells really good 😱

- I think he still gets very insecure sometimes because of the haters and people who harass the band because they don't like them and you reassure him a lot.

a/n pt 2: sorry this wasn't too long! I'm trying to get back into the groove of writing so if this is terrible I'm sorry 😞

taglist: none right now