#maybe don't follow just for your own mental health you know?

[turtlecleric]

Hey cleric? Random ahh thought but you got recommended to me

What should I expect?

Hello dear! Oh. Ummmm.

1) Being insane about Symphony. I'm deeply, deeply unwell over it.

2) Very short fics (if you'd even call them that) and imagines that sometimes occur multiple times a day but more often are very spread out

3) A fair amount of dark (?) content, including non con/dub con, somno, yandere behavior, and anything and everything angsty (mind the warnings, tread carefully)

[cressidagrey]

Stars all aligned - Chapter 8

Summary:

If there was one thing that both Azriel and Zahra Archeron had in common, it was that they were both very good at blending into the background.

They just never thought that their family were going to be the ones who never saw them at all.

Warning:

I'll keep the warnings, even though there is no outright mention in this part: Bashing of like...every IC member? Especially the Archeron Sisters, discussion of chronic pain, discussion of Infertility, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Underage Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please, take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

(Lovely dividers thanks to @sweetmelodygraphics)

You’ll stay with her, he told the shadows fiercely. And if there is anything out of the ordinary, you’ll get me there.

He pulled the wards he shouldered around Rosehall tighter as well, making sure that he would know if there was anything…anything at all…

The shadows flickered around him, the creatures twining over his wings and snaking over his arms, and he felt a shiver of anticipation from them at the prospect of a fight.

They were ready for it. Nearly looking forward to it too. 

Yes, Master, they agreed with him. The High Lady and the General just broke into her cottage, they sneered in distaste. 

Azriel nearly growled when the statement registered with him. Fury rolled down his spine, rage igniting in him like something hungry for a fight.

He had nearly expected something like that. Though he hadn’t counted ont hem outright breaking in, but then it were Cassian and Feyre…maybe he should have expected this. 

Azriel took a deep breath in an attempt to control himself, pushing that anger away.

He needed to focus.

Why? he demanded. Actually, did he want to know? What kind of excuse was there for simply breaking into Zahra's apartment when she wasn't there?

He had to breathe deeply to stop himself from going over there and doing something that he wouldn't be able to take back.

They found your scent, Master, the shadows kept updating them. Now they think you had an affair.

His teeth clenched so hard he was surprised nothing shattered.

An. Affair.

He was going to break some bones.

It was a struggle, to keep himself back and not march right over to the River House.

The mating bond burned in him, as if Zahra felt his anger as well, and he had to force himself to remain in place, to breathe and control the raging emotion that burned in him.

He had a plan, damnit.

He needed to follow the plan.

The last thing he needed was his own stupid actions ruining the chance of his brothers coming around. And he wouldn't do that.

So he flew to Velaris, didn't allow himself to winnow and do anything ill thought out.

The flight was...brutally cold.

The air seemed extra chilled that day, the cold biting and painful.

But Azriel didn't let himself turn away. He pushed ahead, his shadows whipping around him as he pushed his wings to keep himself in the air.

He arrived just in time.

Azriel didn't even give himself a chance to warm up as he landed just outside of the River House.

The house looked tranquil enough, but the air still carried a tense charge to it.

Or maybe that was just his imagination, because fury was kindling deep in his gut.

He approached the front door. He didn't even try to sneak into the house.

No, he didn't give a damn if they heard him approach or not. He didn't bother to keep his wings folded or his presence masked.

He highly doubted that this was the moment for some of the quieter practices he employed as a spymaster after all.

Instead, Azriel took the few short steps up to the front door and pushed through it with perhaps more force than he should have.

Not that he seemed to care or mind in that moment.

 A couple of steps in the direction of the Dining Room... And there they were. His family. Their family. Though he wondered if Zahra was ever truly going to see them as her family after everything that had happened.

"Good Evening." His voice was carefully even. As much as he wanted to scream and hout..he wasn't going to. Not yet.

The room went silent in that instant.

Feyre's eyes widened, and her hand curled around the table, and the others...weren't even trying to disguise their surprise at his presence.

He could feel the mating bond, pulling at him, but ignored it with iron self control.

Feyre's face was set in a hard mask, but her eyes...her eyes were wild.

"You didn't bring your mate?" Mor wondered aloud.

"We need to have a talk." Azriel asked, his voice carefully measured despite the fury that simmered in him. He crossed his arms on his chest as he met Mor's gaze, his face an unreadable mask.

"Yes, we do," Feyre agreed sharply. "You want to tell me why your scent is all over my sister's house?"

"I imagine it's because I spent a lot of time there," Azriel shot back drily.

Fey's eyes widened at that response, but it was Cassian who spoke, his voice an odd mixture between curious and...something else. "You spent a lot of time there?" he echoed. "What exactly were you doing at her house, Az? It's not like the two of you are so close."

"Last time I checked I don't owe you an list of what I do in my free time." Azriel returned frostily. "And I spent time at her house, because we are friends."

"And time in her bed just because?" Rhys said with a sigh. "Azriel, what have you been thinking?" his brother demanded. If this is you trying to get back at me about Elian, don’t let Zahra be caught in the crossfire, he was admonished. 

And he was done.

He would never do something like that. Would never use one female to make another one jealous…and especially wouldn’t use one sister against the other like that. That Rhys even thought he would do something like that…it made him want to throw up. 

"Are you done?" Azriel asked. His voice was low, and the rage that roared in him was clear, as he met his brothers' gazes.

Cassian and Rhys exchanged a look before Cassian turned his eyes back to Azriel.

"Did you really have an affair with that girl?" Cassian asked him drily. 

He couldn't help the laugh that escaped him. Really? Really?!

"No," Azriel said with a snort. "I am not having an affair with that girl." The sarcasm was obvious in his voice. "And not that it's any of your business anyway, because how dare you break into her home and judge what you find there!," he snapped. "But I shared my mate's bed, because she asked me too."

The silence was almost absolute at his words, and Azriel could sense the way the others froze.

They hadn’t been expecting that.

"Your mate," Rhys said flatly, the only one that didn't seem outright shocked.

"My mate," he agreed, his voice fierce. "Zahra is my mate."

Mor looked like she had seen a ghost, and Fey's eyes were like saucers, her mouth opening and closing silently.

Cassian seemed the only one who recovered himself somewhat, his eyes sharp as he studied Azriel as though seeing him for the first time.

Rhys looked between all three of them before he rubbed a hand over his face.

"I would ask if you're sure," he said eventually. "But judging by your reaction, that question is pointless. You are."

"Yes," Azriel said, his voice still a little rough. Oh, he was sure. 

His protective fury was back in full force and blazing away. 

Nesta snorted.

All eyes turned to the older Archeron sister in surprise, and she merely held her hands up in mock surrender.

"What? Am I not allowed to find this remotely funny?" she asked drily, her gaze landing on Azriel and staying there. "My sincere condolences," she drawled.

The reaction was immediate.

If Cassian's reaction, a thin red film of pure killing power...forcing Azriel back a few steps hadn’t been there… he was quite sure that he would have slit Nesta's throat just for that one comment. And if not him...then his shadows. His shadows that were swarming around and muttered about vengeance. 

"Calm down," Rhys said sharply. "Calm Down, Azriel." 

Our mate, Ours the shadows hissed and Azriel clenched his jaw.

Azriel’S hands were clenched in tight fists, his wings trembling behind him as he tried, and failed, to reign in his temper.

The shadows were practically crackling around them, and Azriel took a few deep breaths, struggling to get the fury raging in him under control.

"What exactly is your problem?" he bit out.

"My problem?" Nesta shot back, her eyes narrowing. "You deserve better than her!"

Azriel's head snapped towards her, the movement nearly too quick to follow.

"What did you just say?" he said, his voice like poison.

Nesta's gaze was unwavering as she met his, her face a mask of cool certainty.

"You heard me," she said. "You deserve better than Zahra."

The silence stretched between them, Azriel's words caught in his throat.

Feyre's face had gone a little pale, her gaze flicking between the two of them.

And the rest of the room was just silent. The tension in the air was so thick that a single wrong move might trigger a bloodbath.

 "What exactly is your problem with your sister?" he hissed.

 Nesta's gaze hardened further, the look in her eyes suddenly more likesteel.

"She is a bastard," she said simply, her voice cold as ice. "She uses the people around her for her own gain. She had no problem with sleeping with a married man and god knows what else."

"I am a bastard too," Azriel gave back icily. "So is your mate, Nesta. And you have absolutely no idea what your sister sacrificed for you." 

Nesta's face went a little pale at that, and Azriel noticed Rhys's gaze hardening, his expression one of sharp reproach.

"Did she tell you that?" Nesta said, her voice harsh. "And you actually believe her?"

"I do, yes," Azriel said, his voice harsh. "But even if I didn't take her word for it, I would take Madja’s."

The evidence was right there. 

Nesta flinched at that, her eyes widening in shock. "Madja?" she echoed incredulously. “What does she have to do with anything?"

He regretted his words instantly. He had already said too much. He had already...

His shadows seemed to sense his growing discomfort, and they started to writhe around his form, trying to offer a barrier between himself and the others.

He was already regretting this reveal, but it was too late to stop now.

And he knew that this…this was the only way to mak ehtem understand. Use Zahra’s fucking trauma as a bludgeoning weapong because otherwise they wouldn’t understand. 

"Madja was the one who diagnosed the extensive internal damage your sister sustained during the course of what you call an affair, Nesta. It wasn't an affair. It were 6 years of rape," he spat out. "She was 15 year old when it started and you know why it started? Because, and I quote: Was I supposed to let my little sister die?"

The room went silent at that, everyone seemingly stunned into speechless by that revelation.

No one seemed to be able to form a single word, their minds still processing what they had just heard.

"You were sick with that fever, Feyre" Elain said, her voice shaky. "That first winter in the cottage. Zahra got you...Zahra got the medicine."

That seemed like the last straw for Feyre.

The words seemed to snap her out of her surprise, a look of horror blooming on her face. "Oh Gods," she breathed.

Her shoulders shook, and she seemed to be on the verge of tears, the shock of the revelation hitting her hard.

Nesta looked stricken as well, her face pale, and a small voice in Azriel hoped that his words finally reached through to her.

Rhys wrapped an arm around Feyre, pulling her close as she buried her face in his chest.

The others...were stunned speechless, their expressions reflecting their horror, shame and shock at the magnitude of the situation.

For a few moments, the silence stretched as all of them tried to process this, the weight of it hanging over them like some oppressive force.

The shadows writhed and twisted around Azriel, their own distress felt by him as he remained tense, waiting for the others to speak up.

"Where is she?" Feyre choked out.

"Safe," Azriel responded, his voice even.

"Where?" Feyre demanded weakly, pulling back from Rhys' arms.

"As I said, in a safe place," Azriel gave back, voice sharp. "Why do you want to know?"

"Why do you think?" Feyre shot back, her voice wavering. "She's my sister!”

“Is she really?” Azriel asked with a sigh. "You forgot her very existence," Azriel continued, his voice even, emotionless. "None of you ever treated her like you were her sister. For cauldron's sake, you didn't even ask her to come with you to your father's grave when Elain told him about her engagement. She wasn’t your sister then, was she?"

The blunt words hit home, and Azriel could practically feel the way everyone in the room sucked in a breath.

Feyre winced as though slapped, her expression one of shock and then, shame and pain.

 "How does she even know about this?" Elain whispered.

Like that was the thing that mattered. How Zahra had found out. 

"Because, she saw you," Azriel answered nonetheless.. "She saw all three of you." The words seemed to echo through the room. Everyone froze, their eyes widening in shock at the implication of that one sentence, and Azriel felt a wave of vindication at the look of guilt that flashed across all their faces.

Maybe that would make them understand. Somehow he doubted it though. 

They should feel guilty, he thought as he clenched his fists in an attempt to get his rising temper back under control.

"You just..ignored her. Acted like she wasn't even there," Azriel accused, his voice as cold as ice, eyes blazing in fury. "Like she didn't matter, like she wasn't good enough because she was only your half sister, only a bastard."

Elain looked ready to break down in tears, her hands curled into fists as she swallowed, her face pale.

Cassian and Mor were silent, both of them looking sick, their faces twisted in a look of shame.

 Rhys's face was blank, as though he was trying to keep himself from falling apart.

Nesta was staring straight ahead, but Azriel could see the tightness of her clenched jaw, like she was gritting her teeth together.

 And Feyre...had tears in her eyes, the shame and pain written so clearly on her face that Azriel wasn't sure whether he should feel pity or fury.

"Did you even realize what you did to her?" he asked, his voice still cold. 

"No," Feyre muttered. "No, I didn't."

"You know what, I don't even care," Azriel said with a shake of his head. "Let me just make one thing clear. Zahra is my mate. Which means, she will be treated with a modicum of respect from now on. Clearly you can't manage that for eitherof us, but it stops now."

 "You have no right to keep us away from her," Nesta started to say, her face twisted in fury.

No right? No right?!?

"I have every right," Azriel snapped. "Why should I even let you be in the same room as her? So that you can berate her? So that you can fault her for something that's not any of her fault?" 

"She's still my sister!" Nesta shot back, her eyes blazing.

"You have a weird way of showing that," Azriel snapped right back.

Nesta flinched back at the words as though he slapped her. 

Azriel's shadows writhed violently, twisting in the air as he stepped closer to Nesta. "What gives you the right, huh? What right do you have, to even be in the same room as her, much less demand her presence? You never treated her like your sister, not for a single moment. So why should she consider you family?"

The words were like a slap to the face, and a few tears fell down Nesta's face.

Feyre looked ready to break down in tears as well, a look of agony on her face as she clung to the Rhys.

Azriel clenched his fists as if to stop himself from doing something he would regret later, and even Elain looked shaken by Azriel's words.

Cassian was staring at the floor, Mor was staring at him, wide eyed-brown eyes lined with tears. Emerie next to her met his gaze, her own eyes flaring with anger. 

Rhys had a look of regret in his eyes, his gaze hard as he stared at the rug on the floor.

Azriel's gaze darkened as he studied each of them. "You don't get to do this. You don't get to act like this. You don't get to treat her like garbage for centuries and then demand that she let you step into her life."

"She can't just...keep us out forever," Elain protested weakly. "She's still family."

"Elain." For the first time, Lucien's voice rose and he gave her a sharp shake of his head. The others seemed a little startled at the outburst, Feyre and Nesta both blinking at Lucien in surprise.

"Zahra is, and will be treated with respect," Azriel said firmly, his gaze sweeping over them all. "That is non negotiable. And if that means that I need to keep you, your sisters or the entirety of Prythian away from her, then I will."

The threat seemed to catch them off guard. "You wouldn't," Rhys said, breaking his silence. “She's still their sister Azriel."

"She's my mate," he hissed. "And I am your brother, but we do not want to start that discussion now, do we?"

An uneasy silence fell over the room at the threat, but Rhys didn't back down.

"Azriel. Be reasonable," he said, voice low and pleading.

“I am being reasonable," he insisted, voice rising. His fists were clenched as he glared at Rhys, a wave of emotion rolling off of him. “I am being so bloody reasonable, Rhysand, you wouldn’t believe it. If I wasn't being reasonable, I would let the shadows slaughter you," he snapped. “I had every fucking right to rip you into a dozen pieces of treating my mate like that, but I am not doing that because for some godforsaken reason, Zahra actually loves her sisters and would never want any harm to come to them!”

The words, spoken with icy coldness, echoed through the room and Rhys flinched as he glanced at the shadows twisting in agitation in the air.

The others in the room looked pale and a little shaken at the threat.

"We will not harm her," Feyre tried again, her voice a little shaky.

Azriel let out a snort of derision. "You already have," he said coldly.

"You let her believe that no one would miss her," he seethed. "You let her think she was worthless for years, to the point she didn't consider her own life worth living. She was ready to let herself die. You let her suffer alone for three years because you were more concerned about your own pain than hers. She starved herself because she believed her own life wasn't worth living! You ignored her, you belittled her, and you took her for granted! Nesta treated her like a whore for something she did to put food on the table, for something she did to safe your fucking life, Feyre!" He seethed. "She sacrificed her dignity, her body, her own self and her future for you!"

His words echoed through the room, the pain and rage he felt evident in every word, every syllable.

The others in the room seemed to reel from the harsh words, their eyes wide as they stared at him with a look of shock and shame.

"She was 15," Azriel seethed, his voice trembling with emotion, "She was 15 fucking years old, half a child and she sold herself to put food on the table! She didn't have anyone to turn to as she suffered! And then when Nesta found out, instead of talking to her, she jumps to the conclusion that Zahra did this willingly.”

The room fell silent, everyone staring at him as the weight of the words sunk in.

"So don't you dare," Azriel snapped, voice still trembling. "Don't you dare act like you have any sort of right to see her now. Not after everything you’ve put her through. Until she wants to see you, you’ll leave her alone."

The others remained silent, staring at him with a mixture of shock and shame.

Feyre looked close to tears, and she looked away, her face pale and drawn as she stared at the floor.

For a moment, it seemed like everyone in the room was frozen stiff, unable to do anything but stare at one another in the oppressive silence.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Elain spoke up, her voice shaking slightly. "How...How is she supposed to forgive us now?"

"She doesn't have to," Azriel replied immediately. His voice was soft and cold, almost careless, "and if she never chooses to forgive you, she would be completely justified."

A silence fell at the words, the others staring at him in shock as he held their gazes one by one, his chest heaving with the emotion coursing through him and his shadows twisting in agitation at his sides.

"Do you understand now?" he asked sharply. "Do you finally understand why I won't let you near her?"

"I understand," Rhys said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Azriel looked him dead in the eye as he said those words, his gaze unwavering.

Rhys looked like he had just been punched in the stomach, his face pale and his eyes wide as he held Azriel's gaze.

The feeling of adamantium tipped claws on his mental walls. I understand. I am sorry. Let me know if you need anything.

[moondirti]

Hellloooo🖤 I’m the anon who asked about the Safehouse story!

My brain, unfortunately, is not nearly as wrinkly as yours so I cannot come up with creative ideas like you 😂 BUT! I have a few ideas? Maybe? If you can call them that lol.

Was the spanking the first physical interaction they had? What did the morning after that look like?

What happens if reader has a nasty mental health episode & tries to hide it from Ghost?

Does the pet thing progress? I think we all know that Ghost has a thing for the pet play. I don’t even care, that’s totally canon for me at this point.

Would you ever consider writing about the general dynamic they have? Like the “rules” Ghost might have for them?

Totally and completely a self indulgent ask from someone who just had to pull themselves out of a nasty mental health episode lmao I’m so sorry please ignore this if it’s annoying or dumb!

shh i love all of these. i have so many thoughts now / prev

cw: dubcon d/s lifestyle. petplay. controlling behaviour. possessiveness. panic attacks. toxicity. noncon collaring. financial manipulation. mention of self harm. brief fluff.

Your thing with Simon is hard to contextualise.

Or even understand, really.

Parts of it are welcome. He asserts himself in a way you haven't found in the nobodies you've hooked up with previous, happy to fuck you dumb if it means you'll surrender yourself completely. Which you do. You listen intently and follow every direction he gives in bed, and as a reward he wrings orgasm after orgasm from your squirming body. You cum more in one week than you have in the past month, never not naked and sore, wrists tender from where he anchors his hand to keep them pinned above your head. You hear puppy more than your own name, at this point. And it's a concerning because– Well...

You don't mind it.

But you still don't like him.

It isn't like you necessarily need to like your partners in order to have a good time, but it certainly helps if you can tolerate them beyond a dick-in-hole condition. Simon is an anomaly in that he is the worst person you know, whilst also serving as the best lay you've ever had.

That is to say, his habits haven't changed. He's a fucking terror to live with. Nightmare flatmate, the type you see strangers complain about on reddit forums or hear in a friends story from their sister's husband's cousin. Not something you would take seriously until you live the experience – now existing as a sore, precautionary tale you'll no doubt be pitching to anyone also considering subleasing their place as a safe house.

Perhaps it's made worse by the sexual element you share. Before, he had just been your average perverse man, stealing clothes and walking in on you in the bathroom. Now, it seems that sleeping with him has given him the go-ahead to push that behaviour to an extreme. He'll pat your ass while you go about your business, or tug your hair when you raise your voice. Treats you like a pet that has yet to be debarked; just a silly, sub-human way of entertainment.

You can't help but feel you enabled it. But no–

The pet play is cute when he's drilling your brains out – and perhaps only because you can't think straight enough to raise concern – but you're not a dog. Nor do you want to be treated like one throughout all hours of the day. The onus is on him for not catching the hint.

But of course, accountability isn't in his lexicon.

Things only get worse from there.

"An' where d'you think you're going?"

You're halfway out of the door when he catches you leaving.

If you had been more iron-willed, you would slip out and scurry away before he can continue whatever spiel he has stirring. Instead, it's instinct to shrivel in on yourself, clicking the door shut before turning to face the behemoth waiting in the foyer.

"Out." You huff, intent on cold-stoning him. But it's a fools game when your opponent in the broad-shouldered lieutenant – for he merely cocks his head, waiting your silence out with more silence, and it's all you can do to bite your tongue against the deluge of excuses that pile up. "My mates thought it would be a good idea to catch brunch. Y'know– to celebrate the start of summer break. It's a nice day out so..." You gesture to your attire, like you have any reason to justify a sundress to some man you are in no way committed to.

But you can read the possessive gleam of his eyes as they take stock of your appearance: from your expensive mules, up your moisturised legs, to the low cut of your décolletage. It's easy to connect it to that look he had when you came back home that fateful night, the look of warning before he'd taken you over his lap and slapped your ass raw.

And for some odd reason, you're compelled to dig yourself out of trouble.

"Hm. It is a nice day, innit?" You nod a bit too quick. He stalks closer. "Lots of people out." Your nod is a little less enthusiastic. He's centimetres away now. "Some bad, bad men too."

He lifts the ends of your dress, slowly. Your next words quiver on their way out your chest. It's alarming to find that they don't sound nearly as assertive as you intend for them to be, not like they do horny.

"Where are you going with this?"

Your skirt pools around your hips now, held up by one hand as the other smooths over with the gusset of your panties.

"You plan on lettin' them have at this puppycunt? Have I not been givin' it enough attention?" He mockingly coos, pressing harder against the mound between your legs. Your knees grow weak. Not of your own accord, but weak nonetheless, and you have to hold onto his wrist to keep yourself upright. "Is tha' it?"

"N-No–"

"No? But that's what they'll think seeing you walk around like this, silly thing. Poor, neglected mutt, they'll say. Don't have a firm hand to keep 'er in line." Simon tuts, releasing his grip on your dress to pull something out of his back pocket. With the way he crowds into you, you can't crane your head to see what it is. "Now we can't have tha'. I spoil my girl rotten, wouldn' you say?"

"Yes. Yes but–"

"No buts, pup. Have ta stake my claim on you somehow." Something clicks. All too suddenly, you're made aware of the new weight on your neck. It tightens against the column of your throat – not enough to constrict your airways, but enough so that it hinders the way you move. "There we go. So pretty like this."

Panic seizes you, the steel fist of paralysis capturing your muscles in a vice-like clutch. Even as Simon pulls away, you're almost scared to find yourself in the nearest mirror. Scared of what you'll find dangling between your collarbones. There's no mistaking the textured leather that presses against your skin, nor the soft clink of metal hanging from it. No fooling yourself that this is all some cruel joke, not with the sick leer of satisfaction that warps his face.

Stumbling, you navigate to the bathroom and blindly turn on a light.

That cruel fuck.

"Simon," Your voice is devoid of the anger you feel roaring through your veins, circuiting through the frenzied stutter of your heart to find new passion. Instead, you sound horrified. Near hysterical, choking on your own pleas as you run back to the foyer. Your hands tug at the collar clasped around your neck, desperately searching for a buckle that will aid you in ripping it off, despite seeing the lock latched right at the centre that tells of its permanence. What's more, he had it engraved with a crude variation of a dog collar tag. If lost, leave alone. Or else count your days. "S-Simon, Simon please. Fuck– take it off. Take it off, take it off! I don't want this, I don't want... This isn't funny. I'll change if that's what it takes. Please."

Snot bursts from your nose, cheeks wet with a hot mess of tears. You can't suppress the hiccups that interrupt your begging like pathetic shots to the chest, or the weak hits you beat across his pecs. If you could, then perhaps he would give your tantrum more weight.

As it stands, you're nothing but a feral creature resisting training.

"Shhh. Pets can' speak. Pets don't cry." His thumbs press to your under eyes, tamping the flow of brine that mark steady tracks from your lashes. "You'll ruin your makeup like this."

"Si–"

He stare hardens into something dangerous. Against your better judgment, you clamp your lips shut.

"That's it. You're s'good when you listen to me, pup." Once he's sure you've stopped crying, he removes his thumbs to instead push one into your mouth. You can taste the salty residue of your tears on his fingertips. "Now, this is the bes' of both worlds, see? You can go see your friends with this on. I know pets need their playtime, af'er all."

You arch your back in protest, but all that does is bring you closer to the lieutenant. He misinterprets that entirely, of course, and a small smile breaks his face like you've agreed to his terms. A heavy palm pats your ass.

"S'jus' so you don't forget who you belong to." He chuckles. "An' if your friends like the idea, then I have a few friends for them."

You make it one block before hightailing back home.

Nothing in you wanted to give that bastard the satisfaction, but he made it so that whatever you chose to do – stay home or leave wearing a symbol of his ownership – he'd end up triumphant. Naturally, then, you opted for the lesser of two evils: to leave his vicinity immediately. Besides, you'd promised your girls you'd see them after going AWOL the past fortnight, and you knew you'd get an earful if you decided to reschedule at the last moment.

You thought you would convince them it was a bet. That the collar is just some silly joke you have to bear for the day after a football match didn't go in your favour.

But you make it one block before a tradie on his lunch break catcalls you (you about that freaky ting, beautiful?) and decide to change course completely.

You arrive back at your flat without further incident. Ego stung from the various odd looks you received on your way, but nothing as egregious as being singled out as a freak in the midst of a crowd occurs again.

Still, your hands shake as you push your key into its slot.

Which progress to full body tremors as you turn it in place.

Thankfully, Simon isn't waiting on you on the other side of the door. He sits, manspreading on the couch instead, focus zeroed in on the telly that broadcasts Fulham v Man City. When he doesn't look away, you allow yourself to hope he hadn't heard you come in. But it's a naive pool to place your faith in. Nothing escapes the man, and soon enough, his tone of humoured indifference shatters the silence you've been precariously trying to keep.

"Miss me 'lready?"

A wretched sulk, pit of anger hollowing out anew. You swiftly snatch your laptop from the breakfast bar before storming to your room, making sure to lock the door firmly behind you.

The website is bookmarked. Taunting. Sublet your home as a safehouse for our armed forces. Serve your country and help soldiers find refuge. You would laugh if you weren't so single-minded, typing in your email and password upon being prompted to. You don't have to deal with this shit any longer, nor do you intend to. If you remember correctly, there had been a way to report any problems you face. If you phrase yours right, you might just get Simon pulled from your services.

Good dick be damned.

But when you hit enter to sign in, an error message blinks in red.

Account does not exist.

Which is fine. Shit like this happens all the time. There's no reason to work yourself into a panic, you probably just used the wrong email.

So you try your alternate. Account does not exist.

