#like he couldn’t even bear to talk to me one more time like he’s willing to ask all 32 followers on his spam for self care but not me

[poptarts-and-oranges]

i hate him i miss him i love him

[naeviskz]

genre. idol!hyunjin x model!f!reader | established relationship

words. 1.5k+ tags/warnings. angst, fluff (towards the end), smut, accusations of cheating, hj is lowkey toxic (but we love it hehe), cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, some mentions of crying, not proofread

this has been in my drafts for years and i finally finished it bc i was tired of seeing it LMAO. btw the position i’m referring to is this (nsfw link), i usually hate vids but this was rlly good imo.

“i think we should take a break...” you admit, voice growing shakier as you spoke. this was never something you wish to say in a million years, you wanted this relationship to work more than anything. but you were at your wits end with everything, talking to hyunjin was like conversing with the wall, never truly grasping any of your concerns.

you noticed the cracks beginning to seep in the midst of six months of being with him. he would often be dishonest of his whereabouts, saying he was out late due to “work” but was actually out drinking at some bar with chan or something. it made no sense for him to lie about such trivial things but he does it without even thinking. this was supposed to be a lovely vacation in paris together but lately you’ve grown tired of feeling like you’re unappreciated. a break from each other might be the best solution in getting his act together once and for all.

hyunjin felt his whole body turn limp as you uttered those words. not only was he blindsided by your decision, but you never indicated before to him that you were ready to propose such a drastic idea. “but why though? don’t you think this is a bit random? i mean this came out of nowhere ___, i thought everything was good between us, why are you suddenly saying this now?” his thick, bushy brows furrowed in confusion, he wasn’t letting you off this easy and you know it.

“i just think it’s for the better right now hyune, we’re both so busy. we have a lot on our plate, especially you… and this relationship is just— it’s only putting more strain on everythi-”

“are you serious ___? do you hear yourself? i knew what i was getting myself into the day i asked you to be my girlfriend. i’m well aware that i can’t be with you 24/7, and neither can you—however, i don’t expect that anyway. all i ever wanted was to have you by my side, i want to work through the hardships with you but if you’re so willing to give up like this then… i don’t know. i don’t even know what to say to this honestly..” hyunjin couldn’t help but cut you off, once his emotions take over, all sense of logic and reasoning is thrown out the window.

he was never one to question his worth in the eyes of his partner, but you were his longest relationship, he saw you as his first and only true love. it never occurred to him that he could lose you, the possibility of this break lasting long enough to make your love fade away was a scary revelation. there had to be a way he could fix this, he couldn’t bear to be without you.

“are you seeing someone else? maybe that’s why you’ve been so distant towards me lately…” he wanted to scream for saying that out loud but at least he got it off his chest. he knows how petty it sounds but he didn’t care, he wanted you to give him answers.

“no! i’m not seeing other people, i don’t have an interest in anyone but you hyunjin. i want to do this for the sake of us, we’re clearly not where we need to be and this break could help with getting us back on track and spending time apart could be beneficial.” you try your best to articulate your words properly but he remained unconvinced, he wasn’t on board with any bit of this.

how could you even be okay with something like this? spending time away from you drove him absolutely insane, he couldn’t fathom taking a break—not from someone as important as you in his life. he just needed to remind you that the love was still there, though it may be but a dull flame, he could ignite the spark again, with the little bit of hope he had left.

the foundation of your relationship was built from shared interests, since you both are part of professions that rely heavily on looks, you refused to see each other based solely off those superficial aspects. instead you got to know each other’s minds, your core values and beliefs, what mattered to you the most. you cherished every one of those deep conversations you shared together, it was a beautiful experience, an indescribable memory that shaped your bond forever.

so why is it now that you feel this way? was he really that oblivious to everything? he should’ve done more to prevent this but now he fears it’s too late. he’s faced with the conundrum of losing you and there wasn’t much time for him to stall or ask for a chance of redemption, he couldn’t waste another second.

“fuck that,” hyunjin angrily spat, his face contorting into a look of pure disgust. “you’re not going anywhere.” he reaches out to grab your waist before you could walk away, aggressively pulling you into his chest.

no matter how much you attempt to escape his hold, he’s not letting you go in the slightest. he’s much stronger than you, could easily lift you up without breaking a sweat. there was no use in fighting, you had no choice but to give in and let this conversation go. once his lips crashed into yours, everything faded to black. as if a simple kiss was the cure-all of mending this decrepit relationship.

hyunjin’s forehead pressed against yours as he pulled away, “shhh, lye down baby,” he hushes your quiet mewls, instructing you to do as he says. “gonna make you feel so good,” his hands slid under your skirt, gently rubbing over your clothed slit “you’ll forget everything.”

* :.･ﾟﾟ･ ✿

“oh my- fuckk, hyunjin!” you cry out, almost on the verge of tears just from how skilled he is, rutting your hips upwards into his mouth as he devours you whole.

the pace of his tongue is relentless, roughly lapping up all your juices like he’s the most starved man alive. you’ve lost count at the amount of times he’s already made you come undone just from his mouth alone. your body’s buzzing with titillation, all you can do is scream and clench your pussy around nothing while he fiercely sucks on your clit.

you couldn’t stop twitching, feeling yet another orgasm approaching. your legs anchored over his shoulders, unable to think or speak coherent sentences as his face was fully buried into your dewy cunt. he relaxes his jaw a bit more, going all the way from the bottom inching further up as he comes back in contact with your puffy clit. at any given moment it feels as if your heart’s about to stop.

“hyunjin-” your heads thrown back into the pillow, digging your nails into his shoulder blades from how overly sensitive you are. “n-need to cum.. can feel it. m’so close.” it surprises you when you’re able to even express such words.

a low grunt can be heard underneath, hyunjin loves hearing you— it’s arguably the best part about going down on you. the hand that wasn’t occupied went straight to gripping a fistful of his ebony hair, continuously moaning his name so loud that you genuinely feel bad for whomever the unlucky people that got to hear this.

just when you thought it couldn’t get anymore intense, he slips 2 of his slender fingers inside, making you gasp from the overwhelming sensation. flashes of white invade your vision, violently shaking as your lips form an “o” in the throes of ecstasy. hyunjin knows your body so well that this is nothing for him, he’s got it all down to a simple science. no one knows your body like he does, and especially no one can make you cum as hard as he can.

“go ahead, make a mess for me baby,” he strongly encourages, picking up his pace as his digits fuck into you faster. “just gonna clean it up with my tongue all over again.”

your eyes roll back to the depths of oblivion, feeling an out of body experience when reaching your climax. a slew of curses leave your shaky breath, limbs trembling and faint tears stain your flushed cheeks. hyunjin slows his movements, rubbing his thumb over your clit gently to make you even more sensitive. you love the way he calls you “good girl” and how proud the look on his face becomes while you ride out your orgasm on his fingers. he doesn’t stop showering you with compliments, only ramping up his affection as he plants fleeting kisses to your thighs, hips, and tummy.

once he’s finally come back up for air you grab his face to pull him into your lips again. moaning in his mouth while getting a taste of yourself was probably the hottest thing hyunjin’s ever witnessed.

“can’t believe you’re all mine.” hyunjin whispers against you, gently massaging your aching thighs. “i love you so much baby.”

“love you too hyune.” you instantly say back, feeling more at ease now that things are somewhat back to normal.

maybe a break isn’t necessary after all, how else would you be able to have such earth shattering orgasms?

- 完 ♡︎

[neferaskingdom]

♡ My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys | MV1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader [Angst]

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Summary: Max only breaks the things he loves, but Y/n likes being broken if it means they can be whole together.

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check out my other works: Masterlist

The night you met Max, he had just come off a win, drenched in adrenaline and glory. The world had been his that day, and when he noticed you across the room, something in his gaze sharpened. A fierce look, like he’d spotted his next victory. You should have known then, you suppose—that when he wanted something, he didn’t just take it; he consumed it, left marks on it. But that night, as you watched him approach with that half-smile, you were captivated.

You had spent the night laughing, letting him tell you stories about life in racing, about the whirlwind of pressure and grit. He had seemed lighter then, more open, willing to let you glimpse the parts of himself that no one else got to see. By the time you found yourself pressed against the hotel door, his lips brushing against yours, you were already falling for him.

“Come on,” he had murmured, that daring gleam in his eyes, fingers lacing with yours. “I know you’re as reckless as I am.”

And you were. Or at least you’d convinced yourself of that.

The next months were exhilarating. You followed him across the world, cheering him on from the sidelines, riding the highs and lows of his career. When things were good, they were perfect. He’d pull you into his arms after races, press his forehead against yours, and tell you, “Don’t let go of me.” You would laugh, tell him you wouldn’t even if you tried, because he had a way of making you feel like you were part of his victories, his journey. You saw it all: the determination, the stubbornness, the boyish grin that made him seem so much softer than he was.

But there were other sides to Max. Darker edges that you hadn’t seen at first, and they began to creep into your relationship like shadows 

After races where he didn’t win, or when things went wrong, he’d come back to you tense and closed-off. Those nights, he’d sit in silence, his jaw set, his eyes hard as he stared at nothing. You’d reach out to him, try to offer comfort, but he’d turn away, frustration and disappointment in every movement.

One night, after a particularly difficult race, he came back and barely looked at you. You tried to pull him into a hug, but he stiffened, pulling away.

“Max, talk to me,” you murmured, hurt by the distance. "I’m here.”

He let out a bitter laugh, looking anywhere but at you. “You don’t get it,” he muttered, his voice low. “None of this. You don’t know what it’s like.”

The words stung, but you swallowed the pain. “I know it’s hard on you. I’m just trying to be here for you.”

“Maybe that’s the problem,” he snapped, and there was a rawness to his voice, something wild and uncontained. “Maybe I don’t want you to be here every second. I don’t need a babysitter.”

Your heart sank, but you forced yourself to stand tall. “I’m not your babysitter, Max. I’m here because I love you.”

He glanced at you, and for a second, his expression softened, but just as quickly, he turned away, as if he couldn’t bear to face the vulnerability in his own eyes. “I… I didn’t mean it like that,” he muttered, looking down. But he didn’t apologize, didn’t try to make it right. Instead, he just walked out of the room, leaving you standing there, wondering if this love you had was only breaking both of you.

The days that followed were strained, silent. You tried to talk to him, to tell him how much his words had hurt, but he shut you out, retreating into himself like a storm gathering strength. And then, as if nothing had happened, he came back, pulling you close, whispering sweet things in your ear, telling you he couldn’t bear to be without you. You told yourself it was enough. That he loved you, even if he didn’t always know how to show it.

But the cycles continued. One moment, you were his world, and the next, you were just someone in the way, someone he didn’t have time for. It was as if he was afraid to let you in completely, as if he thought you’d leave if you ever saw him fully. Yet, for all the moments he hurt you, there were just as many times he showed you a softness that made you stay.

On a quiet night, long after another race, he held you close, trailing his fingers along your arm, as if memorizing you by touch. “Sometimes… I think I’m too much,” he murmured, his voice vulnerable, almost boyish.

“Too much?” you echoed, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face.

He nodded, his gaze turning distant. “Too intense, maybe. I want things too badly, and… I don’t know if I can stop. I just keep pushing, keep wanting more, even when it feels like it’s costing me everything else.”

You reached out, taking his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. “Max, you don’t have to be everything all the time. You don’t have to be perfect for me to love you.”

For a moment, he looked at you like you were the only thing keeping him anchored. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispered, and there was a sadness in his voice that broke your heart.

Maybe he knew even then that he was hurting you, that he was breaking you bit by bit. But he couldn’t stop, and you couldn’t let go.

One evening, after yet another rough race weekend, he came back to find you sitting in the bedroom, a packed suitcase beside you. You looked up at him, tears filling your eyes as you struggled to find the words.

He froze, his eyes darkening as he processed the sight of your things neatly packed. “What’s going on?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Max… I can’t do this anymore,” you managed, your voice shaking. “I love you, but it feels like… like you’re always pushing me away. Every time I get close, you build these walls, and I’m left outside, trying to find my way back in.”

His fists clenched, his face contorting in pain. “So, what, you’re leaving? After everything?”

You swallowed, nodding slowly. “I don’t want to. But… Max, it’s like you don’t even want me to be here. One day you tell me you love me, and the next, you shut me out.”

He ran a hand through his hair, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I know,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “I know I do this. I don’t mean to hurt you, but… I don’t know how to be any other way.”

You took a shaky breath, stepping closer to him, reaching out one last time. “Maybe that’s the problem. You keep breaking the things you love most.”

He looked up at you, and for the first time, you saw tears in his eyes. He opened his mouth, as if to speak, but then closed it, swallowing hard. He was silent, and the silence said more than words ever could.

You placed a hand on his cheek, your thumb tracing over his skin as you whispered, “I wish you could be whole. I wish… I wish you could love me without breaking us.”

He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch, his hand reaching up to cover yours. “I wish I could too,” he whispered, voice cracking. “I wish I could be better for you.”

For a moment, you stood there, holding each other in a painful, beautiful silence. And then you pulled away, picking up your suitcase. You didn’t look back as you walked to the door, the ache in your chest growing heavier with every step. But as you closed the door behind you, you knew it was the only way to find peace.

You leave that night, suitcase in hand and heart heavy. You think it’s the end, that the constant fractures in your relationship with Max have finally split you apart for good. You spend weeks trying to convince yourself you’re better off this way. You keep telling yourself that the pain is over, that the ache will ease.

But the ache doesn’t fade—it only sharpens with distance. And Max? He feels it too, that emptiness you left behind. He goes through the motions: the races, the parties, the applause. Yet, at the end of the day, he’s alone, haunted by memories of a love he couldn’t let himself hold without fear of shattering it.

