#never gotten this far if you had never found my page

[purplebehittindifferent]

Battle won! You got 66g and crushing guilt!

That’s the end of chapter 2! Who’s ready for chapter 3? ME! ME! But wait- what’s THIS?

Masterpost

Prev (ch:2::8)/ End of chapter 2!

Next (INTERLUDE)

[ssahotchnerr]

Aaron having to bring his daughter with him to work for whatever reason? She’s tiny enough to not be running around and mainly just sleep on his chest all day. It’s fall outside and she’s in a warm teddy bear outfit so it’s literally like a stuffed animal on his chest as he works. She wouldn’t remember anything she saw in files but he makes sure her head is never near anything bad. Makes his heart warm and happy when the others realize that she’s there and coo over her and the outfit. Penelope takes pictures of them to send to you too 😭🖤

soak it in

i'm going to CRY cw; fem!reader, girl dad!aaron, small foyet reference

aaron's entrance into the bullpen piqued the interest of several, as it was different from any other, usual morning. not only was his briefcase in hand, but also a carseat, and a diaper bag was slung proudly over his shoulder. there were smiles from the team, some small nudges to look amongst the other units, as today's visitor was easily welcomed.

during breakfast, you had been notified your dentist appointment had been moved up, due to the office closing earlier within the day for whatever reason. with such short notice and jessica being unavailable, aaron was the obvious solution, and your daughter came to work with him - until you were done running a few errands and could drop by to retrieve her.

for the meantime - as she was there - aaron opted to work strictly on the no-pictures-included files. while she was never in close proximity to a file regardless, and today's onesie's hood happened to shield her eyes, and her little mind wouldn't process or remember anything - aaron didn't want to take any chances. he yearned to keep his daughter as far away from that, all the horrors the world possessed, for as long as he possibly could. jack had gained the knowledge - that monsters were real, just in human form - sooner than he would have liked. sadly.

currently baby girl was tucked into his chest, her right cheek smushed against him. she dozed off not too long ago; she had gotten a bit antsy and luckily his swivel desk chair allowed him to slowly rock her as he worked, in addition to soothingly shushing her, whispering that it's okay; ultimately calming her down. her little fingers found a near death grip on his shirt, clinging onto him as she slept.

when he had felt the pull of fabric, he gazed down and couldn't help but smile. aaron also took a moment, to soak it all in. the window of time where this was possible, was limited; her against his chest, small enough to be cradled in one arm, quiet and secure in the comfort of his office. all in too fast progression would aaron blink, and she would be way more interested in exploring and bouncing off the walls.

the thought immediately snapped his heart into two. if only she could stay that tiny, forever.

as he wrote, flipped a page, switched files, aaron was extremely careful to his movements. he tried not to rustle her, despite her being comfortably laid in his not-preoccupied-by-writing arm.

the sudden creak of his door lifts his eyes, penelope entering. the quietest of aw’s leaves her as she approaches, with an extra spring in her step at the sight before her. in addition, she doesn't hesitate to whisk out her phone.

"i didn't know this cutie was here today." the words leave her in a gentle, yet high, pitched tone, giddiness laced within. her jaw fully drops as she catches sight of the cozy onesie the littlest hotchner inhabits, "oh my god look at her outfit!"

“garcia.” aaron lightly warns as her volume heightens, his eyes flicking back up to her from his paperwork, his pen slowing.

“i know sorry sorry, i just neeeed to share the cuteness with the mrs.," penelope grins, aiming her camera at baby girl, and aaron, snapping a few pictures. "this is just, too dang adorable. she needs a copy, i need a copy, and i'll make you a copy too, sir."

that tugs aaron's lips into a smile, a small chuckle leaving him. "she's cute, huh?"

"um hello? cute doesn't even begin to cover it. please tell me you're the one who dressed her today. if yes, i might have to scream. just might."

"not today." aaron admitted, dropping his pen and fixing the small hood, which had fallen a bit too much in front of baby girl's face. again, his lips couldn’t help but pull into a smile. god, he loved being a girl dad, and a dad in general. "but, i may have picked it out."

"i was right. i'm going to scream." quick to realize what she said, penelope held out her hands in defense - before aaron even had the opportunity to open his mouth - clarifying with wide eyes. "internally! i'm screaming internally."

aaron took a slight pause, before speaking. “actually, about the copies - ”

penelope’s shoulders dropped in defeat, her lips pulling to the side - an equivalent to an ‘eek’. “was i too enthusiastic?”

“on the contrary,” aaron’s expression softened, laughing gently as to again, not rouse baby girl. “would you mind bringing me two? i’ll need one for in here, and for my wallet.”

[wonderjanga]

Black Adam getting Confused

I was reading the wiki trying to learn more about Theo Adam, and on the page I read that he was just evil and essentially just killed the Batsons for a scarab. That’s it. Then Adam possessed him. See, the wiki doesn’t say if Adam has any of Theo’s memories, but what if he did?

Adam’s pissed. He wants to take down the current champion. So, he flies to Fawcett to take him out. He’s then met with a golden retriever of a man who feels familiar and a looks a little too excited to be seeing Adam. Did the wizard not tell this oaf about him?

Marvel: “This is awesome! I’ve never met someone like me!” *starts yapping about how it’s awesome to meet another champion*

Black Adam: *not even listening, the words sound like this to him, is just thinking of where he knows this man is from*

Marvel: *still yapping*

Black Adam: *gets hit with a flashback so hard you would’ve thought it was a flash-bang. Remembers stabbing C.C. in the back, literally, and leaving him to die*

Marvel: *asks Adam something*

Black Adam: “What was that?” *is literally reliving when Theo went after Marilyn next*

Marvel: “What’s your name?”

Black Adam: *stares for a few moments, confused, wondering if Marvel remembers him*

It’s not like this deters Adam though. He still thinks the man is his sworn enemy. They still fight to near deaths and all that, but the memories bother Adam. Not because he was ashamed Theo killed Batson in such an underhanded way (he was just a tad bit), but rather because he doesn’t know how the man is alive. As far as Adam knew, dead people couldn’t just come back and be champions. If that were the case, wouldn’t the very first champion still be the current one?

Teth finally got to ask his question after a particularly brutal fight that messed the both of them up. Adam was on the ground, nose bloody, but nothing more. The current champion never went anything further than immobilizing him. It infuriated him, but since the man gave him more chances to kill him, whether it be on purpose or not, he’d let the matter go. Speaking of the man, he was standing, lip split open, bruises on his face, one of his eyes was half closed and had blood leaking from it, a consequence of Adam aiming for his eye. The current champion’s appearance once again reminded him of Batson once more.

Black Adam: “How’re you alive?”

Marvel: “Huh? What?”

Black Adam: “You should’ve died. In a tomb.” *coughs* “He used the knife. He let you bleed out. The tomb was collapsing and you should’ve only been a normal human being at the time.”

Marvel: *slowly coming to a realization that, holy fudge sticks, Adam thinks he’s his dad*

Black Adam: “So tell me, how are you alive?”

Marvel: *is silent for a bit and definitely won’t turn down the chance to make his dad sound like a badass* “I refused to die.”

Black Adam: “…What?”

Marvel: “I refused to die. I couldn’t leave my wife, my children, my friends, everyone I knew behind. So, I refused to die. I crawled out of the tomb and then the Wizard found me.”

That was actually true. Well, everything but the Wizard thing. In this AU, when C.C. had been stabbed, he managed to crawl out of the tomb, even with a leg that had gotten crushed by debris. Though unfortunately, he died due to blood loss soon after. This was all detailed in a newspaper Billy happened to find about a week after he got kicked out of the house by Ebenezer.

By the way, during that entire speech about making his dad sound like a badass, Marvel didn’t smile. And if Teth was being honest, he uh… he didn’t like that. Mostly because even during the times Marvel fought him, he still smiled at him. He didn’t know how to feel about an unsmiling Marvel. So now, back in Kahndaq, Teth sat on his throne kind of just running the entire interaction through his head over and over again.

But you see, this isn’t the only time Adam’s been completely befuddled by Billy. There was a time he went to Fawcett in disguise and happened to me a certain someone…

Black Adam: *walking down the sidewalk*

Billy: *running down the sidewalk, bumps into him, and then looks up to Adam*

Black Adam: “Watch where you’re going-” *almost goes into cardiac arrest when he sees a kid that looks exactly like his nephew, just white*

Billy: “Sorry, Mister.” *continues running*

Black Adam: *watches him run off with a mortified look on his face*

When he tries to find out more about the kid that bumped into him, he had been pronounced missing and presumed dead. This made Adam kind of feel like shitting himself because for a brief moment he entertained the thought that his nephew had reincarnated or something.

[sparkrls]

girl uncle

MASTERLIST

Summary: in which Harry becomes an uncle and has a bad case of baby fever

Author’s Note: congratulations to Gemma, i’m so happy for her and the entire Styles family. if this sucks, it's because babies scare me and i tried to write a fic about baby fever... not my smartest move

Word Count: 1k

···

“Baby? You okay?” Y/N murmured, brushing the hair out of Harry’s face. His lower lip trembling as he stared at the rose-flushed baby.

Harry shook his head, the first tear trailing down his cheek. Y/N could never stand to see him weep. It made something inside of her shatter as he lost his composure.

Y/N wrapped her arm around his shoulder, pulling him in close. He leaned his head against her shoulder, tears trailing down his face and onto her shirt. His eyes never left the baby.

Gemma laid fast asleep in the bed behind them. In a little while, the nurse would come in to check in on the baby and Gemma. But for now, Harry and Y/N were left with a sleeping Gemma and a baby to gaze at.

Harry had been stressed out of his mind when Michal called to tell them Gemma’s water had broken and they were headed to the hospital. He had fussed over every detail, and Y/N had been the one to grab the car keys and usher him out of the house. She knew he wasn’t in any mental state to be driving.

The time in the waiting room had been spent by Y/N helping Michal with all the paperwork and Harry pacing in circles. She’d gotten him a tea and ordered him to sit down. As he sipped on his tea, his face still in an anxious frown, she’d pressed a notebook and pen in his hands. Y/N had cupped his face in her hands and instructed, “Everything on your mind, write it down. All the anxious overthinking- lay it down on the page.”

Harry had done so, filling a worrying amount of pages with all that was on his mind. She had skimmed it and found he kept repeating certain thoughts, a clear sign he was just in a spiral of overthinking.

Y/N sat down next to him and simply hugged him until the tension in his muscles dissipated and he relaxed- not completely, but enough to soothe her worries.

When they’d finally been let into the room to see an exhausted Gemma, grinning Michal and a fussy baby, Harry had been handed the baby to hold. He rocked her lightly in his arms, smiling down at her.

“You’re a girl uncle,” Y/N had said teasingly. Harry grinned nonetheless.

That had led them to this, a day after the currently unnamed baby was born. The sun had long set on the horizon, and dark flooded the streets with lamplights turned on.

“We’re adults now,” Harry whispered lowly, as to not rouse the sleeping figures in the room. He sniffled. “I can still remember being kids and climbing trees. How Gemma cleaned up my knee when I scraped it learning to ride a bike. And look at her now.”

A warmth spread in Y/N’s chest, somewhere between happiness and an indescribable satisfaction at knowing they’d made it this far. And a melancholic feeling thinking about how they used to worry about whether their parents would let them go out to the park with their friends or not. Now, they would soon become the parents themselves.

Harry sighed, and she wiped his tears away from his cheeks. Y/N placed a tender kiss on his forehead and said, “You’re an uncle now.”

Looking up at her as if she’d been the one to freckle the sky with stars, Harry said, “Uncle Harry. Has a ring to it, doesn’t it?”

A soft chuckle escaped Y/N’s lips. “Definitely.”

“Dad would sound even better,” Harry whispered, pressing himself close to her and nuzzling his nose against her neck. “Don’t you agree?”

Eyebrows raised in light surprise, Y/N asked, “You want to…?”

Harry nodded. “Wouldn’t it be nice?” He whispered, a small smile tugging at his lips. He had that soft look in his eye he always got whenever he talked about their future. “Maybe a ring on your finger before… and then a baby in your belly.”

“You’ve got baby fever,” Y/N groaned quietly, turning her head away from him. Her gaze landed on the baby again, wrapped in a light pink blanket. For a moment, she imagined that being her baby. And a rush of affection swelled in her chest, a pinch of fear tingling on her fingertips.

Fuck, maybe she had baby fever as well.

They certainly did look adorable, faces all scrunched up, skin a rosy pink and fingers all chubby.

“Is that a no?” Harry prompted quietly.

Y/N sighed as if she were exhausted by him. They both knew her every word was laced with affection, “How’d you go from crying ‘cause your sister’s a mom now to begging for a baby?”

“Marriage and a baby,” Harry said, matter-of-factly. “Get your facts straight.”

Holding back a laugh, Y/N said, “Begging for marriage and a baby.” She took one good look at the man beside her, with brown curls and green eyes that looked almost a forest green in this light. “I never could say no to you.”

“That’s a yes?” Harry asked hopefully, leaning in close.

Y/N rolled her eyes affectionately. "It means be patient. We'll see how things go." She gave him a playful glare. "But we are having a wedding before a baby. Got it, Styles?"

"Got it, baby,” Harry confirmed with a grin. He knew he was going to get what he wanted. Maybe more in the future, he would spend an obscene amount of money on a Tiffany engagement ring and a Vivienne Westwood wedding dress. But for now, those plans were stowed away in Harry’s mind. They would come to fruition eventually. It was just a matter of time.

[bones4thecats]

Could I request Tengen and Rengoku with an s/o who's a descendant of a famous swordsman?

S/O's A Descendant of a Swordsman

Characters: Tengen Uzui and Kyojuro Rengoku (separate) Requester: ⚔Anon A/N: I now dub thee ⚔Anon because of the two characters and the swordsman prompt. Idk it was the first thing that came to mind. Anyways, this is mainly themed around them finding out their spouse is the descendant of a demon slayer. Just noting!

••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●•

»»———————————-　Tengen Uzui　———————————-««

🔊 During his time at the Demon Slayer Corps, Tengen has heard about many slayers. But there was always one that stayed in his mind and never seemed to go away: Kenji Sureiyaa. Who was the Thunder Hashira all the way back in the Sengoku Era

🔊 Tengen loved to read all kinds of stuff on the way he produced the style with his four spouses. He would literally just lay a book on a slightly higher-up pedestal next to your large futon bed that you all shared and whenever he couldn't sleep, he'd grab it and read it till god knows what hour

🔊 One morning, you found him sitting in front of the small training area you had installed in the backyard for your wives and husband. And normally whenever he was outside, he'd be using it. Not now evidently

" What are you reading, love? " You asked.

🔊 Tengen looked back at you and smiled before standing up and closing the book, but not before marking his page. He was almost finished, it seemed.

" Just this book on the first ever Thunder Hashira, Kenji Sureiyaa. "

" Kenji Sureiyaa? That sounds familiar. " This caused your husband to snap his head to look at you. His eyebrows cocked in confusion.

🔊 You laid the laundry basket down and began to hang it all up to dry while Tengen just stared at you in curiosity. Silently pondering on how you have heard this man's name before. He knew you were friends with other slayers such as Mitsuri, but not even she knew of the guy

" Oh! Now I remember. My grandfather's grandfather was named that. How ironic, right? "

🔊 Okay... WHAT?!

🔊 Tengen practically dropped his book on the wooden flooring before he spun you around and asked how old you were, causing you to chuckle before patting his arms as he stared into your eyes. Damn, is this what demon's saw when fighting against the ex-shinobi?

" I'm 20, Tengen. Come on, you have to remember this. Did some demon hit you with some weird kind of memory-blood demon art or something? "

" So you're the... HOLY SHIT! You're the descendant of Kenji Sureiyaa! This is so cool! I married one of the first Hashira's grand-kid's grand-kid's kid! "

🔊 Huh?

🔊 As Tengen rambled, you picked up the book to take a glimpse at the detailed drawing of the man. He did look an awful lot like you great-great-grandfather's drawing you had in your room...

••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●•

»»——————————-　Kyojuro Rengoku　——————————-««

❤️‍🔥 Rengoku was far from a silent man when he was off of his missions. And right now this was being proved to be true just as much as your honeymoon

❤️‍🔥 Your husband had heard about a book of old slayers from times long past the current one. And he had gotten quite interested into one that was supposedly the tsuguko of the first Stone Hashira: Kei Ishi

❤️‍🔥 Much like with Tengen, Rengoku would ramble about the long-deceased woman as if she was the second most important thing in the world, behind his oh-so-dear spouse, of course!

