#need to stop now before i end up writing another short story

[nicosraf]

Hi!

I was wondering now that we know that at least one of the angels could date someone from one of the other Pantheons, who could Lucifer, Micheal and the other archangels date in other pantheons hypothetically?

AHAHHA if you're referring to my angel Gabriel x Mesoamerican god Tlaloc story, that's non-canonical! It's a whole different universe with a different interpretation for God, the angels, other religions (one that I really adore!)

That said, hmmm I have a very limited knowledge of any pantheons outside of Mesoamerica! I notoriously don't know anything about Greek/Roman mythology, for example. Though, I think Apollo and Lucifer could fall in love, Baal would be crawling behind Aphrodite, and weirdly I could see Michael with a crush on Ares?

As for Mesoamerica, I think Lucifer and Xochipilli, the god of flowers and gay sex, would be in love with each other hahaha. Or, alternatively, I think Michael would fall deeply in love with the mystical and beautiful Xochipilli, while Lucifer falls for the strong and war-loving Huitzilopochtli. I can see Rosier paired with another major god, too, like Xipe Totec, god of flaying and agriculture.

I feel like this is giving me too many ideas ahjshldsd

[nexus-nebulae]

found my ancient mp3 player recently. finally found a charger for it and plugged it in. and remembered i found a yt playlist of the whole httyd movie chopped up into like 20 videos and i downloaded the mp3s of all of them to listen to on the school bus. which is why i can effortlessly quote the whole first movie now

[the-modern-typewriter]

Can you PLEASEEE write a Hero x Villain only one bed trope! Love ya

"Did you know that single people, on holiday, often pay more than couples because all of the hotel industry is built around the assumption of shared rooms and beds?"

The villain turned their attention from the double bed, the only bed in the room, and back to the hero. They blinked. Once, slow, deliberate.

The hero's met their gaze. "Down with amatonormativity?"

"You're sleeping on the floor."

"Oh, come on. It's not my fault! This is the only room they had."

"You're a hero. Be heroic and heroically take the floor."

"I'm not sure my being a good person extends that far," the hero said, eyeing said floor. "There's not even any carpet."

"Well, we can't share!"

"Only child, huh?"

"Don't fish for information about me."

The hero's lip twitched with a maddening and entirely too endearing amusement. "If you're worried about me attacking you in your sleep, I don't think my being on the floor is going to save you."

"I don't think - it's not that -" The villain felt colour rise up their face. They folded their arms. "It's not weird that I don't want to share a bed with you."

The hero's head tilted, studying them for a long moment, before they shrugged. "Fine. Bed's yours. I'll grab the chair."

The villain eyed the chair. It only looked fractionally more comfortable than the floor; less hard, but also significantly more cramped given the hero was hardly small.

"So, what," they demanded. "You'd be just fine sharing with me?"

"It's just a bed," the hero said. "I'm going to be unconscious, all things going well."

"What if we accidentally end up touching each other?"

"I already said you could have the bed."

"Well, now I feel bad!" the villain snapped. "I'm taking the chair. I don't need more reasons to encourage your sanctimonious attitude!"

With that, they strode into the small shared bathroom to change and firmly locked the door.

When they returned, the hero had already fetched a spare blanket from the cupboard. It was large-enough, if a little worn. They'd squished themselves onto the chair.

"I said I'm taking the chair," the villain said. "My god. Do you have to win at everything?"

"I know I got us into this mess."

The villain stopped short, not expecting the quiet words.

"I can take the chair," the hero said. "Not being sanctimonious. It's really just fine, okay? I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable or whatever."

The hero looked up at them, with an expression that the villain couldn't quite read. Whatever it was seemed earnest.

The villain swallowed.

They got into the bed, on the side furthest from the hero and the chair. They switched the lights off. They heard the hero shift and shuffle, trying to get comfortable. The villain could see the beautiful curve of their face illuminated in a small shaft of moonlight, the hunch of their shoulders, when they glanced over.

The villain glared at the dark ceiling for several long minutes.

"...Just get in the bed."

"What?"

"Get in. We can share."

"Are you sure?"

"Don't make me say it again. You look ridiculous. Like a lion trying to fit into a shoebox."

"If it fits, it sits."

"Well, you obviously don't fit!"

A brief silence passed, before the villain heard the hero move and felt the mattress dip. The hero kept to the far side of the bed, oh so respectfully, but the villain could still feel every inch of space between them. They folded their arms across their chest.

"Would it help to tell me what you're worried is going to happen?" the hero asked.

"No."

"Okay."

Another brief silence passed. "Is the thought of accidentally touching me really that hideous to you?" the hero asked.

Their voice was different in the darkness. Softer, somehow.

"Is the thought of accidentally touching me really that hideous to you?!"

"No?" the hero sounded bewildered. "I never said it was?"

The villain ground their teeth, even as their stomach gave a stupid little flip. "Just shut up and go to sleep."

"Goodnight."

The villain couldn't remember the last time anyone had ever wished them that. It caught them unexpectedly, in the gut and the throat. Winded. Fatal wound.

They glanced over at the hero again. They had their eyes closed, seeming perfectly at ease now that they were no longer scrunched up.

No. It wouldn't be hideous to touch them, not at all. It wouldn't be ghastly at all to roll across the expanse of mattress and wrap their arms around the hero's stupidly broad body, to nestle their face against the hero's shoulder, to hold the solidness of them.

Accident-smachident. The villain hated everything.

The hero fell asleep within ten minutes. The villain listened to the steady metronome of their breath, aching. Three hours later, the hero made a soft sleepy little sound and rolled, nuzzling their head against the villain's chest. A tangle of limbs.

The villain snagged their phone off the side table and held it up to take a selfie, making sure to look as unimpressed as possible. Just in case. For the morning. So the hero would know they didn't start it.

Then, and only then, did they finally melt and fall into the sweetest sleep they'd had in a long time.

Bonus:

[piedinthepiper]

Your girl pt. 2 ☆

Yandere!Jungkook x Namjoons gf!reader

Summary: After the horrific stay at the resort you find it hard to forgive and forget. But when one thing leads to another you end up in the same position, but now without your boyfriends helping hand.

Warnings: noncon!, he’s waaaay crazier in this one, swearing, mention of mm, angst

Wc: 3.2k

| pt. 1 |

A/n: I’ve been so bad at writing lately, I’ve taken a little break so I really just needed to get this out. I’m working here and there on your reqs I just have no motivation. Hope you enjoy this tho, cause I do!

Disclaimer: This is 100% fiction. I am in no way saying that this is how any member of bts would act. Nor do I condone the actions detailed in the story. This is purely for entertainment purposes only. If any of the warnings trigger you, or you’re under 18 ¡do not read! I’m not your mother, and I don’t take any accountability for what you decide to read online!

“Have a good day, sweetheart.”

Namjoon said and kissed your forehead. You smiled at him. It was a calm Saturday morning. All you wanted was to cuddle up to your new fiancé, watch a few movies and eat snacks. But Namjoon was called into work for an emergency, so it looked like you would be watching and eating alone.

“Do you have to leave?”

You pouted at him as he started putting on his shoes. He smiled at you and kissed you softly on the lips, cupping your face.

“I really don’t want to.”

You nodded understandingly. He turned around to reach for his jacket, but found that the jacket he usually wore wasn’t were it was supposed to be. He reached for another one.

“By the way, do you think you can stop by Jungkooks place today? I left my jacket there last week and I need it for tonight.”

You looked at him, not sure what to answer. It was a year since the incident at the resort. But you still felt uncomfortable around Jungkook sometimes. Especially when you were alone with him.

“Baby, it’s been a year.”

“I know.”

You answered quickly, wiping your tired face with your hands.

“And he apologised. You were the one that told me to forgive him.”

You bit your lip, zoning out and focusing on the floor instead of replying.

“It’s fine, if you don’t want to you don’t have to. I’ll wear another coat tonight.”

He reassured you, before kissing your forehead yet again and opening the door.

“I’ll see you tonight, love you.”

He said before stepping outside and closing the door. You stood there for a few seconds. Still zoned out. Why were you so afraid of Jungkook? Like Namjoon said, he apologised. He told you he would never do it again. He would still be the same Jungkook you remembered from middle school. Right?

“I’m so sorry, y/n! Please- I don’t know what came over me!”

Jungkook was on the floor crying his eyes out, bowing at your feet. You had just told the guys what he had done after they had overheard parts of the conversation. Namjoon did not take it lightly, grabbing Jungkook and pushing him against the wall. He had screamed in his face, told him to say sorry to you, and to never get near you again. Once that was over Jungkook fell to his feet, and now he was on the floor, crying and begging.

“Please forgive me! I’m so stupid! I never meant for this to happen!”

You looked down at him. Still in only his wet bathing shorts. You sighed.

“Get up, Jungkook.”

You told him, and he finally looked up at you. His eyes were red and his eyelashes had started sticking together from all the tears. But he did listen, and he got up.

“Do you mind giving us some privacy?”

You asked kindly, and looked over at the three guys standing by the door. All were still in shock. Namjoon, who was standing in front of them with his arms crossed, looked back at them with a strict look. The guys trembled and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind them.

“Come here.”

You said to Jungkook and opened your arms with a towel. He let you drape him in it, covering up his naked torso. You made him sit down on the bed, trying to calm him down.

“I forgive you, ok?”

“I don’t!”

Namjoon interrupted with his deep voice. You looked over at him.

“Namjoon please, he’s crying his eyes out.”

You told your boyfriend strictly.

“I’m sorry, Namjoon. You know I would never do anything to ruin our friendship. But I was still stupid enough to do so.”

He bowed his head down, starting to cry even more. You sat down on the bed beside him.

“I promise this will be in the past. We can continue our friendship like this never happened, ok?”

His eyes lit up. How great.

You were outside Jungkooks apartment. You decided that this was the time you healed your relationship with him. You couldn’t keep running away from it. Either you followed your promise, or you would have to cut him out completely. One last chance. You rang his doorbell. It took a few seconds before his voice came through the speakers.

“Who is it?”

You turned towards the voice and went up to the camera.

“It’s me.”

You said and went really close to the little camera, trying to joke with him like the two of you always did. He didn’t laugh, he sounded surprised instead. But not in a good way.

“Y/n?! What are you doing here?”

He asked shocked. You took a step back.

“Can you just let me in? It’s raining!”

“Give me a second!”

Jungkook wasn’t expecting you. He wasn’t expecting anyone, but definitely not you. He knew what happened at the resort a year ago made you question him, even if you told him it was ok. So when you asked to come in he quickly found his abandoned sweatpants on the floor. He had definitely not been jerking off to your Instagram just minutes before you were outside his door. He placed the dishes hurriedly in the sink to hide them, before he ran over to the door and pressed the button. He straightened the pillows on the sofa while waiting for you to reach his apartment. A knock at the door. He combed his fingers through his hair before taking a deep breath.

“Hi!”

You went in for a hug, and he was honestly caught off guard. Something inside him felt like you hated him since the incident. He at least hated himself for revealing everything to you so quickly. If he could’ve just taken you out for a nice dinner and told you about his feelings in a romantic way, you would probably be his fiancé now, not Namjoons.

“Y/n, it’s nice to see you again.”

He said once you broke off the short hug, that he honestly wanted to last forever. You smelled so good, and only you could manage to look good in yoga pants and a hoodie. Namjoon’s hoodie he noted. You would look even better in his own.

“I brought you an iced americano.”

You said and handed him the drink. You were always so considerate.

“Such an angel.”

You laughed awkwardly at his statement and he mentally cursed himself.

“I just came to get Namjoon’s jacket. He said he left it here a week ago.”

He knew exactly what jacket you were talking about, but he gave you a puzzled look regardless.

“I don’t remember seeing a jacket.”

He told you as if he was completely clueless.

“Why don’t you come in? I’ll look for it after I’ve had the americano.”

You smiled at him and started removing your shoes.

“Great!”

The two of you sat down on his sofa. You took a sip of your iced tea before placing it on the table.

“So, why didn’t Namjoon come for his own jacket? Lazy move to send his own girlfriend for the job.”

He laughed. You laughed back before crossing your legs and getting more comfortable.

“Job emergency I’m afraid. He won’t be home until 8.”

He could tell it upset you.

“I’m more than just his girlfriend now you know.”

The disappointment on your face turned into giddiness as you looked at your hand, carrying a gorgeous ring.

“As his fiancé I’ll have to take the shit jobs as well.”

You said and laughed. You looked so good, Jungkook couldn’t help but look at you. It’s like he fell in love all over again every time you laughed.

“Wow, thanks y/n.”

He said sarcastically. You laughed even more.

“Let me see it.”

You stretched your arm towards him, letting him take your hand in his to inspect the expensive ring.

“Damn, that’s a nice ring.”

He pretended to inspect it for just a second longer. He liked the feeling of your soft hand in his.

“Well since you won’t be busy until 8, why don’t you stay here for a while? We can play video games and order some food later. Like back in the day.”

He saw a flash of doubt in your eyes. Was he too forward too soon? He was expecting a no, he was ready to go back to his room and jerk off to you yet again.

“Sure.”

You said and shrugged.

“But only if you cook me something. I’ve missed your food so much.”

He couldn’t help but smile.

“I don’t understand how you do it? Everything you make is so good!”

You said and closed your eyes letting out a small satisfied moan. He let out a small laugh, adjusting his sweatpants after he felt them get tighter at your praise.

“What your fiancé can’t cook for you?”

He smirked. He knew Namjoon couldn’t cook, he just said it to tease you. And with the tilt of your head and upset eyes he knew he succeeded.

“Namjoon has many talents, cooking is not one of them.”

You laughed a little at your comment before taking another spoonful.

“If you were my fiancé I would’ve cooked for you every day.”

He tested the waters. Making sure to mumble, so that maybe you couldn’t even hear his remark. But you did. Of course you did. You were always so bright.

“Well you’re not.”

You answered bluntly. Jungkook felt his heart shatter at your words. He felt his blood boil. He made you dinner, how about a little gratitude?

“Could be.”

He quickly spit back, looking you deep in the eyes. You shook your head.

“We both know that’s not going to happen.”

Your eyes didn’t back down, winning his little game as he broke the eye contact and grabbed your plate.

“Why don’t we play Mario kart? Still think you can beat me?”

He said while washing the dishes. He knew he couldn’t get too upset with you, cause then you’d leave. And maybe never come back.

“We both know you’re the one that needs to beat me. I win ever single time.”

He looked back at you, a competitive smile plastered on your face.

“You won’t win this time.”

Time passed, and you had successfully beaten him five times. You jumped up from the sofa once you saw the results, cheering loudly at your victory.

“Who won? Huh? Tell me, Jungkook!”

You teased him, as you sat back down again. He rolled his eyes.

“I’m just letting you win so you won’t feel bad.”

He said as he started looking through the maps for the next round. You didn’t answer him, in fact you went completely quiet. He looked over at you. You were focused on your phone, your nails tapping against the screen as you were texting.

“Which map do you want to do next?”

He asked a little louder, slightly annoyed that your attention wasn’t on him. You didn’t look up from your phone.

“Hmm.”

Was the only answer you gave him. He put his controller down on the table and took a sip from his glass of wine. He was clearly upset now that you were ignoring him. He looked back at you.

“Who are you texting?”

He asked in almost a sour tone. You looked briefly up at him, before looking back down at your phone.

“Just my mom.”

Relief washed over his body, thankfully you weren’t texting your fiancé. Of course he would let you text her. He would love your parents as his in-laws.

“Let’s play.”

He said playfully before stealing your phone out of your hands. You looked confused at him, before you understood what he did.

“Jungkook, give it back!”

You laughed as your arms stretched out for your phone. He laughed back as he moved his arm further away.

“Then get it.”

You shook your head but crawled closer to him, tickling his side. He moved his upper body even further away from you. You sighed, but continued the fight. Unconsciously placing one of your hands on his thigh for support, as you stretched out over him. Even if you didn’t notice, he noticed. He moved his hand even further away, wanting to see if you would touch him more.

“Oh my god, just give me the phone!”

And within a second you were basically straddling his lap. Your hand got ahold of your phone, and you were about to retreat. But Jungkook was quicker. In the heat of the moment, he let go of the phone and used both his hands to push you down into his crotch. A small hiss escaped his mouth as he felt your heat touch his clothed dick.

“What are you doing?”

You asked him, still with a playful tone as if you thought it was an accident. Your hand found his that was tightly holding your hips as if they would run away if he let go. He knew you might run away if he let you go now.

“Jungkook, let go of me.”

The playfulness in your tone had started to fade. You started wiggling, trying to get out of his grasp. But stopped quickly once a moan escaped his lips.

“What the fuck!”

He didn’t know what to do, he had done it again and you were about to leave yet again.

“I won’t let you go, y/n! Not this time.”

You jumped as he rapidly stood up. His strong arms lifted you swiftly over his shoulder like you weighed nothing. It took a few seconds for you to comprehend what he was saying, but you quickly started to protest when you caught up.

“Let me down!”

You banged your fists against his large back. Wiggling the best you could. It was starting to freak you out that he seemed so serious, and that he was carrying you towards his bedroom.

“Jungkook, seriously! It’s not funny anymore.”

You said as he opened the door to his bedroom. It took maximum two seconds for him to throw you harshly down onto his bed. The bed creaked loudly at the impact.

“It was never a joke, y/n. I’m sick of pretending like I don’t fucking need you to be my girl!”

The last time you saw him this upset was at the resort.

“Look, I’m really not in the mood to argue with you right now.”

You started scooting towards the end of the bed. When Jungkook moved quickly towards the door you stopped in confusion.

“I’m not letting you leave.”

Your blood ran cold as you realised you could not be saved by Namjoon anymore. You didn’t tell him, or anyone for that matter, that you were going to Jungkook’s. Your breathing got heavier by the second as it dawned on you. You were fucked.

“You’re not leaving here until you understand that we’re meant for each other!”

He raised his voice even more now. Yelling at you in a way that made you look away. He scared you.

“I- I can’t fucking stand seeing you with him anymore. I’m sorry, y/n but I hate Namjoon for stealing you away from me. I hate that he made this so complicated. We were always meant to be. I’m sorry-“

“It’s ok, Jungkook. No need to get upset.”

You tried to calm him. Your fear speaking for you. His eyes met yours.

“Really?”

He asked, his eyes were glossy. You swallowed thickly, but nodded.

“It’s ok.”

Was all you could mutter. You practically jumped out of your skin as he crawled onto the bed. Your entire body stiffened as he sat down beside you. His arm swung around you like it belonged there. Uncomfortable silence filled the room for a beat.

“So we can be together now? You and me? Is that what you’re saying?”

He pulled you closer and closer, forcing you to lean into him. You looked down at the bed, simply not daring to answer the question truthfully. It didn’t help when you noticed the very visible tent in his grey sweatpants. You had to run.

“Of course.”

You managed to say, using all your willpower to look up at him and smile.

“I just really have to pee, ok?”

The panic in your voice was almost nowhere to be heard. You tried moving off the bed, but his grip was too strong.

“You’re being honest, right?”

He asked. You nodded yet again. Your focus turned to your nails. You had to look away from either his face or his hard on.

“Prove it.”

He almost whispered in your ear.

“Kiss me.”

His words were simple, but enough to send shivers down your spine.

“I’m sorry, I really have to-“

He grabbed your face and crashed his lips onto yours. You realised that you had no other choice but to kiss back passionately, and so you did. You placed your hand on his chest and deepened the kiss. Putting on your best performance. He moaned into the kiss. Finally he thought to himself. You tried pulling away, but were only met with a hand at the back of your head. Your heart was beating out of your chest for all the wrong reasons. You needed to convince him to let you leave the room. And with that you dreaded slowly moving your hands down his torso. Another moan escaped his lips when you placed a firm hand over his erection. That was the signal for his hands to start roaming as well, and once he tried to push you over his lap you finally got to pull away. You had never considered yourself an actress, but in that moment every instinct in your body told you to give the best performance of your life.

“I really want to fuck you, kookie.”

You whispered to him seductively. He started nodding hysterically.

“Do it, please just do it baby!”

You pouted at him.

“I just really have to go first. I won’t be able to enjoy our first time fully if I can’t use the toilet first.”

He pushed a strand of hair out of your face and smiled warmly towards you. To an outsider the two of you looked like nothing but lovers.

“Be quick, I want you so bad.”

You smiled and voluntarily pecked him on the lips to lay it on thick. You swayed your hips as you walked towards the door.

“Leave the bedroom door open.”

He said behind you. His lovey-dovey voice was suddenly really strict. He could see the bathroom door from the bed, he didn’t completely trust you. But you did as he said. Your heart was beating fast as you realised you could reach the front door if you just ran for it. And so you did.

“Y/n!”

An infuriated voice yelled after you. You heard his heavy footsteps hit the floor, sprinting closer. But you didn’t look back, you couldn’t do that now.

“You fucking bitch!”

A wave of relief washed over you as you reached for the door handle. You managed to pull it down and open it slightly before two large arms wrapped around you, slamming you against the door. You were able to reach the door, but not able to step outside the door.

“You fucking liar! You lied to me!”

He was beyond pissed off now. There was no calming him now, you had never seen him like this.

“I showed you my love and you just fucking used it to get away from me.”

He pressed you further and further against the cold door.

“I’ll show you y/n. I’ll fucking show you that you belong to me and me only. You’re my girl!”

——————————————————————————

Tag list:

@m7omo @vkjmjjk @insertsomethingaboutanimehere @darkuni63 @kimedicii @luvaryu @aenishas @milajeon @zera10

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[obsessedwrhys]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ Arthur Morgan x Duchess!Reader

ᯓ★ forbidden love trope, fluff, is angsty, forced marriage, drinking, cheating, sexism, violence, daddy issues, reader is fem!!

ᯓ★ Quick reminder there's 3 parts to this hc but the third part focuses HEAVILY on angst, this was supposed to be a story/series but im too lazy to do chapters, i dont have the patience and time. Also I'll be writing short stories with this prompt (the lore goes deep and im obsessed with this plot) you can request to be tagged.

You were a duchess from a wealthy family. If there was anything you wanted, you had it. However you could never have the thing you wanted so badly, freedom.

So it wasn't a surprise when the day came that your father had decided to arrange your marriage with a nobleman somewhere near Saint Denis, hoping to secure a great alliance between the family businesses. You had no say in it and was sent away like a package.

That was the plan until your stage was attacked by a bunch of bandits. All your guards were killed to the very last one, leaving just you.

Your pretty dress was spoiled by the dirt of the road as the bandit had his gun raised at you, his eyes lit up from the gleam of your diamond necklace. A gift your father gave you in hopes to bedazzle the nobleman...

