#she needs to work through that instead of pushing everyone away by being rude and insensitive

[outcast-thingz]

Bro of Piamon doesn't learn to hold that tongue of hers.. we are gonna end up in some serious trouble.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

*feral noises* /I love new ari verse/. I hope the house renovations are going well :) (this is not a request but you can treat it like one if youd like)

"Why am I here, Charles?" Erik sighed, adjusting his cuffs as he looked up at the grey walls of the juvenile facility.

"A mission of mercy," Charles said mildly. "There's a young mutant here, and if she comes with us, she won't need to stay here."

Erik made a thoughtful noise, "Crimes?"

"Petty things... mostly."

"Mostly?" Erik asked archly.

"She might have stolen an impressive amount of money. And a car," Charles chuckled. "Though I do wonder how she thought she'd get away with it-"

"Maybe she wasn't trying to get away. Maybe she was trying to get away from something worse," Erik mused.

"It's possible," Charles hummed, getting them through the gates. "I suppose we won't know until we ask."

_____________

You exhale slowly and close your eyes, pushing the energy of the things you're touching out of the way and focus instead on the pieces of your bike.

Today is hell.

Everything has a story to tell.

Everyone has a story to tell.

And just once, you'd like to be able to have just you story in your head. It's like living with ghosts. Pictures flitting through your head all day long. Every pen, spoon, chair, table... it never ends.

Somedays, you can find solace and quiet. But other days, even after all these years, it's like walking through a tunnel. Living in three different worlds- past, present, and future.

"Wreck or a tune up?" Scott asked, leaning on the wall of the garage.

"Tune up," you answer, refocusing in on the present to look up at him. "Felt like a good day for it."

"You can do mine next if you're in a mood," he teased.

"Can't manage on your own Scottie?" you pout, "That's sad-"

"I can manage just fine," he snorted. I just know you can do it in about 20 minutes."

"Not quite that fast," you tell him, "Your clunker would probably need longer."

"Hey!"

You grin at him and wave at Jean over his shoulder, "Wanna get our grading done?" she asked. "I hate getting behind."

"Mine's done," Scott said.

"I'm already behind," you snort. "I can't find a pen that isn't fucking chatty."

Jean winced sympathetically, "Ugh. I can't even imagine-"

"Jean," you laugh, "yeah you can. You've been in my head."

"But all the time?" She shook her head and watched you start working on your bike.

"Usually it's not-" You break off, your hand closing around a wrench. Not your wrench. And it's like you were being shocked. This wasn't the same scenes- because it wasn't YOUR wrench. You got tossed backwards into a different time. Blood and gore everywhere. And you're blood-spattered. You've been shot. And your chest is on fire.

It's hard to breathe. And above you you can see Jean, smacking the side of your face gently. And you can feel someone- probably Scott trying to pull the wrench out of your hand.

"Fuck- I can't-"

"Let go," Scott said, trying to break your grip, "Shit! I'm gonna break her fingers if-"

"Focus," Jean soothed, stroking your hair and rubbing your knuckles. She can feel the anxiety and the pain- the struggle for you to get back into this time. To let go of the item you're holding. To stop jumping from scene to scene.

And when you finally did let go, all you can do is lay there and shiver. "Fuck!" you pant. "Why the fuck-" You give the wrench a dirty look and Scott picked it up, turning it over in his hands.

"This is Logan's," he frowned, "but why was it in your box?"

"I didn't put it-"

"Probably one of the kids," Jean shrugged.

"Fucking rude."

[lostintransist]

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish Has ADHD

Johnny stared at the computer. Arms crossed, brows touching, jaw working back and forth, he stared. This fucking report needed to be done in an hour and he hadn’t started. The words were there, buzzing around in his mind. Trying to catch them and force them out through his fingers was like trying to catch minnows in the open ocean. The freeze response only captured him it wasn’t life or death.

The minutes ticked away. As each one disappeared behind a new number the tension in his spine mounted. It was as if his mind hid the switches he needed to flip to move. He would give anything for a gun to appear at his head. At least then he could bypass the maze of his mind.

When ten minutes remained for the report to be submitted without Price ramming a broomstick up his ass, Johnny found he could move again. Fingers flying across the keys he slammed out the report with seconds to spare as he smashed the submit button. Disgust watered his self-hatred. Why did this happen to him every time? All reports, washing his dishes, even remembering to shower without Simon nudging him into it.

Pushing himself up to standing Johnny slammed the inoffensive office chair under the desk. The daily drudgery of existence wore on him. Days when he wasn’t out on a job were harder. Jobs allowed him to focus, to simply be in and of the moment. Setting himself at a clip Johnny stalked across the base. The quagmire of his thoughts sapped at his will.

Slamming into a body he stopped moving.

His hands shot out to catch the person he had so rudely hit like a freight train. The civilian communicator with a bright smile. She smiled warmly up at him.

“Sorry about that, I wasn’t watching where I was going,” she took a step back, placing a respectable amount of space between their bodies. Johnny crossed his arms.

“Sorry lass, my doing.”

She waved away his comment.

“It’s fine. I actually have something for you,” she dug around in her pockets as Johnny waited.

When she found what she was looking for, a small sack with the drawstring closed tight, she held it out to him.

“And what is it?”

He unfolded his arm enough to accept the offering.

“Do you remember several months back we had a conversation about ADHD and how you seemed so surprised by all the things I mentioned were related to it?”

“Aye,” he dug his fingers into the fabric, separating the two sides.

“Well, I thought you might appreciate a gift.”

Johnny dumped the contents of the bag into his other hand. Four small oval pills spilled into his palm. He looked at him, uncomprehending.

He opened his mouth to ask but got cut off.

“They are a really low dose and should wear off in a few hours but if they help you can get in with Doc and get a prescription of your own, right? Let me know how it goes, I’m curious if it will help you as much as it helps me.”

She patted his arm as she passed him by. Johnny stared at the small pills for a moment longer before tucking them back into the small bag and shoving them deep into his pocket. It would take days before he could muster the bravery to try a single one.

❍❍❍

The day started bad and ended worse. Johnny woke to Simon being gone from their bed. All he had wanted to do had been to snuggle until he couldn’t feel his bones stabbing at him from the inside anymore.

He found no peace at breakfast, seemly everyone needed him before his tea had finished steeping. Morning drills went poorly, with one recruit having to visit medical for a broken jaw. By noon Johnny wanted to crawl so deep into the earth that the sun and everyone else would never find him. Instead, he pulled out a few guns that needed cleaning from the storage and began to break them apart.

The pills from the communicator lived in his pocket. He hadn’t told Simon about them. Unsure if he would try them, and didn’t want to deal with Simon’s too observant eyes on him. When a pistol sat disassembled on the table before him he paused.

What the hell, he thought to himself, why not try one?

He swallowed the pill dry.

With a shrug, he went back to his task. Picking up each piece and examining it for damage before wiping it clean and oiling the parts that needed it. Finished with one he set it to the side. As he began to break down the second gun he noticed his hands. He became viscerally aware of them. They moved with ease and a speed that almost shocked him. He had done this same task at least a thousand times and only now noticed that he didn’t have to think about each move of his hands. The flick of his eyes started to make him nauseous. Why were his eyes moving so fast?

Setting the barrel down with a clink Johnny stood abruptly. He didn’t have to think about standing. Looking internally he couldn’t have been more shocked if a grenade had landed in front of him. The bees were gone. The constant hum of thoughts and feelings and general nonsense had disappeared. Casting his eyes around him Johnny searched for something to fill the void in his brain. Finding himself alone he sat down again and finished his task. The ease of completing the cleaning and reassembly of the gun enraged him.

He had to think through every step of everything he ever did. The only time he could move on instinct had been on jobs; when his and everyone else's continued breathing rested on him being able to move before thinking. Tucking the guns back into their cabinet Johnny rested his forehead against the cool metal doors.

He had never seriously contemplated the fact he might have ADHD. His brain worked fast, oftentimes too fast for him to get ahead of and he ended up in some pretty bad situations as a kid because of it. Even now his mouth ran faster than he could stop most times. It was the reason he had been banned from so many important meetings. Asking generals if they are fucking stupid tends to not be received well.

Years of practice had given him the ability to let out just enough of himself. So much of his experience lived under the surface of his skin. Not even Simon knew the extent of how hard he worked to keep up with everyone else in the 141. That man held Johnny’s whole heart and he could still not find the words to tell him.

Tension started behind his sternum. Deciding he needed to move his body Johnny headed for the training room. He observed every person as he passed them, contemplating if they could move, think, do with such ease as he now did. With each person he passed his anger grew.

The training room, while not full, had more people than he cared to see right now. Nodding to a few familiar faces he went to the locker room to change. The decisions of which shorts, shirt, if he should wrap his hands all found immediate answers. The cacophony of thoughts he suffered under did not barrage him. No demands for questions yet unasked sapped at his strength.

The rage grew.

He chose a loose pair of gym shorts, a compression shirt, and yes he would wrap his hands. Popping in headphones he turned on his heaviest base music and set the volume just louder than tolerable.

Rage.

Stepping from the locker room he locked his eyes on the punching bag suspended from the ceiling. Johnny noticed but ignored the way everyone watched him. Fists moving became the sole focus. Had he ever been able to completely concentrate on one thing? Even when seconds ticked away on a bomb in front of him, hadn’t he been thinking of how to say goodbye, wondering where they would lay his headstone, sent silent apologies to his team.

A pit opened in his chest, a black hole eclipsing everything.

Johnny hit resistance he hadn’t expected, the shock moving up his arm and settling in his shoulder. Someone must have told Simon. Large hands held the bag from swinging wildly like it had been. Lungs searing with each breath Johnny stared at his lover's face. Well, as much of his face as he could see. Simon wore his soft balaclava today. His eyes were softer than the mask he wore.

“Johnny.”

They watched each other as Johnny took deep breaths, hands hanging loose at his side. He didn’t want to talk about why his knuckles had split under the tape.

“I can’t do this here Si.”

Simon nodded once at Johnny’s quiet words. Stepping around the bag Simon slid a hand up and over Johnny’s shoulder. One tight squeeze and then he used gentle pressure, pushing forward.

Johnny moved with the touch. Letting himself be led. If he stopped moving then he would start sobbing. He hadn’t cried since he had been sixteen and kicked out for the final time. Listening to their footsteps combine became the lifeline he held onto.

Once Simon closed the door behind them Johnny couldn’t stop his lip from trembling.

“What happened Johnny?”

His whole jaw quivered now.

“I can think.”

“Aye, you can always think,” Simon pushes him back onto their bed. Setting a chair in front of the bed he starts to care for Johnny’s hands.

Johnny watches as his lover carefully ignores the tears streaking down his face.

“Every day half of my energy goes to functioning. Did you know I have to think about standing, moving, being? One tiny pill and I can stand without the effort of thinking through each minute movement I need to rise. My brain has never been quiet. It sounds like a jet turbine in there. All. The. Time.”

Simon finished on one hand and started on the other. They both ignored the blood that dropped onto their feet.

“I have struggled all my life to get ahead of my own thoughts. To stop the word vomit. I have to outthink myself to keep myself safe. I..”

Simon looked at him now, the lightest sheen of tears in his eyes. He gently cleaned the breaks in Johnny’s skin, stemming the bleeding.

“My anxiety is gone,” Johnny blubbered. “It’s like discovering I have been using a musket when everyone around me gets to use a fully automatic rifle and I am still accomplishing more than they are.”

Hands reached, resting on either side of his face. Johnny reached up and pulled the mask off of Simon. Placing a kiss on Johnny’s brow Simon followed it up by resting their foreheads together.

Simon’s heart ached. The whole of his love lived in the man between his hands and he was hurting. Simon had never been good with words, even less so when it came to Johnny.

“What do you need?”

Johnny sobbed out a laugh.

“God, I just need a nap.”

Simon’s brows rose; Johnny didn’t nap. The man barely slept.

“Want some company?”

“Absolutely.”

Johnny toed off his shoes as Simon unlaced his boots. The men scooted onto the bed until they found a comfortable position tucked against each other. Simon held his lover as he slipped into the first sound sleep he had ever seen from the man. 

Masterlist

[fateoffireandwater]

Top ten MCU girlbosses

before I start writing I want to say that when I think girl boss I don’t think rude bitch or queen of literally everything. It is just someone who stands up for herself I also don’t know how to explain it lmao.

10. Monica

Honestly she just slays that’s all I can say.

9. The mighty Thor

In the Thor movies she starts an amazing scientist with bravery and confidence. Then she becomes a hero and dies defeating Gorr.

8. MJ

I like this character because her personality is different from the average girlfriend of a superhero and she always does what she believes is right and will never shy away from the truth.

7. Darcy

She just whatever she wants and is such a character. She is a girlboss don’t really have a reason why.

6. Rio

I love how she does whatever she wants and has a fun humorous attitude and while everyone is terrified she’s having a great time.

5. Agatha

Just like rio she does whatever she wants and has a great personality.

4. Scarlet witch

literally the most powerful avenger and would do anything to protect her family literally. After she realises the horrible things she’s done she doesn’t hesitate to do what she thinks she needs to do to fix it. She went from a scared character who needed to be constantly saved by Hawkeye, Petrio and other characters to the strongest avenger.

3. Nebula

She starts of as an avenger who wants to get revenge on her sister to a tough, smart, independent, protective and strong character who secretly cares about all her friends.

2. Mantis

After being told what to do and having no freedom for her whole life she finally leaves and uses her incredible kindness, empathy and powers to live her own life. I love how the movie makers didn’t mark her the average female character who either is absolutely perfect at everything and is a bitch and never does anything important or is useless and always needs saving. Instead she has her flaws and strengths.

Karen

Oh my god Karen has to be one of my favourite characters. The reason she was in daredevil in the first place is because she had murdered someone but she doesn’t remember doing it. Because she has no money she works with Matt and Foggy as a lawyer WITH NO EXPERIENCE OR KNOWLEDGE ON BEING A LAWYER. She tries to solves mystery that daredevil is trying to figure. She and her friend Ben are working together to bring these people up. Then she finds kingpins mum which no one knew existed except for a couple people including kingpin, his friend (forgot his name) and the workers at the nursing home the mum was at. Kingpins bestie friendo finds out that Karen knows this and kidnaps her. Then she KILLS HIM which is crazy because he isn’t a weak character or anything. I mean he was kinda stupid guy for leaving the gun on the middle of the table anyway. She gets kidnapped again in season 2 at the end and she tries to escape with some guy and he nearly dies but daredevil comes and saves everyone and she helps everyone get out. After that she writes the most inspiring article (because she gets given a new job WITH NO EXPERIENCE OR KNOWLEDGE OF THIS JOB AGAIN in Ben’s office once he dies.) At the end of season 2 daredevil reveals to her who he is. This is some key moments that show how much of a character she is. I won’t include everything awesome she did because this will be way to long. Anyways throughout season 1 and 2 of daredevil she shows her persistence and hope by always pushing through struggles and reassuring and helping others . Even while she was recovering from murdering someone twice and later losing two good friends all of these on separate occasions she was doing her job, being a good person and helping Foggy and daredevil. She also doesn’t put up with people doing horrible things whatever it is and will to ever she thinks is the right thing no matter the consequences. Dame I should stop writing now lmao.

Like for part 2 if you want.

[onceonafullmoon]

A Marionette's Ball

Yan! Chevalier x Fem! Reader x Yan! Gilbert

Tw!! Manipulation, threats of violence, implied captivity, period typical misogyny and Gilbert Von Obsidian himself

You didn’t tame shit; you were at best, a sacrificial lamb sent to curb the hunger of a ravenous tiger, only to end up becoming a plaything instead of a meal.  And now you were here, having somehow fooled another apex predator into thinking you were some sort of beast in your own right.

-----

You need to stop fiddling with your necklace.

You know you need to calm down, but doing so is another story; you can practically feel the weight of everyone’s stares on you, not malicious, but prying still in their curiosity.

And it’s tough fighting the urge to snatch one of the champagne flutes off of the waiter's plates and down it in one gulp, but the subtle warning of Chevalier’s fingers pressing at your waist helps you forget the idea.

Right.

Just make a good impression and then you’ll get to go back to your own schedule with only one scrutinizing set of eyes on you.

It’s almost impossible to mess this up anyways, with all the effort Sariel has been putting into making you a “true lady befitting of a prince”.

Ha.

The audacity of that claim makes you laugh. 