❤️‍🔥 Today just so happened to be quite the odd one, though.

❤️‍🔥 You had spent most of the day helping Aoi, your dear friend Shinobu's assistant at her mansion, out with healing hurt slayers while your husband was set to return from a nearly three-month long mission up in the northern-area of Japan

❤️‍🔥 Due to this, you were tired and needed a good, long nap. So, you grabbed one of the nearest books and began to read. And as you read, you passed almost four slayers before catching a familiar name written in ink. Kei Ishi?

" Why do they sound so familiar... " you wondered.

" Hello there, my blaze! "

❤️‍🔥 Practically throwing the book at the suspected startler, you noticed that it was knocked into the air before falling right onto the palm of the flame-haired male that you got to call your's

❤️‍🔥 Rengoku laughed as your cheeks flushed and you hid your face behind one of his haori's, which you loved to cuddle with whenever he was absent for whatever reason. And as you began to cool yourself down from the initial scare, Rengoku looked at the page you were reading

" Ah, Kei Ishi! Her story is quite interesting, is it not? "

❤️‍🔥 You just smiled and agreed as he laid the book down on a small bookshelf before adjusting the nemaki he wore to be lighter around his neck, making it appear like a yukata

❤️‍🔥 As he laid down, he noticed that you were looking at another book which was situated just underneath his. It seemed to be the book full of drawings of your ancestors, like your grandparents and aunts, uncles, cousins alike

" Why are you looking at the book of your ancestors, my love? "

" Oh it's nothing, Kyojuro. It's just- the name of Kei Ishi's, it just sounds familiar is all. "

" Do you wonder if she is perhaps an ancestor of yours as well? "

" I suppose so. "

" Then we shall check to make yourself sure! "

❤️‍🔥 Rengoku quickly nabbed the book and set it down on your lap before sitting back down with his outside, seemingly turning to a specific page while you looked for your family tree's page. A tradition for many years was to add on with each generation that held the book in their custody, and maybe you and Rengoku's child will do the same one day

" The final instance of a descendant of Ishi's is with her great-grandson named Takeshi Inoue. "

" Mine starts with Takeshi Inoue... "

" Oh my Gods! Y/N, you're the current descendant of Kei Ishi's! This is beyond unexpected! "

❤️‍🔥 Yeah, it was definitely unexpected alright

[grandline-fics]

Immune To Your Charms

DESCRIPTION: Soulmates are incapable of harming the other in any way. Normally that would be a good thing but not when you're meant to be enemies.

WARNINGS: Usual mentions of brief violence/killing. It's Doflamingo, he's his own warning. Descriptions of illness

CHARACTERS: Doflamingo

WORDS: 2,824

A/N: Health stuff and non-stop interruptions have been keeping me from writing but some of it is calming down a little so I can get some writing done while I can. I hope you all enjoy this chapter and hopefully the next one won't be as long of a wait.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine(here) | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven(coming soon)

——————

For two days after the kiss, you and Doflamingo both acted like the incident hadn’t happened. As far as you both let on, everything was completely normal, or rather normal by your standards. Still you threw attitude and disrespect his way while he tried to kill you. Normal. Just how you both wanted it. Because pretending that the kiss never happened was better than admitting it still constantly played on your minds. Even now when you both sat across from each other at the small table in your living quarters Doflamingo’s eyes continually fell to your lips even though he kept forcing himself to look away over and over. Thanks to the dark red lenses the direction of his stare was hidden. As he sipped at his coffee he watched as you stared blankly at the same page of the newspaper, realising you hadn’t turned the page in a while. “Well, what’s got you so interested?”

At the sound of his voice you blinked and your stare sharpened on the words on the page before meeting his relaxed, grinning face. With a frown you glanced at the paper again and set it on the table, sitting back and shaking your head slightly. “Nothing, honestly I was zoned out. Wasn’t even reading.” You explained while reaching for your drink only to stop and instead push it a little further from you. “What kind of poison did you put in my breakfast today? It’s different.”

“No poison today.” Doflamingo explained with a low chuckle building in his chest. “Haven’t tampered with your food or drink for a while now. You trying to say you miss it?”

“Well it seems like it did give a nice kick, must have gotten used to it without realising.” You teased slightly only to scowl suspiciously when the Warlord’s usually broad grin had lessened. “What?”

“Something wrong?” 

“Apart from the fact I’m strangely used to you putting poison in my food?” You asked before giving a tired sigh. “I didn’t sleep great. You didn’t interfere with my bed did you?”

“Your accusation hurts.” Doflamingo returned your teasing remark with one of his own. “I promised you I’d never mess with your sleep again didn’t I?” At that you nodded. He’d promised and so far had kept to his word that your sleep had never suffered because of him or any of those in his command. Even on the mornings you were sleeping in the servants avoided waking you because of the young master’s orders.

Normally you loved the bed you’d been given and found sleep so easily when lying in it but the previous night barely anything seemed to work. You just couldn’t get comfortable long enough to properly fall over to truly restful sleep and when you did fall asleep you were awake after a couple hours and right back to tossing and turning again. You were still feeling the effects now, drained and tired but not entirely like you had when Doflamingo had been on his quest to keep you awake for as long as he could. “I’ll try and fit in a nap or two in between my busy schedule and I’ll be back to my charming, wonderful self by tomorrow.”

You weren’t sure why you felt the need to say something to reassure him but the words were out of your mouth before you could think about it. Still it was strange for him to outwardly be concerned over something as small as you not getting a good night’s sleep. Even with the grin on Doflamingo’s face you knew he wasn’t entirely convinced and you could feel his sharp stare fixed on you, searching your features. The last time he’d looked at you so strongly was the night you’d kissed and not wanting to open that particular can of worms you grabbed your mug and took a drink, looking out the window. It wasn’t long before fanfare could be heard from the city.

“Bit early for fireworks isn’t it?” You asked, your gaze going to the Coliseum in the distance where the noise seemed to be coming from. “What’s so special about today?”

“Nothing really. Diamante felt like throwing a tournament.” Doflamingo chuckled. “Something to break in and introduce the new additions to the arena.”

“You really think they’ll last long in there?” Your lips couldn’t help but curve into a cold smirk. “They weren’t exactly an impressive bunch of pirates.” Doflamingo laughed at your observation.

“Do you even find any pirates impressive?”

“Are you going to be jealous if I don’t say you?” You asked turning your head to look at him again. 

“I don’t get jealous.” Doflamingo answered with his grin spreading when disbelief shaped your features and a subtle look of amusement began to creep into you gaze. “C’mon tell me who.”

“But leaving you wondering seems so much more fun.”

“You have a cruel streak in you, you know that?” Doflamingo laughed only to stop when a single knock sounded at the door and a servant hurried in. Their face was apologetic but his stare zeroed in on the white and blue den-den mushi in their hands. The Marines were calling.

———

For Doflamingo’s call with the Marines, going through the motions of being a Warlord you had left him to talk into private. You knew you didn’t have to leave but felt it would be best. Plus it gave you a while to get some fresh air and have some space from the Warlord. The plan of acting like the kiss had never happened meant having to continue being in his presence which irritated you because of how it was bringing new problems for you. In the beginning it was irritation and dislike that made you speak openly and antagonistically with the man but now you could tell you were both speaking to each other with a little more playfulness and almost civility. You’d accepted your fate as Doflamingo’s prisoner and his eventual victim when he found out a way to kill you with no resistance when you were first brought to Dressrosa. 

Now though? Now you almost felt settled that this was your new life and that disturbed you more than anything. The kiss you wished hadn’t helped matters. It felt like another sign that your mind and body were starting to give in to being the Warlord’s soulmate. This wasn’t how it was meant to be and you had to try harder to keep things as they were. Your hand brushed against the cold metal of a door and you snapped out of your thoughts and mindless wandering to all but curse yourself. You were now outside Doflamingo’s personal office, your body moving there out of instinct or pure subconscious habit. Sighing sharply you forced yourself to step away from the door and continue down the corridors, making sure you were more aware of your actions. 

Thankfully you ran into a servant who seemed relieved to see you and began to talk to you. Normally you embraced talking to someone normal and who wasn’t a pirate but you began to grow confused when it wasn’t idle conversation they wanted to speak to you on, but instead they started to report to you the chores completed for the day and discuss minor issues with the Palace upkeep and some tasks. 

When they asked for your opinion on how best to handle the problems it took a moment for you to snap out of your confusion and shock. You offered your advice as best as you could, seeming relieved when the servant immediately smiled and thanked you, beginning to set off to act on your words. “Wait, don’t you want to double check with Doflamingo or your superior?”

“The young master’s busy.” The servant explained with a small smile, looking at you like this should be obvious. “After him, you’re the next in charge. Thank you again!”

You could only watch the servant hurry off with a smile, unable to catch your mind up fast enough to call after them and tell them that you being second in command wasn’t true. Instead you were frozen in shock and extremely confused. Feeling a headache begin to form rapidly, you shook your head and continued on your aimless walk through the palace, the servant’s casual declaration still repeating in your mind. You didn’t even think anyone was second in command, as far as you ever saw things Doflamingo’s word was law and the only time the elite officers of his ‘family’ gave orders was when they came from Doflamingo or when they told the servants what they wanted to eat for their meals but that wasn’t the same as being in charge. 

Now even more drained than you had been, you turned to make your way back to your room. You’d jokingly said you’d nap but now it was seeming like a good idea. As you approached your quarters you stopped to see Doflamingo casually strolling towards you. “Well? When do you go?”

“Were you eavesdropping?” Doflamingo asked with his broad grin in place. Part of him was confused why you’d need to be sneaky and listen in to a conversation you were more than welcome to stay in the room for. He turned to walk beside you as you continued on your way back to your quarters.

“No, I just know this is normally the time of year they’d be calling you and the other Warlords in for a meeting.” You explained with a shrug.

“The time of year?” Doflamingo repeated in interest.

“If there’s no pressing issue they need you and the Warlords to deal with they usually call a meeting to have you in the Marine building for some visiting nobles or royalty to see you.” You explained as you stepped into your room and shrugged, settling down on your sofa. “A way to reassure them that the Marine’s are in power I suppose. What better way to show that than for them to see pirates of the Warlord rank?” Doflamingo chuckled and perched himself on the back of the sofa, looking down at you as you got comfortable. He’d always known the Marine’s patterns and habits and liked to play dumb but it was oddly surprising and refreshing for you to have noticed it too. “So when do you go?”

“Soon.” Doflamingo answered your repeated question. “Won’t be gone too long.”

“Guess I’ll have to fit in as much destruction as possible then while you’re gone.” You smirked, idly rubbing your temple as you felt the headache from earlier still nag at you. “Want to try and kill me before you go? You didn’t try today.”

“Aw aren’t you sweet?” Doflamingo grinned, leaning down to poke the centre of your head and coax you to lie back more against the sofa. “Sadly, it’s not as enjoyable when you’re tired. Rest and I’ll double my efforts when I’m back to make up for the time away.”

“Big talk.” You grinned, the pain seeming to dissipate slightly in the brief moment Doflamingo’s fingers were against your forehead. “If I wasn’t already lying down I’d be swooning. Go on, have fun annoying Warlords and Marines. See you when you get back.”

———

As expected the Warlord meeting was a complete bore, the only entertainment for Doflamingo came from him purposely agitating those who shared the title of Warlord with him and the Marines ‘in charge’ or leading the meeting and navigating the pirates through the halls. As you had already predicted there just so happened to be visiting dignitaries also walking the corridors at the same time. It was all theatre really. Designed to look as mere coincidence the paths were crossed. On their way to the large banquet room, Doflamingo’s curiosity was piqued at the sound of some high ranked Marines deep in conversation. Normally he wouldn’t care what they had to say but the name of the island they were talking about caught his attention. The island he crossed paths with you. It felt so long ago since that night the warehouse exploded and he came across you. Feeling nostalgic he listened in on their conversation. 

“The sickness is ramping up, they’re at a complete loss what to do.” One Marine told the other.

“The numbers are rising with each day. How did this even happen?” The commander asked in annoyance.

“The virus has a long incubation period. No one realised until the first infected finally started showing signs. We should have a better idea soon now that the source of the virus has been dealt with but it’s not looking good for those already infected. Mortality rate is already severe.”

“Such a mess but I suppose there's one thing to be thankful for.”

“Sir?”

“We lost a full unit there a while ago.” The commander explained. “They would have been infected too given how long they were stationed there. Better we lost them fighting criminals than falling to a virus.” For a heavy moment Doflamingo was rooted in the spot as he absorbed the information, processing what he’d just heard. He hadn’t misheard the name of the island, he knew he didn’t and it was reinforced when they spoke of an entire unit being wiped out. Your unit. 

Snapping into action he began moving once more and strode passed the other Warlords as they were entering the banquet hall. He ignored the Marine officer trying to tell him to not stray too far or wander around so freely. Had it been any other day he would have cut the worm to ribbons for even suggesting he couldn’t go or do as he wished. He only kept the ‘protection’ that the Warlord title gave for mere enjoyment. Kicking open the balcony door he leapt onto the railing and wordlessly left, his strings pulling him through the air as fast as he could to return to Dressrosa.

———

It had been a full day since Doflamingo had left Dressrosa and in that time you’d felt yourself feel worse and worse. Originally you’d put it up to the lack of sleep and not eating much but now you were sure something nasty was working its way through your system. You weren’t sure just how common flus or colds were in Dressrosa or if this was the season for them but anything was possible. With such a crowded city you could have caught the flu from a civilian you passed in the street or touched something already contaminated in one of the stores. You also considered the possibility of one of the pirates you killed having been sick with something and you didn’t realise you’d caught it until now. What you did know was that even with this being the beginning of the flu it felt worse than anything you’d had before.

You’d tried going to bed early and couldn’t rest even though your body felt more exhausted than ever. Everything was tense and ached as if you’d endured punishing training and battles all at once. The pressure against your lungs made even taking a breath difficult and you trembled as your temperature rushed from one extreme to the other. Your head felt like it was being crushed in a vice and stabbed, the pain growing and throbbing against your skull. The effort it took for you to push yourself up in the bed and drag yourself over to the bedside table seemed like scaling a mountain but somehow you managed to do it. With shaking hands and unfocussed eyes you grabbed the glass of water and forced yourself to take a small, painful sip in the hopes the cold liquid would soothe the mixture of fire and shards of glass that seemed to cling to your throat but it only seemed to flare the pain. You needed something to help. Even if it was getting the room to cool down you would take it. 

Struggling against your mind and body you stubbornly rose from the bed and swayed immediately. Your vision swam and the room tilted and spun so violently that your legs buckled almost immediately. In that moment you wished you had a Devil Fruit like Doflamingo’s, something that could open the window or anything to help you now. Hellbent on feeling the cool night air on your skin, you staggered clumsily to the balcony doors and fumbled to get them open. The second they did and you managed the last couple of steps to the railing you hung your head weakly and tried to take a full breath but could only manage a small, broke rasp as anything bigger would have caused more pain and discomfort. Slowly you lifted your head and prepared to make the struggle back to your bed but the sudden motion and your vision swirling at the sight of Dressrosa’s lights in the distance overwhelmed you and too weak to stop it from happening you tumbled over the railing.

———————————————-

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[pheonixgrave]

Softer Now (18+)

Ahh! You guys seem to be really enjoying these. I realized I was just writing the same Tav so there's that

Warnings: Soft smut, definite voyeurism, a decent amount of blood drinking, Soft!Astarion, pre-Act III, post-Act II

“Aren’t you just a little jealous?” Karlach asked, joining Astarion near the stash of wine they found.

“Why would I be jealous of the walking encyclopedia?” He smirked, watching a certain elf interact with a certain wizard.

“Oh c’mon! He’s flirting with her and you two are a thing, right?”

“I find it rather charming, actually,” he took a swig of the awful wine in his hand.

The Tiefling looked from the vampire spawn to the pair looking over some old tome whose name no one else could pronounce. “Charming?”

“Let me tell you what I see,” he set the bottle down to face the barbarian. “To you and I, Gale is obviously flirting. In a very clumsy manner, but flirting all the same. Our fearless leader, however, has no idea. To her, he is as much of a friend as Wyll or Shadowheart. Yet, he keeps trying because he has no clue that she simply isn’t flirting back.”

“That doesn’t make you angry?”

“Of course not!” He laughed, “I can barely believe he managed to bed a goddess with how he flirts.”

“It does seem pretty out there, as far as stories go,” Karlach crossed her arms and continued to watch the pair. 

“Anyways, I know there’s no competition.”

