#now all i need to do is figure out how to correct my stupid little sleep cycle lol

[banj0possum]

Bloody Red Roses

Yandere!Evil King x GN!Reader

CW: kidnapping, weirdo behavior, pretty mellow for now

👑 It was known throughout the land that King Alistair of the Obsidian Kingdom was a terrifying and cruel ruler. His heart held no mercy for those who opposed him.

👑 His dark magic was one to be feared, many know better than to ever go against him and his undead soldiers.

👑 Recently, he’s set his sights on your kingdom. He was planning on overthrowing a few lands and expanding his territory, and with your kingdom’s promising resources and location, he saw it as the perfect prize.

👑 But he isn’t a war mongering psychopath who declares war right then and there, no no he’s much more sophisticated than that, he’s going to kidnap the princess instead!

👑 He needed a bride anyway, so for him it’s a win/win!

👑 “Sir! We got her! We got the princess!” The door opening and the rattling of bones got Alistair’s attention. He sent a few of his skeleton soldiers to capture the princess whilst on a carriage ride through the borders of his territory.

👑 There were many guards protecting the area, but their weapons were no match for enemies who couldn’t die, and with a little bit of sleeping potion, carrying the princess away will be easy as pie.

👑 “Excellent~ and you brought her to my chambers like I told you correct?”

👑 They nod and scamper alongside the king to meet the princess

👑 “Oh princess~ are you awake ye- !!” His eyes widen and he cuts himself off. The person unconscious and tied up in his bed was indeed a royal, but the princess they were not.

👑 “What. Is. This?” He growls, the soldier’s bones rattle in fear

👑 “W-well you sai-“ “Does this look like a princess to you?! How am I going to take over their stupid kingdom if don’t have a bride!?” He scowls angrily.

👑 He hears you tossing and turning in your sleep, you let out a soft little squeak as you reposition yourself to be hugging one of his pillows.

👑 “…”

👑 “Uhm…your highness..?”

👑 “Leave. I’m done with your stupidity..I’ll deal with them myself..”

👑 The soldiers waste no time running off to who knows where as Alistair looks at you with cold eyes.

👑 “Hm…”

👑 He takes a seat by the bed, watching you as he figures out what to do with you.

👑 He’s trying to figure out a strategy, but he keeps getting distracted by your form. You looked so small and delicate, maybe he could…no that’s stupid he could never..could he?

👑 His thoughts plague him a awhile longer until he notices you waking up.

👑 Your muscles are weak, your head feels like it’s spinning, and it takes a bit for you to get back to your senses and realize what happened.

👑 You jolt awake, remember of the attack and almost scream at the sight of Alistair, but he was quick to covers your mouth and try to ease your panic. It took a while, but he managed to get you to stop fussing so he could take off your binds.

👑 “Apologies for this little..incident, I was supposed to take your sister..but now that you know my plan for your little kingdom, I have no choice but to keep you here. Perhaps I don’t need a princess to marry after all, I could just use you as ransom..” he chuckles.

👑 He sees the tea in your cup rippling in your shakes hold and scoffs, bringing his hand to hold your wrist to still your trembling “Oh don’t be so scared now, I don’t bite..”

👑 It was just supposed to be a means to make you stop shaking, but your skin…your big pitiful eyes staring up at him..he didn’t want to let go.

👑 So he kept you, for ransom of course, not for anything else..

👑 With you at his disposal, he started preparing negotiations with your kingdom to see what they’ll do to get you back.

👑 But in the mean time, he had to deal with you somehow..

👑 He settled on just letting you wander around the castle (with supervision of course)

👑 But then he starts to wonder what you do everyday, what did you even like to do? If you were staying with him, he might as well talk with you for the time being.

👑 It started off sort of awkward, he spotted you by the garden feeding some birds with two soldiers watching you. He approached and waved at the soldiers to leave them alone together. You thought you were in trouble but to your surprise, he just asked you how you were doing..

👑 “I uhm..heard you like going out here everyday..I figured I’d join you…Don’t take it the wrong way, I just had some..free time..that’s all..”

👑 The whole interaction was unusual. It wasn’t like him to be so casual and calm with someone, especially a royal of another kingdom.

👑 He enjoys the reactions you give him whenever he talks about his role as the dark king of the Obsidian Kingdom. Your nervous but polite smile masks your mortification of him, but it’s adorable to him nonetheless

👑 “What? A scared of the big bad king? How cute.”

👑 Your little talks slowly became frequent, for the king, it even became something he couldn’t help but do. What can he say? He was so used to your presence it seemed wrong to not talk to you at least once..plus he had to check to see if you weren’t planning an escape so..

👑 “Where have you been my little rose? I haven’t seen you all day.”

👑 His interest in your interactions turned to fondness the more he picked up on your cute little quirks. He takes note of the things you find funny or interesting, he brings them up in order to see that adorable little smile of yours, and that giggle, oh god that giggle…

👑 He denies it so much at first, but slowly starts to accept the fact that he wants- no, needs you with him

👑 Soon he started to want your presence even more, offering to eat meals alongside you instead of eating whenever he’s schedule allowed it, he started eating scheduled meals for you <3 we love self care guys

👑 “Of course I’m eating with you tonight. After all we never got to finish our conversation.”

👑 He loves watching you, even when simply eating or any mundane thing, you will more often than not catch him staring at you. You’re just so cute and soft! Definitely not like the snobby and overly stiff men and women he’s seen.

👑 He couldn’t have you trying to escape so what better plan than to keep you by his side 24/7? Then you’ll never be out of his sight!

👑 “What’s so wrong with letting you tag along my dear? I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself with me.”

👑 And what if you try and sneak out from your chambers? Clearly you need to be moved to his chambers, that way he can make sure you’re behaving.

👑 Oh and of course in case you get lost, he made you a cute collar with the royal insignia on it! Isn’t it pretty? He used your favorite colors and everything!

👑 Of course he needs to fulfill his kingly duties. But how can he leave you alone for that long? No worries, you can sit right on his lap! That way you won’t have to stand for a long time and hurt your feet.

👑 And those clothes? So simple and out of style, perhaps you should wear something more fitting to his kingdom’s styles? Like a cute outfit with lace and ruffles! You look so delicate and graceful in it! He can’t help but buy you lots more outfits like that! Tis only fair for a person of your status.

👑 “How about this one? It compliments your form…what do you mean it looks too cutesy? I think it looks perfect for you.”

👑 he’s the type to not do much physical affection, but dear god does he crave both giving and receiving it. Give him a kiss or a caress of his cheek and he struggles to keep his composure and not melt to your touch

👑 Simply put, he might not seem like it (at least he thinks he does) but he can’t live without you. He couldn’t fathom the fact he was planning on trading you for a kingdom, you’re way more valuable than some puny kingdom!

👑 He even considers his original plan, you wouldn’t mind right? Besides, he bets you look absolutely exquisite in a little wedding dress~! Even if you don’t want a dress, an elegant suit would perfect on you~!

👑 “Where do you think you’re going my rose?”

It’s finally here guys ✨✨✨ I know it’s been a while but I’ve been busy with school and genshin. Anyway we got em in the end! Thank you for being so patient guys !! qwq

[harrylights]

💕💕💕💕

[frost-queen]

Tempting fate (Reader!Featherington x Colin Bridgerton)

Requested by: anon, Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco@subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury,  @imagines-by-her,  @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn

The night was out. Chilled but rather comforting on the skin. You were outside, waiting as your sister had already taken the carriage in a haste. Not a few moments ago she had a little encounter with Colin Bridgerton. One that you witnessed from afar. You could tell by your sister’s expression that she was displeased. Distressed to say the least. Once again had Colin Bridgerton said something to upset your sister. It was getting out of hand and you hated him for it. Hating how he toggled with your sister’s feelings.

They had been friends for a while now, but your sister desired more. He was the only good gentleman that gave her attention during the balls. Even if it was just a little. It wasn’t his first slip, but this time you clearly had enough of him. Now that your sister had run off with the carriage, you were left to return home on your own. Waiting for the carriage to return to the estate of this night’s ball would take awfully long.

Rubbing your arms gently, you hesitantly decided what to do. Go or stay? Slightly turning your head you noticed in the corner of your eye a figure approach. Once you fully got a glimpse of him, you rolled your eyes with annoyance. – “Y/n.” – Colin said approaching you. – “Good night Mr. Bridgerton.” – you answered coldly turning your posture away from him. – “Do you not need a chaperone?” – he asked making you stop in your way. With a deep sigh, trying to temper your annoyance down, you turned back to him.

“Certainly not from you.” – you answered with a forced smile. He stared confused at you. Trying to process the meaning of your words. He slightly came closer to you. – “Did…did I say something to offend you?” – he questioned. You scoffed making him furrow his brows dumbfound. Colin and you hadn’t been the closest, yet he considered himself acquainted with you through your sister. – “To my sister you did!” – you bit back finding his act of stupidity tiring.

“Pen?” – Colin. – “I…I don’t understand.” – he answered. – “Why do you minimize my sister?” – you asked him boldly. Colin was taken back by your reply, looking surprised at you. – “Minimize… no, Y/n… I…I wrote to your sister everyday this summer with little reply.” – he said with a charming smile. You smiled in return as Colin flourished from seeing you smile. Yet your smile had other intensions. – “Oh, yes I know all about the letters you wrote her. Letting her know about all your adventures. I am well aware of that Colin!” – you pressured on.

Colin chuckled nervously. – “Are… are you going to make me say it out loud?” – he responded feeling a bit foolish. You quirked your eyebrow up unintrigued.  – “I missed her.” – he told you. You busted out in a laugh. – “You miss her?” – you positioned yourself stronger, fiercer to go up against your sister’s good friend. – “You miss her, but you would never court her is that correct?”

“Y/n I…” – Colin started finally losing a bit of his  boyish foolishness towards you. – “I overheard you!” – you called out. – “At my mama’s ball last season… telling everyone you would never ever court Penelope Featherington.” – You felt yourself get a bit emotional, defending your sister against her best friend. Against the one she loved. Some voices approached as it drew Colin’s attention briefly away from you. – “Bridgerton.” – one of them greeted as they passed. Colin bowed his head to them before leaning a bit closer to you. Lowering his voice he spoke – “Perhaps we should go where there’s somewhere private?” – he suggested.

“Because I embarrass you?” – you said loud enough for anyone walking around to hear. – “My sister can change her entire wardrobe and gain confidence but that would never take away that she is the laughingstock of the ton.” – you outed in anger. – “My sister doesn’t deserve a cruel man like yourself in her life.” – you picked up the hem of your dress. – “Good night Sir!” -  you saluted coldly at him before taking off in the night. Colin watched you leave with a certain guilt eating at him.

Two days later you were with your sisters and mama at a garden event. Your sisters sitting down in a chair underneath a tent, waving themselves some cool. Your mother was chatting with some of the other mother’s. You had no idea where Penelope was. You on the other hand were playing battledores and shuttlecock’s with some of the other season’s participants.

You stood on one side with a girl you were quite familiar with. On the other side were two gentleman. The shuttlecock went high up in the air as the boys knocked it to each other. You were waiting for the shuttlecock to come your way to hit it to her and then back to the boys without it touching the ground.

Somehow your attention got drawn away from the heavens. Seeing Colin Bridgerton clearly look for someone not far from you. – “Miss Y/n!” – one of the men called out as the shuttlecock went your way. Your attention was back as you calculated the moment your battledore hit the shuttlecock. The shuttlecock went up in the air as you thought back of annoying Colin.

The shuttlecock came down once more as you needed to pass it to your companion. Yet you let the shuttlecock come lower, batting it away with your battledore towards Colin. You watched as it hit him in the head. The shuttlecock fell in his hand as he looked down at it confusingly. Rubbing his sore head with the other one. The girl at your side pointed firmly at Colin to go and fetch it. You sighed loud going over to him. The moment Colin noticed you approach, he dropped to a bow. – “My shuttlecock.” – you said offering your hand for him to lay it in.

 “You hit me.” – Colin responded. – “Must have slipped.” – you responded sarcastic. Colin was all but amused. – “Now my shuttlecock.” – you insisted upon. Colin was about to give it to you till he changed his mind last moment. He had taken a deep breath, moving the shuttlecock behind his back. – “I’ll give it back if you allow me to apologise first.” – he started throwing a charming smile at you. – “You should apologise to my sister.” – you made clear not wanting an apology from him.

Colin tensed his jaw, as he had hoped for another outcome. – “I…Y/n.” – he sighed out. – “I don’t require your useless apology. My sister needs to be apologized to.” – you told him clearly. Colin sighed loud getting worked up by your attitude towards him. – “Fine! If you don’t accept my apology, you might not even deserve it.” – he snapped back. – “I don’t even want it!” – you fired back. – “Fine!” – he finished. – “Fine!” – you repeated loud.