As if you had a choice in any of this. 

As if you were something more than a puppet on a string pulled by the most powerful man in the kingdom.

Nevertheless, you pushed through the lessons easily enough, it was, at the very least, an escape from Chevalier’s smothering presence, although you would rather have buried your nose into a good book instead.

At any rate, it doesn’t seem like much of your work will be put into play considering the way that Chevalier has you glued to his side.

You suppose you get the hostility, he’s always been a touch smothering even before… this, and it doesn’t help that princes from other nations are currently visiting too.

Not that you would have the opportunity to meet any of them considering how anal Chevalier was about your “safety”.

In fact, if it were a year ago when you were still “unruly” he would have probably kept you chained in his room the whole time.

Well, if all good behavior amounted to was this then you probably could have thrown a fit to get yourself locked up again. Now it was too late, and you were stuck smiling fakely at some random noble who came to give his greetings. 

“My, my, if it isn’t the mystery woman that everyone’s been wondering about. Everyone’s been wondering about the one who stole the Chevalier Micheal’s heart, it's a pleasure to finally be able to meet you.” The nobleman, who you recall vaguely being named Lord Wessley, greets you with a certain, subtle prying look on his face as he studies you.

“Oh, you flatter me, but I’m afraid I’m not much to speak of. Any compliments should be redirected towards my fiancé.” You smile, cringing at the use of the word fiancé but happy enough with the way Chevalier’s brow furrows ever so slightly in annoyance.

You can almost hear his voice ringing out in your ears.

“If you have enough time to dish out praise, then you have enough time to do something useful with yourself, simpleton.”

“Praise worthy indeed!” Another man cuts in, rudely, albeit he’s possibly a bit drunk already. “An arsenal of military feats, a genius intellect that only appears once a century, and now a bride to be, you’re truly something else Prince Chevalier!”

You have to try your hardest to bite back the laugh bubbling up in you and Chevalier slightly grimaces.

Wessley furrows his eyebrows slightly at the intrusion but doesn’t comment, or rather, doesn’t get the chance to comment as he’s interrupted again. 

“And what a beauty she is, I can see why you’ve kept her locked up away from the rest of us!”

And now you are no longer smiling.

Karma really is a bitch.

The grip around your waist tightens and you find yourself conflicted about whether to celebrate the (hopefully only) verbal lashing this misogynistic bastard will get or to intervene for the sake of this very clearly drunk man.

Empathy wins out in the end, but also because you don’t trust Chevalier not to immediately jump at the chance to “incidentally” find this man charged with treason.

“I’m flattered by praise, truly, but you look a bit sickly to me, are you feeling alright?”

He opens his mouth to reply, but you cut him off smoothly.

“Poor thing, I bet you can hardly stand, much less answer coherently, but there are several couches in the foyer for you to rest at. I’d escort you myself but, considering the circumstances, perhaps Lord Wessley can escort you instead?”

Of course, Wessley himself isn’t too keen on leaving the conversation, seeing as he probably started it to discuss his own business. But when you phrase it in such a way of offering good will, he can’t refuse. 

With a furrowed brow he replies in kind and leaves.

Perhaps Sariel’s lessons did come in handy, you think as you find yourself alone again.

A sigh from Chevalier has you mending your thoughts, not completely alone, unfortunately.

“How bothersome.” He grumbles, finally letting his arm drop from your waist.

“Yeah, being stuck around someone you can’t stand, tell me about it.” 

He gives you a look which would scare the living daylights out of even a battle hardened soldier, to which you innocently smile at.

You know him well enough to know when you’re actually in trouble.

“What? Just offering some words of support in your trying times Prince Chevalier, now wipe that look of murder off before our guests get any ideas.”

Your smile dips into a frown when instead of falling for the taunt he smirks at you.

“Prince Chevalier? I recall being referred to as fiancé earlier.”

You narrow your gaze, regretting your earlier decision to speak.

“Don’t read much into it, you’ll strain your eyes trying to find nothing.”

He simply smirks again.

“Complacency is a dangerous thing isn’t it?”

He leans in closer, tilting your head up, sending roils of annoyance and slight embarrassment through you as you fix your eyes on his face, unwavering from his.

“...It’d be a shame for you, if all your efforts were for naught.”

He chuckles derisively, letting you go. 

“Now, wipe that look of murder off before our guests get any ideas.”

You glare at him, annoyed that he used your words against you, before deciding to make a tactful retreat.

“Now that I’ve taken care of your nuisances, I’m taking care of mine for a bit and freshening up. Does that please your highness, or should I stay tethered to your side for another hour?” 

He scoffs. 

“Just don’t get lost, simpleton.”

To use Clavis’s terminology, the Cheva translation of that would mean: “Go ahead, but if you aren’t back in 10 minutes I will find you and there will be consequences.”

“...Whatever your highness wishes.”

—

You supposed Chevalier already knew that you weren’t going to the bathroom to freshen up, rather instead to find a private area to ruminate at being bested by him once more, and that almost made you even more upset.

It’s stupid that you’re even angry, you know that there's no winning a fight against him. It was already a given that he would twist your words around in an attempt to make you succumb to him, and yet…

You furrow your brow as you turn the corner.

It was all you could do, if you could annoy him, even just a bit then that would be victory enough… 

At least it should be, if you didn’t get carried away with it.

But damn you for having a competitive streak and damn him for pointing out the one idea that would make you sick to your stomach.

(Although, maybe if you thought about it more, you would find it was only his own sick desires taking form in his words.)

“Complacency, my ass.” You mutter, as you push open the door to the library.

Despite this being originally Chevalier’s domain, you’ve also been quite the avid reader, and so any time alone with books was welcome. And even if you weren’t alone… well at least he had the sense not to disturb you, outside of his general presence.

Scanning the room when you enter, you find your eyes catching on the rows of bookshelves before halting when you see the shape of a figure, dimly lit by a candle.

You frown slightly.

While there were no set rules against entering a host’s library, it was still considered bad taste to enter rooms you weren’t explicitly given access to. Not that this person seemed unaware of it, judging by the lofty coat you could make out they seemed to be born into wealth.

Well, you weren’t exactly a shining beacon of manners either, considering that you were ditching your debut ball in order to sulk in the corner of a dark room because your captor/fiancé bested you in a game of wits.

Although, when you put it that way, your life does sound significantly more ridiculous.

You, albeit hesitantly, decide to give the person the benefit of the doubt and approach them to direct them back to the ball.

“Excuse me?” You call out, nearing the figure. “Are you lost?”

They turn around, and it becomes apparent that they’re a man. But not just any man, you realize, as a few more details come to light that have you suddenly freezing in place.

First, the dark crimson eye that gazes upon you while the other hides behind a black eye patch.

Second, the black cane who’s shiny finish glints in the candle light.

And lastly, the golden encrusted emblem, signature of an Obsidianite.

“Oh no, I’m exactly where I need to be.” Gilbert Von Obsidian responds cheerfully.

…

You suddenly have the sense that you’ve, to use words that Chevalier claims are “crude and boorish”, absolutely fucked up.

To be fair to you, you hadn’t been able to see even a glimpse of any foreign princes, much less would you have predicted that the damn Prince of Obsidian was going to be there, or more accurately here, in your lovely library safe space. 

It’s not often that anyone other than Chevalier makes you stumped on what to do these days, but that goes to show how dangerous complacency really is.

“Prince Gilbert.” You finally manage to greet, falling into a practiced curtsey. 

When you pull your head back up, he has an innocuous smile on his face, eyes crinkled slightly.

“No need to lower yourself, (Name) (Last Name), soon enough we’ll be on the same social standing won’t we?”

Oh, of course he knows who you are, couldn’t make it any less difficult for you could he? Still, the provocation (actually, whether he knew it as a provocation or not was a matter to be unseen yet) of your future engagement has you irritated as well as afraid.

“You never know what might happen.” You respond neutrally. “I’d hate to offend because I grew cocky.”

“Cautious, aren’t you?” He questions.

“That’s a good trait to have, although, I can’t say I would’ve thought the woman who tamed the Brutal Beast would be so meek.”

You want to laugh at his attempt at a jab, because he couldn’t be closer to the truth.

You didn’t tame shit; you were at best, a sacrificial lamb sent to curb the hunger of a ravenous tiger, only to end up becoming a plaything instead of a meal. 

And now you were here, having somehow fooled another apex predator into thinking you were some sort of beast in your own right.

But even still, you couldn’t help the words that poured out of your mouth.

“I would argue that being meek and being cautious are entirely different, but it must be difficult to understand from your perspective.”

“That so?” He hums. “What’s your view then?”

“That you can’t tell the difference, because for you, someone who has been powerful and feared for so long, there’s hardly any need for subtlety when dealing with others. For people like me, discretion is a necessary tool.”

A tinge of bitterness seeps into your tone as you respond, or maybe it's jealousy; you can’t tell. 

But it’s enough to make Gilbert pause, facing you, seemingly looking at you like he hasn’t seen you before, his eye glinting with something akin to interest. 

Oh.

Shit.

You’ve always had a bad habit of overplaying your hand during your time with Chevalier, possibly because you were so used to a lack of consequences due to his soft spot. It would’ve been better and safer for him to believe you were Chevalier’s little trophy wife and suffer the stab it would take to your ego. 

“...I suppose that “genius’s thinking alike” must be true, for you to be able to make such a succinct assumption about me.” He smiles, this time his eyes glinting with something darker.

“...I wouldn’t go so far as to imply that Prince Gilbert.” You say, desperate in your attempt to backtrack.

“Oh? Cowering now, are we?” He asks, the smile on his face growing more predatory. “And here I thought you’d be more vicious.”

He’s clearly trying to pry at you, to goad you into snapping at him, but you’ve since realized that the playing field had favored him from the start and you’d do better to avoid the trap he’d set for you.

“...I think you have rather high expectations, that you might think of me similar to the company I keep.”

“And you’d be right.” He says, drawing himself closer to you, even more empowering as he draws near, his red eye glistening like the blade of a knife.

You find yourself wanting to run, like the terrified lamb you are in the face of the threatening jaws of the beast in front of you.

But you don’t.

Because these damn beasts are always just toying with you, never daring to go for the killing blow.

He towers over you, clearly trying to get a reaction out of you, but you find that you can’t quite summon up the effort to change your expression.

“…”

“…”

Moments pass and his eye widens a bit, seemingly shocked at your lack of expression.

“You aren’t scared, are you?” He states, more as a fact than a question as he pulls himself away to an appropriate distance.

You shrug as if to say you don’t quite care, but you felt like laughing.

The truth is, he’s wrong. 

You’re constantly scared, every single day of your life.

When you wake up, when you go to sleep, you’re filled with horror constantly, terrified by the man who lays beside you. Every move you make is calculated and stuff, made in fear of the blades, not set to cut you, but rather everything you know and love.

Even now you’re scared, not quite by the prospect of death, but by the fact that it doesn’t scare you.

The fact that you would rather accept freedom in the form of being removed from your earthly ties than to live another life being tethered to this life scares you, because you know death is the only way you’ll be safe from him.

It brings you only slight ease that despite his best efforts of chasing perfection, Chevalier still only amounts to a man.

Gilbert’s laugh snaps you out of your thoughts, bringing you back to the man in front of you.

“That’s excellent!” He says, toothy grin lighting up his face, eye lighting up like he’s a child who’s found a new toy to play with.

Somewhere deep down you can feel a familiar sense of dread forming in the pit of your stomach that only comes with Chevalier, almost like deja vu.

It shouldn’t surprise you, after all it’s said that the prince of Obsidian is a genius only the likes of Chevalier could rival. It’s the type of gossip you used to absentmindedly listen to while busying yourself walking down the streets.

Still, you’ve survived Chevalier, albeit with your share of scars, you can handle at least one chance meeting with another snobby prince.

“Are you done threatening me then Prince Gilbert? I believe my fiancé is looking for me.” You say, keeping your tone neutral.

He chuckles, that wide, creepily childlike smile still on his face as he hears you speak.

“Of course. Tell Prince Chevalier that I congratulate him on finding such an interesting toy.”

“Of course.” You mimic, turning on your heel to leave. “Perhaps next time we can meet in a more fitting setting rather than the library, Prince Gilbert.”

Petty, yes, but he doesn’t seem affected by the rebuttal you throw his way judging by the small laugh he lets out as you leave.

Toy, huh?

You think, as you find yourself retracing your steps back to the ballroom. 

More fitting than lover that’s for sure, but you doubt even a genius like Gilbert would understand from just a glance that that was the case, rather he meant it in a dismissive manner.

But still, you can’t help the bitter smile that appears on your face at the statement.

Because you would end up back at Chevalier’s side, and either through your expressions or through his own logic system that you couldn’t possibly fathom, he would understand everything that happened. And then, like always, you would end up locked up in a cage while, ironically, the beast who should be locked in there would prowl around, growling at anyone who came close, possessive of his toy.

And the worst part is, even though you could see the path paved for you, leading you to your own demise, you still had to follow it, like written in a story, like fate.

And maybe that’s why you smile instead of frown when you see your beloved captor’s face twist into a look of grim understanding as he sees you again, wordlessly gesturing you to draw nearer with his gaze.

Because ironically enough, the only person even close enough to understanding or even changing your situation was the same breed as the monster that possessed you.

And it’s an amusing thought to you.

But if you could see the expression of a certain dark haired man, thinking almost fondly on your interaction, you wouldn’t find it half as funny.

[i-think-i-did-it-again]

Misery Business

Requested by: @crazymelascula

I was listening to Colson's cover of Misery Business and it made me cry again. And I kind of wanted to read something like the scenario of the song, only in the cover version and going through Colson's vision.

A/N: Sorry it took a little while to get this request out and hold other requests! I just wasn't really sure how to start the storyline but I hope it works and I did actually really enjoy writing it in the end. Enjoy!

Warnings: little fluff, little smut

This is fucking torture. I swear every time I see them together it makes me want to gag or gauge my eyes out or both. They’re so lovey dovey. I wish I could tell her he’s a fucking fake. That he spends all his time with her being all warm and friendly but when she’s not around, he’s a fucking prick. I know what would happen though. She’s so caught up in every piece of crap that spews from his mouth that the second I say something negative about him, she’ll clamp up like a shell and never listen to a word I say. I’ll lose one of the closest friends I’ve ever had and the only girl I think I may actually love, all for that pompous ass. No fucking way, I’d rather sit through the torture. Watching them kiss, the way he pushes a loose strand of hair out of her eyes, the way she smiles at him like he’s the most amazing guy in the world. Gag.

“You ok Kells? You’ve barely touched you lunch,” Rook asks me disapprovingly as he looks down at my almost full plate. Everyone's eyes, including hers, turn to look at me.

“Yeah, just not as hungry as I thought I was,” I mumble without taking my eyes off Y/N. She frowns but doesn’t say anything.

“Well, considering you’re not hungry…” Rook trails off while practically drooling over my food.

“Go for your life Rook, I’m going to get some air.” 

I shove my plate in his direction and push away from the table. I head outside and take a deep sobering breath. I pull out a cigarette from my pocket and take a deep inhale. The burning feeling in the back of my throat is a welcome change from the lump that’s been sitting there all evening. I look up at the night sky, the stars completely invisible behind the pollution of the city, and try to calm my thoughts. The black abyss is comforting in some ways I guess. I take a smaller inhale of my cigarette this time and watch the cloud my exhale creates.

“That’s not the way to get fresh air,” I hear a soft voice behind me and my body instantly stills. I turn to see Y/N smirking at me that pisses me off and drives me wild all at the same time.

“I guess I should’ve just said I needed a smoke instead,” I admit as I take another inhale and stomp the rest of the cigarette out under my boot.

“I don’t think anything you said would’ve made your behaviour any less weird but I guess whatever helps you sleep at night,” she chuckles with a shake of her head.

That strand of hair shakes and nestles itself right back into Y/N line of vision again. I wait a few seconds for her to move it but she doesn’t, she just looks at me, waiting for me to speak. I reach out, before I can stop myself, and push the strand behind her ear. My fingertips drift over the flesh of her neck and I hear her small gasp at the contact. I want to immediately rip my hand away but my curiosity creeps in like a sick motherfucker and I want to explore her reaction more. I trail my fingertips from behind her ear, down her neck and stop at the apex of her collarbone. She’s holding her breath, I can tell as I can’t feel her chest rising and falling as my fingers follow along her collarbone to the top of her sternum. 

