#refused to go to bed until i finished drawing anything

[ghostly-vibes-here]

omg I love your art so much!! could I request a Doyle? I just know he's going to look so cute in your art style! (if your requests are open x] )

Doyle in the style™

Here take him, he is long and lanky like a cat because I said so

[villainbait]

Breaking Point

Pairing: Sylus x MC / fem!reader Rating: Explicit | 18+ Tags: angry sylus, playful struggling, teasing, dirty talk, smut, fingering, mc/reader is a brat, punishment, overstimulation if you squint Summary: You had almost cost Sylus something important tonight and for once, he's pissed. Word Count: 1.3k

The door to Onychinus’s base had barely clicked shut behind you before Sylus has you hoisted over his shoulder, his long strides taking you swiftly down the hallway towards his bedroom. Your heart flip flops uneasily in your stomach when you realize where he’s headed, and you start to struggle in earnest. His demeanor had completely changed the moment you arrived home, though the walk there had been more tense than usual.

“Wha- hey! Sylus, put me down!” You’re suddenly squirming in his grip, your fists drumming uselessly against his back and you lose a heel in the process; the forgotten ornament left behind on the floor. You only stop fighting when his hand slides under the slit in your dress to keep you from falling, and you forget how to breathe as you feel the heat of it between your thighs. Infuriatingly, Sylus hasn’t said a single word and it starts to sink in that you might have gone too far earlier tonight. 

It had started out as a simple game under the table at some business dinner he had made you go to. You were bored and he looked so good sitting across from you, but he wasn’t giving you any attention at all. Instead, he was talking to some other woman who kept touching him with increasingly lingering touches that made you reconsider what the definition of assault was. Worse, Sylus seemed to preen under her attention, his honeyed smile blinding in the soft ambience of the room. Jealousy had begun to eat at you and you were half-convinced he was doing it on purpose, but then you had the perfect idea of how to get back at him. 

It was time for you to play a little game of your own, kicking off your heel discreetly under the table and running your stocking covered foot underneath the tailored leg of his pants. He managed to keep his composure, his slight flinch of surprise only noticeable to you. When he turned to look at you you were already engaged in conversation with one of your own dinner mates, pretending to be oblivious. His eyes narrowed as your foot slid higher with every pass, coming dangerously close to a part of him that was quickly becoming uncooperative despite the ugly hag he was attempting to extract intel from. 

You had almost ruined it all and for once, Sylus was angry. 

He dumps you unceremoniously onto the bed and you try to scramble away but he’s on you faster than you can move. He captures and stretches your wrists over your head easily with one hand, his knee sliding between your thighs as he pushes you into the soft mattress. He slides between your thighs and his hips press against yours, trapping you. The warmth of his anger is radiating off him and you can feel how hot and hard he is despite how angry he looks. Had your antics earlier really affected him that much? 

You whine and futilely struggle against him until he looms over you and quells your struggles with a piercing gaze.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” His voice was low and dangerous, making you tense with anticipated dread. Oh, Sylus was furious. Still, you’d gone this far, you weren’t going to back down now. 

“Only that I didn’t finish the job.” You jut your lower lip out petulantly and his scoff is pure exasperation.

“Fiesty, kitten.” He almost smiles, but then he’s serious again.

“Did you really think I would enjoy the attention of that woman with you sitting across from me?” You refused to look at him and stared at the canopy above his bed, but nodded. “Really?” He murmured, a soft hint of incredulity creeping into his voice. The movement of him sliding against your core left you both gasping as the friction made you dizzy with need. 

“You’re the only one who does this to me.” He leans closer and draws your gaze to his, his lips inches from yours. “Only you.” 

He doesn’t kiss you. You haven’t earned that and Sylus won’t reward you for your bad behavior, so his lips skate along your jaw and down your throat, sending a shiver down your spine. Sylus will have you a begging, needy mess by the end of the night and you know it, suddenly a little nervous. 

“I’m sorry,” you blurted out quietly, but his derisive chuckle against your pulse told you it was too late for an apology–or too soon. His words confirmed it, his hot breath fanning across your skin. 

“Try being more sincere, and I might consider forgiving you sweetie.” The pet name drips condescension and you want to smack him, instantly regretting your words. You feel the punishing set of teeth against your throat with a sharp suddenness that leaves you gasping. Your back arches into him as your hands curl around the one that has you pinned, your nails digging into his skin. His mouth felt so good against your frantic pulse and you felt a little dizzy as he soothes the fresh imprint of his teeth with his lips. He peppers your throat in kisses and deliciously teasing love bites, taking his time until you’re writhing underneath him and softly pleading for him to touch you more.

He loves seeing you like this, flushed and wanting, eager for him to do whatever he wants to you. He’s ready to explode from all of the teasing from earlier and he grinds his hips roughly against yours, chuckling softly against your collarbone when you curse him between your gasps of pleasure. It’s been a long time since he's had you underneath him like this and Sylus isn’t known for being patient. But for you? He’d wait for a lifetime. In some lifetimes, he had.

However, tonight you need to be taught a lesson about what happens when you tease him too much and jeopardize his meeting. He almost lost valuable intel tonight, something important enough that if he had fumbled in obtaining it, a lot of people could’ve died; including you.  

His free hand slides between your bodies and he’s satisfied to find the front of your panties soaked. His fingers toy with the lacy edge and he has a thoughtful look on his face.

“Sylus, please.” You whine, brushing yourself against his knuckles shamelessly. It makes Sylus chuckle and he pushes them aside, his fingers gliding over your slick folds. One digit dips between them to glide over your clit and it’s agony. Before you can beg, Sylus slides two fingers deep inside of you and curls them over that sensitive spot he knows so well. He brings you to orgasm with a quickness that has your back bowed off the bed, his skillful fingers wringing the pleasure from your body. He does it again without letting you recover and you weakly ask him to wait, pushing against his hand that trapped your own. 

“Wait, please–” 

He withdraws his fingers and they glisten with proof of how much Sylus affected you, strands of your arousal clinging obscenely to them. His eyes never leave yours as he slides them into his mouth to taste you, his gaze heavy lidded with desire. He pulls them past his lips with a wet pop and his lips brush your ear, his breath fanning against your heated skin.

“Why? They went in so easily, kitten.” He purred into your ear. “Did you want it that much? I would’ve given it to you, you know.” He pushes a few strands of hair out sticking to your face and strokes soft fingertips along your temple and jaw. “All you had to do was ask, but you continue to insist on being stubborn.” He leans back and his lips twist into a sour expression. You know you’re in trouble and you want to take it back, but you also know conceding now will make the consequences worse. Sylus would prey on any weakness you showed now, and you could see it in the way he stared down at you. His smirk was dangerous and you whimpered.

“We’ll see how long that lasts.” 

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Dead Man Walking || LN4 {2}

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader Summary: Christmas with the Norris’ is a long standing tradition but will that still be the case after this years? Warnings: 18+ only, angst and fluff WC: 3.5k F1 Masterlist || one || two

Flo’s old bedroom in her parent’s house hadn’t changed since she moved out. There were still glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling that you had helped her to stick up when you were fifteen. Lando had made fun of them and called them lame as walked past the doorway, but he had still come and held your chair stable when you were precariously close to tipping over.

“What are you staring at?” Flo asked as she walked in to find you lying on her bed, eyes on the roof. 

“Nothing, have you picked a dress yet?” She huffed at your question and opened her closet with a shake of her head. “You do realise the party has already started.”

There was no way to miss it with the christmas music drifting up the staircase and echoing along the hall. Every year was the same, it didn’t matter that all their children had left home - Adam and Cisca still held the annual event and attendance was non-negotiable, even for you. 

The bedroom door opposite Flo’s opened and Lando froze from tugging at the black tie as he caught sight of you. A slow smile grew on his face and he started to take a step forward until Flo appeared with a dress in hand. She held the floor length gown up to her body and swayed the metallic-finish material side to side. “What do you think?” 

“Didn’t disco balls go out of fashion in the 80’s?” Lando teased, drawing her attention to the doorway.

“Didn’t ask your opinion, noob,” she shot back as she grabbed the door and shut it in his face. “I can’t believe he’s staying all week too. Doesn’t he have anything better to do?”

“You should be thinking about your dress right now,” you reminded her as you got up and searched the rack for another option. “Here, this is perfect.”

You could hardly explain to her that you were the real reason Lando was staying local all week. For six months you had stolen nights together, not only avoiding the paparazzi and fans always trying to snap photos of him, but more importantly, Flo. The guilt was a constant fist squeezing your stomach but every time you thought about telling her the truth, the fear of her response kept your lips sealed. Then months had passed by and you thought it would be even worse to admit how long the secret had been kept.

“Babe! This is why you are my best friend,” Flo exclaimed as she dropped what she held to take the emerald green chiffon dress from your hands. “What would I do without you?”

Your smile was forced as you wondered the very same thing. Your mothers had joined the same playgroup before you could walk but you had crawled to Flo and face planted, accidentally headbutting her and making you both cry, but you had been inseparable ever since. Whenever you made a promise to each other it was sealed with the mantra from cradle to grave - ensuring the promise would be as strong and long lasting as your friendship.

You caught the empty hanger she tossed back and hooked it back onto the rack. “End up looking like a disco ball, apparently.”

“Not even,” she said with a roll of her eyes as she shimmied into the dress. “I refuse to take fashion advice from a man who has a hoodie for every occasion.”

You laughed at the completely true statement and pointed at the door. “Not tonight though.”

“That’s not by choice. Mum said he had to smarten up or he would be on dish duty after dinner.” She scoffed as she turned around for you to tie the lace back together. “I told her, wearing a suit won’t make him any smarter.“

You shook your head with a laugh. “If I could get away with wearing a hoodie tonight, I absolutely would too. It feels weird dressing up one day a year. I spent the whole morning here in sweatpants.”

“It’s tradition, and you look gorgeous.”

“I should for the effort I put in,” you giggled, offering your elbow as you opened the bedroom door. “Shall we?”

She looped her arm in yours with a nod as the music downstairs grew with each step. “Let’s do this.”

If you had to listen to another Christmas song you were going to scream, so you escaped the warmth of the Norris’ home and took a breath of wintery air on the balcony where it was less audible. Though there was a chill in the air the eggnog and brandy kept you from feeling the full brunt of the night and you could hardly believe there was snow forecast to fall. 

The only light that reached you was what slipped through the joins of the curtains but it was enough to see the paddocks beyond the grassy lawn. This late in the year the horses that usually grazed the paddocks would be holding up in the stables, away from the morning frosts that occurred daily, but you could still hear their neighs in the distance. 

“Still not a fan of Bublé?”

You smiled to the sky as a pair of cold hands settled on your waist and warm lips found the delicate spot behind your ear. 

“If he hasn’t grown on me by now, I don’t think he ever will.” You turned to face Lando and linked your arms around his neck. “Merry Christmas, my love.”

“Merry Christmas, baby.” His body started to sway, taking you with him as he hummed the stupid song in your ear, laughing when you narrowed your eyes at him. “What? All I want for Christmas is you.”

Your gaze softened and you smiled again as you tucked your head into his chest and buried your hands in his jacket to try steal some warmth. “Are you cold, love?” he asked, looking back at the warm house where all the log fires were lit.

“No, I’m not ready to go back yet,” you admitted as you cradled his cheek in your hand and guided his attention back to you. “Just a few more minutes together.”

He nodded before giving you a soft kiss and pulling away to shrug his wool suit jacket off and drape it over your shoulders. “Can’t have my girl getting sick for Christmas.”

One Year Earlier “I don’t buy it,” Flo muttered over her flute of champagne as she sat to your left at the dining table, waiting for dinner to be served. 

“Buy what?” you asked as your attention was pulled away from Max on your right, and the pictures of the new simulator he had just finished setting up in his room. 

“Them.” You followed her nod across the room to find Lando on the couch in front of the roaring log fire, his girlfriend sat on his lap as if there weren’t two other cushions available beside him. “There’s no chemistry.”

“Eh,” you shrugged as you grabbed your glass that Max had refilled for you, “since when do you need chemistry if you’re a model or whatever?” 

“You almost sound jealous,” he teased quietly, wary of Flo on the other side. 

“Am not,” you bit back a little too harshly, only making him chuckle more and take a sip of his beer before he said anything else. 

“Dinner will be a little late, I’m afraid,” Cisca announced with a sigh, muttering about the gravy catastrophe. “Adam, honey, turn the music up for a bit.”

“If you aren’t hung up on him, then come have a dance with me,” Max dared as Oliver and his pregnant wife joined Flo’s aunt and uncle dancing in front of the hearth, beneath the twinkling fairy lights. He wiggled his fingers as he waited for you and with a sigh you placed your hand in his and rose from your place setting. 

Flo grinned as you passed by, poking you in the ribs with a laugh and giving you the thumbs up - but Max was only a friend. He could only be a friend because the person you actually pined for was his best friend.

“I know,” he whispered in your ear as one hand rested on your waist and your feet followed his lead.

“Know what?” you asked innocently, but he had caught your eyes drifting to the couch as you circled your way around the room.