She smirked, “You do sound a teensy bit jealous.”

“My dear, I do not get jealous.” The more he thought about it, the more pause it gave him. Their resident wizard does try to hold her attention more often than he should. But Tav’s time was her own. He knew he had nothing to worry about. After everything they’ve been through, he couldn’t imagine her changing her mind at the last moment. Right?

Tav, on the other hand, was enjoying pouring over the old tome they had found. It gave some interesting insight into Illithids and their reasonings. Unfortunately, she was unable to read the language it was written in. She was thankful for Gale in that sense. Who knew he spoke Deep Speech? Granted it was written in Espruar but the script itself was odd. The wizard had helped her decipher a few pages about psionic energy and how they have mastered it. It truly was fascinating. 

“This is nice,” Gale spoke from next to her. He was holding the dusty tome in his hands with the bard sitting near him, using her mage hand to scribble any notes she’s taken. 

She looked up at him with wide eyes, “I suppose it is! I’m very happy we found this book.”

“It truly is remarkable,” he swallowed, “It’s also a nice excuse to spend more time together in the midst of all this madness.” 

“Oh! I suppose it is nice to sit with everyone.” She didn’t fail to notice him scoot slightly closer. Just a hair between them now.

Gale closed the book and turned to look at the elf next to him. “I’m afraid I must ask you something.”

Something in Tav’s mind warned her to walk away. But she was still getting used to that voice, so she elected not to listen to it. This was Gale. This was her friend. “What’s on your mind?”

He grabbed her hands in his, “I have noticed you and Astarion getting rather close recently.”

Tav wasn’t sure how to react. She was already flustered by the sudden turn of the conversation. She was more than happy to keep speaking of the Illithid empire. “Where are you going with this, Gale?”

Gale’s eyes never left hers. It was like he was trying far too hard to bear into her soul and she simply…didn’t want him to. “I told myself it was casual, not a matter of the heart but…clearly I was wrong and it looks like I am the last to know. I know how close you two have gotten, I just thought you would show me the respect of telling me first.”

The Elf’s jaw dropped, “Tell you? Tell you what?”

“But you can tell me now. Who is it to be? Me or him?” The look in Gale’s eyes was nearly as serious as when he was told he’d have to become a bomb.

“What exactly am I choosing here?” Tav blinked, glancing down at the wizard’s hands that completely enveloped hers. It took her a moment before her brain caught up. “Oh! Oh, Gale! I had no idea you felt this strongly.”

A glimmer of a smile reached his face, “Well, perhaps I should have done more. Been more charming, more flattering, harder to reach…but I was only myself. Sometimes that just isn’t enough.” His face dropped looking at hers, “Whatever your decision is, I will respect it. But you must choose. You cannot have us both.”

Tav made a choked sound in the back of her throat before clearing it. “I don’t think this is a good idea. I think it’s for the best that we aren’t involved like that. I want to be with Astarion.”

“I see. I suppose he does have a certain charm about him, if you’re into that sort of thing.” He sighed, “I’ll just put my feelings to one side. I think that’s best for everyone. It’s certainly the best thing for me. I won’t leave, unless you want me to. Or until fate forces my hand, your friendship is all we have. And I will be happy to have it, eventually.”

Tav’s heart broke for the man. It must be quite painful to not have those feelings returned. For a moment, she thought about what she would do if Astarion ever stops feeling the things he says he feels for her. And the thought almost brought tears to her eyes. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” she couldn’t hide the crack in her voice. But Gale was never going to be the cause of it. 

“Worry not. I carry my regrets wherever I go and I am used to their weight. One more will not break my back.” He gripped her hands one final time before she pulled away. 

She gave him a sad smile before walking over to where Karlach and Astarion stood. Grabbing the bottle from Astarion’s hands, she drank deep for a moment. They both glanced at each other before turning back towards the Elf. She handed the bottle back to him before smiling at Karlach, “Is there anything you have to admit to me? Any deep romantic feelings or attachment?”

Karlach laughed, “What? No, soldier!” She put her still warm hand on the much smaller elf’s shoulder. “You’re a dear friend. More than that, you’re family.”

Tav’s shoulders dropped, “Oh thank the Gods.” She turned to Astarion who was watching her with raised eyebrows, “Bed?” 

The moment they were inside his tent, she buried her face in his chest with her arms wrapped so tightly around his waist. “Darling, what’s wrong? Did the mean mage say something he shouldn’t have?” 

She didn’t want to pull far enough away to answer him. She didn’t want him to see her start to cry. She just shook her head and held him as close as she could. She wasn’t sure how to process these feelings. The vampire spawn just wrapped his arms around her trembling form. 

“You don’t have to say anything, just nod your head. Did Gale hurt you in any way?” She could hear the growl in his voice. It sounded more dangerous than normal. 

She pulled away with a deep inhale. She looked up at him with tears already streaming down her face. With a sniffle she whispered, “Gale admitted he had feelings for me, yes. But then I thought about how miserable life would be without you in it.”

Astarion froze, his body tensed. “So let me get this straight,” he swallowed, more nervous than he’s ever really been before. “You told Gale you’re not interested just to be with me? I do come with my complications, my love.”

She let out a breathy laugh, “I told Gale I’m not interested because I’m simply not interested.” Her hand reached up to stroke his cheek, “I just don’t ever want to imagine a life without you again. A world where you’re not with me. Because you’ve always been near, even if I didn’t know it.”

He remembers the night he told her about Cazador. The night he told her about the Szarr palace was also the same night she had told her about her tower. And how she could see the palace from her desk. It was true, they really have always been close in one way or another. “And you got that worked up because…?”

“I wouldn’t even know what I was missing,” she smiled at him, eyes still full of emotion. “You’ve been all of my firsts. First kiss, first night together. Hells, the first time I’ve held someone's hand was with you. This is all still very new to me. And the moment I thought about you not being with me I-” she let out a choked sob before gripping his shirt in her fists and burying her face in his chest once again. 

For a moment, the vampire spawn didn’t react. It still takes him a moment to return affection but he managed to wrap his arms around the trembling bard. He swallowed before gently rubbing the small of her back. The thought of someone wanting him this badly was…daunting, to say the least. He knew if they had met before the nautiloid, he’d mark her as a victim. She was pretty and just naive enough to fall for him. Hells, he had even known her parents. Cazador loved having the city’s nobility over, but never her. 

She was always the princess in the tower. Always there but never seen. Even Cazador had thought she was a mere rumor and nothing else.

For a while, he just held her while she cried. He wasn’t sure what else he could do besides hold her. Nothing he could say would comfort her. They weren’t even sure if they would survive this mess. So he pulled her closer. The rest of the night passed as they were wrapped in each other’s embrace. Soft, whispered words of a future sprinkled with hope. For the first time in his unlife, he had more than just hope.

The next couple of days passed uneventfully. They were only traveling, plain and simple. Onwards to Baldur’s Gate. Where all of their dooms or salvations lay. In the gloom of it all, Tav wanted some fun. She had gone to Shadowheart and pilfered some of her extra blankets with promises to replace them once they reached the city. As they set up camp yet again, she made her way towards the lake side. She laid out all of the blankets in a large square before finding the extra food she had squirreled away. And pulled out the best wine she could find. It was an obviously aged bottle still covered in a thick layer of dust, but the label looked fancy.  She truly knew nothing about wine so she prayed to whomever was listening that it wasn’t swill. She then adjusted her bustier in an awkward manner before smiling to herself and searching for the vampire spawn.

He wasn’t hard to find. No one heard what she whispered in his ear. But they certainly noticed the fond smile and raised eyebrows as she dragged him away from the camp. Astarion looked at the little picnic she had put together, his hand in hers before kissing the top of her head. “And what’s the special occasion, darling?”

She smiled up at him, unabashed emotion in her eyes with a grin on her face. She was truly divine in the moonlight. She shrugged, “I just wanted to do something nice for you. We reach Baldur’s Gate in a couple days and we have to hit the ground running soon. I just wanted to take a moment, just for us.” She picked up the bottle of wine she had found, “I hope it’s okay. I know it’s old but I don’t know if it’s good.” 

He smiled and pulled her close. “Aren’t you just the sweetest little thing?”

The tips of her ears flushed as he placed a gentle kiss on her lips. And then they sat and talked and ate and drank. They spoke about the Gauntlet of Shar, about the monastery, about the Moonrise Towers. And the conversation drifted to their party as Tav slowly became more and more tipsy. She talked about Wyll and his obvious daddy issues. Shadowheart and her love for more adult literature. And Astarion was all too happy to sit and listen to her. It’s one of the things that drew him to her, after all. She could read people like they were a book she was all too happy to read. 

As the evening turned into night, the pair ended up against a nearby rock. Tav sitting on his lap as he peppered her neck with kisses. And as Tav’s giggles turned into soft moans as his hands started to travel to her waist. “You should keep quiet, my sweet, we wouldn’t want to wake the entire camp up. Would we?” He whispered before nipping at the base of her neck. 

“I-I think you’d like that far too much,” she managed to gasp out as he helped her rock her hips back and forth against him. 

He chuckled against her neck, leaving trails of almost bites with his fangs. “What ever makes you say that?”

“Astarion!” She moaned, grabbing the back of his head as he finally sank his teeth into her neck. She gripped his curls in one hand and dug her nails into his shoulder with the other. Her hips moved on their own as he slowly drank from her. His arms wrapped around her waist as he held her up. Between the wine and him drinking from her, she felt lightheaded. But that made the friction between them feel all the more intense. 

“You always taste just so perfect, my love.” He slowly released her neck before slamming his lips against hers. He knew he was being needy but he craved her. As his lips melded against hers his nimble fingers went to work on the knots of her bustier. It never took him long to get her out of her clothes and tonight was no exception. 

She grabbed his hands before he could fully remove her bustier, cradling his hands in hers. “Are you sure you want to do this? We really don’t have to. I’m happy to just sit here with you.” Her voice was barely a whisper, something meant just for him. 

He smiled at her before kissing her again, “Darling, if I didn’t wish to have you, I wouldn’t have you half dressed sitting on my lap.”

She smiled and let go of his hands and let him return to practically tearing off her clothing. He wasn’t satisfied until she was sat on his lap in nothing but her underwear. His face buried in her breasts, leaving small little nicks with his teeth as he made his way back up to her lips. Her hands gripped his shoulder as he snaked his hand down her body. He made sure to feel all the softness that was still on her body, never failing to trace her curves. 

Tav was small but years in a tower had made her body gentle. Her hands were rough from her instruments, yes, and she did have a lot of skill with a blade. But she was in no way muscular. And Astarion enjoyed that more than he could say. He enjoyed being able to almost see the tremors in her thighs before he felt it. Gods, he needed her. 

It only took him a moment to find her clit and draw slow, gentle circles around it. Never quite touching it directly. “Darling, you’re already shaking. Did you miss me that much?”

“Yes!” She cried into his ear. “Y-you’re teasing me.” Her head fell against his shoulder as her body trembled against him. 

“Oh, I’d never do such a thing,” He smiled and buried his hand in her hair. “I simply want to take my time enjoying you.” The vampire spawn slowly filled her cunt with his fingers, his palm grinding against her clit. 

She tried hard to keep quiet. Really she did. But when his fingers curled inside of her? She couldn’t help but cry out his name. How was he so patient? All she wanted was to have him inside her. He pumped his fingers in and out of her cunt so painfully slowly. 

Now, Tav may have been too focused on the rogue’s hands to notice anything else. But Astarion wasn’t. He knew Halsin and Gale were keeping watch tonight. He also knew it was far too late for anyone else to be awake. Which is why his hands didn’t stop when he noticed the bushes across from them moved. It was so subtle that he almost missed it.

Almost.

Someone was watching them. And he had an inkling he knew exactly who it was. The thought made him grin against Tav’s bloodsoaked neck. He sped up his fingers, holding her as she writhed against him. “That’s it, love, don’t hold a single thing back.” She came with a cry of his name. She was still trembling as he made a show of licking his own fingers clean. “I do so enjoy how you taste, my love.” He didn’t whisper this time. He wanted the wizard in the bushes to hear.

With shaking hands she went to untie the knots on his trousers. He leaned back against the rock, letting her take his length in her hands. “M-may I?” Her neck was stained just as red as the flush on her cheeks. Her big blue eyes wide in anticipation. 

“May you what?” His hand went to her throat and he felt her breath catch.

“M-may I ride you?” It really was endearing how she asked. Her voice was breathless and her chest was heaving. He had never been overly rough with her. But with a voyeur in the bushes? He was more than tempted to lay claim to the nearly virgin in his lap. 

He pouted at her, “I’m not quite sure what you mean, darling.”

Her eyes went wider than before. “W-what?”

She was so innocent. So pure, he had never even heard her swear before. “What is it exactly that you would like to do?” He purred, his forehead meeting hers. “Don’t play coy with me now.”

She swallowed, the tips of her ears matching the rest of her face. “Astarion,” she whined. 

“If you use your words, love, I’ll be happy to give you anything you want.”

She whined again when the grip around her throat tightened ever so slightly. “I-I want-” another swallow, “I want to ride your cock.”

He smiled, “See? Now was that so hard? You did so well,” he whispered against her lips.  She adjusted herself over him, still holding him in one hand while the other braced herself on his shoulder. His hand still held her throat, not quite squeezing just letting her know he was there. The bard lowered herself onto him. He groaned as she sank down. “Perfect.”

Her other hand flew up to his chest while she gripped his blouse so tightly that her knuckles were whiter than before. Her head spun while the wine loosened her tongue. “Gods, Astarion.” 

“Use your words, darling,” he moaned against her neck, his eyes keeping an eye on the bush yet again. He wanted the wizard to see how good he could make her feel. He wanted him to see that he wasn’t even a thought on her mind. He wanted him to see that she wanted him and not Gale.

She sat for a moment, adjusting to his size before rocking her hips back and forth. Astarion’s hands flew to her hips to help guide her movements. “Feels so good,” she whimpered, still clutching at his blouse. 

“That’s it, pet. You can take it, I know you can.” Her movements were entirely her own. She gradually went from rocking to bouncing. His body told him to throw his head back but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. Maybe now Gale would realize she was his. Maybe he had more of a possessive streak than he thought. 

“Your hand, put it back!” She used his chest as leverage for her movements. He could feel her getting close and who was he to deny her? He instinctively put his hand back around her throat and squeezed. He had never felt her tighten around him harder. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. He let her sit like that for a moment as she started to relax once again.

Whoever was in the bushes was gone now. Either too riled up to stay or too heartbroken to watch. Either way, Astarion found it satisfying. Satisfying enough to toss Tav on her back and put her ankles on his shoulder. It was something about knowing Tav not only trusted him but chose him, drove him wild. Far more than any lover he’s had in the past. Even through her half opened eyes and her mind filled with wine and pleasure, her eyes were still filled with that emotion. That feeling that he wouldn’t dare put words to yet. 

She was his. And he was equally hers. 

Her moans and whimpers filled the air but he felt so far away from her. Too far. She grabbed his hands and pulled him closer, lacing her hands with his. “Beautiful,” was all she could whisper before she clenched around him. This time, he wasn’t far behind her. They laid like that for a while. Him on top of her, her tracing small patterns on his back. The scars were a reminder of what awaited them in Baldur’s Gate. But it could wait for now. For now they had each other. 

“Did you see who was in the bushes?” 

He immediately met her eyes, “You knew?”

“I’m naive, not stupid.” She giggled, rolling over to her side.

“I believe we just gave the magic eater quite the eyeful.”

[r0ttenhearts]

slip from my mind

scaramouche x reader (streamer AU)

part 1

sypnosis: scaramouche was a moderately known streamer, while you were a newbie streamer who happened to be a “fan” of scaramouche. your only hope is for him to hear your feelings, even if he doesn’t reciprocate it.

you didn’t mean to be weird, not really. but it was scaramouche! in a world as small as yours, he was a micro celebrity in your small social circle online. you were only mutuals, which you considered yourself very lucky to have. it was strange for you to be so fangirlish over some random guy on the internet, but something about this felt different. somehow you had a feeling that you’d come to know him, every time you glanced his profile. that day couldn’t come soon enough.

scaramouche was streaming another one of his MMORPG’s while you watched quietly in a minimized tab at your desk. it was another one of those days where you felt a very heavy silence in the comfort of your four walls. only those walls didn’t feel comforting, just cold. it was a very deep cold, a cold that drapes over you like a heavy blanket.