“Colson, I have to-” she starts to say something but is rudely interrupted.

“Babe, you out here?” her prick of a boyfriend calls out from the door and if I didn’t want to kill him before, I definitely want to now.

“Yes honey, I was just about to come in!” she calls back over her shoulder. 

She gives me a stiff smile before turning around and rushing to her boyfriend’s side. He eyes me from the door and the smug look on his face tells me the asshole picked his timing perfectly. I have to use all of my strength not to stride over to the door and smash his face until it’s nothing but pieces of broken bone and torn flesh but my mind keeps obsessing over what Y/N was going to say.

“Colson, I have to tell you I’m in love with you. My boyfriend isn’t really my boyfriend and he’s just some guy I chose to make you jealous. I just want to be with you and no one else, I swear.”

I have to snort at my own idiotic fantasy. Even I don’t believe the shit my own brain spouts out half the time. I shake my head to clear my mind. All I want to do is focus on how she reacted when I touched her. That has to mean something, right? She didn’t stop me when I continued to touch her. If she didn’t like me in any romantic way at all, would she have ever let me touch her like that? I wish I could read her mind sometimes. A thought I’ve never had about any other woman I’ve ever met in my life.

8 months later

8 months of hell. I don’t want to say I’m ‘happy’ about the situation by any means. I know Y/N is hurting and that fucking kills me. I want to comfort her, I want to be there for her but I don’t know how to be. I keep stressing that I’m going to say the wrong thing or that I won’t be able to handle seeing her upset and I’ll do something to that prick that I shouldn’t. That would just make things worse and I don’t want to do that to her.

When my phone rings, I don’t think much of it. It’s 2pm on a Sunday afternoon and I’ve been sitting in my bed, staring at the blank TV screen and waiting for the day to pass. I answer my phone without looking at the caller ID and her meek, defeated voice fills my ears.

“Hey Kells, I hope I’m not interrupting anything important. I just…” her timid voice drifts off into silence and I’m instantly on edge.

“You’re never an interruption darling. What’s up?” I try to keep my voice light but I know I sound fake as fuck.

“I um…I don’t know if you heard but me and…uh Lucas…” she takes a deep breath before continuing. “We broke up and I guess I was just feeling lonely and wondered if maybe you’d…want to come hang out?”

I’m up and out the door before I can even think twice about it. I don’t care if it’s a good idea or not. Y/N wants me. She wants me. That’s all that could possibly matter to me right now. She could’ve called any of our friends but she chose me. That has to mean something right? Fuck it. Who cares right? 

“Don’t overthink it!” my brain keeps screaming it at me over and over as I drive down the expressway to her place. My nerves are on edge, I’m jittery and I’m driving like a dick but I don’t care. I just want to get to her before she changes her mind and calls to cancel on me. I couldn’t handle that right now. My body is literally willing me to get to her as quickly as possible. I don’t know what I expect to happen. She did just break up with a guy she was with for an entire year. I can’t go in there expecting too much from her but I can’t help the small butterflies that form in the pit of my stomach as her apartment comes into view.

I practically run up the stairs to the third floor and I’m so winded as I stand outside her door that I have to wait a few moments to collect myself. I tap lightly on the door and hear a muffled “come in”. I open the door gently and I am kind of shocked by what I see.

The apartment is a mess. There’s a concoction of empty takeaway containers, beer bottles, half drunk spirit bottles and abandoned coffee cups. The curtains are drawn so the room sits in a half darkness, light trying to peek through the windows. The whole room smells stale and the air is suffocating. I never thought I’d be the ‘let in the light and fresh air’ guy but I’m leaning that way today. My eyes settle on the crumpled body on the sofa and all my petty thoughts dissipate. The whole apartment could be fucking burning but all I’d care about is the broken woman in the middle of the room. Even in faded old sweats, she’s still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

“Jesus, you look like me after a tour finishes,” I try to lighten the mood with a joke but all she can manage is a weak, half smile.

‘Good work dickhead!’ my mind scolds me and I internally cringe.

“What do you need, honey?” I ask her softly.

I feel lost. I’ve always seen Y/N as a strong, independent woman with a smart mouth and an alcohol tolerance that most men couldn’t compete with. Seeing her barely able to lift her head to look in my direction makes my heart break and my fists clench. All I want is to have a bloody, semi-conscious Lucas on the floor begging for me to stop.

“I don’t- I don;t know. I just…” Y/N tries to speak but it’s as if her brain can’t find the words. She looks at me and gives me that weak smile again and my chest throbs.

“I’ll do anything for you, you know that,” I practically plead for her to make me feel useful.

She looks at me with glassy eyes and I can feel myself splitting in two. She holds her arms out to me and I rush to her side, crushing her to my chest. She sobs and it rakes through her whole body. I rub my hand up and down her back and whisper, what I hope are, soothing words into her ear as she falls apart in my arms. If I could take away every bit of pain with just my words and my embrace, I would in a fucking heartbeat.

I’m not sure how long we sit there for before the crying stops. Y/N breathing eventually slows and we sit there in a comfortable silence, her hand wrapped around the collar of my shirt, holding me in place as if I’m going to disappear if she doesn’t anchor me. I duck my head after a little while and her eyes are closed, her breathing deep and restful. I watch her sleep for a little bit. The tension in her shoulders has eased and her lips have parted slightly, relaxing her jaw. She has her leg lying on top of my thigh and her whole body is faced towards me, almost as if she knows I’m here to protect her. I can feel the rise and fall of her chest with each breath she takes.

The front door opens slowly and I whip my head towards it that I worry my whole body jolted and I may have woken Y/N. I look down and see her face is still peacefully asleep. I turn my attention back to the door and Ashleigh is looking around, mouth agape, taking in the semi-disaster zone. I hold my finger against my lip and signal for her to be quiet before directing my eyes down to the comatose girl in my arms.

Ashleigh doesn’t say anything, she just silently cleans around us. Removing every piece of trash, organising the half empty spirit bottles into her kitchen cabinet and wiping down every surface with disinfectant. She finds a few candles to scatter around the place to help with the stale smell. She opens the window in Y/N’s bedroom and the kitchen to help with some ventilation. I scowl at her when she tries to open the ones in the living room and she backs away to make a shopping list of groceries. I can’t help but be jealous that Ashleigh is doing all of that stuff for Y/N instead of me. I just continue to sit on the sofa, holding her. 

Ashleigh moves around me as if I’m not even in the room and I’m glad. She catches me staring a couple of times but I try to pretend like I’m just glancing every now and again to make sure Y/N is comfortable and that she’s still asleep.

“You know you’re not fooling anyone, right?” she whispers as she sits in front of me on the now clean coffee table. I frown at her, trying to convey innocence but my heart is hammering inside my chest. My arm instinctively tightens around Y/N and Ashleigh’s eyes zero in on the gesture. “We all know you’re in love with her, so why don’t you just save yourself the stress and just tell her?”

“Yeah, that’ll end well,” I scoff and shake my head defiantly. What a ridiculous idea! She just broke up with her boyfriend for fuck sake.

Wait, was I meant to deny my feelings first? Shit!

“Ok fine. Here’s something to ponder while you sit there pretending to not stare at her, ok?” I nod my head and Ashleigh stands and moves towards the front door. “She hasn’t slept this long in weeks and the moment you arrive, she’s out like a light.” Ashleigh opens the door and begins to leave but she stops herself. She ducks her head back, a shit eating grin on her face. “And if that doesn’t convince you, when she wakes up, ask her why Lucas and her broke up.”

Before I can respond, Ashleigh closes the door and I’m left to sit there and let my brain create 5000 reasons why they broke up and why that would encourage me to tell her how I feel. I’m going insane after an hour and I’m so tempted to wake Y/N just so I can ask her, when suddenly she bolts upright and searches the room, confused and disorientated. She spots me beside her and her cheeks fill with colour.

“What time is it?” she asks, stretching her arms above her head, her shirt dragging up her torso, exposing her hips and her lower stomach. It takes all my strength not to focus on her exposed skin.

‘She asked you a question perv!’ my brain screams at me

“Um- 5:30,” I fumble with my phone, trying to ignore that her arms are back down but that she hasn’t pulled her t-shirt back into place.

“Wow, I haven’t slept that long in…Well, actually, I can’t remember how long it’s been,” Y/N chuckles and looks around the room again. “Has Ashleigh been here?” she raises an eyebrow at me and all I can do is nod like a fucking idiot. “I was going to say, I don’t think I’ve seen you clean anything the whole time I’ve known you,” she laughs and I scowl at her.

“Oh so now you’re going to insult me, huh?” I try to act pissed off but her full smile and bright eyes are hard to resist. It’s strange how different she looks now compared to when I walked in a few hours ago.

“Is it an insult if it’s true?” 

She places her finger to her chin as if she’s deep in thought, in a cocky professor kind of way. I grab her wrist and tackle her so she’s on her back. She’s thrashing around and laughing so hard she almost has tears in her eyes. I’m so intoxicated by her bubbly mood that I just want to keep her laughing. I grab her other wrist and secure it with her other one, using my free hand to tickle the side of her stomach.

“Oh yeah? So true huh? I might not be able to clean but I definitely know all your ticklish spots, don’t I? So who’s the real boss here?”

“Oh. My. God!” she squeals. “If you keep doing that I’m going to wet myself,” she gasps between breaths while still laughing. 

I stop tickling her but I don’t release her wrists. I hover above her, staring down at her flushed face. She looks up at me and smiles that devastating smile that has always driven me wild. I don’t know why but I can feel a tension building in my body as I continue to hold myself above her, completely in control but helpless at the same time. My brain is screaming at me to get off her but my body refuses to listen. My eyes dip to her lips as she wets them slowly with her tongue and my whole body tingles. I look back up at her eyes for a second before slamming my lips onto hers.

There’s a rush that fills my body the moment Y/N starts to kiss me back, which is almost instantly. My skin erupts with goosebumps and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. As our kiss deepens, I manipulate my tongue between her lips and she moans. Nothing else in the world matters other than that single moan. The pure ecstasy I feel from that one sound, makes me want to make her do it over and over again until her voice is hoarse. I run my hand down her body, lightly caressing her breasts, down her stomach, her thighs. Every time my hand touches her, she moans. 

I pull away from her lips and kiss down her neck and across her collarbones. Not only is she moaning now but her hips are now gyrating against me and it makes all the blood in my body rush to one place. I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard in my life and I immediately know I have to do something about it. I grab Y/N’s hand and yank her off the couch and drag her down to her bedroom. I open the door and fling her willing body onto the bed. 

I don’t know why I do it but I look around the room and my eyes, almost automatically, land on a picture of Y/N and Lucas sitting on her bedside table. My body goes cold, all blood draining from where it was and I somehow feel dirty. Y/N is still lying on the bed, panting and dazed from our sudden change of venue. I want to kiss her again. Hell I want to do way more than just kiss her but my mind is pushing its way in in a very nagging sort of way.

‘Why did her and Lucas break up?’ it keeps repeating, over and over again, louder and louder each time.

“Kells, what’s wrong?” Y/N has just realised that I’m still standing at the end of the bed, staring into space.

“I-I. Listen, I’ve wanted this for so long, believe me when I tell you that I can’t believe I’m even asking this fucking question but if I don’t hear the answer, my obsessive brain will bug me forever,” I’m trying my best to explain my intentions but judging by the look on Y/N’s face, I’m not making myself very clear. “Why did you and… Lucas,” I grit my teeth at his name, “break up?” I blurt out with any real tact or consideration for her reaction.

“Wh-what?” she sits up and pulls her knees to her chest, as if she’s trying to cacoon herself from the mention of his name.

I just…You haven’t really spoken to me since it happened and it seemed kind of sudden and I didn’t really know the answer. So when you were asleep, Ashleigh told me to ask you and I didn’t want to wake you so my mind, which was running a million miles an hour may I add, was trying to think about possible reasons why Ashleigh would want me to ask you in the first place and then all the possible reasons why you two did break up after a year. Does that make any sense to you because I’m fucking dizzy.”

“What was the context of your conversation that Ash would tell you to ask me about the break up? You hated him. I would think you of  all people would be glad it’s over, not dwelling on why it ended. You can’t even fucking say his name without gritting your teeth for god’s sake!” she gets to her feet and angrily squares her body in my direction. “I can’t fucking believe that we were just about to do- whatever the fuck we were about to do and YOU, of all people, want to take a timeout to talk about L-Lucas,” she stutters on his name and I can’t help but feel a little guilty but I know exactly what she’s trying to do.

“You still haven’t answered the question and don’t think for a second that what we were about to do, isn’t going to happen. I told you, I’ve waited a long fucking time for this and I want to be 100% focused because I want to remember that moment for the next fucking 20 years or however the fuck long I’ve got. Now, answer the goddamn question.” 

I step up to her and put both hands on the sides of her face to force her to look at me. Her breath hitches a little and returns, hollow and ragged. She bites her bottom lip and I almost lose my self-restraint but I have to hear her answer. Ashleigh told me for a reason. She would never say something just to mess with my head. Y/N sighs and I turn my attention back to her.

“He…well he accused me of being…in love with someone else,” she mumbles while staring down at her feet.

“Ok? So he accused you, how did that end in a breakup?” I’m struggling to see the connection. Just because someone accuses you of something, even cheating, doesn’t automatically make that person right.

“I-I couldn’t…deny it,” she mumbles again and tries to pull away from me. 

I grab her wrists and pull her back to me, not allowing her to escape for even a second. I don’t want to let her go because I don’t want her to change her mind. My mind is racing, trying to pick apart what she’s saying, her lack of eye contact and her general uncomfortable body language. 

‘Wait, is there somebody else?’

I immediately take a step back from Y/N and drop her wrists as that thought crosses my mind. Here I was trying so hard to dissect what she was saying, that I was missing the fucking point entirely! The entire facts are, Lucas accused her of being in love with someone, she couldn’t deny it and so he broke up with her and SHE’S IN LOVE WITH SOMEONE ELSE. 

“There’s someone else,” I whisper and I hate how defeated my voice sounds. It completely gives away my feeling of utter disappointment.

I don’t think I have the strength to endure watching her in another relationship. Spending all my time secretly wishing it was me that got to kiss her, hold her hand, make her laugh. Resenting the other guy entirely based on a prejudice they don’t even know I have. I mean if I really think about it, was Lucas actually a bad guy or did I just hate him because I wanted to be him? 

It’s Y/N turn to close the gap between us and reach for me. She grabs my large hand in both of her small ones, twisting it around as if she’s studying it deeply. My flesh erupts into goosebumps again at the feeling of her warm touch. She trails a finger up my arm to feel them and lightly traces my tattoos. She doesn’t say anything for a few minutes, almost as if she’s hoping her touch will convey her message enough. I want to rip my arm away. Stop her from trying to comfort me, her poor attempt to soften the blow but I’m enjoying the feeling of her touch too much to stop it. I want to savour these last few moments of bliss with her. Before the soul crushing reality hits when I leave her.

“It’s you,” she murmurs so softly, I’m fairly sure that I misheard her and it’s just my shitty brain trying to make myself feel better.

“What?” I duck to reach her eye level and she reluctantly makes eye contact with me.

“Lucas accused me of being in love with you and I couldn’t deny it, so we broke up instead,” she explains matter of factly, as if what she just said hasn’t flipped my entire world and made me see stars.

“What are you talking about?” my brain is trying to connect the dots but it’s failing miserably.

“He started to get suspicious the night we went to the restaurant and he found us outside…talking. He pretty much said from then on that he kept an eye on you in case you made a real move, which obviously you never did,” she chuckles but when I don’t join in, she stops and continues her story. “For months he thought maybe he was just being paranoid and then…one night about 2 months ago, after we came to your place for Casie’s birthday, I had a dream about you and I…well you could imagine. I guess I must’ve said your name in my sleep and then he started to notice little things. Sometimes he’d catch me watching you, the way I’d hug you for a second too long, the way you could always make me laugh, even if no one else in the room found you funny, all the time we spent together just the two of us, our constant texting and phone calls. I guess just my general attitude towards you. He got suspicious and 3 weeks ago he confronted me about being in love with and I…didn’t deny it. He ranted and raved at how he’d wasted the last year of his life with me. He…um… told me once a whore you're nothing more and he left.” 