“Good luck getting this back than!” – he showed you the shuttlecock again. You slapped your hand at it as Colin had pulled it away in time. – “Give it back!” – you called out to him, getting some attention from bystanders. – “You don’t deserve this.” – he mocked, taunting you by showing you the shuttlecock just out of reach. You groaned annoyed as he moved it behind his back. You knocked into him full force to reach for it behind his back. A bit too forceful perhaps?

Colin stumbled backwards as you fell with him. With a loud oof fell you on him. Now having the full attention of those around you. You were very much aware of the staring eyes. You pushed yourself hard off him. He felt the air get sucked out of his lungs. – “Eat it!” – you cursed at him storming off. Colin sat up, swallowing nervously at the sudden attention. Getting up, he saw Penelope look his way. He shamefully turned his head away, getting up and taking his leave.

**

Lights were flickering in the warmth of the room. Music filled the room. Dancers were taking in the centre of the room. You stood by the side with your two other sisters and mama. Your gaze went across the room. When your eyes fell upon Colin, you glared at him. He glared back at you, turning his head proudly away. You stubbornly looked away as well. Looking down, you fidgeted on your dress. Somehow it pained you to see him act so coldly towards you.

You didn’t intend on doing so but the more time you spend with Colin, arguing and bickering, the more you felt drawn to him. You shouldn’t be falling for him, but yet you were. Some novels say that you grow more attracted to those things you hate the most with frequency. This might be the case for Mr. Bridgerton and you. Mama nudged you hard making you lift your chin back up. She gestured to you, to smile so you could attract more eligible men.

Not being in the mood for her interfering, you took off. Blending through the crowd to escape her. Pushing yourself through the crowd. Coming to a brief stop, you came face to face with your sister Penelope. Your eyes widened briefly before you rushed off to the hallway to avoid her. Penelope blended with the crowd, lowering her head when she saw Colin near. He was clearly in pursuit of someone.

Almost panting he disappeared through the same door you had left moments ago. It made Penelope think doubtfully. You exhaled loud setting your hands on the desk from the room you had run off to. Clutching your heart, you felt it beat faster. Faster then it normally did. Was this Colin’s doing? Shaking your head you didn’t want to think about him. It was wrong to think of his that way. Your sister was madly in love with him. You couldn’t… not for the sake of her. – “Y/n.” – you jumped back startled at the hearing of your voice.

Colin had entered the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. You rounded the desk, creating more distance between you and him. – “Shouldn’t you dance with my sister.” – you sarcastically suggested to him. He exhaled soft, practically done with your flight modus. Done with how you kept pushing yourself away and shoving your sister to the front. – “Y/n.” – Colin started as you didn’t want to hear it. – “You keep doing it Colin. You keep minimizing my sister.” – you told him.

“Ignoring every hint she throws at you, and you too blind to see it. I hate how you ridicule my sister’s feelings towards you. She is not some object.” – you ranted out as Colin came nearer, going round the desk to reach you. – “You tell her you miss her, but you won’t court her. Why?” – you asked desperate. – “I can’t court her.” – he answered standing face to face with you.

“Why?” – you repeated wanting to have a clear answer. Colin felt himself be swept up by the heated moment. – “I just can’t.” – he responded loudly feeling his hands tremble to get a hold on you. – “Answer me. Clearly!” – you called out getting up in his face. – “Because I want you!” – Colin shouted back, practically panting from the tension released inside of him. Your eyes widened.

Colin grabbed for your face. The hell with being a gentleman. The hell with your reputation and his. In this moment he just wanted you. He forced himself forwards, pressing his lips on yours. Your gaze widened more at his touch. His lips gently brushing against yours as you fell under his spell. Giving in to the sensation as it was beyond this world.

Butterflies flattering around inside till they suddenly dropped with realisation. Guilt. You pushed Colin off, breaking off the kiss. Colin blinked confused at you breaking it off. Stunned you held your hand before your mouth. As if something was stolen from your lips. A kiss perhaps? – “My sister…” – you whispered out knowing just how much she loved him. – “Y/n…” – Colin said wanting to approach you.

“No!” – you called out clear, taking a step back. – “I…I can’t do this…” – you told him running around the desk. Throwing the door open and taking your leave. Colin went around the desk as well, standing in the door opening. One last attempt to call out to you, but you were out of reach.

Exhaling deep, he lowered his head, heart broken at the loss of touch. He never courted Penelope but he found himself falling for you. Her sister. The sister that yelled at him. That wasn’t afraid to speak back even when some might find it out of turn. He liked how sincere you were, but also caring and free. A bright personality when one got to know you, truly know you.

Penelope bit the sour apple down. A single tear fell down her cheek, yet her face stood bitter. Bitter with hatred for what she had just seen. Her own sister fleeing a room with Colin Bridgerton showing himself in the door opening. It was clear to anyone that you had been in there privately with him.

Penelope made her way to the carriage. Rushing to get home. In the carriage she pulled out a piece of parchment from her reticule. The carriage hobbled yet she maintained balance. Taking out a pencil, she set it down on the parchment.

Dearest gentile reader…

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

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!  [read part 2 & part 3 & part 4 & part 5 & part 6 & part 7 & part 8 & part 9 & part 10]

[swappermanent]

Summoned For Help

When Cal came to me with his proposal, I thought he was joking. He had that mischievous grin plastered on his face—the same one he’d worn when we were nine and he dared me to jump off the garage roof into a kiddie pool.

“Okay,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “Run that by me one more time. Slowly. Because it sounded like you just asked me to possess your body.”

Cal shrugged, as if he hadn’t just proposed the most insane idea I’d ever heard. “Yeah. Possess me. Just for a bit.”

“Cal, what the actual hell? Did you hit your head at the gym or something?”

He leaned forward, his hands clasped together in mock seriousness. “Look, man, hear me out. I’m just saying, you’re good at... you know, doing the deed. And I’m not.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” I smirked. “Pretty sure half the girls in town could write a Yelp review about how bad you are in bed.”

He threw a cushion at me, but I dodged it. “Screw you, man. It’s not like I don’t try.”

“No, that’s the thing—you don’t try,” I said, crossing my arms. “You’ve been coasting your entire life on your pretty-boy face and abs. And since when do you care about this, anyway? Girls keep coming back, don’t they?”

“They did,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “But word gets around. I think my, uh, reputation is starting to take a hit.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “So now you’re coming to me—your scrawny, five-foot-five, not-half-as-handsome best friend—for help. And instead of, I don’t know, asking for tips, your genius idea is... possession?”

“Look, it’s not just possession.” He reached into his bag and pulled out an old, weathered book. The pages were yellowed, the cover cracked with age. “It’s this.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Did you steal that from a museum?”

“No! I bought it online.”

“Oh, even better. Definitely trustworthy.”

“Shut up,” he said, flipping through the pages. “It’s legit, okay? Some ancient Mayan thing. Says here it was used by their priests to channel the spirits of gods or ancestors. It’s voluntary—you have to, like, open yourself up or whatever.”

“And you thought, ‘Hey, instead of channeling an ancient god, why not summon my weird little best friend to make me better at sex?’” I shook my head, but I couldn’t stop grinning. “You’re unbelievable.”

He grinned back. “What can I say? I’m a problem solver.”

“This is so stupid,” I said, but I found myself leaning forward, squinting at the text on the page. “And how exactly is this supposed to work?”

Cal’s eyes lit up. “I knew you’d say yes.”

“I haven’t said yes,” I corrected. “Yet. But go on—what’s the plan?”

Cal pointed at the book, his finger tracing over a block of text surrounded by faded, intricate illustrations. “From what I can figure out, it’s all about intention,” he said. “The person being possessed—that’s me—has to want to improve something. And the possessor—you—has to, you know, want to help.”

“Right,” I said, dragging out the word. “So this spell is just gonna... summon me? Whenever it decides you need a little extra help in the bedroom?”

“Pretty much.” He grinned.

“And then what? I just get booted out of your body after you’ve—sorry, I’ve—sealed the deal?”

“Exactly,” he said, clapping his hands once, like it was the most straightforward plan in the world. “As I get better, you’ll get summoned less and less, until eventually I won’t need you at all.”

I stared at him, trying to process the sheer absurdity of it. “So you’re telling me that some ancient Mayan priests came up with this whole spell—probably to commune with gods or ancestors—and you’re using it for... sex coaching?”

He shrugged. “Hey, it’s a tool. I’m using it for what I need.”

“This is insane.” I laughed, shaking my head. “Wild. Weird. Completely ridiculous.”

“But you’re gonna do it.” He was practically bouncing on the couch now, his excitement as contagious as it was baffling.

I sighed, crossing my arms. “I’m gonna regret this, but... fine. Let’s do it.”

“Yes!” Cal practically leapt to his feet, grabbing the book and flipping to the spell. “Okay, okay. Sit still. Don’t interrupt.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He cleared his throat, his face suddenly serious as he began reciting the words. It wasn’t English—or Spanish, or any language I could recognize. The syllables rolled off his tongue in a deep, rhythmic chant, filling the room with a strange, heavy energy.

When he finished, we both sat there in silence, waiting.

Nothing happened.

“Did it work?” I asked, after a long beat.

Cal frowned, looking down at his hands like he expected to see some kind of glowing aura. “I don’t know. I feel the same.”

I rolled my eyes. “Maybe it takes time. Or maybe you just bought a really expensive paperweight.”

He scowled, tossing the book onto the coffee table. “It’s legit. You’ll see.”

“Sure, buddy.” I stood up, stretching. “Well, keep me posted if I suddenly pop into your body. Until then, I’m grabbing a beer.”

“Go ahead and laugh,” he called after me as I walked to the kitchen. “You’ll believe me soon enough.”

As I pulled a cold one from the fridge, I shook my head, grinning despite myself. Cal had always been full of wild ideas, but this? This took the cake.

---

It happened a few days later.

Cal was out at this trendy bar downtown, the kind of place where everything looked expensive even though the drinks were just watered-down vodka with fancy names. He’d texted me earlier about some “hot brunette” he’d spotted across the room, and I could practically hear his grin through the phone.

I didn’t think much of it until I felt it—a sudden, almost magnetic pull. My vision blurred, and for a moment, it felt like I was falling, weightless, through space. When my eyes refocused, I wasn’t in my dingy apartment anymore. I was at the bar.

And I wasn’t me.

I was Cal.

“What the—” I started, but my voice came out deeper, smoother. Cal’s voice.

“Oh, hey! It worked!” His voice echoed in my head, excited and smug. “Told you it was legit!”

I blinked, looking around. The bar was packed, dimly lit, and alive with the sound of clinking glasses and laughter. I caught my reflection in the mirror behind the bar—a chiseled jawline, piercing blue eyes, the kind of good looks that could sell cologne in a magazine ad.

“What the hell, Cal?” I thought, feeling a mix of amazement and panic. “You didn’t think to give me a heads-up?”

“Didn’t know when it would summon you! I don’t control it myself, remember?” he said, sounding annoyingly pleased with himself. “But hey, you’re welcome. She’s right over there, by the way. Don’t screw this up.”

“Gee, thanks for the confidence,” I shot back.

I turned my head and saw her—a stunning brunette in a red dress, leaning casually against the bar. She smiled at me, and I swear it was the kind of smile that could melt steel. My legs moved on their own./ Before I knew it, I was standing next to her, flashing his signature grin.

“Hey,” I said, feeling the smoothness in Cal’s voice as if it had been tailored for moments like this. “Can I buy you a drink?”

She tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with intrigue. “That depends. What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” I said, leaning against the bar. “I just saw you and thought, ‘Wow, the night just got a whole lot better.’”

The conversation flowed easily after that, and I couldn’t help but marvel at how effortless everything felt. Cal’s body did half the work for me—his height, his confident posture, even the way his voice carried over the music.

Before I knew it, we were back at his place. That’s when I felt it—the constant, distracting presence of Cal’s voice in my head.

“Dude, you’re killing it,” he said. “She’s totally into you—”

“Cal, I’m gonna need you to not talk right now,” I interrupted.

“What? Why not? I’m just trying to help.”

“Because it’s weird. Like, next-level weird. So let’s see if I can mute you for a bit… Oh yeah, that’s it. Don’t take it personally.”

“Wait, you can—” His voice cut off mid-sentence as I silenced his consciousness. The quiet was instant, like flipping a switch.

I stood there for a moment, taking it all in. His body felt incredible—like a high-performance machine finely tuned for moments like this. I glanced at the brunette, who was looking up at me with this mixture of excitement and curiosity. And wow... I mean, wow.

So this is what it feels like to look down at someone, to tower over them. It wasn’t just the height—it was the power, the sense of being able to protect someone. I felt... strong. Confident. Invincible.

And these muscles? Holy hell. Every movement felt effortless, powerful, like I could bench press a truck without breaking a sweat.

“Is everything okay?” she asked, her voice soft but teasing.

“Perfect,” I said, flashing Cal’s grin. “Absolutely perfect.”

