#obviously there's a lot more I could have said

[anghraine]

Yup. A lot of people from very different perspectives have really wanted him to be a hyper-masculine rake, or have some kind of implicit sexual menace going on, or at least have a characterization dominated by exclusively sexual and masculine obsession with Elizabeth until she fixes him. And obviously, just as a character, he's been pretty overwhelmingly sexualized himself and hyper-gendered in pop culture in ways that lend themselves to this image of him.

In all honestly, this ultra-manly rake fanon Darcy reminds me of nothing so much as the Smart Bitches, Trashy Books review of The Playboy Sheikh's Virgin Stable-Girl. The review includes some choice excerpts including

The man, it was said, could make women moan with pleasure simply by looking at them.

It was a familiar ache. An appetite which demanded to be fed. Desire could sometimes be all the more powerful when it was indiscriminate—and Kaliq was a highly sexed man.

‘All the women are looking at you,’ she blurted out, before she could stop herself. He gave the flicker of an arrogant smile. ‘But of course they are,’ he said, with a careless shrug. ‘I excite the attention of women wherever I go—they are naturally drawn to my power and virility.’

Etc. But it's very familiar from this variety of fanon Darcy, lmao. Meanwhile, in the novel, literally no one including his worst enemy and his most devoted fan think he is remotely rakish. Most don't even find him unusually masculine, and when Elizabeth slips into very gendered assumptions about his feelings and intentions, they're persistently shown to be false. Like:

What a triumph for him [Darcy], as she often thought, could he know that the proposals which she had proudly spurned only four months ago would now have been gladly and gratefully received! He was as generous, she doubted not, as the most generous of his sex. But while he was mortal, there must be a triumph.

That's pretty obviously not true, and this is definitely not true:

A man who has once been refused! How could I ever be foolish enough to expect a renewal of his love? Is there one among the sex who would not protest against such a weakness as a second proposal to the same woman? There is no indignity so abhorrent to their feelings.

I mean, at this point Darcy is all but writing Elizabeth Darcy in his Trapper Keeper with a heart above the I. It seems pretty significant that "but he's so manly and thus secretly a sex god rake" is not actually a good guide to what's going on in his mind, and that the people most temperamentally similar to him are all women.

It's always been intriguing to me that, even when Elizabeth hates Darcy and thinks he's genuinely a monstrous, predatory human being, she does not ever perceive him as sexually predatory. In fact, literally no one in the novel suggests or believes he is sexually dangerous at any point. There's not the slightest hint of that as a factor in the rumors surrounding him, even though eighteenth-century fiction writers very often linked masculine villainy to a possibility of sexual predation in the subtext or just text*. Austen herself does this over and over when it comes to the true villains of her novels.

Even as a supposed villain, though, Darcy is broadly understood to be predatory and callous towards men who are weaker than him in status, power, and personality—with no real hint of sexual threat about it at all (certainly none towards women). Darcy's "villainy" is overwhelmingly about abusing his socioeconomic power over other men, like Wickham and Bingley. This can have secondhand effects on women's lives, but as collateral damage. Nobody thinks he's targeting women.

In addition, Elizabeth's interpretations of Darcy in the first half of the book tend to involve associating him with relatively prestigious women by contrast to the men in his life (he's seen as extremely dissimilar from his male friends and, as a villain, from his father). So Elizabeth understands Darcy-as-villain not in terms of the popular, often very sexualized images of masculine villainy at the time, but in terms of rich women she personally despises like Caroline Bingley and Lady Catherine de Bourgh (and even Georgiana Darcy; Elizabeth assumes a lot about Georgiana in service of her hatred of Darcy before ever meeting her).

The only people in Elizabeth's own community who side with Darcy at this time are, interestingly, both women, and likely the highest-status unmarried women in her community: Charlotte Lucas and Jane Bennet. Both have some temperamental affinities with Darcy, and while it's not clear if he recognizes this, he quietly approves of them without even knowing they've been sticking up for him behind the scenes.

This concept of Darcy-as-villain is not just Elizabeth's, either. Darcy is never seen by anyone as a sexual threat no matter how "bad" he's supposed to be. No one is concerned about any danger he might pose to their daughters or sisters. Kitty is afraid of him, but because she's easily intimidated rather than any sense of actual peril. Even another man, Mr Bennet, seems genuinely surprised to discover late in the novel that Darcy experiences attraction to anything other than his own ego.

I was thinking about this because of how often the concept of Darcy as an anti-hero before Elizabeth "fixes him" seems caught up in a hypermasculine, sexually dangerous, bad boy image of him that even people who actively hate him in the novel never subscribe to or remotely imply. Wickham doesn't suggest anything of the kind, Elizabeth doesn't, the various gossips of Meryton don't, Mr Bennet and the Gardiners don't, nobody does. If anything, he's perceived as cold and sexless.

Wickham in particular defines Darcy's villainy in opposition to the patriarchal ideal his father represented. Wickham's version of their history works to link Darcy to Lady Anne, Lady Catherine (primarily), and Georgiana rather than any kind of masculine sexuality. This version of Darcy is a villain who colludes with unsympathetic high-status women to harm men of less power than themselves, but villain!Darcy poses no direct threat to women of any kind.

It's always seemed to me that there's a very strong tendency among fans and academics to frame Darcy as this ultra-gendered figure with some kind of sexual menace going on, textually or subtextually. He's so often understood entirely in terms of masculinity and sexual desire, with his flaws closely tied to both (whether those flaws are his real ones, exaggerated, or entirely manufactured). Yet that doesn't seem to be his vibe to other characters in the story. There's a level at which he does not register to other characters as highly masculine in his affiliations, highly sexual, or in general as at all unsafe** to be around, even when they think he's a monster. And I kind of feel like this makes the revelations of his actual decency all along and his full-on heroism later easier to accept in the end.

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

*The incompetently awful villain(?) in Sanditon, for instance, imagines himself another Lovelace (a reference to the famous rapist-villain of Samuel Richardson's Clarissa). Evelina's sheltered education and lack of protectors makes her vulnerable to sexual exploitation in Frances Burney's Evelina, though she ultimately manages to avoid it. There's frequently an element of sexual predation in Gothic novels even of very different kinds (e.g. Ann Radcliffe's The Mysteries of Udolpho and Matthew Lewis's The Monk both lean into this, in their wildly dissimilar styles). William Godwin's novel Caleb Williams, a book mostly about the destructive evils of class hierarchies and landowning classes specifically, depicts the mutual obsession of the genteel villain Falkland and working class hero Caleb in notoriously homoerotic terms (Godwin himself added a preface in 1832 saying, "Falkland was my Bluebeard, who had perpetrated atrocious crimes ... Caleb Williams was the wife"). This list could go on for a very long time.

**Darcy is also not usually perceived by other characters as a particularly sexual, highly masculine person in a safe way, either, even once his true character is known. Elizabeth emphasizes the resilience of Darcy's love for her more than the passionate intensity they both evidently feel; in the later book, she does sometimes makes assumptions about his true feelings or intentions based on his gender, but these assumptions are pretty much invariably shown to be wrong. In general the cast is completely oblivious to the attraction he does feel; even Charlotte, who wonders about something in that quarter, ends up doubting her own suspicions and wonders if he's just very absent-minded.

The novel emphasizes that he is physically attractive, but it goes to pains to distinguish this from Wickham's sex appeal or the charisma of a Bingley or Fitzwilliam. Mr Bennet (as mentioned above) seems to have assumed Darcy is functionally asexual, insofar as he has a concept of that. Most of the fandom-beloved moments in which Darcy is framed as highly sexual, or where he himself is sexualized for the audience, are very significantly changed in adaptation or just invented altogether for the adaptations they appear in. Darcy watching Elizabeth after his bath in the 1995 is invented for that version, him snapping at Elizabeth in their debates out of UST is a persistent change from his smiling banter with her in the book, the fencing to purge his feelings is invented, the pond swim/wet shirt is invented. In the 2005 P&P, the instant reaction to Elizabeth is invented, the hand flex of repressed passion is invented, the Netherfield Ball dance as anything but an exercise in mutual frustration is invented, the near-kiss after the proposal in invented, etc. And in those as well, he's never presented as sexually predatory, not even as a "villain."

[blingblong55]

What Would I do?-Simon "Ghost" Riley

A/N: I woke up, wrote this in the middle of the night, listened to my sleeping playlist and decided that you could need this, so...here you go. All the events aren't written in chronological order, but rather moments at random that lead to something...I won't spoil this part, so read it, babes. I know this isn't to the quality of the latest ones I've put out but just bare with me on this one, I had a lot of ideas! And you’re more than welcome to search the title on Spotify, it’s a good song that obviously matches this fic

-- F!Reader, established!relationship, fluff, boyfriend!simon --

Boyfriend, what a word for a man like him. Is it the sweetness of your touch? Could it be the way you are so gentle with him? Maybe it's the way he found himself driving to your place instead of his own after a long day of work. Whatever it is, the answer to all his problems is you. You, you, you, and lovely you. 

From the beginning, he told you he isn't a man that will ever be called a husband. You, of course–saddened by this comment–just nodded and accepted it. He always meant it because, with the life he's had, there is no way in hell he would want to add to his worries. Plus, he doesn't need love, doesn't need the companionship. It's just him and the stress he carries. 

Then, you came in. 

"Before we begin this, I won't ever marry you, I'm not sorry if you feel bad, it's just my decision." He states and since it's a fresh relationship, you nod, "I understand." 

From then on, he didn't need to remind you. It was always in the back of your head that no matter what, he'd stay a boyfriend. Even now, five years into a relationship. Living in separate places, and different friend groups, your love for him persists and you stay through the good and bad. Maybe it's because even if you'll never wear the wedding dress in your Pinterest board, you will have him, for however long he'll have you. Please, god let it be forever. 

--

"I can't sleep," you say over the phone. This is how it started. How after one year together, he finds himself driving to your place, you didn't ask for it but he won't let your insomnia ruin your day off. What is it about you that has him finding ways to make your life better? Could it be that you drove to pick him up one time from the airport? Maybe it's the way kissing you feels? No, that can't be. Is it that you understand him? Maybe. 

Whatever it is, he unlocks your front door with the spare key you gave him. As he approaches your room, he finds you listening to the song you said reminds you of him. What's this weird feeling in his chest? Why does this scene make him feel warm? Goosebumps, no, he never gets goosebumps. 

He pushes your door gently and you turn around. "Simon, hi," you immediately pause the song, hoping he didn't recognise it in time. But he did and that caused him to smile—oh silly girl. "Hi, lovie," his voice much softer now. Hesits down, wraps an arm around your shoulder and kisses your head. "What's in that pretty head of yours, hm?" he asks and at the same time, you find yourself to be more comfortable in his hold. 

"Everything," you mumble and that's when you hear that deep and soft chuckle of his.

Within five minutes, he finds himself lying in bed with you, holding a book he found on your nightstand. He looks down at you, your head resting on his chest, right where it belongs. 

As you close your eyes, that's when you hear it, he starts to read out loud. Usually, he would just lay in bed until you fell asleep. But not tonight, something told him to just read to you. Is it that maybe he wants you to be comfortable? Toprovide you what you provide for him? Whatever it is, it has got him here. His voice is soothing, it's calming in many ways. He doesn't understand it, no matter how many times you explain that you love it. 

--

"Lovie?" he calls out to you when he arrives at your place. This is the first time he calls you a pet name. It feels...odd but good to do this. He steps further into your place, the lights are dim, something he knows you love because it makes the rooms more "aesthetically pleasing to walk into". "Love?" he calls out and that's when panic sets in. 

You always answer, to the first time he calls your name. 

He rushes into your room, only to see you asleep. There is a moment when his gaze softens. It's almost comical how much he has changed. How much he has wanted to change. 

He was never like this with past partners, I mean he did like them and all but with you, he is trying and trying to understand all your creases, to become someone worthy of much more than that sweet smile you give him. So, he leans by the doorway to your bedroom and watches you sleep. 

How can someone be so beautiful at all times? How can you make him feel so...good? So safe and happy? God, he loves you. And as he watches you sleep, he feels his chest warm up, something odd and for a second it feels like he is getting a heart attack. But then he realises it.

He is in love...true love. 

--

"What's this?" he asks as one day he finds you, sitting by the dining table with a cake and a candle. 

"It's your birthday, and I know you don't celebrate but...maybe this can be a one-time thing," your voice soft and that's when he feels his chest tighten. He drops his bags, makes sure the door is locked and sits beside you. He pulls you onto his lap and wraps his arms around you. You light up a singular candle, holding the small cake to him. 

At this moment, when the only light comes from the candle and the kitchen hood lights, he can take his mask off and appreciate how you gently sing for him. This was the first time he celebrated his birthday, well...first time in over a decade where it felt good to do so.

When he blows the candles, his gaze shifts from the cake to you. You kiss his forehead and his brows furrow whilst his eyes close. God, this is home. "Happy birthday, Simon," you whisper as you set the cake down. 

Maybe heaven is real after all. His faithless prayers were answered and his angel arrived. 

--

Coughs, headaches and long naps.

Simon has been sick for three days so far and has possibly got the best nurse around. You.

"Eat–"

"I'm not hungry, y/n," he says but you give him that mum look. "Eat, Simon." you persist and he sighs, opening his mouth as you feed him a spoonful of soup. You smile as you watch him eat. It worries you that this is the first meal he actually accepts but you're also content about it. "S'good," he comments and you nod. Of course, it's good, you think. 

As you leave the room to get him some warm tea, he lays there, appreciating the past days. He wouldn't admit it but he loves this, loves to get pampered by you. It's the first time in so long that where feels cared for, like someone out there means all the little things they do to make him feel better. 

--

Dinner at your family's house. He is nervous even though he's been here before. This time he feels different, there is something in the air tonight. He holds your hand as you walk through the threshold. 

Greeting family members was always the longest part but if you enjoy it, so will he. 'God, this wasn't me before you came in, Y/N,' he says to himself. 

Sitting around the family room, your sibling's children run around and while you get carried away talking and gossiping with your siblings, he finds himself being the centre of attention to all the children. "Uncle Simon, I want to fly like a plane again!" one of the younger kids exclaimed. You look around and see him there, holding a child in his arms, the biggest smile on him as he watches the child giggle while he parades them around the room as if they were a plane. 

He puts the child down, looks over at you and his gaze softens. Your heart melts at this. He has never looked so perfect like right now. 

On the drive home, he holds your hand in his as he drives. 

There is something in the air. Something sweet that screams future life. He looks over at you for a second then back at the road. That's how he finds himself picturing you and him, moving in together, settling down and running around the house you both call home, chasing your children while he tries to fix the light in the kitchen. 

Domesticty is what he craves when it's just you two.

--

There came a time when he lay in bed with you, shirtless with only his boxers on as he laid his head on your chest. Hisarms lazily resting at your sides, bodies intertwined while he listens to your heartbeat. Your hand caresses his back while the other runs from his neck to his hair. He hums, slowly mumbling about his day. Maybe after all havingsomeone isn't the end of the world. 

He closes his eyes, taking in the comfort of your hold, the bedsheets and the safety he feels at this exact moment. 

--

Three days, that's how long it took for a mission to last before he calls you, mid-day for him, midnight for you. "My love, where are you?" he asks in a panic. "Home, why? Is everything okay?" you ask before he cuts you off. "I was taking a nap and dreamt that you died," he says, nearly out of breath. 

"Trust me, it will be hard to get rid of me, you've got me for at least thirty lifetimes," you say with a smile and he can hear it. He loves it when you distract him with witty comments. "I better have you for more than thirty, my love," he says at that moment, the nickname feels right. More than right. He wants to keep calling you that until his dying breath. 

--

It was a random evening. You were stuck figuring out some hobby of yours as he cooked dinner. And as he waits for the food to be done baking he leans on the counter and looks out the window. 

He thought about the one time he dodged a failed relationship with you. 

What if you hadn't sat down and talked it out? Would you be in another man's arms? Would you be giving them the kisses that belong to him? What if your cuddles belonged to another guy? 

Your laugh rings in his ears and he can't imagine you laughing at any other man's jokes but his. Who but you to laugh at his jokes, your hand on his shoulder or chest as your eyes crinkle at the corners like always? 

It hits him suddenly that all those years ago when he told you that he would never be someone's husband should have never been said. You know why. It is because he won't be someone's husband, not when in his mind he has been yours all along. Sure he doesn't have the official title but the nose kisses you give him, the ones where he pretends to hate them with a grumble are something. 

