#not a 'i'm done writing and you won't see the next part until I have new ideas' thing

[sporco-filth]

Superhero to superslob: part the second

You could pretty easily skip part one and just start with this one.

Synopsis: After a villain fires a mysterious raybeam at him, a superhero begins to lose his strength. But the change is slow, so the villain decides to work on a way to speed things up a bit.

Justin Steele (aka Cascade Fall's beloved superhero Jupiter) was lying on the couch, watching TV. This was not normal. Why have I been so… he tried to think of the word as he turned into a more comfortable position. Tired? Is this what tiredness feels like? Justin, being gifted with super endurance but also thanks to his meticulously healthy lifestyle, had never really been tired before. Sure, he'd been exhausted after an intense work-out or fighting a tough supervillain or rampaging monster, but never lethargic, never woken up lacking any desire to so much as get dressed let alone go out for his morning session at the gym. Hence why he was stuck on the couch, watching daytime television. I need to get up, he thought. I think if I just get some fresh air I'll feel better. With Herculean effort, Jupiter pushed himself up from the couch and shook his head clear. With determination, he put his runners on and strode out the door. He had heard of Superheroes who'd gotten slack over time, fallen prey to vices or become jaded, ending up forgotten or, worse, pitied by those they had sworn to protect. That won't be Jupiter, he thought. I'm not going to let myself fall so easily!

Corruptor was pacing in his lair. On a screen in front of him was footage of inside Jupiter's empty apartment. "The ray's clearly had an effect," he said to his lackey Glob. "I think we need to strike!" "No, no," Glob shook her head. "I keep telling you: we need to be patient! The longer you wait, the greater the effect and the easier it'll be to win." Corruptor scowled. "But how long will that be?" Glob sighed. "I don't know…" She thought for a minute and then slammed her fist into her palm, eyes bright with inspiration. "I've got it!" She rushed out of the room and into her lab, leaving a baffled Corruptor. "What? What have you got?" Corruptor vainly called out. "You have to stop running out of the room before explaining things!" Glob poked her head around the door. "I've got an idea for something that should speed up the process! I just need to run a few tests. Can you go grab me a couple of rats?" Corruptor frowned to himself as Glob shut the door again. "Why do I always get rat collection duty… I thought we agreed on a roster…"

A few days later, Justin was about to do some dusting (he'd put it off all week and had finally worked up the motivation to start), when the doorbell rang. Not expecting guests, he looked at the security camera to see a man with a large beard, sunglasses and a cap. In his hands was what looked like a pizza box. Justin opened the door. "I'm sorry, but there must be a mistake, I didn't order a pizza." "Are you sure?" the man asked. There was something familiar about the voice, but Justin's mind was a bit groggy and in his befuddlement over the pizza he let it slide. "I'm sure. I don't order take out." "Well, the address on the order form is yours." Justin looked at it. Even his name was correct. "Is this some kind of prank?" he wondered aloud. "Well, I don't want this pizza to go to waste," the guy said. "You can have it on the house as an apology for the annoyance." "Oh, no, please," Justin shook his head. "I really shouldn't." "Aw, come on," the guy smiled. "If you're on a diet, I'm sure one pizza won't hurt." The scent of the fresh pizza hit Justin's nostrils. As if his body was acting against his will, he stepped aside and let the pizza guy in. "O-OK…" Sitting down on the couch, Justin watched as the deliveryman opened the box. Before him was a pizza oozing with cheese, laden with meat and sauce. He sucked up a bit of saliva that had begun to form in his mouth. "I… uh…" "Here, try it," the deliveryman said, a hint of something darker laced his voice, but by now Jupiter was too focused on the disc of cheesy goodness to pay attention. The deliveryman pulled up a slice, its oil glistened in the light and long strands of melted cheese dangled from it. Jupiter opened his mouth, allowing the piece to be lowered into his waiting maw, and took a bite. He moaned in pleasure. "There, it's good, isn't it?" the pizza guy smiled. Jupiter didn't even acknowledge him, reaching for a second slice in such a hurry a few globules of sauce and grease dripped down onto his pristine white shirt. With a grin, the deliveryman made his exit, leaving Jupiter to enjoy himself. Outside the apartment, he pulled off his beard. "Ugh, that thing itches," Corruptor growled. "This plan better work." As he returned to his vehicle (the unoriginally-named Corruptormobile), his mobile communication device (what non-supervillains might refer to as a 'phone') rang. "So, did the plan work?" "Well, he ate the pizza, so the ultratempting smell thingy part worked. I don't know about the real part of the plan." In the lab, Glob peered into a glass enclosure wherein sat a number of fat rats. "The chemical had 100% effectiveness on the rats, so I'm pretty sure it'll reduce the metabolism of a human." "I know, but he's a superhuman." Glob flicked through her notes. "There's incredibly limited research on superhumans, and every case is unique, but I've seen reports where they've had even stronger reactions to things than a normal person, so maybe we'll be even luckier and he'll be fatter and lazier quicker than expected." Corruptor got into the seat of the Corruptormobile and turned it on. "You better hope you're right. I'll be back soon, over and out." He hung up and zoomed off down the streets.

[pomefioredove]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ requiem of a cringe

did something embarrassing last night and was like "I need to go crawl in a hole and die. OR I could write"

type of post: blurbs characters: cater, rook, jack, vil, idia, malleus additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral (the term "damsel in distress" is used in vil's part, but it's meant to be teasing and not indicative of the reader's gender), reader is yuu, rook is rook

I. Talks Too Much

It's not that you're trying to be annoying.

Your mouth simply moves faster than your mind, and before you know it, you've been talking for twenty uninterrupted minutes about... well... nothing.

You always notice that uncomfortable, irritated look on their face just after you're done. And then you keep rambling in an attempt to make it less awkward (it never does).

And now you're here, hiding in the hedge maze outside Heartslabyul, thinking about getting lost and never coming out of it.

Of course, if anyone were to find you now, it'd be him.

"Hey, hon~ you busy?"

"Please, not now, Cater," you mutter.

The boy stills, looking a little taken aback by how miserable you sound.

"Are you still upset about that thing at the Unbirthday Party? That was hours ago, babe! I bet no one even remembers,"

You physically cringe. The faces of your uncomfortable tablemates won't seem to leave your memory...

"I remember it," you murmur, burying your face in your hands. "I'm so annoying."

For once, Cater is quiet. A minute goes by, and you think he may have left, until you hear the grass crunching under his knees as he kneels down and pulls you into a hug.

"You are not annoying. And even if you were, it'd only make me like you more," he mutters, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

"Understand?"

Your surprise at his change in tone doesn't stop you from hugging back. "Understood,"

You hadn't meant to say all of that.

You just spilled a potion you'd been working on for hours, and amidst your frustrated floor-scrubbing, you had vented about your entire week to your poor lab partner, a person you had been trying to impress all semester.

He had, gracefully, let you finish your rant, and then let you sit in it, just like the harmless potion now coating your knees as you cleaned up the floor.

Then, he awkwardly said: "That... sucks. I guess. I don't know what to say,"

There had probably never, in your whole life, been a person who looked more unhappy to be around you.

Afterwards, you found a nice spot in the woods behind campus to die.

You lie there, hoping nature would reclaim you before next alchemy class, when some purposefully loud rustling in the bushes catches your eye.

"Ah, Trickster! You really should not lie like that- a predator will take that as weakness, non? Are you injured?"

"Only my pride,"

"Talking about it will make you feel better," Rook says. It's more of a demand than a question.

You sigh. "I think I've done enough talking for... ever, actually,"

"Nonsense," he suddenly straddles your waist and pins your wrists to the earth. "I will not move until you tell me the problem, mon cœur."

You're like an animal in a snare. Once Rook has made up his mind, that's it. He will find out.

And so, with a sigh, you let him take the kill- that is, you tell him everything. Your whole, terrible week, the potion incident, the look on your lab partner's face...

When you're done, he's just. Smiling. "I see now. You are embarrassed,"

"Well... yes. You don't think that's embarrassing?"

He beams. "You are simply overflowing with beautiful emotion and passion for la vie! How could I ever find that embarrassing? You and I are not so different,"

In a weird way, that makes sense. Rook is never one to let shame hold him back from expressing his feelings.

He smiles at your pensive expression, and gives you a kiss on the head.

"Mais, next time you are upset, maybe you should come to me first, non?"

II. Clumsy

Forgetful, scatterbrained, oblivious, dimwitted are all words you've become used to hearing.

As well as a few colorful swears.

You have two left feet, even when you're not dancing- you're used to walking into walls, tripping, and dropping things- it just sucks that you have an audience now.

The first years that had gathered around the mess you made- tripping over your own feet and spilling the papers you were meant to deliver to Ace and Deuce all over the floor- are watching with grins and phones out.

You pretend they're not there, even with their taunts and whistles and laughter.

"Hey! Loitering is a waste of time!" someone barks. Literally.

You look up to see Jack moving through the crowd, scolding the other first years for blocking the hall.

When he sees you in the eye of the storm, on your hands and knees picking up your spilled papers, something upset takes his usually-stoic demeanor.

"What's the matter with you?!" he snarls at the boys. "Didn't anyone teach you any manners?! It's rude to stare- and laugh!"

His ears are flattened against his head when he kneels down beside you to help, collecting the papers, and putting them in your hands.

"Come on, we'll be late if you keep 'sittin there,"

Jack pulls you to your feet and gives one final snarl to the other first years before walking you off.

"...Thanks,"

"Eh? Don't mention it," he says. "Leona woulda had my tail if I just walked by..."

You know there's more to it than that, but you don't push. You're just happy he's forgotten to take his hand out of yours.

You can't handle being the center of attention.

For good reason, too- you're awkward, clumsy, and about the least graceful a person can get.

A true Ugly Duckling at a place like NRC. But Vil Schoenheit sees the swan in you. Perhaps that's why he's always been so patient and sweet.

It's a little distracting.

So much is obvious when he waves at you in the hall and, distracted by his smile, you walk right into a wall.

Though you can't see anything but stars after falling on your butt, the stares and snickers of everyone else are hard to miss.

Vil glares them away with a look that could kill twice over, and then stands over you as you lay on the floor.

"Come on," he says, holding out a hand. "I'll check you for concussion."

He brings you to Pomefiore and sits you down, shooing off a few curious underclassmen as he checks your pupils. "Do you feel nauseous?"

"Not really,"

"Then you'll be fine. Just a bump. You really should be more careful, though,"

You've heard that one before. Vil smiles at your dazed expression, and presses a cold compress against your head.

"This will help with the swelling,"

"Thanks," you mutter, still a little out of it. "You're my hero."

His eyebrows raise in true surprise, and then he chuckles. "And that makes you a damsel in distress?"

He doesn't give you a chance to respond before taking away the compress and kissing the red mark on your head.

"Don't think that being so cute is going to distract me. I'll make some time for lessons on poise this weekend,"

III. Unsociable

You'd think that being quiet and staying out of people's ways would get them to leave you alone, but it really just attracts more attention.

And after a grueling period of your tablemates making you the butt of every joke ("wow, I didn't know you could even talk!" "are you quiet because you hate us? come onnn, you can tell me!") you were ready to bury yourself alive.

"I don't ever want to leave," You mumble into the bundle of sheets and blankets on Idia's unmade bed.

"You could stay, y'know," Idia says from his desk, mindlessly scrolling through some gaming forum. "I should blackmail Crowley into letting you stay down here at least half the year."

"Couldn't it be the whole?"

"Nah. You need like, sunlight and stuff,"

"And you don't?!"

Idia snickers. "I'm built different. You know that. I get all my nutrients from blue light... You could at least stay for the weekend, though,"

You roll your eyes.

"...And I'll leak those normies' data. I'm sure I could get into their browser histories and have that emailed to their parents,"

Hm. You genuinely consider it for a moment, but eventually decide to give mercy. You're basically a saint.

"I think I just wanna pretend like I don't exist right now,"

Idia nods in understanding and pushes his gaming chair over to the edge of the bed, before crawling in and wrapping himself around you.

"That can be done. Pancakes tomorrow?"

Sure, there were people who talked to you, but you didn't talk back.

You just don't know how, you suppose. Every time you try, you end up saying the wrong thing, or are accidentally rude, or do something embarrassing.

You don't understand the references people make. You don't get social cues or hints. You have the social skills of an oyster.

Four months at Night Raven College, and you didn't have a single friend.

Well- except for him.

"How are you enjoying your tea?" Malleus asks, polite and curt as ever.

You take another sip- it's tangy, sweet, with a hint of bitterness. Some sort of Briar Valley blend that Malleus had imported just for you.

"I really like it,"

He smiles. "I'm pleased,"

One of the things you find so agreeable about Malleus is his simplicity. He often says exactly what he means; albeit, in a sort of 13th century Lord sort of way.

There's less stress with him. You don't have to pretend to be interesting, or outgoing, or cool. You can just be... you.

Because he likes you.

"You know," you say with a faint smile. "You're so nice to me. Sometimes I think that you're the only person I need. I could be happy with just you for the rest of my life."

You had meant that casually, but when you look back up from your cup, Malleus has this... look.

Wide-eyed, his lips pressed firmly together. There's even a dusting of color on his cheeks.

"Oh," you internally panic. Was that too much? Was that weird? Did you make things awkward again? Crap, you should have just acted normal, what's wrong with you?! "S-sorry, I-"

"Do you truly mean that?"

You go quiet, looking back at him with wide eyes. Your heart is pounding against your chest.

"...Yes,"

Malleus hums, his expression becoming more... pensive, and then...

He smiles. "I feel the same. Shall we go for a walk while the night is still young?"

[freyaphoria]

Ateez Reactions: You want to keep your hoodie/t-shirt on (maknae line)

hyung line

tw: gaining weight mentioned, being skinny memtioned, stretch marks, hurt-comfort, kissing, insecurities!! (idk why but i can't write tw properly)

taglist: @aim-blossom @itza-meee

San

You had just finished the first month of your relationship with San, you didn't see each other often due to his work so you hadn't been physically intimate yet. Since you had been friends for a long time before becoming lovers, he knew well the things that you were confident in and those that you were not, and he always approached you with respect on these issues. He would try to cover up your shortcomings without letting you know, which is why you've never felt insecure around him before. But why do you feel like you're going to sink into the ground right now?

San was on a week-long vacation and wanted to spend his vacation with you. You are also excited to spend time with him. San had booked a room at a nice a hotel with sea view, and things happened faster than you expected and now you were under him, waiting for his next move.

You were feeling insecure because of your skinny body compared to his wide and muscular body. San was always a gym freak and loved bodybuilding. What if he doesn't like your skinny body?

His hands were touching every part of your body he could find. He never let go, as if you would disappear if he left you for even a moment. "Are you sure? If you don't stop me now, I won't be able to stop again." He asked you without looking up from his buried head in your neck. Your hands were pulling on his hair and you pulled a little hard because you were nervous. San looked up at you because he thought you wanted him to stop. "Love? Is there something wrong?" You were torn between telling him or not, but if you didn't tell him about your insecurity and he found out later, he would be sad and maybe disappointed with you; you didn't know, you were so overwhelmed right now.

"I don't want to take off my t-shirt because I'm so skinny and I'll look bad next to you, you won't like me." San looked at you for a while and laughed. But it wasn't a sarcastic laugh, it was like 'are you giving a fuck about this?'.

"You look bad next to me? Love, you are the hottest person I have ever seen and you call yourself bad? Huh?!" San pulled you closer and brought his face closer to yours. "You're so beautiful! Get that in your mind!" He started tickling you and you were squirming. "San- Sannie! Stop!-" You couldn't talk because you were laughing. He knew how to instantly lift your mood. This was a habit from your time as friends. If one of you was in a bad mood, the other would tickle them until they forgot about that thing.

"Okay okay! I give up!" He left you and you regained your breath. "Say it." "Say what?" "Say that you're beautiful or I'll tickle you again." "I am beautiful." You said, staring at him blankly for a moment before his hands moved back to your waist again. "But can I still keep my shirt on? To make me feel comfortable." "Of course, you are already so beautiful in every way." He nod his head before burying his head in your neck again and whispering into your ear the most beautiful words you've ever heard.

Mingi

It wasn't unusual for you to get close in the studio. You've done it dozens of times before at Mingi's studio. But what was different was that you were insecure about your body these days because you thought you had gained weight. Mingi never commented on your size; He wouldn't talk to you critically, except to tell you how beautiful you were and that he adored you.

But when one of your close friends talked about your weight gain in a very humorous and derogatory way, you inevitably felt bad.

While Mingi was trying to write his new solo song, you were lying on the sofa in the studio and playing on your phone because you couldn't find anything to do. You were startled when Mingi suddenly pulled his chair back and turned towards you.

"Come here." He patted his lap. You lazyly got up and sat on his lap. This was also a habit between the two of you. Whenever Mingi was stressed, he would call you to his lap, hug you, and while your scent enchanted him, new ideas would come to his mind.

Mingi's hands began to wander over your body as he hugged you tightly. He started tugging on the thick hoodie you were wearing. When his breathing deepened, you understood what he wanted. “Put your arms up kitten, help me” he grabbed the hem of your hoodie and tried to lift it up. When you stopped him by grabbing his wrists, he looked at you confused. "I don't want to take it off." When you said it hesitantly, his eyes looked worried. "Did I do something? I'm sorry? Did I make you angry? Is it because of the cake I ate yesterday without realizing it was yours? Kitten, I didn't know it was really yours." If you weren't in a bad mood you'd giggle at him. "No, of course not. It's just... I gained weight and my body is not beautiful. I don't want you to see me like this." Mingi pulled you closer to him and hugged you again while stroking your hair. "Don't be ridiculous. I don't care even if you gain weight. I love you so much that even if you weigh 500 kilos, you will still be the most beautiful woman in the world." You giggled at him. "Is it possible to weigh 500 kilos?" Mingi pulled your hoodie down. "I don't know, maybe not?" You both laughed. "Would you feel more comfortable if we didn't take off your hoodie?" You nodded at him. “Okay kitten, I got you."