I won’t bore you with the details of what happened next, but let’s just say I got the job done. Better than done, honestly. Here, see for yourself.

When it was over, she was smiling like she’d just found religion, and I was left sitting there, marveling at what had just happened.

Not just the act itself, but the feeling of being Cal—strong, tall, and undeniably desirable. For the first time in my life, I understood what it was like to walk through the world like that.

That’s when it happened.

A sudden jolt—like static electricity but coursing through every nerve in my body. The room around me blurred, the brunette’s satisfied smile dissolving like smoke. I felt myself being yanked out of Cal’s body, like a hook catching me by the ribs and pulling me backward through a tunnel of light.

The next thing I knew, I was back in my apartment, sprawled on the couch. My own body felt... smaller, weaker, like I was wearing a jacket two sizes too small.

I sat up, my head spinning. “Well, that was abrupt.”

My phone buzzed on the coffee table. I grabbed it, seeing a text from Cal.

CAL: DUDE. THAT FELT SO WEIRD.

ME: NO KIDDING.

CAL: Well thanks for the help man, I appreciate it.

ME: Yeah, no problem dude. I had actually had a great time. Thanks for badgering me into doing it.

I set the phone down, leaning back with a mix of exhaustion and exhilaration. This was going to be one hell of a ride.

[yuwuta]

WHEREVER YOU WANNA GO, THAT’S FINE WITH ME — MEGUMI FUSHIGURO 

cw mentioned/talks about death but not like… in a serious way 😭 this whole thing is very unserious and stupid it’s just a thought i couldn’t get out of my head, megumi being… megumi, f2l but what’s new, also inspired by some clip from a tv show i’ve seen on tt but idk the name of it, if you do pls let me know

you ask megumi you make one of those marriage pacts with you—that if neither of you are married by thirty-five, you two will get married to each other—and he just hums for a moment before asking, “do you think i’ll be better suited for marriage at thirty-five?”

“what? n—i don’t know? maybe? it just seems like an appropriate age to get married if you’re not already, that’s all,” you explain.

more humming. he blinks, “i don’t think i’ll be all that different at thirty-five.”

“well, that’s concerning,” you joke, “you’re supposed to change—grow a little bit as a person and all that, megumi. even you are capable of it.”

“i won’t want anything different out of a marriage at thirty-five than i would right now,” he corrects you, then turns to you, and with all seriousness demands, “so, state your stipulations. what do you want from me, let’s figure out of this is gonna work now.” 

you scoff, and cross your arms. “what do i want from you? that’s not how a marriage works.” 

“that’s how this friendship already works.” 

you say, megumi does; he pushes it than he should have, you say to stop, and eventually he does, and the cycle continues. he’s always stubborn, and sacrificing himself beyond necessity, and you’re always pulling his ear for it. 

“okay. fine,” you settle, straightening your posture, “i want a house. three bedrooms, so nobara and yuuji don’t have to bicker about sharing when they stay over.” 

megumi considers it, then counters with, “four. gojo needs a bedroom, too. one floor, i don’t like stairs.” 

“where the fuck are we going to find a one-level four-bedroom house? i don’t want to live in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere.” 

“we’ll find one,” he shrugs, doesn’t flinch when he promises: “or i’ll have one made for us. next: vacations.” 

“twice per year. somewhere tropical, and somewhere metropolitan.” 

“i don’t like the beach.” 

“then you don’t have to go on the beach.” 

“you’re responsible for me if i burn.” 

“i’m responsible for you either way, i’m your wife,” you taunt, “pets, next. i want dogs. two. maybe three. and a bunny.” 

“no bunnies, they’re too much work.”

“but i want a bunny, megumi.” 

“you won’t have time for a bunny,” he rolls his eyes, “and you’re gonna get pissed when it chews up the expensive couch you’re gonna make me buy, and takes a shit in the expensive fruit bowl you’re gonna con gojo out of. no bunnies.” 

you pout and frown, but megumi doesn’t budge: “no bunnies.” 

you sigh, “no bunnies, but i want the dogs.” 

“i didn’t say no to the dogs. unless you want a golden, then i’m not raising that.” 

“why not? we already have yuuji.” 

“exactly, we already have yuuji.” 

“fine. i want a king sized bed. the really big, oversized ones you get in america.” 

“done. children?” 

“you want children?”

megumi shrugs, but you swear there’s a dust of pink on his cheeks, “maybe. maybe not. if i did, no more than two.” 

and suddenly you can’t help but feel heat in your own face, hot with the image of two tiny megumis running around. 

“that’s fine with me. maybe kids, but no more than two,” you cough, “i want one of those heated driveways for the house.”

“i’ll have it built. i’ll clean and do laundry and take out the trash if you cook.”

“what about days i don’t cook?”

“then i’ll do that, too,” megumi nods, “anything else?”

“yes. if i die first, you can remarry, but you visit my grave at least twice a year, and bring peonies. and that picture of me from prom where i look really good.” 

“no.” 

you stop. you blink. “what do you mean ‘no?’ you wouldn’t visit my grave?—kinda cruel considering i birthed your up-to-two future children and raised your dogs.” 

“i won’t remarry. and i don’t want you to if i die first,” he corrects you, again, “and there’s no dying first and leaving me behind, i’m going with you.”

he doesn’t leave room for debate in his declarations: won’t, don’t; not wouldn’t, shouldn’t, couldn’t—you have to pinch yourself to stop chasing the rabbit of temptation running through your mind. 

“i don’t… think you get to decide that,” you chuckle. 

“of course i do,” megumi grins, uncrosses his legs and leans over. he reaches a hand to the back of your head and pushes it forward until your foreheads meet gently; and as if the affection wasn’t shocking enough, he continues, “where you go, i go. that’s marriage, right?” 

he widens his smile a bit, before letting you go, leaning back into his seat again with crossed arms like nothing happened, and you’re left staring, blinking, breathing shallowly like prey that narrowly escaped being caught.

you don’t speak, so megumi does, “i have one more thing.” 

and slowly, you unthaw enough to let out a questioning hum. megumi tilts his head before telling you, “i want your last name.” 

“what? you—you would change your name?” you stutter, “but fushiguro is so pretty! and it’s your mom’s name, so few people get their mother’s names.” 

“yeah. this way, our up-to-two children get their mother’s names, too.” 

“i—okay… yeah, i guess they do,” you gape, then pout, “wait, what if i wanted to be mrs. fushiguro?” 

“tough luck,” he grins, “you get everything else.” 

you get me, instead, is what’s left unsaid. 

“okay, fine. sounds like a deal to me.” 

“great. we can’t have a spring wedding because gojo and toji will sneeze obnoxiously loudly, and we can’t have a summer wedding because the anniversary will conflict with our tropical vacation, and nobara will kill us if it’s too close to her birthday,” he says, standing up from the couch to head to the kitchen, “so i’ll see you at the courthouse in september.” 

you nod reflexively, sinking back into the couch with a satisfied smile. it’s a while before your brain processes his words, and when it finally does, you spring up in a fluster, “september? megumi, i said when when we’re thirty-five and if neither of us are already married! megumi? megumi fushiguro, come back here!” 

[after-witch]

Horrorfest: I'm Smarter Than The Devil, I'm Smarter Than the Devil! [Yandere Demon Chrollo x reader]

Title: I'm Smarter Than the Devil, I'm Smarter Than the Devil! [Yandere Demon Chrollo x Reader]

Synopsis: You should always read the rulebook before committing to a deal with the devil.

For Horrorfest request:

Hi! This is my first time sending in a prompt, so please forgive any formatting errors :) the prompt is "Reader doesn't read the fine print and accidentally sells soul to demon!Chrollo" (hxh)

Word count: 1024ish

notes: yandere, bad decisions

It isn’t fair. It simply isn’t fair. It is oh so, completely, wholly, utterly, entirely unfair. 

“I didn’t know–” you start, and stop, and hate how childish you sound. Whining and petty, and this is no petty thing. 

After all, you’ve sold your soul to the devil.

Well, correction. You’ve sold your soul to a devil. 

A devil you hadn’t seen in years, and hadn’t expected to see ever again. Not after the night you made the trade, a trade which had seemed simple enough at the time. 

Everything seems simpler, doesn’t it, when you’re not looking back with the unwelcome clarity of hindsight?

–

“And… all I have to do is sign your book?” 

How weak you must look–how human, how mortal–to the demon standing in front of you. The bandage he’d wound around his head when he first showed up is gone, and underneath it, imprinted on his skin, is a mark that is sure to mean nothing good. 

He’s not bad looking, you suppose. For a devil. Dark hair and eyes that seem to see right through you. Part of you wants to ask about the coat–doesn’t it get hot, where he comes from, with the fur collar?--but now that you’re soaking in the reality of it all, mostly you’re focused on the book in his hands.

A book that glows, a book with pages whose words swim around when you try to peek at them. 

The demon smiles politely, with no teeth. If he were to grin, would he have fangs? 

“And agree to make a trade.”

You swallow. Right. The book said you would have to make a trade with the demon you summoned. This could be anything, as long as the demon wanted it. Someone else’s life; a precious object, usually sentimental; or well. Your stomach squirms at one of the other things the book said a demon may want, and you hope it doesn’t come to that. 

“What… do you want to trade for?” You want to smack yourself on the head the moment the words leave your lips. Giving the demon an open-ended opportunity is a rookie mistake–and yeah, it was your first time summoning a demon, and maybe some of the online articles you found were a bit sketchy, but the guide book seemed solid enough. Given by a friend of a friend who swore his cousin used it and it worked out just fine.

The demon snorts.

“Didn’t your little book tell you not to leave it up to me?”

“Um.” You shrug, feeling stupid, and human, and very, very pathetic. “Yes. But I just–well.” You turn out your pockets, empty as anything; that’s why you summoned the demon, after all. You need your big break. A way to make money, to be successful, to finally have the lucrative career you always wanted. “I figured it’d be better if you just tell me what you want from me?”

The demon’s gaze narrows. 

“What makes you think I would want something from you, little human?” He takes a step forward, and a warmth fills the air. Not a comforting warmth, but something unpleasant, like the smell of gas when you open a stove. “How arrogant.”

He’s going to kill you he’s going to kill you he’s going to–

“But there must be something you don’t have,” you blurt out. “Even demons must be unhappy like we are, and want something different. Right?” Oh, it’s stupid, and unbearably human, but it’s the first thing that comes to mind. Honest, dumb thing that you are. 

The demon parts his lips–and then closes them abruptly. He tilts his head at you, gazing at you with a curiosity just as unpleasant as the bitter warmth around him.

“What an unusual thing to say,” he murmurs.

He’s going to leave. He won’t make the deal. He might kill you, at worst. At best, you’ve done all this for nothing. 

“All right. I’ll make a deal.”

You can’t hide the surprise on your face.

“You-you mean it?” Giddy, awful hope bubbles up inside you. “But–what will you trade for?”

The demon smiles primly. “Something you can’t even feel.  You won’t miss it once it’s gone, I promise you.”

Your head is too full of anticipation to think about it further. The bitter air around you doesn’t help, adding an almost hazy feeling to your head. Something you can’t feel and won’t miss… maybe a talent you didn’t know you had? Or one you did, but won’t miss after he’s taken it. You always did like singing, maybe he’ll snap up your singing voice and shove it in his pockets. Or he’ll walk away with your favorite genre of book, forgotten in your emptier head, no worse for the wear.

“Deal!” You blurt. 

He does smile wider then, a grin. He doesn’t have fangs, but that doesn’t make it less unnerving.

The book’s pages glow when he holds them out to you, and they’re warm when he presses a quill in your hands and bids you to sign your name.

You do. Shaky, uneven. But your name, there, forever in the pages.

The book snaps shut.

You have only a brief glimpse of the demon before he disappears in a wisp of black smoke. As he vanishes, he says something, but you don’t quite know what it means–

“Chrollo.”

–

You can’t feel a soul, and who knows when it’s gone? Not you, certainly. Though there’s something jittery about the realization that you’ve been walking around for years with nothing underneath your skin but your brain and bones and blood.

Did anyone else notice? Was some light gone from your eyes, never to return?

All because some demon had lifted your soul like a pickpocket. Through deception, through misdirection. 

“Don’t be so sour with me, dear.” The pet name makes your stomach roil. 

That bitter warmth from so many years ago, the unpleasant hit that feels like it’s coming from a furnace, seems to rise up from behind you, pushing you into his arms. He still wears his coat, after all these years; an impractical looking thing, considering how hot it must be where he comes from.

How hot it must be, where you’re going.

He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead. 

“It’s not my fault you didn’t read the fine print.” 

[lovelettersforthedamned]

thinking about telling tasm!peter to come over with his favorite camera and take pictures in my lingerie and pictures of him fucking me just for later 🥰

Take A Picture, I’ll Last Longer 

--genre + trope: fluff, nsfw.