It’s late one night when his name lights up your phone screen, a simple message that stops you in your tracks: “Are you awake?”

You stare at it, knowing you shouldn’t reply, that responding will only pull you back into his orbit. But your fingers move on their own, typing out, “Yeah.”

The next thing you know, he’s outside your door, looking like he’s barely slept. His voice is quiet as he speaks, almost tentative. “I thought I could do this,” he murmurs. “I thought you’d be better off.”

“You thought you’d be better off,” you correct gently, voice laced with pain and longing.

He nods, exhaling slowly. “I was wrong.”

You let him in, both of you filled with things left unsaid. That night, he holds you like he’s afraid you’ll vanish again. There’s a sadness between you, a knowing that you’re both drawn to something you can’t seem to keep but can’t bring yourselves to leave entirely. You tell yourself it’s the last time, but deep down, you know better.

Days stretch into weeks, and you both try to make things work. There’s laughter, the way he holds you close after each race, whispering promises of change. And for a while, you feel whole again.

But, eventually, the same cracks reappear. Arguments simmer, quiet disappointments surface, and you’re left feeling like two broken pieces that can’t quite fit together. You know his heart, his dreams, but his intensity is overwhelming, something fierce and untamed, and you’re left with pieces of a love that never quite held.

One evening, in the midst of another argument, you find yourself saying, “Maybe… maybe we’re better off alone.”

Max looks at you, his eyes flashing with hurt, but he doesn’t fight you this time. Instead, he nods slowly. “Maybe.”

And so, you leave again, pulling the door shut and walking away. Yet, each time you close that door, each time you think it’s the last, it only takes a few weeks before one of you reaches out, before you find yourselves standing in front of each other, tired, bruised, but still unable to let go.

It becomes a cycle. A dance of love and hurt, where neither of you knows how to stop the breaking, but neither of you can bear the thought of living without each other. You try to convince yourselves, time and again, that maybe you’d both be better off if you left. But deep down, you both know it’s a lie. You’re his favorite kind of heartbreak, the one thing he keeps coming back to, even though he knows he’ll only hurt you again.

And you? You’re no different. Each time he calls, each time he tells you he needs you, you let yourself believe that maybe this time, things will be different. Because for all the breaking and all the pain, you know that neither of you are better off without the other. You’re both broken, both bruised, but maybe—just maybe—you’re each other’s only way to feel whole.

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[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Hi! I really like your writing, and I was wondering if I could request a Yandere!Platonic 1st Years (+Grim) with an Eri!Reader?

How would they feel learning of her abused, trauma, and her unfamiliarity with general society and social norms? (Who’s looking murderous when they see just the scars littered around her arms and legs when her bandages are removed?)

Though it’s a whole different story when she says she sees her power as nothing but a ‘curse’, and her existence a ‘burden’ that only makes others suffer? All because of the man named ‘Overhaul’, the one who did this so her? (Who’s about to go feral when she admits she doesn’t remember how to smile?)

But she starts to become more positive thanks to Grim and slowly the others (She likes Grim and is very sparkly eyed because he talks, breaths fire and thinks he’s amazing)

Imagine when she says she made a friend all on her very own who’s ‘like her’, though they lightly chastise her that she shouldn’t talk with strangers (It’s Malleus, they’re both lonely, have horns she has 1, while Malleus has 2, have an incredible power that’s very dangerous, and they’re unfamiliar/slow with society)

Eri Reader | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

You’ve been through so much….so you’ve been told. The pain, the heartbreak, the constant voice in your head that has guilt weighing on your little heart. Your transportation to Twisted Wonderland couldn’t come at a better time. They’re going to welcome you cage you to this new world more than willing to spoil you to your hearts content:

Grim 

“Oi oi servant they all think we’re monsters!”

“...yeah?”

“Yeah! So we gotta show them we’re gonna be the greatest mages in here!”

“Oh….okay!”

He’s the perfect chaotic companion

He teaches you to allow yourself to do what you want

Granted his guidance isn’t all knowing

No matter how tasty Heartslabyul’s tarts are you shouldn’t eat them everytime you visit — especially without permission

Either way you’re learning to forgive yourself and allow you to have fun

And leave it to Grim to say whatever snarky thing you’d like to say when your big-brothers get in the way

“Nyeh! You won’t be able to do anything against my flames, nyah!”

Ace Trappola

“Hey if I catch you moping about that plague doctor guy, I’ll sock ya in the head!”

“Ace?!”

“I-i-i won’t!”

In a weird way you’re so used to being bullied (by kai) that you tend to take his bully-affection to heart

You know he cares, he just won’t tell you often

He reminds you of a certain blonde…

It also makes you more privy to his very willing desire to steamroll over anyone he deems a problem for you

“I think he meant that as a joke, Ace…”

“Joke schmoke, I warned you, you stain! I’m putting you in the medical wing.”

“Ace, please!” 

Deuce Spade

“(Y/n), did you eat today? Are you feeling well? Do you need me to carry you!”

Mother hen of the group

He’s hovering close behind even when you don’t see him

Always making sure you’re safe and happy as can be

He’s teeming with anxiety if he’s not watching you himself

Even worse if you get hurt accidentally or on purpose

Now he’s Mama bear totally bearing the claws to protect you

He’s not going to leave you to defend yourself

Especially when your abilities hinge on your mental state

He’s trying his best

“Are you doing the breathing techniques Crewel recommended? Where’s your paper bag?”

Jack Howl

“Hello little one.”

“Hi.”

“Would you…like to sit on my shoulders?”

“Yes!”

Your #1 guard dog

Doesn’t have to worry considering Deuce is freaking out for him

He’ll be the sane voice of reason because Ace isn’t anywhere close to reliable in his eyes

Naturally he entrances you with his tail and overall dog-like personality

But don’t forget he’s got the bite force of a wolf that he’s not afraid to use if he deems fit

“Pup, don’t stop yourself from having fun or being…young. I–we will keep you safe.”

Epel Felmier

“You’re so pretty.”

“...Thanks.”

You’re the only one who can get away with calling him that

And he loves nothing more than escaping Vil to find out what other sweet makes you smile sweetly 

He’s also one of the first to join Ace as part of the self-proclaimed protection committee

He’s also one of the first to suggest taking it further than a mere beatdown

Anything for his new little sibling

“If there’s no body…there’ll be no problems.”

Sebek Zigvolt

“TINY HORNED HUMAN! WHERE IS YOUR DIASOMNIA PIN!” 

“Uhm…Ace took it from me…said it was unfair.”

“THAT FOOL. COME CHILD I SHALL BESTOW UPON YOU THE PIN AGAIN.”

Is definitely apart of a brainwash committee of his own and is insistent you become Diasomnia’s new mascot…under Malleus of course

His loudness sometimes scares you off but he means well

And will no doubt join the others if a few heads need to roll

“Rest easy, child. On my watch, no one will harm you.”

[tsukasalvr]

Idk if your requests are open or not AAHH! But if they are:

(Possible TW in my request for mentions of depression, anxiety, commiting di3 joke)

Could you do a reader with bad depression and anixety. And maybe one day reader makes a joke about 0ffing themself and then they dont show up to school for a few days

Characters I would prefer(from TBHK): Kou, Teru, Hanako, Akane(boy)

You can add more if you like! :)

Im sorry its not very specific, this is my first time requesting something

Also sorry i know topics like these are difficult for some people <3

depressed!reader who makes su*cidal jokes

Anime/fandom: Tbhk

Characters: Kou Minamoto, Teru Minamoto, Hanako, Akane Aoi

Warnings: I don’t proofread, depressed reader, mention of suicide

A/n: just got broken up w by my pookie wookie☹️💔

Tbhk masterlist | Main masterlist

Kou Minamoto

Is immediately put off by what you’re saying and is immediately concerned, and gets even more concerned once you get together and just stares nervously at you while stuttering, not knowing what to say

“That’s so embarrassing, if that were me I would kill myself no doubt! Being so stupid like that, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself!” You casually said while looking at a post on your phone.

“O-oh… umm…” Kou is at a loss for words sometimes and tries to brush it off by moving onto something happier to distract you from thoughts like those

When you make a joke that’s one day too far he genuinely seems so much more concerned and ask if you’re okay. He gets so worried about you that it’s best not to make jokes like that near him.

If you don’t show up the next day, he gets worried and is immediately trying to leave school early even though he knows Teru will berate him later for it, he needs to see you’re okay and when he arrives to your house and sees you are, he’s very serious about not making jokes like those again and is invites you to his house more often to distract yourself and is willing to help you get help

Teru Minamoto

Gives you a nervous smile when you joke about suicide and even when you you’re dating he still gives you an obvious fake smile to not hurt your feelings. He knows that outright saying that if you need someone talk to talk to can be annoying sometimes so he’ll try to subtly let you know he’s there

Whether it’s from talking about a topic of a documentary of a tragic life of some celebrity and all they needed help to having Kou telk you that you’re part of the family and that you can tell them anything when you’re over at their house

“I can’t stop messing this up! God I really should’ve taken those pills when I had the chance, what the hell!” You said angrily at the fact you couldn’t get the string through the small hole in the needle.

Teru could only smile at you, he never says anything to your ‘jokes’, but then he stops and just goes to frowning hoping that you’re not being serious

When you don’t show up the next day, he’s not super worried and just assumes you’re late but sends you messages. But after a few hours the messages become more frequent and by the end of the school day he’s running to your house scared. When he sees you’re alright, he’s pissed and says enough is enough and he’s not taking anymore jokes and is instead going to help you

Hanako

He might laugh at your jokes, but it’s only so he doesn’t worry you. He’s not an unfamiliar when it comes to stuff like this and he knows you might now want to talk about it right away so he’s fine with trying to take it slow

On the inside though, his ghostly heart is scared that you’re it joking and you’re actually being serious. He can’t bear the thought of you dying—and especially dying this way so he keeps a close eye on you and has Kou and Yashiro even make sure that you’re doing okay

“God, I’m so stupid and useless” you say with a laugh as you look at your test result and shove the paper back in your bag

Hanako stares at you, and lets out a laugh that’s believe enough. He’s conflicted on what he should do, should he ask how you’re doing? What if you lie to him? Would you even want to talk to him?

It seems as if his worries have come true when you didn’t show up to school the next day and asks if Yashiro or Kou have seen you at all and to message you on those weird electronic things. Yashiro only agrees to go to your house when Hanako asked because she too was worried about you. Hanako waits impatiently the next day and sees you and you tell him you were just feeling sick. If he could, then Hanako would definitely cry and basically forces you to promise to tell him if anything is wrong with a scared and worried expression on his face

Akane Aoi

You’re the most precious person in his life so he takes everything very serious when it comes to you. A paper cut? He’s getting ready to call an ambulance for you and is frantically asking you if you’re okay.

So joking about such topics near him immediately alarms him and hea on full protective mode with asking if you’re joking or not. He takes everything you say seriously, he cares about you a lot so to see you laugh about it, hurts him a little

“What if I jump out this window right now? I really do want to do this test!” You whined and looked over at the window that was right next to where you were sitting.

Akane had a prominent frown on his face, he knew you weren’t exactly mentally okay and you’re jokes were becoming more and more frequent

He’s on full panic mode when you don’t show up to school the next day and the worst possible outcomes are immediately coming to mind. He hopes he’s wrong and is blowing up your phone and is willing to mess up his perfect attendance streak for you, he’ll fix it later. But when he sees you overslept and your phone died because wig wasn’t charged, he’s disappointed. He knew it was getting worse if you dying was what came to mind when you didn’t show up so he pledges to help you

[mellowsadistic]

Before & After - Daddy's Girl

Set in the world of The Magician’s Game.

***

Lucy Thompson was a strident feminist, an activist with a reputation across her college campus both for her good looks and for her habit of biting the head off any man who tried to flirt with her. With her beautiful face and hourglass figure, she naturally drew the eyes of all the men in her classes – but there was nothing Lucy hated more than the male gaze, as she wrote about frequently in her Critical Theory essays. She couldn’t stand the idea that people saw her as a mere sex object, and there was nothing she hated more than men who assumed she must secretly want to be “put in her place” by a big, strong man like them.

Unfortunately for her, to the Magician’s mind, there’s nothing more enjoyable than taking a strong-willed, empowered woman and making her fight for her adulthood, so naturally Miss Thompson made the ideal candidate for one of his twisted games. She played the game well, however, avoiding all but a minor thumbsucking penalty and making it all the way to the final round before finally losing in a nursery rhyme sing-along contest.

Tired of her constant ranting about the evils of the patriarchy, the Magician decided that Lucy needed a little help changing her attitude towards men. With a snap of his fingers, he gave her a hardcore diaper fetish and an overpowering Daddy kink that soon had her squirming on the floor with one hand stuck down the front of her pants, imagining herself being forced into diapers and made to live as a dumb toddler forever. Then the Magician gave her the choice; she could return to her normal life without so much as losing her continence, or he could strip her of all her bladder and bowel control and let her live with him as his full-time adult baby girl…

Lucy’s New Life

Lucy moaned around her thumb and humped her thickly padded crotch desperately against her teddy bear. Her squishy nappy felt delightful against her pussy. It was soaked with pee, just the way she liked it. Her face burned with humiliation at what she was doing, but that just made her pussy even wetter. The old her would have died with shame if she could’ve seen herself now, grinding her sopping wet Pampers on her stuffed animals. But it was the only way a stupid, horny diaper girl like her could get off. She let out another slutty moan.