Wooyoung

"Would you relax a bit?" It was the first time you and Wooyoung got this close; Yes, he was usually on you all the time, but this was different. You were in his dorm room and you were nervous because someone would break in at any moment, on top of that you were going to show him your body so openly for the first time, and he understood your nervousness. "What if someone sees it?" He was kissing you slowly. "There's no one in the dorm right now. Can you trust me for a bit?" You trusted him, and he didn't force you. At first you wanted to get closer, but then your insecurities took over and you started making excuses.

He pulled you into his lap and held your head in his hands. "Why are you nervous? If you don't want to, I can stop and we can continue our day as if it never happened." You shook your head. "I want, but..." "But what?" You avoided eye contact and started playing with the ends of your shirt. "But you know... I..." Your eyes met as he lowered his head to make eye contact with you. You took a deep breath and spoke. "I'm not happy with my body and I have stretch marks." He looked at you confused. "So? I have stretch marks too? What does this change?" You were too embarrassed to talk so you whined in his lap. He grabbed you under your arms and lifted you into the air, pulling you closer. "Look, if you worry about such small things, you'll miss the moment." His eyes were so full of love that they almost made you forget all your insecurities. "I know I just can't help it. Can I just keep my t-shirt on? Besides I'm scared that someone will come and see me. Please?" He grabbed you by your neck and gently pulled you down to his eye level and kissed you slowly on your lips. "I'm 100 percent sure no one will come, but as long as you're comfortable."

Jongho

You and Jongho hadn't gotten physically intimate enough to take your clothes off yet. You would kiss and hug each other every day, but you wouldn't go that far. Jongho wanted to wait until you were ready and not bring it up so that you don't get nervous. But today, for the first time, when you said you were ready for him, you had doubts. Jongho never made a bad comment about your body, but you still didn't feel good about him seeing your body.

When you and Jongho were lying lazyly on the couch in the living room and the topic came up with physical intimacy, you gave him the green light, Jongho couldn't wait any longer, he changed his position, laid you on your back and started kissing you slowly. Your heart was beating so fast with excitement and tension that you thought he could hear it. He was kissing you deeper than you had ever kissed before, and you thought he was holding back until now. Since only the light of the television illuminated the room, you couldn't clearly see his facial expressions; you got nervous because you didn't know if he liked you, if he was enjoying you, if he was happy... You were afraid that anxiety would start to take over and ruin the mood. So you tried to pull away as his hands moved from your chin to your waist and he slowly started removing your top. You couldn't go back too far and held his hands.

"Don't." You were still kissing, but your pace slowed down. "Hm?" He hummed you without leaving your lips. You didn't know how to tell him. "Don't take off my hoodie." Jongho finally pulled away from you and you locked eyes. But his hands went to your hair and tucked the strand from your face under your ear. "Why? How will I see and feel you then?" You could feel your ears turning red with embarrassment. You mentally thanked the lack of light in the room. "You don't need to see my body because it's not beautiful-" He interrupted you by kissing you and whining against your lips. "Don't be ridiculous." "I'm not being ridiculous, I'm telling the truth."

He picked you up and placed you on his lap. "If you're comfortable, let's keep your clothes on, hm?" You nodded your head, too embarrassed to speak. "Look at me, doll." You lifted your head and looked at him. "It doesn't matter to me, stop stressing yourself. Besides, it makes me very angry that you are so beautiful and you treat yourself unfairly." Just as you were about to open your mouth and object, he interrupted you. "We can do it any way you want, as long as you feel comfortable and safe. Shall we go to the bedroom?"

a/n: I finally completed it! Sannie's was a little long but... Anyway, I'll continue with yandere requests. Yunho is wrecking me these days, so don't be surprised if I post 50 yandere yunho at once. HE IS SO!?!?!?!???!?! You have to stop Jeong Yunho, my heart can't take it anymore.

I don't think anyone reads this a/n place lol so I'm going to ramble on around here from now on.

[tricksters-captain]

Declan O'Hara imagine - I'm not doing this.

A/N: I thought about this one shot weeks ago... finally writing it. Probably been done already by someone else but who isn't obsessed with rivals atm. I also haven't written in years.

Summary: Declan is fighting against himself and everything he believes in when you come into the picture.

Warnings: Age Gap, fem!reader, NSFW content 18+, strong language, bit of a slow burn.

"Taggie, honestly, I don't know why you'd ever willingly add Brussel sprouts to anything." You chuckled as you both crept through the door to the kitchen.

"They're good for you!" Taggie tried to defend her culinary choices for her Sunday lunch.

"If they're good for you then I always want to be bad."

"Who's being bad?" A thick Irish accent filled the room as Taggie's dad sauntered in, a mug of coffee in one hand with his other burrowed deeply into his trouser pocket.

"Dad, this is (Y/N). (Y/N) was just objecting to my sprouts."

"Oh yeah, I agree, terrible things. Even the dog won't eat 'em" Declan brought his mug to his lips, smirking through the thick moustache that hid his upper lip.

You felt your insides alight at his dark, playful expression as he teased Taggie.

That was the first time you knew you were a bad friend. A bad friend who wanted your new friend's father to lift you onto the kitchen table and bury his head between your thighs.

The thought made your cheeks burn red as you laughed at Declan's remark and Taggie's complaints against him.

The man left the kitchen when his eyes flitted back to you, sending you a nod and a 'lovely to meet you, (Y/N). '

You couldn't help but replay the way he said your name in your head over and over and over again until you were desperate for his voice to sing it again.

The next time you saw Declan O'Hara was at the O'Hara New Years Eve party.

"You better not spend the whole time in here. I'd actually like you to put a dress on and come out to dance at some point tonight." You pleaded with Taggie as she clasped your necklace for you.

"I'll try but I can't make any promises. Anyway, you're out there to be my eyes and ears. You need to tell me if anyone complains about the food, okay?"

"Yes, Taggie. But no one will because you are amazing and your food is amazing and you are so right for not letting me help you cook or serve after I burnt the soup last time." You faced her as she continued to prep the ingredients she would need for the feast she had planned.

"You are a great friend but you are a terrible cook." Taggie agreed. You felt a lump in your throat at the words. Were you a great friend for literally fantasising over her father after almost every time you had an interaction with him? "Now please go next door and make sure that all the tables have the right cutlery for me?"

"Anything for you, Agatha!" You headed to do as you were told. Looking down to smooth out your dress when you felt yourself collide with something solid.

"I'm so sorry!" You looked up to see Declan turning, laughing softly at your clumsiness.

"It's okay, love." Declan's own eyes fell down your body, his lips parting slightly as he took in the sight of you all dressed up. He knew you were an attractive girl but you were Taggie's age and one of her only friends in the surrounding neighbours beside Lizzie. "You look beautiful."

The sincerity in his voice caused a chill to roll up your spine.

"Thanks. You look very handsome too, Mr. O'Hara." You didn't know why you felt so shy around him. You were so used to owning your space and holding your confidence when you fancied someone.

"That's very kind, (Y/N). And it's Declan. I don't want to tell you again." Declan send you a wink as he started to pass you. "Hey, and no snogging my son at midnight. You're way too good for him."

Your heart squeezed at the taunt. Patrick was a gorgeous boy and he had tried to flirt with you when he met you but you were far too interested in Declan for Patrick to make any dent in your crush.

"He's not my type anyway." You managed to find your tongue to quip back an answer.

"Good girl."

Good Girl.

You had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself replying something entirely inappropriate in response.

As the night went on, you felt your heart drop more and more. Declan was obsessed with his wife. His wife was obsessed with anyone else.

You were desperate to try and make more conversation with the man but almost everyone was grabbing his attention to discuss some work matter or other.

As the countdown began, you gut wrenchingly watched as Maud and Declan kiss. You put on a smile and exchanged celebrations with those around you. Giving Lizzie a kiss on the cheek as her husband blanked her as he usually did.

"Happy New Year, chicken." Lizzie pressed on a faux smile as you did.

"Happy New Year, Lizzie."

"A little advice for your new years resolution if I may?" Lizzie whispered as she drew you closer.

"You may want to get better at hiding your admiration for Taggie's father. I know nothing hurts more than something you can't have." Lizzie's words took you back, you felt your cheeks burning red and your smile drop.

"Oh, Lizzie, I'm mortified! Please don't tell Taggie." You begged.

"Not a peep." Lizzie motioned locking her lips with a key before grabbing your hands to singing sway along with the room.

The night went on and Lizzie tried to encourage you to join in festivities. You drank more and more, being forced away whenever you tried to help Taggie wash up, and you soon found yourself needing some quiet time.

You let yourself into Declan's office, leaning against the desk, fingers gripping the underside to give you some stability when the room started to ever so slightly spin.

You closed your eyes. Inhaling a shaky breath when you heard the door creek open.

"I thought someone unwanted had decided to sneak through my things." Declan's melodic accent forced your eyes open.

"I'm wanted, am I?" You smirked slightly, through the sickness as your eyelids closed again.

Declan didn't respond. Instead he just studied you from across the room. His hands in his pockets, his stance leaning back just ever so slightly.

"You struggling there?" Declan was amused at your state.

You tried to push yourself off the desk but instead felt yourself stumble forward.

Declan's amusement quickly turned into concern as he stepped forward to catch you.

"Steady on." Declan had managed to stop you from hitting the floor, your face pressed against his chest, his strong arms engulfing you as he pulled you up towards him.

"I'm so sorry..." You mumbled as you leant away to look up at him.

His features were so strong up close. You could smell the whisky on his breath as your eyes lingered on his lips.

"Maybe we should get you some water and put you to bed."

Declan's words drew your eyes to his own. His chest seemed to go tight as he starred down into your glassy (Y/E/C) eyes.

"You can take me to bed any time you want, Mr O'Hara." Your words slurred together with your weak attempt of drunkenly flirting.

"It's Declan."

"Okay, Declan..."

That was the first time Declan had heard you say his name. Something inside him knew he wanted to hear you say it again but he fought against the thought, pulling away from you as you gained your stance.

"Let's hope you don't remember this in the morning, ay?" Declan tried to make light, convincing himself the electric feeling he had was nothing.

"Why? I finally got my chance in your arms. My dream come true."

"Yeah, you really won't want to remember this in the morning. Come on..." Declan opened the door, waiting for you to follow suite. The noise of the party echoed around you; you had almost forgot it was still going on outside.

"Have you ever thought about me?" You had no idea where this liquid confidence had stirred from.

There was a pause before he answered.

"No." He was lying. He knew he was lying. He watched the disappoint subtly encase your eyes as you pursed your lips into a thin smile.

"If I was dreaming, you would've said yes. Goodnight, Mr O'Hara."

"Goodnight, (Y/n)."

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

As the weeks went on, rivals became friends. Friends became rivals. You grew closer to the O'Hara family and the moment from NYE had simply been forgotten. Or so you thought...

The dread that had filled your gut that New Years Day after you remembered the incident brewed inside of you for weeks. You had successfully avoided Declan, only seeing him in group scenarios and meetings for Venturer.

"(Y/N), I left some of my flyers on the table in the living room if you want to use them." Taggie climbed into her car, shouting over at you as she rushed off. You both had been going door to door for Venturer in different areas to cover more ground but you had run out of flyers to hand out.

"Thanks, Tag!" You rushed inside, running through the house that still held a cool air inside despite the early summer warmth outside.

"Careful!" You heard a voice proclaim as your bodies hit.

Within the blink of an eye, you had hit the floor with a body on top of you.

"Are you alright?" Declan groaned as you winced underneath his weight. The hard floor sent a wave of pain through your back but you had managed to not hit your head.

"Ow." You grumbled, squeezing your eyes shut.

"Did you hit your head?" Declan propped himself up on his arms, examining your face with a furrowed brow of worry.

"No." Was all you managed to say.

"I thought we had left bumping into each other for last year." Declan recalled on when you knocked into him last New Years Eve before the party had started.

"Clearly I'm not very good at keeping to New Year's resolutions."

Declan chuckled, pushing himself up before offering his hand.

You felt the warmth of his body leave you and the coldness of the floor pierce your bones.

You took his hand; hauling yourself to your feet.

"You sure you're okay?" Declan insisted. His hand reached out to take grip of your waist, his thumb and finger burning against your skin that had been revealed by the edge of your venturer top riding up. His other finger waved past your eyes, checking for concussion.

"I'm fine. No more running in the house with blind corners." You took a step back from the man, straightening your shirt to try and control the lingering feeling of the mans hand on you.

"Now... are we okay?" Declan rephrased,

"What do you mean?"

"(Y/N), don't play stupid. You've avoided me for almost half a year now. You won't even walk around the house without Caitlin or Taggie next to you."

You didn't think that Declan would've noticed with how busy he was with work and his life. Why would he have cared where you were or what you were doing in the house?

"I'm still living down my behaviour at New Years." You reluctantly admitted.

"What, that? Everyone says stuff they shouldn't when they've had a few too many. Doesn't mean you have to never look me in the eye again."

"What I said was completely inappropriate."

"Yes, it was. You're the same age as my daughter and I'm a married man but I'll have to admit I'm a little flattered." Declan tried his best to ease your anxiety. "I don't exactly see myself a teenage heart throb."

"I'm not a teenager." You bit back, the harshness your voice surprising you both.

"There's not much difference. You're practically a child and should be going for someone your own age." Declan quit the joking tone he had been using, taken back by your defence.

"Don't call me a child. I'm not the same age as Caitlin. I am older than Taggie and I've been with men before so I'm not playing silly little girl games over here. This isn't some school girl crush on a handsome teacher. You're right my feelings for you are inappropriate because you're a married man and I'm friends with your daughter but not because of my age. I know who I am and what I feel." A fire lit up your chest as you finally had broken out of the timidness you hated.

"You have no idea what you're talking about." Declan took a step closer to you, his stare burning into you as he lowered his voice.

"You're the one who reads people. Tell me what you see in me." You matched him, standing so close to him you could feel his breath on your face as you gritted your teeth.

The air was thick. The silence of the house engulfing you both, your breath audible and quick. You thought you could almost hear your heart thudding against your chest.

Declan was the one to break away. Storming to his office with a hard slam of the door.

How did your conversation turn so heated?

That night Declan tossed and turned, his head filled with moments of you. He rolled over and gently woke up his wife with soft strokes on her shoulder blades.

"What?" Maud hummed, rolling her head over her shoulder to Declan.

"I'm awake." Declan pressed himself against his wife.

"I can feel that." Maud looked at him through a sleepy gaze.

"Let me touch you." His fingers glided over her skin until he reached the space between her legs. Maud moaned quietly as Declan began to part her folds with his finger.

"Declan..." Maud sighed as she pressed her backside into him, feeling his member hard against her.

Declan wasted no time in entering her. He closed his eyes as his dick pressed inside his wife. And all he could see through the darkness was your eyes looking up at his. The first time he had seen you in the kitchen. The bump in the hall, the incident in his study, every time he had caught you intensely listening to one of his speeches to the group, the crash against the floor. You underneath him. The tiny bit of skin his hand had managed to caress from the bottom of your shirt.

He had never thought of you before. Not with Maud, not with his own hand and imagination and he couldn't make sense of why that night he finished almost as fast as his inexperienced teenage self had once before.

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

It had been Declan's turn to avoid you from that day. He couldn't be too close to you without feeling his throat go dry, a sickening guilt and twisting conflict rising with it.

It was the evening you'd find out whether Venturer was a real contender against Corrinium.

The O'Hara house was filled with people eagerly waiting except one who had decided to leave the house for good.

The house erupted in cheers and celebrations as the phone call confirmed it for you all.

You watched through the window as Maud drove off, leaving Declan and Taggie behind.

"We did it!" Taggie squeezed you tightly before embracing her father and to your surprise, Declan had also pulled you into a tight hug. You had hoped no one picked up on the slight awkwardness that left the embrace when Declan moved onto join the others. You couldn't help but feel it.

The party went on and you tried to keep an eye on Declan without making it too obvious (like Rupert and Taggie had failed to).

When Rupert left Declan's side for another whiskey, (Taggie swiftly disappearing just after), Declan slipped away to his study. You followed.

"I'm sorry about Maud." You made your presence known as you watched him place his glass down on the desk, his back to you when he replied.

"Don't."

"Fine." You clenched your jaw, unsure of what to say next at the warning in his tone.

"What do you want from me?" Declan's voice had a hint of desperation. He turned to face you. You had seen this look before.

"I don't––"

"––No 'cause you followed me in here. You are everywhere I look. I can't even get a wink of sleep most nights without dreaming of two things. You or beating Tony fucking Baddingham. And I can't think of you because you're young enough to be my daughter and I'm a fucking hypocrite for telling Rupert to stay away from Taggie when I look at you in that dress and wonder what you would look like with it on this floor right now. I'm not doing it. I can't do this."

Declan's outburst kept your feet frozen in place. Had he really just admitted to wanting you as badly as you wanted him.

You felt your hand roll the zipper of your dress down your side, your body moved without force as you slipped the straps over your shoulders and let it fall to the floor.

"Fuck..." Declan barely breathed out the word. His stare devouring every inch of your skin.

"I'm not doing this." Declan uttered again barely even audible as if only to himself before striding towards you. His fingers found your hips as he thrust you against the door.

His lips were on yours before your back found the solid wood behind you.

You reached up and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself up towards him, trying to bring your body as close to his own as possible. You needed every gap between you gone. You wanted to feel the heat of him even on this sticky summer evening.

"What am I doing?" Declan broke away and dropped to his knees, placing a firm hand on the middle of your stomach to hold you flush against the door.

There was a deep hunger in his eyes as he lifted one of your thighs up onto his shoulder, never breaking his gaze from your face to almost check if what he was doing was allowed.

You threw your head up, trying to find the air he had stolen from you, one hand finding a grip within his dark curls as your welcome reply.

"Please." You whispered.

Declan moved your panties to the side, a finger running over your folds, sending fire against your skin before he closed his mouth around you.

You let your eyes roll back as his tongue darted across your clit. Electricity filled your body with every moment of contact.

You felt his fingers circle lightly around your entrance. Your hand jumped from his thick curls to tightly grip the back of his own that pushed against your stomach. His grip on you felt as if it were all that was holding you up.

"You want me this badly?" Declan asked with a mixture of teasing and shock. The wetness of your heat coated the tip of his fingers and glistened on the dark hairs of his moustache.

"I've imagined this so many times." You admit honestly.

"I best live up to your expectations then." Declan inserted a finger inside of you, causing a sharp gasp to escape your lips, which made Declan's cock twitch inside his boxer shorts. "Shhhh"

You placed your free hand over your mouth to which Declan smiled a toothy grin at you.

"Good girl" he purred.

Declan rose to his feet as he placed another finger inside of you, thrusting them in and out of you in a painfully slow motion that only made you ache for more.

Declan turned the lock on his door with his other hand before pulling himself away from you completely.

You pouted at the lack of contact to which he tutted.

"So impatient." He uttered as he undid his belt, pulling it from its loops and then kicking his trousers down.

Your eyes fell on the large member pressed against his underwear. The tip seeping precum through the material in a dark stain.

"Go to my desk." Declan ordered.

You almost ran over, Declan caught you by the waist and lifted you up onto it. Spreading your legs with his knee.

"Are you sure you want this?" Declan stripped himself of his shirt, revealing his chest covered with dark thick hair that you reached out to touch. This didn't feel real.

"More than anything." The words were so quiet but Declan seemed to hear them as he freed himself from his underwear.

You reached behind and unclasped your bra.

"Jesus..." He took a handful of your breast, squeezing you firmly as he stroked his member.

"Declan, please." You couldn't wait any longer. The ache pained you.

Declan didn't need to be told twice.

He tore your underwear down your legs and pressed his tip slowly into you.

You bit down on your lip hard to stop yourself from making any noise.

"Holy fuck..." Declan failed at being quiet. You were so tight against him he felt he could've finished inside of you within minutes.

You reached forward and hooked a grip behind his neck, encouraging him deeper inside of you.

"Fuck me please." you pleaded, trying to move your own hips to create some friction.

Declan took the hint and began thrusting into you quickly. His fingers almost bruising your skin as he held you steady on the desk.

The rattle of the belongings on the desk seemed to echo around the room alongside the slapping of skin.

Declan lifted you up, still inside of you and gently placed you down on the floor.

He hovered above you, just like he had once before, watching your face twist in pleasure as he fucked you.

You squeezed his shoulders, your nails leaving an impression whilst he brought you closer to your climax. You pressed your hips up into his creating hot friction against your clitoris, making you throb inside.

"Declan..." You tried to let him know; still trying to whisper to stay quiet.

"Cum for me, princess." Declan smirked, his stare never faltering as he rode you through to your end. He could feel you tighten around him only encouraging him to fuck you harder and deeper.

You bit down on your hand as your climax convulsed through you. Your body shaking in between Declan and the floor.

Declan moved you both effortlessly, lying on his back with you sat on top of him.

You leant ever so slightly forward, steadying yourself with your hand stretched out against his chest.

You smiled wickedly at him as you rolled your hips.

You felt exhausted by your own finish but knew you wanted to see the older man in the same state.

"That's a good girl." Declan held onto your hips, helping you pick up your pace.

His lips parted as he watched you ride him, sweat dripping down your skin mixing with his own as his dick twitched inside of you.

"Fuck (Y/n)." Declan cursed.

You shifted your hand to his neck, Declan almost laughed, flipping you again so that he was behind you. Both of you on your knees as he held you against his chest, his hand wrapped firmly around your neck with his opposite arm securely around your middle.

The sensation was almost unbearable as his thick member pumped in and out of you at such speed.

"You think you want to be a bad girl?" Declan hissed in your ear.

You could only shake your head.

"Bad girls get punished." Declan bit hard down on your shoulder and you fought to not cry out in a mixture of pleasure and pain.

"You're mine now." Declan's own proclamation brought himself to his own climax. He pulled out, spilling his seed over his own thighs to avoid finishing inside of you much to your own disappointment.

"I know you wanted that inside of you like the dirty girl you are." Declan teased you as he gave your throat one final soft squeeze.

You fell against him, both trying to catch your breath.

"Declan?" A voice and a knock came at the door.

"Shit..." The realisation of what had just happened and where it just happened hit Declan like a cricket bat to the face.

"I'll be out in a mo." Declan scrambled for his underwear and you did the same.

"Hurry up! I know that's where you're hiding the good stuff!" Bas' voice was more evident now and whilst he was definitely talking about the whiskey. The both of you couldn't help but laugh.

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Hi please can u write Edward Cullen x sick reader. Where the reader is stubborn and still shows up at school despite being sick. (I’m sick rn and can’t find any Edward fics) hope u have a nice day

Thank u :))

Nurse

Warnings: none really, sick!reader, potentially getting other people sick 😅, stubborn!reader, firm and patient edward, thank you for the request btw and sorry it took so long for me to get to it ❤️

Words: 1307

Edward knew immediately when you sat in the front passenger seat of his car that you were sick.

His brows draw heavy with concern. "You're-"

"I'm fine." You croak and buckle up. Moreso lying to yourself than to Edward. Your head felt like it was stuffed with cotton and you were pretty sure a small fever was beginning to rise on your forehead. Like hell you were missing school that day. You'd studied day and night for your test; was finally confident that you were going to pass.

Reading your thoughts, Edward sighs and leans back into his seat. "(y/n), a test doesn't matter when your health is in question. Your teacher will let you take a makeup test. You need to go back to bed."

There was no energy in you to roll your eyes. "After I take my test then I can rest. I just want to get it over and done with."

"You won't do well if you're si-"

"Edward, please. I know my body. I can survive until second period." Arguing did nothing to help you feel better.

He could just grab you and take you back to your room. Doing that would further enrage you.

"You promise to let me take you home after second period?" The pleading in his voice softens you.

"I promise."

Exhaulting another sigh, Edward nods to himself. "Alright. I'm holding you to that."

A part of you doubts that you'll be able to make it to second period, but you would try to.

Edward may not have fought you more, that didn't mean he was pleased watching you struggle that morning. You were bumping into other students and walls as you lost your balance several times.

Alice pulled Edward aside, her honey eyes narrowed. "Why would you let her come to school like that? She's obviously sick, Ed!"

"I know. Believe me I tried. She promised to let me take her home after her test in second period." Edward lowers his voice, he doubts you can hear him. His gaze is on you as Jasper helps to steady you.

"I don't think she'll make it." Alice frowns and folds her arms in front of her chest. "I don't have to look into the future to see that."

"You try telling her then. See how easy it is."

She wouldn't even try, having experienced your stubborness before. You always wanted to appear tough to the Cullen family as you were selfconcious of being the only human among them. Compared to them you were weak. You compensated by doing whatever you could as a human to appear strong. Including refusing help when you were sick. Edward knew it would wound your pride greatly if he forced you home. So did Alice.

You didn't share first or second period with Edward. He kept tags on you via his mind reading to see how you were faring.

Struggling to stay up in your chair, your eyes were fighting every second to remain focused on the whiteboard at the front of the class. You don't remember much of what the teacher was talking about. Conserving your energy and mentally going over things for your test the following period. You were fading fast. Chugging water helped a little.

When the bell rang, finally alerting of the end of the first period, you were slow to get to your feet. If you tried to move any faster than your current pace, the world would slip from under you.

You use desks to coast your way to the classroom door. Barely making it to the door, there appears Edward. Frazzled when he takes in your flushed face.

Before he could object to you continuing the school day, you stop him by placing a hand on his chest. His mouth closes as he quietly surrenders.

Help me to my next class. Please. You ask him via your thoughts. Doubting you could talk without feeling vomit rise up your throat.

Edward breathes through his nose but doesn't complain about you overworking yourself when you needed rest.

Ever the gentleman, Edward cups your elbow and guides you.

"The moment the class ends, I'm taking you home." He whispers to you as he helps you through the scattering of students running late.

You'd smile if you could. I love you.

You catch the quirk in the corner of his lips and the brightening of his eyes.

It cost you the rest of your strength, but you did it. You fucking did it. All questions answered to the best extent of your knowledge.

There were few steps that were between you and the teacher's desk.

You suck in a breath and stand, hand gripping the edge of your desk for support. Navigating through rows of kids bent over their paper's, you focus ahead of you.

When your teacher notices you, she pauses at the waxen sheen of your face. The moment your test is on the surface of her desk you quietly croak "Can I go to the nurse's office?"

Edward was right outside the door, prepared to take you into his arms. You wanted to laugh.

The thought of a mother hen pops into your mind, making Edward scoff. "If I'm a mother hen so be it." You were unable to protest when he easily scoops you up and dashes to his car. Alice is waiting, rocking back and forth on her feet until she spots the two of you. There's a plastic bag in her hand that looks overly full.

"I'll tell the office." Alice takes Ed's car keys to opening the passenger door for you. Then she places the grocery bag in the back seat. "I googled what made people feel better when they're sick."

"Thank you Alice." You manage to get out as Edward opens the door with just one finger. He sets you down and straps the belt across your chest but not before tossing your backpack into the back seat.

Wondering what Alice had bought you, your forehead presses against the passenger side window, you momentarily fall asleep.

Only waking up when Edward is carefully picking you up from the car's passenger side. He's so careful with you. Always.

You realize when he opens the door that he's brought you to the Cullen house when the front door doesn't match your's.

"I don't want to leave you sick and home alone." He explained while hurrying up the stairs.

And. . .

"Ed. . ." Are you scared?

His jaw clenches. In his room he makes sure you're comfortable with whatever you needed. Water. Pillows. Blankets if you got cold.

Then he settles next to you. His face unreadable. You curl up closer to him and just that mere contact melted him.

"My mother and I. . . we were very sick when I became a vampire." This was something he'd told you a while ago. They'd become sick during the Spanish influenza outbreak. "I know the medical world is much more evolved than it was during my time, but it still terrifies me when you get sick."

"Oh Ed," You sit up even when Edward urges you to lay back down. "I should have-"

He furiously shakes his head. "No. You didn't do anything wrong. Sickness just reminds me how human and fragile you are." Rolling onto his side, you copy him. Head comfortably cradled by a pillow.

Rest.

You could finally rest.

His fingers brush along your brow, soothing your warm skin. You shimmy closer against him. Edward's much larger frame conforms around you.

"I know you won't die from this. Not that I'd let you die from illness." Adding the last part a bit under his breath, you still caught it.

For a second, Edward pulls away from you to retrieve a bottle of medicine from the bag.

"Now be a good girl and take your medicine."

[eternalxvenus]

⇢ ˗ˏˋ broken promises pt. 2 ࿐ྂ

summary: Rafe promised to take you out and spend your birthday with you, but you don’t hear from him all day and then suddenly he shows up at your door trying to explain. (this is part 2 to the birthday girl angst blurb! i changed the title for the series so it was more appealing)

cw: mentions of drug use, angst, nothing crazy (yet lmao)

wc: 1.2k

notes: i'm excited to write this since its my first series! lmk if there's anything you guys would wanna see in future chapters :)

previous chapters: part 1

You wake up to your alarm droning on annoyingly and feel around aimlessly with your eyes closed to turn it off. Once you had finally woken up on your own accord, you realized you should talk to Rafe. You hadn't spoken to him or left your house the last few days. Obviously, you missed him, but you just felt so hurt and angry with him.

After getting ready and using makeup to look a little more alive and less blotchy from crying so much, you decided you'd go up to Tannyhill to try and talk to Rafe. You left your house, hopped on your bike, and started towards the estate. The whole ride there, you just kept going over what you wanted to say but nothing seemed right. Before you knew it, you were at the front entrance.

You walked inside and heard voices in the distance coming from upstairs. Once you made your way upstairs, you heard the voices more clearly coming from Rafe's room. It was Rafe and another person whose voice you couldn't pinpoint.

"Come on, man you gotta understand where I'm comin' from. I've just been stressed out. Nothing a good time won't fix."

You looked into the room and saw Rafe sitting with some guy you've never seen. There was a table in between them that had some rolled-up bills and coke sitting on it.

You walked inside the room, still unnoticed until you spoke. "Hey, Rafe."

Both of their heads snapped in your direction, and Rafe immediately shot up, walking towards you.

"Shit... I uh- I didn't know you were coming over." He looked back at the man who just sat there unbothered. "Barry, can you uh give us a minute..."

"So let me get this straight, you went to a party and got high, missed my entire birthday, and after I tell you I'm pissed off your next line of action is to get high again with your drug dealer, right?"

Before Rafe could speak, Barry grabbed his stuff and started walking out. "A'ight man hit me up when y'all are done dealing with this shit."

Rafe waited until he thought Barry was far enough before closing the door and speaking, "Can you blame me? I don't hear from you for days so I assumed you didn't wanna be with me anymore! I tried to talk to you and you straight up ignored me."

"I was angry Rafe! I just needed some time to myself. That doesn't mean I'm breaking up with you and it doesn't mean you should start doing drugs again when that is quite literally what we fought about." 

This definitely wasn't how you imagined this conversation going. You didn't want to argue with him but your pride wasn't going to let you just back down.

"If you wanted space you could've told me," he sighed. "And I am sorry that I got high at that party and I'm sorry I missed your birthday okay? I want to make it up to you."

You walked over to the bed and sat down for a moment with your head in your hands. You loved Rafe, you really did. But you didn't want him falling into his old habits and lying to you about it.

You both sat there in silence as you thought about what you should do and what you should say.

"Rafe I... I think we should just take some time apart. Get our heads straight and figure out what we want-"

He walked over and sat next to you his eyes wide. "Baby I want you, I want to be with you."

"I wanna be with you too, Rafe, but I have conditions. I don't want you doing coke anymore. I don't like the person you are when you get like that. I know you get stressed and feel like it's your only option but you have me. Or maybe try weed and see how that works for you. I also don't want you hanging with Barry anymore. Non-negotiables."

He nods "I swear I'll work on it and I'll talk to Barry. I swear."

You stand up from the bed getting ready to go out the door. "Rafe... I'm gonna go stay with my parents on the mainland for a few days. I'll be in contact but please try your best to just leave me be. Get clean, for good, and I'll let you know when I'm back and we can figure everything out. Okay?"

He shakes his head. You can see that he's angry and confused, your heart just aches. "The mainland? What- why? Just stay here, I don't understand-"

"Please, Rafe. This is what we have to do okay?"

He took a few deep breaths and ran his hands through his hair. "Okay... okay. When you get back, I'll have made it up to you. Just promise me we aren't over." 

You could see the tears that formed in his eyes and had to fight back your own. "We aren't over just yet." You gave him a kiss on the cheek before leaving his room and heading home.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱✩•̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

You were finally off the ferry and on the mainland to stay with your parents. You really wanted to talk to your best friend to get advice so you asked her to pick you up. By the time you reached your house, she was all caught up. Your parents weren't home so you both went straight up to your childhood bedroom.

"Damn... I didn't think he got down like that." Niki looked at you slightly surprised. "Honestly though, it sounds like does care about you, even if he did fuck up."

"Yeah, I know he cares I just... I don't wanna have to worry about shit like this. Whenever he's all coked up he makes irrational and bad decisions. I'm just worried he'll do something and end up in jail or worse."

"You just have to let him know that. Make sure he knows your anger comes from a place of care. If he feels like you're just judging him, it'll probably piss him off."

You sigh and groan into your pillow. "You're right, thanks Niki."

"Don't mention it. Now, let me catch you up on the mainland gossip!" she squealed.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱✩•̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

Niki had gone home and you were getting into bed, ready to sleep after what felt like an exceptionally long day, when your phone chimed. You looked and saw you had a text from Rafe.

Rafe: hey I just wanted to make sure you made it to the mainland safely.

You: yes I did, i'm at my parent's house, thanks for asking.

Rafe: of course, goodnight

You: goodnight

Placing your phone on the dresser, you're thankful he doesn't push the conversation further. You decide you'll only stay here for three days before going back to the island to figure things out with Rafe. You just hope he can work on staying clean and that you can go back to being together like normal. 

As you closed your eyes, ready for sleep, you heard another chime from your phone. You groaned before picking it up to check.

Topper: hey we need to talk, it's about Rafe.

part 3

likes, comments, and blogs are greatly appreciated!

taglist: @readingsmuts @1aarii1 @bingbongbum @stargirlsturniololover @babygirl229 @poisonedsultana @rafescamshoe

[talaok]

Hiii, I saw you are accepting requests so I have one. Joel and the reader are married and one day they have a stupid fight but she gets really mad. Joel doesn't want to apologize and she decided to make a sex string. She starts to tease him. She starts to change clothes in front of him, she starts to use nice lingeries and put lotion on her body before go to sleep. One day Joel gives up and says sorry and then they have sex.

Sorry for writing a long request . Thank you 😊

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Warnings: sexual tension and allusion to smut

a/n: Whoever you are anon, I owe you a HUGE apology. I am terribly sorry for the wait, really, i don't know what happened, im sorry

You weren't someone who took things personally, nor did you deem yourself touchy, but everything has its limit.

He had called you a neat freak. I repeat, a neat freak

You, his wife, who he was supposed to love and support 'till death did you part.

He had called you a neat freak just because you had(rightfully) gotten mad at him when (for the millionth time) he had left his clothes all over the bedroom floor. 

And you had (again, rightfully) gotten mad, but he (for some godforsaken reason) didn't even want to think of the possibility of apologizing.

So you had done the most reasonable thing,

You started to make him pay

Now Joel Miller was a strong man, he remained unfazed by whatever life threw at him, he was not a man who was easy to put in a difficult position, but most importantly, he was not a man who liked to surrender.

But to every strength, there's a weakness, and Joel Miller's only weakness, together with his daughter... was you

Or more accurately,

The fact that he couldn't resist, you

So when you started changing in front of him, when, at the end of the day, you stripped slowly right in front of where he was lying on the bed... when you stopped wearing shorts to sleep and started only wearing panties and the tiniest tops or one of his shirts... when you put on that sexy little lingerie you had bought as a surprise for his birthday just before bed, biting down a smirk as you watched his jaw fall slack when you propped one of your legs on the bed so you could slowly massage it with lotion...

all those times, you saw his reaction, you saw the way his eyes darkened, the way he palmed his crotch thinking you couldn't see. But even as he approached you, his hands just as sultry as his voice you had pushed him away, because he hadn't done the one thing you wanted to,

and until he was going to admit defeat and do it, he was gonna have to suffer.

But today... today as you applied lotion to your whole body, his hands felt especially good.

"hello there" he murmured from behind you, his lips already on your neck and his hands on your waist.

"If you think something's gonna happen, you're wrong Joel"

"c'mon sweetheart, you've been torturing me all week" he breathed, his hands trying to lower down to your butt before you slapped them away

"I haven't been torturing you" you corrected "You've been torturing yourself." you watched as he frowned, his eyes too busy drinking every inch of you to look into your own "If you want this to be over, you can simply apologize"

And you would have liked to be able to say that you didn't expect what he did next, but the truth was that Joel Miller was incredibly predictable for someone who knew him as well as you did.

And the truth was, that it was a miracle he hadn't caved in the first day, and now he had reached his limit. 

He was so tired, and god but he had missed you

"I'm sorry darlin'" 

You didn't even bother to hide the smug smirk erupting on your face.

"say it like you mean it" you encouraged, placing the bottle of lotion on the nightstand before turning towards him, finding him inches away from your own face.

"I mean it, I'm sorry sweetheart" he promised, his big hazel eyes only helping him out right now "I won't do it again. I apologize"

"I'm not a neat freak?"

"no" he shook his head, one of his hands going to your cheek to stroke it while the other remained on your waist "You're not a neat freak sugar, you're the most amazing wife anyone could have asked for" he murmured, meeting his lips with yours "and you're so hot you drive me crazy"

"mhh, am I now?" you hummed, a mischievous tint in your tone and in your fingers in the way they played on his chest.

"you are" he nodded, slowly pushing you onto the bed, and crawling on top of you 

A soft laugh bubbled inside your chest as you wrapped your ankles around his back "What else am I?" you murmured to his ear, as he busied his mouth with your neck

"You're always right," he said, one of his hands groping your boobs through the fire-red bra "And you're smart... much smarter than me" he groaned when you grinded up on the hard bulge probing from his boxers "ad you- you're-fuck-" his breath caught as your hand seeped underneath his underwear and freed his cock 

"What?" you asked

"You're fucking perfect sweetheart"

"mhh" you hummed happily, biting your lip as you guided him to your entrance "and don't you ever forget it again"

[soaps-mohawk]

Plans For The Rest Of The Year

Since we are in November, it's time to touch on some things I've been thinking about over my month long break.

First things first, CRCB will continue but there's going to be some changes to the update schedule. I will not be doing weekly updates anymore. It's just not possible anymore. It was a stretch back when I was lucky enough to have the ability to do weekly updates, but now with work and the upcoming holiday season, it just won't be possible anymore for me to do weekly updates.

Instead, I'm going back to how things were in the beginning. Those of you who are OGs will remember that I kind of just updated whenever I had a chapter done and that's what the update schedule is going to look like going forward. It probably will remain that way for the rest of the duration of the story since come January I will be going back to school and also working on moving. This will also allow more time to answer comments and asks and not make me feel like I have to crunch to get things answered within a week along with writing the chapter. I'm very sorry to everyone who will be disappointed, but for my own sanity I have to just update whenever I can manage to get a chapter done.

That being said, there will be some other changes. During the break I worked on an old fic for a different fandom, and I honestly kind of miss writing for other fandoms. So that's also going to play into CRCB's update schedule. Sometimes I just want to (and need to) write other things, and I'm going to allow myself to do that. I also have some other COD fics (shorter fics) that I'd love to work on as well when the inspiration comes so it won't just be no content until the next part of CRCB. There will be other things posted as well. Those of you subscribed to my Patreon, you'll be getting a similar post but with some other things regarding content there soon.

That's the plan moving forward at least for now. The end of this year and next year are going to be very busy for me with a lot of changes, so I have to adapt this hobby to fit into my real life schedule. Since that's what this all is. A hobby. It's not my job (even though I wish it could be) so it has to be sacrificed a bit in favor of things going on in my real life. I'll still be writing and posting and updating stories, it just won't be nearly to the extent that I was before October.

There probably won't be a CRCB chapter this weekend since I don't have one ready yet, but potentially at some point next week. I'll probably make a post here the day before the chapter will be posted, and I for sure will post on my taglist blog the same time that the chapter drops here so make sure you're following there and have notifications on if you want to be notified of when the new chapters are coming out.

I think that's all I have for now regarding this blog and CRCB and what's going to happen going forward. Again, I'm very sorry for everyone who I'm going to inevitably disappoint with this news, but things just have to be this way.

I hope you all have a good day and I will see you probably later when I answer some of the asks sitting in my inbox.

[jamiepaige]

Constant Companions Closeup #3: ROT FOR CLOUT

(also on bandcamp and spotify!)

WHAT'S going on guys, welcome back to another Constant Companions Closeup, the show where we take a DEEP DIVE into what makes these tunes tick! Last episode, we went aaaaaall the way there on Not Quite There, and today, we're making that liggity-line go up up up up up with ROT FOR CLOUT featuring VISUALEYES!! Before we get started, remember to SMASH that like button, SLAM subscribe, and FUCK the bell icon. This week's community challenge: leave your credit card info in the comments! Bet you won't!

(*cough*)

---

I check my notifications way too fucking much. It's a habit I'm trying to curb, and to my credit, I am doing better lately, but being chemically predisposed to dopamine deficiencies has done a number on my ability to go five minutes without checking the funny glowing numbers on my phone. Naturally, I also very much seek more validation than I should from the opinions of strangers yadayadayada yeah that's what the song is about but none of that actually has to do with why I started writing this song in the first place.

Have you ever taken a flight with American Airlines?

This was after waking up at 4 in the morning to fly out of Houston thinking I'd be napping on a couch in Ohio by 2 pm at the latest.

I want to make one thing clear here, and that's that I made this bed for myself. Tucked the sheets in and all. You see, on the rare occasions I fly, I normally take Southwest. Southwest does not overbook flights like a lot of other airlines do, so it's a practice I am mostly unfamiliar with. So, when I received a notification on my phone promising genuinely ridiculous amounts of flight credit money in exchange for taking a slightly later flight, I thought - well, shit! That sounds nice!

This is how they trick you. I didn't really realize I'd been tricked until I was on my second flight of the day, sitting in a middle seat at the very back of the plane, heading from Dallas, a city I don't live in, to Washington, DC, a city I was not trying to get to, staring down the barrel of another flight I was destined to get on that had been delayed like two fucking hours.

I became the Joker. All I could do to remain sane was write a song about it. This is how ROT FOR CLOUT came to be.

I guess the moral of the story is this: Don't go to Ohio. And to answer your question,

Yes I am

Not really

No

---

This is a complete sidenote but I want to mention it here: I'm genuinely overjoyed at the amount of people excitedly talking about my songwriting or the intention behind my lyrics. For a long time, it really felt like lyricism was the last thing people cared about from me, while it was always the thing I wanted to take pride in the most... So genuinely, thank you everyone for caring!! Every single fire emoji people have put next to a line I've written has extended my lifespan by multiple years

There's a brief little moment where the song's chords leave the key, doing a really stereotypically jazzy 2-5 movement, and it's one of my favorite parts of the entire song. I'm not really a music theory buff or anything, and I'm certainly not formally trained, but I've always been very passionate about more complicated harmony in otherwise poppy and accessible contexts - bo en's album pale machine really rewrote my brain when I first heard it.

On that note, there are microtones in the vocal melody - During the chorus, some of the rapidly repeated words move up in quarter tones! Possibly the simplest way I could've included microtonality, but I'm genuinely afraid if I learn more than what I already know about it I'll be lost to the darkness.

Obviously, the work of Sasuke Haraguchi was a massive influence on this song, particularly the song Igaku. I think basically everyone on the entire planet has picked up on that at this point, but I do also wanna point out some other songs that were on my mind at the time! (two for three on these posts mentioning louis cole now)

I'd also like to take a moment to spotlight the vocal samples on this! They previously appeared on エビチャーハン!, and they've honestly become some of my favorite samples to throw in things. They're also just a fucking goldmine sincerely

Finally, HUGE thanks to Visualeyes for the delightful synth solo on this!! I had put out a call on Twitter looking for instrumentalists, genuinely originally envisioning a super jazzy piano solo, but their synth playing genuinely brought the whole song together perfectly!

That's about it for this song - though again, if there are any more questions people have, I'd be happy to answer them in the replies to this post or elsewhere!! (*ahem*) THAT'S gonna do it for today's video, folks! Feel free to leave a like, comment, hit the subscribe button for more and click the bell so you don't miss any new videos. Tomorrow? I Wish That I Could Fall. it hurts.

[cloudyskydreams]

How they act when crushing UT,UF,US!

This one was fun I might do a part 2 eventually because I love how people change their behavior while crushing on someone think next is gonna be confession head canons or a drabble. Anyway requests are open! Just wanted to put that out there I love getting them ::> and I'm pretty open to writing most things I love getting different inspo from different people. Anyways I'm done rambling hope y'all enjoy!

Undertale: Sans: Trys to make you laugh as much as possible. He loves hearing your laughter and is super proud when he can get you to full on laugh with his shitty jokes. He's a daydreamer and often daydreams about you when it's slow at work or he's in bed alone. He won't admit how nice he sleeps when he sees you in his dreams. You motivate him to get out of bed easier on days he gets to see you so that's a plus

Papyrus: He likes to be around you as much as he can. Like doing menial things together?? Oh you have a doctor's appointment, sure why don't I come and we get lunch afterwards. He just likes spending time with you! "Accidentally" making too much food for meals so he has a reason to see you and make sure you're eating something.

Underfell:

Red: Heavy denial before reluctantly accepting. He's a flirty guy he thinks it's all fun and games until he's thinking about you at 3 am with a blush in his face imagining a future and doing cute relationship things with you. He knows he's fucked. He doesn't really believe someone would like him so from his perspective it's one sided attraction all the way and that hurts. He still flirts but it kinda hurts him inside too. Teasing himself with something he thinks he'll never have. He doesn't distance himself but he's a bit rougher maybe trying to scare you off a tad.

Edge: Denial worse than his brother. He doesn't have time for crushes or anything of the sort. It's improbable that he does like you that way anyways it's just a passing attraction he simply likes the way you say his name, and the way your legs look when you walk and stretch out, and oh … He's fucked. He'll continue to deny it to himself until someone ,most likely his brother or his version of Undyne, points it out. Then he's trying to hide it, trying to play it off. The passing touches he lets linger too long, how even though his days are scheduled he still somehow ends up running into you occasionally.

Underswap:

Stretch:We got another daydreamer and he's 50/50 with risque and wholesome daydreams. He finds any excuse to touch you and let's the touches linger. He's flirty and loves if you flirt back, kind of easy to fluster flushing a gorgeous marigold shade as he nye he he's. He invites you over for gaming or movie nights, wanting to share his interests with you and find some shared interests in shows and such. He definitely has written a song about you that he keeps hidden in a folder in his closet. There's a doodle of you on the back of the page and he's a little embarrassed of it.

Blue: He can tell when he likes someone like that he's pretty intune with his emotions. He likes to hang around you taking time out of his day and dedicating it specifically to you. He writes you little notes and reminders and hides them around your space to find, knows where you hide when you're sad and hides a bunch there. He blogs about you on occasion never mentioning your name but simply writing about you. He likes to find two player games for you two to play together mainly team working puzzle ones.

[demonvibez]

Showering with Mammon

·Characters: Mammon x GN! Reader

·Word Count: 1800+

·Rating: Mature/Explicit ; Minors DNI

·Genre: Fluff, Smut

·Tags: fluff, mammon accidently walks in on reader, light punishment, smut, gender neutral sex, reader has GN body parts, mentions of fangs and marking, hand stuff, penetration

·A/N: this one was really cute fun to write! y'all know as our first, he would definitely be jumping at the chance to get into mc's shower! anyways, likes/comments/rb's are appreciated! lemme know which brother you'd wanna shower with next. ♡

You and the Avatar of Greed had been thick as thieves practically since the day you had dropped down into the Devildom and under his protection.

So it didn’t come to surprise anyone that Mammon had practically moved into your room after the two of you had forged a pact together.

He was so used to sharing the upstairs bathroom with five of his brothers, despite it always being crowded and disheveled after each of their uses.

He often kept a shower caddy full of various bath products given to him at the many modeling gigs he has worked - Shower Gels from Wersace, a custom hair care set from Goetia, and a plethora of skin care products from Majolish line the bottom of his tote.

Most days his routine is rather quick - wash hair, wash body, done. Some days, he likes to barricade the door and take his time to pamper himself.

So when Mammon starts spending more of his nights and days in your room, it is only natural that he also moves into your bathroom as well.

He ends up ditching the shower caddy, his bath products now lining the walls of your shower and the counter of your sink.

You have to scold him at first for always leaving wet towels and dirty clothes everywhere, but eventually the two of you fall into a routine.

You typically take your shower first, seeing as it is your bathroom after all, with Mammon taking his second to ensure you won't be late in the mornings.

Your system starts working perfectly, until one day a simple mishap changes everything between the two of you.

You were used to getting changed in the bathroom after you finished up your showers.

You were just stepping out of the shower, pulling a towel around your body when you suddenly hear Mammon shout out to you that he is going to grab something from his room real quick.

You don't reply to him, thinking he has left already. You don't hear any noise coming from your room, so you assume that you are all alone.

You drop your towel to the floor before walking towards the mirror by the sink, when all of the sudden, the door flies open and Mammon makes his way in without thinking.

"Hey, human! Did ya hear me or no- AHHHHHHHH!"

His eyes widen and his jaw drops to the floor as a deep rose blush creeps across his face.

The image of your naked form seers itself into his memory as his brain short circuits between lust and denial.

He moves his head to look away, a hand flying up to shield his blush from your eyes, but his own eyes keep darting back to you as his heart pounds in his chest.

You expect him to say or do something, but he's frozen there.

Your voice calling out his name breaks the silence, his brain kicking back into gear before he starts blabbering.

"W-w-what are ya doin?! I didn't see nothin'! I'm goin' out! I'll be back later!" he said as he made his way out of your bathroom, not allowing you to get a single word in.

You could have sworn you saw him steal one last little sneak peek at you before slamming the door closed on his way out.

You should probably be mad about the sudden invasion of privacy, but you always thought Mammon was adorable, and the entire situation was beyond hilarious.

At first this encounter made things a bit awkward for the two of you - or more accurately, it made Mammon act a bit awkward around you - but it ultimately brought the two of you closer together.

One morning, when the two of you are pressed for time, Mammon comes up with a brilliant idea - the two of you should just shower together!

You were a bit hesitant at first, as sharing a shower together would be quite intimate - especially at such an early time in the morning.

"I mean, we share a bed anyway! Why wouldn't ya wanna shower with The Great Mammon!?! Come on an’ hurry up, we're gonna be late for breakfast!"

Your first shower together was, yet again, a bit awkward, both unsure of what to do with each other.

Cheeks painted crimson and eyes darting rapidly, Mammon was a nervous mess, which you can't help but to find adorable - you let out a giggle.

"H-hey! What're ya laughin' at?! I ain’t lookin’ at nothin’! You’re just a human, what even is there ta see,” he stammered as he tried to hide his face behind one of his trembling hands.

You shook your head as you picked up the bottle of shampoo, squeezing a dollop into your hand with a grin across your face.

"Oh, nothing," you say as you reach up and begin to work his hair into a lather, "this was all your idea, you know."

His blush deepens at the feeling of your fingertips massaging his scalp, his eyes fluttering closed at the gentleness of your touch.

After scrubbing his hair for a little while, Mammon finally began to relax, and the two of you washed each other under the shower’s cascade, with tender touches and loving smiles.

You both took so long in the shower together that Lucifer let himself into your room and was waiting as the two of you walked in wrapped in towels, hair damp.

You both ended up receiving an hour and a half long lecture from the Avatar of Pride himself while tied down to your chairs in the middle of his private study.

Despite Lucifer's objections, the two of you continued to grow closer, and your bath times with Mammon grew more and more intimate.

One evening, after a particularly long week at RAD, Mammon decides it is time for the two of you to unwind together with a nice bubble bath.

He brings some of the LED lights from his room, setting them up around the outer edge of the bathtub, along with a nice bottle of champagne from the human realm and a bath bomb he stole from Asmodeus.

With the soothing atmosphere surrounding you both, the sound of the gentle fizz of the bath bomb in the air, you couldn't help but to sink into the warm water, relaxing into Mammon's arms as you leaned against him, your back pressed against his beautifully tan chest.

The moment Mammon has his arms around you, his resolve shatters and he can't help the sudden wave of greed that is washing over him, his arms tightening around you and his lips instantly finding your neck.

He whispers your name as his hands roam your body, his fangs lightly nipping at your neck as he feels your chest.

"Mine…mine…all mine," you hear him chanting in hushed tones against your skin as he gently marks you, one of his hands starting to travel down past your waist.

He starts teasing your sex as he starts kissing his way up to your ear, sending electricity through your body and making you crave him more.

Your sudden greed for him only turns him on even more, his pace getting faster as he sucks on your neck, his cock growing increasingly hard as you grind against his lap.

As he continues to toy with your most sensitive spots, he can’t hold himself back any longer, slipping himself inside of you in one slow, smooth motion.

The tight, snug feeling of you around him as he sinks into you makes him feel indescribably amazing, his demon form popping out instantly.

Mammon starts the pace out nice and slow, his hips moving his impossibly hard cock in and out of you as you grind against him just as slowly, one of his hands still stimulating you as the other grips your hip, his rings lightly digging into your soft flesh.

He starts to massage you faster, his own thrusting getting quicker as both of your moans grow louder, your eyes rolling into the back of your head at the sheer pleasure you’re feeling.

“S’right…cum for me, my human…wanna make ya feel good,” he moans into your ear as he continues through your orgasm, holding you down on his cock as he strokes you through your bliss.

He kisses your neck softly for a few moments as you catch your breath, before he picks you up and turns you around in his lap, sliding himself back into you once more with a moan.

His lips crash onto yours immediately as he wraps his arms around you, pouring passion into the kiss as he begins to bounce you on his cock.

Grabbing onto your ass, the pace continues to build again as the two of you exchange sloppy, greedy kisses, his wings wrapping around you to pull your bodies closer as the two of you lose yourselves in the moment - both of your hands grip at his scalp, one hand grabbing at his hair while the other grips one of his horns as the pleasure continues to build up inside of you.

Soon enough, the two of you are hitting your climax together, Mammon whisper-chanting sweetly against your lips as euphoria washes over you both.

“I love ya…I love ya…I love ya so damn much…”

You stayed there, cuddling in his arms and in his lap for a few minutes longer, until he noticed you shivering slightly as the water had gone cold.

He helped you to finish rinsing off before picking you up out of the bathtub and carrying you over to the sink counter, setting you down to go grab a towel to wrap you in.

After getting you dried off and dressing you in one of his black v-neck tees, he carries you over to your bed and sets you down before crawling under the covers with you, pulling you into a close snuggle.

His arms find their way around you as you rest your head against his chest, he tilts his head downward to press a kiss into the top of your head.

You let out a tired giggle, tilting your head up to steal a kiss from his lips, a huge smile on your face as you settle your cheek against his chest once again.

“I love you so much, my greedy demon. Sweet dreams,” you said with one last yawn as you drift off to sleep.

“I love ya too, treasure. I’ll always be here when ya wake up…” he whispered back to you, his own eyes growing heavy.

With his last final moments of wakefulness, Mammon couldn’t help but to think about how he was so damn lucky to find a treasure like you. You are worth more than all the Grimm in the Devildom - and he is determined to never lose you.

- demonvibez ♡ - likes/reblogs appreciated - do not copy/repost! -

[wonderlandwalker]

Remember | Finnick Odair x Reader

THG Masterlist / Taglist / Inbox

Summary: The capitol has taken you from him, but he won't let them keep you. You can find pt. 2 here!

Content Warnings/Tags: Violence, bullet wounds, major character injury, blood, needles, angst, fluff, no use of y/n

Word Count: 4.0k

Requested by Anon: omg I love your writing and I have an unhealthy addiction to reading angst so could you please write something about the reader being with peeta and Johanna when they where taken by the capital and her being with finnick and recovering while she’s in district 13? 🫶🫶

A/N: The way I smiled when I saw this request I swear. This one has been in the works for a little while and I thought it fit perfectly. It is angst you ask for and it is angst you shall get. I'm considering writing a part two but I'm not sure how to yet. My bad habit of not proofreading happened again and with this one especially it was way too long so if I made any major errors pls do let me know.

The Capitol.

You are currently in the Capitol.

At least that’s where you think you are. You remember being in the arena, you remember running towards the general direction you last saw Finnick, remembering the marks you had gone by in case you had to take a different route. You remember seeing Finnick's face through the plantation, you’d be able to recall those features anywhere. You remember something hitting you from behind and falling to the ground, too caught up in catching up with him to check your surroundings. You remember crying out in pain, hoping he’d hear you. But the next thing you remember is the vision of him slowly going out of focus and losing consciousness not long after. 

At least that's what you think happened.

At least you can still remember, that’s worth something right? You remember your past, and you remember the reaping that led to the arena. The flood of relief that went over you as you finally found your way back to him. You don’t know what happened to Finnick, he was there too after all, but you had needed to split up early. Maybe he had been caught off guard too. Maybe he escaped. Maybe they never even found him. Maybe with him being the idiot he could be, he was probably already on his way here, looking for you. Just like you would have done for him, and he would have called you an idiot then too.

You would get out of here one way or another, that much you knew, but you needed to remember more, you needed to remember the last look on his face, you hadn't had much time to take it in, but you remembered the furrow of his eyebrows, the same expression he always had when he was trying to concentrate, you needed to remember that.

You knew that once you did get out of here, Finnick would be furious, telling you that you had been reckless, that you shouldn't have let your guard down, shortly after telling you how worried he had been. And it would feel like coming home.

Your mind becomes hazier, and it is harder to remember. You feel your head throbbing, and you move your hand towards it until you feel it can move no further. You open your eyes slowly, trying to adjust to the bright light that covers the room. You can't see much, can't move your head much.

You remember the rendezvous point you had talked about. You remember the quick “don't get yourself in trouble” and the kiss he gave you right before you parted ways.

You remember the layers of plants and trees you moved through, seeing some of them cut down, letting you know someone else had been there

But you know there is more, more that you missed. The stomped-out ashes that you ran past, you know you should have paid closer attention. But you can’t remember

You need to remember what happened. How you got here. Who got you here. If you really are in the capitol. But your mind doesn't want to cooperate anymore. The room is getting darker and darker, even though the lamp above your head is still dutifully buzzing

You wake up, you still remember where you are, or at least where you think you are. You still remember yesterday, was it yesterday? Why couldn't they just hang a clock in here? 

You look up, and you see a device set up, not too far from where you're lying down. You try to get a better look but the light above your head is too blinding to see anything else in the room. You don’t fully understand it until a man walks into the room with a video camera in his hand and an expression on his face that seems just a tad too happy. 

The camera starts blinking a red light, signalling you that it has started recording. The man has a sort of laser that he presses into your lower stomach, it doesn't breach your skin but it hurts like it does. It takes all your energy not to show him the satisfaction of it.

“Come on now darling, work with me a little.” He says after a while, changing the setting on the laser. The last bit of your energy is gone, and you can't keep the screaming from escaping any longer. It echoes off the white walls around you and when you hear yourself, you barely even recognize it. He seems satisfied with the result and finally puts the laser down. You look down but don't see any burn marks or indication of what has just happened.

He comes closer and you can see he is holding a sort of crowbar, but you're not sure why. You remember how you always left one outside your window in the districts, in case the wind had shut it and you needed to sneak back in. You remember Finnick finding out, giving you a serious, disappointed look, but not telling you to stop.

Before you can think of anything else, the bar hits you with full force, right above the spot he was previously focused on. You didn't expect it, and it knocks the little breath you had left out of your lungs. He hits again, not in the same spot, but close, he is very clearly aiming for your ribs. The switching between high-tech and old-school weapons has you puzzled, but you can't deny the result either of them has.

After a while, he stops, and with the added difficulty and pain that now comes with breathing, you are more than certain he just bruised a few of your ribs.

He walks back, taking the camera in his hands. He aims it at your face and you close your eyes to try and collect yourself as much as your current state allows. Your hair is a tangled mess and you are rather certain there is blood smushed over your face from the cuts you got in the arena. 

“Smile for the camera sweetheart.” He asks, even though it sounds more like an order than a request. You open your eyes to look at him. He is so close, and you want to drive your thumbs so far into his eye sockets you can feel the front lobe of his brain, if he even has one. But you can't do anything, no matter how much you want to fight, you are powerless here. You close your eyes again, trying to block everything out and remember.

You remember District Four, the way the light summer breeze would always carry the smell of the beach to your house, no matter how hard you had it, it always livened you up. You remember the first time Finnick tried to teach you how to surf, being so gentle with you no matter how many times you fell off it, always there to catch you again. You remember your last birthday, well, the day after, but you couldn't even complain about that. He had picked you up from your place and brought you to one of the lakes with him. He told you the story of one of his birthdays when he was younger, along with all the embarrassing details, but of course, it only endeared him further to you. You told him about the presents you got and all the people who came to wish you a happy birthday. You told him everything you could remember. You remember last seeing his face, maybe it was the last time you will have ever seen it. No. No, you remember it, but you’ll see it again, you have to.

“I’ll make sure your loverboy gets to see this, wherever he is, wouldn't want him to miss out on the fun.” 

Finn. Finnick. You remember Finnick. You remember when you returned from your first games. The black eye and broken arm you came home with. You remember how he lost it when they didn't immediately treat you for it. He would now either throw a fit over it for everyone to see or be so stoic in his thoughts even Johanna would get a little concerned.

You see the man standing up, walking to the table, and picking up something new. A syringe, it's a syringe. He walks over and pushes it into your upper arm, and before you know it, your vision turns black again.

You remember waking up to gunshots, and you panic. But after a few seconds, you figure out they’re not near you. There is, however, someone in the room with you, it's the same man again. He looks a little panicked, but you can’t figure out why just yet. The gunshots are becoming louder, and closer, and he seems more startled now. His arms drop to his sides from what he was doing and his eyes widen. Screams are echoing and you can hear footsteps.

You remember that pattern of paddling feet, and you recognize the second pair of steps too, but you can't remember much else.

The man gets closer to you, placing his hand over your mouth, pulling out a gun with his free hand and telling you to stay quiet. You never understood why people say that, it means he has something to lose, and you want to scream out, but your voice doesn't remember how to.

It's even closer now, right outside the door, and you can hear talking. You remember his voice. How he always asked you so sweetly how your day had been, the way he whispered sweet nothings in your ear as you fell asleep. 

You hear the door jiggle, and it makes you want to scream out for him, but your sore throat won't let you. For a moment you think that is it, you had your chance, and you let it go by. He’ll move along the hallway to the other doors and leave you here. But then you hear another gunshot, and they must have shot the lock, because right after you hear someone running into the door with an echoing thump as it breaks open. 

The man next to you had his gun pointed at the door, and he changes it to point at you instead. 

You were right, by the gods you had never been so thankful to have been right. Finnick walks in, and you can see the colour drain from his face as he does so. 

The man standing next to you is starting to get nervous, you can see the sweat starting to drip down his face. He must realize he has been matched, because there are more people by Finnicks side. But the man still has his gun pointed at you, and this isn't over just yet.

You can't keep your eyes open anymore, and when you close them, you remember. You remember your first kiss with Finnick, how nervous he had been at the time. He had been shaking a little and told you he was embarrassed by how much you got to him, but it only endeared him further to you.  He yells at the man to let go of the gun, he sounds nervous again.

But he doesn't let go, he decides to shoot. 

You hear the bullet leaving the gun, and for a single moment, you think it's over. The last thing you’ll ever see is Finnick, but he’s not himself. He’s upset, and even though you know he’s not upset with you, it still tugs at you. Except when you feel the bullet piercing through your skin, that's exactly what you realise. You can still feel it. He didn't shoot you right in the heart, he didn't shoot towards your head, he shot you in the abdomen. You’re not sure why, not sure why he didn't kill you, but you will never know, because not even a second passes as you hear a second gunshot, and he falls to the floor.

You can't seem to remember how to open your eyes, but you can hear Finnick rushing over and right as he reaches you, you fall. You fall into his arms and the memory of it gives you hope. Something comes in contact with your stomach, and the agony of it makes you want to scream out. You can feel him lifting you, and the shift of your body makes the bullet move, making you want to scream again. And if you remembered how to, you would have.

You know he’s talking to someone, but it sounds more like buzzing to you. You can only make out certain parts of the conversation, something about needing to leave, something about infections, and something about an aircraft. 

You can hear him talking again, and this time it’s directed at you. There’s a strain in his voice, and it sounds like he’s crying. It makes you want to comfort him, but you don’t remember how to.

“Please darling, just open your eyes."

But you’re afraid, youre afraid that if you open them, everything will turn out to be nothing but a dream, and he won’t be here anymore. But even if this is a dream, you need to see him. Even if it will turn into a haunted memory, you need to see his eyes looking back at you. It takes you some effort, but you open your eyes, looking at him. You can see tears flooding his face, you can see his lips moving, silent pleas coming from them for you to stay awake. He’s telling you how good of a job you’re doing, he's telling you to hold on. He promises that he won’t let anything bad happen to you ever again and that he won’t let go of you anymore.

You remember how he cried when you were reaped for the 75th games, and how you had told him everything would be okay, how you had comforted him, but you don't have the energy to comfort him this time. You remember hearing his sobbing, his shaking voice when you close your eyes again, not being able to keep them open any longer, even if you wanted to.

You wake up again, and for a moment you think it had indeed all been a dream, that you were right back where you had started, But then you remember the bullet in your stomach. You look down and see a bandage over it, even though it’s already soaked in blood. They must have taken it out. 

You try and concentrate, and you can hear Finnick talking to someone. “Just tell me, I know it’s bad but I need to know.” “Finnick, it won’t make a difference.” The person he’s talking to sounds desperate, and you remember how stubborn he could be when it came to you. 

But you don’t remember more, because your head starts to feel light again and you give in to the feeling.

When you wake up again, you manage to open your eyes, and you can see someone sitting in a chair next to the bed you're in. He’s slumped over, his face half pressed into the mattress and half into your stomach, both of his hands are holding onto one of yours. It hurts a little, but you don't mind, because it reminds you, even when you look away, that he is still there. You remember the way he always softly snores, and the way he wiggles his nose when your hair falls over it.

You think you're connected to a monitor, because something is beeping in the same rhythm you can feel your heart beating, and it gives you a headache. So you close your eyes again, and once again, you give in to the feeling of sleep that looms over you.

Since you had been brought to District 13, he has barely left your side. He keeps putting cold washcloths on your forehead to try and break your fever. It won't help, and he knows it, but no one has the heart to stop him. 

You haven't shown a single sign of life since they had found you. It was unsettling, the silence that filled the room, none of your usual laughter and banter there to replace it. 

It’s only when Finnick's head shoots up that the others notice it as well. The steady beeping that has been imposing the silence in this room for weeks picking up its pace. The beating continues to go faster and faster, your body shaking up from the bed in almost the same rhythm. But right before anyone can do anything about it, it stops. It all seems to stop, you stop moving, and the monitor stops beating.

He starts giving you chest compressions, and someone rushes into the room holding a small bottle, they fill a syringe with the clear liquid and inject it into your arm. Within a few seconds, your heart starts beating again. But it’s only after a minute of the monitor showing him a steady heartrate that he stops his actions.

It’s dark in the room when Finnick wakes up, and if it wasn't for the soft light and the beeping of the monitor, he would've thought he was dreaming, but it seems the reality won’t let him escape. He struggles not to fall back asleep, and every few minutes he does, but every time he wakes up startled again, scared that you’ll be gone if he doesn't open his eyes every once in a while. It was easy to see the toll it had taken on him. His posture was slouched, his face less well-groomed than usual. But no one could blame him, because they could see the way he looked at you, as if you were the sun and your dimmed light turned his world dark. 

He knows the chance you can hear him is small, but he feels the urge to talk to you nonetheless. 

“I don't think I can hold this in any longer. I remember some studies that have shown people in comas do hear what's going on around them, but maybe it’s for the best that you don’t, because you would never say yes.”

He continues but he feels his voice choke up, and he runs a hand through your hair to calm himself down, his other hand still holding onto yours.

“We talked about it once, I still remember every single word you said. You came at me with all your logical reasons for why it would be a bad idea. But what you never understood is that when it comes to you, I'm not able to think rationally, because my love for you will overpower anything else.” He chuckles softly as he recalls the memory he’s about to tell you next.

“I remember when I opened up to you for the first time. I had always held things to myself, but you were so calm as I talked to you. I thought for sure I had screwed it up somehow then. Everyone always tells me now how happy you make me, and they're right. Ever since you came into my life there has not been a single moment when the thought of you did not bring me joy, even when we fought my memories of you could still somehow bring a smile to my face. 

I remember when they showed me the video, they hadn't wanted me to see it, but you know how stubborn I can be when it comes to you. I saw you, I saw the way in which they were hurting you. And I started yelling, ironically enough in that moment, you were the only one that could have calmed me down. I remember yelling at them, fighting with them not to wait any longer, that they couldn't let you wait any longer, they had to have me sedating until they came to a conclusion."

He reaches into the pocket of his trousers, taking a small ring. It was his mother's ring, he had found it a while back and had carried it with him ever since. He had thought of moments to give it to you, but every time there was one, every time he was about to ask you, something had happened, something had interrupted him. But there was no one interrupting him this time. “I have thought about asking you this every time I see you, and I can't hold it in any longer. So when you wake up, not if you wake up, because I know you will. I know you will wake up because you have to. So when you wake up, will you marry me.” A little part of him had thought you'd wake up, that you’d answer him. Even if you said no, it would still be better than what's happening right now, because he didn't care if you'd say no, if you’d say you weren't ready, because nothing could be worse than the silence that followed him. And so he slid the ring onto your finger delicately, as if you were to disappear if he wasn't careful. He put the ring on your hand because he knew that even if it wasn't today, and it wasn't tomorrow, someday you would marry him, and he wouldn't let you slip away.

At first, he thought he was imagining it, sleep deprivation and desperation playing a trick on his mind. But then he saw it again, in the beams of morning light he could see your hand moving, as if it was trying to grasp onto something, trying to pull you back into this world. It woke him up in an instant. But it was all followed so fast, the way your eyes slowly opened, squinting at the light. Before you had even awoken for a second, he moved from where he had been right beside you in order to hug you. And he was about to get lost in the thought of your moving lips, tears falling down his eyes, about to get lost in a kiss full of built-up pain and desperation when he noticed, something was wrong. Your eyebrows were knitted together and the corners of your mouth turned down just a little. He looked at your expression, your body language, something was wrong. You looked vulnerable, you looked like you wanted to protect yourself from someone.

It was only when he looked into your eyes that he truly understood something was very wrong.

Your eyes looked as if you were in pain, but it wasn't a look of any physical pain, it looked as if something was endangering you, but he couldn't understand what it was. He slowly moved so as not to startle you and asked you “Darling, what’s wrong” And at first you didn’t respond, but when he kept looking at you, expecting him to answer you, you started to speak. “Am I supposed to remember you?” 

He immediately flinched back at the statement, his shoulder sunk and his eyes dimmed. Someone told him it wasn't uncommon for brain injuries to cause short-term memory loss after a coma.

So slowly, and surely, he made it work. But it was crumbling him down every time you didn't remember the unconscious acts of affection, so foreign to you now. A quick touch on your arm as he walked towards you made you flinch slightly as if his hand had been on fire. The subtle smiles he gave you when entering a room were now met with you looking down. The way that even though you were physically here, you really weren't. 

He promised himself, he vowed to himself that he would make you remember. That no matter how long it took, he would wait for you. He would wait for you to remember, make you remember. Because he had very quickly learned that he couldn’t live without you anymore.

Part 2: Trying to Forget

[inkblot22]

Give You Something To Cry About

Yay, my time management skills continue to be straight ass. Sorry to the anon who has waited so patiently for this, and thank you so much for giving me an excuse to write this depraved ball of snot. Headers by @/cafekitsune. Also don't believe everything you see on the internet, there's no scientific proof that certain things work for your skin. I think Vil would know that, considering.

This Fic Is For: Anyone who can handle it! Once again, I tried to make it as gn as possible, considering Rook's use of Franglais, but I'm delusional and will say I did exactly that. Reader is referred to with they/them pronouns, and no real allusions to specific body parts are made for them.

TW for DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT, forced dieting, non/dubcon, mentions of death, questionable use of magic, captivity, someone has a case of dacryphilia and a strong sadist streak, won't say who, Rook Hunt because he freaks me out, unhealthy relationship dynamics, abuse, forced BDSM if you squint, I feel so bad for the reader in this one, toxic relationships, possibly OOC characters.

“I am not going to tell you again, my love.” Vil bends down to get in your face, already wearing his ceremonial robe and heels. He points a finger in your face, like you’re a small child or a dog, “If you continue to pick at your skin, I am going to let Rook punish you this time.”

You swallow and look away, and Vil pinches your cheeks between his thumb and fingers, pulling your head so you’re looking at him again. His violet eyes bore into you, and you swallow again.

He looks offended, almost, “Well? Have you forgotten basic manners? Speak.”

Your voice sounds dry and weak, “Yes, Vil. I understand.”

He seems satisfied enough with that, moving around as he continues to prepare for whatever school-wide assembly is happening today. He elegantly tucks his hair behind his ear and sighs, scrolling through some page on his phone.

You remain standing where you are, turning your head to look out the window. It’s so pretty outside, but you only get to leave this room whenever Rook is watching you or Vil sends you on an errand. It’s always spring, never too hot, never too cold, but you’re sweating anyway.

Vil approaches you again and tilts your face back so you’re looking at him with a hand on your cheek. His eyes narrow a fraction.

“Your skin doesn’t seem to like this foundation. Make sure you discard it today; I’ll get you a new one.” He bends down again, this time to press a chaste kiss to your lips. He rubs his own together after pulling away and smudges his thumb over your bottom lip, “Hmm. What lipgloss is this?”

Your voice doesn’t sound so dry, but it still doesn’t sound like you, “Uh… The dark red one with the metallic purple? ‘Electric Berry’?

He’s silent for a second, just staring down at your lips as he cups your chin, and then he sighs and turns away, “It’s sticky. I’d tell you to wash your face and reapply your makeup, but that’d be a waste. Make sure you put on lip balm next time.”

You swallow, “Yes, Vil. I understand.”

“I have to get going now. You’d better be at least halfway done with that list by the time I return.” He breezes towards the door and gives you a last, long look. He’s completely silent before he leaves, closing the door behind him.

Your palms ache. You stiltedly wander towards the list pinned in the closet, glad to see it’s not insane today. All you need to do is tidy the bathroom and skim through Vil’s mail to see if it’s anything but hate mail or advertisements. Tack on getting rid of that foundation and that’s it, at least until he returns at lunch.

You relished this time to yourself, even if it was just cleaning or whatever else. Vil always said that motion is good for you, a structure does the mind good. You didn’t care much anymore. As you sat down to search through his mail, finding nothing but the usual hate mail and what appears to be a poem from Rook (why did he even mail that? He’s not even down the hall from this room,) you catch yourself craving something sweet.

The diet Vil has you on sucks. He has assured you that your body is lovely, and he is having you eat like this to help clear your skin, but really you just want something. Anything, you’d even take a breath mint over this lack of junk food. You’re young, what young person doesn’t enjoy gratuitously unhealthy food? A basket of french fries? Ice cream? 

You frown to yourself and toss the last of the mail into the recycle bin. You know he’s just going to check it over again anyway, but at least you’re moving around. That’s what he would say.

By the time you’re almost done scrubbing the tub, you hear the door open. You don’t want to go greet him, so you pretend you didn’t hear anything and keep cleaning, making sure to disinfect the non-slip mat that resembles a bunch of ugly gems glued together. 

You hear him clicking towards you, and his hand rests on your shoulder, “Going above and beyond today? I have lunch, come eat.”

You school your expression and stand up, pulling off your cleaning gloves and hanging them on the rim of the tub before you follow Vil. He ensconces himself in his desk chair, leaving you to awkwardly lift the stool near his vanity. He hates it when you push the furniture.

He clucks his tongue, not even looking at you, “Lift with your knees, darling. As much as I’d love to massage your back if you pull something, I simply don’t have the time.”

You can’t help it. You shoot him the nastiest glare you can muster as you lift with your knees, right as his eyes flick up to meet yours. You nearly drop the chair as his lips curl into a cold smirk.

“Do you have something to say?”

You hastily shake your head, “No, Vil-”

“Then don’t allow me to see that expression on your face again.” He bites, “Come sit down.”

You put the stool down a little harder than you mean to and take a seat beside Vil at his desk. He passes you your nice little container containing one of several things he gets you- a pile of leafy greens and chopped veggies on a bed of quinoa, fresh fruit, and a murky green smoothie topped with chia seeds.

 You don’t like chia seeds. They remind you of frog eggs- a bunch of slimy lumps, sliding down your throat. You accept the straw Vil passes to you and stir the smoothie before eating in silence.

Vil doesn’t mind if you don’t thank him for feeding you. Since he’s keeping you here, it’s pretty much the least he could do. Still, it doesn’t make up for hearing about his boring day.

“This morning’s assembly was complete and utter chaos, as usual.” He muses, sipping his own smoothie. It’s a soft purple. “It’s ridiculous. Those brutes never wear their robes correctly.”

You don’t respond. There’s two reasons: first of all, you don’t care, and secondly, there’s a knock at the door. Vil hums, as though he’s been waiting for someone, and turns to face the door.

“Who is it?”

That boisterous voice you are so used to hearing echoes past the door, “‘Tis I, Roi du Poison. I have come to join you for lunch.”

You can hear the smile in Vil’s voice, “Oh, of course. Come in.”

As Rook walks in, you feel a stab of jealousy in your chest. He takes a breezy seat on the loveseat in front of Vil’s bed and glances at you. You break eye contact and dully pick at your salad.

Vil treats Rook so nicely. He considers his feelings and opinions, although he doesn’t always listen. He speaks to him as though he’s a person. You suppose Vil’s obvious care for Rook trickles down to you in some capacity, but it hurts. Vil claims that the two of you are lovers, but really you’re more like a doll.

“Do you mind meeting me in the lab later on, Rook?”

Rook chuckles from where he is and you cast another glance at him. His eyes meet yours, again, and you look away, again.

“I can always make time for you, beautiful Vil.”

You lamely pick at the fruit, having finished the salad, before you decide to save it for last. You take a sip of your smoothie after stirring it again and openly recoil, trying not to cough. You didn’t smell it, but there must be ginger in there, because there’s a mellow burn alongside the bitterness from the kale. It makes your eyes water and settles in behind your nose.

“Mmm. Something wrong?” Vil smiles at you.

You shake your head, blinking rapidly so you don’t start crying. There’s not enough tears to fall, but taking your chances is stupid, “No, Vil. The ginger just caught me off guard.”

“Oh. My apologies, I should have warned you. I don’t want you catching a cold, and you’ve been a little irregular. The smoothie also has spinach, kale, avocado, chia seeds, and, of course, a little mango.”

You nod and force yourself to smile, taking another sip and soldiering past the rush of that aromatic pain in your sinuses. “Oh, thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, darling.” Vil turns away from you to speak to Rook again, “What else did you have planned?”

“I thought I might take a walk. It is a wonderful day, non?” There’s a slight mocking tone to Rook’s voice, “Hardly the type of day to be cooped up all day, hmm?”

Vil furrows his eyebrows as you choke down the last of the smoothie. His voice is curt, “You can say what you mean.”

“Est-ce que je peux? You are not very open to suggestion.”

Vil narrows his eyes at Rook, taking a deep sip of his smoothie before he places it on the coaster sitting upon his desk. He uncrosses his long legs and stands, walking over to sit with Rook on the loveseat. Rook watches him approach with a smile, the same pleasant one he usually wears before he shoots you a beaming grin and turns to look at Vil.

Their conversation is hushed, and you can’t really make out all of what they say. You can hear someone say your name, Vil’s tone swiftly turns vitriolic, then sweetens once more, and Rook chuckles under his breath. When their little meeting is over, Vil walks back over and finishes his smoothie before petting your head like you’re some kind of cat.

His hand strokes the crown of your head, then smooths over your cheek, he cups your jaw and thumbs over the swell of your lip, all while staring at you with a look you cannot read. And then he tilts his head, and smiles.

“Make sure you thank Rook. And you mistook a letter from my father as garbage.”

“Yes, Vil.” You reply obediently, “Sorry, Vil.”

He smiles. Your palms ache, and you have to bite back the urge to move, to peel at your cuticles or scratch the sides of your fingers.

“I’ll see you in class, Rook.” Vil says politely before he tilts your face up and pecks you on the lips.

You’re left alone with Rook. He doesn’t get up, not yet. You remain where you are, looking at your slippers. You hear Rook stand up and discard his garbage. You can feel him come up to stand behind you. 

“Has today been particulièrement difficile? My poor dear… You seem so sad today.” His arms wrap around you, looping them around your shoulders so they warm your collarbones like a scarf and he can rest his cheek against the back of your head. You hear him take a deep breath in.

With Vil, you don’t even try to speak anymore. You know he won’t really listen to you, because he knows better than you… But with Rook, as long as you wait a moment to make sure he is done speaking, he welcomes and even encourages you to speak your mind.

Your breath hitches and you swallow, “Uh, I mean… I guess I’m just having a bad day. It’s really been the same as usual.”

“Hmm.” Rook hums, completely devoid of emotion. You feel him turn his face so his nose is buried in your hair. He presses a kiss against your hair and sighs, “Ah, yes, the monotony of life is très épuisant, mmm?”

You wait for a second, then deliberately don’t answer the question in favor of asking your own, “Um, he said I should thank you?”

“Perhaps you should ask why more clearly. I have convinced our very own Vil to allow me to arrange a surprise for you.” Rook removes himself from your back and turns you around to face him, “And thus, I believe I have earned a kiss from you.”

“Wait, what?” You don’t get time to really back away or tell him to explain, as Rook squishes your cheeks with one of his gloved hands until your lips part.

His grip isn’t as harsh as Vil’s, but this is still something that only happens when you’re in more trouble than usual, so you involuntarily wince and close your eyes, cowering away from Rook as he dips his tongue into your mouth and slithers it between your teeth.

It is very easy to like Rook. He is passionate, and he’s far more kind to you than your supposed lover is. He’s intelligent and has an adonis-like form, and if not for the taste of blood on his tongue from whatever he ate for lunch or the grip he has on your face, maybe you would enjoy this kiss. But the big issue is that Rook honestly frightens you a little.

It’s absolutely not his fault, not entirely. Upon first meeting him, it was hard to tell if he was being genuine. He’s difficult to read, as he is often wearing the same set of expressions and his tone is always a bit melodramatic.

His hand releases your face to clamp around the base of your head, his tongue twisting in your mouth, pressing against the crevices in your teeth.

Not only is Rook hard to read, he is also uncannily observant and will not hesitate to ask somewhat invasive questions about his observations. The fact that he dresses in a way that conceals his mass is also disconcerting, as you were unaware that he had such a build until you saw him roll up his sleeve one time. You were aware Vil could do a lot of damage, but that was the day you realized that Rook was capable of doing about as much as Vil, if not more.

He purrs into your mouth, the vibrations feeling oh-so-wrong, and his other hand clamps down on your shoulder. He sucks your tongue into his mouth. It’s not a good feeling, as he is literally stealing what little air is in your mouth. When you feel something feather light flutter against your lashes and cheek, you feel a bit confused for just a moment, not even a second, before you realize that Rook just blinked. His eyes are open. 

He pulls away and sighs, almost dreamily. You suppress your distressed sputtering, holding your breath as Rook stares at you.

“Ah, enough time has passed. I will need to leave you, mon lapin. Thank you for indulging me; your kiss was divine and tasted sweeter than the finest fruits!” He presses something into your palm and adjusts his hat before he casts you a wave and shuts the door.

You stand there, your lips drying out from the saliva left on them and your cheeks feeling a little odd from the way he was holding your face. You’re processing, because, ever as always, Rook is simulated spontaneity. So many things just happened, and you don’t… 

You blink a few times and look down at your aching palm stupidly. The crimson cellophane crinkles as you unclench your fist. He gave you a piece of candy.

Just looking at it makes you start crying. One second you’re staring wide-eyed at the little lump of sugar, and the next your vision is blurring and you’re crying off your makeup, plump tears cascading down your face. Your nose begins to run and you sniffle. You can’t find it in yourself to sob, because you’re mostly certain that these are happy tears. 

Unfortunately, you can’t eat the candy now. If you threw the wrapper away, Vil would notice it in the garbage and you’d get in trouble for “breaking your diet plan.” So you hide it in the very back corner of the drawer of Vil’s armoire. You’ll be tidying it on your own anyway, and Vil never reaches all the way into the back of it.

Once your tears have stopped, you stand up and go back to cleaning the bathroom. It’s spotless and smells like lavender and lemons about an hour before Vil gets back, so you decide to skim one of the books on the shelves. 

It’s not long before you’re bored with that as well. You carefully put the book back and wander over to the lattice window, staring out of it. The window, paired with your usual low mood, made you sort of feel like a bird in a very ornate cage. 

From where you are, about three stories up, you notice a familiar figure notching an arrow before he unnotches it and takes a knee. You blandly spectate as he fiddles with the bow.

Partway through him notching the arrow again, you see his hat tilt. He’s far away enough that you can’t see his eyes, but you can feel his stare. His gloved hand bends his brim and you jerk away from the window, only to bump into someone.

You don’t get to shriek, as a hand clamps over your mouth. It’s just Vil, but you don’t relax yet as he drags you towards the bed and deposits you there.

“How many times must I tell you to stay away from the window?”

He’s never once told you to stay away from the window. Not as far as you can recall, at least. Your lips tremble and you decide it’d be more wise to keep silent.

Vil glares down at you and you feel the rest of your body start to tremble. His lips curl into a displeased sneer, “You didn’t wash your face after crying?”

“N-no, Vil-”

“We do not stutter.” Vil hisses, bending to get in your face. He stares at you for a moment before standing straight again, “Speak up.”

You swallow and clench your hands into fists, “No… Vil. I… got rid of the foundation like you, um… asked me to. I wouldn’t have been able to redo-”

“Alright. Go wash your face.” Vil interrupts you again.

You jump up and rush into the bathroom, going through your skincare routine. You can feel Vil staring at you, your skin crawling under his gaze. As you rub moisturizer into your skin, Vil finally says something.

“Did Rook do something to you, darling?” His tone is soft, tentative.

You glance at him, blinking a few times. What does he mean by ‘something’? He did do something, but it wasn’t bad, or particularly different.

“Um… Not exactly.” You say, massaging your forehead.

“I see. What did he do?” 

You look down at the sink. You’re not saying anything about the candy. “Rook kissed me?”

“That should not be a question.” Vil says. You see him shake his head through your peripheral, “Would you like to change your clothes before I redo your makeup?”

You’d like to ask what he’s talking about, but instead, you look down at your clothing. You don’t have a proper Pomefiore uniform because you’re not a part of this dorm. You’re an interloper- or a caged bird.

You don’t know what to do here. You don’t want to say something wrong and unintentionally offend Vil. Your palms ache. You give him a confused look from where you are.

He doesn’t look impressed, but before he can say anything about you gaping at him, you speak up, “What… am I supposed to do?”

You’ve only seen Vil surprised a few times. He raises his eyebrows and looks at you as though you’ve grown two heads, then sighs, “Well, I suppose I’d like to see you in something else. I’ll choose your outfit.”

That’s nothing new, he always does that. You wait in the bathroom for him to return. He strolls back in with a mockery of the Pomefiore uniform. There’s a deep purple cloak and capelet, which Vil drapes on the bed before handing you the actual clothes. It’s a very ruffled dress shirt, the long, puffy sleeves cinched into more ruffles at the wrist paired with a pair of black bloomer-style shorts. The buttons are all white and gold, marbled together. 

Vil leaves the bathroom and you change, neatly tucking your previous clothing away in the hamper. When you leave, as usual, Vil picks at your clothing, making sure it looks as good on you as he pleases, and then he steers you to sit down.

For however vicious he can be, Vil can be oddly gentle. For every time he grabs you roughly, his touch is feather-light ten more times. He hums a soft tune as he puts light makeup on you, just your eyes and lips, and then he drapes the cloak around your shoulders and places his hands on his hips.

“You look lovely. Go put on the pair of gold boots with the black decals.”

You do as told. He very likely wants to just take pictures of you or something so he can ask that Mira app about it.

Except when you stop in front of him, he doesn’t tell you to go sit in the loveseat or on the table near his window, no, he scoops you up and presses his forehead against your jaw.

“Oh, when did you put on this cologne? What a ravishing smell on you.” He presses a kiss on the column of your throat and breezes out of his dorm room's door.

Almost immediately, you go limp in his arms, like a doll. He never gave you explicit verbal permission to leave this room, so the curse he placed on you when he decided you should be his smashes into you like a giant wave at the beach.

Vil carries you all the way outside and looks at your face, then happily struts along the path behind the dorm. Since you can’t turn your head, you can only go off of the view of Vil’s neck and chin, the sky, and whatever you can hear.

“Ah, I am glad to see you did not change your mind, Roi du Poison. J'aurais été très déçue et triste pour notre chéri.” You hear Rook say. 

You can almost feel Vil get a mite warmer, “Yes, well. Hand me the basket. Since you want to make out with them and make them cry, you get to carry them as an apology.”

Rook happily scoops you out of Vil’s arms, giving you a cloying look as he strolls along. He and Vil chat as they walk, something not really worth listening in on, just boring musings about class and “this teacher did x” or “that student did y”. An insect lands on your cheek and you are incapable of batting it away or expressing your discomfort. Its legs tickle the peach fuzz on your face and you remain still, like a corpse.

Rook slides you into a seated position, posing you like a toy before shooing the bug off of your face. Now you can see that you’re in a clearing in the woods, seated on a picnic blanket. There’s a few lanterns staked into the ground, and Rook and Vil are busy with whatever is on the floor. You can’t look down, so your best guess is that it’s a picnic.

Vil leans over and snaps in your face, smiling kindly at you, “Now. If I release you, you are not going to run. You are not going to so much as consider running. We are going to have a nice picnic with no shenanigans from you.”

You can’t nod, so you just stare at him, trying to telepathically communicate.

He looks pleased enough, “Wonderful. I give you permission to leave our room.”

Your muscles relax and you look back, finding that you’re leaned against a log. The picnic spread is very nice, as well. It looks like finger sandwiches. You’re not expecting to get to eat one, as you haven’t had bread since Vil switched up your diet. Vil passes something to you.

“Oh.” You mumble, staring at the plate Vil hands you. 

It’s a sandwich. A very wonderful looking sandwich, cut into triangles and with the crusts still on. You blink at it a few times and look back up at Vil.

“Don’t expect this to be a pattern. This is a treat for good behavior.”

You look back down, “Yes, Vil.”

“There’s no need to remind them. They’re being obedient.” Rook’s voice is more firm than you expected to hear him ever speak. Usually his tone is buoyant, and you’ve never seen him outright pick a fight with Vil like this.

“Please. You give anyone an inch, they’ll take a mile.” Vil cuts back, then turns to you and pets your head like a dog or a cat again, “Eat your food, beautiful.”

You take a bite. Bread is just as good as you remember it. The air feels thick, like you’re in a bubble as Vil and Rook communicate through eye contact alone. Before you know it, your sandwich is gone and your hands are covered in crumbs. Rook, still staring at Vil with that happy little smile, wipes your hands and places a glass in your hands. Whatever is in it smells sweet. You take a tentative sip.

Were it Vil, you would have never drank whatever this is. It kind of tastes like a mellow mixed berry juice. It’s very pleasant, actually. Better than the potion Vil used to lace your food and drinks with. You smile into the cup and Vil snatches it from you.

He takes a sip and frowns, handing it back, “Mmm. I have an even better surprise.”

Rook pulls your legs into his lap and gently kneads your calves as you watch Vil rifle through the picnic basket. What is happening? You sip your juice and Vil produces a triangular container. He places a fork on top and hands it to you.

You finish the last of your juice and accept the box, looking conspiratorially at Rook. Something you can’t put your finger on dances in his eyes and he digs his thumb into your shin a little strongly. You flinch and cautiously open the box. It’s a piece of fluffy white cake, with even fluffier meringue and an uncannily perfect cherry wedged into it.

You look at Vil, expecting some kind of trick. Not that he’s ever done that before, usually he’d just take it from you or make some snide comment, things like that, but he and Rook are acting really strange today, 

“I know how much you long for junk food, so I spent some time after club activities today whipping up some angel food cake. It’s got agave instead of sugar so it won’t completely break your diet and your skin won’t suffer as much.”

Yeah, this is weird. The cake is good, though, it’s fluffy and sweet. You pace your bites so that Vil won’t make a comment and you can savor this. You can feel both of their eyes on you and it makes your skin crawl.

You lower the cake box and look at Vil, who looks a bit offended for just a second. The fleeting expression is replaced by a pleased little grin, the mauve lipstick making the curve of his lips all the more sinister in the dimming light.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes, Vil.” You glance at the cake and then back at him, “I’m… I’m sorry, I’m a little confused.”

“Why?” Rook asks.

Your shoulders jerk as you turn your head to look at him. You weren’t expecting him to say anything. His chest swells in what appears to be a suppressed chuckle as he squeezes your knee. It seems his hands have climbed.

“Uh…” You swallow, “This is just… not what I’m used to.”

“The cake?” Vil looks hurt. Why does he look hurt?

You shake your head rapidly, “No! Oh- No, Vil. I… It’s just been so long since I’ve been out here…”

“Do you want to go inside, chéri?” Rook murmurs.

You do, but you also don’t really want to risk sounding ungrateful. Being outside has stressed you out more than you’d like to admit. You’re not really sure what to do because Vil has you trained like a dog, and none of what he’s hammered into you involves picnics. You’re scared.

Rooks eyes narrow as you just stare at him. Your chest hurts from how hard your heart is throbbing, and on the other side of you, Vil sighs.

“Well, I’ll start cleaning up, then. When we get back, I expect you to take a seat on the bed.”

That sounds like what happens every time you get in trouble. A terror shudders through you and your eyes water a bit as you gnaw on your lip. Your palms ache as you fight to keep from picking at your cuticles. Vil packs up everything and Rook offers you a princely hand to help you up.

You can feel the calluses on his hands through his gloves as he essentially lifts you to your feet. You keep between Rook and Vil as you walk back to the dorm.

It’s quiet, since everyone else is winding down for bed. For a moment, you think you spot Epel, but you’re not sure. It doesn’t matter anyway. None of your old friends talk to you anymore. Not since Vil started having eyes for you.

Just as you were told, after taking off your boots you take a seat on the bed and retrieve the silver ruler from the side-table’s drawer. You place it beside you as you look down at your feet. You look down at the streaky bruises on the lighter skin on your palms and try not to start crying. It’s always worse when you cry.

He adds smacks by twos. Depending on what you did, you start with four or six, and then any time you flinch or pull away or make a loud noise, he adds two more. Last time, you spilled one of his nail polishes, and after watching you clean it up, you ended up getting ten lashes.

At least Rook didn’t do it then. He tries to make it quick but that just makes it hurt more. A tear slips down your cheek.

You don’t even know what you did. You tap the tear track dry with one fingertip and Vil and Rook fully enter the room.

“Why is the ruler out?” Vil asks, and then his voice goes sharp, “Are you crying?”

“I’m… I’m sorry, Vil.” You sob.

“I don’t know why.” He grabs the ruler and shoves it away before you can raise your hands, “Go wash your face.”

You stand up and shakily do as told, returning to sit on the bed. Vil goes into the bathroom after you and Rook takes a seat next to you, his hand on your shoulder.

He smiles at you, rubbing your shoulder, “You are très précieux, chéri.”

You look at him in a state of hollow bewilderment as he brushes his cheek against yours and presses a soft kiss to the shell of your ear.

You hear the bathroom door close and a tired sigh from Vil, “Do you have no patience?”

Your head jerks to look at VIl, “Rook is…?”

“Yes, he’s joining us tonight.” Vil plucks the loop of his sleeve from his middle finger and loosens his belt. You get the feeling that the next words he says aren’t for you, “Well, go ahead.”

You feel Rook’s chuckle more than you hear it. With his lips against your neck, his hands begin to slide. The hand on your shoulder rests on the nape of your neck and his other hand slides down to your thigh, then up to your waist. You try not to cringe against his touch, but it’s difficult.

His hand slides down again as he trails his teeth against the back of your ear. His thumb hooks in your pants and starts yanking them down. You outright flinch.

“Wait-”

“Relax, darling.” Vil mumbles, hanging his clothing in the armoire.

You try. You absolutely try. Rook throws your bloomers aside and rests his hand on your lower belly for a moment. He sighs into your ear and reaches up to unclasp your buttons.

You feel stiff. You want to push him away but you can’t move. It’s as though your body is frozen. It’s not due to a curse, so the only possible solution is that you’re quite literally scared stiff. 

He pulls away your shirt and glances at Vil, “Are you prepared?”

“Please.” You can hear the smile on Vil’s lips as Rook turns back and kisses you again, his hand smoothing along your collarbone and shoulders.

Your underwear is the next to go. Of course it is. You fight to keep from breathing oddly, because you’re aware that if you pass out, Vil will get annoyed.

“Mmm.” The devil’s hand glides up your back and you fight back a shudder as Rook leans you backwards into his arms. “How are you feeling, darling?”

You’re honest, “I’m scared.”

“I thought you would say that.” Vil freely manhandles you, shifting you so you’re leaned chest to chest. He slides something off of the side table and passes it behind you, then cups your cheek, “You would save a lot of time and stress if you’d just learn to trust me.”

“I…” You hate him. You hate him so much. He keeps you here like a pet, and you don’t know how he’s supposed to expect you to treat him like a lover when he treats you the way he does. 

Before you can articulate an answer that pleases Vil, a wicked burn besets your sphincter and you clench your jaw. 

Vil’s voice is sharp, “Rook, please.”

You hear Rook make a noise underneath the harsh sound of blood rushing in your ears and your own heavy panting. Something cool oozes around the ring of your ass and you press your face against Vil’s chest. His robe is lazily tied, which is not particularly like him, and you can see his cock poking out where the fabric separates. You let out a strangled noise and Vil shushes you, rubbing your back soothingly.

“Relax. I know, you weren’t prepared. Relax.” Vil soothes.

“I don’t mind if you remain tense, chéri. Mon plaisir n'en est que plus grand. And your little cries and whimpers sont terriblement mignons.” Rook mumbles behind you.

Rook is better than Vil in most areas, but once he gets his dick inside of you, it’s as though he forgets to be caring and kind. The tables flip, with Vil acting the part of a caring lover and Rook becoming a sadistic bully. You let out a ragged sob as Rook rolls his hips and Vil hisses something that you don’t quite catch.

It almost sounded like he was telling Rook to slow down. That very well could have been the case, as Rook eases back a bit and only shallowly thrusts.

Vil continues petting you, coaxing you so your cheek is pressed against his thigh. He is always a perfect warm. He is always perfect, so it sort of makes sense, but his skin is a pleasant temperature. He feels alive, a perfectly human temperature that tells you he’s breathing and his heart is beating. As he fingers through your hair, Rook gives a harsher than usual thrust and you cry out.

“Rook, if you’re impatient then you’re going to hurt them, and neither of us have the time to take care of them all day.” Vil chides, and then his tone softens as he rubs the space between your shoulders, “Are you ready for me as well, darling?” “What…?” You ask, blearily. Somewhere in the back of your awareness, you know what he wants, but you can feel Rook’s thrusts growing impatient and seeing as you weren’t given any prep, you’re in a bit too much shock to think straight.

“Mmm… You’re awfully cute but I need you to be a bit more lucid.” Vil snaps in your ear and resumes his petting, “This isn’t the first time, sweetheart. I’m not going to hold your hand.”

The soft tip of his member spreads his pre like lipgloss against your lips. As you shakily open your mouth, you figure you’re lucky that Vil doesn’t have a chaotic, unhealthy diet like Leona or Ace, that he doesn’t drink coffee for fun or often like Deuce does. The taste of his skin is lightly floral and dominantly human, likely thanks to the body lotion he applies daily. 

He hisses and presses against your forehead, “Ah-ah. You’re taking enough from Rook. Just the tip for me is fine.”

From behind, you hear Rook grumble under his breath, “Je n'en peux plus de cette merde…”

“Watch your- unf- watch your language, Rook.” Vil snarls, massaging the nape of your neck as you carefully lave your tongue over his glans.

Rook’s patience breaks, his hands clamping down on your waist, just above your hips. You have the sense to pull Vil’s cock out of your mouth as Rook begins battering into you.

As much as you feel okay about Rook, he is not a doting lover by nature. He’s mean and brutal, chasing his climax, and only after he cums does he bother to think about you or your needs. Your palms ache as you grab Vil’s member and gently tug on it. Vil flinches and snaps at you to get your attention.

You look to the side and for a second, as the pain ebbs, you assume you’re having an out of body experience, and then you realize that you’re staring into his vanity mirror. Rook’s hair exaggeratedly sways with his motion. He removed his hat but just haphazardly displaced the rest of his clothing. He’s not smiling, he’s making some sort of smug expression.

It’s funny. As Vil is satisfied with you weakly jerking him off, his touch gentle, Rook is wild on your other end. Every time you just barely begin to relax, he thrusts harder, which makes you tense and a spike of pain batters through you. 

You endure as best you can. You endure every day, enduring through eating the same unfulfilling food, enduring through walking on eggshells around Vil, enduring getting your palms beaten to hell for the most human of errors, so what’s getting sodomized in the face of everything else you can handle?

You bite back a shriek as a harsh pinch on your bottom, followed by a smack administered by Rook. He leans down and blows in your ear, snickering as he leans back, “I thought you had given up the ghost for a second there.”

Vil sucks in a breath and you quietly mumble against his thigh.

“Hmm? I didn’t hear you, mon chou.” Rook’s voice is almost mocking, like before.

“P-please… Rook, I can’t-”

“You can. You’ll live.” He grunts, the steady clap of your ass against his body punctuating his statement.

“It hurts.” You sniffle. You’re not particularly prone to crying, but, then again, Rook and Vil usually prepare you before deciding to fuck your ass.

You sob and Rook’s grasp tightens on your waist, a ragged moan punching out of his chest. He pulls your body flush to his and jerks his hips into you, drilling a bit harder for all of four or five thrusts. And then he’s no longer on you, and you feel your body getting shifted so your head is still in Vil’s lap but you’re lying prone.

You tilt Vil’s dick down to massage the head with your tongue and something warm drips on your back. You hear a noise of disgust from Vil, capped by a quiet moan.

“Absolutely not. All three of us are getting in the tub if you don’t clean that up right now.”

Rook chuckles and coos, “Hmm, but it looks so lovely. My alabaster essence creates a wonderful contrast with their soft and supple skin.”

A flush of humiliation crawls up the back of your neck and you hide your face against Vil’s belly, using your own arm to hide the other half. Vil shudders as he pushes your head down a bit, but his voice sounds incredulous.