“the redheads in this game are the hottest to me.” scaramouche’s voice rang out from the little box you had set his stream in. as a consistent lurker, you never were one to think of typing something the chat. but today you felt so constricted that you allowed yourself to mindlessly write a comment in his chat. “where’s the love for (h/c)’ed girls :(“ you typed out before tapping send. you didn’t think much of it, not really. it’s likely he wouldn’t even respond to it. he doesn’t respond to every single message.

you turned your attention back to your other monitor where you were idling in a game, your attempt to try and cut the heaviness that you felt.

“(h/c)’ed girls are cute too.” scaramouche replied, moments after you had already forgotten the message you had mindlessly posted. the gears clicked in your head as you replayed his words. he actually replied to your message. your first and only direct interaction to him and he noticed. a warmth swelled up inside of you as you clicked back into his chat, fingers ready to type. what would you say? how should you reply? should you be nice or give a witty answer? would he even reply to it?

“yay there’s hope for us :)” you sent into the chat. you giddily waited for a response, only for scaramouche to ramble on about a raid in his game. while you hadn’t gotten the complete interaction, you were still happy for the brief moments of his attention. it really was the coolest thing for you. and when your life is a constant replay of the same day, even small things like a streamer responding to you meant the the world to you. there wasn’t much to get excited for these days, so you let yourself savor these moments. as few and far between as they were.

scaramouche continued his stream for another hour until he went offline. you closed out of his stream page and went into yours, modifying a few of your stream elements before your next stream. as you clicked through your files to upload for your template, a ping sound came from below your screen. it was a DM. you clicked it open, only to see:

scarax: soo miss (h/c) girl, do you play WOL?

scaramouche asking if you play his game? so you could possibly duo? today couldn’t have gotten any better. your smile felt very cheesy as you clicked on the dm, typing away a reply.

(y/n)^_^: yes! but i’m very under-geared compared to you

you were in. you spent the rest of the afternoon texting scaramouche about the game, world of legends, planning a day to duo. he had given you his discord to be able to message more directly. it all felt so surreal. scaramouche was a lot sweeter than he appeared to be from his streams.

on camera he had this tough, almost borderline jerk-y attitude, but it was in a way that you found endearing. maybe that was your first red flag you shouldn’t have ignored. but off stream, he was the sweetest guy you had ever met. he made sure to good morning and good night text you, and consistently hangout and talk to you.before you knew it, it had officially been a month since you two met, and you were now very much into each other. he wanted nothing more than to introduce you on stream for your official getting together, so that’s just what you two did.

the chat blew up in support of the new relationship that had blossomed between you both.

mnxia: you guys are so cute!

prnk: wishing you the best dude

pnnylvr: so jealous omggg

you regularly would go on to stream together and spend practically every day together. everything felt perfect. you had finally gotten something to break your everyday life. and it was the micro celebrity with 500 followers.

a few weeks after your first month anniversary, scaramouche wanted to meet you. it had made you nervous, at the time you both were practically edating, despite living in the same city. but it wrecked your nerves to think of all of the things you could do wrong in person.

you were known for being a strange girl almost the few people that knew you. and not in a negative way; not really. just that you had a tendency to say things in a slightly more dramatized way. as well as another secret. one that could probably ruin your relationship with him. you see, you weren’t just a fan of his streams before. you were more of a stalker to be precise. every single thing he had done online, you had seen, read, watched, and memorized it. you practically knew everything about what he had made public online.

a bit strange, you would admit, but you rationalized it with love. but you wanted your relationship with scaramouche more than your fear for him to find out. so, you planned to see him in person. that day would be engraved in your mind forever.

seeing him out under the grey skies, orange, yellow, and brown leaves drifting to the ground. you had met your autumn love.

two months would go by quickly in your relationship with scaramouche. but lately things seemed off with him. he stopped inviting you over, didn’t reply much while you were attending your college classes, and overall seemed disinterested in you whenever you played games together. the anxiety of what was wrong was eating you up inside, as he always dismissed the question when you’d bring it up. but tonight you couldn’t do it anymore. the silence, the dismissing, it was all too much.

“please tell me what’s wrong, scara. i’m scared.” you spoke quietly into your mic as you clicked on your inventory in minecraft. you watched scaramouche’s character pause as silence was heard on his end. “i’m sorry (y/n).” he spoke softly, his character now afk. “it’s just, my ex messaged me recently and it’s really shaken me up.” he spoke into his mic. a moment later, a bloop came from your discord as scaramouche sent you a screenshot of the conversation. in the screenshot, it was a long paragraph of his ex explaining how she regretting hurting him and knew what she did was wrong. the same ex who had cheated on him and left him for a more popular streamer in his streamer company: fatui. as you finished reading the conversation you couldn’t help but notice how the scroll bar was a lot higher thea the bottom of the scroll bar, he had talked a lot more to her than he was willing to show you. the thought made you sick.

“i wish you would’ve just blocked her instead of feeding into it.” you mumbled.

“you don’t understand.” scaramouche flatly said before hanging up. you stared at the empty discord call, and then the “scarax has left the server” minecraft notification moments later. you sighed, clicking the server closed. you began typing a lengthy apology to scaramouche about how you were inconsiderate and wrong for what you had said. your message would be ignored for 3 days as you left more messages that would be ignored. on the third day he gave you an abrupt apology for not responding, just to ask if you’d like to hangout on a game together. you blinked at the interaction. was this meant to be your new normal? his silence and nothing to retaliate it for the sake of things being okay?

you swallowed hard as you agreed to his invitation. you would spend another half month in this treatment. his silence would last days with no remorse. scaramouche was known for being someone who thrived in being alone. his time away from you only solidified it.

“scara, we should talk.” you spoke into your mic a month later from the first time you had said this phrase. “what is it?” he asked, a tinge of annoyance in his voice. “it’s just, i don’t think i can do this. we can be friends but i can’t pretend like this relationship is okay. and i know you won’t change and i won’t ask you to. so i just want to end this.” you spoke rapidly into your microphone, afraid of his response.

“you lying fucking bitch.” scaramouche seethed into your ears. you stayed quiet as he shot out insult after insult. “you said you wouldn’t leave me no matter what. you promised. even after i told you about bal. you’re so fucking selfish. you’re only thinking of yourself.” he paused, “i’ll come over to get my stuff in a few days.” he spoke flatly before hanging up. you didn’t utter a word as you closed out the applications on your desktop.

you sat there idly, staring at your now black monitor. it was only to open a conversation, you didn’t mean for it to end so abruptly.

you quietly got into bed that night. he had blocked you on all socials by the time you woke up, so you blocked him back in response to the now visible disdain for one another. disdain you didn’t even feel.

three nights would pass before his knock came to your door. not a word was said as you went back in your room to collect the box of his belongings that you had gathered in the 3 days since the breakup.

scaramouche held a box containing your belongings. he walked into your living room, noting all of the details he would soon forget about you. as he set the box down on your sofa, he noticed your phone light up.

glancing at your door, he made sure you weren’t coming as he inserted your passcode into your phone. of course he knew your password, he was your boyfriend three days ago after all. he quickly opened and closed several apps, until he pressed on your gallery. he scrolled through hundreds and hundreds of screenshots of content of himself, things he didn’t know were even publicly online. he found your notepad of all of the known places he had gone to in your city, dating back to your fangirl days.

scaramouche slammed your phone down in disgust, alerting you from your bedroom. you walked over with the box in your hands, wondering what the loud noise was. scaramouche scoffed loudly, snatching the box from your grip. “you’re a fucking freak. stay the fuck away from me.” he spat before leaving, slamming the door behind him.

you walked over to what had been slammed on your coffee table, your phone. a long crack across your screen was the first thing you noticed, before turning your attention to what exactly was on your screen. all of the recently opened apps were left on some sort of documentation you had taken of scaramouche during your fangirl days. you didn’t meant to be weird. not really. you just wanted to bump into him and hopefully have a relationship with him, not even romantically, but a friendship.

your phone started dinging with notifications, twitter notifications coming up one after another. you tapped on the notification to see you had been tagged in a post by none other than scaramouche.

scarax: @(y/n)^_^ is a stalker freak. everything was a lie.

oh. oh.

mnxia: @(y/n)^_^ you’re acc such a freak for stalking scaramouche

hrtshapes: @(y/n)^_^ no way..

hundreds more notifications popped up on your phone. you quickly set all of your public accounts private. muting app notifications completely as you sat at your desk. so many thoughts raced through your head. your up and coming streaming channel was already starting to get a little popular, but that was all gone now. your whole online persona was tainted, ruined.

you sigh heavily, knowing you’d have to part with it. nothing you could do or say would make the situation any better. it looked bad. maybe it was bad.

a few hours after scaramouche’s tweet went out, all of your accounts were either deactivated or gone completely.

scaramouche scoffed as he tapped on your deactivated twitter account. you ran, just as he knew you would. he knew you wouldn’t have said anything in retaliation to his tweet, you knew better than that. but that didn’t stop him from looking through your mutuals following lists to make sure you hadn’t made a new account.

you spent the next two months in silence, away from any type of internet community. while you quietly browsed and logged things on your private accounts. scaramouche used the few public accounts you used, posting pictures of your steam, trying to add your friends on WoL through stat tracker sites.

that didn’t stop the tweets either, every other week he would vague tweet about you, or something you had ruined for him. the world had sided and sympathized with scaramouche.

luckily for you, two months later and the buzz of scaramouche’s ex stalker was no longer a topic at all. his feed was now void of any mention of you. so, you took advantage of this opportunity and created a twitter for your new self. you followed your mutual mutuals back, but kept the account as low profile as possible. you didn’t even have your name in the display name, just an emoji to represent your tweets. 

it didn’t take long for scaramouche to notice the sudden arrival of a new account following all of the people he knew you were friendly with. but he didn’t make it known that he knew, not really. at most, he would tweet out one of your tweets, word for word. people would reply to these tweets as if they were his own.

you took note of this as well on a burner account you had made in your absence, only following art and game accounts to keep up with the latest news. you frowned, seeing your same tweet on his feed. “if he hates me so much why does he watch me.” you mumbled under your breath as you closed out twitter.

you didn’t say anything related to him ever, your own personal rule. while you knew he watched you, at the very least he didn’t directly interact with you. he had your public account blocked despite the copying of tweets. but he left you alone. for that, you were grateful.

your account would go on to steadily grow in numbers, 100, 200, 300, and finally 400. only two hundred below scaramouche. for your 600th tweet and 400th follow you decided to post a picture of your cat in a silly hat you had gotten her while you were offline. your mutual, on a private account, tweeted a reply of her cat in response to the picture. “so cute 🤍” you replied to the picture.

hours later, your mutual would go on to post a private account requesting her account.

> @wanderingcat requested your account

> ew gross! total stalker account!

your breath hitched in your throat as you read over the username. wandering, cat. scaramouche’s old usernames had previously been wandering samurai, wandering hat. and cats, well, he looked just like one. and you had always let him know it.

you messaged your mutual, telling her about your history with him, and the reason why she had even been requested. because of you. scaramouche could not let go of you.

your mutual sent you screenshots of her telling him off, calling him a creep for still being so insistent on his knowledge of you. the screenshots made you laugh but you couldn’t help but notice his defense, as if nothing was wrong with what he was doing.

no word of you would ever be posted on his page though, everything looked normal. as it always had been. but the thought still weight heavily on you. he hadn’t done this since the initial breakup, it was now months later. why did he request her account? just because she replied to your post? you couldn’t let these burning questions go, so the next monday you found yourself in his doorway.

you knocked on the door, gripping your bag in your arm. the cold winter weather helped ease your nerves with the breeze against the trees.

it took a few moments before you heard his door unlatch, his bewildered expression surprising you.

“hey, scaramouche. are you busy?” you asked.

“why? what do you want?” you replied coldly. his glare made you feel small, standing there.

“i just want to talk. and finish things once and for all.”

“i considered it done when you ended it that friday.”

friday. you had forgotten what day of the week it was when it happened.

“but if it was completely done to you. then this wouldn’t still be happening, would it?”

scaramouche sucked his teeth, moving aside to let you into his apartment. nothing had changed since the last time you had been here. almost like nothing had happened at all.

“look, i’ll stop requesting your friends if that’s what you want. is there anything else i can do for you ma’am?” he retorted, leaning against his kitchen countertop.

an ironic thing to say really, as you had a gap in age with scaramouche.

“it’s not just that.” you mumbled, trying to get your thoughts together. the last few days, you had thought of something. but now that you were in front of him, asking if he would commit to your idea felt like a shot in the dark.

you had thought to befriend him, so this would all stop. the subtweeting, the stalking, the adding of your friends accounts. and despite what you were willing to admit, you wouldn’t mind being around him again. some days it felt so lonely that all you wanted to do was scream into your pillows and sulk in bed.

maybe he felt that same suffocating sadness. maybe that’s why he kept up with you.

“i understand if you don’t agree to this but, i would like to have a do over with you. not a relationship, but a friendship. just to be amicable. and then i’ll leave you alone, i promise. it just doesn’t feel right; leaving things like this.” you paused, looking at your feet. “i never hated you, not after the breakup or even with the tweets. i just hated what you were doing.”

“i hated what you were doing too, but, if we become amicable again, why do you want to leave? i don’t want to be left alone again.” he mumbled, reminding you of his sleepless nights he had once had about his mother and her absence.

how hopeless you were for a connection you had once had. the one thing that would break your circle of nothing. him.

“i won’t go if you don’t want me to. it’s just for your sake, i don’t think you’re too fond of me.”

scaramouche took you in his arms, cradling you in his embrace. “everything that happened deeply hurt me.” he whispered as you nodded. he pulled away from the embrace, he held your face in his hands, looking into your gaze directly.

“but please, give me your honesty. that’s the one thing i ask if i agree to this.”

“i will, i promise.”

you and scaramouche would go on to hangout everyday. both of your socials becoming less active as your days would be taken up with each other. you had come over with drinks in your hand, a very drunk friday night planned ahead for you both. alcohol sloshed in cans were clicked back as the night went on, movies you had brought over being played on his tv.

you never saw scaramouche in such a tender way. he was holding onto you in any way he could with each drink that passed into his system. you let yourself have that closeness to him for the night. it’s not like you’d remember it, anyway.

you had missed him, this close connection.

but after that weekend, everything had stopped, he’d stopped replying to your texts, his social media gone silent as well. you frowned, what had you done wrong?

you didn’t push him any further, opting to leave him alone. his discord status always stayed at an offline too. something that would stay for a month.

with december coming to an end, scaramouche’s birthday was coming up. january 3rd. though you weren’t talking, he was still someone you wanted to remember fondly. so, that weekend you went around to his streamer friends houses, gathering signatures for a card you’d present to him. everyone that signed had the same question, just who were you? you simply excused it with “just a friend.”

you wrote a personal note in a separate card, meant from you to him, and packaged them both up in decorated envelopes which you had drawn on. december 2nd came around, which meant you’d be making your midnight trip to his house.

pulling on your boots, you made sure to secure everything in your bag before you made the walk there. your boots crunched underneath the powdery white snow, evidence of this cold winter. while you walked, you thought of the last month that you hadn’t spoken to him. your month of patching things up felt like a brief but eventful time together. and you couldn’t fathom why he had decided to part from it.

you figured this would be your last interaction with him. he wanted nothing to do with you, you figured, from his constant disappearances. so, you’d give him one last gift before parting with him for good.

you had promised him, after all. and unlike him, you would make good on that promise.

the promise came with one of your drunken night’s together. through slurred words, scaramouche had told you how he had nothing planned for his birthday as he never felt he was worthy of a celebration for his life. with his mother taking off as soon as she could, he never saw much value in himself.

through quiet mumbles, you made him a drunken promise. you doubted he’d even remember it, but you still did. so here you were now, clutching two envelopes in your hand as you knocked on his door.

checking your phone, you noted the 2 minutes until midnight, hearing sounds coming from behind the door. scaramouche’s expression of exhaustion turned into one of surprise. here you were, once again. in the middle of the night?

“(y/n)? what time is it?” scaramouche yawned.

you shook your head, presenting him the envelopes. he took them from your hands, his eyes scanning over the little doodles and details you had drawn on them.

“happy birthday.” you replied, ready to turn away to return to your life. but he stopped you.