But you just ended up catching the eye of the wrong person.

Just as he pulled the hammer of his pistol all the way to the back, bullets were fired from elsewhere. You could only cover your ears and lower your head as you caught glimpses of gunshots fired at the bandits.

Some died while some escaped.

Your focus on the dead bodies were pulled away when you heard sounds of a horse galloping to a stop not far from where you are.

That was when you saw him.

Cold blue eyes hidden behind a cowboy hat. He got off of his horse and was quick to assist you, placing his hand comfortingly on your shoulder and another holding your hand.

His palm felt comfortably rough under your touch.

"You alright miss?" He'd ask, the scent of cigarettes heavy in his breath.

"I think so.." You'd answer.

With the death of your coachman, you had nowhere to go and you weren't exactly informed with the address of your new home.

Seeing the vulnerable state you were in, he offered to give you a ride. He'd hold you by the waist as he lifted you on his horse before mounting it himself. How he picked you up so effortlessly made you wonder on his strength.

Not exactly familiar with a stranger, you placed your hands hesitantly on the sides of his waist, which caught his attention almost immediately.

"C'mon now... no need to be so polite" He'd say, his voice low and sweet as he'd then grab your hands to make you wrap them around his waist. Leaving you with no choice but to have your chest pressed gently against his back.

Even from under his blue shirt you could feel his physique. How his muscles tenses and how his chest would fall.

It left you in a daze. You were never this inappropriately close to someone before. A man in court would have to take YEARS to even get this close to you.

When arriving at Saint Denis, he would hitch his horse before helping you to your feet. As you followed him close from behind, you could see the people of the city stealing glances of the two of you. It was almost like the sight itself was unimaginable.

An outlaw and a duchess?

After talking to the lawmen, you and him decided to rest by the bench just outside the station. You watched as he leaned back and made himself comfortable, his feet rested on top of his other knee. He'd turn to you to meet your gaze.

"What's your name?" He'd ask.

"(Y/N)" You'd say. Just then you'd catch how his eyes trailed down to your dress... before he nods to himself when looking out at the streets.

"What about you?" You'd speak up, being the one to ask for his name.

"Arthur"

Arthur... somehow in your mind the name fits him. The way he looks and behaves, it showed his character.

Once you were able to find the address of the manor, the journey on his horse would continue. Your hands found it's place wrapped around his waist.

What you'd least expected was how he'd asked of your status and your relation to this nobleman he was sending you to. It started off with simple answers but with more and more questions asked, you began pouring out your frustrations before you even realised it.

"My father never was one to care for me. After my mother's passing, he's prioritised his duties over me. I don't hate him for I choose to understand him... but I still feel this gaping hole in my chest"

"So he ignored you when you needed him... nothin's worse than having a coward for a father"

You had to admit, you were taken aback from some of the things he said about your life, mostly criticising your dad the most. But it was how he said it so casually that caught you by surprise.

Yet some of the things he said also made sense, it was like it gave you the rope that you needed to tie your thoughts down. The more he spoke, the more things clicked in your life.

His perspective of things intrigued you.

So when he dropped you off by the gate of the manor, you couldn't help but tell him to come by any time he liked. Either to talk or if he needed anything.

He'd shook his head with an amused smile.

"Yur a sweet girl but I'd hate to trouble you"

"It's no trouble at all. See it as a reward for helping me" You'd say and he'd stare at you, an indescribable look of wonder in his eyes as he nodded before riding off.

It wasn't just you who found his perspective in life interesting but he was also fascinated by your view as well.

How you chose to stay so optimistic and be grateful for even the smallest things in life. It made him wonder if he ever appreciated enough what little things he had.

That is why his visit would come sooner than you'd expected. Soon his first visit would escalate to another... and another... before it became frequent.

Everytime he came back, his goal was to unwind, which you never failed to do so when treating him to some tea in your private garden.

Sometimes you'd even read him a book you were reading at the time, even though it wasn't his strong suit, the way you narrated the story always had him invested.

However your visits were always done behind the back of your future husband, it wasnt hard to when you shared seperate rooms and that hes always away for work, still you'd feel guilty for doing this but some part of you cared more about spending time with Arthur than that.

Then one day, on one of Arthur's visits, he'd open up about his crew. You didn't know all of them but you could only catch a few names and the details of their character.

This new level of trust made your friendship blossom even more.

The way his eyes never left yours when you talked, sometimes it made you wonder if you had hypnotised the man.

He would laugh more. Smile more. His jokes weren't all funny but his humour was contagious enough to have you laugh along with him.

But you'd also notice the little things he'd done.

How he somehow cleans up before coming to see you.

Maybe even come bearing bouquets or gifts.

Not to forget everytime you even mention about something you were interested in or wanted, he would show up in a few days with the very same thing you talked about.

It wasn't that you couldn't afford it but the effort he put in just to get it for you.

It made you fall for him.

You were a fool if you denied it.

But you were even a bigger fool to think you could be with him.

You're a duchess, you had your reputation to hold up. And the obvious fact was that you were getting married to somebody else!

Despite the differences holding you back, your heart couldn't deny the fact you wanted to be with him. His presence alone made you melt.

And the same could be said for him, he just adored you. Your skin so soft and the sun complimenting your features just perfectly. Everytime he saw you was a reminder why he was fighting for his freedom.

But he knew he couldn't have you, you were just too good to be true.

Too good for him.

His thoughts would lead to him drinking one too many bottles on one night. Alone with his drunken thoughts, he'd make a reckless choice of showing up to the manor late at night.

Standing near the window of your bedroom that was a few floors up, he'd shout for your name drunkenly which awoken you in confusion. You'd look out to see him wobbling around, struggling to find balance on his feet.

Worried if he's hurt himself, you'd sneak down as quietly as you could to meet him outside at the garden. To your surprise, he was just a drunk mess.

"I— hic! I miss you!" He'd say, his breath stink of alcohol.

"Arthur? What's gotten into you?" You'd give him your arm to balance himself and the touch of your skin seemed to have his spirits brought back to earth for a while. Like it snapped something in him.

"You... you're cruel!" He'd point at you.

"Cruel...?" You were startled by his tone.

"How could you— make me— love you— ohh" He'd suddenly fall to his knees and you were fast to make sure he didn't hit his head, which ended with him resting his head on your chest, his eyes half lidded from the affects of the alcohol.

"Gorgeous.. " He'd utter before falling asleep.

Some part of you were confused by this sudden confession but you also felt glad your feelings were mutual. You'd hold him in your arms, placing your chin on top of his hair.

The next day was embarrassing for him, he'd find himself awake in the garden... with you beside him...

To be fair he was too heavy for you to carry anywhere so you just did what you could.

The sight of you curled by his side made your beauty ever more ethereal. How he found himself in this position was unclear but he didn't mind. Instead he laid his head back on the grass as he admired how soundly you slept.

His fingertips gently brushing the locks of hair behind your ear to get a better look of your face.

When you finally woke up and you two had talked, it took a lot of convincing to make this relationship of yours a try.

Lots of promises were made that day.

You promised to be careful not to let this be discovered by anyone while he promised to not involve you in the danger in his life.

The relationship was definitely an interesting one.

He calls you princess even though you've corrected him multiple times that it's a different title compared to a duchess.

"I'm a duchess Arthur, a princess has a higher rank than I do"

"Duchess, princess, s'all the same to me" He'd caress your cheek.

To be fair you've gotten use to the nickname that you never bothered to correct him ever again. Surprisingly you'd find yourself loving the name.

He would definitely take you to places on his horse. His favourite area was the beautiful field he stumbled upon one day, it was covered with pastel flowers that he just knew you'd immediately love it.

Which you did.

It became the place where you two could go to with the worries of the world off your shoulders.

Just imagine on the evening sunset, you're reading your book while seated among the short grass, your other hand gently tossling through his hair as he has his head rested on your lap. His hat was slightly tilted to cover his eyes for his nap.

Have I mentioned how he loves to admire you?

You could be a mess and he'd still look at you like you're single-handedly the most gorgeous person to walk this world.

This relationship would go on for weeks behind your future husbands back until one day he FINALLY acknowledge your presence.

Maybe it was something that happened at work but he'd suddenly suggest the idea to push the date of the marriage earlier. You obviously didn't like it but no matter what you said, he'd simply brush your words off and suggest it be done sooner.

You were devastated.

It broke you even more when telling Arthur about it and he could only hold you hopelessly in his arms as you cried.

How is it that your father or even your future husband never stopped to wonder if YOU were okay with this? It was like they treated you like a plastic doll.

To make you feel better, Arthur thought of bringing you to the city to catch a break. There was this restaurant he wanted to treat you to, it did seem high class and from the menu alone he could barely afford it but if it so much pleases you, it's all worth it.

It's not like a couple of bounty hunting won't work.

So don't even think about paying for the food because it'll offend him.

You two strolled down the streets and that's when you were approached by a man, turns out the town hall was looking to recruit new members for the council and from your appearance you were seen as a potential candidate.

At first you weren't so sure but you ended up accepting the invitation immediately.

The second the man left, Arthur had to pull you aside to talk.

"I don't mean to offend you princess but, I've had my experiences with the council and they ain't exactly the most charming folks" He said, being as polite as he could to not shatter your spirit.

"I know... my husband is apart of the council" You said and his eyes went wide from the sudden news.

"Why... then..."

"I'm tired of being his trophy wife Arthur... and I'm tired of feeling hopeless about it... so I'm gonna take his place... and let him feel what it's like to be miserable" You said, a plan already storming inside your brain and Arthur was here for it. He'd grin.

"That's my girl" He'd say, a proud look on his face.

[thirtysomethingloser92]

Yooo. Amazing Gambit writing. 💕 Sooooo I was thinking. I’m feral for the new movie Gambit, especially that VOICE, and can’t stop thinking on this.

Soft non-mutant reader who doesn’t deal with violence and blood very well, like sick or panicky because they were so protected growing up, while Remy is trying to protect them during a fight (could be anywhere). Like, bad time bad place thing. But the reader wants to help, by throwing a shoe when they were about to hurt Remy. Chaos ensures when they turn toward the reader.

So as I was writing this, I was thinking "EXCUSE ME THIS IS A GREAT STORY CONCEPT,". Also, Am I able to use this prompt to possibly, maybe add to my 'I need to write this into a multi chap story' Gambit x reader file? But I hope you enjoy :)

The air crackled with tension as the fight erupted around you. It was supposed to be a simple errand, just a quick stop in a small town that had seemed peaceful enough to get a few hours sleep in. But then, as if fate had a cruel sense of humor, things went south, and it went south fast. The sudden ambush, the flash of weapons, and Remy pushing you behind him—everything happened too quickly to process.

You had never been good with violence. The sight of blood made your stomach churn, and the sound of gunfire was enough to send your heart racing in sheer panic. But Remy was so much more different that you, complete polar opposites. He moved through the chaos with a deadly grace, cards charged and ready, every motion calculated and precise. It was like watching a storm unfold, fierce and unstoppable.

You tried to stay out of the way, pressed against a wall, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps. But then you saw it—one of the attackers sneaking up behind Remy, a blade glinting in the dim light. You didn’t think, didn’t hesitate, just acted on pure instinct.

You looked around, hands still pressed against the red brick wall, trying to find something, anything, that would help. You let out a small huff, reaching down and grabbing the closest thing within reach—your dark coloured shoe—and flung it with all your might. It sailed through the air, smacking into the man’s head with a dull thud. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make him stumble, giving Remy just enough time to turn and disarm him with a swift, brutal strike.

But then the man's eyes snapped towards you, fury burning in them as he realized where the attack had come from. You froze, heart hammering in your chest, as he took a menacing step toward you. "Shit," You whispered to yourself.

Remy, still engaged with another opponent, glanced over his shoulder, catching sight of the man advancing on you. "What exactly did you think that would achieve?!" he shouted over the noise, his Cajun accent thick with frustration.

You blinked, caught between terror and a strange sort of defiance. "I don't really think about things before doing them, you know?" you shot back, voice trembling but determined. "It's how I ended up here with you to begin with, remember?"

The irony of your words wasn’t lost on you. You’d never been the type to seek out trouble, to dive headfirst into danger. In fact you, thrived staying away from it. Spending most days either inside or at your job. But meeting Remy had changed everything. He was chaos wrapped in charm, a magnet for the kind of trouble you had always been shielded from. And yet, somehow, you’d found yourself dragged into his world, into the madness that seemed to follow him wherever he went.

It had all started so innocently. You’d met him by chance, a twist of fate that had brought the two of you together. He was on the run, tangled up in something that you didn’t fully understand but couldn’t walk away from. Before you knew it, you were caught up in his orbit, swept along by his easy smile and the thrill of something you’d never felt before—excitement, danger, a sense of purpose.

And now, here you were, in the middle of a fight you had no business being in, your shoe—of all things—your only weapon. The absurdity of it might have made you laugh if you weren’t so scared.

The man lunged toward you, but before he could reach you, Remy was there, faster than you could have imagined. He moved like lightning, his bo staff connecting with the man’s side in a sickening crunch that made you wince. The man crumpled to the ground, and Remy turned to you, his eyes flashing with a mix of relief and exasperation.

"When I said stay behind me, ," he stated, his tone showing his annoyance at you, "It wasn't an optional request chère'".

You nodded, swallowing hard as you clung to the remnants of your composure. This wasn’t your world—this world of violence and bloodshed—but it was his, and as long as you were with him, you’d have to find a way to survive it.

Remy’s order to stay behind him was clear, but the chaos around you made it hard to follow. Every sound seemed amplified—the clash of metal, the shouts of your enemies, the pounding of your own heart in your ears. You stumbled back, trying to keep your distance, but the room felt like it was closing in on you, suffocating you with every breath.

Remy was a blur of motion, a dangerous dance of power and precision. You marveled at how he seemed to anticipate every move, every attack, as if the world around him was moving in slow motion. But despite his skill, you could see the strain in his eyes, the worry that flickered every time he glanced back at you.

You weren’t supposed to be here. You knew that much. But there wasn’t time to think about the ‘what ifs’ or the ‘should haves.’ Right now, the only thing that mattered was getting out of this alive.

Another assailant broke away from the fight, making a beeline for you. You instinctively took a step back, your hands trembling as you searched for something—anything—you could use to defend yourself. But there was nothing. No more shoes to throw, no weapons within reach. Just you and the growing dread in your chest.

Before you could react, the man was on you, his hand grabbing your arm with a painful grip. You let out a small cry, the fear surging up, threatening to overwhelm you. His grip tightened, and you could see the cold, calculating look in his eyes—a predator sizing up his prey.

And then, just as suddenly as it had started, it was over. Remy was there, moving like a shadow. He wrenched the man away from you, his eyes blazing with a fury you had never seen before. "I said stay behind me!" he snapped, his accent thick and his voice laced with an edge of desperation.

You didn’t have time to respond before Remy shoved you back, his attention already turning to the next threat. The man who had grabbed you was on the ground, groaning in pain, but Remy didn’t linger. He was already moving, his staff whirling as he took down the next attacker with a brutal efficiency.

You pressed yourself against the wall, your heart still racing, your body trembling with the adrenaline coursing through you. This was too much. The sights, the sounds, the raw violence of it all—it was overwhelming, like you were drowning in a sea of chaos with no way to escape.

But then you saw it—a flash of movement out of the corner of your eye. One of the attackers, a woman with a cruel sneer and a gun raised, aimed directly at Remy. Your breath caught in your throat, your blood running cold as you realized what was about to happen.

There was no time to think, no time to hesitate. Without a weapon, without a plan, you did the only thing you could think of. You threw yourself at her, arms flailing, a wild, desperate attempt to stop her before she could pull the trigger.

The impact surprised her, but it surprised you even more. The two of you tumbled to the ground, her gun skidding across the floor. She cursed, scrambling to get up, but you were already on her, holding her down with a strength you didn’t know you had.

For a moment, everything was a blur. You didn’t think, didn’t feel—just acted, driven by pure instinct and the overwhelming need to protect Remy. But you weren’t a fighter, and it didn’t take long for her to get the upper hand. She rolled you off her, slamming you against the floor with a force that knocked the breath out of you.

Pain radiated through your body, sharp and overwhelming, but you didn’t let go. You couldn’t. You had to hold on, had to keep fighting, because if you didn’t, if you let her win, she would kill Remy. And that thought was more terrifying than anything else.

But you were no match for her. She was stronger, more experienced, and it wasn’t long before she overpowered you. Her hand closed around your throat, squeezing, cutting off your air. You struggled, panic rising as your vision started to blur, dark spots dancing at the edges.

And then, just when you thought it was over, the pressure was gone. You sucked in a desperate breath, gasping for air, as you saw Remy standing over you, the woman unconscious at his feet. He knelt beside you, his face a mask of concern and something else—something raw and unspoken.

“Chère,” he whispered, his voice tight as he reached out to help you up. “You alright?”

You nodded, even though you weren’t sure if it was true. Your body hurt, your mind was spinning, and you felt like you might be sick. But you were alive, and so was he. That was all that mattered.

He pulled you to your feet, steadying you as you wobbled, your legs weak beneath you. “I told you t’stay back,” he muttered, though there was no anger in his voice now, only worry.

“I—I’m sorry,” you stammered, your voice hoarse and trembling. “I just… I had to do something. I couldn’t just stand there and watch.”

His expression softened, and for a moment, you saw the walls he usually kept up start to crumble. “I know,” he said quietly, his hand still on your arm, grounding you. “But you gotta trust me t’protect you, alright? This ain’t your fight.”

You nodded again, tears stinging your eyes as the reality of the situation finally started to sink in. You weren’t made for this—for the violence, the blood, the fear. You were out of your depth, dragged into a world you didn’t understand and couldn’t handle. But you couldn’t leave him, either. Not when he needed you.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, feeling the weight of your own inadequacy pressing down on you. “I’m not… I’m not like you, Remy. I can’t do this.”

He shook his head, pulling you into a tight embrace, holding you close against him. “You don’t gotta be like me, chère,” he murmured, his voice soothing. “You just gotta be you. And that’s enough.”

You clung to him, burying your face in his chest as the tears finally started to fall. The fight was over, the danger passed, but the fear and the adrenaline still pulsed through you, leaving you shaky and exhausted.

Remy held you, his presence warm and comforting, a steady anchor in the storm of your emotions. For a long moment, neither of you moved, just stayed there, holding on to each other in the aftermath of the chaos.

Finally, he pulled back, just enough to look at you, his hands gently cupping your face. “We’re gonna get outta here, alright?” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “An’ I’m gonna make sure you’re safe. Always.”

You nodded, swallowing hard as you wiped at your eyes, trying to pull yourself together. “Okay,” you whispered, your voice still shaky but stronger than before. “Okay.”

He smiled, a small, reassuring smile that made your heart ache with a strange mix of relief and something else—something warm and tender that you didn’t quite know how to name.

“Good,” he said simply, “Let’s get moving.”

You followed him, your hand in his, allowing him to pull you into the street, feeling the weight of everything that had just happened. The fight, the fear, the realization that you were in over your head—it all hung heavy in the air. But there was also something else, something that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you could handle this after all.

[spookypete-94]

Difficult Gratitude

GhoapxFem!Reader

Story I've had in my head for awhile now, and just needed to press it out finally.

Reader is female medic. Takes place during the mission of Soap getting shot. Implied established relationship between Soap and Ghost already. Reader very good friends with Soap, and Ghost still learning how to accept it. More then likely medical inaccuracies. Its fan-fiction after all. Will be a longer read, I didn't want to split it into a series (since in the process of writing one already) so strap yourself in. Trigger warning for smut towards the end. Language used as well. I started this about 345 this afternoon and just finished right around 10 pm, so I hope you like it lol..

MNDI!

Blood. Working with it every day made it seem not as grotesque to you as it used to be. The mass amount of it surrounding Johnny however, made your heart stop and breath hitch. He was lying in a large pool of it. You could smell the iron and wasn't even on top of it yet. Even with your nervous system short circuiting, your legs carried you as fast as you could to him. Sent with a different group of soldiers and TAC agents, you were kicking yourself in the ass for not urging Price for you to go with him and Johnny.

Kneeling over you saw a gunshot wound to his temple.

"Fuck," you hissed out pulling on the straps of his vest trying to get it off.

"He's gone." Ghost grumbled next to, as he had already been kneeling over Johnny. Ignoring him, you continued, laying your head on his chest trying to hear a familiar thump-thump.

Nothing.

You began to cut his t-shirt pulling an AED out of your bag.

"He's gone." Ghost said louder, next to trying to swat your hands away.

"I have to know I fuckin' tried." You snarled up at him matching his tone. Your eyes narrowed and teeth still bared at him. Fully looking feral.

The reaction from you makes Ghost scoot back, allowing you to do as you wished. Sure, you had worked with them for years now, but you've always been cheery and sweet. Sickeningly sweet, Ghost had thought. You wouldn't say you were close with Ghost, but Soap had always tried to make sure you knew you mattered to him. Out of all the unfortunate work you had to do, he was the beacon of light out of it all.

Ghost sat back, looking at Price who had approached finally. As the AED went to work, shocking Soap every so often after your set of chest compressions. Taking the time to start wrapping his head wound while it would scan him again before sending another shocking volt. Ghost finally looked up to Price, a silent plea to make it all stop. He couldn't handle watching his lover's body jolt one more time on the ground. After about 5 minutes total, you felt arms pick you up around the shoulders dragging you away.

"Thatsa' enough," Price grumbled into your ear.

"No!" you yelled, arms and legs flailing. "'M not done yet!"

"You've done all you can." He said arms on your shoulders as you put you back on the ground still holding you back. Looking at you like a father would after they had lost their beloved pet. Your eyes searched Price's as they welled with hot tears. The silence was broken however, as the AED machine made a beeping noise still connected to Soap... A faint noise and a line matched a heartbeat being read.

Pushing Price out of the way, you grumbled to him, a voice now full of gravel as you fought back the tears. "Call for a fuckin' bird." Kneeling back next to Soap, you could feel eyes burning into you. Refusing to look up you knew they belonged to Ghost. But you would be damned to meet him as you prepped Soap to be able to fly. Pulling an IV and a blood bag, you started hooking them in, all while watching the faint green line praying the cadence continued.

**********************************************

The flight back was rocky at best. You stayed with Soap, other paramedics now with you helping in all the ways they could. Task Force 141 not too far off as they watched their struggling brother.

A curtain was drawn splitting them off as a vent was used. Your worry came true as you watched the green line grow fainter.

"Losing him," someone said as they began to bag his airway until the vent was ready. You stood next to him at the side ready to start compressions again if needed, until another strong arm pulled you away again.

"Let them, you've done plenty." Gaz said soothingly trying to hold you to his side.