“That’s vile. It doesn’t have any proven health benefits, you know that.”

You felt Rook’s hands spreading his semen into the skin on your back and your palms ache as Vil cums in your mouth. He doesn’t do that often, so it hits you like a shock.

You gag but force it down and Vil shoots up, fretting over you.

“Did you just swallow that?” He bends down to look into your eyes.

“Yes, Vil.”

“You didn’t need to do that.” Vil snips, sounding much harsher than he might intend, “I’m going to run us a bath, alright, darling? I’ll make sure you can brush that icky stuff out of your mouth.”

It didn’t taste bad. Vil usually cums on your face as an incentive for you to wash your face very well after a day of wearing makeup, or he has you jerk him off until he cums, but the few other times you did taste it, it was the same as this time. It was mostly salty, not too bitter, likely from his good diet. Regardless, he breezes away and Rook gives your bottom a light tap. You stand up and glance at Rook, who is looking a bit disheveled but pretty pleased with himself.

“How are you feeling, cheri?”

“That hurt.” Your voice is quiet, and your throat is still lined with tears.

“Does it still hurt?” He smiles and tilts his head.

The sound of the tub running is thunderous even where you are. Vil would never tolerate you complaining, but Rook is amicable, “A little.”

“The bath will do you good, then. Come.”

You let Rook guide you into the bathroom, his hand on your elbow. As he undresses and joins Vil on the edge of the tub, you look down at your bruised hands and glance at the slowly closing bathroom door, then at Rook and Vil where they stand near the tub.

You can’t say you prefer either of them, really, but you don't get an opinion. Do dolls at tea parties get to ask for a different kind of tea?

[ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral]

Hello everyone! I wasn't planning on posting a new au idea so soon (since I'm trying to finish up the next chapter of "What to do when an Eldritch God Decides That You're Friend-Shaped" 😅), but this au idea formed while I was watching "The Nightmare Begins" (the season 2 ep where Morgana first discovers her magic and goes to the druids, only to see them slaughtered) and it decided to derail my writing schedule. With some encouragement from the amazing artist and writer @guiltyscarlet, this au was born! I hope you all enjoy!

In this au, Merlin tells Morgana about his own magic during "The Nightmare Begins", so Merlin doesn't send her to the druids for help. He offers to help her learn about her own magic and control it, and she's just so relieved to have someone who understands. Morgana is heartbreakingly scared throughout the entire episode, so having Merlin there to fully support her and offer her genuine help with hiding her powers is life-changing for her. She essentially gets the same wisdom from Merlin as she would have from the druids: that magic is beautiful and not something to fear.

Merlin and Morgana spend the next few months growing closer (much to Arthur's horror, as he interprets it as them being romantically involved). Morgana swiftly gains control over her own powers, and she practices spells with Merlin. Both of them are just so happy to have someone who understands, a friend that they don't have to hide from or fear! They essentially become each other's comfort person.

But despite Merlin's insistence that things will become better once Arthur is king, that they just have to wait and have patience and everything will turn out fine, Morgana isn't so sure. Merlin is her dear friend, but she cannot buy into his "hope for the future and work from the background" mentality. No, Morgana knows that change will only come from action, action that Merlin is too kind, too caring to take. Morgana would never begrudge Merlin for his own kind heart, it is what makes him who he is after all, but she simply cannot show mercy to Uther as Merlin has done.

However, after a few months, Morgause comes to town. While Morgana's nightmares had become much more manageable with Merlin's help, they still hadn't ceased entirely. So, when Morgause gave her the healing bracelet that made them stop completely, Morgana believed that she had found another person like Merlin: someone who understood her and could support her!

So when Morgause sent her a message to meet in the woods, Morgana of course accepted. Now she could have two people to share her gifts with! And even better, Morgause wants to take action against Uther! They can work together to bring about Uther's downfall, and kind, caring magic users like Merlin all over Camelot will be safe from his cruelty and madness! It's perfect... up until the part where Morgause tries to take Camelot by force with a sleeping spell and the knights of Medhir, prepared to kill anyone who stands against her, magic user or not. This, this was not the grand liberation of Camelot that Morgana had been promised!

In the end, Merlin convinces Morgana herself to stand against Morgause and force her to lift the sleeping spell, but when Morgause still begs Morgana to come with her, Morgana tearfully tells Merlin that she appreciates all that he's done for her, but she needs to get away from Camelot, away from Uther. To Morgana, going with Morgause is the only way to save Camelot from Uther, as she could learn from Morgause and focus her attacks on Uther, thereby saving all of the magic users in Camelot, including Merlin himself.

Merlin had risked his life to save her, now she was going to return the favor. This was the only way.

Merlin begs her to reconsider, to at least not go with Morgause of all people, but Morgana won't listen. She has to do this, for all of their sakes. She takes Morgause's hand, and they both disappear.

From there, Morgana and Morgause spend a year travelling around while Morgause trains her in the ways of the Priestesses of the Old Religion. Morgana makes quick progress, and her magic becomes formidable in no time. After a year, Morgana plants herself in the woods to be "discovered" by the knights of Camelot and makes her grand homecoming to Camelot. In contrast to canon, this time when Morgana returns to Camelot, she's genuinely glad to see Merlin again.

After her return, she quickly pulls Merlin aside and, after they spend the evening catching up and expressing how glad they both are that the other is alright after a year apart, Morgana tells Merlin of her plans with Morgause and Cenred, as she doesn't want him to get hurt in the crossfire. Merlin is horrified at the plan, even though Morgana emphasizes that Cenred's soldiers are under strict orders not to harm civilians and to prioritize killing Uther. Merlin, of course, protests her plans, but Morgana shuts him down. Despite their now slightly tense situation, Merlin reiterates his vow that, no matter what, he will never tell a soul about Morgana's magic, and Morgana swears the same to him.

Season three goes much the same way, except Morgana never targets Arthur or Gwen and Merlin never tries to kill Morgana on Kilgharrah's orders. Morgana instead trips on her own, leading to a head injury that Merlin heals with a spell that he forced from Kilgharrah, and the whole "Uther is Morgana's father reveal" happens the same way. This time, Morgana also knows that Merlin went out of his way to save her life with his magic, which only reinforces her belief that Merlin is too kind to do what needs to be done and will get himself killed if Uther is allowed to live.

During Morgana's takeover of Camelot with Morgause's immortal army in the season 3 finale, Morgana doesn't kill civilians and also tries to get Merlin on her side. Her recruitment pitch to Merlin was essentially was something along the lines of "hey, now that I'm in charge, nice magic users like you can be protected! Your kindness inspired me to do this so you and others like you don't have to be afraid anymore! Join me and you can spend the rest of your life using your magic to make flowers bloom and heal people, all of the things you said magic should be used for! :D You just need to ditch Arthur."

And that doesn't reassure Merlin, who's been sold on Arthur's eventual golden reign for years now, one bit. If anything, Merlin feels guilty, as Morgana had taken over Camelot by force and become this hardened version of herself in part because of him.

When Merlin tries to point out how Morgana's takeover and her methods of ruling were scaring people rather than making them feel safer, Morgana used that argument against him, telling Merlin how he could use his kind heart to advise her on ways to make the people of Camelot feel safer and more accepting of magic if he only joined her. Morgana wanted him as one of her chief advisors, right next to Morgause. Morgana already had Morgause to tell her when she needed to be harsher, and now she could have Merlin to tell her when she needed to be softer.

Merlin, however, still rejects her offer, but Morgana isn't surprised. She knows that Merlin's ultimate loyalty lies with Arthur, and once again, she will not begrudge him for that. From there, Merlin manages to escape and meets back up with Arthur, and the round table is formed as per usual. But, before Merlin escaped, Morgana asked him if, after all of this, they could still be friends. Merlin replied that yes, they could.

In this au, Morgause wasn't injured when Merlin struck the cup of life, so Morgana and a healthy Morgause escape together to plot more ways to conquer Camelot, and Merlin still tries to stop them at every turn. While he infuriates Morgause, he and Morgana almost start to see it as a friendly rivalry between the two of them.

I'd imagine that this au has a pretty happy ending, with Arthur and Morgana being able to have a reconciliation or perhaps even bonding over wanting to protect Merlin! Or maybe they have a sibling rivalry to see who can be the better friend to Merlin lol!

And that's all for this au for now! Let me know if you'd like a to see a continuation of this au! A big thank you again to @guiltyscarlet for your support! I'd encourage everyone to go check out their Merlin art!

And, as always, thank you for reading through my ramblings! :D

[hart269]

Slithering Hearts

Chapter 1

Pairing : Regulus Black x Fem! Reader

Synopsis : You begin an unlikely friendship with the little Black. And soon your whole life seems to have become a tumultuous pathway. The catch, James Potter is your brother.

Masterlist / Series Masterlist

You never know how much you're gonna miss a person until they are going away, even for a small period of time. Less to say you were feelling a little bummed watching your dear brother James standing in the platform waiting for the Hogwarts train. It was gonna be his first year, and even though you were gonna join him next year, it still didn't change the fact that he was going away, that too for a year.

While he busy getting being fussed over by mum and dad, you glanced up at the sound of the train coming. James turned excitedly, hugging mom and dad, before he could fully turn to you, you jumped on him cluthching him, "Aww, little zouwu, are you going to miss me"

"No", came your muffled sound, James patted your back, "I know I am special but don't cry over me now". He grinned at your glare.

"I'm not crying" you huffed.

"Whatever you say" James smirked.

"Write me letters" you mumbled.

"I will" He smiled, he probably will, if he didn't you had plans to *ahem* renovate his room.

And thus he walked towards the train, you looked around the station to see similar scenarios, your eyes met another kid's, your age probably considering he was still with his parents, his mom seemed to be scolding the older brother probably who looked physically pained to stand there. You waved at the boy, causing him to stare confusingly. That's when the train signalled, causing the older one to run towards the train. And soon you saw the train took off while clinging onto your dad's hand. "Let's go now", your mum muttered. As you turned to leave, you once again turned towards the boy you saw, just to find him already looking at you.

After that the whole year went in a blur, you learned about James's new adventures every week from his letters, there were ramblings of the new friends he had made, the annoying and the good teachers, journeys to hagrid's hut, about pranks that even your parents didn't know of and of the many adventures he had. All that only went into details when he came back for christmas and summer break.

The whole of summer break you pestered James to tell you everything you should know. You sat on the couch, legs resting on his stomach as he remain sprawled on the couch.

"Jamie, what house do you think I'll go to?"

"Hufflepuff, obviously" James smirked.

"What, why" you huffed, crosing your arms.

"I mean, you're not smart, not brave, not ambitious and that leaves you in- James voice craclked as his face was hit by the force of the couch pillow. He removed it, getting up staring at you with a malicious glint, causing you to run yelling "Dad, help me, James is hitting me"

"I didn't even -she did it first"

The Diagon alley was always a wonderful place to be, they always had some new and exciting things, you got your wand, a sleek yew wood with white river monster spine at its core.

Mr.Ollivander had glanced at her strangely, "Treat it poorly and you won't access its power, treat it right, it will be loyal to no other". You had nodded, deciding later to brew upon it. For the most part, you were happy to get your own, cause when James got it last year, he didn't even let you touch his, no matter how much you begged him.

You were currently left by your parents at the pet shop, you were searching for a good owl, when a small hustle caught your eye, a snow great horned owl, fighting with another brown one. As you came close, he stood up and stood in the front, fluffing his feathers as if it had done no wrong, cute, you thought.

Taking the owl in your hand, you had turned swiftly, almost colliding with the boy who was standing behind you, the owl screeched, catching him, you exclaimed a loud "Merlin". Staring wide eyed at him you seem to find his face quite familiar, but you couldn't pinpoint, why. Regulus hadn't meant to stand there but he too had found the owl's commotioninteresting. And before he could move, you collided into him, he kept looking at you before realizing he was blocking the way, "Oh, sorry" he muttered moved sideways, You smiled moving past him.

He stared back at the owl on the rack, he lifted his finger, the barn owl moved towards him, nuzlzling in his fingers, he smiled "She's sweet', taking the owl to the counter, he again glaced at the same girl, the shopowner smiled, "Oh, the lovebirds", Regulus head snapped towards the cashier, "What". The shopowner chuckled, "I meant the owls, they are quite in love with each other". You glanced at her curiously "But they were fighting". The shopkeeper smiled looking at them, "Oh, they haven't realised it yet".

Author's Note : The writer means no Hufflepuff slander, it is meant to taken as just a jest. The writer fully supports Hufflepufs like the other houses.

[babyangelsky]

My Favorite Expressions in Love Sea Ep. 8

That's it. That's my (late) intro this week.

But in all seriousness, although I was somewhat prepared because of the additional previews that dropped for this episode, I don't think it's really possible to be fully prepared for how something might hit you until you actually see it. And parts of it didn't hit great, lads.

Just know that I'm using the term 'favorite' from a mostly acting perspective for this week and probably next week too.

For my own sanity I'm starting off with Mahasamut's fond husband smile. Mostly because I can and I want to but also because we got see a lot of it this episode. The sweetness that I noted last week is still very present.

I was also very glad to see that Mahasamut has forged a very affectionate bond with Meena.

Mira, Viviana, you've got no business looking disappointed that your plans aren't working out the way you want them to and lamenting about it in voiceover when you keep playing these games with my girly. Things will progress if you're clear!

The sweetneeeessssssss.

Vivi makes the best faces when she's watching Tongrak and Mahasamut be sweet. She can't see the writing on her own wall but she can see it on theirs.

Viviana! It's not a competition! It's not a race! Where's P'Kit someone go get him and make him have a come to jesus with Vivi. She's even got Tongrak telling her that fiction ain't reality and that she needs to use her words.

Tongrak, you are gone for this man.

"Nonsense!" he says. Denial ain't just a river in Egypt anymore, is it, Harry? I do love the sibling energy these two have. They're the Spider-Man meme except they're both clowns calling each other out for not expressing their feelings.

It's Mahasamut sleeping peacefully like the angel he is while Tongrak wrestles with the fact that Vivi is right for me.

I expected a lot more smugness and vitriol from Prin given that she's scheming to destroy Tongrak and has done it with such gusto up until now but it says a lot that even she looks disgusted with what she's doing. She won't even let Jak touch her. Turns out even a hell witch has her limits.

But this man? No such luck.

He's making this face after being asked to destroy his child. Prin offered him five million (and possibly more) to hurt Rak and he looks happy about it. Giddy even. That's sheer malice. Absolutely beyond fucked up.

When your adorable teenage niece roasts you for not having any friends and coming to her for advice.

If "Bet." was a facial expression.

Who's the cat and who's the canary now, Khun Tongrak?

Mahasamut's got cartoon hearts floating around his head and baby girl is so done with him.

*holds on to this moment for a second longer*

I throw roses at Peat's feet every week for how fantastic his face acting is but don't think for a moment that Fort doesn't deserve them too because he absolutely does.

Mut's face was all warmth and smiles when he was alone with Meena, then it became more guarded and cautious when they were approached, then we landed at this when Meena confirmed that the trash in front of them was her grandfather.

Fort's face is naturally very sweet and soft. He's got the opposite of resting bitch face but the fact that he can affect one so well when it's so far removed from what comes naturally to him is all in the eyes.

Look at his gaze. His eyes are normally very sparkly but here they look flat and cold and you can barely see his pupils. These are the dead calculating eyes of a shark and they reveal more hatred than words ever could and that takes TALENT.

I have to give An props for that too because he's also very good at the shark eyes but he's using them in a different way than Fort is.

Look at this screenshot and tell me it doesn't feel like Jak is looking through Mahasamut instead of at him. I can't quite describe how his face emotes but doesn't show actually genuine emotion, it's very impressive and unsettling.

The only time it felt like Jak was actually feeling something was when he looked happy about fucking with Tongrak's life.

Save me, adoring smile. Adoring smile, save me.

VIVIANA! I KNOW YOU DID NOT JUST LET KAIMOOK LEAVE YOUR APARTMENT WITHOUT CHASING AFTER HER TO MAKE SURE SHE KNEW YOU KISSED HER AS YOURSELF!

LOOK AT HER FACE. QUIT FUCKING WITH MY KID AND MAKE YOUR FEELINGS CLEAR.

Microseconds were all it took to shift from the gentle loving look Mahasamut was giving a sleeping Tongrak to silent rage as he recalled the encounter with Jak. Microseconds.

Incredulous disgust. I'd lay bets that we all looked like this when we heard Jak say he wanted to fulfill his role as Tongrak's father.

PEAT HAS MADE THIS EXACT FACE AND I HATE IT. NINA MY BABY YOU'RE SO TALENTED AND IN THIS MOMENT I HATE IT. THEIR EYES ARE EVEN A SIMILAR COLOR AND CATCH THE LIGHT THE SAME WAY.

IhateitIhateitIhateitIhateitIhateit my tiny baby princess this is the look of someone so much older than you IhateitIhateitIhateitIhateitIhateitIhateit

Gone. Besotted. Utterly enamored.

How could anyone look like this

when their child is looking at them like this?

I hate how much Jak is enjoying this and there is absolutely no doubt that he is, it's vile.

It took me a very long time to get Chris Chiu's scream out of my head when I watched Unknown and it's going to take even longer for me to be able to look at An Oliver Poupart without feeling my skin crawl.

To end this on a high note, I'm going to point out that Mahasamut's shirt isn't just a solid color.

It's TEXTURED.

The straits may be dire but if nothing else, at least it looks like I'm clowning in the right direction. Let me know if you wanna be tagged in these weekly writeups!