--

"There is something, something I lied about years ago when I met you." he begins. You're in his lap, surely it isn't to end this sweet love. "I find myself hating on what I said, hating that it's been a lie. I love you," his voice softens at those three words, he sighs and looks into your eyes. "I have no idea what my life looks like from the outside, but when I look at my future, there is one thing I see," he clears his throat. "You, I see you and me. I always thought of myself as the guy everyone forgets about, because he had three friends and that was it."

He takes your hand in his, "And then, you came along, and I see a life, I see myself in ways I never did before. Youchanged me, you make me want to keep coming home, coming to hold you, to show you I will never break my promise." His lips find your knuckles, "I have no fucking idea what life is after you because I don't want a life after you, I want my life to be spent here. I have no clue what or who I was before you came into my life. What would I do without? No clue but I know what to do with you now," he looks into your eyes and you see how much he means every word. 

"Just promise me this, stay with me." he gently gets up and your gaze shifts as now you look up at him. "Stay, because I am nothing but a lifeless soldier, looking for someone and I'm done looking, y/n, I found you and that's all I need now," he says. 

He gets down on one knee, "Y/N Y/L/N, will you marry me?" He asks, his gaze full of so much hope and in that moment, your heart races. Tears well up in your eyes and you nod. Speechless but with a huge grin, you nod. 

"Yes," you manage to say. You don't even notice the ring, but you feel him slide it onto your ring finger. He smiles, like a child on Christmas as he gets up and embraces you, making sure this isn't him creating an illusion. 

"Oh, my love," his voice muffled, face buried in your neck. "I love you so much and I will prove to you that this wasn't a mistake. I will make you the happiest woman alive," he says, pulling away and kissing you with conviction. 

Tags: @liyanahelena @johfaam0 @froggy-anon @goldenmclaren @ghostslillady @moonsua1 @rvivienner @Krinoid24 @iruzias @night-mare-owl-79  @alxexhearts @juneonhoth @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @strangepuppynightmare @defnotlpuluvyou @enarien @Simonssweetgirl @luvecarson @nellsbobells @willowaftxn83-87 @ikohniik  @nobodys-coffee @strawberrychita @sae1kie @queen-ilmaree @pbcartii @Llelannie @Macnches2 @bbyfimmie @avidreadee123 @talooolaaloolla @skelletonwitch @bitter-majesties @Nyx_Flower @1234beeandpuppycat @sparky–bunny @honestlyhiswife @the_royal_bee @beansproutmafia @soapybutt17 @a-goose-with-a-knife @foxface013 @anonxasian @born4biriyani @thegreyjoyed @mychemichalimalance @marshiely @sleepyycatt @gh0st-hunt2r @believeinthefireflies95 @noodlezz-bedo @alexaseeraj  @trinthealternate @vampsquerade @azkza @VampyTheGoth

[withwritersblock]

Oh! Darling pt. 5

~Oh! Darling by The Beatles~

Author's Note: somewhat requested lol! I was rewatching the Faceoff series and reminded myself that someone asked for something like this so here you go! Anyways, hopefully more for this series coming up. Summary: Quinn's Faceoff episode Warnings: Canucks losing against Edmonton lol Word Count: 1,630 Quinn Hughes x fm!reader

It completely slipped his mind that he had agreed to film for the Face Off series until he started seeing the advertisements for it everywhere. Now, himself and his girlfriend were sitting together and watching it together. Ellie was in his lap, drinking a bottle. 

They already watched the first few episodes of the series and he was shocked on how it actually ended up looking. The series was actually entertaining. But now it was his episodes and he was terrified. He agreed to do it because they begged him to do it. His story was special because he was a young captain and a new dad.

“Do you want anything to drink?” she asked as she stood up from the couch, jogging towards the kitchen. He glanced down towards the little girl in his arms before he looked back towards Y/N. 

“Water’s fine, love,” he muttered as he looked into his daughter’s sleepy eyes as she continued to finish the bottle. “I’m pressing play,” he let out as he reached toward the remote. 

“Wait!” she called out as she took a hold of a soda and a water bottle. He chuckled as he pressed play anyway. “Hey!” she let out while laughing as she jogged towards the couch. Cautiously, she placed the bottle of water beside him and she kept her soda in her hand. He chuckled as he pulled the bottle from Ellie’s mouth. He brought her up and began to delicately pat her back. 

Instantly, once he saw himself on the screen, his face scrunched up. “Oh god,” he muttered.

Y/N grinned widely as she saw him on the screen, “Oh stop, look how cute you are,” she said as she inched towards him. Delicately, she tapped her hand against the top of his thigh. 

On the screen, he started cooking and talking about his journey of being captain. “Probably read 20 to 25 books this year because I felt at the start of the year that with becoming captain, it was a lot for me-” he explained on the screen. Y/N lips fell into a pout. 

Saying that it was a lot for him was an understandment. He was overwhelmed from the moment he was given the C. He came home that morning after the conversation with Rick and told her that he was becoming captain. At first, it was exciting and he was confident that he could do a good job. But as the preseason went on, he was shy and nervous. But as he explained in the episode, he started to grow into it. 

“What was it like having this new role on the team and this new role in life?” the interviewer asked. Quinn tossed his head back and laughed. 

“Definitely been a hard year but I wouldn’t change a single thing about it,” he explained before running his fingers through his hair. “It was really difficult because it was hard being away from my girlfriend; because obviously pregnancy is really hard but she was great,” he explained.

The screen started showing clips of Quinn and newborn Ellie. Y/N was sitting on the couch beside Ellen as quinn was holding Ellie against his chest. She was only a few weeks old when the camera crew was there. 

“Your daughter was born a month before the playoffs, what was that like?” the interviewer continued. 

Quinn smiled softly on the screen, his eyes lighting up in the process. “When we found out about Ellie, we realized pretty quickly that the timing wasn’t great. But our families were in town for the first few weeks. So while I was away on a roadie our families were here and supporting Y/N,” he took in a deep breath. 

“You would’ve had no idea Quinn was a new dad. He was still Quinn Hughes and he was still a huge presence on and off the ice,” Rick said on the screen, a chuckle falling from his lips. “He wanted to talk about his daughter all of the time but you could tell that if he did, it would break his heart a little bit,” he explained.

Quinn clenched his jaw as he shifted his gaze down towards his daughter. Y/N pouted her lips as she reached her hand over and ran her fingers through his hair.

“But that’s why we chose him as captain. He can seperate his personal life from being on the ice. He doesn’t let it effect what he does and that’s what you need from a captain. But you know that even if he didn’t let it effect him, he was constantly thinking about his girls,” Rick continued. 

Quinn smiled softly as he continued running his hand across Ellie’s back. “Can we move on to Trouba or something,” Quinn mumbled as he looked towards Y/N.

The screen continued to show a smiley Quinn in the locker room and then back to him in his apartment with Y/N and Ellie. It stayed on that moment for a few seconds before it shifted to Trouba in New York. 

“Let me see her,” Y/N muttered. Quinn nodded as he lifted Ellie from his chest and cautiously handed her over to Y/N. Quinn shifted his body to the side as he scanned Y/N’s features. “Did you know Rick said those things?” she asked, meeting his eye.

Pursing his lips forward, he shook his head slightly. He leaned towards her, delicately kissing her. “Didn’t really talk about it,” he said with a shrug. She nodded as Ellie’s eyes were starting to get heavy in her arms. 

“Pause it, I’m gonna put her down for her nap,” she said while standing up. He nodded as he reached beside him for the remote. He paused it as he watched her walk down the hall with Ellie in her arms. 

He pulled his phone from his pocket to see a text from Jack asking if he watched the episode yet. He replied that he was working on it. 

Ellie was always a fast sleeper so it only took a handful of minutes for her to fall asleep. Y/N returned to the living room, a grin on her lips. “Okay, press play,” she said as she sat down on the couch beside Quinn. He reached over and delicately rested his hand onto her furthest thigh. He ran his thumb across her thigh, she could barely feel it through the sweatpants fabric.

He pressed play and Trouba’s section started, showing off othe game that got them the President’s Trophy. Y/N leaned her head against his shoulder as they continued to relive the end of the season together. After a few more minutes of Jacob and Gabe’s segments it returned to Quinn.

Quinn was in Nashville with his parents for the first two games of the playoffs. 

“What was it like when Quinn told you guys he was having a baby?” one of the producers asked them as they were sitting in a coffee shop. Quinn smiled as he looked towards his mom. Her eyes lit up and so did his dad. 

“They called us on Facetime and Quinn just blurted it out like he was in trouble or something,” she said while laughing. Y/N looked towards Quinn and he shook his head while laughing.

“Telling news like that over the phone, kinda felt like I was,” Quinn joked out before they cut away to a clip of the Canucks and Predators series. 

After several more minutes, it cut towards the series against Edmonton. The high paced play and the comeback they tried to make in game seven. Quinn took in a sudden breath as he watched the plays and heard himself talk on the ice. He always dissociates during the game to the point he never really remembers what he says or how the plays develop. 

It panned toward the audience with Ellen, Jack, and Y/N watching the game. Her WAG jacket covering her frame, that she helped design. Jack’s arm was in a sling but he was leaning forward watching the game intensely. Ellen was emotionless as she shook her head slightly.

It showed the ending of the match, the celebrations by the Oilers and the sadness of the Canucks. Despite everything, Quinn still led the team in a salute to the crowd. She ran her hand across his upper back. 

“It obviously didn’t end like how we wanted it to but it was good experience for many of us. This is the first playoff run for a lot of us, so now we have a lot of things to use a stepping stones,” he explained in the interview. 

“Anything you would change?” the interviewer asked, nearly cringing at the question once she read it from the card.

“To win-” he said jokingly, “No, I mean-it’s been a tough year. Obviously, I am glad that I get to be home with my daughter for the next few months and not having to have the game on my mind for a few months. It would’ve been awesome to keep going, keep playing but uhm-I guess a good constellation prize was getting time with my girlfriend and our daughter,” he explained, smiling softly as he looked into the camera for the last time in the episode. 

Y/N lips fell into a pout as she lifted her head to look towards Quinn. “I’m such a sap,” he let out. She chuckled as she leaned towards him, kissing his cheek delicately.

“That was really cute,” she whispered as he tilted his head to the side to meet her gaze. “Such a good captain,” she dragged her thumb across his jawline.

“Shush, you,” he whispered before he leaned towards her, kissing her softly.

[scarletemeraldpurple]

After Office Hours

Agatha x gn reader

Agatha Harkness is an acclaimed professor at your magical university. You are a student with a heavy courseload, Agatha takes a load off of your mind for awhile.

Notes: hypnosis, trancey language,voice kink?power imbalance, professor/student relationship, Mommy kink.

“I can cast illusions, I can control a feeble mind.” Agatha Harkness had said during a lecture in her class on magical psychology. But she assured her class that they, by virtue of being in her class, had nothing to worry about.

And it was true. She’d never be able to Control your mind, not fully. But that was almost more fun anyway, more of a challenge.

You were a diligent student. Visiting her at least once a week for office hours. She had seen your painstakingly kept little planner. You had a heavy course load this semester. Her class, a taxing multiversal physics course with professor Strange, an advanced ecology course with professor Vidal (both of which had labs), plus upper level Russian with Maximoff. She was quite impressed how you kept up with the 4 professors as well as several extra curriculars.

One week you missed office hours. Your paper was…adequate, but certainly not at the level that she had come to expect from you. The next time she saw you in class, you had had bags under your eyes, and you were slouched over in a hoodie and sweats.

She could see you struggling to focus as she talked, which was very very odd for you. You poor thing, someone oughta help you get some rest.

“Y/N? Could you stay behind for a minute?” She said as your peers filed out at the end of the block.

“Of course professor.” You said nervously, fiddling with your sleeve.

She sat on the edge of the desk. “You don’t seem quite yourself, everything alright?”

Professor Harkness was not nearly the hardass everyone had made her out to be, at least she wasn’t that way with you. Nonetheless, she was quite intimidating, she was powerful and confident. And it didn’t help that she was gorgeous.

And you couldn’t help it, as embarrassed as you were, when the tears spilled from your eyes. You hadn’t been sleeping. You had been working so hard. You wanted to achieve. God how were you going to get through this.

“Oh my dear, come let’s talk in my office shall we?”

She placed a hand on your shoulder gently as she led you to her office. Instead of sitting you at the chair across from her desk, like a normal meeting, she led you to the couch in the back of the room.

You took your book bag off, a literal weight lifted off of you. And she brought over some tissues.

Agatha sat down next to you, not too close (not yet anyway), and gently rubbed your back.

The comfort triggered more tears from you.

“Oh angel. It’s okay let it out. Take your time.” She soothed you. “But you do need to breathe. Can you take a nice deep breath for me?”

You nodded and did as she asked. In, hold, out.

“Good, very good.”

“I’m so sorry professor.”

“Ssh, nothing to be sorry for.”

She cautiously put her arm around you properly and squeezed your shoulder.

You had to stop yourself from leaning into her side. She smelled nice, sweet, with something warm underneath. Her touch felt nice. Her voice was so soothing.

“Under a lot of stress aren’t you dear?”

“I mean aren’t we all?” You half chuckled.

“Perhaps, doesn’t make it any easier does it though?”

“No ma’am.”

Agatha chuckled. “Always so polite. You’re my favorite student you know?”

You blushed and looked down at your hands. “I don’t know if you’re supposed to have favorites.”

“Maybe not. But that doesn’t exactly stop anybody. Anyway, obviously I want to see all of my students succeed, but when I see someone as bright as you, as hardworking as you, slip a bit, I have to check in y’know?”

You took a sharp breath in. “I failed that paper didn’t I?”

“No doll, all of your arguments were sound, and supported by evidence, but something tells me you didn’t get the time you would have liked to work on this. And based on the state of the gardens around the school, I’m guessing professor Vidal slammed you guys with a project this week.”

You were tearing up again. “Yeah, and I had so much trouble with the equations for strange this week. And I promised I’d make something for the bake sale for my tarot group…I don’t mean to make excuses—”

“Sshh,” Agatha squeezed you tighter, “you’ve had a lot on your plate dear. I understand. Let’s take another deep breath okay? In. Hold. Out. Very good. Let go of some of that stress. I know it’s been a hard week, you poor thing. But right now you’re just here with me. Let me help you.”

You looked over at her, those deep blue eyes looking back at you. Her fingers started rubbing a spiral into your shoulder. You could feel your attention drawn to her, it wasn’t hard to focus on her. It never was. And it did feel nice to focus on her. It was so easy to listen to her, maybe to easy.”

“You look worried again, dear.”

“Professor…am I feeble minded?”

Agatha couldn’t help but laugh, “no dear, far from it I assure you. What makes you ask such a thing?”

“I—I can feel a pull towards you.”

“And the fact that you’re resisting that pull proves you’re not feeble minded. But that doesn’t mean you can’t sink for me. Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t sink for me. After all, wouldn’t it feel nice? To sink for me, to let me take over for a bit?”

Her free hand held your chin, making sure you stayed facing her. Your faces were so close together.

“It’s…so easy professor, should I be worried? Is this even allowed?” You started to shake off the fuzziness begging to creep through your mind.

“No baby, the point is you don’t worry,” she stroked under your chin, your eyes closed. The pet name and the proximity made your heart beat faster.

Agatha hugged you tightly to her. You timidly put your head on her shoulder.

“There you go,” a hand came to pet your head, “no worries now, just my voice, just my touch. Just keep taking nice steady breaths. So good for me.”

Her hand in your hair felt sooooooo good. Your mind was quieter than it had been in ages.

Agatha pressed a barely there kiss to your forehead. You wanted to pick your head up but her hand in your hair didn’t let you.

“Ssh, no baby, you can’t move right now. You’re far too relaxed. You just have to keep listening to me. Let me lull you even further down, pet.”

You could move, if you really needed to, if you needed to stop this you could. But it felt so good to obey. You knew how the process worked, the ins and outs of hypnosis, you had learned them from her, but those specifics were at the back of your mind. Right now you were relaxed, safe, and mindless.

“That’s right pet. I can feel you loose and limp against me. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt that head of yours so quiet. And you are so very safe with me, my sweet pet.”

Later, later you would confront how you felt when she called you pet. Later you would confront her about everything going on. But right now, it felt good. You were her pet, her obedient pet, and it came so naturally to you.

Agatha bit her lip at the sight of you. Practically helpless against her. Had she caught you on any other day you’d probably have put up more of a struggle. Maybe another day you two could talk about resistance play. But for now, she relished your surrender.

“Sleep now, pet.” She said before pressing another gentle kiss to your forehead.

—

You woke up still on her couch, tucked under a blanket. Agatha was working on next week’s lectures at her desk.

“Hi pet,” she said cheerfully, “sleep well?”

“Yes Mo-“ you slapped a hand over your mouth.

Agatha laughed.