“I won’t say anything, I just thought you might want to talk to someone. God knows you can’t talk to Flo about it, she would smother him while he slept,” Max joked. “And I kind of like having my best friend.” His eyes looked at the couple before he sighed. “Most of the time at least.”

You weren’t the only one vying for his attention anymore since he got a girlfriend. “You’ve been drinking too much, Fewtrell. You’re seeing things with your beer goggles on, I have no interest in Lando.”

“Is that why he hasn’t stopped staring at you?” Your head snapped around but Lando’s attention was firmly on Luisa and the very deep kiss they were openly sharing. “Totally not interested in him, huh,” he chuckled as he tightened his hold on you when you tried to pull away. “I’m sorry, it sucks, wanting what you can’t have.”

“There are worse things,” you muttered under your breath but he heard and curled an eyebrow in question. “Wanting what you can’t have right in front of you.”

He had no response but a sad smile as the song changed and Michael Bublé’s Cold December Night crooned over the speakers. 

“The twinkling of the lights, The sound of carols fill the household, Old saint Nick has taken flight, With a heart on board so please be careful, Each year I ask for many different things, But now I know what my heart wants you to bring.”

“I fucking hate Bublé,” you sniffed as you pulled away from Max’s arms. “I’m just going to get some fresh air.”

“It’s bloody snowing out there,” he objected as he followed you to the backdoor. “You’re going to be sick for Christmas.”

The dinner bell rang out and you sighed as it shattered the bubble you had found yourself in and knew you would have to release Lando from your arms.

“Come to my room tonight,” you whispered against his lips before they shared one last kiss. ‘Your room’ was actually one of the guest rooms down the hall but you had spent so much time in it over the years that it was only ever referred to as yours now. It was so much yours that Cisca had even asked you for your opinion in the wallpaper when she renovated the house.

“Don’t have to tell me twice, baby,” he said with a smirk as he opened the backdoor for you. You reluctantly removed his jacket and missed the scent more than the warmth as you passed it back. Lando pulled it back on and dipped his head to steal one final kiss before stepping inside with a warning over his shoulder, “No dancing with Max this year.”

“It’s your turn to be jealous this year,” you said as you blew a kiss to him along the narrow corridor.

He paused and cast his arm out, planting his palm on the wall and blocking you from rejoining the party. “What makes you think I wasn’t jealous last year?”

“Maybe it was the tongue down Luisa’s throat, or the hand up her skirt?”

You tried to duck under his arm but he caught you around the waist and used his body to cage you against the wall. “I had to do something to distract myself,” he admitted lowly in your ear, hiding his face from your disbelieving eyes. “You were all I could think about, you and that sexy little dress.” You tilted your head back as you felt his lips on your neck as he continued his confession. “If I didn’t do something I would have gone crazy watching him hold you when I couldn’t.”

His kiss set your body on fire and you combed your fingers through his hair tugging the strands so you could capture his lips.

“What the fuck!”

Both of your heads snapped towards the outburst and your stomach dropped as you saw Flo standing at the end of the hall. Her arms were limp at her side, the blank look of shock bleeding into betrayal as her head started to shake before she turned away.

Your body reacted before your brain could, pushing Lando away as you chased after her despite his call to let her go. You couldn’t let that happen, she had always been a worrier and the longer she stewed on something the worse it got in her mind. You had to talk to her.

You raced up the stairs, apologising to Adam as you passed him in the hurry, the confusion of catching his daughter’s rush to escape clear on his face. Her door was shut and you tested the handle to find it was locked and your head thumped against the wood with defeat.

“Please, Flo, let me in,” you begged her. A quick no resounding from inside. Turning around, you took a seat on the floor and rested your back to the door. “I’m going to stay right here until you open the door.”

“You’re going to be there a very long time.”

You sat there in silence for a few minutes wondering where to begin, how to explain what happened, why, how long. Finally you decided on a simple apology. “I’m sorry, Flo. We didn’t intend to fall in love, didn’t intend on anything happening. I fought the feelings for years, because I knew what it meant to you.”

“Still didn’t stop you though, did it?” She spat, her voice closer than you expected. “I had one rule. One!”

Your make up was certainly ruined as tears spilled forth, eyeliner and mascara stealing down your cheeks. “I know.”

“They say they don’t have favourites but mum and dad have always put him first. They missed my events to go to his races,” she sobbed, a sense of déjà vu filling you as she retold the history you had consoled her through years ago. She had always felt second place to Lando. “I thought you would always be my best friend.”

Your gut wrenched as you realised what she was feeling. She thought you were choosing him over her - like there had to be an ultimatum. “I still am,” you promised, shaking the door handle again. “Please, unlock the door.” She made no move to turn the key.

“Do you remember when you got Summer and I thought you were going to forget all about me?” you asked, remembering the day the pony arrived at the house and Flo had been so excited she had run off to the stables without you. “You told me I was always going to be your best friend, from cradle to grave. She was your horse, and you could love us both, right?”

The door tugged open and you fell back, sprawled on the floor as she stood with her arms crossed. “Are you calling my brother a horse?”

“Depends, would it make you feel better?”

She rolled her eyes and offered a hand to pull you to your feet. “I don’t know yet, I’m too pissed off at you.”

“Fair enough.”

“Hey, you guys okay?” Lando asked as he jogged to the top of the stairs, his tie and jacket missing.

You screwed your eyes shut at the timing and pinched the bridge off your nose as you asked, “Can we just have a few minutes?”

He turned twice first to head back down the stairs before he changed his mind and went to his room. “You said I had changed,” he muttered to Flo as he stood in his doorway and held the door knob. “You said I looked happier than ever.”

“I’m going to vomit if you tell me she’s the reason.”

“Sorry.”

“For what? Stealing my best friend?”

You stepped into her line of vision and waved a hand behind your back hoping Lando would get the hint. “He hasn’t stolen me, Flo. Cradle to grave.” You held up your pinky and held your breath as she stared at the age old promise you had made. “I should have told you how I felt about him, but you can be really scary and I was a coward. It was still a shitty thing to do.”

“Really shitty.”

“I know.”

“I can’t believe it was you,” she said with a shake of her head. “I knew there had to be a girl. This is annoying, more than anything, because he’s not such a muppet anymore, but knowing it’s from you - I don’t know if that’s better or worse.”

“Surely being happy is what matters most, not the who or why.”

She fell silent and her eyes fell to the door that he had quietly shut. “What happens if he breaks your heart?”

You hoped it never came to that but you couldn’t see the future so you shrugged. “Then I will cry on my best friend’s shoulder like I always have.”

Her shoulders bounced once with a laugh before she caught herself and tried to appear nonchalant. “I suppose I would offer to key their car.”

“And I would say it isn’t worth it.” You reached for her hand and she let you hold it as you gave it a squeeze. “But…if he doesn’t then I might not just be your best friend, might be your sister in law too someday.”

“Too soon,” she said with a scrunch of her nose as she pulled her hand away and went to Lando’s door. “Hurt her and I’ll key your new car, noob.”

The door swung open and Lando leaned against the jamb. “You don’t have to worry, sis.”

“I love her more than you.”

Lando snorted, a sound so similar to Flo’s, and he shook his head. “It’s not a competition, you muppet.”

She appeared almost pleased, though also surprised as she nodded and stepped away, “good answer.”

“But,” Lando smirked and you sighed inwardly, “if it was I would win.”

Flo oddly didn’t respond as she started to make her way back to dinner, pausing only as she reached the stairs before looking back. “By the way, I’m dating Max.”

“What? No fucking way, I gonna kill him,” Lando growled as he took a step towards her before her head fell back with laughter.

“Of course I'm not, Lando, but now you know how it feels.”

Her laugh echoed down the hall as she descended the staircase and left the two of you alone. Facing Lando, you stared at him wondering if anything had changed but the moment of uncertainty was gone when he pulled you into his arms and kissed you without fear of being caught.

“I’m taking you to dinner tomorrow, it’s all I’ve wanted to do for so long,” he laughed as he pressed his forehead to yours and recovered from the almost blessing you had received from Flo. “We don’t have to hide anymore.”

“Tomorrow's Christmas,” you said with a smile.

“Shit, okay then, the next day. Hey!” He grinned as he pointed downstairs, his head bobbing along to the song that was playing again on the playlist. “Christmas came early for me,” he said as he dragged you to his bedroom and closed the door, silencing Bublé as he sang, ‘All I want for Christmas is you’.

“We are going to miss dinner,” you warned as he sat on his bed and pulled you onto his lap.

“There’s always plenty of leftovers, plus, what I want isn’t on the menu downstairs,” he teased as his hands brushed beneath your dress.

“Bob, what are you up to-oh!” Max covered his eyes as he busted into the room. “Bro, everyone is waiting for you two. Time and place, people.”

You stood up and pulled the dress back into place, sending Lando a look that said ‘I told you so’ before tapping Max on the shoulder as you passed him. “You can look now.”

“I think the damage is already done, the image is seared on my retina,” he said with a dramatic shake. “So you two finally…”

“Got caught,” Lando said with a chuckle, slipping his hand in yours as the three of you headed to the dining room. “No more hiding.”

Max grinned and clapped Lando on the shoulder. “About time!”

“Wait, you knew?”

“Uh…I have been in the middle of this situation for like five years. Of course I knew. I think I knew before the two of you knew.”

You frowned at the news and came to a stop halfway to the landing. “So last year?”

“Was my trying to get you two to see what was clearly right in front of you the whole bloody time. You’re welcome for that, you know. And I expect to be thanked as the best friend and wingman one can ask for in our next stream. Now can we please go and eat, I’m starving!”

Lando looked at you with a different look of hunger in his eyes as he kissed your hand. “Me too.”

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[theonceandfuturequeenoftarts]

Harry and Tom had been pushed together by circumstance ever since they’d both sorted Slytherin.

The students from other houses watched them distrustfully due to their house and having no one to really vouch for them. (Harry’s name didn’t hold much weight if he wasn’t in Gryffindor, it seemed. The professors who’d known his parents certainly brought it up often enough for him to draw that conclusion.) 

And, since all of the other Slytherin first-year boys were purebloods who’d known each other since birth, they all paired off with each other, leaving the two odd ones out as roommates.

They’d both been wary of the other at first, but after a few weeks of keeping to themselves and not trying to start anything, they fell into a quiet coexistence. When their housemates were bigoted arses, Harry would stand up for Tom; when they picked on Harry for refusing to go with the flow, Tom gave them several reasons to stop. 

It wasn’t a friendship, necessarily, but they had each other’s back. Neither had to be on guard in their shared room.

Even when Tom’s status began to rise, both in Slytherin and the school more broadly, he didn’t change how he interacted with Harry. 

Until halfway through sixth year, that is.

—

Tom turns seventeen over the winter holidays and Slughorn is suddenly much more liberal in sharing his liquor collection with his favourite student at the parties he hosts. Now, more often than not, Tom returns from these parties with a bit of a stumble in his step. 

And some confusion over which bed is his.

The first time it happens, Harry snaps awake in the night, tense and alert, to a weight landing beside him on the bed. He has his wand pointed at the lump before he realises it’s his dorm mate, passed out on his stomach and snoring lightly into Harry’s duvet. He shoves the sleeping boy, who mumbles something dire at him without waking. 

“Tom,” he hisses, poking the boy in the face. Nothing. No response whatsoever.

…Eh, whatever. Harry is tired and Tom isn’t in a state to do anything, and it’s just one night.

A few hours later, Harry wakes up alone. Tom corners him after breakfast and threatens him to keep silent. Like he’d go around sharing that he and Tom had slept together.

When he says as much, Tom’s cheeks take on a pink tinge as he looks at Harry with mild incredulity. But he ultimately accepts this and they ignore each other for a couple days before falling into their former manner of living together without really interacting.

And that’s how it remains until the second time Tom returns to their dorm intoxicated and slips into Harry’s bed. Harry, already occupying the bed and half-awake from the disruption, rolls over to see who’s trying to spoon him. Seeing Tom and not caring enough to make a fuss about it, he curls back up and drifts off immediately.

He wakes up first and has the unique joy of witnessing a hung-over, grouchy Tom Riddle curse the light, this morning, Slughorn, alcohol, and mornings in general, before opening his eyes to see Harry staring at him in amusement. 

Tom groans and buries his head under a pillow. “This doesn’t leave this room,” comes the muffled command.

“Obviously.”

“I mean it.”

“So do I.”

“I will spell all of your clothing to the appropriate size and make you wildly uncomfortable if you breathe one word.”

“Jesus, Riddle, I said I wouldn’t say anything,” Harry mutters. “Save the thumbscrews for your ‘social club.’”

“I simply want you to understand the seriousness of the situation.”

And that’s the end of that.

(Harry wonders if there should be more weirdness. Surely two teenage boys repeatedly sleeping together in the same bed would be weird to most people. Harry just finds it funny.

…And maybe he enjoys Tom’s warmth. But that’s it!)

By the third time, Harry’s ready. He knows Tom is attending one of Slughorn’s get-togethers tonight, and will likely imbibe and return tipsy. He’s prepared.