“(y/n)? why don’t you come in.” he said softly towards your turning back.

you smiled to yourself before turning around and following him inside. “okay.”

a/n: i didn’t mean to make this a two part story but i already feel like it’s very long so.. this will eventually be a 3 part series. i’m very sorry that i haven’t posted in awhile, i just haven’t felt much motivation to write with everything that was going on. everything going on being.. this. i haven’t written in a very long time so i apologize if my writing style seems different than before. i was also high for 3/4 of me writing this so there’s that. i’ll post part two very soon as i’m currently still living in part 3 ^_^

taglist: @samarill @whorerificstuff @somatchajade @sakiimeo @astrolomona @dearsumire @saeism @shoheartluv @0kauy @lelemnh @aqualesha @msdevilis @linkookie197 @beriiov @xiaonscaraswife @foxlover1144 @reblog-crazily @sparklylanddetective @gh0sts0up @darliingyu @magica-ren @kuronvshi @Maxineslair @kenmabfasf @atanukileaf @jihyuniepark @chiisananingen @just-anotherbookworm @kleeboomed @crepezinhos

[strniohoeee]

reader is down bad for matt, like she blushes, giggles, goes mute whenever he's around and he kinda enjoys it and one day he finally asks her to go an a date and it ends super fluffy

She’s Got It Bad

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Y/N was out of her mind in love with Matt, but she was shy. Which left her in awkward silent situations until one day Matt puts his foot down! 🌷

Warnings⚠️: None?? Writing kind of sucks also sorry if there’s grammatical errors I never proof read till two days later after I post lolll😭

Song for imagine: This Is How It Feels- D4vd, Laufey

So this is how it feels

To fall in love with you

To always think of you

To always dreams of you

You know when you’re reading or watching a romance book or movie, and one of those super cheesy slow mo scenes happen? Where an 80s love song is queued and the two love interests stare at each other while their hair oh so dainty blows in the wind? And you’re curling your toes as your heart beats for the next scene to happen? Just thinking “I need more! Give me more!” And then it goes back to reality and they end up walking right past one another….

And it wraps you into this hour and a half or 230 page book/movie about the girl wanting the guy….but the guy not really wanting her or simply seeing her as a sister or painfully shoving her in the friend zone? And you’re itching for more. Tired of this back and forth of who will get one another first?

And if you said yes to any of those questions then you are sure looking at my life right now…stuck painfully stuck in the friend zone. Mainly because I put myself there. Let's face it, I'm deeply afraid of rejection. Why ruin something that is virtually perfect.

I had it bad for Matt and I’m not so sure he felt the same way, but I’d never in a million years ever jump at that. I’d rather rip my ears off and tape them to the concrete and then run them over consistently for an hour… okay a bit graphic and a bit over the top but you get the point. He’s off limits and I’ve got it bad for him…

Most of our interactions consisted of short conversations, me blushing like an idiot and even sometimes going silent..offering a nod here and there. It’s even gotten to the point of having to leave the hangout because I was so nervous around him. I mean what if I said something that he found cringey? What if I embarrassed myself which I tend to do a lot might I add? Or even worse…what if he didn’t find me funny?

All these terrible instances bounced off my brain like a bullet ricocheting off of metal walls. As I sat chewing my lip, suddenly my thoughts were interrupted

“Helloooooo” I heard loudly from the other end of the phone call

Blinking out of my trance I soon realized I had been on the phone.

“I’m sorry Nick I got side tracked” I replied gripping the phone again

“Yeah I can tell you went rogue for like 3 minutes there, did you even hear what I asked you?” He asked laughing

“Uhhh yeah and I think you should go with the yellow shirt” I replied praying I wasn’t so far off from what he was talking about

“That was like 10 minutes ago, I asked are you coming or what?” He said huffing

“I’m sorry? Coming? Where?” I asked again as I furrowed my eyebrows

“This is why I don’t call you, you have the attention span of a fly” he said laughing which caused me to laugh

“I’m sorryyyy I was thinking about something” I replied to him

“Aren’t you always… I was asking if you were coming over tonight for movie night?” He said shuffling around

“Ohhh duhh of course I never miss Saturday nights with you” I said getting up to pack my overnight back

“Even though Matt and Chris are joining us this time?” He asked

This is where I hadn’t been listening previously and I almost choked on my saliva trying to form a proper answer.

“Uh.. *ahem* yes of course they can join us” I replied trying to seem chill

“Wow sooo nonchalant about that” he stated sarcastically

“Oh will you shut up” I replied stuffing my duffle bag

Nick opened his mouth to speak but on the other end it sounded like someone walked in his room

“Matt get the fuck out I’m on the phone” Nick said which made me laugh a bit

“Who are you talking to?” I heard Matt ask his brother

“Your girlfriend now fuck off” he said almost hissing at Matt

“NICK STOP” I squeaked over the phone

“I don’t have a girlfriend you sicko” Matt stated sounding annoyed…. I looked up at my imaginary camera (hmm how do I take that response) I thought.

Shaking that feeling off I returned to the call

“Okayyy bye nickkkk see you in a bit” I replied rushing him off the phone

Hanging up the call I sighed deeply… if I wasn’t already nervous to possibly run into Matt then oh boy was I in for a treat

Usually, Saturday nights were for Nick and I and I rarely ever ran into Matt or Chris. Usually it was Chris and him and I had a cool bond. We’d stop to hug and chat for a bit before Chris left to go out. And if I ever ran into Matt it was him leaving with Chris which prompted me to wave slightly and avoid all hugs. Rambling on about Nick needing me for something upstairs each time and not even giving them the chance to respond.

I usually shut my eyes and shook my head when I turned away from them and even muttered a few unkind words about myself to myself….

But tonight…tonight Matt was joining us which meant I couldn’t be awkward around him or else Nick would for sure point it out.

I had gotten to their house with dinner for all of us which we landed on chilis…. Good thing I was 21 I needed a to go drink…preferably strong!

Sitting in their living room as we all began to eat, Nick scrolled through Max as we sat on the floor with our food on the coffee table.

“We should watch Silver Linings Playbook I heard it was good” I said looking over at the tv as Nick had just passed the movie

“I’m down” Chris said shrugging his shoulders

Nick and I usually watched action movies where we’d see a bunch of sweaty hot men fighting bad guys. And most of those movies we’d just yell out if we’d smash the guys or not. I don’t know that Matt and Chris would want to take part in that so a rom-com was for the win!

Max was playing a few ads before the movie and as I was sipping my margarita in a styrofoam to go cup (how niche) Matt had called my name

Looking over at him I raised my eyebrows at him.

“Do you like rom-coms?” He asked me

I felt my ears getting hot and my face too….good thing I’m drinking and I can just blame it on the alcohol.

“I do, I love them actually” I replied nodding at him

“I love them too” he said smiling at me as he ate a fry

“Nice” I said nodding my head and looking over at the tv…why the fuck were their ads still playing? Squinting I turned back around to face him

“Uhh what’s your favorite?” I asked him clearing my throat

“I’d have to say 10 things I hate about you” he replied wiping his hands

“SHUT UP! Me too” I replied getting really excited and loud (blaming it on the alcohol once again)

“No way” he replied laughing

“No! like I swear! I have all the romance movies I’ve ever seen ranked in my notes app and 10 things I hate about you is number one, look see” I replied rambling as I opened up my app and showed him

His brows raised…an impressed look might I add

“Wow Y/N didn’t know you were such a hopeless romantic” he said winning at me

This made my heart flutter and my voice disappear? Sinking into my skin I nodded at him before turning to watch the tv

Throughout the whole movie I kept catching Matt looking at me but he’d look away quickly. This made my skin crawl in a good way though

The movie finished and I found myself emotional. I mean it wasn’t a sad movie but rather beautiful. Nick and Chris had gone to lay on the couch at some point in the movie.

So to no surprise Matt and I turned to find them fast asleep. Shaking our heads we cleaned up the living room and headed to the kitchen to place everything in the trash.

The hallway light illuminating the kitchen as I washed my hands

“I almost feel like Silver Linings Playbook is my number one rom-com” Matt and I both stated at the same time

Laughing I shut the water off and turned towards him

“I guess we really are similar” I said to him as I crossed my arms over my chest

“I suppose so, but I wouldn’t know you’re always running away from me” he said quietly

“Am not!” I replied standing up straight

“You’re always running away from me as fast as possible, you don’t hate me do you” he stated as he wiped down the table

“No” I replied watching his every move

“Then why do you run away? Do I stink?” He asked laughing

“No! You just happen to catch me when I’m busy” I say lying through my teeth

“Right…I suppose so, I do know how to get you at the right time though” he stated throwing the paper out

“Do you?” I asked cocking an eyebrow

“Yeah…when I take you on a date and have all your attention so we can really get to know each other”he says

“Well we’re friends so I do know you” I reply rolling my eyes

“No…know me on a different level that’s not…friends” he says smiling at me sweetly

“Not friends?” Was all I could mutter

“Just say yes to the date you loser” he replied shaking his head

“Yes..sorry yes I will go on a date with you” I replied shaking my head and giggling

“You’ve ever seen Notting Hill?” He suddenly asks me

“I actually haven’t” I stated

“Want to watch it?” He asked me

“But Chris and Nick are sleeping” I replied pointing over my shoulder

“You miss queues don’t you?” He asked cocking an eyebrow

“They don’t call me a ditz for nothing” I replied jokingly

He looked at me with adoration in his eyes for a moment before opening his mouth

“I mean with me…just me” he replied with soft eyes

“Oh....yeah” I replied breathlessly as I shook my head…am I that fucking stupid? I thought to myself

We shut off the tv and the hallway light. Matt led me to his room as I followed behind. It felt so foreign being in a room with a new undertone to it….more than friends

“You can sit closer I won’t bite” he says as he looks over at me

“Right, sorry” I say sitting closer to Matt against the headboard

The air felt awkward as we watched the movie, but Matt slid his arm over my shoulder and pulled me in

“I’m not a stranger” he replied as he snuggled me closer against him

Smiling against him I melted into his touch as we fell asleep to a romance movie. I guess being shy does work out in the end and I’ve always had it bad for Matt but after today? You’re for sure thinking

She’s got it bad!

The End

I wasn’t sure how to end this…it’s so HARD TO END A STORY WTFFFF. Anywho we’re almost at 2,600 followers🥹🥹. Yall I could cry this means so much to me I remember when I had hit 100 followers and I never thought I’d make it this far. I’m so eternally grateful for you all😩🖤🖤. I know I don’t update three times a day everyday like I used to, but I’m so glad yall are sticking around till this day when I post once to twice a week every two weeks. I don’t deserve you, thank yall so much🥹💕💕💕. Stay tuned for more work baes

-J💅🏽

[formulauno98]

Yacht Girl Summer - Chapter Nine / Thursday, Four Months Later - George Russell x Reader, Toto Wolff x Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Angst!!! 🌶 This one is spicy. 18+ only. This is going to be a slow burn and if you're uncomfortable with the idea of two-timing don't read this.

Author’s Notes: Disclaimer, purely fiction. No use of Y/N and minimal descriptions because I want everyone/anyone to be able to enjoy this.

I do not give anyone permission to replicate or translate my fic.

THURSDAY EVENING, FOUR MONTHS POST-BREAK-UP

Bouncing up and down, straddling the handsome man lying on the bed beneath you, your hips rolled together in unison as he thrust up into you, moaning. His familiar hands held your hips in a vice-like grip, lifting you as he filled you over and over again, each thrust bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Take it.” he rasped, pulling you down for a breathy, passionate kiss as he pressed his cock deeper. You’d never felt so full and it wasn’t long before you were almost there. 

“Cum for me.” he said, “Cum on my cock.”

“Fuck!” you screamed as your companion flipped you over onto your back once more, pushing in relentlessly, leaving you gasping as you shuddered out your second orgasm of the night. The man on top of you wasn’t far behind, expertly pulling out as he too reached completion, splattering your stomach.

“Fuck, that was good,” he said, rolling over to lay beside you, “Why did we not do this again sooner?”

You rolled over to lean on your elbow, your eyes finding his, “Really?” you said.

“A figure of speech.” he said, propping himself up to face you fully, “We should clean up, come and shower with me?”

“Don’t mind if I do,” you said, grinning at your charming lover. This was not how you had expected the evening to go when you’d accepted an invitation to a friend of a friend’s art exhibition. But you were not one to complain. Life always had a funny way of working out.

REWIND TO A TUESDAY AFTERNOON, TWO MONTHS POST-BREAK-UP

Days had turned into weeks that quickly stretched to two months as you tried your best to piece your life back together following your split from George. The pain of the break-up still hit hard but was slowly dissipating with each passing day. It wasn’t easy, the press having gotten wind of the split and done their utmost to link George to numerous other women in the wake of your separation, his photo constantly splashed unceremoniously across the gossip pages. 

To begin with, seeing articles and photos of him with other women had upset you but the saying that time heals all wounds was starting to ring true and the more time passed, the less it was affecting you. You were starting to feel like yourself again, no more worrying about what people thought of you, enjoying being your own person once more, no longer just George’s girlfriend. 

Although brutal, the break-up had brought the clarity that you had long been seeking. Of course, you regretted how it had come about but you didn’t regret it happening. You wished you hadn’t hurt George in the process and you somewhat regretted sleeping with Toto but you couldn’t turn back the clock, you could only learn from your mistakes.

On the matter of Toto, you had felt torn. Despite the clandestine way you had found each other, there was a real connection and you had toyed with the idea of exploring it. True to his word, he had sent you a text asking if you’d like to go for lunch but it had felt too soon so you’d politely declined. A few weeks later, he’d invited you for drinks, but again it felt all too quick. You needed space to heal, to figure out if your attraction to him had been genuine or was just a product of the yacht’s close quarters, fueled by your unhappiness with George.

In a surprising turn of events, Cara had also checked in with you regularly, the older woman sympathetic to your plight. The unexpected blossoming friendship had become a comforting constant, with the two of you meeting every few weeks for coffee or brunch and Cara making you privy to George and Toto’s workplace comings and goings. According to James, their relationship was still frosty but both were professional enough to keep it out of the workplace and the wider team were none the wiser.

You hadn’t heard from George, save for a short text telling you that someone was coming over to collect his things from your apartment. It had been emotional packing up George’s possessions but somewhat cathartic once they were gone. Out of sight, out of mind and it had helped you begin to fully move on.

TUESDAY EVENING

That was until one fateful evening. You’d been invited to a charity auction, auctioning off racing memorabilia for a good cause. You had RSVP’d months ago and forgotten until a reminder popped up in your calendar the day before. It was too late to back out and all you hoped was that George would not be there. 

On arrival you scanned the room, looking out for the familiar mop of brown hair. Breathing a sigh of relief, you saw he was nowhere to be found and milled about, sipping on champagne and chatting with your former acquaintances from the paddock. Ready to grab another flute of champagne, you jumped as a hand suddenly wrapped around your arm, a deep, all-too familiar voice booming from behind you.

“I didn’t know you would be here.” 

It was Toto. Fuck. Your heart skipped a beat, but you steadied yourself, turning to face him.

"Hi," you replied, feeling a mix of emotions. "How have you been?"

"Busy, as always," he said with a small laugh. "And you?"

"Good. Work’s been busy too and I’ve been trying to get out for some hikes every weekend. Take my mind off things, you know?"

There was an awkward pause, a moment of unspoken understanding. "I’m glad to hear that," he said finally. "You look well."

"Thank you, so do you," you replied. "I’ve also had a lot of time to think lately."

"About us?" he asked, keeping his voice low, his eyes searching yours.

"About everything," you admitted. "What happened… it wasn't fair to George, to you, or to myself."

Toto nodded. "I understand. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry for my part in it."

"Thank you," you said, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. “What’s done is done and we can only move on.”

"I agree," he said, his tone respectful. "And if you ever need a friend, I’m here."

You smiled, appreciating the gesture. "I’ll keep that in mind."

– – – 

As the evening progressed, you felt a sense of closure. The chapter with George and Toto was over and you were ready for new beginnings. Your future was uncertain, but you felt ready to embrace it for the first time in a while. 

You didn’t see Toto again that night and thankfully George didn’t show up. You were able to slip out early, knowing that this was a world you were finally no longer part of. It was cathartic and as you walked into the night, you savoured the promise of new adventures and the lessons learned from your past mistakes.

SATURDAY EVENING

As the days passed following the auction, the memory of your encounter with Toto at the charity event lingered. You found yourself replaying the conversation in your mind, wondering if you should have said more. The closure you felt that night started to feel incomplete and you couldn't shake the feeling that there could be more to explore between you and Toto.

Late one Saturday evening, as you sat alone in your apartment, you decided to bite the bullet and reach out. With a deep breath, you picked up your phone and typed out a message.

"Hey, it was good to see you the other day. Would you be up for coffee? I’ve been thinking a lot and would love to talk."