I’m completely shocked. I don’t know what to say to her. To say I’m ecstatic would be a fucking understatement. I would also like to bash his skull in for calling my sweet, innocent Y/N a whore but I push those feelings down. I feel some satisfaction in knowing that my original opinion of him being a shitty person was right but I just want to focus on the good parts. Like the fact that she didn’t lie about her feelings, just to keep a relationship with said shitty person. I keep replaying it in my head. 

‘She’s in love with me. She’s in love with me. Me, she wants me and no one else.’

“If you could say something out loud, that would really help my blood pressure because I think I’m having a heart attack at the anticipation?” she bites her lip again and stares at me longingly.

“Ash wanted me to ask you why she broke up because she thought it would help me decide whether or not to tell you that I’m in love with you. That was the context of our conversation earlier if you were wondering. I guess what I’m saying is, I think you’re the only one for me and I think I’ve known that for a long time.” Y/N smiles shyly at me and drops her eyes back to my hand.

“Damn. I guess in some sick way, I owe Lucas 50 bucks,” she laughs and drags me to the bed with her.

“Wait, why would you owe that asshole anything?” I stumble behind her, confused but curious.

“He sarcastically bet me $50 that you felt the same way as me but I snorted in his face and called me a deranged man. I guess he had a right to be suspicious of you,” she grins at me as she sits on the bed and I sit down next to her.

I don’t really want to think about him anymore. I want to enjoy this moment with Y/N, without the distraction of anyone else. For now it’s just the two of us who know what we’ve just confessed to and it feels sexy and exciting. Right now, I can kiss her freely, I can touch her without being cautious, I can make her moan and come apart under me, above me, in front of me. Which reminds me.

“Before we take this any further, I think you should tell me what that dream was that made you moan my name?” I smirk at her and she instantly blushes bright red. She grabs the collar of my t-shirt again and drags my face towards her.

“How about instead of telling you, I just show you?” she asks while innocently batting her eyes at me and all the blood in my body rushes back to the only spot that matters right now.

One year later

From that day onwards, we were inseparable. I’ve never been so in love with any woman in my entire life and I spend every waking moment showing it. Y/N was right. Lucas should’ve been suspicious of me the whole damn time they were together because now that she’s mine, I’m never letting her go. 

We ran into him at a party once and to say that guy hates me, is an understatement. I never meant to brag but having her on my arm when we walked into that party and seeing his face drop, I couldn’t help but feel a little pride. He fucking has it out for me and didn’t keep himself from showing it but it didn’t stop me from wearing the biggest smile and for that, I will never apologise. I have the woman I love more than life itself and I will spend the rest of my life making her wildest dreams come true, not one of them involving him.

[blackjackkent]

OHO, there he is, the man himself! DRIBBLES THE CLOWN! *airhorn*

Everyone has been talking this guy up so this show had better be incredible.

(Spoilers: It is not.)

"Buddy the dog is my very best friend! Do you know why?"

"Why?" comes a shout from the crowd.

"Because with him, anything is paw-sible! Wa-hey!"

Oof. XD

"Gods, I hate clowns," Shadowheart mumbles unhappily. "I'm not even sure clowns like clowns."

Hector, as usual, really just isn't sure what to make of all this. There's an even bigger crowd here than in the rest of the circus, as well as a loud, incessant oompah/organ grinder version of "Down By The River" playing in the background, and it's really just kind of A Lot.

But he is not rude, so he will not take the option here to heckle the clown.

(There's also a [BALDURIAN] option here - Relax and enjoy the show - it's been forever since you've seen Dribbles perform. Which is cute. :D But doesn't work for Hector, as I don't think they were getting out of the monastery to see clown shows.)

Simply watch.

"Did you hear about the scarecrow who lost a fight? He got the *stuffing* kicked out of him! Wa-hey!"

Ooooof. XD I love a good pun, but this is rough. The camera cut back to Hector watching with a completely blank expression and it was honestly hysterical.

"Oh, you're all such good friends," the clown goes on brightly. "I've had a wonderful time, but I have to go..."

There's a chorus of groans from the children in the audience.

Dribbles grins. "Oh, well, if you INSIST! How about a magic trick? But first - I need a volunteer with nerves of steel and the heart of a lion!"

His eyes scan the crowd. "Who will it be? Who..."

His gaze comes to a halt on Hector... and stays there.

Narrator: The hair on the back of your neck raises as a shiver passes through you.

"You!" Dribbles cries, pointing at Hector. "My special assistant! Come on up!"

Hector recoils just slightly. He has zero interest in being on a stage in front of all these people, and he doesn't know what would possibly be expected of him at such a show. Magic trick in the world he lives in could mean anything from sleight-of-hand to a fireball. And something feels... off about the way the man is looking at him.

[ROGUE][INSIGHT] This clown's looking at you funny. What's his deal?

(failed - 25 DC; even with advantage this was a longshot XD )

Narrator: You stare, but glean no ill-intent from the clown. Perhaps the makeup just threw you off.

"Come now, don't be a Cowardly Connie! Perhaps you need a little encouragement!" He gestures to the crowd, who all begin to applaud and cheer. "Now, up up, double sharp! Or poor Buddy here might think you don't like him!"

Hector is feeling more and more uncomfortable by the moment, but Karlach gives him a soft nudge at the small of his back. She's grinning, still thoroughly excited by the whole experience. And, as usual, that smile can make him do anything. He closes his eyes for a moment, centering himself, pushing away the feelings of discomfort, embarrassment, and overstimulation, until he is calm and inwardly quiet.

Approach the stage.

Hector is not enjoying himself. XD

"A round of applause for the stalwart heart!" the clown cries jovially.

He waits for Hector to make his way up onto the stage and then goes on, "Now - I always tell children that they're special. That each and every one of them is unique. Tell me - what makes you special?"

Hector might not be wise in the ways of the world, but he can tell when he's being condescended to. But he tries to ignore the man's tone and instead focuses on Karlach watching him from the audience, that wide, excited grin on her face.

"My courage," he says. "I do something even if it scares me."

Like this, for instance.

The clown grins mockingly, waving his arms. "Boring, boring! Anyone can do that." His grin widens. "You, my friend, are the most special person in the circus - in all of Baldur's Gate! Does anyone know why?"

"Why?!" screams a child in the audience.

Dribbles turns to face him head on, and Hector feels that sudden chill again at the base of his spine. "You're special, my friend," the clown says, with a sudden uncomfortable edge. "Because I have a message - just for you."

His eyes narrow and his smile cuts his face in half, all malice and no humor now.

"Praise the Absolute."

Narrator: [PERCEPTION] You sense something behind you. Instinct takes over.

Hector dodges sharply to one side just in time as the blink dog leaps at him. He hears Karlach curse from the audience and then the clown draws between him and the audience, a heavy and lethal-looking hammer in one hand.

"I knew there was something about this place I didn't like," Hector mutters to himself.

[authorautumnbanks]

How To Tame A Sorcerer (52)

Series Master list

A few days later - October 10th

Kagome hums to herself as she piles pickle after pickle onto her plate. She ignores the dense atmosphere of Sesshomaru's negativity. Her powers rise to ease the demonic pressure weighing her down. She wonders how many business deals he has secured simply from making the room uncomfortable with his energy. "Want some?" She offers, though she knows the answer. Kagome glances over her shoulder and pouts at the sight.

Sesshomaru is scrolling through his phone leisurely, not paying the slightest attention to her question. Rude. Fine, it's not like she wanted to share anyway. She takes a seat at the table, inhaling the sweet, sweet smell of fresh pickles. Her mouth waters, her stomach rumbles, and she thinks she could survive off of pickles alone. Satoru might object if there aren't any sweets in the house.

"Your mate is unhinged," Sesshomaru says, taking a seat next to her at the kitchen table. He curls his upper lip up, showing off his sharp canines at the mountain of pickles on her plate. His phone rests on the other side of him, far away from her mountain of delectable goods, as though somehow his phone will be tarnished by them. His shoulders are slightly hunched, giving away the amount of stress resting on his shoulders. It must be hard to run a business and keep those under him in check.

Kagome picks up one pickle and munches on it, her thoughts filtering as she chews. "Satoru isn't unhinged…he's just processing his emotions by throwing himself into his work." Mentally, she pats herself on the back. Satoru, taking on more missions to track down Naraku and pretending to search for the Shikon, isn't unhinged. Sesshomaru is just being dramatic and pissy because she turned down his demands to stay at the estate.

"The number of curses that he has–"

"That isn't a bad thing." She reaches for another pickle, humming as she munches on another. Judgment rolls off of Sesshomaru and curls around her like a blanket. Let him judge, she thinks, she'll eat this whole pile of pickles in one sitting just to irritate him. "Don't you have work or something to do? Go lord over your minions." Clearly, not working is causing him to stress out. She doesn't need a babysitter.

"Why else would this Sesshomaru be here?" he says, idly picking off a strand of hair on his tailored dark suit.

Why else would he…? Oh, that son of a…

"Get out," she says with a huff. "And send Shippo over instead. Much better company." She glances down at her gold watch. If she wants to make it on time to meet Megumi at the hospital, then she needs to head out soon-ish.

"The kit is busy assisting that other fox of yours."

"That's cause for concern." Kagome stretches her arms out in front of her and then pushes back against the table. She stands, dusting her hands on her leggings. She grabs her plate and rinses it off before putting it in the dishwasher. Clasping her hands together, she regards Sesshomaru, who seems lost in thought. "Ready?" Kagome tilts her head at Sesshomaru's blank expression. His face is usually a blank mask but there are levels to his lack of emotions and this level is telling her that he has no idea what she is talking about. "I promised Megumi-kun that I would take a look at his sister. There's like a curse or something on her." She could have sworn that she told him that when he came over.

"Must you help everyone?" he murmurs to himself. His glamor shimmers into place as he stands. The chair squeaks as he pushes his and hers back in.

Kagome beams. "Megumi-kun is meeting us there and then he's got a mission or something later. Satoru should be back home for dinner, so you don't have to hang out with me all day," she rambles on as Sesshomaru followers her towards the front door. She raises a brow at Jaken, sleeping with his hat pulled over his eyes. The obnoxious sound of his snores is hard to miss, and if he is doubling as the bodyguard, then that is also cause for concern. "Jaken could have come inside, ya know."

Sesshomaru ignores her and kicks Jaken in the side. The car door cushions his fall, only denting slightly from the impact. "Get up Jaken." Sesshomaru opens the back door for her, glaring at Jaken, who only sniffles and blubbers on.

Kagome sighs and then plasters a pained smile on her face. She feels for Jaken, she really does, though perhaps sleeping on the job wasn't the smartest decision he's ever made. "Well, Jaken, perhaps you can get checked out when we get to the hospital." She slides into the back seat. Her right eye twitches when Sesshomaru does the same, the space now cramped with him in the back with her. At least he smells nice and she won't vomit on the way there. Ijichi took her and the kids grocery shopping the other day, and she thought was going to lose it from the god-awful cologne Ijichi chose for that day. Jaken grumbles to himself up front as he starts the car and reaches back to get the address from her phone.

Sesshomaru glances at her from the corner of his eye. She opens her mouth. The question slithers down the tip of her tongue, threatening to spill out, but she catches herself and swallows the question back down. Another time.

"Hey," Kagome whispers, pushing the phone closer to her ear. There's soft classical music playing in the room. Megumi told her that familiar music helps coma patients.

"Why are you whispering?" Satoru asks on the other line. There's an edge to his tone, and she half expects him to warp to her. His trust with Sesshomaru is fragile at best.

"I don't know. Seems appropriate for the setting." She shrugs, turning away from Sesshomaru and Megumi's pointed looks. "I'm at the hospital with Sesshomaru and Megumi for Tsumiki. I told you that this morning." She frowns. She could have sworn she told him.

Satoru hums. "Don't overdo it." A bang blasts through her eardrums. Satoru curses. "One second," he says, followed by a cluster of screams. "S'orry about that. Any sign of fatigue, you call it quits, okay?" There's more commotion on the other line.

"Yeah, yeah," she says, turning back around. She focuses on the Tsumiki's comatose state and the burden etched on Megumi's face. "I won't overdo it."

"That's my girl. I'll see you later."

"Be careful," she says and hits the end button. "What?" She stuffs her phone into her purse and takes a spot on the bed next to Tsumiki. Tsumiki's brown hair is fanned out in a way that makes her look like an angel that is just resting its eyes. There's no pain or sadness on her face. It's somewhat eerie, and Kagome's heart goes out to the families that are going through the same thing as Megumi.

"He makes you happy," Sesshomaru states.

"Don't sound so shocked." Kagome takes Tsumiki's hand in hers, flashing a gentle smile to Megumi. "We'll get your sister fixed up in no time."

"Thanks, Kagome-san," Megumi says. His hands clenched at his sides, betraying the calmness that he is trying to project. Sesshomaru tenses from the other side of the bed, hovering in case things go awry.

Kagome closes her eyes to drown out the extra stimuli and emotions from Megumi and Sesshomaru. She pushes, searches, for the core darkness that has taken root in Tsumiki. A tendril of fear creeps up, wresting with her mind as she battles it back. Whatever has cursed her is strong…really strong.

Tsumiki thrashes, but Kagome only tightens her grip. Her hair sticks to her forehead. Beads of sweat slide down her neck. Her shirt sticks to her. It itches, but she can tune out the discomfort. Sesshomaru and Megumi shout her name, but she's not going to give up when she is so close. She flinches at the sound of glass breaking. The machines go haywire. The beeping helps her to stay grounded in the present. Keep going, she tells herself, keep going. The serpent wrapped around Tsumiki's soul hisses. The vile, putrid smell makes her want to hurl.

"Ssstay away," it hisses, thrashing about. Its ruby colored eyes go white as the purification takes hold. "Mine, her ssoul is mine." It gives one more jerk as its body evaporates. The darkness fades away, leaving behind a ball of light.

She may not have been able to save Cho, but at least she could save Tsumiki. Kagome opens her eyes, blinking slowly as her vision wavers. Tsumiki's face scrunches up in confusion. Kagome lets her hand go with a wince. She was gripping the poor girl's hand rather tightly towards the end there.

"Tsumiki!" Megumi says, his hands shaking. There are unshed tears in his eyes. It's the most emotion Kagome has seen from him.

There's a breeze in the room, cooling her heated skin. She follows the glass trail to the broken window. Did she do that?

"Megumi…what's going on…" Tsumiki coughs, her voice hoarse. She attempts to raise her arms, but after so many days, months, of un-use, even that action seems to be too much.

In hindsight, they should have brought some water for her and maybe a new set of clothes instead of that hospital gown.

"Grab her and let us depart," Sesshomaru says, walking around the bed. He picks Kagome up bridal style.

"Hey! I can walk." She pushes - well attempts to push back against Sesshomaru. Perhaps she expended a lot more energy than she thought did.

"No time. You would slow us down with your attempts at walking."

Megumi snaps into action, carefully unhooking Tsumiki. "He's right, we can't stay here."

"Why? All I did was get rid of the curse," Kagome says, twitching in Sesshomaru's arms. What she needs is a nice long bath and maybe call Satoru on the way home to share the good news. Her eyelids flutter as sleep threatens to pull her under.

"Got rid of what?" Tsumiki asks, but her question goes unanswered.

"That's exactly why we need to leave."

"You cracked my veil," Megumi says. A wisp of a smile touches his lips as he looks at his healed sister. "Others might be drawn to this location now…not to mention the staff might have some questions."

Oh. That is bad

[sunsetrcse]

I think I’m gonna put Kass and Diego on a blog together instead of separate ones, since I’m thinking of combining their stories together. Late night ramble time ft my two other brain babies.

So because I’m a sucker for the supernatural, obviously Diego has a power. That power is the ability to see the souls of others, to destroy souls (though that takes an insane amount of energy), to collect/guide them, and to heavily influence them.

Now he’s bad at the influence part when speaking, as a lot of the time he comes off either deadpan or blunt/rude. But when it comes to singing, we’ll inflection and emotion is practically built into it, making it far easier to impart his influence. The more emotion, the stronger the push. Now this is not to say he can outright control people, not entirely. That, again is something that requires a crazy amount of energy and focus. And of course there’s drawbacks, like accidentally causing people to do things they otherwise wouldn’t for the worse, the mental and physical drain, the moral standpoint of it all.

Still, after all the abuse he’s been through, somewhere deep down he wants to help people. So, he entertains. At a club.

