#let me just sit in a room alone with objects that is truly all i want

[unholyhelbig]

hold on can we have more firecrest?

Title: Firecrest (Part 3/???)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Summary: Kate Bishop and y/n have an unspoken agreement that revolves around being enemies with benefits. But when Kate's new mentor is someone Y/n is very familiar with, things become complicated.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, Sub/dom dynamics, strap-on, nipple play, nipple clamps, Slight edging (idk I don't write smut often), horrible parenting, talks about neglect, horrible grammar

[A/n: For some reason, this is the only story that I can sit down long enough to write, so let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

Her apartment was located above a pizza shop that operated well into the early morning hours. You’d never seen in truly closed but had only been here twice before. There was the constant acidic scent of tomato sauce that somehow bred comfort.

A man was hunched on the curb, folding a slice of dripping pie at an angle that covered his face in the greasy discharge. He had mumbled something to you around mouthfuls of cheese and dough, nodding vaguely at the cement block that propped open the door to the units.

You thanked him with a nod and slid into the air-conditioned corridor. The coolness seemed to bring clarity with it, but you didn’t stop your legs from sorely dragging you up the steps towards the unit. Why were you here? Kate Bishop was not your girlfriend. Not really.

She was cocky, and clumsy, and the object of your fathers desired attentions. For all intents and purposes, she should be your worst enemy. The bane of your existence, and in some moments, she was. But right now you swallowed your pride and realized that you needed her. Even if she didn’t need you.

You were entirely confident that Kate would turn you away. It was late. You’d spent most of the day shut-in your own apartment; the blinds drawn and mindless movies bathing you in a blue glow. You hadn’t eaten, or showered, or done anything that was considered productive aside from icing your knee with a bag of peas.

When you knocked, you hadn’t expected a muffled bark as an answer. Maybe you had the wrong apartment, or at least, you thought you did until you heard Kate’s tender admonishing. Three deadbolts clicked and clacked until the door was swung open.

Your mouth went dry at the sight of her. Kate’s hand gripped the doorframe, her muscular frame hugged by a tank-top and a pair of purple boxer shorts with little arrows sprinkled across the fabric. You could see her abdominal muscles as she steadied her breath. Her cheeks were tinted a light red.

You’d seen that look before. It was arousal. The sweet smell of sex was emanating from her, a light sheen of sweat catching the overhead lights with each inhale. She panted out “Hi,”

“I’m sorry,” You shook your head, blinking a few times “I didn’t mean to interrupt anything, I can just-“

When you attempted to take a step back, her hand darted out and grabbed onto a fistful of fabric, pulling you out of the hallway by your shirt. You dumbly allowed her to manhandle you and stumbled into her space before she closed the heavy oak door.

“No, you’re fine I’m… alone.”

You lifted an eyebrow, and she gave you a nervous smile, unhanding you and wiping her palm on the front of her own shirt. You opened your mouth to rib her (just a little) but caught the sound of nails clicking against linoleum. A smile, a genuine one, spread across your lips.

A blur of fur, golden and soft, failed to hide excitement as a dog clomped towards you. He stopped a little short, sliding on the floor and barreling into your legs. You knelt down and scratched behind the marvelous creatures ears, noting that he was a bit of a misfit like you, pirated and plagued with one eye.

He licked your face generously and you giggled. Actually giggled, because you had forgotten the audience in the room. Suddenly screwing your face back into it’s signature scowl and flicking your eyes back up to Kate. She bit the side of her hand to hide her own grin.

“I thought you said you were alone, Bishop.”

“Oh, this free-loader? Lucky doesn’t pay rent, so he doesn’t count.”

“Lucky,” You breathed, carding your fingers through his fur. He wiggled with excitement, his tail pounding against the floor as he shoved his head under your chin, nudging you to get closer than he already had. “You’re a good boy, I bet. Don’t listen to your mean old landlord.”

When you stood, much to Lucky’s dismay, Kate was staring at you with a starry look in her eyes. You narrowed your own, crossing your arms over your chest. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing. I’ve just never seen you like that.”

“Like what?”

“Soft.”

You scoffed indignantly “I am not soft!”

She hummed dismissively and padded across the room until she reached her kitchen. Kate popped the fridge open and that was enough of a call for Lucky to abandon you (maybe he was a traitor) and wait expectantly for something to drop. Nothing did, and Kate squeezed the tip of an orange juice container before chugging diligently from the carton.

Kate was captivating like this. You’d seen her in many settings, but relaxed like this, was not one of them. Her hair was slightly muffed and she was mostly bare. The cold of the room made it hard for you not to notice the way her chest perked up under the thin fabric of her shirt.

You were in deep, down bad. Not having been sexually satisfied by anything more than your fingers since the little arson incident. So, you cleared your throat and sidled up to the other end of the kitchen island. At least there was that separating the two of you. She set the carton down and leaned forward, pushing her breasts out.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, y/n?”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet her eyes. She knew exactly what she was doing, and the smirk on her face eluded to that. It was a subtle shift, from being embarrassed about her current state, to milking the arrogance.

“Nothing I just… was restless, I guess. Didn’t want to be alone.”

Her expression softened “Did something happen?”

You shook your head. She didn’t need to know about Clint and his valiant effort to protect the one he really cared for. It would throw her into turmoil, threaten something she had worked so hard for. You may resent your father, but you were a far cry from resenting Kate.

“You’re pent up, then?”

“Excuse me?”

She shrugged her shoulders and took another long gulp of orange juice. You felt your mouth dry as her throat worked at the drink. Even with the carton blocking her expression, you could see that she was smirking. Her eyes gave her away, and she didn’t break contact with you for a single moment before pulling it away, and predictably throwing it into the trashcan with accuracy.

“We could go upstairs,”

Kate closed the distance between the both of you. Your skin felt like it was on fire, arousal shooting straight from your gut the second you could smell the dangerous mix of wintergreen and citrus on her breath. She had a few inches on you, her arm snaking around your mid-section. She pulled you flush against her with a quickness that took your breath.

“That is, if you promise to not to get fire-happy.” Her slender fingers started to play with the silver necklace hanging between your clavicle. “I just repainted after the last one.”

“The last one?”

Kate didn’t’ answer you, instead she pressed her lips against yours, her tongue suddenly exploring your mouth. There was a sour, orange taste to her kiss and you sighed into it, seemingly melting into the archer. Hell- you could ask her about the fire after your mind stopped fogging.

There was a something so alluring about Kate Bishop that made your mind shut-off. You’d do anything and everything she said and that was apparent from the first time the two of you had laid together. She had you on your knees in a matter of minutes, completely stripped nude of your own accord. Her fingers were between your legs and nothing else mattered. You knew that she would take care of you, and you her.  

She pulled back and nudged her nose with yours. “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” You whispered, voice tinged with lust.

A yelp escaped you when she hauled you up into her arms. Her hands grasped at your ass, holding you in place as you encircled her hips. You knew Kate was strong, but you were a rock yourself. She seemed to hold you effortlessly, not looking where she was going as she ascended the steps and nipped sloppily at your neck.

Stars swallowed you, heart pounding in your chest. You’d been here before, yes, mostly to drop off something for Eleanors fundraisers, or to return a gym bag that was left behind. They were short interactions that certainly never led to the bedroom.

For all of her haste, Kate set you down gently on her comforter. It smelled overwhelmingly like her. There was something digging into your spine, and you squirmed, propping yourself up on your elbow and producing the silicone vibrator that had been keeping Kate company. Of course, it was purple.

“Seriously?”

“Shut up,” she husked, snatching it from you and throwing it down onto the carpeted floor. “I have better toys than that.”

That did effectively silence you, blush coloring your cheeks. She was smiling down wolfishly at you, so much so, that an attractive growl that bordered human escaped her. You’d never heard a more attractive noise following a statement so bold. Desperately you craned your neck and kissed her, hard.

Her fingers were cold, goosebumps rising against your skin as she moved them under your shirt and scratched down your ribs. You desperately moaned into her mouth and she swallowed the sound effortlessly. Her hand had found your right breast, and you twitched as her thumb brushed over the sensitive bud.

“What,” You snarled into her mouth, each one of her exhales splaying against your cheek. “Kind of toys?”

A look of apprehension seemed to cross her face. The archer was completely on top of you, grinding down against your body in a motion that gave way to the desperation that you felt. Both of her hands were planted on either side of you, holding herself up.

Kate had suddenly switched back to her bashful self, and while the expression was cute, you were thoroughly worked up. You tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and spoke softly. “Hey, you aren’t going to break me, okay? If I’m uncomfortable with something, I’ll tell you.”

“I know it’s just,” she paused, frowned in almost a pout before a look of finality crossed her face. “what if I want to break you?”

While you were rendered silent, you felt a pang of arousal swim to your gut. A noise had pushed past your lips. Something that was so desperate, you weren’t sure it even came from you. Here was this girl, this person that you’d wanted to beat your entire life, and she had you pinned beneath her.

“Kate, I think I’ll physically die if you don’t take what you want, and fuck me until I’m dumb.” You arched yourself from the bed, stopping just short of pressing your lips to hers. You murmured against her. “Use me.”

That vicious spark returned to her eyes and she was suddenly scrambling off of you. For a moment, you were worried that you’d scared her off, but she nearly tripped over her discarded combat boots trying to get to her walk in closet. You could hear things clanging, falling over, and being sent across the room.

“Just, hold on! Don’t go anywhere!” softer, mumbled with a poisonous determination “I know it’s here somewhere.”

When she remerged, she was out of breath and leaning suavely against the door. The bulge that pressed against the opening of her boxers, you had seen before, many times. Kate had never used a strap on you before. Most of your intimate interactions were isolated to storage closets, or locker room showers. Her’s, of course, was bigger than you expected, and the same royal purple as the rest of her personality.

She held something in her right hand, something you had, of course, seen while your Bluetooth headphones were on and saving you the embarrassment of playing porn out loud. A silver chain that ended in crocodile clamps on each side. Black rubber tipped each clip for comfort. A bigger silver ring sat comfortably in the middle, the perfect size to wrap two fingers around and tug.

“Huh,” you let the corner of your lip quirk up affectionately.

“Oh god, you hate it.”

“No, no. I didn’t say that. Just surprised is all.” You sat up entirely, feeling your pulse point at your core. You were still much too clothed for your liking. They started to itch against your skin. You were going to lose it if she didn’t’ rip them off soon. “Impressed, actually.”

She lifted an eyebrow at you and once against closed the distance. She towered over you completely, standing between your legs in the same exact way she had at the gym. You couldn’t stop your mind from wandering dangerously to how she’d feel inside of you, stretching you.

“We should have a safe word,” She purred, brushing her hand against your cheek. “You need to tell me if you’re uncomfortable.”

“Okay, what do you suggest?”

She smiled “Flame-on”

You groaned and buried your nose in the warmth of her neck. You could feel the vibration of her glorious laugh and the quiet it brought you was unmatched. You knew you were fucked, but it was easier to ignore the looming thoughts of something more in exchange for this.

“Fine, fine. Not a fan of Johnny Storm, then?” You pulled back and leveled her with a glare. You’d never met the man and frankly despised the notation that everyone with pyrotechnic powers knew one another “How about red?”

Contemplating didn’t take long. It was a simple color that reminded you of stop. You didn’t want to tell Kate that most of your forays into the depths of the internet involved the very items that she held in her hands. This seemed to be new for both of you. Red was good. Red was comfortable.

“I’m all yours,” You wrapped your arms around her waist, her stomach level with your eyes. You peered up at her, knowing that they glowed with your own arousal. “Do what you want with me.”

“Take off your shirt.” She snarled, suddenly switching back to that dominant woman who had carried you up here. Now that the rules were set, you were confident that she wouldn’t be edging into her demure nature anytime soon. “I want to see what’s mine.”

You didn’t have to be told twice. Kate had seen you naked before, but each time, she got a misty look in her eyes that spurred you on. She seemed to admire the expanses of skin that she could nip at, and soothe with her tongue. The burn scars that never quite healed. All of you, she found beautiful.

Her stare moved down to your front-latching bra, head tilting to the side. “Wow. Were you expecting something to happen tonight, slut?”

The word sent shivers down your spine, especially when they came from her mouth. Kate straddled you then, her weight familiar. You moved to encircle her, hug her close, but her hand splayed against your chest and held you there. “No touching. I’m in control tonight.”

You nodded, too desperately for your liking. Her fingers dragged down to the latch and unhooked it. The familiar pressure was instantly relieved and Kate’s eyes hungrily devoured your breasts. You knew she had a thing for them- always had- which is why the shock wasn’t so visceral when it came to the clamps.

Kate’s strap was aligned with your stomach, but, she didn’t seem to notice how intimidating her length was. Her mouth dropped to your breasts and a content sigh escaped you. Your hands itched to run against her, but that would just delay the pleasure that she offered.