You hesitated before hitting send, but you figured what the hell. The message was sent and all you could do was wait and see what he had to say in response - if he responded at all. 

SUNDAY MORNING

Fortunately, you didn’t have long to wait when early the next morning, Toto’s reply came.

"Of course. I’m in town today, I can do this afternoon if that’s not too short notice?"

You replied quickly, texting back and forth as you made concrete plans for the location and timing. Your stomach was already filled with butterflies, you weren’t sure what you were going to say to Toto but all you knew was that your heart had thumped at the sight of him at the auction. He was a striking man and a single flash of that dimpled grin had your heart melting once more.

Arriving at the café, you spotted Toto seated at a corner table, looking pensive. He smiled warmly as you approached and you were struck by how natural it felt to see him again, albeit surreal to see him sat down at a regular table, away from the glitz and glamour you typically met him in.

"Hi," you said, sitting down across from him.

"Hi," he replied. "It’s good to see you."

"You too," you said, taking a deep breath. "I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since the auction."

"Me too," Toto admitted, his expression serious. "That week was…something. I’ve found myself missing you."

"Same here," you said, feeling a sense of relief. "Seeing you the other night made me realise that. Maybe, if you wanted, we could see each other again?”

Toto leant forward, his eyes searching yours. "What are you saying?"

"I’m saying that I know this came about in not the best way but maybe we could see where things go?"

Toto’s face softened, and he reached across the table to briefly take your hand in his, conscious you were in public. "I’ve felt the same way. I didn’t want to push you, after everything that happened. But if you’re willing to give me a chance, I’d like that too. Let me take you out to dinner."

You smiled, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders. "I’d love that. Let’s start again, no pressure.”

"Absolutely," Toto agreed, his dimpled grin returning, chocolate eyes crinkling. “No pressure.”

THREE MONTHS POST-BREAK-UP

Over the next few weeks, you and Toto spent more time together, enjoying a cosy dinner, a trip to an art gallery and a walk around the park, dropping back into easy conversations as if no time had passed at all. Toto had behaved like the perfect gentleman, not taking things beyond a relatively chaste goodnight kiss following your dinner. He knew that you were still healing and when you were ready to take the next step you’d be sure to let him know.

With Toto now away for three weeks on a triple header, you kept in touch digitally, dropping each other occasional texts throughout the day, Toto calling you on the odd quieter evening. When he did call, you found yourself chatting away the hours, it was easy and you felt as if you’d known him for years.

Although you were taking things slow this time, you couldn’t wait for Toto to return and swoop you up in those strong arms. You craved his touch and couldn’t wait for the opportunity to get close once again.

WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON, FOUR MONTHS POST-BREAK-UP

The day Toto was set to return had finally arrived. You woke up with an excitement you hadn't felt in a long time, a spring in your step as you went about your morning routine. You texted him good morning, and he replied almost instantly.

"Can’t wait to see you tonight. Dinner at 8?"

"Perfect, Can’t wait," you replied, smiling at the thought of seeing him again. 

You spent the day preparing, tidying up your apartment just in case anything were to happen and spending some time pampering so you looked and felt your best. You were tingling with anticipation at the promise of what the evening held.

WEDNESDAY EVENING

When eight o’clock finally came, you arrived at the restaurant a few minutes early, nervously checking your reflection in the window before stepping inside. Toto was already there, ever the gentleman, standing up from the table to greet you with a warm smile.

"You look beautiful," he said, his voice deep and sincere.

"Thank you," you replied, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks. "You look good too."

Dinner was filled with easy conversation and shared laughter, Toto sharing stories from his action-packed travels and you telling him about the new hobbies you'd picked up during your time alone. There was an unspoken understanding between you, a mutual respect that you knew had not been present in your relationship with George. You found yourself once again falling for the older man’s rakish charm, such a stark contrast from the grumpy persona he seemed to adopt in the workplace.

After dessert, Toto offered to walk you home and you eagerly agreed. The evening was cool, the stars just beginning to peek out from the darkening sky as you strolled through the dark streets. Toto’s hand brushed against yours and you felt a spark return, a connection that was impossible to ignore.

"Can I confess something?" he asked, stopping to look at you, his dark eyes serious.

"Of course," you replied, your heart racing.

"I’ve thought about you every day since that week on the yacht," he said, his voice soft. "I know it wasn’t the best of circumstances, but it is what it is."

You took a deep breath, the honesty in his words touching you deeply. "I feel the same way, Toto."

He smiled, stepping closer and taking your hands in his. "These last three weeks have been torture. All I wanted was to come back and see you. It’s been driving me crazy.”

You nodded, feeling a wave of relief and happiness wash over you. "I missed you too."

As he leaned down to kiss you, the world seemed to melt away. His lips were soft and warm, and you felt a sense of rightness as if this was where you were meant to be all along. When you finally pulled away, he kept you close, his forehead resting against yours.

"Let’s take it slow," he suggested. "No pressure, just us."

"Just us," you repeated, feeling a sense of peace you hadn’t felt in a long time.

As you walked towards your apartment, hand in hand, you knew that this was the start of something new. It wouldn’t be easy, and there would be challenges ahead, but for the first time in a long while, you felt hopeful. More mature than George, Toto was different, the breath of fresh air that you had needed.

THURSDAY MORNING

The next morning, you woke up with a smile on your face, the memory of Toto’s kiss still fresh in your mind. Something about it felt right and you couldn’t wait to see him again.

You rolled over and checked your phone, pleased to already see a message from him.

"Good morning beautiful. Last night was wonderful. Looking forward to seeing you again soon."

You replied quickly, your heart fluttering. 

"Good morning! I had a great time too. Can’t wait to see you again."

Toto was straight to the point, playing no games. He had told you exactly how he felt and you believed him. You had heeded Cara’s warning of him being a playboy but he had given you no reason to fear so far.

As you set about your day, you kept catching yourself smiling for no reason in particular, glowing from your evening with Toto. You had been invited to a friend of a friend’s art exhibition that evening and you were looking forward to spending time with your girlfriends and spilling the details of your budding romance. You hadn’t shared what had happened on the yacht with many but you knew if your relationship with Toto was to grow, you couldn’t keep him a secret.

THURSDAY EVENING

Walking through the doors of the small gallery, the room buzzed with conversations, the walls adorned with large, vibrant pieces. Your friends were yet to arrive so you decided to take a look around. As you moved from painting to painting, you heard a familiar voice behind you. Turning around, you saw George standing there, looking as surprised as you felt. 

“Hi,” you greeted him, a bit unsure of how to proceed, aware that you were exposed in public.

“Hi,” he replied, his expression unreadable. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Same,” you said, forcing a small smile. “How have you been?”

“Busy,” he said with a shrug. “You?”

“Good. Just taking things one day at a time,” you replied.

An awkward silence hung between you, and you decided to break it. “This is weird. Do you want to talk somewhere else?”

George hesitated, then nodded. “Sure.”

Dropping a hasty text to your friends, telling them a white lie that you weren’t feeling well, you found yourself outside, alone with George. The evening air was cool and refreshing and as you walked side by side in silence through the quiet streets, the city lights cast a soft glow around you.

“I’m sorry, George,” you said, breaking the silence. “I’m so sorry for everything. For cheating on you, for hurting you. You didn’t deserve that.”

George looked at you, his expression softening. “I know I wasn’t the best boyfriend. I got caught up in my career and forgot about us. I’m angry, yes, but I also understand that we both made mistakes.”

You shook your head. “It’s not at all your fault George, please never think that. It was my fault entirely and I just hope we can both move on from this and find happiness.”

“I hope so too,” George said, his tone softening. “I did love you, you know. A part of me always will.”

Tears welled up in your eyes. “I loved you too, George. I still care about you and I want the best for you.”

He gave a small smile, a hint of the old George you knew. “Same here. Let’s just try to be better for ourselves and whoever comes next.”

“Agree.” you said, “Whoever that is is a lucky girl.”

“I appreciate that,” said George, “And likewise, although I think we both know who that is.”

You raised your eyebrows, George interrupting you before you were able to deny his suggestion, “I know you’re seeing Toto. We’ve spent the last few weeks together and I’ve seen him glued to his phone when he’s not working. He’s been grinning like an idiot.”

Smiling weakly, you shrugged, “We’re just friends. It didn’t feel right to do anymore.”

Looking unconvinced, George turned to face you, “Look, I’m sure we’ll run into each other, I hope we can be friendly?”

Surprised that George was being so amicable, you reached around to hug him, his arms wrapping around you in return, “Deal.”

Stood in George’s embrace, you felt a sense of relief and closure wash over you. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start. Sure, George had not been the perfect boyfriend but you would always cherish the moments you had spent together and you could only wish him well.

– – – 

Having bid goodbye to George, you returned to your apartment, feeling lighter than you had in months. As you settled in, your phone rang. It was Toto.

“Hello?” you answered, your heart skipping a beat at the sound of his voice.

“Hey, is now a good time to talk?” he said, a warm tone in his voice. 

“Of course,” you said, thrilled that he already wanted to talk to you again.

“Are you home?” he asked, “I’m close by, I wondered if I can come up?’

Surprised that he was inviting himself over, you looked around, scanning the mess you’d left in your apartment as you’d hurried out the door earlier, “Sure, how far away are you?”

“About twenty minutes.” he said, “I’ll ring when I’m close by.”

“Perfect,” you said, “See you soon.”

“See you,” he said ringing off. 

At that, you bolted from the sofa frantically, chucking the dirty plates and cookware that you’d left in the sink in the dishwasher and running to your bedroom to put the laundry you’d been too lazy to fold away back in your wardrobe.

You’d hardly managed to tidy anything when the buzzer rang. Twenty minutes your ass, Toto needed to work on his timing! You pushed the button to let Toto up, making your way to the kitchen to dig out a bottle of wine and two glasses.

Not long after there was a soft knock on your door and barely containing a smile, you made your way over to answer the door to the older Austrian, mildly embarrassed at your excitement. You took a breath, steeling yourself to calm down and greet Toto normally.

However, nothing could have prepared you for who stood on the other side of the door. It was George, grinning widely, clearly tipsy, holding the largest bunch of white roses you’d seen in your life.

"George," you said, taken aback. "Not that it’s not nice to see you but what are you doing here?"

His grin faltered for a moment, replaced with a flicker of uncertainty. "I know this is unexpected. But after we talked earlier, I felt like there were still things left unsaid. I wanted to come by and see you."

You hesitated, glancing down the hallway, half expecting Toto to appear any second. "George, this really isn't a good time..."

"I won't stay long, I promise," he said quickly, sensing your hesitation. "I just need to say this."

You stepped aside, allowing him to enter and he handed you the roses. They were beautiful, but the timing felt wrong. You placed them on the kitchen counter and turned to face him.

"Thank you for these, but George, we really said everything that needed to be said earlier. We have to move on."

"I know," he said, running a hand through his hair. "But I’ve been thinking too. I realised I never properly apologised for my part in everything. I was so wrapped up in my own world, I didn’t see how unhappy you were. I’m truly sorry."

You nodded, appreciating his honesty. "George, honestly, what I did to you was the worst thing in the world. Unless you were some abusive boyfriend there was no excuse. I’m the biggest piece of shit for doing that. There is no need to apologise.”

He gazed at you, unconvinced, “I don’t know about that. I miss you.”

Your eyes widened, not only were you not expecting George, you certainly hadn’t expected this one-eighty. If things had been the other way around you were not sure if you could have forgiven him.

“I miss you too,” you confessed, “But it’s natural, we spent a lot of time together, good times.”

“Exactly!” he said, his eyes a little crazy, “And I’ve been thinking. I think I could forgive you. I know you’ve been chatting to Toto but c’mon, you can do better than that old man.”

Suddenly well aware that the old man in question was currently en route to your place, you tried to remain tactful, “I appreciate that but I honestly think it’s better if we both just move on. You can do a lot better than me!”

“No. No, I can’t.” he said, his eyes looking saddened, “I’m still in love with you.”

Taglist: @prettiest-at-the-party @noooway555 @annewithaneofthegreengable  @xoscar03 @totowolfffcheco @justzluv @kravitzwhore @bborra @a-beaverhausen@amandadesantasworld

[stevesbipanic]

@steddiemas Day 22: Santa Shenanigans

Steve was going to kill Robin.

Well, not really because he doesn't think he'd survive more than a couple days without her. But he'd certainly be giving her the stink eye next shift for suggesting a secret Santa between the older ones of the party.

"We just rog it so that I get Vickie and she'll fall madly in love with me, it's a perfect plan Steve!"

To her credit it was an ok plan.

"Last week you spent an hour bemoaning the fact that she smiled at a boy."

"But yesterday she spent two hours studying with me in the library!"

Steve rolled his eyes at her shenanigans but agreed nonetheless. They drew names the next time they had all gone out for burgers at the diner. Steve tried not to make it obvious when he saw who his name was. Eddie.

Steve wasn't disappointed, no, far from it, he'd been hiding a crush on the older boy for a few months now, let's just say Eddie spent a lot of time by Steve's pool last summer. But now he felt the pressure to get him the perfect gift. The plan hadn't even worked for Robin.

"I got Argyle! Now how will I win her heart."

"Could always plant some mistletoe."

"You're a genius! Who'd you get."

"It's Secret Santa, Rob's, it's meant to be secret."

"Boo you're no fun, bet it's me."

It took Steve weeks to finish his gift for Eddie and Steve found himself hastily wrapping it the morning of their little Christmas party, grateful that Robin had thought of the plan well in advance otherwise he'd have never finished.

Steve greeted everyone and watched as they placed their secret Santa gifts under the tree. They ate, laughed and picked a Christmas movie to watch after presents. One by one they opened their gifts.

Nancy got Vickie some water colour paints.

Argyle got Jonathan rolls of fresh film.

Jonathan got Nancy some new notepads with larger covers.

Robin got Argyle a big bright tie dye shirt with Groovy printed on the front, he quickly put it over the sweater he was already wearing.

Vickie turned to Robin and Steve quickly saw her cheeks start to redden. She passed her the gift and Robin unwrapped a bag full of pins and badges.

"I've been collecting them for a few weeks for you from around town and around where I went to visit my grandma, thought your work vest needed some more fun ones."

Robin grinned widely at Vickie, the effort making a big impact on her. Steve knew he'd be hearing about it for weeks but he hoped the mistletoe in the kitchen sped things along.

Steve was about to give Eddie his gift when he realised that this meant Eddie also got him for Secret Santa. He turned to the metalhead to find him already shyly holding out a gift.

"It's not much but I hope you like it, Stevie."

Steve unwrapped the small package to find a collection of mixtapes inside, Eddie's handwriting clearly scribbled on the side.

"I started making a mixtape of songs that made me think of you but U ran out of room on the first one and might've gotten carried away," he said shyly scratching his neck.

Steve glanced over the names of the songs and it was clear that the majority of them certainly wouldn't remind someone of their dear platonic friend. Steve smiled softly at him and passed him his gift.

"I think I know what you mean."

Eddie slightly confused at the statement unwrapped the gift, his mouth forming a small o looking inside. He took out the book, a worn copy of The Hobbit that Steve had thrifted as soon as he knew Eddie was his secret Santa.

"Stevie, you know I've got this one, it's my favourite," he said slightly awkwardly.

"Look inside."

Eddie slowly opened the book to see small dribbles of ink between the words. The handwriting clearly Steve's. As he flicked through he saw Steve's thoughts spilling into almost every page.

"It's your favourite and you're always wanting me to read it so I did, I thought it'd be fun if you saw exactly what I thought of it."

Eddie's eyes caught on one of the words near the end, a small red shape next to them, yeah, he thinks he and Steve are on the same page, but he'd wait until the end, no spoilers early after all.

"I love it, Stevie, thank you."

As Steve sat curled up next to Eddie on the couch watching the film he too had the same thought, definitely on the same page.

Ao3

[lostintransist]

Seamstress | Part 9

This story is almost over and I have never had a better time wrapping up a story. These two make me so ridiculously happy.

Part one is found here.

CW: Mentions of off page sex and fluids

For as long as John had been living in your flat this had to be the first properly labeled ‘date’ between the two of you.

John is driving and has arranged the whole evening. You tease him about the suit not fitting quite right, and that you might need to fatten him up before he goes back on jobs. He laughed and kissed the back of your hand, fingers threading between yours as he pulled into traffic.

“How were the guys about you being back on base today?”

John rolled his eyes even as he answered, “You would think I had just gotten blown up yesterday by the way they tip-toed past my office. I could time them by the end of the day. Simon came by every hour and would refill my coffee every three. Johnny and Kyle alternated every thirty minutes but never on the hours as that is when Simon would check on me. Gary camped out in my office and kept me fed.”