A club called Black Hexellence, run by non other than Kass. A goddess in disguise, hanging among mortals and offering a place of refuge for those who deserve some positivity or shelter and a trap for those that are in need of a swift punishment. It was a way to keep watch over mortals while also having a bit of fun of her own, gave her a base to work from and a place to call home.

Sure, it was a place if debauchery in a lot of ways. But it was also a place where everyone respected each other. Boundaries we’re clear, rules were simple, but firm. Spaces were made to give peace to those trying to run from a hard life. And if that peace was broken, if the balance was tipped too far, you’d quickly find out just why she was called Karma.

Diego was of course one of the many the Lady of the house took in. But he was arguably the closest to her. She knew right away something was special about him, and it didn’t take long for her to find out why, though, she did give him time to at least recover after freeing him from the grip of a slimy excuse of a man. She was patient, even when he lashed out.

And soon the two would form not only a bond, but an oath. He would be by her side, her guard dog, collecting souls to be judged and people to be helped, and in return she gave him protection and a place to call home.

They act something akin to siblings, being only a few years apart. They’re also quite a goofy pair when together, her pet names and fake flirty jokes constantly met with deadpan complaints and sassy comebacks. It’s quite obvious they care for each other.

My sillies 💜✨

[phantom-miria]

Your WoL is so cute- can you share more about her? (This totally isn’t your fanfiction exchange assigned gifter trying to subtly stalk you. Noooo. Not at all. Shifty eyes.)

👀👀

I'm so flattered! And also I love talking about her! I actually filled out a "meet my WoL" chart a while ago that I never posted here, so I'll post that in a bit for you as a separate photo post! But I think the basic run-down is that she's a Keeper Miqo'te whose name doesn't quite match the naming conventions mostly because I carried her over from a different game I rp'd in, so uhh...Astrid Voll, Astrid Vholl, Bustle, and ANGERY CAT are all equally accurate names for her because I've just shifted a bunch of things over time. Bustle is a nickname/pseudonym for her tailoring work, and for the name not exactly matching Miqo'te syllabic patterns I mostly just figure she grew up separate from a clan and lived in Limsa instead and was named there, and apprenticed as a tailor when she was young.

Mostly sticks to magic classes (WHM main, I'm really into RDM for DPS, I also have AST as one of the main classes I cycle through and not magic but I LOVE Dancer too; I'm working my way through SCH/SMN now) but recently started dabbling with PLD, mostly because I thought the Castrum Abania paladin set was REALLY pretty and wanted it. And it's probably the sparkliest tank job :D

Palette wise, mostly sticks to reds, whites, blacks, golds, and pinks. You can't fight crime if you ain't cute, so lots of different flashy pretty aesthetics. I've cycled through a few hair styles, the big sticking point is usually if they have bangs I like :') Sidebangs for Bustle always.

Backstory and personality-wise, she lost her girlfriend in the Calamity and is a bit quieter and more jaded these days as a result. She can be bluntly rude at first and is a little afraid of getting close to people, because if you don't get close to people then losing them won't hurt so much! But then she's lonely from pushing people away, so it's kind of an ugly push-pull of social needs, and what she settles on is an uncomfortable compromise between being rude to people and testing boundaries to see if they stick around while having a very soft heart underneath it all.

But I think the WoL is such a source of hope in FFXIV's story that her journey throughout it would be a re-discovery of how much hope she still has, and ofc she ends up developing ties to everyone in the Scions, Ishgard, the Resistance, the First, etc. The story really puts the WoL through the wringer! (I'm still working my way through the story and am currently in post-patch Shadowbringers after taking a three year break, but have thoroughly spoiled myself over everything (and cried over certain parts of Endwalker that I've watched on Youtube at least 20 times) so no need to worry about spoilers or leaving parts out, I love the whole game and want content set at any part of it, no holds barred.)

Also I just love the idea of her with Aymeric because he's SO in awe of the WoL and everything they do and the idea of him being so starry-eyed over this little shit of a Miqo'te is very funny to me. And I think he's so earnest and kind that she would want very much to protect that in him, and he would be fun to tease but not fun to be rude to, so he'd be one of the only people to end up mostly exempt from her habit of needling for no particular reason (alongside some assorted Scions, but not all, because some of them it would be great fun to insult/provoke for no particular reason).

But Aymeric would get right to the soft nougaty center of her that's just filled with love. I think he'd bring out the better sides in her because he does that with everyone who isn't 100% evil because AYMERIC IS SO GOOD ; u; I think Aymeric hits a really fun balance of intensely composed and take-charge and intense about what he believes in. He's got an aura of confidence but really looks up to the WoL too, and I think he's just like. The goodest boy. And he deserves good things. Or to be hurt and then comforted with good things. And I think WoL/Aymeric in general has great potential to have these two super important people find someone they can lean on, even if the distance can make it really hard.

Anyway uhh aside from what I linked in my signup, you can find pics of her in my tag on this blog: https://phantom-miria.tumblr.com/tagged/character:%20bustle

Unfortunately it covers the versions of her I've played in other games too, so here's a few FFXIV specific posts of her appearance, including art drawn by friends. My most recent hairstyle for her is the shorter bob with the braid that's in some of the imgur images in my sign up:

and a text post that I think about sums her up: https://phantom-miria.tumblr.com/post/150662998775/byrneing-my-heart-is-guarded-but-like-very

and uhh I guess I'll go post that rp meme I filled out, and thank you so much for your interest and I hope ANY of this babbling was helpful and just aaaaa I love talking WoLs

[cardansriddle]

could you write a tom riddle one with a female reader, in which she asks tom to teach her spells or sth in order to spend more time with him/come closer to him because she lowkey has feeling for him, while he's too serious and somewhat rude but the tension is too much and they end up fucking?

Watching you- Tom Riddle

Warnings: smut in the library.

A/N: Apologies for my absence! I am back and I am going through your requests. (Thank you to those who requested, I love bringing your ideas to life.) Also as always, this was not proof read bc I’m lazy, sorry.

"You are staring at him again." Elizabeth nudged you gently, snapping you out of your pleasant thoughts that involved a certain dark-haired and unfathomably intelligent wizard for whom you have been developing... slight affections as you liked to call it.

"I am not." You replied stubbornly, refusing to admit to the fact that you were indeed staring at Tom fucking Riddle over your stack of books.

Tom Riddle was an enigma. He was the person that everyone was enthralled with and you had made a silent promise to yourself that you would not fall prey to his allure, and now as you sat, and your gaze was stuck to his form, you silently laughed at yourself for being so naive and foolish.

Because how could one ever not like Tom Riddle?

"You know, you should approach him once. Try and engage in a conversation. It would certainly be better than staring at him so hopelessly." Your friend suggested, her own gaze falling on the boy who looked lost in the contents of the book he was reading.

"You think?" You asked after a moment of silence, turning the idea of approaching him over in your head. After all, Riddle was a gentleman and a perfect student. He had never turned away a student if they had come up to him for aid.

Elizabeth nodded with a pensive expression. "You could ask him something regarding your assignment for Defence Against the Dark Arts. He certainly enjoys the subject."

You swallowed thickly and in a moment of impulsiveness, you pushed yourself up from your chair. After all, what was the worse that could happen?

With determined strides, you began walking towards the table he was sat behind, wand clutched in one hand, while the other fiddled with the hem of your shirt, the only indication of your nervousness.

Once you halted in front of the table, Tom noticed your presence and lifted his head up to look at you expectantly. "Can I help you?" He asked with narrowed eyes, and the look was all it took for your previously built up confidence to melt into a puddle of uncertainty.

With a sigh, you decided it was now or never. "I am having trouble with the spell we were assigned to learn for tomorrow. I was wondering if you could assist me?" You asked, pulling your lips into a small smile, hoping it would dissolve the slight awkwardness.

Riddle's dark eyes surveyed your face for a brief moment, and you were half expecting for him to turn you down and tell you he was busy. You sensed that he wanted to say something, however, it seemed he decided against it and instead gestured at the chair next to him, and understanding what he had meant, you took the seat.

"At first show me how you attempt to cast the spell. It would be easier to detect your mistakes and work on them instead of starting from the very beginning." He paused, "unless you need to start from the basics." He rose a single brow, and you tried not to frown.

"No. I do know the basics." You said.

You pointed your wand at the book in front of you, and as you began the movement of the spell, you hesitated. You knew the spell already, of course, you did. DADA was your favourite subject, therefore you excelled in it and had already been ahead of the curriculum. And now that you impulsively had approached Riddle for help, you needed to perform the spell inaccurately.

You changed the movement of the wand.

"No." The wizard said. "You were doing it right at first, now you are doing the complete opposite of what should be done." He said with an exasperated sigh. "Are you sure you do not want to start with the basics?"

The unspoken insult in his question did not go unnoticed by you, and you started to feel the first taste of regret. Perhaps you should have not come up to him. It was quite obvious that he was most definitely not interested in neither tutoring you nor being in your company.

Feeling the need to prove yourself to him, you directed your wand in the correct direction before flicking it upwards. Glancing up at him from under your lashes, you asked innocently. "Like this?"

"It is not half-bad I suppose."

You frowned. He was an arse.

As he began talking about the spell, and the intention you ought to have in order to successfully cast it, you found yourself unable to concentrate on his words.

You absolutely despised yourself for being so taken with the wizard who had bewitched you, and you cursed the fate for its cruelty, for why would it make you fall for Tom Riddle and not have it be mutual? Why could it not reverse the roles? Why couldn't Tom Riddle be as spellbinder to her as she was to him?

Only when Tom called your name did you snap out of your thoughts. "Yes?"

"I asked if you could try the spell once again now that I have explained." He said blankly.

"Oh right." You replied before clearing your throat and casting the spell. In your dazed state, you had forgotten that you were supposed to perform it incorrectly, and therefore you were surprised when the book in front of you turned into dust in a matter of seconds.

"Shit." Your breath hitched in your throat, looking around for the librarian in alarm. "She is going to kill me."

Something akin to amusement appeared on Tom's face. "Not if she does not find out."

You nodded mutely and breathed out, willing yourself to push your nerves down.

"You performed the spell quite easily," Tom spoke up after a minute of silence, his lips curling into a knowing smirk, and your eyes drop to his mouth to watch the action. You had a feeling he was toying with you, and he was enjoying it.

"I do not understand what you are implying." You crossed your arms over your chest defensively, not liking the predatory expression on his ridiculously handsome face.

"When are you going to drop this act?" He rose an elegant brow and you barely resisted the urge to get away from him as fast as possible. Instead, you lowered your eyes to your lap, watching your fingers fumble with your skirt.

Running away would only embarrass you further, you reminded yourself.

"Darling, we both know very well you are quite gifted at this particular subject." His fingers gripped your chin, tilting it upwards so you would meet his eyes. "The next time you wish to talk to me, you can simply do so. Without any pretence."

Your heart thumped against your ribcage, his uncharacteristically gentle touch igniting a fire in you that you doubted you could put down. Not with the way he was looking at you.

"I..."

"Do not deny it, little witch." He tsked, his hand travelling from your chin to your face in order to push a strand of your hair behind your ear. "After all, I have noticed you watching me." He said before leaning in as if he was indulging you in a secret. "Because I have been watching you too."

Tom proceeded to grab your hand and pull you away from the workspace. He began walking towards the back of the library with confident, long strides, and it was not until you reached the very end of it when he halted and pushed you against the bookshelf, and you stifled a pained moan at the way the wood dug into your back.

“I have been watching you, and reading the things that have been going in your pretty little mind.” He leaned in, his nose brushing against your throat as he breathed in your scent. “and very, very dirty mind.” He whispered, and you resisted the urge to shiver at the way his breath fanned your cheek.

Tom was taunting, teasing you and you knew it. Having had enough of being toyed with, you rose your hand to hold his face and as a result, he halted his motions.

“Stop talking and kiss me already.” You breathed out.

His lips curled into a pleased smirk that made your insides churn pleasantly, and he did not falter before fisting his hand in your hair and pulling you into a heated kiss.

You shut your eyes as he kissed you relentlessly, and the only thing occupying your mind was the way his lips moved against yours with such passion and intensity that had your knees weakening.

One of his hands travelled down, touching your waist before falling on your inner thigh and you gasped against his lips when he gripped the flesh. Something hot appeared in your lower stomach as a response to his touch, and you realised you yearned for more. His hand pushed at your thigh, making you part your legs so he could step in between them, and you could not stifle the moan that escaped your lips at the feeling of his lower body pressing against yours.

Tom pulled away, and you took notice of his dilated pupils and swollen lips with great pleasure.

“You have to be quiet for me, darling. We do not want to be heard. Understand?”

You silently wondered how you could stay quiet while having Tom Riddle between your legs, yet you did not voice it out and instead nodded obediently.

“Good girl.”

His lips attached to your throat, his teeth pulling and sucking against the sensitive skin until you were sure there would be a large bruise forming very soon, and he did not stop before marking you in different places.

Your hand tugged at his curls and revelled in the breathy groan that he emitted as a result. You hiked your leg around his waist in an attempt to feel more of him, pushing your hips against his and hissing at the friction.

“Tom, please.” You plead, desperate for more, for his touch, for anything that would bring you release.

His mouth detached from your throat, and instead found its way back to your lips, pulling at your lower lip with his teeth before moulding his tongue with yours skilfully.

His hand on your thigh travelled up until it reached the band of your underwear, his fingers curling around it before he stopped. “Beg for it, little witch.” He rasped out and barely resisted the urge to scream.

“Touch me, Tom, please.” You complied, sucking up your pride and dignity.

He hummed pleasedly, a dangerous smile playing on his lips. You were about to beg him once more when his fingers slid against you, and you gasp at the burst of pleasure that takes over your body. He watched as you bit your lip to stay quiet, as your head fell back against the shelf in pleasure at the way his fingers felt against you. He marvelled at the sight of your undoing, at the fact that it was him that was making you react this way.

Without even thinking your hands dropped down to his belt and began unbuckling it, and Tom’s breath hitched as your fingers grazed against him.

He suddenly pulled his fingers away and as you were about to whine at the lack of contact, you heard him unzip his pants before he stepped impossibly closer and heat flushed to your cheeks because you could feel him right against you, and if he pushed in any closer—

“Please..” You plead.

He brought his lips against yours, kissing you and at the same time pushing forwards, and if it was not for his mouth on yours, you were sure you would have screamed at the feeling of him sliding inside of you, the feeling so intense and overwhelming that you never wanted for it to end.

You moved your hips against him, urging him to go faster, and it was all it took for him to draw back before thrusting back into you.

You felt dizzy with pleasure and ecstasy as his hips continued working against yours in a relentless pace, and could not contain the moan when he hit a particularly sweet spot inside of you, making you tighten your legs around his hips, urging him to go deeper.

Tom’s hand immediately went to cover your mouth as he continued pushing into you roughly, building up the hot searing feeling in your abdomen, and you met the thrust of his hips halfway, chasing your release.

His other hand that was not busy with covering your mouth suddenly dropped down to touch you where you needed it the most, where your bodies connected and it was at that moment when you let go of the tension in your stomach, shutting your eyes closed and letting your head drop back against the shelf.

And when you opened your eyes you saw Tom watching you intently, breath hitched in his throat and eyes glazed with pleasure and it was not long before he found his release as well with slow thrusts. His head dropped to the crook of your neck, trying to catch his breath.

It was a long time before he spoke in your ear, his voice so raspy and sensual you wished you would go for a second round.

“Watching you come undone is a sight I could never get tired of.”

You breathed out a laugh. “Then we shall repeat it again.”

His lips pressing against yours heatedly was the only answer you needed.

-

[h0tchner]

Something More (Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader)

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: Written as a request for the loml, Abby! (@heliotropehotch!) "Could I have a hotch x reader request thats got a love confession- maybe a hurt comfort scene where the reader is maybe torn up about something like self deprecation or some cop makes an off-handed compliment and he cups her cheeks and wipes the tears away? Pretty please 🥺"

word count: 3.2k

includes: love confessions! hurt/comfort, protective!hotch, mutual pining!!!, kissing, a little teaser of sexytimes, work tension, BAU!reader, crying and other emotions, rude af deputies, fluff soooo much fluff

rating: 18+ (cursing, crude nicknames, suggestive sexual mentions, and brief explicit sexual content at the very end)

a/n: HELLO BESTIES! I hope you love this one! If you want a smutty part two, let me know. PLS (!!!!!) interact if you liked this fic; rb, comment, like and/or send me a request if you have ideas for future fics! i love y’all! - rivka💞

some pals tags: @arsonhotchner @laurensprentiss @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie

“It’s time to give the profile,” Hotch announces.

Six words. One sentence. Zero hesitation.

“Go and gather everybody in the bullpen,” he directs Spencer, who nods and quietly exits the conference room to collect your team and the rest of the Sherrif’s department of this small, Wisconsin town.

You stand on the opposite side of the table from your boss, looking at him expectantly. Hotch meets your gaze. His tongue darts out from between his lips as he glares at you from beneath thick lashes. You wait for your instructions, but the instructions don’t come. Rather, you both stand there in a staring contest, unmoving.

You can’t help but feel bare under his scrutiny, but this feeling is nothing new. Every time Hotch looks at you, it feels as if every fibre of your being is on fire. It’s been this way since the very first day you started with the BAU, and, over time, the flame has only burned brighter.

You and Hotch have grown close over the two years you’ve been with the team: closer than he’s been with any of his other agents, even Rossi. It all started with one long night spent together in his office, sharing cold Chinese food, scribbling away at mountains of paperwork. It was then, sitting across the desk from him, laughing at his incredulous reaction when he dropped some Lo Mein on an After-Action Report, that you knew: you were in deep. From then on, your Chinese food office “dates” became a regular occurrence. And then, those regular occurrences transformed into other regular occurrences; to name a few: rides on the jet, side by side, sharing soft glances and tired smiles after hard cases… holding hands to comfort each other when emotionally vulnerable… and even bringing you your favourite coffee on mornings that you’ve needed an extra boost. All these little moments of kindness and care are what made you fall in love with him. You would cross the line from coworkers to more in a heartbeat if you knew for certain that he felt the same way about you. But you refuse to take a risk on losing what you currently have with Hotch for the chance at something more.

The way that Hotch looks at you now, tall and commanding, feels very much like something more… it’s incredibly intimate. He’s effectively stripped away all the layers of protection you’ve built up to do your job with one pointed glance. What you don’t know is that he too feeling the same way, and is toeing a line between being your boss, being your friend, and being your “something more.”

Hotch breathes out hard through his nose. You watch as he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he does. His jaw ticks. He shifts on his feet.

“I want you to sit this one out,” he says.

“Hotch?” You question, puzzled. Nothing about this day has prepared you for him to say that. You start racking your brain, trying to figure out why he would give you such a ridiculous order. Did you piss him off somehow? Did you play-flirt with Morgan too much in the car? Overlook an important lead? Did he not like the coffee you made him this morning?

Looking over at him, you swear he almost looks conflicted… but it doesn’t last.

“This is not up for debate. Do you understand me? You’re sitting this one out.” He repeats, steadfast.

“I don’t understand, what did I do wrong?” You ask more defensively this time, wishing he would give you more information. Something, anything besides the “SSA Aaron Hotchner” routine he was pulling on you now.

“I never said you did anything wrong.” Hotch moves forward a step, finally breaking eye contact, opting to gather files and loose papers into his arms.

“So, then what it is?” You cross your arms, stepping forwards as well, challenging him with your posture.

He doesn’t respond, nor does he look at you. Instead, he lumps more files into his arms before rounding the table, moving swiftly toward the door.

You have never, ever disobeyed one of his orders because his orders have always made sense… until now.

“Hotch,” you say sternly, your stubborn feet moving to stand between him and the exit before your logical brain can stop you.

He’s practically up against you, cornering you between his solid body and the old wooden door. His height dominates your shorter frame, and the heat coming off his body is positively criminal. Your heart flutters in your chest as he stares you down, calculating his next move.

“Out of my way, Agent Y/L/N.” He breathes out, tensing his jaw.

“Fine,” you stutter, “just tell me why and then I’ll let you go.” Your confidence wavers as you’re a little taken aback by his official use of your title and last name.

You’re hurt, confused… and he knows this. No matter how hard you’re putting on your tough-girl FBI face, Hotch can see right through it. He knows this order is unjustified, but he has his own reasons: reasons that he can’t get into. Not now.

Hotch lets his eyes dart to the side, past your head, not daring to look you in the eyes. He wills himself to be gentle.

“I can’t tell you, but I need you to trust me. Sit this one out.” He verbalizes, looking at you a little softer now. His face relaxes a little more into the Hotchner you’ve come to know: the one who calls his son every night to read a bedtime story, the one who grins every time you beat him in chess.

You two stand there a moment longer, your heart racing from the heat of the quarrel and your current proximity to your Unit Chief.

Hotch opens his mouth to say something else, but a knock on the door behind you stops him in his tracks. You step aside and he whips open the door; a very apologetic Spencer stands behind it.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Spencer says, clearing his throat awkwardly, “but everyone is ready in the bullpen.”

“Thank you,” Hotch nods, stepping forward to leave, but you grab a hold of his arm.

“Hotch,” you begin, not entirely sure what you want to say.

“Later,” he answers, finishing the unspoken thought.

With that, he’s out the door and you’re left alone with only stale coffee and a bunch of disorganized files to keep you company.

You close the door behind them with a sigh, letting yourself rest against it again, closing your eyes for a moment in defeat. Three days on this case. Three days of hard work, interviews, and research just to get benched in the end zone. You wish that you didn’t love Hotch, because maybe if you didn’t, it would be easier to disobey him. Opening your eyes again, you scan the quiet room. Then, something in front of you catches your eye and you get an idea.

On the table rests one of the precinct’s phones. It is all too easy to use the conference feature to listen in on one of the other phone lines: specifically, one in the bullpen.

You grin and rush over to the device, feeling a little bit sheepish for not listening to Hotch, but you push the buttons anyway, and bring the receiver up to your ear.

At first, all you hear is the shuffling of papers and muffled voices. You take a seat, leaning back in your chair like the cat who caught the canary. Several more moments pass of bureaucratic white noise, but then, someone speaks.

“Where’s the slutty one?” A male voice whispers.

“Oh, Agent Y/N? Probably on her knees somewhere waiting for her boss to come back.” A second male voice snickers back, matching the volume of the first.

You gasp, the phone slipping out of your hand, landing on the table with a loud thunk.

Scrambling, you grab it again, your other hand coming to rest over your open mouth.

“Don’t know why he wouldn’t let us use her as bait. This whole case could’ve been wrapped up and done by now if we just stuck her in a skimpy dress and shoved her out on the street.” One of them muses.

“Obviously because he’s sleeping with her.” The other mutters. “Agent Hotchner looked like he was going to take your head off when you asked him about it. Thought he was going to deck you for suggesting disguising her as a hooker to lure this guy out.”

“Yeah, he did. She looks like the victims, though. Bet she’s a whore like them too.”

“Deputies, we’re starting.” You hear a third voice pipe up. This time it’s one you recognize: it’s Hotch. “This is your final warning. I don’t want to hear another word out of you for the rest of the day. Not only is this wildly inappropriate, but it is insulting and vile. If I hear either of you speak about, look at, or interact with Agent Y/N, I will make sure you are both charged with harassment and fired from this department. Is that clear?”

With that, your eyes nearly pop out of your head. The deputies mumble something back, but you can’t hear over the sound of papers rustling.

Stunned, you set the phone back in its holder and force air into your lungs.

Waves of thoughts come crashing down on you. You have so many questions and so many answers and it’s all just… too much.

Suddenly, you know that you need to be anywhere but here.

You stand, shoving the chair aside and burst out of the conference room, fuming. You power-walk down the hall, and past the bullpen, focused on getting yourself outside and into the fresh air. Understandably, you don’t look up as you pass the profile briefing, so you don’t see Hotch’s brow furrow at the sight of you. You also don’t see him hand his papers to JJ, excuse himself, and race to follow you out the front door.

Once you’re outside in the parking lot, you look up at the cloudy, grey sky, and the tears start to fall. You feel guilty and angry; part of you wants to run away and cry, but the other part of you wants to walk straight up to those men and kick them straight in the dick. They not only called you vile names, but they also called the victims – those poor, dead women – the same. You sniffle, thinking about how Hotch stepped in and protected you, stood up for you.

Hotch… the thought of him makes you cry a little harder.

You start to pace around, kicking gravel as you went.

Were you that obvious? Was your crush so rampant that two low-level deputies in the middle of nowheresville picked up that easily on how you really felt about your boss?

“Fuck you two,” you curse under your breath to nobody as you choke back sobs. You kick a large piece of gravel as hard and as far as you can, but it doesn’t help.

“Are you okay?” A voice prods from behind you, gently, hesitantly, as if not to spook you. It’s a curt baritone, laced with concern. It’s Hotch.

“Hotch,” you breathe, turning to face him, furiously wiping tears away from your eyes.

“What happened?” He frowns, stepping closer to you, a comforting hand reaching forward to take yours.

Any other day you would grasp it contently, letting him console you. Today? All you can hear are the deputy’s comments. Sleeping with her. Whore. On her knees. You’re embarrassed and ashamed, so, you involuntarily step back.

“It’s nothing,” you put your hands up, looking down at your feet.

“Y/N,” Hotch says, his heart pounding in his chest.

You look back up, locking on his beautiful, angular face. You see every feature clouded in a haze of sorrow and concern.

You know you must swallow your pain and try to get it out. He wasn’t about to let you off easy.

“You… they… I…” you begin, but never finish your sentence. Instead, you start to cry again.

Wordlessly, Hotch moves to cup your face in his hands. They’re large and slightly calloused, encasing your cheeks as his thumbs gently swipe away the tears. His soft eyes search your watery ones; despite your better instinct, you bring your hands up to rest on his chest. You feel his breathing hitch. One of his hands moves from your face to cover your smaller hand against his chest. The two of you stay there, just like that, for another handful of heartbeats. You focus on his hands and how warm and safe they make you feel. Soon enough, you stop crying and gather the courage to speak.

“I heard them.” You whisper, not trusting yourself to say another word. You know that Hotch knows exactly who “them” is, and exactly what it is that you’ve heard.

His brow creases and his hand grips yours tighter. He cleans another tear off your cheek, and then lets that hand down to ball in a fist at his side.

“I’m going to kill them.” Hotch states, furious and heartbroken.

“Me first.” You sniffle.

Your boss sighs, giving you a heartfelt look. Leave it to you to make a joke at a time like this.

“I told them this morning that if I ever heard them say another thing about you, I was going to have their badges. I should’ve kicked them off this case hours ago.” He huffs, closing his eyes, letting his other hand, the one that was covering yours, drop down to his side.

You know this look all too well. You know he’s blaming himself.

“It’s not your fault,” you offer, smoothing your hands over his chest to settle on his upper arms. “Hotch, look at me.”

He doesn’t at first, but eventually, he opens his eyes. His hands open and close at his sides, as if he’s fighting them to be still.

“I’m sorry.” He breathes out. “For everything. For handling this how I did.”

“I’m not.” You chime in, feeling braver, calmer now that you’re here with him. Your comment earns a quizzical glance and a slight head tilt from Hotch, urging you to go on. “You stood up for me. You honoured me. You respected me. You protected me. You –“

With a fierce momentum, your next sentence is swallowed by Hotch’s lips pressing into yours. His hands come up to rest on your hips, and then circle around your waist to pull you closer. He’s warm and soft and intense; you whimper into the kiss, moving your hands to rest on the back of his neck and card in his hair. The kiss is over far too soon for your liking, both of you needing to pull back and inhale.

Hotch looks at you with heavy eyes, hands gripping your hips. He smells like coffee and pine, with a hint of something spicier. Everything about him is overwhelming yet grounding.

“Finally,” you whisper, hands clasped around his neck. “It’s about damn time.”

“It is,” is all he musters, still dazed by the audacity of his own actions.

“Aaron?” You lick your lips, feeling his hands squeeze you tight at your use of his first name.

“Yeah?” He can’t help but start to smile, showing off his adorable dimples and crinkled lines around his eyes.

“I love you; do you know that?” You say in earnest.

Aaron giggles, giggles at your confession, and then attacks your lips again, making you yelp at the surprise. His lips detach from yours only to pepper kisses on your tear-stained cheeks, jaw, and forehead.

“I love you too,” he breathes out, giddier than you’ve ever seen him. He looks like a kid in a candy shop, and it makes your heart leap into your throat.

Just then, a car beeps on the road, startling you two. You’re suddenly reminded where you are, and why you’re here. The thought of having to go back inside makes you groan, and you bury your head into his chest for a moment. He hums into your hair, planting a kiss on the top of your head.

Reluctantly, you pull yourself off his chest to look up at him.

“Forget about them,” you say, “go finish giving the profile so we can close this case and get the hell out of this town so you can take me home and show me how much you love me.” You smile at him, pulling him in for another, lighter kiss.

He grins against your lips, meeting you for another smooch.

“Yes ma’am,” Hotch replies, giving you a kiss on the tip of your nose.

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

Three months later, you and Aaron are coming down from your highs, sweaty and blissed-out after an amazing lovemaking session. After the team wrapped up the case and made it back to Virginia in one piece, you and Hotch went out to dinner the next night. He took you to dine in at the Chinese restaurant that you both usually ordered from on those nights you both spent pining and yearning in his office. It was… perfect. He was perfect. Just as your friendship had blossomed, so did your relationship. One date led to another, one gesture turned into more, and you and Aaron settled into life as a couple with ease. You hadn’t brought up the incident with the deputies since it had happened the afternoon that Hotch had followed you out to the parking lot to wipe away your tears.

Now, as you lay in his arms, wrapped in his strong, loving, embrace, your mind wanders back to their words. However, you don’t feel animosity toward them, rather it makes you giggle.

“What’s so funny hot stuff?” Aaron cracks open an eye and smiles down at you. One arm is tucked underneath his head, and the other is tracing patterns on the bare skin of your shoulder.

“Oh, just that case we had in Wisconsin a few months back.” You nuzzle deeper into his chest with another laugh.

Hotch frowns, recalling the memory, thinking about the way those awful men spoke about you.

“How is that funny?” He asks, hesitantly.

“They called me a whore.” You say nonchalantly, peering innocently into his amber eyes. You bring your palm up to swipe across his cheek softly, feeling the light stubble of his jaw underneath your fingertips.

Both of his eyes are open now, and his hand motions cease their patterns on your skin. He’s confused, and the face he’s giving you is downright adorable. It makes you giggle again.

You detach yourself from his grasp and sit yourself up, carefully shimmying down the bed. Aaron’s eyes never leave you.

You nestle yourself between his legs and look up at him with a smirk.

“They were partially right.” You offer, studying the small changes in his face, watching as his eyes glaze over with lust for the second time that night.

“I am a whore.” You pout suggestively and flutter your eyelashes. “A whore for you, Hotch.”

He shakes his head at you in amusement and chuckles, but it quickly turns into a deep, throaty moan as you wrap your lips around the tip of him.

As you start to bob your head on his already hardening length, you think to yourself: as much as I hate to say it... someone should really give those two deputies a raise.

[elius-learns-to-write]

Hey, I love all your works! If you haven’t done something similar already, could I request where R is sick + acting really clingy and the Avengers help take care of her? Emphasis on motherly Natasha x R and cuddles, because we always need more Mama Nat 🥰

Hey Bestie :) I totally agree you can never have enough Mama Nat, thank you so much for this it was really fun to write, I hope it lived up to your expectations even though it was so short. Have an amazing day <3

I am not sick

You weren’t sick

Nope not at all

The cough and the constant sneezing was normal

That is what you told yourself every time you managed to catch something

Of course, you were wrong every time

and of course, the team saw through it every time

“If you don’t admit that you are sick then I’m going to have to tell Nat that you aren’t looking after yourself” Tony sighed, disliking the situation even more than you were at this point. You see Tony had been asked to check up on you and make sure you were being sensible because your favorite avenger Nat was away on a mission. “I,” sneeze “am,” sneeze “not,” sneeze “sick!”

You definitely were. Somehow in 2 days, your state had gone from sitting on your bedroom floor contemplating life with a high temperature and a sore back to you wanting nothing more than to be glued to the genius’s side for the rest of your life. “You get clingy when you’re sick and I don’t think you have left my side in the last 2 days” the man grumbled, trying to get to the workbench across the room to grab the screwdriver he needed to tweak the project he was working on, “rude” you muttered back waiting for the man to return form his lonely trip to soak up more of his body heat.

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

You felt the vibrations of Sam's laugh echo through your chest and pound at the door of your head, a reminder to take paracetamol when you had the energy to get up again. “Sam no laugh make my head hurt” you spoke into the man's side, his grip on you tightening as he whispered an apology and went back to quietly arguing with Bucky about why he needed to get a magnet of Sams's face for his arm.