It feels unlikely, but maybe you'd created it under your school email to give yourself credibility. Only–

Account does not exist.

Your blood pressure is no doubt sky high by now. Other symptoms of stress already start to wrack through you – blurry vision, chest aches, difficulty breathing. Your hands sweat excessively as you dig for the customer care number you're sure exists somewhere, efforts impaired by the ever-present weight of the collar around your neck. You wonder if Simon can smell your anxiety like a predator does its prey. If he's in the other room, salivating, waiting for you to wobble out of your room to go for the kill. Some part of you – a needlessly paranoid part – rests on the conclusion that this is somehow his fault too.

Your phone already rings in an outgoing call once you blink back to the present. While you've been functioning on autopilot, you must have found a number to call that related close enough to your issue.

And your suspicion is confirmed when an automated voice picks up. You are currently... second... in line.

It takes five minutes. When a placating woman speaks up amidst the nauseating music they have queued, you can hardly contain yourself from word-vomiting onto her. Safehouse signup. Lost account. Need to report an issue. Please. It's urgent.

"Okay ma'am. If you could give me your name, I'll be happy to find the source of your problem today." You can't spell it out any faster. "Alright. One moment, please."

"O-okay." You sniffle miserably.

"I see. I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, but it seems that you've been pulled from the program after a complaint was lodged against you. Unfortunately I can't provide more detail than that, but if you need anything else, I would be happy to assi–"

You hang up. The poor thing doesn't need to hear the incensed scream that tears from the deepest parts of you, or the following crack as you chuck your cell at the wall. She'd done what she could. It isn't her fault. It was that self-serving bastard that had you blacklisted from the only thing keeping you financially afloat. It is that that self-serving bastard that continues to occupy space inside your home, despite having no real right to it now.

The tantrum isn't near cathartic enough to unfetter you from your prison of aggravation, and you continue to take it out on everything in your near radius. Your duvet and pillows. The lotion you keep by your beside table. Your own skin, nails piercing into the soft flesh of your palms.

And especially the collar constricting your throat, like vines that tighten at the first sign of struggle.

You have to get this collar off. Even if you fail at everything else, you have to get this collar off.

Scrambling off your bed, you turn your room upside down looking for a bobby pin or a knife. One is unquestionably the safer bet, but you know you'll sit for hours trying to pick the lock that keeps you shackled – so when you find the boxcutter sitting at the bottom of your junk drawer, you immediately take it to your neck.

Just as Simon barges into your room.

You're so far gone, you don't even question how this must look to him. In fact, it doesn't occur to you that you locked your door, and that the only way he could've gotten in is by having a replica of your key. No. You merely twist away from the all-encompassing hold he wraps around your arms, determined to keep the boxcutter away from his confiscation until you can slice through the leather.

But you're crying. Visibly, alarmingly unstable. And Simon's breaths are a little faster than normal, faltering in a way they only do when he's close to climax. He must be worried, which is a funny thought, seeing as he's the reason you're in this mess.

"Alright thas– that's enough of that." He grunts after managing to pry the blade from your hand. You hardly mourn the loss, rather crumbling in on yourself as your sobbing escalates. No longer frustrated, nor determined. Just primed into a suffocating panic attack.

Somewhere in your auditory periphery, you hear the clinking of glass. It doesn't register until he holds a vial of lavender extract you keep under your nose, forcing you to inhale the medicinal aroma. Soon enough, your mouth opens to swallow gulps of unscented air alongside it, and the imposed breathing exercise calms you to a point of blubbering calm.

(For someone so apathetic, you admit he handled that expertly.)

That isn't the end of it, though. Moments later, you're lifted off your feet. He cradles you in both arms as he makes his way to your bed, sitting up against the headboard and placing you on his lap. Safe. Undisturbed.

You say nothing, pressing your wet face into his shirt. For comfort, first and foremost, but the makeup that'll undoubtedly stain the white fabric is an added bonus.

"Know this is hard for y'to understand, pup." Simon begins. "Hard for you ta wrap your head around ownership after bein' alone for s'long. I won't punish you for tha'."

"Y-You don't own me." You accuse.

He shakes his head in response, like your mind is truly as little as he claims. Like you're a dog, complete with two ears and a tail, and he plucked you off the street on the condition that you heel.

If anything, he's the stray.

"Oh, but I do." A large hand rubs circles on your back. Never have you been so conflicted, so torn between leaning in and biting back. "Just don't see it yet, pet. Bu' you will, in time. And in the meanwhile, we'll establish some ground rules to help you adjust."

[theladybrownstarot]

Who are you according to tarot ?

❀ Here's my masterlist for more !

❀ Make sure you like/follow/Comment/reblogg for more pacs like these !

Pile 1. Pile 2. Pile 3.

𐙚 Pile 1.

Namaste pile 1 ! Let's get with your reading :-

❥˚ You have to constantly face challenges , hurdles and obstacles which may make you annoyed or frustrated easily ,or it could be in general too, but you don't ignore these instead you believe in facing these because you know you don't give up easily and there's always something big from big obstacles .

❥˚ Either you could be a moon , Venus or mercury dominant or maybe there's an aspect to your ascendant out there which may makes you physically seen as beautiful or someone who has those calm and comforting vibes . You are a hugger haha isn't? just saying a hi to whom you meet isn't the thing but hugging or kissing them adds essence to the meet ~

❥˚ You are good at manifestations . You are emotionally strong that leads you to pass through everything in life and achieve all you want . You are someone who isn't much worried about the results , things or daily life chaos that one may face because you believe what is to be meant will be meant to happen so just give your best and leave rest .

❥˚ You may at time get confused with things and loose opportunities in search for seeking 100 of things at once . You like to treat yourself with gifts and like to work on your potentials to go more high . You like to be in your own space without any distractions.

𐙚 Pile 2.

Namaste pile 2 ! Let's get with your reading :-

❥˚ You have gone through the the most intense worst phases of life in a deep manner which it could be about anything maybe work , health , physically,people or family and some people could got that evil eye on them before . You used to be that person who would get obsessed or would stick with negativity most for sake of comfort but later you realised your powers and who were you and tackled all those things and went ahead. But you may have anger tendency issues or gets cold pretty quick with people but at same your are working on it .

❥˚ You people used to be not that financially strong as you you are now or it could be that you had to make your life after many intense life struggles . You like to stay alone and enjoy not because you hate people but you just want you feel safe there in the space you have . You are very hardworking and won't let yourself have rest mostly which is not good .

❥˚ You are someone who has to face struggles regarding decisions making or you have to handle a lot in one time and this all to make you strong mentally and emotionally . The universe wants you to know that take one thing at a time and slowly open yourself to change with love again .

❥˚ You don't like to stand still at one place and it could be that you are an old soul or like too stay in greenery where there is calmness and peace . In terms of work you don't limit yourself thus always strive for best . You are good in team work but don't like to get close with people .

❥˚ Pile 2 are you truly being honest with life your living ? think about it once and do check pile 1 if felt attracted so .

𐙚 Pile 3.

Namaste pile 3 ! Let's get with your reading :-

❥˚ So, you are someone who loves and gets loved by all . You like to approach people ask them and make them feel that they are loved and not rejected. You have this kindness and compassion which is very appreciated .You could be animal lovers too . You are someone who focuses to make your enviroment and surrounding better for everyone's development. You are selfless tbh . You can literally open ngos in future .

❥˚ You have got Entrepreneurial skills and could be an empath who can understand else feelings well . You like to present yourself different and people view you as someone who was got additional skills or if they wanna plan a team they may come to you thinking you can add more then expected. You people could be artistic ,an Enthusiastic and popular.You prefer to see beauty in things rather defects .You people could have good sense of fashion or we say kinda different than the trend .

❥˚ You are someone who can go deeper in things and can work for long hours but in cozy environment of your own . You really know how to balance practical and emotional side of things and how to be fair with people .

❥˚ You are someone who may overthinks a lot and could get their work done just before Or after deadline . Don't go so fast pile 3 be little slow. Don't do things at the last moment lol .

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:

©️ @theladybrownstarot 2023 all rights reserved. Any stealing Or copying of work will be a punishable offence.

[miniwheat77]

Alibi. (141 x Reader HC’s.)

You guys see those edits floating around tik tok with that Alibi song? (you know what I’m talking about.) so here’s a fic inspired by it. !nsfw, violence, mental health issues, death, blood, mentions of suicide, NO MINORS!

Can you remember when the last time was you felt safe in the dark?

All of the ways reader is valuable to 141, more than just as a soldier.

When I’m out of breath, she’s my vitals.

His heart is thudding in his chest. He can’t seem to calm down. Blood rushes from the knife wound in his side and he’s stressed. He knows he shouldn't have taken it out. He knew better and still did it. He doesn't know what he was thinking. He’s taking deep breaths, trying to calm down. He’s alone, his radio is broken and he can’t call for help. He can’t walk because he can’t stop his racing heart.

Just when he thinks he’s going to die alone, you come running. “I got you.” You breathe. Skidding to a stop, lowering yourself onto your knees in front of him. He’s sitting up against a building. You shove his shirt up, grasping his hand and forcing him to hold it over his wound. “Look at me, you’re bleeding too much because you’re too stressed.” You cup his face, forcing him to look at you. “You’re gonna be alright Gaz, look at me. Breathe with me okay?” You take in a deep breath, your imitation tactics will work on him. He stares back.

He takes in a deep breath, the feeling of your hands on him. Knowing that if he dies right now, he won’t die alone. It already calms him.

After a few deep breaths, he’s calming down. His heart has settled a bit more in his chest. You move his hand, seeing that he’s still bleeding but not nearly as bad. “Keep breathing like that Gaz, I’m gonna patch you up the best I can.” He nods his head, keeping the steady intake of oxygen. Medivac was on their way.

You look up at him. Smiling. "It's not happening today. Not like this." He laughs. Wincing slightly. "How are y-you always there ah?" He laughs. You look at him confused. "Anytime anyone is hurt you always know and you always come running." He laughs.

"I just do. You're my brothers. I'll always come running. I got you.” You breathe. “Keep breathing for me. Medivac is coming. I’ll be by your side no matter what alright?”

When I need to rev, she’s my ride or die.

Your teeth are gritted as you watch the scene unfold in front of you. The new recruit doesn't know you're there and she's been a total bitch to him since she started, but would only do it when no one else was around. When he brought it up, she called him a liar. She didn't know you were here and neither did he. "You know you're the weakest link of this entire task force? I mean really? I don't even know why they keep you around." She snorts. You let her dig her own grave but you can see him and he's fuming. Getting more and more angry as she keeps going. You're worried he might actually explode. You need the perfect moment to show yourself.

"You know I could say you hit me and they would kick you off of this base so fast because no one would believe you."

That was your last straw. You start walking into the room, your footsteps can be heard. The moment she sees you, she's got that same look on her face. The crocodile tears start. "Y/N thank god. He was just threatening me." She cries. Making her way toward you. "Is that true?" You look at him. He says nothing. Expecting you to take her side. You've always been ride or die for everyone and he doesn't know what so suddenly changed when she came around. He is clearly pissed.

"Look. Maybe we can talk this out. In private. Let's go outside and talk." You mumble. He rolls his eyes but knows he has no choice. The both of them follow you outside and the moment the door is closed, you grasp her shoulder and spin her around. Before she has time to react you’re punching her in the gut as hard as you can. His eyes widen. "Jesus!" He mumbles. You clamp a hand over her mouth before she can yell out. Backing her into the wall. "Not a word or I'll put a bullet in your fucking head and than there will only be one side to this story." You growl. He's standing off to the side. Surprised at how quickly this had escalated. "Everyone on this task force. Even him. They are my brothers and if you fuck with them, you fuck with me." You have her pinned. Right in the blind spot where cameras don't see it, which now he realizes was your plan all along.

You take another swing at her, busting her nose. Blood rushes from it. "Go to your room and clean up and if you say a fucking word I'll have your head. Understand?" You seethe. She nods her head.

She rushes away from you.

"You knew?" He asks. You snort. "Of course I knew Johnny." You laugh. Shaking the pain from your fist. "I always know."

"Thank god." He sighs. "Not just my word against hers anymore." He sighs. "Nah, we'll talk to Price and get her out of here. Let's go get a drink, calm you down." You rest your hand on his lower back, seeing the weight has clearly been lifted off his shoulders.

When I’m out of faith, she’s my idol.

It's times like this he wishes he hadn't taken on the responsibility of being a Captain in the military. He has to be someone these people look up to. But he doesn't feel worthy. He feels like he means nothing, sometimes he feels he leads them in the wrong directions. Sometimes going as far as getting them injured or killed. He doesn't know how to combat these feelings.

Some days he wants to give up. Wants to call it quits and leave this all behind. But he knows he has people relying on him. Even if he thinks they'd be better off without him. He sighs. Taking a drink of the flask he had in his hand. He's got the gun in his waistband. He shouldn't be having these thoughts. For some reason, his mind keeps travelling to you. Your smiling face despite being in the worst situations known to man. How you always seem to be so happy and keeping a good attitude. He wishes he could be that positive all of the time. He wishes he could be like you in a lot of ways but doesn't understand it.

He hears footsteps and quickly tries to hide the flask until he sees it's Gaz. "Garrick." He nods. "Cap. Something going on?"

"Ah. Same old. Wish I could change things I can't." He snorts. "Feel you there. Y/N asked if I could come find you, says she needs to ask you something." He nods his head. He wonders what you could possibly want this late. He stands up. "That girl. Swear. No matter what she's always so happy." He laughs. "Yeah you got me. I don't know how she does it all of the time." Captain Price laughs. "Wish I could be like her in a lot of ways."

"That's funny. She says the same things about you." He laughs. "Really?" He asks. He nods. "Yeah. When you're not around she tells stories. Talks about how you're basically her hero. Tells everyone all kinds of cool stuff you've done. Swears up and down that you're the best superior she's ever worked for in the military. Says she doesn't know what she'd do if something happened to you." Captain Price laughs. Shocked at hearing that you've said such kind things about him. "Such a sweet girl." He shakes his head. "Thanks Gaz. I'll see you tomorrow morning." He nods. He's going to go find you.

Right after he returns this gun to his nightstand.

I just killed a man, she’s my alibi.

Ghost sits in his house. His hands shake violently. He fucked up. He fucked up bad this time. He doesn't know how he'll talk his way out of this one. The man had gotten slick with him at the bar after what he’d done. He shouldn't have went in the first place. He should've stayed home. He doesn't know who to call, but you're the closest person to him. He's got no other choice.

You come running at the tone in his voice. He's clearly scared about something. When you arrive, you walk right into his house. "Simon?" You ask. He looks up. "What's going on?" He asks.

You had an idea of what it was. You'd seen the news this morning.

"A man was found dead in the back alley of a bar this morning, footage showed a man wearing a skull mask."

"I.. I don't know what got into me. He..." he trails off. "He corned this girl back there and I didn't know what to do. I just hit him. I couldn't stop."

You press your hand to your lips. Silencing him. "Listen to me-" A knock at the door is what startles you. "Go answer it and don't say a word about where you were until I'm down there okay?" You force him to look at you. You grasp the mask on his face and pull it off of him. He nods. Listening. He makes his way to the front door.

You look around the room, you know what you're looking for. You look across his boots and other shoes that he might've been wearing but they're all clean. Everything is all clean until you spot the gloves in his bathroom. You quickly shove them in your pockets and make your way to him. He's let the officer in. "I really was just wondering where you were last night?" He's got a little note pad in his hand and a pencil in the other. "Is something wrong?" You ask. Stepping into the room. "Oh uh.. just routine questions. Nothing serious ma'am." He smiles. "Oh.. we just got back from a black ops mission a few hours ago, did something happen?" You ask. "Uh.. well we're just investigating a death at a bar last night. Folks say they saw a man wearing a skull mask and we heard from around that you sometimes wear them." He looks at Ghost.

"Oh.. uh. I usually only wear those when I'm on missions to hide my identity. Don't want people knowing who I am and retaliating against my family." Simon explains. The officer explains. "Do you guys have a superior I can follow this up with? Just to double check?" He asks. You nod your head. "Yeah of course. I have his phone number right here." You nod. Drawing your phone out of your pocket. You relay the number and Ghost only hopes Captain Price will cover for the both of you. "You mind if I take a peek around?" He asks. "No. Course not." You answer, seeing the fear rise in Simon's eyes.

The officer disappears for a few minutes before coming back. "It doesn't look like I'll have to follow up after all. Someone made report that he had attacked a female and the person acted in defense for her. However we would like them to come forward anyways. So if you happen to hear about any of this, please give me a call." He passes a card to you and you take it. "Thanks officer." You smile. When he leaves, you lock the door behind him. Tugging the gloves out of your pocket. How fast you had acted.

How fast you were willing to cover for a murderer? What other lengths would you go to. To defend the task force?

"You owe me, Riley."

[adeleidetheexplorer]

ᰋ  ׅ࣪   ꒰  pac reading detailed ♡︎ the realistic energy of your future spouse, who are they for real?  ꒱ 

01. 02. 03.

keep in mind that the physical appearance is collective one and it may indicates that not all the parts is totally alike of them which is based on the reading. it may tell you as well that there are some of parts of them from the description that is closely similar for your future spouse's physical attributes for example, the nose, eyes, moles, skin color, height or freckles.

01

1.) physical appearance

you get the impression that this person is a hem and haw. a pair of brown eyes that resemble almonds, eagerly watch over the wilderness they've long guarded. their coffee-colored, fine and a short-straight hair that's styled in a way that makes you think from the eras 1900, combed perfectly at the back which is revealing their sad and bony face. a body that's in between of curved, lean and mascular types despite having that type of body they will tower the rest of people around them. a skin complexion which is in the light tones. they have long fingers and a big full mouth while most of their clothes are professional.

some freckles spread mesmerizingly around their nose and cheekbones, leaving charming memories of their happy childhood. this is them, your future spouse - a true romantic (dreamer) among the rest. perhaps of maybe having an unhappy moments and hurtful past or maybe it's just a sense of security towards others, there's something misleading about them from people, perhaps it's their sense of humor or perhaps it's simply their kindness. but nonetheless, people ask them favors and tend to wish to get to know them better, while trying to avoid and secretly training to become more like them.

2.) positives

protective, tough, knows how to stand on their own ground, charismatic, great decision maker, optimistic, the best planner, have a great childhood memories, not easily to get fooled, sociable, suave, a trustworthy, loves unique people, liberal, knows how to appreciate the richness whether it's big or small, broad-minded, friendly, looking for true love and soulmates, good communicator and consistent.

3.) negatives

feels detached easily when they don't get the attention they want, inner sadness(/sadistic), felt inexperience, likes to stick around probably 24/7 (super clingy), immature, over critical, fanatical, doesn't take care their health most of the time, restricting themselves to achieve more, prefer to live in a rose-colored glasses but may lack of action to do it, careless and maybe someone who is lack of discipline.

4. love/dating history

considering this individual values sincere love. most of the time, they flirt as well as having flings but usually thinking they'd like to get settled down with someone who is right for them. they usually refer and more preoccupied with their own self-improvement and less about their own romantic life right now. they possess the ability of realistic love and person and if they stumble upon the right one, they think their prayer have been answered. they are willing to sacrifice everything for the person of their dreams, their devotion, their exceptionally high lifestyle, along with everything they were entitled to, nevertheless the chronology of every single one of the aforementioned actions are somewhat a sign that you ought to shower your love on them.

5.) career and money

they akin to having to work solo almost all their times, and therefore can be recognized pros. someone who makes greater than the bare minimum amount of salary. they were able to function in any of the areas that follow: animal care, the dental profession, guiding people, medical professionals, or in general, someone who looks after the mental well-being of others, which might involve a psychologist, psychiatrist, or simply any mental healthcare worker, writing and reading, and defending people from harm. they prefer to develop their own money by means of their own hard work and hands.

6.) home life, family and friends

they feel playful around it. from their household life to their companions. they genuinely closed with a manly vitality here, your future companion highlights a gigantic respect for this person maybe they can be a parent of them. and besides i picking up here that they customarily feel an entire person with all of these people, they genuinely appreciate being included by these individuals. they maybe born in a family which is able as of presently fulfill a money related security. their household life and people who included them in their presence are outstandingly optimistic, they can genuinely depend with these people when it comes looking at their personal issues and circumstances since these individuals are unfaltering and reasonable. the only issue is that this person really don't slant toward sharing it with others since they don't want to be called as "weak". so they as frequently as conceivable allowed themselves to discussion various negatives alone. they can be an only child person or maybe they belong to a family where children are opposite-s x like they conceivably feminine or masculine among their kinfolk. it can be that this person has one companion or they are regularly meet or surrounded by unused people that they may not considered buddies at all.

a channeled song dedicated to you from them based on your future energy "foolish heart" by steve perry.

02

🐰ada says: "I picked up 2 different energies from this pile, one is masculine and the other one is feminine."

1.) physical appearance

1.1 if they were masculine

standing 5'9 tall, this red-brown skinned person has a moody feel about them, their short, brown hair, currently dip-dyed half way with shades of blue or orange, is neatly braided. they have a short goatee/mustache that is a shade browner than their hair. they might even have a messy beard. they have slender hands, spindly legs, straight hips, and average-sized feet, they have multiple tattoos on their lower legs, neck, right foot, hands, stomach or upper back. they have big, hazel eyes, a flat-wide nose and smooth cheeks, if they were someone who wears make up, they wear an obvious foundation, light eyeliner, subtle blush and light eyeshadow, they look eternal. they often wear masculine clothes that are mostly light-coloured, they are usually seen wearing a certain style of kerchief.

1.2 if they were feminine

they have a wide shoulders, this brown skinned person has a very worldly feel about them, and they have a distinctive mark on their right leg which causes offense if they are asked about it. their perm, black hair is very short. they have mysterious, large, light brown eyes, a long face and very thin lips, large hands, small feet and muscular legs. they have a uniquely styled and they are usually seen wearing a traditional jacket.

2.) positives

casual to every people they encounter, generous, charming. free-spirit, sociable, honest, trustworthy, very private person, believe that everyone is not perfect and usually make mistakes, loves to bring joy, knows how to take care of themselves, doesn't use much of social media, they know how to protect their inner peace, independent, know how to debate, luck is on their side always, smart, learn from their mistakes to re-learn and someone who is educated.

3.) negatives

hot-headed sometimes, not really committed about someone and something, way to blunt, cold, obsessive/possessive, hold grudges, maybe someone who has an addction, may like to control other people, may like to party a lot, kinda feel lonely sometimes, sexu I?(maybe this one is neutral), may act most of the time being unconcern, heartbreaker, can be bitter about their past, way to logic, they have dark side that won't tell to other people or might be with neither you and most of the time they follow their head rather than their heart.

4.) love/dating history

your future life partner may had one partner some time recently, your future companion is somebody who may be from a long-term commitment or somebody who is separate from their partner before assembly you. they possibly have a child with this individual or arranging to have one with them. there's a genuine strife that has been happen with this individual which can lead their relationship to ended up a toxic way. this individual is giving me, a really overwhelming vitality, exceptionally dull. it also looks like adore is so favorable for them, they get what they needed for a accomplice. but within the conclusion, indeed in spite of the fact that this two individuals chosen to part up, they will attempt to mend each other's to begin with some time recently completely clearing out and moving absent from one and another, individuals may percieve their relationship as culminate and full of cherish but the truth is- it's not, their sentiments for each other's aren't the same as some time recently, the start is as of now gone after this two break, they gonna attempt to work for themselves and attempt to go alone as person to begin with some time recently letting. themselves to go for the another relationship.

5.) career and money

self-made. they are somebody who utilized to have different occupations to bolster themselves fiscally. they are skilled and somebody who is able to rapidly get a handle on modern concepts, they can offer sand in desert, that's how great your future life partner or future spouse are, they can be somebody in the field of I.T analyst, medical treatment and field, bodyguard, actor, art trading areas, artist, musician, singer, commerce examiner, judge, business analysis and somebody who works in promoting and craftsmanship exchanging ranges. anything or what kind of work they closes with, it bringing them up into the highlight or spotlight, victory and triumph is made out from their claim hardwork, individuals at their work calling them frequently for help or simply adore how they work, they will be reliable at their work and they aren't narrow minded when it comes to cash or maybe on the off chance that they think there's surfeit almost it, they ordinarily giving or giving it to others. they aren't that much centering on their accounts and money but they know they come to this solidness they accomplishing for themselves for financial, they aren't centering much on their cashes since they appreciate living the minute, after all, this individual accept "money can't purchase happiness",

6.) home life, family and friends

i think this individual doesn't have kin at all and possibly they were only child but they do have numerous companions and connection. they ordinarily amicable individual and likes to form association with individuals. they appreciate their social life and they kinda ruined as well from their guardians when they were a kid but i think it's gone when they gotten to be grown-up. they guardians adore them exceptionally much and they appreciate that kind of cherish they've encountering from their domestic and social life, they think they are the foremost fortunate individual. well, little things makes them upbeat presently not at all like some time recently. they may live in a house which is outlined and great for atleast 3-4 family individuals, with two rooms. this house can be colored in white, gold and green.

a channeled song dedicated to you from them based on your future energy "your still the one" by shaina twain.

03

1.) physical appearance

a fine, lived-in face is revealed by a tight pulled ponytail. they have light tones greasy hair. this native, you gonna felt at home with for so long are guarded by bloodshot light earthy colored eyes that are securely anchored in their sockets, an enormous ears, extremely flimsy lips and a straight nose. their eyes and hair are beautifully complemented by a glisten visual, leaving a pleasant memory of their fortunate appearance. despite of their fragile frame, they perceived themselves as everyone else. they exudes an unrestrained aura despite of being medium-tall and svelte. their special striking element is their white, shimmering teeth. they (maybe) have moles completely covering their left thigh, right hand, chest, stomach and right lower arm (anywhere in these areas). they frequently wears opulent, spectacular garments that are generally pastel-hued, golden or dark colors. they typically seen wearing an unmistakable and undeniable shroud.

2.) positives

intuitive, romantic, mysterious, sympathetic, a true leader, tidy, responsible, quite and carefully listening to what the other person sharing to them, goal-oriented, influence others in a good way, sociable, easy to get liked by many, faithful, committed, have a strong inner strength and they usually attract many admirers.

3.) negatives

blunt, argumentative whether they're wrong or right, trouble maker, self doubt, anxious, rude and bossy.

4.) love/dating history

they as often as possible discover themselves in this viewpoint while in case they gonna proceed finding adore or proceed working on their possess objectives like goals. i can say this individual is single since birth and do not really have a dating history but they drop in cherish once however they knew this love is one sided which other individual doesn't cherish them back as the way they do. i also think usually a crush that turned into love, i do have this feeling that they confessed to this individual and this person turned them down since they preferred somebody else. right presently, they attempting their best to discover and adjust between these two angles of their life (love and career) whereas attempting to figuring out what truly their reason on the earth, you might meet them through your social associations.

5.) career and money

this individual is exceptionally decided to attain their objectives to gotten to be what they needed to be, they need to win and succeed in life. truly, they will accomplish much advance in their career life and will have flexibility from obligation and will be able to achieve security and steadiness. i am moreover figuring out that after marriage, the money will bloom and will accomplish more. fair an counsel for you to not spend as well much of all their cash since they worked difficult for it and it is no joke the work they put in for this security to realize. they may be from a family that incorporates a huge trade running or fair basically a family part of a proficient (a big family business). anticipate that individual to be proficient, they may be somebody who works as a chef, specialist, ceo, attorney, property speculator, genuine domain proprietor and fire fighter or firewoman.