“They love you, John,” you can’t help but smile as they had all kept you informed about how he was doing all day.

“They sure do love to annoy me,” John muttered under his breath.

Before you could retort John pulled the car to the valet. Stepping from the driver’s seat he leaves the keys in the ignition. He claps a hand on the shoulder of the young man in red. He has a quick conversation that doesn’t translate past the door of the car and then John is at your door, opening it and helping you out. As if taken from a black and white film he tucks your hand into the crook of his arm. Greeted by a stiff-looking maître d’ that matched the reflective marble flooring you hold tighter to John. This building must ache under the weight of its years. The faint clinking of silverware on plates and the mummer of voices echo around the space.

“Name?” Stiff bespectacled man asks.

“Price,” John replies succinctly.

Behind the podium, the man scans his tablet looking for John’s information.

The confidence with which he knows that his name will appear on the list tickles you. You love it when he is bashful with you, but you adore confident John. Confident John is the one who charmed you, though delusional John is the one who offered you 150,000 dollar bucks to see you naked. That still makes you laugh when you think about it.

When he peers down at you with a brow lifted you assume he must have heard the quiet chuckle bounce off the walls or the floor.

“Sir, if you will follow me this way?”

You both look to the maître d’ already three steps ahead. John winks as you as you start after the man on. The bump to your hip nearly causes you to trip and hold tighter to John’s arm. Shooting him a glare he only gazes at you as if you are the most precious thing in the world. When the maître d’ begins to weave through tables John lifts your hand from his arm and leads you from behind. The tables are close together. Intimate lighting and long-reaching table-cloths topped with taper candles and intricate candle sticks.

The maître d’ leads you beyond them all, past a wall decorative of cutouts to a large circular room with five other couples seated far enough apart to not overhear one another’s conversations. Once you settle into the table and the waiter has appeared, disappeared, and reappeared with the wine John lets his attention fall to you.

“Why the laughter as we were waiting to be seated?”

The blush must be stealing across your cheeks the way his smile warms.

“I was thinking about all the sides of you I have seen,” you lift your thick linen napkin from your plate and place it on your lap with a flick.

You might be avoiding his eyes but he won’t call you on it.

“Do go on my love, what about me?”

Glancing up you find John resting his chin on a fist as his elbow sits on the table. You look away as fast as you can, cheeks heating to an uncomfortable level.

Tonguing your teeth you aim for honesty as you direct your answers at your plate.

“Well, I was thinking about how I love when you get bashful. Then I thought about how confidence looks sexy on you…”

“And?” he prompts. His eyes are still on you. The trail of gooseflesh across your chest and peeps of cleavage confirm it.

“And then I thought about how a delusional side of you,” you flick your gaze to his now to drive the point home, “Offered me 150,000 dollar bucks to see me naked.”

It’s John’s turn to blush. He straightens, both hands disappearing below the tablecloth as he adjusts his pants.

“Don’t regret the offer. I would offer more if I thought you might accept it,” he grumbles.

Before you can respond the waiter reappears.

“The chef welcomes you tonight to this one-of-a-kind experience.”

He goes on, explaining each step of the five-course meal. John must have pulled out a black card for this date. You sent him sly looks as the waiter went on. He would have paid you the money offered to see you naked.

Dinner goes on and on, nearly a three-hour event. When you can tell it is starting to wrap up, the chef is making rounds to the tables greeting each couple in turn, John catches your eye.

“Can I offer you 150 to get out of here?” He waggles his brows slightly.

The confusion on your face must show as John is concerned until your mind clicks the pieces together. 150. He is asking to take you home and see you naked. The sultriest of smiles morphs his lips as he watches you comprehend the offer.

“Let’s finish meeting the chef and I’ll take your offer. I’ll only charge you 100.”

His boisterous laugh makes an appearance, bouncing around the space until every set of eyes has touched your table. Hiding your own giggles behind your napkin, you focus on being presentable again. You and John barely make it through meeting the chef before leaving the restaurant, your body tucked as close as can be managed with his hand resting at your waist.

Contact is maintained the entire drive home. Sometimes it’s John’s hand resting on your thigh or your lips pressed to his knuckles. He lets you lead as you enter your flat. After locking the door you tug him into the bedroom, soft lighting from your fairy lights and a spare candle you light.

Like everything before it sex with John is sweet, full of laughter, and fulfilling in a way that nothing else could broach. The night moves slowly as John is often frustrated with his lack of stamina as he is still recovering. You enjoy the prolonged amount of time to explore his body and commit it to memory. Not that you would ever let him leave after offering so much money for the privilege of your skin.

When morning crests it finds you both covered in various fluids and achy and in need of pain meds, coffee, and a shower though not specifically in that order. Life with John is more perfect than you could have asked for from a genie. Even him leaving on jobs again does not diminish the love that waters the well of your soul.

Part 8 | Part 10

Seamstress Masterlist | Masterlist

@madsothree

[kiss4noo]

his palette – n.rk

꒰ 🎨 ꒱ A NISHIMURA RIKI [니키] ONESHOT!

genre. soulmate au, fluffy fluffy fluff! .˚⊹ pairing. non-idol,,artsy ni-ki x artsy fem reader. ໒꒱ warning(s). bumping into each other cliche meets classmates 2 lovers. word ct. 869

synopsis .ᐟ in which people see the world in shades of black & white until making contact with their soulmate.

꒰ 💬 ꒱ mi note. remember, this is a work of fiction. i did not proofread, so please excuse any mistakes.

if you enjoyed this fic, please like and reblog! it's always appreciated :)

enjoy, my lovely readers. xoxo, mi. ‹𝟹

NISHIMURA RIKI was the quiet, loner type at decelis high, considering the fact that his best friends were all upperclassmen that had since graduated. he often sat by himself during lunch period, headphones on blast as he drew in his small sketchbook. his art was beautiful to anyone who had the privilege to see, yet it lacked one element; color.

the boy greatly envied those who had gained their palette, straight from the source of interacting with their soulmate; to which he had yet to meet. at least that’s what he believed, since he’d never came in physical contact with them.

currently, he was sat beneath a tree in the courtyard, hoping to sketch the scenery of campus, humming along to a track playing in his ears. his legs were entirely outstretched, laid before him as he used his thighs as a surface to draw upon.

a figure, obviously in a rush, had approached with hurried steps through the grass, tripping over his limbs with a soft ‘oof’. glancing up in surprise, riki’s gaze met the back of your kneeling figure. he recognized you immediately, as you shared multiple art classes throughout the years, and many labeled you as the campus sweetheart.

but…

wait, your outfit was a different sprawl of hues from the generic blacks and whites that he could see. in fact, his view was anything but grayscale. he assumed that you’d realized the same, your head tilting a few degrees in curiosity as you stared at the green grass beneath your palms.

pulling himself from the initial shock, the boy removed his headphones, placing them and his sketchbook aside to help you gather what had fallen from your grasp, knelt beside you.

“are you okay, y/n?” the boy questioned, his fingertips grazing yours as you’d reached for the item. when your eyes met his, he felt the air leave his lungs, your features far more angelic than people had described. his sight was one that people would’ve fought for, and yet he had the privilege to witness you in such beautiful color. your expression mirrored his, the honey of his skin, the blush of his lips– it was an exquisite change, leaving you in awe.

“y/n?” his voice drew you from the daze of his beauty, causing your eyes to flutter in rapid blinks that showcased your nerves.

“s–sorry, riki.” you murmur, reaching to take your sketchbook from his hands, only for him to pull it back. leaning your upper half forward, you found yourself a mere few inches from him– your breath mingling with his.

“y/n.” riki called with a low tone, causing you to gulp, averting your gaze. his fingers reached up, gently caressing your chin as he turned your head to meet his eyes.

“why were you in such a rush, bunny?” he questions, his brows furrowing in worry of any possible injury you may have gotten. flustered by the pet name, your cheeks flushed an adorable shade of pink, catching his interest as he waited patiently for a response.

“well.. well i wanted to..” you begin, stumbling over your words in embarrassment. you were actually on the search for him, hoping to find a vantage point in which you could draw him for the day. your fingers reached to grasp at the sketchbook, your name sprawled across the front; only for riki to cheekily grin at you.

“what’s in here, hm?” he questions with a playful wiggle of his brows, glancing down at the sketchbook to flip the front page.

“w–wait!” you attempted to protest, only for his lips to part in surprise, having found a drawing of… himself?

“y/n…” he whispers in disbelief, his eyes casting between the drawing and you, his gaze landing on the paper once more. his fingers gently flipped through the pages, finding a multitude of sketches you’d made of him; most of them during lunch period, where he peacefully sat alone.

“oh, pretty...” he murmurs, folding the sketchbook shut before placing it aside, practically tugging you onto his lap. “stop admiring from afar.” he mutters, pressing gentle kisses against your cheeks, to which your skin flushes even further. he was honored to have been the apple of your eye, as you were his.

after all, his staring sessions during class were rather obvious to everyone but you.

“riki!” you squeal in shyness, hands pressed against his chest as he lovingly smothers you.

“see, it's a sign that you should’ve joined me all along, baby.” he coos, glancing up at the sky and pointing with his index finger; the colors sprawled across your vision as you turned your head.

“not only can you see colors, but you have me to grace your presence.” he grins at you, ticking your sides as a giggle falls past your lips, your gaze returning to his.

“oh, yippie!” you sarcastically respond with a playful smile, earning a gasp of feign hurt from the boy; to which you place a gentle kiss to his lips.

now it was his turn to be flustered, your action catching him off guard before he pulled you in once again, your smiles meshing as you expressed your affection, no longer hidden.

꒰ 📎 ꒱ taglist. @greentulip @nshmuras @wonsdoll

how to be added to my taglist : click here!

[fallow-hollow]

Heyo! I came by to ask if it’s possible that you could write a Chilchuck x non binary! Reader who has a stutter and hasn’t gotten any help for it since childhood? Like not being able to say sentences properly without suddenly pausing by accident and having moments where the reader struggles on just one word? It’s mostly because I have irl and I don’t see a lot of books about readers that have a stutter as I think it’s used mostly to be cute or uwu- so maybe Chilchuck could try to help them?

cold reading

ft… chilchuck tims x nonbinary! reader

tags… pre-relationship, pining, reader has a stutter, fluff

word count… 882

notes… hope i did a good job! i had a friend who stutters be my beta reader to make sure i did alright, but further notes are always welcome! also fun fact, a ‘cold read’ is a read through or performance of a script or text with no prior practice, so i thought it would make a cute title !!

This may have been your idea, but you were already starting to have some second thoughts about this plan.

Chilchuck was well aware that you often had some trouble speaking, but it was never something he wanted to intervene on without your permission. The man had his own fair share of experiences being babied by those around him, so the last thing he wanted to do was belittle you by acting as if he knew more about what would help you than you did. So, naturally, reaching out about wanting assistance was up to you.

If there was anyone you trusted to help you with this vice of yours, it was Chilchuck. It wasn’t even that he himself was particularly well spoken or collected — no, it was your trust in him from a personal perspective that made it so easier to confide in him. The two of you had always been pretty good friends, and plus, it was rather nice how he never judged you for things you couldn’t control.

Truth be told, seeking help from someone like Falin likely would have been equally as helpful, but if you had to be honest with yourself, you also just enjoyed spending time with the man. Something about his presence put you at ease, despite the standoffish demeanor he had most of the time.

That’s how you found yourself here, trying to read from a book while he sat patiently beside you.

However, this may have been far less embarrassing for you if the book you borrowed for this little practice session wasn’t one of Marcille’s romance novels.

“She tr- trekked across th- across the muddy dirt path, her, her boots… boots covered in…..” Even when reading completely inoffensive narration, you still tripped up on certain consonants and found yourself repeating certain words. Sometimes, you’d even lose your place or space out, and end up unconsciously repeating the end of a word when you ‘picked up where you left off’, so to speak.

Chilchuck stayed silent, of course, not wanting to be rude by calling you out or correcting you in the middle of your sentences, but the long periods of yourself speaking and nothing else did make you feel rather awkward at times. After you sighed and shook your head, signifying that you had given up, he allowed himself to speak.

“Maybe try reading some dialogue instead. It could feel more natural if it’s something you could say to an actual person instead of just narration.” At his suggestion, you nodded, letting your eyes scan the page to the closest piece of dialogue you could find.

…Ah.

Well, it wasn’t that embarrassing. Compared to the other things one might find in a novel like this, it was really rather tame. Yes, you could make this work.

When you glanced up, the half-foot was still meeting your gaze, looking as if he had something to say. You murmured a quick “Yes?”, to which he responded promptly.

“You’ve mostly been looking at the text while you’ve been talking.” One hand gestured briefly to the book you were holding. “I dunno if this is the case, but focusing too hard on the written words could trip you up.”

The statement did ring true, at least somewhat. You’d been very fixated on matching the written words to the pronunciations in your head so as to not mess them up, but maybe that was contributing to this unnatural sort of feeling you’d had while you were reading. Talking to Chilchuck certainly did help you calm down most of the time, so maybe you’d feel more relaxed if you tried that instead.

He didn’t directly tell you to, but you chose to look at Chilchuck’s face while you talked. After reading the words and trying to internalize them the best you could, looking at him was almost a way to relax your eyes. Without focusing on a particular point or feature, you let yourself just… take him in. Register that this was the person you were speaking to. Allow the words to be fully and wholly directed at him.

In hindsight, the method may have been a bit too effective, judging from how the sentence came out almost immediately and with great fervor,

“You have no idea the lengths I’d go to just to see you!”

Hey, why did the man across from you look ever so slightly pink…?

Oh.

“Oh no, no I’m so- s-so sorry! Sorry!” Your hands shot up in an apologetic yet defensive behavior, which seemed to ease Chilchuck’s nerves, judging by the small laugh he let out.

With a wave of his own hand, he responded, “You don’t need to be. Just surprised you’d get so bold all of a sudden.” He then shot you a wink and a point, something that threatened to make you melt entirely. So easily could he touch your heart, yet at the same time it was hard to falter when he smiled at you like that.

“Did a good job on that one, though. Sounded great!”

Either way, if you can one day manage to speak your true feelings to him, then maybe you’ll be able to say all the other things you want to as well.

“Tha…thank you, your help, it, um… it really means a lot.”

[evera-era]

a new kind of love. (pt. 1)

synopsis: ellie thinks relationships are too complicated, and has since written them off. but what is she supposed to do when she starts developing feelings for her best friend?

ellie williams x fem!reader

warnings: slow burn AF, jealousy, some sassy ellie, male tries flirting with reader for like 3 seconds, lots of playful banter.

a/n: this was honestly so fun to write,, slow burn + friends to lovers go brrrrr

“Did you see that shit?!” Ellie exclaims, almost cracking her neck to look at you. “Fuck yeah! That’s a new high score.”

“Nice.” You mumbled, but your eyes didn’t drift from the book you were reading.

“Seriously? You’re not even looking.” She groans. “Whatever. If you did, your mind would’ve been blown. And you would’ve at least given me, like, a high five or something.”

“Okay, okay, sorry! I’ll look now — do it again.” You say, folding the corner of the current page you were on. Ellie adjusts her backpack as you put your book away.

“I can’t just ‘do it again,’” She says, mocking you. “My chances of ever getting that far again are practically zero.”

Ellie had managed to successfully skip a rock all the way across a large stretch of lake. It was a big deal to her, clearly. She had done this everytime you went on this particular path during patrols, but today was a new record for her.

The air was still. You took a moment to examine the trees around you before speaking. “Everything seems clear.” You said, turning to her. “Should we head back now?”

Ellie stops to take a look around. She gives a quick nod. “…Yeah. Guess so.”

You grinned before raising your hand. She turns, slightly puzzled, before narrowing her eyes at you.

“C’mon,” You wiggle your outstretched fingers a little. “Your celebratory high five, like you said!”

“Yeah, but now it’s out of pity. And about two minutes late.”

She waits for you to step aside, but you don’t put your arm down. “Mm-mm. I’m not moving til we make up, Els.”

Make up. The phrase makes her stop, just for a second. She found it a little amusing — you’ve never said that before. But she knew you were trying to make her feel better, so she chucks it up to you just being you.

She claps her hand against yours before making her way down the trail. “There. We made up. Happy?” She says, already having placed some distance between you two. You jog to catch up with her as she mounts Shimmer.

The two of you arrive back in Jackson about an hour earlier than any other given day, since today’s route was shorter than the rest. As you’re dropping off the horses, Ellie looks at you.