--pairing: college!tasm!peter parker x college!f!reader

--word count: 0.7k

--warnings: use of a camera, mentions of pants tightening (LMAO), lingerie.

“What’re you doing right now, baby?”

A beat passes before he responds, “Nothing, bug. Why? What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing,” you sigh, “just missing you.” Holding the phone to your ear, you look at yourself in the mirror in front of you. You admire the lace details on the recent purchases you picked up from the store, running your finger along the trim. 

“Well, I can come over right now. Just give me like fifteen minutes to get over there,” you can hear the rustling of objects in the background, Peter not needing confirmation to start getting ready to leave.

A smirk rises to your lips, deciding to play with his head a little bit, “You better hurry, baby. I wanna show you something. Oh! And bring your camera with you.”

He notices that you’re tone has changed, and it makes him wonder what you could be planning. He pauses his movements to reach over to his desk, picking up his trusty camera. “Okay bug, I’ll be there soon.”

“Bye, Petey.” 

Hanging up, you toss your phone on the bed, taking a look at yourself another time. A part of you is nervous coming off this strong, anxious thoughts plague your mind. What if I don’t look good? Is this too much? He might think this is stupid, I should just change. Taking a deep breath, you calm yourself down. Peter is a simple man, if he sees his stunning girlfriend in a beautiful set of lingerie, he’s going to worship your being for the rest of his days. There was no doubt about it. 

Your curtains are drawn when you hear a knock on your window, hastily walking over, you pull them back, revealing your figure. Even with the glass separating you two, you could feel Peter’s eyes run across every inch of your body.

He’s the one that pushes the window open, eyes never leaving your frame as he climbs inside your bedroom. Dropping the backpack he brought with him to the floor, he pulls your face in to envelop your lips in a breathtaking kiss. He starts to walk the both of you to your bed behind you, clearly needing you as soon as possible. “Wait, baby,” you pull away, breathless, “did you bring your camera?”

Still an inch away from your face, he eyes your lips as you talk, “Yeah, why?” 

You push him away, and sit on the corner of your bed, “Take some pictures of me. I bought this just for you.” 

A breathy laugh leaves him, staring at you with eyes full of lust. He can’t believe what you’ve just asked, he’s in shock, he’s in love. Breaking eye contact with you, he reaches down into his backpack and pulls out his camera, turning it on and correcting the focus before snapping a picture of you sitting on the bed, legs crossed, leaning back on your hands, eyes looking up through your eyelashes, and a dangerously wicked smile on your lips. The quick and bright flash lights up the room as the shutter, along with Peter’s breathy moans, are the only things heard within those walls. 

Your little photoshoot lasts a good twenty minutes, Peter barely has to give you instructions on how to pose. You know what he likes, and you make sure to give him your all. He barely lasts the twenty minutes, every so often, you look down at his jeans, now tight and tenting. The sight of him hard gives you a feeling of gratification, you were so worried for nothing. “God, you are amazing (Y/N),” he mutters, as he clicks through the pictures he just took. 

He walks over to sit beside you, tilting the camera towards you to show you the pictures as well. “What are you going to do with them?” 

Peter looks down into your eyes once again, a teasing smile painting his face, “What do you think I’m going to do with them?”

“Hmm,” you tap your index finger against your chin, acting clueless, “I don’t know…Why don’t you show me?”

He already set his camera carefully on the floor before he responds, knowing exactly what is going to happen, “Show you, huh? I think I can do that.”

You giggle before he attacks you in a hug, pulling you down onto the mattress. 

--author's note: sorry guys i left you hanging for the smut LOL. send me some more smut requests, these are fun;) keep sending me requests!!!! my inbox is open!! keep supporting your writers by commenting, liking, and reblogging. ok, bye ily<333333

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Look, This is gonna be one of those things that sounds bad until you read the whole story. Please don't read the title and go to 'yta' without reading.

AITA for yelling at our friend that my brother isn't trans?

Look, My brother ISNT trans. He likes to wear kilts and sew, Which is what kind of started all of this. My brother is NOT trans, He loves being a boy (trust me, I can hear him enjoying being a boy in his room all the time. Theres no way he'd wanna chop it off(I mean this as a joke I don't actually know how the surgery works), He's told me multiple times that being told by others what he likes is 'feminine' and 'girly' upsets him because he's proud of being a boy and doesn't like being called a girl. Its not because he hates girls or thinks less of them, He just does not like being called the wrong gender which I'm sure you want to be called the correct gender too.)

Anyways lets begin. I (16F) am my little brothers (15M) best friend, Basically. We grew up together and do everything together, Including sewing. I liked it when I was younger, And eventually convinced him to try it as well. He loved it, And we love just sitting together and making random crap we usually end up selling at our yearly garage sale. (Our mom makes us sell all our unneeded crap every year, But we aren't complaining when we make like $100 for it, Mom and dad even help us figure out what we actually wanna keep (we sometimes see old things and go 'Oh I could never get rid of this' and then throw it away))

Sorry for the rambling, But you'll see why some of this is important to know.

Basically, We were getting our shit together for the garage sale, And invited over a mutual friend of ours, Who I'll call uhhh Ley (16F). Shes kind of obsessed with the LGBTQ and loves to help people 'realize' they're gay or trans or non-binary. By this I mean she'll literally bully people she 'knows' is gay or trans by always telling them they are and spreading rumors about them saying they are. The way she 'knows' these things are from gut feelings. I thought maybe she needed friends who would be honest with her and tell her gently that it needed to stop. She stopped being so bad with it and we even convinced her to admit to the rumors she started being fake. We've known her for around 3 years now, And she's stopped doing it as aggressively for 2 of those years. She still makes jabs and 'jokes' saying things like "Oh thats so girly, Are you sure you're not trans?" and "Oh thats such a boy thing to do, Are you a lesbian?", Both quotes she's said to me and my brother less than a week ago. I am straight and cis, So is my brother. We have nothing against the lgbt, We just aren't apart of it. We support the lgbtq as much as possible (with my part time job I like to donate some of my paycheck towards point of pride so people who need the surgeries or binders can get them), And are very open about supporting them.

While we were cleaning out my brothers room and finding stuff to throw into the 'sell' box (we like to do precleaning before our parents help us, It makes everything faster and less work on the people trying to help), And Ley found my brothers kilt. She did a long exaggerated gasp, Looking at my brother.

"So, How long have you been trans? Why didn't you tell me?? I knew it the whole time!"

My brother tried to explain that it was a kilt for men, And he wasn't trans, But she kept interrupting him saying crap like 'you don't have to lie I know now' and 'Its nothing to be embarrassed about, I knew ever since you started to sew'. The last straw for me was when she continued not listening to him and started to ask about how he was gonna come out as school. I yelled at her to get out, That neither of us were gay, Neither of us are trans, And neither of us are apart of any of the lgbtq. We are allies and nothing more. She tried to argue that he had a 'skirt' which OBVIOUSLY meant he was trans, I basically screamed at her that she was a stupid know it all who made everyone who wasn't apart of the lgbtq's life hell because she made sure everyone knew them as someone they arent (I know, I shouldn't of brought up 2 years in the past) and that I was tired of her trying to force everyone to be in the LGBTQ when its just not realistic. Not everyone is gay or trans, Some people are cis and straight. She started crying and left, We haven't spoken in a few days but I think I'm justified. I'm tired of living my life being told I'm something I'm not, I'm tired of seeing it happen to my brother too.

My brother later thanked me for standing up for him, Telling me it made him really upset when she said those things. To cheer him up we watched his favorite movies and I made him his favorite dinner (mom and dad both work day jobs so we both make lunch and dinner)

And for those who are gonna say that allies are apart of the LGBTQ I strongly believe the A is for aro/ace. Being an ally isn't a gender or sexuality

(unless people identify using ally/allyself of course or whatever it is, I'm not quite sure how neos work or whatever but I love to see how creative people get with it and am happy it gives people who don't identify with any of the normalized(? Idk the correct term but yknow the man woman and nb) genders a chance to be who they actually are)

Extra info on why I think I could be the asshole: I feel like we might've been able to explain it if we got her to shut up for a minute, But she kept talking over us. I feel like I went too far by insulting her, And I feel like I might be TA because she's also autistic (so is my brother though, And I have ADHD).

Why I think I'm NTA: My brother is really quiet and doesn't really defend himself often. He doesn't really know how to stand up for himself and is 'easy' to talk over (soft spoken, Quiet talking voice and nonconfrontational) which is why I believe I had to step in in his place, And I don't believe I did anything wrong defending my brother and making her stop calling him what hes not.

Anyways. AITA for yelling at our friend that my brother isn't trans?

To see later: PINK PANTHER

What are these acronyms?

[avatar-anna]

Unknown Number, Part 3

italics: y/n (unknown number)

bold: harry

(four weeks ago)

J: guess what?

HS: What?

J: no you actually have to guess!

HS: Why?

J: i wouldn't have said guess what if i didn't want you to actually guess. i would've just told you

J: so guess!

HS: Uh...you went on a date with a decent guy?

J: normally i would say RUDE but you're correct!

J: still...RUDE

(ten minutes later)

HS: Wow.

J: wow? just wow? i'm making real progress here!

J: college graduate, good head of hair, sense of humor that isn't misogynistic, and he's stupid hot

J: i think i'm in love

HS: After just one date? Don't you think it's a little too soon to tell?

J: who knew you were such debbie downer

J: i think you need to go on a date. maybe that'll make you believe in the power of love and a beautiful smile

HS: Ha ha

HS: I already told you I'm too busy.

J: no one's too busy for love h

(present day)

Y/n had never felt more nervous in her life.

Here she was sitting across from the person she'd spent countless days and weeks and months texting. There was never a moment where she didn't have anything to say to him, but now her mind was completely blank.

She wasn't supposed to see him again. The tour buses were typically a ghost town as it got closer and closer to show time, so she figured she could wait there before she had to leave for the airport.

When Y/n saw Harry outside the tour bus, she thought he'd come to yell at her some more; part of her thought she was about to be sent to jail for stalking. But all he wanted to do was talk.

And now they were on a couch not saying a word.

There was too much that needed to be said, but Y/n didn't know how to start, and she assumed Harry didn't either because he was just as quiet. But since the silence was almost as unbearable as when he yelled at her, she mustered the courage to say something.

"I...I don't know how to convince you that I'm not a stalker," she said, looking down at her hands folded in her lap. Then she laughed a little.

"What?"

Her eyes flicked up to Harry's, and when he wasn't laughing or smiling with her, she stopped. "We, uh, we had the same conversation, only in reverse, remember?"

Y/n had gone through many emotions that day—mortification, terror. She'd gone out on a limb by texting so soon after a date, and to find out that said date had given her a fake phone number was not the best feeling in the world. And then realizing that she'd sent a picture of herself half-naked...not her proudest moment.

"I—It was a risk for me too, you know," she said quietly. "I didn't know who you were, either, and I—I don't know what else you want me to say. I wasn't lying. You were the one who asked to talk, so talk."

Harry didn't talk, at least not at first. Y/n wasn't going to say anything else until he did, though. He'd yelled at her, called her sick, assumed the absolute worst without about her before stopping to ask for an explanation. And she understood, but then why not just let her be? Why drag this out?

"I want to believe you. I'm trying to believe you," Harry said. "You just—You have to understand how alarming this was for me. This isn't the first time my phone number has gotten leaked."

"I'm sorry." It was all Y/n could think of to say.

"And so hearing you say my name when I'd never told you...I got scared, and—and angry that it'd happened again."

Y/n understood where Harry was coming from, and she didn't blame him for not believing her, but this all seemed redundant. She already forgave him in her note. Perhaps she could try a different approach.

"I didn't know who One Direction was when we first started talking," she said. "I didn't even know who One Direction was until I got this job."

Harry's brows raised. "Really?"

Y/n rolled her eyes. "You're popular, but not that popular."

To her surprise, Harry laughed. It was small and weak, but it was a laugh. "Fair enough."

"I swear I didn't know who you were until this tour. I saw the first couple shows on the road, I saw just how many fans you guys have, and so maybe I did a little research, but I didn't know it was Harry Styles, beloved by millions of teenage girls around the world, that I was texting."

Harry scooted closer to her, and with wide eyes, Y/n scooted away. She didn't know what that meant, or why he did it, but she wasn't ready for it. They'd been friends, were friends, she didn't know what they were. He was close enough for now.

Harry was...very gorgeous. Y/n was well aware of that after seeing pictures of him online and in passing during the day. Now that they were up close, she was suddenly aware of his pretty green eyes and hair that curled down to his shoulders. And the tattoos. God, how many times had she told Harry that she loved a guy with tattoos?

"So...You really only found out a few days ago?" he asked.

"I only know what you've said over text," Y/n said with a nod. "And some of your discography, obviously. And the names of your fellow boy band members."

Y/n watched as Harry took in what she said, hoping he would believe her, or at the very least not be angry with her anymore. She knew they would probably never be friends, but maybe she could go back home knowing he didn't hate her or think she was crazy.

"I...believe you. I think," he said after a couple long minutes.

"Don't say that if you don't—"

"No, I—I told you a few days ago that I know you, and I meant that," he insisted. "I jumped to conclusions because of past circumstances, but thinking clearly and reading your letter...those instances and this aren't the same. I'm sorry for exploding on you like that."

Y/n shook her head. "You said it yourself. This wasn't the first time something like this has happened. You had a right to be angry."

"I just—This wasn't how I wanted this to go."

"What do you mean?"

"I wanted—I wanted the first time we met to be...I don't know what I wanted but I didn't want it to be like this."

Eyes blinking in surprise, Y/n said, "Well, I'm glad you believe me. Maybe we can still be frie—Oh."

Before Y/n could finish what she was saying, her phone went off. Her alarm.

"What's that?"

Y/n looked down at her phone, then up at Harry. Things seemed to be mended for the most part, but she didn't want to press her luck. If she left now, maybe they could go back to the way things were before their identities were more or less revealed.

"I set an alarm so I would make it to the airport on time," she said, standing up from the couch. "My flight isn't for another two hours, but I like to get there early because of security and all that."

"You're leaving?" Harry asked, sounding incredulous, though you weren't sure why.

"I told you I was. You threatened to call the police on me, remember?"

"But—But we fixed everything. I thought...This is still your foot in the door, June. I don't want to take that away from you."

It was sweet that he was still thinking about her career, Y/n thought. But... "I appreciate that you're taking my career into account, but I think I need some time to digest the fact that the...friend that I've been texting for the last couple months is—is—"

The truth was Y/n needed to get over the fact that she couldn't actually be with her perfect stranger. When she could hide behind her phone, it was easier to fantasize and come back down to earth, but now the reality of their situation was slapping her in the face. This wasn't going to end with the two of them together.

"Is what? Not who you thought I was?"

"I was taken by surprise too, you know. I thought, or I'd hoped for—"

"What?

"Nothing. I have to catch my flight," Y/n said. She stood up from the couch, or tried to, anyway. Harry reached for her wrist, keeping her there. She knew she could easily pull away and stand up, but she didn't. "Maybe I should've let you believe I was crazy," she said with a laugh. "It would've made leaving easier."

"You don't have to go," Harry insisted. "You're my friend, and I—"

"But I don't want to just be your friend, Harry!" She said, finally pulling her hand from his. "Maybe that makes me crazy for developing feelings for someone before I ever met them, but I'm not sure I could sit around and pretend that I don't want to take your face in my hands and—"

Y/n didn't even register that Harry had moved closer to her. Couldn't make a single noise before they were nose and his lips were on hers. She could only stare, nearly cross-eyed, so surprised she could hardly register how soft his lips were. And then, for just a moment, Y/n closed her eyes and let herself get lost in the kiss. Her hands found themselves in his hair, pulling him closer, pulling him over her, but before they could get any further her senses took over.

"H—Wha—What are you doing—"

"Do you know how hard it was to watch you go on and on about going out with complete dickheads?" he asked, not trying to kiss Y/n, but not moving away either. "To know that some undeserving idiot was taking you out and treating you so wrong when I could've—when I knew I could be better than that, be someone you deserved."

"You never—I don't understand." She did, she just didn't want to.

"June," Harry said. His thumb traced the curve of her cheek so gently, yet it sent chills throughout her whole body. "I want—I want y—"

Y/n didn't let him finish as she pressed her lips to his again. A hum rumbled from Harry's chest, clearly pleased by her reaction. She let herself savor every feeling—from the hand that cradled her face and laid her back across the couch to hair that created a curtain over the both of them and his persistent mouth that wanted more, more, more. The leather sofa was cool against her back and she whimpered, but Harry only took it as an opportunity to deepen the kiss, slotting a leg between hers while her arms threaded around his neck.

"Tell me you'll stay," he said, breathing only slightly shallow. Y/n had only kissed Harry twice, but she was aching to do it again. She leaned forward, but he moved just out of reach, his fingers holding her chin in place. "I'm sorry for yelling and immediately assuming the worst, but please don't go. Not yet."

He looked so sincere, Y/n thought. The way Harry stared at her was intense but endearing. His lips were a little swollen from all the kissing, and some of his hair was hanging in his face. She could understand why so many people were attracted to him, even outside the realm of physical beauty. If Y/n didn't know him the way she did and he still looked at her like that, she would do nothing short of eating out of the palm of his hand. His energy was hypnotizing, his intentions were good, and he had a decent heart to match. Y/n wasn't sure she'd be able to leave even if she wanted to.

"I won't. I promise."

If him pleading with her hadn't done the trick, his smile would have. It was full of hope rounded out by deep dimples and charm. "Really?"

"I know it probably won't be easy, but I want this too. I want you."

She spent so much of her time on guys who didn't care, who weren't after what she was after. Recently, Y/n had only gone out on dates because she thought she was crazy for developing feelings for someone she'd never met, but now...

She didn't even think it was possible, but Harry's grin widened, and when she leaned in again, he let her. They only kissed for a few minutes before Y/n pulled back with a start. "Wait!"

"What?"

She giggled, then smoothed the corner of his mouth where there was a little lip gloss. "You don't even know my name."

Realization dawned on Harry, as if he'd never even thought about calling her anything other than June, which was fine by her, but she figured he at least needed to know her real name.

"Oh right. I guess we should do this properly. I'm Harry, and I would very much like to take you out sometime."

Y/n grinned and awkwardly shook his hand while Harry was still on top of her. "Nice to meet you, Harry. I'm Y/n, but you can call me June. Almost everyone does."

"Everyone?"

"Yeah, that's kind of the point of nicknames," she said, looking at him oddly. "Why?"

"I want a name that's just mine," Harry said.

Running a hand through his hair, she said, "Well, can we kiss while you figure something out."

"Absolutely."

Twelve uninterrupted minutes. That's what Y/n and Harry got. He supposed they could've spent it talking, but they had plenty of time to talk. Harry just wanted to be close to her, and Y/n wanted the same.

It was weird to see her, to know she was June, and associate her with a different name. But not too bad that he needed a minute to think about it.

In twelve minutes, Harry was out of his shirt and Y/n was working on getting hers off. They knew better than to do anything more than that, but he liked seeing her in a way he never thought he would, and he could only imagine she felt the same. When Y/n finally managed to get her shirt over her head, Harry felt a bit like an ass for staring, but he couldn't help it. He was taking every inch of her in. Every curve, freckle and scar. Y/n squirmed a little under his gaze and attempted to cross her arms over herself, which was when he finally looked back up at her lovely face.

"Sorry. You're quite beautiful."

That wasn't a dick thing to say, right? He avoided stating the obvious, which was he wanted to put his mouth everywhere and didn't quite know where to start, but something crossed Y/n's face. Harry didn't quite know what it meant, but he would.

Though he did get a little worried he said the wrong thing, but before he could ask she pulled him down to her again.

All of that in twelve minutes. Harry wanted more, would've maybe gotten more, but the door to the tour bus flew open, and a voice drew nearer before either of them could separate.

"Harry? You in here? People are losing their minds because—Woah."

Harry was quick to maneuver himself in front of June as Niall's eyes fell on the two of them. He reached down and grabbed his shirt and shrugged it on. "Everyone can keep their pants on. I'm coming."

"Can you?"

"Niall!" Harry said, but June just giggled behind him. He looked back at her to see her smiling.

"It was a little funny."

Shaking his head, Harry leaned forward and kissed the top of hers. "I have to go—Can you give us a minute?" he asked, throwing a look over his shoulder at Niall.

"Yeah," he said, though most of it was covered up by laughter at having caught his friend. "Yeah, I'll—Wait a minute. Is that June?"

She peeked out behind Harry's shoulder. "Hello."

Harry's mind was alphabet soup for a moment while he tried to make sense of what was essentially his two worlds colliding. It would make sense that Niall knew June because he was always hanging out with the 5SOS boys.

"But what about that girl you've been moping about—"

"Niall."

"I'm going! I'm going! I gotta go tell Calum and the boys."

"Niall, no—And he's gone." Y/n sighed and rested her head on Harry's shoulder. Then she playfully pinched his side. "Moping?"

"Oh hush."

J: where are you?

HS: Radio interview. I'll be back soon.

HS: Why?

J: i was gonna do a little shopping. thought you might wanna join

J: BUT i will just go by myself

HS: Sorry. I'll see you after?

J: fiiine

HS: Okay I'm back. Where are you?

J: still shopping!

HS: All you buy are t-shirts. How does that take so long?

J: um...RUDE i guess i'll just put the super sexy panties away

HS: ...please don't hurry

J: that's what i thought

HS: I miss you :((

J: you saw me twenty minutes ago

HS: I want you in my bunk

J: a little late seeing as we're already on the road!

HS: :(((

J: everyone is going to hate me, but do you want me to call you?

HS: No it's fine.

HS: Can you switch buses at the next stop for gas?

J: you're unbelievable

J: yes of course

HS: :)))

HS: Louis wants you to know we're disgusting!

J: tell louis he can kiss my ass

HS: I will do no such thing. Your ass is mine

HS: Louis is right

J: we are disgusting

HS: So... I'll see you in a couple hours

J: can't wait xx

J: but until then (download image here)

and that's a wrap! i hope y'all enjoy the last part! thanks for all the love on this fic, everyone has been so sweet💕💕

tags:

@cookielovesbook-akie @sucker4angstt @l0v3e1i @bellesmith628 @marigold-morelli @obsessedmaggiemay @voniikg @onecrazydirectioner @unabashedcolorfrienddreamer @austinsvlrslut @iheartharlow @jessitpwk @fictionalmenloversblog @onceagainace @zucchinimalfoy @sqrxndipity @indierockgirrl @drwho06 @shakiraa-a @nomyeyebrowsarentreal @sleutherclaw @yeehawbrothers @harryspirate

[k-dokja]

gun x reader fluff?

This has been in my ask box for basically forever.

"You look pissed."

You glare at him for pointing out the obvious, not knowing what to make of the situation now that you're separated from him by this stupid glass panel. "You abandoned me, what am I supposed to do?" Snapping irritably at him, you cross your arms, trying to redirect every ounce of your ire towards his smug face.

"I didn't abandon you," Gun corrects you, "you aren't a child to be abandoned."

"Stop trying to be pedantic, do you know when you will be free of this place?" Your grumbling accompanies the incessant rhythms of your manicured nails on the counter. "I need to figure out what's the next move to do with my business."

"Why should I matter?" Gun leans back in his seat, uncaring of the world outside. "You will manage, as you always do, you don't need me."

His flippant attitude boils your blood, and he knows it, too. You don't know if he cares enough to do anything about it. Probably not. "Don't give me that shit, you drag me all the way from home to Korea to do business. What if those unpredictable brats come after me next? Even if I can, I don't want to deal with all of this alone. At least, take responsibility for me if you're going to push aside my hard work."

"Then go home," his reply comes before you can think about it. "My people will take care of you, they know who you are. No one will give you trouble as long as your family is under our protection."

"Ugh," you groan, hating how little he cares about all of this. "What's the point of going home if you aren't there? The Yamazaki lacks a proper leader without you. Besides, we aren't married yet. My words won't hold any weight."

"True," Gun hums, nodding his head to the side. "I should've put a baby in you before all of this went off."

His words cause you to shudder. "Don't say creepy shit like that," you complain, hugging your shoulder in fear. "Even if I agree to that insane plan, I'm not going to be a single mother."

"You won't be a single mother," a slight smirk curves his lips, "I'm not dead yet."

"But you won't be present, that's what matters," you thumb your fists down on the counter, setting your glare on him with the hope it'd burn him to a crisp. "If you think I'm going to let you ignore whatever kid we have, you're dead wrong."

He laughs. It's a rare, soft sound that puts you into a strange stupor. "Burdensome woman," once again, he stirs the fire of rage in you with only a few words and shuts out the kindles in the same breath, "but I mean it when I tell you to go home, there's no guarantee no one will come for you while I'm not around."

"That's what I was saying, but—" You jump to argue, but he interrupts you before your thought even completes.

"No 'buts', I already sent words," he glances up at the ceiling, lost in ideas you aren't privy to. "You will be safe there, don't think too much about it. You'd be close to your family, too, if anything happens."

You chew down on your lower lip, hating the way he pushes you around like a little child. But you guess, this is the way he takes responsibility. "I don't want to leave you alone here."

Gun smirks and you hate the way he does it because he always looks like you got goaded into confirming what he already knew. "I'll be fine," he reassures you, his words softening around the edges before they spike up with that condescending smile of his, "or are you worried you will miss me?"

"As if," you huff in outrage, crossing your arms as you stand up. "Ugh, fine, whatever, I'll delegate my operations and go home. You rot in there for however long, see if I care."

"Mhm." He hums. "Try to not visit too often, you might give me the wrong idea."

You throw him a sideway glare, fiddling with the strap of your handbag to secure up. "You're the worst," you bristle, turning on your heels as you stomp out. But as you reach the threshold of the visiting room, something tugs at your heartstrings, forcing you to look back at you.

His eyes are on you, and for the briefest moment, it's not the fathomless abyss you often see, but something normal yet so unfamiliar. You bite down on your lower lip, refusing to let the emotions take over you.

He'll be back to you soon enough. You know it in your heart. Believing that is the only way you can leave without regret.

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

Part 1 | . . . | Part 68 | Part 69 | Part 70

Lmao nice.

Side note- I know I’ve been more active on Tumblr as of recently, though I haven’t been posting more of this fic. I think I needed that hiatus more than I thought I did. Trying to keep up the posting schedule I had was draining me too much, and I was overwhelmed. So I’m going to do things a little different after this fic. For starters, if you’re not following #starambles, please do if you want to keep up with what I’m writing. That’s my writing tag. I also link everything in my masterlist. I’ll have separate fic tags for each multi-chapter fic, but I will no longer be doing taglists. This does not apply to IISS: I will complete this fic with the taglist it’s amassed. However, I will no longer be adhering to my previous schedule. Instead I will post whenever I’m ready to. It may take a while, but I figure if it’s this or no more IISS, the answer would be this. If you would like to be removed from the taglist, that’s completely fine; just let me know! Also someone please confirm this tagged you in the correct way. Thank you for understanding.

Steve takes stock of himself, smiles a little as he says, “I am, yeah.” He’s a little surprised, but only a little. Eddie’s proven himself great at getting Steve out of his head. “Thank you.”

Eddie gently squeezes his hand. “Wanna stay up here a little longer, before we face the circus downstairs?”

Steve hums. “You can go back down, if you want.”

“You do that a lot.”

Steve blinks. “What?”

“You do that a lot. You put everyone else’s comfort before your own.”

Steve shrugs. “I’m good at going without. I don’t need a lot.”

Eddie leans his head back with a sigh. “I’ve got a feeling going back in time will change that. Now you’ve got me and Alli to tell you when you’re being a self-sacrificing idiot.”

Steve winces. Covers it up with a laugh. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Eddie looks at him, brows furrowed. “What?”

Steve shakes his head. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not. Steve.”

Steve tilts his head back, squeezes his eyes shut. “Just. It won’t make sense, in this time, because half of it hasn’t happened yet, but you’ve known Dustin for all of a day and I’m willing to bet you already know how he’d act when I don’t know something he does. And-” he takes a breath. It only stutters a little. “Nancy. It was- she meant it in a sweet way, y’know? But she’d tell me, you’re an idiot, Steve Harrington. And… I know I’m not the smartest. I know there’s obvious things that I miss all the time. And I can only blame so much of it on the concussions, y’know? But at the same time… I’m not actually stupid. Impulsive, maybe, sometimes, but I do have a brain that actually works most of the time. So.” He shrugs. “I dunno. I just don’t like being called an idiot.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. Sorry, Stevie.”

“‘S okay. You didn’t know.”

“No, but I should know better than to call people stupid. Wayne would box my ears for that. In fact, I think I’ll go downstairs right now, ask him to remind me.” He makes to get up, but Steve, laughing, pulls him back down.

“Don’t you dare,” Steve chuckles. “I like your ears un-boxed, thank you.”

“Okay,” Eddie agrees. “I’m not gonna call you that again. How’s asshole sound? Self-sacrificing asshole has a nice ring to it.”

Steve collapses in giggles. “I guess if I deserve it.”

“You do,” Eddie promises him, then grumbles to himself. “Trying to get me to go downstairs, I swear.”

Steve giggles some more. “Okay, I get it,” he swears. “I’d like to stay up here for a few more minutes, then we can go back downstairs.”

“Okay.” Eddie grins at him. “I’ve got a couple ideas on how we could spend a few more minutes.”

“Oh?” Steve asks, leaning closer. “And what would that be?”

“I think you know,” Eddie murmurs, close enough to Steve that he’s practically speaking into Steve’s mouth.

Neither of them mind, clearly, because in the next second they’re kissing, Steve’s hands on Eddie’s shoulders for stability, Eddie’s hands gently stroking Steve’s back, up and down, up and down. He moves out a little and grabs at Steve’s hips, and Steve hums into his mouth. Eddie grins into the kiss, so in retaliation Steve twines a hand into Eddie’s hair.

Eddie gently bites Steve’s tongue, and Steve holds in the noise that wants to come out. He gently pulls back instead. “Eddie,” he murmurs. “We should stop.”

Eddie sighs and rests his forehead on Steve’s collarbone. “Yeah. Sorry.”

Steve snorts. “I’m not. I like what we just did. But I also know we should get back downstairs soon.”

Eddie hums in agreement. “Yeah. Lemme just sit here for a minute and think about, like, grandmas with dentures, or something.”

Steve laughs. “That’s probably a good idea,” he admits. He shifts, rests his back against the bed again, sighs. Smiles when Eddie grabs his hand again. “I’m glad you’re here with me.” He pauses, just long enough for Eddie to start to fidget, before finishing with a smile. “Here at the end of all things, Eds.”

Eddie groans and flops over on top of Steve. “And you know Lord of the Rings? Is there anything you can’t do?”

“Fly?” Steve asks, which causes Eddie to laugh.

“Nah,” he says, rolling so his head is pillowed on Steve’s lap. “I think you could just ask gravity not to work and it would let you fly.”

Steve snorts and cards his fingers through Eddie’s hair. “I think you’re biased.”

“I can be biased and right.”

Steve just hums. “Your hair is surprisingly soft.”

Eddie blinks. “Um. Thanks?”

Steve chuckles. “I just mean it’s surprising because of how frizzy it is.

Eddie snickers. “You want to take care of it, don’t you?”

“So bad,” Steve agrees, also laughing. “Your choice, though.”

Eddie smiles. “Maybe once the chaos has calmed down?”

“Sure.” Steve sighs. “Ready to go downstairs?”

“I’m ready whenever you are.”

Steve smiles. “Then let’s go.”

Eddie rolls off of him so Steve can stand. He then offers Eddie a hand up.

“Wait,” Steve requests, right as Eddie’s reaching for the doorknob.

Eddie pulls back, turns to Steve. “Yeah?”

“Kiss first?”

“Kiss always,” Eddie agrees, and happily leans in.

After they pull apart, there’s a knock at the door, and a tentative voice. “Steve? Eddie?”

It’s Dustin.

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[zvhiux34]

Simon Riley realizes how much touch starved he is due to his physical therapy.

Pairing: OC (Female, Dr Eavanson) x Simon "Ghost" Riley

w.c: 2.5k

Warning: Fluff, a little twisted Simon I guess, a small sexual inuendo. English it's not my first language.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Due to his work, Simon Riley is a man accustomed to looking death in the eye, but his skill has helped him dodge it, avoid it, and even mock it to the face a few times.

But what he could not escape, no matter how hard he tried, was the pain.

Although adrenaline and satisfaction also accompanied him, sometimes, when he and his team completed a mission.

But those pleasant sensations went away when the pain knocked on the door. It was always there, like the shadow of a bad thought.

At least it reminded him that he was still alive, and not just another «Ghost» wandering through the valleys of violence.

A few months ago, while he was deploying a mission to capture one of many criminal gangs in Afghanistan, Simon and his team were cornering the leaders when suddenly one of those damned people managed to hit a bullet in his right shoulder, almost hitting his shoulder blade.

It was incredible how such a small object could transmit such a heartbreaking sensation that reached half of his body.

Fortunately, that did not prevent the capture of those scum, but the price of pain was quite expensive to pay.

The pain is what brought him here, in a seat in the waiting room of your medical office. Although the doctor successfully removed the bullet, the impact affected several muscles in his shoulder which prevented him from handling his weapons with the mastery that characterizes him. Therefore, they gave him a medical leave to recover, away from the battlefield.

Simon snorted in annoyance at the memory of his superiors demanding him to take the leave. They also recommended a doctor specialized in traumatology in his homeland, in England, who could carry out his therapy.

As hard as it was to accept it, he knew he needed therapy, so his body would be in optimal condition, just like before.

-Mr. Riley? -The receptionist, a middle-aged woman behind her desk, caught his attention- You can now go into the office, Dr. Eavanson is waiting for you.

Simon stood up from his seat and walked to where the woman indicated. He carried his hands in his pockets as she knocked lightly on the door and then opened it.

Simon didn't know what to expect, he thought you were a gray-haired man who was in charge of this office.

But there you were, a mirage of a delicate figure behind your desk visualizing something on the computer. Seeing you again, Simon felt something tense inside him, the receptionist closed the door behind her, leaving the two of you alone.

You raised your gaze to where he was and smiled kindly at him, Simon didn't know what to do, he was frozen, for a second he thought you had caught him and knew all the paralyzing sensation you caused him in just a few moments. "What's happening to me?" he thought to himself.

-Mr. Riley, right? -Finally, your welcoming voice broke the walls of silence. Simon was able to escape from his trance to nod slightly.

-It's nice to meet you, I'll take care of you today. I was reviewing the X-ray plates of your shoulder along with the medical file, I see that you have an injury in the supraspinatus muscle. Is that correct? -You got up from your seat and took a few steps to approach your new patient, Simon, but he, the lituanent who led a group of soldiers with the same strength and violence as he possesses, and who had experience in fighting against equal or worse subjects...

He took a step back at your approach, as if it were by instinct.

You realized that gesture, and then looked at him a little strangely.

Simon cursed himself inwardly. He was acting like a stupid teenager, or worse, like an antisocial who doesn't know how to deal with people, he had to do something.

-Yes. -He answered, finally while composing himself- That's right. The doctor who treated me in the camp made the same diagnosis... And therefore assigned me a series of therapies.

He almost let out a sigh of relief when he saw your face lose the signs of strangeness that you had shown a few seconds ago.

It was strange, normally he didn't pay attention to what others thought of him.

His mind began to search for an answer to the question that formed inside him. Why was it different with you?

-That's right. -You affirmed with the same smile.-Fortunately, in cases like his, recovery is guaranteed if you undergoes a series of therapies.

Simon nodded as he listened... while he used an effort to contain the desire of his eyes to travel something further below the borders of your face, he didn't want you to notice him doing that, while you looked at him straight in the eye.

-But first, I have to examine you. Could you undress and sit down on the stretcher, please? -Suddenly all of Simon's thoughts fell silent, as you pointed with your head to the stretcher that was on the right side of the room. And a coat rack to hang clothes.

«Shit» when he saw you he had totally forgotten that he had to undress in front of the doctor who was going to treat him.

He just didn't take into account that it was going to be someone like you.

In those microseconds where he tried to dilute his little panic, he glanced at you while you were checking something on your iPod.

You didn't seem to give the matter any big importance, anyway, for you it was just another body to check.

But for him, it was a body formed by years of work, but it was also full of tattoos and scars, in which each trace of them contained hundreds of stories. Some he still knew by heart, others... Not only were they too obvious, but the memory was also very present.

But the problem wasn't him, he wasn't embarrassed at all by his appearance, the problem was you... He didn't know how you were going to react to seeing a body like his, nor... Nor if you were going to like it.

He couldn't just stand there either.

Simon started by removing his black jacket, feeling the bother sensation by his right shoulder, then finishing with his long-sleeved shirt of the same color. He hung them on the clothes rack, and proceeded to sit on the strecher, feeling it soft at the same time he heard the squeal beneath him.

He assumed that was what announced to you he was ready for the evaluation. You put your iPod on your desk and went straight to where he was.

There, Simon's eyes escaped from their prison to be able to quickly and discreetly explore a little more of what he had already been able to capture.

You were smaller than him, without a doubt, even when he saw you sitting at the desk he realized. You barely reached the height of his chest.

His honey-colored eyes lowered a little more, until they met your neck. It was firm, not willing to allow your head to look down at any eventuality, and the skin that protected it looked so soft and delicate.

Simon wondered how many times you had covered it, not only from the cold weather, but to protect it from the curious glances the love marks made by some lucky indiscreet lover to whom you allowed such audacity.

Although you were not carrying any by now, he made sure of that.

His eyes lowered further, and found the protective layer that was your white coat and the blue uniform, those in your profession usually wear.

He did not deny he was only a little disappointed, since his imagination would have to cooperate to draw the shapes hidden beneath the layers of fabric.

But it did not matter, the best part was in front of him, totally accesible to his sight.

Your face.

-Well, I am going to examine the state of your shoulder with a series of movements to evaluate its condition - You announced, while you positioned yourself in front of him.- It is important that you let me know if you feel any pain, since that way I will know what type of therapy will be the most appropriate for you, okay? -You looked into his eyes to get his approval, Simon looked back at you and nodded.

-Okay.

-Perfect, let's get started.

You took the wrist of his right arm, and raised it slightly while your other hand gently rested on Simon's affected shoulder.

-I'm going to move your arm in a circular motion.-You announced again to begin to make the movements, gently.- From one to ten on a pain scale, how do you feel it?-She ask him.

Nothing could prepare him when he felt the touch of your soft fingers on his rough skin. He had to use an effort to contain the small exaltation that his body emitted.

Until you began to move his arm in a circular motion.

The sensation that the movements caused on his affected shoulder reminded him of the reasons why he was right now here, the pain was not as intense as the days after his operation. But it was still very annoying, he tried not to let the pain be reflected in his gestures.

-Seven. -He confessed.

-Perfect. -You snapped. You left his arm in the original position.- I'm going to repeat the procedure with another exercise, the conditions are the same. -You assured him with your voice that he felt as velvety in his ears.

You took his right arm wrist again, except this time you gently bent his arm until you were directing his hand towards his left shoulder, where your other hand was resting.

To do this, you had to put your arm around Simon's back, who was a significantly larger person than you.

But the one who was aware of all this was him, who felt his breathing stop for a moment, as he felt your delicate arm surround the skin of his back, which he felt was getting warmer and warmer.

While your chest was only centimeters away from coming into contact with his skin.

After months and months of combat, where many times he faced each other in hand-to-hand combat, using the power of his strength to weaken the enemy or using his perfect technique in the execution of weapons, where many times his opponents responded with scratches, bruises, blows, or even bullets, like the last time.

This was the first time he felt how physical contact with another person... did not imply some kind of harm to him.

And suddenly he realized, he realized after all these events how much he needed at least some small kind touch after the sea of violence he subjected himself to day after day.

He felt his heart ache a little below his chest.

Simon looked back at you, and imagined how he took advantage of the position to take you in his arms and place you on his lap, while you allowed his mouth to finally capture yours in an almost suffocating way, but you responded in the same expectant way as he did.

-From one to ten on a pain scale, how do you feel? -Your voice takes him out of the perfect imagination in which he was submerged, he answered quickly to pretend he never imagined such scenes with you just a few seconds ago.

-Six.

-Perfect. -You answered with your warm smile.

And so the first therapy session with you passed, where Simon had to honor his good sense of self-control, and for the first time in his life he realized he was almost on the verge of losing it.

-Very well Mr. Riley, you can put your clothes back on now. -You kindly indicated while looking into his eyes, Simon did as you asked, surprised that time had passed so quickly- As I suspected, the injury from your wound does not present a depth that supposes a serious magnitude, fortunately -You went to your desk to record with your computer the physical examination that you performed in detail- Therefore, you have been prescribed two sessions of physical therapy including interferential therapy for five weeks starting next Thursday.

Next, you removed two copies of the prescription from the printer. You gave a copy to Simon, who was already dressed and in front of the desk, which he took very willingly.

-On the prescription, write down two painkillers that will help you a lot with the pain and the necessary doses.-You indicated.- That's all for today, we'll see each other next Thursday, Mr. Riley, take care, and if you have any questions, you have my phone number that you can call- You assured, then getting up from your chair and offering him your hand as a momentary farewell, which Simón gladly took.

Since it was the last trace of contact with the one he would have to survive until his next meeting.

-Thank you very much for everything, Dr. Eavanson. See you next Thursday.- He said in farewell, then opening the door that separated him from the outside world... From you.

Darkness had already fallen over the city, and Simon was inside his apartment with the light off, on his bed, ready to finally rest. He had already taken the medicine you recommended, and for the first time in months, his shoulder was no longer bothering him so much in this position.

With his head on his pillow, he began to think on today's events.

After thinking for a while, he discovered that what happened a few hours ago had never happened to him before, until he was under your touch.

And he didn't understand why, certainly the last mission was one of the longest he had had in his career, where the only people he saw daily were his teammates.

It is true that he couldn't remember the last time someone had touched him in such a delicate and kind way.

And well, he had already gone on long missions before... And he had also touched other women in the past, and they had touched him too.

But none of them caused him the slightest bit of what you did. Even though they had only known each other for less than half an hour.

And after thinking, and thinking without coming up with any logical answer, he simply stopped looking for an answer, and dedicated the last moments of his day to enjoying the beautiful moments he spent with you in the walls of your doctor's office.

And with that he posed a question that perhaps would never have a clear answer: How would you react... if Simon lost the self-control he had left?

What would you think of all the things he had done with you inside his mind without you knowing?

Without a doubt, he was going to attend all his therapies.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I'll be glad for any sugestion 💘.

M A S T E R L I S T

[p0ssywhippedcream]

I'm back again! So for me, all the one-shots where Percy is being a shit to y/n are like a series of  a toxic relationship, and I WANT HIM TO SUFFER SO BAD. It could be because I despise assholes or because he reminds me too much of my shitty ex (Percy, I adore you, but this is personal now).

Yes, my ex wasn't over his ex while being with me and told me that he preferred to still have the 140 pictures (yes, I remember this detail) of her than be with me.

Like I said before, I would love fluff, but I need vengeance! I NEED IT!

So please, I beg you! Write something that will fulfill my soul; I know you can. I only want him to pay, nothing else.

Love, THE Anon 🧚

I've tried to figure out how to say "fuck your ex" in a creative way but low-key im too tired he's just a douche n im so happy you know you deserve better n you're not with him!!! Also I wrote this sleep deprived on a 8 hour flight n actually kinda hate it but I promised so I deliver.

48 times. 48 times Percy’s called you and 48 times you haven’t picked up. It’s been about two weeks since you left and he hasn’t heard a lick of you, complete silence on your end.

For a while he respected the wall you’d put up, only because he didn’t miss what was behind it. He had Annabeth, his best friend and he didn’t need you.

Then earlier, he was doing the dishes with his mom. She was drying and he was washing and maybe he would’ve noticed her silence sooner if he wasn’t zeroed in on scrubbing off a chunk of fried egg.

When he finally looked up, Percy noticed her staring out the window with the look she only got when she was thinking of his dad and nudged her gently.

“Mom?”

Sally turned and met his questioning gaze. Her eyes were less sad, more reminiscent.

“Sometimes I just wonder, what it would have been like if he stayed.”

Percy nods, thinking of the man in the next room who stepped in the empty role his father left behind.

“I love Paul, my life now, but I just know that... maybe if he tried a little harder, you could have had it a little easier… I won’t ever forget the love I had for him because it gave me you, but I don’t think I’ll ever forgive it either.”

And now he’s sitting on his bed, slumped over his phone with so many wonders. Could you ever forgive him? Why was it so easy to let you go if it hurts so bad now? 

He calls you again, gets your up-beat ringtone and can’t help the surge of anger. It’s misdirected, you don’t deserve it and it immediately returns full force his way with a guilt tenfold.

So he calls you again and you tell him to leave a message at the beep. He hangs up before he can hear it.

His thumb hovers over the little phone on his screen, 50 times is pushing it.

He gives you a break, and waits, and waits, and waits.

And an hour later, his phone rings and he practically pounces on the device. It’s your smiling face shining up at him and your concerned voice echoing when he picks up.

“Percy? You okay? What’s going on?”

“I-I’m okay, I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Percy,” You sigh, “I was seriously freaked out, I thought you might be dying or something.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Okay.”

He heard you take a breath, holding one of his own.

“What did you want to talk about?”

“I’m- I’m sorry. I’m really sorry and really stupid and I should’ve apologized so much sooner.”

“Yeah, I know.” He winces, “Anything else?” 

“Annabeth doesn’t mean anything to me that way, it’s you. It’s always been you and I’ve been too blind to see the obvious. I thought I needed her still because I knew I could never ask you to be what she was.”

You don’t say anything, he’s compelled to go on but a little scared he’s already messed up.

“Percy, there’s so much wrong with everything you just said but I don’t have the energy to correct you. I’m tired, it’s been a long day and I really just can’t do this, okay?”

“Wait, p-please,” His voice cracks and he makes no attempt to cover it. “Can you just listen to me?”

“No, I can’t. When I said I was done, I meant it. Don’t call me again.”

And with that, the phone call is over. The dial tone is a harsh contrast to your soft voice, it breaks his heart a little more. He misses you a little more when he pulls the phone away from his ear and sees what he could have had in your profile picture. He hates himself a little more when the next number he’s calling is Annabeth’s and she’s picking up with a care in her tone he only wants to hear from you.

[acapelladitty]

a lesson learned

Summary - After a failed attempt to escape being owned by Roman Sionis, he brings in the infamous Scarecrow to help correct such behaviours. (2.1k words)

(tw: sexual slavery, non-con, sa, whipping, mentions of previous abuse, restraints, open for a sequel)

Fic Masterlist ☆ Link to AO3 ☆ Kofi

Trying to escape Roman had been a foolish dream at best and Violet’s panicked eyes took in the scene before her as she struggled against the hard wood of the ‘x’ shaped restraint she had been placed against and strapped into. Her head throbbed, a delayed pain of the earlier blow which Roman had delivered to her skull, and her vision was bleary as her gaze darted between the two men who observed her with sadistic glee.

"Stupid bitch needs a lesson in manners." Roman spoke, directing his words to the man who stood by his side - his impressive height looming over Romans’ own. "She needs to know never to fuck with me again and I thought you would be the perfect solution to help 'correct' her bad behaviour, Dr Crane."

"Of course, Mr. Sionis." In full costume minus his mask, Jonathan Crane cut a terrifying figure and Violet sobbed into her fabric gag as she listened to them speak. "I'm always happy to lend my professional assistance with difficult patients. This one is even prettier than the last. How would you like her?"

"Broken and obedient, but not totally fucked up like the last one. She had to be sold at a reduced price because of all that babbling that your chemical shit snapped her into."

Ignoring the criticism, Crane nodded. "Modifications?"

"Eh," Roman shrugged, blowing out a puff of smoke from his cigar, "nothing nasty to look at. Maybe just the usual stuff that will make it hard for her to see herself as anything but a fuck toy to be used and abused.”

"Simple enough, Mr. Sionis. And I trust you will be joining me to assist in my work?"

"Of course. Maroni is up to some shit these days so I've been needing to keep an eye on him. I could use the opportunity to blow off some steam by listening to this stupid bitch scream.”

"Perfect. Then I suppose I'll begin my initial examination now."

Having been forced to listen to their entire exchange, Violet’s body shook violently. The last month had been a living hell, her forced abduction as she travelled home from work being only the beginning of her torments – a fact which quickly became known to her as she awoke in some kind of holding pen which housed two other women. They had been the ones to tell her of her new reality, a reality of her being little more than a sex object to be trained and used by anyone her new owner saw fit.

It was information which had sent her into a spiral of despair, her body thrashing and screaming out as it pummelled the iron door which kept her from freedom. In fact, she had kicked up such a fuss that her new owner had personally come to pay her a visit and check out his latest merchandise.

Roman Sionis, alias Black Mask.

He had been terrifying, standing tall as his goons dragged her from her holding cell and took her to one of the training rooms – an experience which still made her shudder to this day as they each took turns in using the various tools and instruments which Roman has collected to discipline his toys. It was an encounter which broke something within Violet, their abuse of her body and use of her various holes leaving her a sobbing, aching mess who had then been unceremoniously flung back into the holding pen as the other woman glanced at her with open fear.

But still, despite it all, after weeks of being forced into the most degrading and painful sex acts as an amusement for Roman and his various friends, Violet had gathered the strength to attempt an escape and had barely managed to make it past the second security door before she found herself taking a harsh baton to the stomach. A blow which winded her in an instant and made her drop to her knees, unable to do anything but struggle to breathe – it was almost a relief when the dark boot of the guard collided with her head and knocked her clean out.

The bliss of unconsciousness didn’t last forever though and awaking tied to this cross – her entire body nude and on display for the two master criminals who stood before her – had been almost as terrible as everything else she had been forced to endure.

She knew who the Scarecrow was, everyone in Gotham did, and to have him bearing down on her for a ‘medical’ examination made her heart stutter in her chest as the gag in her mouth held back her desperate pleas.

His hands were gloved, the digits long and thin as they pinched and groped at her body – sizing her up like a fresh slab of meat, like cattle at a market. He paid particular attention to her tits and plucked at her nipples until they were aching and reddened as she trembled in place.

“Lovely tits, don’t you think?” Roman interrupted, palming his cock through his slacks as he pulled a fresh cigar from his inner pocket, quickly lighting it up as he watched Crane with a cruel expression.

“Quite the specimen,” Crane agreed and Violet’s body stiffened in place as his thin fingers dropped from her tits to thrust unceremoniously up her sex, the two fingers feeling rough and extremely uncomfortable given her lack of preparation. “Receptive and responsive too,” he continued as his fingers pumped within her cunt for a few moments before pulling out just as roughly.

Crane’s fingers, the same ones which had just been within her, gripped at Violet’s chin as he forced her to meet his gaze.

“Do you think we should allow her to choose?”

“Nah, fuck her. Use the cable,” Roman replied, blowing out a thick puff of smoke as Violet thrashed against her restraints at the words.

The cable was a thin piece of wire, folded over on itself to create a loop which stung like hell as it tore into the skin of its victim and Violet had only experiences it once, the day after she arrived, as Roman – in his own words – gave her a taste of her life to come.

Seeing the cable in Crane’s hand as he picked it up from the table which housed all of Roman’s toys, Violet sobbed as he approached – stuttered pleas for mercy falling onto deaf ears as Crane paused for a second to drink in her misery before beginning her punishment.

The swish of the folded cable registered for only a moment before pain exploded across her thighs and she cried out, the sting of the wire red hot against her exposed skin. With no time to recover, she screamed as the cable struck again and her ankles pulled against the unforgiving restraints.

Miserable, Violet’s own sobs almost choked her as she thrashed against the cross. Crane was meticulous in his work, painting everything from her thighs to her tits and stomach with his swings – the exertion making him pant as he shifted his body to achieve new angles and reach new skin. Fire flashed across her skin, every targeted area an inferno of agony and heat as the thin wire instantly welted her flesh. Lost in the unyielding sensation, at one point she swore she felt something wet trickly down her leg and she knew the skin there had broken under the assault.

Crane stopped eventually and Violet fell weakly against her restraints, her body limp and roaring with agony as she observed her welted flesh through teary eyes. Her body hadn’t been whipped in some time, enough for all the previous marks to have fully healed up, and the fresh skin bore the brunt of her punishment without mercy.

Loose against her restraints as her body wavered on the edge of consciousness, Violet didn’t have long to wait though, as Roman moved quickly.

His hands were firm as they ripped the restraints free of her wrists and ankles, his nails clawing into his skin as he pinned her skin in place to get the metal free. Now free, Violet dropped to the floor with a solid thud but any attempt to scramble away from their punishments was impossible as Roman immediately fell on her like a rabid dog.

Violet shuddered as he entered her, his cock immediately sinking deep into her cunt without any care for her comfort. It hurt, his rough fucking almost like he was trying to drive her though the floor as he took the opportunity to grip her hips so hard that she knew the skin there would be bruised. It was just another humiliation and the chill of the ground was welcomed against her heated face as she slammed her eyes shut and held as still as she could.

Her face pressed against the floor, Violet could only endure as Roman brutally fucked away at her stinging sex, his every thrust igniting fresh heat in the whip marks which littered her body as her skin was dragged across the cold flooring.

“You want some sloppy seconds, Dr?” Roman snarled as he plunged his cock without mercy. “Or you could fuck her ass if you want? She won’t mind.”

“As tempting as your offer is, I will decline at this moment.”

Thankful, Violet turned her eyes far enough to catch Crane’s face but any hope that he was a better man than the monster fucking her was snuffed out in an instant as she took in the tent of his groin and the amusement in his gaze as he watched her suffer.

With a stuttering groan, Roman came and Violet shuddered as she felt the heat of his release filling her while he scored his nails across her welted skin. Anything to cause her more discomfort as she whimpered and squealed under his punishing hands and cock. But he pulled free just as quickly as he had entered her and she groaned in discomfort as she took in the ache of her sex and the stinging heat of her whipped skin.

Violet lay out on the floor, unable to move and much too afraid to even attempt it and her eyes slammed shut as she heard the steady movement of feet and the zip of Roman’s fly as he tucked his stained cock away.

“Y’know, if she wasn’t such a tight fuck, I’d probably have sold her off to Valentin or some other freak for her disobedience. She’s one lucky cunt and I don’t even think she appreciates it.”

“Spare the rod, spoil the child, Mr Sionis.” Violet heard Crane agree. “I think you’re more that capable of correcting her behaviours and I am always delighted to offer my services.”

“Speaking of which, I know you’ve still got to get your cock wet so let’s get going.”

Two pairs of hands wrapped around her quivering body and Violet screamed in surprise as both men pulled her to her feet and slammed her against the cross which she had only just been released from. The wood was rough against her back and Violet only tried to struggle once against the hands, a movement which was immediately put to rest by Roman’s gloved hand as it cracked hard against her jaw – sending her head ricocheting to the side as she howled in pain.

Violet felt the cold metal of the shackles as they once again fully restrained her to the cross. Her sore pussy continued to leak Roman’s release and it spread messily across her thighs as she writhed in place against the wood. She had been punished and her skin bore the brunt of those marks, not to mention the aches which littered her face due to the various blows which Roman had previously delivered.

“Pl-please let me go?” She asked once more – knowing the words were meaningless to both men but being unable to help herself as Roman stepped back from her position. “Please? I won't run, won't be bad again.”

At her request, Roman laughed and the cruelty in his voice made her heart drop into her stomach.

“Let you go? Oh, you are one stupid whore. More stupid than I thought,” Roman chastised as he drummed his gloved fingers along the wooden table which housed his various tools of torment and toys. “You think a little light whipping and a good fuck are all the punishment you’re getting? Dumb cunt.”

Throwing up a casual thumb which indicated off to the side, Roman smirked viciously and Violet followed his direction to find Crane standing with an equally sadistic expression. Eyeing up the small pot of thin needles which Crane held within his hands with utter horror, Violet screamed and screamed until her lungs started to burn as she understood that far from being over, her time with both men had barely begun.

[whatwooshkai]

for the smoke & mirrors ask - have you had 16 yet?

"You do it! You're the leader!"

"I am not asking! Boulder, you ask."

"Okay-"

"Actually, nevermind. This is stupid. I'll just use my hoses-"

"No! You are not spraying me in the face again, you almost broke my optics-"

"Oh shut up, you were fine!"

"Barely!"

"Blades is correct, that level of pressure-"

"Stay out of this, Chase!"

"Seriously, guys, I don't mind asking-"

Cody sighs, lowering the lift all the way down before the rescue bots break out into an all out brawl. Five minutes of listening to them bicker and yet he still has no idea what they want.

"Hey guys!" he announces, and every helm snaps over. Cody is suddenly aware of the size difference. "Whatcha talkin' 'bout?"

The rescue bots' gazes flit between Cody and each other, seemingly having a silent conversation before Boulder pipes up and says, "We want you to wash our faces."

"Huh?"

"Our faces," Chase repeats. "We would like you to wash them."

"Yeah, I heard," Cody says, giving them a lopsided smile. "I just wanna know why."

"Well, back on Cybertron you'd have to go to a detailer to get your face properly cleaned," Blades explains. "Lots of small seams, big servos, it's not exactly easy to do it yourself. But we figured, since your servos are so small...?"

None of the rescue bots are looking at him. Boulder is very interested in their hands, Blades is scuffing his feet, Heatwave is tapping a beat on his arm that makes Chase's finials flick in time.

Oh my god. Are they... embarrassed?

Cody coughs into his fist to stifle a laugh. His dad says it all the time: "For a race of advanced alien robots, they're just as bad as us."

"I can wash your faces!" Cody assures them. "Frankie'll be here soon, and she'll be happy to help too!"

There's clear embarrassment radiating off the bots, but Cody decides not to let them stew in it and runs to the storage closet to grab the supplies, fumbling with his comm link at the same time.

"Hey, Frankie," he says, pressing his cheek to his shoulder as he puts the car soap in a bucket with some sponges and towels. "How far are you?"

"Walking in now," her voice crackles over the comm line. "Why?"

"The bots asked for their faces washed, so we're doing that," he explains, grabbing a second bucket.

"Why...?"

Cody shrugs, then realizes she can't see him. "Because they asked. Isn't that a good enough reason?"

Frankie sighs, but there's a smile in her voice. "I guess so. Coming down the lift now."

"Don't get off, we'll need some height." Cody carries his supplies out of the closet, past the bots who are currently greeting Frankie, up onto the lift beside her. He sets down their supplies and they divide them between each other, and Heatwave fills their buckets when prompted.

Boulder and Blades come forward first, sitting down and letting Frankie adjust the lift so they're at the perfect height.

Cody has been close to the rescue bots before. He sits on their shoulders, they carry him around in their hands, sometimes they sit him atop their helms! But he realizes that he's never been this close to their faces, and now he understands why they wanted this.

Boulder's faceplate isn't perfectly smooth, there are small grooves and seams and scratches and scuffs, there's little divots under their optics that almost look like tear ducts. Cody dips the sponge into the soapy water and starts on Boulder's cheek, but nearly drops it when the rumbling starts up.

Blades had slumped over immediately, leaning his chin onto the railing of the lift, and while Boulder was doing a better job of keeping themselves upright, twin rumbling rises from their chests, the unmistakable purr of an engine.

Frankie and Cody exchange looks, not wanting to ruin the moment. Like cats! Frankie signs excitedly, and Cody can't help but grin, because they are.

There's a shocking amount of dirt on Boulder's face, so it takes almost two hours to get the towel to come out clean when he wipes it across their cheek. Blades has fully fallen asleep.

Heatwave's tapping his arm impatiently while Chase has busied himself with a book, but his tapping foot is giving him away as well.

"All done!" Cody announces, clapping his hands together, and Boulder blinks sleepily, before giving him a big smile.

"Thank you!" they say brightly, standing up shakily and picking up Blades with them, making room for the other two.

Chase takes a spot in front of Frankie as Heatwave sits in front of Cody. He leans onto his hands to brings his face close enough for Cody to reach it.

Heatwave looks exhausted already, and far worse for wear than Boulder did. It almost seems like there's dark circles under his optics, there's dirt crusted into the scar on his cheek and in the seams of his jaw, and there's a dent just below his left optic.

He's asleep in minutes.

All four rescue bots' engines purr in time.

[velvetvexations]

This is a protective ask. It encourages you to check whether you really want to answer the asks beneath yet. Be good to yourself, you do good work for all of us <3

Thank you, anon. <3

sick of feeling like queer spaces seem to expect masculine people to be protectors and supporters without ever expecting to have to give us protection and support too. it's always how trans mascs can be allies to trans femmes and never the other way around. it's what about the scary trans man in the women's bathroom and little discussion of the threat we are under in these scenarios. it's always use your masculinity to protect me, but nobody can give without receiving. support and protection are features of community and community needs to be at least somewhat mutual. I refuse to constantly put myself in danger to protect someone who sees my suffering simply as an inherent duty of my presentation. let me be butch and slow and gentle for a change. let me be scared and held please.

I'll hold you. It's okay. You don't have to put yourself in danger to be a man, I promise.

people love love love to be blatantly misogynistic towards trans men/mascs and be like "well actually its subversive because he's a man! teehee!" was it subversive when i got told to shut up because i was the only women present (post coming-out) was it subversive when i got told i had to wear a dress to show off my feminine figure (post coming-out) was it subversive when i got called shrill mid-argument (post-coming out) was it subversive when nobody except me would clean the communal areas in the flat because i "did it so well" (post coming-out) was it subversive when i had my music taste made fun of when i was a 13 year old girl? is it subversive now that im a 20 year old trans guy? am i not the same person? is it subversive when people talk about trans men the same way people talk about teenage girls. is talking about teenage girls like that subversive if they come out as trans men later. or is it maybe a little different?

I'm sorry anon, you deserve so much better.

This discourse is always so fucking bizarre because IRL I'll be hanging out with trans women, getting fun updates from my friend on how her E dosage is going and her first foray into wired bras, spending time with the only other transmasc I know IRL at a 'women + nonbinary people' event because that's literally the only queer space near us intended for transmascs, and it's just incredibly obvious people perpetuating this discourse don't go outside

touching grass is vital

The shortest line joke reminds me of the fact that when I was more femme presenting & the women's toilets were blocked off, I went into the men's bathroom and a man went 'Ah! You scared me' and I was like at last, I am the threat <3 I haven't tested to see what will happen if I go to the men's bathroom now that I've started getting weird looks from women from being in theirs. Probably more of the same. It's hard out here being a bathroom liberation free the nipple communist

so true

i spent an hour arguing with a TRF and i'm exhausted. there's a reason i have a boundary with myself about getting into discourse. i don't know how you do it, but thank you for doing it from those that can't <3

I do what I must because I can <3

oh and then the same person said she think its funny to call trans men ‘birthday boys’… i neeeeed to mock and infantilise all trans men because a couple of them disagreed with me!

context

if someone treats you that way call them a slur back until they stop

(do not do that)

Yo it hit me over the head just now- i think there's a large portion of transfems who never did any gender work beyond their own. Like the running joke of 'of course every guy secretly wants to be a girl'; I'm not sure they can conceptualize us wanting to be masculine for any reason so there has to be some sort of 'ulterior motive'

Correct, though stupid selfish assholes with the same lack of comprehension or desire to comprehend the experiences of others come in all kinds.