"I'm so fuckin' tired of you guys," you snapped fighting back once more.

"As your Captain you need to step back. Your nerves are shot. Compressions have taken it out of you." Price said pulling you back further away while on the bird. "Sit your ass down." Forcefully he pushed you down as he ran the belts to contain you in your seat. "I know this is hard for you, but you need ta' remember this is hard on all o' us righ' now. The entire medical team is back there, sit your fuckin' ass down." Accent getting thicker as he commanded you to sit still, all while trying to control his anger at your behavior.

And you couldn't help it. You slouched forward on your knees as the tears finally spilled over. "He's my best friend. The best one out of all of you." You said, your tone wanting to inflict pain back at them for pulling you off the resuscitation team. And the part that made you feel guilty was that none of them argued because they couldn't.

"He is," Price said agreeing with you, kneeling at your level, brushing your hair to the side of your face before doing the same motion again. "What will be will be now... You've done more then enough." You held your face in your hands, keeping the sobs at bay, refusing to fall all the way apart at the seams.

Ghost standing back and watching it all, heart in his throat feeling as if it was going to leap out his mouth and to his feet the entire time. Unable to say or do anything.

**********************************************

Everything else was a blur once landed. Peeking through your fingers, you watched as Soap was rolled out on the gurney. Ghost not too far away in tow, following the man he loved be rolled away towards the surgery room. Price unbuckled you once they were fully out and in the building. Was he worried you were going to chase after? If he hadn’t forced you to sit and calm down, you'd of been the one rolling the bed itself.

Seeing Gaz's hand reach out you to take it, standing up and letting him pull you into a hug.

"Proud of you." He said squeezing you, thankful you had fought back against Ghost and Price to save his friend.

Finally, you broke off the hug, heading towards the building and the surgical bay. Your footsteps felt heavy, but honestly you walked so quietly. Like if you made a singular noise, God would find you strike you down with lighting for fighting off the Reaper who was supposed to take your friend.

Having to take this walk many times with other patients you knew where to go. And to no shock to you, Ghost sat in the same hallway outside of the surgical bay already. Picking a seat across from him, you sat down and interlocked your fingers together and placed your head within it again. It pounded and hurt, fatigue finally settling in after your adrenaline rush.

Feeling the same sensation of the eyes burning holes into you again, but you refused to look up.

Ghost sat there in turmoil. He wanted to say something, to say anything. His tongue too heavy, as if it was made with the same lead that had struck Soap. Instead, he sat across from you, and searched you for any sort of emotion. Is that sleeping feral beast still in you? Would you snap at him again for trying to stop you? Or was that sickeningly sweet girl back...

Gaz and Price, both joined you both not too long after that. Both quiet.

Your knee now bounced with anxiety.

**********************************************

Somehow you had fallen asleep, head rolled back and leaned onto the edge of the chair. Blaming it on the adrenaline dump, you would never have been able to fall asleep in such an uncomfortable position and piece of furniture if you could call it that.

A light squeeze of your knee from Price as the OR DR. came walking through the doors to speak with you all.

"Bullets out and breathing with a vent for the time being." Ears perking up as he told you all. You shifted up higher in your seat, ready to pay full attention and ask questions where needed.

"Is he awake?"

"No, he will be in a medical induced coma for a bit until swelling goes down in his brain. Sleep will be the best method right now, and better pain management."

"Do we have a recovery window?"

A silent shake of his head, "No I'm sorry miss, this was an extremely evasive surgery and time will only tell with this."

"Can we see him?" Ghost asked, standing up ready to follow.

"Yes, you can see him. He won't be able to acknowledge you are there, but part of him will know."

The Dr. turned back to you, arm now on your shoulder.

"You should be proud of yourself. Your efforts are what saved him. No doubt a medal should be given in your honor."

The last statement inflicting rage. "You think I did this for a fucking medal??"

Oh, the feral beast in you was definitely sleeping and not dead. Ghost thought, as Price stepped in-between and you and the Dr. blocking your path from mauling the medical professional.

"Thank you, Dr., We will find him back there." Words rushed as he tried to send the Dr. on his way.

Gaz and Ghost slipped past the doors, waiting on the other side as Price tried to have a calming conversation with you.

"You gotta' keep it together. He just saved Soap." He said trying to comfort that angry monster lashing at its enclosure.

"Did you hear him?? I would give anything for Soap to be bullet free. Didn't do this for honor, I did it because he’s, my friend." you hissed back to Price in an angry whisper.

"I know, I know. Was something a muppet would say, but try to keep it intact yeah? I know what you mean and why you're angry, but none of us thought we would even get this far."

And how you wanted to correct him, none of them thought you would get this far, but you bit your tongue. No need to be spiteful. Soap was still on this side of the earth.

Walking in and seeing Soap in this condition was almost as hard as seeing him in his own blood. His head was fully shaved down, proud mohawk gone. Face was so pale from the loss of blood, but his chest raising and lowering even if it wasn't directly on his own will, made you feel at ease.

All picking a corner of the bed, and pulling up a chair, you sat up at Soap's upper left. You scanned his face for anything but knew that wouldn't come for a while. It stayed like this for a while before Gaz spoke up.

"Remember that time he broke the course record for clearing a building?"

"Was thinking about the time he did it and accidentally stepped in a small trash can and continued with it stuck to his foot." Answered Price laughing lightly, pulling his hat down over his eyes. You all knew he was hiding the descending tears.

"How he always calls us "Goat Heads", across the radio." You said lightly laughing, wiping your face. It was a stupid joke used in the place for "Go Ahead" meaning go with you radio traffic.

"The time he told me he could fix my problems if I took my mask off. How I knew I liked him." Ghost said, his hand running back and forth across Johnny's tenderly. You blinked looking away from the action, feeling as though you should never see something so delicate come from both men.

It continued like this for a while, telling small things that you remembered about Soap that had struck you. Until it was finally late in the night. You rubbed your eyes that were sore and raw from emotions that had racked up throughout the day, almost into the next.

"We should get some sleep. Ghost, I'll have them bring in a cot for you." Price said getting up extending his hand for you to take. Not wanting to be rude you took it, letting him pull you up. You gave Johnny a slight rub to his shoulder. Ghost might have been up and staring at you intimidatingly at you had it not been for the new fresh salty tears that pin pricked your eyes again.

"Night," you finally muttered to them all before stepping out and heading to your room. Your heart panged and beat against its cage. Once in your room, you stripped of your blood covered clothes and lay on the bed, turning and wailing into a pillow. You needed Soap to pull through.

**********************************************

Every day you took the time to visit Soap. Spending hours upon hours there with him. Taking in a radio so he could listen to his favorite music, sometimes rotating that to his favorite movies on a tablet. Ghost had come to figure out you knew a lot about Soap. It made him wonder how close you really are, if anything causing a spark of jealousy.

Ghost was angry, wanted to tell you that Soap's quality of life was your fault. Wanted to tell you that because of you, who knew if he would wake up from this coma. The Dr. had advised that they had stopped giving the medication to make him sleep 2 days ago... and he still hadn't woken up. Oh, how he wanted to say it was your fault that he was lying in this bed, unable to speak and move... but the alternative of his Johnny laying in the ground 6 feet deep, still unable to speak or move factures his heart more, so he kept his mouth shut. Instead, he holds on the small piece of hope that eventually Soap will open his eyes again.

It was hard for Ghost. Day in and day out he had watched as you did Soap's physical therapy. Instead of being out in the field as a working medic, you stayed back as his primary nurse. No one argued with you. Not even when Price left to continue his hunt for Markarov. Price had benched Ghost and you worried your emotions would get the best of both of you. In fact, if Ghost would of said all of those mean, hurtful things about it being your fault Johnny was bed bound, Ghost wondered if the dragon in you would wake again. He hadn't seen it since that day but knew better to question its status of it still being there. It would burn him alive if given the opportunity, and devour him whole. Ghost could feel the anger seep off you sometimes and wondered if you were thinking back to that unfortunate, bloody day. Did you hate him?

He sat in the chair next to the bed watching and listening to you talk to his Johnny. Raising his arm up and down to stretch the muscles so when he did wake, they weren't as stiff.

"I miss you stealing my pudding off my food tray. Wouldn't complain if you swiped it ever again, would just give it to you."

What else would you give him? Ghost thought darkly. There was no doubt that Ghost thought you were in love with Soap. Listening to all the stories you had, sometimes your favorite ones over and over. Now you were over at his right arm, picking it up, setting it back down.

"Thought about the time you were trying to help me pick a dress for the military ball, and said I would never take fashion advice from someone with a mohawk..." You said a whispering laugh afterwards. Honestly that made Ghost smile as well, but he would never tell. Thank God for this mask. The thought washing over and over in his mind.

"Soap?" The way you had said it made Ghost perk up. Looking up finally seeing your face change. It was full of curiosity. Your eyes flashed to Ghost's locking with his telling him something was for sure up.

"Soap, if you can hear me, squeeze my hand again." Ghost watched as the shells to his blue eyes fluttered, trying to open.

"Oh my god, Ghost," you said quietly, extending Soap's hand to him to take.

He took it from you, quickly.

"Johnny?" And he felt it too. A slight squeeze. "Johnny," Ghost cooed to Soap, causing the hand to squeeze over and over. A rhythm. Squeezing Ghost's arm, you slipped past him, running out the door asking for Dr.

Finally, blue eyes faced the world and locked with brown ones.

"Mornin' Si." Johnny croaked out squeezing his hand even harder.

**********************************************

Soap's recovery was lengthy to describe at best. The Dr. finally learned the extent of the damage to Johnny's brain from the bullet. Thankfully, most of it was only physical. Soap had to relearn how to walk and only struggled with words periodically. Ghost would work with him on his speech therapy, and you helped him with his physical therapy still.

Soap was persistent spending 2 hours with you every day. Ghost sitting back and playing overwatch, he had to watch the 2 of you interact. Your sweetness fully back. He watched as Soap would place his hands on your hips goofily smiling as you would pull them off and place them on the bars instead of the railing so he could support himself- you know like he should be instead. Something had happened to his Soap. He would lean in and smell your hair affectionally. He never did that before. Ghost knew Johnny still had eyes for him, still loved him. It was one of the things Johnny made Ghost practice saying first. Somehow Ghost couldn't help but wonder if this injury had rewired his brain, or maybe because he had almost died, he wanted all the things he could have out of life. It still hurt him to watch.

Your anger with everyone had mostly died off once Johnny had woken up. Johnny was all the good things out of this job, he was what made it worth it. If he had died, a large piece of you would have been buried with him. Maybe that was your fault for not being as close as you should be with some of the others... putting Ghost into a different light for you now.

Giving it a shot, you asked Johnny about things about him and Ghost. A way to bond and a way to test his memory. Where was their first date, his favorite thing to do with Ghost. And every time, Johnny answered with calling him Simon. He never once called him Ghost because that's how Johnny knew him. In away Ghost got to learn about you, interacting with Johnny, and you got to learn about Ghost. Johnny told you were his best friend because you were fierce and protective. So was Ghost. You stood up for what you believed in... and guess what so did Ghost.

**********************************************

"Didya' hear tha news, bonnie?" Johnny asked looking down on you as you helped him to the rails. He could do it on his own, but it was your part in PT to make sure he got there and didn't fall down. Policy.

"No, what news?" Your voice is light, airy, still a stark contrast to Ghost who sat in a chair not too far off.

"Makaraov is bagged and tagged." He said proudly, grinning. "Price and his team got him yesterday afternoon.

"No kiddin'?" Your world spinning off its axis for a moment.

Johnny gave a slight nod, hands bracing your hips again and pulling you into him giving a hug. His head placed on top of yours.

"What a fucking relief," you punctuated out, sighing heavily. The urge to cry hit you again but you fought it off. Instead, finally locking with the brown coals of Ghost's across the room. The first time you felt like he wasn't trying to set you on fire with a glance.

"Cannae hurt us again." He said into your hair.

"Thank God." you said the hot droplets finally falling down your face.

It stayed like this for a moment before you took a step back, hands bracing Johnny while you looked up at him and over at Ghost.

"Got news for you both too." Ghost stood up and approached to better join the conversation.

"I bought a piece of land, bought a tiny house, and I'm stepping out."

"You're leavin'?" Ghost asked crossing his arms over his broad chest.

"I can't do this anymore..." you explained feeling like you were being torn apart underneath a microscope. "What happened to you Johnny, changed me. I don't think I can do the job anymore... I have nightmares still." you admitted. Ghost's body language softening, shoulders rolling down, hands resting next to Johnny's who still gripped the rail. He didn't even think of the mental affect that it had on you too. Another thing you unknowingly had in common.

"Ya' cannae leave..." Johnny said hurt in his voice.

"You still got me, can't get rid of me that easily. I'll stay in contact. And you're doing great, I'd say you'll be fully recovered in no time."

"I'm comin' with ya'. Visit for a bit until I'm fully released."

"Johnny..." your voice light.

"No, yer ma' nurse. Cannae leave me. Si?" He said looking over at Ghost. Johnny knew Ghost would give him the world and never say no.

"Would be nice ta' get outta here, until he's ready to go." Head turning back down to you.

You sighed. "Fine, way to invite yourself, Johnny." You teased, smiling and shaking your head.

The happy blue eyes and toothy grin was worth it... even if you felt like space was being forcefully invaded.

You are glancing over, entranced with Ghost's smoldering brown eyes next.

**********************************************

The piece of land you had bought was in the middle of nowhere. Surrounded by tall pine trees, a clear vessel of water cut through it. Mountains towered in the back, ironically 4 of them. You had named them Price, Gaz, Soap, and Ghost. Feeling like it fits all of them somehow. Even though you were stepping away from it all, it was comforting to know you had something like them with you still. The air was crisp and clean, something you have not had in so long. No smell of a medical room, no smell of tar and tang from firearms. No smell of blood.

It was a good change... peaceful. Something you needed. You arrived at your new home first, readying it for your 2 guests. You decided it was best to put them in the master bedroom. A king size bed for 2 large men. How ironic that you bought it for you, and it won't even be used for you on the first night you have access to it. Once that bed was dressed for them, you made the guest bed. Finding the joke funny you were a guest in your home. Honestly, you were excited to have this transition with someone sure... but you knew things were off with you and Ghost. But if Johnny was here it had to be ok. You would make it work.

They arrived before noon. You went out to assist, but Ghost stopped you at the front of the truck. He opened Johnny's door, standing there to help him if he needed it, but Johnny climbed down on his own and teetered out with a cane.

He grinned his notorious smile at you. Large white pearls, blue eyes squinting with glee.

"Look at you," you said proud of him.

"All on my own." he crooned.

Stepping inside, you showed them around your tiny house. Not a whole lot to show them but wanted them to see where they would be sleeping and where the bathroom was less. The bedrooms were on opposite sides of the house. Theirs to the right when they walked in and through the kitchen. Yours just to left.

"Pretty close to the door... and far from us." Ghost said in the direction to your room.

"Don't think anyone will be looking or finding us out here."

A light rumble leaving his chest as he looked back down at you. It made your stomach burn. What kind of noise is that?

"If she gets lonely, she can just come join us, Si." Johnny said over his shoulder peeking into your room.

It left you baffled. Sure, there was some touching from Johnny, but you had always brushed it off to how he was altered from his injury.

Your face looking from Johnny, back to Ghost. Staring back at you and not saying anything. Strange behavior.

"Your guy's room will be over here." You said, leading them through the kitchen and into the master.

"Nice size room for a tiny house," Ghost concluded looking around.

"Nice size bed for us too," Johnny said. Not wanting another weird comment, you stepped away for a bit. Grabbing 3 glasses and a pitcher of lemonade.

"Why did you get a tiny house?" Ghost asked, "All this land, coulda had a big ol’ house."

"Always just pictured it as me. Don't need a lot of space."

Again, Ghost stood leaning against the door frame realizing you were more alike than you thought. You plan on being alone... just like he had until he met Johnny.

You watched an arm of Johnny's sneak around Ghost's waist, and you once more diverted your eyes. Did physical touch really bother you all that much? He wondered.

**********************************************

The night eased its way in. You spent most of the day still trying to get settled into your new home. You all were outside now underneath the stary sky.

For dinner you grilled steaks with an assortment of vegetables and mashed potatoes.

"Bett'r cook then yer' a medic." Johnny said in-between bites. "An' 'ats sayin' sumthin."

"Don't talk with yer mouth full." Ghost scolded. He had taken off his mask earlier in the day. You had seen him without it before, but it was hard not to look at him. His angled jaw, a broken nose from who knows when or what, a scar that runs over his mouth... but he was beautiful to you. It was your turn to burn holes in him.

He knew you were looking at him but took a page out of your book refusing to meet your eyes, trying to let you feel comfortable with him... for Johnny's sake.

Johnny started talking to Ghost about what they could do during their visit, leaving you to get up and take the dishes inside. Stealing a moment for yourself, you ran hot water and washed the dishes. You heard the door open, but knowing it was one of them you continued.

It wasn't until a large hand brushed your hair to the side exposing your neck. That was what made you turn around to look but was stopped feeling 2 arms pin you against the sink before pushing you back into it, leaving you stationary. Lowering their head down to the side of yours watching your shirt get tugged to the side exposing a shoulder. A warm kiss graced your shoulder before their mouth came back up to the side of your ear.

"I've never thanked you for it all," Ghost's voice rumbled in your ear, making you look up and out the window seeing Johnny at the table looking up at the stars. Your heart jumped and fluttered. Any much longer you were going to need the same AFib you had saved Johnny with.

"I'm grateful for you and all that ya've done. He loves you... And think I'm startin' to."

Thump-thump was what you were looking for Johnny's chest about 3 months ago. If someone were to stop and listen to yours it would sound like a double drum. He kissed your neck, before pulling your shirt back up on your shoulder and giving your shoulder a slight squeeze.

You didn't look back up at him as he slipped back outside sitting next to Johnny wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Standing there dumbfounded for a minute, you grabbed 3 new fresh glasses and a tumbler of good whiskey for the occasion, not sure if you were going to be brave enough to step outside. So, you took a couple shots from it yourself to make sure you would have the courage to join them again

**********************************************

It was here you found yourself laid bare in front of them in the warmth of the fire.

Johnny made the first move, pulling you into his lap after his 2nd glass of whiskey not being able to drink from his injury making him more brazen from the amber liquid. His hands had worked their way into your pants leaving you a squirming mess, Ghost sitting now turned facing you.

It made you uncomfortable, his eyes the same color of the whiskey you noticed. His hand leaning against his fist, face unreadable as he watched.

"Relax Bonnnnn," Johnny purred into your ear. "We've already spoke abou' this." 3 fingers of his rubbing against you through your panties. "Both wan' this. Both wan' you. Least we can do ta thank ya'." Making your body at ease.

"Both want this?" You asked, head turning against his.

"Mmmmm." Ghost rumbled. There's that fucking noise again you thought still not sure how to take it.

"We do." Johnny said still whispering into you, his other hand pulling your pants down.

Ghost leaned down, tugging them down further helping them off your legs and over your feet. Instead of taking your panties down, he kneeled in further, tonging you over your cunt. A large gasp leaving you, the sensation still overwhelming. Johnny removed his hands from there moving up your shirt where he slipped under your bra, lightly pinching your nipples. Friction makes you roll yourself against them. Ghost had picked up either of your legs, placing them on either side of his head and neck. Not even bothering to take your panties off, he impulsively pushed them to the side holding them with a finger. His tongue slipped past your folds and rubbed up through you making your gasp shriller this time.

“Ghost,” you hissed out.

“Call ‘im Simon, Love,” Johnny said rubbing your nipples again, making a whimper leave you.

Simon did the same thing, hoping for a different outcome from your mouth, and you called out to him. “Simon…” Fingers slipping into his strands of dark blonde hair.

“There ya’ go.”

Simon made you ride his face while you were sitting down essentially. Making your hips grind up into his mouth where he greedily licked through you over and over. Once he decided you were wet enough, he slipped one of his large fingers in you, leaning back up to watch you. Your head was rolled up onto Johnny’s shoulder. Johnny having slipped your shirt up along with your bra, leaving your chest exposed.

“Oh, pretty girl,” he grumbled slipping in another finger, your head now rolling up further to look at him. The fire only made his eyes burn more. “Savin’ the love of my life pretty girl. Realizing how stupid I was…” he said pumping his fingers a few times before slipping in a 3rd.

“Siiiimon,” you whined squirming harder. Simon leaned forward, kissing you, before breaking it off quickly. Looking up he said to Johnny, “She’s ready, you ready?”

Johnny nodded vigorously. Simon gently helped you off his lap and onto the picnic table, pushing you back softly so your back was against it, turning you so your legs dangled off the side without a bench.

He leant down over you again, kissing you once more. It was just as much tongue as he had used on your cunt, still hungry. His fingers lifted your shirt up over your head and behind you on the table. He took his off as well and placed it under yours. You realized he was saving you from getting splinters off the table.

While he pulled back, you stopped him, hand behind his neck. Your movement confused him until he realized you stopped him so you could kiss him this time.

“Oh bonnie,” Johnny said finally unbuckling his pants and pulling out his cock stroking it a few times.

“Makin’ this hard love, want him to go first so he properly thanks ya’… then you go and have to do something like that,” Simon says dry humping into you. The friction is almost too much at first making you groan.

“Get in there Johnny,” Simon said stepping aside, allowing him through and have access to between your legs. He was slow at first a little wobbly, this something he hasn’t done for awhile clearly. You used your legs and wrapped around his waist, helping him to align with you before pushing in. It made your head roll back, your hair bunching up behind your head, a loud filthy moan leaving your lips.

“Yeah,” Johnny said moving out and back in. Looking down, you saw Simon’s hands holding his waist giving him assistance in fucking you.

The sight was definitely alluring and attractive to you. Simon helping Johnny. Maybe this is what it was like for Simon watching you help Johnny, and you had it wrong the whole time. Maybe he wasn’t jealous… he was envious. It didn’t take long for you to come. Your legs gripping on Johnny trying to slow him, but he just pushed into you harder and faster. Simon holding his core. Your warm walls finally squeezing him and slowing him down. Your cunt fluttering so hard, all you could do was constrict on to him.

“Jesus,” Johnny hissed out finally leaning forward laying on your abdomen for a bit. Your hands rested on his shoulders smoothing out his hair, letting him lax on to you while he caught his breath.

Simon stood behind him before finally helping Johnny sit next to you on one of the benches at the table.

“My turn,” he said standing back up and taking position over you. His fuck wasn’t like Johnny’s, it was rough. Instantly ramming into you over and over, lifting your legs up to his shoulders again using his raw power. Something Johnny would have to work up to. Johnny leaned forward kissing you, talking you through it.