Everyone had been counting the days until Nat would be back home

For 2 reasons: 1. They knew they would get a telling off for letting you get sick and 2. It meant they could have some time without you hanging off their arm

Don’t get me wrong cuddly y/n was great but after a day or 2 it got a bit frustrating

You missed her too

She was like another to you and all you wanted to do was curl up in her arms as she stroked your hair and read you a story

Thank God you were asleep when she came home so you missed her telling them all off

“Where’s Y/n?” Nat asked when you weren’t there to greet her at the jet like you normally were, walking towards her Steve replied “they got sick, so they’re just sleeping it off right now”. Nats eyebrows shot so far up that Steve was surprised they didn’t fly off her face “THEY WHAT?”. As she ran inside she decided that giving them a lecture would be easiest without a tried and sick teenager by her side. “Who let them get sick?” She asked, face set in a glare as she addressed the group who minutes previously had been watching an episode of friends. “I made sure they went out with a coat every time they left the house” Tony was quick to defend himself hands up in surrender, “well I made sure to cook hot and filling meals every day” Bruce chimed in voice rising an octave as if Tony and just pushed the blame onto him. As the group went through their reasons of innocence it was clear to Natasha that no one was going to fess up so instead of worrying about who did it she focused her attention on you.

Meanwhile, you had woken up

It’s not like the heroes knew how to be quite

You knew that with all the noise it meant Nat had come home

And so you closed your eyes, a soft sleepy smile playing on your face and waited.

The door creaked open as the assassin tiptoed into your room, the bed dipping under her weight “Hey my little Firecracker” she whispered slowly wrapping her arms around. Grinning lazily back at her “Hey mum” you replied snuggling further into her arms and drifting back into the quiet comfort of sleep leaving the woman to keep her happiness at bay. At least until you were better.

You spent the rest of your days recovering in her arms

Talking about whatever your fever field head could come up with like:

“If I went to the doctors and they cut off my thumb would they let me keep it”

“Can you imagine having an argument with Thor over pop tarts, oh wait I did, do you remember that silly cat?”

“I like moss balls, they look so happy”

She might not be your biological mother but that doesn’t mean she won't hold you just as tight when you need her

[seiyasabi]

Idolised

(Here’s a Yandere Todo Aoi x Female Reader story :P I wrote up the layout for this a while ago, and I’m currently madly in love w him, so here we are! 

Thank you all so much for your support and being so understanding of my situation. I love you all so much ;)

TW: !noncon/dubcon!, !Has a whole ass shrine dedicated to you, you literally don’t know he exists lmao, !claims he's ur bf to everyone, manipulation!, intimidation!, sort of kidnapping!, !forced cunnilingus!, etc.. 

Please proceed with caution!)

“(Your Name)-Chan, why didn’t you tell us that you have a boyfriend?” You slowly stop chewing, chopsticks going slack in your hand. Eyes darting towards your friend Mika, you raise an unamused eyebrow. 

“What are you talking about, Mika-Chan? I don’t have a boyfriend,” All of your girlfriends look at each other, unbelieving of your claim. All giggle, thinking that you’re just being shy. 

“Ne~ don’t be coy! It’s okay to tell us about your boyfriend! From the pictures I’ve seen, he’s quite handsome, huh?” At this point, you’re completely confused. Are they pranking you? You don’t have a boyfriend! 

“I genuinely have no idea what you’re talking about-“ The seat next to you slides out, and a hulking figure plops itself down on the wooden chair, the wood creaking horrifically underneath their weight. 

Their arm wraps around the back of your own chair, practically engulfing you in the crook of their enormous elbow, “Hey, Pretty Girl. I’m sorry that I’m late, you know how late my classes run sometimes.” 

You’re too scared to even turn towards the large man, choosing instead to look at your friends with a horrified expression. They don’t notice it, too busy ogling at the apparent eye candy next to you, “Uhm, I’m sorry, but who are you? And why do they think that you’re my boyfriend?” An awkward silence immediately follows after, the man’s hand gripping the wood behind you so hard that it creaks. 

He forces a deep laugh, which sounds quite menacing. He moves his hand onto your back, his warm palm felt through your stylish top, “You’re so funny, (Nickname)-Chan! It’s alright, you don’t need to hide me anymore. I messaged your girls last week, they know about us.” 

“Yeah, (First Name)-Chan! It’s okay! We think you’re both so adorable,” They practically fawn over the two of you, trying to push you closer into each other’s arms. The man next to you takes this in stride, practically hauling your chair up next to his. His arm is now fully around you, as you lean in close to your hair and neck. He inhaled deeply, a satisfied grunt rumbling through his chest. 

“Don’t do anything stupid, (Your Name)-Chan. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll follow my every whim,” Tears of fear and anxiety bead your eyes, which your friends take as relief that you’re no longer hiding away from them. 

“Don’t cry, (First Name)-Chan! It’s okay! We all support you wholeheartedly!” 

The rest of the lunch consisted of you being extremely uncomfortable, and your closest friends being none the wiser. Somehow, they don’t notice how you constantly inch away from him, only to be dragged back to his side. Somehow, they don’t know how he’s whispering mild threats into your ear. 

But, through this time, you learned the name of your so-called ‘boyfriend.’ Todo Aoi, the beast currently keeping you glued to your seat in fear. He’s so much bigger than you, so much faster, seemingly so much smarter. 

“Bye, (First Name)-Chan, Bye, Todo-Kun! It was nice to meet you!” Your friends wave the two of you off, one of his large hands securely on the small of your back. His grip is bruising, controlling. Todo practically pushes you towards an unknown destination, your body only able to continue forward, whether you wanted it to or not. 

“I’m proud of you, (First Name)-Chan. I knew my girl was smart, beautiful, and capable. This just proved it to me,” A small whimper escapes your throat, as fresh tears bead your eyes. 

“Why are you doing this? What do you want from me?” A booming laugh is heard, practically shaking the ground below you, causing you to flinch. 

“Why am I doing this? Well, I’m doing this, because I love you. I want us to be together, so we’re going home,” He says this as if it solved all of your problems. 

“But we don’t know each other, why even bother-“ 

“We know each other. I saved your life, remember?” For the first time tonight, you look at him. His distinct scar immediately catches your attention- this man did, in fact, save your life. Two months prior, someone or something shoved you onto some train tracks, right in front of an oncoming train. In a mere moment, the bulky man grabbed you from the tracks, and hopped back up onto the platform, effectively saving your life. 

“I-Bu-But what? We met only once, and-“ He shushes you, forcing you closer to his side, his entire hand practically engulfing your waist. 

“There’s no need to worry. In that Moment, I knew that you were meant to be my beautiful Princess. You need me to care for you, and I’m up for the task.” 

“Princess? Sir, I think you need help! We’ve only talked once, and while I’m grateful for you saving my life, I think this is excessive! Please let me go!” 

He ignores you, sighing dreamily about what the two of you will get up to. Todo couldn’t wait to add more to your shrine at home! He’ll be sure to get as much dirty clothes, used tissues, and everything else he could ever want! 

Forcing you into an upper class loft building, he guides you by the small of your spine into a lift, disregarding the old woman inside. She looks at you as if the both of you are the most adorable couple she’s ever seen, making you shift in discomfort. Todo takes it in stride, practically preening under her gaze, but pretending it has no effect on him. 

He nonchalantly presses his floor’s number, before placing that hand on your hip, and rubbing it in circular motions. You try to move away from him, but his grip is solid. 

Before long, the lift stops on his floor, and he pushes you out. You stumble into the area outside of his front door- his home being the only one on the entire floor. The door itself has a pin pad on its handle, which he quickly typed in, once he’s directly in front of it, leading you to believe that there’s most likely a second pin pad on the other side. 

Once you hear the click of the door being unlocked, Todo moves away from the entryway, and motions you inside, “Go ahead, Princess.” 

In a Moment of defiance, you shake your Head no, “I think this has gone on long enough,” His eyes narrow slightly, yet you continue, practically shaking in your shoes, “I-I don’t want to go inside. Please let me go home.” 

His booming laughter fills the small space, as he shakes his head in disbelief, “You’re adorable, (Nickname)-Chan! Now, go inside before I become angry.” The bite in his final words forces you forward, into his dark flat. 

He flicks on the light switch the moment you step inside, momentarily blinding you. Once you’re able to blink away the dots swimming in your vision, you’re greeted with a fairly normal sight. The living room, kitchen, and dining room are conjoined in an open concept, making the large place seem even larger. Two hallways branch off on either side of the large room, most likely leading to a master, a guest room, bathroom, and an office. 

“What do you think? I read in a magazine that women like clean homes, so I deep clean this flat at least once a week.” 

You aren’t sure what to say, but you nod along anyway, “Yes, it’s very nice.” He beams down at you, cheeks practically stretching to the fullest extent. 

“This shows that I know how to make women happy! I believe that’s a redeeming quality,” You awkwardly give him the side eye, “Oh, don’t look at me like that, silly girl! I have many more redeeming qualities if that one isn’t good enough. Now,” He clasps your shoulder with a large hand, “Why don’t I show you our bedroom?” 

“Our?” Your eyes are practically bugging out of your skull, as he nods gleefully. 

“We’re a couple, aren’t we? And couples share everything with each other.” 

With that, he practically drags you down the left hallway. There’s only one door at the end of the hall, signalling that this is the master bedroom. With one hand, he pushes open the door, before coaxing you inside. His hand that was previously on your shoulder migrates to the bottom of your spine. The room is a mixture of black and your favourite colour, showcasing that this room is the both of yours. 

The bed is quite large, most likely to accommodate your large captor and yourself, “I thought you’d like that your favourite colour is in here.” 

You say nothing, tears beading your eyes. You wring your hands in anxiety, as he leads you to the bed. He sits you down on the edge, before kneeling in front of you. Todo leans forward, resting on your thighs, all whilst still practically towering over you even when sitting. 

“Why’re you crying, Princess? There’s no reason to,” He swipes under your eye the moment the first tear falls. 

“Why am I crying? You must be joking! You-you just kidnapped me!” He shushes you once more, causing a spark of anger to course through you. He hasn’t listened to a single complaint you’ve voiced! “Stop doing that! It’s rude! I’m allowed to be upset-“ 

With two massive hands, he forces your thighs open, “I know your work has you stressed, Pretty Girl- why don’t you let me calm you down?” He pushes his hands up your thighs, your skirt barely covering your pussy,  allowing his thumbs to ghost over your panty clad cunny. 

You try to thrash out of his hold, pushing against his hands, “No! Let go of me!” Your thrashing does nothing, as just the weight of his forearms we’re enough to press your thighs to the bed. His left hand rubs against your clit and hole, trying to make you as wet as possible. You try to push against his forearms, but he presses down harder. 

His thumb rubs fluidly over your clit in an even pressure. Your hips press up, trying to buck him off, but it only causes him to press down harder. In no time, you’re growing wet against his ministrations. You choke back your whines, smacking his arms, before pushing against his head which hovers just above your cunt. 

“Do you feel that, Princess? You’re getting so wet!” He suddenly presses his open mouth against your mound, tongue matching pace with his thumb. A moan escapes your throat before you can stop it, halting the large man in his tracks. You sound so perfect to him! 

In one swift motion, he yanks your panties down your legs, and tosses them onto the mattress beside you. You try to close your legs, but it’s no use. I’m seconds, he has your thighs presses as far open as they can go, and his face is buried in your pretty cunny. His tongue dips into your folds, savouring your taste, before flicking against your clit. 

His tongue rubs against your clit in swift, smooth motions, quickly causing you to grow wetter than before. Your slick drips down your cunny, coating your ass and inner thighs. More moans escape your mouth, as you writhe against him. 

“Sto-Stop! Oh my god-“ He gives a small laugh at your begs, eating you out faster than before. Loud slurps and ‘mms’ are heard throughout the room, as you quickly go over the edge. Your juices squirt out of your cunny, coating his chin and his shoulders in slick. A loud keen is heard throughout the room. 

The mixture of your wonderful cum and loud moans causes the large man to bust a load in his pants. He groans against you, causes your thighs to tremble in overstimulation. Todo removes himself from your pussy (not before licking up as much slick as possible), and smiles up at you. 

“You’re so wonderful, (Nickname)-Chan! I should’ve done this sooner!” 

[foli-vora]

my girl

A/N: look, I don’t even fucking know. I saw the reference picture and my mind just went absolutely feral. What started out as what could be a simple threesome, soon turned into this—whatever the fuck this is. I refuse to apologise. I enjoyed this ride and will now throw this out into the abyss like a grenade and run back to the safety of my blankets, ashamed to ever return.

This is for @autumnleaves1991-blog Writers Wednesday ❤️ such an incredible idea! Thank you for letting me join in!

Pairing: Dave York x f!reader x Francisco “Catfish” Morales

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: this is straight up filth. FILTH. SMUT 18+ NO MINORS!! Swearing, alcohol, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), lactation kink—not everyone’s cup of tea, I get it... dirty talk, Dave’s a bastard and Frankie’s a pussy eating king—both things we know by now. Um, enjoy, I guess?

+

“Fuck.”

You laugh lightly, head falling back onto Dave’s shoulder as Frankie drops his cards to the table with a drawn out sigh.

“You can’t lie for shit, Morales.”

He shoots a half hearted glare at Dave, crossing his arms stubbornly. “I don’t think that’s a bad thing, York.”

You snort quietly, fingers intertwining with the hand resting comfortably on your thigh. “It’s not a good thing, either. Drink up.”

“Two against one is hardly fair.”

Dave grins, momentarily pressing against your back to reach for his own beer before reclining comfortably back in the chair, pulling you tighter against him as he goes. “You say that like she’s a threat—she’s as hopeless as you.”

“Rude.”

The sun still warms your shoulders as it starts it’s descent below the heavy tree line behind your property, the bright summer glow fading into something softer, more relaxing, and you eye the mess of paper plates, cups and random toys strewn about in the yard—the leftover destruction of your sons first birthday.

Dave’s fingers softly pinch your chin and return your focus to the table and the drinking game currently taking place, coaxing another beer into your hands while he kisses softly below your ear. “Stop looking at it—we’ll do it in the morning.”

“Yeah, when I’m long gone.” Frankie mutters, grinning at you before tipping his head back and polishing off another can while Dave laughs quietly.

He liked Dave. The guy was strange sometimes, what with his out of town work and mysterious friends that made the hairs on the back of Frankie’s neck stand, but Dave was a good guy... adored the absolute hell out of you and that’s all that mattered. He served, too, but unlike Frankie choosing to retire, he took up an opportunity with the CIA. Not too shabby.

Frankie’s checking in with his babysitter a little while later, having lost again, when he hears a little moan. His eyes move towards the sound before he can help it.

What the fuck?

Frankie shifts in his seat, not looking straight at the pair of you in fear of fucking flat out moaning. He chalks it up to just not being with someone for a while but wow. He could see you from the corner of his eye, see Dave’s hands and the way they move to squeeze and pinch at your tits as his mouth practically devours yours. You’re complete putty in his hands, melting into his lap and taking whatever he gives you hungrily.

Maybe he should go.

Fuck. Did you just whimper?

Jesus. He needs to leave now.

“I’ll head off... give you two some space—”

Dave’s low voice stops his rise from the chair, his ass hanging awkwardly over the seat as eyes that match his in colour and depth zero in on him from across the table. “What’s the rush, Morales?”

“No rush. I just don’t want to intrude—”

“You’re not. Sit down. Have another beer.”

Say no. Say no.

“Sure.”

He resettles in the chair, immediately reaching for another can as wonders why he suddenly feels so fucking studied under Dave’s watchful gaze.

“So how long have you wanted to fuck my wife?”

You blink in shock, “David!”

Frankie just about chokes. Beer spills from his lips and he hacks a cough in surprise, sleeve catching the drops of liquid that fall from his chin. Fuck. Fucking shit. What the fuck is he meant to do? He’s gonna get his ass kicked, and if he’s being honest with himself, he fucking deserves it.

He should’ve fucking left.

“Man, I swear—” He swears what? He can tell by the way Dave’s looking at him that the man already knows. He’s not angry—not even a little bit. He’s just... smug. And curious. What kind of fucking game is this guy playing?

“Oh god, Frankie, I’m so sorry—please ignore him. David, what’s the fucking matter with you?!”