When Tom swans into their dorm room a little after midnight, Harry’s finishing up a twenty-four inch essay on the principles of re-materialisation due next week. (Hey, if he's staying up and can’t wander the castle, he has to do something.)

Tom stops short. “Why are you not in bed?” he asks, brow furrowed. “You should be in bed.”

Harry huffs a laugh. “I should be, shouldn’t I?” He stretches his hands above his head and turns in his chair to face Tom. “How was your night?”

“It was dull,” Tom says with a roll of his eyes. Drunk Tom is so much more expressive, Harry thinks gleefully. “No one new to meet, and Professor Slughorn kept trying to parade me around, like I’m some kind of show pony. Dreadful.”

And then he flops back onto Harry’s bed, staring with unfocused eyes at the ceiling. “...Horses should have fangs.”

...What?

“Excuse me?”

“I’m not a pony – I’m at least a stallion, if I have to be a horse,” Tom explains like this should be obvious. “But horses aren’t menacing enough; they don’t have sharp teeth or claws, either. I would only be a horse if I could have fangs.”

And, well, when he puts it like that, Harry finds himself agreeing. Madness is communicable, it seems.

“Oookay, let’s get you to bed,” he says, putting out the light on his desk.

“I am in bed.”

“Not quite.” He grabs the drinking glass he’d set aside earlier.

“Harry, come here,” Tom demands petulantly, swaying as he sits up on the edge of the bed.

Harry shakes his head and holds out a glass filled with water. “Nope, you have to drink this first.” 

He can hardly believe his eyes. Tom Riddle – perfect, untouchable, inscrutable Tom – is pouting at him like a child denied a sweet. He wishes he had a camera.

“C’mon, you’ll thank me in the morning,” he cajoles.

“If I drink the water, you’ll come to bed?” Tom asks, somehow achieving wary puppy dog eyes.

Harry bites his cheek to keep from smiling. This is adorable. “I will – it’s my bed, after all.”

“Very well,” Tom says with gravitas and a slight slur to his words. He accepts the glass and drains it in four gulps, then meets Harry’s eyes and raises his eyebrows.

“Congratulations, you did it,” Harry deadpans. Riddle scowls at him and pats the bed meaningfully, so he laughs and gets in on the other side.

(He left a couple paracetamol and another glass of water on the nightstand closest to Tom earlier, anyway. He is prepared.)

By the time he’s put out the lights and gotten situated under the covers, Tom has shucked most of his clothes, down to his undershirt and boxer shorts. When he reaches for the hem of his shirt, Harry scrambles to grab his hands and says, “Whoa, let’s just keep that on.”

Tom frowns at him but doesn’t argue. He does lay down and tug Harry closer, cuddling him like a stuffed animal.

“Tom…?” Harry says faintly.

Tom hums into the juncture between Harry’s neck and shoulder. “Good night, Harry.”

Harry stares ahead into the darkness. “...G’night.”

He expects it will take him a while to fall asleep like this, but the warmth of another body and the susurration of Tom’s breathing so close to his ear lulls him to sleep before he knows it.

—

When he wakes up the next morning, cosy and well-rested, Harry comes to a decision.

This is silly.

He feels Tom slowly returning to the waking world, laying half on top of Harry and looking much less green about the gills than he had last time. One of Tom’s eyes cracks open and he grumbles into Harry’s chest, curling closer and dropping more dead weight onto Harry.

(He knew Tom wasn’t a morning person, but he’d never before understood just how much.)

Harry says, “Before you start with the hostilities, I feel you should know that, for one, I wouldn’t tell anyone about your sleeping habits anyway. It’s none of their business.”

Tom grunts; Harry takes it as a request to continue.

“And secondly: You can sleep in my bed even if you aren’t drunk, you know. I don’t mind.”

Tom tenses.

“We don’t even have to talk about it, if it’s just sleeping.”

Tom doesn’t relax.

“If this is something more than that, then...”

Tom rolls so his face is completely hidden in Harry’s shoulder. “...Later,” he says, muffled and low.

Harry blinks. 

Huh.

“Yeah, later,” he says.

At this, Tom lets out a breath he’d been holding, slowly draping an arm over Harry’s waist. Harry pats at it with his hand and relaxes deeper into the mattress.

“Later’s just fine.”

[starrieshq]

Aftercare [Kitty]

here it is!!! What you all have been waiting for

Enjoy <3

TW: some swearing, mentions of s3x

The sun pierced through the windows of Ty’s room, the curtains were pushed back, and Kit could see the coastline from his spot on the bed.

Ty’s bare chest rose and fell, dark Marks twining up his arms as he pushed his hair out of his face. Kit tried not to stare, but he was, well…

Beautiful.

After several minutes, Kit managed to sit upright. His throat felt scratchy.

“We did use a silencing rune, right?” He asked Ty, who silently nodded and reached for him.

Kit scooted closer to him, and they sat together in silence for a moment.

“We should probably clean all of this up.” Ty motioned at the messy sheets, and Kit nodded, standing.

Pain shot through him, and he buckled against the bed. Ty was immediately next to him and hoisted him up into a bridal style.

“Bath or shower?” He asked.

Kit hated baths, but he could not stand to save his life.

“Bath.” He said reluctantly.

He placed him in the tub, and as Kit began filling it with water, Ty tossed in a bath bomb.

Kit fiddled with the hot water faucet. When he lived with his dad, he almost never had access to hot water. When he moved to the Institute, he became hooked on steamy showers. They felt…relaxing. He took one every day, and when he came out of the bathroom, the mirror was usually foggy.

He was so caught up in though that he didn’t notice that Ty had joined him in the tub until he said,

“Are you okay?”

Kit nodded, hands finding Ty’s and twining them together.

“Yeah.”

Ty began to lather soap across Kit’s back, which was really distracting.

“You know I can do that, right?” Kit asked.

He nodded. “I’d rather do it for you. You should relax.”

Kit settled in, sighing contently as Ty continued to rinse him off, as if any amount of soap would scrub away what had just happened between them.

After several minutes of content silence, Kit cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Did…did you like it?” He asked.

Ty stopped scrubbing him for a moment, considering.

“Yeah.” He said quietly. “It was…”

He trailed off, looking for the right word.

“Different.” Kit finished.

Ty nodded, and went back to rinsing him.

After getting out of the tub (with the assistance of Ty, of course), Kit pulled on a pair of sweats and one of Ty’s t-shirts.

Ty had taken the sheets down to the washer and was now at his desk, headphones on. Kit could faintly hear the classical music playing.

Kit was ever so slightly limping, and he prayed that the iratze he applied would kick in soon. If Dru, or God forbid, Helen or Julian saw him like this, there was not a shadow of a doubt in his mind that they would be having words.

Kit reached for his stele, but before he could apply another iratze, he felt Ty’s hand close around his, gently pulling it away from him.

“What are you doing?” Kit asked.

Ty nudged back the collar of his shirt, and began to draw the iratze.

“I’m the reason you’re limping, it just seems fair that I’m the one who takes care of you.”

Kit shook his head. “You know that I can take care of myself.”

Ty leaned down and gently pressed a kiss to Kit’s collarbone. “But have you considered that I want to?”

Kit’s head spun. Ty was skilled in dishing out compliments to him all the time, and he never had anything to say back to him.

“But why would you want to look after me?” He whispered.

Ty’s lips found his ear, and he said softly,

“Because you are what I want.” His hands curved around Kit’s waist, pulling him closer. “I am yours. Those years we spent apart, I learned that much.”

After a minute or two, they decided to inconspicuously go downstairs. They made their way to the kitchen, where Cristina and Mark stood, animatedly talking on the phone with who Kit presumed was Kieran.

“Julian’s looking for you two.” Mark said as Cristina nodded along to whatever Kieran was saying. “He’s been looking for you guys for a while, and Dru said that Ty’s room was locked, but she refused to open the door with a rune.”

Kit’s ears turned red, but Ty calmly said, “Where’s Julian, then?”

“Bye!” Cristina said, handing the phone to Mark.

“We’ll see you soon, love.” Mark said into the phone. “Make sure to talk to him when you can, ‘kay?” He paused. “Alright. Love you.”

He handed the phone back to Cristina.

“Julian should be at the beach. Emma’s with him.” She said, pocketing it.

Kit felt Cristina glance over him, a small knowing smile on her face.

“Don’t.” He warned her, his eyebrows raised.

“I won’t.” She replied, her smirk turning into the genuine smile it usually was. “It’s just great to see you two happy again.”

The pair headed out of the doors of the Institute, opting to go barefoot in the soft sand. Ty was slightly ahead of him, his silent footsteps refusing to stir up any dust.

He turned around, seeing Kit and smiling slightly. They grasped each other's hand, continuing to head alongside the coast.

Ty pointed in the distance. “I think I can see them.” He said.

A short distance away, Kit could see Emma and Julian heading towards them, along with a shorter figure that could only be Dru.

He tensed slightly. “What do you think they want us for?”

Ty shrugged. “Not sure. Maybe they were curious where we were?”

Kit doubted it was that. The fact that Dru had spottem them and was now eagerly skipping towards them did not give him any comfort.

“See?” She said to Emma and Julian, gesturing at Ty and Kit, “I told you that they were just making out in Ty’s room!”

Kit flushed.

“We weren’t making out.” He said.

“Alright then, Sherlock,” Emma said to Ty. “Explain what’s on Kit’s neck then for me.”

Shit.

Kit had attempted to cover up a hickey on his neck with concealer he found in Dru’s room. Apparently, it must’ve come off.

“We weren’t making out.” Ty confirmed, slightly squeezing Kit’s hand.

Emma did a once-over of Kit.

“I agree.” Emma said, smirking. “I think they had more than a make out session.”

Kit turned redder as Julian approached them.

“There you two are.” He said. “I was thinking that we’d have to get Magnus and imbed you with tracking devices.”

“Or you could just use a Tracking rune.” Ty pointed out.

“Tracking devices would be cooler.” Kit counterargued.

“Regardless,” Julian intervened, waving his arms. “I understand that both of you are 18…”

“Oh, absolutely not.” Kit moaned, covering his face. “You are not doing this in the middle of the beach! Or in front of Dru!”

“I find this entertaining.” Dru said, attempting to cover her laughter and failing miserably.

Julian continued. “And obviously, there’s nothing any of us can do about you two sneaking off and doing…things-”

“To be fair, we were doing things, too.” Emma pointed out. “And we weren’t 18 yet.”

“Regardless,” Julian stated. “You two need to be safe.”

Kit stared at him.

“You knew that we were already in Ty’s room with the door locked, proceeded to go down to the beach to ‘look for us’, and now you’re lecturing us about being safe?” He asked incredulously.

Julian nodded.

“You are ridiculous.” He declared after a moment.

“Don’t worry, we’re fine.” Ty assured Julian.

“This is fucking hilarious.” Dru cackled.

“I’m glad you think it’s funny, Dru.” Julian said. “I’m giving both you and Ash the same talk when you turn 18, too.”

[rebelliousstories]

What We Know

Relationship: Spencer Reid x Reader

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Request: No

Warnings: Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 1,357

Main Masterlist: Here

Criminal Minds Masterlist: Here

Part One: Did You Know?// Part Two: I Know Now// Part Three: Somebody Knows

Summary: Truth or Dare. Who learns the truth? And who takes a dare?

David Foster Wallace said, “The truth will set you free. But not until it is finished with you.”

“Spence. Oh, my God. Spencer!” She yelled, running through the mass of informs that were trying to keep her away. Her heart was racing a million miles an hour as she ran to her husband. He barely registered that she was there and felt like he was in a haze.

Spencer wrapped his arms around the woman, but could not say anything. He ran his hands over her back and through her hair. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, Spencer locked eyes with JJ who was getting checked out by some medics in the background of an ambulance. As soon as their eyes locked, they broke it immediately. The stress and pain of the last few hours were catching up.

“Let’s get you to checked out, honey.” She was ushering her husband over to an unoccupied EMT so that he could be taken care of. Reid let his wife fuss over him as much as she wanted to as he let his thoughts run wild. Words ran all through his mind, and he replayed the last few minutes.

“Thank you. I’ll drive him home,” came her voice, finally breaking through his fog. “Just need to see if he needs anything from his office and then I’ll make sure he gets plenty of rest at home.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he whispered, drawing her attention again. “Where’s is she? Where’s Erin?” Spencer pleaded with his wife with big brown eyes staring up at her.

“It’s okay. She’s safe with Krystal. I wanted to make sure that she was going to be okay before coming to get you.” She reassured him, and got him to loosen his grip just a little bit. He settled back in to where he was sitting. Letting the medics work, Mrs. Reid noticed that far off look returning to Mr. Reid’s eyes again, but just let him be for now. Once he was given the all clear, she walked her husband to their car that was waiting behind the police tape. They sat in their seats for a moment in silence before she turned to the man next to her.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” She asked, reaching a hand up to run through his hair gently. Spencer leaned into her hand when it reached his stubbly cheek.