6.) home life, family and friends

i knew it. they are from a family that appears proficient, they are ordinarily private and share as it were a number of viewpoints of their life with others. their family claims tons of properties but as i'm getting here, they may be living within the farmland. they live in a reviving house with their family, i too think that they met companions since of schools and with their family associations. they might do sports at school and it's so well known. i too think that their family itself is well-known in their community, as i talk here, perhaps their guardians have a part of associations and engagement with other greater individuals. they sentiments appears distant absent from their family, they might see these individuals scarcely or most exceedingly bad few times in a month. when we talk about their guardians, they are strict, rules and routines individuals.

a channeled song dedicated to you from them based on your future energy "all i ever need" by austin mahone.

© thecelestialperiwinkle

[summerclementine27]

Meet Me in The Hallway🌷pt. 1

summary: Mr. Styles has possibly interested Y/N more than his literature classes and she finds herself pining for him over the months.

pairings: professor!harry, student!reader

warnings: small age difference, mentions of smut

word count: 4.7k

note: i wanted to make this one part but it will be too long so there will have to be a part 2

part 2: https://www.tumblr.com/summerclementine27/757559698881986560/meet-me-in-the-hallway-pt2

Tender days of mid-October

As I took my seat in the large lecture hall, a sense of anticipation loomed over me. Today, Mr. Styles was giving us the results of the last literature and theory criticism coursework I had handed in the previous week. This was my third class with him, one of two this school year, the other being Contemporary Literature. Last year, he taught me Introduction to Literature, a mandatory class for my degree. Though I dreaded it at first due to his choice of reading list, I ended up falling in love with the course because of the way he taught it. Some works I initially criticized him for choosing, he ended up using as examples and critiqued them himself, like "The Awakening" by Kate Chopin. Plus, it helped that he was impossibly handsome with his tall frame, tousled brown hair, and piercing green eyes.

When my friends noticed how much I liked his class, they were unfazed. However, as I became somewhat of a teacher’s pet in a class rudimentary compared to the others I took this year—such as Feminism and Literature, Historical Narratives in Fiction, and Postcolonial Literary Criticism—they realized that maybe the tall, green-eyed man was what had really piqued my interest, not discussing "Middlemarch" for four classes.

On days when I had his class, I dressed extra nicely, sometimes even daring to pair a clean collared shirt with a shorter-than-usual skirt. One time, I even left my wool trench coat on during the first period and stood up from my auditorium seat to take it off. Sitting in the back, the rows of chairs likely covered the lower part of my body, but I was sure the space between my long boots and short skirt was visible from his vantage point. Surely, my abrupt standing would grab his attention. What I didn’t anticipate was him pausing in the middle of a long train of thought to stare, then quickly catching himself and stuttering before continuing seamlessly as I knew he would. My friend Anika, seated in one of the front rows, noticed and turned to see what had caught his attention. To her dismay, I was playing games with someone totally unattainable again. But she knew I thrived on academic validation, and this little crush of mine would only drive me to excel in more classes.

"Are you serious, Y/N? He's our professor." she exclaimed once.

"I know, but he's just... different."

"Different? Or is it the way he looks at you when you answer a question?"

"Maybe both. Besides, this crush is making me work harder. You can't argue with the results."

"Just be careful. I don't want you getting hurt."

In fact, it drove me to do more than that. One time, Mr. Styles noticed my passion for poetry after I shamelessly defended the works of Sylvia Plath with a controversial view that modern poetry should not shy away from the stark realities of mental health. He gave me a few poetry anthologies and compilations, including his annotated copies. I fawned over reading his notes and even emailed him once, pretending that I had "accidentally" annotated something, forgetting it wasn’t my own copy after losing myself in the literature. He replied kindly:

Mr. Styles: "Please, feel free to annotate as much as you like. I would be honored to have your opinions inked on my favorite copies."

By the next semester, after encouraging me to join the poetry society, Mr. Styles nominated me for president, and I was thrilled to win. He insisted on celebrating, gently grasping my upper arm and smiling warmly as he said he expected nothing less. I brought a bottle of wine to his office, where he had asked me to meet him, only to find the entire poetry society there, ready to congratulate me. The gathering lingered for a few delightful hours before everyone left, leaving just the two of us to clean up.

"You really impressed everyone tonight, Y/N. Not that I'm surprised." He began once we were truly all alone.

"Thank you, Mr. Styles. I couldn't have done it without your support."

"Well, you deserve it. By the way, outside of class and school hours, you can call me Harry." He said in his thick Manchester accent.

"Only if you stop calling me Ms. Y/L/N." I joked.

"Hey! I only do that sometimes. Plus, I can't call out to you in class like, 'Y/N, will you read the next slide?' People will think..."

"...think I’m the teacher’s favorite?" I finished his sentence with a teasing smile.

I couldn’t take the lingering stares and supposedly accidental touches we were both guilty of. But I knew that if I really wanted this, if I wanted to be more than just a student he regretted being tempted by when I graduated, then I had to play the long game.

And indeed I did. I kept up my habit of always showing up well-dressed in elegant coats and well-fitting clothing. I accentuated my features with a light coat of makeup, even if I had to apply it on a bumpy bus ride to campus. I even signed up for his office hours, despite really not needing them, just to exchange thoughts and opinions under the guise of “wanting to make sure I'm on the right track.” I wanted him to get to know me more, to realize that despite my youth, I was mature and thoughtful.

At the start of the second year, he emailed me to come to campus a few times in August, a month before the start of term, to discuss my responsibilities as the founder of the debate team. The idea sparked in his mind after I excelled in the heated debate he chose to hold as our first-year final assessment. He was so in awe that he went as far as saying I could compete at a national level on the English debate team, which neither of us was certain of, but I accepted the compliment.

Our earlier meetings were spent cooped up in his office, reviewing why the last debate team failed almost a decade ago and planning the structure for the new team. We discussed everything from team dynamics to potential debate topics, ensuring we were prepared for any challenge.

On one of the hotter days in August, we took our meeting to the university courtyard, having grown tired of experiencing the last bursts of England’s so-called summer from his office window. It was a beautiful window, and a big one at that, but it didn’t compare to actually being outside. That day, I realized the majority of planning for the next few months had already been accomplished in our first few meetings, and I got the hint that he didn’t actually need my help now that I had settled everything I could that wasn’t on an administrative level. So naturally, I decided to have a little fun.

I was wearing penny loafers with black tailored pants that I got fitted for when I visited my mum in London in July. I had paired them with a light knit sweater that fit slightly loosely over my shoulders, often falling down to reveal a collarbone. When I saw him take off his blazer and loosen his tie, I took that as my green light to take off something of my own, knowing I was wearing a neat white tank top underneath. As I slipped the sweater off, covering my face with the fabric, I could see his face through the thin material, making out his features and briefly noticing his eyes on my body. Sitting up straight, I managed to remove the sweater from over my head neatly. Once he saw my face, a soft blush made it to his own.

"Did I mess up my hair?" I asked, as if I hadn’t planned on brushing down the strands that had likely gone astray or as if I was oblivious to the fact that I had just taken off my sweater in front of him.

"Um, yeah, a bit at the top," he said, chuckling as if he wasn’t just clearing his throat in a flustered manner before my face was revealed from under the sweater.

To my surprise, he reached out, inching himself closer to where I was sitting on the bench we shared. With two fingers, his index and middle, he gently brushed down the messy hair on either side of the top of my head.

"Thank you, Harry," I said softly.

However, nothing could have prepared me for what would happen later this year.

As the class settled down to receive their marks on the literature and theory criticism coursework, Mr. Styles walked in, dressed in a well-fitted navy suit with a crisp white shirt. He took off his coat and placed it on the edge of his desk, a departure from his usual habit of draping it over the back of his chair. He wasted no time before pulling out the papers from his leather satchel and making his way down the aisles of the lecture hall, passing out the papers to everyone. When he read out my name, I watched as his eyes searched for me across the hall, darting from one side of the room to the other. It was unlike me to skip his class, so he knew all he had to do was find me. I hadn’t planned this specific event, but I enjoyed it, nonetheless. Once he found me, he smiled sheepishly, yet much more subtly than he did when we were alone and made his way to me.

"Excellent work, Y/L/N," he said as he gently placed the papers on my desk. "I especially appreciate the effort of handwriting this," he remarked, although everyone knew he didn’t care if papers were written by hand or typed on a computer.

I had deliberately written my paper by hand after he replied to an email of mine. I had thanked him for letting me borrow his books, and his response was a charming note saying he’d enjoyed reading my annotations and adored my handwriting. For once, I was glad that my all-girls school had emphasized cursive writing, as I used it to add a romantic touch to my work.

When I finally read his comments and feedback, I was met with admiration and praise. In one of the margins, he had written, “Your insights are so compelling, it’s impossible not to fall in love with your analysis.” On the final page, at the bottom, he had added, “It’s a privilege to be your professor. Your brilliance shines so brightly that it’s clear this paper is a testament to your exceptional talent.”

Often times I worried that there actually was something going on between us, and that his praise and charming were remarks were not that of a proud professor, but of an infatuated man instead. So that day, I decided to address it.

As the lecture drew to a close, I lingered in my seat, carefully packing up my belongings with deliberate slowness. The classroom slowly emptied, the murmur of students’ conversations fading into the background as they made their way out. I wanted to be alone with Mr. Styles, to discuss something that had been weighing on my mind. By the time I made my way down the row of seats to his desk, the room was empty except for the two of us.

“Mr. Styles,” I began hesitantly, catching his eye as he gathered his papers. “I was hoping to ask you something.”

He looked up, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Of course, go ahead. I’m actually glad you stayed behind. There’s something I’d like to ask you as well.”

A sudden rush of anxiety gripped me. The possibility of crossing a line—whether I had done so with my subtle flirtations or if he were about to make a move that could alter our dynamic—was almost too much to bear.

My fantasies of him flashed through my mind. I had dreamt of intimate moments with him like kissing him, waking up in his bed, or better yet, on the couch in his office after a late romantic night together. I had once pictured us sitting on the floor around his small coffee table as we did one time when they ordered takeout during one of our August meetings except this time I would slip my shoes off casually and find a way to stroke my foot, clothed thin leggings, against his leg, looking at him with doe eyes as I dare to not so innocently asks if he ever thought about me sexually.

Hell, I even pictured him going down on me after laying me on his desk and even touched myself to the idea of riding him while he sat on his office chair. I would sneak into the small space between him and his desk and shut off his laptop while he graded my papers, cockily saying “We already know I got an A” – despite my crippling self-doubt without tangible affirmation – as I sit on his lap. In this fantasy he would laugh at my remark and gladly embrace me with a hand on my ass, the other intertwined among thick locks of my long hair, messing it up as I teasingly kiss him, ever so aware of the friction I’m creating between our crotches.

But still, to think that he would propose something to me in that moment, sexual or romantic, casually after class as if I haven’t been pining for two Octobers made me incredibly nervous.

I cleared my throat, trying to steady my voice as I met his gaze. “Mr. Styles, well, first of all this has nothing to do with the actual course itself, maybe a bit but...” I trailed off “It’s... it’s been on my mind for a while.”

He raised an eyebrow, curiosity evident in his expression. “Sure, go ahead. I’m happy to answer anything.” He smiled shyly to comfort me.

I took a deep breath, my heart pounding as I prepared to voice my concerns. “Do you think that maybe my behavior in class, my enthusiasm, or even my approach to your feedback has influenced you to… um… maybe to favor me? Over other students I mean.” I began nervously, desperately searching for an expression on his blank face.

“Maybe sometimes I get a little excited and forget that you are my professor and not my friend or something, I think I may have overstepped my boundaries but… but you treat me as an equal which, by the way, I have always greatly appreciated. I mean, it has offered me an opportunity to grow as a student like no other, but I still worry…”I trailed off, now a stern look evident on his face and possibly even hurt.

He paused for a moment, his gaze thoughtful as he considered my words. “I appreciate your honesty and self-awareness,” he said finally, his voice steady but soft. “It’s clear that you’re passionate and dedicated, and I value that. But it’s important to remember that I strive to maintain fairness in all my interactions with students.”

I bit my lip, feeling a mix of relief and apprehension. “I understand, Mr. Styles. I just want to make sure that if I take pride in these academic accomplishments… if I want to revel in the fact that I always receive praise from you and rarely any criticism – like todays feedback for example, which included no criticism, I want to make sure it is because I am worthy of it. And not because I won you over by involving myself in your extracurriculars or because we are… uh.. friendly.”

He looked at me with a reassuring smile, his gaze steady and sincere. “First of all, let me assure you that you are never inappropriate. The friendship we’ve developed is separate from our academic interactions. Outside of school hours, I call you by your first name to maintain that distinction. In the classroom, I evaluate you purely on your merit.”

He leaned forward slightly, his tone earnest. “The reason your feedback today contained no criticism is that your paper was truly flawless. If there had been any weaknesses or areas for improvement, I would have pointed them out without hesitation. I hold you in very high regard academically, and that respect extends to all aspects of your work. If I ever notice any shortcomings, I will address them so you have the opportunity to refine and grow.”

His expression softened, a touch of concern in his eyes. “The only issue I see here is that you are doubting yourself. Your achievements and the praise you receive are well-deserved. You have a remarkable ability, and I believe in your potential. My only hope is that you start to see in yourself what I see in you – a brilliant, dedicated student who deserves every bit of recognition they receive.”

I nodded, feeling a sense of relief and a renewed confidence. When I looked down at my lap I heard him continue:

“And of course I value the relationship we have fostered outside of class. Would I be the man I am today if you hadn’t introduced me to the wonders of Moroccan cuisine?” He tried to joke to ease the tension and unsurprisingly it worked as it earned him a soft chuckle of honest amusement.

“Theres the y/n I know and love” he bantered though I cant say my heart didn’t skip a beat at the mention of the word “love”.

“You know, there are many other cuisines you’re yet to try,” I said with a playful glint in my eye. “For someone who’s so well-traveled and cultured, it’s surprising how much you’ve missed out on when it comes to food.” I teased.

“Well, perhaps you’ll tell me all about it when we’re in Amsterdam for the debate competition,” he said with a smile, his eyes twinkling with genuine excitement.

I blinked, momentarily stunned. “Wait, what? You secured that for us?” My voice wavered slightly as my heart leaped with joy. “I can’t believe it! I’m so excited. This is incredible news!”

He chuckled, clearly pleased with my reaction. “I thought you’d like that. It’s an excellent opportunity, and I know how much you’ve been looking forward to it.”

I couldn’t help but beam, my excitement bubbling over. “This is amazing, truly. Thank you so much!” I stepped closer, touched by his thoughtfulness and dedication.

As I reached out, our hands brushed briefly, a fleeting touch that sent a shiver through me. His gaze softened, and I could see the sincerity in his eyes. “I’m just glad we get to share this experience together,” he said softly.

The moment felt charged, filled with unspoken words and mutual appreciation. I nodded, my heart full of gratitude and warmth. “Me too,” I murmured, feeling the depth of our connection more than ever before.

Time jump – December is getting ready for Christmas.

As we stepped into the hotel lobby, the excitement was palpable among the debate team. Amsterdam was already charming me, even though I’d only glimpsed it through the bus window. The streets were lined with picturesque canals and quaint buildings, each one more enchanting than the last. I couldn’t help but talk animatedly about how I’d dreamed of visiting the Netherlands ever since my father told me stories about the blooming flower fields when I was a child.

Harry, who had been sitting beside me on the bus, watched with a fond smile. “You really seem to love the city,” he said. “Maybe we could find a couple of free days between the training and the competition to visit the flower fields.”

My eyes widened in delight. “Really? That would be incredible. But managing a whole field trip with the debate team might be a bit complicated.”

He grinned, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Well, we could go alone. Just you and me. A little escape from the team.” He added. “We could explore some other things too if we’d like.”

The thought of spending time alone with him, wandering through a sea of flowers, made my heart race. I felt a warm blush creep up my cheeks. “That sounds amazing. I’d love that.”

When we checked into the hotel and were given our room keys, Anika, my vice president, and I realized that Harry and I had rooms on a separate floor. In fact, they were deluxe rooms though him and I booked standard rooms for everyone when we went over the budget. Anika seemed particularly perplexed by this.

“Why did you get such a nice room and I didn’t?” Anika questioned, her tone tinged with curiosity as she approached me in the lobby.

I shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. “Maybe Mr. Styles thought I needed a little extra comfort. You know, as president” I joked, not really sure if that was the case. “Besides, he probably just had to make decisions based on what was available.” I found myself lying, knowing I was curious myself.”

Anika raised an eyebrow. “Or maybe he’s using the budget money to splurge on you. I’ve noticed you two have become quite friendly. Could it be that he has a thing for you?” she teased, knowing I have spent months pining and flirting.

I laughed, shaking my head. “I don’t think so, Anika. We’re friends, and that’s all it is. I don’t think he feels anything else.” I said, confidant of my words for the first time in this conversation. “Plus, you are the only person other than me and Harry that got her own room. Others are sharing and you likely have a king bed all to yourself.”

“Harry? Is that his name now?” she smirked. “I guess you forgot to tell me you are on a first name basis. Are you holding out on me Y/L/N?” she joked though she was never oblivious to the fact that you kept some encounters with Harry to yourself, as if it would fuel the fantasy somehow.

I raised an eyebrow and gave her a playful grin. “Oh, come on. You have to admit everyone in the poetry society calls him that when we are outside the university.” I said, knowing that it was only one guy who was a family friend of Harry’s who got the honor.

She chuckled, but there was a hint of curiosity in her gaze. “Right. But you can’t deny there’s something a bit… special about how you two interact. Just saying.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’m not holding my breath for anything more on this trip. We’re here for the debate, remember? That’s the focus. But if anything happens later…” I shrugged playfully as she returned my knowing smile.

“Fair enough. Just keep your eyes open anyway, okay? Sometimes things happen when you least expect them to.”

I heard Harry calling my name from the end of the hall. I turned around to see him walking towards me with a thoughtful expression.

“Hey, do you still want to gather the debate team for a brief practice session before the afternoon debate?” he asked, his tone carrying a hint of concern.

I shook my head, smiling. “No, no need. You were right; they need a break. Plus, everyone has their notecards and seems prepared.”

Harry nodded, his smile relaxing into a satisfied grin. “Alright then. Let’s head to the elevator; it’ll be a bit quieter now anyway.”

We walked to the elevator together, and once inside, he pressed the button for my floor. The confined space seemed to amplify the gentle hum of the elevator, making it feel intimate.

Harry glanced at me with a soft smile, his eyes lingering a moment longer than usual. “Your hair looks different today. Did you do something special with it?” he asked, his voice carrying a playful undertone.

I felt a tinge of embarrassment, my cheeks warming slightly. “I just blow-dried it differently since I was in a rush this morning,” I replied, trying to sound casual.

Harry’s smile grew, his eyes twinkling with a mix of admiration and something else I couldn’t quite place. “Well, it looks beautiful. I wouldn’t have guessed it was rushed.”

His compliment made my heart flutter, and I couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks, Harry. That makes me feel a lot better about this hectic morning” I tried to divert the conversation, feeling nervous at his focus on me.

“Yeah, well, at least you have matching socks,” he joked, and before I could ask him what the hell he was talking about, he lifted his foot, revealing his own mismatched socks with a playful grin.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “You and your accidental fashion choices,” I said, shaking my head with a smile, remembering that time I complimented his shoes only to find out he ordered the wrong ones online and couldn’t get them returned. He looked handsome in them anyway, I had told him.

He shrugged, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “What can I say? I like to keep things interesting. And besides, it’s a good thing someone’s got their fashion game on point around here.” He said, brushing off the fact that it was a rushed accident.

I playfully nudged him. “Well, I guess I’ll take that as a compliment. And for the record, I do have matching socks today, just in case you were wondering.”

Harry’s eyes softened as he looked at me, a warmth in his gaze that made my heart flutter. “Well, I must say, your socks are a lot less distracting than mine.”

I chuckled, feeling the tension between us ease into something more comfortable and light-hearted.

As the elevator chimed and the doors slid open to my floor, Harry didn’t make a move to exit. Instead, he turned to me with a charming grin, his eyes sparkling with warmth. “Let me walk you to your room. It’s the least I can do. After all, it’s not every day I get to be a gentleman,” he said, completely ignoring the fact that his room was directly across from the elevator.

I laughed softly, touched by his thoughtfulness. “You’re too kind, Harry. It’s just down the hall here,” I said, gesturing toward my door, which was a short distance away from his.

As we walked together down the hallway, the atmosphere felt lighter, filled with a quiet, pleasant tension. Harry’s presence beside me was comforting, and I found myself appreciating the little things—like how he occasionally glanced my way, as if trying to make the moment last just a bit longer.

When we reached my door, Harry reached out and brushed his hand lightly against mine as he opened the door for me. “Even so, a little extra time with you—well, when else can I talk about my accidental shenanigans and have someone listen intently?” His voice was low and warm, and his gaze lingered on me with an intensity that sent a thrill down my spine.

I felt a flutter in my chest at his words but remained blissfully unaware of the deeper implications behind his gaze. “Well,” I said, smiling as I unlocked the door and stepped inside. “Thanks for walking me. It’s always nice to have a bit of company, especially when the company is as pleasant as yours.”

Harry’s smile grew softer, and he took a step back, still holding my gaze. “Anytime, y/n. I’ll see you in a few hours. Get some rest.

“You too, Harry.” I said as he walked back to his own room.

——————————————————————

PART TWO IS NOW UP 🌷🌷

[canihaveacalmtime]

Your entire life wasn't any eventful in any means aside from the fact that you were targeted and bullied in your intire school life from primary to highschool by the same pair of twin brothers.

You don't know how it started, you don't know when it started, hell you don't even know why they targeted you out of all the other weaklings.

Everyday, the moment you step your foot inside the school ground, they always going to find a way to make your soul jump out of your own body and begin their daily mocking essay, perform it straight into your ears then leaving you with a new wound deep within your mental health.

Near the end of the final year of highschool, you begin to form a plan that will separate you and them forever by telling them with a scared tone about what college you will attend when they ask, behind the scene, you will begin study hard for another further away college, maybe even try to get in one that's out of the country.

Your plan worked and you begin following your dreamt path that you've chosen, you felt relieved, you felt happiness, you felt like the biggest obstacle in your life has been gone.

For the moment, at least.

So imagine meeting them again after applying for a secretary job and now having them as your boss? Sure it'd be so horrific due to them forcing you to work over hours and dump so many paperworks on your work table everyday. Even so, you noticed that they aren't like how they were like years ago anymore and for some kind of reason, you feel really nauseous and wary, your mind screams to you so.

One late night, a day where you have to work over hours, you got really surprised when you realize they haven't went home like how they used to but instead stay and out of nowhere handing you a small box of (flavor) tiramisu cake, saying that they just want to gift you something for your help with assist the company to reach the top 10 in the country.

To you, that excuse were rather foolish to say the least, your mind insist on telling you that you must not take that but your body really needs sugar or it'll collapse by the next 30 minutes so you accepted and politely thanked them. So you wait for them to leave your work room, then finally feel safe enough to take a bite.

The only image you see before you black out was the big twin carrying you in the bridal style as the small twin holding you face, they both have the same love sick face directly at you.

----------

Back when the three of you were in kindergarten, you were the only one who helped them fight off the bullying and rude comments from other kids. Those kids called the twin as ugly, weirdos, psychopaths and any other snarky comments they could make out.

Technically, you were friends with them until primary when they began to becone very popular because they have grow their hidden beauty and no longer the shy and weak twins you know anymore. They turned against you, begin to call you names, begin to use their powers against you and soon enough, you no longer have the will to continue thinking that they will change back to themselves before and accept your fate as a fun thing for them to curse, hit and make a show out of.

That's the 'point of view' that you've been living in for your entire life, your point of view only but how about their point of view?

The twins despite born in a super wealthy family, they never really get to experience 'love' as their parent always busy with works and outside relationships related to business so for them to not know how to understand love let alone giving out love, is a completely normal thing.

They really love you, they wish to cherish you, to protect you and make you happy but they didn't know how and the way they used to express their feelings towards you ended up making your life miserable. They didn't stop the bullying until they went through with the plan of putting cameras in your house, that's when they realized how much damage they have already done to you but fixing that would already be too late since the time they knew about that was also the time you made the plan to cut them off completely.

When you moved out of your parent house, went to the college you study so hard to get in and enjoying the freedom to longed for, they were waking up everyday to regret and hopes of finding you again after they knew about your leave.

The moment they saw you as their new secretary, they knew that they can't not waste anymore time they've already wasted, either they lock you in their arms now or lose you again, forever.

----------

As you wake up from a good sleep since a long time, you immediately know that this room is not yours and by the small picture on the bedside table, you can already guess where you are right now. You noticed that you're currently wearing your favorite type of sleep clothes, you flop back down on the comfy bed, wanting to have another good sleep when suddenly you hear the door open.

The twin notice you've already awaken and are looking at them right now so they await for your reaction, wether it's positive or not but what they didn't expect is you just casually say "hey" to them. And you, you don't even know where did that came from but it felt nice to greet them like how the three of you used to be in kindergarten.

When you were still spacing out, a hand had placed on your head to ruffle your hair follow by a soft kiss on your forehead.

"Did you have a good sleep, darling?"

You look at them for a few seconds before nodding lightly, they also notice that you've been spacing ever so slightly.

"Is something bothering you?"

"No", you said, "it's nothing, just... it's been a while since we talk- like this and it's not that I feel uncomfortable, I-I like it, it feels nice, I was just.. trying to get familiar with the old feelings and-"

"Alright alright", they smile, "we get it (y/n), it is really nice."

They stand up from the bed and look at you, "Let's go have breakfast, you must be hungry now, we gonna have (favorite food) today, what do you think?"

You give them a soft smile.

"Let's go enjoy it then."

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A/N: This is much more longer than I anticipated, dayum 💀 Still, hope y'all enjoy it though, not the best work but I kinda like this one. I can write more about them if you like lmao, do let me know in the comments ❤

[cinnamonest]

Uhtceare

Yandere Ayato x Reader - "Failed escape attempt" series

(I still cannot publish posts that have people tagged. I don't know why, it just gives me an error popup saying it couldn't be processed. Apologies to those in my taglist.)

Warning: DARK CONTENT, noncon/dubcon, implications of forced/coerced marriage, masturbation voyeurism that’s also kinda forced, manipulative use of mental health and problematic way of addressing it, gaslighting and psychological manipulation, implied future forced drugging, there’s just a lot of my man being awful here

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“Ah, there you are.”

Of course. He would be right there at the entrance waiting, wouldn’t he.

You were hoping to get a few more seconds to put off the inevitable, but the reality of your situation was not so kind as to grant you that. It was all far too fast — the full events of the night before, the journey of being dragged back here — flanked on all sides by doushin all the while — all went by in a blur, leading up to this very dreaded moment.

You kept your gaze turned to the ground, unable to bring yourself to make eye contact. Your fingers curled, digging into the fabric around your thighs.