“I’m starving.” She says, guiding Shimmer. “Wanna grab lunch?”

“Sure.” You reply.

“Cool.” She offers you the horse’s lead. “Think you can put her up for me? I’ll be back in a sec.”

When Ellie returns to the spot she left you and Shimmer in a moment ago, she’s confused. The horse was not in her stable. In fact, she was nowhere to be found — and neither were you.

Ellie blows raspberries, slightly concerned. But that quickly fades when you turn the corner, Shimmer’s lead in hand.

“Ta-da!” You cheer. Shimmer’s hair is littered in fake plastic butterflies, tucked neatly within her strands. “It’s those little hair clips I found on our last patrol. Isn’t she purty?”

Ellie rolls her eyes, dropping her hand from her hip. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” You frown. “You don’t like it?”

“Looks kinda weird.”

“Ellie!” You whine.

She sighs. “Okay, sure. She looks… purty… indeed.”

“‘Course she does,” You say in a proud manner, walking Shimmer confidently to her stable. Ellie looks off to the side, her face beginning to warm as she murmurs “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

She pretended to be annoyed, but truthfully, she cherished days like these. The two of you hadn’t gotten scheduled together in a while. And even though you were adults now, and had other responsibilities, she didn’t miss your company any less.

She still liked Jesse and Dina, of course, but she wasn’t nearly as close with them like she was with you. You and Ellie were basically inseparable; you had been, ever since the very first day that you joined the community.

You broke the silence first. “Hey, maybe one day, you’ll let me play in your hair.”

Ellie glares at you. “Absolutely not.”

“Why not?” You urged. “Come on, I bet I could make you look just as pretty as Shimmer.”

She shakes her head. “Nope. Hell no.”

“Hm… you’re right.” Your devious grin widens. “You could never look that good.”

Ellie elbows you in your side, and you burst into a fit of giggles.

“Shut up. Let’s go eat.”

—

A few days later, Ellie was at the pub with Jesse when she glanced over and got caught off guard.

You were walking in, talking and giggling with some random guy that she had never seen before.

The interaction she witnessed left a weird taste in her mouth. You were so engaged in the conversation that you didn’t even look where you were going. If you did, you would’ve seen that your best friend was actually in the same bar.

It might’ve just been platonic, but for some reason, it annoyed her ever-so-slightly. You and Ellie talk about everything, and yet you’ve never mentioned him.

To make matters worse, his eyes were lusty and unwavering and practically embedding themselves into yours. And you didn’t seem to notice — or maybe you just didn’t care — which pissed her off to no end.

“Who’s that?” She questions, jutting her chin in your direction. Jesse looks over his shoulder, then back at his drink.

“Uh… stable boy, is what they call him. I think.” He says. “Came into town two nights ago, along with his dad. An old friend of someone’s.”

“Is he, like… into her, or something?” She mumbles, watching intently. Jesse replies with something along the lines of “Hm. Might be.”

The guy was tall, which forced you to look up at him through your lashes. He was smiling the whole time; he clearly liked this angle of you.

Ellie resists the urge to clench her teeth. Can’t you see that he’s so obviously thinking with his dick right now?

Ellie knew it was wrong to feel this way. You were allowed to make new friends, and she shouldn’t interfere with that. But she couldn’t help it — the guy seemed like a fucking creep. She hated that you were even talking to him.

Thinking about it wasn’t enough. Whatever it was, it was bubbling up under her skin, as if someone lit a match underneath her.

“Gonna introduce myself.” She says, setting down her glass. She doesn’t even wait for Jesse’s response before she’s hot on your trail.

When she approaches you, she says nothing. Merely clears her throat and gives a curt nod to your new friend.

“Oh, hey Els!” You say, touching her shoulder. You looked back over at him. “This is my best friend, Ellie. She looks scary, but she’s nice. I promise.”

Ellie remains silent, just purses her lips and puts her hands in her pockets. There’s a noticeable shift of energy in the conversation. Stable boy must have picked up on it; it’s not long before he excuse himself and leaves.

It’s almost comical how quickly Ellie relaxes upon his exit. You drop your hand and give her a dramatic stare, jaw agape.

“What?”

“Really?” You say in a loud whisper. “Els, I know it might be hard for you sometimes, but you don’t have to be a dick!”

“Pfft. I was not being a dick.” She protests. “And even if I was — he literally deserved it! That dude was looking at you like he wanted to bone you. It was fuckin’ gross.”

“Oh my god, Ellie—“

“What? It’s the truth!” She states, like it’s a fact. “Look, I get that he probably hasn’t seen a cute girl in a fucking millennium, but—“

“Did he tell you that?” You ask sarcastically.

“Whatever.” She mutters. “I just took him down a couple notches, that’s all. He’ll survive.”

“He was just being nice.” You say before pausing. “Wait. Did you call me cute?”

Honestly, the words had came out before she had a chance to catch them. She’s not really sure why she even said it at all.

Ellie didn’t normally lie, but she knew you’d never shut up if she didn’t. So she glances at you, then sneers. “And risk it getting to your head when it’s big enough as it is?”

You punch her in the arm, to which she very quickly defends herself against. She’s in the middle of playfully warding you off as Jesse approaches the two of you.

“We abusing Ellie now?” He jokes, glass in hand. Ellie gives you a light shove as you let go of her forearm.

“When isn’t she?” She says.

“Puh-lease,” You enunciate. “That was nothing. You’re gettin’ soft, Els.”

The auburn-haired girl laughs it off. As you and Jesse begin to make conversation, Ellie — for some reason — can feel her face wanting to tingle again.

She didn’t like it. It was ticklish, it annoyed her, and it seemed to only start doing that around you, nowadays.

What the fuck is happening?

Maybe she was getting a bit soft after all.

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

Hii! Could you possible write something more with Emily and her partner self harming? You write it so incredibly well and I find so much comfort in it, it’s insane. Maybe Emily finding out for the very first time when her partner is actively doing it? <333

Hi, anon! I'm always happy to write hurt/comfort about self-harm. :) It's my genuine hope that it brings people comfort and helps them feel less alone. Much love to you! –illdowhatiwantthanks

Doxxed

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: BIG self-harm warning!!!, cutting, blood, mentions of past familial abuse, homophobia, bigotry, use of slurs, explicit language (please let me know if I've missed anything!) Word count: 2.2k

Summary: After you leave a comment in support of a Pride post, the conservative fanbase of the organization comes after you in full force. You can take a lot, but it's more than you can handle. And you're tempted to resort to old, unhealthy coping mechanisms.

One comment. One stupid, stupid comment. That’s all it had taken.

Don’t listen to the haters! Happy Pride! 🏳️‍🌈 Thanks for the support!

You’d left it thoughtlessly, carelessly even, on the Washington Nationals Instagram post for Pride. Frustrated by all the hate and homophobia in the comments, you’d left one of support. You wanted the other queer fans to know they weren’t alone, and for the social media team to know that their post meant something.

You hadn’t expected it to blow up. You hadn’t expected to be the sole target of the Nationals’ conservative fan base. The first few comments, you’d ignored:

WTH is a they?

bro, what is “they” 🙏💀😭

your an npc you cannot be talking

not a fan

I think you mean IT

the Support your dad never gave you huh?

you need to read your bible

by haters you mean 95% of the population?

So, they’d found your profile. They’d seen your pronouns listed as she/they. Your page was private, they shouldn’t have access to anything else. You took deep breaths, turning off your Instagram notifications, trying your best to ignore the red notification alerts climbing into the hundreds, then the thousands.

But the first phone call? That had taken you off guard. It was an unknown number. You shouldn’t even have picked up.

“Hello?” you’d said, so innocent, so unprepared.

“Is this Y/N Y/L/N?”

“Yes, this is she…”

“Do you mean they!? You fucking dyke. Bet your daddy diddled you when you were little, huh? That’s why you’re so fucked up now!? I could fix that real quick. You just need a real dick shoved in you. Where do you live, baby? We can arrange that! You’re disgusting. You need some real cock in your life.”

It was so aggressive, so vulgar, so quick and angry. You couldn’t have gotten a word in if you’d tried. You hung up, shocked, silent. You were used to homophobia. You were used to hate and bigotry. You’d grown up in a place where people had called you a dyke on the streets, where churchgoers pulled you aside in the grocery store to pray over your “lifestyle.” Your parents had hated you long before you came out of the closet, so their revulsion wasn’t a surprise and it didn’t hurt, not any more than they’d already hurt you.

But you were so far away from where you’d come from, and you were so used to feeling safe here. You had Emily and you had the BAU and you were, generally speaking, free to walk around and live your life as your full, truest self without fear. The fact that this phone call, the hatred that came with it, had invaded your home, your safe space–it shook you. You were physically shaken.

But the calls kept coming. Again and again. Nonstop. So many they overlapped one another. So many that your voicemail box was full. And then the emails started. You knew you shouldn’t read them, shouldn’t listen to the voicemails, shouldn’t open up Instagram and scroll through the hateful comments. But you couldn’t stop yourself. And everything you read made you feel lower. You could handle a lot of hate, but this was past your threshold. It was the comments about your family that got to you the most. How did they know!? How did they know where to hit you the hardest? Where you were already weak and wounded and it wouldn’t take much to break you?

Emily was away on a case with the BAU. You wished she was here. You’d feel better if she was with you. More solid, less affected. Somehow, the bigotry never got to Emily, not like it got to you. You knew if she was here, she’d hold you, she’d set up some sort of fancy FBI phone trace and figure out who was calling you, she’d shut down your Instagram or take your phone from you so that you wouldn't be able to read the comments. She’d tell you she loved you, that you were beautiful, perfect, exceptional. She’d tell you that what these people said about you, how they made you feel, was not real, was not who you were. She’d remind you that who your dad thought you were, how he’d treated you, what he’d done to you–that wasn’t you either. That you were hers and you were your own. You were brave and strong and beautiful. But she wasn’t here to tell you any of that, and somehow telling yourself those things didn’t carry the same weight. By the time you fell asleep that night, you were in a spiral of such self-hatred, such hopelessness, such unending anxiety at each buzz of your phone–you hadn’t felt this low since college.

When you woke up the next morning–a Saturday–you turned off your phone, determined not to let the haters get to you, to take control of the day, of your emotions. You meditated. You listened to your favorite music. You made yourself some breakfast.

You stepped outside to go on a walk, knowing that fresh air and movement would do you good, keep you from spiraling further. But you stopped dead in your tracks when you turned to shut the door behind you. Spray-painted in angry red over the door frame of your townhouse was FAGS BURN IN HELL.

You went back inside and slammed the door behind you, trying not to cry. Too much. It was all too much. They had your socials. They had your email. They had your phone number. And now they knew where you lived. Every bit of safety and security you’d worked so hard to build here seemed to be crumbling around you, and there was nothing you could do about it.

And you knew then, like you were watching a film of yourself, watching something that had already happened, that you would go to the bathroom. You would take out a fresh razor blade, and you would drag it across the skin of your forearm. That you would bleed, and the blood would be the tears you didn’t let yourself cry. Just like it had been all those years ago, when you hid from your dad in the bathroom. Like it was in college when you figured out you were gay and hated yourself for it. Like it had been when your dad had died and you’d gone to his funeral and you’d lied and told Emily the wounds were from the barn cat scratching you.

It was magnetic, inevitable almost. The more you fought, the more you hated yourself for not being able to resist, which only made you crave the sharpness more. You looked at yourself in the bathroom mirror and wondered at how easy it was for everything to fall apart around you. The self-confidence, the security, the life you’d spent years, decades even, building, it all seemed to be crumbling. From one stupid comment.

You held the blade to your arm, a little shaky, knowing that once you did it, you wouldn’t be able to take it back. The line of blood was familiar, almost a relief, the pain an old friend, one that you’d kept away for so, so long. You hated yourself for doing it. You hated yourself for enjoying it. But you enjoyed the hating, too.

So focused were you on the lines, the series of parallels and perpendiculars you were carving lightly into yourself, that you didn’t hear the front door open, didn’t hear Emily call your name, voice dripping with concern having seen the angry message. You didn’t notice her at all until she was at the bathroom door, eyes wide and panicked, frozen. Before you could react, she’d lunged forward, grabbed your hand, and squeezed, forcing you to drop the razor blade. Her voice came to you as if through water, blurry and hazed and distant, as she wrapped your bloody arm in a towel.

“Honey, stop, stop!!” she called, frantic and shaky. “What are you doing!?”

The moment you made eye contact with her–and saw how scared you’d made her–you broke. Tears streamed down your face and you choked back sobs, sinking to the bathroom floor. Emily lowered herself with you, making sure to keep your arm tightly wrapped, caressing your face with her free hand.

“Hey,” she cooed. “It’s okay. What’s going on? Can you tell me? Please talk to me, baby. Please.”

You didn’t answer, couldn’t seem to catch your breath or find your voice. You simply buried your head in the crook of her neck, trying to regain some semblance of security.

Emily rubbed your back, resting her chin on your head. “Is it about the writing on the door?”

You nodded, sucking in a shaky breath.

“I’ll get someone to take care of it, okay? But… honey, why did that make you… why did you want to… hurt yourself?”

“It’s not just the door,” you confided, sniffling. “It’s the phone calls and the emails and the fucking Instagram comments.”

“Wh–?” Emily sounded deeply confused, even as she ran her fingers through your hair, placed kisses at the top of your head.

“I left one comment, Em, on some stupid fucking baseball Pride post to say, like, Happy Pride! Thanks for not being bigots! And all the fucking bigots in DC came out of the woodwork to dox me.”

Emily exhaled, mind racing. First, she had to keep you safe from yourself. Then she needed to keep you and her and your home physically safe. Then she needed to get your digital safety under control. Emily was a fixer at heart. And she was determined to make you feel safe again.

“And why the fuck do they keep bringing up my dad!?” You choked out another sob.

Understanding flooded through Emily, and she held you a little tighter, a little closer. It was your dad. That’s what had really triggered you. You were used to homophobia. But you hated being reminded of your dad. Emily rubbed her thumb along the bloodied towel around your forearm, a realization sinking in, one that broke her heart.

“This isn’t the first time you’ve hurt yourself,” she whispered, more to herself than to you. It devastated her. How could she protect you from yourself? From your past? She couldn’t go back and change it, no matter how desperately she wanted to.

You could hear the heartbreak in her voice, and guilt flooded into all the hurt places inside you, all the places the blood had left empty. You buried your face in your hands.

“I’m sorry, Em,” you cried, shrinking into yourself. “I’m so sorry.”

But the more you tried to squirm away, the harder she held you. “Hey,” she soothed. “It’s okay. I’m sorry. I’m sorry you’ve been through things that make you want to hurt yourself.”

Her voice broke, and you wrapped your arms around her waist, your instinct to comfort her kicking in. She was shaking, you realized. She was scared.

“But, baby, please don’t shut me out,” she continued. “I’ll do whatever it takes, okay? Just… I don’t… I don’t know how to protect you from you.”

You sat up and looked at Emily, her eyes now swimming with tears. “Emily,” you said softly, wiping her eyes with your thumbs. “That’s not your job.”

“It is my job,” she insisted. “It’s always my job to keep you safe.”

You exhaled shakily, lifting your arm to wet a rag at the sink, and handing it to Emily, uncovering the angry red cuts on your arm. You pulled gauze and medical tape out of the bottom cabinet drawer and set those next to you.

“Here,” you said, extending your arm, knowing that Emily would feel better with something tangible to do to help you.

She dabbed at your arm with the rag, her fingers gentle and cool against your skin.

“It’s not something you can fix, Em,” you told her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she focused on your wounds, eyes swimming. “I need to go back to therapy.”

She nodded, deep in thought, smoothing the gauze over your wound, and carefully taping it in place.

“But you could get Penelope to shut down the internet trolls?” you suggested, venturing a smile. Your heart wasn’t in it yet, but you knew that with Emily here, it would be soon.

Emily ran her fingers over your arm, placing a small kiss on the bandages. She smiled at you, sad and determined and angry and scared, and squeezed your hand. “Oh, I will fucking end the trolls. Starting with the asshole who fucked up our door. Bet that idiot’s not expecting the FBI to come knocking.”

You giggled, and she pressed her forehead to yours and, for just a moment, everything was okay.

You knew that Emily couldn’t make you better. She wasn’t magic. And even the best relationships couldn’t take away all the hurt of the past. But Emily made it easier for you to make yourself better. She made you want to do the work. And, for that–and for so many other reasons–you’d love her forever.