“Let’s go get Erin. I’ll explain it later.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to her palm. Even though she was not convinced that her husband was alright, she put the car in drive and went to go get there daughter.

The drive to the Rossi estate was a silent one. Both of their thoughts were racing, but for very different reasons. She parked the car as soon as they got to the door and left Spencer in. Knocking on the door gave her the image of Krystal as she cradled their daughter.

“She’s been out like a light the whole time. Such a well behaved baby.” Krystal complimented. Mrs. Reid took her daughter from the woman with a grateful smile.

“I really appreciate you doing this for us. David’s okay by the way. And we got Spence and JJ out. We’re gonna head home now. I’m really glad you could watch her on such short notice.” Readjusting her hold on her daughter, she bid farewell to the older woman and went to get back in the car. She went to go put her in the backseat, but Spencer reached for her instead.

“Please?” He pleaded. Coming back to the front seat, she placed Erin in Spencer’s arms. She was still so little and they wanted to cherish the time they had left with her. Their daughter was just about to turn two years old, but she still slept well through the night. Whenever she could, she watched her husband cradle their daughter in the passenger seat.

Once they made it home, Spencer refused to let Erin go. Even when they made it into her room, he could not bring himself to put his daughter in her bed. He just made his way to the rocking chair in her room and held her close to his chest. Spencer switched her to one of his arms, and struggled to take his tie off with one of his hands. It was just a moment later when another set of hands came into help.

His wife was gently slipping the tie from around his throat. And once that was placed on Erin’s changing table, her hands unbuttoned his shirt. It was only a couple buttons, but the contact made Erin slip further into her sleep. Spencer still had not said much the entire evening, which was concerning to her. She did not know what went down in that store, but it could not have been good if I triggered this kind of response from her husband.

“Let’s go to bed, honey.” She gently tried to pry her husband from the chair, and he followed her soft hands wherever she led him. Spencer placed Erin down in her crib, and stood there for a minute. His wife made her way to the door and placed her hand on the knob to close it. He watched their daughter, and stroked her cheek softly. Spencer took a deep breath and walked out with his wife.

She rubbed his shoulder gently, and went to make her way to the bedroom but Spencer just went to go sit on the couch. Watching her husband with saddened eyes, she just went into the kitchen. Spencer was staring off into space when he finally realized that he was being joined again by his wife. She placed down a couple of mugs in front of them. There was nothing said as they sipped their warm beverages. Mrs. Reid was waiting until Spencer felt like he could speak to do so.

“JJ she, um, she said she was in love with me.” He finally blurted out. Setting her mug down, she sat there for a minute. She just looked to her husband with an indistinguishable expression on her face.

“The unsub, he made us play truth or dare. And he asked Jennifer to tell him something that she would never admit aloud. She said she was in love with me, and always had been.” Spencer explained, setting down his mug.

“And what did you say?” She asked.

“Nothing. I shot him with the gun from my ankle. He took my main firearm.” He replied, looking to his smirking wife.

“Wonder where you learned that from?” She teased with a smirk on her lips. Spencer finally let a smile crack across his face as he chuckled.

“How are you feeling about it, Spence? I know how you used to have a crush on her.” Husband leaned against wife and she ran her hand through his curls.

“I’m alright. I used to want her, but it’s been years since I’ve thought of her like that. I’m not sure what’s going to happen with us though.”

Spencer moved his head off of her shoulder and brought his hand up to her face. He cradled it as gently as he had cradled their daughter moments ago. There was nothing but love in his eyes as he gazed into her eyes.

“Anything else,” came her question. The man only shook his head and brought her in for a kiss. After all these years together, every time they kissed, it was still just as good as the first time.

“Let’s go to bed honey.” And with that, he pulled his wife to stand next to him. Leading her into the bedroom, Spencer made sure to completely change and secure his firearms before moving to the bed. Once his wife was in the bed as well, he pulled her under the covers and into his arms.

“I love you.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to her hair.

“I love you too.” She whispered back, pressing a kiss to her chest.

“Honesty is more than not lying. It is truth telling, truth speaking, truth living, and truth loving.” James E. Faust

[angstbyangeline]

Hatred Within The Masterpiece

Reiner Braun x gn!reader

genre: angst

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

Renier woke up from another nightmare. He reaches out for… nothing. Just a nightmare. Porco was sitting in a chair next to Renier’s bed.

“Sounded like you were having an extra sweet dream. So I’d thought I’d like you enjoy it.”

“You saved my life back there, thanks Galliard. I owe you.”

“Don’t want your thanks. If I had inherited the armored titan nine years ago, none of this would’ve happened. My brother would still be alive because he wouldn’t have gotten eaten trying to protect you. And I saw Ymir's memories. I saw you through her memories. You acted like the tough, reliable type. Not at all like yourself.. I also saw how close you got to a certain… devil.”

Renier’s eyes widened in realization. He jumps from the bed and quickly crawls over to Porco in the chair. He grabs the hem of Porco’s shirt.

Renier pleads, “Porco, please! I know you don’t owe me a thing. But please, I never would fall in love with a devil. It had been years- I- I was bored. I wanted comfort. Please don’t report me…”

Tears welled up in Renier’s eyes as he remembered you. He couldn’t let anyone on Marley know of you. It would be shameful for him to have fallen for an ‘island devil’.

“I don’t believe you. From the memories, you seemed pretty in love. So give me one hell of a reason why I shouldn’t report you?!” Porco’s word held so much hate for Renier and his devil.

“They were the only reason I didn’t go insane on that island. Yes, they’re a devil but not like the rest of them. They’re a good person but they mean little to me now…” First part was true, the last was a lie.

Porco scoffed, Reiner contradicted himself. He hated Reiner but decided to let him slide as he just came back to Marley.

Pieck then walked in on crunches. Reminding Porco to remain kind to Reiner. She’s too kind to him. The duo had a bit of small talk while Porco walked out of the room. Pieck left the room as well after some friendly chatter.

Reiner lays back down. He grips the pocket on his shirt tightly. Them he unbuttons it and pulls out a thick folded up paper. Unfolding it to reveal a beautiful portrait of you.

The portrait drawn by one of your best friends, Jean. Reiner had bribed Jean with extra food during their cadet training days. All Reiner wanted was a drawing of you. Jean found it cheesy, annoying but accepted anyway. There was also the condition that you shouldn’t know anything about the drawing and the situation.

To play this off, Jean pretended to have you, Sasha and Connie pose. You were pretty excited to be posing and to see the finished product. But you never saw it and neither did Connie or Sasha. You honestly forgot about it after a couple days but the pair whined to Jean unapologetically to see the drawing. Forcing Jean to pull them aside and explain the situation. Jean had to explain and emphasize that they are not to spill a word about this to you. They agreed but loosely joked about the situation to themselves no matter how nearby you were. Leaving you confused often as they wouldn’t explain what was so funny.

Reiner asked for the drawing a little after the two of you started seeing each other. He wanted something of you. Knowing it wrong to engage with ‘your kind’. Some days he would tell himself that you didn’t deserve the hate Marley had for you. Others he was distant and ignored you, remembering his mission and original ideologies of Eldians. Regardless of his switch ups, you love him endlessly.

He pulls the drawing out every time he misses you. Now that you knew his secret, his chest physically ached from the pain and betray he inflicted on you.

Reiner told Bertholdt that he wanted to bring you to Marley, by force if he had to. Berthold obviously told Reiner he was insane and Marley would never accept you into their nation. Reiner created every excuse he would use to have Marley let you in. He was very certain of going through with it.

That was until you refused. When Reiner and Bertholdt transformed on the wall, Reiner’s titan held you in its hand. You screamed for Reiner to let go of you. Yelling a string of profanities and how could he have lied and betrayed everyone, how he could betray you.

Reiner wasn’t going to let you go. Holding you so tightly, you swear he had broken your rib cage. No one would have saved you, if it weren’t for Mikasa who was on the side of the wall. With her gear, she swung up and sliced the armored titan’s hand.

You fell onto the top of the wall where you were blown away a second later due to the titan transformations happening around you. You used your ODM gear to stick to the wall. After the brutal wind of the transformations, you had a clear look at the armored titan. Who was looking right back at you. You gave it the most angry heartbroken expression.

“You make me sick!”

Those were the last words you ever told Renier. The same words still ring in his head every time he thinks of you. Words that will forever pierce his heart and mark the day he left you.

He looked at the drawing. It had been a couple years since he received it. It had many wrinkles, water droplets and small tears in the corners from how much it’s endured in his front pocket.

He knew the artist hated him but he was sure the artwork hated him so much more.

[exorcqism]

❛ INFINITY — 無限大

choso x f!reader ﾉ MDNI

𑂻𑂴 summary. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𓂃ㅤ choso’s recurring dream starts to bother him and makes him depressed. wc, 2.17K. dark mode recommended

𑂻𑂴 tags. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𓂃ㅤ choso (non-curse), mid 90s AU, nsfw, female anatomy, stoner!choso, mentions of suicide, possible sexual content, canon/modern lore mixes, etc.

𑂻𑂴 a/n. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𓂃ㅤ GOOD stuff will happen in the next part i promise. reblog to support meeee and enjoy :D (lmk if you wanna be tagged in the next part)

𑂻𑂴 misc. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𓂃ㅤ masterlist ,, AO3

same tree, same bright sun, pure silence.

choso was under by a large tree in the park. a familiar area he’s seen more than he could count on both his hands and feet. he wore a white robe and a pair of brown boots. to him, it was an odd combination of clothing but he could get used to it.

for the first time in a while, his hair was pinned up in his two spiky buns, leaving his little bangs to hang above his head. choso’s eyes scanned around the empty field that was accompanied by a single picnic table. his slim eyebrows drawing together at the simple sound of grass being stepped on.

“brother,” he heard a voice call and then there was another voice. they sounded excited about his presence. his cheeks flushed a pink color as salty tears formed in his eyes, threatening to fall once he seen his two younger brothers before him.

the male’s hands trembled as he watched the two hold their arms out to him, waiting for him to join them. he always refused this offer, shaking his head quickly while tears poured down his cheeks. there was a reason why he refused.

“i miss you both, more than anything.” choso finally gave in. his arms were wrapped tightly around the males in front of him while he cried and finally flashed a genuine smile. but there was nothing. choso was lying in the grass, crying and laughing, not even realizing what had happened.

until he opened his eyes.

he felt something lightly poking his side while he eyes stared into nothingness with disdain. his small purple irises would peer behind him, meeting his little brother, yuji’s brown eyes.

“choso, i’m hungry,” he whispered as if he were trying not to wake the male up. as bad as choso wanted to shout, he swallowed and sat up.

“okay, just…gimme a minute, okay?” choso rubbed his eyes and slowly got out of bed. his hair was disheveled and he looked like he hadn’t slept. usually, he’d take his time and go do his hygiene but the most he could do was shower and brush his teeth.

after that, the male would grab a cigarette and light it as he grabbed a bowl from the cabinet to make pancakes. he took a glance at yuji, lifting the cigarette.

“don’t smoke. it’s not good for you.” he advised before taking a drag from it. yuji decided not to ask anymore questions. he would nod and sit with his brother in the kitchen as his breakfast was being made.

“you look tired,” yuji started, “are you okay, did you sleep?”

“yeah, i slept.” choso rasped before clearing his throat. “it’s normal to—feel tired after you just wake up. i’m going back to sleep after you eat.”

once the pancakes were finished, he’d place the plate in front of yuji and then a cup of chocolate milk shortly after.

“make sure you eat all of it. if you don’t want it put it in the microwave….or give it to me, i don’t care. just don’t waste it.” choso said. yuji nodded quickly, thanking choso as he seen the dark haired male traveling to the couch and putting his cigarette in the ashtray before turning over to sleep.

“big brother,” choso heard a familiar voice whisper. it had been about ten minutes into his catnap until he was interrupted by the voice. he shot up from the cushions of the couch, where his face was buried, sweating and panting until he noticed yuji.

“oh….”

“choso, are you okay? i was about to ask if i could go see megumi today. i’ll climb the fence to get there so i don’t have to go through the front door.”

“i…” all the male could do was stare at yuji in a daze. he was staring as if his little brother was talking gibberish. “uh…yeah, go ahead, just don’t hurt yourself.”

yuji smiled and hugged choso before running upstairs, seemingly to go change into some new clothes and pack some things to take with him next door. choso just let out a loud sigh.

hours went by quicker than expected. the neighbors next door letting choso know that yuji would be staying for a few days, only if it was okay with him. choso was still in a bit of a daze and he was starting to feel sick after drinking beers and smoking cigarettes instead of eating.

as he laid still, curled up on the bed, blood was starting to seep from the bandage over his nose, staining his pillow and part of his blanket. the male was too drunk to care though.

upon hearing his phone ringing, he slowly reached for it and answered, not bothering to check who was calling. pushing the device against his ear, he spoke.

“what?” he slurred.

your heart skipped a beat when you heard the male’s deep voice reverberate over the phone and back to you. a smile appears on your face, followed by a light blush.

“hey, you good?” you ask as you place your phone down on the vanity and reach for some nail polish and beginning to paint your fingernails.

“i’m-” choso hiccuped, “i’m really dizzy. and i got blood everywhere and i keep hearing stuff…”

you paused, furrowing your eyebrows, “um…do i need to come over? you don’t sound okay.” there was a silence over the phone before a long sigh was heard.

“no. don’t come over. i don’t like other people in my house. i’m so scared of people.” he groaned, his words still slurring. you shake your head, obviously concerned about his situation.

“no, i’m coming over, send your address.” you insist. “you sound sick and tired. i’ll bring you something to eat too. did you eat?”

“i…” he went quiet. “no…”

“oh my goodness,” you mumbled. you would stand up from your vanity and begin to get dressed, putting the nail polish in your pocket since you decided that you’d finish your nails at his place.

“i’m sorry…” he continued softly, his voice sounding a bit weaker than before. “are you still coming? i’ll send you my address like you asked.”

“yes, choso, i’m still coming. just relax…and go wipe your face if you can.” you say, pulling a coat over your shoulder and grabbing your house keys.

“okay…” you heard choso groan before hanging up.

you sighed, putting your phone in your pocket as you were exposed to the cold weather outside. snowflakes were falling and ice was starting to cover the ground. you head to your car and drive to a nearby fast food restaurant, getting choso and yourself something to eat.

your phone vibrates and you check to see what it is as you sit in the parking lot of the restaurant, eating a bit of your own food as you did. it’s from choso. ‘here’s my address..’

you put the address into your navigation and start to drive in the direction to where choso lived, sighing at the weather conditions periodically.

the door opens slowly when you arrive to choso’s place. he peeks out, eyeing you drunkenly before pulling the door open a bit more. you can see the blood streaming down his face while his eyes drooped downward and the black rings around his eyes darkened.

“you look a mess,” you sigh, pushing yourself through the door because you still didn’t have that much space to get through. you place the food down onto the kotatsu table in the living room and take choso by the hand to take him to the bathroom.

you clean the dry blood and the new blood from his face and trashed the bandage that he always had over his nose.

“you need to give it some air. that’s probably why it bleeds so much.” you say. “come on, let’s go eat.”

when you both made it back to the living room, you would sit down at the table and give choso his food, to which he stared at for a short moment before snapping out of it.

“thank you,” he whispered before silently eating his food. while he’s eating, you notice that he was dozing off and you were about to wake him but his head shot up. you gave a concerned look.

“are you sure you’re okay?” you ask.

“i’m fine,” he yawned before getting up to grab another beer. “you know that dream-” choso pauses to hiccup. “that dream i was talking about? it’s bothering me.”

he lights another cigarette and sits down with you again. “so, i decided to drown myself in alcohol and cigarettes until i die….i wanna see my brothers so bad.”

you quickly take the can of beer from him just after he takes a sip and held it close to you. choso just made a face as if he weren’t very fazed by your action.

“i expected that…”

“talk to me,” you query, “what about the dream that’s bothering you, is it that it’s repeating over and over again?”

“it repeats so much in my head that it drives me insane.” choso replies. “earlier i almost screamed at yuji because i was thinking too much and it made me nervous and upset. it’s hard to go to sleep because i can hear my brothers calling my name.”

choso stops talking, seemingly expecting you to add your input on the situation but you’re completely stunned. hearing him basically say he wanted to kill himself was bothering you enough.

you throw your arms around choso, disregarding the smell of alcohol mixed with cigarettes on his body. choso was looking down at you with his hair covering his eyes. hesitantly, he put his arms around you.

“please don’t hurt yourself over this,” you whisper. “i know it’s tough and it bothers you so much but your brothers wouldn’t want you to end your life for them…especially while you’re drunk. they’d want you to keep going. and who would take care of yuji?”

“i trust you to take him…he really likes you.”

“i can’t replace his brother.” you softly combated, your hand now rubbing his lower back, trying your best to comfort him. “talk to me choso. how did the dream go?”

“do you want me to…sleep?” he asked. you were expecting him to just recite what he remembered but you could tell he needed some shut eye anyway. you nod and let him lay on the couch.

again. the same thing over and over. it’s so vivid choso could feel the environment. he could feel a change if there was one. the cold hands of his brothers touching his face and their wispy voices filling his ears.

it’s a beautiful day. but he hates this day. for some reason it makes him happy. maybe it’s so twisted because he’s so intoxicated.

it happens again. he’s lying in the grass, crying and smiling with nothing beneath him. not even his brothers to hold onto him like they used to.

but he felt something finally put their arms around him. it made his tears fall faster and his face was hot.

“i feel horrible,” choso mumbled. “i’ve done too many attempts to die but they don’t work. why won’t it work?”

“it’s not your turn. keep going.”

his eyes opened and he was teary eyed all over again. you hugged him again and when he hugged you back, it felt more secure and alive than before.

“did you figure anything out?”

“i can’t throw my life away. not yet.”

you smile softly and you kiss his cheek, wiping his tears away as you did.

“don’t cry, you’re okay.” you whispered to him. the way choso was holding onto you, it seemed like he didn’t wanna let go of you.

later on that night, choso finally sobered up a bit, being able to handle himself instead of you carrying him around, giving him assistance. the two of you were lying on the bed together, talking about whatever came to mind to remove the tension in the room.

topics switched consistently from movies to what would it be like to be living someone else’s life who’s got it all together.

“are we like…a thing now?” choso asked you, his head turning slightly into your direction after blowing cigarette smoke up towards the ceiling.

you smile, “do you wanna be a thing?”

“uh…i don’t know, i never had a girlfriend…or talked to a girl before besides my teachers back in high school.” he said quietly. you giggled.

“look, let’s try it out and see how it goes. if it doesn’t go well, we can always be friends, okay?” you said in a suggesting tone. choso looked nervous.

“what if you don’t like it right away, what if it goes bad?”

you kissed him on his lips, quickly taking his breath away. his cheeks were hot and flushed. when you moved away from him, he looked like he had just seen stars.

“can you do that again?”

ending notes. OKAY SO ….apparently the desire disease did pretty good for its first part so i’ll write another part and see how that goes. if ya wanna be tagged for that, lmk. i’ll have another part for this up soon. uhhh sorry for any mistakes if i made any. bye byeee and remember;; reblogs and comments are appreciated

tags. 🏷️ 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ @sad-darksoul @aiyaaayei @a1-ic3 @exinqiu @sex4vivienne

© EXORSIIAN | © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

[rickktish]

A list of mutable batfam headcanons that live inside my brain:

Steph deserves to be 6’ minimum, preferably 6’1” or 2”

Bruce is constantly trying to balance his need to be at the same eye level or above the people he’s intimidating vs his need to do his funky little gargoyle crouch. His favorite thing about the GCPD roof is that it has lots of surfaces he can crouch on and still meet or look down at Gordon’s eye level

Tim and Damian suffer from “too similar to get along” disease and must either become best friends or despise each other until the end of time

Babs prefers light, natural toned makeup. Steph prefers pops of color and decent amounts of jewelry when she can get away with it. Cass prefers jewelry and no makeup at all

Jason’s comfort meals are all variations on soup served with bread for dipping

Jason is of the opinion that Fitzwilliam Darcy is an ass at the beginning of the book and it’s a good thing he decided to change himself so he could take his place as Best Fictional Man Ever. Dick, who read the book in order to be able to connect with Jason better, is of the opinion that Fitzwilliam Darcy has done nothing wrong ever and only needed to work on his social skills, meaning that it’s his improved ability to communicate that makes him worthy of Elizabeth Bennet at the end. Neither of them wants to listen to Tim’s analysis of what this says about their relationships with Bruce

Duke has never engaged in non-Alfred approved chaos. This is not because Duke seeks Alfred’s approval, but rather because their senses of humor are in perfect alignment and Alfred is always pleased to discover that he approves of Duke’s particular instances of chaos even after the fact

Damian never had stuffed animals growing up, but after being corrupted by Dick’s influence he can no longer sleep without a minimum of one in his bed

Damian collects posters and articulable action figures. His favorite ones are the ones that can stand on their own, which he uses for posing practice in his drawings. His favorite figure is of one of the characters in Cheese Vikings who has a zuko-esque backstory and a secret propensity for gardening

Dick always buys the most beat up box of cereal at the grocery store because he feels bad for them

Cass loves not only ballet, but other works by classical composers as well. She will unironically listen to the local classical station, and can identify the Borodin String Quartet by the sound of their instruments alone

Tim and Bruce watch and read Gray Ghost media in all its various forms and discuss it together as a bonding activity

Alfred and Jason’s shared birthday is usually celebrated with them making each other cakes, meaning that everyone gets to enjoy not one but two cakes for the day

Jason specializes in cheesecake above all other cakes, though he did make Damian a black forest cake for his birthday once right after he’d finished playing Portal

Literally everyone is surprised when they learn that Damian plays video games. No one has ever once looked at him and thought “yeah, i bet that kid plays console games” and he’s actually really insecure about it, but he also refuses to wear any kind of merch outside the house. He owns dozens of gaming and anime T-shirts but refuses to be seen as anything but completely neutral outside his own territory

Most of the bats wear drug-detecting nail polish at all times, though the base and reactive colors vary by the bat in question

Bruce and Dick have both had therapists straightup quit on them and are therefore reluctant to go back to therapy ever again

Duke’s favorite book is Walden Pond

Alfred read Lord of the Rings aloud to Bruce when he was a kid

[shyday-ao3]

1000 scribbled words to nowhere, a Ripper Street mini sickfic offered up as brief distraction from the events of rl. apparently this is what i'm doing for novella november. hopefully someone enjoys it.

Jackson's not in the best mood when he gets to the crime scene, having been rousted rather rudely from his bed. Another body, the uniform had said, refusing any further detail. The kid was green in more than just experience, but he'd gotten his point across and stood firm behind it. The American was summoned. To decline an unacceptable option.

He greets Reid and Drake without really looking their way, not bothering to temper his annoyance. There's a headache lurking behind his eyes, the result of too much gin and not enough sleep. His focus is only on the body and how quickly he can get out of here. He crouches beside the dead man, already pretty damn sure of the cause of death. Drake wanders off into the adjoining room.

Reid clears his throat. "Strangulation, then? As with the others?"

"Yeah, and you didn't need me here to tell you that."

"Perhaps not. But, as you are here, I wonder if you might not do your job and see if he has anything new to share with us."

Jackson prickles under the tone. "Sure, Reid. Simple as that."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning I need to get him to the deadroom where I can do a proper autopsy. Meaning I could've just as easily met you at the station in a couple of hours. Meaning I didn't need to be dragged from–" The litany is interrupted when he glances up to see that the inspector has a white-knuckled grip on one of the wooden chairs. "Reid?"

"Mmm?" The response is as distant as his gaze. Jackson frowns, gets to his feet.

"You feeling all right?" It's his first good look at the man since he got here, and he doesn't like what he sees. Pale yet sweating, eyes red-rimmed and shadowed. He touches the back of his wrist to Reid's forehead. "You're burning up."

"Irrelevant. We have work."

"Sit," Jackson says. Surprisingly, Reid obeys. "Your wife let you out of the house like this?"

"My wife… has other concerns." He stares through the body on the floor. It takes him a long moment to blink. "As do we." He makes no movement to get up.

"Symptoms, Reid."

"Irritation," he murmurs. "Impatience."

"Funny. Nausea? Cough? Dizziness?"

"Captain. It is a minor inconvience. Right now we have a murderer to catch; your talents would best be served toward that end."

"Lucky I can handle focusing on both. Why don't you let me and Drake finish up here, and you can head home?"

Reid shakes his head. "Impossible."

Jackson lights a cigarette. "Gonna take me at least a couple of hours for your autopsy. I can send someone with word when I get it done."

"No," Fingers rub at his forehead. "If this is indeed part of a pattern, we have seventy-two hours until the next victim is found. There is no time to waste."

"Ain't nobody suggesting we do so. Just a break, Reid."

Drake returns to the room; Reid pushes to his feet. "Unneccessary, Captain. Sergeant, report."

"A boot print in the outer room. Looks could be a match for the one found at the first scene."

"Show me." They exit the room together.

Jackson turns back to the body, resumes his superficial examination. Defensive wounds on the hands; a new development, and one that gives him hope he might find some evidence under the man's short fingernails. He's inspecting one of those hands in the light from the window when he hears the sounds of a scuffle in the next room.

"Reid? Drake?"

No answer. The room devoid of everything but the disturbed dust settling in striated sunbeams. The door is ajar, however; Jackson draws his pistol and pushes through. Out front he finds both of his colleagues. One empties his stomach onto the cobblestones beside the stairs.

"Christ, Reid. Go home."

"No." Bracing himself with an arm on the brick wall, he holds a handkerchief to his lips. "There's a killer stalking my streets."

Jackson shares a look with Drake. Shrugs. "Well I'm ready to get out of here whenever you are."

Pale as paper, Reid rests his head on his arm. "Very good," he exhales, as if his breakfast wasn't splattered on the ground in front of his feet. "We go to Lehman Street." He doesn't look particularly inclined to move.

"Sure, Reid. Whatever you say."

Two hours later, he's finished the autopsy; a scrub and a smoke and he's headed up the stairs to Reid's office. The blinds are closed, as is the door. With a perfunctory knock, the captain lets himself in. The inspector's head comes up from the desk so quickly that it rustles his papers.

"Jackson." It's rough, slowed. "You have news."

"Not really. Just that your killer might be sporting some fresh scratches courtesy of our man downstairs." He slumps into the chair on the other side of Reid's desk. Lights a new cigarette. "Not much use for finding him, but it should help if you do."

Reid groans, rubs his eyes. Two bright spots high on his cheekbones – the only color to his face – tell Jackson that he's still got the fever. "Nothing else?"

"Oily spot on his sleeve, near the elbow. I'm cooking it." Tugging at his tie, the inspector clears his throat. Swallows. "You gonna be sick again?" Jackson asks.

"No." As if he can simply will it to be so.

"If you don't plan on going home, why don't you make use of that cot you've got there." He nods toward the small bed. "I'll tell Artherton not to let anyone up."

Reid looks at the cot for so long that the captain thinks that he might give in. "No, I…"

"Any break in the case and I'll be right up here to get you," Jackson adds "You have my word."

A moment more and he nods heavily, a testament no doubt to what ails him over Jackson's persuasive skills. The American doesn't care.

He sees Reid settled. Closes the door.

[siriusleee]

you're stunning

Rodolfo Para x f!reader For @glitterypirateduck's Fall4Rudy challenge. Prompt: It's your choice A/N: #6! Four more to go for my 10-part drabble series! The challenge ends in 2 days so I can do it lol. Although I may be a rebel and post one a day late, since I will be working the homecoming game on Friday. tags: borderline smut. nothing to explicit, but it's enough. To see others in this series, you can find them at my masterlist here.

Rudy doesn’t love like other men you’ve been with: a race to the end, to see who finishes first and forget about the other. He doesn’t even undress you quickly, instead opting to touch you above your clothes.

It’s a wonder the bed sheets haven’t gone up in flame from the heat rolling off the two of you; you’re sweating and panting before he’s even done anything other than touch you, his fingers tracing your jaw.

“I need you Rudy,” you practically beg, lips parting as his thumb traces the outline of your lip. You capture the tip of his thumb in your mouth, swirling your tongue and savoring the taste of him. 

You can see his pulse quicken, and you want to kiss him at his pulse point, like away the sweat that’s starting to form there. 

“I’ve thought about this for a long time,” Rudy whispers against your skin, sliding your shirt up, pulling it off of you. 

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” You ask, hands wrapping around the hem of his white shirt, marveling at the contrast between the color and his skin as you tug it over his head. 

“You never called me Rudy.”

You never thought you needed to. The sleep is burnt from your body as Rudy hooks his fingers in the waistband of your shorts, pulling them down until you can kick them across the room.

Rudy shifts so that he’s kneeling between your knees; he bats away your hand when you try to reach for his belt buckle. His eyes linger on the stitches at your temple, the bruises you collect through each operation, the little scars picked up from everyday living. 

Your whole body bushes beneath his gaze. 

“You’re stunning; you know that?”

You’ve heard others say it - but not once had you ever felt like it was anything other than an excuse to move forward, but when Rudy says it you know he’s telling the truth.

Rudy takes his time with you, refusing to let you touch him until you’re nearly broken from the overwhelming feeling of him, and when he finally bury’s himself in you, he doesn’t fuck you. He holds you like you’re the most fragile thing in the world, pressing into you enough to stretch you out, hands caressing every inch of your body he can reach.

He doesn’t stop when you come undone beneath him; he talks to you in slow Spanish, kissing you when it gets too much.

He doesn’t leave after he finishes, a rush of belt bucking and searching for socks. 

He presses a gentle kiss to the stitches on your temple, rolling you over so that your back is pressed tight against his chest, hands drawing soft circles on the sensitive skin of your stomach. Outside it’s dark, stars rolling across the sky, and you fall asleep again to the warmth of him.

[gvfgal]

10. Threes a Crowd

Barbarian. Biker!Jake

Strictly 18+.

A/n: I sure hope you guys are ready cause shit is about to get crazzyyyyyy 😉. I also wanna take the time so say thank you so much to all who read and interact with my stories! All the reactions and the praises and the sweet comments in my asks and messages really keep me going with this whole writing thing! I love you guys 🩷. As always, please read at your own discretion as this story has a lot of dark themes, but also enjoy the ride!

Content Warnings: vomiting (Emetophobia triggers), mentions of pregnancy (some negative elements attached to it, heavy angst… may be missing a few but I think I touched the big ones.

Word Count: 3k

Masterlist

Jake wasn’t beside you the next morning, but that wasn’t unusual. What was unusual was the wave of nausea that hit you the moment your eyes opened. Sitting upright only made it worse. Clutching a hand over your mouth, you scurried into the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before vomiting violently.

You heaved until your stomach ached, your body convulsing with each retch. When you finally finished, you collapsed back on your heels with a shuddering sigh. Tilting your head back, you fought to keep tears at bay. Part of it was the sting of throwing up, but the real reason for the tears forming in your eyes was the gnawing suspicion of what this sudden sickness most likely meant.

The suspicion had been there, lingering in the back of your mind. You were about a week late. As much as you knew it to be true, you refused to believe it without solid proof. The reality was too grim, and you were determined to delay facing it for as long as possible.

Gathering your composure, you flushed the toilet and went to the sink to wash your hands and face. You looked at your reflection in the mirror, noticing the pallor of your skin and the worry etched across your features. After brushing your teeth thoroughly, you avoided mouthwash, fearing it might trigger another wave of nausea.

Once you felt physically better, you reentered the bedroom and picked up your phone, dialing Angela’s number. It was still early, and the phone rang several times before her groggy voice answered.

“Hey, Ange,” you said, trying to conceal the tremor in your voice, “can you come over? I need your help.”

There was a pause on the other end, then Angela’s voice softened with concern. “Of course. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Are you okay?”

You swallowed hard, the gravity of your situation pressing down on you. “I don’t know,” you whispered. “Just… please hurry.”

Hanging up, you sat on the edge of the bed, your mind racing. The minutes dragged by as you waited for Angela, each second amplifying your anxiety. You knew you had to face the truth, but the fear of what it would mean for your future—and for Jake—was unsettling.

The Barbarians stood around their usual meeting spot, waiting for Alejandro to arrive. They had agreed that the money would be delivered to him in three separate drop-offs, ensuring that if anything went wrong, not all of the money would be lost.

Jake was anxious. If Alejandro wasn’t pleased with how things were going, all the blame would fall on him, as it was his idea.

Ace sensed Jake’s unease but knew better than to draw attention to it. He had unwavering faith in Jake and his plan. If things went awry due to Alejandro’s dissatisfaction, he would back Jake to the end. This silent understanding allowed Jake to remain calm.

As always, thirty minutes past the planned meeting time, three black Escalades pulled up. Alejandro leapt out of the middle one as soon as its engine idled.

Two of his men walked past the group to the truck where Nicky stood. Nicky lifted the back of the truck, and the men retrieved several bags of cash before stepping aside to begin counting.

Jake felt the weight of Alejandro’s scrutinizing gaze as he stared down Jake and the rest of the Barbarians while his men counted the money.

After a stretch of silence, one of the men looked at his boss and gave a thumbs up. “Looks like it’s all here.”

Alejandro’s expression shifted to one of delight, and he let out a loud cackle. He strode over to Jake and shook his hand roughly. “You know, I knew when the Barbarian Prince had a plan, I wouldn’t be disappointed.”

Nicky rolled his eyes in disgust. He couldn’t understand why Jake was getting so much credit when he and his boys were the ones handling the money. Without him, Jake’s plan wouldn’t be succeeding.

Jake shook Alejandro’s hand, ignoring Nicky’s disapproving glare burning into his back. “I told you that you could count on us,” he said, concealing the nerves still coursing through his veins.

“I knew I could count on you,” Alejandro emphasized, his hazel eyes piercing into Jake’s, still not releasing his grip.

His men began moving the bags into their cars, giving Ace a sense of relief. With the first sum of money in Alejandro’s possession, they were one step closer to being done with this ordeal.

“But,” Alejandro lifted a finger, “I don’t want to celebrate too soon. You still have two more drops to prove that putting my faith in you and this club wasn’t a big waste of my time.”

Jake nodded. “I understand.”

Alejandro smiled again, patting Jake on the cheek. “I knew you would.”

He turned to Ace with a sly grin. “You’ve got a good one here, Acey boy. An excellent choice for your new club President, don’t you agree?”

Ace glanced at Jake, then quickly at Nicky, knowing he wouldn’t like the sound of that. “I guess he’s a pretty good choice,” he chuckled. “But it’ll be up to the guys to vote.”

Alejandro, clearly in an instigating mood, looked back at Nicky’s dissatisfied face. “I bet that will be an interesting ordeal. Am I allowed to cast a vote of my own?”

He laughed before anyone could answer, patting Ace on the arm. “Kidding, of course. I trust your men know what’s best for them. At least, I hope they do.”

With the cars now loaded up, Alejandro turned to make his exit. “Keep up the good work, Barbarian Prince. I’ll see you next time around.”

As Alejandro and his men drove off, the tension lingered. Jake knew the road ahead was fraught with challenges, but with Ace’s silent support and the stakes so high, failure was not an option.

You held your head in your hands as you sat on the toilet lid, overwhelmed. Angela sat across from you on the bathroom counter, the four positive pregnancy tests lined up beside her, taunting and mocking you.

It had been quiet for several minutes, Angela watching you process the reality laid out before you.

“What am I gonna do, Ange?” you finally sobbed, covering your face to stifle your cries. “I never planned on staying here this long. I never planned on this happening. I was just trying to save up enough money to get away, and now…” you paused to regain your composure, “I can’t just leave. Not like this. I just…”

Words failed you, and you continued to cry. This was the last situation you thought you’d find yourself in when you traveled to Genoa. It complicated things beyond measure, and you weren’t even sure where to start.

Both possible outcomes were terrifying.

Angela crossed over to you and rubbed a soothing hand down your back. She knew how desperately you wanted to leave, but this was a sticky situation.

“I can’t tell you what to do,” she sighed, trying her best to comfort you. “That’s a decision you have to make on your own. But can I tell you what I think you should do?”

You looked up at her with a sniffle, your face pale from crying so hard.

“You need to tell Jake. You need someone other than me to help support you and figure out what you want to do. Whatever choice you make, I’m sure he’ll support you.”

You shook your head. “What if he’s mad? Im sure this is just as much an inconvenience for him as it is for me.”

Angela offered a sympathetic smile. “Or, it could be the one thing both of you need. You’ll never know unless you talk to him.”

You seriously doubted that would be the case, but you knew you couldn’t keep something like this from Jake. Maybe if you got his perspective, you’d find some clarity on your next steps.

Angela comforted you while you cried for several more minutes until your tears finally ceased. She agreed to take your shift at the Tavern that evening, giving you time to work things out with yourself.

“Are you going to be alright?” she asked worriedly, standing at the front door of the trailer, hesitant to leave you alone so soon.

You shrugged, feeling detached from reality. “I’ve been alright so far. I’ll be alright now.”

Angela pulled you into a tight hug before descending the staircase. “Call me if you need anything.”

“I will,” you assured her, “thanks.”

You shut the door behind her and let out a heavy sigh. Entering the kitchen, you checked the time on the stove. Jake would be home in a few hours. If you were going to have this conversation with him, it would be better to do it over food.

Determined to make the most of the time you had, you started preparing dinner. As you chopped vegetables and set water to boil, your mind raced with possible scenarios of how Jake might react. You hoped for understanding but prepared yourself for disappointment.

Time did nothing to calm you. Each passing minute only heightened your anxiety, and you almost ruined dinner three separate times. You went back and forth on whether you even wanted to tell Jake the news, playing out different scenarios in your head. You could delay no longer, you heard the front door open, and dread surged through you. You couldn’t even look at Jake, pretending the pot you were stirring required your full attention.

A smile spread across his face at the aroma of a home-cooked meal greeted him.

“You know, Cherry, you’re starting to spoil me,” he joked, plopping down on the couch. “Coming home to home-cooked meals every day—I’m gonna start getting used to this.”

He waited for your usual sly remark, but when you didn’t even glance at him, he got up and walked into the kitchen to see what was wrong.

“Cherry? Everything alright?”

You froze, your back still to him, your hands beginning to tremble as you struggled to keep your composure.

“Cherry?” His voice was more worried now.

Slowly, you turned to face him, your eyes revealing the depth of your concern.

“Jake, I’m pregnant.”

Jake’s expression shifted from worry to shock. His mouth fell open slightly, and his eyes widened. You watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed with a hard swallow.

“What?”

You held his gaze for a moment longer before retreating to the bedroom. When you returned with the pregnancy test in hand, Jake was still rooted to the spot.

Handing it to him, you watched as he stared down at the two pink lines, trying to decipher his thoughts from his expressionless face.

Finally, he looked back up at you, seeing the tears you were trying to hold back.

He wished he could say something, but he knew nothing would come out right under the pressure he felt.

Jake turned, tossed the pregnancy test on the counter, and fled toward the front door, not even bothering to grab his helmet.

“Jake—” you called after him.

He flung the door open, stormed down the stairs, and brought his bike to life.

You stood in the doorway as he backed out of the driveway, then sped out of the trailer park.

The roar of his engine faded into the distance, leaving you in the thick silence of an uncertain future.

Jake rode around the isolated desert for hours. Though the landscape around him was peaceful, the turmoil inside him was a completely different story. The setting sun cast long shadows over the sand, but all he could see was the image of the positive pregnancy test, the two pink lines searing into his mind like a brand. Your face, pale and filled with worry, haunted him.

As he sped through the barren terrain, the wind whipped around him, doing little to cool the feverish thoughts that raced through his head. How could this have happened? He thought about the nights spent with you, the careless passion, the moments where everything seemed to fall away except for the two of you. Now, those moments had led to something neither of you had planned for, something that changed everything.

Fear gripped him. He had no idea how to be a father, no idea how to provide the stability a child needed. His own upbringing had been anything but stable, and the thought of repeating that cycle terrified him. Could he even be the kind of man who could handle this responsibility? Or was he destined to fail, like he always feared deep down?

He recalled the look in your eyes, the mixture of hope and fear. You had been so vulnerable, and he had fled. You didn’t deserve to be left standing there, alone and scared. He knew he had to face this, face you, but the weight of it all felt crushing.

Then there was the club. The Barbarians were his family, and regardless of how he felt about it, they were a big part of his life, but the idea of raising a child within that lifestyle was daunting. He couldn’t imagine bringing up a kid surrounded by the violence and uncertainty that came with being part of the club. What if he had a son? Would he want to follow in his father’s footsteps as Jake had, getting drawn into the same dangerous world? And what if things got ugly somewhere down the line? The thought of putting you and the child at risk because of his affiliations filled him with dread. He couldn’t bear the idea of his child living in fear, or worse, being harmed because of the choices he had made. The prospect of needing to shield his family from the darker parts of his life weighed heavily on him, adding another layer to his already overwhelming concerns.

Amid all these worries, the one that gnawed at him the most was how you were coping. He imagined you back at the trailer, trying to hold yourself together, and his heart ached. You had looked so scared, so fragile, and he had walked out. The thought of you feeling abandoned, dealing with this monumental change alone, made him feel like the lowest kind of coward.

A deeper fear, one he hadn’t dared to acknowledge, surfaced. What if you didn’t even want to keep the baby? The thought bruised him more than he expected. It hurt to think you might not see a future with this child, with him, but he also understood. This wasn’t the life you had planned. He couldn’t blame you if you decided this was too much, too soon. The uncertainty of it all weighed heavily on him, but he knew he had to be ready to support you, whatever decision you made.

As he rode further into the desert, the vast emptiness around him mirrored the confusion within. The stars began to emerge, one by one, in the twilight sky, each one a distant reminder of the unknown future ahead. He needed to figure this out, needed to find a way to be there for you and the baby. But how?

The questions swirled in his mind, each one without an answer. He rode harder, faster, as if he could outrun the reality of what lay ahead. But deep down, he knew he couldn’t. He had to go back, face the consequences, and figure out how to move forward.

Finally, he pulled to a stop atop a small hill, looking out over the desert expanse. The engine’s rumble faded, leaving him in a silence as vast as the horizon. In that stillness, he allowed himself a moment to breathe, to let the enormity of the situation settle over him.

He didn’t have all the answers. He didn’t know if he could be the man you needed, the father your child deserved. But he knew if that’s what you wanted, then he had to try. For you, for the baby, and for himself.

With a deep breath, he turned his bike around and started the long ride back. Back to you, back to the future he never saw coming but now had to face head-on.

It was the early hours of the next morning when Jake found his way back. When he saw you standing on the porch, anticipating his arrival, the guilt he had been wrestling with surged anew.

He dismounted his bike and approached you cautiously, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. The anger in your eyes pierced him, and he didn’t dare say a word, fully aware of his wrongdoing.

Unable to hold back any longer, you reached out and shoved him in the chest. He stumbled back slightly, but you weren’t satisfied. You shoved him again, harder, and again. Tears spilled down your face as your shoves turned into closed fists pounding against his chest. Jake stood still, allowing you to vent your fury, knowing he deserved every blow.

“Why did you leave?” you cried, continuing to strike him. “Why would you do that?”

He took hold of your wrists firmly, making you stop and look at him. “I’m sorry. I panicked, and I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know what I was thinking, baby.”

Your bottom lip quivered. You wanted so badly to berate him more, but all you needed in that moment was his comfort. You collapsed into his chest, sobbing uncontrollably, and he wrapped his arms around you tightly, letting you know he didn’t plan on letting go.

Jake couldn’t fathom why this was such a difficult thing for you to face. You wanted to tell him that your distress had nothing to do with him and everything to do with your own inner grievances. Had you met Jake under different circumstances, this pregnancy might have been the most joyous thing that ever happened to you. And who knew, it still might turn out that way. But right now, you couldn’t see past the fear that consumed you.

However, you didn’t need to voice any of this to Jake. His next words provided the reassurance you desperately needed.

“Shhh, it’s okay, baby,” he soothed, running a hand over the back of your head. “You’re okay, I’m okay. We’re going to figure this out. I promise.”

The two of you stood on the porch until the sun began to show it’s first light, casting a soft glow over Cactus Creek. Jake finally pulled away slightly so he could look you in the eyes. You appeared more beautiful to him than ever before, with the promise of new life growing inside you.

“Let’s go to bed,” he suggested gently.

You nodded, wiping the last remnants of tears from your face. “Okay.”

Taglist: @scoreofinfantryvines @takenbythemadness @gretasfallingsky @dannys-dream @josh-iamyour-mama @slut4lando @hollyco @wetkleenex-gvf @earthgrlsreasy @edgingthedarkness

[careful-please]

His hand is poised to knock, loose fist stopped mid air when he hears a crash from behind the door. With everything that has happened to her during her time at the base he really can't be blamed for the huge spike of fear that shoots through him. He immediately opens the door, his other hand already reaching out to help her.

"Beth-"

Instead of his worst fears, he is greeted with the sight of her pale, plump thighs wiggling her rump in the air as she reaches over the side of the bed for something that had obviously fallen, cursing mildly as she sits back to scowl at it in her hand. The oversized hoodie she wore was the only thing protecting her modesty and the cursed thought that she might not be wearing any knickers refused to let him think of anything for a solid minute before he forced himself to focus.

"Lass, are you alright?" He asked while fighting back a deep flush and averting his gaze from the sight of her long, pale legs.

"Oh. Captain. Yes I'm fine. Do you need something?" She tilted her head slightly while looking up at him.

"I- no I just- i heard a crash but I guess it was a false alarm. " He rubbed the back of his neck as he finished. 

"Oh yeah.  Just me being a clutz again. Nothing bad." She was fidgeting with the hoodie, expression barely hiding her frustration.

" You know you can talk to me about anything, sweetheart. You don't have to bottle it up. Im sorry you had to experience that. I discharged him, so it shouldn't be a problem ever again. "

"Ah. Well I'm just frustrated about my shorts. They were my favorite. " she sighed heavily. " The boys tried to make me feel better. But everything has just been off since. Feels almost like they wasted their efforts. And that makes me feel guilty, I don't want it to be a waste. Just- nothing is going right since that-." She makes a vague gesture.

Price nods in understanding.

"I understand. Im sorry you're feeling frustrated." He runs a hand through his hair. "I wish I knew how to help. "

She perks up and pats the bed beside her, silently beckoning he to sit as she speaks.

"It's enough knowing you care so much. I really appreciate everything you do for me. I still feel helpless sometimes and it's comforting to know I can lean on the team. I feel like a burden but there's not much I can do about all this. Hunting the people who tortured me and ghost will take time. I just wish I could fight with you."

"Bunny, I never want you in harms way. You aren't a burden. You are the most amazing woman I have ever met. But you are still just a civilian. Im not going to put a gun in your hands. Never."

Price wraps an arm around her in comfort, drawing her close. She lays her head on his shoulder and sighs gently.

"I know you don't want to, but with how determined life is to hurt me, you may not have a choice one day. I ought to know the basics at least. If nothing else, I should know how to engage the safety on any gun."

"Well,  maybe. But I'm not letting you shoot any of them. " he concedes with a huff.

"Awww come on. " she whines, trying to looks at him with puppy dog eyes. It's ruined by the grin she tries to hide unsuccessfully.

" Nope. Not gonna happen, Bunny. Not on my watch." Price shakes his head firmly.

She looks down at their legs pressed together and shifts from side to side.

"But we aren't on your watch. I think you left it in your desk." Now her grin is obvious and cheeky.

Price tries hard to keep a stern look of disapproval but can't help a grin of his own.

" Bunny." He warns.

"Aww come on.  That was clever and you know it."

Price just shakes his head again.  They stay like that for a few moments until Price can no longer resist.

"Why aren't you wearing any bottoms?"

"Ah. Just got out the shower. "

"Oh. I see. ...."

She looks at him expectantly.

"......are you....?" He nods at her lap.

This grin is salacious.

"Wanna find out?" She winks.

His face is quickly turns red as he groans.

"Seriously?! Why must you be such a bloody tease?"

" Because I'm your Bunny. You love it anyway. " she giggles.

He growls as he moves to push her onto the bed and leaves kisses all over her face and neck.

" Your going to be the death of me." He grumbles half heartedly. One of his hands sliding up her thigh to confirm she is,  in fact, not wearing knickers.

[wordsofoleander]

🌸 answer me, my prince!

▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀

a suave prince with all he could ever ask for. a starry-eyed editor who longed for more. two unexpected penpals from vastly different worlds.

they were undoubtedly fated to meet, but never face-to-face.

❥ 735 words ❥ tags: au, fluff, slightly angsty if you blink, very very self-indulgent, no beta we die like chads, mentions of cove, qiu, and my ol2 mc! ❥ notes: the hyperfixation was so strong i emerged from inactivity. i finished the comic this fic shares a title with last weekend and refused to move on,,, made for #baxtermcweek (day 4 prompt: au), hosted by @minthe-drawings

▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀

He doesn’t realize how long he’s repeatedly been opening and closing the empty book chest until he slams it shut a little too loud, snapping him out of his reverie. His eyes dart left and right and his ears stay alert in case he accidentally woke anyone up.

He hears nothing, so hopefully the coast is clear. He opens the book chest again, and the letter he’s waited all night for sits perfectly inside, having appeared out of thin air. 

He needs not wait to carefully examine the envelope or admire its design (far more cleaner-cut and colorful than what he's received from others over the years) as he immediately gets to reading.

—

Prince Baxter Alexander.

You’re getting better at pressuring me to reply to you faster and faster. It scares me a little.

Regarding your story, I think what you did for their sake was quite admirable. I can’t even imagine going as far as to pretend to be Cove’s fiancée for his protection, let alone for 5 years! But back to you. Since you didn’t end up falling in love with each other, does this mean Lady Ysabel’s lover is much more good-looking than you are? Would you mind getting a portrait of the Laird Qiu for your friend?

—

Silly Iri.

(You’ve never asked me for my portrait. You wound me. Nonetheless, I forgive you.)

You of all people should be able to know that not every long-standing friendship necessarily has the potential to end in romance.

—

Like us?

—

We are a bit of a special case because I do not think of Ysabel every day.

—

(Oh, what am I going to do with you?)

Ever the type to give people the answers they want to hear now, are you? You’re surrounded by far more impressive people in your daily life, people you can actually talk to and see.  I highly doubt that you think of me every day.

(PS It’s way past midnight, so I should probably get ready for bed if I don’t want to be late for work. Sleep well, my prince.)

—

Irina Clarice, my sick twisted friend.

What? Is laying my entire self bare to you, heart and soul, in the written word last night not enough for you? After all the times I’ve spent my evenings waiting for your letters?

I specifically chose this time of year to get away from my parents under the guise of avoiding the heat and helping the monks at the scriptorium. Summer, after all, is the perfect time to do something crazy, pursue a new beauty, to start anew. I confess to you that I imagined nightly sneak-outs to rendezvous with someone who’s caught my eye, but all this time, I’ve been holed up in the scriptorium’s writing room, idly and politely waiting by the book chest on my desk in anticipation to see if you have replied to what I’ve written about my latest misadventures. Before I knew it, I’d already spent the entirety of my summer getting to know you. Now I do know you, and there is no one else like you anywhere else in the world. 

Tragically, we shall never have the chance to meet, so I don’t think whatever it is I’m feeling in my chest can be called love. My fate is sealed. 

Still, whenever the sight of someone so beautiful catches my eye, thoughts of you fill my head, and I become almost upset, complaining that no matter who I meet, they will never be anything like my Iri. So, my dear friend, do not tell me that I do not think of you every day. 

I do not recall you mentioning having felt this way towards your childhood companions, nor your devilishly handsome Xander from the antique shop,  so I shall regrettably but with dignity take this as a victory.

On a lonely night on the month of heat’s end, Your Baxter Alexander.

(PS Clarence and I are departing tomorrow at dawn for Golden Grove to attend Qiu’s wedding, just in time for the beginning of fall. Bringing the book chest with me would be far too bothersome for such a short trip. I expect to be away for about three to four days.

Even so, worry not your pretty little head and get a good night’s rest without my letters to bother you, Iri. I hope you do not miss me too much.)

[coralquest]

─ a night like a fairy tale | Izuku Midoriya

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

♡.ೃ࿐ FORMAT: one-shot | fluff

♡.ೃ࿐ PAIRING: Izuku x Reader

♡.ೃ࿐ WORDCOUNT: 1k+

SUMMARY: Reality hit you like a lawnmower, overwhelming you with the stress of filling out and signing multiple papers. With no sense of time, you caused restlessness in Izuku who was eagerly waiting for you in the room. It's only a matter of time before he refuses to let you spend even a minute on those papers, pulling you back into the fantasy world where you feel most at ease and comfortable with him.

.

.

♡.ೃ࿐

"love, I won't say it again."

Your ears listened to the sweet threats echoing from the bedroom, not even bothering to raise your head at such a tone as you had your own little moment, scribbling on the work papers you were still working on late into the night.

But still, it managed to distract you a little from the constant staring into space, now letting go of everything to take a sip of hot coffee.

"Yeah, yeah..one second and I'm done for sure." you smiled, those dark circles under the numb eyes of yours that shone above the lamp gave off a look ten times worse than the gremlin itself, constantly feeding on your weariness.

This is what happens when you don't know what peace actually is in life. Worry about this, stress about that, no rest, no sleep. Just work until you completely fall apart, isn't that the easiest way around?

Enriching your lungs with life of a very deep sigh, you decided to choose the side of suffering for a bit longer before finally throwing yourself in bed. You shouldn't have been thinking about anything at all, because just the thought of flying to bed made you sleepier than you already were, you needed to go back to work.

And just as your hand was to position the pen in a tight grip once again, it found itself in the trap of another, now slightly rougher hand, leaving the pen untouched.

„Just one second, huh? I don't buy that. I doubt you even know what time it is.”

Your dearest shadow could now be very noticeable from all corners of the room, appearing right behind your now embraced, yet so drowsy body which, to your surpise, still kept its balance on the chair.

"So? What time is it, baby?"

"I believe it's past midnight, but let me finish this, Izuku. I'm almost do—"

„One more second, almost done, almost done..“ he mocked.

„..right, but I personally think you could draw yourself in bed for that one second, doesn't that sound any better?" Izuku was now smiling so innocently, yet giving you those cheeky little glances here and there with his hands now roaming freely all over you, just like being in the jungle having coffee with a mamba.

Just the thought of it dragged you into a fantasy that you rarely had time to dream about; just you and Izuku, your sleeping soul among his, tenderest, flowing from stream to stream at his touch, so smooth yet so rough. And even the smallest kiss was enough to throw you back to reality in front of a table of more than a hundred papers instead of that jungle coffee, causing your heart to rot once again.

"Silly, I guarantee that you will literally fall asleep right there on the table if I go to the room without you now.“

"Like I said Izuku, I only have a li-"

"Jajaja—! No way I'm listening! You're coming with me by force!“

You knew you were giving up as soon as you felt those gentle hands reaching behind your knees faster than thunder itself, collecting you as if you were the prize of the world.

„I'll wake you up in the morning so you'll have time to sleep, go back to your senses and be ready for a new day and new challenges! I consider these papers the lowest level so ,” kissing your golden eyebrows that were still frowning at him for no reason, you caught them in the act as they slowly yielded, loving the attention they were getting at this very moment.

„—Don't waste your energy on those things when it's time to be next to me and snore your heart out under that blanket!“

From sudden giggles he successfully triggered in you, you buried your head deep into his chest trying to catch your breath, but to no avail. But soon, your pouting role quickly returned, babbling something muffled in his chest.  Now that you had all his loving attention towards you, you decided to pull all those words back into silence. It was even a good thing your head wasn't sticking out yet, otherwise Izuku would be met with a bright red radish like in the middle of a field in the hot sun.

"I can't hear you like that if you have your head buried in me like an ostrich. Something wrong?”

„No..“ That slippery tone of yours sounded more like you were asking yourself that than adding an answer to it.

„Hm. Y'sure?“

„No..“

"No? Did I do something?"

You slowly turned your head upwards, then downwards, nodding dramatically.

"So..wanna tell me?"

He certainly saw all that as something very sweet about you. You generally frowned like that, even when there was no reason for war, but still, he loved it when it came to that.

And in the other hand, you melted there like pudding in his arms, hesitating a bit then stretching those words out on the tip of your tongue until they decided to come out on their own.

"You didn't kiss my lips."

"What? You need to be louder, love." he teased you whilst walking slowly into the bedroom with you glued to him.

"Stop joking, don’t wanna repeat myself."

"Then I really don't know what you want, sorry." and there it was again, that mischievous laugh of that same angel who was wooing you just a few minutes ago. You never liked this torture in such a way. But of course, you softened even more in the blush of your own hidden face.

„Okay, okay, m'sorry sweetheart. We're not messing around anymore, I understand. Want a kiss, though?“

Your mind didn't even think to turn to his side of the bed. You sighed hatefully just enough that he could clearly see that he had gone too far with his little humorous remarks.

But Izuku, of course, didn't mind in the slightest. In fact, he loved when he got the chance to see you all as mad as a lynx, putting funny things together like puzzles. The lynx is a very dangerous animal, but after all it is a cat that likes to be cuddled too. At that, he crawled like a worm closer to your angry figure, noticing how you didn't even move to stop his hands that were already glued to you, caressing your neck lightly.

"Your highness, I fear that I may have committed a grave sin. Will you ever find it in your heart to forgive me?"

"Shut up for once."

"I will, my dearest lady, if you tell me how I can make it up to you?"

You leaned towards him, half turning to shot a serious look at now oh-so-comical Izuku.

"I shall never forgive you, you filthy bandit."

He gasped, dramatically.

"And not even for those kisses you've been searching for all this wonderful time, my lady?"

Reminding you of that, you suddenly snuggled into the blankets, ready to go to sleep and even without saying "good night",

"Oh no, not on my watch! If you won't go by grace, we're going by force!"

..but how can such a thing happen?- of course you won't be able to frown with those furrowed brows for long, now laughing under the warm blankets with the "bandit" so fabulously kissing every point on your nose and face, neck and shoulder, taking you under the clouds where there was absolutely no desk and papers at all,

but only you and him, and the clock that had read half past three in the morning.

.

.

♡.ೃ࿐

[hannahssimblr]

After a freezing, wet trek along the Clontarf seafront I turn into Michelle’s estate. All the houses have warm, yellow light spilling out the windows onto the grey, rain beaten pavement, inviting, yet it only reminds me of how grim this damn country is in the winter. It's been eight years since we moved here now and yet I still don't understand how people are supposed to cope with the winter. I suppose they don’t. I suppose we just accept that we will be a little bit sad for a while. 

They always leave the door off the latch for me on Tuesdays, they know I’m coming, and I let myself into the warmth of their home. It always smells good here, tonight like seafood and lemongrass, and whatever is cooking sizzles enticingly on the pan. I won’t ask for food, I never dare to, but if they offer I have yet to refuse them.

Rahim Tengu peers into the hallway as I shut the door. He is cooking in a suit. He’s always wearing one, even when doing things like mowing the lawn in the heat of summer. 

“Jude,” he says, “Wet outside, eh?”

“Yeah,” I take my shoes off and leave them by the door, “Whatever you’re making smells good, like always.”

“Nasi Lemak,” He says, “I’ll leave a plate for you when you're finished”

“Oh, thank you.”

He hesitates, “So how are your studies?”

“Yeah, good. Trying to get back into the swing of it since the new year. Fifth year is tough, you know?”

“Yes,” Another pause. Rahim is the most awkward of all the dads, he never knows what to say to me, but I let him think on it for another moment, brows knitted, spoon halfway to the pan, before I decide to put him out of his misery. 

“Jen upstairs?”

“Yes, yes, in her room.”

“Cool, see you in a while then.”

She’s sprawled out of the duvet with her earphones in, laying still like a corpse with her hands clasped on her stomach and white socks stacked on the pillows.

“Oh, you’re here,” she drawls. She doesn't even have to open her eyes to know it.

“You sound thrilled.”

“Ugh,” She flips to her stomach, pulls at her iPod cable and tosses the whole thing towards the head of the bed, “Come on, then, make me feel like a dumb bitch.”

“I bet you say that to all the boys,” I dig my maths notes out of my school bag and join her on the bed, “You been practising your trig?”

“That the one with the protractors?” 

“I’ll take that as a no.”

She lays still for a long moment, just staring into the middle distance before gathering the energy to learn. She falls onto her back and pulls the book I have opened toward her. “‘In the diagram, [AB] and [DC] are two parallel roads, where [AB] = 800m and [DC] = 500m. By measurement, it is determined that [&lt;ABC] = 75° and that [BC] = 600m. Find [AC] to the nearest metre,’” She looks at me, eyes filled with hopeless despair, “How am I meant to know?”

“Well, do you remember what we went over before Christmas? The cosine rule?”

“Before Christmas? You might as well be talking a decade ago. I don’t remember anything that happened before last week. My brain is mush.”

I pull out my ruler, “Well, look, let’s start by drawing it out so we can visualise it, like this, then, we know that A² = B² + C² - 2BCcosA…”

“Do we know that? Are we sure?” 

“Jenny, yes. C’mon, we’ve done this.”

“I don’t think you understand how much I hate maths.”

“It’s not that bad, look, based on the cosine rule and the information we know already, we can write out the formula, right? x=(600)² + (800)² - 2(600)(800)cos 75°, so all you have to do is work that out.”

“Oh, is that all.”

“Yeah, so c’mere, hand me your calculator, it’s-” A shriek from the next room almost rattles my skeleton free from my flesh. 

“Why are you always like this?” It's Michelle. “I’m old enough! Just let me go!”

I glance awkwardly at Jen who is ignoring it, diligently punching the formula into her calculator and kicking her feet in the air. 

“When you demonstrate responsibility,” her mother screams back, “I will give you freedom, but until then…”

“Don’t look so shocked,” Jen says when she catches sight of my stricken expression, “You and Collette are like this.” 

“Not really. We don’t scream at each other.”

“This is just the volume they speak at here. It’s not as dramatic as it sounds. They're kind of just... having a conversation.” 

“Okay but you’re being such a bitch about it.” Michelle bites out, and I wince. 

“I don’t talk to my mom like that.”

Jen shrugs, “It’s not that serious, really, they don’t mean it. They'll be all lovey-dovey-happy-families again tomorrow. You get used to it.” she scribbles something onto her copy book and pushes it toward me “X equals 751533?”

I frown, “I don’t know, let me check.”

“Well you’re a nightmare of a daughter sometimes, do you hear me? I don’t want to be like this, I don’t want to be up here shouting at you, but you drive me to distraction with all of this carry on!”

“Um,” my fingers hesitate on the buttons of the calculator, “So… it was… (600)² which is…”

Something clatters to the floor and they start shouting even louder. The corners of Jen’s mouth curl up, “Let’s take a break, yeah? We can drown it out with some music.”

“Good idea.”

She scrambles to fetch her iPod again and hands me one earbud. We lie back on the pillows while she puts on some whiny emo track about a guy who is either dying or wishing he was dead. 

“Are you traumatised by Michelle and her mam because it reminds you of your parents?” She leans over me and sweeps my hair from my forehead. I laugh, “You trying to therapize me?” 

“You said they fought when you were small.”

“Yeah but I only heard it a handful of times, I wouldn’t say I am traumatised.” 

“Still, I think there’s something lodged in your psyche about it, it’s why you hate conflict.”

“Nobody likes conflict.”

“Yeah but most people don’t avoid it like you,” She pokes my arm because I've looked away, “Hey, would you say that you’d rather run away from your problems than face them?”

“Did you steal that question from your counsellor?”

She pretends to be shocked, “Um, no! Excuse me.”

“You’re excused. Hey, would you like it if my voice sounded like this guy’s?” I tilt the iPod screen to her and point to the album cover guy who has blood pouring down his face. 

“First of all, that’s not the guy singing, that’s a cartoon. Secondly, I don’t know what you even mean.”

I lean into her ear and put on the whiniest voice I can in imitation of him “Hhhhwhat’s the worst that I can say… hhhthings are better if I stay…”

She snorts and shoves me off her, “Go away, you freak.”

“hhhAND IF WE CARRY ON THIS HHHWWWHAYAH…”

Jen’s bedroom door opens and I jump. Michelle stands there frowning. I hadn’t even realised in the midst of my caterwauling and our hysterical giggles that the shouting had stopped.

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