Nonetheless, without even hesitating nor willing it, you found your feet moving on their own. Perhaps it was instinct, to get away from the unfamiliar men that made you so uncomfortable and uneasy, and into the arms that, despite everything, were at least familiar, and thereby a comfort at the end of your long trial of distress and misery. Maybe you knew it was expected, and feared some consequence for not acting as you knew you should. Or maybe some of both.

Regardless, your feet shuffled forward, any thoughts muted in favor of instinct as you bounded over towards your husband — as much as you hated to acknowledge it, your one source of comfort. As you grew close, he reached an arm out, hand firmly planting itself on your back and pulling you in. Perhaps out of that same sense of fear at the thought of disobeying expectations, perhaps out of pure exhaustion, you allowed it without struggle coming to stand directly by his side, grasping at his clothes, burying your head against him and squeezing your eyes shut as if it would obscure the others’ view of you.

“I can’t thank you enough. You have no idea how worried I was about her,” he spoke to the arrangement of men now standing a ways away, moving his hand on to rest atop your head. “I apologize for the inconvenience. The poor thing gets a bit irrational from time to time. You know how it is.”

The other men only gave a brief, curt sound of acknowledgement. One, the own standing closest to the two of you based on how close the voice sounded, seemed to deem it appropriate to give at least some response. “Of course, sir.”

Not that that actually made any sense, that such a bizarre thing to say could ever warrant an ‘of course’ as a reply. But they weren’t there to be sensible, to assess the situation and act according to any supposed principles. To help. They were there only to follow through with an assigned task, one that they had not even tried to conceal in their expressions and tones towards you was an unwanted inconvenience, and to turn a blind eye to any conclusions they might draw.

Maybe that too was intentional — the estate lord could have easily sent his private forces to be the ones to escort you back to the estate, yet he chose to allow the public law enforcement to return you. Perhaps he knew you’d grown to resent the family’s private forces, and thereby had no issue inconveniencing them, whereas he knew you’d feel more embarrassment and guilt having strangers be forced to bring you all the way back… yes, the more you thought about it, that certainly seemed like that was his intent.

“I hope she didn’t give you too much trouble?”

“Not at all, sir.”

“Ah, I see, that’s good to hear.”

Your hands balled into fists.

The whole show made of it all was utterly humiliating — that too no doubt the intention — but you had no choice but to stand there. Doing something rash like running off to hide yourself from the embarrassment would only meet a worse consequence later.

The burning, bitter anger only made said embarrassment that much worse. It was consuming, maddening. Everything — this place, these people, their words and their attitudes, their dismissal of you as if you were a child or an animal — it made you so damn mad, and yet, you could do nothing but endure.

Your eyes burned. You blinked a few times in rapid succession. You couldn’t forgive yourself if you actually cried in front of these strangers. The back-and-forth between the two parties continued, but you did your best to tune out the words, knowing that listening would only hurt you further.

It wasn’t until there was movement that you returned your attention to them, pulling your head away from him to look — now they were turning, walking away.

Leaving you alone with him.

You then dared not avert your eyes from the ground, watching the men from your peripheral vision as they made their way down the path, growing smaller and smaller and they moved further away, until their footsteps were no longer audible.

All that remained was a heavy, palpable tension.

Avoidance was the easiest path — a foolish choice, of course, which you knew full well. It wasn't as if you could avoid the present reality forever, but nonetheless, you found yourself clinging to each precious second that ticked by, body growing stiffer as you braced yourself for the inevitable. Perhaps you could trick yourself into believing that if you just kept your gaze turned to the ground, nothing would happen.

But sure enough, you clenched your jaw as his hand moved upwards, and came to rest on your shoulder.

“Come on now. You're certainly tired. Let’s get you to rest for a while.”

His voice only made your stomach twist further. It was calm and gentle, not explosive or infuriated. It would have felt more assuring that way, if your fear could just be easily confirmed, rather than a calculated calm that felt far more dreadful and foreboding than any rage.

His hand moved from your shoulder, coming down to grasp your wrist. It wasn’t a sudden, harsh motion, nor was the grip itself strong enough as to be painful — but it was noticeably firm.

And then, he pulled. A soft tug, pulling you in the direction of the doors.

Your resistance was not a conscious choice, not something you thought about nor had any time to do so; it was only a reflex. Instinctively, your body stiffened, your feet dug into the ground, and thus his pull was met not with the meek obedience that was expected of you, with footsteps that followed where you were guided, but instead a firm resistance.

Your own realization of that resistance, what you’d just done, sent a sharp rush of fear through your veins.

And thus, for the first time since arriving, your gaze tilted upward, and your wide, frightened eyes met his.

His expression shifted. The amiable, pleasant smile half-faded, still present, but only barely.

“…Don't be difficult. Come on.”

Likewise, his voice dropped far lower, a dark and foreboding tone far removed from the one he’d spoken with just moments ago to the other men.

Your mouth opened, instinctively wanting to reply, but you couldn't summon a coherent thought. You were afraid, you were angry, you were so, so embittered and ashamed and wanted nothing more than to run to your room, close your eyes and burrow into the bed.

And for a moment, you considered the compliant option. If you just lowered your head and followed along, apologized and insisted you were just being petty or immature or whatever he would call it this time, and took whatever consequence was handed out, then you could do just that, confine yourself to your bed and try to forget it all.

But the shame only fueled the fury, like gasoline to a fire. It was his fault. As scared of punishment as you were, your pride could not stand for simply bowing your head, and as your mind raced, the sheer fury you’d been stewing in all throughout the night before, all the angry words you’d monologued in your head and vowed to spew at him when you saw him again, all came rushing back.

You swallowed, fingers curling even harder around the fabric around your thighs. Now that it was just the two of you, although you still fought it as best as you could, you couldn’t help that your eyes watered, burning as your vision blurred out of pure frustration and misery.

“I… I know you did all of this on purpose! I only got all the way out there because you let me, a-and…”

The words came out in a trembling, wavering voice, far weaker than intended.

He exhaled a heavy sigh, closing his eyes in frustration. His voice was still characteristically gentle, but you could hear his patience waning. “We can discuss this inside.”

“But I—”

“Inside.”

You stiffened, freezing in place. That was not a tone you heard often in your married life, more firm than normal.

You swallowed, gaze darting to the ground again, unable to summon a reply and not wanting to make eye contact again. With another heavy exhale, he pulled at your arm with a gentle tug, and this time, you followed, feet quickly shuffling behind his.

You didn’t say a word, though, through the full minute or so of walking across the courtyard, through the front doors, down the hall, only dimly lit today due to curtains hanging over the windows lining the walls. It occurred to you with a sinking feeling in your stomach that you were headed straight for your shared bedroom, rather than one of the estate’s many drawing rooms and lounges, which meant the anticipated conversation to come would be one you’d both want kept in privacy. Your stomach felt as if it were turning in knots, your chest compressed by an unseen force, each breath feeling strenuous and weighted.

And then, finally, you both came to a halt as you reached the last room at the end of the hall. You felt helpless, unable to do anything as you watched the handle of the door turn, stumbling in as you were guided forward by the hand that came to gently press on your lower back.

Likewise, equally pitifully, you could do nothing but stand there and wait as you listened for the door to close behind you, clenching your jaw at the trepidation in your chest from the footsteps on the floor behind you, but made sure to not let your fear swallow your fury.

“Now,” he began slowly as he moved around you to the other side of the room, voice now back to its usual tone, but still firm nonetheless, “I can tell you have a great deal you want to get off your chest, but you’ll have to forgive me for a moment… your well-being is my primary concern.” He looked you up and down, and his voice took on a note of concern that admittedly sounded sincere. “You aren’t hurt in any way, are you, dear?”

You bit your lip at the affectionate term, and more importantly, at how unbothered he came across. Granted, you now knew just how much of the past twelve hours or so had been entirely within his control, so it made sense that he was never genuinely distressed, but admittedly, it was also disappointing. Part of you wanted him to have been panicked and worried, to get the satisfaction of knowing you’d successfully gotten under his skin.

Still, you shook your head, keeping your gaze to the ground as you gave a curt, frustrated reply. “No.”

“Good,” his eyes closed for a moment, taking a heavy breath of pause. “Well, in that case…” He leaned back against the wall, folding his arms. “I believe this would be the best time to give you a moment to explain yourself.”

You couldn’t miss the obvious foreboding in his voice, nor the way it made your body stiffen.

But you had already prepared for that — you knew it would be intimidating, that it would be awkward and shameful, but you had spent the previous few hours trying to preemptively harden your resolve against that. Besides, after it was interrupted earlier, you now had the chance to get back to what was essentially the pre-written script you’d memorized in your head of exactly every little thing you wanted to say to him.

Unfortunately, as it turned out, the you that was standing there in front of him was significantly less brave than the ‘you’ in the scenes you’d played out in your head on the journey home.

Still, you clenched your hands into fists, thinking you had to at least force him to acknowledge the one point you’d deemed most important.

“You let me leave.”

In your mind, you’d spoken with a bold voice and looked him directly in the eye… and while the same words came out of your mouth, they were instead said with a weak, shrill attempt at an accusatory tone, pathetically looking to the wall as you found yourself unable to summon the gall to look up, once more lacking the firm accusation and self-assuredness your imaginative self had had.

He tilted his head. “That’s not a very accurate way to put it. I never granted you any such permission… I was simply aware of your intent to run off, and didn’t stop you.”

For a moment, you contemplated asking how he knew — but you had a feeling the answer would only make you more upset. His voice was laden with a faux sincerity, a sort of disingenuousness that made your blood boil, enough to embolden you further as you continued.

“And you… you had people following me the whole time, I know you did!” Your voice began to get louder as you grew bolder, bitter anger strengthening you against any trepidation. “They didn't even do a good job! I started noticing them towards the end of it!”

"Well, that would be because they were specifically told that concealment was not necessary.” He kept up the dry manner of speech, seemingly unbothered by your fury. “They deserve a break from high effort jobs every now and then, surely you understand. Besides, they didn’t directly interfere with your little outing, yes?”

He was so calm in contrast to your visible irritation, no doubt at least in part deliberate. It only served to make you even more mad.

“They told the local doushin to — no, you told them to tell them! There’s no other way that could have happened! I-I, I got," in sheer frustration, you jerked your fists in a sharp downward motion, "arrested!"

“I’m very well aware.”

“They put me in jail!”

“I do believe that is the standard process for an arrest, yes.”

“I was all by myself for hours!”

“Naturally. I couldn’t allow you to be placed with any dangerous persons, that’s why you were put in a solitary space.”

You clenched your fists so hard they trembled. “You, y-you let me get that far in the first place, and, and…” A lump formed in your throat again, which you did your best to suppress. “…Just to make me go through all that… I was there for hours before they came for me…” Your face scrunched up as you fought the urge to cry.

You hung your head, shoulders falling as you let your body relax, the fuse of anger burning out as it turned to a quiet bitterness swelling in your stomach. What was even the point? You knew better than to think your emotions would be given any weight, treated as anything beyond trivial.

A few moments of quiet passed, perhaps to see if you would say anything more, or perhaps just to force you to wait in uncomfortable uncertainty. After a moment, he shifted his posture slightly before unfolding one arm, holding out his hand in a standard gesture of speech.

“And what have we learned?”

You never would have thought one question could send such a spark of fury through your body in a single moment. Everything, from the wording to the timing to his tone, felt utterly mocking, infantilizing in a way that made you seethe.

You swallowed, practically trembling. “That you’ll go to any lengths to humiliate me?”

He returned the extended arm to its former position, exhaling heavily, straightening his stance. “It's rather unfair to assume I had such malicious intent. Stopping you early on in the past has clearly not worked in the long term, so further measures were necessary.” He tilted his head to meet your averted gaze, reflexively turning your attention back to him, eyes connecting with yours. “My only intention was that you would have some time to reflect on your series of decisions… and hopefully return with a change of heart. These episodes of yours are worrisome.” He gave a brief pause before finishing, “claiming I had cruel intent when you know in your heart that I only arranged this because I care for you… that's rather harsh, isn't it?”

You clenched your jaw, refusing to acknowledge the notion that the words were genuine. Admittedly having fallen for the words die a moment, you mentally shook off the momentary feeling of guilt.

These situations always went the same way, you'd be driven to apologize and feel bad about your choices. You had never met anyone else in your life with such a mastery of speech-craft as to be able to control your emotions and actions with words as easily as if it were pushing buttons on a machine. The first few times, you'd actually fallen for it, found yourself completely malleable, psyche bending and shifting to another's whims. At least with time, you'd become more resilient, had learned to notice and recognize the attempts… so you believed.

You opted to avoid answering the quesiton. Instead of acknowledging his own words, you turned to another matter that had come to mind during your escapade.

“Aren’t you abusing your authority? How are you even allowed to do this to begin with?!”

He took another deep breath, as if it were a trivial matter, or one that shouldn’t necessitate explanation.

“It’s… complicated, but the law does fully permit estates to employ local forces to locate any missing property belonging to the estate… people employed or bound to it are a sort of grey area in that regard.” After a moment of pause, he added, “besides, I also made it very clear that you were not in your right mind at the time, so your wellbeing was of immediate concern, and they were happy to help.”

“What?” The anger in your tone only rose. “I was perfectly in my right mind, you, you… a-and I’m not…”

A few moments passed as you trailed off, having to pause to collect yourself, blink away frustrated tears.

He opened his mouth as if to respond, but seemed to decide against whatever he'd considered saying, closing his eyes and taking a breath before finally replying in a more exasperated tone.

“You're making yourself upset needlessly. I can only do so much… in the end, I only wanted to keep you safe. You have to be the one to accept the grace you're given. Wouldn't that be easier for you?”

There was still unease to his tone, but the way he said it was nonetheless indicative of a sort of tiredness, as if not wanting to carry on about the matter anymore. It almost sounded like he was saying that you “accepting” his “grace” was all that was required to bury the matter entirely.

You spoke slowly, cautiously.

“You’re not… mad?”

“…I never said that.” He shifted away from leaning against the wall, standing upright. ”Of course, I can’t allow this to go entirely unacknowledged.”

He took a few steps towards you, and you fought the urge to step back, keeping your arms rigidly straight at your side as he continued.

“Normally, a proper form of consequence would be in order… however, after consideration, I realized that this was in large part my own fault, and I owe it to you to take responsibility for that.”

The words took you by surprise. The idea that he was in any way acknowledging that he had any responsibility for what you did was baffling, all things considered. He had never once even acknowledged that refusing to let you leave the estate was essentially holding you prisoner, and usually insisted that everything he did was what was best for you, even if, as he seemed to believe was the case, you did not understand that.

You hesitated before replying. “What… what do you mean?”

He flashed you an amiable smile. “A lesser person would only act on their momentary frustrations, but I’m not the sort of person who acts without understanding the situation. Luckily, I do understand you.” He looked off to the side, holding a hand up to his chin in a pensive pose, before adding in a quieter voice, “I made the mistake of getting too caught up in my work recently. Acting out over feelings of neglect is entirely different from misbehavior out of sheer petulance.”

He turned his head back towards you again before finishing,

“It would be cruel to respond to a cry for attention as if it were ordinary disobedience.”

The words took you aback, and you hesitated in your response, but as it fully registered in your mind, the momentary surprise was replaced with shameful fury. You held your arms firmly at your side, hands balled into fists as you replied.

“What?! I didn't— I didn’t do it for attention!”

You felt foolish for thinking for even a second that he might actually empathize with you, might finally come to enough humility to realize that much of your perceived disobedience was due to the sheer degree of meticulous, total control he held over everything you did. But no, instead, your attempt to run away was being treated as attention-seeking. It felt belittling, degrading.

He took a short breath, as if about to say something, but as his gaze fell upon you again, he simply exhaled, an amused smile forming on his face, replacing the former exasperation — and only infuriating you further, realizing even your anger wouldn't be taken seriously.

“Yes, yes, of course.” He made no effort to hide the dismissive amusement in his voice, either, but cleared his throat before returning to a more neutral tone before you could give any retort. “Regardless, you've been through a lot already. If you can be mature and calm down, make some acknowledgement of the trouble you’ve caused and show some remorse, then, I'm willing to somewhat overlook this.” Making direct contact between your eyes and his, he finished, “Won’t that be easier on us both?”

The obvious dismissal of your statement and implications of what he thought made your face feel hot. The embarrassment that had already been weighing down on you now became suffocating, and the utter arrogance of the presumption of your willingness to comply made you so upset it felt nauseating.

“What does ‘somewhat’ mean?” You tried to suppress the irritation in your voice.

He gave another heavy sigh. “Should you really be asking for specifics? It’s your best course of action regardless.”

You opened your mouth and inhaled as if to speak, holding your closed fists up to your chest, ready to spew every ounce of vitriol you’d been building up, and then, you fell silent as your eyes met.

His expression grew dark, eyes half-lidded and features blank — not contorted with anger nor curiosity, but merely waiting, watching, warning. Anticipating your defiance, prepared to react accordingly.

You looked down, hesitating.

Was it really worth it…? A few moments of lashing out, at what cost? ‘Consequences’ hurt, in one sense or another, they always did, no matter what form that word took.

You swallowed. He was right — one path before you was wiser.

You hung your head.

“…I’m sorry…”

Even with your gaze turned downward, you could see his eyes widen just a bit in your peripheral vision, not having expected such quick compliance — understandably so, based on your past incidents. But after a moment, his expression softened. He took another step, closing the gap between you, cupping your face in his hands and forcing you to lift your head back up.

“Mm. I’m glad you understand. You know, you've matured quite a bit recently.”

You almost, almost found yourself feeling happy at the praise, but then pushed that feeling away. It was part of the way he did things, part of the process, so you'd slowly come to recognize, putting the pieces together over and over until you became aware of how he managed to bring you down to submission each time. You refused to be swayed by that. You were only giving it up and apologizing because it was the was the easier, less painful choice… so you reminded yourself. Now, at least, you'd be done with this, could move on and quietly begin plotting again.

But then, as you felt his hand move down to your shoulder, then to your waist, you remembered the ‘somewhat.’

Yes, of course it couldn’t be left at that, wouldn’t be so simple as forcing you into humility just once.

You knew that full well. These checks of obedience after an act of disobedience never came solitary, and the desire for that subservience to be affirmed was not easily satiated. It would only grow deeper, an increasing hunger for your subservience. Pushing your pride further and further down, carving into your personhood and whittling away anything deemed unfitting. It would only go further, debasing you in increasingly violating ways.

You felt a gnawing in your stomach. You hadn’t thought of that part, in the moment, but the realization now made your heartrate begin to accelerate once more.

His eyes drifted downward.

“…Ah, right. The clothes you’re wearing, we need to have a servant wash them for you. Just set them by the door for now.”

You looked down. You hadn’t even bothered to think about it until now, having been so preoccupied with other thoughts, but indeed, the oh-so-nice and expensive clothing you’d been so lovingly lavished with, was now fully coated in grime and dirt.

At the same time, your immediate instinct was to protest the idea, knowing the intent. He wasn’t going to get you a replacement — which he himself would need to do, seeing as all of your clothing was, no doubt deliberately, kept outside the bedroom itself, and it had been established early on that you were to rely on him or servants to fetch whatever he would have you wear that day for you. Was the command too, then, intentional?

The very moment you even asked yourself the question, though, came the immediate answer, making you feel foolish for even questioning it. Of course it was intentional, planned — what wasn’t, anymore, in your life? You remembered looking back, on the day you were brought here, thinking over the past with borderline horror at the realization of how intricately detailed and precise every detail had been in his effort — what you now were certain was a premeditated plan — to get your family to call off the years-long betrothal you’d already been in, and marry you off to him instead. That realization of it all had kept you rightfully afraid of him, knowing he was always one step ahead of whatever you might attempt.

The corners of your mouth pulled taut with embarrassment, and you pulled your hands in towards your chest again, elbows pressed firmly to your sides. “That’s…”

He caught a glimpse of your face, and in turn smiled, an amused sort of expression. “Come on now,” he took a step towards you, reaching out and grasping at your hands, pulling them out of their defensive position, “even now, you’re still so shy over this?”

“I— no, I’m not—” you cut off, teeth clacking together as you snapped your mouth shut when his hands released yours, instead moving around to the binding ties of your outfit, pulling the knot apart.

You held your hands up to the level of your shoulders, bent at the elbow, fingers curled as if preparing to reach forward, to grasp at his hands, to do something.

But you didn’t.

The exchange was itself a means of conversation, communicating something not fully articulable by word alone. Violating your comfort and dignity, baring you to him, those things themselves were an assertion, a statement. To interrupt would be to challenge that assertion, to deny him. And perhaps it was, in part, also a test, a question of whether or not you would dare to deny the unspoken statement.

As the silk strands came undone, the first layer gave way to the second, and pulling apart that knot caused the fabric bound by it to slide apart, exposing your bare skin to the cool air.

An unspoken reminder that your body was not your own, that any right to autonomy and privacy you might have beyond this room, no longer existed within it. Access to you was not a privilege granted by your permission, but an inherent right, provided by the very contract that legally bound you to him.

The casual, unhesitating manner with which you were stripped down only emphasized that that very reality itself was not something to be regarded as of any great significance, but a fact accepted as readily as any other. Exposing you, touching you, exercising that unconditional access to your body was given no greater thought than utilizing any of one’s possessions.

There was nothing he could ever say to you, nor adequate words to even exist, to fully encapsulate the degree to which you were owned — but with that gesture, you understood all the same.

And even though the humiliation of the reminder made your eyes burn, made you bite your lip, you lowered your hands to your side. An admission of defeat, surrender.

It did not go unnoticed. He smiled.

“Very good. You’re behaving much better today than I anticipated.”

Another moment of praise. He was genuinely pleased. You could see it and hear it through his face and voice.

Were it on any other matter, you might have felt proud to be praised in such a sweet, charming voice. If the praise were on something you actually wanted to achieve.

And then, his eyes trailed downward, running over your body, taking in each detail. His eyebrows furrowed as his gaze settled on one particular spot.

“You really shouldn't lie to me,” he spoke in a quiet, low voice.

At first, you felt a momentary panic, not quite sure what he even meant, thinking you had somehow made a unintentional transgression. It wasn't until you looked down that you saw the scrape just below your collarbones from your, admittedly unsightly, vigorous resistance upon initial confrontation with the doushin the night prior, having essentially had to have been wrestled down to the concrete street. In hindsight, you were even surprised with yourself for putting up such a fight, but at the time it had just been the instinctive reflex, fueled by desperation.

It all felt distant now, as if further back in time than it was, the memory all blurring together. It was only a very small mark, and had now scabbed up as part of the natural healing process, but as his fingers brushed over the spot, you still tensed at the slight lingering sting.

“It doesn't really hurt,” you replied nonetheless. “It's fine…”

He only straightened back upright, closing his eyes momentarily.

“I suppose I shouldn't have expected common doushin to be able to follow instructions… just so you know, I did specifically say to ensure you weren't hurt in any way.” He turned his gaze downward, hand held to his chin as he added in a low mutter, “I'll be sure to only use private hands in the future, should I need something like this again.”

You shrugged, turning your eyes downward to the floor once more. Really, you wanted to not have to think about the incident any further, the mere memory stirring up embarrassment, which did not combine well with your already vulnerable state. “It's fine. It's not a big deal,” you grumbled. After a moment of hesitation, feeling another urge of spite, you added, “it wouldn't have happened if you didn't… do all that.”

He huffed in exasperation, but was quiet for the moment, seemingly composing his thoughts before replying.

“Don’t be disagreeable. We've discussed this. I care for you dearly, but that does not mean that you are exempt from expectations to behave.”

He always gave you that line — that a behavioral matter of yours had been previously ‘discussed,’ which merely meant he'd told you not to do something, or behave a certain way. That was the end-all-be-all — whatever you were told was set in stone the moment it left his mouth, and transgressing against the standard that was set was often treated as if you’d forgotten, as if it slipped your mind, the idea of intentional and deliberate disobedience being something unthinkable to such a degree that simply having done so by accident were more believable to him — and perhaps you ought be grateful for that.

You clamped your jaw shut, turning your head downward.

His gaze turned back to your body.

“…Your nerves are unsettled.” His hand slid it's way down your side, the feeling of touch lingering in a trail behind as his palm brushed over the curvature of your waist. “See, that's what causes these irrational episodes of yours. Stress, overexcitement. It just… builds naturally for you, over time.” After a moment, taking in your expression, he added, “it's nothing to feel bad about, dear. I don't mind helping you with it at all… I'm glad I can do so, really. I worry about how you'd manage without having me to help.”

You hesitated before giving a response. “What… what do you mean? I'm not… irrational…”

It was as if your words went in one ear and out the other, continuing on without responding to your objection. “But again, I failed to keep it in check this time, so this was ultimately my own fault… I'll have to make a note to be more thorough.”

His hand grasped at your waist, pulling you close. His other hand reached up, cupping your breast. He looked over towards your shared bed.

“Come on. Let's get you in bed.”

“Huh? But—”

His grip tightened. “Don't be difficult.”

Your stomach began to churn. You were still angry. The last thing you wanted was to go through what was essentially a humiliation ritual. There was something about the act itself — at least, between the two of you — that made you feel embarrassed and ashamed. The inherent vulnerability, for one, but moreover, because you knew the intent, you knew the way he viewed it in his mind, could practically feel the sentiment. An act of claiming, an exchange of power in which your loss of dignity became his gain of pride and control. Carving into your very personhood, marking you as something belonging to him.

Your opened your mouth, but whatever you intended to say was cut off by your small noise of surprise as you were pulled forward, in a manner that was somehow so gentle in touch, yet forceful enough to move your whole body towards his. His arm wrapped around your frame, the other positioning itself underneath your thighs before lifting you up and moving down to sit.

You fidgeted, tried to pull away — but his grip tightened, as much to secure you as it was a warning, telling you to hold still.

“It's for your sake. This will help you… you may not realize that yet, but you’ll thank me, I promise.”

His hands moved to your hips and turned you so that your back rested against his chest.

“As I was saying, you simply… build stress and neurosis, naturally. It's not your fault, really. You're just sensitive to changes, stressors... Every individual has at least some… defects in their nature.”

His hands retracted, and there was a brief rustling sound before they returned to your skin, now ungloved, flesh on flesh. The contact sent sparks through your nerves.

“That's why people pair with those they are compatible with. They fill each other's needs, compliment each other’s natures… I’m obligated to take those defects and resolve them.”

He gave you a smile — you couldn't see it, but could feel it as his lips pressed softly against your neck. Warm, full of sincerity and adoration.

“I wouldn’t do that if it weren’t out of care… and you in turn provide me with something that needs care and guidance. I enjoy having that.”

For all his attempts at soothing words and the gentleness of the touch, you knew in your heart that there was no doubt that that was part of the intent — to humble you, to tame you and make you docile, to make you submit. Forcing you to such a vulnerable state and inflicting reactions of pleasure was itself an act of exerting power and control.

It was, in a way, remarkable, that the human spirit could not only be broken by both brutal cruelty, but equally — or, perhaps even more effectively — eroded away with a gentle voice and touch, humiliation so deeply intertwined with affection that they became impossible to distinguish from each other, forming a unique sentiment that was both one and the other.