“I wasn’t sure if that suggestion would stick or not while you were sleeping. But maybe I shouldn’t be surprised, you are always so eager to please.”

“This isn’t—I mean we can’t—you could lose your job!!”

Agatha stood up from her desk and sauntered over. “We’ll be smart. Well, I’ll be smart, don’t want you thinking too much now.”

“Professor—” You rejected the suggestion this time. Your anxiety overriding the urge to obey.

Agatha put a finger to your lips “Sh, school day is over, and we have the whole weekend ahead of us. Let Mommy take care of you, pet.”

She stroked your hair gently. “You’ve been such a good pet, don’t you want your reward?”

—

She led you to her car and drove you to her home. You had nothing but your book bag with you.

Her home was very beautiful, but also quite cozy.

“You were awful quiet in the car. And I know it’s not because you weren’t thinking.”

“Just overwhelmed I guess.”

“Poor thing. Are your shoes off? Good. Come, drop your bag there and come over to the couch.”

She sat down first. “Come lay your head in my lap, sweet thing.”

You gingerly laid yourself down as she had asked. You were rewarded with her nails scratching yours scalp.

“Good pet. So obedient. Comes so naturally to you doesn’t it?”

Heat rose to your face.

“Aww, does that embarrass you? How you were just meant to be my pet? You’re Mommy’s good pet, aren’t you?”

“Y-yes.”

“You can do better than that. Whose are you? What are you?”

“I-I’m your good pet.”

“Sooo close angel. I’ll give you one more chance.”

“I-I’m Mommy’s good pet”

“Yes you are! You’re so very good. And good pets get rewarded.” She moved a hand down to your chest, groping at you. You drew in a shaky breath.

“Mmm, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted you baby.”

“Really?”

“Oh god yes baby. I see the way you look at me you know? You don’t even mean to stare, you just can’t help it. You’ve never been able to help but focus on me. And that’s okay. I have you now.” She said with a pinch of your nipple.

You whimpered under her touch and her words.

“And I don’t want you worrying that cute little head of yours when you’re with Mommy. You still need to worry a little with professor Harkness, but you’ve always been such a good student. Once we get you nice and rested you’ll be back on track okay?”

“Thank you…Mommy.”

Agatha’s eyes lit up when you used her title. “Of course baby. Now just let me,” she reached under your t-shirt, and groped at your bare chest.

You shuddered.

“Sensitive little thing hm?” She said with a smile. She traced circles around your nipple with her fingertips and watched you melt underneath her.

She surprised you with a pinched and you arched up into her touch. She bit her lip at the sight.

“I have a slutty little pet on my hands, don’t I?”

You whined in response.

“I think I do, and I wouldn’t have it any other way trust me.”

“Mo-mommy?” You asked shyly.

“Yes pet?”

You looked up at her, eyes drawn to her lips. “Can I kiss you?” You said, voice barely above a whisper.

Agatha smiled. “Of course pet. Come here.”

Her hand wrapped around the back of your head as you sat up to meet her. Her lips as gentle as the tone she used to lull you down into trance. You could just as easily get lost in her kisses. Her tongue slid into your mouth and you moaned. You tangled your fingers in her hair.

A safe, warm feeling settled over you. You were being so good. Mommy’s good pet. Good pets pet Mommy take care of them.

You finally needed air and when you broke apart you saw desire burning in Agatha’s eyes.

She cupped the side of your face, tracing her thumb over your lips, you parted to allow her in.

“Fuck you’re perfect. That’s all you baby, that’s just your instinct isn’t it?”

She loved the embarrassed look in your eyes as she gently degraded you. “And that’s okay. You were just made for me that’s all. Just a good little slut for Mommy.”

You closed your eyes and sucked harder on her thumb.

“Yeah, I know baby. What a good mouth. Oh there are so many things I’d like to do to that mouth. Plenty of time for that. For now though,”

Agatha adjusted you so you were straddling her thigh. She kissed you from the base of your neck all the way up to your ear.

“What I want for right now, is for you to come undone with pleasure,” she husked.

She guided your hips to grind against her. Quickly you moved your hands to grip the back of the couch, steadying yourself.

“No thinking, I’m gonna help you grind your thoughts away. Yeah, you’re just gonna get lost in sensation for a bit for me. That’s a good pet.”

You buried your head in her neck, moving your arms to wrap around her.

“Already so docile for me. I’m gonna have you mewling like a kitten baby.”

“Please keep talking to me Mommy.”

“Oh you sweet thing, I can do that. Need to hear Mommy’s words guiding you through it all? Need me to fill that head up, push all those thoughts away? That’s what I’m here for pet. You can just let go, you can just give in, just hump my leg like the good little pet that you are.”

“Feels so good Mommy.”

“Good, I’m glad baby. Focus on that pleasure, let yourself get hornier and hornier. My words will guide you no matter how far you drift. Keeping you safe. Just feel good baby.”

You couldn’t think, you didn’t want to think. It felt good to give in. It felt good to grind against Mommy. It felt good to be Mommy’s Good Pet.

“Mommy, getting close.”

“Oh yeah? Wanna cum for Mommy?”

“Please!”

“Please what?”

“Please Mommy…ah, can I cum?”

“Such a good pet, cum for me baby. Cum for Mommy.”

You moaned right in her ear, thanking her for letting you cum. You were a practically a rag doll her arms now.

“Oh you did so good today baby. I know this week was hard but you did so good. You deserve to feel good like this.”

She moved you so that you were basically being cradled by her. Your head in the crook of her neck, nuzzling her.

“Sweet pet. You feel so small in my arms like this. Mommy’s got you, you can rest now.”

[anpanman95]

Bringing more Mark and Joke comparisons because there are SO MANY.

This post will be about posture, and the way War works his characters to be perceived differently purely by the way he stands on his two feet.

Oh, the perfection with which he prepared both of these characters is out of this world.

Let me illustrate:

Joke, when he stands, stands taller; leaves no room of doubt he’s the chillest, coolest, most confident person, and cares very little how people are perceiving him at the moment,

as long as he feels awesome. [his insecurities are not rooted in the way he looks or the way strangers perceive him]

His head is kept high when he speaks. If you watch the show again, you’ll realize he’s always looking ahead and up unless he wants to go unnoticed,

and meets people’s eyes unwaveringly as he works his way through his elaborated ruses to get what he wants.

[We’ll talk more about how that changes with the object of his affection, Jack, on later posts]

Mark, my beloved, on the other hand, stands to look smaller than he is; not on purpose, of course, as it’s a deeply rooted thing within the character itself.

He does not look people in the eye for prologued periods of time, more of often than not looking away when he speaks to anybody.

Yes, that gradually develops as the show progresses, but shyness is an essential part of this character.

His posture is not completely relaxed; it’s slightly tense which casts light into the character’s personality:

Mark wants to be standoffish and cool, but his innocence and sweet, gentle demeanor are truly his worsts enemies.

He tries, though, throughout the entire show, to make it happen, but breaks off of it the moment someone (Vee or Mark’s dad) does or says something that awakens strong emotions.

When that happens he fails, because Mark cannot, for the life of him, hide his true feelings.

A stark contrast to Joke, an absolute master in hiding who he really is.

All in all, Joke’s posture comes from a confidence rooted in a combination of maturity and not giving two single flying shits

And Mark’s posture comes from a confidence rooted in a combination of innocence, self-esteem and guts.

War has done a hard deep dive in both characters; created entirely opposite personas and made both Mark and Joke have so much depth and detail to them a million more things could be said about them.

There are hundreds of little details that War has added to each of his characters. He truly has thought about every single mouth twitch down to a T.

Every head movement, his micro expressions, and even the way he speaks, even though it’s the same language, the same words.

Everything about these two characters is completely opposite. And yes, the fact that they are both making opposite fashion statements adds a lot of weight to their differences, obviously, but that’s not enough at all to create what War has created.

Just imagine eighteen year old Mark in Joke’s crop tops and feeling incredibly self-conscious, and twenty (five? six?) Joke in Mark’s fancy, neatly tucked-in dress shirts and wanting nothing more than to take them off. (Joke has worn that type of clothing before only while pretending to be someone he isn’t, so it does not count. When he’s himself, he opts to wear all baggy items)

I could go on forever, guys, but this post is already too long, so I’ll just say one more thing:

I’d die for this man.

More on these things later, I guess!

Thanks for reading, remember to be nice!

[bigball-thefrog]

hey there! once again wishing you good luck on those exams! but i was wondering if maybe you could write something for law?

i was thinking maybe that Law and the reader had met awhile back on the readers island and she like saved him from something when he was a rookie. then obviously she joins his crew and stuff but then one day an incident happens that causes the reader to die and Law is devastated as the years go by

But here’s the twist!☝🏻The reader didn’t actually die but instead she survived and the Strawhats found her wondering around and took her in🙏🏻So know she’s a member of the strawhats, then Law meets her again in Punk Hazard.

The rest is up to you! I just kinda want it to be angsty and heartbreaking when Law meets the reader again like maybe I don’t know she fell for someone else…(if you can…can you make the reader nerdy bc i’m a nerd🧍🏻‍♀️)

Helloooo!!! I'm back and I've finished your request, I hope you like it. I know I said I'd post a few yesterday but I got tired. But I'll try and post than just this today because I've got quite a bit planned. But for now, enjoy more Law suffering

Warnings/Tags:

Female reader

Law can't be happy for a goddam minute before it all goes to shit

______________________________

Narrator POV

You lived a peaceful life in a small village by the sea. Nothing much ever happened until one day you were collecting seaweed when you saw a man about your age wash up on the beach with a polar bear. The Polar begged you for help and you took them both in.

When the man woke up, he thanked you and introduced himself as Law, a rookie pirate, and the Polar bear was his right hand man, Bepo. They stayed with you for awhile and grew kinda close, you knew a lot about botany which and medicine which was good for Law, to help him heal and to improve his skills as a doctor, you both also got along with your shared love the comic, Sora, Warrior of the Sea. When it was time for Law to leave, he invited you to come with, and he accepted, making you the botanist/herbalist of the heart pirates. You grew closer as the days went by, you knew that law was mostly closed off from showing much emotion but you were starting to break down that cold wall around his heart, getting closer than most, even starting to get almost, intimate, with him. But it didn't last long...

At the events of Sabaody, you and the rest of the crew were fighting against the Pacifistas and were struggling to get away, Law was distracted trying to save everyone he didn't even notice he was being aimed at. As it fired, you managed to push Law out the way, causing you to he blasted instead. You went flying from the blast and Law was too slow reach you. He wanted to run after you but he was quickly picked up by Bepo as he ran with him. He struggled but it was no point. Once the fight was over and the marines were gone, Law and the rest of the crew spent all of their time, searching for you and where you went, only leaving when the events of Marineford happened. But you were nowhere to be found... You were gone... Another person, close to Law.. Gone...

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

Two years later at Punk Hazzard, Law had just allied with the Strawhats and was following Luffy back to their current hideout so he could swap back the bodies of the crew he changed.

He walked in, first noticed the giant children, then the crew, then... You...? No, it couldn't be, you were dead, you were killed in Sabaody and Law couldn't find your body! How, how were you here?! Why were you here, why didn't you come back to him?! Law stood frozen and it was only when Nami shouted at him to change her back that he snapped out of his thoughts and changed them back, but right after he ignored everyone else and walked right up to you. "Oi..." He called out as he stood right in front of you. You looked up at him, confused but smiled, "Oh, hello. Are you a friend of Luffy's?" "Stop the act, you know who I am.." "No, I don't... Have we met before?" dammit, why were you acting like this?! Of course you two had met before! "Yeah, I'm your captain remember?" you shook your head, "No you're not, Luffy's my captain, I only just joined recently at Sabaody"

Sabaody?! How?? He searched every inch of that island for you!! "Cut the bullshit! You're not apart of the Strawhats! You're apart of my crew! You were a botanist/herbalist that helped me make medicine on my ship! The Polar Tang, remember?!" Law shouted out, you looked at him sympathetically, "I'm sorry but I don't remember... I don't remember much before waking up on Sabaody..." Law clenched his fists, you must've lost your memories when you got blasted by the Pacifistas... And now you don't remember him at all...

Defeated, Law just sat next to you, "Sorry, you just reminded me of an old friend... That I lost two years ago..." "Oh... I'm so sorry..." you frowned and moved a little closer to him, "It's fine... I just miss them a lot, and you look identical to them.." Law mumbled. You both went into a comfortable silence until Law decided to still check up on you despite you not remembering him, "So, how have the Strawhats been treating you?" He asked. He listened to you as you began rambling about all the stuff you've done with them already, you were still making medicine and growing your plants, you assisted Chopper now with the medical filed, but what hurt the most was when you mentioned that you had tarted growing feelings for Zoro. Now that was a punch in the gut, all the close, intimate, personal moments that you shared with Law, gone. Now all your feelings dedicated to the swordsman...

He went quiet again and when you noticed this and tried to apologize but he just looked away, how could he even look at you now that you remember nothing and he remembered everything... You were gone, the person he had grown to love, care for and let down his walls for, was gone... You looked genuinely upset, nit understanding what he was thinking or going through so you just looked down with a frown on your face. When Law glanced back and saw your frown his heart clenched. He hated seeing you frown and be hated being the reason for that frown even more. Maybe, this was for the best? Maybe you were better with the Strawhats, but dammit it hurt so much to think about you not being with him anymore.. But now with the alliance, he could see you for a little longer.. Maybe, he could get ode to you again and maybe something in you would snap and you'd remember... With a deep exhale he turned back to face you and spoke about the first thing you two bonded over, "So... You like Sora, Warrior of the Sea?"

______________________________

Alright, so for tonight, I've got a part 2 of I request I did, then I've just gotten a new request to do, then I'll be posting a poll with three of my ideas that I'll let you all pick the order of which I post them in. I'll see you all real soon.

Kelly🐸

[muiitoloko]

Hi! I LOVE your writing!!!!

I have a request for Frank x younger reader, maybe where the reader works as his assistant, but it's temporary—like a substitute for a while. Obviously, there's a connection between them, but Frank, being so professional🫡 wouldn’t act on it because technically, he’s her boss. (IMAGINE ALL THE TENSIONNNNN)

Then, when the reader’s time is up and the regular assistant returns, on her last day, she tells him it’s her final day and that she’s done for the day—so, technically, he’s no longer her boss 👀👀

If you want to write it, feel free! If not, no worries at all!🥰

Title: Office Hours

Summary: After months of unspoken attraction, Frank finds himself caught in a late-night showdown with his secretary, where no rules apply.

Pairing: Frank Benson × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut

Author's Notes: Thank you very much for your request. I hope you enjoy it.

Also read on Ao3

Frank sat at his desk, his hazel eyes trained on the papers in front of him, though his mind was entirely elsewhere. You stood at the far end of the room, your fingers deftly sorting through files, your expression focused. The sight of you—the curve of your figure, the way your hair framed your face—was enough to make his chest tighten. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to look away. Two more weeks, he thought, his baritone voice muttering under his breath. Two more bloody weeks.

You glanced up, catching the faint tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers drummed against the desk in a rare show of impatience. “Is something wrong, sir?” you asked, your voice warm and professional, but with a hint of genuine concern that always made him feel seen.

Frank’s head snapped up, his hazel eyes meeting yours. For a moment, he was silent, his hooked nose flaring slightly as he exhaled through it. “No,” he said finally, his tone brusque. “Everything’s fine. Just… a lot to get through today.”

You nodded, offering a small, understanding smile before returning to your work. Frank swallowed hard, his gaze lingering on you for just a moment too long before he forced himself to focus. The sexual tension that crackled in the air between you was impossible to ignore, and it was getting harder for him to maintain the calm, composed demeanor he prided himself on.

The problem wasn’t just your beauty, though that alone was enough to drive him to distraction. It was the way you seemed to anticipate his needs before he even voiced them, the way you moved through the office with a quiet confidence that both impressed and unnerved him. You weren’t just competent—you were exceptional. And that made everything more complicated.

“Lieutenant General?” Your voice cut through his thoughts, soft but insistent.

Frank blinked, realizing you were standing in front of his desk now, holding out a file. He reached for it, his fingers brushing against yours briefly. The contact sent a jolt through him, and he immediately withdrew his hand, his cheeks flushing slightly. “Thank you,” he muttered, his baritone voice quieter than usual.

You hesitated, studying him with a slight tilt of your head. “Are you sure everything’s all right?” you asked, your tone gentle but probing. “You seem… distracted.”

Frank stiffened, his hazel eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned back in his chair. “I’m fine,” he said firmly, though his voice lacked its usual authority. “Just a long week.”

Your lips quirked into a small smile, and for a moment, the tension between you felt almost playful. “Well,” you said lightly, “if there’s anything I can do to help, you just have to ask.”