Her tongue expertly circled one nipple, while she teased the other between her forefinger and thumb. You arched towards her and gasped as her teeth scraped against the sensitive area. In a matter of seconds, she had you writhing under her, a complete mess.

“God, you’re desperate.” She hummed against you. “I’ve barely touched you, baby.”

You were well aware of that. An embarrassed flush crept across your neck. Normally, you wouldn’t let Kate have the satisfaction. But right now, you would let Kate have anything she wanted. The chain made a soft noise. You shuddered as it’s chilled surface was dragged between the center of your breasts.

You took a deep breath, Kate’s stare dominant, but questioning all the same. You were both well-aware that this was on the tamer side of things. But you’d never let someone have full control before, including her. She was taking this slow, and it was something you appreciated. Something you needed right now.

When the first clamp was placed, you couldn’t help the shudder that rocked through you. It was an odd, pinching sensation that was soon replaced with a bolt of pleasure. Kate’s thumb brushed lightly against your other nipple, not letting up on it’s torment. She clamped the second one on and this time, a heated groan left you.

“Fuck,” She gripped your sides, moving back to get a good look “You look so beautiful like this.”

Her hands moved down to your hips and in a swift, possessive, movement she had you flipped onto your back. She unbuttoned your pants and started to slide them down your legs. You were impossibly wet, having soaked through your underwear. If you prayed that Kate wouldn’t notice, your hopes were dashed by her cocksure smile.

“Katie,” You whined, the cold air hitting your legs just seconds after she had discarded your jeans. Your fingers brushed against her side, instantly conjuring goosebumps. “Please,”

She hissed through clenched teeth, grabbing both of your hands and pinning them above your head with one, strong grip. When she pressed the lower half of her body down on top of you, you felt the pressure of the much-too-intimidating strap.

“I said no touching, remember?” She lilted her head, took the slack of the chain and twirled it around her finger “I would hate to have to punish you, pet.”

You wouldn’t. There were a few seconds where you contemplated testing your luck, being a brat, just to see if you could get a rise out of her. But she pulled the thin strip of fabric covering your core to the side, dipping her finger into your heat.

“Oh, fuck.” You arched your back off the bed. “Kate, I’m… I need you inside of me.”

You reveled in the way a chill ran through her, her grip on your hands slackening just a moment before it tightened. “Just checking to see how ready you are.”

Beyond. You nearly folded when you felt her guide the cool tip of the strap against your entrance. It’s head pushed the smallest bit into you. Truthfully, you had never taken something this big. But you were nothing, if not determined.

Kate pushed her full length into you in a soft motion, all the while tugging at the center of the chain. The combination of sensations brought a stream of expletives that you hadn’t used in years. Both of you seemed to forget about Kate’s rule about not touching.

She pumped in and out of you, keeping a steady pressure on the chain. Your moans seemed to synch, her overwhelming warmth increasing the building peaks of your core. You hugged her as close as you could, hands splayed against her back.

“Shit, you’re so tight, baby.” She growled into your ear, “You take me so well. Such a good girl, taking everything I give you.”

She shifted, hitting your g-spot with ferocity. Each thrust pushing a satisfied moan from your lips. Between each one, you exhaled “I’m going to come, shit, Katie.”

“Not yet. Not until I give you permission.”

She was getting close, you could feel the subtle tightening of her stomach. Kate had a tendency to bury her face in the small of your neck when the tension built like this. Two more even pushes and her nose was against your throat, feeling the pulse point that quickened with each passing moment.

“Come for me, you desperate, little slut.”

Again, she pulled on the chains, distinct pleasure rushing through you. You tightened around her, the moans becoming more desperate. Kate came with you, breathing heavy, mewling against your throat. You could feel her heart against your chest, could feel the fire brewing just below your fingertips. You were true to your word, however, and kept your promise. No arson.

A whimper escaped you when Kate unclipped the clamps, still inside you. Feeling returned to your nipples with a blast of pleasurable pain followed by a wave of warmth. She smirked at you, face red and hair messed up. She sat perfectly on your hips, you still twitched around her.

“Jesus, y/n.” Kate panted, leaning down and kissing you sweetly. You eagerly returned it, still able to taste the citrus on her tongue. “Who knew you were a little freak?”

Her hand pressed down on your stomach with the slightest pressure as she pulled out of you with a wet noise. She landed next to you, trying to catch her breath. You found yourself laughing, fully sated, fully pleasured.

“That? It was nothing.” She gave you a mock frown, and you backtracked “Expertly done, and very, very hot. But it’ll take more than that to break me.”

“Who said I was done?” Kate smiled lazily at you, “I’m just going to… rest my eyes for a second. Get ready for the second pounding of your life.”

You watched as her eyes slowly closed, a look of pure bliss on her face. It was a thing of beauty, one that you could get used to. She could sleep anywhere, falling into unconsciousness with a graceful ease that you lacked.

She’d hug her gym bag close as a pillow under the florescent lights of the convention centers you frequented in childhood. She’d curl up under a tree when you both attended university together, often getting patterns burned into her skin, easy to make fun of.

It was always endearing, but it settled you with an admired warmth right now. You easily shifted her until she was laying comfortably, pulling her duvet up to her chin. Kate made a small noise at the back of her throat and curled into a deeper slumber.

God. You were so fucked.

The sun flitted the industrial windows in Kate’s apartment that you hadn’t noticed before. They were dusty with time, but still allowed a considerable amount of light. The whir of a fan in the corner lulled you into a peaceful afterglow.

Sleep didn’t come easily for you. Sometimes, you would drift into a half-state of lucidness on the sofa, the movie you put on as some form of noise droned on and you’d always startle awake with a kink in your neck and a strange tiredness clinging to you.

Your therapist had suggested practicing healthy sleeping habits. Only use the bed for sleep, don’t read there, don’t doom-scroll on your phone. You were meant to utilize the exhaustion in your bones to your benefit. And for the first few nights, it had worked.

But, then the nightmares that often accompanied the rem cycle started to push to the forefront of your mind. The same terror on your mothers face as a cobalt blue clouded your vision. It was suffocating, and the sharp burning in your chest would bring you back to the inky black, too-cold, room.

A sleepy groan escaped you, pressing your face closer into the warmth that you embraced. Kate lacked her signature scent, and she seemed… furrier than usual. You didn’t want to pry your eyes open yet. You didn’t want the lazy morning to end with the harsh reality of feelings you were less than enthusiastic to explore.

It took you three more seconds of pressing your nose into something that smelled suspiciously like dog, to realize that’s exactly what it was.

Lucky was fast asleep, pressed flush against you over the duvet that you had shimmied under at some point in the night. He was a buffer between you and the empty half of the bed. You figured Kate was an early riser, or something had stirred her. She spooked easily. You hoped desperately that it wasn’t you who had scared her.

She was rifling around in the closet. Your hand splayed against golden fur, you absently ran you fingers through it. He was a lazy dog, and it was something you appreciated. Both of you watched with unimpressed eyes as she emerged, not expecting you to be awake.

Kate smiled at you, and then seemed to realize that it was effortless, because it took a few moments for her to school her features into something stoic. She was still wearing her boxer shorts and tank-top from last night. You fought back a frown. Kate had gotten you naked without even trying. Your own clothes were scattered across the room.

“Promise you won’t freak out?”

You propped yourself up on your elbow. Lucky huffed in annoyance. “I can’t promise that”

She gave you a nervous look and tossed a sweatshirt towards you. The fabric was soft, and it was her signature purple color, and what she was rifling around the closet for. You felt your cheeks heat up, holding the cool garment flush against you.

“Clint is on his way,”

“Oh my god.”

“Yeah, oh my god.”

Pretending to be anything more than friends with benefits sounded good on paper. It made Clint irate and that was good for some cheap thrills. But the two of you hadn’t practiced any form of affection outside of the bedroom. You had a cold exterior, and a single look could send Kate into a rambling mess, as if she’d been injected with truth serum.

“I can sneak out the window?” You pulled the sweater over your head, reaching blindly for your jeans. The button had fallen off, and you couldn’t locate your underwear. Kate watched you with a quiet amusement until you stood across from her. “Second floor isn’t too bad. The daylight kills my cover a bit, but-“

“You should stay.” Her voice came out a little too loud. She took a deep breath, “I want you to stay.”

A pang of affection ran through you, reflexively you dropped your hold on your jeans. They fell around your ankles in a pool of denim. It earned a snicker from Kate, but you didn’t’ mind. The sound was heavenly and made your head feel unbelievably fuzzy, despite the embarrassment.

She wordlessly thrust a pair of sweatpants into your hands. It was soft, and you would swim in it. This would be easy, a simple way to pull at Clint’s nerves. Cruel, maybe, but each time you imagined that pitying look on his face as he pleaded with you to leave Kate alone, that rush of anger came back.

When Kate turned, you pressed you palm to your lips to keep from yelping out a laugh. Kate’s tank-top was still it’s stark white, just with two scorched marks in the shape of your hands. You had kept your promise, not catching anything on fire, but you came pretty damn close.

You wanted to tell her, really, you did. But the sound of the front door opening and closing caught your attention. Lucky let out a terse bark and cut through the both of you to fling himself down the stairs. Clint, you had heard from your mother, had a way with all animals. Not just birds.

“Katie Kate! I grabbed some bagels from the bodega on the corner. I know you only have one knife but I grabbed extras.”

She gave you a sheepish smile, leaning forward and kissing the corner of your lip. You froze, Kate’s hands squeezing your arms. The archer didn’t pause in her movements, as if they were second nature. She started to head down the stairs, leaving you in a bewildered state.

You let out a shuddered breath, clenching your eyes shut to steady yourself. Not even the dog was left in the room. A simple display of affection that seemed to just be for the two of you. This warmed you like no one-night-stand and horrible instant coffee could.

Clint noticed you instantly, using a plastic knife to separate two halves of a doughy bagel. His movements stilled; taking in your disheveled hair and the oversized clothing that you dawned. It was more than clear that you’d spent the night and his mouth opened with an audible pop.

Kate was pouting quietly at the empty carton of orange juice that she had drained last night. Lucky padded over to you, pushing his cool nose into your palm, tail thumping. Clint watched the interaction, one half of the bagel hitting the kitchen island with a plop.

“Good morning, baby. Sorry if we woke you.” Her scent was suddenly invading your space, another kiss, this time, more than chaste, landed on your lips. Clint paled, swallowing hard. His eyes flicked to the scorch marks on Kate’s shirt.

“Mm, not at all. Good morning, Clint.”

“Morning, y/n.”

Kate wrapped her arms around you effortlessly and hugged you against her front. Her chin rested on your shoulder, cheek pressed to your own. You were convinced that she could feel how rapid your heart was beating.

She had fit into the role of girlfriend perfectly. You, on the other hand, bit your tongue to keep from malfunctioning. Last night was so effortless. Your lust drove you, and your skin prickled at the memory of Kate’s tongue between your breasts. You shivered now, and she smirked into your neck.

“What are you guys up to today?”

You asked the question out of politeness, but your voice wavered all the same. Kate gave you an encouraging squeeze. Clint darted his eyes back and forth. An air of panic seemed to seize him and he made quick work of putting cream cheese on an untoasted bagel.

“Nothing.” Clint is quick to dismiss you. There was almost a hint of jealousy there, something that Kate picked up on too. The twitching of her fingers against the smoothness of your skin was enough to alert you to the fact.

You drew out your next word “Okay, I suppose I should get going, then.”

Playing the part, Kate let out a dissatisfied groan in response. You turned in her arms and gave her a look that was met with concern. Real concern. She pressed her forehead against your own and whispered ever-so-gently. Are you okay?

And you nodded, because you were. At least of the time being. The disgruntled actions of your biological father was enough. Having Kate hold you, even if it was all for show, was enough.

The key turned in the lock with an audible click. You made a point, when entering your mother’s shared space with Lance, to make as much noise as possible for both your benefit. The buttery scent of pancakes overwhelmed your senses and filled you with warmth.

It was Sunday, all of the windows open and an incredible dosage of sunlight filling the home. You’d grown up here between your travels and training. Bobbi had kept your room the same, hadn’t dared touched the pictures that lined the stairway. Professionally done and the portrait of a perfect family.

Your mother sipped a glass of orange juice at the table. Lance was humming a disjointed tune as he flipped a blueberry pancake, perfectly cooked and golden brown. He was wearing his glasses and a pair of plaid pajama pants. A far cry from the suits you were used to seeing him in, lately.

Bobbi’s pale green eyes flicked up from the paper she was reading, then back down before darting towards you again. Her fingers tightened around the glass. “Good morning, darling. Purple suits you.”

Lance turned with a furrowed expression. You’d worn the color before, it wasn’t as if there was an aversion to it. You’d successfully macgyvered your jeans before leaving Kate’s this morning, but you were still swimming in her sweatshirt. You found the minty scent comforting.