You were endearing to him, but that affection for you was like a venom that ran through your veins — an affection that diminished you, reduced you to some inhuman possession, a toy to be manipulated in any way he desired.

It made you feel sick. It made you feel angry, it tormented your psyche—

Your thoughts were turned to a haze as his fingers rolled your nipple between them. You inhaled a sharp gasp, back arching forward.

Processing your own reaction, embarrassment took place of the momentary pleasure, and your face felt hot. You reached an arm up instinctively to cover your breasts, pulling away from the touch.

“…We've had this conversation before, haven't we?” He reached up, grasping your jaw with a grip just firm enough to communicate a warning.

You swallowed and, albeit not without just a moment of hesitation, lowered your arm. You looked down, breasts now exposed fully. “I'm… sorry…”

He gave you a hum of approval, returning to the former fondling, fingers playing with the sensitive flesh. You bit your lip, breathing growing labored.

After a few minutes, his hands wandered downward, slowly, softly, down to your thighs, then back up over your hips, where they finally settled.

“Touch yourself.”

The command caught you off-guard. Your eyes widened. “…What?”

“Before I help you,” he murmured, “I want to see what you will do for me. That's only fair, don't you think?” He squeezed at your waist.

“Prove to me…” he leaned forward, breath hot against your ear, “that you know your place. Do as I say.”

You swallowed.

It was in your best interest to obey.

You reached down slowly, shivering as your fingers brushed over your clit. You pressed down, beginning to rub your outstretched fingers back and forth. With your other hand, you reached up, tweaking your nipple just enough to send pleasure through your nerves.

“There you go.” He pulled you a bit closer to him, so your bodies were firmly pressed together. He craned his neck, no doubt catching your abashed, embarrassed expression.

Not that he would give you any words of comfort on that matter, tell you not to feel embarrassed. He only smiled, grasping your hair and forcing your head to turn, pressing your mouth to his. It was only a short contact, parting with the softest of sounds.

His grip on your hip tightened, and you realized why he’d pulled back when he spoke.

“Don’t stop.”

You hadn’t realized you had, too focused on the slight surprise to being kissed. You took a shuddering breath, and resumed the motion. Your eyes closed, heightening your senses — the sensation of each touch and the shockwaves it sent through your core to every nerve in your body.

Your breathing quickly became labored. Even if you were inducing the sensation itself, it was good. You bit your lip as a soft, weak little sound came out of your throat, unable to refrain from vocalizing at the intensity of the feeling.

“Not just like that.” One of his hands reached down to your thigh, hand wrapping around the underside of it and pulling it to the side, spreading you open further. “Go on.”

“Mm…” You couldn’t summon any particular words, overwhelmed by the conflicting sensations — the heat to your face and knot in your stomach at the shameless way your body was so exposed, at the feeling of being watched as if the act were a performance, and the haze of arousal that rapidly began to cloud your judgement, obscuring the feeling of discomfiture, drowning your inhibition.

Even without the pleasure compromising your hesitation, you didn’t want to think about the alternatives if you refused to obey — this was thus far, comparatively, far from the worst consequences you’d ever received for acting out.

You reached down further, pushing two of your fingers past the slick coating your flesh and inside your body, curling them into the spot that made you tense, made your muscles spasm, over and over, each movement sparking a rush that surged throughout your body.

Each breath was a deep gasp. Your toes curled, your muscles went taut and your insides clenched around your own fingers.

But something was missing.

It was pleasurable, but there just wasn’t enough to push you over the edge. The sensations were too weak.

Your body had been conditioned something more, and this was not comparable.

Sweat began to accumulate on your skin as you kept curling your fingers, desperately chasing a high. His arm moved from your hip to wrap around your waist, pressing another kiss to your neck.

You tried. Frustration began to build. Your eyes watered as you curled your fingers as hard as you could, pressed as far in as they would go, down to the knuckle.

It wasn’t deep enough.

It wasn't what you were used to. Your fingers were too short, just short of reaching that one perfect spot that made you lose yourself in pleasure, melting to a mewling mess.

You shuddered. You couldn’t reach a climax, no matter how hard you tried to focus. Even without orgasm, though, your exertion reached a peak you couldn’t carry on further from, and your fingers stopped moving as you went limp, trying to catch your breath, frustration and desperation nearly enough to make you cry. Your head fell back, eyes closed as you panted.

You could feel the corners of his mouth upturn against the flesh of your neck.

“…Is something wrong?”

Your jaw clenched, and you swallowed the lump in your throat.

That was the other goal of it, besides proving yourself to him — it was also to prove something to you. Something you didn’t want to admit out loud, something that made your chest swell with bitterness just to admit to yourself, much more so to do so aloud.

“I can’t… I can't do it.”

“Mm.” He pulled you further back against him. “Then, what do you need?”

The tingling sensation, the desperate need, the remnant frustration of lost pleasure, was too much to bear. You swallowed your pride, closing your eyes as you forced the words out.

“…I need you to do it…”

You were expecting him to say something in return, but for a moment, he was only quiet. He began to drum his fingers back and forth against your waist.

“Is that so?”

You nodded again, which seemed to be to his displeasure—

“Use your words.”

“Yes…” You swallowed.

You waited, but no touch came.

“Hm. How odd.” His voice was low and quiet, but unmistakably derisive. “You seemed to think you were perfectly capable of caring for yourself, running off like you did.”

Your eyes welled with tears. You shook your head back and forth, unable to bring yourself to speak.

“No?” His hand trailed downward until it ghosted over your sex, the lightest of touches, borderline torment. “Then, you can't do this for yourself?”

“…No…”

He moved his face even closer, speaking directly into your ear.

“Then what do you say? Tell me exactly what you need. Show me.”

You swallowed. The burning of humiliation in your chest was almost too much to bear. Had your insides not still been alight with the wavering, tight feeling of need, your pride would have outweighed your desire. But in that moment, it did not.

You spread your still-quivering legs wide apart.

“…Please touch me.”

“Mm. And what do you want from that? For how long?”

You squeezed your eyes shut.

“I want to cum.”

Finally — finally — his fingers pressed down against your clit, enough pressure to send waves of pleasure up your spine.

“There, see…” He pressed another kiss to your face. “Aren't things so much easier when you just choose to be honest?”

You nodded. “Yes. I… I’m sorry…”

He gave a low hum of acknowledgement. “This stubbornness is just your nature.” His fingers slid back and forth, gracing the bundle of nerves with friction. “But that can be fixed.”

You bit your lip. “I… I’m not— ah—”

One motion of his hand was particularly firm, the sensation it sent through your nerves so intense it was almost painful. Your hands shot forward, grasping at his wrist.

It was only when the motion stopped that you realized you’d erred — it was a habit of reflexively grabbing at his hands when a sensation was too intense, trying to pry them off — something he very much did not like you doing.

Sure enough, he sighed, frustration blatantly evident. You jerked your hands away, but it was already too late to take back the first offense.

“…Now,” he started, “Can you refrain from doing that again, or do I need to bind them?”

“I…” you paused, realizing you genuinely needed to think it through. You weren’t certain if you could abstain.

You felt him shift back, leaning away from your body.

“Well, that’s enough of an answer itself.”

You heard the rustling of clothes, felt movement behind you, and you turned your head over your shoulder just in time to see as he pulled off first the top layer, then the undershirt over his head and off his body. You made a soft sound as he then pushed down on your back with a firm touch, forcing you to lean forward, grasping at your hands and pulling them behind your back — firmly, enough to be a clear message to not try to dissuade him, but your pride, weak as it was, still couldn't let it happen with no objection at all.

“Wait, wait, I can do it, I don't need—”

“This is for your sake. Hold still.”

“But I—”

“Be still.” He spoke firmly, but softened his voice as he continued, “It’s not your fault for having that reflex… but you have to train yourself against it. You want to be good, don't you?”

You shut your mouth, nodding as you sounded an answer. “Mm-hm…”

Cloth wrapped tightly around your wrists, using one sleeve to bind them together. Not enough of a bind that you couldn’t break out with some effort, but just enough to keep you from reflexively trying to interfere.

“Now where were we…”

You were pulled back once more, perhaps even closer. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest against your back.

And his hand quickly moved back down, and the bliss of shockwaves of pleasures overcame you once more. You whimpered, biting your lip.

His fingers pressed more firmly, rubbing circles into the nub, and for a moment, your wrists jerked against the bind as the reflex kicked in. It was too much at once, but now, you were prevented from doing anything about it. As he began to rub in circular motions, your body shuddered, and an involuntary moan came out of your throat — a wanton, shameful sound, laced with pleasure and lust.

“There you go.” You could feel him speak, shuddering at the vibration of his chest against your back and the warm breath against your ear. His other hand rolled your nipple between a finger and thumb. “Give into it.”

Your body trembled against his touch, and jolted as his own fingers pressed inside of you. His were longer, and the touches firmer, and the result was a degree of pleasure you were simply incapable of replicating on your own.

As much as you hated it — hated to think it, hated to acknowledge it, hated to try and not acknowledge it as the reality prodded at the back of your mind — he made you feel better than anything you had ever experienced, better than anything you could ever make yourself feel.

You whimpered, toes and fingers curling. Your hips moved, a rolling motion to meet each pressing movement.

A singular motion, and singular sound, both of which you near-immediately caught yourself doing, having been too lost in the feeling to think clearly. You cut off your voice and went still, but it didn’t go unnoticed.

“Don’t.” He didn’t stop moving his fingers as he spoke, instead pressing down with harsh force, essentially pulling you back closer to him with the hand partially inside you. “Holding yourself back like that is another form of dishonesty.”

You bit your lip, squeezing your eyes shut, but unable to form a response before he continued.

“And you wouldn’t want,” the fingers that had been gently tweaking at your breast pinched down hard, a momentary spark of pain and the lowering of his voice making you go tense, “to make this unpleasant because you couldn’t be good for me, would you?”

You shook your head back and forth with vigor. There were many punishments in your domestic repertoire that were unpleasant, and the thought of any of them made your heart skip a beat. “No, no, I don’t… want that…”

“Then you’re going to be honest, aren’t you?”

“Yes! Yes, I promise…”

“Mm.”

He kept rubbing his thumb against your clit, even in perfectly synched timing to each motion his fingers curled inward inside of you.

It was so pleasurable, so intense, it made you angry. Mad that he was capable of it, mad that his control over your body was greater than your own, and most of all, mad that he did it with such ease, effortless, that making you come undone entirely was something he mastered without ever being taught.

That pleasure began to build and build. You squirmed and whimpered, muscles throughout your body tensing and relaxing over and over. Your hips rolled into his hand. Each movement built the pressure in your body higher and higher, rapidly reaching a peak.

The edge that climax made you quiver, body and legs trembling.

“There it is…” his voice was so soft and gentle, soothing in a way it had no right to be.

The noise that came out of your mouth was nearly animal-like, a whimpering cry as you threw your head back, quivering and spasming. The waves of sensation pulsated throughout your body, reaching a peak and then beginning to ebb away.

You went limp, bodyweight falling back against his chest, heaving with heavy breaths. Your head felt as if it were spinning, and you stared forward in a dull stupor, body trembling with aftershock.

You twitched at the feeling of his fingers sliding out of you, with a wet squelching sound that made you shiver.

“Look at that…”

He spread his fingers apart, clear fluid forming a trail between them. You bit your lip, tilting your head downward in a futile attempt of avoidance of what you knew well came next — but that effort was quickly negated as he grabbed your jaw, turning your head back up and squeezing your face.

“Open.”

The force of the grip as he squeezed down more or less forced your jaw apart anyway. You didn't even get to take a breath before he pushed his fingers into your mouth, salty taste spreading over your tongue.

“Clean them off.”

Maybe it was a way of forcing you to acknowledge your own bodily reaction, even if you tried to deny it to yourself. Maybe it was much simpler than that — just another way to degrade you, or something simply arousing for him because it just was.

You complied nonetheless. Your tongue swirled around each finger, sucking and swallowing the taste of yourself. Even as he pulled his fingers back out, a string of saliva connected them to your tongue.

And then, after wiping his fingers off on the fabric around his thigh, he returned the arm to your waist, pulling you close, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“See… so much more at ease now, aren't you?”

That was one way to put it. You couldn't even bring words to your mind. Even processing what he said felt like a significant effort. Everything felt far away, your mind like a blank slate, numb and empty. Your body was even more exhausted, totally lax aside from involuntary twitches.

You made a soft sound as he turned your body to the side, just enough to look you face-to-face. Looking down at your watery eyes as they met his, the stupor in your expression, even as your brain began to clear, as if a machine turning back on after a few moments of darkness.

And he smiled. It was soft, full of endearment. And belittling. It was not made any better by the small chuckle he gave, patting the top of your head.

It burned in your chest, down into your stomach.

Your eyebrows furrowed and your lower lip quivered, an admittedly petulant pout. Shame formed a knot in your stomach. Disappointment in yourself, ending up like this again after swearing so many times over that this one would be the last, the last time you'd come apart so easily, the last time you'd find yourself spent and susceptible to the touch that seemed as if it were designed for your body.

And he laughed. An amused chuckle, patting your head.

“Mm. I had a feeling that wouldn't be quite enough.”

He leaned in, firmly grasping at your arms as you tried to squirm, bringing his mouth so close to yours, forehead resting against yours.

“But, that does admittedly work out for my sake.”

You grunted in surprise as he hooked his arm under your legs again, this time only lifting you just enough to set you down onto the padding of your bed, gently pushing on your shoulders until you were flat on your back, arched over your hands bound behind you.

“A-ah, I…” You swallowed, grasping at the sheets to the best of your ability. It was nothing you weren't anticipating, but the vulnerability made you tense.

It didn't help that he paused any motion, eyes trailing over your body, before reaching down and running his hands over your flesh, one moving to grip at your waist, the other your opposite hip. You couldn’t reach to cover yourself, forced to lay bare and vulnerable. Instinctively, you pressed your thighs together, but firm hands grabbed at the undersides, pushing them apart and positioning himself between them so you couldn’t close them again.

The former act was not enough. Putting you through the ordeal of being made to wait in jail like a child in time-out was not enough, exposing your body was not enough, toying with your body and forcing an acknowledgement of his own control was not enough.

Your lip trembled.

But anger still pervaded through your negative emotions. It compelled your courage, you felt defiance surging up. You had to look him in the eye, tell him exactly what you felt, tell him you knew what he was doing and push him off, then, maybe then you'd have the satisfaction of some sense of control.

You could do it. You had to.

“You… you're just doing the same thing as before!” Your eyebrows furrowed. “You’re trying to, to—”

“Again with this?” He tilted his head. “I really wish you wouldn’t assume such ill intent. This is how people love each other… you know that.”

You bit your lip. You almost, for just a second, fell for it, almost felt guilty. You shook your head forcefully, clearing your mind of the thought.

“No, I won't let you—”

And with that, there was a rapid shift in expression. His eyes narrowed in a piercing, foreboding look. You went silent.

Your shoulders stiffened. The words came out on impulse, resolve of defiance broken as quickly as it had formed. “I'm— I'm sorry—”

Dammit.

For once, the dark expression did not shift back to pleasant as soon as you apologized — an indicator of having gone too far. His hand slowly reached up, this time not in a loving caress or gentle-but-firm grip, but outright harsh grip on your jaw.

“You…”

He tilted his head forward to more directly look you in the eye. His voice was low and cold, making your heart race further.

“Do not ‘let’ anyone do anything.”

His fingertips pressed into your flesh, squeezing your face between them.

“I know you understand your place. Don’t behave as if you don’t.” Finally, his voice softened as he finished, “I can’t help you if you keep fighting me every step of the way. So… you’ll control yourself, won’t you?”

You swallowed, nodding your head, twitching as the motion made his fingernails dig into your cheeks.

“You know I don’t like being so harsh with you, don’t you?”

You nodded again.

“Good.” He leaned down and pressed his mouth to yours. Only for a short, chaste moment, but a slow, sensual motion nonetheless. You closed your eyes, tuning out the rustling clothes, heavily breathing with anticipation.

“You’ll have to forgive me for this. This whole ordeal has been stressful for me as well.”

You didn’t get time to ask what he meant — he rammed himself into you all at once, completely stuffing your body in one rough, forceful motion.

You cried out, back arching and body stiffening. You felt your insides clamp down, pulsating against the intrusion.

His hands tightened their grip on your waist, holding you still as the momentary sting ebbed away.

“There you go… calm down.”

You felt him slide out, then push back in, the latter movement sending sparks of sensation running up your spine, causing you to go tense all over again.

Your breathing became ragged, legs twitching and spasming at the sensation. You tried, without thinking, to snap them shut, but it only resulted in effectively squeezing his waist with you thighs.

The intensity of the sensation naturally induced a reflex of strain and exertion to your muscles, a need to channel the feeling through your body, causing your toes to curl, your thighs clamping down harder, quivering at the bare touch of flesh to flesh. You closed your eyes, but couldn't drown out the sound of skin making contact to yours, the sound itself increasingly accompanied by a wet squelching as skin met fluid with each passing second, leaking out of your body.

“You're so much more honest like this.” You could hear just the slightest strain in his voice, otherwise so very composed to perfection. “So meek… it's lovely. Once that resistance in you is fixed… you'll be perfect.”

You could see the corners of his mouth upturn into a look of amusement.

“You should see yourself.”

Your body stiffened, but all you could do was whimper. The words felt like a cold knife to the stomach — and you knew he knew that. Knew that that moment was you at your must vulnerable, the peak of awareness of your own helplessness, the moment you felt the most degraded, and yet, it still wasn't enough.

He leaned in close, speaking directly into your ear, so close you could feel the warmth as he spoke, never ceasing to move all the while.

“Whimpering and drooling like that,” he murmured. “You're trembling… and that expression on your face is so adorable. Like you can't even think straight.” He leaned back up, enough to look you in the eye — now welling with tears.

And again, he only smiled.

“How precious.”

His hands ran down your body, grabbed at your hips, and began to pull you, jerking your body back and forth to meet his own movements.

It was too much. Even with the knot of emotion in your stomach, you felt a hot, tingling pressure build in your body. Your legs quivered, the wanton little sounds from your throat higher and higher.

You didn't want that. It was the final part of this ritual that so demeaned you, one more confirmation of his control of you. You pressed your hands into the mat, trying to push yourself back — but it was only met with a harsh pull, forcing your body back until you practically slammed against his hips.

“Don't fight.”

It was the last thing you heard. You threw your head back as the sensation became overwhelming, back arching and eyes rolling back as the feeling reached a peak. You could only faintly register the high-pitched sound that sounded as if it couldn't be you, a voice you didn't recognize.

And then it began to ebb away. A hazy stupor filled the void as the pleasure dissipated, a feeling of exhaustion. Your weight went limp.

You made a soft sound as he grasped your jaw again, turning your head just enough to place another kiss to your lips.

“There you go. Look at you now… all that stress and in you, totally gone. You can see it in your eyes, even.”

He paused before adding,

“Well, gone for now. I'll have to start monitoring for it more closely.”

You shuddered at the sensation as he slid out of you, fluid spilling out onto the sheets.

You felt him reach behind you, untying your wrists — you brought your arms to the front of your body, but the forearms only laid useless, having fallen asleep from your weight.

He came to rest beside you, upper body slightly propped up on his elbow, head resting in his hand, looking down at you with adoration and endearment.

And you were so, so weak. So much weaker than you wished you were, body, mind and spirit alike. So weak that, in the rush of emotions that followed, you found yourself slowly crawling forward, burying your face against his chest with a pathetic little noise.

“Poor thing. Maybe that was a bit too much for you…”

His arm reached behind your back and pulled you close, and the comfort you felt seemed to melt your mind into nothingness.

“You should rest for a while,” he continued, “then we'll get you cleaned off. We have a few hours before you'll need to be ready.”

After a moment to process the words, you tilted your head up with the softest of inquisitive noises. The cold, creeping dread began to spread through your stomach once more.

He seemed to realize, then, that you didn’t understand.

“Ah, right, you wouldn't have known.” He reached out with the hand he wasn’t leaning on, brushing his fingers over your scalp. “While you were gone, I sent someone to arrange a house visit with a psychiatrist… a private one that works for families such as ours.”

His words certainly didn’t help soothe your nerves. Your mouth felt dry. Your voice came out weak, hesitant, part of you not wanting to ask, lest you learn an unpleasant answer.

“…Why?”

He tilted his head in just the slightest, loose strands of hair shifting and waving with the motion. “Well, keeping your needs in check does help with your condition, but I’ve realized it would do you good to have a secondary means to treat your hysteric tendencies as well.”

“My…” You swallowed. “My what?” The words slowly pieced together in your mind, hitting you with a sense of dread and confusion. You squirmed backwards, shifting just a bit away from him. “There's… nothing wrong with me…”

“Of course, of course, there’s nothing wrong, that’s…” He spoke in a reassuring sort of tone, as if to comfort you. “…A harsh choice of phrasing. You just need some help, is all.” After a moment of pause, he added, “don't worry, it's perfectly normal that you aren't self-aware of it. That's usually how these illnesses work.”

His arm reached out further, pulling you back towards him, pressing your bodies together before he continued.

“He’s just required to see you in-person for a little while before giving you anything. Regulations and all. We’re just going to get you something to make you a little more… docile.”

His arm wrapped around your body, and he pulled his head back just a bit to look you in the eye, smiling with endearment.

“Ah, I can tell by your face that you’re nervous. Don’t worry, I'll be there throughout the whole thing… I'll answer any questions, you just sit there quietly, alright?” He pulled you a bit closer, planting an affectionate, short kiss to the top of your head. “I know that sort of thing is a lot on your nerves.”

If your trembling could be felt, he didn’t say anything about it, only carrying on with his gently-spoken words.

“We won’t have to worry about you having these… irrational escapades anymore. And you’ll be so much happier, too.”

You felt his hand on your back, firmly in place — you were pressed so close together that there was no need to pull you any closer, but perhaps he wanted to be sure you couldn’t pull away.

“So… rest for now, alright?”

Mind and heart alike racing, in your stupor, you let the pause linger for too long. The hand on your back began to close in on itself, fingernails brushing against your skin just enough to send the faintest of pains up your spine.

You had no strength left in you to give anything other than the correct answer.

“Okay...”

He only gave you a hum of acknowledgement, and began to stroke your back up and down, a pattern that should have been comforting and soothing, yet was anything but. Exhaustion wore on your body, but even as you forced yourself to close your eyes, true rest was nowhere to be found.

[kiwiikato]

mommy’s here // ken sato x reader

Chapter Nine

masterlist

note: so like i died.... IM SORRY EVERYONE, i have so many comments to read and respond to so i'm sorry for the disappearing. i just get so busy with my mental health and family. i don't have tumblr on my phone always, it's an on and off thing so thank you for the patience. this chapter is really choppy and maybe misspelling. sorry guys <3 :(

you sat cross legged on the floor at the hidden base under kenji's house. kenji and mina were with you as you stared at the baby kaiju who babbled and cooed at the cartoons that played for her.

you watched as kenji admired himself in the reflection of the containment unit, styling it for his public image. you couldn't help but to tag along in admiring him as well, it isn't everyday that you get to admire athletically attractive kenji sato! but it was not your everyday, for the past months it has been.

"mina, we got plenty of fish and pon de rings, right?" ken asked as he straightened out his coat. "yes ken, we're all stocked up." ken turned around, turning to the both of you. "now if she wakes up, put her show on. let her dance her little heart out to that stupid song. and if there's any trouble, you let y/n know. and if you need additional help, you ping me on this."

ken raised his arm, showing off his watch to you both. "ken, she's never been safer. have a good time." mina said reassuring him of the baby kaiju's safety. he smiled softly, turning to you as he crouched down to your level. "let me know if you need anything, okay? i'll drop everything and come back. i'll be back soon, don't worry that pretty little head of yours about this interview either, okay?"

you nodded, giving him a happy "okay!" to which he smiled back. "atta girl." his hands found your face as he pulled you in, placing a kiss on your lips and then another on your head. you blushed at his affectionate actions, still not so used to them. he smiled as he got up, walking away to the interview he had promised to ms. wakita.

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you got rid of the containment unit that held your baby kaiju in, asking for help from mina to pull up a hologram of an area covered with trees. the reason why was to show the baby how to play a game of hide and seek.

she was getting restless and persistent asking for kenji to come back. none of the videos playing were enough to satisfy her so you took it upon yourself to distract her with a new game.

you showed her you hiding behind a tree or a bush of sorts, giving her time to mimic you. it didn't take long for her to get the movement down as she copied you. "good job girl! you got this." you said cheering her on.

it was then that an idea came into your head. "mina, can you help me with a demonstration?" mina floated down towards you. "yes y/n, what would you like me to do?" she asked as she hovered in front of you.

"can you do me the favor of counting to twenty, letting me hide in that duration of time like your typical game of hide and seek. i want to show the baby kaiju how to do it so we can both play." mina nodded in her own way, flying to a tree near by.

she 'closed' her eyes as she faced the tree and waiting for your signal. "okay baby, me and mina are gonna show you hide and seek. just sit and watch, okay?" you told her as she cooed. "okay, ready mina!"

you ran as you heard mina began to count down. your feet hit the floor as you ran through the trees, looking for one in a closed area to hide you better. diving into the area, you crouched down, pulling your body to your knees to make yourself look smaller, more hidden to mina.

mina soon hit twenty, moving away from the tree and began to look for you. the baby kaiju watched, wondering where you went. her eyes followed as mina searched for you, yelling your name out to lure you out. no response came from you, showing no signs of who she considered to be her parent.

it wasn't long before she panicked, her eyes began to glaze over with tears, bringing her to cry as she yelled out for you. your body that was hidden stiffened hearing her cry, instantly jumping away from the trees that blocked you from her view.

"mina! call the hologram off!" mina instantly stopped playing, returning the big room back into its metallic silver state. you turned into your ultra form, rushing to her as you picked her up. you held her to your chest, softly rubbing her back as you rocked her side to side. her head perched at your shoulder as her small hands wrapped around your neck and shoulder.

"there there. i'm here, everything's okay." you hummed softy, trying to soothe her. "would you like me to pull out the containment unit for her?" mina floated up to you asking. "yes please, that would be nice, thank you."

the containment unit rose from the ground, opening to allow you to put the baby kaiju inside the familiar area. she grabbed the crushed car, hugging it to her body. "do you want to see daddy?" mina asked her to which she cooed. you watched as her eyes lit up, having a soft spot for kenji.

"here you go." mina pulled out videos of kenji making her happily spin around to watch them all, forget in about the incident from earlier. "how about a snack while you watch?" mina asked as a small platform with a huge fish rose to her. "oooh look at the fishy, so yummy!" you cheered as she grabbed the fish and ate it happily.

her joyful expression didn't last long, changing into one of discomfort as her stomach grumbled from the fish she ate. she burped out, a green circle of gas leaving her lips as she looked at it weirdly.

"oh my! what you're experiencing is acid reflux. symptoms include heartburn, nausea-" mina was cut off by the baby opening her mouth, a nuclear burp of sorts shooting out a laser that burned through the glass of the containment unit.

you and mina panicked, as she escaped, pushing through the hole, letting her out into the open space. the whole room set off with alarms, flashing the room with red and sirens. mina ran to the side waving her robotic arms. "look over here. look at daddy. he's right here!" a inflatable figure of kenji grew from the ground, looking slightly disturbing at the way his face was plastered on.

you stared at it confused. "where did you even get this mina?" "please do not question." you laughed slightly, returning back to the situation as the baby kaiju ran up to the inflatable and hugged 'kenji'.

"y/n, go searching for kenji. he's not answering his watch and i'm worried we won't be able to fix this situation ourselves. he's at tonkatsu tonki."

you nodded your head, quickly running out of the place, not without hearing the pop of the inflatable. you ran into kenji's garage, taking one of his other motorcycles to reach him. 'sorry ken, hope you don't mind this.' you thought to yourself as you revved the engine and drove forward.

the wind fought against your body as you sped quickly off onto the bridge, stunned at how it grew over the body of water that separated you from the city. it wasn't long before you reached the main land, driving around in a hurry to where ken would be.

you had to stop at a red light, impatiently waiting for it to turn green. your eyes widened, watching a pink object jump over the city as it landed down and chased after something. "is that-" your phone rang, quickly answering it to mina.

"y/n, the baby is in daikanyama, i was able to contact ken, he is currently heading that way." "thank you mina." you hit the gas in the motocycle when the lights turned green, quickly cutting between traffic in a rush to reach the baby kaiju.

▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

ken frantically drove through the roads, searching for the baby after his alarm had went off signaling him of the chaos that was happening at his house.

"ken, a disturbance has been reported in daikanyama. there seems to be a large, pink creature terrorizing the locals. i am sorry. i'm a terrible babysitter." mina told him over his helmet of his motorbike. "yes, yes you are! where is y/n?!" he yelled over to mina.

"she is currently searching the baby kaiju. i had sent her out to contact you since you had not been answering my alerts over your watch. in the short time that she was gone, the baby had escaped." he groaned, worried but glad to know that he wasn't the only one looking for her.

"ken, i have located her, she is not too far from you." "maybe i can get to her before-" he was cut off hearing the sound of the KDF drones fly over him. panic set over his as he watched them for the baby. "send the location to y/n!" he yelled out in fear.

"location has been sent, she will be there." mina responded back as ken zoomed through the colorful city. you, on the other hand, zapped into your ultra form, jumping into the sky as you flew quickly over the city. the motorbike had been set down on top of the roof of a building, trying to prevent it from being stolen.

your eyes landed on the baby kaiju who chased after some people. you recognized one of them as the reporter that ken had the interview with, as she ran with an older lady and a child in her arms. you landed roughly on the ground. you were started to see that kenji had arrived right after you.

the both of you made eye contact, focusing on the problem at hand. "hey! come on, come on." kenji yelled out to her, making the baby turn out at look at you both, jumping up at joy. "come to mommy and ...daddy." you heard as he hesitated to call himself that, not used to the idea of being a caregiver for something officially. "come here baby." you said as you crouched down, opening your arms for her to run into.

the crown around gasped, reminding you of being in public. you quickly stiffed up as kenji verbally panicked. "uh i- i mean, stop there, beast!" he posed dramatically, kneeling on one knee as he placed on hand on his hip and the other in front of him in a stop motion.

you snickered at him, until you heard the familiar rumbles. your eyes turned to see the babies eyes grow wide as she closed her mouth in a desperate motion. "no, no, no..." kenji mumbled watching as she look like she was about to barf. but she didn't, instead another laser shot out from her mouth, slamming against shields that the both of you had made in front of you to not get hurt.

the laser bounced off from your shields, knocking down a pac man statue that kenji picked up. "uh mina, we have a situation. baby just melted pack man." you got up from the kneeling position, "kenji!" you were calling out for him to turn, seeing the baby kaiju start to walk away.

leaving him in his conversation with mina, you chased after the baby. desperate to reach for her and to have her back in your arms. she bounced and jumped after people who sat in go carts, excited to catch what she thought was a toy that shined colors in the road. you fearfully moved around after her, scared of stepping on something or someone.

"hey! baby!" you yelled out for her to look back at you but instead she continued to run. you internally cussed, aggravated at the situation at hand. finally she stopped running, causing you to skid to a stop.

you looked up seeing her eyes on something. a sort of robotic machine, just like in the shape of mina floated around her. tiny coos of happiness came out from her, possibly confusing it for mina. her joy was gone as she watched it change shapes, making her turn her head to the side.

"baby, come to me, please." you took slow and quiet steps but the machine flew in front of her, right in between the both of you. "stupid KDF." you mumbled as you walked slower. the thing suddenly shot out a needle with green liquid at her leg, causing her to stumble.

you weren't that clothes, and you were still in the main street of people, so walking was becoming an issue. you watched with fear as she pulled out a street light pole, holding it up to her body as she whacked the robot towards you. you quickly caught it in your hands, squashing the machine and dropping the broken pieces of metal.

she happily jumped towards you, you went to grab at her. she was right there, in the grasp of your fingers, yet she slipped away. it felt like the world was against you. all you wanted more than ever was her in your arms.

she jumped high, highest you've ever seen as she's launched herself a metal tower. she was far from your reach again. you groaned as you ran through the street, hoping you hadn't stepped on anything.

you watched as she jumped up, climbing the tall structure. it was almost like the world held some pity for you as you saw kenji run up to her. "where's baby? there she is! come down! right now, be careful!" you watched him yell for her to return as you got closer. jumping, you were able to land next to him.

"she's not listening ultraman! she's not going to come back down. we have to go up." you said panting slightly. your hands found the bar of the tower, grabbing onto it as you climbed up in a hurry. you just wanted your baby. kenji took the hint and climbed up as well, jumping up farther, almost like a spider monkey.

a swarm of KDF jets and robots swarmed in at the both of you, surrounding the baby. you watched as they shot more of the similar needles from earlier ago, covering her back in multiple needles.

a shrill cry was heard from the baby kaiju, now slightly dangling at the attack she experienced. you quickly climbed up trying to get to her but a jet flew in front of you, trying to stop you from reaching them. kenji shot out a blast of energy, hitting al the small robots to get away from the baby kaiju.

the jet in front of you flew into your hair, shooting out a smoke bomb of sorts, blocking our your vision. you waved at the smoke, trying to get rid of it as you coughed. you heard kenji yell out. "hold on! i'm coming!" making you panic more since you couldn't see much.

you heard a cry from the baby kaiju, making you climb up in a hurry, unaware of your surroundings, just to reach her. "NO!" you heard kenji yell out, till a snap of sorts was heard. "y/n y/n, please help." you heard a voice call out to you in a soft whisper, laced with worry and panic.

"i can't see, fuck, where are you?" you called out. "climb higher, i'll be right here." you quickly climbed up till you could finally see. you stared at the baby kaiju who laid in kenji arms. "what happened??" you asked.

"she was right there - she was falling and i tried reaching but i just could barely reach and something snapped - she's hurt, fuck, she's hurt." he turned to look down at the baby while breathing heavily. "shh it's okay, you're gonna be okay, daddy's here." you went to reach out to him, to carry the baby, but before you could the jets of the KDF surrounded you.

"ultras! turn the infant over to the KDF and we will take no action against the both of you." kenji and you looked at each other. you felt your eyebrows furrow in anger at their offer while kenji growled to himself. he turned to you, giving an almost 'up' motion with his head. you knew what he meant.

the both of you blasted off into the air, flying away from the scene of the attack. "give her to me kenji, i'll make sure she's okay." kenji passed the baby kaiju to you. you held her to your body, your body wanting to protect her from any more pain.

"mina, she's hurt! prepare the base! we have to call him. call my dad." his voice sounded hurt, scared of what was to happen. you could only hold the baby closer than before, careful with her arm, as you floated to his house.

TAGLIST!

@ilovemyhusbandaaravos @miffysoo @ldykir4 @chaoticotaku @channit @shingsoluvely @m00nd0v3 @mixvchelle @ifharbingerbad--whyhot @dreamayy @justanotherkpopstanlol @bat1212 @angelitadiaz @snowbusiness @witcwitchy @mizzowizzo @buggs-1 @mmeerraa @everywonuu @nevermorekisses @f1uveryysblog @t4naiis @stxrrielle @ixqiix @arrozyfrijoles23 @sincerest-one @imsimping4life @sassy-cat-in-town @jack-of-all-trades-696 @flutterfly365 @eternalgoddessofart @hulyenl @leabrainrot @sunmigs @m3q3kic @lynbubble @leviannx @call-me-nyxx @gurofushi @ya-boi-v @im-sidney @haitani-zoe @mtheooo @chreiiii @secretlyapartofthisfandom @greenmanshoe @badbishsblog @reallysparklychaos @deimmortales99 @ashsallyblue2 @matchalatte06 @random-3455 @reivelmin @jennyfernan @solatiiium @liliabrary @maxi-ride @22carolina08 @coffetears @vyxnn-xage

[aayakashii]

touch starved

small fic after I saw @berrygoodjob hc about Alan being touch starved...... couldnt stop thinking about it afterwards. This might have a part 2 if I get more ideas, but we'll see.

Gender neutral MC mostly (mention of a skirt). English isn't my 1st language so I'm sorry for any mistakes!

Also, I usually post on ao3 so this is my first time posting a fic on tumblr, if the formatting is wonky, I'm sorry!!

Edit: changed it to 2nd person pov to match the future chapters.

Part 2 here, part 3 here

"Captain?" you knocked gently on the hardwood door right on front of you. It looked sturdy and way too thick for a normal bedroom door, but then again, this is the room of a ghoul.

You wiped the sweat of your palms on your skirt, afraid you'd somehow smudge Professor Dante's careful handwriting as you clenched the papers against your chest.

You hated doing this. Not necessarily presenting another batch of mission papers, no. Even if a mission puts your neck on the line, there are some ghouls you could trust in a heartbeat, like most of the boys from Frostheim and Jabberwock.

What you hated is being right there. In that exact place.

You hated being in Vagastrom.

"Captain? Alan, are you there?" you knocked again, a bit more forcefully this time, since maybe he just didn't hear you behind the door.

The smell of musk and sweat was everywhere in that place, suffocating you, making your heart race with anxiety and fear for your safety.

There were men everywhere, wherever you looked. Scary, burly, big, probably-loose-with-their-morals men who followed you, hungrily, with their eyes, whenever you strode inside the garage and into the dorm rooms.

They wouldn't come near you, though. They knew messing with you was messing with not only their captain, but the captains of other houses and Darkwick itself. Being cursed an honor student had its perks.

What you dreaded, in fact, was seeing Vagastrom's vice-captain. The cunning, untrustworthy, venomous, undeserving of his position as vice-captain, Kurosagi Leo. You shivered thinking about his lifeless eyes and smile filled with hidden intentions – he was the true reason why you despised being in Vagastrom.

The door opened right before you lifted your hand to knock a third time as your anxiety peaked as you thought about Leo.

"What are you doing here?" the man in front of you gasped in surprise upon seeing you before him.

"I told you to send me a message before coming to Vagastrom if you ever needed to talk... You're not supposed to walk alone around here" the Vagastrom Captain sighed after lightly scolding you "Come, you can enter."

Alan was different, though.

You followed behind him, staring at his broad back, while his right hand massaged his left shoulder. His room smelled like eucalyptus, a welcome respite, and you breathed in deeply the comforting scent while he turned around and looked at you.

Alan was nothing like Leo.

People would talk and talk about his past, about how he was a scary deliquent who might have killed someone; about how he must be terrifyingly powerful if he controlled all of those delinquents on his own for so long; about how his stigma is made for destruction and pain; but every single day, all you could see were the way his eyes were kind and gentle as he looked at you.

"Are you okay?" he said, stuffing his hands inside the pockets of his pants, shoulders stiff as ever "No one messed with you?"

"No, no," you shook your head, smiling to prove you were in one piece. "Everyone always leaves me alone in here. You don't need to worry. They know I work with the ghouls, so I guess that's all the protection I need. The only threat here is Leo, but he only threatens my mental health, to be fair." you said, laughing humorlessly.

Alan winced and looked apologetic at your comment.

"... Sorry. I still gotta learn to control him."

You shook your head once again.

"It's not your fault, Alan. You're a great captain." you smiled. "Speaking of being a captain, Professor Dante asked me to deliver these papers to you. It's a bureaucratic mission though, no outside work. Apparently, there are some student records missing, something in regards to personal information being omitted by some students."

Alan gently grabbed the papers from your hands, surveying the information as he sat down on the couch in the middle of his room.

He sighed deeply after scanning all the papers, rubbing his temples in a manner he probably have picked up from Frostheim's vice-captain, and slumped against the back cushion.

"Um... Is everything okay, Alan?" you asked, sitting beside him.

"... Yes. Just... a bit tired." he murmured.

You hummed in thought, surveying his face as he stared blankly at the ceiling. The dark circles under his eyes were very obvious under the fluorescent lights.

"Have you been sleeping properly? Resting?" you asked, tilting your head, trying to make eye contact with his reddened and tired eyes.

"Can't. Work has been piling up."

"You know you won't be able to work well if you're burnt out, don't you? Even ghouls need to rest, no matter how strong they are."

"..."

The extremely stoic man stayed silent, avoiding your gaze at all costs. For someone everyone called scary, he could act like a kid who had been caught with their hand inside a cookie jar at moments.

You sighed.

Your hand moved on its own before you could even register what you were doing. You felt the unexpected silk of his hair against your fingertips as you patted his head to comfort him, much like he had done to yourself many times previously.

Except, instead of gladly accepting it like you usually do, Alan flinched and scooted away from you and your hand, staring at your face, mouth agape and eyes wide in shock.

"I'm sorry!" you said, not sure of what you had done wrong, while shutting your eyes and putting your hands up like you were a bank robber who just had been caught by the police. "I was just! I didnt... I mean... I'm sorry!"

"Ghhh-!"

You tentatively opened your eyes, hands still up, after hearing Alan emit what could only be described as a choking sound.

The Vagastrom Captain, Alan Mido, one of the scariest men in Darkwick Academy, had one of his hands covering his face as he stared wide-eyed at you.

And he was beet red.

"I- I'm- Uh-" he gasped, struggling to form a coherent sentence, settling on just clearing his throat awkwardly.

Your head raced, a million miles per hour, as you saw him look away from your eyes, trying to put distance between the both of you on the sofa and get into terms with his own sudden embarrassment.

'Huh... I thought his stigma only worked on his hands? Maybe my enhancement ability makes it work wherever I touch? Is that why he's so worried? But he wasn't even moving when I patted his head, maybe he was just caught off guard by me touching... touching his hair... Oh...'

Alan tried to recompose himself, still looking everywhere, but your direction. His cheeks still flushed red, while he scrunched his eyebrows in what appeared to be confusion, as if he wasn't understanding his own reaction as well.

'Oh. He's... incredibly touch starved, isn't he?' The thought dropped into your mind, like a single coin dropping into a fountain. Drip. And you were fully unable to shake it off, to grab it from the depths of your thoughts and chuck it away before your mind could lead you to places you were pretty sure you shouldn't go.

It made sense despite it all, you figured. People barely approached Alan, as he was seen as a God by his house-mates and as a criminal by those outside Vagastrom.

He was incredibly hard to approach, his quiet personality making it hard to talk to him and his stoicism making it hard to figure out what he could be thinking.

Yet, there he was, like an open book. His red cheeks, stuttering words and wandering eyes saying exactly what he was thinking – what he wanted from you.

Before you could talk again or act on any more impulses, Alan forced a few dry coughs and cleaned his throat again, picking up the papers once again as he got up fast from his seat. His face gradually went back to his usual color, and so did his stoic expression.

"Well, I will get to work on this as soon as I finish my job at the garage. Thanks for the delivery." he shook the papers way too eagerly. "Will message you once we can start working. Please close the door once you leave."

Alan strode away fast, still avoiding any and all eye contact, and quickly left you alone in his room. You stared at the diligently closed hardwood door that seemed to create an ocean of distance between him and yourself, barely forming a coherent thought.

Outside, a little Like Dove peered inside the small windows near the ceiling, daring you to start creating scenarios in your head.

You shook your head, trying to get rid of any speculations of your own. Creating scenarios was a job for the you before sleep, the one who had time to feel anxious and overthink your daily situations.

And if your phone beeping was any signal, right now you had other ghouls to assist.

[loveesiren]

Doing It All For Us (Pt. 8)

Masterlist

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: (I apologize for the bad gifs, I'm reposting but I can't find the ones I used before 😭) Y/n gets the help she needs before her and Rafe start a new life together.

Warnings: Drugs, psychosis, mental health, self harm, and surprises, ya'll know me by now.

Word Count: 5.7k+

You moved your food around your plate as you listened to Topper, Rafe and Kelce discuss baseball. You couldn't be bothered to eat.

Rafe knew you were craving drugs. He knew you too well. You couldn't hide it from him. So, of course, he became annoyingly overprotective. He didn't leave you on your own for long.

You didn't want to be at the club right now. You hadn't showered in four days. You were still in the same old t-shirt you borrowed from Courtney. Your hair sat in a messy bun on your head and you had no make up on. Thank God you had at least drowned yourself in your Juicy perfume.

Rafe dragged you to the club, forcing you to eat and socialize. But you didn't even try. You sat there, obviously unhappy, just bringing everyone else down.

Rafe ran his fingers over your leg and smiled at you. You attempted to smile back but it was just pitiful. Topper and Kelce were staring at you with worried looks.

"Baby-"

"I'm gonna go smoke." You said, standing up and heading towards the door.

"Do you want me to-"

"No!"

You walked across the street from the club and sat in the grass. Lighting up an American Spirit, you laid back and watched the clouds move above you.

_

"What's going on with her, dude?" Topper asked Rafe.

Rafe was on the verge of tears but he held them back. "I-I don't know. I mean, a lot is going on but she won't talk to me. She just sits in silence and barely eats..."

"Maybe Courtney could get through to her?" Kelce asked.

Rafe shakes his head. "She tried. Court says she's gone through this before. Told me not to leave her alone for too long." He said as he looked out the window. He noticed you weren't where you had been moments ago. He stood up quickly and walked outside. "Y/N!" He yelled as he looked around for you. You were gone.

Rafe ran back inside, panicking. "She's gone!" He told Topper and Kelce.

"What?" Topper asked as he stood up, throwing some money on the table.

Rafe ran his shaking hands through his hair as his eyes began to swell with tears once again. "We gotta find her, man!"

The boys ran outside and piled into Rafe's truck.

-

You heard the sound of a bike approaching you but you didn't turn to look. You just kept walking lazily down the side of the road, dragging your cigarette every now and then.

"Hey, Princess!" You hear Barry say as he pulls up next to you. You sigh and turn to look at him. "Where's Prince Charming, huh? Lettin' you walk all alone out here. Never know who might swoop you up!" He laughs.

You just stare at him, too tired to say anything back. You can feel the bags under your eyes. Your face felt heavy and your body was weak from malnourishment.

"Shit..." He says as he examines you. "You look like you need a fix, am I right, Princess?"

You nod.

"Hop on," He says. He doesn't even offer you his helmet but you don't care. You climb on the back of his bike and wrap your arms around his waist. He drives off towards his house.

You know Barry was a bad guy. He'd probably want to take you back to his place, get you high, try to get in your pants. But you just didn't care anymore. The voices in your head were eating you alive.

Worthless. They don't really love you. Burden.

The words play over and over again in your head as you watch the trees pass by.

"Here we are," Barry says, helping you off the bike. "Come on, I'll fix you up."

You follow Barry inside. You scanned his house, noticing the few people that laid lazily on his couch, obviously doped out of their minds.

"You ever freebased?" Barry asks as he sits down at the kitchen table, sprinkling coke over a piece of foil.

"Yeah." Your voice was weak. You sat down across from him as you watched him prepare the foily.

He slides it over to you with a tooter and a lighter. You bring the tooter to your lips and light the bottom of the foil. You inhale the smoke slowly, feeling an instant buzz.

Barry smiles as he watches you. "Damn, you go harder than Country Club!" He laughs. "I ain't ever seen no Kook Queens up in the trap house smoking foilies!"

"I'm from LA," You tell him, feeling a little more talkative now that your buzz was hitting.

You hand him the paraphernalia. "That's all you, Princess. Go crazy." He said, waving you off.

You chuckle, bringing the tooter back to your lips to smoke more. After a bit, you were on Cloud 9.

People began drifting in and out of Barry's house. He'd sell them drugs, talk to some girls, then come back and sit with you, continuing to fix you up with the makeshift crack.

"You wanna shot, Princess?" Barry asks as he taps your arm with a bottle of whiskey.

You take it from him and quickly chug as much as you can before you get back to making your foily. You were really feeling it now. You hadn't been this high in a long time.

"Ayo, Y/N!" Barry says, snapping his fingers in your face.

You snap up to look at him. "What?"

"Chill, girl! Have another shot, you need to relax."

You eyed him for a moment as your nose twitched, but you took the bottle and chugged more.

"You really love that kid?" Barry asked you.

"What do you mean?"

"Rafe," He said. "You was bout ready to kill me for his ass!" Barry chuckled.

Rafe. Rafe. The love of your life. The only person that made you feel at home. You had left him at the club. You looked around now, realizing it was dark out and Barry's house was full of people getting high as fuck. Music was blasting way louder than you realized and you could feel your anxiety start to rise.

You snap out of your trance and look back to Barry. "Yeah. I do." You said confidently.

Barry smiles. "You know, for a Kook, you're not half bad. Country Club's a lucky man."

You look up at him with your devil eyes. The one's that came out after you'd drown yourself in substances. The eyes that showed who you truly were under your make up and jewelry. The psychopath.

Barry eyed you for a moment, looking almost scared. You offer him a small smile, hoping to convey that you were fine but knowing deep down you probably looked crazy.

Barry offered you a bill to snort one of the lines he just poured out. You accepted and leaned over the table, railing the white powder quickly.

"Well aren't you a sight," You hear a raspy voice say from behind you.

You turn around to see an older man, probably your dad's age. But he looked even older. Years of alcohol and drugs taking a toll on him.

You scrunch your nose up at him as he steps towards you and places a hand on your hip.

"Back up, Luke." Barry said, pushing him away from you.

"Ah, keepin' her all to yourself?"

"That's Cameron's girl." Barry states, keeping you behind him.

"Well I don't see that little shit around!" Luke laughs an intoxicated laugh.

You could feel anxiety rise in your chest. You didn't want to be here anymore. You wanted Rafe. You wanted to go home. You didn't want to be this fucking high anymore.

Barry turned around as he noticed you hyperventilating. "Ah, fuck." He said. He grabbed the whiskey off the table and put his arm around you. He pushed Luke out of the way as he lead you back to his bedroom.

You felt yourself pulled back as Luke grabbed your hand. "Get off me!" You yelp.

Barry turns around and punches Luke in the temple causing him to instantly fall to the ground. "Don't fucking touch her!" He turns and ushers you back to his bedroom.

You were a weeping mess now. Crying and hyperventilating. Barry closed the door behind him and you coward away from him, nervous he was going to do something.

He holds his hands up in defense. "Hey, Y/N, I'm not gonna hurt you okay?" He says. "Sit."

You sit down on the edge of his bed and pull your knees to your chest.

"Hear, drink this. It will calm you down."

You take the whiskey from his hand and chug. Too much crack. You were scared and paranoid. You didn't have your phone or anything. You were stuck in the middle of this party out in the Cut high off your ass and you hadn't talked to Rafe in hours.

"R-Rafe." You stutter.

"Hey, just relax, okay? I'mma call him right now."

You nod your head quickly, taking another swig from the bottle.

Barry paces his small room as he dials Rafe's number. Your eyes flicker back and forth as the voices in your head come back. You put your hands over your ears and shake your head, trying to get them to stop.

You're too high. You're going to die.

"Ayo, Rafe! You need to come get your girl, man!" Barry's voice echos in the background.

The voices became too much and you start screaming.

"Shit, shit! Yo, she's freaking out! Come get her!"

You were practically ripping your hair out.

"Y/N! Stop!" Barry yelled, grabbing your hands and keeping them by your sides.

You continued to thrash around on the bed, shaking your head back and forth violently. You let out another scream.

"Rafe's coming! He's on his way!" Barry yells at you.

You ease up slightly at the sound of Rafe's name but you were still terrified and you didn't know why.

"Listen to me, it's just the drugs okay? You smoked too much. You're okay. I promise." Barry said, trying to calm you down. "Look at me!"

You try to focus your eyes but you couldn't help but shake.

"You're good," Barry reassured you.

You nodded nervously. Barry let go of you and you remained somewhat still on the bed.

Fifteen minutes later, there was knocking on the door.

"Barry!" Rafe banged on the door. Barry opened it and Rafe, Courtney, Kelce, and Topper piled into the room.

"Y/N!" Rafe screamed as he ran to your shaking body on the bed.

"Take me home!" You cry as you throw your body around him. "I don't want to be here."

Rafe held you tighter than he ever had before.

"What the hell did you give her?!" Courtney yelled at Barry.

"Look, I'm sorry-" Courtney slapped him, cutting him off from his sentence.

Barry nodded, knowing he deserved it. "She freebased a bunch of coke, man. Just get her home."

Rafe wanted to strangle him, but you were more important. He had one arm around your waist and one cradling your head as he pushed past Barry and out to the living room.

"The Kooks are here!" People start saying as Rafe carried you through the sea of junkies that invaded the trailer.

"Fuck off!" You could hear Courtney, Topper, and Kelce telling people to back off. These weren't even Pogues. They were lower. This house was disgusting and you just wanted to leave.

You knew Rafe was probably furious with you. But he still came for you. You clung to him so tightly as you shook in his arms.

"I got you, baby." He said. His voice was so soft and it calmed you down. "Top, drive." Rafe said, throwing him the keys to the truck.

Rafe pulled you into the back seat with him, Courtney climbing in after.

Rafe placed you in his lap, he forced you to look at him. "Baby girl, you're safe, okay?"

All you could do was sob. Fear taking over your body. "The end," You spit out between sobs.

Rafe holds your face between his hands. "The end? What end, sweetheart?"

He'd never seen you cry so much. Your entire face was bright red and moist from tears. Everyone else in the car was silent as Topper drove.

"My end!" You sob loudly.

*insert my favorite gif i can't find*

Rafe is just staring at you with a puzzled look on his face, tears spilling from his eyes. "Baby, what are you talking about?!"

You quickly grabbed the door handle, swinging it open as you tried to jump out.

"Y/N!" Courtney yelled.

Rafe had his hands around your waist and Courtney grabbed your wrist pulling you back in.

Topper swerved at the sudden commotion but quickly regained control. "Dude, what the fuck!?" He yelled from the driver's seat.

You started screaming again and tugging at your hair again.

"What is wrong with her?!" Kelce yelled.

"Psychosis!" Courtney replied, pinning your hands down. She got on top of you, straddling your lap. "Rafe, hold her still!"

Rafe did as he was told, bawling his eyes out. He'd never seen anything like this in his life.

Courtney decked you as hard as she could in the side of the head and you went unconscious.

"What the fuck!" The boys yelled.

Courtney sat back, letting you rest in Rafe's lap. "Drive," She says.

The car ride was silent besides Rafe's sobs as he cradled your head.

When Topper pulled up to your house, Rafe carried you inside, immediately going to your room and tucking you into bed.

He sat and stared at you, his tears never letting up.

You stirred slightly but leaned deeper into your pillow.

"I need to talk to you," Courtney said from the door.

Rafe looked up to meet her gaze. He nodded. He looked back at you, placing a kiss on your forehead before joining Courtney in the hallway.

Courtney pulled Rafe down stairs to where Topper and Kelce were.

"What the hell is going on?" Kelce asks.

Courtney sighs. "Psychosis. She has episodes when she's really depressed."

———-

You tumbled out of bed and grabbed the knife from you bedside table. You crawled toward your bathroom and locked the door.

Rafe was surely mad at you for going to Barry's and getting fucked up. All your friends were probably about done with you. Your dad was gone. Fuck it right?

You took a small post it note from your counter and wrote out a few simple words. I love you, Rafe.

You stuck it to the counter and sat down.

They are better off without you. Kill yourself. Bleed.

The voices made you cry. You didn't want to leave Rafe but what if they were right? Maybe he was better off without you.

You put the knife to your wrist, tears falling down your cheeks. You force yourself to smile and slice the knife quickly across you skin, far too deep.

———-

"I'm gonna go check on her." Courtney said.

She had explained to the boys what exactly was happening to you. You were spiraling into a deep depression. But not like most people experience. Hallucinations, anxiety, the comatose states. It was taking over your body. You were in a very fragile state and the drugs didn't help.

"RAFE!" Courtney screamed.

Rafe got up immediately and ran upstairs, Topper and Kelce not far behind him.

"She locked herself in the bathroom!" Courtney cried.

Rafe didn't waste any time as he threw his shoulder into the door.

"Y/N!" He screamed, finally kicking the door in. He saw you motionless body on the floor, blood draining from your wrist.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, NO, NO!" Rafe repeated as he ran to your side. "Call 911!" He screamed as he ripped his shirt off and wrapped it around your wrist.

Courtney was frozen, tears falling from her eyes as she watched you bleed out. She couldn't help but remember the time you'd tried to do the exact same thing in her bathroom at nine years old.

Kelce caught Courtney as she collapsed. Sobbing over the fact she could never make you happy enough to stay on this earth.

Topper was level headed. He called 911. He explained everything that happened.

Rafe was hysterical when the paramedics arrived. They had to pull him away from you.

He climbed into the ambulance with you. There was no way he wouldn't be with you this time.

"Stay with me, baby, please, please, stay with me. I love you so so much." Rafe said as he held your hand.

"You her boyfriend?" The paramedic asked.

Rafe nodded, keeping his eyes on you. "Why couldn't I help her?"

Rafe's eyes scanned your body. You were pale and thin. Your hair was matted and you had circles under your eyes. He couldn't help but blame himself for not taking care of you.

"It's not your fault, kid." The paramedic said.

Rafe pressed his lips to your frail hand, praying for the first time in his life. He asked whatever God was listening to help him build a life you would want to be a part of. He just wanted to know what to do. What he could do to make you happy.

Rafe sat and watched as they once again hooked you up to machines. His angel, his baby girl, his goddess. He would never understand why she wanted to destroy herself.

As frail as you were, you were still vibrant in his eyes. And maybe that's why he hated himself. He thought you were were perfect every time he laid eyes on you. He couldn't see your bones pertruding or your hair falling out of the loss of your voice. Any state you were in, he was completely in love with you.

————–

You opened your eyes, taking in the blinding white walls of the room around you. The fluorescent lighting burned your retina's as you reached up to shield yourself from them. That's when you noticed the pain in your left wrist.

"Ow, fuck!" You examined the white bandage that was wrapped around your forearm. A deep red leaking through the cloth. You furrowed your eyebrows at the sight. You don't remember what happened or how you got here but judging by the placements of your wound, you knew you had done it to yourself.

"Shiiiit," You mutter as you sit up and scan the room. There was a doorless bathroom in the corner, a small desk in the other. You were on a small twin sized mattress that lay atop a metal bed frame. The small window was covered in bars, letting in little sunlight. This wasn't the first time you'd been in a room like this.

"No, no, no, no..." You said as you got off the bed and rushed to the large metal door. You looked out the small window for any sign of someone. "Hey!" You start yelling, banging your fists against the door, completely ignoring the searing pain in your wrist. "Hey, let me the fuck out of here!" You continue banging and kicking the door until someone finally opens it.

You step back as you watch two people enter. One woman in a lab coat, dark hair pulled back, glasses, clutching a clip board. The other, a man, in blue scrubs.

"How are you feeling, Miss Y/L/N?" The lady asks.

"Why am I here?" You ask, staring angrily at her. "Where's Rafe?"

She takes a step forward and you take a step back. "You are here, Miss Y/L/N, because you experienced a deep state of psychosis and tried to take your own life."

Psychosis. You hadn't had an episode since you were a kid. It only ever happened when you got severely depressed.

"You also had a large amount of cocaine and alcohol in your system. You became a danger to yourself and others. After you were treated at the hospital," She motions to your wrist and you bring it behind your back, hiding it. "You were brought here for treatment.

You scoff. "I don't need treatment. I just had an episode. I need to go home. I need to see Rafe!"

"You have been placed on a mandatory 72 hour hold."

"How long have I been here?"

"Six hours."

"Fuck that! Let me out, I'm not fucking staying here!"

The larger nurse steps towards you.

"If you literally step any closer I will fight you!" You spit at him.

"Y/N, we need you to try to calm down. This stress isn't good for you or your child."

"What the fuck are you talking about?! I don't have-" You stop, swallowing your words.

"You are pregnant, Miss Y/L/N."

Your eyes fall to the floor as you try to take in the words you just heard. You slowly turn and walk back to the bed, sitting down calmly.

Pregnant. Pregnant. The word repeated itself in your mind.

"Are you okay?"

You scrunched your face and waved them off, laying down on the bed and pulling your knees to your chest.

"Visiting hours are four to six. Mr. Cameron will be waiting to see you."

You don't respond, burying your face into the pillow and letting the tears fall silently from your eyes.

____________

The clock struck four and you were already sitting up, waiting for nurse to come retrieve you. You'd been thinking for the last few hours about everything. Whether or not you were going to tell Rafe. You had no clue how Rafe was feeling. You'd just tried to end your life. You also got high as fuck. You wouldn't blame him if he wanted to leave you.

You traced the RC that was scarred in your skin and silently prayed he would forgive you. Your other hand traced your stomach. You didn't want to die. You wanted to be with Rafe. You wanted your baby. You wanted to be normal and be happy for your family.

You heard the door click open and you jumped. "You have a visitor," The nurse said, holding the door open so he could escort you to the visiting room.

You walked slowly, fiddling with the sleeves of your sweater. Courtney must have packed your bag. A few pairs of sweats, tank tops, and sweaters. All things the hospital would accept. She remembered what you could and couldn't have in here.

You enter the cafeteria, scanning the room and seeing people sitting with their loved ones. Your eyes landed on Rafe and you breathed a sigh of relief.

He looked up, eyes meeting yours. He slowly stood from his seat, scanning over your body as he tried to accept the fact you were in here.

You couldn't hold back the tears as you ran to him and jumped in his arms. You wrapped your arms around him tightly and you could feel him sniffling into your hair.

"Hey baby girl!" He mumbled, letting his own tears flow. He gripped you for dear life, as if he were to let go you'd simply evaporate.

"Rafe, I don't remember anything." You whisper.

You could feel Rafe try to control his breathing. He obviously remembers everything.

"Sit down, baby." He says, releasing his grip on you and helping your weak body into the chair. He sits next to you, taking your hands in his.

He choked back tears as he felt how frail you were.

The expression on his face broke your heart. Knowing it was your fault he was in so much pain. "Rafe....I'm so sorry..."

He shook his head. "No, baby, no. It's not your fault. I'm sorry I didn't take care of you."

"Rafe, baby, what are you talking about?" You lean forward, tilting his chin up to look at you. "All you do is take care of me. This isn't your fault."

"I just-" He begins, trying to take in a deep breath. "I just want to make you happy. I want to build a life that you will be happy with."

"You make me so happy, Rafe. My head just isn't right. But I'm gonna get it right. For you. For us. For-" You stop yourself. "For us." You repeat.

You hated yourself right now. The way tears spilled out from his beautiful blue eyes. You can't believe you put him through this.

You force yourself to smile. You didn't want to be here. You had absolutely no idea what to do about the news you were pregnant. But if being here could potentially get you some help, you were willing to do so. For him. For your baby.

You climb into his lap, wrapping your fragile arms around his neck. He brings his arms up, wrapping around your waist. His wrist rested on your hip bone, noticing how thin you were under your sweater.

"Did you eat today, baby?" He whispered, already knowing the answer.

You shake your head. "No, but I'll have dinner after this." You promise. Knowing you have to eat for two even though the thought of food made you sick.

You pull back from him slightly. "Can you tell me what happened?"

Rafe sighs, the memory of the night prior causing him extreme anxiety, but he nodded his head.

-

A look of disgust sat on your face as Rafe finished telling you what happened. You were so upset with yourself. You could have reached out for help but you decided to fuck up instead. As you always do. Always afraid of asking for help and just getting high and trying to end it all instead. Even when you were with the love of your life.

"5 minutes," A nurse said as he walked past you.

You and Rafe both ignored him.

"Rafe..." You began, tangling your fingers with is. "I'm going to get better okay?" He was hesitant and you didn't blame him. Rafe was a coke head, yes, but he had never seen this side of addiction. "I'm going to talk with the doctor tonight. Talk about meds and therapy and all that shit. Just please...please don't give up on me."

His eyes shot up to meet yours, almost offended by your words. "I would never leave you."

That's when you realized how fucking shitty you were. Rafe was a coke head. But he stopped for you. He took care of you when you overdosed. When you tried to end your life. He was completely addicted to you. Drugs couldn't compare. He'd do anything just to have you but here you were, running off to the trap to get high and landing yourself in a mental institution.

The nurses announced that visiting hours were over and your stomach dropped. You weren't ready to spend the night without Rafe.

"I'll be back tomorrow," He promises. "I love you more than anything, angel." He said as he pulled you into him and pressed kisses to your head.

"Can you bring Courtney tomorrow?" You ask.

Rafe's face falls. "Uhm..."

"What is it?"

Rafe sighs. "Courtney is, uhmm...she's upset."

You look down. Courtney had been subjected to this before. You couldn't blame her.

"I'll talk to her, okay?" He says, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him. You just nod in agreement and he presses a kiss to your lips.

You want to savor the moment forever but it's cut short by the nurses ushering you all back to your rooms. You turn to look at Rafe one more time. He attempts a smile but you can still see the pain on his face.

Once you are back in your room you let it all out. You sobbed loudly as you thought about your actions, how much pain Rafe was in, how Courtney was hurting, how you had a tiny human growing inside you. It was all so overwhelming.

A nurse knocked on your door and you quickly wiped away your tears. "Dinner?"

You offer a smile, walking over and taking the tray of food from him. "Thank you."

You go back to your bed and pick at the food on your plate. It looked disgusting but you knew you needed to eat. You rubbed your belly, knowing the little life you and Rafe created was growing inside you. Suddenly, you didn't feel so alone.

_________

You stayed calm the next few days. You saw the doctor and she prescribed you some antidepressants, ones that wouldn't hurt the baby, you made sure.

She voted against the anti-psychotics, since it didn't seem to be a prominent thing. You knew this last episode was fueled by depression, alcohol, and far too much cocaine.

Rafe visited you every day. You still hadn't told him. You couldn't, not like this. You told him how hard you were trying to get better, and he could see your change in behavior. Being completely sober seemed to improve your mood so much.

After Rafe left on day three, you headed straight to speak with your therapist.

"Hey," You said as your plopped down on the couch in her office.

"Y/N, how are you feeling?" She asks with a smile.

"I'm good," You say, biting your lip and blushing. "Just saw Rafe. I can't wait to get out of here and be with him again." You throw your head back, smiling like an idiot.

She chuckles. "Will he be the one picking you up tomorrow?"

"Yep!"

"Have you told him?" She asked, motioning to your stomach.

You smile and place your hand on your belly. "Not yet. I want it to be special. I don't want to tell him while I'm locked up in here. He'll go nuts. He's a very hands on type of person."

She nods. "How are you feeling about your sobriety plan?"

"I can do it. For Rafe and for our baby. I don't want anything to happen to him."

"Him?" She asks, raising her eyebrows.

You smile. "Yeah. I've been having dreams the last few nights. It's a boy."

Your therapist humors you. Getting through the rest of your session, she makes sure you're all set up with your medication, contact info for any help you may need, and goes over the plan you two worked out for getting back on your feet.

In all honestly, you didn't care. Yes, you were going to take your meds. Yes you were going to stay sober. But you just wanted to get home. You wanted to be with Rafe.

________

You woke up the next morning with a smile. You threw on a clean pair of sweats and a tank top. You tossed your beach waves into a high ponytail. You couldn't help but smile in your tiny bathroom mirror. Rafe would be here soon and you'd get to go home.

All you wanted was to get some McDonald's, go home, make love, and watch movies with the love of your life. You were determined to prioritize your happiness so you could be a good girlfriend and a good mother.

You sat on your bed, clutching your duffle bag. You couldn't help but smile as you tried to be patient for the nurse.

Finally, he came to retrieve you. "Ready to go, Miss Y/L/N?"

You jumped up from your bed and walked out the door. "Yep!"

You walked with confidence, feeling like your old self again. You clutched your bag to your shoulder, running your thumb over the RC on your chest. You couldn't help but smile. Things were going to be good now.

The nurse escorts you out to the lobby, and to no surprise, your blue-eyed, 6'4" boy was waiting for you. You dropped your bag and jumped into his arms.

"Hey baby!"

"Pretty girl," He whispered into your neck. "I've missed you so much."

You enjoyed his embrace for a moment before he set you down and picked up your bag. "You ready to go?"

"Fuck yes!" You say excitedly.

Rafe laces his fingers through yours, trying his best to ignore the bandage on your wrist.

He walks you out to his truck and helps you into the passenger seat. "You hungry?" He asks.

"Mickey D's!" You yell excitedly. Your meds were doing a great job of bringing your mood up.

Rafe chuckles. "As you wish, angel." He closes your door and runs around the truck to hop in the drivers side.

Rafe pulls into the drive thru, ordering you nuggets and fries and a McFlurry, of course. He orders himself some food too and he parks in the parking lot.

The two of you giggle, throwing fries at eachother and sharing food. Just enjoying the moment on this beautiful sunny day.

"So I'm guessing you're ready for a horror movie marathon?" Rafe asks as he drives back to Figure Eight.

"Most definitely!" You tell him. "But...can we stop by Courtney's real quick?"

Rafe bites his lip at your request, but he nods.

Courtney had barely talked to the boys in days. She was traumatized. It was the second time she'd seen you try to take your life. She did everything in her power to make you happy and it was never enough. It wasn't her fault, of course, but she couldn't help but feel like it was.

Rafe pulls into Courtney's driveway. He's about to get out of the truck but you stop him. "Just, give me a minute. Please." You tell him. He's reluctant but he nods.

You hop out of the truck and head towards the front door. You take a deep breath before ringing the door bell.

Helena answers, taking in the sight of you. She held back tears as she pulled you into her arms. She didn't say anything. Just held you tight and rubbed your back before nodding towards the basement.

You offer her a smile and head downstairs. You could hear a movie playing loudly. You turned the corner to the theater room, seeing Courtney spread out on the couch. A plethora of soda cans and snack wrappers littering the table in front of her.

"Court?" You say softly. Almost hoping she doesn't here you. But she does. Her head snaps to you, but she doesn't move to get up.

She reaches for the remote and pauses her movie. "Hey," She finally says. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm, uhm...I'm good." You told her. "How are you?"

She snorts at your question. "Living the dream."

"Courtney, I'm so sorry-"

"Why'd you do it?"

"I-I don't remember doing it. It was a mistake."

"So I'm supposed to forgive you and just wait for you to do it again?" She scoffs.

Her words hurt, but they are valid. "I'm totally sober now, Court. And I'm on meds. I'm really trying to sort my shit out."

"What's gonna keep you sober? Rafe obviously isn't good enough. You should have seen him after they took you to the nuthouse. He was a fucking wreck. I've never seen a grown man cry like that!" She's standing now, yelling at you.

Your face twitches but you bite back tears. "I know. But it's different now."

"How's it different, Y/N?! Please, enlighten me!"

"I'm pregnant!" You say, standing up to meet her gaze.

Her eyes widen, trying to find the words to say.

"Rafe doesn't know yet." You add.

Courtney's lip quivers. She couldn't be mad at you. As much as you hurt her, she loved you more than anything.

She pulls you to her, hugging you tightly. You hug her back as she rocks you back and forth.

You hold each other for a solid five minutes. She pulls back, taking your face between her hands. "You're gonna be such a good mama." She tells you with a smile. And she meant it. As fucked up as you were, you were loyal, and you put the people you loved first.

You beam up at her. She leans down and presses kiss to your lips. "Don't you ever do that shit again," She scolds when she pulls back.

"I promise, Court."

She smiles. "Go, tell Rafe."

You smile back at her. "I'll text you. I love you."

"I love you, too." She smiles.

You run upstairs and out the front door, quickly hopping into Rafe's truck.

"Everything okay?" He asks.

You smile. "Everything is perfect. Can we go back to my place? Watch movies, order food, and maybe take a bath?" You ask.

"That sounds perfect, baby girl." He says, leaning over and kissing you.

You bite your lip and look out the window, excited about your future for once in your life.

[thecelestialperiwinkle]

ᰋ  ׅ࣪   ꒰  pac reading detailed ♡︎ the realistic energy of your future spouse, who are they for real?  ꒱ 

01. 02. 03.

♡tarot commission♡

keep in mind that the physical appearance is collective one and it may indicates that not all the parts is totally alike of them which is based on the reading. it may tell you as well that there are some of parts of them from the description that is closely similar for your future spouse's physical attributes for example, the nose, eyes, moles, skin color, height or freckles.

01

1.) physical appearance

you get the impression that this person is a hem and haw. a pair of brown eyes that resemble almonds, eagerly watch over the wilderness they've long guarded. their coffee-colored, fine and a short-straight hair that's styled in a way that makes you think from the eras 1900, combed perfectly at the back which is revealing their sad and bony face. a body that's in between of curved, lean and mascular types despite having that type of body they will tower the rest of people around them. a skin complexion which is in the light tones. they have long fingers and a big full mouth while most of their clothes are professional.

some freckles spread mesmerizingly around their nose and cheekbones, leaving charming memories of their happy childhood. this is them, your future spouse - a true romantic (dreamer) among the rest. perhaps of maybe having an unhappy moments and hurtful past or maybe it's just a sense of security towards others. there's something misleading about them from people, perhaps it's their sense of humor or perhaps it's simply their kindness. but nonetheless, people ask them favors and tend to wish to get to know them better, while trying to avoid and secretly training to become more like them.

2.) positives

protective, tough, knows how to stand on their own ground, charismatic, great decision maker, optimistic, the best planner, have a great childhood memories, not easily to get fooled, sociable, suave, a trustworthy, loves unique people, liberal, knows how to appreciate the richness whether it's big or small, broad-minded, friendly, looking for true love and soulmates, good communicator and consistent.

3.) negatives

feels detached easily when they don't get the attention they want, inner sadness(/sadistic), felt inexperience, likes to stick around probably 24/7 (super clingy), immature, over critical, fanatical, doesn't take care their health most of the time, restricting themselves to achieve more, prefer to live in a rose-colored glasses but may lack of action to do it, careless and maybe someone who is lack of discipline.

4. love/dating history

considering this individual values sincere love. most of the time, they flirt as well as having flings but usually thinking they'd like to get settled down with someone who is right for them. they usually refer and more preoccupied with their own self-improvement and less about their own romantic life right now. they possess the ability of realistic love and person and if they stumble upon the right one, they think their prayer have been answered. they are willing to sacrifice everything for the person of their dreams, their devotion, their exceptionally high lifestyle, along with everything they were entitled to. nevertheless the chronology of every single one of the aforementioned actions are somewhat a sign that you ought to shower your love on them.

5.) career and money

they akin to having to work solo almost all their times, and therefore can be recognized pros. someone who makes greater than the bare minimum amount of salary. they were able to function in any of the areas that follow: animal care, the dental profession, guiding people, medical professionals, or in general, someone who looks after the mental well-being of others, which might involve a psychologist, psychiatrist, or simply any mental healthcare worker, writing and reading, and defending people from harm. they prefer to develop their own money by means of their own hard work and hands.

6.) home life, family and friends

they feel playful around it. from their household life to their companions. they genuinely closed with a manly vitality here, your future companion highlights a gigantic respect for this person maybe they can be a parent of them. and besides i picking up here that they customarily feel an entire person with all of these people, they genuinely appreciate being included by these individuals. they maybe born in a family which is able as of presently fulfill a money related security. their household life and people who included them in their presence are outstandingly optimistic, they can genuinely depend with these people when it comes looking at their personal issues and circumstances since these individuals are unfaltering and reasonable. the only issue is that this person really don't slant toward sharing it with others since they don't want to be called as ''weak''. so they as frequently as conceivable allowed themselves to discussion various negatives alone. they can be an only child person or maybe they belong to a family where children are opposite-s💗x like they conceivably feminine or masculine among their kinfolk. it can be that this person has one companion or they are regularly meet or surrounded by unused people that they may not considered buddies at all. 

a channeled song dedicated to you from them based on your future energy ‘‘foolish heart’’ by steve perry.

02

🐰ada says: ‘‘i picked up 2 different energies from this pile, one is masculine and the other one is feminine.’’

1.) physical appearance

1.1 if they were masculine

standing 5'9 tall, this red-brown skinned person has a moody feel about them. their short, brown hair, currently dip-dyed half way with shades of blue or orange, is neatly braided. they have a short goatee/mustache that is a shade browner than their hair. they might even have a messy beard.

they have slender hands, spindly legs, straight hips, and average-sized feet. they have multiple tattoos on their lower legs, neck, right foot, hands, stomach or upper back.

they have big, hazel eyes, a flat-wide nose and smooth cheeks. if they were someone who wears make up, they wear an obvious foundation, light eyeliner, subtle blush and light eyeshadow. they look eternal. they often wear masculine clothes that are mostly light-coloured. they are usually seen wearing a certain style of kerchief.

1.2 if they were feminine

they have a wide shoulders, this brown skinned person has a very worldly feel about them, and they have a distinctive mark on their right leg which causes offense if they are asked about it. their perm, black hair is very short.

they have mysterious, large, light brown eyes, a long face and very thin lips, large hands, small feet and muscular legs. they have a uniquely styled and they are usually seen wearing a traditional jacket.

2.) positives

casual to every people they encounter, generous, charming, free-spirit, sociable, honest, trustworthy, very private person, believe that everyone is not perfect and usually make mistakes, loves to bring joy, knows how to take care of themselves, doesn't use much of social media, they know how to protect their inner peace, independent, know how to debate, luck is on their side always, smart, learn from their mistakes to re-learn and someone who is educated.

3.) negatives

hot-headed sometimes, not really committed about someone and something, way to blunt, cold, obsessive/possessive, hold grudges, maybe someone who has an addction, may like to control other people, may like to party a lot, kinda feel lonely sometimes, sexu💗l?(maybe this one is neutral), may act most of the time being unconcern, heartbreaker, can be bitter about their past, way to logic, they have dark side that won't tell to other people or might be with neither you and most of the time they follow their head rather than their heart.

4.) love/dating history

your future life partner may had one partner some time recently. your future companion is somebody who may be from a long-term commitment or somebody who is separate from their partner before assembly you. they possibly have a child with this individual or arranging to have one with them. there's a genuine strife that has been happen with this individual which can lead their relationship to ended up a toxic way. this individual is giving me, a really overwhelming vitality, exceptionally dull. it also looks like adore is so favorable for them, they get what they needed for a accomplice. but within the conclusion, indeed in spite of the fact that this two individuals chosen to part up, they will attempt to mend each other's to begin with some time recently completely clearing out and moving absent from one and another. individuals may percieve their relationship as culminate and full of cherish but the truth is– it's not, their sentiments for each other's aren't the same as some time recently, the start is as of now gone after this two break, they gonna attempt to work for themselves and attempt to go alone as person to begin with some time recently letting themselves to go for the another relationship.

5.) career and money

self-made. they are somebody who utilized to have different occupations to bolster themselves fiscally. they are skilled and somebody who is able to rapidly get a handle on modern concepts. they can offer sand in desert, that's how great your future life partner or future spouse are. they can be somebody in the field of I.T analyst, medical treatment and field, bodyguard, actor, art trading areas, artist, musician, singer, commerce examiner, judge, business analysis and somebody who works in promoting and craftsmanship exchanging ranges. anything or what kind of work they closes with, it bringing them up into the highlight or spotlight, victory and triumph is made out from their claim hardwork. individuals at their work calling them frequently for help or simply adore how they work. they will be reliable at their work and they aren't narrow minded when it comes to cash or maybe on the off chance that they think there's surfeit almost it, they ordinarily giving or giving it to others. they aren't that much centering on their accounts and money but they know they come to this solidness they accomplishing for themselves for financial. they aren't centering much on their cashes since they appreciate living the minute, after all, this individual accept ‘‘money can't purchase happiness’’.

6.) home life, family and friends

i think this individual doesn't have kin at all and possibly they were only child but they do have numerous companions and connection. they ordinarily amicable individual and likes to form association with individuals. they appreciate their social life and they kinda ruined as well from their guardians when they were a kid but i think it's gone when they gotten to be grown-up. they guardians adore them exceptionally much and they appreciate that kind of cherish they've encountering from their domestic and social life, they think they are the foremost fortunate individual. well, little things makes them upbeat presently not at all like some time recently. they may live in a house which is outlined and great for atleast 3-4 family individuals, with two rooms. this house can be colored in white, gold and green.

a channeled song dedicated to you from them based on your future energy ‘‘your still the one’’ by shaina twain.

03

1.) physical appearance

a fine, lived-in face is revealed by a tight pulled ponytail. they have light tones greasy hair. this native, you gonna felt at home with for so long are guarded by bloodshot light earthy colored eyes that are securely anchored in their sockets, an enormous ears, extremely flimsy lips and a straight nose. their eyes and hair are beautifully complemented by a glisten visual, leaving a pleasant memory of their fortunate appearance. despite of their fragile frame, they perceived themselves as everyone else. they exudes an unrestrained aura despite of being medium-tall and svelte. their special striking element is their white, shimmering teeth. they (maybe) have moles completely covering their left thigh, right hand, chest, stomach and right lower arm (anywhere in these areas). they frequently wears opulent, spectacular garments that are generally pastel-hued, golden or dark colors. they typically seen wearing an unmistakable and undeniable shroud.

2.) positives

intuitive, romantic, mysterious, sympathetic, a true leader, tidy, responsible, quite and carefully listening to what the other person sharing to them, goal-oriented, influence others in a good way, sociable, easy to get liked by many, faithful, committed, have a strong inner strength and they usually attract many admirers.

3.) negatives

blunt, argumentative whether they're wrong or right, trouble maker, self doubt, anxious, rude and bossy.