Frank’s mind immediately went to places it shouldn’t have. He could picture it all too clearly: you leaning over his desk, your hands braced on the edge as he buried his fingers in your hair, pulling you closer. His cock stirred at the thought, and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair, clearing his throat. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, his tone clipped as he forced himself to look back at the papers in front of him.

But you didn’t leave. Instead, you lingered for just a moment longer, your gaze steady and knowing. “You work too hard, sir,” you said softly, almost teasingly. “You should let yourself relax once in a while.”

Frank’s jaw tightened, his hazel eyes snapping up to meet yours. The way you looked at him—like you knew exactly what he was thinking, like you were daring him to act on it—was maddening. “I’ll take that under advisement,” he said coolly, though his voice held a faint edge.

You smiled, a slow, almost mischievous curve of your lips that sent heat rushing through him. “Good,” you said simply before turning and walking away, your hips swaying slightly with each step.

Frank watched you go, his hands gripping the edge of his desk as he tried to steady himself. Two more weeks, he thought again, his baritone voice muttering low and bitter. God help me, I don’t know if I’ll make it.

The day dragged on, each interaction with you a careful balancing act as Frank struggled to keep his composure. By the time the office emptied out for the evening, he was a mess of frayed nerves and pent-up frustration. He stood by the window, a glass of whiskey in hand, staring out at the city lights as he tried to collect himself.

“Sir?” Your voice startled him, and he turned sharply to see you standing in the doorway, your coat draped over one arm. “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” you said quickly, though there was a glimmer of amusement in your eyes. “I just wanted to say goodnight.”

Frank set his glass down, his hazel eyes scanning your face, searching for… something. An excuse, perhaps. A reason to keep you here just a little longer. “Goodnight,” he said finally, his voice soft but firm.

You nodded, hesitating for a moment before stepping closer. “Frank,” you said quietly, dropping the formality. The sound of his name on your lips sent a thrill through him, and he tensed, his hooked nose flaring slightly as he inhaled. “You don’t have to keep holding back, you know.”

His eyes widened, the carefully constructed walls he’d built around himself threatening to crumble. “What are you talking about?” he asked, though his voice was rough, betraying him.

You smiled, your gaze steady as you stepped closer still. “I’m saying,” you murmured, your voice low and warm, “that maybe you don’t have to wait two weeks.”

Frank’s breath hitched, his heart pounding as you closed the distance between you. He wanted to stop you, to tell you this was a terrible idea. But when your hand brushed against his, when your eyes locked onto his with that unmistakable heat, he found himself frozen, unable to resist.

“Two weeks,” he muttered, his baritone voice trembling as his control began to slip. “Just two more bloody weeks…”

Your smile widened, and you leaned in, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, “Or maybe just two more minutes.”

Frank turned sharply on his heel, distancing himself from the intoxicating heat of your presence. His jaw tightened as his hazel eyes fixed on the window, the city lights beyond blurring into a kaleidoscope of frustration and longing. His white hair caught the dim glow of the lamp on his desk, and his hooked nose flared slightly as he drew a deep breath, his baritone voice firm yet trembling as he spoke.

“No,” he said, his tone resolute. “This is inappropriate. You’re my subordinate, and I’m your commanding officer. I won’t… I can’t cross that line.”

You stepped closer, your voice soft yet imploring. “Frank,” you murmured, your eyes searching his with a mix of frustration and desire. “We’ve been dancing around this for months. Why keep denying it?”

He turned to face you, his gaze sharp but filled with unspoken longing. “Because,” he said, his voice dropping into that low, commanding register that sent a shiver through you, “I won’t be the man who abuses his position. Amy will be back in two weeks. Two weeks. And then, maybe…”

You exhaled, a mixture of disappointment and resignation washing over you. “And then, maybe?” you asked, your voice tinged with a sadness that made his chest tighten.

Frank clenched his fists at his sides, his hazel eyes darkening as he fought the urge to pull you into his arms. “Then,” he said softly, “I’ll be free to want you. Freely, without question. But not now. Not like this.”

Your shoulders slumped slightly, and you gave a curt nod, the professionalism you’d always carried slipping back into place like armor. “Goodnight, sir,” you said, your voice steady but distant.

As you turned and walked away, Frank’s heart twisted. He wanted to call you back, to tell you to lock the door, to throw propriety to the wind and finally claim what he’d been denying himself for so long. His hand even twitched toward the glass of whiskey, as though it could drown the torrent of desire coursing through him. But he held firm, his military training keeping him rooted in place as the sound of your footsteps faded into the night.

He took another sip of whiskey, the burn doing little to ease the ache in his chest or the throbbing heat elsewhere. His mind betrayed him almost instantly, conjuring images of what he would have done if he’d let himself slip—if he’d grabbed your wrist as you passed, pulling you back into the room, into him.

He imagined the startled gasp you’d let out as his lips crashed against yours, his hands gripping your waist tightly as he pressed you against the wall. His voice, deep and rough with years of restraint finally breaking, would growl your name like a prayer. He pictured the way your body would melt against his, your fingers clutching his shirt as you whispered breathless pleas for more.

Frank’s grip on the glass tightened as his mind wandered further, the fantasies growing more vivid. He could see it so clearly: you kneeling in front of him, your eyes wide and filled with trust as he undid his belt with deliberate slowness, his cock hard and aching, thick and veined, begging for your touch. He would guide you gently at first, his voice low and encouraging as he murmured, “That’s it, love. Take me. All of me.”

He groaned softly, his free hand running through his white hair as he struggled to pull himself back from the edge. He could almost hear the way you’d moan his name, feel the way your lips would wrap around him, warm and willing, pulling him deeper until he couldn’t think straight.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered under his breath, his hazel eyes staring at the now-empty glass of whiskey. His hooked nose flared as he exhaled sharply, setting the glass down with more force than necessary. This was madness, he thought. Utter madness.

And yet, as he sat there in the quiet of his office, the scent of your perfume still lingering faintly in the air, Frank couldn’t stop himself from imagining what two weeks might bring—and how much harder it would be to hold himself back when the clock finally ran out.

Frank sat at the head of the conference table, his hazel eyes scanning the room as the officers around him discussed the latest intelligence reports on operations in Afghanistan. His expression was as calm and composed as ever, the weight of his rank and experience evident in every line of his face. But beneath that facade, Frank Benson was seething.

His gaze kept straying to the corner of the room, where you stood with a young soldier, your head tilted slightly as you spoke in hushed tones. Frank didn’t need to hear the words to know they weren’t work-related—the easy smiles, the soft laughter, and the way the soldier leaned just a little too close made that abundantly clear.

You should have been taking notes, cataloging the meeting as you always did with meticulous precision. Instead, you were there, entertaining some wide-eyed boy who clearly didn’t know his place. And it was driving Frank mad.

He clenched his jaw, his hooked nose flaring slightly as he tore his gaze away, trying to focus on the discussion at hand. The officers were speaking of strategic deployments, air support logistics, and humanitarian considerations—things that demanded his full attention. But his mind was elsewhere, filled with the image of you, the sound of your laugh, and the irritating sight of that soldier’s grin.

“Lieutenant General?” one of the officers prompted, drawing Frank’s attention back to the table. “Your thoughts?”

Frank blinked, his hazel eyes narrowing slightly as he processed the question. “Continue,” he said curtly, his baritone voice low and commanding. “I’ll provide my input shortly.”

The officer nodded and resumed speaking, but Frank’s attention had already drifted again. His grip on the edge of the table tightened as he glanced toward you once more. The soldier was leaning in, his lips moving as he whispered something that made you smile. And that was it—the last straw.

Frank pushed back his chair, the legs scraping against the floor as he stood. The room fell silent, all eyes turning to him as he fixed you and the soldier with a glare that could have frozen molten lava. “Miss [Your Last Name],” he barked, his baritone voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “Do you have something to share with the rest of us?”

You froze, your smile fading as you straightened, your eyes darting toward the soldier, who now looked as if he wanted to melt into the floor. “No, sir,” you said quickly, your tone steady despite the flicker of embarrassment in your expression.

“And you,” Frank continued, turning his glare to the soldier. “Is this how you behave in a serious meeting? Whispering and grinning like a schoolboy while your colleagues are discussing operations that involve life and death?”

The soldier stammered, his face turning crimson. “No, sir! I—I apologize, sir.”

Frank stepped closer, his hands clasped behind his back as he loomed over the younger man. “You’re a disgrace to that uniform,” he growled, his hazel eyes cold and unforgiving. “Since you seem to have so much energy to waste on idle chatter, why don’t you go outside and give me fifty push-ups? Now.”

“Yes, sir!” the soldier barked, snapping to attention before practically running out of the room.

Frank’s gaze shifted back to you, and the tension in the air was palpable. “And you,” he said, his tone softer but no less firm. “Your job is to take notes, not to flirt. I expect you to conduct yourself with professionalism at all times. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Good,” Frank said sharply, turning back to the table. “Let’s proceed.”

The meeting resumed, but the tension lingered. Frank kept his expression neutral, his hazel eyes fixed on the reports in front of him. But inside, his thoughts were a storm of frustration, jealousy, and something darker—something he refused to name.

When the meeting finally ended, Frank lingered behind, pretending to organize his papers as the officers filed out. You hesitated by the door, clearly unsure whether to leave or stay. Finally, you stepped closer, your voice hesitant. “Sir, may I speak with you?”

Frank glanced up, his expression unreadable. “Make it quick,” he said curtly.

You closed the door behind you, your hands clasped nervously in front of you as you approached his desk. “I didn’t mean to be unprofessional,” you began, your voice soft but earnest. “I’m sorry if I upset you.”

Frank stood, his white hair catching the light as he rounded the desk to stand in front of you. His hazel eyes bored into yours, his hooked nose flaring slightly as he exhaled. “Do you know what upset me, Miss [Your Last Name]?” he asked, his baritone voice low and dangerous. “It wasn’t the distraction, though that was bad enough. It was the fact that you allowed that boy to think he had even a fraction of your attention.”

You blinked, your breath catching at the intensity in his gaze. “Sir, I—”

“You’re mine,” he interrupted, his voice dropping to a growl as he stepped closer, his hands bracing on the desk behind you, effectively trapping you in place. “Do you understand that? Every smile, every glance, every bloody laugh—it’s mine. Not his.”

Your heart pounded as his words sank in, his hazel eyes blazing with a mix of possessiveness and desire. “Frank,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“Say it,” he demanded, his voice rough as he leaned in, his hooked nose brushing against your temple. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you breathed, your voice barely audible.

Frank let out a low growl of satisfaction, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Good. Because if I ever catch you entertaining another man like that again, love, I won’t stop at fifty push-ups. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir,” you murmured, your cheeks flushing as heat coursed through you.

“Good,” Frank said again, his baritone voice softening as his lips trailed down to your neck. “Because you’ve got a lot to make up for, and I intend to make sure you learn your lesson.”

The fire in his eyes left no doubt—this was a punishment you wouldn’t forget.

But Frank straightened abruptly, his hazel eyes hardening as though some invisible wall had slammed down between the two of you. You blinked up at him, confused and breathless, your body still humming from the way his low baritone voice had growled those possessive words just moments before.

But now he was backing away, his hands adjusting his uniform as if nothing had happened. “This is highly inappropriate,” he said, his voice curt, devoid of the heat that had filled it just seconds ago. “I’ve already crossed a line by saying too much.”

You pushed yourself off the desk, your legs trembling slightly as you tried to steady yourself. “Frank,” you said, your voice wavering between frustration and desperation. “You can’t keep doing this.”

His gaze snapped to yours, sharp and unyielding. “Doing what?” he asked, his hooked nose flaring slightly as he gathered the papers he’d left scattered on the desk. “Maintaining my professionalism? Upholding the integrity of my position? Is that what you’re accusing me of?”

Your jaw clenched, and you crossed your arms, staring him down despite the ache in your chest. “No,” you said, your tone sharper now. “I’m accusing you of provoking me, of making me feel things I can’t act on, only to walk away like none of it matters.”

Frank’s hand froze mid-motion, his hazel eyes darkening as he stared at you. For a moment, you thought he might say something, might finally admit what you both knew to be true. But instead, he shook his head, his white hair catching the soft light of the office. “There’s still a week and five days,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “Until Amy returns. Until this…” He gestured vaguely between you. “Is no longer an issue.”

Your heart sank, and you bit your lip to keep from shouting at him. “That’s all this is to you?” you demanded. “An issue?”

Frank exhaled heavily, his shoulders slumping slightly as he looked at you with an expression you couldn’t quite read. “You don’t understand,” he said softly, his baritone voice tinged with regret. “If I lose control now, I won’t be able to stop. And you deserve better than being someone’s mistake.”

You stared at him, your chest tightening as his words hit you like a physical blow. “I’m not a mistake, Frank,” you said, your voice trembling. “And you’re not as composed as you think you are.”

He flinched, the truth in your words cutting through his defenses. But instead of responding, he simply nodded once, gathered the last of his papers, and turned toward the door.

“Goodnight, Miss [Your Last Name],” he said formally, his tone cold and distant as he walked out of the room without another glance.

You stood there, still leaning against the desk, your body burning with unspent desire and simmering frustration. “Damn him,” you muttered under your breath, your hands curling into fists at your sides. “Damn that man.”

You tried to calm the pounding of your heart, but it was no use. Every interaction with Frank felt like a carefully orchestrated game of push and pull, and you were growing tired of always being the one left behind, yearning for something he refused to give.

And yet, as infuriating as he was, you couldn’t stop wanting him. His sharp wit, his commanding presence, the way his hazel eyes softened just enough when he looked at you—it all made you crave him more, even when he left you seething in his wake.

“He can’t keep doing this,” you whispered to yourself, running a hand through your hair as you tried to steady your breathing. But even as you said the words, you knew they were hollow. Because no matter how much Frank provoked you, no matter how many times he pulled away, you couldn’t seem to let him go.

Not yet. Not until you had your moment. And you would have it—if only you could survive the next week and five days without losing your mind.

Frank sat at his desk, his hazel eyes scanning the last document of the day, though his attention was half-hearted at best. The tension that had been building between you over the past few months hung in the air, thick and oppressive, and he could feel it wrapping around him like a vice. Today was your last day as his secretary, and while he’d done his best to maintain his composure, the thought of you leaving left an ache in his chest he couldn’t quite ignore.

You stepped into his office, the soft click of your heels against the polished floor drawing his gaze. You held out the final paper of the day, your expression calm and professional, though your eyes sparkled with something he couldn’t quite place. “Here’s the last one,” you said, your voice steady. “Anything else you need before I go?”

Frank took the paper from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours briefly. He set it down on the desk, glancing up at you with a faint, almost reluctant smile. “No,” he said, his baritone voice low. “You’re excused.”

You nodded, your lips twitching as if you were holding back a smile of your own. “Goodnight, sir,” you said softly, turning toward the door.

Frank exhaled quietly, thinking that was it. The end of months of tension, of longing, of resisting the pull between you. He’d let you walk out of his office, out of his life, and he’d never have to face the maddening temptation you represented again.

But then he heard the soft click of the door locking.

His hazel eyes snapped up, his hooked nose flaring slightly as he saw you turn back toward him. Your expression had shifted, the professionalism gone, replaced by a sly, knowing smile that sent a jolt of heat through his body. You leaned against the edge of his desk, crossing your arms as you looked at him.

“Today’s my last day,” you said simply, your voice steady but laced with a teasing edge. “My shift is over. That means I’m no longer your secretary.”

Frank swallowed hard, his chest tightening as he realized exactly what you were saying. He nodded slowly, his baritone voice calm but tinged with something darker. “No,” he agreed. “You’re not.”

You tilted your head slightly, studying him with a look that made his pulse race. “So, what are you planning to do now, Lieutenant General?” you asked, your voice soft but full of challenge.

Frank stood slowly, his white hair catching the dim light of the office as he straightened his jacket. He took a step toward you, his hazel eyes dark and locked onto yours. “I was planning,” he began, his voice low and deliberate, “to call you tomorrow. To ask you to dinner. To take you somewhere nice, wine and dine you properly. Do everything by the book.”

You raised an eyebrow, your lips curving into a small, wicked smile. “And now?”

Frank stopped in front of you, his gaze unwavering as he reached out to brush a strand of hair from your face. His touch was deliberate, lingering just long enough to send a shiver down your spine. “Now,” he murmured, his baritone voice dropping to a growl, “I think we can skip all that.”