“A bit big, isn’t it?”

Bobbi was smirking behind her glass. You fought the urge to roll your eyes as you flopped down into the chair next to her. You leveled her with a glare that held no malice. She knew exactly what it was like to fall for a Hawkeye. They were charming, persistent, and overall, annoying.

The latter was starting to ebb away in the furthest reaches of your mind. There had always been jokes made by the elite families of New York, the ones who ran in the same circles that Eleanor and Lance did. Tabloids that voyeuristically took interest in the Bishop and Morse heirs.

Eventually, everyone proclaimed through silent looks and not-so-silent gossiping, you and Kate would end up together. The fire had squashed those rumors, and then reignited them glory. The attention made it hard to do your real job. But your chest oddly swelled with pride when Bobbi lifted an eyebrow at you.

“Is there something you want to tell us?”

Lance had flicked off the stoves burner and set a steaming pile of pancakes in the center of the table. None of you dug in. Your parents watched you, instead, almost giddy. They’d both had their fair share of run-in’s with Kate Bishop.

During your senior year, you would storm into the house and pace back and forth, seething about an award that Kate won or a competition that ended in a tie. They’d bide their time and wait. They waited for years and part of you dreaded giving them the satisfaction. You straightened in your chair, ran a finger over your fork.

“Not that I can think of,” You smirked.

“Okay,” Lance nodded “be that way.”

You huffed and reached for the plate, but he pulled it back slightly. A scrape sounding as porcelain hit wood “No Pancakes for you.”

They were enjoying this too much. You crossed your arms over your chest and stared at them with shock. Blueberry pancakes were your favorite, and you had a less than satisfactory morning. This felt like the SHIELD torture techniques they’d taught you years ago.

“Fine. Kate and I are seeing each other. Happy?”

You reached for the pancakes again, and again, Lance slid them back. “For how long?”

“Awhile”

“That’s not enough.” Bobbi cut into a pancake she had transferred onto her own plate, soaked in syrup and dripping. She took a bite and moaned in bliss. “Wow, babe, these are your best yet.”

“Before the fire at the benefit.” You supplied, hating the desperation that was in your voice. The way your stomach squeezed in hunger fueled your need. “She’s been my girlfriend for months.”

The words sent a thrill down your spine. They were entirely untrue, but your mother and Lance didn’t question it. In fact, he pulled out his time-worn wallet and produced a twenty-dollar bill. Bobbi took it wordlessly with a shit-eating grin on her face. She pushed the plate back in your direction.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“You were betting on us?”

“It’s more of a pool, really.” Lance defended, having the decency to blush.

“Unbelievable!”

Really, it wasn’t. Not with the rumors that swirled around the two of you since sandbox days. Your hunger overtook your indignance and you pulled two fluffy pancakes onto your plate. Angrily (as angrily as you could) you cut them into little pieces and chewed slowly with a frown.

Bobbi returned to reading the paper and Lance raised his hand for a high five. You scowled at him, shaking your head. Sheepishly he lowered it and returned to his own breakfast.

You’d scarfed down food faster than necessary before pouring yourself a cup of coffee and retiring to the wooden swing on the front porch. You breathed in the early morning air, the cool mist that coated the lawn. It was a quick moment of peace to settle your thoughts.

Your toes pushed against the porch, settling into an easy sway. You were left to your own devices, letting the rising sun warm your bones. Eventually, Bobbi joined you with her own cup of coffee, cupping the mug and lowering herself onto the other end of the bench with a slight groan. The chains screeched in protest.

Her hand found it’s way to your knee, giving it a slight squeeze. “We haven’t really had a chance to talk.”

You knew exactly what she meant. It wasn’t about Kate, though, you could sense the buzz of questions at the tip of her tongue. The two of you hadn’t addressed the Clint shaped elephant in the room, and you bit into the soft flesh of your cheek to calm the storm that washed over you in an instant.

“Are you okay?” She whispered

“I don’t know.”

The silence returned, and you wanted so desperately to break it. But you didn’t know what to say. Your throat tightened and you swallowed a gulp of scalding coffee. The heat pinched at your eyes and they watered listlessly.

“I hate that he matters. Clint Barton is a stranger to me, but he still holds this… this power.” You drew one leg up to your chest. “I wasn’t enough for him to stay.”

“Oh, baby”

Her gravelly words of comfort made you fold into the overwhelming emotions. Bobbi’s arm was around you and your face buried into her neck. You knew your nose was cold against her skin, but she said nothing. She gripped your side and pulled you close to her. You suddenly felt like a child again.

“That’s not true,” She pulled back, cupping both of your cheeks with her hands. She frantically wiped away your tears with her thumbs “We were both kids when we had you. I grew up, and he didn’t. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I don’t want you to doubt yourself. Your potential.”

“He…” You swallowed thickly, the words bitter in your mouth “he loves her more than me.”

It was an accusation that had tremendous merit. There was no malice towards Kate, not this time. She’d fallen into his good graces by pure luck. She’d told you the story as over two amber bottles of IPA that went down less than smooth.

“I mean, fuck, mom. He gave me the shovel talk.”

She frowned and pulled back, a certain anger falling over her facial expression. Your biological father warning you to stay away from his protégé was in bad taste. It left an ugly film over your skin. A seed of doubt that was planted by the man who abandoned you.

“You’ve never made me doubt myself. Every day of my life you’ve reminded me of my value, of what I’m capable of. I don’t want him to come over and blow that all down like the big bad wolf.”

“Sweet girl,” She pulled you back into her side, her floral scent coating your lungs. You hadn’t realized how cold you were until you cuddled into your mother as if you were nothing more than a scared child. Your fingers grasped at the fabric of her shirt like a life raft. “We’re stronger than that.”

Tag List💕: @noturlondonboy, @slvtformaria

[avocado-writing]

Can I request softdom reader loving Aziraphale🧁

notes: still waiting on that thigh tiktok, anon

pairing: aziraphale x reader

rating: E, minors dni

You find yourself often staring at Aziraphale’s legs.

You’ve always had a weak spot for a thick thigh, and his are delicious. Everything about Aziraphale has a little bit of added weight and it’s just wonderful. He is the perfect man. Well, angel. When you’re in bed together there’s always plenty to grab and squeeze and bite and press, a smorgasbord of physical delight.

But his legs. His legs are something else.

“Darling? Are you alright?” he asks when he spots you watching him. He’s across the room in his favourite chair, spread out enough to make him comfortable, and you feel ravenous. When you meet his gaze he seems genuinely confused. He’s not quite worked out that he is such an object of desire for you, so truly and utterly. One day you hope he’ll understand but until then you’re quite happy to prove it one night at a time.

“Oh, I’m fine. I was just thinking about… things.”

Aziraphale knows what this means. He swallows and blushes a bright pink.

When the moon is out, when you’re alone and the shop is closed, you have him sitting up against the headboard with his legs wide apart. You’re mounted on one of them, dragging yourself up and down his meaty thigh, fucking him without fucking him.

“My love… oh, gosh, please, I…”

“Shh,” you whisper, pressing a firm finger to his lips. You know he wants you to touch him, to touch himself, his cock is hard and throbbing and desperately leaking precome, but you’ve told him it isn’t allowed until you get off first. And you’re enjoying this far too much to rush it so he’s just going to have to be patient.

The angel whines and another gush of pre-spend drips down his shaft, soaking between his upper thighs and making them glisten. The sight makes you drool.

“Aren’t you just the most gorgeous thing?” you ask, softly, stroking his chest as you fuck down into his leg even harder, “Look at you. You’re perfect. So good for me, so obedient. Not touching your cock even though it’s aching.”

“Y-yes,” he agrees, his voice a reedy stutter. 

“Say it, angel.”

“Ah– what?”

“Let me hear you tell me that you’re a good boy.”

“I’m a good boy.” His hands tighten in the bedsheets, a true testament to his willpower. You come all over his thigh, coating him with your orgasm, a mark to how much you desire him. Taking his face in your hands you kiss him over and over before finally taking him in your hand. He doesn’t last more than a few strokes before releasing all over your knuckles with a bitten-off little moan.

“Perfect,” you say, and it is.

-

taglist: @angiestopit @dazed-soul @@foolishprincipalitee @smile-eywa @staygoldsquatchling02 @underratedboogeyman @cool-ontherun-world @emilynissangtr @cool-iguana @this--is--music @ilyatan @lxsm2 @clarina04 @wtfhasmy-lifecometo @mrgatotortuga @wereallbrokenangels @night-affiliate @silcosmoke @kimqueenofhell @chewbrry @bajablast23 @h3k3t @am-i-obsessed---maybe

[belit0]

Hi can you do Madara with number 2. Love your writing style especially the Madara ones.

(Part 2 of the Uchiha Mafia AU) @twilightlover2007

2) Madara: Oh, can’t find your clothes? Wear mine, they look better on you anyway.

Thank you so much for your words!! I truly appreacite you take the time to request something, thank you!

In fact, this prompt inspired me to make this writing part of the same world as this Mafia AU I did for Izuna, happening in the same universe, you know?

Technically, in that piece, I didn't reveal Izuna was part of the mafia, but well, now we know!!

I like to think the readers of both stories are two different characters, because I wouldn't want the same (Y/N) fucking both brothers at the same time lol.

Eventually, both stories will come together as one.

Vain, cocky, smug Uchiha, the one who knows how to fuck a woman with finesse and leave her satisfied to then gloat about his handiwork. The one who knows where and how to touch, what pressure and at what speed, to get you undone under his hands and show you a mocking smile.

The world's largest mafia family carries the rumor of having the best sexual performance, and (Y/N) experienced firsthand the reason for this saying. The famous phrase goes something like "Ugly shall be that Uchiha who doesn't know what he is doing in bed." and (Y/N) now understands it doesn't apply to this man's case.

Probably to nobody in the family, considering they are all so damn beautiful.

Madara, he had said his name was, Uchiha Madara. (Y/N) was surprised to spontaneously meet someone from such an important clan on a Friday night at a bar. It was he who approached her, sweet-talked her with pretty words and expensive liquor, and pulled her into his car amid kisses and heated advances.

...

The girl wakes up with a hint of pain between her legs telling stories about the night before, and all alone in bed. She can hear the shower in the background and assumes her companion jumped in it to get ready for the day.

It's Saturday, yet the man goes to work all the same.

The sun shines timidly on the horizon through the window, and (Y/N) estimates it's not even 6 am. She took a small, involuntary nap when Madara finished eating her pussy, passing out from both stimulation and exhaustion.

They had arrived at his house around 10 p.m. after having a few drinks, the Uchiha winning her over with his charm and looks. The girl could not refuse the invitation of such a beautiful man and fell easily into his bed. He pleasured her all night long, alternating between his fingers, cock, and tongue to make her touch the sky with her hands.

Just when (Y/N) thought he was done with her, a new round began. They moved around the room in different positions, holding her against the mirror so she could look at herself while he fucked her from behind, bent over his vanity for easier access to her pussy, on the bed turned over to swallow his dick, and almost choking in the attempt because of its size.

The man prove to know what he was doing, to the point where (Y/N) could not get her body to respond. By the time she finally passed out from pleasure and fatigue, he let her rest for as long as it would take him to shower and dress for his morning meetings.

…

The girl looks at her body and notices she is, of course, completely naked. There are a series of scratches and bites decorating her skin, memories that will remain for her to later tell her friends and show evidence. Sitting up on the mattress, she looks around the floor for her clothes, but they seem to have vanished.

Neither under the bed, nor among the sheets, nor between all the objects left scattered around the room. None of her garments want to show up and give her a hand, and (Y/N) feels totally exposed. It's one thing to fuck a beautiful man who knows what he's doing with a few drinks under her belt, but it's quite another to confront him face to face after a cheeky night like the one they had.

Even more so if, on top of that, it's an Uchiha man we’re talking about.

"Looking for this?" Madara smirks at her from the entrance of the bathroom, leaning against the door frame with a towel around his waist. He looks fresh out of the shower, with droplets falling down his body unabashedly and his hair fully pulled back away from his face. On his index finger, he holds her black thong and flashes it teasingly in her face. "I regret to inform you it will remain here, for my collection, of course."

As if his words were not at all scandalous, he proceeds to his dressing room and changes into his business suit as if nothing. After boxers and pants, he buttons his white collared shirt sickeningly fast, ignoring the naked girl on his bed. "I need... I need my... I can't leave without..."

"Oh, can't find your clothes? Wear mine, they will look better on you anyway."

The Uchiha tosses her a pair of gym pants that presumably fits her too big with a pajama shirt, and finds among the mess in the room her heels. It will be a flashy and bizarre outfit, to say the least, but it will get her home without having to walk around naked.

"There's a car waiting for you downstairs, to drive you home. It's my head driver. I'll see you soon, (Y/N)." Finishing getting ready as he speaks, the Uchiha smiles mischievously at her one last time before walking out of the room. A few seconds later, she hears the front entrance close, and the girl tries to recap what happened.

She just fucked one of the biggest mobsters in the world, and he confirmed they would meet again. Maybe not explicitly, but you know what I mean. Stunned, she alludes to the effort of searching for her dress and decides to settle into her bizarre attire, leaving Madara's penthouse to head for the parking lot.

…

"Miss (Y/N)?" A man in a suit and sunglasses asks leaning against an Audi Nardo gray RS3. If the luxury of the Uchiha's home wasn't too much, he noticeably doesn't skimp with his transportation either. The presumed driver opens the door, then closes it behind her once she’s in. He doesn't even ask her home address, heading towards the location as if he already knew it in advance. Looking at her through the rearview mirror, he notices the girl catches on to this detail and explains with a smile "There is nothing escaping the Uchiha. Once you are connected with one of them, they know everything about you. More so if we talk about second in command."

[valdiis]

FFXIV Site Write #11: Surrogate

"...Once the contract holder has appointed a surrogate, the barrister must..."

Daephrin's eyes crossed. He'd been studying contract law for the last five hours. At this point, the seventeen-year-old boy would beg for arithmetic just to break up the monotony - and he hated sums. Sure, the way one could twist contracts up in knots to benefit the one drawing up the contract was interesting, but even that could only hold so much water.

"I am so bored!" he groaned as he fell back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling. At least he was alone, so he was free to gripe in peace. If he didn't know he would have an exam on this in the morning, he would've entirely slacked off and not bothered with it at all. Failing the exam - any exam - was not an option for an Astramente boy. Lucarian would probably beat him bloody, and while he'd developed a peculiar taste for pain, black eyes weren't the type he enjoyed.

Still, the thought of turning his attention back to the book nearly made him sick to his stomach. Five hours was plenty. Another one wouldn't change what he did or didn't know.

Daephrin got up from his desk and crossed his room to his bed. No one would be checking in on him tonight on account of not wanting to bother him while he was studying, but just in case, he arranged his pillows in a particular fashion so that it would look like he slept soundly in his bed. That done, he found a coat, shrugged it on, and went to the window. His bedroom was on the second floor, but he was very good at climbing. No one saw him as he crept out the window and climbed down the trellis to the ground. Carefully, he sneaked past the house and off the grounds.

Freedom was a heady thing. Daephrin had fled the house in this fashion many times before, but every time made his heart sing with elation. He couldn't stand all the restrictions of his life. It drove him crazy.

He followed winding streets at random, letting himself get lost in a city he couldn't truly get lost in. Before he knew it, he was at the edge of the Brume - not exactly the best place for a well-dressed youth to be. He was about to turn around when a flash of pale hair caught his attention - just in time for a hard object to press into his right side. The owner of the pale hair had something pressed to him as a slender arm wrapped around his middle and groped at his waist.

"Go a little lower," he drawled, "if you're looking for the prize."

Great. Sassing his robber. He was going to get himself stabbed.

The ruffian giggled and Daephrin realized he was being mugged by a girl. A girl was no less dangerous, he knew, but this one was a waif and he had a pretty good chance of overpowering her, if he didn't get gutted first.

"Is that a knife?"

"O' course 'tis," she retorted, jabbing him a little harder as she searched for his money pouch. The joke was on her, though; he didn't have one on him. The fact that she was pressing the object pretty firmly against him and he wasn't yet bleeding meant it probably wasn't sharp - if it was a knife at all. Dae decided to risk it.

He dropped his weight straight down, slipping free of the girl's arms and twisting as he did so to sweep an arm out at the side of her knee. She yelped as she went down, a short stick clattering to the ground beside her. A full turn and a swing of one leg and he had her pinned to the cold cobblestone, sitting on her small chest. That's when he realized she was a Hyur, which made it all the easier to manhandle her smaller frame.

"Gerrof!" she growled, fists flailing.

"Not a chance," Dae said. "That was very rude of you to try to stab me with a stick. I don't even have any money to give you."

"Fuckin' nob!"

He chuckled and caught one of her hands. She was small and dirty and fierce, but under the dirt she was rather pretty. Daephrin liked pretty things - especially dangerous pretty things. He stared at her narrowed brown eyes. "How about I bring you dinner to make up for having no gil?"

"Wot." Her tone was flat. "Why would ye do that?"

"Because you're hungry?"

The girl scowled darkly at him. "Am not," she said mulishly. She couldn't have been more than sixteen herself. After a moment, she relented, "A'right, so I am. Gerrof me. I ent takin' yer charity. Like yer some bleedin' saint?" Her free hand whacked his thigh, but not hard enough that he couldn't ignore it.

"Definitely not a saint," Dae said. "Because my price is a kiss. I bring you dinner, you give me a kiss."

Daephrin, why are you flirting with your mugger?

He gave her a charming grin and let go of her hand. She stopped wiggling underneath him and stared at him like he had just turned into a dragon. "Yer fuckin' bonkers," she said, but her voice held a note of intrigue.

"I'm bored. You're entertaining. And pretty."

She snarled.

"My name's Daephrin. What's yours?"

The girl growled at him for a moment before relenting. "Sophia."

[discretocincel]

Shores that cure

My fourth story for RadioApple Week 2024, for the prompt Drinking/Bonding! I haven't even proof read once so let's hope I didn't screw up too badly. If you see anything terrible please let me know!

It was a strange experience, having Lucifer sitting across from him on Rosie’s dining room while they enjoyed her famous roast goose. The man was impossibly tense, and it showed in his too straight back and his too tight grip on his fork. It would’ve been funny, under different circumstances. Alastor always enjoyed watching his good friend effortlessly intimidate others, and to have the King of Hell himself on the edge of his seat was a commendable feat. Too bad he didn’t feel tempted to congratulate her, with his heart in a fist as it currently was, his own nerves too fraught to allow for any amusement at his lover’s expense.

He didn’t even know why he was nervous at all. He always felt at ease within Rosie’s company, and the same could be said for the fallen angel he shared a room with. But the situation was one he had never found himself in before, and that was effectively maddening. He imagined it was similar for Lucifer, and potentially worse, given the monarch’s age, but his recently rediscovered empathy wasn’t helping him at the moment. It was precisely that, together with the smothering fondness he felt for the man, which had brought them to that situation.

Dinner at Rosie’s, just the three of them.

It all came to be after, over the course of few weeks, Alastor realized what had his roommate in and on and off melancholic mood. Things would be just fine, they would be enjoying each other and their time together, and then all of a sudden his expression would fall, his enthusiasm would dampen, and his hold on Alastor would briefly tighten, as if reluctant to let him go. Around the other residents of the hotel, and particularly around Charlie, Lucifer started getting jumpy and hypervigilant, putting more distance between them than necessary, and antagonizing him excessively.

Perhaps it had taken Alastor a little too long to realize what was happening. But a part of him had wanted to ignore it.

He wasn’t ready to have all of Hell find out, because he knew they would all believe he merely spread his legs for power. And while he didn’t want to care about what others believed of him, he still cared about his reputation.

He cared about what Rosie thought of him, too. He’d changed his mind a dozen times before even suggesting to her that there was someone he held affection for, out of fear. He hadn’t been afraid in a very long time. But he knew what people thought of him, what assumptions they had made, some that he himself believed for most of his life. He knew that such a development would irrevocably change her opinion of him, that it would make her think and question and reevaluate everything she knew about him. But she was still the better option. Out of the few alternatives, Rosie was the only one he trusted to give him the benefit of the doubt before jumping to conclusions, who would keep her speculations to herself until she had enough proof to make an educated guess and speak to him about it in private over some open tarts.

But before that conversation could come, a dinner with her and the object of his affections was necessary. A truly stressful ordeal. The wine Rosie offered with the meal only offered a small comfort, the actual relief coming after the dessert, in the form of rye. He tried pacing himself, but by the time Rosie finished her very first glass, Alastor was already pouring himself the last of the bottle.

“Alastor, dear, could you go fetch another bottle from the pantry?” she asked him, and while he knew that leaving Lucifer alone with the ruler of Cannibal Town would be a bit heartless, he jumped at the opportunity:

“Yes, of course!” He stood up hastily, the legs of his chair nearly getting caught in the rug and falling backwards. He only avoided the loud crash thanks to the quick response of his shadow, which was already sporting a relaxed smile that spoke of his intoxication. Maybe he was being a coward, but his lover was the King of Hell. Surely, he could stand his ground against Rosie.

And if he didn’t, then Alastor would have to make it up to him somehow. He already had some interesting ideas to get back on the King’s good side.

♪

As soon as Alastor stood up, ready to abandon him, Lucifer started thinking in all the different ways he would have to punish the sinner for such a betrayal. He had a wide imagination, and he quickly made the executive decision to leave that train of thought for later. He could be a charmer, but even he would have a hard time recovering his image if he were to suddenly pop up a boner and he was discovered by the host.

“Well, Your Majesty, now that we’re alone,” Rosie muttered quietly, as if to not be heard in case Alastor was still nearby. Her smile stretched beyond what could be considered friendly given the sharpness of her teeth. “Are you fully committed?”

“I am!”

“I’m not merely inquiring about faithfulness, Your Highness. While that is important, I would like to know the depth of your feelings. There is nothing wrong with wanting to have fun, I would know, I’ve been married five times only in the afterlife! However.” Her smile disappeared, her expression one of deadly seriousness. “If that is what you’re looking for, I would recommend you find someone else.”

Lucifer took a deep breath, not wanting to answer in a hurry without the sincerity and thoughtfulness that such a question required. While the sinner might have been overstepping, it was clear that it all came from a place of worry and care for Alastor, and Lucifer could understand that. He appreciated it, even. The stars knew his lovely deer didn’t have nearly enough people willing to risk their lives for him.

“I love him,” he said calmly. “I haven’t felt this kind of love for another being in a very, very long time, ma’am, if ever. It is… different, from what I felt when I first fell for my wife. I was young then, and naïve, and I felt for a person that grew into someone very different over time. I don’t think I was prepared for that then. But now… while I know that ten thousand years from now, Alastor will likely be very different, I believe I will still love whoever he becomes then. Because I want to spend the next ten thousand years by his side, hopefully even longer.”

“Oh my,” Rosie sighed, pressing one hand on her chest and recovering her smile, far less hostile than in the beginning.

If she was going to say anything else, Lucifer couldn’t know, for that was the exact moment in which Alastor returned to the dining room, two bottles of rye in hand.

“They were remarkably difficult to find, my dear,” Alastor commented as he took a seat again, opening a bottle and pouring all three of them another glass.

“My apologies, darling. I intended to leave them out for tonight, but it must have slipped my mind.”

“Oh, that’s alright! I hope you didn’t miss me too much?”

“Only a little,” Lucifer replied. “It’s hard not to miss you, love, but Rosie here makes wonderful company!”

“I should know,” Alastor agreed easily, then gulped down half of his glass a bit hastily.

“Careful Al, you know how you get when you have a little too much to drink,” Rosie said.

That immediately caught Lucifer’s interest. Alastor had seen him drunk more than once, but Lucifer had never seen the sinner in a similar state, even though Angel kept inviting him to join them on their drinking sessions every time he showed up—and he only showed up to remind Lucifer of the time, as subtly as he could. Still, based on the porn star’s smirks and giggles, Lucifer suspected the sinners suspected the real nature of their relationship, or at the very least, Alastor’s motivations.

“How does he get?” Lucifer asked, unable to keep the grin off his face.

Rosie met his gaze with a matching one, and Alastor must have already been quite drunk if he didn’t fear for his life while witnessing such an alliance.

“You’ll see,” she said.

“I’m a perfectly reasonable person even when I drink too much,” Alastor argued, but Lucifer was already witnessing a miracle, as the everlasting smile of his lover vanished into a pout. “And I’m not drunk.”

Rosie stifled a laugh behind a manicured hand.

“Well, if you keep drinking, we’re taking a portal back home. I’m not sure how travelling through the shadows even works, but maybe you shouldn’t risk getting lost there, or something.”

Alastor gasped, looking extremely offended, and Lucifer was desperate to kiss that mouth which so rarely displayed so many different gestures. It was difficult to feel any guilt when he was so giddy with the experience.

“I wouldn’t get lost, Luce, that’s ridiculous!”

Lucifer arched his eyebrows, a warmth spreading through his chest as he was pleasantly surprised by the brand-new nickname.

“Perhaps one of these days I should bring you along so you’ll see what it’s like.”

“That sounds fun,” Lucifer said instantly, excited already and only a little bit saddened that they wouldn’t be able to do it right away, as he feared the sinner wouldn’t remember or would try to go back in his word come morning.

Alastor hummed as Lucifer’s favorite crooked smile of his made an appearance. He surprised himself by not getting jealous—he tended to think of that one as his, and yet he wasn’t bothered that Rosie was witnessing it.

He was having fun, seeing his lover more open and genuine, the way he was when it was just the two of them, and sharing it with someone who also clearly cared for him, deeply. Lucifer didn’t want the night to end, but he also wanted to wrap his arms around his sinner and profess his love to him, as honest and unapologetic as he’d been when Rosie had questioned him. He didn’t get to do it often, Alastor tended to stop him. But he could be patient. If things went the way he wanted them to, he would have many years to cover his lover in kisses and loving words, as he would one day get the chance to reveal it all to the public. He would give Alastor all the time he needed, and if time wasn’t enough, if Alastor was never ready…

Then Lucifer would be okay with that. If he got to share his Alastor with their loved ones on occasion, to see him drop his everlasting smile and relax, before going to sleep next to him, then they would be okay for at least the next ten thousand years.

[jisungsdaydreamer]

[6:39 PM]

«GENERAL M.LIST» · «NAVIGATION» · «TALK TO ME» · «TAGLIST»

SYNOPSIS Your best friend, Hyunjin, will always be there for you, but you have no idea about how he truly feels.

Pairing: Hyunjin x fem!reader Genre: college au, angst, fluff, friends to lovers Warnings: none Word Count: <1k ♡ This is my first post so constructive feedback is greatly appreciated! I hope you like it ♡

"I guess I'm just destined to be alone." You turn off your phone with a resigned sigh and set it down on the coffee table in front of you, trying and failing to fight the tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

For months, you have had a crush on Minho, the boy who sat next to you in Calculus.

You know him outside of class too, as you, Minho, and a few other friends all live in the same dorm. Time passed in a whirlwind as you found yourself falling slowly in love with him, but unfortunately, it came to a jarring halt when you discovered he had a girlfriend. Another girl who will be able to hold his hand always, another girl who will be the object of his dreams, another girl who will be the reason for his beautiful smile.

Your best friend, Hyunjin, sits beside you, disbelief bubbling inside of him. "How can you say that? I'm literally right here."

In spite of yourself, you laugh, but mixed with your sobbing, it sounds more like a strange cough. "You know what I mean. This happens every time. I fall in love with someone who doesn't love me back. It's the circle of my life."

Hyunjin hates to see you like this, mostly because he knows exactly how you feel. His own heart hurts too, but he doesn't show it. He reaches over and wipes the tears from your cheeks. "There is someone out there who is just right for you. I promise."

Sniffling, you look away from Hyunjin, unable to bear the indignance in his gaze. Your best friend is a hopeless romantic, he will never know the pain of unrequited love. "I just want someone to love me."

I love you, is what Hyunjin wanted to say. I love you so much.

Instead, he circles his arms around you and draws you close to his body, letting you cry silently in the comfort of his embrace.  He rubs soothing circles into your back, slowly leading you into the solace of sweet slumber. Hyunjin's favorite shirt is soaked with your tears, but he barely even notices, quietly gazing out beyond the balcony. The moon is already up, enveloped in a pink and blue streaked sunset.

One day, when he finds enough courage, he'll tell you how he really feels. But until then, he will be there by your side, no matter what. The fairy lights strung around your room cast a warm glow on your skin, and Hyunjin can't help but lean forward and brush his lips lightly against your forehead.

I wish you knew how much I love you.

«GENERAL M.LIST» · «NAVIGATION» · «TALK TO ME» · «TAGLIST»

©jisungsdaydreamer 2023 | All rights reserved. I do not condone translations or transfers of my work onto other platforms such as Wattpad, AO3, etc. Tumblr is my only platform. Acts of plagiarism are strictly prohibited.

[lcvernat]

I’m Sorry | Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Request: Hey :)

Idk if you’re doing requests or not but if you are…

I wanna ask if you can please do a Nat x TeenR with Angst or Nat x femR with anxiety

Tbh as long as it has Angst in it :)

You dont have to give me any recognition for it as long as you tag my bestie @romanoffs-widow in it bc she loves this type of thing 🥰 thanks!

Word Count: 2.3k

Content Warnings: definitely very angsty, anxiety, panic attacks, overall bad mental health + pls read at your own discretion!

A/N: hi anon! i chose to go with nat x fem reader for this request :) i hope that’s okay!! and i hope your bestie enjoys <3 + for everyone out there who suffers from anxiety i hope this fic gives you some sort of comfort and just know you’re not alone, i promise you, and my dms are always open if you need someone to vent to!

Living with anxiety was like having a shadow following you constantly: you could never get rid of it, could never quite catch a break. It convinced you of things that you knew logically couldn't be true, but that didn't matter because your brain couldn't help but believe in it and send you spiraling. It made you second guess and overthink everything, and it made the simplest of daily tasks impossible. Sleeping was really the only time that you were free from the torment that was your thoughts.

You never quite fit in anywhere. Your friends quickly became tired of you bailing on them at the last minute when they invited you out, so they eventually just stopped inviting you. You couldn't quite blame them, but you didn't know how to explain that the very prospect of going outside made you feel so violently nauseous you spent most of the morning sitting on the floor of your bathroom beside the toilet, and then every time you ended up cancelling because you just. Couldn't. Do. It. And you felt pathetic for it.

All you wanted was to be normal. To make these thoughts go away. To stop freaking out about every single thing. Yet they never went away, no matter what you did. The physical symptoms had to be the worst to deal with. You could manage the thoughts sometimes, could ignore them sometimes, but the nausea, sweating, shaking, and the constant feeling of something being stuck in your throat was a nuisance to deal with. You felt so drained from it some days that all you wanted to do was lie in your bed and cry.

Oddly enough, the only time you felt solace was on missions with the Avengers. You had to be focused, with one specific goal in mind: the mission objective. It left no room for your anxiety to manifest, and it was one of the only times you were free from its grasp, despite it defying all logic - death-defying missions should’ve been the one thing that elicited anxiety in you, but it didn’t, and instead simple, mundane tasks such as going to the grocery store seemed catastrophic. It was stupid.

Through the Avengers Initiative you met your girlfriend, Natasha Romanoff, and she made everything better. You’d told her about your anxiety, knowing you couldn’t keep it a secret from a super spy who would inevitably find out, and despite you thinking it was pathetic because she had gone through so much more in her life and had seemingly never been left debilitated by the mere thought of going outside, she assured you that you weren't pathetic, and your feelings were completely valid. She understood you. She didn’t push you, and she didn’t get angry if you had to back out on dates because you couldn’t handle it. She quickly learnt what usually overwhelmed you or triggered a panic attack and made sure you avoided those situations or if you couldn’t avoid it, she’d be there by your side throughout all of it. She knew exactly how to help you when you had a panic attack and she was so loving and patient towards you, you were so eternally grateful for her. You don't know how you had managed to get this lucky, she was well and truly a miracle.

But of course, anxiety just couldn’t let you have good things without poisoning it. ‘She hates you’, ‘you’re literally so annoying’, ‘she doesn’t love you’, ‘she’ll leave eventually because everyone does’ - constant thoughts of self-hatred wormed its way into your mind, despite your best efforts of keeping them out. It got tiring, sometimes, trying to get better, because anxiety had to be one of the most persistent monsters on the planet. It never went away, no matter how hard you tried to make it go away. Your chest constantly felt tight, your hands constantly shook, you felt nauseous nearly all of the time and your mind was on constant overdrive: the thoughts never stopping. You just had to live with it.

Some days were worse than others. Today was a particularly bad day. You didn’t have any energy to get up, and had spent all day lying in bed, scrolling mindlessly on your phone. Nat and Steve had an important and quite dangerous mission coming up, so the redhead had been away all day preparing for it, which meant you were alone in your shared room. It was late evening now, and the room was starting to get dark, but you didn’t have the energy to get up and turn on the light. This morning, the thought of getting up and facing the day was so impossible you were nearly sick, so you just couldn’t do it. You couldn’t battle it today, you just couldn’t.

The sound of the bedroom door opening and footsteps walking in filled the room. The footsteps soon stopped in their tracks though, when they saw that it was nearly pitch-black inside and the light wasn't on. The only light was the screen of your phone, barely visible under all of the covers you had covered yourself with in a desperate attempt to shield yourself from the world. The light switched on then, the room filling with the glaring yellow of artificial light as you squinted your eyes, letting out a grunt of annoyance.

"Y/N?" Natasha's voice sounded cautious, as her footsteps slowly resumed, getting closer to the bed. "Are you okay, moya lyubov?" Her voice was soft as you felt the bed dip with her added weight. Her hand came up to gently remove the covers from your face so she could see you. All you do is shake your head the tiniest bit, such a small action that anyone else would’ve missed, but Natasha didn’t.

“What’s wrong? You can talk to me.”

You frown. That was a tough question. What was wrong? You didn’t know. Nothing bad had happened to you recently to make you feel like this. You didn’t have anything major happening this week that would’ve caused you to feel anxious. You simply woke up today with an insanely overwhelming feeling of anxiety. Worse than normal. There was no actual reason for it. There rarely ever was an actual reason.

Sitting up in the bed, Natasha moving back slightly to give you space, you start to play with the hem of your sweater. “I don’t know,” you mumble almost incoherently, your voice so small and fragile from not being used once today.

Natasha’s gaze softens as her hand reaches out to tentatively take yours. She gives your hand a squeeze. “I’m always here if you need to talk, you know that,”

You inhale, the familiar feeling of your chest tightening an unwelcome accompaniment. God, why were you feeling like this today? Nothing. Was. Wrong. “I don’t-“ Your throat feels tight. You swallow, the object in your throat not loosening, “I just- I need to be alone. Please.”

You never pushed Natasha away. Never. She was your rock, your medicine, your cure. The only thing that could make you feel better. But right now, you needed to be alone. So, it wasn’t surprising when confusion quickly followed by pain flashed across her features. She didn’t say anything, she just simply nodded. Natasha got off the bed, slowly making her way to the door. The soft clicking of the lock sounded as she left.

You couldn’t breathe. You rubbed your chest, but the tightness didn't ease. You clench your fists so tight you know crescent-shaped marks are engraved into your palms. 5 senses. 5 things you see. Hear. Feel. Taste. Touch.

You’re okay. Okay. You’re fine. Nothing’s wrong. You’re okay. You’re fine. Fine. You’re okay. You are okay. Nothing’s wrong.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

You hold your head in your hands and cry.

You’d fallen asleep after. Your body and mind so tired you couldn’t stay conscious for another minute. You woke up feeling disorientated and groggy. The light was still on. Checking your phone, you realized it was well past 3am. You bite your lip before running your hand over your face. Chancing a glance at the other side of the bed, it was to no surprise that it was empty.

You felt horrible to think that Natasha never went to bed because you wanted to be left alone. You’re a horrible person. Horrible. You needed to find her. Your body screams in protest as you get out of bed for the first time in ages.

You opened the door, not surprised to be greeted with darkness as the team had clearly retired to bed hours ago. You make your way quietly through the Compound. You don’t know where Nat could possibly be. Unless she was rooming with Wanda tonight to give you space. Maybe she’d be better with Wanda anyway. At least Wanda wouldn’t have to cancel on dates because she couldn’t do it.

No. Don’t be stupid. Nat loves you; you know that.

You decide to check the kitchens first and are thankful that you don’t need to explore any further because there she is: sat at the kitchen island, a cup of coffee in front of her. She turns at the sound of your footsteps, and her eyes widen when she realizes it’s you.

Natasha is in front of you in an instant. She doesn’t touch you. She doesn’t say anything. You play with your fingers nervously. You look down at the ground as you attempt to gather your thoughts.

“I’m sorry,” you start, your voice shaky. Natasha interrupts you before you have a chance to continue by gently lifting your chin to get you to look at her.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," she says softly.

Frustrated tears spring to your eyes. Frustration at yourself and for feeling this way, for not knowing how to fix it, and pushing Natasha away too. God, you hated yourself sometimes.

"I do," you say, "I'm sorry for pushing you away, you didn't deserve that. I'm sorry for being like this for no reason because my life really isn't all that bad, you know? People have it worse and yet they aren't anxious messes all the time. You've had it worse, and you manage fine. I don't know why I'm like this and I hate it and I'm so-"

You cut off, unable to continue because the object in your throat has gotten bigger, preventing any words from getting out. You can't breathe again, and tears are streaming down your face. The next thing you feel is Natasha's arms wrapping around your body. You wrap your arms around her as tight as you possibly can while your head goes to rest in the crook of her neck and all you can do is just cry.

Cry because everything's been too much recently, too overwhelming, your mind has been a hellscape that you can never escape from, and it's just gotten too much to handle. So, you let it all out, you cry, and Natasha holds you through it all; her arm rubbing up and down your back, a steady rhythm to comfort you.

You don't know how much time has passed since you've stopped crying. Your throat is dry and sore, your cheeks are stained with tears and Natasha's shirt is wet from where you've cried. You pull away, hands reaching up to wipe away your tears, but Natasha gets there first. She dries your cheeks with her thumbs, her touch so gentle and tender as she cradles your face in her hands.

She kisses the tip of your nose and your nose scrunches in response.

"Don't ever say you're sorry for feeling the way you feel, okay?" She starts, her voice soft yet said with so much conviction you nearly start crying again, "Your feelings are completely valid, you are not a burden, or a mess, or anything else that your brain tries to convince you that you are, because none of it is true. You want to know the truth? All of us are messes, really, and it doesn't matter whether someone has it worse or not because we're all going through our own shit and battling something on our own and it is still completely valid even if you think your battles aren't valid. Some people are just good at hiding it. I am so sorry you have to battle this anxiety all of the time, and I know it must be exhausting, but you are the strongest person I know, okay? You will get through this, and you will get better. Whether it takes months or years, you will get better, and I will be right there by your side all throughout it. Some days will be worse than others, but I know you and I know that you can get through it, and you know you can go to me for anything. I love you so much, you know that right?"

Tears have sprung to your eyes again, but this time for an entirely different reason. Complete love and adoration for the redheaded woman that is currently cradling your face in her hands fills all of your senses. You nod, a smile making its way onto your face for the first time in a while.

"There's that smile I know and love," Nat says softly, returning your smile as she pulls you in for a hug again. Your smile widens as you lean back to kiss the love of your life.

You break apart to lean your forehead against hers, "I love you so much, you're the best girlfriend ever," you whisper against her lips.

"No, you're the best girlfriend ever, and I love you most."

It was 3am, you were standing in the Compound's kitchen wrapped in your lover's arms, but that was when you knew that every single word that came out of Nat's mouth was true. Even if you wake up tomorrow and have to battle your anxiety all over again, Natasha will be right by your side throughout it all. And you'll get better someday.

Maybe not today, but someday. And that was enough.

tags: @sheneonromanoff @olicity-boo @r4nd0mgir1 @tigerlillyruiz @dj-bynum3718

dm me, send me an ask or reply to be added to my taglist!

[fractalcloning]

In the shadow of Ganmadan.

It was a little offensive, the clear sky and beautiful weather. It should be raining, thundering, like in her dreams--red and scary, foreboding--but it isn't. Jean Luc Picard died and it is...just another day. She knows that Alton Soong and Dr. Jurati are working on it, maping and copying his neural patterns into the golem Soong had reserved for himself. There's no guarantee it will work, that they can take the patterns off a dead man and expect them to function. He may not be restored at all, and Soji feels terribly lost. She has siblings here, dozens of them, but she's the odd one out. Not one of them can really comprehend what she's been through in the last few days. None of them can even start to relate. Dahj is gone. Her mother is an AI, a holo construct that was meant to keep her from breaking her cover. Narek is--somewhere outside. In a cell? The fact that she'd even consider talking to him only enhances her distress. She's all alone. Again. And the Romulan fleet is gone, but so is most of the Starfleet one. They are defenseless, completely out of orchids, and only Soji seems to recognize that the danger hasn't passed. That they aren't actually safe from anything. Another nudge to her bedrock could topple everything again, and again, and again and she chose to let the guarantee of safety go. She hates herself for giving that up, for shutting down the transmitter, and then hates herself in another way for even considering summoning the extra-galactic synthetics. Her life isn't worth every organic one. It's objectively true but so very hard to remember when the threat of death and destruction seems to hover over her like her own personal raincloud. So Soji sits, miserable and distraught, on the edge of Alton Soong's desk and tries not to think about it. Unfortunately the only distractions she has are the synthetics littered around the office. Alton Soong had been so proud, so excited to show her his prototypes. The golem, the next set of fractal clones, mice for Spot II to chase. Each one was meticulously designed and he loved them, truly. His crowning masterpiece was the reproduction of Data. It took up the center of the room and all Soji could do was stare. He looked peaceful, like he was sleeping and not just an empty, expertly sculpted husk in a stasis chamber. She was almost jealous, that he got to sleep so softly while she was vibrating with anxiety about the next calamity, the next loss, the next inevitable, crushing death. She runs both hands through her hair, tugging it to try and clear the maudline catastrophizing. It half works. "I wish I could have met you," Soji says to the stasis chamber and her arms drop back to her sides. "If half of what everyone said was true, you'd probably have something profound to say."

"Or...at least you might give me a hug."

She was tearing up, thinking of her Dad, the fake ghost in her dreams. He never existed but she had memories of him saying profound things. She recalled her mom trying to cheer her up--or Dahj, who may have actually done that before they were separated. Picard had even tried to comfort her, in his own way--and now she comes back to Narek again. The last man standing. God, her life was pathetic if the Tal'Shiar were her best choice for a hug. She wipes her eyes and tries to stop thinking again. It doesn't work any better this time. "Fuck," Soji says to the empty room. To the construct that is not her kind of father. It required a quantum computer to hold what they had of Data's neural patterns--if the code, the information, were any less she might have been able to boot him up, to talk to him through holograms like she did her mom, but even Soji understood that he was too complex for that. Data required a body and Soong had never completed the method to transfer-- "Wait--Agnes fixed it," Soji says, largely to herself, partly to the construct. Alton Soong had lamented how his masterpiece copy of Data would forever lie dormant. Because Bruce Maddox hadn't finished the work to make transfering consciousness possible. But Dr. Jurati had finished it. They were using it on Picard right now. Which meant-- Soji shot up from the side of the desk and all but darted to the stasis pod in the center of the room. Now, looking at the unoccupied copy, she saw something other than a hollow body--she could--she could put him back, right? If it were a copy of Data, he could work in this body? She immediately pulls up the controls on the stasis chamber and snatches a data slate off Soong's desk. Data was kept in the computer, he was the cornerstone of it, she should be able to just...run Jurati's protocols and put him into the duplicate, right? The tiny thread of hope that wrapped itself around her heart was as cutting as it was fragile, but Soji was desperate and so very alone. If she thought anything could work, anything at all, she couldn't have stopped herself from trying it.

[damistrolls]

Goodbyes

helo ive been sitting on this noboru write for a little while

its gone thru a lot of revisions but i think im finally happy, so!!! here it is!

now read my silly self-indulgent drabble, boy

(google doc link)

—

“I loved you once, you know.”

The statement hung in the crisp air for a few moments. Noboru took his eyes off of the grave, glancing over his shoulder, as though he feared someone was listening to him speaking to a plot of disturbed ground. After he confirmed he truly was alone, he rolled his shoulders casually, and looked back at the hunk of white marble sticking out of the soil. 

“I don’t know when that changed, if it ever did. We were distant towards the end, and we disagreed on more things than we agreed on, but…”

He trailed off, words failing him. Noboru sighed and glanced over his shoulder once more, before carefully kneeling down on the damp grass with a grunt. He always felt his age most when he sat or stood. He remembers a younger Magpie telling him he made old man noises when he moved, and now he can’t help but notice every time he makes said ‘old man noises’. 

“… You’ll have to forgive me. I don’t have anything written and practiced. I didn’t want to come here with some kind of speech. I just wanted to talk, I suppose, since I refrained from saying anything during the funeral. Everyone there already wanted me dead, the last thing I wanted to do was rock the boat more.” 

The stone in the ground was silent and still, if a bit wet from the rain that had come down the previous day. Noboru nodded in the direction of the grave.

“Magpie insisted on the marble. I thought granite would be more practical, since it lasts longer, but he said you would want it to be beautiful.” 

Noboru goes quiet for a few moments, waiting. It was as if he was expecting a response, though he knew none would come. This was probably the most personal death he’s experienced. Every troll loses a friend or two when they’re young, but losing a long-term matesprit, even if an estranged one, was different. His lips press together in a thin line as he tiredly looks down at his lap.

“He asked me not to touch your hive. There isn’t much I can do if the Empire chooses to reclaim the land, but for now, it’s as it was. Though, it may be collecting some dust now. I think the only one who’s been in and out of there is Magpie. He still keeps things in that room of his, even if he doesn’t ever sleep there anymore. Apparently, he’s staying with this teal. And Lupo, of course.” 

The violet plucked a blade of grass from the ground, toying with it in his fingers idly as his eyes stayed trained downwards. 

“I’d like to say he’s happy, but frankly, I wouldn’t be able to tell. I don’t know how to talk with him. I feel as though I lost my opportunity to ever meaningfully be a part of his life. Yahiro was more of a father to him than I was. I wish I could blame you for that, like I blame you for everything else, but I can’t.”

Noboru’s chest ached and his throat felt tight, but he simply rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger and straightened his back.

“… There’s too much I could say to you, Fansia... I could fill a novel with all of the things I’d like to say. But I don’t have that kind of time, and I’m sure you have some kind of afterlife to get on with. You never wanted to hear me whine about this-or-that while you were alive, gods know you give even less of a damn now. So I think now’s a good time for me to… say goodbye. Officially. To stop… dragging what happened around with me. It’s a weight I’m tired of holding.” 

He hesitated, before patting the pocket on his chest, making sure something was still in there. Noboru then retrieved a small, shiny object from the pocket, holding it out as if the marble grave could see it. 

“They buried you with yours, but I won’t let them bury me with mine, no matter how much I loved you. It’s been a few perigees already, and I need to stop carrying this piece of you around with me if I ever want to move forwards.” 

The grass near the stone was still loose enough that he could dig at it with his nails and pull back just enough to drop a gold ring into the dirt. It was a waste, but Noboru would have felt worse selling it. He pressed the grass back down over the ring. 

“… I’m not going to visit after this. You had a tight grip on my life these past thirty or so sweeps. More, if you count the time we spent when we were younger, with me trailing after you like a lost pup. I’m done centering my life around you, Fansia.” 

Noboru carefully got off of his knees, standing with some effort. He brushed the grass off of his shins and sighed. 

“Despite everything, I hope you’re happy, wherever you are. You take care.” 

And after a moment of hesitation, Noboru turned and left. 

[misguidedasgardian]

The Lifeaters (II.6)

VI. Christmas at Hogwarts

MASTERLIST

Chapter Summary: You stay at Hogwarts for the winter break

Pairings: Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader (platonic)

Warnings: Cursing, magical objects, Mugglephobia, canon typical slurs, and whatnot you know what this is about

Wordcount: 1.9 k

Notes: Alright, let get this party going!

You were almost entertained, hopeful and excited when you signed yourself to stay at Hogwarts, as requested by your aunt. 

Draco was staying too, Matthew, Vince and Greg, even Blaise, this was going to be fun, right? not as many people as you thought were staying. Soon the castle emptied itself.

You guessed that people were truly concerned, because of students getting petrified and all… in fact… Why didn't your aunt call you back home?

Did she even know? You had seen come copies of the prophet and there as no new at all of something or someone getting muggle born students getting petrified at Hogwarts

Should you tell her? you actually didn’t in the few letters you had exchanged during the semester, perhaps it was your bad

All students were leaving today, you just resigned to go to the great hall, to hang out with your friends, the tree was getting assembled, Professor Flitwick was hanging huge, beautiful, golden decorations on its thick branches

Blaise was sitting there, watching the professor instantly, he had not packed, and you guessed, like last year, that he was staying

“You haven’t packed”, he said, with a smirk tugging on his lips

“I’m staying, my aunt went to Romania, and even though I begged her to let me come with, she wouldn’t let me”, you explained softly, “how about you?”

“Oh, I in turn begged my mom to let me stay”, he said with a sad smile, “her new husband…”

“The one she married last year?”, you asked

“He is really sick, and I don’t want to catch whatever he has”, he said simply, you frowned

“Sorry Blaise”, he shrugged his shoulders, he didn’t really care, so you didn't either

“I’m staying too”, said Matthew, as he sat by Blaise’s side against the wall, as you were in front of them. His eyes on you again 

“The more the merrier”, you said with a soft smile, “we can play in the common room exploding snaps”, you suggested, “and have a pajama party”

“That is for little kids”, mocked Matthew back

“I think its cool”, muttered Blaise, giving you a small smile 

“Where’s Greg and Vince?”, he asked then

“Draco convinced them to stay too”, you said with a short smile, Matthew laughed

“You know he wanted to stay here in case the Slytherin’s heir managed to kill someone, right?”, Matthew asked you, you shook your head

“No, he wouldn’t”, you said, you knew Lucius and Narcissa were traveling, or at least that is what Draco told you

“He would and he did”, he said surely, with a smirk on his face, “that is what got me staying too”

The castle emptied itself pretty quickly after that, and from one day to the next, you coils actually feel the emptiness of the castle, but the Christmas decorations made the ambiance be spectacular and even beautiful

Mistletoe everywhere, candlelights, the huge decorated tress ont he great hall

Breathtaking really

It was so quiet you could actually enjoy the acoustics of the snow when you were in the outer courtyard, even though… you weren’t left alone a single second

Draco, Greg and Vince, and even Matthew were always there with you, wouldn’t leave you alone, and Blaise hang around too, because you were the only ones of the year staying for Christmas

Besides a couple of more students, you were almost the only ones, so you unabashedly took control of the common room. You organized a small tournament of sploding snap with others and played in turns and even gave sweets to whomever won the most times.

Soon the 24th was upon you and you were excited for the gifts you were going to receive tomorrow, but now you were with the rest of your house hanging around in the common room, talking, throwing jokes and laughing, 

Of course the thing of the chamber of secrets and the heir of Slytherin came up, everyone was almost excited about how the next victim was going to be.

As you looked around at your friends you wondered how they could be so excited… This isn’t a good thing, was it?

“I hope it’s Granger”, offered Dray, “the next victim that is”

“She is so annoying”, laughed Matthew, “she thinks she is better than anyone else, isn’t she? but she is only a mudblood”, Draco laughed 

“What if the next victim is one of us?”, you asked 

“It’s impossible”, Matthew said, “how could he attack someone from its own house?”

“How can he attack anyone?”, you asked then.

Draco seemed like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t, and you wanted to talk to him, so badly, but you never got to, he was never alone, and the others wouldn’t leave you alone

“Do we even know who it is?”, asked Goyle

“No”, Matthew said shortly.

That very night, Draco sneaked out of his room and into yours.

Your rooms, as the other houses’ were supposed to be protected by charms that prevented the “opposite sex” to enter, but, for some reason, the charms in the Slytherin’s rooms had never worked, or the seventh years jinxed them the very first week of the semester.

When he was alone with you, he was different, he looked at you with his grey eyes blowing wide

“Do you know who the heir of Slytherin is?”, you asked, and he shook his head as you were both hiding under your covers

“I don’t know, but my father told me some things”, he said, you looked back at him wide-eyed, “the last time the chamber was open, it was 50 years ago”

“5O?”, you asked, “he wasn’t even here!”, he shook his head

“No, but… he told me that time someone died!”, he said with a smile, “a muggleborn”

“Did he tell you who did it?”, you asked, “who was the heir”, he shook his head

“No, but… he told me to just stay out of it, let things happen”

“What does that mean?”, you asked back

“He told me just to lay back, and let things unfold”

“So he knows”, there was doubt on his eyes

“Maybe, but he wouldn’t tell me, no matter how hard I asked”, you shared looks

“What are they saying out there?”

“Nothing, they are keeping all under wraps, I guess Dumbledore doesn’t want to story to go public”

“Really?”, you asked, he nodded

“My father doesn’t like him”, Draco said with a frown, “he said he is the worst thing that has happened to Hogwarts”

“Why?”, you asked

“He is an advocate for Muggleborns and muggle rights”, he said, “and some other things he wouldn’t tell me”

“Oh”, you said simply, looking at him

You fell asleep together, snoozing out 

You woke up smiling widely, very excited, today was finally christmas

“Draco!”, you called, he woke up immediately, you thought it was cute how he slept so relaxed with his mouth a bit open

You ran to the common room in your pajamas, and you on your thick robe 

There was a huge tree and under it, a bunch of presents, Blaise was already there, and Matthew, who frowned when he looked at you both

“Where did you go, Malfoy?”, he asked, but you paid him no mind and he dived into the pile of presents

“This one’s for me”, he said triumphantly, “this one for you”, he said giving you a big box”, you smiled widely

It was from your family.

You sat on the floor happily with your box, you had received a beautiful set of a hand mirror and matching brush, who was enchanted to always leave your hair presentable, it was antique

You also received from France your self-care products.

And from your aunt you received a beautiful scarf and matching gloves and beanie

From aunt Narcissa and uncle Lucius you received a beautiful sweater that matches the one received by Draco, and also a huge box of treats.

Draco received something from your family too, a pretty scarf similar to yours, and a cream for his hair, which you thought was hilarious but he really liked it.

You left the box there to share, Matthew took some of the contents, but you guessed it was fine. He didn’t got a present

That very night was the Christmas feast.

The great hall looked magnificent, there was a lot of christmas trees covered in snow, mistletoe hanging from the ceilings, there was even enchanted snow falling from the already enchanted ceiling, but this one was warm, not cold, and dry, only disappeared when it hit you or the table or the floor, it was so cool

You ate turkey and stuffing and carrots and potatoes, but what you enjoyed more was dessert, pudding, and trifle, and more! 

You looked over at the Gryffindor table and saw Potter and his friends, almost all of the Weaslets, but you couldn’t care less, you were with your own friends

You couldn’t help but feel a bit uncomfortable, and when you raised your eyes, You saw the trio looking towards your table and when they noticed you were looking they quickly turned

What was that about?

Soon you all left the great hall, it was getting late and you had eaten too much, you needed to rest.

Vince and Greg stayed back, having their fill of treats.

You took a detour to the bathroom near the common room, telling them to go ahead and that you were going to join them. You took with you a goblet of pumpkin juice 

You left in on the edge of the sink while you went to the bathroom, when you came back, you washed your hand, and grabbed the cup, you took a couple of sips

And you don’t remember anything else.

You felt your head so heavy, you had trouble opening your eyes, as your eyelid weighted tons. You moaned on the floor, twisting and turning

Suddenly, you started to regain your motor skills, you managed to open your eyes, you were on the floor of the bathroom.

“Hello?”, you called, you didn’t know what had happened 

You were still in the first floor girl’s bathroom. Did you… fainted? you looked around confused 

You were alone, and it was cold, you hugged yourself, your body still feeling very heavy. I was quiet, too quiet… until it wasn’t

A slytherin sound filled the room, it was so strange, so bizarre, you stood very still. It was like a snake slithering around, you looked outside of the bathroom, the door barely opened, and you saw a shadow, a huge shadow.

You whimpered in fear, crawling back, your eyes not leaving that shadow, until you could hide yourself in one of the stalls.

 You managed to sit on top of the toilet and hug your legs to your chest, your breathing quickened, sweating all over.

A huge shadow appeared in the bathroom, the sound of something huge sliding on the floor’s stones. 

It stopped right in front of your stall.

Bathrooms in Hogwarts were huge, they were, but still, there was something out there, and it knew you were hiding in there.

When desperate tears started falling down your cheeks, the thing left, it slither back out, and disappeared leaving you alone again

Have you imagined it all?

Once you made sure you were alone, you got out of the stall, looking around, but there was nothing, no one, no signs of anything that big that could have made that noise. 

You ran back to your common room, where you were going to be safe 

[eeclare]

okok so i really do love angela as character overall but fuck she just does not understand brennan’s autism at all throughout the series 😭

i guess on some level none of the characters really do, but most of them mostly sorta get it and understand when she just doesn’t GET it, ya know??

like when vincent nigel-murray is killed and they’re all sitting in that conference room and angela says how she can’t believe that he’s dead, brennan takes that SOO literally

and when sweets tries to explain it to her in a way she can understand angela gets so mad at him for it?? and for what?? like truly none of them seemed to really know the guy THAT well let alone angela lol (despite hangela naming their baby after him) and i can understand how upset she is absolutely but brennan is hurting too, and angela can’t just let sweets explains something to her?? like dang

maybe the show writers were intending it to be more of a “everyone is sad and sweets is trying to bring up psychology AGAIN for no reason” moment (even though it’s literally his job 😭 and objectively speaking the whole dynamic of the show relies mostly on psychology)

it just really didn’t work for me

there are other moments in the show too where angela just does not accommodate brennan in the way she should sometimes, i just can’t think of any off the top of my head lolol

anyway not my usual content but here 🤲 have my random criticism

[hollowsart]

I'm tired of Backrooms video games being based on the Kane Pixels series. No hate to him tho, the quality of the series is really impressive and genuinely kinda cool to see, but like.. I think people should stop trying to replicate it. make something new, y'know? something that isn't 'you're a scientist at some top secret science facility exploration team and you get lost from your coworkers after entering the backrooms the facility created with their strange machines and you were tasked with going first into a hole in the wall or floor while your coworkers just sit back and watch and wait'

Let me explore the non euclidean architecture of multiple different real life buildings and locations and scenery all merged together into an abomination amalgamation of a place to get lost in. let me be an unfortunate soul that somehow got stuck and trapped within this bizarre place that I have no recollection of how I even wound up there. Let me feel dread and nostalgia and a sense of deja vu around nearly every corner and in nearly ever room I enter that looks like places I have been to or places I have dreamed of.

no more monsters, no more people in hazmat suits and no more stories woven in and other people involved.

(post got a little long, cutting here):

the true horror is the idea that you are truly alone. the paranoia that there might be something in there with you, you hear noises and sounds, but have never once seen anything like a creature or person. every clock you see tells a different time, or lack power or has no hands.

I want to see more games like that for the backrooms.

a proper backrooms survival type game, too, similar to that SCP ikea game just.. minus the threat of any monsters and you really have to go searching for the objects to obtain the parts and materials from to give you tools to try and survive.

perhaps there's some kind of scoring system in place? see how long you can survive in the backrooms.

is there even a way to get out? if so, it should be difficult to find it and get to it.

at this point, there's really little to no creativity and variety with the games based around the backrooms. WHY must there be some kind of scientific research being done? WHY must there be some form of entity that wishes to kill you?

it really makes it boring and kills the mystery and intrigue that the original idea of the backrooms provided. I've made a post before about this and I will repeat what I said there:

The true horror of the backrooms is the realization that you are literally all alone and you have no idea how long you have been there and no idea if there is any way of truly surviving, where is the food? the water? is it any good? is it safe to ingest? is there any safe place to sleep? is there any exit at all? your growing sense of paranoia and the physical feeling of your sanity slipping and deteriorating over time, THAT is what would make the backrooms a true horror.

horror is more than just monsters chasing you. there is solace to be found in the monster: you are not the only living thing here, there is something else alive in this place.

but no monsters being present gives you the sense of pure dread that you are truly and utterly alone. there is NOTHING to keep you company. no other signs of life. it's just you.

the concept of the backrooms is fun and fascinating, but it gets ruined so easily and turned into the same old thing with monsters and top secret government funded facilities.

The backrooms have literally just become the dollar store SCP Foundation, y'know?? just without the fun.

[freedomfireflies]

this is about to be really long, just a warning—

update on the film i’m making with my friend (if that’s ringing a bell, i can’t remember how much i’ve mentioned this to you): we finished our july shoots yesterday and wrapped for a couple of our actors and it’s been amazing in the sense that the performances are great and the shots are looking awesome. however, our assistant director has apparently taken a liking to me, and while he’s very professional about his position and clearly knows what he’s doing which i greatly admire, i’m very much not interested. the first day the flirting wasn’t too egregious and i was able to laugh it off, but yesterday was almost unbearable for me. he would follow me on my heels everywhere i would go, come up behind me during takes and just breathe down my neck, and always move to sit next to me. i started testing it by moving around the room between takes to see if he would randomly follow—he always would. as the scripty for the film, it’s my job to be taking notes on pretty much everything happening during takes (timestamps, lenses, camera angles, line deviations, performance notes, shot types, etc.) by the time we were breaking for lunch, my hands were shaking so badly i couldn’t type. i felt like i was gonna suffocate. why do men do this again and again and again? completely tarnish valuable experiences for women because they think they’re entitled to their personal space? he wouldn’t stop talking at me, repeating back what i would say as if he’d just had the idea himself and was gracious enough to explain it to me. he would stare at me across the room, always. glance down at my chest every single time we would talk. our final shoots are in august and i’m not sure what to do. this is my film, a project i adore, and i refuse to let him take it away from me. but i just don’t know if i can stomach him again. i already feel like such an imposter on set—must i also feel like a piece of meat? i guess so.

i’m sorry for the totally downer message, and i certainly don’t expect you to come up with any solutions here, haha. i just wanted to share this. i feel pretty alone with this these days. thank you for reading if you do <3

My love ♥️

First of all, I'm so insanely sorry you're having to go through this, especially in a place that's supposed to be a safe environment for you and everyone else!

Is there any way you can either have him fired/removed from set/made to stay away from you (like opposite end of the property) OR is there anyone else you can talk to about this so they can make sure he doesn't get close?

You should never be made to feel like an object EVER. End of. And to disrespect you so publicly (and at all) is so far over the line, you can't even see the line anymore. If anything, it's inappropriate workplace behavior, and can be dealt with as such!

I know he might be in an important position for the film, but truly, it shouldn't matter. Assistant director or not, he's making somebody on set feel uncomfortable and deserves to be dealt with and punished. I know it's not an easy conversation to have, but please let me know if you have anybody to talk to about this so at least somebody else can be there with you so you aren't alone with him.