You bristle when he blatantly ignores you, instead raising a brow in challenge at Frankie. “Am I wrong?”

Frankie works his jaw, eyes narrowing slightly as he tries to work out Dave’s play. He doesn’t seem to be looking for a fight. Doesn’t seem to be doing it out of spite or wanting to upset you. He has no idea how to act, what to fucking say.

Dave nods, grinning. “Thought as much.”

His hand cups your chest, squeezing the flesh softly, and you squirm in his touch, cheeks flooding with embarrassment for your friend as Frankie swallows uncomfortably, eyes immediately finding the crushed cans on the table. “Dave—”

“He doesn’t mind—do you, Morales?”

You watch in slight surprise as Frankie’s eyes flutter to your chest, watching the way Dave handles you roughly before they’re moving away again, almost shy.

“It’s alright. You can watch. Can’t he, honey?”

And then Frankie’s looking at you, eyes unsure and questioning but burning with something that has a thrill running along your spine. You nod quietly, heart beating unsteadily as Frankie’s eyes widen slightly, body squirming in the chair.

“If—if you want to.”

He exhales softly, now watching with rapt attention as Dave brings both hands up, undoing each button of your dress until your modest cotton bra is on show, nipples poking through and straining against the fabric. He feels the air leave his lungs the second Dave pulls at the cups, spilling your tits out to the open air and his wandering gaze. He can’t help but make a noise at the sight of them, cock hardening to the point of discomfort as Dave massages them softly, your eyes rolling a little as he pinches at your nipples.

Frankie stiffens in the chair, breath catching and stomach dropping.

Fucking shit—

Dave hums lowly in appreciation, feeling a warm dribble across his thumb and fingers as you squirm from the familiar tingle in your breasts. “She’s trying to stop and dry it up, but it takes a while, doesn’t it, honey? Not that I care—more for me in the long run.”

Frankie almost whines. Fucking whines. He catches it just before it falls from his throat, close to embarrassment. Dave knows—the bastard. You look so good. So fucking good. Fuck, there’s so much—

“Have a taste.”

You moan softly at the idea, and Dave hushes you softly as he presses a kiss to your throat.

Frankie eyes the milk that falls from your nipple before glancing up and meeting Dave’s gaze, lips pursing in thought despite the way his cock throbs in his jeans. What was the ulterior motive here? Was it a test? Was he just looking for a reason to knock him out? Does he even care?

Dave watches him, expression unwavering, almost teasing as he coaxes more milk from your tits and runs his fingers through the warm stream sliding down your skin.

“What’s the catch?” Frankie eventually asks, voice hoarse, and Dave grins.

“No catch.”

Did he get up too fast? By the way Dave laughs at him, he probably did. He doesn’t care. He can’t get around the stupid fucking glass table quick enough.

Frankie drops to his knees in front of you, attention completely focused on the way Dave squeezes gently at your nipple and draws more milk from your tit.

He wants to double check. He knows Dave would never push you to do something you didn’t want to, but there’s been a bit of alcohol involved, and even though he knows your tolerance level is much higher than a few beers, hell—even tequila doesn’t bring you down, checking doesn’t hurt. “Are you—”

You nod, “It’s okay, Frankie.”

“Go on.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Frankie’s lip attach to you the second Dave opens his mouth, his tongue running immediately over your nipple and groaning when the taste of your milk sinks into his taste buds. So fucking sweet. You whine into Dave’s ear when Frankie increases his pressure, greedy for more as you flood his mouth, and your stomach tightens at Dave’s low hum.

“Feel good, honey?” He asks quietly, other hand cupping and rolling your free nipple in his hand as Frankie moans softly against your skin, the prickle of his facial hair so different to Dave’s clean shaven face, but no less pleasant.

“S-so good—”

Dave’s fingers gently pinch at the hem of your dress, sliding it up along your thighs and pooling it above your waist before coaxing your thighs open a little more, Frankie immediately moving into the free space as soon as he could. Dave pulls your panties to the side, running his fingers through your slick folds with a low groan.

“You’re so fucking wet. Do you like him sucking on your tits?”

You whine quietly, hips arching into the two fingers that swirl around your entrance before they slide in and curl against your hot walls. He moves slowly, dragging them almost lazily in and out of your pussy as he feels more of your arousal coat his hand.

“Yeah, you do like it—so does he. Do you think he can hear how wet you are, baby? Do you think he can hear my fingers move in this greedy little cunt?”

Frankie groans. Loudly. He’d be embarrassed if he wasn’t so fucking turned on. He can hear it. It’s driving him fucking mad. He wants to look, wants to watch how your face moves as Dave finds that spot deep along your walls, but he can’t pull away from you. Not yet. If this is the only chance he gets to do this, then he’s taking it and fucking running.

Dave’s gentle as he pulls his fingers from you, swirling his slick soaked fingers around and over your nipple before coaxing Frankie to the other side. The obscene groan that vibrates against your chest sends flutters through your entire body as Frankie laps at your skin with a ravenous frenzy, tongue smoothing over every bit of wet skin he could find before latching onto your nipple without abandon.

Dave picks up on it immediately. “Easy. You hurt her, I hurt you.”

A tongue smoothes over your nipple in silent apology, and your fingers run through the flattened curls of Frankie’s hat hair in acceptance, his face nuzzling against your skin as you bring him closer. Dave’s fingers return to your pussy, leisurely circling your clit, swollen and throbbing from lack of attention.

“Do you want to cum, honey?”

The needy whine that leaves your mouth has him cooing into the side of your face, fingers picking up speed and pressure at the desperate little buck of your hips.

“Maybe if you ask Francisco nicely, he’ll eat this pretty pussy until you cum.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

Is he serious?

Frankie shudders against you, cock straining so fucking hard against his jeans he almost wants to cry. He’d beg if he has to. If that tiny little taster Dave gave him was anything to go by, you’d drive him fucking wild.

“P-please Frankie—”

Dave tuts lowly in your ear, “‘Please Frankie’—you can do better than that. He can’t hear you.”

“Fuck. Please—”

“Please what?”

“Please eat my pussy—please—”

Dave winds his fingers into Frankie’s hair and tugs sharply, the other man detaching from your tit with a wet smack of his lips. He eyes the small trail of milk sliding into Frankie’s beard and scoffs quietly, “Messy.”

Frankie’s already flushed cheeks darken even further, but he doesn’t care. All he cares about is how fucking stunning you look, legs spread and face morphed in ecstasy as Dave rubs over your clit with a shadow of a smirk—the man knew he drove you crazy.

God, so fucking wet—

You’re dripping. He can see it. He watches the way your entrance flutters, pussy clenching hungrily around nothing as Dave slows his movements.

“Well? You heard her.” He parts your folds, baring you in all your slick fucking glory, and Frankie all but fucking loses his god damn mind. He dives in, uncaring that Dave’s fingers are there and his tongues probably running over them more than he cares to count. Dave doesn’t seem to mind.

The cry that falls from your lips has Frankie pressing forward, mouth pressing greedily against you as his tongue works at your pussy, lapping at your weeping entrance before lathing attention to your clit, tightening his lips around the nerve and letting his tongue massage over it.

“Oh fuck, Frankie—”

Dave hums, curved nose trailing softly along the side of your face as you thrash in his arms, bucking into the mouth that all but fucking devours your pussy. His tries to ignore the way you shift on his lap, the way your ass drags so fucking nicely over his hard cock straining under you, tries to ignore the delicious fucking sounds coming from both you and Frankie, but he can only endure so much.

He bites into your shoulder, eyes tightening as he fights off the waves of tempting bliss tingling at the base of his spine. Not yet. He wants more.

“Come on, baby. He’s been so good—cum on his mouth. Give it to him.”

Your body thrums with waves of electricity at Dave’s words, each swipe of Frankie’s tongue driving you further and further until you’re stiffening, Dave cooing quiet praises and quickly slapping a firm hand over your mouth as you find your peak, crying out and shaking in his arms as Frankie holds onto your thighs, tongue burying itself in your fluttering pussy to take everything you give him.

Your cries turn into whines, and soon you’re squirming, trying to get away from Frankie’s mouth. He takes the message before Dave can intervene, pulling away with a shaky exhale and desperately trying not to blow his load in his fucking jeans. He had a feeling Dave would never let him live it down, but it was so fucking hard not to. You were wrecked.

He watches you come down from your high from the floor between your thighs, heart hammering as Dave softly runs his fingers along your skin, voice almost silent as he murmurs in your ear. Dark eyes are soon on him and Frankie briefly worries he’s overstepping his welcome, until Dave speaks.

“That’s what you get when you lose, Morales. Imagine what you’ll get if you win. Deal ‘em.” Dave nods to the cards on the table, acting like he didn’t have you still trembling in his arms with your tits out, and dress bunched around your hips with your pussy still spread and quivering.

Frankie swallows, nodding silently and moving back to his seat, reaching for the cards with a sudden urge to win and wipe that fucking smirk off of Dave’s face.

+

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[erodasfishtacos]

can you write something about cheating harry and yn acting like a proper couple in front of anna, like harry with his arm around her and kissing her head and stuff, and anna is just standing there fuming and maybe tries to get physical with yn

Love Your Broken Pieces

-

warnings: cheating; mentions of trauma and domestic abuse

if you enjoy please consider donating $3 to my ko fi.

(any donations over $15 get a guaranteed blurb written of their choosing!)

reblog, like, comment, & come chat!

-

YN really really didn’t want to go out.

She wasn’t going to tell Harry that because it was a celebratory dinner for him because he’d just won Entrperur of the yearand she wasn’t going to ruin it.

It’s not that she didn’t want to celebrate his achievement.

She was so so proud of him but her therapy session had got moved up a day because the therapist had to go out of town.

YN didn’t want to bother him so she had went herself without telling him.

It was trauma-focused therapy which meant it was intensive, draining, and overall triggering at time.

Today had sparked a new memory that she had suppressed and she was really struggling to get through the day without his support.

She shouldn’t need him for everything. It wasn’t fair to him.

So she’d sat on her bed for thirty minutes before she managed to pull on a nice dress before curling her hair - zoning out and accidentally burning herself lightly.

Harry had to pick up Anna, offered to pick up YN.

“Hey pup, y’want me t’pick you up on the way?” Harry had called while she was swiping on mascara.

“No, I’ll just Uber,” YN try to keep her tone light but couldn’t stomach sitting in the car with that disgusting woman right now.

“No, let me come get you,” He insists, always preferring to drive her around over some stranger.

“I really don’t want to be in the car with Anna, okay? Just drop it,” YN replies a bit too tersely.

There’s a pregnant pause.

“What’s wrong, puppy?” Harry knows her much to well.

She couldn’t help but bristle, “Nothing. I just have to get ready. Okay? I’ll see you there.”

YN shouldn’t have hung up like that but her hands were shaking and it was taking all of her might to pull herself together to go.

“It’s all your fuckin’ fault your mum hates me,” Her dad had spat at her, right in the kitchen after dinner.

“Fuck,” She mumbles to herself as she drops her lipstick and it rolls under the dresser.

—

She canceled two Ubers before she found a driver who didn’t seem intimidating.

It made her fashionably late, everyone already seated, and it doesn’t make it any better when Anna greets her.

“About time. Can’t even make it at a respectable time for your supposed best friend’s dinner.”

Anna and Gemma both make a grimacing face at the rude comment but Harry interrupts before they interject, “S’okay, Uber’s can be a pain in the arse.”

“Er, yeah. The Uber…” YN mumbles lowly, there was an empty seat across from Harry that had been saved for her.

She could feel Harry’s eyes following her, studying her as she kept her head down and looked on the verge of tears.

“You look too much like your goddamn mother.”

“What d’you want to drink?” Harry asks softly, tapping her foot under the table.

“God Harry, she’s not a child,” Anna rolls her eyes as she glances over her menu.

Harry glares over at her with a strict warning glance that she needs to change her attitude or there is gonna be an issue.

“Just water,” YN replies, swallowing hard.

He knows somethings wrong when she doesn’t bite back at her, instead looking down at the menu like it’s the most interesting thing ever.

Harry had already known by the phone call.

There were quite a few people at the dinner, constantly engaging him in conversation as YN kept to herself.

It’s after the appetizer’s arrive that he can’t stand her fake smiles and attempts to seem like she’s enjoying herself.

“Outside, now,” Harry says firmly, not a question but a statement.

“Harry, don’t,” Anna huffs, not liking the private attention her enemy is about to get.

“I don’t remember askin’ you,” He hisses under his breath before following YN’s retreating figure to the main entrance.

They end up in the small alleyway, “Tell me what’s going on.”

YN’s eyes are moody, putting back on a nonchalant expression that would work for anyone but him, “I’m fine, I don’t know why you’re making a big deal. Let’s go enjoy your dinner.”

Harry backs her up against the brick wall, hand over her shoulder, “We’re not goin’ anywhere until you tel me. M’not stupid.”

It triggers something because she starts sniffling, whispers, “You’re going to be mad at me.”

His hard facial features relax, pressing his forehead to hers, “Please pup, y’know I love you no matter what.”

“My therapist moved our session to today. I went and uh…” YN begins to full on cry, burying her face in her hands.

“C’mon, tell me,” He encourages softly.

“It triggered a repressed memory. I…I didn’t want to ruin tonight for you. I fuck up everything for you already,” She chokes out, letting him pry her hands away.

“Puppy,” He murmurs with a laugh of disbelief, “I fuckin’ wake up everyday because of you. You make my life worth livin’. I’m not happy unless y’are.”

“I just…didn’t want tonight to go like this,” YN sighs quietly, “One night without my trauma.”

“Hey, hey. We’re workin’ through it together, yeah? It takes time. Y’made the effort to come and that means more to me than anything else,” He says truthfully, tilting her chin up.

Harry melts a bit when she leans up to give him a lightening fast peck, “I am so proud of all your accomplishments.”

“Wouldn’t have done any of it without you, sweet girl,” He rubs a thumb under her eye to wipe off a streak of makeup.

They stand outside for a minute longer in a tight hug.

-

When they walk back into the restaurant, Harry quietly asks Gemma to switch YN seats which she graciously agrees without a fuss.

Anna is shooting daggers at YN while the change happens and Harry pushes in her seat for her.

The whole dinner consists of Anna fuming and hanging on every single movement between the two despite her hand on Harry’s thigh.

When he scoops up a bit of his mashed potatoes and feeds them to YN, laughs when she makes a face at the amount of chives mixed in.

It’s like he doesn’t even noticed the casual arm he occasionally throws around the back of YN’s seat as they chat.

“Harry,” YN scolds with a small smile when he steals a shrimp from her plate when she’s not looking.

Anna had shrimp too and he didn’t look once to do that to her.

“S’good, here, have a bite of m’steak. Know Y’don’t like it rare but s’good. I promise,” He encourages, cutting her a thick piece.

How the fuck did Harry know how YN liked her steak?

He didn’t even remember Anna’s favorite color.

“Y’gettin’ sleepy?” Harry whispers to YN towards the end of the meal, his lips are nearly brushing her ear and Anna pinches his thigh hard.

“Fuck,” Harry replies, flinching away from the pain as he turns to his girlfriend, “Wha’ did you do that for?”

“Can you pay at least a little bit of attention to me? I’m your girlfriend despite how much YN wants to pretend she is,” Anna says haughtily, loud enough for her to hear.

Harry is about to snap on her but instead YN speaks up first, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know jealously was on the menu. Eat up, Anna.”

Anna begins to sneer but Harry says, “Why don’t you go take a second in the bathroom? Then we can talk, okay?”

With a little stubbornness, she does - stomping away from the table without looking back at YN who had rolled her eyes.

“Y’on my menu tonight? A bath and cuddle sounds nice,” He offers to his love, thumbing her upper thigh.

“So nice,” YN agrees, “Can we use that sugar cookie bath bomb?”

“Of course, anythin’ you want, m’pup,” Harry hums sweetly, kissing the top of her head.

Anna is walking back when she sees it.

He’s cheating on me.

It flashes through her mind but she pushes it away because she reminds herself that YN is a pathetic little clingy girl who Harry wouldn’t ever like that way.

—

Later that night, Harry holds YN as she recount her memory.

Praises her for being so strong.

Kisses her because he loves her so much it hurts most days.

Assures her that he’ll love her even if she’s never ‘fixed’.

Promises that he’ll never let anyone hurt her again.

—

I’d love feedback 🥺

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