Your breath caught as he leaned in, his hooked nose brushing against your cheek as his lips hovered just above yours. “You’ve driven me mad for months,” he whispered, his voice rough and filled with restrained desire. “Every smile, every glance, every bloody word out of your mouth—it’s been torture. And now that you’re not mine to protect anymore…”

He let the sentence trail off, his hands moving to grip your waist as he pulled you flush against him. His hazel eyes burned into yours, his control slipping with every passing second. “I don’t have to hold back anymore,” he growled, his lips finally crashing against yours in a kiss that was all-consuming, filled with months of pent-up frustration and longing.

You moaned softly against him, your fingers tangling in his white hair as you returned the kiss with equal fervor. Frank’s hands roamed over your body, his touch firm and commanding as he lifted you onto the desk. His hips pressed against yours, and you could feel the hard evidence of his arousal, thick and insistent, through his trousers.

“God, you’re perfect,” he muttered against your lips, his baritone voice trembling with need. “I’ve waited too long for this.”

He stepped back just long enough to undo his jacket, tossing it aside before pulling you closer again. His hands slid up your thighs, pushing your skirt higher as his lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. “Tell me,” he growled, his hooked nose brushing against your collarbone. “Tell me you’ve wanted this as much as I have.”

“Yes,” you gasped, your voice breathless as his hands gripped your hips. “I’ve wanted you, Frank. Always.”

Frank’s hazel eyes darkened as he hovered over you, his hooked nose flaring slightly with every labored breath. His large hands moved with careful precision, one gripping your thigh to keep you steady on the edge of his desk, the other teasing slow circles over your clit. His touch was deliberate, his baritone voice low and thick with desire as he murmured, “Let’s take our time, love. I need you nice and ready for me.”

His eyes darkened at your words, and he let out a low, guttural groan as he began to unbuckle his belt. “Good,” he murmured, his voice rough and commanding. “Because I’m not stopping until I’ve had every inch of you.”

The desk creaked beneath you as Frank claimed you, his touch, his kiss, and the sheer intensity of his presence leaving no doubt in your mind that he’d been waiting for this moment as desperately as you had. And as he pulled you closer, his baritone voice growling your name like a prayer, you knew that this was only the beginning.

Your breath hitched as his fingers pressed against you with just the right amount of pressure, coaxing soft whimpers from your lips. You clung to the straps of his shoulder holster, your fingers curling tightly around the leather as your body trembled beneath him. His white shirt was still tucked into the waistband of his trousers, which were bunched awkwardly around his ankles, held in place by his polished black shoes. The sight of him—partially dressed, utterly commanding, yet entirely undone—was enough to make you clench around nothing.

“Frank,” you gasped, your voice shaky as his fingers worked you expertly. “Please… I need you.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and rich, his hazel eyes glinting with both amusement and something darker. “You’ll have me,” he promised, his voice a growl as he slid a finger inside you, testing your readiness. “But not until you’re dripping for me. I’ll be damned if I hurt you, love. You’re going to take every inch of me, but you’ll enjoy it.”

You moaned as his finger moved inside you, slow and deliberate, stroking your inner walls with practiced precision. His thumb continued its relentless assault on your clit, the sensation sending shivers through your body as he leaned closer, his hooked nose brushing against your cheek. “That’s it,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. “Let me feel you getting wetter for me. I want you soaking by the time I bury myself in you.”

Your nails dug into the leather straps of his holster as your hips bucked against his hand, desperate for more. “I’m ready,” you pleaded, your voice trembling. “Frank, please. I need you inside me.”

He groaned softly, his free hand sliding up your thigh to grip your hip, steadying you. “Patience,” he growled, his baritone voice laced with a mix of command and affection. “You’ll take me when I’m sure you can handle it.”

Frank pulled back slightly, his hazel eyes locking onto yours as he withdrew his finger and brought it to his mouth. He licked it slowly, savoring the taste of you as a low, satisfied hum rumbled in his chest. “Sweet as sin,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire. “But I need more.”

Without warning, he dropped to his knees, his trousers straining around his ankles as his hands gripped your thighs, spreading them wider. You gasped as his tongue flicked over your clit, the sensation sharp and electric. His hooked nose brushed against your mound as he buried his face between your legs, his tongue working you with the same calculated precision as his fingers.

“Frank!” you cried out, your hands flying to his hair, tangling in the white strands as he drove you closer and closer to the edge. Your legs trembled, your body arching off the desk as his tongue plunged inside you, stroking you in ways that left you breathless. “Oh, God… I’m going to—”

“Not yet,” he growled against your skin, his voice muffled but no less commanding. He pulled back, his hazel eyes blazing as he straightened, towering over you once more. “I want you to come while I’m inside you, love. While you’re wrapped around my cock, taking all of me.”

You barely had time to catch your breath before he positioned himself at your entrance, his thick cock already leaking with need. He stroked himself once, twice, his baritone voice dropping to a husky whisper as he murmured, “Relax, love. Let me in.”

Slowly, carefully, he pushed inside, his cock stretching you inch by inch. The sheer size of him made you gasp, your body tensing instinctively. Frank stilled, his hands gripping your hips as he whispered soothingly, “Easy, love. I’ve got you. Just breathe.”

You did as he said, your body relaxing as he slid deeper, his cock filling you in a way that was almost overwhelming. He groaned low in his throat, his hazel eyes dark with lust as he watched your face, gauging your every reaction. “So tight,” he muttered, his voice trembling slightly. “Christ, you feel incredible.”

When he was fully seated inside you, he paused, his hooked nose flaring as he struggled to keep himself in check. “Tell me,” he said, his voice rough and low. “Tell me you can take me. Tell me you’re ready for me to move.”

You nodded, your voice a breathless whisper as you clung to his shoulder holster. “I’m ready, Frank. Please… I need you.”

With a growl of satisfaction, he began to move, his hips rolling in slow, deliberate thrusts that sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body. Each movement was measured, controlled, as though he was determined to make you feel every inch of him.

“You’re perfect,” he rasped, his voice breaking as his thrusts grew deeper, harder. “So tight, so wet… taking me so damn well. God, I’ve never—” He cut himself off with a groan, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he lost himself in you.

Your moans filled the room, mingling with the sound of his labored breathing and the soft slap of skin against skin. Your nails dug into his shoulder holster as you clung to him, your body arching with every thrust. “Frank,” you gasped, your voice trembling. “I’m close… I’m so close.”

“Then come for me,” he growled, his hazel eyes locking onto yours as he drove into you with renewed intensity. “Come while I’m inside you, love. Let me feel you.”

And when you finally did, your body trembling and your walls clenching around him, Frank let out a shuddering groan, his own release following moments later. His hips stilled, his cock buried deep inside you as he pressed his forehead against yours, his breath hot and ragged.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of what had just happened settling over you. But as Frank pulled back slightly, his hazel eyes meeting yours, a slow, satisfied smile spread across his face.

“Worth the wait,” he murmured, his baritone voice soft but filled with warmth. “Every bloody second.”

[s4bbatical]

Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want | Part 4. (Rivals Declan O'Hara x Reader 18+)

see masterlist (PINNED) for all parts

warnings: mentions of sex, cigarette and alcohol use. age gap (reader!22)

━━━━━━���━━━━━━

Cont’d.

You were still sat in the parking lot. You wipe your eyes with your hands, smearing your mascara before wiping your nose on the sleeve of your coat as you turn on the engine. The radio begins to play Don’t You Want Me by The Human League. You groan as you change the station. Heart Of Glass by Blondie begins to play instead.

“No, nevermind. I hate my life.” You say bitterly, turning off the radio entirely. You begin to drive away with The Corinium in your rearview. “God this is so fucked!” You exclaim to no one, trying to keep yourself level enough to not crash the hunk of metal on wheels.

You manage to drive the rest of the way in complete silence back to your home. You put the car in park, resting your forehead against the steering wheel to cry, very loudly, once more.

A passerby and her child both stare at you like you were mentally unwell, causing you to forcibly smile through your tears and give them a thumbs up. As they clear out of view, you sigh and finally get out of the vehicle.

You kick off your shoes as you enter your apartment, throwing your coat over your armchair. You open your fridge in an instant, pulling out the bottle of wine Taggie had gifted you a week ago.

"Incase of any personal celebrations, y/n." She had told you. To be fair, she never said you couldn't just simply drink it to wallow in pity.

Two hours later and one wine bottle down, you're loudly doing karaoke to your favorite radio station. You've barely had anything to eat due to stress that day, and the alcohol was getting a real grip on you. You're laying on the couch, slurring your lyrics as the phone begins to ring incessantly.

"Go away...!" You moan, covering your ears with a throw pillow. It goes off once again, causing you to finally get up and answer.

"Hello who is this? What do you want?” You say, barely coherent enough for the person on the other end.

"Y/n? Where are you?" You hear Declan say, lots of commotion in the background. He was definitely at Bar Sinister, celebrating with everyone else.

"Home, obviously. You called my landline." You say in annoyance, leaning against the wall.

"I mean, why aren't you here? I wanted to see you and... and talk about things." He says quietly. You could imagine him at the pay phone in the corner of the bar, hiding his conversation from everyone else.

"I'm not coming there." You mumble into the phone, toying with the cord. "Your wife doesn't want me anywhere near you, didn't you know that?" You ask in confusion.

There's a moment of silence before Declan speaks again. "No, I didn't." He says. "That's... I had no idea, y/n. I'm so sorry for bringing you into this." He mutters with an incantation of disappointment behind his words. "I am my own person, I hope you know that. My wife isn't allowed to choose what I do if she lets herself do whatever."

"I know, but I don't want to be the reason you lose your job Declan, or your marriage." You whisper, trying to not cry once again. "I'm sorry, I'm really fucking drunk. I don't know if I can talk right now." You stammer, trying to hold down the bile coming up your throat.

"I understand y/n. But please, let's talk about this." Declan pleas.

"I have to go, I don't feel so good." You hastily hang up the phone, nearly falling over yourself as you make it to your bathroom. You lean over the toilet on your knees, throwing up into the porcelain bowl. You can hear the phone ringing again, but you have no power to answer it again. You lean your head against the seat, groaning. At least you felt a bit better after throwing up.

You eventually get up, retrieving some ibuprofen from your cabinet and popping two in your mouth, running the sink and dipping your mouth underneath it in order to swallow the pills. You knew your liver was spiteful of you right now, but you didn't care as long as you were going to feel better later.

You bring yourself to the kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it up with water. You take small, consistent sips in order to avoid puking again. You walk over to your couch and put the glass down on the side table, slumping into it as your music continues to blare throughout the living room.

-

You wake up to loud, repetitive knocks on your door, wiping your mouth clear from drool.

"Fuck I fell asleep." You whisper, looking at the clock. It had only been an hour.

You begrudgingly get up, turning down your radio before walking over to your front door. You undo the latch, opening it to reveal Declan.

He turns and faces you, hand on his hips like an annoyed father. You both stare at each other, Declan taking in how disgruntled you looked. Hair knotted, eyes surely puffy. You must've looked insane.

“Declan? How did you know where I live?” You ask, bewildered by his presence.

His face softens when he sees you. "Don’t worry about that.“ He says. “I got worried when you disappeared over the phone, so I came to see if you were okay." He explains.

“Okay… Well, I’m clearly doing great.” You say weakly, gesturing to yourself.

“Y/n, can I please come in?” Declan asks, frowning slightly.

You nod, stepping out of the way to allow him entrance.

Declan had never been in your apartment before, taking in the layout and decor mindfully. "Your apartment, it's very... you." He comments, looking at the black cat clock ticking back and forth on the wall with curiosity.

"Is that good or bad?" You mumble, closing the front door and locking it.

"Good, very good." He says, turning back to face you. "Seb told me you just got up and left before the interview was over. Did that have anything to do with me?" He says, cautiously stepping closer.

"I'm not gonna lie, I'm still drunk." You admit, holding up a finger. “But, Maud called me at my desk right before the interview. She found out because I left my stupid fucking bra behind by accident and now I have done irreparable damage.” You breathe out, laughing at yourself so you don't cry.

Declan says nothing, slowly taking you into an embrace. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” He whispers into your hair. “I made the choices, not you.”

“But it’s still my fault, too.” You barely say loud enough, a few stray tears leaving your eyes again. You do not reciprocate the hug, simply staying limp in his arms. You had worn yourself down.

“Please, don’t cry.” Declan sighs, pulling back to wipe your tears with his thumb. “I can’t stand seeing you like this.”

Your stomach loudly grumbles, causing you to laugh again. “Sorry.” You say meekly, holding your stomach.

"Have you had anything to eat since this morning?" He asks, furrowing his brows as he grabs your arms.

"No, I haven't been able to keep anything down." You mumble, your stomach grumbling again on cue.

"Jesus, y/n. Please go lay down and watch the telly, I'm gonna cook you something." He says, directing you to your couch.

"I don't really have any groceries. I need to buy some more." You explain as you lay back down, Declan opening your fridge to reveal some skimmed leftovers, two eggs and a block of cheese.

"Mm, I see." He closes the fridge. "I'm gonna go to the store quickly, then. Stay put and keep drinking your water." He says, heading back towards the front door.

"Declan, you don't have to-" You try to say.

"Ah, don't argue please." He turns to you to say. “I’ll be back.” He opens the door and disappears back outside, closing it behind him.

You close your eyes and sigh. With the dull ache in your head and your lack of energy, you had no power to fight with Declan. You were afraid of the consequences of his arrival, but he was just as stubborn as the rest of them. Nothing you could say or do would stop him from giving a damn about you.

About fifteen minutes later, Declan returns. “I hope you like having fruits and vegetables. Taggie’s taught me to be more concerned about my diet, trying to spread the good word.” He says, taking off his shoes after placing two plastic bags worth of groceries on the counter.

“If you can manage to fit all of that in my shitty little fridge, I’ll applaud you.” You say, opening one eye to look over at him. “Thank you Declan. For this.” You say, sitting back up.

“It’s nothing, really. I’m the reason you’re feeling like shit, it’s up to me to change that.” He smiles, although seeming quite tired himself.

“Are you sure you should be here? I’m just worried if anyone–“

“Don’t worry about it. Like I said, what I decide to do is on my own volition. I’m a grown man, y/n.” He says matter-of-fact, leaning over your kitchen counter.

“You should be celebrating with everyone. You shouldn’t be here.” You try to say sternly, crossing your arms.

Declan stands up straight, mimicking your body language. “I told everyone I needed to go home. Taggie and Maud already left before I did so I highly doubt they know, nor care.” He explains, opening a box of pasta. “I hope you don’t mind a simple spaghetti dish, I’m not as great of a cook as you or my daughter are.” He admits meekly.

“Do whatever, I’m not stopping you from anything clearly.” You sigh, laying down once more.

-

After you and Declan eat dinner together, he allows you to fall asleep with your head in his lap while watching the T.V.

When you wake up the next morning, you found yourself in your bed with your nightgown on somehow, realizing Declan must’ve, quite literally, tucked you into bed.

A piece of paper from your daily planner lies on your bedside table, picking it up as you slowly read it through heavy eyelids.

Y/n,

I hope you slept well, and had pleasant dreams of home. I’m sorry I couldn’t stay around, I would’ve if I could.

With that being said, I want to give you the choice of whether or not you wish to continue with us. I know that I told you no one can affect my choices, and I am firm with knowing what I want; but I do not wish to ignore your needs or wants. You are your own person as well. I care about you greatly, and have found myself more fond of you as time goes on. However, it is not worth being selfish at the cost of your suffrage.

I want what is best for you, and I hope you do too.

P.S., Leftover spaghetti for you in the fridge.

Sincerely,

Declan

You slowly put the paper back down, tucking your knees into your chest as you wrap your arms around your legs. It was Sunday, technically you had until tomorrow to give him an answer if you were to be kind about time.

What were you going to do? You couldn't deny it; you were beginning to fall in love with Declan O'Hara. Quite frankly, you think he might be feeling the same way. Would he leave his wife for you? That would be ridiculous. Everyone cheats on their partners here, but no one divorces. God forbid, right?

You get up finally after staring at the wall for ten minutes, begrudgingly walking into the living/kitchen space. All your dishes were washed and left out to dry, thanks to Declan.

You smile to yourself, grabbing ahold of the phone off the receiver with an idea. You dial Seb's number, waiting a few moments before he picks up.

"Hello, Seb speaking." He says groggily, clearly had been woken up by your call.

"Seb, hi. Sorry for calling at eleven in the morning." You jest, poking fun at his tired voice considering it wasn't even that early.

"Y/n, nice to hear from you. Is everything alright? You don't sound too well." He asks, yawning.

"Erm, no. I don't feel well, I think I've gotten the flu or something." You say, your hangover making you sound like you weren't lying. "Would you mind taking on my tasks at work for the next few days? Tell Tony for me, he honestly scares me too much for me to call him myself." You admit sheepishly, rubbing your forehead. In full honesty, you wanted to avoid the office like the plague. You were at the tipping point of whether or not you go back to America and pretend none of this ever happened.