4.) love/dating history

they as often as possible discover themselves in this viewpoint while in case they gonna proceed finding adore or proceed working on their possess objectives like goals. i can say this individual is single since birth and do not really have a dating history but they drop in cherish once however they knew this love is one sided which other individual doesn't cherish them back as the way they do. i also think usually a crush that turned into love, i do have this feeling that they confessed to this individual and this person turned them down since they preferred somebody else. right presently, they attempting their best to discover and adjust between these two angles of their life(love and career) whereas attempting to figuring out what truly their reason on the earth. you might meet them through your social associations.

5.) career and money

this individual is exceptionally decided to attain their objectives to gotten to be what they needed to be, they need to win and succeed in life. truly, they will accomplish much advance in their career life and will have flexibility from obligation and will be able to achieve security and steadiness. i am moreover figuring out that after marriage, the money will bloom and will accomplish more. fair an counsel for you to not spend as well much of all their cash since they worked difficult for it and it is no joke the work they put in for this security to realize. they may be from a family that incorporates a huge trade running or fair basically a family part of a proficient (a big family business). anticipate that individual to be proficient, they may be somebody who works as a chef, specialist, ceo, attorney, property speculator, genuine domain proprietor and fire fighter or firewoman.

6.) home life, family and friends

i knew it. they are from a family that appears proficient, they are ordinarily private and share as it were a number of viewpoints of their life with others. their family claims tons of properties but as i'm getting here, they may be living within the farmland. they live in a reviving house with their family, i too think that they met companions since of schools and with their family associations. they might do sports at school and it's so well known. i too think that their family itself is well-known in their community, as i talk here, perhaps their guardians have a part of associations and engagement with other greater individuals. they sentiments appears distant absent from their family, they might see these individuals scarcely or most exceedingly bad few times in a month. when we talk about their guardians, they are strict, rules and routines individuals.

a channeled song dedicated to you from them based on your future energy ‘‘all i ever need’’ by austin mahone.

© thecelestialperiwinkle

[ladamedusoif]

able

(Joel Miller x disabled F!Reader)

Pairing: Joel Miller x Disabled F!Reader

Summary: "I just don't think she'll be able for patrol". But then it's just you, Joel, and your trusty walking stick in the middle of nowhere...

Content/warnings: Reader is disabled (she has rheumatoid disease/arthritis in addition to panic attacks, she uses a walking stick as necessary); Reader had a sister; Reader is an art teacher; strong violence; blood; description of panic attack; references to impact of chronic illness and disability; references to medication; references to disease and death; non-canon compliant; Jackson!Joel; strong language; ableist language and abusive language

Rating: Mature; 18+ MDNI

Word Count: ~3.7k

A/N: After making a plea earlier in the week for people to actually write disabled Reader fic, as opposed to forcing writers to feel they have to tag literally everything in an able-bodied Reader story, I knew I had to put my money where my mouth was as a disabled, neurodivergent writer with various mental health things going on here and there. And this one-shot is the result.

This one is a little personal. I was diagnosed with rheumatoid disease about ten years ago, and Reader’s experiences are informed by my own (though, thankfully, I haven’t had to contend with an apocalypse that meant I couldn’t access the medication that has kept me going). She’s also inspired by @agentjackdaniels, who acted as consultant extraordinaire on walking sticks and panic attacks, and suggested the Joel picture for the moodboard. Thank you, Luce, for this, for fighting the good fight for representation in fic - and for beta-ing the story. 

(A note on terminology: rheumatoid disease/arthritis are sometimes used interchangeably. ‘Arthritis’ often sounds like it’s ‘just’ osteoarthritis to people who don’t know the difference. Rheumatoid, unlike osteoarthritis (which is shitty in its own ways), is a systemic, lifelong, chronic illness and an auto-immune disorder that affects the entire body, not just bones and/or joints. So personally I use ‘rheumatoid disease’ as it conveys more of the impact of the condition. It's also often seen as an 'old person' disease but this simply isn't true - not that this stops mobility aids being modelled by people in their 80s all the time...)

Please follow my writing blog @ladameecrit and turn on notifications to stay up to date with my work.

Dividers by @saradika - moodboard by me

You weren’t supposed to make it.

Twenty-odd years in the apocalypse with your fucked-up joints and no steady supply of the meds that kept you going, pushing through the cycles of fatigue, and fighting off your own goddamned immune system as much as you were fighting clickers and raiders. 

You really weren’t supposed to make it. But you had Annie.

You were sharing an apartment when the outbreak happened, a quirk of shitty personal circumstances - she’d just broken up with her long-term boyfriend - that probably helped save your life. Annie was the all-action sister - the kind of person who thinks there’s nothing weird about spending your weekends doing triathlons and “Tough Mudder” challenges, who had a perfect bill of health your entire lives, who bounced out of bed in the mornings while you cracked and creaked and stiffly manoeuvered yourself into being. 

The good days generally outweighed the bad in the years between your diagnosis with rheumatoid disease and the initial outbreak - or maybe you had just gotten used to the aches and pains and the occasional flare-ups of fatigue. You invested in a walking stick to help on those days when mobility was particularly bad: solid, heavy, and carved in a pale yellow wood. It felt like a comfort in your hand, more a sign of strength, to you, than of weakness. 

Annie helped you through the panic attack that consumed you on outbreak day, working with you to regulate your breathing and relax your tense muscles until you could finally say what was on your mind.

“My meds. What am I going to do without my meds?”

Nothing a quick smash and grab at the local pharmacy couldn’t fix. It was the first of many, stockpiling the little yellow tablets you relied on and taking as many packs of over-the-counter painkillers as you could carry. Useful currency in the apocalypse, as it turned out.

All-Action Annie was never going to cope with life in a QZ. She got the two of you out after months of planning, nights of whispered talk about a town out west that was normal - or something close to it, anyway. She hadn’t entertained your protestations about you slowing her down, holding her back.

“You think I’m leaving behind a girl who’s so handy with a weapon?” she’d teased, pointing to your walking stick. “Be real. We’re busting out together.”

The infection took hold in her about three days from Jackson. Fuckin’ barbed wire, tearing a jagged line through Annie’s hand and leaving behind an old-fashioned kind of threat to life, the kind penicillin had mostly dealt with. But that was then. This was now. 

She died in an abandoned farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, you holding her hand until the end, talking to her about your childhoods and trying to keep smiling until she closed her beautiful eyes. 

It took all your strength to dig her grave. And then, somehow, you found more.

You weren’t supposed to make it. But you did. 

Jackson stands before you. 

He sees you for the first time in the community dining hall, talking animatedly to Maria as you hungrily devour the food set in front of you. Eyes wide, face grubby, clothes ragged. Half-wild, he thinks, like most of the new arrivals. Like him and Ellie, once upon a time. He returns to his bowl of soup and his own thoughts - at least, until he’s interrupted by Maria.

“Joel? Want to introduce a new member of the community, just arrived.”

He doesn’t quite know why he’s surprised when he realises you’re leaning on a sturdy hand-carved walking stick in a solid, light yellow wood. Maybe it’s because he knows how physically hard it is to get here. Maybe he just assumed folks who needed a stick wouldn’t have been able to manage the journey. 

For a second he can hear Sarah’s voice in his head, chiding him for focusing on what a disabled person can’t do instead of what they can. 

“Joel?”

He snaps out of his reverie and looks from Maria to you. “Uh, hi. Sorry, just…sorry. Forgot my manners.”

“I was just saying how glad we are to have someone who can offer some art education in the town, isn’t that right, Joel?”

Your eyes are warm and mischievous as you meet his gaze, silently conveying your amusement at Maria’s rather brusque manner. It’s all Joel can do not to laugh.

“Sure is. You’re an artist, then?”

You shake your head. “Not a real one. I was an art teacher, before. Long time since I created anything, though, so I hope I remember how.”

He smiles softly, his gruff exterior receding a little. “Bet it’s just like riding a bike,” he says, before his face falls as he looks at your walking stick. “Oh, shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean… Shit. Hope I didn’t offend.”

“As it happens, I can ride a bike, Joel. The apocalypse just doesn’t give me much cause to.”

You leave him with a smile and a wink as Maria ushers you to meet other townsfolk. He watches you as you walk away, the tap-tap-tapping of your stick beating out a new rhythm in the heart of Jackson.

You think of Annie every morning when you wake up in the little house you’d been assigned. Sometimes, as you potter around the kitchen, still revelling in the novelty of making yourself morning coffee for the first time in two decades, you even talk to her. You tell her about the town, the townsfolk, your work in the community vegetable garden, your art classes. 

“Honestly, An, you wouldn’t believe how popular they are,” you tell the Annie who, in an alternate universe, is sitting at the kitchen table with her own mug of coffee. “I’m setting up extra sessions to cater for demand.”

There’s something uplifting in how hungry the people of Jackson are to make art, no matter their experience or existing skill level. They’ll draw stuff from memory, they’ll dutifully work on a still life, they’ll even traipse outside with you, wooden sketching boards in hand, and make rapid-fire sketches of the goings-on on Main Street. 

Joel doesn’t join a class - but the teenage girl Maria refers to as “Joel’s kid” does, all potty-mouthed and enthusiastic and pretty damned talented, to boot. Ellie tells you how she’s pinned up the drawings she’s proudest of in their home, “like our own fuckin’ art gallery or some shit.” 

You pull up a tall stool and sit beside her, resting your stick over your thighs. “Joel’s got his guitar and those dumbass model figures he paints,” she continues, leaning around her easel and squinting at the woman who’d volunteered to act as a life model for this week’s classes. “But this shit? This is real art.” She adds a little highlight to the woman’s sweater and leans back to assess the work.

“You probably got exempt from patrols, I’m guessing. On account of the stick, an’ all.”

“Maria asked, and I signed up happily. I got all the way here, didn’t I? I’m sure I can manage patrols. And it’s the least I can do - they’ve even found me some of the medications I need.”

Ellie nods, somewhat convinced, and returns to sketching out the contours around the model’s jaw.

The day of your first patrol arrives. You bundle up and set out early for the stables, allowing extra time to get there on account of the flare-up you’d been experiencing the day before. 

You arrive early - just in time, in fact, to overhear a heated conversation between Joel and Maria.

“She’s doing enough, ain’t she? I just don’t think she’ll be able for patrol.”

“You’ve seen her out and about, Joel. She’s mobile. She’s competent. She’s good with the horses. She got all the way here, the last stretch on her own. What more proof do you need?”

“You’re seriously gonna send a woman with a walking stick out on patrol?”

“I seriously am. Sent you and your bad back out, didn’t we?”

“That ain’t the same and you know it.”

“Just saddle the horses, Joel. And, in case you’re wondering - yes, I paired you together deliberately, just until she gets settled.” You hear her footsteps recede as she leaves him.

You had misjudged how much your already-limited grip would be further impeded by the gloves you’re wearing. The stick clatters to the ground.

“Who’s there?”

You emerge from the shadows. “Me. Sorry.”

Joel rolls his eyes and gruffly points out the tack and supplies.

The first patrol passes in silence. You wonder what happened to the softer man you’d caught a glimpse of the first day you arrived.

On the second patrol, you ask him questions about himself. On the third patrol, he asks (fewer) questions about you. By the fourth, you’re having something approximating normal conversation. 

“Sarah loved to make all kinds of stuff,” he ventures, leading the way on his chestnut horse. “Those beaded bracelets, that girly Lego in the pink and purple, all of that. My girl had enough Magic Markers to supply a whole elementary school. Maybe two.”

You can hear him smile, even without seeing his face. His shoulders relax a little as he recalls the memory.

“So she was a creative kid?”

“Creative, sporty… she could do anything. Made the school soccer team, she was so proud. Just a…” He pauses. “A great kid.”

There’s a few beats of silence, punctuated only by the sound of the horses snickering and the steady rhythm of their hooves on the ground. 

“What about your sister, was she arty like you?”

You’d told him about Annie on the last patrol. This was the first time he’d asked about her explicitly.

“She was the sporty one. I think that’s why I survived so long, truth be told. She was so strong and fast and tough as fuck.”

He chuckles, the burr of his voice resonating in the cold air. “Sounds like a good balance, though.”

“It is - it was. Was.” Your voice grows quieter as you repeat the word to yourself, chest starting to tighten. The horse slows, responding to the tension of your body, as Joel continues to trot on, not realising you’ve come to a halt behind him. 

And then the tell-tale snapping of a twig, the sound of footsteps, and the realisation there’s someone else there, emerging out of the woods. Two someones. 

Raiders. 

The panic attack that has been building inside you gives way. An innate fight or flight response kicks in as you roar his name. 

Joel turns and charges back towards you, just in time to see you take out one raider with a crack shot from your pistol. He slows the horse and readies his rifle, staring at the other man who is now trying to haul you off your mount.

“Get the fuck off me, motherfucker!” You flail against him, desperately shifting your weight to the other side of the saddle to try to shake him off. 

Joel takes aim. 

You think you’ve kicked the raider off. And that’s when you hit the ground.

He can’t take the shot now, not with her half-hidden from his view and audibly fighting off the man who’s dragged her to the ground. Joel is still a little distance away, slightly too far to see exactly what’s happening. 

Why didn’t he hear her slowing? Why didn’t he realise she was further behind than she ought to be? Why did she slow in the fuckin’ first place?

Joel quickly dismounts, rifle in hand, moving closer so he can get a clearer shot at the guy who’s now standing over her. The horse’s elegant neck obscures the raider’s hands from Joel’s vision - he has no idea if he’s pointing a gun at her or not. 

He thinks he has a clear sight on the guy’s head, provided he stays in the same position. He readies the rifle. 

Suddenly, the raider disappears, letting out a primal roar before he hits the ground. 

“You fucking cunt!”

Joel can see she’s standing now, the man prone before her. As he rounds the horse he sees her lift her cane, hands securely gripping the pointed end of the stick. 

She brings the solid, weighty handle down on the raider’s leg with a sickening crunch. Even Joel recoils a little at the sight and the sound.

“F-f-fucking…c-c-cunt!”

Thwack. The other leg. 

Fuck. She knows exactly what she’s doing.

”Keep calling me that, and I’ll keep the blows coming.”

Holy fuck. Who is she?

”C-c-c-cripple.”

”Excuse me?”

The raider props himself up on his arms. “I said, cripple. Fucking crippled cunt.”

“You shut your fuckin’ mouth.” Joel cocks his rifle. 

The stranger sneers at Joel. “Awww, he’s actin’ the big man now. Weren’t too quick gettin’ back down here to save your cripple woman, were ya?”

Before Joel can react, she swings her stick over her head and brings it down on the man’s skull with a furious scream that seems to come from the very depths of her being. 

She screams and screams as she hits him, over and over, eyes wild in her blood-spattered face. Joel recognises this: in himself; hell, in Ellie. It’s the moment when the floodgates open and all those years of pain blend together and zone in on this convenient target, an avatar for everyone and everything who had forced loss and trauma upon you. 

He roars at her to stop, but knows she can’t hear him. It’s just her and the raider, now: her rage and fear and grief finding their expression through a walking stick turned cudgel.

A single shot ends it. She turns sharply, as if snapped out of a trance, and sees the smoke leaving Joel’s pistol. 

“Hey. Hey. You alright?” His broad hands grip your biceps as he looks into your eyes.

Yes, you tell him, yes. You’re fine. But Joel keeps asking. 

“Talk to me. Are you okay? I’m worried about you. Please, just talk to me.”

You are moving your mouth, but no sound is coming out. The familiar vice is tightening around your chest. You look down at your blood-stained hands and you struggle to breathe. 

“‘M dying, Joel. Can’t breathe. All the blood. So much. Why can’t I breathe?”

Oh, he realises with a pang. She gets these things too. And I know how to help.

“You’re okay, you hear?” He’s rubbing your arms gently, keeping his gaze on you. “You’re alright. Breathe along with me, okay?”

It’s difficult to find the rhythm, at first. Joel’s hands find yours and squeeze them in time with his breath.

”In through your nose, that’s it. Slow and steady. Now out through your mouth.”

He can see your muscles starting to visibly relax. A wave of relief courses over him.

”Yeah, that’s it - you got this. You got this, good girl, you’re just fine. Gonna be alright.”

When he’s confident your breathing has settled and the panic attack receded somewhat, he gently guides you away from the body of the dead raider, one hand holding your horse’s bridle and the other holding yours. 

“Why don’t you have a seat for a minute, huh?” Joel gestures to a long, low tree trunk lying near the forest’s edge and opens his saddlebags, rummaging until he finds a cloth, a battered hip flask and a bag of dried apple slices.

”Here.” He wipes the blood as best he can from your hands and proffers the flask, settling his substantial frame beside you on the log. “Have a sip or two, just to relax you a little bit more. Got a snack, here, too.”

You flinch at the taste of the liquor, but take a second sip regardless. The apple slices barely taste of anything in the afterburn of the moonshine. Joel nibbles on some jerky and stares into the middle distance. 

You take a break from patrol, agreed with Maria, and a few days off your art classes. It was tempting to keep going, to return to the light and airy studio and to your students. But you feared a relapse.

And your body needed to recover physically, too. You ached from head to toe, fingers and toes puffy and swollen and movement seriously restricted. You ration out the supply of medication you’ve secured since getting here, and use hot water bottles and plenty of rest to try to ride out the flare in your arthritis.

Three days after the incident, there’s a knock on the door. You hobble to answer it, leaning on your trusty stick for support.

”Came by to see how you were doing. Got you some things if you needed ‘em.”

Joel is standing on your front porch, holding a jute grocery bag. He pauses, as if waiting for you to give him permission to say more.

”That’s so very kind of you, Joel. Come in, won’t you? I was able to set a fire so it’s nice and cosy.”

He watches as you lead the way into the living room, noting how much slower you were today. Guilt laps at his conscience. He said she shouldn’t go on patrol. He knew.

”You want me to bring these into the kitchen for you?”

“That would be a great help. Thank you.” He’s glad to see you smile, after the trauma of the patrol. “If you want a drink, I’ve got some tea and coffee in the cupboard just to the left of the sink.”

He pops his head back into the living room. “What would you like?” 

“A tea would be perfect. Mugs are in the cupboard to the right.”

You wrap yourself back up in your blankets on the couch, making room for Joel when he returns with the drinks and a couple of cookies, sent over by Ellie as part of his care package for you. The mug feels like a comfort in your aching hands, its heat assuaging the inflammation ravaging your joints.

He sips his coffee and you sit in silence for a little bit, watching the flames dance over the firewood. 

“Have you, uh - you been okay, doing okay, since…”

Joel stares into his coffee cup and then looks at you, a little awkward. You smile, hoping to reassure him.

”I’ve been okay. Just the physical pain and exhaustion, mostly. And - well, you saw it. The panic. It can leave you drained.”

He nods and takes another swig of his drink. “I know. I - I’ve had times like that, too. Real fuckin’ scary, when you’ve never gone through it before.”

You study his face for a moment or two, noting the little scar on his temple, the lines on his face, the stern expression completely undermined by the warmth of his deep brown eyes. For an instant, he seems so vulnerable, this strong, tough man sitting on your little couch. 

“I haven’t had an attack like that in a while. But then, I hadn’t done anything like that in a while.”

This time Joel turns to look at you properly. “Not your first rodeo, huh?”

You giggle at the turn of phrase. “Not quite. Let’s just say my stick did a lot of work over the last twenty years. He wasn’t the first to feel the brunt of it.”

Joel nods, and you feel strangely relieved that he doesn’t seem surprised. “Doesn’t get easier, though, does it?”

“It does not. Which is why it’s better to avoid having to do it.”

”I agree. Gotta say, though, I - I was worried you wouldn’t be able for patrol, y’know?”

You arch an eyebrow at him. “I know. I overheard you, remember?”

He blushes. “Aw, shit. Yeah. I’m sorry about that. I just didn’t want anything happening to you, what with your - condition, and all.”

You sigh softly, not really noticing the affection in his voice. “Most of the time, I’m fine. Y’know? I’m slower, but I do okay. I get tired more easily, but I manage. I didn’t come here to be a drain on the community.”

”You aren’t.”

”I know, but I want to keep it that way. I want to pull my weight. I’m able, Joel.”

He huffs in agreement. “Not like I’m a perfect specimen these days, either. Knees, fuckin’ back, deaf in one ear…” 

You chuckle. “And you thought I wouldn’t manage patrol? Anyway, you’re not doing so bad, are you?”

He gives you a little smile, but that constant sadness still haunts his eyes. He stares at his coffee for a moment.

“You knew what you were doing, though.”

”I did. But I didn’t feel like I could stop.” You sip your tea, swallowing hard. “And I’m scared that makes me some kinda monster. You know?”

Oh, he knows. He knows it too well.

”You aren’t a monster.” Joel resists the urge to put an arm around you. “You just… something snapped, I guess. All that - well, all that hell you’ve gone through. It… it changes you. But it doesn’t make you a monster.”

He realises you’re crying before you do, spotting the fat tears that roll down your cheeks. He finds a clean handkerchief in his jeans and offers it to you. 

Fuck it. 

“Can I - can I put an arm round you? Just for some support?”

Your eyes light up, tears or no tears, and you nod enthusiastically. Joel is warm and comforting, his broad chest and strong arms a kind of anchor in the emotional storm. You nuzzle against him, and he gives you a little squeeze on the arm.

”You’re a really brave woman, you know that?”

His voice is quieter, more intentional. You look at him quizzically from under your lashes, unused to praise of this kind. For an instant you think about asking him what he means. But the safety you’ve found in the broad arm draped around you is all you need right now. 

You nuzzle a little against his chest, and watch the fire dancing for the rest of the night. 

[eejilunio]

I'm gonna say it again because i thought about it again and it disturbed me again.

But to see the graphic decline of Azula's mental health, with her insomnia, hallucinations, crying fits, self-isolation, and final breakdown that Katara and Zuko witnessed first-hand, and then, to see Katara and Zuko and every other characters in the show flourishing shortly after with no mention of Azula ever again, It feels insulting to look at.

Azula showed scary symptoms of mental illness, and that was the first time she showed vulnerability in front of someone, even her parents didn't see that part of her, so it is a huge thing right? By breaking down in front of her brother and his friend, it could have opened the door for communication. So what are they ogling her for? Are they enjoying the show? At least Katara was disturbed and looked away, but then she looked at Zuko as if she felt sad for him, idk, idk what that look meant i'm not psychic, and Zuko just looked stonily at Azula crying. Nobody said anything, nobody moved while Azula was restrained and sobbing. And then the scene fades out. What am i supposed to think of that conclusion? Am i supposed to forget about it afterwards ? Did Zuko and Katara leave her there and rushed to celebrate with their friends ? Is that what happened? Did they help her or not? I needed to know that before the screen faded out. And i could have also known after when every characters in the show made an appearance, if only they showed Azula somewhere.

Azula feels like the elephant in the room at the end of the show. She should be brought up at least in conversation, but the writers don't want to talk about her.

The way the writers focused so much on Zuko's pain and on giving him a beautiful conclusion, but just left Azula like this with Zuko looking disdainfully at her as if she was beneath him, as if he was satisfied of finally beating his sister at something and he was proven right in the fact he is actually better than her at life or something, it makes me angry. Do i misinterpret Zuko's face? Probably. It's not as if i could understand what he felt through his poker face. A poker face in front of someone sobbing feels like disdain to me, if it's not followed by attempts at helping.

It triggers memories of my own breakdown when my mum and brother just looked at me without saying anything.

I feel like that passiveness in front of clear emotionnal distress is the result of a mix of bystander effect and a lack of empathy. You don't feel enough empathy that could drive you to help, and you don't feel responsible for not helping either because there's another person next to you that could have done it too but didn't. So you feel normal by not helping and standing there like a statue. Like an idiot. And it must be an interesting show to them, it breaks the monotony of everyday life at least.

So yes, i'm projecting on Azula, but maybe if the writers didn't want people projecting on her, they shouldn't have made her have such a realistic breakdown.

I feel like the writers managed to write by accident a realistic depiction of how mental illness is handled by most people in society though : by not handling it at all and purposefully ignoring the obvious distress even when it's in your face, because it's more comfortable to look at someone dying inside for years and call them crazy than to actually get involved and talk about feelings.

There, i'm done.

[neptunes-sol-angel]

This!

It's irritating seeing this trend with readers building their platforms by doing love readings, gaining followers for it, profiting off off of it, and then suddenly pulling the rug from their feet to instruct people (not guide!) that they're "lacking" in something but not even giving them closure on what, how, or where to start. Whether you actually care or you just want to find a reason to shit on other readers, people have the absolute wrong idea over and over again about what readings are meant to be.

It is a luxury. Not and should not ever be advertised as a need. If people need help through these services, then they have to want it for themselves instead of you trying to instill in them that they need to be reliant on occultic practices to make good decisions in their lives. That is a dangerous way to make someone codependent on readings because constantly trying to look for things to fix in your life in the name of "self improvement" is equally harmful as what an obsession with future spouse or other love readings will do to you. There is not a single topic that is superior or inferior to another when it comes to divination because they all have the potential to trigger someone into spiritual psychosis and I really need people to understand this.

You want readings to be about counseling others? Go towards other closed divination practices that are solely designed for giving spiritual insight OR just simply keep posting the topics that you want, in your own way and call it a day instead of worrying about what the next person is doing. Why does it always have to be a dick measuring contest in these communities when really we should be supporting each other? Not everyone is equipped to channel self-help readings and it's perfectly fine to just be a reader that caters to love topics or anything else that is unique.

It's like saying "Books are for learning. You should only read educational topics because I think you're not doing enough for your intellectual responsibilities". You'd be mad as hell if someone told you that you needed to put down that science fiction book because they feel like you need to learn more about neuroscience.

I'm a reader, and I personally take the breaks that I do here for my mental health because indulging in spiritual practices with no boundaries will drive you into insanity. Respectfully, if I just finished having a mental breakdown over recollecting the various cases of childhood trauma that I've experienced...I do not want to log on here and read pick a cards about shadow work. I wouldn't even want to touch my cards or speak to my spirit guides for the next couple of days.

Any other time, I LIVE for a good reading no matter the topic. Future spouse readings are not my favorite but I don't hate them. Sometimes I'll be drawn to just one specific topic depending on the day because that's life. One day I want to know more about my love life in the present, the next day maybe my love life in the future, some days I do want to read more into the shadow work that I need to do, next week I could really want to read pick a cards with messy topics or themes that are meant to boost your confidence, and when I'm in that mood, I might just only want to read 18+ themed pick a card readings 💀

The point is that I don't think people understand how precious this platform actually is. A lot of the material here, you can't really get in any of the other divination communities. People are talented here and should stick with what they feel that they should make and it's pointless to try to get them to do it any other way because IT'S SO DIVERSE here, just simply find another reader who makes the messages that you need at the moment. It's not that hard or rare to find that people are making it ought to be.

And just focus on what you can do as a reader. Are you being true to your practices and beliefs? Are you creating a space that's healthy for readers up here? If not, then think and respond accordingly to what you feel like you should do. If you're concerned about the consumption of love readings, don't be quick to point fingers at other people, especially if you know you're part of the problem. People learn on their own timing and through their own choices and you can't control that. What you can control is the content that you choose to distribute to others.

Do topics that match with your truth. Love readings are not your thing or not what you believe in? Don't make them. Are you tired? Don't feel pressured to post. You feel concerned with how your audience is consuming your content? Post less. Etc.