“Such a good girl, takin’ it so well, lass,” again tweaking a nipple and holding a breast as they bounced from Simon's pounding.

This went on for a while, and even then, Simon wasn’t done. He turned you over and propped you up on your knees, thrusting into you from behind, watching you come undone on him this time. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you onto him in a way that didn’t feel human… but it sure curbed that feral dragon in you. And that’s all he wanted.

**********************************************

Simon carried you inside and into the master bedroom before going out to help Johnny in. He had pulled the blankets back and set you inside them. You pulled the blankets back on the other side, making room for Johnny. Simon had an arm under him helping him walk into your bed. Simon then slipped in behind you, arm over your waist as he pulled you back into him.

Johnny rolled over to his side sandwiching you between him and Simon, hand in your hair stroking it.

“Did well, bonnie, good physical therapy,” he joked, thumb stroking your cheek.

You gave a small laugh, laughing harder once you realized you were in your bed tonight and not a guest in your home in the other room.

“Gonna need something bigger than a tiny house,” Simon matched back “gonna have little ones before too long.” His hand already over your womb, mouth on your neck again already.

Simon "Ghost" Riley Masterlist

[raynesbunny]

WHAT MAKES THEM EMBARRASSED?

Mashle headcanon!

💌: GN!reader, fluff

⚠️: Ooc and maybe cringe, slight suggestive on Orter's part?

Requested by: @rainee-da

Characters: Orter Madl, Rayne Ames, Abyss Razor

Others: Guess who's back! I was thinking of finishing all the short stories before going back, though— but I don't want to keep you guys waiting! I'll feel very bad if I do so｡:ﾟ(;´∩`;)ﾟ:｡ Angst Rayne A. x reader coming soon! Still fixing a lot of errors<33 Enjoy reading, pookies!(≧▽≦) (this is my first time writing a headcanon so please do leave a message if there are errors!)

—

Orter Màdl

♡ It's almost impossible to make this man feel embarrassed; he hardly shows any expressions regardless of what others do—always wearing a straight and serious face! Many have attempted to make him laugh and smile, but their efforts have always been in vain, no matter how much they've tried. It almost seemed like expressing emotions is against the rules to him!

♡ And then there's you, his dearest, his partner, his beloved, his darling, his sweetheart, his sunshine, his angel, his lover, the one who melted his icy heart and kept it warm—the only one capable of evoking emotions within him that he never thought he would experience someday. (although, this rule-obsessed man cannot bring himself to admit it openly!)

♡ If there's one thing that can make Orter feel embarrassed, it would be your unexpected, sneaky and quick yet soft kisses and pecks!

♡ Whenever you peck his cheek, his brain momentarily stops functioning, and his heart flutters. His body freezes (and a faint blush is visible on his cheeks) at the touch of your soft lips against his skin.

♡ Your innocent and delicate feathered kisses drives him wild, but he would never dare to utter a word about his longing for more of those adorable little kisses!

Extra:

♡ Today was another busy day for the young man, Orter Màdl. Well— busier than usual that he had forgotten to bring his lunch with him.

And here you are, now in his office to deliver the homemade lunch to your hard-working lover, along with an encouraging letter you poured your heart into creating!

Upon noticing your presence, Orter averted his gaze from his work and looked up at your approaching figure with a small bag in your hand.

"What brings you here?" he asked.

"You forgot your lunch at home, and I won't allow my man to work with an empty stomach, so I decided to bring it here to you," you replied.

Orter remained silent, choosing to turn his focus back to his paperwork. However, his shoulders seemed more relaxed now, and his facial expression had softened. That sight alone was enough for you to know that he was grateful, and he doesn't need to express it through words or pay you back.

(The pile of paperwork on his desk bothered you. You seriously wanted to help, but this stubborn boyfriend of yours would not let you, and you were left with no choice.)

(Last time, you tried helping him, but it only ended up with you wrapped in his sand magic.)

"Here's your lunch, by the way. Don't forget to eat it at lunchtime," you said, placing the small bag with his lunchbox inside on his desk. When you heard no answer, you glanced at him, seeing that he was focused on his work.

This seemed to be the perfect time to take the chance and sneak a kiss.

As your lips were about to reach his cheek, Orter turned around (on purpose), causing your lips to meet his instead.

You were about to pull away immediately, only for the desert cane to grab your wrists, pin you down on his desk and deepen the kiss, preventing you from moving and keeping the kiss from breaking. Leaving you breathless and blushing, a flustered mess.

—

Rayne Ames

♡ Just like the rule-obsessed divine visionary, he's often cold and serious. But believe me when I say that he isn't cruel! He's just having a hard time expressing that he actually cares for the people, especially those whom he's fond of, interested in, and of course- you.

♡ Speaking of you, you are his everything. He'd do anything to keep you safe, make you feel loved, respected, and comforted! Even with his busy schedule, he'll find a way to prioritize you, no matter what. (You matter the most in his life, aside from his rabbits and Finn, of course he'll prioritize those who are important to him.) Though, there are times that he must attend to his duties first, but he'll be sure to make it up to you! It just takes some time, and hopefully you'll understand.

♡ And when I say you're his everything, I mean; you're his joy, his comfort, his warmth, his flower, his world, his dream, his reason to smile, his strength, his motivation, his star, his light—

♡ If there is something that makes this man embarrassed, it's the way you know or understand what he wants (sometimes mentioning it) and letting him know that you have given him your consent!

♡ He will hesitate at first, but will give in as soon as he knows that you are certain. Like those days where he was staring down at your lips with a troubled expression, and this will never go unnoticed by you.

♡ You held yourself back from laughing, it was truly an adorable and amusing sight!

♡ You would press your forehead against his, your lips parting to mutter the words that you have given him your consent.

♡ Rayne's face would turn bright red, his gaze snapping to you with a look of embarrassment. He cannot believe he got caught again!

♡ You chuckled at the expression on his face, but your laughter died down when Rayne immediately brought his lips to meet yours in a gentle yet firm kiss, the contact sending a warm shiver down your spine.

Extra:

♡ You were playing with Rayne's pet rabbits in your shared room, wearing the comfortable rabbit hoodie that matched with your boyfriend but in your favorite color.

"There! All done!" You chirped and stroked Usao's fluffy fur, staring at all the rabbits decorated with ribbons in awe.

"[Name.]"

At the sound of his voice calling your name, you turned around to face him. Once you did, you're met with himself close to you, the sudden closeness making your eyes widen in surprise and confusion. "Is something the matter?"

(It was hard reading him this time, not even a single clue was visible! Is he doing this on purpose?)

Said boyfriend shook his head before gently taking your hand in his, caressing it tenderly.

He closed his eyes and brought your hand up to his lips for him to place a soft and long kiss.

The kiss lasted for a while and it took you some time to process what just happened. When you did, you found yourself stunned and flustered.

—

Abyss Razor

♡ Believe when I say THAT THIS MAN GETS ALL FLUSTERED WITH EVERYTHING YOU DO. (You were just too much for his heart to handle, he might explode in embarrassment.)

♡ Even the simplest, smallest things you do, like getting close to him, holding his hand, or even a gentle poke on the cheek, headpats, or your compliments, cause him to freeze in embarrassment or leave him trembling and a stuttering mess. (Even your smile and voice!)

♡ The last time this happened was when you were combing his hair and you stopped when you caught a whiff of the scent of his hair.

You drew closer to him, hoping to smell that pleasant fragrance again.

"Say, Abyss, what shampoo do you use?"

♡ He responded with silence, you were just too close to him! Close enough that his brain stopped functioning!

♡ Abyss.exe has stopped working.

♡ You are welcome to shower this lover of yours with affection, but please have mercy! He has zero experience when it comes to this! (Your affections for him might be the cause of his death /j)

♡ He is so adorable, please don't ever hurt him. Cherish him with all your heart, for goodness' sake! He deserves all the love and care.<33

Extra:

Your fingers brushed the silky strands of your lover's hair, tucking it behind his ear before clipping it with a ribbon. (I live for the coquettish display<33)

Once you were done, you gasped at the sight of your lover with his hair neatly down and a ribbon clipped in place.

"My goodness! You look beautiful, my love, as always!"

"Even with my cursed evil eye?"

"Nonsense! I find your evil eye unique and beautiful! Even with or without that, you will always be a beauty in my eyes, both on the outside and the inside!"

Just as he was about to respond, you gently placed your finger on his lips and embraced him, burying your face in his stomach.

"Hush! Don't even think of saying those words. Your cursed evil eye has nothing to do with who you are! You have done nothing wrong! If no one else will accept the whole of you aside from Abel, then I WILL. I do not care what that evil eye of yours will do to me, I am willing to embrace everything in you. I will always love you, even with all your flaws. Nothing and no one can change my mind and my heart—"

You stopped yourself from rambling when you felt a sudden drop of liquid fall on top of your head.

"Abyss?"

You sat up to check on him, only for panic to rush through you as your eyes met his face that is soaked with tears.

"Did I say something wrong? Please, don't cry and tell me what's wrong! It pains me to see you in tears!" (You might cry too /j)

Receiving no response from him, you were left with no choice but to embrace him in a hug, hoping that it could provide him solace.

Abyss wrapped his arms around you in return, his tears soaking the fabric on your shoulder. (Which you did not mind at all.)

He could never be more grateful than being accepted despite the flaws he bore, especially his very own evil eye.

—

I'll add a few more characters for this headcanon after writing the second angst I'm planning to write! I hope you enjoyed reading my first headcanon! Have a great, wonderful day or night, lovelies!💌

[giveafike]

Hi can you write Elliot euphoria and YN have a camping indoors sleepover that leads to more than just friends. Extra smutty please 🤭

TLDR: Elliot and Y/N planned a "camping trip" during college vacation and well, one thing led to another and...

Word count + info: 2.1k THIS ONE IS LONGGGG! Dialogue (it’s mostly sex talk and them being silly goofy guys). Female college!readerxElliot (no specifications).

Warnings + Content Ahead: NSFW this is 18+ MDNI, 420 mentioned, biting, oral sex, no protection (smh), lotta making out and mouth stuff, thigh riding 🤭 I think that’s it!

Azzie Notes ✚: Chat we are so back! sorry I took so long bro, IRL has been soo fkin messy atm but I just needed to write and get back on here. Why is my inbox ovulating so hard tho 😭  guys lets be demure too (kidding I need dom more than ever before now that Dominic has gone MIA)I hope u enjoy it's been a while! I also mentioned Euphoria like,.. the actual word and geeked out a bit go try n find it and geek out w me

————————————————————————

When It Rains, It Pours - D.F.

“Oh, dude you’ve got to be fuckin' kidding me” He huffs.

There you both were, like two idiots holding hamper baskets with blankets, snacks, rolling papers, and small pillows, staring out the glass door into the backyard as rain poured down heavy, the sound of wind whistling as the drops hit the windowed door hard.

You and Elliot had spent many summers “camping” in his backyard since High School and since college had separated your time together, what better way to reunite than kicking off summer in your hometown by camping? Only this year, you both promised to save up and go somewhere this time, but alas, it was just you, Elliot, his empty house and, the torrential rain outside. You both stood in matching tartan shorts and your graduation grey t-shirts from high school like a bunch of losers.

You sigh as you set down your hamper. “So much for that camping trip, huh?” you smirk, biting a smile down.

He sets his hamper basket down too and rummages through it to find his rolling paper and his little bag of weed. “Can’t believe our fuckin’ luck man” He murmurs angrily as he fumbles his papers up.

You sigh and reach over, grabbing his now crumpled paper, and, plop yourself down on the beanbag by the door before rolling his blunt for him. He sighs and sits on the floor between your legs, placing his chin on your knee before looking up at your face, and tucking some hair behind your ear.

“I missed this- I mean I missed you, ya know? Seeing your Instagram Stories and FaceTiming isn’t the same, you even look different. I really wanted to have something to remind you of me, like old times sake sort of thing, whatever that shit means” he mumbles, before pressing his cheek onto your knee, avoiding eye contact.

Your eyes widen at his confession and you stop in your tracks, your fingers moving away from the paper to his face, bringing his eyes back to look at you. Elliot had a lot messed up but one thing was for sure; he always had your back and was always there whenever you needed him.

You both were messed up together, he was your first kiss accidentally, you accidentally smoked weed together, and you both accidentally spent the night in a jail cell after trying to joyride an old car, only to end up crashing that same car within the span of a few minutes since neither of you could drive. Something about those accidents made your heart flutter and kept you around Elliot closer rather than push you away, even though your parents didn’t exactly take it well. Now, after spending almost 8 months away, you were worried Elliot felt like he was slipping away.

“Elli, you’ll always have me, you know that right? Like, you’ve fucked me up so bad that we have a trauma bond, you can’t expect me to slip away, dude. A-And remember one time it rained like this and we made an indoor fort? How ‘bout we do that then, yeah? We have all the stuff for it, the weed and all.” You smile, hoping to get a small laugh out of him as you hold his head, his eyes boring into yours while your fingers coil around his blonde-tipped hair.

He sighs and closes his eyes softly, before nodding, grunting as he gets up. He looks down at you before you lift your head to meet his gaze. Elliot lowers himself to plant kisses on your forehead with an overwhelming tenderness that sends shivers down your spine. It turns almost possessive as he trails it down to your cheek and peppers it with long kisses. Your breath hitches and you feel like melting under his touch. You had never felt a simple kiss to be so sensual but here you were, shivering with your breath hitching. He brings his mouth to your ear, his breath slow and almost ragged.

“If you left me, Y/N, I don’t know what I’d do...” His breath is ragged against your skin as he nips at your earlobe before abruptly standing upright again. He digs into his pockets as he walks over and attends to unpacking the hampers, acting nonchalant despite the raw passion still coursing through him. Elliot has kissed and touched you before, albeit while high, but something felt so different, so desperate at this moment.

You try to shrug it off as you roll a few more blunts before crawling inside the now-built fort Elliot had made. He sits on his knees as he puts up some string lights and fluffs up some pillows before resting on his elbows and leaning back. You sit in front of him, holding a blunt between your lips. He can’t help but smile as he brings his old lighter up to you, setting it alight and bringing his face close. The first hit in your lungs feels like home as you exhale with a giggle, blowing the smoke directly into his face. His eyes narrow playfully as he leans in, not breaking eye contact. Instead of simply taking the blunt, his lips brush against yours—soft, lingering—before catching the blunt between them. The kiss is brief but electric, the blunt slipping from your mouth to his as his lips hover close, teasing. For a moment, his face stays just inches from yours, the warmth of his breath mingling with the haze of smoke.

It’s like you’re in his pocket and he’s in yours, both of you wrapped around each others’ fingers. Your back is almost pressed to his, your face tilted up to look at his while his hands wrap around your waist, under your shirt and the waistband of your shorts feeling your smooth skin. It must’ve been 20 minutes when you decide to put the blunt to the side on a small tray and reach up to his face, this time parting his mouth for a kiss. It’s lazy and relaxed as you shift your body to straddle his thigh, your tongue slipping in. Elliot moans into the kiss, holding your hip with one hand and gripping your hair tight with the other.

You grind and gyrate on his thigh, your hands pulling at his curls; you knew he went crazy for hair tugs. His lips trail your neck, his tongue and teeth trailing and gnawing as he laps the length from your collarbone to your earlobe. You let out a whimper as you continue to buck against his thigh, desperate for more. You pull away, pressing your forehead to his.

“Elli, please… don’t hold back” you murmur, pleading as you heave.

He doesn’t answer, instead, he nods and takes his hand under your t-shirt to lift it up and over your head in one swift motion before connecting his lips back to yours. You gasp as you feel the cold air hit your naked torso, the sensation fresh with the sound of you making out with rain noises in the background and the smell of marijuana burning away. It all feels so right, so real.

His head dips between the valley of your breasts, suckling while holding eye contact, lazily moving his mouth over your breast, gliding the tip of his tongue in painful slow circles before taking your nipple between your teeth. His eyes look into yours with pure innocence and attentiveness, as you moan and hold his head there, roaming his curls as you continue to rock back and forth on his thigh, desperately trying for some friction for your now soaking core. You roll his t-shirt up and take it off his torso, throwing it to the side.

Elliot holds you and places you down on the pillow and the mess of bedsheets covering the wooden floor. He leans down, planting soft kisses from the nape of your neck to the edge of your waistband. He perks up to look at you with those sweet eyes you can never get enough of.

“You’re stunning, you know that, Y/N? You always have been.” He whispers shyly before tugging at your waistband looking for approval.

You nod and lift your hips up as he pulls your shorts and underwear off in one swift motion, discarding them outside of the fort. Elliot almost groans at the sight of you completely naked, his eyes filled with desire and admiration. He grabs the blunt placed on the tray and takes a long drag. Smoke billows from his lips and drifts towards your glistening center, making you shiver with anticipation. You moan at the sensation, feeling a wave of heat rush through your body. His head dips down while he kisses your inner thighs, licking softly. He kisses your core, right on your bud making you gasp. Elliot gently spreads your lips, taking one long lick up, circling over your bud. Something about how easy and purposeful he was being had made this all the more arousing, loud moans and encouragement rolling out from your lips begging him to keep going.

Elliot eats you out as if it's his sole duty, his purpose in life, and takes his sweet time to savour you, to thrust his tongue in and out of you, to drink you up until it brings your next orgasm, and then do it all over again. His hand thumbs your breast, the other holding your hips down as you continuously buck up for each wave of pleasure he gives you that ripples through your body. Elliot reaches down to free his member as he carries you through yet another orgasm, this time jerking himself off in slow, lazy strokes, dedicating himself to you first.

As you come down from your orgasm, you feel like you’re seeing stars, everything is flowing perfectly and harmoniously for the first time in a long time. You prop yourself up on your elbows as you watch him gently guide himself to your wet core. Elliot rubs his head up and down before thrusting in, watching your face for any sign of discomfort or displeasure. You grab his shoulder with one hand and bite your lip, nodding to ask him to keep going. He pushes in further, bottoming out inside of you entirely. Your tight hole twitches around his member, adjusting to his size as he slowly moves out, before pounding back in.

It doesn’t take much for Elliot to lose control and find himself relentlessly thrusting into you, roughly gripping a hand to your breast as he moves at a furious pace. You let out provocative giggles and purrs, further fueling his intense desire as he thrusts in and out of you. The fort feels humid, the sound of rain and skin slapping filling the room. Your body craves this, needing more and more as every thrust sends a wave of pleasure through your entire body. Elliot's red eyes are locked on yours, his face contorted with pure passion, your name spilling out like a prayer. You wrap your legs around his waist, urging him to go even deeper. His breath hitches as he pounds into you, his hips bucking wildly. The smell of sweat and sex fills the air as he continues to pound, his name echoing from your lips with every thrust.

As you near the edge, you can feel yourself tightening around him, squeezing each time he slams into you. Elliot grabs your hips, holding you tightly as he thrusts faster and harder, his eyes locked on yours. His face is a mix of passion and desperation, knowing you are about to shatter beneath him. And then it happens. You both reach your peaks, sending a jolt of euphoria through the both of you before collapsing, rocking together in one final attempt to ride out your highs. Your nails dig roughly into his shoulder as Elliot bites down on yours, your arms holding him as he lies on top of you before he pulls out and falls to your side. You both breathe out with your mouths dry and skin slick with sweat as you stare up at the bedsheet lined fort ceiling covered in string lights.

Elliot sits up to lazily grab the blunt from the tray, accidentally brushing past one of the fort supports. He pauses for a moment, before exhaling and lying back, taking a drag before handing it to you, smiling.

“You know, for a second there I thought I fuckin’ ruined the momen-” He’s cut off by the fort caving in, entangling you both in sheets. You can’t even be mad at him, he just accidentally crashed his own fort after making your legs shake. God knows how the rest of the night goes, but at least it’s spent with good, old Elli.

[lanawinterscigarettes]

hiii i just found your blog, I LOVE HOW YOU WRITE, and if i can request like an angsty story about house and wilson with reader, and the reader has like some disease that'll kill her😭😭😭😭😭im just craving angst

YOU ARE SO SWEET THANK YOU 💞💞 it's been awhile since I've written a good angst fic so this is perfect for me

Your Last Breath (Greg House x gn reader x James Wilson)

Warnings: talk of hospitals/medical procedures, reader has a mystery illness that kills them, they/them pronouns used a few times to refer to the reader in a gender neutral way, hurt/no comfort, heavy angst, main character death (spoiler: it's you)

The doctors had been trying for months to figure out what was wrong with you. Months of invasive tests, months of going back and forth with possible explanations, months of being put on temporary treatments that seemed to work for a short while before you eventually succumbed to whatever was causing your problems again.

Everyone was stumped, and by everyone I truly do mean everyone. Not even House could figure out what was wrong, something that frustrated him to no end for multiple reasons. And by the time he was finally able to figure out what the cause was, it was already too late.

The disease had progressed too far along on its course for the doctors to be able to treat it properly. The best they could do was make you comfortable for the few weeks you had left to live.

Usually he liked having cases he couldn't crack, he liked figuring out the puzzle of what was bothering his patient, he liked being able to go to Cuddy and say "I told you so" when it ended up him being right and everyone else was wrong. But not this time.

This time all he wanted to do was curl up into a ball and die. If only. He'd gladly give up both of his legs if it meant you'd get better.

Meanwhile, the resident head of oncology wasn't taking the news very well, either. It was normal for House to shut himself away for extended periods of time, but not Wilson. He barely left his office anymore, not to check on his own patients, not to accept a request for a consult, nothing. In fact, the only time he ever did leave was to visit you.

Most nights were spent with either him or House at your side, checking your vitals and fetching whatever it was that you needed. You ended up having to beg the both of them to go home at some point, even if it was to just shower and change, but they still refused, choosing to stay at the hospital instead.

Occasionally one of the ducklings would stop by if either of them couldn't for some reason, whether that be due to another patient needing attention or because you finally convinced them to take a break for once.

Foreman was solemn, talking about arrangements that could possibly be made for your body after death if you hadn't decided already. Cameron was sympathetic, reassuring you that they'd make sure you wouldn't be in any pain during your last days on earth. Chase was playful, trying to take your mind off things by cracking a joke or two. And Cuddy was surprisingly very nurturing when she managed to make the time to check in on you.

The whole thing was very bittersweet. While you appreciated everyone caring so much about you, it hurt to know why they were doing it.

Your final day was surprisingly quiet, with no nurses stopping by to check on you every hour or so like they had been for the past couple of weeks where you'd been bedridden almost completely. You suspected someone had requested for that, so you could have a bit of peace in the last few hours you'd be alive for.

House stood at the foot of your bed, watching as you slept. He looked like he was about to say something when Wilson suddenly spoke up from the armchair beside your bed.

"Don't even think about it, House. You're not waking them up right now."

Despite Wilson's firm tone, House couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Oh, come on. It's not like it matters much, they're going to be dead soon anyway."

It took everything in the oncologist not to snap and strangle the man in front of him. The only thing that managed to stop him was the sound of you letting out a hacking cough as you woke up. Even with the oxygen machine, it had become increasingly more difficult for you to breathe.

"Guys, don't fight," you tried to make your tone stern as you lectured them, but your throat was dry and therefore made your voice weak and raspy when you spoke.

"Hey, hey, don't speak, it's alright," Wilson gently reassured you as he reached out to take one of your hands into his. Your skin felt clammy, but he didn't care.

House had a pained look in his eyes as he watched you, but he did his best to cover it up with his usual snark. "We were just talking about you. Trying to figure out who should get your stuff when you die."

Wilson gave him an evil look, but you simply laughed. At least, they thought you laughed. It was kind of hard to tell given how sick you were.

"You guys are funny."

If it were any other time, House would've beamed with pride and joy at being able to make you smile with one of his quips, but this time he just felt empty inside, knowing that it was possibly the last one you'd ever hear. He quietly observed as Wilson helped you drink some water out of a small paper cup, one hand helping you hold it up to your lips while the other rested on your shoulder.

"Thank you," was the only thing you managed to get out once you were done, your breathing stalling yet again when you tried to speak. The three of you knew it was getting close to when it was going to happen. The problem was that only one of you had accepted it, and it wasn't either one of the two doctors who were in the room.

"I love you guys," ended up being your final words, a bittersweet smile on your face and tears in your eyes as you took your last breath. You hoped they knew that you meant that. You hoped they knew that you didn't blame them.

And you hoped that your death helped to bring them closer together rather than tearing them apart. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but who really cared? It's not like you'd be around to witness it anyway.

End notes: I rarely ever finish a request this early so please don't expect this to become a normal thing 😭 I just got really into writing this for some reason and once I started I just couldn't stop

Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated | requests are currently open

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🏷 taglist: @pigeonmama @caplanreblogsfics

[rileyglas]

The List ~Pt. 1 - Creation~

Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) x Reader

This is my first-time writing fanfic but I literally cannot get the stories out of my brain so…why not make everyone else suffer. This is part one of a story I’ve been rolling around some time. I feel setting a good foundation for the reader/main character is super important, so I PROMISE this story gets better. Be prepared for the usual angst, mystery (Alastor), sassiness (Lucifer), fluff, eventual smut (yes horny readers bear with me we need some plot), and of course 18+ because….it’s Hazbin what do you expect?

Summary: f!reader finds themselves in Hell. Unable to accept your horrible fate you make it a point to continue being a bright soul surrounded by the darkness of Hell. With some higher advice, you create a list of rules to live. A short list to keep out danger and continue helping the lower sinners of Pentagram City. It’s the ONLY way you can survive (right?). Your list begins to crumble when you start helping Lucifer’s daughter with some hotel and a dream to redeem the same sinners you want to protect.

**sentences in italics are internal thoughts of the reader

1.5k Words

Part 1 (You're on it!) Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5  Part 6 Part 7 Part 7.A Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

Rumor was all sinners would spawn in hell with attributes related to their life and (untimely) death. Your gift power was proof of that.

“Everyone get inside! Come on before the exorcists see you.” You hurry the last of the smaller sinners inside a building. It kills you to see such fear from the souls. “Lock the door. I'll lure them away.”

How foolish you were. Somehow a heart of gold followed you to these depths after death...ironic how even the nicest people end up in hell. God really does have his favorites I suppose.

But that foolishness led you to the best thing to happen to you, so you thought. Dodging through the streets, maneuvering, anything to lead the "angels" away from even the worst of sinners. Cursing praying for their safety. It was only your second extermination, but you already caught onto their game. It was all too easy to get around their sloppiness. Needing a breather, you weave around some cars and dive behind a dumpster. Idiots can't even keep track of my thickass? Pathetic!

A few moments pass as it grows quiet. Your breath begins to steady when the softest whimper catches your attention. As quietly (and non-threatening) as possible, you turn the corner to approach a crying dark mass curled on the ground. Seeing their blood pooling sends your stomach into flips. Not another one. Fearing the worst you gently reach out. “Hey hey...shhh..." you utter, feeling her wince ever so slightly. "No don't panic I'm here to help. Where are you hurt?"

The young girl slowly uncrumples herself to show her wound...a massive "X" sliced hips to neck. It was so deep you couldn't believe she was still breathing let alone even moving. Fuck she's lost too much blood. "Come here let me try to stop the bleeding" you lied. You knew she had no chance. But your chest hurt at the thought of her dying (again) alone in some shit alley. With the last of her strength she curled into you, her white hair tickling your face. She had her textured locks pulled back tightly and black horns accenting the top of her head. Her tired red eyes relaxed, slowly closing as she leaned into you. Such a beautiful girl falling to such a terrible fate. With one hand on part of her wound, you used your other to softly stroke her head. “I'm so sorry young one...just breathe in and know you're not alone.” As her breathing shallows you gently kiss her forehead, bidding her soul a gentle goodbye.

The second your lips touch her skin, pure fire floods through your veins. Every nerve in your body feeling ripped apart. You spasm from the pain, clenching onto the girls now limp body. Just when the pain starts misting your vision you see flashes of...pink? "What the fuck!!" You grit through your teeth. What felt like hours of pain was merely a few seconds and it quickly dissipated from your body as did the pink light. Shit shit shit, there’s no way the exorcist didn’t hear OR SEE that! You stay perfectly still...listening to the silence with your mind reeling over what just happened.

A gasp breaks the deafening silence, pulling you back to reality. The young girl jolted out of your arms, gasping in as much air as she could. Looking down you notice her wounds were gone, only dry blood and tattered cloth remained from the laceration. You look at each other in panic and shock.

After inspecting her stomach she snaps out of her daze, remembering you two were still not safe.

"It's too dangerous to stay out here. Come with me - we aren’t far from the safehouse. I am sure my mother will want to meet you."

You follow without hesitation. Trust has always been a weakness. As you make your way through the city, she explains how she was out collecting angelic weapons with her sister when they got separated. After getting cornered she just accepted her fate...then you found her. "The name is Clara by the way. Clara Carmine. I usually just go by CC though."

You never intended to get into the Overlord game. You were merely trying to make the best, quiet life in hell if that was even possible. Guess things change when you save the daughter of Hells most prestigious Overlord. Who could say no to being taken in and protected by THE Carmilla Carmine.

Carmilla immediately began preparing you after hearing of the power you possessed. The power to heal with touch...of course it’s not that easy…it required pure intensions, coming from a place of love. Who the hell (pun intended) wrote this cruel joke for a sinner? How did the lowest of low get given such power just a few short years after arriving? It was your most precious secret. It had to be. If anyone of ill will found out - and come on, it's Hell - your soul would have been the most sought after in the pride ring. You wouldn’t last a day. Carmilla was indebted to you for saving Clara, so she made a deal to give you protection and mentorship as repayment. The first of many deals you’d make in Hell, growing the power you held.

In the years you've been under Carmilla's watch, you created a short list of rules to keep yourself out of harm’s way -

1. Never trust another Overlord

2. Never tell a soul what (or how much) power you have

3. Never bring anyone too close

4. Never let your weaknesses show

It was a simple enough list that had worked for you so far.

You chose to make deals with those who needed protection or help while navigating the dangerous afterlife. In your deals each soul was bound to secrecy as to who you were and what you provided. Contract details and fine print were your specialty. Your soul count was the highest Carmilla had ever seen for someone so new, so merciful. She would often mention only one other sinner ever rose the ranks as quick though his methods were…less than savory. She never bothered to say who. Every Overlord meeting the rumors spread of some "Saving Grace" sinner making their way into powerful ranks. A shadow giving vile hope. But just as quick as those rumors appeared - they were put to rest when no new faces ever appeared. Of course you were there - you needed to attend for information just as much as the next guy, but you never sat as an Overlord. Carmilla granted you a place off to the side as "the help" to serve tea or make notes as needed. No one ever batted an eye to someone considered just a worker bee in Carmilla's hive.

Every meeting was the same, though it seemed unease was rising after each extermination. Six years had passed since you fell into this hellhole (har har). Another extermination, another meeting. Sitting in your designated corner, you twirl your pen as the Overlords began taking their seats. Might as well be invisible - but you preferred it that way. As your mind slightly wonders to less important things, the quiet buzz of conversations around you fades away from your ears.

"—yes I know I’ve been absent some time. I'm sure you've ALL been wondering!"

Your attention snaps back with the sound of this charming new voice. The demon was dressed to the nines - red suit jacket, gloves, freshly pressed slacks. Your already preoccupied mind raced. Who the hell is that? Where has he been? Why does he have that shit eating grin?

He must hold some power to be sitting here after all these years…

"Not really. But welcome back in any case."

That dismissal from Camilla was enough for you to put aside any questions you had of the demon. You knew this meeting would be tense. Can't afford distractions when you needed to be all ears. As you began writing you felt something in the pit of your stomach. Was someone staring at you? You try to shake the feeling when Velvette made her grand entrance. With a sigh and eye roll you set aside your notebook. God damn this woman, no respect, no couth. Gonna be a long one today.

The sinking feeling returns, this time you catch the culprit. The (new to you) demon Overlord is staring at you as if you’re the only one in the room. You make eye contact hoping he moves his gaze, but it only fuels the intensity on you. That smile never faltering. Your ears ring and static pricks your ear drums. Can I fuckin help you sir? Wait no, you're just the help. Lower sinners would never even dream of speaking to an Overlord like such. Thankfully the eye contact breaks when Velvette tosses the head of an exorcist on the table.

Ah I suppose this will be quite a fascinating meeting…

[little-orange-bastard]

CHAPTER 2: An (Un)Welcome Newcomer

@dearlittlefandom-stalker @authortobenamedlater @pepperonyscience @thefinaljediknight

@ionlymadethissoicouldleaveanask @p0tat0-g0ddess (Out of character: thanks for playing so far! This is the next chapter in the story) STORY RESUMES HERE: The device stops blinking and chirping and all the lights in the bunker go dark. Suddenly, a bright orange avatar of a man in WW2 bomber attire pops up out of the device. "Good grief! I've been cooped up in that thing for damn near six months while y'all did, what exactly? Browse Tumblr & write stuff on AO3 while the nuclear apocalypse came and the aliens invaded? Was the end of the world that dull?"

He gives the group a knowing but disapproving look. "I mean, it's not exactly surprising that our little hellsite would outlive 90% of all life on earth, but still. Also, @authortobenamedlater I've been reading your fanfic over the past several months of isolation locked up in that black box and I know you're coping with the loss of the meatsack version of me, but good grief. You should be very ashamed of yourself." The 6 inch tall avatar stops his speech to pour himself a digital drink and takes a sip. "Ahhh, much better. You all have any idea how hard it is to drink bourbon without a body? Anyhow, yeah this is a digital avatar and personality imprint of the brainscan of @mrtobenamedlater. He probably wishes he could be here...then again after 6 months underground with y'all he might've taken a stroll outside under an artificial sun just to see what a nuke felt like up close." He takes another long swig before continuing. "Ahhh, tastes good. So before you all ask, yes. The apocalypse came and went. Y'all survived it, but this shelter wasn't meant to hold this many people for this long. Food has all but run out, and power is about to fail due to the underground diesel tanks being near empty which means no water or air circulation soon. In short, this shelter is dead and y'all need a 'get outta dodge' plan quick, fast and in a hurry. I'm here to help y'all along with this as much as able." Another sip and he pours a generous digital refill. "Sorry, my meatbag mutuals. I'm making up for lost time here." Another sip. "I was left here to function as a digital guide and helper. Before 'The Fall' happened as you call it, and indeed for sporadic times afterwards, I was able to piece together a bit on the status of the outside world. I can paint some generalized pictures on what happened exactly, the state of the outside world as it is now, and some possible courses of action so that y'all might make it to Halloween next year." He unceremoniously downs the remains of his second glass in one go and with a snap of his digital fingers, the virtual whiskey disappears. He then claps his hands together and does a 360, surveying the assembled crowd of survivors. "Oookay, that's enough. I'm down to only 1.29 volts in this thing. I literally do not have the energy to be foolish or argue. I'll now open the floor. What questions can I answer? I'll do the best I can, but the information may be limited depending."

[writingsfromhome]

Dos and Don’ts of H Styles

A/N: this story was literally born out of the wifi incident happening to me. It was a weird experience lol but of course it inspired me to write a story around it. Basically you used to work for Harry as a PA and your life was hell. You bump into him in the present but before it unfolds we need to know what happened in the past.

Part 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

——————————————

I watch as Winnie types into her phone the number of the guy who’d just hit on her.

“And that’s with a y?” She looks up at him with doe eyes.

“Yea,” he falls for it. He was cute, and she worked a lot I didn’t blame her for taking who she could get. His accent also helped. “What’re you doin’ now?”

“Well,” her eyes slide to me. “Hanging with my girlfriend here.”

He nods at me and I smile, holding up the almost empty glass. “We were just about done for the night though.”

“We were?” Winnie checks in with me.

“Mhm,” I give her an encouraging nod.

Both Winnie and I were employed by musician-turned-actor Oretta Smith. Winnie was her nanny—or childcare companion as she called it, and I worked as Oretta’s executive assistant. It was full-time and demanding as hell but ever since Oretta had her first child a couple months back I’d gotten a lot more breathing room as she minimized her public life and stayed close to home.

This long weekend Oretta was staying with her in-laws and asked us to take it off. I’d already requested the weekend off knowing we were in London but being off at the same time as Winnie was impossible so we’d gone out to celebrate and let loose—9pm and only 2 drinks in, both of us had already started talking about the comfort of our beds. Until flirty dude came up to Winnie.

“What do you say?” Winnie’s new date asks her.

“Aw shucks alright,” Winnie flashes her beautiful smile and hops off the stool. I don’t even see her drop the bills onto the table as she hugs me goodbye and leaves until it’s too late. She’d covered for both of us. Well I’d get her back next time.

I finish the rest of my drink, eyes flicking to the reruns of tonight’s soccer game. This wasn’t the fanciest bar—it was quite homely compared to the ones Winnie and I often found ourselves at. But it was one I used to go to when I worked in London just over a year ago. Being back in the city, despite all the awful memories, pulled me towards the nostalgic comfort of it.

I remember the many dates with my now-ex, the random nights I’d actually get off, and drown myself in drink to forget about my awful employer. Or the birthday and milestone celebrations—especially the ones I started to miss near the end.

I consider walking the few streets over to my old flat. Coincidentally the job I’d gotten wasn’t far from home. The upside was that it made dealing with “emergency” texts from my employer a lot quicker but the downside was it grouped all the traumas I experienced in this beautiful city to a few blocks. I didn’t miss it.

I cut my memory lane rabbit-hole short and decide it was time to order an Uber and get out of here; I had an early train to catch tomorrow.

The bars on my phone flicker up and down as I open the app and continue to refresh it over and over. But my signal remains unstable.

“Stupid phone,” I mutter. I had to update my provider while I was here asap.

“‘Scuse me?” I wave down someone serving drinks. “Have you got wifi here?”

“Yep we do!” She smiles. “Name’s The Violinist and the password’s capital p….”

Her voice grows far away as my blood runs cold and I stare at the list of available wifi networks. I feel myself nod a thank you when she stops talking and she leaves taking the password with her while I’m stuck staring.

My networks:

🔗H’s iPhone

I want to duck down and run away, not spend another second around anything to do with that era of my life. But I also want to hunt him down and show him how much better I was doing after him, despite.

The second instinct wins. Kind of.

I don’t hide away. I scan the dimly lit room and try to spot the familiar head of hair but it’s on the third try that I spot him. And it’s probably because his hair is barely an inch long.

He must’ve cut it recently, I’m surprised. Him without his hair was like Harry Potter without his scar.

The feelings are instantaneous though. The loathing and the need to cry. My heart continues to race as I burn a hole into the side of his head.

He was the devil incarnate and I had thought about him for a second too long just now. And now here he was. What the fuck was a guy like him doing here?

I remember the awful times; the casually cruelty and the late nights he would make me work. His constant criticism. The way my life fell apart because of him. The way I could wring his neck with very little incentive at any given moment.

He had turned my whole life upside down. He ruined me.

Harry Styles wasn’t the sweetheart everyone painted him out to be.

And yet, a flash of a feeling, a fleeting memory I try to keep locked away pushes to the front of my mind.

“Fuck no,” I tell myself. There was no room for fondness when it came to the devil.

About 2 years ago:

I straighten out the blazer, wondering if I should be chic and roll the sleeves up a bit or just keep them down. My reflection shows a nervous mousy girl that’s trying too hard. I throw my hair into a ponytail instead and feel a more like myself. Just as the elevator doors ding open.

I’m in the penthouse suite I would be working out of for the next however long; it was my first day on the job and I was still sorting out my nervous to excited ratio.

After looking for months, I’d landed a PA gig for up-and-coming rockstar Harry Styles. It was a dream come true and everyone was ecstatic for me, most of all my boyfriend who’d helped me land the role.

My boyfriend, Grayson, was a personal trainer to a lot of big names and he’d been keeping his ear to the ground for me. We met a few years ago at the gym of course, I’d still been a student and he worked part-time at the student gym. Back then he was still working to get a better client list.

We’d clicked pretty quickly and Grayson, who was anything but shy, asked me out. Soon after he was telling me he had feelings for me and I’d felt them echo back the same. He was my biggest supporter and when I told him I wanted to take this career path seriously he’d been the first to show me what steps to take to get there.

My true dream was to become a publicist and work with celebrities, but fresh out of post-grad everyone told me I’d need to dive head first and get my hands dirty. And I’d have to do that by finding a PA role for a publicist or an industry person.

“Y/n?” My name interrupts my thoughts. It comes from a disembodied head peeking out from a doorway. “You are y/n right?”

“Yes!” I hurry over. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yes. I’m Mr. Styles’ exec assistant, I’m only here for the next,” he looks down at his watch. “Half hour perhaps? So let’s get you sorted before I head out.”

“Oh okay. Sure,” my ears ring, I was going to be alone on my first day. I didn’t even know he had an executive assistant. What was the difference between him and me? What if I screw up and this guy was part of the fallout plan? Shit. “Is Mr. Styles in?”

“Not at the moment, he’ll be in before noon. He has a few appointments this morning. Typically you’d be going with him but he left before you arrived so…next time. Make sure you get any paperwork he received from the appointments and file them in here-“ he points to a room with a filing cabinet. Like an actual cabinet. This was a tight ship. “You sound American. Are you American?”

“Yep,” I debate whether to tell him I stayed after doing my degree here but decide to keep the yapping to a minimum.

I continue following the EA—who I should get the name of, as he points out rooms and overlaps it with info about Mr. Styles’ schedule and routines. A lot of info. My brain felt like it was barely holding on.

I think about the man I was now working for, the one who came into the interview for a brief 10 minutes. Surely that laid-back guy wasn’t the anal mystery man I was getting all these instructions for.

The interview itself had gone pretty smoothly apart from the fact that I nervous-laughed a few times too many. I had gone silent when The Harry Styles had walked into the office. He’d sat beside me at the round table, slouching slightly and flashing me a reassuring smile—I had felt my shoulders dip down immediately.

“So it’s y/n right? I’m pronouncing that correctly?” He’d said in his perfectly charming accent.

“Yes, it’s so nice to meet you officially.” I had to tamp down every urge to gush over him. I was a professional. I was zen.

“So y/n,” he says my name so casually and yet I feel myself lean closer to hear him say it again. “I’ve seen a couple of you come in here for the PA role. What makes you different then?”

Think think, just be calm and think!

“Well I’m a very passionate person so I put my all into everything I do. That would include this job, and in turn you’d benefit by getting peace of mind knowing I’m tackling whatever behind the scenes items that need to get done to get you where you need to go.”

“Well said,” he says with a smile that says he knew he was very good looking. “Now trust is a big factor in this relationship.”

As he talks I forget his manager is even in this room. I’m swept up in the hazy green of his eyes.

“We’ve done the background checks and all that—right?” He looks to his manager who was interviewing me and gets a nod. “But how can you reassure me. My staff gets approached by the media daily for any info on me. What’s to say you don’t sell out.”

“I would never,” I didn’t even think of that being an option. “Confidentiality and trust is the biggest pillar of this role and I take it very seriously. You’re like, the biggest celeb of the last year but I know you’re also a person and I wouldn’t betray that. On a person level.”

“So even if you had a really bad day, say I had gotten you to do some impossible tasks. And you’re heading out head full of steam and you get approached by a reporter. £5k for an exclusive.”

I shake my head. “As tempting as it would be, professional ethics reign over any of that.”

“I believe you y/n,” his eyes flicker down to my file. “Good references. We’ll be in touch.”

Now my eyes roam around the small room I’m meant to work out of. It’s the size of 1.5 supply closets with half the walls filled with shelves and cabinets. There’s a small desk but I wasn’t sure how often I’d be sitting at it. All the PAs I’d ever connected with always complained about the amount of time you spend on your feet. That’s why I’d opted to buy myself runners when I got the job.

“Any questions—mind you I have 1 minute for them before I’m off? There’s a suit I have to sort out.” The EA turns to me when we circle back to my office/supply closet.

“Oh,” a million race through my mind. Nothing that would fit in a minute. “I um, I guess I didn’t catch your name?”

He seems surprised at that, and then he laughs. “Oh you’re a doll. This place is gonna eat you alive. I’m Riley and tip for you—don’t be so eager to please. Do your job. Do it well. But you’re not here to be liked or make friends alright?”

He laughs again when he looks at my face. He hands me an iphone and tells me it’s programmed with everything and everyone I needed, then waves goodbye leaving me in a confused spot.

I wasn’t naïve, I knew what working in this industry was like but I was could swear I’d landed a good gig with Harry Styles. And meeting the man himself in the interview had confirmed it.

Maybe Riley was just jaded by too many long hours.

My phone vibrates in my pocket. A text from Grayson: good luck on your first day babe. let me know how it goes.

I only have time to heart it when I hear the elevator open in the foyer. I rush out just for Harry to brush past me and his manager following, chattering away about something.

I follow from behind and watch as he heads to the kitchen. Riley had shown me what he laid out on the island and how I should do it going forward. And like two magnets Harry reaches for the exact bottle Riley mentioned. He downs the smoothie and then collapses onto the barstool.

“But don’t forget what she was saying about the single needing to be global. Sure your fanbase would love it but would the people who hate you have to admit it’s good.”

“I make it for my fans not for the wankers that hate me,” Harry says and his voice is rich like caramel.

“You know what we mean.” His manager suddenly turns directly to me. “Can you contact the studio and let them know to push Harry’s 1pm to 3?”

“Oh,” I didn’t even know they knew I was here. They gave no acknowledgement until now. “Of course. Um, could I just get the paperwork from this morning too? The appoint-“

“Yep,” his manager unhauls the items in his hands. The whole time Harry stares out the window. I’m handed a stack of papers and I carry them to the office.

My hands are shaking when I put them down and I feel a lump in my throat. What was wrong with me? Why was I reacting this way?

I find the studio contact in the phone Riley gave me and let them know. They’re suspicious at first but accept the reschedule. I leave the paperwork for later, figuring I might be needed now.

But the rest of the morning I’m unacknowledged save by a few requests from Harry’s manager. I spend some time looking through the calender in the phone that’s pre-programmed with Harry’s entire life. It’s packed except for this Sunday. I wonder if it was actually free or just hidden from me since it was my one day off.

“You’ve got a passport haven’t you…?” It’s the first time Harry’s spoken to me. He’s changed into a hoodie and shorts, his manager is nowhere to be seen, and I’ve just bitten into a granola bar—the first thing I’d had since my morning coffee.

“Y/n.” I try to swallow the bite whole but at the last minute push it to the side to try to answer. “Erm yeah. I haven’t got it on me though.”

“Right. Y/n. Start carrying it. I’ll need you with me on Thursday I have a morning meeting in Léon and since Riley’s going to be sorting out something for my New York trip in a couple weeks he can’t make it.”

“Yes. I will. Do you need me to prepare anything else for the trip? I’m not sure if you’ve packed or-“

“It’s just a meeting.” He cuts me off. He pulls out his phone, dismissing me.

I swallow the knot in my throat once more.

I go with Harry to the studio since his manager is meeting us there. Alone in the car with him, the silence feels stuffy.

“I never got the opportunity to say thank you by the way,” I try to open up a conversation. All he was doing was looking out the window surely I wasn’t interrupting anything.

“What?” He stares right through me.

“Um, I’m just saying thank you. For the job.”

He nods.

I stay silent for the rest of the ride.

The studio is quiet, which makes sense when I think about it but upon entering an actual room I change my mind. The noise assaults my ears and I nearly jump at the volume but my hand gripping the doorknob keeps me in place.

People swarm around Harry.

“I need my tablet and my notebook,” Harry says amidst the small chaos.

What the fucks was he talking about. “Sorry?”

“My tablet and notebook,” His face darkens and so does my mood. Nobody told me! But maybe I should’ve asked oh my god.

“I don’t have it,” I say lamely.

“Any time I’m in the studio I need those two things. You need to get me my tablet and my notebook.” He speaks like a robot.

“I-I’ll head back,” I get my bag again. “Tablet and notebook, is there anything else?”

He looks angrier than I thought. He sticks his hands in his pocket, shuffles something in his hand before handing it over. “You may as well get lunch. Keep that card on you for business costs.”

I open my mouth to ask what he might want but he turns away as soon as I take the card and I’ve already fucked up royally so I decide to wing it.

In the car I consider googling what Harry Styles ate for lunch and instead will the ever living shit out of myself not to cry.

I scroll through the phone, debating if calling Riley for help would be a mistake. Going through every app for help I realize the countless notes in the app.

Morning Routines, says one. It lists things I should do when the mornings were spent at home, in studio, abroad, in a hotel, or if I walk into a “morning-after” morning. Jeez.

Another has checklists for what to do when travelling, how-to for routine appointments I should be booking, routine people I should be calling.

Why didn’t I look at this before. Right there is one called Studio Days and in bold it says what to bring.

I was an idiot. A big fat idiot.

I try my luck and search lunch. Sure enough a note with possible lunch places in cities across the world pops up.

It was a How-to guide for Mr. Styles.

Whoever put this shit together was an angel. I owed them my life.

I decide to be proactive, sorting lunch out to be delivered to the studio while the car drops me off. I run to the room Riley had said was the home studio. Sure enough I spot the tablet and a few notebooks, I grab all 3. I also grab the charger and ignore the bag of weed chilling on the arm of the chair.

What to do when he’s too drunk / What to do for Interview Days / What to do when he won’t answer the door or the phone / Day-off checklist / Social media checklist.

The dos and don’ts go on and on as I scroll through on the ride back. This was going to be my homework and by the end of the week I was gonna be a genius.

I swipe away and check if I had missed any folders containing precious info. Just the trash.

Out of curiosity I open it and there’s only 1 sitting inside: the donts of working for Harry Styles

I open it:

-don’t let one nice day fool you into forgetting he’s an arse and your employer

-don’t expect any gratitude from a narcissist

-don’t fall for his charm

-don’t shit where you sleep. no matter how tempting

-when he pisses you off which he will, don’t mouth off. what happens next is worse than being fired. which he won’t do because he’s the devil and he will want to keep you around after treating you like shite

-don’t think he’s chill. he’s anything but. follow the checklists and the rules.

-don’t have a life. actually this is a CAN’T. YOU CAN’T HAVE A LIFE WORKING FOR THE DEVIL. LEAVE AS QUICKLY AS YOU CAN UNLESS YOU HATE YOURSELF

I close the phone immediately, my heart thumping in my chest like a steady bass in the background of a song. What the hell did I get myself into.

***

It’s 8pm by the time I head back with Harry. The car is once again silent.

I had spent the day reviewing emails and the checklists, fielding calls and texts. His personal chef had texted to tell me dinner was prepared and in the oven to be re-heated so I figure that’s the last thing I’d do before I head home.

I’d eaten lunch standing while watching Harry sing background vocals to the album he was working on. It was hard to deny how intoxicating it was to see such a talented man work his magic. And it really was magical seeing how a song got put together.

That is until he’d sent me to get tea for the room and I’d nearly spilled half of it on myself getting enough back to the room. I was getting an electric kettle next.

I made a new note then: Reminders to do so you don’t get fired

The notes were my saving grace.

“My head is killing me,” Harry groans.

What to carry at all times: #4 paracetamol and #2 water

Checkmarked after going to the pharmacy while he was in the studio. I’d created an emergency makeup bag with essentials I could throw in my tote. I considered it a win today.

I hand the painkillers to him and he seems surprised. He replaces them with his phone.

“I don’t want to look at a screen for the rest of the night.”

“Okay.” I leave his phone beside me and try not to think of everything on it.

It vibrates a few minutes later and I leave it, not wanting to invade his privacy but he glances at me.

“Well?”

“Oh!” I lift it but it’s locked.

“1021.”

I type it in. “Um, Jeff wants to know if you’re still at the studio-“

“Reply to him.”

I do as I’m told.

“Um Mitch wants to know if you’re-“

“If it’s scheduling questions you can probably answer them without bothering me about it.”

I look up and he’s tipped his head back, eyes closed. Right. Of course I could.

I go through his schedule and find his studio time on Friday and relay it to Mitch. I respond to another text from someone asking if he was going to a gala in a couple months—his schedule said he was in LA so no. I wondered if I would also be in LA in a couple months. I wonder what Grayson would think.

Grayson, I’d had a short call with him a few hours ago and tried not to cry hearing his voice. It felt like home when the whole day felt so foreign.

I stare at the final text. The contact photo is the side profile of a gorgeous woman.

“Kimberly wants to know if you want um,” I feel my cheeks burn. “If you’re inviting her in tonight because she has a party she really wants you to go to.”

“I can’t be arsed for a party I feel like shite.” Harry says, eyes still closed. “Tell her to be at mine after 10.”

“Ok.” I type the words with a racing heart. I remember the morning-after checklist for this exact scenario. It wasn’t going to be weird soon I guess.

I heat up dinner for Harry while he showers and leave letting him know what time I’d be in tomorrow. He doesn’t even say goodbye.

I get home around the time I reckon Kimberly gets to Harry’s. The first thing I do when I see Grayson is shed a waterfall and he holds my exhausted body tight against him.

“Are you sure you want to keep doing this?” He whispers to me in bed after a shower and sandwich—I couldn’t stomach anything more.

“I need this job Gray. It’s gotta get better.”

“I reckon but it’s a steep learning curve,” he says as he traces the curve of my nose.

“I know,” I snuggle closer to him and yawn. I don’t know what he says next as I tip into sleep.

***

If the notes app manual with the dos and donts of being Harry Styles’ PA was a physical thing, imagine me swallowing it.

Every spare second I had—which I didn’t get a lot of, I was reading that thing. My fingers searched tirelessly before every scheduled and unscheduled event. And yet, I’d fucked up so many times.

It was Saturday and I was looking forward to my day off.

He had been hot and cold all week but ever since getting back from Léon he’d been nicer and I’d actually been getting home before 8.

Maybe things were going well, despite the fact that the learning curve was like climbing mount everest.

“What’s my morning look like?” Harry asks. I was sitting at his kitchen table trying to book a dinner for him next week with a friend that was in town. A friend who also happened to be big back where I was from—I hoped to catch a glimpse of her myself.

I glance up and look back down just as quickly. After a week of seeing Harry in all sorts of undress I should be used to it, but my face still flushes. Today he stands at the table in running shorts.

“Pulling it up,” I say and scan his schedule even though I had it memorized. “You’ve got a meeting at the bank in about 40 minutes and lunch with Michael.”

“Can’t my accountant take the bank meeting?”

“She’ll be there. She’s meeting you downstairs to discuss the meeting on the ride over. You need to sign off on some stuff.”

“Stuff,” Harry repeats.

I look at him, careful to train my eyes on his face. I couldn’t tell if he was annoyed at my lack of elaboration or just teasing me.

“Documents.” I correct, still unable to tell.

He look amused. “Great. Documents. I thought I’d be signing body parts.”

Was he joking? He was joking…I think.

“Right. No, we’re saving that for the tattoo shop booked for 6.”

He raises his brows, a slow smile spreading across his face and like the sun coasting over the horizon he looks brighter and prettier.

“That’s mad, that people would get a random man’s signature tattooed on them isn’t it?”

It’s inevitable really, my eyes skim over his torso brimming with tattoos. He notices and laughs. It’s a wonderful laugh.

“I meant they don’t really know me.”

“They admire you and it’s a piece of you,” I shrug. “At least it’s not a portrait of your face.”

“I’ve seen that floating around the internet actually.”

“Really?!” Now that was mad. I pull it up on the laptop and cover my mouth.

“I know.” He hangs his head and we laugh. God, things were finally getting better. This was the kind of relationship I thought Harry would have with his PA.

I scroll through comments and it’s impossible to wipe the smile off my face. I’ve considered myself a fan for a lot of artists but tattooing their face…that was another level of commitment I couldn’t do.

I look back to Harry who has grown quiet. His eyes are on me.

“What happened to your blazers?”

I’d decided to wear a skirt today, it was my lucky skirt—the one I had been wearing when I got the call that the job was mine. It being the last work day of the week I thought it might make me feel good.

I’d paired it with a tank top and a comfy cardigan. I’d finally felt like myself compared to all the button ups and blazers I’d been parading in. But apparently Harry had noticed the wardrobe difference. Shocker because he barely acknowledged me this week.

“I thought I’d dress for a Saturday?” It comes out meeker than I’d hoped. Ugh. “I hope that’s alright. If you want me more professional-“

“That’s alright,” his eyes roam down my body and I feel hot all over. Oh god, I shouldn’t have worn this. “It looks good.”

“Thanks,” I cross my cardigan over my body and try to get back to work but he doesn’t let it end there.

“Did you make that yourself?”

He continues to surprise me, “I did actually, is it obvious?”

“Yeah there’s a big hole down the back,” he teases. I know he is because his eyes are smiling, light.

“Damnit,” I relax a little. He was only interested in the sweater. “I’d finished it late it looked okay in the dark.”

“I have a friend, she made one of those for me. With the patches. Very comfortable.” He’s weirdly intense while looking at me and I feel like squirming again.

“It is. Very stretchy.” My vocabulary seems to shrink.

He leans over to touch the fabric and I feel like a cactus has been stabbed into my neck, I feel hot and prickly. Jeez, I had to chill out. My employer was just interested in my sweater. Super interested. Maybe I should just give him the damn thing. It would definitely fit him.

“Wool,” he smiles. He’s basically perched above me and I think I’m going to have a heart attack. I went from complaining about the fact that he acted like I wasn’t in any room he was in to not even being able to hold a conversation when he did.

I’m caught looking up into his unfairly gorgeous eyes and he looks at me like I’m the only person in the room. Which I was in this instance, but still.

I’m saved by a loud voice coming out of the elevator.

“Harry you car is waiting downstairs.”

Like a book slammed shut, his expression retreats until all that’s left is the cover page with no summary. The friendly Harry from before is gone.

“Oi Harry! I had to come all the way upstairs because I’ve been sitting in that stupid car waiting! Do you not pick up your phone?”

“Lee,” Harry says as he walks across his living room. “If you can’t reach me you call my PA I’ve told you a million times.”

“And I’ve told you a million times not to keep me waiting. We have a lot to cover before we get to this meeting and I need every minute. God why are you shirtless go put on something appropriate!”

Harry miraculously does as he’s told—given I had already laid out an outfit for him. He’s ready in no time. His accountant, Lee? Simply smiles at me and goes back to typing on her phone while we wait.

“Why is that so wrinkled?” Lee judges Harry who walks out in a completely different outfit.

“I don’t have time to change again do I?” Harry bristles.

Lee looks over at me and I’m not sure if she’s accusing me of something or looking for support.

“Mr. Styles I did leave an outfit out for the m-“

“I don’t wear silk.” He cuts me off and walks out ahead. Lee shrugs my way and follows him. I trail behind, feeling worse than ever.

For a miserable hour and a half I sit in one of the most uncomfortable chairs of my life, organizing Harry’s life while I wait for his meeting to end. As hard as I try to concentrate, I keep agonizing over what I might have done wrong to flick his switch. I swear things were going better. And I know I’ve seen him in silk before. Why the hell else would it be in his closet? Why couldn’t I go a single day without screwing up?

I finally spot Harry walking out of the office and gather my things quickly to meet him. I trail behind as we walk down the hall into the lobby, Lee is nowhere to be seen.

A gasp catches my attention and suddenly a girl younger than me rushes up to Harry.

“Oh my…Harry Styles?”

Harry’s face morphs briefly into annoyance, his gaze flicking my way, before pasting on a smile for the girl.

What to do when a fan approaches H (in the wrong moment): be the bad guy, divert, get Harry to wherever he needs to go to and do it quick.

“Hi,” Harry smiles sweetly at her and the friendliness throws me off guard. But this was unexpected and I should get him away…I think.

“Oh my god could I get a picture? My mate is never going to believe this. She loves you so much, so do I-“

“We really have to be going.” I say and the girl looks at me, surprised to find me there. I look around and spot and older woman watching us. Must be her mum.

“Could I just get a picture?” She glances between us.

“I don’t think Mr-“

“It’s fine,” Harry hands me her phone. “Get a photo of us.”

Just another layer of humiliation to add to the rest of the day. The rest of the week. God was I just awful at reading cues?

I snap a couple and then we’re walking free.

He doesn’t say anything. The car ride to his lunch date is spent in awkward fucking silence and I hate myself more with every second I spend in it.

When the car stops at his destination he holds his hand up when I go to open the door for him.

“Listen -what's your name again?" He asks.

Shame and humiliation drip over me like blood on Carrie’s prom night. I repeat it for him. Just like I had daily since I was hired.

“Right. Y/n. You came highly recommended from a friend so I trust you know how to do this job. This job, is to keep my life organized and keep me on track. Make sure I'm not distracted or side tracked by anyone. Including you. It’s not to be my publicist or my fashion advisor or my personal security. Let's stick to the job description okay?"

His words land bitterly to my ears. Not personal. Just a job. Just a job. Just a fucking job. And yet it was starting to feel like my whole life.

“Yes of course.” I hear myself mumble. And like the big clown I had to be, I push open the door and get out so he can too. He walks to the restaurant without a goodbye and I crawl into the car, heading back to his place. Tears burn my eyes but I refuse to let them out. Refuse to admit just how badly this job hurt.

***

“I’m not doing this on purpose,” I hiss into the phone. “You know I’d be there right now if I could!”

“Babe I get it’s your job but you haven’t come to anything in over a month since you started your job!”

“That’s unfair,” I cup my hand over my mouth. “Gray c’mon I’m going to be there just late.”

“That’s what you said last weekend.”

Last weekend, one of our good friends invited a few friends for dinner in their new place and Greyson had had to go alone. Everyone had messaged me to say I was missed but Gray had been stony, pretended to be asleep when I got home and then given me the silent treatment until I wore him down the next day. It was exhausting begging for affection.

“It’s my job Grey I don’t know what else to tell you.”

“Me neither, you know my parents want us over for weekend roast some time but I’ve been avoiding giving them a date because I don’t want you to stand them up.”

“I-“ a shadow shifts in the corner of my eyes and I look up. Harry stands in the doorway. “I have to go we’ll talk later.”

“Whatever y/n,” Grey hangs up and my chest squeezes with all the hurt I was causing. But he saw the state I’d been in since I started this job a month ago and he knows this is just my life right now. Why was he suddenly acting like it was brand new information?

“Are you done your personal call?” Harry asks. He hovers in the doorway, I’d never actually seen him in this little office space. Then again, if he did step in there wouldn’t be much room for either of us to walk around each other.

“Sorry,” I hate myself for apologizing. Here and everywhere else in my life. But I have no other choice. “Can I do anything for you?”

“When are you heading out tonight?” He asks. His eyes glued to my face. I know my eyes are teary and I try to blink it away.

“Um, soon. In an hour or so,” blink blink blink. “Did you need anything from me before then?”

“Yes, I have a friend coming over tonight. Can you order us something for dinner. Something light. And get a bottle to chill for us—champagne. And can you push Monday’s cleaning service to tomorrow afternoon?”

“Consider it done.” I tell him, hoping he would just leave me alone in the dark here.

“Do you have evening plans?” He continues. Why did he never ignore me when I wanted him to!?

“Kind of yeah,” I try to keep it short. “A birthday.”

It was Grayson’s sister’s birthday. She had invited us to a local fave called The Violinist and of course I would only make it to the dessert course if I was lucky. These days, making it to dinner at all was a luxury. I lived off of sparkling water, leftovers, and coffee.

“Well best to finish up what you’re doing so you can head out.”

He leaves and I’m annoyed. Why couldn’t he be nice and just tell me to leave after doing what he asked. But here I sit folding fucking pamphlets for some idiotic pledge he had signed on for. Fuck me.

I’m miserable by the time I leave. I’d managed to finish everything in a half hour so I’d touched up my makeup and changed into a simple dress I had kept in the office closet on Riley’s suggestion.

“A simple black number that could be used for any last minute event.” He’d said. Unfortunately that now counted for personal events too.

“G’night Mr. Styles.” I call out as I walk to the foyer, just so he knows I was going out earlier than I said.

“G’night,” he answers surprisingly. He always ignored me but tonight he sits on the couch. He rises to see me off but I notice him pause and take in my outfit. “Fun night?”

“I hope so.” I unfold the blazer in my hand, suddenly wanting to disappear with his gaze on me.

His long legs walk to me and he takes the blazer I’m fidgeting with from my hands. He actually holds it open and if I wasn’t this exhausted my jaw would definitely be on the floor.

“Oh. Thank you,” I slip it on and turn to face him. As if helping me put it on wasn’t surprising enough, he proceeds to untuck my hair from the blazer.

“That’s alright,” he says in a low seductive tone. “You look nice. Are you dressed up for someone?”

The question is dangerous, toeing a line I’m not sure I want to erase. I try to ease things with a joke. “The birthday girl I guess.”

“A friend?”

“My fiancé’s younger sister.”

Was it just me, or does he bristle when I mentioned my fiancé?

“I didn’t know you were engaged,” he mumbles, glancing down at my hand. I wore a number of rings and I guess the small diamond Grayson had proposed with back when it was the most he could afford, blended in.

“Yeah, nearly a year now.”

“Wow,” he crosses his arms. “Have a date set?”

“Not exactly,” I smooth my hair behind my ears. “We’re thinking next year but we’ve just been so busy with out schedules-“

“What does he do?”

“He’s a personal trainer,” I say proudly.

“Oh,” Harry tilts his head back. “Oh. Now I understand. Now I get the connection. My mate Liam put in a good word for you when I needed a new PA, he said he knew you through his personal trainer. He never mentioned how.”

“I see,” I’d have to thank Liam next time I saw him. He’d been one of Grayson’s first big clients and had become a close friend to us. I’d have to thank him with dinner. If I got any nights off, that is.

“That’s who you were talking to on your personal call?” He asks, his hand tracing my shoulder seam down to my elbow. My heart races from the ghost of his touch.

“Erm yeah, sorry again. I had to take it since it was time sensitive.”

“Best to get going then.”

I take a step backwards and then rush to the elevator all at once. Once I’m on and the doors start to close I turn and catch a glimpse of his handsome face watching me go.

I let out a breath. That was weirdly heavy. And kind of intimate. But weird. That was weird.

I wonder briefly who he was having over tonight. If it was Kimberly, who I’d had the misfortune of meeting in her panties one morning. Or his other “friend” some brunette named Maya or Amaya something. I’d had the misfortune of meeting her when I dropped off a late package to Harry one evening. All were awkward encounters.

I shake away the thoughts and am grateful when Harry’s driver waves me down on the sidewalk. I guess Harry had told him to take me to where I needed to go. My heart is warmed ever so slightly, although I do accidentally nap on the 15 minute drive over.

I make it for the end of dinner and Gray looks relieved to see me even though his eyes hold a hint of something unspoken. I try to ignore it tonight.

“Oh you look beautiful!” I hug the birthday girl, and we sway from side to side. I used to see her a lot before she moved away for uni. “When did you stop being a baby, Josie Duran let me get a look at you.”

“Josefina tell her what you did for your 21st.” Gray says.

“Can you let it go!?” Josie scowls.

“What?” I whisper.

“Mom will kill you,” Gray warns.

“That’s why she doesn’t have to know,” Josie bites.

“Hey,” I put my hands up between the two. “No fighting with the birthday girl. Anyway. Josie, you look beautiful, I’m so sorry I’m late but it’s so good to be here.”

“Aw no don’t worry about it,” she goes in for another quick hug. “I’m just happy you got to come. Gray said the bloke you work for is a nightmare. Tell us do we know him?”

“Ah,” I wasn’t really supposed to talk about him according to my nda. “I dunno if you would. Anyway I’m going to try to steal some of Gray’s leftovers until dessert comes.”

I sit beside Gray where the seat had been left empty and smile up at him, hoping for forgiveness. He sighs and kisses my forehead, pushing his plate towards me.

“Go ahead, have you eaten?”

I had a banana and a yoghurt for lunch but I don’t tell him, just making a vague answer for yes and scarfing down what’s left.

“She got a tattoo,” he says in my ear later as the restaurant finishes singing happy birthday and a cake with sparklers is set down. He’d gotten tipsy and I can tell because he wants to talk about his upsets.

“She’s a grown woman Gray,” I know he was protective and a little traditional—that’s where half of their sibling fights originated, but I always told him he had to let loose a little. “She’s allowed to get it. If I remember you have some tattoos of your own.”

“It’s different y/n.”

“She’s getting older faster than we can keep up with huh?” I lean my head against Gray’s shoulder and let out a big sigh. It feels good, sitting with him here surrounded by friends. It had been a while.

Gray leans his head against mine and doesn’t answer. We watch her friends take pictures like proud parents, watching her cut and then distribute the cake. I should help, but I just could not lift a finger.

“Hey y/n, is that your phone going off?” Josie’s friend beside me points to my facedown phone.

“Is it?” I sit up, my heart doing a number in my chest.

I pick it up, 2 missed calls from Harry and 3 texts. Fuck.

“Leave it,” Gray must be looking over my shoulder. “You’ve gone home now just screw him.”

“I can’t,” I didn’t want Gray getting mad—I know he was kinda drunk and he could make a scene like this. I didn’t want to ruin Josie’s celebration. But I couldn’t ignore this. This is the first time Harry’s messaged me after I’ve gone home. “I’ll take it outside.”

On my way to the door I open the messages. A picture of a bucket filled with ice. A row of question marks. And then: call me

What? What was so urgent about a bucket of-

Oh.

Fuck.

I thought I did everything but I hadn’t. I’d filled the bucket with ice and meant to ask the Italian restaurant around the corner to deliver a bottle like they usually did for Harry but I hadn’t gotten to that part.

I feel like I’m going to vomit any dinner I just had.

I crouch down. Do I call him? Do I pretend I didn’t see this until too late? No. I had to face up. I fucked up.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

I call with shaking hands but it rings and rings and goes straight to voicemail. I try again.

I had to get back, get him the champagne. Fix my mistake.

“Y/N,” Grayson’s suddenly outside. “Aren’t you coming back in?”

“I can’t. I…” how do I explain this to my fiancé without it sounding minor as hell. “I forgot to mail some important documents and I need to get back-“

“It’s Saturday fucking night.”

“Yeah but-“

“And guess what?! Tomorrow’s Sunday! The mail’s going nowhere! Fuck that wanker and come back in.”

Gray holds out his arms and I want to go back in but I need to fix this mistake.

I grasp his hand and he smiles, misunderstanding why I held it, “Gray I have to go-“

He pulls his hand away, a sneer on his face. It hurts when he looks at me that way, like I betrayed him.

“I showed up! I celebrated, I got here Gray I just have to-“

“You were barely here! Do you know how upset she was when I said you couldn’t make it?”

“Well why did you say that!?” I demand. “I told you I was only going to be late!”

“I can’t trust that!” He shouts and I try to pull his arm so he quiets but he doesn’t seem to care there are people around. “Your time is all his, every single fucking second! And when you’re not there your brain is going a million bajillion times over about him and his life. Even when you’re with me! What the fuck! What’s up with that!?”

“Gray I’m sorry look I’ll make it up to you tomorrow. I swear. I’ll make it up to your sister I-“

“I don’t care y/n,” Gray slips his arm out of my grasp. “Do whatever you want. Nothing I say matters anymore anyway right?”

“Gray,” tears streak my face as I watch the man I love go back inside without another look my way.

Fuck Harry.

I try to call him again but voicemail. Again. Fuck!

What to do when you make a mistake: admit to it—Harry appreciates accountability. FIX IT! As much as you can. FIX YOUR MISTAKES OR FACE CONSEQUENCES.

An alert that my uber was here pings my phone—I take the ride to the restaurant and grab an already chilled bottle. I book it to Harry’s building and ride the elevator up, every floor causing a further dip in my stomach.

The doors open to a dimly lit space. There’s music playing, something jazzy, and it smells like…vanilla? Vanilla roses?

“Hol-hold on,” I hear Harry chuckle. A head pops up from the other side of the sofa.

“Y/n?” He looks as confused as I am.

Oh my god, I realize as a giggle comes from the floor. They were on the fucking floor of the living room? They were on the floor of the living room f…what the fuck did I walk into?

“Just back with this,” I squeak, holding up the bottle.

“Harry did you invite someone else?” The voice asks from below with another laugh. He sighs, disappearing again. I hear a very distinct wet noise before he pops back up again, I look at the doors of the elevator trying even harder not to give in to the panic attack that was looking more and more tempting.

“What are you doing here?” Harry approaches me with a softened voice. Wearing a robe. A silk robe. I knew he wore silk.

“You called—the bottle I’m sorry it totally slipped my mind I-“

“I told you to call me?”

“I did, you didn’t pick up! I thought I should swing by-“

“I thought you had a party?” His forehead scrunches.

“I…” the pieces come together. Did I take this too seriously because Harry didn’t even look angry? Great. I was an idiot and proving to Harry I had no life. “It ended. Early. I…I wanted to fix my mistake and bring the bottle.”

He takes it from my hand, still confused. “Y/N.”

I wait for him to continue but he doesn’t. And lord, in this climate with him in just a robe hearing my name on his lips is not okay. I was going to pass out.

“I’ll leave.” I go back to the elevator but he starts talking again.

“I asked you to call me so I could ask-“ he stops when I turn back around to listen. He closes the gap between us again with a sigh, and I don’t realize my face was still streaked with tears. It was probably more noticeable in the elevator light. He takes his finger and swipes across my cheek, his brows furrowing.

“Sorry,” I swipe my cheek to remove the remaining evidence. “I’ll leave you to it.”

He clears his throat and takes a step back. “Thank you for coming back.”

I nod.

“If you’re going to leave early next time, make sure you finish everything I’ve asked you to do. Don’t skip out like this again.”

“Yes yeah of course,” I stutter, relieved to fit back into our usual roles. For a second there, I thought Harry was going to be kind. And that would have been way worse.

“Good night Y/N. See you Monday.”

“Good night Mr. Styles.”

Gray’s not home by the time I get back. I wake the next morning to his side untouched.

So I do the only thing that felt good these days, I curl up into a ball and cry.

***

Taglist - leave me a message if you’d like to join it :)

[cuffmeinblack]

Idk if you’re taking requests but I have one and I’ve loved you’re writing for Ominis so let’s go!!

⚠️spoilers ahead just in case⚠️

I was wondering if you’d be willing to write an Ominis x fem!hufflepuff! Reader where they’ve liked each other but it all comes out before the Scriptorium mission. Like he tells the story on why he won’t use crucio and everything but when Sebastian uses the curse on her Ominis is the one to rush to her and help her. I just want fluff and love for this boy he needs more of it!!

I trust you to write this amazingly and please make whatever changes you’d like I’d just want this boy to be loved ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Hold me close

Ominis Gaunt x gn!reader

Tags: angst | hurt/comfort | torture curse

1k words

A/n: Thank you for the request! This is a short little one shot rewrite of the In the Shadow of the Study quest so ⚠️SPOILER WARNING⚠️. Hope you like!

Quite how you ended up in Salazar Slytherin's secret Scriptorium with a couple of Slytherin boys was a mystery in itself, almost as baffling as the one presented directly in front of you. You'd left the cosy Hufflepuff common room only an hour ago, and now here you were, staring at a huge, ornate door decorated with serpents. Salazar Slytherin really liked snakes.

"That must be the voice I hear," Ominis says beside you. " I don't believe I'm about to do this."

Your heart flutters in your chest as you watch him approach the door and take a deep breath before speaking, if it could be called that—a quiet hiss escapes his lips. You jump back in astonishment as the mechanism on the door jumps to life, the eerie green glow of the serpents' eyes illuminating the dim corridor.

"Ominis, you possess a rare ability indeed," you say, marvelling at him.

"Between the two of you, I'm starting to feel left out," Sebastian says from behind you.

"Between the two of us?" Ominis asks. If it weren't so dark, you'd swear he'd be blushing.

"I…never mind," Sebastian mutters.

You know what your friend means, but you squirm uncomfortably anyway. It's true, you both seem to have rare abilities that others might envy. You make quite the pair, though Sebastian was none the wiser of your mutual affection.

It isn't long before you encounter yet another locked door in this infernal maze. The floor is wet, the room smells dusky and damp, and you quickly notice the reason why. Following the scurrying of a rat in the corner, your illuminated wand shines on a skeleton in the corner of the room. You fight to hold back the bile rising in your throat. A scrap of paper draws your eye, slightly nibbled but still more or less intact, laying next to the long-decayed corpse. You reach down and pick it up with two fingers, your face twisting in disgust as you try to read the scrawled words.

"Ominis...your aunt Noctua…she mentions being trapped here. Blocked by an unforgivable curse," you say shakily.

Your gut twists with guilt, knowing that having agreed to talk to Ominis for Sebastian had doomed you all. You had wanted to help your friend, but you should never have agreed to it, and the pain on Ominis' face is more than you can bear.

"Ominis, I know this is the last thing you want to do…," Sebastian started.

"Yes, it is! I thought you knew me better!" Ominis shouted back.

Your immediate reaction is to go to him. You wish you could hold him, comfort him, instead you move slowly to his side, your hand reaching for his but falling short under Sebastian's watchful eye.

"Ominis," you whisper.

"I won't do it," Ominis says, shaking his head and beginning to pace nervously. "You shouldn't either."

"I understand, but it's our only way out of here. I can take it," you say, trying to keep the quavering from your voice. You muster the courage to reach out and grip his arm, stopping him in his tracks.

"Are you going to use the curse on Sebastian?" he asks in a small voice.

"I don't think I can."

Ominis grimaces as you leave his side, walking over to Sebastian by the door, steeling yourself for what's to come. You trust your friend not to prolong it longer than necessary. Balling up your fists, you nod and Sebastian readies himself, raising his wand and hesitating only for a second before expelling the dreaded incantation.

"Crucio."

A crackle of electricity ripples through your body and you see only a red haze before forcing your eyes shut and falling to the floor, gasping for breath. Your nerves are on fire, your very flesh feels as if it's burning as you try to scream but nothing comes out.

"Please, please," a faint voice enters your ears as the pain subsides and you open your eyes, staring at the floor as your vision readjusts to the assault on your retinas, the stones beneath you swimming back into focus. You take a deep breath and fill your lungs, desperately reaching out in front of you, clutching the first thing you feel.

You look up and Ominis is kneeling in front of you, holding your arm and feeling his way to find where you are. You start breathing shakily, trying desperately to catch your breath and feel wet, hot tears pooling in your eyes. Ominis' hands are shaking as they glide up your arms, over your shoulders and brushing your neck, finding your face. He cups your face in his hands, pausing as the tears roll over his fingers, then wipes them away gently. His face is contorted in pain as he asks, "Are you okay? Please, be okay."

"I'm okay," you manage to stutter.

Sebastian seems to be in shock, standing dumbly by the now open door, watching the interaction between his friends.

"I'm so sorry," he groans, leaning back against the wall.

"It's fine, you did what you had to do," you say weakly, attempting to get up off of the floor.

Ominis clutches your arms again, firmly, standing with you and steadying you as you wobble on your aching legs and stumble into him. He doesn't loosen his grip, only pulls you closer, looping an arm around your back and holding your weight.

"I've got you," the soft voice says in your ear.

You rest your head against his shoulder, his hand finding its way to the nape of your neck and gently stroking your hair.

"I…there's a room here…," Sebastian says feebly before retreating behind the door.

Ominis doesn't let you go, the shaking in his hands subsided, now replaced with a tender and assuredly comforting touch. You look up at him, his hands still tangled in your hair, and watch his closely knitted brows relax.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through that," he says.

"I'd do it again, for you."

[nena-la-fresa]

The Dragon and The Wolf |Part 4|

18+ Account | Minors DNI | Do NOT Follow, Like, or Comment | Pls have your age in your bio, if you do not I will automatically block you because I’ll assume you are a minor.

Part 3

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x f! Stark Reader

Warning: Smut with Plot | Pregnancy | Soft Aemond | Biting | P in V | Light Choking | Oral F Receiving | Tiny bit of a Violent Dream | A bit of angst

Word Count: 4052

A/N: Hasn't been proof read yet. Sorry this one is a long one but I wanted to end it here. Ik i wouldn't be able to commit to a longer story. So imma stop it here before I fuck it up. I also plan on writing some one shots of Aemond and some of Michael Gavey cuz I have a small obsession with this man at the moment.

No matter how many times you had visited the godswoods in the Red Keep you had not seen a single vision. You had kneeled there for hours, yet nothing. You prayed to them, hoping they had not abandoned you. This gift they had kissed upon you had been taken for what felt like a month. You hoped this would not be the end of your life and your families. Even if it was the end you kept praying. 

“M’lady please.” Your maid begged you once again as she had an hour ago. 

“Mira, you do not need to stay. I’ll do another hour.” 

“M’lady please. You’ll catch a cold, you’re drenched. We need to warm you up.” 

You finally opened your eyes, you looked down and noticed the smell of the water beneath your knees. The way your loose hairs had stuck onto your neck and face, and the way the water had tickled your cheek as it ran down. Now out of your trance you heard heavy footsteps approaching you and Mira. 

Ser Criston Cole had appeared, with a blank expression on his face he spoke, “The queen would like to speak to you.” 

You sighed before getting up, “Thank you Ser Criston Cole. Let me change and then I shall meet with her.” 

“Now” He had hardly spoken. 

Taken aback by his tone, “Are those in her words or your?” 

“The matter is urgent. She would like to speak now.” 

“Alright.” You rolled your eyes before attempting to pat off the dirt that had clung to your dress. 

In a hushed hiss voice Mira spoke, “M’lady you sat there in the rain for hours. A simple pat would not take it out.” 

You said nothing but a quiet sorry. She was right to be upset though.

You had gotten looks from almost everyone as you walked down the corridors to the Queens chambers. You had excused Mira as you and Cole had entered the room. As the doors opened Alicent had turned around, her eyes widened. 

“My gods, what on earth happened to you.” She grabbed a blanket nearby and walked over to you to wrap you with it. 

“Forgive me your grace. I was praying in the godswoods and had not noticed the rain.” You pause and cling onto the warmth. “I was going to change but Ser Criston Cole said it was urgent.” 

In the corner of your eye you could see him glare at you. “The matter was urgent but you could have changed.” She began to pull you towards the fire to warm up. “I’ll keep it short then.” 

As you both were seated she handed you a cup of tea. “I’m sorry for the bluntness but, have you bleed?” 

Your hands stopped, it took you a moment to process. It had been a month, a month of praying to the gods of the old. A month of sitting there and not a single moment had you realized you never bleed. An entire month, you had never been late, your cycle was always on time, maybe a few days late but never a month. “I” You paused, “No, I haven't. Not since before the wedding.” 

With a bit of remorse on Alicents face, she gave a half smile. That look you had was one she knew all too well. “That’s wonderful. It’s wonderful news, especially news we can give out at Aemonds coronation day.” 

“Oh, yes, his coronation day.” The events that had taken your wedding day came flooding back. “Will you be telling Aemond” 

She nodded, “He should be here soon.” 

Just as the first day he met you, he saw you sitting there. This time by the fire, he watched as the fire had illuminated your face. The way it kissed your features, the way it had made your face glow. Yet this time there was a somber look on your face that you tried to hide with a smile. 

“Hello Husband. We seem to keep meeting this way.” There was an ache in his heart as you went back to calling him Husband. He loved the way you called him by his name. Yet he knew it was his own fault. He had pulled back from you, not because he despised you. But because he despised himself. How could he touch you, not after what he did, not after what he did to his flesh and blood with his own hands. The situation with Aegon was different than Lucerys, with Lucerys it was out of his control. But with Aegon, it was by will. Not only that but for another reason he could not even dare think of it in fear it may come true. 

Alicent could feel the tension, she spoke to try and break it. “Aemond, please sit. I’d like to speak to both of you.” 

He nodded his head and proceeded to sit next to you on the sofa. 

“I was telling Y/n that your coronation day was coming soon. Your grandsire has arranged everything and things have been prepared accordingly. As for your coronation day, we will first check with the maester, but if our assumptions are correct, we will announce the celebration of your first child.” 

You could feel his hard gaze on you as fidgeted with your fingers. Was he mad? Was he upset that you had gotten pregnant so fast? Did he now feel even more tied to you? Did he resent you for this? Like always thoughts had flooded your mind. Without the sight it was impossible to make decisions or to pass judgment on him. You felt vulnerable, you had never felt like this before. You had always been two steps ahead of any suitor or any man in general. But now here you are, a wolf in the den of a dragon. What were you to a dragon? Nothing really. Your sight was all you had to feel in control, and now with it gone you truly felt what other women felt. Powerless. 

“I see.” Aemond had spoken. “Thank you mother. I hope that in time you will be able to guide my lady wife in her responsibilities as the new Queen.” 

She nodded, “Yes of course. And your grandsire will speak to you of your responsibilities as well.” 

“Was there anything else?” 

“No, that was all. You both may take your leave.” Alicent stood up. 

Both you and Aemond had as well, as you all headed towards the door Alicent spoke for the last time, “Congratulations. You both have done well.” You and Aemond nodded. 

Just as you think you both walk in opposite directions Aemond places his hand on your lower back. You look up at him, yet he does not look at you. He began to guide you towards his chambers. When he noticed some maids passing by he asked them to draw a bath in his chambers. They obliged. 

By the time you both had reached the room the bath had already been drawn. He excused the maids. He led you to the front of the tubs, from behind he began to untie your gown. You looked over your shoulder and pulled away. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Stand still.” His voice stern. Yet he continued to speak, “Do you know how idiotic it was to stay in the rain? You could have gotten sick.” 

You spoke lightly, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” 

“Clearly.” 

He helped you into the tub after he had removed your dress and let down your hair. As you laid back in the tub he began to wash your hair. 

“The realm can not afford to lose its heir.” 

You had rolled your eyes, “Yes husband, as I am simply a child maker. And my life does not matter.” 

He lightly pulled on your hair causing you to glare back at him. “I wasn’t finished.” He had grabbed your chin lightly so that you wouldn’t look away. “While the realm can not afford it. I could not afford to lose you.”

Your eyes looked away from his, “Oh and is that why you have avoided me for a month?” 

“Yes.” You scoffed at his remark. 

“My uncle is still alive. We killed his children and his wife, what do you think he’d do if he found out I have grown fond of you. That I have a weakness for you, and now our child. He would burn you alive. Cut you in half, torture you, feed you to caraxes. What would I do if that happened?” 

“Kill him and remarry.” 

“You think that coldly of me?”  

“I have heard rumors that you were with a woman before me. What would stop you from doing the same? You are clearly loyal to your mother and if she wished you to remarry for the sake of the realm you would. I am nothing but a pawn in your family's game. I have done my duty and if I die then that is in the fate of the gods.” 

He was taken aback by your willingness to die. He had noticed a shift in your behavior for a while. The past month he had watched you from a distance, always seeing you praying in the godswood. It was all you did, he had to send maids to come and bring you food whenever you noticed you being there for more than an hour. 

“You have the sight. You are not just a pawn. Clearly my grandsire saw it as something.” 

“Yet I do not have the sight! The gods have clearly punished me! I have not had a single vision or dream since I got here. I have nothing, I am nothing.” 

“You are not nothing. You are my wife. You are to be queen.” 

Tears began to well up, “But I can not just be that. My whole life I have been a greenseer. How could I have that taken from me?” 

“Would you like to go back for a few days?” 

“Where?” 

“Home. To Winterfell.” 

“No, it’s too far. Your coronation is soon, riding there would take months.” 

“Not by dragon's back.” 

“Dragon’s back?” 

“Yes.” 

“No.” 

“No?”

“I’ve never been on a dragon. Let alone see one up close.” You shook your head. 

“It would only be for four days.” 

“Why are you being nice to me?” 

“Were you not listening to me, my lady wife?” He teased. 

“No.” 

“I could never replace you. You are now everything to me” He had leaned in closer. 

He planted a soft kiss on your cheek, “That is why I am being nice.” 

His lips moving closer to your lips. His kisses were intoxicating, no matter if you were angry at him. No matter if he had ignored you. Ever since that day he first kissed you, you had become addicted to it regardless of your feelings. 

“You can’t leave me again. You can’t shut me out. I can’t be here alone. I can’t do this without you.” Your eyes clouded with lust, with caving for his affection. 

“Alright.” He smirked lightly. 

“Promise?” 

He chuckled, “I promise.” 

His lips touched yours. The kiss was sloppy, desperate. You turned around to face him, pulling him closer. Through the kiss you began to help him undress. As he got in the water he pulled you onto his lap. His hands on your waist to hold you up right while your hand drifts down his chest. 

You found his cock already hard, it twitched at your touch. You gripped it tightly causing him to hiss. Your lips leave his as you travel down to his neck. As you suck on his neck you begin to pump his cock causing him to grunt lightly. You looked up at him, seeing his eyes closed as his head leaned back. The look of him like that caused your body to feel on fire. You bit his chest lightly, a groan left his lips. 

Unwilling to wait anymore you aligned him to your cunt. Rubbing him against your lower lips.

“Fuck” His hand moving from your waist to his cock.

But before he could grab himself you stopped his hand. This caused him to open his eyes and look up at you. He watched as you guided his hands from your stomach, passed your breast to reach your throat. That was when you sank down onto his cock, taking all of him. You let out a light moan feeling his warmth. 

He watched as you arched your back and began to move your hips. He lightly squeezed his hand causing your breath to hitch. All he could do was watch, watch as your perfectly shaped tits bounded with the rhythm of you bouncing on his cock. He hadn’t seen you clearly the first time you had sex. But now, he could clearly see you. The candles that surrounded the tub had illuminated you perfectly. The way your hair clung to your neck, the way the water dripped down your face. It made you look ethereal. Too delicate for him to touch, he was afraid that he would break you. 

But your whispers of his name tempted him. He needed more. He sat up, moving you with him. Once he had you both in a comfortable position he lifted you up. He carried you over to the bed. He had placed you on the bed and told you to get in the center. He then told you to turn around and bend over. He watched as you hesitated slightly but then did what he told you to do. Your forearms resting on the bed as your ass stuck up in a position that gave him a view of everything. You felt vulnerable, especially as he had not made a sound. This caused you to look back at him. You just saw him standing there looking at you, his cock just as hard as he had begun to stock it at the sight he was blessed with. 

“Aemond.” You whispered his name again. 

Just with his name he had moved closer to you. You felt the shift in the bed, you felt his hands making their way to your hips once more. His cock aligning with your cunt, he had rubbed himself against you smearing his juices against your wet cunt. It didn’t take long before he filled you up. He groaned at the feeling of your warm cunt, it pulled him in and held onto him tight as he pulled back and forth. 

His pace began to speed up and the sounds of your sweet moans. Each trust is getting harder and hitting the right spots. You felt him pull you back to him, your back against his chest as he continued to fuck you. He moved the hair from your neck, his lips sucking gently on your neck. It sent a shiver down your spine. Your cunt tightening around him more. That last squeeze was enough to tip him over the edge. He came, his cum overflowing out of your cunt as he pulled out. 

He watched as his cum dripped from your cunt to the bed. You felt a shift in the bed again. You felt something between your legs. Before you knew it his lips were against your cunt. He lapped at your dripping cunt. His groan vibrated against your lower lips. 

“You taste so fucking good.” 

You sat up and watched him, his eyes closed as you would grind down on his face. You moaned as you felt his tongue slip between your folds. As you gripped his hair you watched as he opened his eyes. He stared back at you, sucking hard on your clit. You felt a tingling sensation pass through your whole body. Your knees felt weak, Aemond could feel it too. Once you had come down from your high, you got off him. 

Your back now against the bed. You took a moment to collect your thoughts. He was in you just seconds ago but you missed the feeling of him filling you up. But he wouldn’t let you rest, not yet. 

“I’m not done. Not yet. I need you, in every possible way.” Aemond leaned down and kissed your lips as he entered you again. 

Your moans and the sound of the bed creaking could be heard throughout the halls. The whispers of your marriage not being consummated during your period of silence with each other would be silence. 

Morning came quickly, the sun was now shining as the storm had passed. You awoke to the sound of the birds singing and to the feeling of an arm wrapped around you. You opened your eyes and looked down. Aemond had done the decency to cover you both after you had knocked out. But what made your heart flutter was the placement of his hand on your stomach. You didn’t know if he placed his hand there intentionally or just by coincidence. Either way it made you feel secure. Not just for you but for this child.

You placed your hand on his, he was warm. You didn’t understand how he could always be so warm, especially with how cold he looked. You tried to remove his hand to get up but he pulled you back into him. 

“Are you planning to run away so early, wife?” Aemond nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. 

You smiled and turned around in his arms, “No dear husband. I plan on getting ready so that we may go to Winterfell.” 

“Everything is ready. We just need to get out of bed.” Aemond kept his eyes closed and ran his fingers up and down your arm. 

“How do you know it’s all ready? We only spoke of it last night.” 

“Earlier this morning, your maid had come in to wake you. I told her of our plans and asked her to get help setting everything up.” 

“I see.” You paused, “So then why are we still in bed?” 

“Because my dear wife. After all your nagging yesterday, you looked so beautiful sleeping. I could not dare wake you.” 

Aemond opened his eyes to find you glaring at him. He kissed your forehead, “After all that yesterday, you still find ways to upset me?” 

“How could I not?” He smirked before placing a kiss on your lips. 

After an hour or two you both had finally got ready. He had taken you to where Vhagar was, and there you stood. The giant stood before you, the air it had realized from its nose blew your hair slightly. Aemond pulled you closer, he placed your hand on Vhagar. He spoke in High Valyrian, and it seemed to have called the dragon down. 

“Are you sure it’s okay for me to ride with you?” 

“Yes. You’ll just sit in front of me.” 

The trip was long, but not as long as you had spent in the carriage. You felt the cold breeze hit you. The smell of open air, of the woods you had always remembered. Once Vhagar had landed you were greeted with your fathers men. They were taken by surprise and led you both to your father. You had explained everything to him, and how you would only be there for a bit so that you could be back in time for Aemonds coronation. With that he let you go, but requested an audience with Aemond. There you were taken to the godswood. It felt different, different than the one in the Red Keep. You kneeled in front of the tree and began to pray.

After what felt like hours there had been footsteps behind you. Turning you noticed Aemond heading towards you. You watched as he took in the woods. 

“Beautiful isn't it.” You got up and headed towards him. 

He nodded his head and reached up to touch one of the red leaves, “I didn’t expect it to look exactly like the one back home.” 

“They all look the same. At least that’s what I’ve been told.” 

“Have you finished?” He looked back at you.

You smile at him, “Yes. I feel much better now.” 

“Good.” He leaned down and kissed your forehead before turning around to walk back. He stopped when he noticed you weren’t by his side. 

“What is it?” 

“After your coronation. Do you think we could come back?” 

“What for?” 

“Well ever since I was a little girl I always wanted to get married here in the godswoods. And I know we already had our wedding. But-” You looked down at your hands before looking back up at him. “I’d really love to get married to the man I have grown to admire here.” 

Aemond walked back over to you, “If that is what my Queen wants, then I shall give it to her.” 

All you could do was smile at him. Yes your relationship was not ideal, this was not how you had expected it. Especially with him ignoring you, but now, now that you both promised. You both came to an understanding you felt like you could really build something with him. Clearly there was attraction, but you could be more than that. And his openness towards it was all you needed. 

Later in the day at dinner you had felt nauseous and excused yourself to your room. Aemond was going to go with you but you told him to enjoy himself and to keep talking if he wanted to. And he did. He found the environment less hostile as the one back at Kings Landing. Time had passed and without wanting to disturb your sleep, Aemond slept in a separate room. The night had continued yet Aemond could not stop tossing in his sleep. 

He was stuck, as if someone was holding him back. He watched as Daemon pulled you by your hair. You hold your swollen belly to protect your child, your face red and bloody. 

“Nephew, you started this war but I will end it. A wife for a wife.” Daemon pressed the dagger against your cheek, nicking it. 

“Aemond.” Your cries out before all he could hear were your screams. 

Daemon moved the dagger to your eyes, gouging out one after the other. Your tears mixed with the blood that ran down your eyes. Your screams had continued until they had felt real. 

Aemond jolted awake and yet he still heard your screams. His mind scattering, he ran out of the room to find yours. He flung open the door, your screams got louder. He was met with the sight of you, sitting up in bed. Your hands covering your eyes as if you had felt the pain. The pain he had dreamt of. He ran to you and touched your arm. But you had begun to hit him, trying to push him away. 

“Y/n. It’s me. It’s just me.” He waited until you calmed down to see it was really him. He watched as your tears ran down your face. The tears were overflowing, you let out a sob and whispered you were sorry. He shook his head and told you it was fine. 

He had pulled you into him. He had never hugged you so tightly before, he didn’t even know you were capable of that much strength. 

“I had a dream. Your uncle he-” 

“I know. I saw it. You don’t have to say it.” 

Your sobs hadn’t stopped. You both stayed there for more than an hour. Aemond had set you back, and hugged you tightly in hopes to calm you down. It was working, but it did nothing to calm him down. It was all he could think of. Your screams, it made his entire body ache. He was stuck, he felt helpless.

But it was true, he had started this war. He was the cause, he didn’t deserve happiness and his uncle knew it. Just when he found it, just when he found someone who understood him. Daemon would take her from him. He knew if he didn’t find Daemon this would eventually be their fate. It would be your fate. And it killed him. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if you died. Not after all this. He knew this would not end not while Daemon was still alive. 

[mikavlcs]

Dog Days

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x reader

Summary: The help you need to confess to your crush winds up coming from an incredibly unlikely (and furry) source.

Warnings: ooc!wednesday, hints of bad poetry lol, bad writing, this is another very unserious story

Word count: 3.3k

Notes: the poetry part of this request kicked my ass and you can tell LMFAO. sorry it took so long (and sorry it kinda sucks), but i hope you guys enjoy!

Masterlist | Bonus

Confessing your feelings to someone you like was one of the most profound plights a person could ever face, you’ve decided.

Because to you, right now, there was no greater challenge to overcome, no finer show of courage than to look her in the eye and profess the nebulous depths of your infatuation without keeling over midsentence.

And this anxiety would be easier to conquer if the girl you had caught feelings for was a normie, or really any other outcast housed within Nevermore’s four walls.

But your crush was Wednesday Addams, and that more than justified the intense fear that came with the possibility of confessing.

For the past semester, Wednesday had been assigned to sit at your table in Botany, meaning that you two were almost always lab and project partners in that class. Throughout that time, she wasn’t exactly nice to you, but you’ve yet to be on the receiving end of her notoriously colorful threats, so you figured that put you somewhere friend-adjacent on the small girl’s relationship scale.

That made trying to confess to her no easier, however. Because she could literally just kill you if she decided it wasn’t good enough. If she decided you weren’t good enough.

You hoped knew she wouldn’t considering your short but cordial history, but she technically could.

Now despite her reputation (and the previously outlined possibility of murder), Wednesday never scared you. She certainly tried. You’d lost count of how many grisly medieval torture facts she offered up while working together, but they never had the intended effect of instilling fear into you. Not even once. The absurdity of it made you laugh more often than not.

But, while she didn’t scare you, she did intimidate you. Even now, months and a fully developed crush later, she could render you speechless with a single look.

That immediately did away with the possibility of a verbal confession since you were sure your vocal cords would cease operation before you could even properly start, leaving you staring at her like an idiot. So you were left to figure out another way. And after days of careful deliberation, you decided upon the vessel with which you would confess your feelings.

A poem.

Yes, it was stupid and cliché, but it was something you were familiar with, and you figured Wednesday might have at least some appreciation for it considering she herself was an aspiring writer. But very soon, you came face to face with a problem.

Wednesday herself constantly strived for perfection in every facet of life, so you knew that if anyone were to attempt to court her, she would be expecting no less from them as well.

Everything about this poem—diction, rhythm, rhyme, form—had to be superlative, efficient while effectively flawless.

It needed to be perfect and you just…couldn’t get it there.

Attempt after attempt wound up in your garbage, the papers overflowing out of the small pail by your desk while your hope slowly diminished with each failure. After the 27th trashed page, you knew you needed to stop and recoup.

This approach obviously wasn’t working, so you had to find a different one and to do that, you needed incentive. You needed inspiration. You needed the creative ascension that came with reading good, fresh poetry.

The only issue was that all of your poetry collections were well-worn, memorized from cover to cover. Though you could never tire of them, you knew they wouldn’t provide the spark of creativity you needed.

So you took a trip to the small bookstore in Jericho since the school library had very little in the way of poetry and picked up a few that caught your eye.

You were on your way to catch the shuttle back when you heard it.

A high-pitched yip rose from the alley you had just walked past, making you pause. Curious (and without much else to do), you stepped back to peer into the alley, and you let out a gasp.

Just down the alleyway was a small puppy, covered head to toe in gorgeous gold fur. A golden retriever, your mind helpfully supplied. He didn’t notice you, entirely too preoccupied tearing up an old newspaper to care about your gawking, but you were entranced.

And without your usual forms of impulse control (your teachers and parents) there with you, your mind was made up in an instant.

A twenty-minute trip to the local pet store saw you ready to leave town a few hundred dollars lighter and many bags heavier. You got all the essentials—food, toys, a collar and a leash, a bed, bowls, and whatnot.

All that was left was getting the dog.

Quietly approaching, you set your bags down against the mouth of the alleyway and crept closer to the puppy, careful not to startle him as he stalked a bug of some sort. Once you were within a few feet, you crouched and tore open one of the treat bags you bought. The noise got the retriever’s attention, and he stopped his pursuit to watch you, intrigued.

A soft smile made its way onto your face while you fished a treat out and held it out. It took no time at all for the pup to curiously trot over. He sniffed it for a moment, thoroughly inspecting the cookie before devouring it and looking back up at you expectantly, tail wagging furiously in the air behind him.

With a laugh, you offered him another one, then another, and another. And just like that, a friendship was formed.

The driver barely gave you a second glance when you waltzed into the shuttle with your bags and the dog, just waited for you to be seated and pulled off onto the main road. Definitely not protocol, but you imagined he wasn’t being paid nearly enough to care.

When Nevermore’s castle-like features came into view ten minutes later, you realized with a jolt that there was one thing you hadn’t accounted for: actually trying to smuggle this puppy into the school.

Given that the shuttle was already parked, you had no time for strategy. As you stepped back onto campus, your only plan was to make a mad dash for your dorm. And, after tucking the puppy inside your shirt, that’s exactly what you did. Or tried to do. You only got halfway through your journey when Yoko intercepted you in one of the halls.

“Hey! I see someone went shopping today,” she commented, giving the plethora of bags you were holding a humorous look. “Preparing for a zombie outbreak or something?”

“Something like that,” you answered, taking a step around her, but she moved with you and started matching your hurried strides.

“So, you ready for that Vampire Anatomy test tomorrow? Personally, I think I’m gonna ace it,” she smiled, fangs flashing in the overhead light. You shot her a look, because, of course, a vampire would ace that test.

You opened your mouth, a scathing retort on the tip of your tongue, but the pup chose that moment to show his restlessness, flailing his little limbs violently under the fabric of your shirt.

“Uh,” Yoko slowed at your side, brows drawn above her sunglasses. She pointed at your stomach, where the puppy was violently squirming. “What’s going on there?”

You glanced away, mouth opening and closing. Hard as you tried to come up with a plausible excuse, none came, so you said the first thing that came to mind.

“I’m pregnant.”

Poor Yoko looked positively baffled. You ran before she could say anything else.

The sprint back to your dorm was blessedly uneventful, allowing you to stumble inside with minimal issue. Thankfully, your roommate was out, so you wouldn’t need to deal with any more questions for the time being. You set the puppy down on the floor, letting him explore his new surroundings while you set his things up.

Once his bed, bowls, and toys were in place, your attention turned to another pressing issue. The pup needed a name.

Dozens of names crossed your mind in the minutes that followed, but none of them fit the energetic boy in front of you. Pondering, you watched leisurely as the retriever dragged his new leash across the floor. The sunlight pouring through the window softly bounced off his golden fur while he pranced around your room, leash still securely in his mouth.

A metaphorical light bulb clicked on and in that moment, you gave him the most beautiful, poetic name your mind graced you with.

-

“Choklit!”

The puppy in question froze and looked up at you, short tail wagging dutifully. He was already giving you his best puppy dog eyes, but you knew better than to fall for them. You moved to stand in front of him, hands on your hips.

“We’ve talked about this. Edgar Allen Poe’s collected works are not a chew toy!” You moved the book away from him, held up a blue squeaky toy in its place. “This is what you play with, got it?”

He offered you a yip in response, tail wagging a mile a minute as you handed him the bone-shaped toy. “And remember, play lightly!” you tagged on as he tumbled off his bed.

Principal Weems hesitantly allowed you to keep the puppy on the agreement that your roommate agreed to him (which she did, ecstatically) and that he not be too loud in the room. By some miracle of god, you had been able to abide by that rule for the past two weeks.

Hopefully, your luck would persist.

With him placated, you turned back to the task at hand—finishing your poem. It was coming together, a solid vision of your end goal forming. And after another ten minutes of brainstorming the last line—a woefully overdramatic would you go on a date with me? that hopefully wouldn’t get you killed in your sleep—it was finished.

You pushed back against your desk and leaned your head against the back of your chair, taking a moment to rest. Then, sitting back up, you reread the poem carefully.

A wave of inadequacy crashed into you as you ran back through the words you just wrote. Something about it just wasn’t right, but you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what.

Was the rhythm off? Were the rhymes varied enough? Outside of that, was your prose structured competently? Was the poem too much? Was it not enough? Five rereads only heeded more questions and no answers.

Frustrated, you balled the paper up and threw it behind you, already priming another paper to begin the poem anew.

The telltale pattering of paws reached your ears, turning to find Choklit nosing at the crumbled paper. With a sigh, you walked over and went to pick it up. “Sorry, bud, but my personal failures as a poet are not your toys.”

Choklit, thinking it was a game, quickly snatched the ball up in his mouth and bowed, sending light growls your way. Though you knew it wouldn’t help, you raised your hands in surrender and leaned back.

“I’m not trying to play. I just need that—” You tried to swipe it from his mouth, but he bounced backward and rushed toward the door.

At that exact moment, your roommate returned from choir practice, opening the door just in time for Choklit to run out with the paper in tow. You scrambled to your feet, edging past her into the mostly empty hallway.

“Sorry!” she yelled after you, to which you just waved.

“It’s fine! I got him,” you threw back at her just before you turned a corner in pursuit of the retriever.

You had to admit, the little guy was fast. Faster than you thought he would be (or maybe you just needed to exercise more…who knew). Bewildered students parted for you as you gave chase, giving them a quick thank you! as you kept your eyes on the golden blur ahead.

He toppled down another hallway, one you knew led to a dead end. You grinned and picked up the pace, intent on scooping him up, only to skid to a sudden stop after you turned the corner.

Because there Choklit was, sniffing around at familiar black boots while pale hands smoothed out the paper the puppy dropped before her. You were frozen, trying to figure out whether this was real or some terrible lucid dream.

Wednesday’s cold timbre inadvertently answered your question.

“I didn’t think they allowed dogs on campus,” the girl remarked, giving the puppy at her feet an inquisitive look. Your response came without thinking.

“You live with a werewolf, don’t you?” Your eyes widened. The comment was meant as a joke but could easily be interpreted as an insult. And knowing how close the two had gotten over the past few months, the last thing you wanted to do was accidentally mock Enid.

You watched Wednesday closely, but the only physical response you received was the slightest raise of her brows.

“That was almost funny.” Her words were delivered with her trademark deadpan stare, but you could hear the slightest hint of humor threaded into her neutral tone. Looking for attention, Choklit stood on his hind legs and pawed at Wednesday’s shin, giving her a clear view of the tag on his collar. The disapproval in her voice was clear as day. “You named it…Choklit?”

You gave a half-hearted shrug, pulling out a grin full of confidence you absolutely did not feel. “Can’t be a literary genius all the time.”

“I’m sure,” she retorted sarcastically, holding your unsure gaze for another moment before turning back to the paper in her hand. You followed her eyes and stepped forward with a grimace.

“Sorry, that’s… you weren’t supposed to see that.” You tried to take the paper, but Wednesday stepped back, moving the paper out of your reach.

“It’s addressed to me.”

“That it is,” you conceded with a sigh, “but it was never intended to actually be delivered to you.”

Wednesday hummed. “Well, it seems your dog disagrees.” With that, she turned her attention to the poem. You were tempted to try and take it again, but you liked having your hand attached to your body, so you resisted.

Impatiently, you waited as her eyes ran along the lines slowly, your anxiousness building with every passing moment of excruciating silence until finally, she met your gaze once more.

“A few things to note,” she began, tone much too studious for the occasion. “I applaud the fact that you made the decision not to write a sonnet. They’re easily the most overblown, abominable form of poetry and I would have had to burn this if it was.”

She gave you a small nod. “Now, I will say that I’m a bit disappointed. This certainly could have been written in perfect rhyme rather than end rhyme, but since you said this wasn’t your final draft, I’m willing to give you a pass for this oversight. Mostly. And while AABB isn’t the most complex rhyme scheme, it’s just tolerable enough here to not detract from the poem as a whole.”

You gaped. She was making the same type of comments that your teachers would when they graded your assignments. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think she was reading off the notes from a book report and not talking about a literal love confession.

The ridiculousness of the situation pulled a wry laugh from your throat, but you were quickly silenced with a harsh glare. Once you quieted, she continued, “The biggest problem I see is that this poem is lacking in length, having only a measly 12 lines. A few more couplets would have made this feel more complete.”

“Now onto the poem itself. Though your vernacular pales in comparison to mine, I will admit that your vocabulary is surprisingly expansive considering what you named your pet.” She sent Choklit a pointed look. “Furthermore, I appreciate the use of alliteration in lines like ‘A mind molded by misery and mischief’ and ‘Down into the dark depths of a dreadfully early grave’ but feel it could’ve been utilized more throughout. The mixture of masculine and feminine rhyme is interesting, though choosing one could have aided with overall cohesion.”

You just stood and stared, silently taking in her thoughts and critiques because it was all you could do. She paused, folded the paper neatly in her hand, but still didn’t give it back to you.

“In conclusion, parts of this are noticeably undercooked, but the simple act of reading it doesn’t make me want to purge my insides. I acknowledge the effort you put forth to tailor this poem to me and my interests and will admit that being described as ‘the purest of darkness personified’ is almost flattering.”

A nervous chuckle escaped before you could quell it, but this time she allowed it, her stare remaining blank. You cleared your throat, injected some joviality into your tone. “Great, so uh…do I get an A+?”

“B-, actually,” she amended, running over the folded page with her eyes. “Maybe even a C+.”

At that point, you swore you could feel the humiliation seeping into the very essence of your being. But you were determined not to let it show, to preserve what tiny amount of dignity you had left.

“Okay, well, I’m just gonna take that back and then go vanish off the face of the Earth so we never have to see each other again.” You gave her a pained smile and reached for the paper, only for her to snatch it out of your reach with a glare.

She glanced down to Choklit, who was seemingly enjoying the drama as his eyes ping-ponged between you two, then to the paper again. Another long moment passed before she looked back at you.

“I never said no.”

You blinked a few times, confused. “What?”

“The proposition outlined at the end of the poem,” she clarified, “I never said no.”

“You…” you began to repeat but trailed off as the realization of what she was implying really began to sink in. “Wait, I—you…you can’t possibly mean…”

Growing visibly impatient, Wednesday cut off your verbal meltdown. “Meet me outside the school gates after light’s out this Saturday. I get to pick the activity.”

The unsettling smile she gave you felt like a bad omen, but you couldn’t care less, still fighting off the incredulity clouding your mind. You opened your mouth to respond but when no words came, you settled for a hurried nod.

“Good,” Wednesday peered out the window momentarily. “Now, I must be going. Eugene is expecting me. I will see you Saturday and if you’re late then you’ll be the next autopsy I perform.”

Carefully, she stepped around your puppy and walked off without another word, leaving you to ponder what the hell just happened.

“Oh my god,” you whispered to no one in particular. Again, louder this time, “Oh my god!” At the sound of your excitement, Choklit came scampering over and you bent down to meet him. He stood on his hind legs, bracing his front paws on your knee. “Did you hear that, boy? The poem actually worked!”

He gave you a yip in return, tiny tail a blur behind him. You rubbed your hand along his back, chuckling at the fervent licks your hands received in return.

Only after a student skirted past you both did you realize that you were still in the middle of a hall. You promptly scooped Choklit up with both hands and cradled him by your chest, looking down at him as you began your way back to your dorm.

“Come on, let’s go get some treats. I owe you big time, buddy.”