"Course, I'm sorry to hear about that. Can I do anything for you? Bring you meds or tea of the sort?" Seb offers.

"No, thanks though. I'm just gonna rot with what I've got kicking around here. My mom's a health nut, she sent me here with all kinds of crap." You say, leaning against the wall.

"Alright then. You got it, madam. Take care of yourself yeah?" He says.

"Will do. See you Seb."

"Bye y/n."

You mount the phone back on the receiver, keeping your gaze on it as you continue to lean against the wall. You debated calling Declan as well to thank him for everything last night, but you fought against it. You'd rather sit and hide until you sorted out your mind before speaking to him again. It was only fair, really.

You walk over to your fridge, retrieving the container of spaghetti. You grab a fork as well, making your way to the couch. You turn on the television and begin to eat the leftovers. You didn't care enough to warm it up, you felt like punishing yourself by eating it cold.

-

As the the week passes, you find yourself indulging in your old hobbies, such as reading and painting. You bought a cheap art set from an art supply store on the shopping strip a few blocks away from your home, and used books from the secondhand shop. Taggie had come to hang out with you twice, chalking up your absence from work due to being homesick. Although your free time was peaceful, you knew better than to waste away instead of going to work.

On the day of Miss Corinium, you had clocked back into work. Seb convinced you to do so, and caught you up with what you missed in the meantime.

"So the Thatcher interview went to James Vereker instead?" You ask in bemusement, walking down the hall alongside your colleague.

"Yep, and Declan did not take it kindly. He took the week off as well, actually. Neither of you have been in until now. People suspect he had more things going on and that was just the final nail in the coffin." Seb says, both of you returning to your desk space.

"Really?" You ask, trying to hide your worries behind gossiping with Seb. It was quite entertaining, really. You wouldn't have expected him to be the nosiest out of everyone else, but you kept getting surprises every other day.

"Yep, drinking like a fucking maniac too." He adds sympathetically. You frown at that statement, becoming increasingly worried for Declan as minutes pass.

"Come on everybody, down to the stage please." Tony exclaims, everyone getting up from their stations.

You make your way down alongside Seb, noticing Daysee hastily walking ahead the two of you.

“Daysee!" You exclaim, the blonde turning around with wide eyes. "I've missed you!" You go to hug her, in which she backs away like a scared cat.

"Sorry, not right now." She quickly whispers, continuing to walk away. She seemed as though she'd been crying.

"What the fuck is happening?" You ask Seb, who shrugs in equal confusion.

As you all make it to the sound stage, you see Declan nearly tripping over his own feet. His eyes land on you, causing your breath to hitch in your throat.

“Y/n, long time no see.” He slurs, leaning up against the wall to smile at you.

“Get a fucking grip, O’Hara. What the fuck are you doing?” You seethe, disappointed by his actions.

“What’d mean? The fuck are you doing? Haven’t said a word to me all week.” He mutters, trying to reach for the glass behind you.

You grab his arm tightly, causing his eyes to go wide. “This is not the time nor fucking place for this. I have every right to keep to myself. I’m doing my job and you’re doing yours, right?” You whisper harshly, pushing his arm back to him. You step back and watch as Seb attempts to entice Declan with a mug of water, to which he takes begrudgingly as he keeps his eyes on you.

"Daysee, nice dress." He compliments the blonde as she walks by, who gives him a look of distraught as she begins to cry.

You and Seb instantly look at each other in understanding. He forcefully gives Declan back his blazer before following her.

Declan looks at you with confusion. “What’d I do?” He asks.

“I don’t know, but maybe you can do us all a favour and shut the fuck up.” You retort, following Seb.

-

You were fuming in that control room.

You sat directly beside Daysee, who gripped your hand the whole time. She barely looked at anyone as she called cues, causing you to trace your thumb over her hand as you tried not to frown yourself. She did not wish to speak on it further or make a bigger deal of it, to which you and Seb both respected as the show had to go on.

James Vereker and Sarah Stratton go on to introduce all the judges, your stomach growing a pit as James says Declan's name, the camera cutting to a very intoxciated O'Hara. "Back in the saddle after his indisposition earlier this week." He quips, the camera then moving onto the last and very, very least man on the panel.

"Ex-prebendary from the Church of England, Reverend Fergus Penney." Sarah says, everyone clapping along at the line up.

Daysee's grip on your hand tightens as Reverend Penny appears on screen, causing you to press your forehead to her shoulder briefly as the show continues on.

You watch as the television screens show Declan seeming rather displeased with who he was sat beside. You begin to realize he may know what has gone on, repositioning yourself in your seat as you continue to watch onwards.

Seb attempts to put a hand on Daysee's shoulder, to which she jumps slightly.

"Don't." You whisper, shaking your head at him as he steps back. You wince as you watch Declan barely manage to fill a glass of water.

"Reverend Penney, are you looking for perfection tonight?" James asks after they showcase a lineup of young, fit women.

"Oh... well, perfection is not my concern. The qualities that I'm looking for in the inaugural Miss Corinium, uh, consists of, uh, a healthy body and sound morals." The old man says, causing you to purse your lips. Hypocrite. You think to yourself.

As if Declan has read your mind, he begins to interject. "You filthy, hypocritical, old git." He spits out, standing up to sucker punch Reverend Penney.

The entire control room gasps at the sight, along with the audience.

"What the fuck is he doing? Cut the feed." Cameron Cook exclaims, everyone rushing to end the livestream.

You race over the the viewing glass, watching Wesley Emerson hold back Declan from fighting furthermore.

"You'll get what's coming to you!" Declan yells, pointing at Reverend Penny.

"He's ruined everything." Daysee says.

You turn around, watching everyone stare in dismay. After a minute of standing in silence by yourself, you quickly make your way through the room, pushing the doors open to find Declan.

As you run doing the hall, you hear commotion in the office.

You watch as Declan pins Tony against the wall, then eventually proceeds to take a golf club and throw it through the glass. You gasp, covering your mouth.

Declan sees you, his face dropping as you both stand there, staring at each other.

Without hesitation, you gather your belongings and begin to head back down the hallway, this time going towards the exit.

"Y/n, wait!” Declan yells, following you down the stairs. "Y/n, stop! I need to talk to you!"

You push through the rotating entrance door, taken aback by Freddie and Rupert waiting with a car right in front.

"Y/n, are you okay? Do you need a lift?" Rupert asks, noticing your bewilderment as Declan charges outside behind you.

"No, I have my own car. Thanks though." You say, attempting to walk away.

"I just quit my job." Declan says suddenly, directed towards everyone. You look back at him with wide eyes.

"Get in the car, lads. Let's get rat-arsed." Freddie suggests, Rupert opening the door for Declan.

"Y/n, please let me talk to you." Declan pleas once more, standing in front of you with his back towards the other two.

"Declan," You sigh, looking up at him. "About what?" You ask, throw your arms up then dropping them. You watch him fail to answer, as you two were not alone. "Give it up. Go get rat-arsed, or whatever." You say, squinting in confusion as you say the sentence yourself.

Declan grabs your arm, looking into your eyes. "Please, y/n."

"You’re drunk, Declan." You say firmly, pulling your arm away. “Grow up.” You mutter bitterly.

You watch as Rupert forces him into the car, the door slamming as Declan continues to stare at you through the window. You shake your head in disappointment.

"Y/n..." Rupert says, causing you to look at him instead. "I see how he looks at you." He whispers, smiling with sympathy. "If you really care about him, it's worth fighting for. Believe me." He says, causing your eyes to widen. Did he know too?

"And why should I listen to you?" You say quietly, raising a brow at him.

"Because, I can tell when something is worthwhile than most. Also, between you and me, he seems happier with you around." He adds. "Just trust me." He says, placing a hand on your shoulder before dropping it. "Think about it, yeah?" He finishes, getting into the car before Freddie drives it away.

You stand still for a few seconds, watching the car disappear as you process the day that had fallen upon you. It was rather ludicrous how your first day back after sick leave left you in shambles, but could you expect anything less? Your internship was making you question whether or not journalism was even the career choice for you. It was becoming redundant.

You sigh, making your way to your car.

-

You were sitting in your armchair, attempting to focus on your Murakami novel. Your mind was going a thousand miles an hour, trying to process every single thing that has happened within the past month. It had been two weeks since you last saw Declan, and you were sure you'd never see him again as he did not attempt to reach out to you in any way since his departure at The Corinium.

Tony Baddingham had made you all begin to sign contracts, having to hand them in by Friday as a form of devotion and to not hand yourself off to Declan O'Hara and his band of misfits. Apparently, he was attempting to start up a company to take down Corinium.

As your mind consumes you, you quickly head over to your phone, dialing Seb as per usual.

"Seb speaking." He says.

"Seb, this is fucked up. What is happening?" You ask, biting your nails in a nervous tick.

"I don't know." He sighs. "I can't lose my job, y/n. I have to stay at The Corinium."

"Well, me neither. I'm with you on that." You say. "Do you think Tony's going to start firing us? I can't go back home, this job is all I've got." You explain, your hand white knuckling the cord of your phone.

"No, I don't think so. He’s got us signing papers for god’s sake. What's the worse that can happen? We haven't done anything to make Lord Baddingham think we're with Declan, have we?"

You go quiet for a moment before clearing your throat. "Right, course not. That would be ridiculous." You say, grabbing the back of your neck.

"I'll see you on Monday. It's alright, y/n. We've got each other." He reassures.

"Right, course. Bye Seb." You say, hanging up the phone.

As soon as you hang up the phone, your receiver starts to ring. You pick it up once again in confusion.

"Hello, who is this?" You ask.

"Y/n, it's Taggie." She says quietly.

"Taggie, love, hi. Did you want to come over?"

"...Can I? I feel like my house is falling apart. I could use your company."

"Well of course. Is everything alright?" You querie.

"No, not even in the slightest. I'll tell you once I get there."

"Yeah, no problem. See you soon."

"See you."

You hang up the phone again, groaning loudly. "I swear to god if it is possible to have a heart attack at twenty two it will happen to me of all people." You say to yourself, putting your head in your hands as you rub your face.

About twenty minutes later, Taggie enters your apartment. You gave her a spare key the last time you came over, figuring it would be nice to allow her to come over and keep you company whenever.

"Y/n, I feel like I'm going fucking crazy." She exclaims, taking off her sneakers.

"Do you need a glass of wine or...?" You suggest, already pouring two.

"Well, if you insist." She tries to jest, leaning against the counter as she presses her hands to her temples.

"What's going on?" You ask, sipping your own glass.

Taggie sighs heavily before speaking. "My mum's gone to London, and I don't think she plans on coming back." She says quietly, staring at the counter. "I would be more upset, but I think my parents giving up on each other was a long time coming." She admits, taking a deep sip of her glass.

"What?" You say, nearly choking on your own wine. "Your mom's leaving Declan?" You ask in dismay.

Declan’s washed up attitude was now finally making sense, and you began to feel guilty for not trying to reach out to him. You figured you were doing what was best, but maybe you were too narrow-minded to really know the answer to that one. You couldn’t help but feel a bit excited over the news.

"Yeah... At least I think she is. She left to rejoin the theatre, which means she definitely will cheat on my dad again so I think he gave up on her.” She says quietly.

“I’m sorry Tags.” You whisper, frowning. You hated to see her upset, any person in their right mind could never wish that upon Taggie.

“Not only that,” She continues on. “Rupert and Freddie have created a television company with my father in hopes it'll take out Corinium. Rupert's idea, in order to help my father pay back his debts.” She says, wincing as she finishes off her glass in another large gulp.

"Yeah, I heard about that. Christ um, that's a lot Taggie.” You pause for a moment. “Rupert really cares about you, doesn’t he?”

Taggie shakes her head slowly. “I don’t think he’s doing all this for me, y/n. That’d be absurd.” She tries to argue.

“Right, because he must be so in love with your dad.” You muse, raising your brows.

"That’s not the point!” She groans. “I want you to join us, y/n." She says, offering you a smile. "Well, I want them to hire you so you can leave the Corinium and still keep your work visa. Does that feel sound to you?" She asks, standing up straight.

You put your glass down, engulfing Taggie in a hug. "God, I could kiss you right now." You say, sighing with relief. "Do you really think this'll work? I'm just worried, cause they've got us signing contracts at Corinium." You ask, sitting back down on your stool.

"Mmm, I’ve heard about that myself." She says. "I accidentally came across Charles Fairburn when I was trying to get signatures. He's already willing to be on our team as a mole." She grins. "I'm not forcing you to do the same, but how do you feel about working for Venturer, y/n?" She asks, placing her hand down on the counter.

"Venturer? That's what they've called it?" You hum, picking up your glass and taking another sip of your wine.

You couldn’t figure out whether or not this was a good choice to make. Realistically, this could potentially send you straight back to America. On the other hand, the reason why you took on journalism was to do something you truly loved, which was speaking for the people. You knew if Venturer made it out alive, you’d have a bigger voice on the team.

Plus, maybe it was worth seeing Declan again. Deep down, you still cared greatly for him. It was your own fault that you had confrontation issues and blew up the situation bigger than it had to be.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll do it." You say, causing Taggie to grin from ear to ear.

"Yes! I knew you'd say yes." She cheers, jumping slightly on the spot. “We’re hosting dinner at our house tomorrow night for the team. Care to join us?” She asks, her blue eyes lighting up with joy.

“Yeah, absolutely. How can I say no to a Taggie special?” You grin, the both of you laughing together. You were so grateful for Taggie, it seemed like whenever the two of you spent time together, something always turned around for the better.

-

You find yourself standing front of The Priory the next day. It had been quite awhile since the last time you were there, you couldn’t help but take in the view.

Suddenly, Gertrude comes barrelling around the corner at you. You kneel down, greeting the dog eagerly. “Oh hi baby! I missed you!” You coo, hugging the dog and scratching behind her ears. You hear footsteps, looking up and meeting Taggie’s eyes.

“I’m glad you made it.” She says with a smile on her face. “Everyone’s in the back by the garden. Follow me.” She gestures for you to do so, causing you and Gertrude to both make way to the garden.

As you turn the corner, you’re instantly greeted with Declan’s eyes. Rupert was in the middle of speaking to him when he follows his gaze, smirking when he notices you as well. There were others also sat around the table, a few you recognize and some you don’t.

You give Declan a warm smile, watching him reciprocate it as you sit down across from him, following your nametag.

“Y/n, lovely seeing you.” Freddie says, giving you a classic grin as you chuckle lightly.

“Likewise. It’s been a long few weeks, hasn’t it?” You comment, thanking Rupert when he gets up and pours you a glass of wine. You feel your cheeks warm up as you notice Declan’s eyes never leave you, although you were trying your best to look elsewhere.

“Tell me about it. You’re still at Corinium?” Rupert asks, sitting back down.

“Unfortunately. But erm, if you guys will have me I’ll gladly leave. It just depends on how it’ll go with my work visa and all that. Might have to reapply.” You say, shrugging as you sip your wine.

“We’d be more than happy to do so, y/n. Right Declan?” Rupert quizzes, nudging his frozen friend.

Declan blinks rapidly, clearing his throat. “Right, course. We’d love to have you.” He says quietly, looking down at the table briefly before looking at you again.

“Dinner is served!” Taggie announces, carrying out plates with Caitlin and Patrick, both who have returned home from school.

“Hi y/n.” Caitlin says, giving your shoulders a squeeze after she serves your a plate. You smile at her widely.

“So, how has it been without Maud in the house?” Rupert asks, causing half the table to light up in commotion and the other half to stay quiet.

“Rupert.” Lizzie says firmly, smacking his arm.

“What? Sorry I just wanted to know is all, christ you people are no fun.” He remarks, taking a bite of his food.

“It’s been quiet.” Taggie says suddenly, causing you all to fall quiet. “It feels more peaceful, in a way.” She admits, placing down the last plate of food. “Everyone, please enjoy.” She says, finally sitting down beside you.

You look across the table at Declan, who’s looking down at his feet. You taste the first few bites in silence, keeping your gaze on your plate as you listen to other conversations around you. You decide that maybe it was now or never to have a chance to speak with Declan. You just needed to step out briefly.

“I forgot something in my car, I’ll be back.” You say, getting up from your seat. Declan watches you exit dinner, disappearing around the corner.

“I’ll go get us another bottle of wine.” He says, getting up and re-entering the house.

You figured he wasn’t going to bother speaking to you, your heart sinking as you still walk over to your car incase anyone was watching. You lean up against the beater, biting at your nails.