I'm so proud of you all for finishing and I'm so excited to hear about how it all goes! This is amazing work and I'm truly so impressed and inspired by you! And I hope this man doesn't get even a second of your joy and pride in your amazing work! And again, I'm so sorry this is something you're having to deal with. I know apologies don't help, but it makes me so upset to hear, and I'm sending you the biggest hug in the world ♥️

Please know you can message me any time (about this or anything!) and I will absolutely be here to talk or help you feel a little less alone! Especially if you end up seeing him again and want an escape!

I hope you're all right and taking care of yourself! You deserve to feel safe and respected everywhere and I hope you feel that way again so soon!

[mlobsters]

supernatural s8e5 blood brother (w. ben edlund)

let's see what sort of bad takes i can have today!

SAM I don't know, Dean. I mean, you did try to kill his mother. DEAN I was trying to kill Crowley, okay? Who happened to be wearing Kevin's mother at the time. Well, there's a difference. SAM Apparently not to Kevin. Oh, I know. Maybe because – oh, yeah – it's his mother.

i'm here for the bickering but not whatever replacement-wife-dog drama is actually going on underneath

benny feeling like ruby 3.0 (meg briefly held 2.0)

DEAN Hey, the trail is dead, but the room is paid for. You got some research to do, and I got some personal crap I got to take care of. That's all. SAM What does that mean – "personal"? DEAN Did you have a stroke? Vocabulary? Personal, as in my own grown-up personal – I don't know – crap. SAM Damn it – DEAN What, Sam? Last I counted, you took a year off from the job. I need a day.

the affront at dean having something private, which they're the ones that have surrendered their privacy in order to be insane about each other, and when they start hiding things everything goes to shit. sigh

objectively, i can only imagine the bond dean would have made with benny after being basically in war with him for a year without breaks. like lifetime, cumulatively, spent time in the trenches fighting with sam even might be less than the amount of time they're telling us he and benny were killin stuff together, so i'm gonna give that.

of course doesn't deal with the conflict caused by failure to communicate with sam which truly is evergreen

BENNY Oh, your work here is done, Dean. You already saved the day. You know, I got my, uh, deal, and you got – what'd you call it? A family business?

yes, that's it. family business!

CASTIEL Well, I think we're clear for the moment. It does present a curious curl in the metaphysics, doesn't it? If you murder a monster in monster heaven, where does it go?

great minds

DEAN Listen to me, you undead blood junkie, I'm the one with the mojo. I'm the one with the plan. Cas... we're gonna shove your ass back through the eye of that needle if it kills all three of us. BENNY Obviously, I'm less than comfortable with that.

fair, benny, fair

these prompts for sam's little flashbacks are so goofy. i am going to sit outside and use my laptop boop boop. oh, an ice machine..... 🎶 memory, all alone in the moonlight 🎶

remember when it was cheerfully bright while also a little hazy, and i had a dog? and i fixed things for a living? and was normal?? dreamy

BENNY Boarded, burned, and buried at sea. My nest – that's how we fed… How we always fed. We kept a tight little fleet, maybe a half-dozen boats. Nothing ostentatious, just pleasure craft. I must have circled the Americas ten times during my tour. A few of us would act as stringers and patrol the harbors, looking for the right-size target – fat, rich yachts going to far-off ports.

they said eat the rich 💁

DEAN Vampire pirates? That's what you guys are? Vampirates. BENNY You know, all the years we ran together, I can't believe nobody ever thought of that. DEAN What do you mean? It's like the third thing you say. BENNY No, it isn't.

dean bringing the awkward as ever

BENNY Anyway…our father – he was a jealous god. He kept the family together but kept us apart from the rest of the world, always at sea. I always did what was best for the nest… till I met her.

fits right in with the family, daddy issues all around

deleting the text before sending it to sam 😔 so close and yet so far

hey, benny's lady was in the expanse

the expanse s1e6 rock bottom - athena karkanis as octavia muss

SAM A friend? Dean, you don't have any – all your friends are dead. DEAN That's not what I called to talk about!

they're kind of hamming it up but it's just sad. everything about this

SAM (on phone) I get the separate-lives thing, but this is a hunting thing, and we need to find that line –

separate lives since when

BENNY’S MAKER But she meant everything to you. If that's all I could salvage from my wayward son – the woman he defied his maker for – I wanted someone to remember you by.

lol wayward son

AMELIA You come from nowhere, you appear to be going nowhere, and you've, quote, "seen a lot of stitches." It's all pretty solid creepy.

that was cute but there's something about how she's playing this that gives me strong natalie portman in garden state vibes? is she manic pixie dream girling? it's weirding me out.

AMELIA I used to – have someone, I mean. But that's over now. It's gone. You know what that's like, don't you?

maybe so!!

and now sam's freakin out because dean's in trouble and he's not there to help, so is this when he learns the lesson that he actually does want to stay with dean? since the almost-heart-ripped-out incident wasn't enough. oh, not if benny and dean take care of things and sam's got no saving the day to do. may get to hear the 'go hunt with benny instead' argument after all

music swells after dean kills benny's monster lady, okay. benny sounding ready to die, okay.. flashback meteors of black goo shapeshift into dumbass leviathan okaayyy

that was a nice effect with the little slowmo going for a weapon, dean shaking his head, situation defused

BENNY I can see you two have a lot to talk about.

dean's in troouuble. if you want sam to stay with you, you can't be hiding stuff, man.

[the-apology-dance]

Knight In Training

Virgil had been getting curious as to where Roman goes most nights. It was unusual for him to leave without giving any of the other sides proper notice beforehand in case they needed him. He was practically invisible with none of them knowing his location in the Mindscape. Patton surveyed Virgil from his doorway as he heatedly strode past it while searching for Roman.

Patton had been given a physical presence before Virgil, meaning that he had been in the Mindscape a lot longer than him. When he showed up, two other sides were already there. Logan and Roman. The two never agreed with each other as both of them had viewpoints from opposite ends of the spectrum. Logan was logic and realism. Roman was creativity and idealism. Real and Surreal.

He had been created to ease the tension and stress that occurred between the two. It worked but it also meant that Patton knew a lot more of Roman’s past than Virgil did. Patton knows how Roman operates and certain things he takes to heart. This was also how Patton accidentally stumbled upon something Roman did that he assumed was a secret and something he did not want to voice to the others.

“Virgil….” He practically gave himself whiplash with the force he used to turn towards Patton. Steadying himself, he waited for the room to stay still. Virgil was not the kind of person that enjoys surprises or jumpscares of any kind. Virgil stood like before as he looked at Patton, who was wearing pajamas.

“Patton… Any idea where in the-“ Patton nodded as his gaze shifted downwards towards the floor. Almost like he felt guilty to have the knowledge of Roman’s whereabouts in the first place. Giving a loud exhale, Patton walked back down the hall.

“Yes. Just let me talk to you first.” Virgil narrowed his eyes at the cryptic response he had just been given from him but he wasn’t going to lie, he desperately needed to know where he was before he started pulling strands of purple hair out of his scalp. Sitting on Patton’s bed, Patton shut the door and started pacing as he spoke.

“Virgil. Though you don’t remember much about your origins, Roman was there when the feeling of Anxiety, or you, started developing. You were younger and that was enough to trigger Roman’s memories of his own childhood, which wasn’t exactly the greatest. This is going to take forever if I tell the whole thing, but to sum it up, Roman knows his past mistakes and knowing him, is trying to fix them as much as possible. He saw you for the first time around when Thomas was in high school, and that was enough for him. He started behaving like this before.I accidentally know why and where.”

“Show me.” Patton nodded and wandered the hallways with Virgil until they came to a very secluded hallway that had a large iron door sealing it shut. Both of them wore worried expressions as they neared the doorway. Patton put his finger to his lips, telling Virgil to keep quiet as he cracked the door open and tugged Virgil behind a large control panel.

Virgil truly didn’t believe what his eyes were seeing, as Roman looked like a completely different side. His ginger curls stuck to his forehead from all the sweat that he was soaked in, which made the tank top he wore stick to his torso. He wore loose red sweatpants rolled up to his knees so he could move easier. He had wrapped his hands to stop him from cutting them up.

Roman had created projections that were set to a specific level as they attempted to hit him. Virgil didn’t believe Roman could actually use his sword, let alone daggers that matched its appearance. Virgil watched as Roman fought back against them, taking each down as they struggled to land a punch or hit him with an object they held. He was pushing himself to his limits, but didn’t seem to have any intention of stopping even though his breathing was incredibly labored.

Patton sighed and pulled up the settings, Virgil looked at the screen curiously wondering why the levels were so specific, including what weapon they attacked him with. He didn’t understand until Patton pulled up another window on above the levels he had it set to. Glancing up, Virgil’s blood froze. Two sides were pulled up, along with their statistics.

Those two people were Remus and Janus. Their statistics matched exactly to what Roman was fighting against and just when Virgil thought it couldn’t get any more concerning, Patton pointed to a scoreboard, watching the number go up as he took out the projections. Virgil swallowed thickly as none of them had managed to even land a hit on Roman. Virgil’s eyes widened as Patton dragged him back out and ran from the location.

“Patton, what the hell did I just see?” Patton sighed loudly and adjusted his glasses. He slowly looked at Virgil, as he was not looking forward to this conversation.

“Virgil. I know you and Roman. I honestly don’t know how you will feel about this, or what you will even do with this information, but for the love of all that is holy. Please don’t take it out on Roman. Please.” Nodding slowly, Patton crossed his arms.

“When you were still in creation, I accidentally heard a conversation between Roman and his dad upon seeing you for the first time. He told him that even if you denied it later in life, you were different. Special. He told Roman he needed him to protect you. For him to always be your knight.” Virgil paced back and forth as he processed it all. His face slowly started to morph into an angered expression and Patton braced himself.

“Patton, I’m not some kid! I don’t need Roman to be some glorified babysitter!” Patton started feeling a rush of anger and sadness, Virgil becoming concerned.

“Fine! Answer this. Are you a dark or a light side, Virgil?” Virgil stalled as his brain went back and forth. Light? But he originally was a Dark side. There was no clear answer. Patton nodded slowly.

“That’s what I thought. Second question. Can Roman be completely sure what side his brother is on? He is Roman’s blood so you’d want to say he’d take Roman’s side in his time of need, but he does stay on the Dark side and kinda wants Roman dead.” Virgil backed down as his eyebrows knitted together.

“There is no clear answer as to just how morally corrupt Remus would be if it came down to the wire with Roman.” Virgil sighed loudly, he knew Patton was right. He couldn’t clearly answer either question. It all would be hypothetical.

“There are a lot of things about the others you can’t clearly answer. Let me explain Roman’s dilemma. Can you tell me with complete certainty that Remus and Janus would never try to take you back to the Dark?” Virgil’s shoulders dropped as he realized why Roman trained as hard as he did. He only would get one shot at it if it did ever happen to Virgil. So the only solution? Train to the point where you can’t get it wrong.

“No….no, I can’t.” Patton nodded as his eyes seemed to darken when he sat down quietly on his bed.

“The others aren't as concerned about helping or hurting Thomas as we are. It is not uncommon for them to manipulate people, Virgil. It's happened more than once and they are good at it.”

[botheringlevi]

Notices the scrapes and your subtle grimacing.

Come to my room. I’ll take care of your hand. Im not taking no for answer. No objections this time.

Gently pulls you to my room and have you sat on the bed.

Went to the stockroom to grab supplies.

Cleans the wounds gently, applies soothing cream, and wraps a bandage around the hand.

How long were you gonna endure this? >refers to the hands<. I know you probably had a shitty day, but please come to me if you ever need something, okay?

Kneels down to look at your eyes.

You dont have to go through this alone. You have me. Even if the world goes to apeshit, I’ll stick by yourside.

Grabs your hands. Kisses them longingly. Sniffling.

Please remember that. Levi.

Grabs your bandaged hand and placed them my cheek.

You dont look fine to me. Do you want to talk about it? Do you need me to feed nibbles? I’ll make you tea. What kind of tea do you want?

[Previous ask]

Your room? It's not a—It's just...

The sound of an order unsurprisingly helps convince him. He sways when he stands. While they lead him, he bows his head in shame.

He's pressed down to sit on the bed. Idiot, there's a perfectly good chair right over there. This is stupid.

They don't spare him a response before they leave for supplies. Fortunately he isn't left to his thoughts for any extended period of time. He lays his hands on his knees as if to distance himself from them.

His scowl returns on their return. You deaf?

They ask for how long he planned to endure his injuries instead as they get started. Decides to be stubborn.

*Dryly* This is a waste of supplies.

Then they kneel, and speak.

*Scowl falters... silently links their fingers* You'll ruin your hard work by crying on them. That says enough. You'd never let me forget about... all that. I meant it. I'm... I'm fine.

They place his hand on their cheek and speak. He has trouble answering a barrage of questions, but he most certainly doesn't want to talk about it. Resisting truly is useless, he realizes.

*Flicks their ear* Slow down. Anything is fine, alright? I didn't ask you to do any of this.