“Uh-oh,” came a deep male voice from above her. “I think someone’s being a naughty little girl…”

Lucy felt a powerful rush of arousal. She loved the way Daddy talked to her, like she was a particularly dim-witted four-year-old. She hated him too, hated the way he’d turned her into a diaper-wearing freak, the way he’d stolen her future and reduced her to a life of bottle-feeds and early bedtimes, spankings and nappy changes. But another part, just as strong, thought it was the hottest thing ever. She looked up, and her nether regions pulsed with pleasure at the sight of his handsome face, his sadistic smile.

“Does Daddy need to pull off your diaper and spank your naughty bottom, Lulu?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Lucy shook her head hurriedly from side to side, but she couldn’t help sucking her thumb lustily at the thought of being turned over Daddy’s lap, having her nappy pulled down, getting her plump bare bottom smacked over and over again until it turned bright pink…

“Are you sure?” he asked, a smirk playing around his lips. “Your Nanny told me she caught you doing something naughty this morning too.”

Lucy’s face went even redder.

“Did you really try to sneak a wet diaper out of the pail and put it on?” he asked, sounding deeply amused.

Lucy thought she might faint with the humiliation. She gave her teddy an extra hard hump and nodded.

“Silly girl,” said the Magician, reaching out and patting her padded rear. “If you want playtime in your icky used nappies then all you have to do is ask. Daddy already knows what a disgusting, depraved little girl you are.”

Lucy groaned and shut her eyes, still grinding on her bear. She was getting so close to orgasm now. But then there was a sudden pressure in her bottom, and she gasped around her thumb. Instinctively she tried to clamp down, to hold it in, but that wasn’t something her body was capable of anymore. Instead, she barely felt it as a big, yucky mess filled her diaper. The Magician started to laugh, and Lucy humped her teddy bear faster and faster, even as she grimaced with revulsion. The mess in the back of her pants felt disgusting. It was so gross and stinky and babyish.

She could have walked away, she told herself. She could have been a normal woman, or at least a woman who could control when she peed and pooped. But now she was just a big, smelly baby who needed nappies on her butt 24/7. A naughty, overgrown toddler who needed a Daddy to keep her in her rightful place… and she always would be. She moaned again. How could she have chosen this?! With one final, desperate thrust of her hips, Lucy had a shuddering orgasm in her soaked and stinky diaper and slumped over her teddy bear, gasping for breath.

As the euphoria began to fade, the familiar shame and self-disgust started to creep over her, and she buried her face in her teddy’s soft fur. But when her Daddy bent down, kissed the top of her head, and whispered, “That’s my girl,” the tingling started in her pussy all over again.

[fastboatsmojito]

🕸️𖤐 Promptober Day Nineteen - One Bed 𖤐🕸️

| a/n; hiii everyone sorry for my impromptu break, I’ve just been dealing with some family stuff but I’m catching up on everything this weekend, thank u for Bearing with me 🧎🚬

Promptober schedule here!

| cw; all fluff <3 gn reader

| wc; 694

dividers by @strangergraphics

It was cold and rainy, of course it was. Fucking Chicago. Your outfits lack of jacket was really beginning to reveal itself as a mistake, shaky and cold as you walked as quickly as you could without slipping to your hotel for the night.

You stood by the door, running your hands over your arms to warm up as the water dripping from you created a small puddle on the floor.

“You forget where you live or something? Come here.” You looked up from the doormat to see Carmy standing by the front desk, still suited up for the event he’d left before you, taking off his coat and walking over to you.

“This dress was way too expensive to throw a jacket over it. It’s just a little rain.” You explained, still shaky as he put the dark, warm fabric over your shoulders.

“Thank you.” You sighed, bringing the coat around your arms. He nodded simply, willing himself not to tell you how nice you looked for the second time that night.

He almost gave up when you smiled at him, both of you finally warming up. “You uh,”

“Sir? You’re all set.” Right. He walked back up to the desk, leading you behind him and grabbing his key card before asking about your room.

His arm rested on the desk, tattooed hand covering his mouth so you couldn’t see the smile on his face when the receptionist profusely apologized for some mixup he didn’t pay much attention to, turning back to you when you sighed.

“You can sleep with me, with- uh, in my room, I mean.” He practiced saying it in his head and still it came out uncertain, hoping he made up in selflessness what he lacked in suavity. You exhaled from your nose at his words, not quite a laugh but he’d take whatever he could get.

It was funny, really, you spent half the evening trying to talk to him between conversations with friends or coworkers, getting the attention of someone you’d consider a long time friend proving harder than anticipated, and now you were about to share a hotel room. Fucking Chicago. Or more accurately, fucking Carmen Berzatto.

The damp, red fabric swooshing above your knees as he walked you to the elevator, bringing his eyes back to your dress for what felt like the hundredth time that night. To him at least.

☾⋆⁺₊⋆

By the time you were out of the shower, warm and content in your pjs, Carm was almost asleep. Draped over the side of the bed watching food network, heavy, tired eyes persuading him to fall asleep.

“Goodnight.” Your voice was quiet as you walked over to turn off the lamp next to him, content to spending the night hugging the sole pillow on the couch under the window. He rubbed his eyes anyway, shaking his head as he sat up on his elbows.

“No, come on. That couch is fucked, I’ll move.” He was probably right, you’d wake up complaining with a sore neck the next day but he looked comfortable, dare you even say peaceful for the first time in a while and there is no way you’re letting him sleep on this couch.

“Carm you sleep on your own couch enough as it is, it’s fine, I promise.” He stretched to get up anyway, ignoring the crossing of your arms as he practically rolled off the bed.

Well if he was going to be annoying about it. You stood in front of him before he could drudge over to the couch, gently pushing him right back onto the bed before walking to the other side. You’re both adults even if you didn’t always act like it, and you were ready to fall asleep the second you tucked yourself in next to him. It should be weirder probably, but with sleep clouding both of your brains you couldn’t complain.

You put one of your pillows between you anyway, more for his comfort than your own. Though it’d be rendered completely useless when you end up draping your arm over it, fingers lying on his chest as you both slept. You certainly had his attention then, warm, gentle, comfortable.

☾⋆⁺₊⋆

[moon-lit-petal]

From Chaos to Comfort Pt 4

George Weasley x Fem!Hufflepuff!Reader

Summery: George becomes acutely awear that sometimes, people aren't the biggest fans of his and Freds pranks.

Warnings: Enemies to lovers(?), angst, george fell hard and fast, I tried to do a slow burn but you can tell I gave up lol, also Y/N is a little mean to George ngl

Word Count: 3.9k

Notes: This is the last part I'm gonna do for this mini series lol, I said I didn't wanna make it too long and I got impatient sorry 😅 feel free to submit an ask if you wanna see me write about your favorite character!^-^

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

---------

Days passed since the kiss, each one stretching into an eternity for Y/N. She found herself slipping into the familiar routines of her life—studying in the library, tending to her plants in the greenhouse, and spending time with her fellow Hufflepuffs—but the world felt different. Each time she entered a room, her heart raced at the thought of encountering George.

Avoiding him became a full-time job. She deliberately chose the far side of the Great Hall at meals, strategically positioned herself at the edge of the library, and spent countless evenings wandering the grounds, always making sure to steer clear of the Quidditch pitch where George and Fred often practiced.

Y/N’s feelings were a tangled mess, and she didn’t know how to sort through them. She was still angry at George for his part in the pranks, yet there was something undeniably magnetic about him. The memory of his warm lips against hers haunted her thoughts, a constant reminder of the connection they had shared. She felt both drawn to him and terrified of what that meant.

Meanwhile, George respected her need for space, though it pained him deeply. He watched her from a distance, his heart aching every time he caught a glimpse of her laughter with her friends or the way her brow furrowed in concentration as she read. Each day without her felt like a missed opportunity, and he longed for a chance to explain himself fully—to show her the depth of his feelings and how he was willing to change.

As the days turned into a week, their friends began to notice the tension in the air. Whispers started circulating among the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, with speculation running rampant about what had transpired in the library. “Did you see Y/N? She hasn’t spoken to George in days!” one student remarked. “I heard they had some sort of argument,” another added, eyes wide with intrigue.

Y/N could feel the pressure mounting, the weight of their scrutiny bearing down on her. It was hard to focus on her studies or enjoy time with her friends when every conversation seemed to pivot toward George and the kiss.

“You okay, Y/N?” one of her housemates asked during lunch, concern etched on their face. “You’ve seemed a bit off lately.”

Y/N forced a smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m fine, just… busy with classes,” she replied, hoping to deflect further questioning. But deep down, she felt far from fine. The uncertainty of her feelings and the pressure of the rumors left her feeling more isolated than ever.

As she sat there, pushing her food around on her plate, she caught a glimpse of George across the hall. He was talking with Fred, laughter in his eyes, but the moment their gazes met, everything fell silent. George’s smile faltered, and for a brief moment, the world around them faded away.

Y/N’s heart raced, her pulse pounding in her ears. She quickly looked away, panic rising in her chest. She wasn’t ready to face him—not yet. The thought of addressing what happened between them felt insurmountable.

“I just need more time,” she whispered to herself, feeling overwhelmed.

But deep down, Y/N knew she couldn’t avoid him forever. The connection they had forged—though fraught with confusion and anger—was real, and it demanded acknowledgment. As the days wore on, the conflict inside her grew louder, urging her to confront her feelings head-on.

Back at the Gryffindor table, George felt the weight of the silence that enveloped them whenever Y/N was near. He wanted nothing more than to bridge the gap between them, to reach out and tell her that he was still there, still waiting. But he didn’t want to pressure her; he wanted her to come to him when she was ready.

With each passing day, George resolved to find the right moment to speak to her again. He just hoped that when that moment came, Y/N would be ready to listen. The thought of her staying in turmoil was unbearable, and he silently vowed to do whatever it took to show her that he was sincere in his feelings.

--------

The library was quiet, the only sounds being the rustle of pages and the occasional creak of the wooden shelves. Y/N found herself wandering through the aisles, drawn to the familiar haven of books and solitude. But tonight, her mind was elsewhere—she was here for George.

After days of avoidance, she had finally mustered the courage to seek him out. It felt like a leap into the unknown, but she needed to confront the turmoil inside her. With each step toward the back of the library, her heart raced, anticipation and anxiety twisting together in her chest.

As she rounded the corner, she spotted him at a table, hunched over a stack of books, his usual grin replaced by a look of deep concentration. He seemed lost in thought, and for a moment, Y/N hesitated, unsure if she should interrupt. But the weight of her unresolved feelings urged her forward.

“George?” she called softly, her voice breaking the serene atmosphere.

He looked up, surprise flashing across his face. “Y/N,” he said, quickly sitting up straighter. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Taking a deep breath, Y/N stepped closer, her hands nervously twisting together. “I… I wanted to talk.”

George nodded, his expression serious as he gestured to the empty chair across from him. “Of course. Please, sit.”

As she settled into the chair, Y/N felt the tension crackle between them. She knew what she needed to say, but the words felt heavy on her tongue. “I’m sorry for how I reacted the other day,” she began, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “I was angry and confused, and I took it out on you.”

George’s eyes softened, and he leaned forward slightly. “It’s okay. I understand. I never meant to hurt you.” He paused, gathering his thoughts. “I should have stopped the pranks a long time ago. Fred can be relentless, but I should have done more to protect you. I’m really sorry.”

The sincerity in his voice touched her, and Y/N felt some of the tension begin to ease. “I know it’s not all your fault, but I guess I just… I didn’t want to feel vulnerable. I’ve spent so much time hiding from everyone, and your pranks made me feel exposed.”

“I get that,” George replied, his tone earnest. “I didn’t realize how deeply it affected you until it was too late. I promise, I’m done with the pranks for good. I just want to be someone you can trust.”

Y/N took a deep breath, feeling a mix of relief and lingering uncertainty. “I want to believe you, George. I really do.” She hesitated, her heart pounding as she continued. “I’ve started to feel something for you too, but it scares me. I don’t want to be hurt again.”

George’s expression shifted, hope flickering in his eyes. “I’d never want to hurt you, Y/N. I care about you, more than I can put into words. I’ve fallen for you, and I’m willing to be patient, to show you that I’m not like that.”

She felt a warmth spreading through her, a cautious hope that maybe, just maybe, they could find a way forward. “I appreciate that,” she said, her voice softening. “I just need time to process everything. To learn to trust you.”

“I can wait,” George assured her, his sincerity washing over her like a soothing balm. “I’m here whenever you’re ready.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, the weight of their conversation settling around them. Y/N felt the walls she had built start to crumble, a flicker of connection igniting between them. The tension that had once felt suffocating began to transform into something hopeful, something worth exploring.

“I’ve always admired your strength, you know,” George said quietly, breaking the silence. “You have this quiet way of standing your ground, even when it feels like the whole world is against you. It’s something I really respect.”

Y/N felt her cheeks heat at his words, a shy smile creeping onto her lips. “Thank you. That means a lot coming from you.”

With that, they shared a moment of understanding, two hearts gradually opening up to the possibility of something new. The fear still lingered in the corners of Y/N’s mind, but George’s presence felt grounding, like a promise of support amid the chaos.

As the night wore on, they talked about everything and nothing, laughter gradually returning to their conversation. The bond between them began to shift, transforming the tension of the past into a tentative but hopeful future. And while Y/N knew she still had a long way to go in learning to trust, she felt ready to take the first steps alongside George, together navigating the path toward something more.

---------

With each passing day, Y/N and George began to carve out a new rhythm together. Their interactions were a delicate dance of tentative steps and unspoken emotions, as they gradually rebuilt the trust that had been shattered. It felt both exhilarating and terrifying, but each moment brought them closer to something that felt real.

The soft evening light filtered through the library windows, casting golden hues across the tables and shelves. George sat beside Y/N, his gaze flickering from his notes to her profile as she read, oblivious to his attention. He didn’t even know how they’d ended up studying together—somehow, after their kiss by the lake, their paths seemed to cross more naturally, as if the universe itself wanted them to be near each other.