Nearly jumping to your feet, you hear the front door open, revealing Declan. You realize he must’ve gone through the house to avoid suspicion.

He slowly approaches you, hand in his pockets as he halts about five feet away from you.

You turn to face him properly, clearing a few strands of hair from your face as you cross your arms.

“Hi.” He says timidly.

You’ve never seen Declan so reserved before, it was almost humorous.

“Hi.” You say back. “Nice shirt.” You comment, pointing to the Venturer graphic across his firm chest.

“Thanks. Taggie ordered ‘em. You can have one too if you’d like, they’re inside.” He says, giving you a smile. “Um, how’ve you been?” He asks.

“Been better. Trying to keep myself level, it’s not very easy apparently.” You try to joke, pursing your lips. “I’m sorry about the whole Maud thing. I mean it.” You say, shifting your weight from off the car. “You’ve always deserved better.” You mumble.

He nods slowly, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah well, I insisted she go and be happy. It wasn’t cutting it for her here, she was happier in London and I’m happier here. Nothing stays linear.” He admits, shrugging. “I’m beyond it. I mourned our relationship ages ago.” He adds.

“Do you… miss her, at all?” You ask quietly.

“I miss the person I fell in love with. I think that woman and the one she is now are two completely different people.” He says, smiling sadly.

You nod slowly in understanding. “Do you still love her, then?”

Declan bites the inside of his cheek, pausing in deep thought. “I care about her, but I don’t think she is who I really love anymore.”

You furrow your brows at his response. “I don’t think I understand what you’re saying.”

Declan takes a few steps closer to you. “Y/n, I missed you, a lot.” He admits. “The last time I saw you, I figured that you never wanted to see me again. I wanna know if that’s true or not.”

You drop your arms, staring at Declan as your heartbeat increases rapidly. “Of course I wanted to see you. I just– God, you didn’t call me for two weeks Declan. You didn’t even try to see if that was really how I felt.” You try to argue.

Declan scoffs. “I could say the same, y/n. I didn’t call you because I thought you were crossed with me! The way you spoke to me on my last day at Corinium? How can you expect me to reach out when you gave me the impression that whatever this was-“ He gestures between you two. “-was over with.” He exclaims.

“I don’t know! I figured with the note you left for me that I was worth a call, or even a visit! You drive me fucking crazy because I fell for you, Declan!” You exasperate, Declan’s eyes widen at your statement. “Even if you thought I wanted nothing else to do with you, you could’ve at least tried to–!”

“You have feelings for me?” He whispers.

You pause for a moment, scoffing. “Seriously? That’s all you got from that?”

He steps in close and grabs your face, kissing you desperately.

You don’t react at first, taking in the moment as you begin to kiss him back.

-

After about 20 minutes, the two of you are entangled in the backseat of your car. It took you by surprise that it was even possible to have sex in such a small car, but with the right person– anything is possible.

“I missed this.” You say, humming with your eyes closed. You were sitting on his lap with your head tucked into the side of his neck, your bare torsos pressed against each other.

“Me too.” Declan whispers. “So you like me, eh?” He says, tucking hair behind your ear with a grin. The windows were foggy and your skin was sticky, it felt like a scene from a movie.

You pull your head back and roll your eyes. “I wish I would’ve said it in a better way but… yeah, I think so.” You admit, looking down.

He grabs your chin and lifts it up, forcing you to make eye contact again. “When I said Maud isn’t who I really love anymore, I was referring to you.”

“Ohhh… That makes more sense now.” You say, laughing quietly as Declan shakes his head.

“I thought you were taught literacy in school, y/n.”

“Oh shut the fuck up, Declan.” You say with a smile. “I could stay like this forever.” You whisper.“But we need to get back to dinner before anyone sees us.” You say, earning another kiss from him. You laugh against his lips, his mustache tickling your nose as his embrace around you tightens. “I’m serious, you idiot.” You muse, smacking his arm.

“We’ll talk more about this later.” He says, winking as he places a firm smack on your arse.

“Hey!” You exclaim, rolling your eyes as the two of you begin to redress yourselves before getting out of the car.

Declan goes back through the house, showing up about two minutes after you.

“Where’s the wine?” Rupert asks Declan, raising a brow as his eyes scan over the both of you.

“Ah, couldn’t find the one I was looking for.” He simply says, making brief eye contact with you as you both sit back down.

You couldn’t help but continuously smile through the evening, even kicking your feet a little underneath the table whenever Declan spoke.

You knew it was going to be difficult to tell anyone, but at least you knew Rupert was on your side, even if that wasn’t the most ideal person. Besides, you had a feeling something was going on between him and Taggie; they basically had sex with their eyes whenever they were in a room together. There was little to hide, and it assured you that Taggie wouldn’t be that distraught with the idea of you and her father. Hopefully.

As the evening led on, guests start to leave The Priory, leaving you and the O’Hara’s to get ready for slumber.

You had just finished up saying goodnight to Taggie and Caitlin when you entered the guest bedroom, smiling when you see Declan laying upon the mattress. He was reading your book, glasses on that made him look like a history professor.

“What’re you doing here?” You quiz, walking over to the bed.

“Mm, my bed felt too lumpy.” He mumbles, placing the book on his chest.

“Is that so, princess and the pea?” You say sarcastically, climbing in beside him. You grab the book and place it on the bedside table, allowing yourself to cuddle up beside him with your head on his chest.

Declan wraps his arm around you, keeping his other hand behind his head as he traced his fingers along your bare arm. “Nice book you’ve got there. Maybe you’d be interested in proofreading my Yeates piece.” He suggests, in which you hum in response.

“I’d be honored.” You smile, looking up at him. “Are you gonna tell anyone about us?” You ask quietly. You were afraid of any answer he was going to give, in full honesty. Having to deal with a public relationship between the two of you may do more harm than good.

“I think I’d have to ask you to be my girlfriend first, y/n.” Declan jests, placing his glasses on top his head.

Your cheeks flush, causing you to hide your face in his chest. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.” You mumble, causing Declan’s chest to vibrate with laughter.

“No, don’t be sorry love.” He squeezes your arm, causing you to look up again. “Y/n,” He clears his throat before continuing. “Will you be my girlfriend?��� He asks.

Your stomach flutters as a big smile stretches across your face. “Controversially young girlfriend you say? Yeah… I think I could do that.” You say, sitting up and bringing your legs over to be on both sides of his hips.

“Is that what people call it now?” He muses, looking up at you. “Hm, has a ring to it.” He mumbles, pulling your face into his as he begins to kiss you for what felt like the thousandth time that night.

-

You both had eventually fell asleep in each other’s arms at some point, finding yourself groggily waking up to the sound of commotion downstairs in the kitchen.

Declan is nowhere to be seen, assuming that he had already gotten up for the day.

You sit up and stretch, smiling lazily to yourself. You put on your own Venturer shirt, staying in a pair of pyjama bottoms you had borrowed from Taggie as you make your way down the stairs.

You are greeted with the sight of the Venturer Team once again, everyone discussing something rather solemnly.

“Good morning!” You say, your smile faltering when everyone looks at you with differentiating facial expressions– all mainly of concern.

Taggie walks through the crowd with a frown as she hands over a newspaper, pointing to the cover.

There were photos of you and Declan printed out on the front page, along with Taggie and Rupert. The headlines were accusing of them preying on younger women, most definitely the doings of Tony Baddingham.

You read the article over and over, your eyes widening with every sentence. You shamefully lower it from your gaze, looking at everyone else.

Well, fuck.

-

SHIT…. Fawk… again i know im literally the one writing this but im like 😐🙁😭 why can no one catch a fucking break. brutal

thank you for the support, this series now has over 100 notes just the first part alone YAYY. thank you for your love and devotion. this new part is my gift to you.

i’m hoping to make the next part the last part but i’m quite sure i said the same thing two parts ago so whatever don’t hold me accountable. CHEERS!

as always,

isabel

[alicesmindpalace]

A quick birthday 🎂 post about some of the reasons Iike and respect Ian so much.

I made one for Anthony's birthday and this is a good occasion to keep on talking about why Ian and Anthony are two of my favorite people.

Recently I've noticed that Ian is getting a lot of praise. In these last year or so there have been a lot of comments everywhere on youtube appreciating him for keeping Smosh alive all this time, being grateful for all that he has done during the "working single mom/dad working two jobs" era when Defy collapsed, and saying how great he is for the way he manages to foster such a good work environment at the company to this day.

So I won't add to that and just mention some other little things that I think should be mentioned more.

Referencing what I wrote in the Anthony birthday post, I always thought that Ian and Anthony handled the split with a lot of grace. It still blows my mind tbh how careful they've been to never say anything publicly that could even indirectly harm the other’s reputation, and that is so rare when these things happen. Ian especially as the person that most people considered the hurt party could have said things to gain the fans favor, it would have been very easy at the time because for a longest time the fandom was looking for someone to put the blame on. But Ian didn't turn Anthony as a villain in the eyes of the fandom even if he could have easily done it just by throwing some weird comment here and there, knowing that people were waiting for him to say something. He actually did the opposite of that and even when the chance was served to him a lot of times, he always refused to fall for the bait, and instead said nice things at the time, even if there was a bit of resentment there like he said after the reunion on a couple of interviews.

This obviously also speaks about Anthony's character too and who he is off camera, because there must be a reason Ian had that level of respect and loyalty. Like, I can't stress how rare this is, and how much I appreciated it.

Another random fun little thing that shows how respectful Ian is in these situations imo is how he always makes sure to subtly correct people in interviews and stuff, whenever the interviewers mention that "they" created Smosh as early as 2002 fr example. He could just roll with it, nobody would even notice, or know but he always makes it clear that it's Anthony that built the website and started the whole Smosh thing, and he does it when Anthony is not there to listen. It's subtle but a soon as he hears it he always finds a way to correct it, even in passing. I noticed this many times and I just love that.

He is very "fair" imo, and doesn't try to earn respect when he feels like he didn't deserve it, I still remember how genuine he sounded for example when he went out his way to correct Keith one time and say that he doesn't want his fans to defend him or to love him unconditionally, and wants them to hold him accountable, even when Keith had framed it in the way where it would have been easier for Ian to just agree with him and say that he's thankful for the fandom to be by his side no matter what. "I don't really relish in the idea of someone supporting me no matter what. I should be judged" /"The thing you said about unconditional love? The fans don't really know the person that they are a fan of".

Basically what I am trying to say is that really appreciate that you can tell that he is a nice guy even though he doesn't do anything to sell you the idea that he is. He doesn't hide his love for drama, or gossip, or trashy shows or and doesn't hold back from judging or being cynical, he has a moral compass but it's his own and it's not for show or to gain any sympathy.

I think that what Ian said is true and it's impossible to know and to love someone unconditionally as a fan just by watching them through a screen, and my love is conditional, but what I can say is that what I have seen so far I really liked lol.

I think that people like Ian or Anthony are so difficult to come by! I'd talk more about how much I like them, but I want these posts to stay short so, yeah

Happy birthday to Ian!

[jinxedshapeshifter]

Really interesting detail about Klavier's teen vs adult design that I noticed, it looks like the bit that usually drapes off his shoulder was cut off.

It's not cleanly cut either, it's messily cut, even by Ace Attorney standards, like it was done while Klav was struggling.

Obviously I could be looking too far into it, and my headcanons might be affecting how I see it, but it feels like it was forcefully cut. Aside from that, his hair as a teenager is almost identical to his hair as an adult.

What am I implying here? I think Kristoph forcefully cut it. "But why would he if they have the same hairstyle?" Glad you asked!

It's made pretty clear in Apollo Justice that Kristoph is a hypocrite. He claims the law is absolute despite utilizing legal loopholes, for example. Additionally, the fact that he was going to use forged evidence in court and called out Apollo and Phoenix for using forged evidence also signals that he's a hypocrite, and his hypocrisy comes from his drive to protect his own ego. He also projected his own manipulation of Klavier onto Apollo by implying Apollo was the one to cause Klavier to break down. Like, a lot of his behavior is either projection, hypocrisy, or both. I don't think it's a stretch to apply that to his dynamic with Klavier.

It's already implied in Apollo Justice specifically that their dynamic isn't great. Klavier never asked Kristoph how he knew about the forged evidence, which implies he had reason to not trust him with that question (whether that was not trusting him with questions, or not trusting him in general, and whether or not he was consciously distrustful of Kristoph or not). He doesn't seem to think Apollo didn't rightfully get Kristoph found out for murder either; he specifically tells Apollo "How could I pass up a chance to see the true strength... ...of the little boy who bested my brother?" Hell, you could even argue that implies that Klavier knows Kristoph used underhanded tactics in court, or at least suspected it, and never said anything about it, which makes sense because Kristoph is a socially powerful individual.

Basically, Klavier's hair when he's 17 looks like it's really messily cut, like it was forcefully cut off (alternatively he cut it off himself during a mental breakdown but I personally think it's just as, if not more, likely that Kristoph cut it off). It's a small and honestly insignificant detail but it's really interesting to me.

[litteralyjustawriter]

TMNT brother's favorite swear words because I want to

(MM-2023, Rise-2018, and 2012)

(also fun fact the turtles are canoically black through the comics and that has been brought into light with the recent VAs so take that as you will because I'm far to white to be saying who does or doesn't say a certain word)

CW: swear words (obviously), the C word and other derogatory words towards women

Mutant Mayhem

Raph: Bastard or Motherfucker

Raph has been sneaking out of bed to watch R-rated movies since he was 9

Has watched all Deadpool movies and idolizes him

"Rat Bastard" is his favorite tho (he calls his dad it a lot on his head)

Donnie: Shit

Probably just says it when he screws up

Does call Mikey a dumbass a lot though

Leo: FFFF-

He cuts himself off before he can

This kid ratted out his brothers in the first 5 minutes of the movie, he's to soft to swear

Thinks swearing will greatly disappoint his father and doesn't want to do that

Gets his teenage rebellion and eventually starts swearing but not till like 17

Mikey: Holy Shit

Doesn't go a day without it

Cool trick? "Holy shit!"

About to fall fat on his face? "Holy shit!"

Rise Of The TMNT

Raph: Fuck

Basic

To the point

"Leo what the fuck-"

Donnie: Cunt and Bitch (derogatory)

"Raging Cunt"

"What a bitch"

He avoids using it on women but absolutely will if they are one

Leo: Cunt and Bitch (nonderogatory)

"Cunty"

Calls his brothers (and April) Bitch in the way gay men do

He uses a specific tone of voice that makes it so no-one could ever misinterpret it as derogatory

Mikey: Shit

"Piece of shit"

"Little shit"

Says it a lot when he fucks up a drawing

TMNT (2012)

Raph: Prick

Close call, too many to chose

Any derogatory word he can call someone he has

Smart enough to not call someone a slur tho

Got it off some shit UK show from the early 90s on VHS

Donnie: Damnit

This is set in 2012- he's called April a bitch

"I know bate doesn't talk back!" You can't argue he didn't in that scene AT LEAST

That definitely doesn't mean it's his favorite though

He says Damnit a lot while fighting and working in his lab

Leo: Fuck and Dumbass

The brothers getting called dumbasses from Leo is practically a daily occurrence

Mumbles a number of profanities while fighting but fuck is his go to

Mikey: Dick/Bitch

"What a dick/Bitch!"

Uses both gender neutral and interchangeable way

Dick and Bitch is his favorite but he says "wtf" way more

He gives: "You're such a bitch!" "WHAT DID YOU SAY?!" "I have an itch ☺️"

Bonus!

2012 April: What The Hell

"What the hell [name]!?"

"What the hell was that?!"

I feel like she's definitely said this in the show but I can't remember

[reallemonmeat]

srry for being a reblog junkie as of late . im working on a LOT of art things.

ok fine ill post my Jam Fortress 2 doodles.

Animal Jam Classic + TF2

Sniper - Great Horned Owl

Medic - Deer

Spy - Fox

Heavy - Polar Bear

Demo - Snow Leopard

Engie - Clydesdale Horse

Soldier - Tiger

Pyro - Raccoon

Scout - Fennec Fox

Ms Pauling - Coyote

Administrator - Direwolf

Saxton Hale - Sabertooth

Scout's ma - Fennec Fox

animal jam server im in ate this up so i hope tumblr likes it too

currently im trying to make full renders of them in the official AJC artstyle, which takes forever. so far I only got scout's ma's head and im starting spy's.

(me rambling about my animal choices in the undercut)

I decided Saxton and Administrator would be the 2 extinct/big animals of AJC because not only did I think it would fit their statuses, but also keeping their designs too. For Saxton, I thought a kangaroo would be too obvious "funny australia guy ahahajaj" I even looked up if sabertooths were ever in australlia or smth and it said remains were foind there so...