The silence between them was comfortable, with only the occasional sound of a page turning or a quill scratching across parchment. Still, George couldn’t shake the flutter in his stomach, a quiet thrill every time their shoulders brushed as they leaned closer to share notes.

He watched her tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, her brow furrowing as she scribbled a correction on her page. Without thinking, he whispered, “You look adorable when you’re concentrating, you know.”

Y/N glanced up, a hint of a blush rising in her cheeks. She rolled her eyes, but there was a smile tugging at her lips. “And you look ridiculous when you pretend to know anything about Potions.”

George chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guilty as charged. Maybe I just wanted an excuse to sit here with you.”

Her cheeks reddened even more, and for a moment, they just looked at each other, the laughter fading into something softer. It was like they were both testing the waters of this new closeness, careful not to push too far but unable to ignore the magnetism between them.

Finally, she broke the gaze, focusing on her parchment again. “You know, I didn’t think you’d be interested in spending so much time in the library.”

“Neither did I,” George admitted, leaning closer. “But maybe it’s growing on me.” He glanced down at her notes, nodding as if he understood. “Or maybe it’s just the company.”

She laughed softly, shaking her head. “You’re terrible at studying, you know.”

“Ah, well, maybe you can teach me a thing or two,” he replied, his voice light but his expression earnest.

A comfortable quiet settled over them again, but this time, George felt a warm satisfaction. There was a new ease between them, a budding friendship colored by the thrill of something more. And though neither of them said it out loud, they both felt it—the steady pull drawing them closer, bit by bit.

In the corridors of Hogwarts, small encounters became charged with electricity. There were days when Y/N would walk past George, their shoulders brushing just enough to send a thrill through her. She’d glance over her shoulder, catching his eye for a split second before her heart raced and she looked away, a smile tugging at her lips. George would return the gaze, his expression softening, a silent understanding passing between them.

In Charms class one afternoon, Y/N found herself seated beside George once again. It had become a familiar arrangement, as if some invisible force always pulled them into each other’s orbit. Today, Professor Flitwick was lecturing on wand techniques, and although Y/N tried to focus on his instructions, the warmth of George beside her was impossible to ignore.

As Professor Flitwick turned to demonstrate on the blackboard, George leaned in close, his voice a soft murmur. “Reckon he’s going to make us try that spell next?” he asked, his breath tickling her ear.

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up, her heart beating a little faster. “Probably,” she replied, forcing herself to sound steady. “Though I don’t think you’re paying attention enough to pull it off.” She smirked, her own quiet bravery surprising her.

George’s eyes sparkled, his grin widening. “Cheeky,” he whispered back, pretending to take exaggerated notes in response. His arm brushed hers, and though it was barely a touch, it sent a jolt through her.

A moment later, both of them reached for the Charms textbook between them. Their fingers collided, lingering for just a second too long before she pulled back with a shy, “Sorry.”

But George didn’t flinch, his hand remaining steady on the book, his gaze warm and reassuring. “No need to apologize,” he replied softly, his voice carrying a gentle sincerity that made her heart flutter. “I don’t mind.”

The words lingered between them, heavy with an unspoken promise. Y/N dared a glance up at him, finding that his eyes held something deeper, something that made her wonder if he felt the same invisible pull she did. For the rest of the class, their hands would brush occasionally, and with each touch, the world around them seemed to fade just a little bit more.

In the library, their shared study sessions turned into something more. They’d sit close together, their heads bent over the same book, and George would occasionally let his arm rest against hers, a silent invitation. Y/N felt a mix of excitement and caution, her heart fluttering at the proximity. Each time she caught George looking at her, a warmth spread through her, though she quickly brushed it off as mere friendship.

“Are you always this distracted during study sessions?” he teased one day, his voice low, playful, yet filled with a sincerity that made her stomach flutter.

“I’m just trying to focus,” Y/N replied, trying to sound serious but failing as a smile broke through. “It’s hard when you keep talking.”

George leaned a little closer, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I could help you with that. Less talking, more studying?”

Y/N laughed, the sound light and free. “Maybe you should try it, then.”

Their shared moments were interspersed with lingering touches—George would hand her a book, their fingers brushing, and Y/N would feel a spark. Or he’d help her adjust her bag as they left class, his hand resting on her shoulder a beat longer than necessary. Each small interaction was filled with a weighty significance, and with every shared laugh or stolen glance, the connection between them deepened.

Yet, amid these moments of growing intimacy, Y/N remained guarded. She often found herself wrestling with the fear that she might be setting herself up for heartbreak again. There were flashes of doubt that crossed her mind, reminders of the pranks and the humiliation that had come before. Would George be able to prove he was more than just a prankster? Would he stay once the novelty wore off?

But George, ever patient, didn’t push her. He understood that trust couldn’t be rushed and was willing to wait for as long as it took. He knew he had to prove himself to her—not just with words but through actions that demonstrated his genuine care and respect for her.

One afternoon, they found themselves taking a leisurely stroll around the lake, the sun dipping low in the sky, painting everything in warm hues of orange and pink. The air was filled with the scent of autumn leaves and the distant sound of laughter from students playing Quidditch.

“Do you ever miss being just a regular student?” George asked, breaking the comfortable silence between them.

“Sometimes,” Y/N admitted, glancing at him. “But I think I’m learning to appreciate the chaos.”

George chuckled softly, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “It’s not all chaos, you know. Some of it’s… fun.”

“Fun for you, maybe,” she shot back, but there was no bite in her words, only a hint of teasing.

They reached the edge of the lake, and George picked up a small pebble, skipping it across the water. “What about this?” he asked. “Just you and me, no pranks, no chaos.”

Y/N smiled, feeling the warmth of the moment wash over her. “I like that idea.”

As the sun began to set, painting the sky in a breathtaking display of colors, they stood side by side, their shoulders almost touching, hearts racing in sync with the rhythm of the world around them.

In that tranquil moment, Y/N realized she was slowly starting to trust him, bit by bit. And though she still held reservations, the promise of something deeper began to bloom within her—a tentative but undeniable hope for what could be.

“George,” she began softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah?” he replied, glancing at her, his expression attentive.

Y/N took a breath, feeling the weight of her words. “I think I’m ready to see where this goes.”

A smile broke across George’s face, lighting up his features with genuine joy. “Really?” he asked, the hope in his voice unmistakable.

“Yeah,” she said, her heart racing. “But just take it slow, okay? I don’t want to rush into anything.”

“Absolutely,” he assured her, his voice steady and sincere. “We’ll take it at your pace.”

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over them, Y/N felt a new sense of clarity. She was ready to embrace this slow-burning romance, to explore the depths of their connection, and to finally allow herself to be vulnerable. And as they stood there, side by side, Y/N realized that she was no longer afraid of what lay ahead. With George by her side, she felt ready to step into the unknown, together.

As the days turned into weeks, Y/N and George settled into a rhythm that felt comfortable and genuine. Their relationship flourished in the quiet spaces they carved out for themselves—away from the prying eyes of Hogwarts, where they could truly be themselves without the weight of expectations or the shadow of past pranks.

The two of them often found solace in the nooks of the library or under the sprawling branches of the ancient trees around the Black Lake, where they would share laughter and secrets. George had traded in his mischievous pranks for thoughtful gestures that spoke volumes of his affection. He’d surprise Y/N with her favorite sweets from Honeydukes or bring her a rare book he thought she’d enjoy, his eyes lighting up with joy whenever she smiled.

On this particular evening, as the sun dipped low out of the sky, painting the horizon with shades of purple and blue, they found themselves sitting on the edge of the lake again. The air was crisp, the gentle lapping of the water creating a soothing backdrop to their conversation. The lake had become a safe space for the two, especially after dark. It was quiet, private, no one to disrupt them.

Y/N leaned back on her hands, her gaze fixed on the shimmering surface of the water. “I never thought I’d say this, but I’m actually starting to enjoy being around you,” she teased, glancing sideways at George.

He chuckled, his face breaking into a warm smile. “You know, I take that as a huge compliment coming from you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, a grin tugging at her lips. “Just don’t get used to it. I’m still cautious about all of this.”

George’s expression softened, and he turned to face her more fully. “I get it. Trust takes time, and I’m not going anywhere. I want to be the kind of guy you can count on.”

She nodded, her heart swelling with warmth at his sincerity. “I really appreciate that. You’ve been so patient with me, and it means a lot.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the only sounds being the rustling leaves and the distant chirping of birds settling in for the night. The sun’s last rays cast a golden glow around them, creating an intimate cocoon of warmth that made Y/N feel safe and cherished.

“Can I ask you something?” George said, breaking the quiet.

“Sure,” she replied, curiosity piquing.

“What’s been the biggest surprise for you in all of this?” He gestured between them, his expression serious.

Y/N took a moment to ponder. “Honestly? I think it’s how easy it is to be around you now. I was so caught up in the past—your pranks, my frustration—that I didn’t see the kind person behind it all. You’ve changed.”

George looked pleased, but he also seemed to be searching for something. “I’m glad to hear that, but I also want you to know that I’m still a bit of a prankster at heart. It’s just… I’ve learned when to tone it down.”

Y/N laughed softly. “You can be playful, just not at my expense, okay?”

“Deal,” he replied, grinning. Then he grew serious again, leaning closer. “But seriously, I want to show you that I’m not just some prank-loving fool. You’re important to me, and I want to be someone who makes you feel valued.”

“George…” she started, unsure of where her thoughts were leading.

But he interrupted her gently. “I know I’ve messed up in the past, but I want to make it right. I want to be a part of your world, Y/N.”

And just like that, all the walls she had built around her heart began to crumble. It was still a cautious step forward, but Y/N felt a wave of trust wash over her. The ache of past hurt didn’t disappear completely, but with George’s unwavering support, it became easier to envision a future without that burden.

“Okay,” she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Let’s take this one day at a time.”

With that, George’s face broke into a wide grin, his joy contagious. “I can do that.”

They spent the rest of the evening basking in the warmth of their connection, sharing stories and dreams for the future. Each laugh and shared glance brought them closer, a sweet reminder that they were building something beautiful together—a foundation of trust, respect, and undeniable chemistry.

As the stars twinkle overhead, Y/N leaned against George’s shoulder, feeling a sense of peace wash over her. The weight of her past began to fade, replaced by a sense of hope for what lay ahead.

In that moment, with George by her side, she finally felt at ease, ready to embrace the unfolding journey of their relationship. Together, they were no longer just a quiet Hufflepuff and a mischievous Gryffindor; they were two souls discovering a deeper understanding of love, trust, and companionship—a new beginning filled with endless possibilities.

---------

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

[arcane-vagabond]

Fool's Fare: Chapter Eight

Fool's Fare: Chapter Eight

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Captain Jake "Hangman" Seresin had come close to swinging from the gallows more times than he would care to admit. He's stolen, cheated, even killed. The worst thing he's ever done? Broken the heart of a woman. Having broken the heart of the woman whom Davy Jones himself had fallen for six years ago, Jake is now cursed to live as something not dead, but not alive. He's doomed to live a half-life for the rest of his existence unless he manages to obtain the treasure Davy Jones deems most valuable. The problem? He has no idea what it is, and he only had seven years to obtain it.

Content Warning: Cursing, Talks of a curse, Arguing, Feelings of Betrayal, Feelings of being used, Mentions of broken hearts, Verbal abuse (kinda), Mentions of death of a parent, Talk of the supernatural, Mentions of abandonment, Suicide mention, Reveals. I think that's it, but please let me know!

Word Count: 3.2k

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Guilt was almost never rational. It was the monster that crept into your emotions, turning sorrow into pain, anger into wrath. It didn’t care for things like logic or forgiveness. It fed on the destruction it created, leaving behind ruin and sometimes even catastrophe.

You felt guilty for the disappearance of your father. Maybe if you had begged him to stay that last day, had pleaded for him to not go like your instincts told you to, he would still be around and things would be better. Your mother would never have died of a broken heart, your brother wouldn’t be suffering the effects of a curse that were not his to bear, and the ache that lay inside your chest wouldn’t be throbbing from your conversation with Captain Jake Seresin of the Hangman.

Water lapped against the rowboat as two of the men pulled and pushed the oars through the water. You sat in between Mickey and Bradley, refusing to meet the gaze of the blond who sat across from you. His green eyes bore into your profile, willing you to turn and look at him, but you stubbornly looked out at the dark waters that surrounded you, the mist not allowing you to see very far, not that there was much to be seen.

Mickey fidgeted uncomfortably next to you as his gaze darted between you and the captain, his fingers tugging on his sleeves as he chewed on his bottom lip. You could feel Bradley’s eyes on you as well, drilling a hole into the back of you head. You let out an annoyed huff, tapping your foot gently against the floor of the boat as you crossed your arms.

You wished a rogue wave would come and swallow you whole.

The shore grew closer and closer with each passing moment, and soon the men around you were hopping out into the shallow waters, still eerily dark and murky despite being so close to land. Mickey and Bradley got out on either side of you followed by Jake and Javy, leaving you the last one to exit. You stood to get out, a hand coming into your line of sight. You paused to look at it before glancing up to see Jake still looking at you, eyes shining with something you couldn’t place. You scowled at him, batting his hand away and taking one step out of the boat and into the water. The sand shifted, causing you to stumble, and Jake’s hands wrapped around you to keep you steady. He helped you onto firmer ground before you pushed him away from you with a glare.

“I’m fine,” you snapped, brushing your clothes off, “I had it.”

“Sure you did,” he muttered, not taking his eyes off of you. His brow creased as he frowned, and you let out a huff, stomping over towards where Bradley and Mickey stood. His gaze lingered, but you didn’t turn look back at him, instead choosing to watch as the men dragged the boats further up onto the shore, weighing them down with nearby stones so that they wouldn’t float away once the tide came in.

It was then that you allowed yourself to look around, taking in the jungle scene around you.

Loud cries from the different birds sounded all around you, some squawking and others chirping as they hopped along the branches. You heard the chattering of other creatures as well, watching as shadows darted about above you as well as in the brush surrounding. The mist clung to your skin, and the air was surprisingly cool for what should be the tropics. Perhaps the ship had been blown farther off course than anyone had previously thought.

Rustling sounded from behind you, and you whirled around. Your hand flew to the sword that lay strapped to your side, unsheathing it a few inches as you waited for whatever was there to show itself. Your muscles tensed as more rustling sounded, the large leaves moving, and you sucked in a breath as your eyes widened, the creature revealing itself in one quick motion.

The sound of your sword unsheathing all the way and swinging in the air filled the small clearing, and Jake was met with the business end of the sharp weapon, tip stopping just shy of his chin. His own eyes widened as he stared at it, quickly darting up to meet yours. It took you a moment to process what was happening before you, and you scowled at him, lowering the sword and sheathing it once more as he let out a nervous chuckle.

“Little jumpy, huh Guppy?”

You ignored him, face still set into a scowl as you took a few steps around the clearing. A strange energy filled the air, one that set your heart hammering inside your chest and the blood in your veins zapping with energy. Your fingers twitched at your sides, everything becoming intense around you. The air started to feel almost suffocating, the noises becoming louder, the foliage becoming brighter. Your eyes darted around as an overwhelming sense of dread gripped you, your chest starting to rise and fall rapidly as the sensations grew. You took a few tentative steps around the clearing, willing the sensations to stop, to slow down. It was all so much.

“Guppy?”

A hand grabbed yours, and the steadiness of it grounded you. Your head whipped around to look at Jake, uncertainty coloring his features as he studied you. The colors faded back to normal, the sounds became quieter, and the energy swirling around you became less stifling. Your breathing returned to normal, and it was then that you realized that tears prickled at your lash line. You wiped them away quickly, clearing your throat and pulling away from the blond to inspect the far side of the clearing.

“Are you okay?” He pressed, taking a hesitant step towards you. You waved him off, schooling your features as you heard the sound of a river nearby.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, refusing to meet his eyes. Of course you were still mad at him, who wouldn’t be after what you found out in the cabin? He had been using you for months, getting closer to you only to relieve the effects of the curse that plagued him. He had wormed his way behind your walls and into your heart, and you hated him for making you care about him. You had been played for a fool, and the very thought had you clenching your fists with rage.

“Guppy, please-”

“What do you want from me?” You snapped, whirling around to face him, nostrils flaring and eyes blazing. “What? Are you upset that you let your little secret slip out? That I’m basically just some kind of pain relief for you, and that’s the only reason you’re interested in me at all?”

A frown tugged on his lips, brow pinched in distress as he shook his head.

“That’s not what I meant at all, sweet girl,” he murmured, stepping closer and reaching out a hand to you. You took a step back, face guarded as you watched him. He let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair as he regarded you.

“Listen to me,” he said firmly, eyes set in determination as he finished crossing the distance between you two. He made no move to touch you, but you sucked in a breath at the proximity. “I know you think I’ve been using you, but I haven’t. If I wanted to use you, don’t you think I would have gone farther than we ever did? I know what I’m saying may not mean much to you right now, but I swear it, Guppy. I swear on everything that I care about in this world, I was not using you.”

You studied him for a moment, mulling over his words. Perhaps he had a point. If he was using you, surely he would have done a lot more than just hold you? You pressed your lips together firmly, frowning at him.

“I’ll tell you what,” he murmured, eyes shining as they looked at you, “I won’t touch you again unless it’s to protect you or because you want me to.”

Your brow furrowed, frown growing deeper as you regarded him. He swallowed thickly, nodding more to himself than to you.

“I mean it,” he whispered, backing away just a step. “I won’t touch you unless absolutely necessary. When-if you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

Before you could answer, the leaves began to move again, and both of you turned to watch as Javy stepped into the clearing. Jake stiffened next to you, a look of irritation flashing across his face before he schooled them into one of cool indifference.

“What is it, Javy?” He drawled, sounding almost bored as his quarter master glanced between the two of you, a look of knowing mixed with annoyance plastered on his own face.

“You’re going to want to check this out,” he said finally, fixing Jake with a hard look. Jake nodded, looking back at you and gesturing for you to follow as he walked after Javy back towards the beach. You moved to leave, stopping when you heard a strange noise, almost like a song. A shiver ran up your spine as you looked back, dread filling the pit in your stomach as the sound happened again, closer to the beach this time.

“Guppy, let’s go!”

You jumped at the sound of Jake’s stern voice, whirling around and following quickly after the two men.

The men were all gathered in a clearing of trees along the water, a wooden hut on stilts sat above the water, a set of steps leading onto firmer land while another set led directly into the water. You would never have known the structure was there unless you stumbled upon it. The trees hid it from view of the beach, the foliage packed so densely that you had to really push your way through it. You stumbled out onto the other side, Bradley reaching out to steady you as you tripped over a tree root.

You wondered why he never told you that your presence brought him relief like Jake said it did.

Jake inspected the structure, walking along the side of it before looking at Javy.

“Any of you been inside yet?” He asked, frowning at the surrounding men. The quarter master shook his head, hands clasped behind his back as he surveyed the area.

“No,” he answered. “No one has been in yet. I wanted you to be the first to see it.”

Jake nodded, turning his attention back to the group.

“Where’s Benedict and Joshua?” He frowned.

“No one’s seen them since just after we landed,” Javy replied. Jake cursed, shaking his head.

“Alright, let’s check this place out,” he muttered, already heading up the steps. Javy was close behind followed by two more men, then Mickey, then you, and finally Bradley brought up the rear.

“We’ll keep watch out here,” one of the men called out nervously. Jake glanced over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow before shrugging.

“Suit yourself,” he drawled, waving a hand dismissively at them.

The hut was tiny, but still somehow contained item after items along the floors, the shelves, and every other surface that was available. A strange hum filled the air, not unlike what you felt in the clearing when you were with Jake. Several bottles held mysterious items suspended in liquid, and you found yourself clutching onto Bradley, fingers twitching nervously as your heartbeat picked up.

“It looks abandoned,” Mickey muttered, eyeing a spider as it crept across a dusty, old book.

“I wonder who lived here,” you whispered, worried that something might be listening. A floorboard creaked from the far side of the room, and all of you turned to see a haggard-looking woman standing in the doorway. Hands flew to swords, and the woman let out a low chuckle.

“You won’t be needing weapons here, sailors,” she purred, her voice surprisingly pleasant sounding despite her outward appearance. Her hair was matted, crawling down the length of her back in black strands. Her skin was pale like moonlight, skin pulled tight against the bones that lay underneath. Her eyes glinted dangerously in the light, like the eyes of a predator ready to strike at the first opportunity. Despite all of it though, you could see that she had once been a beautiful woman.

“Who the hell are you?” Jake snapped, voice gruff with warning as he glared at her. She flashed him a sharp smile, lips pulled back almost too far as she regarded him with predatory eyes.

“I am one who watches over this place,” she said sweetly, hands gesturing all around her. Javy took a half step forward to stand at Jake’s back.

“Where are we?” Thequarter master asked, eyes hard as they watched the woman glide around the table that occupied the center of the room.

“You find yourselves at the isle where broken hearts go to rest, the poor dears,” she smiled, dark eyes shifting to stare straight at you. You stiffened in your spot next to Bradley, shuffling to try and hide behind him as best you could. The woman’s smile grew even wider, skin stretching in a way that it shouldn’t as her eyes gleamed with excitement.

“Your heart is so heavy,” she crooned, moving towards you, and your hands latched onto the back of Bradley’s shirt as her eyes danced with glee. “You’ll make a fine addition to my brood.”

“Not happening,” Bradley hissed, reaching an arm back to push you further behind him as he puffed out his chest, eyes narrowing at the woman in warning.

“It must be so lonely,” she continued, ignoring Bradley and the way they others shifted around the room, “to know that soon it will be just you who stands in this world. Those around you have fallen, left you for either the hereafter. And soon what you have left will fall to a curse that has nothing to do with you.”

Her words hung heavy in the air, your heart lurching in your chest as the weight of her words hit you, the familiar prickle starting in your eyes as you pressed your lips firmly together.

“That’s not going to happen,” you whispered weakly.

“Oh my sweet girl,” she cooed, reaching a hand out to touch you. “It will. When it does, I will be here to comfort you along with the others.”

“Who are the others?”

Her finger stopped only centimeters from you, her head turning slowly to lock on to Jake who still glared at her. She cocked her head to the side, the smile fading from her face as her features morphed from friendly to cold and calculating.

“Were you not listening?” She rasped, eyes narrowing dangerously. “The ones who live here have all suffered broken hearts.”

“We didn’t see anyone else on the island,” one of the crewman muttered towards Jake, but the woman ignored him. The smile slowly crawled across her face once more, though this was held promise of malice rather than the half-baked attempt at comfort she had given you.

“You are also one who is familiar with disappointment and heartbreak,” she sighed, walking slowly towards the captain. “You almost remind me of my son, the poor boy that he was.”

She stopped when Jake’s jaw clenched, glee returning to her dark eyes as she continued.

“Look at you,” she cooed at him, her saccharine tone sending another wave of chills down your spine. “What would your mother think of you now? The poor, bastard son she raised in his father’s house. Working night and day to earn her place as well as her son’s, your father never once acknowledging you as his own despite his lack of an heir.”

Jake’s nostrils flared as he glared at the woman, her lips curled into a dangerous smile as she let out a low chuckle.

“Your kind, loving mother doing everything she could to protect you from the reality of your situation,” she cooed. “But then she fell ill, didn’t she? And then she passed, and there was no one left to protect the child that you were. You were cast out of the only home you had ever known at only seven years, forced to wander the streets with any scraps you could find as your meals. It wasn’t until that old captain took you under his wing that you had a place to call home again.”

Jake said nothing, but if looks could kill, you were sure the woman would have died ten times over already. The woman clucked at him, smile once again fading, lips turned downward into a disappointed frown.

“Nothing to say about your poor, dead mother, hm?” She taunted, looking mildly put out at his lack of a reaction. Her eyes lit up suddenly, the smile returning once more.

“But that wasn’t your first encounter with heartbreak, was it?” She mused. “Not only have you suffered your own, but you’ve inflicted it on another, haven’t you?”

“Why don’t you mind your own business?” Jake spat, fists clenched at his side, fingers twitching with restraint.

“Broken hearts are my business,” she huffed, eyes slowly shifting back towards you. “Has he ever told you why he was cursed?”

“He slept with the woman that Davy Jones was in love with,” you replied uneasily, glancing at Jake. The color had drained from his face as he watched the woman contort with laughter, the sound echoing through the room as she cackled.

“Is that all he told you?” She grinned, eyes shining wildly.

“Be quiet,” Jake snapped, stepping forward with a warning on his face. Fear ensnared his features.

“Why should I?” The woman grinned. “I think the truth deserved to be spoken. Her story deserves to be told.”

“Please don’t,” Jake begged, eyes darting between you and the woman now. “Please.”

“Davy Jones is not the kind of man to curse another because his affections are spurned,” the woman continued, ignoring the captain. “No, he wouldn’t be so cruel as to curse someone with no just cause. Jones was in love with the woman, yes, but he respected her choice enough to let her run into the arms of the man she had chosen.”

“Stop,” Jake murmured quietly, leaning against the table for support as he hung his head.

“So you do feel shame after all,” the woman cackled, though no humor was laced in her tone. “You know what you did was wrong. You knew she loved you, and like the vain, prideful youth you were, you threw her to the side once you had had your fill. No regards to the love she gave you, nothing in your heart for that woman. Tell me, did you feel anything for her before Davy Jones cursed you? Or is it the curse that made you see the error of your ways?”

“Enough,” he whispered, eyes pressed tightly shut as his shoulders hunched in on himself.

“Or perhaps,” the woman hummed thoughtfully, “it was the moment she threw herself off the cliffs into the water below that changed your heart.”

A/N: Wow, what a reveal! Can't wait to hear what y'all think of that one lol Anyway, gentle reminder that I no longer do tag lists! If you would like to receive notifications on when I post, please follow my sideblog: @arcanevagabond-library and turn on post notifications! As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! You can also find me on AO3 under arcane-vagabond. Until next time!

[maidragoste]

Hope

Viserys Targaryen & Adera Velaryon

Summary: Instead of choosing Lady Alicent Hightower as his second wife Viserys Targaryen marries Corlys Velaryon's youngest daughter. On the day of their son's name Viserys and Adera have a conversation.

A/N: If you already know Sea Dragon you know that this is not romantic because she never wanted to marry him.

Adera watched Viserys alone in front of the flames drinking what she assumed was more wine, throughout the celebration she had seen him asking the servants to refill his cup every now and then. With all the wine he drank it was obvious that he was drunk and he shouldn't be alone in that state, especially near the fire. The last thing she needed was for him to end up losing his balance and burning to death. What the young queen wanted most was to be free from her marriage but she didn't want him to die yet, not when he hadn't yet declared Aegon as his heir. So she forced herself to go to her husband's side while she caressed her stomach trying to calm the baby who wouldn't stop kicking.

Viserys felt his wife's presence but he didn't take his eyes off the fire and decided to wait for her to speak after all she had been the one who came to him. But it was the wrong decision because it only made her more upset.

“You are acting pitifully,” Adera declared, and Viserys laughed in surprise, though he shouldn’t have been because he knows his second wife has a sharp tongue, but Aemma never spoke to him like that. “What is making you act so pitifully? If it is because of Rhaenyra…”

“You know I named her to protect the realm from Daemon” he interrupted her abruptly and on another occasion Adera would have been upset by that but now she concentrated on listening to him attentively feeling that this was not going to be just any conversation. “She was my only child, the realm's delight. I named her that out of love because I no longer believe” Viserys stopped talking and a tear escaped from his left eye. For a brief moment Adera felt sorry for him, there was no need for him to say out loud that he thought Rhaenyra would be his only daughter, but then she remembered how tired Aemma looked in each of her pregnancies and any empathy she felt for her husband vanished.

Adera instead of pressing him to continue, waited and watched the king take a few breaths as if he was gathering strength to continue speaking.

“Many in our line have been dragon riders but very few among us have been dreamers,” he said, looking at his wife.

“Did you have a dream?” the young woman asked, completely surprised, and without thinking she moved closer to him, wanting to know everything. Viserys had never impressed her before, except for that time when she was just a little girl and he had given her a dragon egg in an attempt to fix things between him and her mother after the council of Harrenhal had chosen him as king. If it hadn’t been for that dragon egg then Adera would never have had Nightwing and who knows she might not have even been a dragon rider.

"When Rhaenyra was a child I saw it in a dream as vivid as these flames I saw it" Viserys smiled at the memory and when he saw Adera's bright eyes his smile was more expanded, it was not usual to see that expression in her or at least not addressed to him.” A a male babe born to me wearing the conqueror's crown. I thought I would be a son of mine and Aemma but now. "

“You think you saw our son,” Adera finished for him, feeling hope. Perhaps her unhappiness was worth it in the end if Aegon ended up being king.

Viserys wished he could feel happier at the thought of his dream coming true, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Rhaenyra. He didn’t know what to do with her. He didn’t think she would forgive him if he disinherited her, and he couldn’t bear to have his daughter hate him.

“I have already declared Rhaenyra as my heir,” he said, as if he needed to remind himself.

“Because at the time you didn't have a son,” she replied, not willing to waste this opportunity to at least make the king reconsider. “I will risk speaking frankly and making you upset with me but I am only trying to help you, husband,” she declared as she took his hand and began to caress it. “I believe that you actually named Rhaenyra as your heir because you felt guilty about Aemma’s death.” Adera tried hard not to fidget when Viserys rested his head on her shoulder seeking comfort, she wasted no time and continued in a soft voice. “You were the one who chose Aegon’s name and you could have chosen any Valyrian name but you decided on the conqueror’s because deep down you know that it is right for your son to be king.”

“I don’t want Rhaenyra to hate me,” he confessed, and perhaps Adera would be touched by the love Viserys has for his daughter if it weren’t for the fact that she is the mother of his son. She didn’t wish the princess harm; they had been friends in the past and she remembers with nostalgia the moments they shared together, but Rhaenyra stopped being her priority the moment Aegon was born. Adera doesn’t plan on allowing her son to be robbed of his inheritance.

“She won't do it,” the queen assured patiently as she caressed his hair with false affection. “She didn’t even want to be queen. She didn’t want that responsibility, she just wanted to fly on her dragon and eat cake without worries,” she said, remembering when she used to spend time with the princess and Lady Alicent in the gardens.

Any response from the king is forgotten when the sound of a horn is heard throughout the camp. Viserys moves away from her shoulder and looks at her. Any sign of drunkenness seems to have disappeared with this conversation and now in his eyes she can see that he is really thinking about her words.

“Thank you for listening to me” he said surprising her and kisses her forehead. Adera concentrates on ignoring the discomfort of feeling Viserys’ lips and clings to the hope that Aegon will be king.

A/N: I never thought that the first thing I would post after months would be something with Viserys lol

Taglist for all my House of the Dragon works

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[blackcatwriter]

Linger Part 2 (Arthur Morgan x f!reader)

a/n: Part 2 is finally here! I stayed up a little late for a few days to push this one out because I wanted to get it done before my classes started. Thank you to the lovely @scumscumpooties47 for helping to edit all that I write. Literally none of these would be posted if I didn't have your encouragement. Happy reading!

warnings: typical canon violence, no use of Y/N, angst if you squint, happy ending, fluff, possibly some grammatical mistakes, slight spoilers to Ch. 4 but once again creative liberties are taken

wc: 3.1k

tags: @warmsideofthepillow03

summary: You make up your mind, Arthur struggles to keep his promise once more.

divider by @plum98

The ride out of St. Denis grew quiet as the cobblestoned streets faded to dirt roads leading back to the Largras swamps. In place of the bustling streets were the croaks and cries of the animals that resided there. Arthur’s mind was in a haze, reeling from the amount of emotions he felt from seeing you again.

Nervousness. Relief. Desperation. Longing. Love.

The moment he saw you at that damned party he instantly forgot what his purpose of being there was for. Arthur disappeared from Dutch’s side to find you. He didn’t even know what he’d say to you much less if you’d be willing to hear him out.

But god–being away from you for months without a clue of your wellbeing just to see you all dressed up at a party shot a bullet straight through his heart. He knew he wouldn’t be able to leave that party without talking to you, but he hadn’t expected everything that proceeded after.

Following a lady home after clearly upsetting her? Asking her to run away with you again? Here you had him acting like a damn teenage boy with a crush.

“What the hell am I doing, girl?” Arthur muttered to his steed. As if understanding his frustration, Bodicea huffed in response, earning a sigh from him. “I’m a fool for thinking she’d want to show up after everything.” As he reached the gang’s hideout, Arthur left his horse to graze while he readied himself for what Dutch would have to say.

Dutch wouldn’t take too kindly to Arthur disappearing from helping the gang look for leads, especially if it was for the lost love Dutch told him to leave in the past. “Distractions cost the gang. Let her go,” Dutch would remind Arthur while his heartbreak was still fresh from leaving you.

“Arthur! Get in here!” Dutch yelled from the front porch of the creaky manor, crushing his cigar into the ground with his boat before striding inside. Complying to his orders, Arthur followed behind him quickly.

“I have a plan. We’re going to rob the trolley station tomorrow. Micah claims he heard Pinkertons not too far behind us so we’ll need to act–”

“Tomorrow?” Arthur’s face paled. “We ain’t never robbed something in a city before. The law is gonna be all over the place! We need more time than just a day’s notice.” Arthur looked down at the map Dutch had on the table. “We’ll be backed into a corner by the law before the Pinkertons catch news and come for the rest of us–if we ain’t dead by then!” 

“Are you doubting me, son? There’s already been enough of that amongst the gang. I don’t need to hear anymore of that, especially from my best gun.” Dutch scowled. “What I need to hear is that you have my back. Do you have my back, Arthur?” 

Pushing you to the back of his mind, he answered, “Always, Dutch.” 

Seemingly satisfied with his answer, Dutch walked upstairs to his makeshift room. Sighing, Arthur sat down with his head in his hands. He felt torn in half. On one hand, he had his loyalties to the gang. He had been with them, with Dutch, for practically his whole life. He owed Dutch his life, but lately he couldn’t help but feel as if Dutch wasn’t thinking his plans through. 

On the other hand, there was you. You, who had held him when he could no longer bear the weight of the guilt he kept inside. You, who would listen to him talk about the few precious memories he had with his mother. You, who Arthur loved dearly. Too distracted by the conflicting feelings in his head, Arthur didn’t notice Hosea sitting down by him.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so thoughtful, Arthur.” The old man chuckled to himself. “What’s on your mind, son?” Sighing, Arthur raised his face. Some things might slip by Dutch, but Hosea seemed to always know when something was wrong. 

“You ever regret it? Coming back to this shit hole?” From what Arthur picked up when Hosea mentioned his life with Bessie, he had it pretty damn good. The pair lived in a cabin up in the Grizzlies until Hosea was roped back into their life of crime. Bessie had come along with him until she tragically died.

“I regret bringing Bessie with me.” He paused, his voice growing solemn. “Maybe she’d still be alive if I left her behind.” The grief ridden man’s words hit Arthur deeply. Bessie unfortunately already met her end, but you hadn’t. You still had a chance to live your life unafraid of the people that might come after you. 

“It’s that woman again, isn’t it?” A small smile grew on Hosea’s face. “She’s why you disappeared from us.”

“It ain’t like that.” Vulnerable at the mention of you, Arthur stood from his seat practically storming away from Hosea until he put a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Son, even as bad as it is for us now…you still have a chance to do right by your woman. Take what you’ve got and don’t look back.” Loosening his grip on Arthur’s arm, Hosea disappeared up the stairs. 

Hearing Hosea telling him he had his blessing to walk out on the gang left Arthur feeling more unsure than ever. While he loved the people in the gang he had come to know as family, you had become his home away from home (as much as the gang’s ever changing campgrounds can be called “home”.)

Needless to say Arthur didn’t get much sleep that night.

The following morning you were awake as soon as the sun had risen, pacing in your room. You were sure the servants would be annoyed by the constant creak your floorboards made with each step, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

The suitcase you had packed in a frenzy last night poked out from under the bed. You had no idea what came over you when you packed it. It was a blur of grabbing random items you thought might be worth selling and as many snacks you could steal from the kitchen without raising suspicion.

Picking at your sleeves you pondered all the possibilities that could occur. 

1)One of the servants finds out and stops you before you can leave. 2) Arthur gets caught by a bounty hunter for whatever bounty he has over his head because he’s Arthur and always seems to be in some kind of trouble. 3) Arthur is killed by anyone else he might’ve wronged from being with Dutch (You hated that man. You always had a bad feeling about him.) 4) Arthur and you manage to leave the city and live in a hidden cabin somewhere in the mountains 5) Arthur doesn’t show up.

Somehow even the possibilities of Arthur’s death seemed better than him abandoning you all over again. Death would mean he left you against his will. Your better judgment told you not to take him for his word. The two of you had already tried this once–look where it got you– but even now the love you still felt for him won you over.

So now here you were, endlessly treading back and forth your room. This was it. You were going to trust that he would be standing at the bridge he said he would and run away with him. 

Suddenly a quiet knock was heard from your door followed by a light voice, “Ma’am? Is everything alright?” Recognizing the voice as your maid, Nora, you quickly opened the door and plastered a smile on your face. “Of course it is. Why are you asking?” You huffed, blowing your hair out of your face.

Oh god, she sees right through you. She can probably tell what’s going through your mind just by the frantic look in your eyes. She’ll alert the other servants and soon enough your husband will cut his business trip short to deal with you. Maybe she’ll keep it a secret if you bribe her.

“Not to be nosy, but the other maids and I heard ye’ pacing since the sun came up. Would ye’ like me to make some tea?” Your stiffness eased at her efforts to offer you some comfort in the form of tea. Since you first arrived at your fiance’s residence Nora had been the only person who made you feel welcomed. She might be the only person you’d miss once you’d left.

Thanking her, you walked downstairs to the drawing room and waited for the tea. You definitely had to calm down. Your nerves were causing you to look like a mess in front of everyone, but the urge to just race out the front door to Arthur’s arms was too strong. The love of your life was so close to you yet so far.

Soon what felt like eons passed and noon was just half an hour away. It would be easy to make up an excuse to get out of the house, but how does one explain carrying a suitcase? Nonsense, you’re their employer (engaged to their employer but nonetheless), and they had no authority to question what you do in a day.

“Nora, I’ll be taking my afternoon walk earlier today. Don’t worry if I take longer than usual. I plan on running some errands while I’m out.” You called out while you dashed to the front door as fast as you could without tripping over yourself.

“But ma’am what about Mr. Finch?” Nora chimed, noticing the suitcase you held in your hand. Stopping in your tracks you turned around to face her. “What about my fiance?” Confusion evident in your voice. Did you forget something?

“He’s coming home early, remember?” Nora reminded you. Ah, there it is. You had forgotten he was going to come home early, but you’ll be long gone by the time he turns up. “I’m sure I’ll be home before he arrives.” You gave a tight lipped smile.

“Oh ma’am, you needn’t hold your own suitcase. That’s why ye’ have the help.” She gestured for one of the nearby servants to take the suitcase from you. 

“Nonsense, I can carry my own belongings. You all do enough as it is.” You flinched and held the suitcase closer to yourself. 

If she was suspicious of you, she didn’t show it. With a hesitant nod she let the matter go and returned to her duties. Having nothing else that needed tending to, you left. You walked out the door with your heart beating out of your chest.

The walk to the bridge was only a few short minutes. No one had bothered you once you were out the door, which you were glad about. You didn’t want anything to do with your pretentious neighbors anymore or their weekly tea gatherings to discuss the latest gossip of high-society. 

No, you wanted to be with Arthur and spend the rest of your life exploring the country by his side. Who knew where you’d go first? Obviously you’d have to lay low until his face was no longer on wanted posters–perhaps the Grizzlies?

You were abruptly pulled from your thoughts when a lawman bumped into you as he ran by causing you to fall. “Excuse you–” You had started to reprimand him as you reached for your suitcase when you looked up and realized all the policemen were running from their posted stations.

“What the hell?” You mumbled under your breath, furrowing your eyebrows at the commotion going on around you. Lifting yourself off the ground you ran to the nearest policeman. “What’s going on? Why are people running?” In the back of your mind you had an idea of who might be behind the uproar, but you desperately wished it wasn’t him.

“Dutch! The damn brakes are broken!” Arthur yelled, racing to get to the back of the trolley. Maybe if he was lucky he’d die on impact. Going far too fast for the tracks to handle, the trolley was thrown to its side on the street. The outlaw was hurled forward before falling to his side. “Jesus…” He groaned, crawling out of the streetcar.

Dutch remained where he had been tossed,  holding his head in his hands. “Dutch?” Arthur yelled as he reloaded his gun, firing back at the police as they swarmed them from all sides. 

Dutch moaned something intelligible to the gunners. “We need to get him out of here. You still alive, Lenny?” Switching to his rifle, Arthur began aiming for the lawmen on the balconies and roofs of the buildings.

“I’m here! I’m okay, but we got to move fast. Pinkertons are definitely gonna catch wind of this,” Lenny shouted from behind some crates. Spitting out a string of curse words, Arthur angrily pushed forward while Lenny helped Dutch.

He should’ve never gone with Dutch on this job. Dutch had trusted Angelo Bronte was telling the truth when in reality he had been stringing them along. They were idiots to think the Italian man would let them take money from the city he owned. Most of all, he was angry with himself. 

It must’ve been noon by then. If you had completely lost your sanity, you would’ve been waiting for him where he told you he’d be. If you hadn’t already been mad as hell with him before, you had to be now. He should’ve listened to Hosea when he had the chance.

“There’s a wagon up over there. If you cover us I think I can get Dutch in the back,” Lenny suggested, to which Arthur quickly agreed. Arthur proceeded to fire back at the police, allowing Lenny the chance to move a groggy Dutch into the wagon. Briskly following behind, Arthur jumped onto the wagon. The horses were quickly startled into pulling them forward while the police scurried to catch up to them.

They maneuvered the wagon as efficiently as they could with all the obstacles in their way, leading Arthur to wonder if word had gotten to you by now. He would rather you unleash your anger on him than be disappointed in him. God, your disappointment killed him. Arthur hated to be anything less than the man you deserved, but time and time again he seemed to always fall short.

“Arthur! They shot off our wheel!” Lenny held a tight grip on the reins, struggling to keep control before ultimately crashing into an alley. Dutch thankfully hadn’t been too affected by the crash, but was definitely unfit to fight off anyone. 

“Take him and get out of here. I’m gonna lead em’ away.” Arthur placed a hand on Lenny’s shoulder. “Keep him safe.” 

Giving a quick nod, Lenny dragged Dutch away until they were out of sight. Arthur ran the opposite way, taking the attention of the few lawmen that remained on their tail. He eventually killed them off one by one until he was left aching on the floor clutching his side. 

“Ah, shit,” He hissed, hunching over as he got up. A bullet had grazed his side at some point in his long fight with the law and the adrenaline coursing through his veins hadn’t allowed him to notice until that point.

Huffing, Arthur leaned against the wall staring down at the men he had killed. Was it realistic to believe they could actually make it out alive to Tahiti? As much as Arthur wanted to believe him, he saw no reality where Dutch would be happy as a mango farmer. The outlaws’ quick tempers would inevitably lead to someone dead in the street. 

“Take what you’ve got and don’t look back.”

He hadn’t gotten much money from the heist, but he did have a few trinkets in his satchel that were worth good money. It might be enough to help the pair of you get away while the police were still searching. God, with you he could try to be a better man. He could find a real job, one that wouldn’t leave a target on your backs. Or you could go off into the woods and let your only company be the deers–he’d go anywhere, do anything, if it meant he would be by your side. 

Breaking his heart from knowing who he’d be leaving behind, Arthur made the decision to be loyal to what truly mattered to him. 

Stumbling away, Arthur forced himself to fight the ache in his bones to get to you. It was no guarantee you’d still be there–if you were ever there at all. No, he didn’t have time to let himself doubt. Weaving through the backstreets full of passing immigrants until he was forcibly grabbed and pulled to the side. Before he could whip out his pistol, your voice stopped him.

“Arthur! Oh, thank god you’re alright! You stupid man, I had no idea where you were and I was looking all over–”

Before you could ramble any further he pulled you against him and embraced you tightly, ignoring the pain. You wrapped your arms around him tightly, letting your suitcase fall to your feet as you took him in. He was alive. Your Arthur was alive–seemingly hurt–but alive nonetheless.

“You stupid man.” You murmured into his chest, earning a low chuckle from your lover. “S’fine. We’re gonna be okay.” Arthur pressed a shaky kiss to your temple. He could finally breathe again.

“We need to get out of here. You’re hurt–you need help.” You pulled back to examine him, a worried look spreading across your face. “Arthur–” He stopped you with a kiss, taking you by shock.

“M’sorry. I’ve been waiting for so long I didn’t know when I’d get to do that again.” If he’d ever get to do that again. Resting your forehead against his, you let a moment of silence pass. You were together again.

Despite his struggle, Arthur picked up your suitcase and led you to the outskirts of the city, dodging the policemen as best as he could. He had to do his best to avoid trouble now because he held his entire world in his hand. Arthur was responsible for taking care of you now and he’d damn well shoot himself in the foot before he let anything happen to you.

“Is this really happening? I can’t even believe it…I love you Arthur. I’m still mad you were dumb enough to try shooting your way out of the city, but I’ll be mad at you later.” You squeezed his hand with a giddy smile on your face.

“I’ll do better. I…I want to do better for you. I love you.” He gave you a small smile. You spent the rest of the walk to his horse out of the city telling him all the things you wanted to do now that you were starting your lives together.

He could spend the rest of his life listening to you talk. Hanging his hat on the wall, leaving his criminal lifestyle would be hard to leave behind, but for you he’d do it a million times over. He’d do anything to make you happy and now he finally could.

[sulkysnape]

How would Severus react to his s/o joining the Order?

How would Severus react to you joining the Order...

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

You were weary about telling him in the first place. Severus' reactions to news was always up in the air. You thought back to the time you told him you wanted a cat, by bringing a cat home. He did not take that news very well. But the news this time wasn't lighthearted like adopting a new furry friend.

You took your time closing up your classroom for the day. Having dinner with Severus was the last thing you wanted to do right now. Lying was not your forte, and lying to Severus was even more difficult. You knew that you would crumble the second he asked you how your day was.

You had nothing left to do in your classroom, so you had no choice, but to make your journey to your shared chambers. You dragged your feet as you turned the corner to the hallway leading to your chambers. You clenched your fist with one hand as you turned the doorknob with the other. The door swung open and you were instantly hit with the scent of roasted chicken. Closing your eyes, you took in the scent.

After changing into your evening clothes, you walked into the kitchen. Severus was standing behind the counter preparing two plates of dinner. He greets you with a smile and a kiss on the forehead before setting the dinner plates on the dining table. The two of you sit on opposite ends of the table. You each relish the silence for a few moments, enjoying the first few bites of dinner.

Severus breaks the silence as you take another bite of food.

“How was your day, love?” He asks. 

You look up from your food and think for a few moments. You clear your throat before speaking.

“It was good.” You begin “We began talking about why muggle’s need electricity today… It was an amusing topic.”

You took another bite of chicken as you thought carefully about your next words. 

“There’s something else I've been wanting to speak to you about, dear.”

“Hm?” Severus’ eyebrow raised.

“I’ve been speaking with Minerva lately…” You took a deep breath “Things are getting scary again… and I think…” 

Severus let you speak. He’s always let you speak. You watched him take a drink of his wine as he let you collect your thoughts. 

“I’m joining the Order, Sev.” 

He swallowed roughly as he looked at you with a confused face. 

“The Order?”

Your breath hitched as you tried to read his expressions to understand how he was feeling. Severus stopped looking at you as millions of thoughts raced through his mind. 

“I’m not going to just stand back when things go to hell, Severus.”

“But do you not understand what position that could put me in, Y/N.”

You were aware of the possible danger that came with joining the Order. Your husband was doing his duty by helping Albus, so why couldn’t you do your part? 

“It’s not that I doubt your strength or your courage.” His hands grip his wine glass. 

The room is silent for a few moments. You watch as his eyes dart across the room as he thinks about what to say next. 

“I walk on shards of glass every day. If Voldemort suspects… If he even hints that my loyalties are divided–” 

“Do you doubt me, Severus?” You interrupt him sharply. 

Severus pauses, his expression changing to one of quick regret as he turns to you, his eyes softening. There’s a moment of silence as he chooses his words carefully. 

“No, Y/N. It’s not you I doubt. My fear… it isn’t of your loyalty or your capability. It’s the thought of you in harm’s way that I cannot bear.”

You search his face, trying to understand the depth of his concern. 

“Severus, I know the risks. But I cannot let fear dictate our actions. We do this together.”

You gripped onto his hand for reassurance. You understood that this decision would most likely have its consequences, but it was a choice you were willing to make. You watched Severus think through his thoughts before finally looking at you. 

Severus finally let out a sigh, the tension easing from his shoulders as he allowed a small, resigned smile to grace his lips– a rare and precious sight. 

“Somehow, you always manage to convince me,” he admits, his voice soft, laced with a mixture of admiration and affection. “Your determination… it’s impossible to argue against.”

He squeezed your hand gently, a silent acknowledgment of the path you’ve chosen.  “Together, then.”

[okkalo]

the truth acknowledged

sae x reader

genre(s): angst

randomly remembered sae existed and suddenly felt a fog of angst overcome me. enjoy.

“you can’t keep doing this, you know?” sae’s voice rung out behind you. you didn’t need to look to know he was probably watching you with crossed arms and his usual lack of expression. so, saving yourself the extra trouble of turning around to spare him a glance, you continued tucking in the blanket you had stolen from the comforts of your shared bed into the cushions of the couch. “just come back to bed; i don’t see why you sleep out here after every argument.”

all plans of ignoring him had vanished at his last words, you now turning to face him with an expression that matched his own. “then what do you suggest i do instead, sae?” he seemed to have not gotten the annoyance in your tone as he opened his mouth to reply with some smart-ass reply; you were sure. “i can’t just go to sleep next to you while acting as if you hadn’t just said all of those things.” you quickly followed up with, not giving him that chance to make your annoyance worse.

he narrowed his eyes at your words, a sign that this wouldn’t be a simple conversation. “you’re making things way harder than they have to be, y/n.” you would’ve scoffed and thought of a witty remark to fire back at him had you not done it multiple times in the past. now, you could only frown at him with a sense of tiredness in your eyes. why could he not get it?

“i’m tired of arguing, sae. just go back to bed, i’m fine sleeping out here.” you sighed, turning your attention back to the makeshift bed you had created on the couch in the darkened living room; everything illuminated by only one lamp. he didn’t seem fond of your dismissal, however.

“i’m not.” he replied, countering your last sentence as his lips formed into a frown of his own. the tense air seemed to have fogged out the care behind his words; it didn’t help he wasn’t easy to read either. “just come back to bed for tonight then we can talk about it in the morning.” you felt something in your chest snap at his words, hopelessness settling in.

“we never do.” you couldn’t control the waver of your voice, your back continuing to face him. there was a moment of silence after your words. the truth neither of you dared to acknowledge finally spilling from your lips in a broken voice. it seemed the sense of hopelessness had reached him as well since he hadn’t given a reply back. “we’ve been fighting so much lately, sae. and…” you took a moment to think, trying to figure out the best way to explain your feelings to him without showing him your watered eyes. “and i’m not sure i can keep going like this, y’know?”

he could only stare at your back that had been hunched from the mutual feeling of despair in the room, your arms wrapped around yourself as an attempt to shield your pricked heart. his mind a mess as he tried hard to think of a possible solution or at least something he could say that would put your vulnerable heart at ease. bearing fruitless, the only image that appeared in his mind was his brother rin. the situation seemed too familiar to sae.

a few minutes of tense silence roll by that seem like forever to you and nothing to sae. you wiped the few tears that you were surprised even came out from your worn-out eyes, your cheeks just drying not too long ago from your previous argument with the male. “i think it’s best i stay somewhere else tonight.” you broke the tense silence once more, getting up from your seat on the couch before passing sae to collect your keys and slide on your shoes. you hadn’t even put thought into a change of clothes, too caught up in your decision to leave the darkened home that you swore you remembered shining with a love like no other. meanwhile, sae stood in place through it all, wishing his mind could think of something other than his brother and the regret he held deep. you hadn’t been willing to wait for his mind, however, wishing him a softened goodnight before exiting your shared apartment that sae wondered would hold the title after tonight.

unedited thanks for reading!

[kastlequill]

ii/v. unearth without a name: the world that hardens as the harsher winter holds

pairing: keegan p russ x f!reader word count: 1.8k synopsis: the second time you hallucinate keegan tags: whumptober, psychological warfare, blood and injury, brainwashing, hallucinations, hurt no comfort, established relationship, ghost!reader, 4+1, no y/n warnings: canon-typical violence, torture, non-consensual drug use ao3: read here ← prev | next →

II.

A semblance of a regimented schedule formed shortly after those first couple of days.

Two goons would begin the cycle with a visit, using you as a human punching bag until your ribs burned and your frayed nerves went numb. Then came the waterboarding and the breaking of bone, be it a rib or a finger. Last, but certainly not least, Rorke would work on molding your mind into something foreign, though whatever drug he’d administered on Day 1 hadn’t made a reappearance yet.

Yet.

You didn’t have it in you to treasure that simple blessing because your captors were constantly swapping one torture method for another, determined to keep you guessing. Recently, they’d started to get more creative; extreme sensory deprivation was still a favorite of theirs, but they had now added physically-intensive beatings into the mix.

Time elapsed strangely in this hellscape. With no sun to denote mornings and no moon to introduce nights, you had to measure its passage in terms of the damage inflicted upon you. Which was to say, what marked the beginning of a day wasn’t the sunrise; instead, it was the piece of stale bread that you received only after your captors made you beg like a dog.

And to determine when you’d reached the end of another day having survived, it was Rorke, not the setting sun nor the rising stars, who served as a useful metric. Night began in the moments following his departure from the chamber once he’d satiated his raging appetite for sadism, leaving you to succumb to your injuries and fall unconscious.

Eventually, those unfulfilling few hours of sleep would be interrupted by the force of the tossed bread hitting your head. Like clockwork, this cursed routine repeated again and again, though you couldn’t discern whether or not these recurring events were consistently scheduled at a specific hour. It would come as no surprise if they’d been staggered to hinder you from adapting to your new normal.

Such was the way of the Federation.

Regardless of the truth, according to your unconventional form of tracking time, nightfall was nearly upon you. Rorke had been here for what seemed like an eternity, putting forth a valiant effort in beating you into submission and breaking your will.

You just had to bear this pain a little while longer. Then, you could allow your body to recuperate through a bout of fitful slumber.

“Still got some fight left in you, eh?” Rorke wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. Hands that had spent the last however many weeks tenderizing your flesh and splintering your bones. “First, let me express my gratitude. I appreciate you makin’ this fun for an old man.”

You wanted nothing more than to kill him slow, to watch the crazed gleam fade from his deadened eyes, but you’d decided on Day 2 not to engage him beyond what was strictly necessary. If you managed to keep the talking to a minimum, then perhaps Rorke wouldn’t linger for too long. A flawed logic built on desperation.

It worked on occasion, boredom striking him sooner rather than later, ending the interrogation session without much fanfare. Though that wasn’t always the case.

The man was a loose cannon. He lashed out on a whim then switched up before you could process what he’d originally done. Even his co-conspirators avoided being caught in his blast radius, but no such hope existed for you, the prisoner who still breathed only because he willed it.

“Now, with that out of the way—”

An uppercut collided against your chin, sending you reeling, doubling over, stretching the muscles in your arms as the ropes that dangled you from the ceiling strained under the pressure. The impact rattled your teeth, and the metallic taste of blood doused your bitten tongue.

The bastard possessed an absurd amount of power for his age. And you, half-starved and broken in one too many places, were the lucky recipient of said power.

“What are the Ghosts plannin’ to do near the Gulf?” He forced your gaze to meet his, yanking your head backward by the roots of your hair. Resolute in your fatal desire to safeguard your comrades to the best of your abilities, your mouth stayed stubbornly shut.

If you couldn’t be of use out there by their side on a battlefield, the least you could do was stop the enemy from obtaining crucial intel. You couldn’t give the Feds the upper hand, not when that ran the risk of landing Merrick, Hesh, Logan, Keegan in some shallow grave.

Rorke sneered. “So that’s the kinda game you want to play? Alright, little martyr, keep your secrets. But listen up, and listen good: when I find all ‘em out, because I will find out, you’ll wish you hadn’t been so blindly loyal to those damn mutts. Better hope you’ve still got most of your fingers when that day comes ‘round.”

The grip on your hair relinquished, and your head dipped low, too fatigued to support its weight on your own. You were content to stay like that, crumpled and weak, but the sound of rustling fabric bid you to remain present and raise your lidded gaze.

Your stomach dropped at the sight of Rorke pulling out a syringe from a pocket on his tactical vest.

“Remember this?” Its needle glistened menacingly in the dull lamplight. The man must have seen the brief panic that flitted across your face because he gave a wry chuckle. “Hell, of course y’do. No need for a reintroduction, then.”

Without further delay, Rorke jabbed the syringe into a bulging vein in your neck, dehydration making it appear more prominent than usual. Your fear spiked as he injected its contents into your already-fragile system. Compared to the previous dose, you began to experience the drug’s effects much faster, blood suddenly afire, choking on hurried gasps, jaw locked. It held your body hostage while it hijacked your biological milieu and scrambled your brain.

The bombardment on your five senses was so overwhelming that you had to close your eyes, the surrounding visual stimuli too abrasive to withstand in your compromised state. When you did finally blink them open again, the scene that greeted you was of a different man, a man whose presence you greatly welcomed.

Decked out in full gear and face lathered in greasepaint wherever his mask failed to conceal skin, Keegan stood several paces behind Rorke. Arms crossed, feet shoulder-width apart, cold stare devoid of any affection but flowing with disappointment. Before, he’d spoken everything you had never wanted to hear; this time, however, the apparition uttered not a single syllable.

A flash of white heat diffused throughout your body from head to toe as rage superseded pain.

Did he really think you were a failure, a disgrace? Was that why he opted to hold his tongue, finding you unworthy, an utter waste of his breath?

You recalled the days when he had barely spared you a glance beyond ensuring you weren’t falling behind. When he had gradually begun to reference you as an irreplaceable part of their established collective; when eliciting a low chuckle from him had been considered a victory and earning his praise had become something of an addiction. When he had listened to your whispered confession then offered up a weakness of his own; when he had agreed to learn bit by bit how to give you his heart and how to take yours in turn.

Looking back, the two of you had come so far. And yet, the fruits of your labor would go uneaten. You weren’t foolish enough to assume survival was still a possibility after a few more rounds of torture; if your mind didn’t break first, then your body would surely shut down.

Two good months. That was all you had gotten with him as a lover.

Just two months.

Another punch to your liver yanked you from your spiraling thoughts. “You ready to talk? No? Suit yourself.”

The onslaught resumed, ripping old wounds anew, further bruising already-sore skin, weakening calcium-deficient bones. Truth be told, you’d been ready to talk for the past eight cycles of this shit, but loyalty prevented you from squealing like a pig. Regretfully, this very same loyalty was beginning to feel misplaced.

Were they even searching for you? Was he? Had your comrades so easily written you off as KIA, unable to justify expending valuable, scarce resources on a mere stray?

Sure, Keegan’s last visit had been cruel, biting, but at least he had acknowledged your existence, your situation. The exchange, though agonizing, had reinvigorated you with purpose and determination to make it out of this hellhole alive. Now, if this fabricated Keegan would only address you, then the cracks in your composure and willpower could be rectified, bestowing upon you the strength to persevere, to suffer in silence until either your rescue or your death.

If he would only speak to you as a human being separate from this current timeline of misery and monsters among men, then maybe you had a real chance here. Maybe, you would again bask in the warmth of a glorious sunrise.

Say something.

He didn’t, of course. It shouldn’t have surprised you; he had never been the type to fill the quiet with nonsensical chatter. But you needed this, as starved of him as you were of food and water. You’d wait three seconds for him to correct himself, or else you would give him a piece of your mind, a proper tongue-lashing, scratchy throat and raw vocal cords be damned.

A well-aimed kick in the calf triggered a mental countdown.

Three. . .

Continuous heavy blows struck your temple, the resulting craters spouting a stream of blood, its damage producing a shrill ringing in your ears.

Two . . .

Forgetting the sound of his voice, struggling to replicate the unhurried yet impassioned cadence with which he spoke, gone was his deep tenor—

One.

“God, make it stop,” were the words that left your cracked, chapped lips. But there was no God to answer your pleas; not down here. Still, you begged. “Please, just make it fucking stop.”

Keegan said nothing, content to continue his silent appraisal of the scene before him. Scrutinizing your weaknesses, judging how much more damage you could endure before your total destruction. A sentinel, a voyeur of your rawest pain.

Rorke, looming above like impending doom, a deadly omen, simply laughed and laughed.

And in that moment, you couldn’t decide which of the two men you hated more.

tbc.

[catflowerqueen]

A though occurred to me while playing some cozy games earlier.

Bearing in mind that it is very likely I’ve missed something due to backing off watching episodes, and that I am entirely talking about in-universe reasons for certain decisions, because I understand completely why the writers themselves might have had…

Why did Monty not bring Old Moon back earlier? Especially given that recent events have proven no one would have actually needed to die?

Earlier Monty said they were only considering this option now because they thought Nexus was too far gone and, essentially, wouldn’t care about killing them now where they would have felt bad before. But, like… Nexus is very clearly still alive. And if all Monty needed was, like… a code scan or sample or something that he probably got after he tortured Nexus to unconsciousness and went to talk to Old Moon again… why did they not do this back when everything was fine, possibly even before Solar died? Had they asked Nexus, Nexus would have probably agreed willingly! And probably would have roped Solar in to help design a new body!

Old Moon and Nexus both would have been up for expanding their family! Old Moon was the one who introduced Lunar as a brother to Sun, after all, and even told Nexus about how he would have loved to have Earth as a sister! Why would he not have done the same for Nexus, who was fulfilling the wish he’d had for Sun to have a good brother who cared and was “better”? Who more or less accepted KC's claim that Old Moon was his brother?

And if one or the other one had felt out of place/didn’t want to stick around… they still both would have been more than willing to help whoever left get settled in their chosen place. Nexus did that for KC! And one of Old Moon’s big worries about Earth’s eventual arrival was that he was still getting Lunar settled into being, like, an individual.

This all just seems… so unnecessary?? Like Monty only waited until now because they had some ulterior motive, possibly monetarily-based??

Or maybe they secretly don’t like how close Earth and Eclipse are getting, and was banking on Old Moon jumping the gun and killing him purely because Eclipse was still an enemy last he knew, and Monty wasn’t able to/intentionally neglected to tell him that this wasn’t even the same Eclipse anymore?? Just like Monty neglected to tell him the full story about what just happened with Nexus?

Again, I’m sure I’ve missed something… but I’m just sitting here right now thinking “Monty? What the hell???!" Even beyond the general "what the hell" this entire arc has been in general.

Though on that note—I really would like an explanation of what exactly I missed in Monty’s in-universe motivation/reasoning/ability that they couldn’t do this earlier. Because I’m fairly sure that if it were an issue of resources, ability, or timing, that they would have mentioned this earlier.

[writeradamanteve]

Anthony Lockwood Examination Post

So much of the deleted scenes have been such a delight, and many of them I’d wished they’d kept, this montage with Lockwood included, but when I first saw this scene, my heart did hurt.

I looked at this exact snapshot and saw the face of depression.

He’s lying in bed with his eyes open, and we know he doesn’t get enough sleep. He is willing himself to get up at that very moment, and when he does, it’s routine for the next hour it takes him to prepare:

He gets out of bed, puts on the same clothes, and when he’s staring at the mirror, he puts on his face—not makeup, but—: that disarming smile, that sparkling charm, and the bold confidence.

He steps out of his room and gives that unopened door one flight up—a pedestal, really—a half-expectant look:

Any minute now she’ll walk through that door.

Then

Oh, right. She won’t. She’s dead.

And he moves forward, as he always does.

He files that hurt away as he joins George and Lucy at the kitchen, thinking about the many ways to grow the business, outsmart Fittes, and get bigger clients/more prominent cases.

He makes plans, giving safety and caution a cursory thought. His agents are smart, they are good at what they do. George will tell him if there’s anything they need to know. Lucy’s razor sharp intuition, conviction, and more than adequate skill with a rapier bolsters his confidence on the field.

Then when they’re all there, fighting for their lives, that little voice he had ignored all this time will ring in his ears and the rare panic attack would consume him. When he staves off the panic attack, regret would inevitably settle in when the danger was passed.

Lucy is the one that either pulls him together or vehemently calls him out, and then he couldn’t bear it, having her angry at him.

There’s something about Lucy that propels him to do better. George does not have this immediate effect because George doesn’t storm off and he never turns his back on Lockwood. Lockwood knows George will bend a long while, and Lockwood knows just enough when to appease George to snap him back. Lucy is not as patient. Lucy does not hesitate, because Lucy knows that her hesitation once got her friends killed and that was not going to happen again.

The danger of dying does not scare Lockwood as much as it should, at least not in The Screaming Staircase/The Whispering Skull/Lockwood & Co. Season 1.

He was, until Lucy, too reckless. Lucy has managed to talk him down to “just reckless enough”. She also impressed upon him that he had a responsibility to stay alive because if anything happened to him, she and George would be devastated, and if there was anything that motivated Lockwood more than winning a case at all costs, it was to spare Lucy and George any suffering. He could not bear the thought of Lucy or George getting hurt, especially because of him.

Before Lucy, he was numb, his ability to truly love dormant, but she woke him up, and I’ll tell you exactly when Lucy first punched a hole through that barrier.

In the Netflix series, I think it was the possession scene, and there were about dozens of moments where we saw it happen over and over again, but IN THE BOOK, The Screaming Staircase, it was after the well was exploded in Combe Carey Hall.

I knelt by him, brushed the ash from his forehead.

His eyes opened. He looked at me with a clear, unclouded gaze.

I cleared my throat. “Hi Lockwood…”

Awareness returned. I saw bafflement first, then gradual recognition.

“Oh… Lucy.” He blinked, coughed, and tried to sit up. “Lucy. For a moment I thought you were… It doesn’t matter. How are you, Lucy? You’re okay?”

This scene, knowing what I know now, is exactly the moment Lockwood remembered what it was like to be loved again. He thought she was you-know-who, and then he realized she wasn’t, but oh, it wouldn’t be the last time Lucy would remind him what it was like to be loved and looked after.

Lucy knew it, too, in her bones, even if she didn’t identify it, and—poor George, he saw it. He even said he saw it.

I stood abruptly. “Yes, I’m fine.”

George was watching me through cracked spectacles. “I saw that.”

“What?” I said. “Saw what? Nothing happened.”

(Lucy, so guilty)

“Precisely. Where was his slap in the chops? Where was his firm shaking? There’re double standards at work here.”

Ah, George.

So Lockwood isn’t exactly suicidal. The danger is there, but he won’t perform the act for its own sake, he just, until the events of the Bone Glass, convinced himself that his priorities were: defeating Visitors and Lockwood & Co. besting everyone else.

It was an easier focus than the dread of losing the people he cared about, yet again.

Thankfully, Lucy and George are setting him on a different journey.

So in a way, George is wrong. Lucy does slap Lockwood awake, just in a different way.