Ms Pauling is a coyote, not just because I think it would fit her, but also because I wanted her to be in the same family as The Administrator.

Soldier is a tiger instead of an eagle for the same reason Saxton Hale is a Sabertooth. TOO OBVIOUS and fits their build more. you can have pet eagles in game too so he'll be fineee

Sniper is a Great Horned Owl because the model in game makes it look like they have side burns. Also because of Sir (S)hootsalot obviously, but this time it also fits since 1. owls seem very good for a sniping job and 2. that boy is from new zealand his ass would NOT be a kangaroo!!!1!1!!1!

Scout + family where the ones i struggled with the most. My partner suggested Spy to be a deer as it fits his design. Sure, but then what could I make scout? Certainly not another deer, as I dont want it to be obvious theyre related, and the only of cervidae in ajc is a Moose. How about a cat? Cheetahs are fast like scout, but then what would spy be? none of the other cats fit him. Maybe Spy a cheetah and scout a lynx? No,, it would be strange. Otter and Skunk?? No....

Foxes are better!! Because foxes and sly, so that fits spy. AJC also recently-ish released fennec foxes, which are smaller more playful foxes ITS PERFECTTTT

so of course, I made scout's ma a fennec too. This way it would also balance the parents out to the kid and also not make it obvious that spy has anything to do with scout. YIPPEEE!!!

oh also the Mann brothers are oldshit hyenas lol

the rest shouls be obvious but not in a crazy way,, either for their region/other affiliations or just their looks and personality.

[fanfictiongirlie]

Marvel: Unplanned Chapter Nine

Parings: Bucky Barnes x Reader (First person written though)

Description:

"It says...it says it's positive doll" His voice matching mine in a quiet shaky whisper.

"Fuck... I'm pregnant?"

"Yeah doll, you're pregnant"

"Fuck" I whisper.

Rating: Explicit

Chapter Warnings: Little pregnancy scare, nothing serious. Swearing. 

Chapter Words: 1,329

(I have the urge for every Marvel fanfic I write to have a seperate timeline where nothing bad happens, and everyone is happy)

I groaned as I walked into the Avengers common room, I had hit 35 weeks in my pregnancy, I was huge, my belly stuck out and it was heavy. I waddled over to the armchair I found most comfortable, Steve, Nat and Tony were sitting together, watching as I walked in. Bucky was out on a run this morning in the Avengers gardens.

"Morning guys" I muttered as I finally got comfortable on the chair. 

"Morning doll, you're looking very pregnant" Steve says, I look at him, my eyes glaring, I watch as Nat slaps his arm. 

"Obviously Steven" I snap. I watch as he winces at my response.

"Sorry doll, it's just...you look really pregnant, that's all" 

"Wow Steve, that makes me feel so much better" I sneer at him. Nat and Tony both gave Steve a sharp look, but they looked like they were trying not to laugh. Steve rubs the back of his neck, looking a bit sheepish.

"Doll, I didn't mean it like that, I just...I mean you're like three weeks from your due date...It's a normal thing to say, right?" 

"No Steven, it's not, don't comment on a woman's body ever, okay? Dingus" I say, I could see he felt bad, his entire face was red, I rubbed my belly as a faint pain shot through me. 

"Fuck" I mutter. 

"The baby kicking girlie?" Nat asked. 

"No..Uhh false labor pains, my doctor said they're normal, but fuck do they hurt" I explain. I watch as Steve's eyebrows furrow in concern. 

"False labor pains? Like contractions?" He asked, worry laced through his words. 

"They're called braxton hicks, nothing to worry about Stevie" I smile faintly. I decide to go see Bucky, anxiety bubbling inside of me as the pain continues, I try to stand up, my body fighting against me, Steve was quick to rise to his feet, he steadies me with a supportive arm around my waist. 

"Thanks Stevie" I smile.

"No problem doll, just take it easy alright? You like like you're gonna pop any second" He says. 

"Steven, I will punch you" I say shaking my head, I start to walk away, heading towards the garden. I walk outside sighing happily as I feel the winter sun on my face. I see Bucky running, it makes me feel a little calmer, so I sit on a bench and watch him. I groan loudly when I feel another wave of pain shoot through me. 

Suddenly Bucky is in front of me, a little out of breath "Baby, what's the matter, another braxton hicks?"

"Yeah babe" I groan loudly "She calms down for you, come put your hand on her please?"

Bucky sits down next to me and gently places his hand on my belly. "Damn, she's moving a lot, isn't she?"

"Yeah... fuck, how am I supposed to know what real labor feels like?" I ask panicking. "Bucks, I'm really scared, can we...can we go see the doctor please?"

Bucky's expression softens and he nods immediately. "Of course doll"

He helps me up and we drive to the doctors, we were able to been seen straight away, perks of being Avengers. I explained to the doctor how I was feeling and she did a full check on me and the baby. 

"The baby is fine" She explains "She's a little stressed however, she can probably feel your stress mama...So for the remainder of your pregnancy I want you to stay in bed, or on the couch, just relax as much as you can alright?"

I nod, hoping Bucky was paying more attention than me, I tried calming down my breathing, the stress bubbling around my body. 

"So she's completely healthy?" I ask. 

The Doctor nods, giving me a reassuring smile. "She's perfectly healthy, just rest until your due date, we wanna keep her in there until she's ready"

"Okay thank you, I'm sorry we wasted your time" I say sheepishly. 

The doctor shakes her head and waves off my apology, explaining she'd rather see me if I was worried about something then having me sit at home worrying myself. I say a thank you, as does Bucky and we leave to go home. Once home I decide to walk to the common room, not wanting to be stuck in my bed all day. I walk over to my armchair and get myself comfortable. 

"Hey preggy, you okay?" Clint asks me. I roll my eyes at the nickname. 

"I've been prescribed bed rest" I say, my voice sounding a little sad. Sitting still was going to be hard for me. The room fell silent for a second, the Avengers looking at me worried. 

"Bed rest?" Nat asks "For how long?"

"Until baby's here" I say, we hadn't told anyone the baby's name just yet. 

"You'll have plenty of time to read, watch tv, whatever you want" Nat says, trying to cheer me up. 

"True...plus I can make Bucky wait on me, like a little slave" I smirk, winking at my boyfriend. Everyone in the room but Bucky laughs loudly at my comment. 

"Funny doll" Bucky rolls his eyes playfully. 

"Bucky, can I have a water please?" I ask sweetly, he does as asks, bringing me a glass. 

"Anything else doll?"

"A kiss?"

"That I can do" He grins, he moves over to cup my face, he kisses me softly, his lips pressing against mine gently. I smile kissing him back. We spent the evening in the common room, chatting away to everyone. When it was late Bucky carried me to our room, I got into bed and watched him do some stretches next to the bed. 

"Come snuggle?"

I watch as he grins, he crawls into bed and snuggles close to me, my bump keep us further away than I wanted to be from him. I hold him as I feel myself doze softly. 

"I love you" I mumble, we hadn't said those words to one another, not awake at least. I watch as his eyes widen. 

"I love you too doll, so damn much" He answers, as he kissing my nose lightly. I sigh happily and breath him in as I fall asleep. 

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Over the next two weeks, I did nothing but rest, whilst everyone around me looked after me, I hated it, I missed training, I missed missions, it didn't help that Bucky was on his last mission before paternity, only a small mission. 

I laid in the common room on one of the couches, rubbing my belly with one hand and reading my book with another. Peter, Nat, Steve and Wanda were keeping me company, chatting amongst themselves, I could feel them, glance over at me every now and again, checking on me. 

"You're glowing over there mama" Nat smirked at me, I put my book down to grin at her. 

"Thank you girlie" 

"How are you feeling today? Any contractions yet?" She asked. 

"I feel good, we're missing Bucky, she kicks more when Bucky isn't around" I say rubbing my belly. 

"She probably wants her daddy to come home" Wanda adds. 

"We both do" I whisper. 

"At least you've got us keeping you company, I've heard Peter's been having sleepovers with you" Nat chuckled. 

"Yeah, we've been watching movies together when I can't sleep, haven't we?" I say smiling sweetly at the younger Avenger. Peter looks up from his book and grins at everyone. 

"Yeah, it's been really fun!" 

"Oh...Steve, Nat...Bucky and I have been trying to think of a good way to tell you, but we couldn't, but we want you to be our girlie's godparents" I smile sweetly at them both. I giggle as both of them open their mouths and eyes widen at me. 

"You...you want us to be her godparents?" Nat asked, her voice unbelieving. 

"Yeah... if you both want to of course" I add. 

"Of course we do! It would be an honor really" Steve smiles proudly. 

"Perfect" I say, happy tears leaving my eyes. 

Taglist:

@quinquinquincy @jaybbygrl @wintrsoldrluvr @sebastians-love @learisa @hi172826 @ravennablue @purplecolordeer @a-small-blue-nebula @buckitostan

(If I've forgotten anyone from the taglist, I'm so sorry! Just let me know on this post and I'll add you!)

Also, thank you for all the nice things being said about this fic! I'm glad you're all enjoying it! <3

[moistcl1tikal-ao3]

im gonna say this and im gonna stand by this,

life would be so much better if men could knot. like i want charlie LITERALLY balls deep inside me. PLEASE.

yeah. so yeah im. yeah

college roommate!charlie x cisfem reader. knotting and desperation ahead. omegaverse too. obviously

this is a part 1 because im getting pulled to do stuff I promise ill write the knotting later

The apartment was weirdly silent when you got back from class. Normally, since it was Thursday, your roommate was cooped up in his room streaming. You didn't really mind the idea of having a streamer roommate - at least, not one like Charlie. He was actually funny. Besides, free meals from TreatStream was a decent perk, all things considered. (Once you'd been convinced nobody would show up to your house from it other than literally the delivery drivers.)

But today, no laughter and bad puns were heard through the thin door of Charlie's room. The door was shut, but as soon as you stepped more than a few feet into your apartment the absolute smell of the place hit you.

Everything here absolutely stank of Charlie.

Your cheeks went red as the implications smacked you in the face. You didn't know your roommate.... well, they always said it was the goofy ones. With those arms and how boisterous he was, it actually made a lot of sense that he was an alpha. Strong.

Good to mate with.

Woah?

Something deep inside of you was already straining at your willpower. It wasn't like you were some freshly presented blushing omega, but holy shit, you needed to open a window.

Except... you'd always had a teeny tiny bit of a thing for your goofy, adorable, funny as hell and twice as hot roommate, and Charlie was... practically begging for it, right? He could have warned you. If he'd never been this bad before, clearly he wanted you to find out, right? Wanted you to have his scent coating the insides of your nose, worming down into your lungs and making your entire body warm.

You approached his room, toeing your shoes off, setting your backpack down and knocking on the door.

"Hey, Charlie, you okay in there?"

You heard a shuffling around, then the gangly form of Charlie appeared behind a crack in the door. The scent grew even stronger. You could see he'd just thrown his hoodie on, and there was no shirt underneath. His hair was a mess, his glasses weren't even on, and he was barely peeking around the edge of the door.

"Not feeling great, honestly-- kinda uhh," He sniffed to try and appear sick, but instead got a whiff of your own mild scent. You barely even had one, as far as you were aware, but with him like this... you probably smelled fucking delicious. "Kinda coming down with something--"

"Do you need any help?" The words tumbled out of your mouth without you meaning to, and your already hot face went even hotter. "I mean-- do you need anything, like can I--"

Charlie stared down at you, eyes flicking back to look at something in his room before looking down at you. "Look, it's not--"

Both of you stopped talking to blink at each other, the tension starting to thicken quicker than either of you could come up with a joke to cut it.

You decided to be the one to make the move, placing a hand on the doorknob. "...If you're open to it... I'd be willing to help you out. Just... Y'know, as a friends thing."

Charlie's brain seemed to short for a few seconds before he nodded. "Okay-- okay. If you're cool with it. I fucked up and missed my suppressant prescription and I haven't had one of these since like, middle school so it's-- okay it might. It might be bad. I--" His eyes flicked back and forth again.

"It might get a liiiittle rough."

You took a deep breath, infecting your mind even further with the warm, musky, addicting scent of your roommate.

"I can handle it. I'm on the pill, too, so you can--"

The door opened further and you were dragged into Charlie's room by your wrist. He was in literally just the hoodie and some loose boxer shorts, the window wide open and letting the cool air in. Well, the boxers would be loose, but he was completely tenting them out, making them tight as could be. As soon as you were inside the room you shut the door behind you and it was on, Charlie pulling you in and locking his lips against your own. You let out a little hum and grabbed at his hoodie, gripping onto it tightly. You pulled back to mumble about taking it off and he complied, breaking away from you to pull it off with one clean motion. His muscles rippled as he did, tight stomach flexing and triceps bulging as he bent his arms.

You made the approach as soon as he was free of his hoodie, your palms colliding with his chest to push him onto the bed. Sure, you felt a little bad for getting to indulge your crush all because Charlie had fucked up his rut medication schedule but with the way he outright arched into your touch, his feverish hot skin against your fingers... you just couldn't care. You pulled off your shirt, leaving you in just a bra. You would have taken your pants off too, but Charlie had already grabbed you and pulled you down to the bed. Your crotch slotted against his hips and you could feel the throbbing cock beneath you. Charlie let out an utterly pathetic little whimper and you grinned, settling your hands onto his shoulders.

"You're really hot like this, y'know."

"I mean, I do get fevers when I'm--"

"Oh, my god shut up," you giggled, kissing him again. His hands started to roam up your body, feeling over your waist before moving down to keep moving your hips against his own. You idly mumbled a "holy shit" as you looked down, staring at the huge wet spot already starting to stain his underwear.

"Please don't stop moving," Charlie's big blue eyes stared up at you and you couldn't help but kiss him again.

"How about you fuck me instead, then?" You grinned down at him, grinding down hard. You were already starting to soak through your underwear - sure, you weren't some blushing omega, but you were still going to react. Biological imperative, and all that. Being on birth control didn't hamper your own instincts, after all. "C'mon, Char. Why don't you use those big, strong arms to pin me down and--"

Your taunt was his command. The next thing you knew, you were lying on your back on the bed, Charlie's hands yanking at your leggings and underwear to pull them off all in one fell swoop. Your face went red as a string of your own fluids connected to the crotch of your underwear, snapping and landing on your thigh to shine in the ambient light from the window. Immediately, Charlie's eyes shot to it, and after throwing your pants to the floor he dove for your thigh.

His tongue rasped up the soft skin, nose diving into the crease of your hip and thigh to trail along the scent patches there. The spot was so sensitive, and you just couldn't help the moan that rolled out of your mouth. Charlie laid down on his stomach, wrapping his toned arms around your thighs and pushing his face into your pussy. He let out an audible groan as he buried his face in you, sucking and licking at the sensitive skin to try and swallow down all of your fluids. You wrapped your legs around his head, hands grabbing his messy hair and gripping it tightly. Arching up, you could see that he was grinding into the bed, clearly desperate but just aching to taste you.

"Charlie-- Charlie, fuck, please," you gasped as his teeth grazed your clit, the extra gentle bit of friction driving you crazy. You needed his teeth digging into your most sensitive spots immediately. "Please mark me. I fucking need it, holy shit!"

Like a proper gentleman, he obeyed, but like a true alpha, he was fucking brutal in the execution. He pulled his lips off of your aching, swollen clit to sink his sharp canines into your inner thigh. You cried out, legs trembling as you bucked up into the stimulation that was no longer there.

"If I'm gonna mark you," he mumbled around a mouthful of your thigh, "I'm gonna mark all of you," Charlie pulled off and moved his head to target your other thigh, using his arms to keep you spread open even when your legs wanted to squeeze around him.

"And I'm gonna do it properly."

[dollgxtz]

I need to get this off my chest. I feel silly right now.

I know that Sylus knows Reader's every move. Does that mean that she doesn't have privacy even when she uses the toilet?

Also, you said that Sylus can read her mind. Does he know what Reader dreams about as well? For example, if she was dreaming about Xavier, could he tell?

LMAO I was waiting for this question. In general she doesn’t have a whole lot of privacy but it was definitely worse in the beginning than it is now…so yeah Yan!Sylus was eyeing her doing stuff like showering and using the toilet. Even when he wasn’t around, obviously Mephisto was doing it in his place 😅. At least now she can shower and stuff by herself at times. He’s even started giving her more options to say no. It’s a start at least.

Also no he can’t read her mind, sorry if I confused you in any way!! He’s used his aethercore on her and saw her “desires”. It’s not technically mind reading. He’s only done it once so far as well, so he doesn’t know that she’s dreaming of Xavier.

[lucabyte]

On autonomy, and what it means to be Obliged to Help.

Bonus: