#so it might just me being kind of a glass half empty kind of person. im pleasantly surprised

[qoldenskies]

wow caged lungs did. a lot better than i expected it to in its first day. like 13 comments when im not really a large person in the fandom at all is so shocking to me. like ngl i thought only like five people were gonna read it in total BAHGHJDGHHH

its definitely motivating me to get working on the second part though!!! even when i finish it i might wait a while to let the first one sit a bit but still.... agh thank you all so much for the appreciation

[galene-gothic]

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗏𝗌. 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗎𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾’𝗌 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗒

୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ I hope this reading found you in good health, every reblog is appreciated and thank you for everything :) ˖♡ ˎˊ˗ ꒰ 🐇 ꒱

ˏˋ༻ʚ♡︎ɞ༺ˎˊ˗             PAID SERVICES TIP JAR

⊹ ! ೀ Pile 1 ꒱

꒰ Your current personality ꒱

You are someone who has dealt with aggression or passive aggression from other people who created drama in your life. These people were I’m hearing - egoistic, competitive and jealous, the kind to see the glass half empty. The energy that I’m getting is a group of ‘friends’ ganging up against you, just for the fun of it, so that they could possibly knock you down to a peg. That’s what their purpose seems to have been. Also, recently, if not throughout life, you’ve dealt with other people just disliking you, trying to humiliate you, backhanded jokes, mean comments to your face, etc. There was just this aggression that you could pick up from other people, even if they didn’t say anything, in fact, this energy might be even stronger now. Let me give you a simple question, did you achieve something, start working or just earning in some way? If yes, there’s your answer right there. Every time you’ll achieve something as simple as a small internal or external accomplishment, you’re going to have other people start feeling all worked up towards you for no reason. It is going to amplify the strongest when you get your first job/salary/earning of some sort and when you get into a relationship with someone. Right now, you are working through your shadows and revelations that came forth due to power struggle between you, and others that you decided to peacefully step out of while you had been forced into isolation or taken up solitude. You have an interesting personality as in, you like when others are jealous of you and there’s some drama due to it because it’s flattering but at the same, you don’t enjoy it because you’re someone who seeks peace. I just heard Regina George’s “and I was like ‘why are you so obsessed with me?’” You can’t deny that you do find it flattering how people seem to be kind of obsessed with you to some extent honestly. This is something you do not express outwardly to most people though. You are someone who is finding the strength to feel the beauty in life after a pretty long time. ‘Epiphany’ by Jin of BTS is the energy that I’m getting here. While, you were in this period of solitude, feeling weak and tired from the extreme aggression that you seem to have received from either a group of people or different people around the same time, you realised that you’re the one you should love and take care of. There were days when you couldn’t get out of bed without really really pushing yourself to do it but now, it’s just not as bad, you seem to be more enthusiastic about taking care of yourself. You have an iron heart but not in a bad way, you’re just very firm as a person in the actions that you take. You hold a silent power that you operate with and I’m calling this silent power because despite your actual personality and character being a certain way, you’re perceived to be pretty soft as a person. You’re someone who seems to fear abandonment and attachment, possibly due to your past experiences because you seem to have walked away from people and you’re firm in the decisions you make in regards to your life. No matter what you were like in the past, now if you choose to walk away, that’s it, you’ve walked away. You’re so much of a peace seeker that you avoid anyone you can if they even slightly disrupt your peace. People tend to view you as this loving person who’s emotionally volatile, insecure, uncertain about themselves and easy to manipulate. Also, someone warm with good intentions and very imaginative.

Which is why they think you’d be easy to manipulate because they may assume that they can sell you dreams and fantasies but little do they know, you demand and expect respect from others. They don’t realise that while you are a pretty peaceful person who is actively working on themselves, you crave power strongly. They don’t realise that you’ll always end up finding a way to have the upper-hand in any situation. I’m not sure what it is but you lack certain morals when you stop caring about people. You’re very in control of yourself by this point, in the past you used to think that knowledge was power so you tried to keep the other person mentally stimulated in order to keep them in your life, and you could have expressed certain thoughts in a more forceful and pushy manner but you may have realised that this is a trait of yours, and might be trying to get rid of it for the best? You’ve become very stern hearted as in, you don’t mind leaving people and situations without thinking much or without much evidence? You don’t really have it in you to wait it out anymore. Once you walk away, you also become closed off to communication in any form. You are someone who fakes happiness but still very in touch with your negative emotions, thoughts and patterns internally. Emotionally, you like for connections to develop naturally and kind of slowly, you’re someone who doesn’t jump into being all passionate and lovey dovey with someone as soon as you meet them. You’re like “I only know them for two weeks, I don’t know if they’re even a good person at all. They probably do not hold any loyalty towards me this early on, I do not need to trust them yet” is the way you approach connections these days, whether you’re aware of it or not. You’re also someone who carries most of your emotions by yourself. Even in your connections with others in the past, you’ve been the one to carry the most of the burdens. The connections wouldn’t even have carried on that long if it wasn’t for you doing all if not most of the work. However, now you’re someone who is driven towards goals and on a dedicated mission to succeed, that’s why your emotions seem to be much more reliant on yourself and your own progress than other people, and interpersonal connections. There have been situations that led you to ending some sort of conflict (or multiple ones) and detach caused you to feel powerless, underestimated, unworthy and manipulated in some way? You are focused on taking your power back now because you’ve realised that you’re not powerless? Like, ‘things can only hold power for as long as you let it hold your attention’ is what I heard. You’re trying to get more in control of your life but you’re not doing so in a restrictive manner. You’re releasing any and every old bond, one by one and have grown resistant to many kinds of temptations that you would have fallen for in the past. You’re breaking free as a person and developing more audacity in the best way possible is what I’m hearing. You’re reclaiming your power and are taking empowering choices. You’re letting go of limiting beliefs that seem to have had you trapped at some point, beliefs that you’re unworthy, that you’re not powerful that’s why others dislike you and find it easy to walk all over you. You’re realising that they feel the need to crush you, not because you’re weak but because they are and that they want to feel powerful by crushing other people. You realise the power that you have a person after a long time and you know that you haven’t even fully stepped into it yet but you’re getting there.

꒰ Your future spouse’s personality when you’ll be together ꒱

They’re going to be a very contemplative person when they’re by themselves. They will have this ability to look for beauty in everything. They’ll value passion greatly and will be able to find not only beauty but also wisdom, knowledge and I’m not sure what word to use but a feeling of peace mixed with passion and love for something universal, not anything all that divine but just a zest for life itself? I hope you understand what I’m trying to express right now. They’re going to be the type to overanalyse situations and people. I do not recommend trying to get them jealous or something of that sort because they’re going to get defensive and argue. Honestly, if you like your men (or women) obsessed and slightly possessive, you are going to love what I’m telling you. They’re going to stalk your social media pages, keep tabs on you, ask you where you’re going, who you’re going with, etc. If you tell them that you are going out with your friends and one of your friends is very active on socials, they’re going to view their stories to see if you’re with them, who all are present and what you are up to. They’re going to have a positive outlook on life after having undergone emotional lows, dealt with negative emotions, letting go and forgiven themself, and others. They are going to be extremely ride or die when it comes to you. They’re going to be there to support you and will be committed to being with you through thick and thin. They’re going to overcome loneliness, thanks to you and they’ll be utterly grateful to you for that. They’re going to find themself becoming more secure due to your connection and they’ll want to provide you with a secure home too. They’re going to have more trust, hope and faith in life, and I’m getting that it’s going to be because of you. You’re going to be welcomed by them with open arms. They’re going to be a lavish spender and could indulge in something like a substance though. I’m not getting it being in excess amount but lol, the money spending, indulging in just life, whatever their guilty pleasure is is going to be very big. They’re going to be a go getter when it comes to their goals. For some of you, they could be a protein junkie who eats a lot but then works out equally as much. The part I just mentioned is not going to be applicable for all of you.

They’re made for success because they are willing to work for it. I just heard “I can’t complain about having a lot on my plate when my goal was to eat.” There are going to be moments when they will misjudge you, they’ll doubt themself which could lead to some unfair blame and false accusations but they’re not going to let it get there. I just heard “it’s not your fault that they hover, I mean no disrespect. It’s my right to be hellish, I still get jealous.” However, emotionally they are going to be heavily committed to you. To them, you’re basically going to be one with them. They’re going to have a pretty good sex drive that will be emotionally driven because of how much they’ll love you. They will be an optimistic person usually and very passionate when it comes to you, and life itself. They’re going to crack a lot of jokes with you and also their friends. I’m getting the two of you just sitting there, making fun of the way someone said something or did something and having a good laugh about it. They’re going to want to be a good spouse and partner. They’re not just going to want you to be their spouse so that they can say that they have someone, it’s going to be deep and emotionally fulfilling to them. ‘Ishq sufiyana’ or ‘divine, passionate and deep love’ is literally how your connection is going to be, it’s going to be sort of divine in nature or at least that’s how they’ll perceive. They’re going to feel like the impossible is possible with you due to the synergy that you’ll share, a very divine and deep one that will only make them feel like they come alive even more everyday. They’re going to feel like you’re their soulmate and are going to act the part with you. They’re going to be so emotionally content with you and the family you’ll create (even if it’s just the two of you), they won’t be able to stay away from you, like they just won’t. Supposing, they have to travel for work, they’ll feel like their heart isn’t beating the way it should, only after they come back home to you will they feel fine again. The two of you are going to bond because much like you they’re also a silent power and iron hearted. It only makes your love more real though. They’re going to be very childlike though, like no matter how much they grow up, they’ll always continue being like their child self i.e. kind, fun loving, pure and innocent but just in a bigger and more grown body 😭. You gotta be careful with their heart, they’re so pure, they need to be protected for real. Thank you for reading. Much love and take care.

⊹ ! ೀ Pile 2 ꒱

꒰ Your current personality ꒱

In the past, you used to be someone who used to work in harmony with others and almost blended with others in a way where you even started thinking, and looking at things from their perspective even if it was hurtful and disrespectful towards you. You’ve grown to become someone who values passion and has a very passionate nature that you, yourself are aware of, and you have this understanding now that you’re not as helpless as you once felt. You might feel like even though the helplessness felt real back then, it never really was. One thing that you seem to be aware of is that others did put you in this situation of helplessness but instead of being all “I’m the victim”, even though you have the awareness that you didn’t deserve it, you’re instead reasonably accepting where others did you wrong and where you did yourself wrong. You don’t seem to care as much about what others think anymore. You are starting to become more empowered but you know that this is not the end, that you’ll only grow to become more and more empowered going forward until you fully step into your power. You are at a phase where you find it both funny and angering that you let yourself be trapped by shitty people and shitty situations. You’re not being excessively hard on yourself anymore though. Instead, your life is changing and you’ve made the choice to actively change for the best too. You’re embracing transformations and all the events of the past that are helping you grow into a new version of yourself. You’re still in the process of it. You’ve become very cutthroat and don’t mind being mean. You realise that your boundaries were too low at some point, your standards were too low which led to you experiencing low quality experiences so you’re honestly a bit defensive. You’re reestablishing your boundaries and have already managed to do enough of it. You’re very firm in your boundaries at this point and desire to be yourself, even if it offends others. You’re also very hardworking and have this desire to improve your skills, and build new ones. You value routines, self improvement and productivity these days, and actively try to manage them. You still hurt sometimes but I’m getting that compared to how much you hurt the past and how helpless, and trapped you felt, this is nothing. Hurtful memories and thoughts pop up into your mind sometimes but you are choosing not to operate from that state of hurt at this point. Emotionally, you’re giving yourself a chance to be a kid, you’re going yourself a chance for newness, you’re giving yourself a chance to dream and to feel happy, joyful and grateful despite all the pain that you’ve experienced. You’re starting to find and develop this new passion for life and yourself, and also a new way of thinking and communicating that is creating this contentment within you. You’re starting to count your blessings is what I’m hearing. There was once a time when you wished for nothing more than to change, to be open to newness and now you have it, despite feeling heavy hearted sometimes, usually you’re pretty content and satisfied these days even if you’re not filled with utter joy, you still have an inner joy within you.

You’re planning your future based on your passions while trying to make the most out of your life right in the present moment. I saw this video on Instagram, basically the girl asks god to make her life better than 99% of the people and god fulfils her wish but she ends up living the same life she currently has because her life is better than 99% of the people already. You seem to be sort of aware of the fact that despite the problems, you also have your own set of blessings anyway so you’re choosing to not let the sorrow and negativity you feel sometimes overpower you. You value passion so much, you probably think about sex a lot too. On a soul level, you fear being abandoned, betrayed and hurt. You fear being heavily emotionally involved with people just to be left behind. You’ve realised that the realest connections are those that flow naturally yet at its own time and not the connections where you seem to vibe right away just to be disillusioned later. You’ve learned many tough lessons through the tough realisations that you had when you had to accept things as they were. You’re very passionate and seem to be focused on your goals in some way. You’ve realised that no one can bring you the happiness that you can bring yourself. You try to be enough for yourself while also actively developing as a person. You have a great zest for exploring and seeing where life has to take you. You’re sort of detached and yet anticipating growth, and change in your life. Your approach to connections have changed, you want to be the one who gets approached and pursued. You have this desire to leave all of your past behind, to simply be present and you’re doing really well, I would say. You sometimes think “just like I desire connections, other people also desire connections. They can come to me if they’d like.” Your standards for the people you’re going to let in seem to be pretty high too. You are proud that you have matured enough to not look at your past too nostalgically. You’ve become someone who doesn’t value your history with people as much anymore, you only value what their recent and current actions show you. You’ve given up on carrying the burdens of connections solely by yourself, you prefer dealing with your emotions by yourself and these days dealing with negative emotions for you is to just letting them go, just letting them slip away. You’re someone who prioritises self care and is deliberately taking care of yourself. Emotionally, you’re remaining a lot of control within yourself. You’re at a point where if anyone tries to get you out of your emotionally peaceful zone, you’re going to get angry and possibly blow up. You’re very selfless emotionally and desire someone so strikingly and unconditionally kind, and selfless in your life that you would naturally feel like you can give out unconditionally, selflessly and generously. You also think about virtues like kindness and selflessness a lot because it’s innately in your nature. Despite choosing to have stronger boundaries and not being as selfless as you once were, you’re still kind and giving in some way. You seem to have a lot of faith in yourself. You believe that the grass will always be greener for you no matter where you end up because you have the resources to and are willing to water it.

꒰ Your future spouse’s personality when you’ll be together ꒱

Your future spouse is someone who doesn’t mind leaving people behind. I keep on getting something about peace here, they do not like it when people try to mess with their peace of mind. There seem to have been times in community settings like school, church, etc. or work settings in which people have taken offence to their presence for no reason and made it their mission to humiliate, hurt and leave your person out within those environments. Something like this could have happened during their school life, possibly middle school for some of them or highschool which has caused this thing to stay deep within their psyche. “I can never forget” is what I’m hearing. They will still be carrying some baggage from that time. What seems to have been even more heartbreaking for them was that they didn’t even feel like they belonged anywhere. Some of them didn’t even feel like belonged within their own family. “You’re in the wind, I’m in the water, nobody’s son, nobody’s daughter.” They didn’t feel like they belonged anywhere so wherever they were was their home. They’ll know how to take good care of themself. They’ll also be good natured and genuinely consider others including you obviously. They’re going to put a lot of emphasis onto both self care and selflessness. When they were younger, they felt like they were loved only when they tangibly added onto other’s lives so they naturally tried to be of service to others but at some point, they found out that they could be disrespected despite what they do for others but they found an inner joy when giving out freely and selflessly so they will try to give out to those who they think deserve, and need it. It seems to be very subconscious, something that they won’t be aware of. They’re going to worry about your well-being and quite literally the type to scold you if you tell them that you haven’t eaten yet. They’re going to be the one to pursue a connection with you and will be very sensitive, and tactful. They’ll know just what to say to make your heart flutter and slowly open up to trusting them. They’re going to be a true romantic and such a charmer. Like, you won’t even be able to stay mad at them because they’ll know just how to melt your heart. I’m getting that whenever you’re with them, you’ll just be smiling ear to ear. Despite the baggage that they’ll be carrying, they’re going to be a very present person. Some of them are also going to be very physically active as well. They’re going to know how to make you feel special by expressing their gratitude for you. “You know, I don’t know how I got so lucky to get with you.” The love that you’re going to share is going to feel surreal in nature due to how well they’ll treat you. They’re going to be quite a flirt with you. In fact, I don’t like to say this and it’s not intentional but due to how smooth their tongue naturally is, there will be moments when you’ll probably get mad about them flirting with others. I’m getting a very golden retriever kind of a personality from them.

They’re going to be very touchy with you in little ways such as resting their head on your shoulder, tugging at your sleeves, kissing your shoulder, kissing your neck, so on and so forth. Despite moments when you’ll get upset about their smooth tongue, they’re going to make it up to you by romancing you. They’re also going to be genuinely remorseful because despite their intentions, they’re going to understand where you’re coming from. They’re going to be the type to pepper you with kisses all over your face while apologising to you. Instead of jumping to be all defensive when you point out something that hurts you or makes you feel less secure within the connection, they’re instead going to take accountability for their actions and tongue, and genuinely try to make it up to you and will try not repeat the same thing in the future. They’re honestly very pure of heart. They’re going to be a bit more secretive about their negative emotions initially but you’ll be able to see right through them because the connection you’ll share will be very youthful in nature. Like, you’re going to bring out their inner child so you’ll naturally end up seeing their vulnerabilities. Even throughout the marriage, late into it, they’re going to have the biggest crush on you. Honeymoon phase? What is that? They’ll only know your connection. They’ll be psychically connected to you. You’ll understand each other without having to say much if anything at all. I just heard ‘completing each other’s sentences’. Deep into the marriage, they’re going to break down in front of you and legit cry, not caring about gender roles, and stereotypes. I’m getting that your marriage is going to be one where there will not be particular gender roles, they’re going to want to take care of you and the household in any way possible, and you’ll want to do the same. There could be some childhood or abandonment wound for many of your future spouses. They’re going to have worked on healing their wounds of not having been enough in the past, of having been left out in the cold, of having been abandoned time and time again. They could have felt abandoned by their family emotionally and financially, like even if they had family, it was basically as good as not having any. Not every one of them is going to have had a bad family life but they’ll still have dealt with abandonment in the past and will have dealt with the aftermath of that. They’ll have released the grief and will be moving forward with you after having overcome a lot of despair. They’re going to have an understanding of what’s truly valuable and that’s going to be you, that’s going to be the present moment and just life as it is. You’re going to heal their inner child, make their inner child feel happy and safe, and they could never not love you due to who you are and how you make them feel. Thank you for reading. Much love and take care.

⊹ ! ೀ Pile 3 ꒱

꒰ Your current personality ꒱

You are a loving, kind and nurturing person who is thinking about how you’re never anyone’s first choice. ‘Nobody’ by Mitski is coming through here. You have always been very empathetic and kind, often even trying to look at things from the other person’s perspective and just remaining eternally loving, and empathetic. ‘You’re losing me’ by Taylor Swift is coming through. “How long could we be a sad song? Till we were too far gone to bring back to life. I gave you all my best me’s, my endless empathy and all I did was bleed as I tried to be the bravest soldier. Fighting in only your army, frontlines, don’t you ignore me. I’m the best thing at this party (you’re losing me) and I wouldn’t marry me either - a pathological people pleaser who only wanted you to see her.” You’ve developed this mindset of “what’s the point of genuinely doing for people if they won’t even recognise it or appreciate it?” You used to have good intentions towards people and tried to be there for them in tangible ways. You’re thinking about all the times that you were neglecting yourself by trying to be there for others just because you wanted to remain unconditionally loving. You wonder if you were scared to be lonely sometimes. You’re adjusting your priorities currently because you feel like you’re being unable to take care of yourself as well as you could. A very specific message but someone here could have not been taking their medicines or multivitamins for a few days now, possibly a week or so (maybe you ran out of it or just forgot). Due to how everyone has preferred someone else over you, you sometimes wonder if you’re just that unworthy or at least if people deem you to be so. Internally, you seem to be aware that you’re a very worthy and admirable person but for some reason, it seems to remain unrecognised by others which confuses you. Your self esteem seems to be really low and you’re a bit more self reliant these days because in the past, being kind, loving and social, someone who gave a lot led you to nothing but humiliation, disrespect and loneliness. I’m hearing that song in my head but it’s been such a long time since I’ve heard it, I’m not sure what the lyrics are. Just looked it up and “what do you get when you fall in love? A guy with a pin to burst your bubble, that’s what you get for all your trouble. I'll never fall in love again”, “what do you get when you kiss a guy? You get enough germs to catch pneumonia. After you do, he'll never phone ya. I'll never fall in love again”, “don’t tell me what it's all about ‘cause I've been there and I'm glad I'm out, out of those chains, those chains that bind you” and “what do you get when you fall in love? You only get lies and pain and sorrow. So for at least until tomorrow. I'll never fall in love again.” I’m also getting that you have money and career on your mind, that’s what your main area of concern these days is. You felt left out in the cold, actually, it’s not just a feeling, you were in fact left out in the cold. You pretty much had your life turned upside down and everything stripped away from you. Currently, you’re trying to climb up this rock bottom and have already made significant progress. There seems to be a lot of financial responsibility placed upon you so there are times when you get into small disagreements and discussions with people because of money?

Probably just family members. You could feel like there is no one to not only emotionally support you but also financially support you. Someone in your family could have made a financial promise to you but could not follow through. It could have been something as simple as “focus solely on your education because I’ll make sure you get to complete your education” just for them to be unable to live up to that promise. Your worst of the worst fears came true, I’m not even exaggerating right now but you have just been facing it and trying to rise above it all. You’ve already survived the worst and you seem to be aware of that. You’re learning a lot from the past and are trying to build a stronger foundation, and more stability for and within yourself. You feel isolated and are choosing to be alone as well. You’re slowly healing, even if you don’t feel like it, trust your journey. One thing that I need to correct you about are your little anger tantrums that you’ve been having recently. You’re facing a lot of setbacks in your life and tend to feel uninspired by it sometimes but you still try to get up, and maintain a routine. You seem to have failed to do so many times this year but it’s almost the end of the year and you’ve not yet given up, that says a lot. Even emotionally, you’re pretty alone. Just a hack for you, you need to commit to a routine and goal consistently, that’s how you’re going to grow emotionally and become more stable. You feel like emotionally too, within connections most people are inefficient and you’d rather be alone than settle for such inefficiency. You lacked receiving respect from your peers at one point which led to you feeling powerless and possibly even manipulated. You could have fallen victim to other people acting like they were better than you, that they were right when in reality, they were just self absorbed and acting self assured but back then, it was easy for you to fall victim to them undermining you. You seem to have had an inferiority complex back then honestly. It caused you to feel confused yet angry but with no where to express any sort of emotions at all. You were given the misinformation that something was wrong with you and you believed it. Now that you’re starting to come to your senses, you’re like “how could I be so stupid?” and you’re mostly angry at these people. You’re focused on your own ethics, morals, money and provision of some sort. Many of you here seem to be providers or at least self providers at a young age with a genuine desire to provide outwardly to others. You are currently breaking free from all that had you trapped and feeling disempowered. You’re starting to accept yourself and are becoming free. You’re embracing your authenticity and are not as afraid of being the black sheep anymore as you once were. You are making choices everyday that your course of life could depend on. Every little change you make could make or break your future. You’re a very emotionally intense person and have jumped to conclusions that if they loved and respected you, they’d not put you through everything that you had to go through. You are also self protective and slightly closed off when it comes to connections because you desire emotionally rich and intense people who will choose you, and only you. You lack tolerance for anything lesser than this.

꒰ Your future spouse’s personality when you’ll be together ꒱

Right off the bat, I am getting that the both of you will act out in ways that are incompatible with each other. Initially, before the two of you get together, they’re going to feel connected to you and will want to explore that connection with you, and will desire directness so they’ll come forth fast but it’s going to come off as kind of off putting to you. You’re going to awaken this love within them, the desire for it, this excitement and you’ll make their inner child very very happy. They’ll be taken by you almost right away but they seem to flirt in a way where they come off egoistic and arrogant. This reminds me of that one time when one guy called me weak right on the first meeting as an attempt to apparently ‘flirt with me’ 💀. I found him very off putting too so I totally get you here. You’re going to see them as someone who has high expectations for themself and others but fears new responsibilities, and is sort of commitment phobic. It’s going to be funny because they’ll be getting so emotionally involved with you, having so much love for you and just feeling giddy around you, like they’ll feel like a child around you quite literally which could lead to their personality coming off a bit childish too. The way they’ll present themself will make you not want to trust them. They’ll end up acting like a bit of an ‘all talk, no action’ kind of a person. You’ll also find them to be sort of rude when they’ll try to tease you and you won’t have it in you to put up with whatever this bullshit is. Not my words, that’s how you’ll think. Oddly enough, they’ll also be acting with a lot of integrity and fairness. They’re going to have a lot of life lessons that they’re going to share with you. They’re going to be truthful with you for the most part but you’re still going to doubt their loyalty due to how commitment phobic they come off. You’re just going to find them to be unstable for you. You’ll think that you’ll be around each other for just a short time then move on with your lives once you lose touch with each other. At some point, they’re going to end up making you feel unwelcome and vice versa. This is why I was saying that you will both act out in ways that are incompatible with one another. You’re going to feel like it’s just difficult for the both of you to come into the same page and they’re going to feel like that too. You’re going to think that they didn’t take enough of an initiative when it came to you so they must’ve not wanted you enough. They’ll feel like maybe you lack feelings towards them and it was all in their head. You will probably fall out of touch with one another and they’re going to miss you so much. They’re going to find more of themself, more love and more direction within their life but there’s going to be this lack of emotional fulfilment. They’re going to reminisce over you and miss you so much when you’re in no contact. I’m not sure how you’ll come back together but their love for you will not have lessened with time, instead it will have only intensified, alongside their awareness of it having grown stronger. When you’ll first meet each other, even if you really wanted to, you would not have been able to make it work because you will just be so out of sync with one another but this time apart is going to be beneficial in terms of being sure about your feelings.

You will make them question their values a lot and they will make you question yours which could be the reason you feel triggered by each other, hence you put this off as something unstable and ‘not right’ for you. You will put the past behind in order to move forward together. When you’ll be together, they’re going to create a lot of conflicts with you because first, you seem to be incompatible with each other, second, they’ll sort of question your loyalty and their importance in your life, they’ll just feel like you were more than fine without them when you lost contact the first time so why wouldn’t you be fine now? You’re going to love this pile if you like your partners obsessed with you though because they will be. Also, I think that you’re going to enjoy seeing them all riled up over you because it will make you feel desired but at the same time, you’ll also not like it. The connection you’ll share will be so complicated, I don’t even know what to say. You’ll most likely be opposite in some ways which will lead to an irresistible attraction but also disagreements. They’re always going to want to do right by you within the connection and will want to grow old with you. They’ll be committed to you and will take accountability for anything that might have affected you negatively. They’re going to want to have the partnership be fair and balanced. They’re going to get pretty jealous and will want to be your one, and only in every way. They’re going to be quite a grudge holder though. They’re going to feel unstable within your relationship sometimes because of how you didn’t seem to have any problem being away from them the first time you lost touch. If you talk to them in a slightly different tone, cancel plans or travels, they’re going to feel upset and slightly unstable. They’re going to sometimes feel like they have an overload of things to do all the time but they still make up time for you but you don’t do the same for them so maybe you’re still keeping your options open because of how the first time around they let you go. “Is he/she still mad at me for that?” Aww, they’re insecure within the relationship but very sweet. Even years and decades into the marriage, they’ll still feel just as giddy and happy around you. They’re going to admire, adore and deeply love you. They’re going to care about your feelings and will be very keen on making the relationship succeed. They’re going to remember your younger days and will want to tear up at how much you’ve both grown. The excitement that they’ll feel towards you, the way they’re just filled with utter and childlike joy with you, will never disappear. Something interesting that is coming through here is that the universe or god didn’t intend for you to be together as life partners. It was originally supposed to be something that brings you both comfort, something that you learn from and are able to grow into your best selves, discover your individual purposes in life and beat emotional dissatisfaction by yourselves after meeting each other but you will make the impossible possible by desiring each other and loving each other so purely. Oh yeah, you were asking for an emotionally intense and rich partner, you will get exactly that. Congratulations. Thank you for reading. Much love and take care.

[riordanness]

seven — [p.jackson]

pairing: percy jackson x reader

wordcount: 1.5K

warnings: reader is a swiftie, i know nothing about teenage party games

“Silena, I really don’t want to,” I whine slightly, laying back against the wall on my bunk bed.

My older half sister raises an eyebrow at me. “Girl, I’ve known you for five years now and you’ve never stepped foot in a single party. College parties are part of the experience! You have to at least attend one. And this one is the best one you could pick to come to—it’s mine.”

I roll my eyes. “But there’s… people there.” Like him.

“Yeah?” So he might be there.

“I don’t like people.” Mostly him.

Silena rubs her palm over her face in an annoyed way. “Just come. This one time. Please.”

“Okay,” I groan. “But only because it’s gonna be in our house anyway.” So hopefully he’s smart enough to stay away.

“Great.” Yeah, right.

I regretted it almost immediately. It was being held in our dorm house, downstairs from my bedroom. I wished I was back up there.

Someone offers me a drink, and I politely decline. Not because I don’t drink, but because I don’t trust anyone here to not have done something to it.

Then, I hear Silena yelling for everyone to get their asses to the living room, so I head in there.

People are sitting in a big circle, more and more kids adding to the line.

“What’s going on?” a younger guy asks me, but I shrug. Probably some party game that I've never heard of.

Another girl steps over and says, “Seven minutes in heaven.”

“What’s that?” I ask, frowning.

“You get locked in a closet with someone for seven minutes,” the girl explains. I think her name was Drew, but I might be wrong. “And you get to do anything you want.” She raises her eyebrows suggestively.

“Ah,” I comment.

“Okay everyone!” Silena claps her hands and flashes a perfect smile. “Who’s ready for a game!”

There’s an eruption of cheers, and I reluctantly decide to sit down in the circle. I mean, chances are I won’t get picked, right? There are dozens of other teenagers here, and…

My thoughts come to a staggered pause as my eyes fall on the one person I never wanted to see again. Especially not here, not now. He’s sitting right across from me in the circle, but he doesn’t even notice me, laughing with a taller blond guy wth glasses as he chugs something out of a red plastic cup. His sea green eyes sparkle with humour, unfortunately still the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. He’s wearing a navy hoodie and jeans, a fairly lame outfit for a party. Like come on, even I dressed up a little. (I put on a shirt on with my jeans instead of a sweater).

Silena places a empty soda bottle in the middle of the circle. “Okay,” she says loudly. “I’m going to spin this, and whoever it lands on gets to go in the closet!” Her voice bubbles with excitement, and I resist the urge to roll my eyes.

Who the hell came up with this game, anyway?

Silena’s red nails click against the bottle as she sends it spinning. The room goes quiet, all eyes on the plastic. It slows, slows, slows… and stops.

My heart is pounding in my ears, and my mouth has gone dry. The bottle cap is pointing straight at me. Slowly, I glance up at the person on the other side of the bottle. And it’s him. Of course it’s him.

Silena looks both pleased and worried. “Our winners are Y/n and Percy Jackson!”

A smattering of applause and cheers follows her announcement, and she waves us both up. “Come, come. Follow me, guys.”

I force myself to my feet, focusing my eyes on Silena and Silena only, refusing to even glance at Percy, even when he falls into step beside me.

We are led to the closet right in the corner of the big living room, a little while away from most of the party, but still the same room, kind of. Silena opens the door. It’s been clearly cleaned out recently, probably for the sole purpose of playing this game.

“In you pop,” Silena says giddily. “Have fun!”

I climb in, and Percy follows. Then the door is closed, and locked, and an eruption of giggles sounds from the party-goers.

I lean against the wall, crossing my arms.

“Hey,” Percy says awkwardly. “Hey, I’m—“

“What the hell are you doing here?” I demand.

“What?” He frowns. “Playing the game like I’m supposed to?”

“No, I mean here at the party. The one you knew was at my house.”

His eyes clear with understanding. “Oh.”

I raise my eyebrows.

Percy sighs. “I wanted to see you. I wanted to apologise to you.”

I scoff a little. “A bit too late, don’t you think?”

“You don’t understand—“

“No, I understand. I understand just fine. You didn’t want me, okay. You didn’t want me to be your girlfriend anymore, fine. But you should have said something. Not just—ghost me online. That was lame, Percy. Really, really lame.” My voice trembles ever so slightly, and I have to swallow hard to keep it even.

“I know.” He runs a hand through his unruly dark hair. “Believe me, I know.”

“So why’d you do it?” I ask. “Were you cheating on me?”

He looks taken aback. “What?! Gods, no. Y/n, I would never do that.”

I soften a little bit. “Okay. Good. Then what was the reason?”

“I just—I couldn’t handle it. My mom is going through a divorce right now, and I was swamped with schoolwork—and you know how I am with school, I suck—and I caved. I didn’t want to disappoint you in our relationship, so I just… I don’t know.” He sighs heavily, running his hand through his hair again. “Look, it was stupid, okay? I know that. It was cruel and hurtful and completely unnecessary. I should have communicated with you, actually told you what I was going through. I’m sorry. That was really immature of me.”

I am quiet, studying him in the dim lightning. It’s too dark to completely make out his features, so I can only see his faint outline.

“Can you forgive me?” Percy asks softly.

I don’t want to. My better judgement tells me no. But at the same time, I know Percy. He wouldn’t lie about something like this. He’s being sincere.

I let out a sigh. “Okay. Sure.”

Percy looks so relieved he almost falls over. “Wait, really?”

“Yes, really.” I have to bite back my laugh.

There’s a heartbeat or two of silence, and then Percy talks again. “You know that Taylor Swift song you like from that album you like?”

I make an amused face. “That’s really unspecific. I like all her songs from all her albums.”

“Well—yeah, okay. My bad. I mean that one that goes…” He puts on a stupid falsetto voice while he tries to sing (FYI, he can’t sing for shit). “All of the silence and waiting, pining and anticipation, my hands are shaking from holding back from you, ah ah ah—“

I cut off his ‘Ah’s’. They sound like drowning fish. “You mean Dress?”

Percy nods. “Yeah; that one.”

“Okay. What about it, exactly?”

“That’s exactly what I feel like right now.”

I don’t know whether I should be impressed that he knows that song well enough to remember those lyrics specifically when he relates to them, or whether I should be worried that he listens to Dress, of all songs.

“You do, huh? Why is that?”

“Because we still have almost four minutes. And I’ve missed your kisses more than anything.”

I can’t ignore the butterflies I feel at his words. They overweigh the feeling of apprehension at taking him back. I smile. “What’s keeping you, then?”

Percy grins wide, and doesn’t waste another second. He moves forward, his hand pulling me by my waist closer to him, the other hand gripping my chin gently between his fingers, so my face is tilted up to look at him.

“You sure this is okay?” he checks.

I nod. “Positive. I’ll get properly mad at you later.”

Percy laughs under his breath. “Good that.���

And without another word, he moves down and kisses me. It gives me the exact same feeling it always used to, like I had wings. His mouth still tastes of sea salt and Coke, and it moves against mine like we’d never missed a single day.

My fingers instinctively move to the loose waves of dark hair at the base of his head, intertwining themselves there, holding him close to me.

His grip on my waist tightens, like his entire body needs me closer, which I’m not entirely sure is even possible. He’s kissing me like I am air and he is drowning. Like I am his lifeline, his anchor.

When we finally pull apart, it is only for seconds, before Percy is pulling me in again.

Then there is a crack of brightness in our dark little bubble, and a familiar girl’s voice is squealing. “Oh, my. Gods! It worked!”

[rileyglas]

The List ~Pt. 5 - Confrontation~

Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) x Reader

Summary: While out for a walk, you run into everyone’s ‘favorite’ Overlord, resulting in a brutal altercation. Recognizing the danger you put yourself in, Alastor is all too willing to offer another deal. 

Themes: The usual angst, mystery, sassiness, cursing, fluff, Valentino so yeah, mentions of blood and bodily harm, eventual smut (it will return), actual plot, slow burn, and of course 18+ MDNI

3.7k Words

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 (You're on it!) Part 6 Part 7 Part 7.A Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

**sentences in italics are internal thoughts of the reader

When you asked Alastor to prove himself to you, you half expected him to just continue ignoring you around the hotel. He seemed like the type to keep any personal interaction behind closed doors. Keeping some privacy isn’t a bad thing. Before the deal, he stuck to doing his job around the hotel, helping Charlie with whatever new idea or ask she had, and broadcasting his evening radio show. Every so often he might have a drink at the bar, making small talk with Husk and Nifty, otherwise he kept to himself in the shadows.

These last few weeks were slightly different. If he grabbed a coffee, he also poured one for you (always using one of his mugs). He made a point of being at every group activity, standing practically on top of you with a hand on the small of your back. He often offered to accompany you into town if you were going for a walk. “I just enjoy your company dear” he would reason. You’re far from complaining, however, the other residents were starting to notice.

“Alright what’s the deal?” Husk thumps your drink on the bar, his aggressive tone catching you off guard.

“What do you mean?”

“You and Al – what the fuck is going on there? I thought you had more common sense than associating yourself with his sorts.”

Fuckin ouch.

“I have plenty of sense Husker,” you hissed with irritation at what he was insinuating. Vaggie and Angel silently take their seats next to you, feeling the tension of the conversation. “– and if you must know we discovered we have more in common than we thought. You of all people should know keeping someone of his sorts on good terms is wise. Thank you for your concern though.” You throw back your drink, slamming the empty glass into the bar as you stand up.  

Husk tries to smooth over your venom, “Listen kid, you’re still pretty new to Hell…I’m just –“

“Thank you again Husk! Talking with you is always a pleasure.” You cut him off, putting on your jacket and walking towards the hotel doors.

Footsteps trail behind you - followed by a hand on your shoulder, “Hey doll, don’t be too upset with him. We all just….we worry is all. Smiles is still Mr. Mystery pants. Charlie seems to be the only one not worried about his intentions.” Angel offers you a cautious grin. His smile always seems to brighten your mood.

You place your hand on top of his, “Thank you hun. I’m not mad and I understand everyone’s… apprehension…. But I need you guys to trust that I know what I’m doing. You all have enough to worry about around here.” R̵͚̀ŭ̴͓l̷̥̓ȩ̷͒ ̷̢́#̵̧͌3̶̫̈́ ̴̬̾N̶̬͊e̷͇͂v̵̞̚ę̴̿ŕ̵̖ ̵̟̈́ḅ̶͂r̷̤̔í̸͜n̴̳͌g̴̫͐ ̶̢͠a̸̳͝n̶͕̐y̴̓ͅo̸͎̐n̷̚͜ȩ̷̇ ̸̪̑ẗ̶͈́ő̴͜o̷̺̊ ̵̛̬c̴̘̀ľ̴̹o̶͇͗s̸̠̾e̴͇͝

Needing some time to yourself, you decide to take a stroll through Pentagram City. The streets could be dangerous when traveling alone, but Carmilla was kind enough to let you leave with some…equipment. Like a nervous tick, you palm the carmine knife sheathed on your waist. You always hope there isn’t a need to use it but can never be too careful.

Heaven’s embassy clock ticked down, showing less than 100 days until the next extermination. You sigh at the thought, taking notes as you walk. Every year you mapped out places you would be needed most, where you could hide sinners, alleys you could use to corner or escape the Exorcists. Maybe Alastor could help me this time? He did say together we would be more powerful.

Lost in your plans, you don’t realize you’ve started pacing the streets of the V’s territory. It isn’t until you hear someone yelling down an alley that you become aware of your surroundings.

“Listen here, you little fuck – you’re our lowest earner this month and I’m in a bad mood so…” a large demon pins a rabbit-like sinner to the alley wall, pulling a pink and white gun from his hip. “I figured you could help me BLOW off some steam. Now, now, baby - hold still for me and don’t make too much of a mess hmm?”

You look closer and recognize the tall moth demon.

Fucking Valentino.

You see red and make your way down the alley. Hearing your footsteps he turns but not before you blindside him, body slamming him to the ground. The sound of metal echoes as his gun slides across the pavement. The poor sinner runs off without a word. You’re welcome, I guess. You bend over the disoriented Valentino.

“Tough luck being out here today Val – Coincidentally I’m also in a bad mood so let’s have a chat.”

With a gust of his wings Val pushes himself off the ground and towers over you. “Ohhhhh aren’t you CUTE. Ya know people would pay good money to see a spicy chiquita like you fucked into her place, however that little stunt just sealed a different fate for you.” Smoke floods around you, wrapping tightly around your body. Your feet leave the ground as he pulls you close enough to run his tongue across your cheek. “Hmmm…tasty. Maybe I shouldn’t kill you. I could do quite a bit with this body of yours.”

A cynical laugh erupts from your chest. “Oh please – set me down. Save us both the embarrassment.” He cocks an eyebrow at your demand and tightens his smoke’s grip.

Feeling the crack of your ribs almost knocks all the air out of your lungs, but your rage is stronger than any pain. I’ve watched him hurt Angel one too many times. 

“Wrong answer Val.” You concentrate your power, hands aglow as they conjure tiny, razor-sharp needles. With a swift flick of your wrists, they pierce and slice through Val's wings. “Cool thing about needles, they can help pull you together or tear...you…apart.” He howls from the pain, loosening his grip on you. With a little more room to move, you pull yourself back and headbutt him with so much force his glasses shatter. The blow makes his smoke disappear and you drop back to the ground. Time for some fun.

Unable to see clearly - Val frantically feels around for his gun. Pathetic. Crushing his hand with one foot, you use the other to deliver a full force kick to his chin, sending his gold tooth down the alley. “You little BITCH! Who the fuck do you think you are!?” he growls as blood pours from his mouth. You climb on top of him, pinning him down with a knee slowly crushing his dick. Screams of pure agony echo off the surrounding walls.    

You grab his face with one hand and pull the knife from your waist, digging the point into Val’s cheek, “You lay your hands on any of your employees again, I’ll make sure this knife gets buried into your chest. Now be a good boy and let me decorate that pretty little face.” You turn his head and hastily carve “spurc” into his cheek. He cries out with each attempt to move, feeling your knee dig deeper into him. “Shhhh you can take it baby, come on, we’re almost done. That’s what you tell them, right? NOW HOLD STILL.” Mocking his pain you turn his head the other way, slicing “issime” into his other cheek. Blood pours from his face, staining your hands and wrists. “Spurcissime – complete filth. Quite fitting I think.”

You stand up to admire your work and release the demon writhing on the ground. Time to go. Turning to leave, you hear Val call out to someone. What is he crying about now? Without warning you’re hurled against the brick wall - your head taking the worst of the impact. As you struggle to pull your body off the ground, a large, blue claw wraps around your neck to pick you up. Between the blow to your head and your now rapidly declining oxygen, your strength dwindles.

“Are you fucking kidding me Val –You got your ass beat by Carmilla Carmine’s secretary!?”

How the fuck does he remember me?

“No she’s not –“ Val tries to warn but is ultimately ignored.

“It’s okay sweetheart. She can replace you. Sucks though. I always enjoyed staring at that ass. Made the meetings less insufferable.” Vox’s grip tightens around your neck and his other hand slides up your thigh, starting to grope every inch of you. Your vision begins to tunnel as your body goes limp, his grasp controlled and unforgiving.

Just before complete darkness takes over, a familiar voice booms in your ears, “ENOUGH!” The hand around your neck releases and the world around you spins, fading out then back in. You pull yourself to your hands and knees and try to gasp. A stabbing pain rips across your sides with every attempt to collect the air around you. Any adrenaline your body had was long gone now. Oh yeah, cracked ribs. Ouch.

Looking up you realize you’re in Alastor’s room. Any other day you would have inhaled the soft musk filling the air, but right now you can barely take a breath. “Alastor?” you whimper, throat hoarse from being nearly crushed. “Hello? Alastor?” Still silence. You lay back on the floor to try to steady your breathing and wait for the Radio Demon to make an appearance.

It only takes a few minutes to see his shadow appear, followed by Alastor himself. The initial relief you feel is quickly replaced by concern. His jacket was ripped up, and blood trailed across his mouth. “Shit are you okay? What happened?” you try to move to him but double over.

He huffs wiping the blood from his face. “No, you don’t get to ask the questions right now.” His words were near inaudible over the static. He was livid. “I want to know what the FUCK you were doing out in V territory ALONE!?” He rather unkindly picks you up, prompting throaty cries of pain and protest.

Alastor brings you to the bathroom and sits you up on the counter while he digs through his medical kit. You finally gather enough breath to speak, “Last I checked, I don’t need permission to walk around the city. Have you forgotten who I am? I am not some stupid -”

“Well apparently you are.” He bites at you without making eye contact – continuing to pull apart the kit.

Tears well up in your eyes. Too tired to fight them back you let their warmth coat your face. They steadily stream down and drop into your blood-soaked hands. You try to squeak out an explanation, “He…he just hurts so many people. He almost killed Angel. If you ask – “

“I didn’t.” he cuts in.

“I didn’t know he would get Vox in –“

“I don’t care.”

“FUCK Alastor what is your problem!?” you snap, tears burning as they run down your cheeks.

He slams his hands on either side of your legs, caging in your body and leaning right down to your face. If he wasn’t pissed right now, this would be so attractive.

“My problem? What is my problem?” Alastor’s antlers expand and a red ‘x’ glows on his forehead. His body grows and looms over you as his grip starts to crack the countertop, “Do you forget who they are? Of course Vox got involved! And if I hadn’t stepped in, he would have done who knows what to you! His hands already started to defile you - Is that what you wanted? To die at the hand of a perverted, unscrupulous Overlord?” His words were like knives, and you despised every slice he made.

His outburst ignites your own rage, making your demon form flare, “No, Damnit, you don’t get it! Down here you’ve only ever lived for yourself! You’ve never watched someone you care about almost die because of some piece of shit! You’ve never felt the need to tear that person limb from limb for what they did! I wanted to make him suffer and I DID!“ you scream at him until your voice gives out and your body gives up. A deafening silence falls over the bathroom. The only sounds reverberating off the walls are your stifled sobs. Some from anger, some from pain. Ṟ̸̂u̸̫͂l̴̟̈e̷̩͛ ̸͖̽#̷̹̀4̴̎͜ ̴̰̇Ṉ̷̀e̸̲͌v̴̻̈́e̵̥͘ṛ̸͛ ̵̗̑l̴͍̃ė̶̠t̶͈̾ ̴̣̒y̷̬͋ò̵̭u̸̩̽ŕ̶̼ ̴̪̾ẉ̵̑ȅ̴̩ą̴̕k̵̗̐n̶̻̅ȇ̷̳s̸̢͋s̸͖͂e̷̡͛s̶̘̍ ̴͍̏š̴̢h̶̼̐ǫ̴͊w̷͉͝

 Alastor shrinks back to normal. He cups your face gently to clean off the dirt and blood – tending to the few scrapes across your cheeks. You keep your eyes down to avoid his stare. The last thing you want to see is pity from the demon, at least not right now.

As he kneels to clean your hands, his buttery voice finally breaks the quiet, “You know, had you said all of that yesterday, you would have been absolutely right.” He looks up, noticing your head tilt in confusion. “Seeing his hands on you triggered something in me, and I wanted nothing more than to rip apart that piece of shit for….trying to take you away from me. So yes, I do understand. But that doesn���t mean I’m still not cross with you for going by yourself. You’re lucky I had my shadow follow you.” A sly smile flashes up at you. In that moment a gnawing thought crosses your mind. Does he actually care for me? Or is he only afraid to lose the power I can give him?

Either way, he did save you, so you conjure enough strength in your voice to whisper, “Thank you Alastor,” and place a kiss on his forehead.

Once he finishes cleaning the cuts on your hands, he stands and hooks a finger under your chin, forcing you to look up at him. His red eyes dart back and forth between yours as if trying to read every thought you could have. A smile paints his face but you can see something more. Worry? Sadness? Regret? You want to question him but the intensity of his stare has you frozen.

“I want to make another deal.” he finally says in a whisper, holding his gaze. Your stomach drops. This is what you’ve been worried about. That he was going to try to break down your walls until you willingly promise him your soul, bounding everything you have to him. R̴̤͑u̵͓̒l̷͊ͅḛ̸̒ ̸̉͜#̴͉̓1̶͇̔ ̸̟͑Ṋ̸͋e̷̮̎v̷̼̾e̸̪͌r̴̥̈́ ̵̳̽t̴̩͐r̶̻͊u̷̘͝ș̴͒t̶͙̂ ̶̝͑â̵̩n̴̙̿o̸̡͗t̸͚̒h̴̯̓ë̸͓́r̶͎̂ ̸̙̎O̸̺͌v̷̧͠è̴̼r̸̹̓l̵͊ͅo̸̜͒r̵̠̂d̸͓̽ . 

“Wh-what?”

“I want to make another deal - you promise to let me accompany you every time you leave these hotel walls and, in exchange, I will teach you how to grow your strength and power so this never happens again.” Well that is not the deal I was expecting.

Relief replaces anxiety. You lean in and give a cheeky smile, “You do realize both of those things can happen without a deal - unless you’re just looking for an excuse to kiss me again.”

“Bold of you to assume I need an excuse, “ he purred, closing the last bit of space between your bodies, lips hovering over yours, ‘but do we have a deal?”

You can barely breathe out “Deal.” before his lips gently press into yours. A glow fills the room but you don’t even notice this time, too lost in his touch to care. 

He reluctantly pulls away, “You should probably stay here tonight. I don’t think it’s wise for you to be alone in this condition.”

“Oh no, it’s fine. I got it –“ hopping off the counter, you almost crumple to your knees. Alastor catches you with a smug chuckle. “I had a feeling you would fight me on that. It is completely up to you of course. However I will warn you I am willing to go to extreme lengths to convince you of the right choice.”

Once again, you’re lifted up and out of the bathroom. “Don’t threaten me with a good time -” You try to tease but lose your breath. A low laugh leaves his chest, “I believe we’ve had enough fun today my dear.” Every muscle in your body welcomes the soft bed as he lays you down on his silk sheets. 

Your eyes flutter heavily as you hear him move about the room, leaving briefly. Am I really going to stay here with him? Guess not too much of a choice now. I know he won’t hurt me, not tonight anyway. The door opens and you feel him climb into the bed with you. 

Turning to face him, you watch him lean back against the headboard, book in hand. “I thought you didn’t sleep.” you joke drowsily. 

“I don't need much but that just means I can keep you company while you rest.”

You prop yourself up on your elbow, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes, “We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to…but maybe you could tell me some stories about when you were alive? You can be my personal radio show for the night.”

A pleased hum leaves his chest, “As you wish, ma chère.” He wraps an arm around you and pulls you closer. Time might as well have stopped as he begins telling you about his life, his mom, his home, the old radio show. You practically melt into his chest while drinking in every drop of his sweet voice. It was nice to peel back a few layers of who the Radio Demon was.

You wake up in a panic the next morning. Sitting up, your tired brain takes a moment to catch up with your surroundings and you relax remembering the previous night’s events. The mirror across the room catches your eye, showing purple and blue bruises painted across your skin. “Uhhg I look rough.” you whisper to yourself. 

“Still beautiful as ever, my dear.” a voice cut in, making your heart jump into your throat. You didn’t even notice his shadow or him fading into the room while you tried to collect yourself. “Good morning Alastor, and thank you but these marks are not very flattering.” 

He sits on the edge of the bed and lightly traces his hand around your face and throat. His smile almost falters. “I loathe seeing the marks he’s left on you…but I take pride in knowing he won’t ever lay a hand on you again.” a snide grin crosses his face. That’s probably why he took so long to get back to the hotel. I don’t even want to know what he did to Vox in that alley.

“Now! You stay here, I will go grab us some coffee!” Alastor jumps up to rush out the door but you stop him. “No, wait – I want to come with you.” He nods and leans against the doorway, waiting for you to put yourself together. You only bother to run a comb through your hair. No use in trying to cover up anything.

He wraps his arm around your waist while walking down to the lobby. Plopping yourself on the couch, you look up to see Husk staring over a newspaper, eyebrow cocked. A gruff “Hmpf” comes from behind the paper as Alastor walks by into the kitchen.

You roll your eyes, “Don’t even start Husk.” 

He slams the paper down on the bar, “I ain’t startin nothin! But it sure looks like he tried to finish –“ “He didn’t touch me. I wouldn’t even be sitting here if it wasn’t for him – “

Angel bursts through the hotel doors roaring with excitement, abruptly ending your conversation with Husk. “Oh good you guys are here – you will not BELIEVE what happened last night and holy shit what happened to you!?“

He looks mortified at the marks across your face. “Tripped. Please continue.” you say dryly.

Alastor finally returns with coffee, taking his seat right next to you as Angel finishes talking about his shift and how bad of a condition Val was in.

“It’s crazy someone was powerful enough…or ballsy enough…to do something like that to him. He’s pissed and from what I heard, Vox wasn’t looking too hot either.” You shoot a look over to Alastor who huffs smugly, looking away as he takes a sip of his coffee. I fucking knew it.

You turn your attention back to Angel, “If someone knocked him around that much, he’s bound to want to take it out on someone. Are - are things going to get worse for you?” Anxiety grips your chest at the realization you may have only aggravated Angel’s situation rather than helped.

“Eh it’ll be weeks before he even gets back to working the studio, besides no one is going to take him seriously with those words on his face. Whoever got ahold of him CARVED into his cheeks. Fuckin deep too. Heard it was a carmine knife, so Satan knows it’s gonna scar.” The enthusiasm in his voice helps ease your worries.

Husk finally chimes into the conversation, “hmm and uh – what exactly was written on his face?” his eyes look straight through Angel and settle on you. There’s no way he thinks –

“I don’t know some Latin shit I can’t pronounce. I overheard some older demons say it ‘labeled him as dirty’ or something like that.” Angel shrugs it off and continues joking about how great the next few weeks were going to be for him.

You finish your coffee and stand to get more, wincing at how sore you still feel.

“You could have asked me, dear. I was about to get up for more as well.” Alastor motions for you to sit back down while taking your cup. When he walks away, Angel comes over and sits on the floor next to you.

“Soooo…you gonna to tell me who actually gave you those bruises? Did you get freaky with Smiles? I just knew he was into that kinda –“

“He didn’t do this Angel.” Your words are soft but stern. He looks up with worry in his eyes. “Don’t take pity on me like that. I am FINE…” you peek up to see Husk’s back turned. Leaning over Angel’s ear, you drop your voice to a whisper, “and uh, between you and me – the word is spurcissime. Roughly translates to ‘complete filth’.” R̴̗͠ǔ̷̮l̸͍͘ẽ̴̘ ̴̩͑#̴̙͆2̸̥̎ ̴̲͌N̸̰̒e̵͔͝v̴̯̆ë̸͙́r̴̬̀ ̸̩̏t̶̳̍ḙ̵̑l̴̥͝l̵̹̍ ̴͎͆ă̴̤ ̷͖̉s̴͕̕o̸̼͊ǔ̶̡l̶̝̿ ̷̺̓ẅ̵̟́ĥ̵̞a̶͖̿ṱ̵̏ ̸̢̕(̵͉̽ŏ̵̢r̵͚͛ ̷̘̈h̷̯̾ò̴̺w̵͉̑ ̸͔̀m̷̡̈́ủ̷̞c̶͂ͅh̷͇̋)̶̻̂ ̵͖̈p̵͍͒o̶̤̽ẉ̶́e̷̤̚ȑ̵̪ ̸̣̚ÿ̴̥ö̶́͜ù̸͎ ̸͇̑ĥ̸̤ä̷̙v̶͖͒e̶̥͛

You sit back on the couch haughtily, taking pleasure in the absolutely dumbfounded look on his face.  

Tag List (Let me know if you would like to be added!)

@rl800 @fairyv-ice @looking1016 @martinys-world @sirens-and-moonflowers @alastorssimp 

[pouralaura]

I wanted to ask you this because I adore your Tav and how you write Raphael. Seriously I can’t get enough of them together. ♥️

We all talk about finding Raphael’s diary, but what if he found Tav’s? Tav who’s all prideful and teases him, acts like they’re not interested in him. Keeps their guard up, ya know? But he snatches up their diary and uncovers that they are anything but uninterested…

Basically just constant gushing, all of those embarrassing, obsessed, horny thoughts written down that Tav would rather die than admit to. ESPECIALLY to Raphael.

Thank you so much for the kind words! I love to write em mutually obsessed in the worst way. down so bad. 24/7 gross about each other.

here's a little something

--

Tav is out.

She's traipsing about with her companions (far less interesting than she; nuisances toward whom Raphael simply can't help his indifference) around the city, so it's a perfect time to do a bit of reconnaissance. Normally he'd demand this of Korrilla, but he is quite fond of Tav.

And sending Korrilla into Tav's private rooms at the Elfsong won't be quite enough this time. Some clients require a more personal touch -- more exclusive scrutiny.

(And, if he happens to find a delicious little morsel during his perusal through Tav's personal items, perhaps all the better.)

...Also helpful to have his little warlock downstairs to keep watch, just in case his target returns unexpectedly.

So: yes, Tav is out, and Raphael is in. He's poofed into her little bedroom, surveyed her meager possessions, and found...

...what has he found? Not much. Some emptied bottles and a wine glass that ought to be washed, a few books here and there in various states of being read, some dirtied laundry (but in a literal sense, not really what he's looking for).

There is, however, a small leather-bound volume on Tav's nightstand. Unassuming. Perhaps a journal.

He flips open to the most recent page, half-full of Tav's blocky print, and he discovers he's correct. Her writing is smudged inelegantly where he presumes she's rested the heel of her hand against the paper as she moves along. It's poor penmanship. Raphael tuts in disappointment.

But then he takes in the actual content of the page, and...

It's quite the discovery.

Oh, there's no mention of illithids anywhere. No reference to the Astral Plane, or their travels along the Sword Coast beyond a few landscape details. Not even a single acknowledgement of the long-awaited death of Ketheric Thorm.

No, it's something else entirely.

Her language is tentative and blushing at first, but grows more and more lewd as the paragraphs wind on. Such a hard-headed woman -- it's not a compliment -- headstrong and obstinate, keen and incisive...and she might as well have written a name in looping cursive surrounded by hearts all over these pages.

But what name? A lover from her past? Surely not one of her little friends.

Who is this man, who's clearly enchanted her so thoroughly? Tav writes of warm brown eyes and curls she'd like to touch and oh she knows he's absolutely fucking packing under those ugly-ass trousers --

Positively troglodytic language from his favorite little mouse. Raphael scoffs. How curious he is now to uncover the source of her more basal fantasies (aspersions cast on attire clearly notwithstanding). He flips another page, and scans the contents he finds.

Something tells me that man likes the sound of his own name more than anything. I'd say it all he wanted if I could have his mouth on me.

Raphael tastes iron and brimstone as he bites down on his tongue. His piercing gaze darts to the opposite page.

Would hate to stifle his sinful voice, though, even with it between my legs. Wonder if he'd sound the same with his cock buried so far in me he'd cum out my damn nose -- "Little mouse", he'd groan for me --

...

The devil blinks.

Well, well, well.

So it's he whom the hero of the story fancies so intensely, is it, now? Usually so quick to brush him off, to turn up her nose at his delivery...but ah, how her writing contradicts her demeanor. What a find. What a delight. Raphael's shit-eating grin nearly rivals his erection in size. (Also, yes, he's obviously packing; the little mouse is entirely correct. As if he'd glamour himself a small human cock.)

But he's not able to bask in this delicious revelation for long, as he feels the press of Korrilla's signature sending spell at the edge of his mind, signaling Tav's return to the inn. Much as he'd love to read more -- perhaps alongside a glass of wine, a hot bath, and the willing, pliant flesh of his pretty incubus (in the form of the Archduchess tonight, he thinks, as his cock aches) -- it's time to vacate the premises.

Carefully he replaces the leather-bound volume on Tav's bedside table exactly as he'd found it, snaps his fingers, and he's gone in a puff of smoke and glittering sparks. As if he'd never been there at all.

--

It's not a week later when he sees her again at the Caress, come to ask another question and draw out her inevitable agreement to his terms once again.

(He's in no hurry. He's not the one with a ticking time bomb in his pretty mortal head.)

It's not until she gets up to leave, her little friends in tow --

"See you later, Raphael."

-- that he makes his move. Stands with them as is polite, sweeps around elegantly to Tav's side as she follows her companions to the door.

Raphael places a hand delicately at the small of her back, giving her pause. Leans in close to her ear, pitching his voice low:

"How I do love the sound of my name more than almost anything else, little mouse. Particularly when it comes from your mouth."

Fingertips drift down further, tracing the line of Tav's hip to a point between decent and indecent -- the lightest of touches; almost-but-not-quite a caress. Raphael watches a flush travel from the apples of the mouse's cheeks down her neck, its trail further hidden by the unfortunately high line of her leather armor.

He thinks he's got her, but then she looks up to meet his eyes, and there's laughter behind her gaze as she delivers her line and exits stage left.

"The quilting on your trousers is ugly as all the Hells."

The devil is left bereft of words as Tav skips off to join the vampling and the Selunite at the door, casting one last (heated? mocking? both?) glance back at him. A wink in exchange for the sneering curl of his lip -- a rose for his thorns; a thorn for his roses.

But his scorn melts into a smirk when she disappears from sight. If it's more than a bit fond, who's to say?

He does love it when his clients put up a fight.

Perhaps he'll bring her to her knees in more ways than one. Give her an eyeful of the expensive quilting she seems to despise so passionately.

[meet-you-at-the-north-star]

Baby, it’s you

Harry Crosby x Red Cross girl reader!

Summary: Harry thinks you’re into a certain handsome pilot, after a mission you get the chance to reassure him

Notes: angsty and fluffy

Word count: 1089

Dedicated to @xxluckystrike 💕

“Hey Bucky” I shot the tall, dark-haired pilot an eloquent look. “Just be careful up there, alright?”

“Don’t you worry sweetheart, I’ll get this plane back to you all in one piece” He answered with a big grin in my direction and winked.

I rolled my eyes, cracking a smile for the first time that morning, as he leaned down to give me a hug. Saying goodbye to the boys before they went flying again was always the toughest part of the job, but I knew I had to be there. It was the least I could for them given everything they were risking.

I swept my gaze over the rest of the group of those who had been chosen for that day’s mission until my eyes found the person they were looking for.

Croz had a strangely gloomy look on his face. He was looking at Bucky and then his eyes darted back to me, like he’d been paying close attention to our quick interaction.

I boiled it down to him being nervous and I tried to smile at him as reassuringly as I could despite the tightness gripping my stomach.

I wanted nothing more than take him by the hand and carry him away, do anything I could to stop him from getting on that damn plane, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. I didn’t move a muscle, not even allowing myself to get close to him because I couldn’t bear the thought of what might happen to him.

He smiled back, his entire face lighting up to show the happy, silly looking guy I’d come to know and love for a brief, wonderful moment.

I followed him with my eyes until he disappeared inside the vehicle together with everyone else, and I had to move away from the track to join the small crowd of people gathered to watch.

And then there was nothing left to do but wait. I could have never imagined the kind of experience of being up there, freezing, knowing you could be hit at any moments, but there was also a special kind of pain that came with being forced to sit around and wait.

Minutes would turn into hours, as I tried to keep myself occupied, to have something on my hands at all times. It was the only possible way to avoid driving yourself insane with worry.

So I went back to my everyday mansions, but if my hands were relatively easy to manage, however much I was doing my brain was a whole lot busier and there was no way to keep it empty.

My thoughts lingered on Harry and the last image of him that was burned into my brain: the way he smiled, the wind messing up his wavy hair. But I couldn’t stop thinking about that strange expression a few moments before he got on board: was he mad at me? If that was the last time I saw him, I never would’ve forgiven myself.

Finally we heard the alarm signaling the return of the planes and I held my breath, racing to the nearest window and counting them as they appeared together with everyone else. One, two, three, four, five…fifteen. Half of the original total number.

My heart was pounding in my chest as me and the other girls prepared to welcome the boys who’d made it back relatively unscathed.

I did my best to greet every last one of them with a smile, as they approached, handing them a blanket, a cup of coffee, a glass of water or whatever else they needed. But my eyes kept drifting away in search of the one crew I longed to see the most.

As I was leaning down to fetch other glasses, I heard a familiar sardonic voice: “Hello again, sweetheart”.

My face shot up: “Bucky! You’re alright!” I yelled. “Is he…?” I couldn’t even finish the question, my eyes searching his blue ones for the answer, he knew who I was talking about.

“Your navigator’s fine too” He said in a more confidential tone, smirking as said navigator finally appeared in my line of sight.

Heart racing, I scanned Harry up and down, he looked a little banged up but mostly intact. He cracked a half-hearted smile and before I knew it, I was running towards him and hugging him tighly.

He froze for a moment, taken aback, then his arms closed around my waist somewhat hesitantly.

“You’re not hurt, right?” I asked looking everywhere and fumbling with his clothes, suddenly concerned that I’d been too exhuberant. “Do you need anything?”

“No, I’m okay, really” He kept following my ministrations with his eyes as if I was some kind of desert mirage.

“Well it was about time” said Bucky looking at the two of us with a knowing smirk and a usual talent for ruining the moment.

Croz frowned, looking at me in search of an explanation. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

I gave a small chuckle, then gently took his hands in mine and secured them back around my waist, mine traveling up to his shoulders, holding eye contact. “What do you think it means?”

He blinked once, then twice as the realization slowly washed over him. “But I thought you…” His eyes drifted between the pilot and me and I finally understood.

That’s what that look was about?

“Me and Bucky?” I asked like it was the most ridiculous idea in the world. “Oh, you know the guy, he’s just a huge flirt. Nothing going on there”

“Oh” was all he could muster. It looked like the biggest weight had just been lifted from his shoulders.

I took a small step back, reluctantly releasing myself from our embrace. “I have to get back to work and you have to go relax. I’ll meet you later” I promised and leaned on my tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek, before slowly backing away still smiling at him.

“Later” Croz stood there stunned for a few seconds, raising his fingers to where my lips had touched him, until Bucky said something to him that my ears could no longer hear, but it made him burst into a laugh, a soft pink shade coloring his cheeks.

He was about to follow the pilot but then stopped again, turning in my direction. He smiled, shaking his head as if he still couldn’t believe what just happened. He waved goodbye at me and finally made up his mind and joined the rest of his group.

[ladamedusoif]

20/20 - no outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

(gif by @nicolethered)

Summary: After months of pestering from Sarah, Joel finally concedes that he might need to get his eyesight checked and makes an appointment at your optometrist practice. He really doesn’t want glasses, though.

Pairing: No Outbreak!Joel Miller x Optometrist F!Reader

Content/Warnings: MDNI; 18+; not explicit as such but implied; no outbreak AU; Joel and reader are broadly around the same age; fluff; Joel in glasses is his own warning; me making stuff up about eye exams

Word Count: 1600 (this was supposed to be a drabble)

Notes: So @lunapascal and @julesonrecord decided I needed to atone for being incredibly thirsty for the sight of a certain someone putting on a pair of glasses. And voilà, a “glasses are hot” one-shot and my first attempt at Mr Miller.

They say the eyes are the windows to the soul. But they’re also fascinating little machines in their own right, and you should know: you’ve been running your own vision care clinic in Austin for almost twenty years, after qualifying as an optometrist and gaining experience for a couple of years at various chains.

Some people love finding out they’re going to get to wear glasses. Others? Not so much.

Your last customer of the day definitely falls into the latter category. 

“Mr Miller?”

He looks around him in the empty waiting area, sighs, and stands up to join you in the testing suite. He looks like he’s being sent to the rack, not going for a routine eye examination. You introduce yourself and gesture towards the seat in front of your desk.

“So, Mr Miller -”

“Joel.”

“Joel. What brings you to the clinic today? You’re a new customer, have you just moved to the area?”

Joel looks uncomfortable, shifting in the seat. You guess he’s in his early fifties or so, salt-and-pepper hair and a patchy beard. He’s broad, still evidently a strong and well-built man. His denim shirt, embroidered with a logo that reads Miller Family Contractors, fits snugly but perfectly over his frame. 

“No, not new to Austin. Been here my whole life. Just…new to the eye doctor.”

“I see.” You pull up his file on the computer system and note his age. “If you don’t mind me saying, Joel, you’ve done pretty well getting to this stage in life without needing some kind of sight correction. What’s changed?”

He exhales, and for the first time since he sat down he actually makes eye contact with you.

Holy shit. You look at irises and pupils and corneas all damn day. You admire and respect the human eye, but you didn’t think it had the same power of attraction over you. Turns out, it had just been a while since you’d seen eyes as beautiful as his.

Even in the shitty artificial light of the testing suite, you can see that Joel Miller’s eyes are a perfect dark brown: at times like black coffee, at times like fine whiskey, depending on the light. They’re warm and enticing, even without him trying. You notice, too, the laughter lines and wrinkles around those extraordinary eyes - here, despite his stern exterior and manner, is a man who smiles and laughs. Who knows happiness.

“My daughter… she made me. Said she was gettin’ sick of me holdin’ up my phone so I could see the screen, and of missin’ half the stuff in my shows because I was squintin’.”

“Ah, she sounds like a wise person. Well, Joel, let’s get going.”

You conduct the retinal exam and the glaucoma test, Joel flinching as the puffs of air hit each eye. When he almost drags himself off the stool to move over for the pupil reactions and visual acuity testing, you decide to just ask.

“Joel, is everything okay? Are you comfortable with the procedures I’m doing?”

He arranges himself in the chair, his broadness making the equipment look comically small. He flashes you another look with those big brown eyes.

“I…I don’t want glasses.”

It’s not the first time you’ve heard this. “It’s okay, Joel. If you need vision correction we can look at contacts, or even laser surgery if you think that might be an option.”

He grimaces.

“I don’t want pokin’ in my eyes, either. Or lasers pointed at them. Absolutely not.”

You arch an eyebrow. “Well, let’s hope you don’t need glasses, then, Joel Miller.”

You have to get up close to him for parts of the eye test, as normal. To your horror, you realise that every time you do so, you get a surge of desire. He smells of shaved wood, of pine soap, of peppermint, and of leather. You notice the smattering of freckles across the tan skin exposed by the snaps left open on his shirt. You can’t take your own eyes off his hands: big, broad, long, and strong. 

Your mind immediately wanders to thinking about what those hands could do to you. Where they could go that you can’t reach with your own fingers, how they’d feel against your skin, reaching for you, groping at your tits as you - 

You clear your throat and turn back to the lens unit, away from Joel, lest he see how flustered you are becoming. He’s got a daughter, you remind yourself. He’s got a wife, or a partner.

“Everythin’ okay?”

“Sure, yes, fine, Joel. Sorry, just trying a new lens combination.”

***

Of course he needs glasses. It’s not a very strong prescription, but he seems crestfallen as you talk him through it.

“Joel, I don’t want to be condescending but glasses are a minor hardship when you think of being able to see clearly again.”

For the first time, he cracks a smile. “I know, I know. I just - I dunno. I feel like I’m an old man now, with my glasses and my stiff knees and my tight back. That’s why I didn’t want them, I - vanity, I guess. Didn’t want to admit I was old.”

You smile in return, noting how kind and warm his expression was. “You’re not old, Joel. You look great.”

That was unprofessional.

He blushes. “Until I put the specs on, that is.”

You point to yourself. “I’m wearing contacts today so it’s easier for me to do my job, but in my downtime - I’m glasses all the way.”

He scoffs. “Different for you, though, you’d look pretty no matter what.” 

“Pretty?” 

Joel looks up at you from under his lashes. “I mean…yeah, you are. Probably even prettier in your glasses, too.”

It’s your turn for the heat to rise to your cheeks, but you can’t help smiling. “Let’s just double-check the last of the personal contact details before we go look at some frames. Says here your emergency contact is Sarah Miller but there’s no description of your relationship - is she your wi-“

“Daughter. Sarah’s my adult daughter. No wife, no girlfriend.”

You try not to smile too obviously. “My emergency contact is my younger sister. Same reason.”

As you print out Joel’s new prescription, there’s a knock on the door - Meghan, your assistant who usually looks after customers when they choose their frames.

“It’s closing time… you want me to stay late?”

You shake your head. “Of course not, Meghan. I think I’ll be able to help Mr Miller choose his new frames. If that’s okay with you, Joel?”

He smiles and turns to Meghan. “I think I’m in good hands.”

***

Joel studies the selection of frames on display in the main public area of the clinic, looking completely overwhelmed. He turns to you, shrugging helplessly.

“I don’t even know where to start. What would you suggest? You’re the expert.”

You move closer to study his features, taking in the size and shape of his face, the firm set of his jaw, the strong line of his nose, the softness of his lips. 

Fuck, this is a beautiful man.

You catch your breath momentarily. “Many men who don’t want glasses choose the invisible frames, like these.” You hold up a pair of the lightweight style, placing them gingerly on Joel’s handsome face.

He studies himself in the mirror. “Not bad. Can’t even tell.”

“If I might suggest something, though?”

He nods. “You’re the expert, like I said.”

“I think your features could carry something a little stronger. More definite, more distinguished. Can I show you?”

You pick a couple of acetate frames from the rack, one in a dark caramel brown, the other in a sort of charcoal grey. You hold them out to Joel. 

He wavers, and settles on the caramel pair. You watch as he examines the frames, before gently putting them on.

That’s when you give yourself away. The sight of that man putting on those glasses is so devastatingly sexy that you let out a tiny moan. Joel turns, the frames beautifully complementing his colouring and the darkness of his eyes, and it’s all you can do not to moan again.

“You okay?”

“I’m…I’m fine. You just look…very…”

He moves closer, a little smile on his face. “You sayin’ the glasses are doin’ it for you?”

You nod. “That pair, yes. Yes, I think they might be. I’m sorry, this is horribly unprofessional of me.”

He grins. “Can you explain what it is you like about them?”

You swallow hard, turning him to see himself alongside you in a mirror. “They’re stylish. They are strong. They’re distinguished. They’re very…masculine.” You let the next words slip before you can stop yourself. “In other words, they’re very you.”

Joel turns his back to the mirror, focusing on you. “Only because you found them for me. I’d never have tried somethin’ like this.”

“You glad you did?”

“I am. And I’m glad I came in to get my old eyes checked out by the prettiest optometrist in all Texas.” 

You laugh, and he catches your hand to pull you in. Your fingers rest lightly on the broad expanse of his chest, feeling the taut denim underneath. You look at him expectantly.

“I know this is probably mighty unprofessional, but…”

You nod. “But I’ve already gone over the line, so…”

Joel leans in, frames still on, and kisses you: hot, hungry, deeply. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck, returning his kiss with the same intensity. When you break away, you take his hand and lead him back towards the testing suite.

“More tests, darlin’?”

You arch an eyebrow as you pull him inside and close the door. “I suspect you’ll pass these with flying colours, Joel Miller. You don’t need 20/20 vision for what I’ve got in mind.”

[sombrashe]

i love ur blog!! it would be super cool if u did a norm x reader but the reader is like a wastelander/from the wastelands or something like that!!

content fluff, first kiss :3, both reader and norm are weird little things he's just more sexually inclined, gn!reader, chubby!reader

note(s) thank you so much for the kind words ;-; i hope you enjoy this !!

It's been three weeks since you joined the rag-tag group. Two vault dwellers, a ghoul, an ex-BOS member, and a wasterlander. Sounds like the beginning to one of The Ghoul's bad jokes. He calls them dad jokes but since over half of you didn't have a dad the idea was lost to the sand. Plopping down you go through your nearly empty pack.

"I think me and The Ghoul should go on a supply run."

Your voice rose to speak over the horrid wind pelting small clouds of sand into the side of the burnt-out husk of a house. Everyone looks you over and immediately starts speaking over each other to argue about the dangers of leaving into the storm. Raising a hand you let out a short shout to gain attention which works wonders.

"I've lived in this desert all my life I know how to keep sand away from my skin, I'll be fine. The Ghoul is pretty much unkillable. We need food. My pack is empty."

You try to sound reasonable. It's been days of your group being holed up in this shithole and honestly, you wanted out of there even for a little. As close as you have grown to each member of the group you barely have any time to yourself anymore.

"What if you get lost?"

"It's a small neighborhood, I'll be fine. I promise."

"You can't promise that and you know it."

Norm's voice chastises you despite his face hiding his true concern. You knew he just wanted what was best for you. Him being the one person you opened up to the most. His easygoing attitude and similar resting face made it nice to tell him about any worries. And you had a lot especially living on the surface. Something he was slowly becoming accustomed to.

"Why not take one of us instead?"

Lucy speaks up. Her eyes search your face, hoping you'll change your mind.

"The only one I would be willing to take is Max, but he's out of commission."

You point to his leg which sits propped on a toppled bookshelf. Trying to save Lucy from a radscorpion cost him a rolled ankle.

"The Ghoul is no-nonsense, he'll get us in and out, and if he doesn't... I'm sure youse guys can win a 4 v 1."

You give a wide smile showing them that you mean what you say. You just wanted to get this over with. You've been thinking about this for hours now. Watching as your already small assortment of supplies dwindled.

"Please, just let us go."

"Don't I get a say in this sweetheart?"

"No. You want 'ta find their dad as much as the rest of us. Not me, I'm here for all the warm company."

You roll your eyes and sling your pack over your shoulder. Norm stands just as quick nearly shoving you over in the process. You steady yourself against his bicep. Only for a second before you yank your hand back as a warm heat burns your cheeks. You walk around the room collecting anything you might need. An extra pair of pants wrap around your face. Nice and snug according to Lucy. Making eye contact with Norm you feel the need to look away. His eyes are so expressive and they're begging you to stay. You go to give him an awkward hug hoping to make the feeling in your stomach go away. He doesn't bite and gently untangles the fabric from around your jaw. Your goggles skew your peripheral but you know everyone is staring. You can't hear the mumbling as he leans forward. You can't even hear the wind whipping broken glass into the side of your hideout. You struggle to hear anything over the roaring of blood rushing to flood your head. Especially when his lips connect with yours. You lived a hard life and went through unimaginable pain, but this kiss, even for a moment, made you forget everything and everyone. His lips were so soft a stark contrast to the sharp broken skin of your own. Your hands lay limp at your side as you attempt to kiss back. This was all quite foreign to you but you wanted to make it work. Needed to make it work. Deep down.

"Come back to us. To me, please." He whispers directly against your lips.

Reaching up he ignores Lucy's inquisitive eyes as he gathers the untangled mess of denim. Slowly he affixes it back together and into a tight shield against the elements. He gives your cheek one quick squeeze through the thick layer. You thank the cover because you couldn't stand letting everyone see your grin even if Norm picked up on your eyes crinkling. Turning around you opt to look at the floor as you walk over to the strong oak door. Luckily the wood stayed mostly strong for these past 200-odd years with only a corner piece missing. Flinging the door open you call back to The Ghoul to hurry up as you disappear into the screaming darkness.

[syddsatyrn]

Chapter 1 ⛤ Chapter 2 ⛤ Chapter 3 ⛤ Chapter 4 ⛤ Chapter 5 Masterlist

⛤Pairing: - Eddie Munson x FemReader

⛤Warnings: Swearing, drinking / smoking, fluff, friends to lovers, smut, oral, p in v

⛤Words: 1.4k

⛤Song: "Photograph" By Def Leppard

⛤Summary: Moving away from Hawkins was the biggest mistake of your life. You left your best friends and forgot to stay in touch. Years later, you decide to hit up your good friend Steve. Its time to make a plan and make amends. The one thing you didn't expect was feelings to resurface when you saw your old highschool crush.

⛤Notes: This series is 18+ Minors scram. Everybody give it up for our bet reader @hellfiremunsonn ! This is sadly our last chapter. But if you know from my previous fics, flattery works with me. So comment/reblog if you want to see another chapter. It was so fun writing this. I love making these and I'm glad you enjoy them too.

⛤Chapter 5: Just Stay Eddie went back inside the bar, and told the group you were feeling pretty exhausted from all the excitement. He slipped Steve a 20 dollar bill so he could take care of the tab later. Eddie thought he was being sly but everyone knew exactly what was going on. It was nothing personal, you both just needed some time alone to process all these feelings and move forward. Eddie opened the driver side door and climbed in. Seeing you in his leather jacket while seated comfortably on the passenger side of his van sparked a bit of pride, he could feel it in his chest. It was his moment and he was going to make it happen. Eddie pulled out of the parking lot and turned down the main road. He turns the radio on and lights the cigarette hanging from his mouth. You were once again taken aback by how kind he is, how he’s always looking out for you. You couldn't stop staring at his handsome face, he’s always made you feel weak in the knees but this time was different. It’s getting darker, there aren't many cars on the road. When you look out the window you notice how the sky is littered with bright stars, a sight you haven't seen in a long time. Eddie pulls into the apartment complex parking lot and parks in an empty space. He shuts off the engine and before you knew it, he was opening the van door. You take his hand as you carefully hop out. He wraps his arm around your shoulders and leads you up to his place.  “I’ve got a little something for you upstairs.” He grins and kisses the top of your head. “Oh yeah? What might that be?” You return his playful tone. “All in due time, my love.” He says as he unlocks the front door. You expected Dustin to be there but it seems he’s gone out. You make it to Eddie's room and he quickly shuts the door behind you. He opens a small cabinet in his desk and pulls out two small glasses and a bottle of rye whiskey. “Can I pour you a drink?” “Yes please.” You giggle, Eddie used to be so rough around the edges, when did he get so sophisticated? He hands you the half full glass and you take a seat on the bed. He opens his closet and you can hear him fumbling around inside. After a moment he returns with something in his closed hand. He presents you with this red guitar pick necklace and you immediately recognize it.  “Do you remember this?” Eddie asks, taking a seat next to you. He motions for you to turn around and you hesitate at first but eventually turn your body away from him. He takes a sip and sets his glass down on the table. “Yeah! You used to wear it everyday, how could I forget?” You reply, you almost forgot he asked you a question. He drapes the necklace around your neck and adjusts the clasp. Eddie moves your hair off to one side, “Y/N, you and I both know this can't be temporary. I don’t want this to end when you leave, so I need you to tell me something, okay?” He runs his fingers through your hair.  “Do you really love me? Or is this something temporary. We’re adults now, things are different and more complicated. But I know my feelings for you have never changed.” Eddie admits while resting his chin on your shoulder. “I do…I love you so much it's stupid. At first I felt the same way, like you could have any girl you wanted so I had to be just some fling, right?” You take a drink, the liquor burns your throat, reminding you that you are in fact, an adult with adult feelings. You place your glass on the side table. “Eddie, I don’t think I want to go back to Shelbyville.” The thought hit you so hard. Why are you still there? “You don’t have to go. You could just stay and be mine.” He says, barely above a whisper. His face is really close, the thought of being his and only his made your heart pound. “Just stay.” He whispers in your ear. His voice is sticky sweet and his words ignite a fire within you. 

You turned around and kissed him hard. Eddie wraps one arm around your waist, the other carding through your hair. Your arms slowly wrap around his neck, each kiss more heated than the last. While your tongues dance in sync, Eddie slides his jacket off your shoulders and it falls to the floor. He slips one hand up your shirt which sends a shiver up your spine. You tug on Eddie's hoodie, he immediately gets the hint and removes it along with his shirt. It didn't take long to get you out of your clothes and in his sheets. Lost in the moment, you both surrendered to desire, your bodies moving in perfect harmony. Lips brushed against cheeks, trailing tender kisses along jawlines and necks. Each touch a whispered promise of longing and each kiss was a unveiled secret.  Eddie explored every inch of your body with his fingertips. He was slow, reveling in the moment that he thought he would never have. He maneuvered himself on top of you and continued to plant kisses down your neck to your chest. With his free hand he rubs his thumb over your sensitive nipple. Your breath hitched and you let out a small whine. Your mind was in an intoxicating haze as Eddie’s lips went lower and lower. The anticipation was killing you but at the same time the thrill of it all was magic. Eddie kisses your inner thighs, you grab ahold of the sheets. He slips his tongue between your folds and everything melted away. The room was soon filled with soft moans and heavy breathing, you started to lose yourself in it all. You didn't have to chase that climax for very long, Eddie made sure to get you there with no effort on your part. When his face appeared from under the sheets you couldn't help but grab the back of his neck and kiss him deeply, tasting yourself on his lips. Eddie slipped himself between your legs and positioned himself at your entrance. Your hands roamed his body while you kissed his collarbones. He slowly slid his cock inside of you, he let out a low groan. This is everything Eddies ever dreamed about, the mental image of you underneath him will be burned into his mind for eternity. The way you feel is pure ecstasy to him, your soft skin and the way you taste was better than he could have imagined. He slowly pulls out and back in, making sure not to cause you any pain. He picks up the pace as you moan into his neck. “You’re so wet ah–You feel so fucking good.” Eddie growls into your ear, he thrusts into you deeper, and deeper. Eventually earning him a cacophony of moans and swears from your pretty mouth. It made him smirk, knowing he could unravel you so easily. He motions for you to roll over onto your stomach. You follow his lead and arch your back, allowing him to slide inside of you once again. He grabs your hips and pulls you closer and thrusts into a little harder than before. Your face is buried in a pillow, all Eddie could hear was more muffled screams and something that sounded like his name. “Mhmm…that's my girl, you sound so pretty. You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this.” He says, his breath is starting to sound heavy, he could feel you tightening around him. He knows you're close, even after all these years he can still read your body like an open book. “Eddie I’m gonna…” You trail off, Eddie keeps up the pace, his fingers dig into your hips as you both climax, one after the other. Eddie lets out a moan followed by a string of swears. Thank goodness no one is home yet, it felt like you both made a lot of noise. Eddie slides out of you and pulls the covers over the both of you. Your legs intertwined, he peppers your face with kisses and you giggle. His arms wrap around you, pulling you as close as possible. You’ve craved these quiet moments of connection. In Eddie's arms you found sanctuary and safety. There were no masks to hide behind, no pretenses to uphold. Your fingers trace lazy circles on his skin. “Now I definitely don’t want to go back to Shelbyville.” You finally break the silence and Eddie chuckles.

“It was that good huh?” Eddie smirks, “If you stay, you can have this whenever you like.” He affectionately taps your nose with his index finger.  “You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Munson.” You kiss him softly, “I accept your terms.” You whisper against his lips, followed by a smile. Eddie presses his lips to yours once again, his fingers card through your hair. Time seemed like it was standing perfectly still, all your worries have melted away. It was a feeling you haven't felt in a long time, something like contentment or peace. “Where home!” Said Steve’s disembodied voice carried through the apartment. “Shit…” You pull back and both curse in unison.

[adidastain]

just like heaven

college matt stone x fem reader

warnings: smut (vaginal penetration)

notes: first person perspective (I, me, my, etc.), i really wanted to write something fluffy and kinda vanilla so sorry if it’s boring but i love it a lot i think it’s sweet

word count: 5240

—

Nothing was more relieving than getting in bed after a long day of classes and running errands. I’d been busting my ass the entire day, making sure everyone around me was happy and calm. It was what I did best, to be completely honest. I liked taking over. Sure, it made me kind of a bad collaborator, but I preferred to stay positive and think of it as one of my best qualities. Productive, stern, and leaderly. 

One of my classmates had a dorm to himself and had been letting me stay there for a while, since I lived off campus on paper, but didn’t have a car. We both majored in film; he double majored in math as well, and I was minoring in psychology. 

He was cool and funny. Sometimes he’d even say stuff that earned him a clock to the jaw, but regardless, I thought he was funny. And smart. He double majored; of course he was smart.

I sighed heavily, opening the heavy steel door to his dorm, labeled ‘MATT’ with a cute paper cutout of a kid wearing a ushanka and glasses showing a peace sign. It made me smile every time I saw it. His mind was so interesting.

To my surprise, the lights were on inside. He’d told me he was going to a little party in our other classmate’s building a few blocks away, so I didn’t think he’d be home.

“Oh, you’re here,” I said, taking my jacket off. 

“Unfortunately,” he said, grinning. His voice was deep and slightly nasally as always, with just a hint of raspiness. He sounded really tired. 

“What happened? I thought you were going to Trey’s party,” I said softly. I looked in the mirror on the back of the door, removing my hair clip and earrings. I didn’t want to waste any time getting to bed. 

“I just…” Matt swallowed, shifting in his seat in the beanbag on the floor. “I dunno. I changed my mind. Kinda exhausted.”

“I hear that,” I laughed, raising my eyebrows. There was some sort of old comedy movie on the little TV next to Matt’s bed. His whole dresser was covered in empty cans, dirty shot glasses with sticky syrup at the bottom, wrappers, deodorant, shit like that. I guess someone had been over and Matt was too tired to clean up the mess. “I’m gonna change real quick, don’t look.”

“Aw man,” he said, teasing me. I rolled my eyes and turned my back to him, pulling my sweater and tank top over my head all at once. I’d been wearing a sports bra all day and the elastic was starting to dig into my skin. I looked behind me, just to make sure he wasn’t trying to sneak any glances. Not that there was much to see. 

Lo and behold, as soon as I turned my head, I caught his turning too, back towards the TV. 

I grabbed a discarded T-shirt off the floor and swung it at him, hitting him a lot more violently than I really intended to. “You are such a pervert!” I laughed.

“I wasn’t trying to look at you!” he shrieked. I hit him again. “I thought I heard someone at the door!”

“A pervert and a liar!” I accused. Matt stood up, trying to defend himself from my wrath as I exacted my revenge. He yelped and grabbed my wrists, pushing back against me. 

We play-fought like this often. He was a lot stronger than me. He may not have looked like it, being so slim, but he was fit underneath all that fabric he was drowning in. Especially his arms. We’d go on and on, until it felt awkward and drawn out. 

Of course, by doing this, I’d ended up giving him a free show anyway. He’d definitely seen me changing before. Matt had walked in on me on several occasions, but it was mostly my fault, since I would come and go in his dorm without saying anything. He didn’t seem to have a problem, though. 

I bit my lip, pushing against his weight with all my might. He pretty much towered over me and my hands were engulfed in his large ones. He probably wasn’t even using half of his strength on me. 

Suddenly, he let go of my hands, causing me to fall forward slightly. I lost my balance until I felt his arms wrap tightly around my torso, before he lifted me up and pushed me onto his bed and walked away. 

He giggled to himself as he stepped towards his little mini refrigerator to grab a can of soda. I felt slightly warm inside; something about the way he was able to just lift me up and throw me down so easily made my face burn up. 

Of course, Matt acted like it was nothing and sat back down in his beanbag, one of his hands idly rubbing the fuzzy fabric cover with his thumb and index finger. 

I scoffed loudly and stood back up, blocking his view of the TV. My hand politely took the soda can out of his hand, watching his eyes follow it as I brought it to my lips and took a long, long sip. He just stared up at me, but he didn’t look in any way offended. He just looked completely awestruck, a puppy-eyed look ever present in his face. 

I put the soda down on the dresser so that he’d have to get up to get it, and went back to changing. I faced the TV so I could keep a hawk’s eye on him as I peeled off my jeans, rendering me in just my bra and panties which didn’t match at all. 

I heard him grunt slightly as he stood up to grab his soda off of the dresser. He turned around to face me, until he stopped dead in his tracks and his smirk was wiped clean off his face. 

After a second or two of him taking in as much of the sight as he could, his hand flew over his eyes. 

“Sorry,” he whined. “I was gonna play a prank on you. Didn’t know you were changing again. ‘M sorry.” 

“I don’t care, Matt,” I sighed in defeat. “I practically live here now. You were gonna see me half-naked at some point anyhow.”

Hesitantly, he lowered his hand, keeping his gaze on the floor. It was strange; he didn’t sit back down. 

“Just don’t let me find any of my clothes in your bed or I’ll punch you hard enough to turn your teeth into bullets,” I said. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, focusing on my task at hand once more. I dug through my big duffel bag to look for a clean shirt to sleep in, only finding a bunch of dress clothes that I hadn’t yet needed to wear. Right. I sighed. They’re in the wash. 

“Could I borrow a shirt?” I asked. Matt was sitting once more, rubbing the back of his neck and gently tugging on some of his curls. 

“Mhm,” he hummed, glancing at me again. That ‘glance’ turned into more of a ‘good look’. My back was turned to him again and I pretty much had my ass on full display. 

I don’t know when he looked away. I don’t actually know if he looked away at all. I just dug through his closet, trying to find the biggest T-shirt he had. 

It wasn’t uncommon for me to borrow his clothes. My duffel bag had initially only had enough clothes for 2 weeks, so I did laundry quite often and sometimes had to wear the same pants multiple days in a row. When I felt extra lazy and put off doing laundry, he let me borrow shirts, hoodies, sweatpants, pajama pants, the whole shabang. 

I picked out one of his Primus tees that had some fucked up linework drawing of a prostitute smoking a hooka. It was a sick shirt but it definitely wasn’t something you could wear to class. 

It fit me like a dress, which I loved. It was big enough that the hem covered most of my ass, which was good, because I didn’t have any clean shorts to sleep in unless I stole a pair of his. 

Lastly, I pulled my bra off from under my shirt and tossed it towards the door, where I threw most of my dirty clothes. Once I was finished, I turned back around and stood next to where Matt was sitting. 

“Scoot over,” I said. He quickly obliged. It was a pretty big beanbag, so we could both fit as long as we were shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip. I must admit that there had been a night or two where we would end up entangled in some way due to the lack of space. My legs in his lap, my head on his shoulder, his arm resting up behind me. 

There was nothing I didn’t like about being close to him. He made me feel safe and he smell good and was warm. Some nights I hoped he’d be in the mood for having me real close. I hoped really hard now, especially after what just happened. 

“What are we watching?” I asked, making myself nice and comfortable and curling up next to him. 

“Groundhog Day,” he said, tilting his head back slightly so he could speak through the soda in his mouth. I looked at him for a moment, watching the muscles in his neck move as he swallowed the liquid. Then I turned my attention to the screen. “You missed the beginning, but basically he’s stuck living the same day over and over again. It’s like, a big allegory or whatever for Buddhism. Pretty good, though”

I nodded, watching as the Bill Murray character talked to a woman and asked her out on a date. A few seconds later, there was a smash cut to them on the verge of having sex. Matt awkwardly laughed next to me.

“Ah, yeah. Buddhism,” I said, mocking him. 

“You’ll like it. It gets better,” he argued. That’s when I felt his arm snake behind me, just a few inches away from laying across my shoulder. Once again, he rubbed the fabric between his fingers, fidgeting. 

Eventually the whole foreplay bit was over and the next scene started. My body subconsciously leaned into Matt’s, sinking my weight into his slim torso and absorbing the warmth that his body generated. I was both extremely comfortable and extremely exhausted. 

The movie went on, and like Matt said, the character was living the same day over and over. It was kind of lulling me to sleep. It was definitely pretty funny; occasionally I would jerk awake at the sound of Matt chuckling softly. I think at some point he pulled a blanket off his bed and wrapped it around me. I swear he ran his hand through my hair for just a moment, pulling me closer to him. 

Now his arm was wrapped around my shoulder, his hand occasionally lifting up to run his fingers through my hair or flatten any stray strands. It felt safe; it felt right. 

I opened my eyes and looked up at him, finding that his gaze was already on me. He looked like a deer in headlights, but exhausted at the same time. I watched Matt’s eyes dart around my face. 

“You ready for bed?” he asked softly, looking at the top of my head as he fixed a strand of my hair. 

One of my favorite parts about him was that he could be harsh and gentle, depending on the occasion. He always had a resting bitch face and was kind of intimidating to a lot of people, but he had such a soft, gentle side to him. 

My hand made its way up to his cheek. Matt had a nice, soft layer of peach fuzz that, paired with the warmth of his face, made my heart beat faster. My thumb tenderly traced back and forth on his cheek bone while my eyes fixated on his lips. 

Eventually, I felt his breath on my face as he closed his lips over my bottom one. I’d been biting the skin off of it all week, so there was a small stinging sensation that quickly faded once he kissed me again. 

I felt so shy all the sudden. Here I was, curled up in his arms, softly making out with him like teenagers with no experience. No second guesses or hesitations, just hearts beating together, breaths melting into each other while we explored. 

How did we get here? The question crossed my mind before I immediately pushed it away. I didn’t give a shit about how we got there, I was just glad that this is where we ended up. 

Without pulling his lips away from me, Matt somehow managed to find the remote and turn off the TV, before caressing my waist and pulling me ever closer. He was hovering over me a little, only making my heart race faster and my desire for him grow stronger. 

Now things were definitely starting to heat up. Matt softly groaned into my mouth, and for the first time since our lips first met, we pulled away. 

His eyes bored into mine, pupils dilated. We sat breathing into each others mouths, catching our breath as we tried to read what the other was thinking. It was almost suspenseful. 

“Can I take your shirt off?” I asked. It wasn’t even a whisper. Nope. I just breathed and moved my mouth to form the words. 

“Uh-huh,” he responded, nodding. He swallowed and I didn’t hesitate to tuck my hands under the hem of his baggy gray-green T-shirt. Matt kissed me again, deepening it. 

In an instant, his lips parted and he gasped softly as soon as my fingertips made contact with the warm skin of his abdomen. I could feel that part of his torso shifting ever so slightly as he breathed. 

I pulled away, making sure to keep eye contact with him while I slowly lifted his shirt up inch by inch. 

“You’re so gorgeous,” he exhaled, catching me off guard. I swallowed, feeling my face flush once again. 

A second or two later, I pulled the fabric over his head, finally rendering him topless in front of me. He had a slender, curvy waist and just the smallest little bit of muscle in his abdomen. His hips were prominent, and his upper body was very broad in contrast to his slim frame. He had little dark beauty spot freckles scattered across his shoulders and body. I would love to sit there all day and just count them. I wanted badly to just map out and explore his body, feeling every inch of his skin and memorizing his shape. 

I snapped out of my trance as soon as he kissed me again, letting out several vocal breaths that I honestly didn’t expect to ever hear him make. He remained gentle in his kisses, but I felt the desire boiling and festering within both of us. It was extremely hard to ignore. 

“Do you wanna stop?” I asked, pulling away suddenly. 

“Do you wanna stop?” he repeated, his voice somewhat nervous. Matt swallowed and scanned my face. 

“No,” I whispered. I wrapped my arms around his neck, taking one of his curls between my fingers. 

Matt licked his lips. I could feel his whole body relax, and he leaned closer, ghosting his lips against mine. 

“Do you wanna have sex with me?” he asked shyly, staring down at my lips. My stomach flipped and felt a strong jumping-like feeling in between my legs. 

“I would like that a lot,” I answered, giggling wide eyes. I was so flustered that I was to the point where I laughed at myself. 

“Fuck yeah,” he laughed, out of breath. Matt leaned in to kiss me again, this time opening his mouth slightly wider. “Should we go up there?” 

He tilted his head towards the bed next us, and I nodded, wrapping my legs around his torso so he could pick me up.

“Mmh… c’mere baby,” he hummed softly, pressing my body against his as he lifted me up and tenderly laid me down beneath him on his bed. 

Matt suddenly felt so much bigger than me now that his body was hovering over me. He was straddling my hips, both of his large hands massaging my waist under my (his) shirt while he started leaving wet kisses down my neck. 

I arched my back at the feeling of his teeth as they pinched a small spot below my ear, his tongue coming quickly to the rescue to warm up the spot and relieve the pain. My hands were entangled in his soft, somewhat messy curls, caressing his entire head and holding it close to me. I stared at the ceiling, letting my eyes flutter shut any time I heard him groan and felt his hips subtly buck above me. 

“How about your shirt, baby?” he asked, nibbling on my ear. I could hear him breathing heavily through his nose, each warm exhale covering my ear and neck. One of his hands slid up my body and grazed the underside crease of my boobs with his fingertips. 

“You mean your shirt,” I giggled, rubbing his warm shoulders.

“Okay, my shirt,” he scoffed. “Can I take it off?”

I nodded, sitting up slightly. As soon as his hands lifted the fabric up and over my nipples, I panicked slightly. In no time the shirt was on the floor and Matt’s eyes were tentatively glued to my bare chest.  

“Oh, baby, I’m gonna fuck you so good…” he mumbled, prying his eyes away from my now nearly naked body. His hands squeezed my hips, lifting them up so he could start grinding against me. 

“Matt-“ I gasped. His hot mouth almost immediately attached to my collarbone, his tongue pressing flat against the skin. Meanwhile, I shivered as one of his hands slowly dragged up my waist and tenderly caressed one of my tits. And on top of that, for the first time, I could feel the tent he’d been pitching press into me as he started grinding against my hips with desperation. 

I ran my fingers through his hair and lifted my hips up, supported by my heels digging into the soft covers below me. My hands slid down over his shoulder blades, tracing each muscle as I moved them towards my panties. Finally, I managed to wriggle out of them and fling them onto the floor while Matt was sitting on his knees, towering over me. His broad chest moved in and out with each heavy breath he took with his lips slightly agape. 

He looked like one of those ancient Greek statues. Each muscle so defined under such smooth, warm skin. Natural posture so relaxed and almost ethereal. I wanted to devour him. 

Matt stared at me, the look in his eyes almost anxious but infinitely flustered and filled with lust. In a flash he yanked his flannel pajama pants down to his knees, kicking them off while he crawled on top of me again.!

“Do you like it fast or hard?” he asked me, his voice faltering slightly. He swallowed, looking down at me from above. Matt’s arms were on either side of me, propping his body up as he then got ready to start pulling his boxers off. 

“Fast,” I exhaled, though it really sounded more like a moan. Even subconsciously I wanted him to know that right now, I wanted him more than anything. 

“‘Course, baby,” he hummed softly, bending his arms like he was doing a pushup so he could peck my lips. I felt him smiling in the kiss. “Do you wanna… get me going?” 

He gestured towards his boxers and the hot, throbbing erection beneath them. Without hesitation, I spit in my palm and slipped my fingers under the waistband of his boxers, first untucking his cock from the side and then gently wrapping my hand around it. 

Matt immediately whimpered, holding in as much of it as he could while screwing his eyes shut. He felt so warm in my hand… and thick. I could feel a vein or two protruding from the soft skin and made sure to pay a little extra attention to them. 

“Fuck,” he hissed, letting his head drop down so he could see what wonders I was working with my hand. He shimmied out of his boxers and now I could see that yes, he was in fact thick. Most definitely thicker than I knew I was used to. 

I knew it was going to hurt like a bitch. It was intimidating, but still, as I tenderly stroked up and down his length, I only kept thinking of it as something that was making him feel insanely good and not as something that was going to hurt me. It would only hurt for a few seconds. 

His breath hitched and he practically threw my hand off him, sitting up again to catch his breath for a moment. 

“Jesus Christ,” he laughed, out of breath. Matt raised his eyebrows and smiled. His cheeks were so flushed and it looked like some sweat pearls had begun forming at his temples. 

I laid back, watching his muscles shift and flex as he took his glasses off and reached inside one of his dresser drawers for a condom. 

As he tore open the package, he looked at me, seemingly getting lost in the sight of me. 

I grabbed the hand of his that held the unopened condom and brought it close to my face so that I could kiss it. Then I pushed his hand back towards him so he could do the same, though he looked thoroughly confused.

“What, is that good luck or something?” he chuckled, looking down at his hands and dick as he opened the condom and slid it onto his length.

“It’s tradition,” I said, shrugging. Matt furrowed his eyebrows. 

“What tradition?” he scoffed, crawling on top of me. 

“Messing with you. I made it up,” I grinned. 

He shook his head, adjusting his position and posture while handling his cock, making sure it would slide in easy. 

Matt looked up at me through his eyebrows. It was the last look of reassurance before anything was really about to happen. Our lives were about to change forever. 

I nodded. I was so desperate for him at this point, I didn’t care if he hurt me at all. 

His large hand spread out on one side of my hips, digging into the flesh ever so slightly and likely leaving faint nail marks in my skin. I kept my eyes on him and found him instructing me to take a deep breath in with him. Before he told me to exhale though, he started pushing in. 

“Hmmn- ahh!” I half-moaned, half-winced. 

“Shh… oh, fuck,” Matt whispered in my ear, letting out a deep moan that’s he’s probably kept inside for a little while. 

I let out a groan of discomfort, trying my best to hold it in but ultimately failing. In response, Matt pulled his lips away from my ear so he could get a good look at my face.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, swallowing. 

“Mhm,” I hummed, biting my lip. I took a deep breath, trying to focus on the feeling of Matt’s fingertips brushing my hair out of my face. “Just give me a minute.” 

Matt lowered himself on top of me, beginning to pepper soft, wet kisses on my jaw and neck. His hand massaged my hip and occasionally inched lower to squeeze the soft flesh of my upper thigh. 

I kissed him and became lost in his lips, wrapping my arms around his neck and holding him close to me. His curls tickled my forehead as we kissed softly. I’d completely forgotten about the fact the he was inside of me; I was so focused on how his lips felt and the fact that I could feel his heart pounding with his chest pressed against mine. Our skin grazed together softly with each breath we took, giving me goosebumps. 

“You can start now,” I whispered against his lips. Matt hummed in response, kissing me a little bit deeper as he adjusted the position of his body. 

We remained with our lips attached as his hips started to roll back and forth. I could hear Matt whimper every couple of seconds and he kept holding his breath, pulling away from the kiss to exhale into my mouth. The warmth in the pit of my stomach really started to boil up once he started moving, slowly drawing himself out and thrusting back in. I listened carefully to each little sound and breath he made as he moved. 

I heard him heavily exhale after swallowing. “S’good…” he whispered, grunting slightly. I moaned, running my fingers in his hair and tugging on it gently. 

A loud groan escaped his throat as I did this, encouraging me to do it again. One of his hands suddenly wrapped tenderly around my throat, carefully squeezing my neck. Matt’s head cocked to the side as he opened his mouth and slid his tongue in between my lips. 

I let out a soft moan as his tongue slid against mine, exploring the inside of my mouth with hunger and desperation. I let my hands travel from his head and neck down to his body, caressing his waist and pulling him into me. Matt’s hand left my hip, instead moving up to grip the top of the headboard of his bed, holding it to keep it from knocking against the wall each time we moved. 

He leaned down to let his forehead rest against mine, staring into my eyes. I stared right back. I’d never seen him without his round silver glasses before, but I knew he had a stunning set of dark green eyes and now I could see each little spec of blue in them as they darted around my face, almost nervously. 

His free hand moved to cup one of my tits, rolling his fingers over my nipple to tease the sensitive area. I gasped slightly, arching my back. 

“You have no idea how perfect you look right now,” he exhaled. 

I couldn’t do or say anything else but smile. I always had that reaction when he complimented me, but I was much more used to him saying something about my clothes or my work. His voice always sounded so deep and smooth; to hear him say my name or something nice about how I looked always sent my blood rushing to my cheeks.

“I’m close,” I whispered, touching his chest. 

“Faster?” he hummed. 

“Yeah,” I laughed slightly. 

Before moving again, he adjusted his position, letting go of the headboard. He propped himself up and licked the thumb of his free hand, before lowering it and using it to massage slow circles around my clit. Matt’s body was hovering above me when he bowed his head to start kissing the crook of my neck. Only then did he start thrusting once more, rolling his hips faster and faster. 

The new sensation along with the added pleasure of his fingers working my clit had me in shambles. I threw my head back and let out a loud moan, succumbing to the electrifying, hot sensation that festered throughout my entire body. The pit of my stomach tightened, my legs trembled, my hands gripped anything they could touch. I dig my fingertips into the sheets, his back and shoulders, his biceps, his waist, his scalp. Several times did I pull on his hair like I was holding on for dear life, earning a groan from him each time. I just hoped I wasn’t hurting him. 

Matt let out a loud moan. I opened my eyes to see him struggling to thrust at a consistent pace, faltering every few seconds with his eyes screwed shut and his mouth agape. I watched him look down to see himself pumping in and out of me, his eyebrows furrowed and bottom lip tucked under his front teeth. 

He whimpered, trying his best to hold his breath. The sight of him rushing toward his own orgasm sent me over the edge. I cried out his name, gasping as every muscle in my body tensed up. The knot in my stomach came undone and I could feel my blood pumping through my body. 

Only a moment or two later did Matt’s body shudder and tense up. His muscles flexed as he leaned forward and tried his hardest to keep his hips moving, but he was ultimately overcome by his orgasm as he came, my name spilling from his mouth in the most beautiful way. 

I huffed, my body melting into his bed as my legs twitched and trembled. Matt collapsed on top of me, allowing his entire weight to sink into me. His arms were shaking, as if he were shivering. We both laid there for a minute, absorbing each other as we caught our breath. 

I think he fell asleep after a minute or two. He was completely relaxed on top of me like a big bag of sand. After a little while, my breaths became forceful, so I had to wake him up.

“Matt,” I hummed, tucking a strand of his hair behind my ear. 

He wasn’t sleeping. Matt lifted himself up, smiling down at me. He kissed me, seeming quite shy all the sudden as he had to hold his weight up while he leaned his head down towards me. 

“Sorry about these bruises,” he hummed, tracing a circle on the side of my neck.

“You’re not sorry,” I grinned, teasing him. 

“I’m not,” he admitted sheepishly. “They look good on you.” 

After a few seconds, we sat up and helped clean each other up a little. I could see small red marks in his skin from where my nails dug into his arms and shoulders. While helping each other get dressed again, Matt and I found ourselves a little distracted once more, kissing each other gently and softly as we pulled shirts over our heads. His lips were like air. I almost needed them to breathe. 

“Do you wanna finish the movie?” I asked him, massaging his waist underneath his shirt. 

“Sure,” he giggled softly. 

With that, we snuggled up under the covers in his bed, turning the TV towards us. Matt had me in his arms with my back pressed to his chest and his hand under my shirt, tracing shapes on my skin. It wasn’t long before I fell asleep. 

However, at one point, I opened my eyes to find that the TV and lights were off, rendering the room completely dark. Matt was no longer next to me, but it wasn’t long before he came back over to the bed and laid down behind me. His lips softly grazed the crook of my neck. “Good night,” he whispered, before kissing my neck one more time. 

“Mm… night,” I mumbled, barely awake. Matt pulled his thick pile of blankets over my shoulder, peppering small pecks of kisses on my neck as I drifted off once again, melting in his warmth. 

[gloomskulls]

PRIMADONNA [tasm!harry osborn x sugarbaby!reader]

pairings: tasm!harry osborn x bratty sugar baby!reader

warning(s): yandere themes, obsessive behavior, dark!harry osborn, daddy issues, slight violence, toxic relationship, the reader does not gaf about Harry lol, sugar baby/sugar daddy dynamics, death, lemme know if I missed any!

If you don't wanna see my dark stories in the future please block the tag #madi: dark content

summary: to fall in love with Harry Osborn was destined to be thrilling, complemented by his riches and charm. But just as the world fell apart for him, this passion pushed deeper. But now locked up at Ravencroft, lost in madness, the living ghost of the man you thought you'd known.

I had a random surge of writing, now I have spent the last six hours making this and idk if it even good lol. Don't steal any of the shit I make, coz that would make you a shitty person and there's too many shitty people here so don be like them.

A normal, serene night in France saw all this happen: the kind of night when the air felt heavy with an energy only those who have learned to feed upon would notice. The VIP lounge stood, but not so crowded. You wore a red dress hugging all curves, a glass of champagne, and a smile that said everything and nothing all at once.

You always were the queen of the scene, the one who never needed anyone but yourself. You loved the attention, the whispers behind your back, the envy in the eyes of the women who wished they could be you.

Your life was something you didn't dream about, but after realizing how easy it was to earn money in the simplest way possible, without all the hard work and dedication bullshit your elders used to talk about, you immediately caved in to the lifestyle of being a primadonna (or some might say a sugar baby).

Your parents were everything but keen about your choice of occupation, I thought you were going to have a modest job, this isn't a job, it's prostitution! Your parents argued, but you didn't give a single flying fuck, reasoning to them that it was an actual job keeping these men satisfied and that it was the easiest way out of that shithole you call your hometown.

Though you have dreamed about being a doctor once, but would a doctor be able to afford a giant penthouse in just a month of doing their job? Your life was much more glamorous than not any job could provide for it. And you loved your simple but lavish lifestyle, even if it was rather scandalous.

Still, your gaze drifted across the room until you locked eyes with him: Harry Osborn.

Initially, you noticed the look in his eyes, not an excited gaze, but a kind of detachment, an emptiness in his creepy blue eyes that you recognized all too well. The style of the impeccably tailored suit did not match the black mood he had carried with him. His pale face, his strands of dark hair on his face, wore a permanent frown. You knew what he was.

A rich broken kid.

You took a seat on the chair opposite him, with a slight curved smirk on your lips. "Mind if I join?"

He gazed at you for a second, a flicker of surprise narrowing his features and softened after that into an almost shy smile. "Not at all."

And thus began the dance. He shared with you his father, a man with a big legacy, Norman Osborn and the heavy burden it carries. Most certainly heir to a vast empire, he is weighed down by the fate of having to live up to the extreme expectations. You don't pity him, though, nor anyone. Rather, you slip him that sort of detached humor that kept you afloat in a world full of disingenuousness.

"I'm sure your therapist would love to hear his," you said, swirling your drink, "but tell me, Harry, is it worth it having the Osborn fortune if it gives you personal vendetta as a side dish?"

His laughter came with a touch of bitterness. "You don't know the half of it."

“No, but I know a thing or two about men like you." You said as you took a long sip of your margarita "Spoiled, sad little princes who want the world, only end up stuck in their own castle.” You added, you leaned in, meeting his eyes with your own. “Tell me—what do you really want?”

He wasn't exactly the type to answer the question, but he did it. There was a moment of unexpected vulnerability, and Harry opened up about the pressure his father put on him to take control of Oscorp, the shadow of an illness that haunted every Osborn, and the utter confusion with which he approached what he really wanted. “I want out,” he whispered. “But I don’t know how."

“Find your own way out, Harry," you whispered in his ear, lifting your glass. "Stop living in your father's shadow. You live behind someone's shadow for too long, they go away, and suddenly you forget how bright the world is, and it will blind the living shit out of you"

There came a time, a few months hence, when you were no longer a mere fleeting distraction. Harry had become captive to you and not just by your beauty but also the fact that you did not fawn upon him as the others did. The incessant materialism of Oscorp—the parties and the great expectations—mattered not to you, nor did they matter to Harry. What mattered to you was you.

Soon enough, he was caught up in a blur of late-night dinners, designer frocks, and luxury getaways, and he learned to play your role as always cool, always sarcastic, and always available whenever he needed someone to fill in. His mansion became your playground. His penthouse, your fortress. But you had begun to realize how the cracks in his facade grew wider with every day. There was a tension that clung around his shoulders.

You see, Harry was fighting demons. Not the kind children find under their beds, but those of not just a father's shadow and inheritance, but a fatal disease that ran in the blood of his family. Genetic, a disease that slowly eroded the body's defenses against sickness in a nutshell. It was how his mother died. And though his father, while certainly more heartless than most, had lived just long enough for Harry to inherit the empire, it was clear Harry was on borrowed time. And you knew deep down the little time he had left to share in his life, he did not want to spend alone. In fact, he was searching for someone he might hold with, instead of mere love.

Harry had been told late last night that Norman Osborn was rapidly deteriorating, and that he should come home already. Of course, it was a better idea to simply agree with him, not because of his father, but because he looked actually frightened.

The flight to New York was so quiet, between two strangers not knowing what to say, it was the kind of silence that weighed almost like an invisible line hung between them.

As the jet came down, New York's skyline shone distantly, bright and impersonal. This city had molded Harry in ways with which he seldom cared to associate himself and now it seemed to gnaw his back.

"You okay," you asked gently, breaking the silence.

He was seated opposite you, hands clasped tightly together. He barely glanced up. "Fine," he muttered, but his voice betraying him.

You didn't push it. Harry was not the sort of man to let anyone else see him fall to pieces, not even you.

The Osborn estate—it was a mausoleum fashioned out of glass and steel, so cold and so unwelcoming. One would step inside and feel an air shift—heavy with history, expectation, and the unmistakable shadow of death. Everywhere a sterile hallway expanded toward a distant death, every hushed whisper of the staff bore witness to the obvious decline taking place in Norman Osborn.

"It's dark in there, your eyes would adjust" one of the staff informed as he led you to the door where Norman rested, "It's better this way" He added as he opened the door for Harry

Harry gave his coat to the staff as he held you, you both entered the dark room. It was filled with high-tech bullshit that you were certain you could only see in movies, guess anyone's willing to go to an extent to keep themselves alive.

Harry's dad was surrounded by machines, beeping rhythmically.

Harry's dad lay bedridden, reduced to nothing but a former shell of himself, what was left was the presence to this pale, gaunt remnant of him. You now have to stand aside while Harry makes his way toward his father, for even such distance cannot keep one from feeling the strain between them.

"This is not how I imagined I would die" Norman bitterly muttered as he looked at Harry up and down, "Looking at my son and seeing this stranger" He added

"Of such potential Harry, such fierce intelligence, and you throwing it all away for this girl" Norman than stared at you, with an unintelligible gaze.

You nervously shuffled in your position as you felt rather exposed to his cold and calculating gaze, it was as if he was stripping you with every clothing you had.

"Out of everyone, you chose a narcissistic gold digger" Norman chuckled. Harry jaw clenched.

"Don't call her that" snarled Harry. But Norman just chuckled as he spoke.

"You think I don't see shit? You think I don't see the news of you wasting your fortune to her when you should be training to take over me, because God knows when he'll take me out of here"

Harry seemed rather tense at the talk of inheritance. He called out your name, "Go back to the car" he instructed.

You didn't spare a single second before getting out the dark room. The moment you stepped out, if felt as if you saw a train running towards you, Norman's room was really that dark.

By the time you two came back to the condo with Harry, it was almost becoming morning. That lingering weight from the past twenty-four hours felt like a storm cloud over the two of you. Harry, who had hardly spoken since the two left the estate, seemed to be facing a complete collapse now.

The moment the door clicked shut behind you, he inhaled sharply and flung his jacket on the couch. He moved erratically, his high-strung behavior slowly coming undone with every step.

"I inherited it," he said suddenly, his voice hollow.

You froze at the moment, not sure if you heard him rightly. "Inherited what?"

"The disease and the fuckin' goddamn company" he snapped, turning around to face you. His blue irises were frantic, ringed red from sleep deprivation and a barely controlled fury. "Retroviral hyperplasia. It's genetic. My dad knew I was gonna get that, and he did not tell me till now. Like it's some fucking family tradition!" He shouted

You flinched, but you just remained there; sarcasm clogged at the back of your throat. Harry did not want your quips or indifference. He needed something, however, even you weren't sure what that something was.

“I don’t know what to say,” you finally admitted, your voice lower than usual.

“There's nothing to say,” he groaned, running a hand through his hair. “My father's dead. I have a ticking time bomb inside my DNA. And because of all that, I am supposed to take on Oscor like I'm the goddamn savior of the family name.”

He fell over onto the couch, his head in his hands. “I didn't want this,” he said quietly, his voice breaking. "I never wanted any of it."

You hesitated walking away, halfway between staying and going. These kinds of moments were not made for people like you-moments when comfort was called for. But there was something in the raw vulnerability of Harry's voice that stopped you.

"You don't have to work everything out right now," you said finally as you settled beside him. "It's okay to think that this is unfair. It is unfair. But you're even allowed to… I don't know… take a breath before you burn yourself completely out."

Harry looked at you then and searched your eyes. Maybe for hope. Maybe for reassurance.

"Why're you even here?" his tone was sharp, yet not unkind.

You tilted your head, your lips curving into a faint, tired smirk. "Because you'd be truly unbearable if I wasn't."

For an instant, the tension broke, and he emitted a dry, humorless kind of laugh. Not much really, but it was something.

You did not know what would come next. The disease. The inheritance. It was all too much for any human being to actually handle, including Harry. But for now, you both sat there together, silent and heavy with it all.

Harry knew that every passing day brought him closer to it. He was on the verge of spontaneously combusting, and that changed everything for him. His father's staff didn't respect him, he would always tell you.

"I'm not like him," Harry would consistently say in a hollow, dry voice, "I won't be a monster, but the world doesn't let you be anything else."

The more Harry delved deep into his father's empire, the more you saw its darkness spreading within him. Torment began twisting into anger, obsession, and paranoia from vulnerability. Then came that his suffocating need for validation, his need for control.

Your sarcasm was not enough to hide your discomfort anymore. All the questioning, demanding, and simplicity came all that weighed you down. He had changed; not for the better.

Harry became obsessed with Oscorp and the disease reached its peak, to the point when he asked his best friend Peter to get a blood sample from Spiderman, to which it backfired by the way he was stomping inside your shared condo.

He became more manic, desperate. When things started not to go his way, he would lock himself in his office for days, brooding over the future of the company, and then he would lash out at people. You would try to keep your distance, but he wouldn't allow it since he needed you as his tether, anchor to the world that was sliding out of his fingers.

Amidst these many nights just as quiet, suffocating, and heavy with tension, so had all fallen into shadow. You would be found in the corner of Harry's penthouse. Scrolling on your phone, pretending not to see, while Harry was pacing in an erratic fashion, filling the room with energy that could have probably made it unbearable. He'd been on this particular circuit for weeks: gearing up with one battle after another with all those sharks in the boardroom who hungered for some blood due to Oscorp's spiraling controversies and his desperate attempts to outmaneuver them.

That wasn't just for the company though. It was really for the disease.

Earlier that day, Harry had come back from a consultation held by Oscorp's private medical team, and though he hadn't even uttered a word to you about it, the reading was all written on his face. He was running out of time. And he was scared.

"Do you even care?" he snapped suddenly; his voice sharp enough to cut through the tension like a knife.

Calm as always, you looked up and met his eyes with just the detached indifference that you knew would annoy him even more. "Care about what, Harry?"

"About me," he spat, his fists curling at his sides. "About what I'm going through. Or am I just some… some project for you? Something to laugh at when I'm not looking?"

The accusation hit harder than you expected, but you were not about to show it. Instead, you leaned back in your chair and crossed your legs, tipping your head like you were bored by the whole affair.

“Harry,” you said, dripping with sarcasm, “you’re spiraling, and I’m the one who’s supposed to care? Maybe take a look around. You’ve got a billion-dollar company, a penthouse, a name everyone respects or fears— and you've got all that to worry, but you worry about whether I give a damn? Honestly, it’s a little pathetic.”

You did not picture him laughing, but he did. A cold, hollow sound that sent chills running down your spine.

"Are you assuming that this is all regarding money?" he stepped towards you, eyes burning with an amalgam of fury and something darker, something unhinged. "Do you think I care about anything when I'm at death's door?"

For the first time, what he said came out raw and real, stripped of whatever charm or bravado he usually wore around like armor. It was just Harry—the boy who had lost his mother, who had spent his entire life trying to live up to a father who never gave him anything but pressure and pain, and who was now staring down the barrel at a disease that would take everything from him piece by piece.

But empathy was exactly what you weren't in the mood for these days.

"I get it," you said, standing up and meeting him eye to eye. "Harry, you've got a raw deal. But guess what? Everybody's dealing with their own shit. You're not special just because your dad was an egomaniac, and you've got bad genes. Just because your life is falling apart doesn't mean you've got the right to use me as an emotional punching bag."

The words were harsh, and you were aware of it. But you were tired just tired of the moods, the demands, and the inability to see you as anything other than a reflection of his misery.

His face contorted with rage as he clenched his jaw while looking fixedly at you. “You really don’t understand,” he said in an almost dangerously low voice, “You think this is all for me? I have fought for my life since the day I was born. I’m not going to allow anyone—anyone—leave me now. Not you. Not the board. No one.”

“Then fight your own battle,” you retorted, voice now oscillating. “I’m not here to save you, Harry. I never was.”

For a moment, the silence in the room fell like a tomb. The lights from the city outside cast long shadows across his face, making him look almost ghostly. And then, he moved.

One stride did it: he passed the distance between you, almost wrenching your wrist off and bringing his face inches from yours while his breath was hot and shallow. “You don’t get to leave,” he said, almost choking back the words as they came out, “Not now. Not after everything.”

Harry found himself staring at you, unblinking, wild-eyed with fury. "I can do nothing without you." He whispered with tears welling up his eyes. "You're the only thing I can control." "The only thing that makes sense," he said, gripping at your arms to try and pull you nearer.

For a moment, you realized that he was not a spoiled rich kid, but was actually someone truly broken, someone who tied his whole identity into the inheritance that he would receive from the empire he was about to inherit, and the disease that would eventually take his life. He had desperation in him, and for the first time, he made you begin to question everything.

"I'm not your savior, Harry," you said, pulling away from the hug. "And I'm not going to stand nearby while you destroy yourself." You sighed as you stepped away from him, "And don't call this love, since it isn't that"

Anger was flashing in his eyes. "You think I'm weak, don't you?" he hissed. "You think I'm a monster in a suit."

You stood there, cold and drained. "Perhaps I don't think anything anymore."

Harry Osborn wasn't your prince. He was a king with no kingdom, and you weren't about to be his queen.

He looked away from you and said, "Then go." The once harrowing voice was now a soft weapon. "Get out of here. But know that you cannot outrun me. You belong to me, and what belongs to me, comes back to me"

Your heart raced in your chest, but you were not going to let him see your fear. You tilted your head slightly and smiled at him defiantly. “Watch me,” you stated, voice calm even as the energy between you crackled like electricity.

You didn’t say anything after that. You just turned around, feeling Harry's eyes glaring daggers at you. You grabbed your bag, your keys, and walked out without looking back.

The adrenaline dissipated as you drove through the rain-soaked streets of the city, as it always happens. Cold and hollow at the pit of your stomach, you knew from the start that Harry Osborn was dangerous—not in an overt way, the ways some men were, but in that sly, insidious way that made you question your own reality.

He was a man not just in pain. He was a man unraveling and you caught in the middle.

And so, you told yourself that it was over, that you would never again return. But the headlights blurred in the rain and the city stretched infinitely before you; you could not shake the feeling that Harry's words were not an empty threat.

You belong to me

It echoed in your mind both promise and threat at once. Harry Osborn wasn't just an overindulged brat with daddy issues. He was a predator.

And you are his prey.

You never meant to return. You swore never to set foot in that penthouse again. Harry's world had become something you wanted no part of, and when you left, you knew that was it—an escape from a man that could never truly be yours and never truly let you go.

But there had been a slip, a mistake. You'd left some things behind in the chaos—clothing, a piece of jewelry, some documents that you couldn't quite remember. And whenever that phone buzzed with a message from the unknown number, an uneasy pang settled in your gut. It was from Felicia Hardy, Harry's assistant.

"I think you should come by. It's about Harry."

You hesitated for a moment. You weren't curious about Harry anymore—not about him, not about Oscorp, not about the empty promises he had made. But something pulled at you—an instinct, maybe. A feeling that you had never let fully shake the grip he had on you. You hadn't been back to the condo in months, but something told you that, whatever Felicia had to say, it wasn't good.

The walk up to the penthouse felt like an eternity. You stood outside the door for a long while, before finally ringing the bell. The door opened swiftly, and Felicia Hardy greeted you with a tight, strained smile.

"You should come in," she said, stepping aside.

The calm demeanor she usually exuded had disappeared. Her frame was rigid. The apartment was at variance too—empty, almost ghost-like—filled with shadows of memories you once shared with Harry lingering in the corners.

"You've kept a low profile," you said as you step in.

"I've been busy," Felicia replied in a curt tone, "There's a lot of things you don't know. Anyway, you have to hear this."

You raised your eyebrows. "What happened? You sound like you've encountered a ghost"

Felicia hesitated, then gestured toward the living room, where she sat down, fingers gripping the arms of the chair tightly, "Harry… he's not the same. After you left, he started changing—more than usual. He got reckless. The whole thing spiraled out of control."

You didn't reply instantly. Harry had always been a very chaotic person whose life was that of extremes, and yet you never imagined he would be broken so bad. You have seen his anger and desperation, but you didn't know to imagine the depth of it.

Felicia rambled on, barely audible above a whisper: "It's his disease. He… he was...desperate" she spoke barely above a whisper "Harry broke a patient from Ravencroft and an ex-staff in Oscorp, Max Dillon"

"He went there with a plan," Felicia continued, voice trembling. "He knew about the mutant cells—Araneus Oscorpeus—those experimental spiders Oscorp had been working on, the ones that could heal—it was supposed to be a part of some new treatment for his condition."

You nodded slowly as the pieces clicked into place. The condition—the disease that had tormented Harry all through his life and shaped his body and mind into something he couldn't fight. He had never been able to outrun his father's legacy—the bloodline that gave him everything and yet all at once, nothing.

Felicia leaned closer, lowering her voice as if to say that the truth might be huge to handle. "But that's not the worst of it."

She looked at you. "He tried curing himself—he believed he could cure his self—but it didn't quite work out. The serum, the cells—it made him insane, operated Harry worse than before. Way worse."

The pieces begin to put together a very dark picture and exceedingly puzzling. In Harry's desperate attempt at saving his soul, he meddled with the ways of God—and the results led to an uncontrollable calamity. He dragged Max Dillon into this insanity and now they were both spiraling out of control. But what after that?

"And then what happened?" you asked, feeling your heart race against your chest.

"Harry's in Ravencroft Asylum."

You blinked, trying to process the words. The name of the infamous facility sent a cold shiver down your spine. Ravencroft wasn't just a place—it was a symbol of the irreversible, the broken.

"What?" you managed to croak, your voice hoarse.

Felicia stepped forward, face red. "He snapped. Completely. After everything that happened, they pretty much had to put him away: he's not the same."

Although Felicia's eyes softened for a second, she didn't spare a moment for pity. "You know Gwen Stacy, right?"

The punch to the gut hit your insides, she was the girl you went to high school with before your parents moved to France, lovely studious girl, everyone loved her as far as you remember. "What about her?"

"She's dead," Felicia said, in her predictable, icy monotone, as if she were using a knife to cut through air. "Caught up in it all. Harry—fuckin spiderman—they're all responsible."

The statements barely made sense to the mind. Gwen, dead? You remembered just talking to her months ago back: bright and smiling, too pure for all the muck Harry had created in his life.

"Harry killed her?" you whispered, unable to push more words past your throat.

Felicia did not flinch. "He didn't mean it that way. But he lost control of himself, he only wanted Spiderman but, something snapped, and he took Gwen… Harry lost it. There were others—civilians, people who got in the way—but Gwen's the one who didn't survive. It was ugly, pretty darn ugly."

Felicia made her stare stone hard. "He's at Ravencroft. They keep him mostly sedated the time. Not a person anymore, not really. His disease…it's totally taking control of him. In the doctors' words, it's irreversible. They can't help him."

Felicia took a deep breath, as if steeling herself for something she was still unsure she wanted to say. "He asked about you though. Every time I go there, it's all he talks about. You. Like you're some kind of cure for whatever's broken inside him."

You swallowed, head still swimming. Harry was consumed by the need for control, power, and validation. And now, to know that he was obsessed with you—even now—seemed a bitter pill to swallow.

"Didn't come here to tell you this to make you feel guilty," Felicia said, her voice severing through your thoughts. "I came because you ought to know what happened. Not that you can fix them. Harry's gone. And whatever was left of him is now caged in Ravencroft."

She paused for a moment, giving the full weight to her words. "But you should know this is not just on him, the Goblin disease? That's something passed on by his father. He was born into this, and nobody ever gave him a goddam chance to get free. It's too late now."

"I'm sad to say this," Felicia continued, her voice softening almost to a sympathetic tone "but that's reality. You move on."

Though you nodded slowly, you knew that there was no reason to believe in it. Moving on from someone like Harry Osborn seemed impossible, even if that someone was no longer even a shell of the person that he had once been. He was no longer someone whom you could love; nor could he be said to be someone whom you could save.

As you walked away from the penthouse, the waves of finality crashed down on you. What were you expecting? That he would be better? That he would have changed? But now, the truth was more apparent than ever before: the Harry you knew was dead. And what was left? A monster who destroyed everything he once cared about, including Gwen Stacy - and now, you.

Ravencroft Asylum was a cage indeed. And Harry Osborn lay trapped inside it - a casualty to his own legacy.

And you? You were another casualty in the wreckage.

@gloomskulls 2024. DON'T COPY, TRANSLATE OR USE ANY OF MY WORKS HERE OR ANY OTHER WEBSITES. Photos don't belong to me

[savventeen]

to build a home

pairing: jihoon x gn!reader rating: T (for swearing) wc: 3.7k summary: on the train ride back to meet jihoon's parents in person for the first time, you realize you don't really know what it's like to have a childhood home — at least, not in the sense that most people seem to have. but it's okay, because you've found a home in jihoon instead. warnings: talks about divorce (reader's parents) tags: fluff, this is so sappy guys, kind of emotional hurt/comfort, soonhoon best frienemies (they’re ride or die dw their friendship is just based on mutual teasing lol), vaguely implied asexual reader, a truly excessive amount of handholding, i really made jihoon into a hand-holding fiend and i'm Not Sorry a/n: this might be one of the most self-indulgent things i've ever written since reader's experiences are 100% based off of my own lmao. also i can't believe i wrote almost 4k of them just talking on a train, like??? wow. also also, i listened to sleeping at last's cover of i'm gonna be (500 miles) on repeat while writing so i recommend giving it a listen for the Vibes haha

Jihoon was nervous.

Not in a bad way, of course. But he was taking you back home to stay with his parents for the next four days and they would be meeting you in person for the first time and he was nervous.

Soonyoung, the bastard, could definitely tell and had made it his mission to embarrass the hell out of him until the last possible second.

It was only supposed to be Seungcheol and Minghao dropping the two of you off at the train station, but Soonyoung had physically crammed himself into the backseat between you and Jihoon and refused to let go of either of you until you’d reached the train station. Even then, you had to physically pry him off of Jihoon and promise to tell Jihoon’s parents that Soonyoung loved them and missed them and—

“—make sure to take lots of pictures of all his cringey old anime posters!”

Soonyoung’s insistence is only diminished by the effort he’s exerting not to be forcefully dragged back into the car by a disgruntled Minghao. Jihoon knows Soonyoung’s being even more of a handful for his sake, and Jihoon is both filled with love and also the desire to strangle his best friend with his bare hands.

Minghao is able to get him mostly back in the car, Seungcheol watching on with a slightly fond but mostly concerned smile, but before they can get the door closed, Soonyoung claws his way back to the doorframe to tell you, “Also, his mom keeps all of his baby pictures in a bunch of photo books by the—”

“And that’s enough from you,” Jihoon interrupts, forcefully shoving Soonyoung back into the car by the face, Soonyoung screeching with poorly disguised glee, and slams the car door shut.

Jihoon waves at Seungcheol who he can see laughing through the glass as he pulls away from the curb, leaving the two of you standing with your suitcases.

He hears you giggling, and turns around to face you with a sigh. “Ignore him.”

You give a thoughtful hum, drawing it out as you grab the handle of your suitcase and wait for Jihoon to grab his and start walking with you through the station.

“No, I don’t think I will,” you finally decide, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of your mouth.

Jihoon groans, tilting his head back as if to ask the universe why me?

“Why,” you continue, “embarrassed about your Nami posters?” 

Like Soonyoung, Jihoon knows you’re just teasing, and he falls into your easy banter with a smile threatening to tug at the corners of his mouth.

He glares at you half-heartedly. “It’s poster, singular. And no, I’m not embarrassed,” he adds as you both make your way across the platform and into the closest empty train car (the only benefit of leaving at the ass-crack of dawn). “Why would I ever be embarrassed about Nami? She’s badass.” He grunts as he stands on his toes and lifts his luggage to store on the overhead rack and then reaches out to take yours as well. “Plus, you’re one to talk, with your weird shrimp god poster—“

And this argument is familiar, too. He can’t help but smirk as you roll your eyes in exasperation and slide into the seat next to the window.

“It’s shrimp heaven,” you exclaim, “we’ve been over this.”

Jihoon just shakes his head, and he knows he sounds more than a little besotted when he says, “You listen to the weirdest shit.”

You give him a Look that manages to be both deadpan and undeniably fond, and no one except a few untitled projects saved on his external hard drive knows exactly how much he adores that particular look. “I am aware, yes, thank you.”

While this is the first time the two of you are traveling back to where Jihoon grew up, it is not the first time the two of you have traveled together. There’s a well-worn ease to the way your shoulders draw together like magnets, Jihoon offering up one of his earbuds as he balances his iPad across your joined knees.

It had scared him, the first time he felt himself leaning into your presence without a second thought — as easy and unthinkingly familiar as pulling on his favorite hoodie when he’s cold or the sound of his keys clinking against the countertop every night when he gets home. He’d never been one to seek out physical affection before, not unless he was desperate. But now he can’t help but feel like a flower seeking out the sun whenever he’s with you.

He leans his head against yours as he asks, “Want to watch some Bonobono?”

“Yeah,” you reply with a happy hum.

Jihoon presses play without further ado, and the two of you settle in for the next few hours.

You get through a few episodes quickly before taking a quick snack break, and it’s only a few minutes into the next episode that Jihoon notices you aren’t really paying attention. He turns his head where it's resting on your shoulder to get a better look at your profile, but he’s not able to see much since you have your own head turned to look out the window.

He finishes the episode and gets halfway through the next one, glancing over at you every few minutes, before deciding it’s time for him to check in.

Starting conversations is still not one of his strong suits, but he’s discovered interesting ways to wiggle himself into them, mainly by tricking you into getting the ball rolling for him. It’s in these moments that he channels his inner Soonyoung (he is taking this train of thought to his grave, mind you) and asks himself “How would cat-me ask for attention in this moment?” (Again, taking this train of thought to the fucking grave.)

So Jihoon leans away from you just enough for him to be able to turn slightly in his seat and gently plonk his head against your shoulder. When he gets no reaction, he does it again. And again, before doing it one more time as your turn to look at him with an amused smile. “Hi? You having fun, there?”

“Yep,” he says, popping the “p”. “The funnest.”

You snort and shake your head at him. “Okay, babe.” You turn your attention back out the window and Jihoon frowns.

With a quiet huff, he plonks his head on your shoulder once again, pushing in with his forehead and rubbing it back and forth against your sweater.

You start giggling — and god, it’s still one of his favorite sounds, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of hearing it — and you turn to look at him again with a single eyebrow raised. “Yes, Jihoonie?”

He moves so his temple is resting on your shoulder and he can look at you properly. “You okay?” he asks, lighthearted and warm. “You’ve been staring out the window for a while, missed the last couple of episodes.”

You blink, a little surprised, and look down at the iPad still balanced between the two of you. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine, sorry.” You give him a smile and shrug the shoulder he’s leaning on. “Just thinking.”

The automatic retort of “oh, dangerous” is on the tip of his tongue, but he holds it back with a small frown. He’s never liked when you apologize unnecessarily, but he knows it’s something you’ve been working on, so he decides not to bring attention to it this time.

“What about?” he asks instead.

You’ve turned your attention back to Bonobono at this point, and you respond with a distracted “Hm?”

Jihoon pokes your temple with one finger. “What’re you thinking about?”

“Oh.” You look at him, considering, and then you huff out a short laugh as you reach over to pause the video. “You actually,” you tell him, tucking the iPad into your lap as you turn in your seat to face him fully.

That was not what Jihoon was expecting. “Me?”

“Yep,” you say, popping the “p” just like he did earlier. “Your bedroom, more specifically.”

That was definitely not what Jihoon was expecting. Both of his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “My bedroom…” he trails off, voice dry and seeming to ask, are you really implying what I think you’re implying?

Your expression morphs into one of disgust so quickly Jihoon barks out a startled laugh. “Ew, no, don’t look at me like that, that’s not what I meant.”

Jihoon lets out a few of his own giggles as he asks, “What did you mean, then?”

He almost coos at the adorable way you pout as you cross your arms in faux anger. “Ugh, no I’m not telling you anymore if you’re just gonna tease me.”

“Aw come on,” he cajoles, reaching out to pry your crossed arms apart. “I only tease those who deserve it.”

You roll your eyes even as you let him pull your hands into his own. “Tell that to Soonyoung.”

“Are you kidding? He deserves it just for existing.”

You lift one of your conjoined hands to awkwardly point at him. “I’m gonna tell him you said that.”

Jihoon narrows his eyes. “Good. He needs the reminder.”

You fold over as you snort, falling into Jihoon’s space for a moment before you straighten back up with a beaming smile. “You’re such a terrible friend, Lee Jihoon.”

Closing his eyes, he nods solemnly. “I am aware of this, yes. It is my curse.”

“Oh my god,” you laugh, making him smack himself in the shoulder with your still joined hands. “You can be such a dramatic little shit sometimes.” There’s a glint in your eyes that tells Jihoon you’re about to say something purely because you know it’ll rile him up, and he’s proven right when the next words out of your mouth are, “Soonyoung must be rubbing off on you.”

Jihoon’s jaw drops in offended horror. “You’d better take that back right now, I swear to god, y/n—” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond as he untangles your fingers and digs them mercilessly into your sides.

You squeal at the onslaught and try your best to deflect, but Jihoon’s relentless and you’ve always been extremely ticklish, so it’s only a few moments later that you’re choking out through strained laughter, “Yield! Yield! Fuck, I yield, you absolute ass!”

Jihoon glares at you as he stops and generously lets you trap his fingers in your hold. “Take it back.”

“Yes, I take it back, geez,” you pant. He’s pretty sure he hears you follow it up with a near silent “Why are both of you so insane?”

He raises an eyebrow. “What was that?” He wiggles his fingers pointedly.

“Nothing,” you say quickly, glaring at him half-heartedly before rolling your eyes. “Absolutely nothing.”

“Good,” he smirks, wiggling his fingers again, but this time so he can lace them once again with yours. He brings each of your hands up to his face and kisses your knuckles before bringing them back down to his lap and letting himself drink you in.

You’re looking at him with something teetering the edge between incredulous and fond and over-the-moon, and Jihoon thinks he probably looks like a smitten fool just based on the way his cheeks ache and his ears feel like they’re on fire.

He’s come to love moments like these, where the both of you take a moment to just… take each other in — to simply exist in each other’s presence and soak it all in like sponges. And he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to put into words exactly what it feels like to look and be looked at like this. To see and be seen.

Jihoon doesn’t try to find the words this time, just lets himself bask in your glow with a soft smile.

After a few moments, he brings himself to break the ambient quiet of the train. “Hey,” he murmurs.

Your response is as soft and quiet as the smile you tuck into the corner of your mouth. “Hi.”

He stares at you for another moment before saying, “You never ended up telling me, y’know.”

“Telling you what?”

“What you were thinking about earlier.” He starts idly rubbing his thumbs across the skin of your hands, tracing gentle arcs with the pads of his thumbs.

“Oh.” You scrunch up your face a little before smoothing it out with a small shrug. “Eh, it wasn’t anything important.”

“Hmm.” Something tells him it probably is something important — to you, at least. And even if it isn’t, he still wants to know. “Tell me anyway?”

You tilt your head and look at him with a confused sort of amused smile. “Why do you wanna know so bad?”

Because I’m highkey obsessed with you and always want to learn more about you and how you think, is what he doesn’t say. At least, not out loud and not right now. He knows it’d probably fluster you and he doesn’t want to distract you from answering any more than he already has. (And maybe he’s still struggling with saying his sappy thoughts directly to your face instead of hoarding them in various notebooks, but that’s a problem for future Jihoon to work through.)

“Just curious,” he murmurs with a shrug. “And we still have a couple of hours left on the train.”

You stare at him for a moment like you don’t quite believe him and are trying to find the lie somewhere on his face. But eventually you mutter, “Okay.” You take in a deep breath and let it out slowly through your nose. “Well,” you start, after a moment of collecting your thoughts. “I said I was thinking about your bedroom, right?”

“Mhm.”

“Okay, so.” You purse your lips as you tighten your hold on Jihoon’s fingers, just for a moment, before loosening your grip with a quiet exhale. “I was mostly just trying to imagine what that’s like.”

Jihoon blinks at you. “...What having a bedroom is like?” His tone comes across more deadpan than he means, confusion flattening his question into more of a statement.

“No, no,” you shake your head. “What having a childhood bedroom is like.”

Jihoon blinks again, furrowing his brows. “...I don’t understand.”

“God, I’m not explaining this right,” you mutter, chewing on your lip in obvious thought. “Okay, so like… You know how in movies and books and stuff, a lot of times there’s this— trope, I guess, where a character goes back home and stays in their childhood bedroom and it’s like a glimpse into their past? A lot of times for comedic reasons?”

Jihoon slowly nods his head. “Yeah, I know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, well.” You give a self-conscious little half-shrug that makes Jihoon’s chest hurt for some reason. “I was wondering what that’s like. Like…” You trail off for a moment, gaze drifting off to the side and focusing on the middle-distance. Jihoon forces himself to wait patiently as you try to find the words you need to explain, his thumbs continuing their silent metronome across your skin.

“What— what’s it like to have lived your entire childhood in the same house?” you start, gaze still locked somewhere off to the side. “To have the same four walls watch you go from toddler to kid to preteen to moody teenager and then reluctant adult? And to know those same walls are still watching you grow up.” You give a wistful little sigh and focus back on Jihoon with a crooked smile. “I’m trying to imagine what that’s like. Hadn’t realized how much of a foreign concept it was to me until I really started thinking about it,” you finish with a small huff.

During your whole little spiel, you hadn’t sounded sad or bitter or anything other than genuinely curious, but it still pokes at that little ache in Jihoon’s heart. He knows your parents divorced when you were young, and there’s a part of him that wishes you could have had the perfect childhood he knows doesn’t actually exist. He also knows you’re not one to really talk about yourself or your past, so he’s grateful for the vulnerability you’re sharing with him in this moment. Softly, he encourages you to share more with him. “You went back and forth between your parents a lot, right?”

“Oh, god yeah,” you laugh. “And not only that, but my mom could never stay in one place either. Growing up, I think my dad only moved like… four times? But my mom moved… uh.” Your brows furrow deeply for a moment. “Hang on, I need to think this out.”

Jihoon almost whines when you detangle your fingers from his, but manages to turn it into a pretty convincing cough. (It’s actually not at all convincing, but luckily you’re too preoccupied to properly clown him for it.) He watches you mutter to yourself with a small pout and then he looks back down at your hands like he can make them hold his if he just stares hard enough. Your fingers extend one by one as you count, and his pout falls away as one fist and then the other blooms fully. And then one fist closes again, leaving a single finger standing.

“So… eleven? Eleven times.”

He’d known you’d moved at least a few times as a kid, but… “Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

Gently, he reaches out to hold your hands again. Squeezes. “And how often did you go back and forth?”

“Oh, god. That was a mess, too.” You’re laughing, but that ache in his chest keeps spreading, digging deeper. “We had different schedules that would change like— every few months. We did three days on, three days off, alternating sundays; we did two days on, two days off, with alternating weekends; at one point we even did every other weekday with alternating weekends… it was insane. Looking back, it seems even more insane.”

“Jesus.” He can’t even begin to imagine what that must’ve been like — almost constantly being on the move. Especially as a kid. “How old were you when they split again?”

“Five.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah.” You sigh, long and gusty. It doesn’t sound sad, at least, just tired. Maybe a little bit like release. Then you send a small, amused smile in his direction. “So you can kinda see why the whole “childhood bedroom” thing is such a foreign concept to me, right?”

He can see why. And it aches. “Yeah,” he breathes.

Some of that ache must show on his face because you gently scold him, “Hey, don’t look like that.” You untangle your fingers once again to cup both of his cheeks, thumbs pressing into the corners of his mouth and smoothing out his unconscious frown.

You look at him, soft and warm and so full of love Jihoon’s breath catches in his chest. And then you adjust your grip so you’re pinching his cheeks, and you wiggle his face a little bit. “This wasn’t supposed to be a sad thing, Hoonie. Just a “we had vastly different experiences” kind of thing.” You stop pinching his cheeks and go back to simply holding his face between your palms. “Like, I know it helped me understand the concept of “home is where the heart is,” yanno?”

And, oh. Oh, Jihoon is so very head-over-heels in love with you. He can feel that love pooling and swelling inside him, curling up between his ribs and tickling the tips of his fingers as reaches up to cover your hands with his.

“Hmm.” His mouth moves before his brain can catch up. “And where is your heart, y/n?” he breathes.

For one infinite moment suspended in time, you and Jihoon are the only two people to exist. The world around him disappears as your eyes bore into his, and Jihoon gets to watch something in them soften, melt — pool into something that looks a lot like love as you turn your hands to let go of his cheeks and hold his fingers instead.

You bring his hands to hover in front of his face, and you roll your lips between your teeth like you’re trying to hold back a smile. What you’re trying to say finally clicks in Jihoon’s mind when you glance down at his hands and then back up at him with a raised eyebrow.

All of the blood in his body rushes directly to his face and ears so quickly that Jihoon thinks he might burst into flames.

 “Nooooooooo,” he whines, hiding his blazing blush behind your entwined hands and ignoring the way you’re outright laughing at him now. He lowers your hands just enough so that he can glare at you from over the tops of your knuckles. “How are you able to say the cheesiest things without actually saying anything? I can’t stand you.”

“Then sit,” you giggle, like the absolutely adorable little shit you are.

Jihoon growls in frustrated adoration before licking the back of your hands in retaliation.

You screech and try to yank your hands back, but he’s the stronger one between the two of you and he refuses to let go. “Lee Jihoon, you animal, what is wrong with you?!”

“Vengence,” is all he mutters.

You splutter. “Vengence for what?”

He continues to half-heartedly glare at you as he brings your hands down and presses them to the left side of his chest. Vaguely, he wonders if you can feel the way his heart is pounding against his ribs. “For stealing my heart,” he pouts.

The sound that comes out of your mouth reminds him of a dying seal, and that’s how Jihoon knows it’s over for him — because he’s never heard a more endearing sound in his entire life and he thinks that maybe he’d do anything to hear it over and over again.

You continue to tease each other back and forth, your love for each other a steady undertow, and Jihoon realizes that while they may be heading back to the house he grew up in, it’s not home in the same sense any more.

Not when he looks at you and his heart sings a steady home, home, home inside his chest.

The thought doesn’t scare him nearly as much as he thinks it should.

Home, home, home.

He likes the sound of that.

[next-autopsy]

A/N: Well, hi there! Okay so Joe needs to apologise asap! This is his attempt I guess… idk what’s happening anymore man

Based on the actors portrayal/hbo show and written with no disrespect to the real life veterans. Also all images found on Pinterest.

TW: I don’t think there are any…

Tags: @malarkgirlypop, @panzershrike-pretz

Made of Glass

Chapter nineteen: An Itchy, Army Issued Blanket 

Their barracks were dark and quiet when the ladies returned. Charlotte was all but dragged to her bed by Connie and Betty, who then immediately started getting ready to pass out on their own cots.

Lucy and Blythe were inseparable, snuggling together on a bed too small for the two of them, by now all the women had noticed the lovey dovey behaviour between them. No one said anything, no one minded. 

Bernadette had spent the entire cab ride sniffling and wiping at her face where stray tears fell. No one had mentioned what had happened with Liebgott, though all of them witnessed it, except Charlotte who was in a world of her own and wouldn’t remember anything from this night. 

She changed her clothes and brushed out her hair, too tired to walk to the bathroom and finish her nighttime ritual. Before Birdie could climb under the covers of her awaiting bed, Frankie made eye contact with her. She shook her half empty pack of smokes at the mousy haired girl and flicked her head toward the door, a silent invitation. 

Bernadette sighed and joined the Italian woman outside. She might feel better if she spoke about what happened. She hadn’t quite figured out why his words got to her so badly, perhaps talking to Francesca could help. They sat on the wooden steps as they usually did. Rossi lit a cigarette and passed it to her friend, then lit her own. 

Francesca wouldn’t push, of course she wanted to know exactly what was said and what tone was used, but she wanted to avoid more tears if possible. Seeing Birdie quietly crying and then trying to pretend everything was okay, upset her more than she cared to admit. 

“I don’t know why I cried.” Her words were void of emotion. Frankie only hummed in response, waiting for her to share what was on her mind. 

“He’s always been kind of mean. I thought he actually hated me…. But then something changed.” Frankie was more than curious, she thought back to the uncomfortable night she watched from the shadows. Rossi liked people watching, she picked up on hidden feelings or underlying vibes easily. Whatever had or hadn't happened between Birdie and Liebgott perplexed her. And apparently, she wasn’t the only one.

“Joe was really… I-I thought maybe, just maybe we could've been friends.” 

“But?” Francesca prompted, eager to hear more of this odd dynamic. 

“But, he thinks I'm the worst.” The words cracked as the downcast woman spoke them, her eyes focused on the floor, her shoulders sagged in defeat, even her bottom lip protruded in a pout. 

“I’m sure that's not true…” The older woman consoled. Bernadette was sweet and witty and an oddly likeable person. Francesca had specifically tried not to make friends with anyone but Birdie managed to wiggle her way into her heart and now she couldn’t imagine not being friends with the little firecracker. 

“No, it is. The words he used were: Arrogant, conceited bitch.” She didn’t even have one second to feel sorry for herself as Frankie instantly counter argued. 

“Ha. You are the least arrogant, conceited person I've ever met. And you're definitely not a bitch.” 

“Not according to him.” Now she was sulking, pouting and feeling sorry for herself. The attitude change was phenomenal. From Francesca’s perspective, Birdie had always been confident. Not overly but enough to tough it out with her self righteous Captain. 

“Why do you care what he thinks of you?” Maybe Rossi would have to give the poor girl some hints, she obviously hasn't picked up on her own feelings for the man who bullied her. It would explain her need for his approval and why his comments affected her the way they did. 

“I-” She couldn’t answer, she didn’t know how. Why did she care so much about what Joseph Liebgott thought of her?  “Because, I- I don’t know.”

“I think I do.” She would have to tell the southern girl, it was her duty as best friend. She couldn’t let her go on like this, it was down right embarrassing. 

“Enlighten me.” 

“You like him.” The George company woman spoke plainly, no point sugarcoating it. 

“What? No, you're way off, he’s so- But he’s- He is a pigheaded jerk. I-I don't like him.” Birdie spluttered, stumbling over her words and giving Frankie an incredulous look. 

“Are you trying to convince me, or yourself? Either way, I don't think it's working.” She paused to let the words sink in, “Come on, you need some sleep.” 

————————

Letting go of Birdie’s arm and watching her walk out the door, surrounded by her girlfriends, caused a pang in Joe’s chest. 

He was at fault and he knew it. Joe didn’t mean the harsh words and he shouldn’t have said those things about her, whether she was listening or not. And now, he sat at the bar, gulping down whatever alcohol came his way. 

“Liebgott?” No answer, he preferred to mope in peace. But Tipper wouldn’t sit by and watch his friend beat himself up over a girl, especially because he had money on the two getting together before they were deployed.

“She’ll come round.” Ed wasn’t really sure what else he could say to soothe the situation. But he had noticed the girl in question harboured feelings for his brooding friend, and he definitely knew Joe felt some type of way about Birdie. 

The issue was getting them to recognise their own fondness of each other and stop messing up. It was like the pair were stuck in blatant denial, not even considering the reason why they were always so drawn to one another, constantly needing to make comments to gain the others attention. To Ed it was transparent, which is why he was so confident about the running bet in Easy company, Joe and Birdie; Will they? Won’t they? 

“I think she hates me now.” 

“What? She didn’t before?” Tip was trying to lighten the mood, but Joe wasn’t having it. He continued to feel sorry for himself, drinking yet another pale yellow beer.

“No… I don't know- she was, we were... It doesn’t matter now.” The alcohol was affecting him, he couldn’t think straight and his words came out as incoherent mumble.

“You should apologise.” 

“You think I don't know that?” Joe’s snark was intact regardless of how much he drank. 

“Hey, I’m just saying.” Ed paused, “If you made a meaningful gesture… something only known between you two…” He trailed off, letting Joe put the rest of the thought together in his mind. 

“Yeah? Like what? In case you didn’t notice, we don't exactly have the best track record.” Liebgott was mad, not at his friend, just in general or at himself. His patience with Tipper’s chit chat was running thin. 

“Well, what do you have?” 

—------------------

While weekend passes were more common now than back in Toccoa, they were still highly sought after. Joe had a plan to smooth over the mishap with Bernadette and it meant spending a precious pass at the library reading, instead of getting shitfaced at a bar. 

He prayed it would work, that Bernadette would forgive him and let his unkind words fade away. Joe had already decided on a place and time and now he needed to convince one of her friends to bring her to the spot. She probably wouldn’t meet him there if he asked, so he’d have to be sneaky. 

Approaching Francesca Rossi was intimidating. She had a reputation of not taking shit from anyone and Joe had hurt seemingly her only friend. Plus, Birdie most likely told the Italian woman about his colossal fuck up, so he doubted she would be on his side. 

“What do you want?” Her eyes narrowed at the man walking toward her.

“I was hoping you would help me with something.” Joe knew he had to be straightforward with the George company woman, put his cards on the table and hope for the best.

“Why?” She hadn’t stopped glaring.

“Look, I’ll be honest. I fucked up, with Birdie. I said some things I’d rather not repeat… And I’m just trying to apologise.” 

“What do you need?” He hadn’t expected it to be that easy, so he stood still for a moment processing, before he explained his plan to her. It felt dumb to say it out loud, but when Rossi gave him a nod and a half smile, promising to do her part, he thought: maybe he was doing the right thing.

“One thing before you go…” Francesca called out to him as he turned to leave, he stopped and looked at the woman over her shoulder.

“Yeah?” 

“You hurt her again…. I will kill you.” There was no hint of a joke in her tone, no curve of her lips. She meant it and she wanted him to know she would follow through. Birdie meant alot to her, she didn’t have many women friends so she would hold onto the southerner for the rest of her life, kill for her, die for her if necessary. 

“I know you will.” 

“Good.”

—----------------

The night came. Joe was nervous. He told himself it was due to all the facts he had to memorise and his anxiety was about messing up in front of an expert. 

Something in the back of his head said her name and the idea of his nerves coming from his need to impress this specific woman ran through his brain. Maybe it was a little bit about Bernadette, but he couldn’t dwell on it too much. He had places to be and apologies to set up. 

—--------------------

Francesca was good at keeping secrets and hiding things. So when the time came, Birdie suspected nothing. Frankie told her friend she needed her help with something and led her outside and into the dark with no explanation. Birdie didn’t question it, Francesca wouldn’t steer her wrong, she trusted the woman with everything she had.

After a few minutes of walking, the two women came upon a clearing with an olive green, Army issued blanket laid down upon the grass. A gas lantern lit up the immediate area.

Just as Bernadette began to wonder what was going on, Liebgott came into view, stepping into the light that shone from the source on the floor. Birdie’s jaw hung, she looked between the man and her friend who had brought her here, feeling somewhat betrayed. 

“Frankie? What the hell?” Were the words she finally managed to get out. 

“You got two options, Birdie. Stay here and hear him out… or we walk away. I’ll punch him in the throat too, if you want.” All three of them considered the words carefully. 

“Fair.” Joe shrugged, knowing he deserved it. 

Francesca eyed the younger woman as she pondered her options. She knew the outcome, it was plain to see which one Birdie would go for, the look on her face said it all.

She was curious, Joe intrigued her beyond words and even though he had said some things that hurt Birdie, she still craved his attention, to be around him, to listen to whatever he was about to say. 

Bernadette didn’t have to say it, she just gave Frankie a look and the black hair woman was on her way, not before shooting Liebgott a stern glare. 

“I didn’t mean it.” Joe broke the silence that was growing between the two. 

“But you still said it.” She couldn’t let him get away that easy. 

“I know… I shouldn’t’ve. I just wanted to say I’m sorry.” 

“Well, don’t let me stop you.” Birdie had already decided she’d forgive him but she wanted to drag it out, see him sweat. She knew first hand how scary Frankie could be, the fact that he had talked her into this project of his was apology enough in her books. 

“I am so sorry, Birdie.” His words were genuine, he truly was sorry. He would have said it a hundred more times if she wanted him too. His pride aside, he wanted her to know it. Talking about her like that was not something that would be repeated. Hurting her had hurt him, maybe Tipper was right, maybe his feelings for her ran deeper than he thought. 

He wanted to be her friend of course, she was always so smiley and happy, it was easy to get along with her. Joe enjoyed his time around her, even before, when all the words they said to each other were dipped in sarcasm. He actually enjoyed the witty comebacks she came up with, he liked that she wouldn’t let anyone walk over her. She always had something to say and he found himself wanting to listen more and more as time went on. 

“What’s that for?” Birdie nodded her head to the blanket, trying to steer away from acknowledging the apology. 

“Huh? Oh..” Lieb looked behind him, “Come here, sit. I want to show you something.” He sat and patted the empty space next to him. Birdie followed instruction and lowered herself onto the itchy blanket. 

Joe leaned back, propping himself up with one arm and pointing skyward with the other. Birdie copied his stance, turning her chin up and watching where he pointed to. 

“See that? That’s the Little Dipper-“ Birdie’s attention was pulled from the stars above them and to the guy casually dropping constellation names. 

“Wait… it actually is… how did you know that?” She imagined Joe, head in a book, studying star clusters so he would have something to talk to her about and it made her stomach flip. Had he really done something like that for her? She was vaguely aware that he didn’t care for studying or reading novels, so if he had done that it was solely for her benefit. 

Lieb let his arm drop, turning his head to face her. The eye contact made Birdie want to twirl a strand of hair with her fingers and giggle like a schoolgirl- Damn, maybe Francesca had been right about her liking Joseph Liebgott. 

“Magic.” His face was stoic and serious as he whispered the word to her, like it was a secret. Then, his infamous smirk broke onto his face and Bernadette couldn’t help but grin back at him, the butterflies in her tummy were going crazy, but she tried to play it cool. 

“Ah okay. I see: This is your apology? Impressing me with your new found knowledge of the stars?” Said with feigned disinterest. Joe hadn’t stopped watching her, her mannerisms were endearing. Yes, he definitely wanted to be friends with this girl. 

“It depends.” He broke eye contact, attempting to give his heart a moment to catch up. 

“On what?” The country woman had completely forgotten about the twinkly lights above them, something else was far more interesting at this moment. 

“Is it impressing you?” 

It most definitely was. Joe pointed out several well known constellations and even gave a couple backstories. Birdie already knew everything he was telling her but she humoured him and listened with interest at the tales he told her. 

At one point the two lay down for a better view of the starry black sky. Their arms brushed up against one another and neither attempted to move away. They ignored the shared touch, pretending it wasn’t happening but the pair could feel exactly where their bodies met and they revealed in the warmth. 

A/N: does his apology suffice? I think stargazing is going to be a Birdie/Lieb thing from now on.

I love hearing from you guys, so please feel free to comment or dm me!

~ next-autopsy ~

Chapter twenty

[edelweiss313]

So I went to a random incorrect quotes generator because I was bored, here's (some of) the results:

Father, in Bastian’s window: I thought I’d find you here!

Ezio , climbing past Father: WE COULD HAVE USED THE DOOR-

Laia: Don't ask me what I'm talking about. I don't know, okay? I'm just the vessel. The message has been gifted. I've moved on.

Lian: Do you see yourself as a glass half-full or glass half-empty kind of person?

Dan: Half-full, definitely.

Dan: Half-full and constantly rising.

Dan: Soon the water will escape its container and consume us all.

Frederick: Am I a good person? No. But do I try to be better every single day? Also no.

Bastian: Didn't you die?!

Father: That was weeks ago, dude. Things change.

Ren: My aesthetic is "would be suspected of witchcraft by small town citizens."

Delian: I have a problem.

Adria: If it's harder than 2+2, I can't help.

Lian, sniffling: Calm down, I’m probably not sick. It might just be allergies.

Carissa: Okay, tell me this: are you like, really tired?

Lian: I have depression, what do you think?

*Laia gets a phone call*

Laia: Hello?

Ren: Hi, is Bastian there? I need to talk to them.

Laia: No, Bastian is dead.

Bastian, very much alive next to Laia: LAIA WHAT THE FUCK-

Mia: ...I'm pretty sure that place is fire-proof, or something.

Dan, grenade in hand: Alright, but is it explosion-proof?

Elena, watching Darien: Ah yes. The mysterious and beautiful Darien, so demure…

Elena: …I wonder what sort of melodic sounds this wonderful being makes?

Darien: *screaming*

Laia: Wow, I feel happy and I’m having so much fun!

Laia:

Laia: *narrows eyes* Something’s wrong here.

[phoebe-delia]

Hi Phoebe! If you're still accepting prompts, would "a single thread of gold tied me to you" from the song lyrics list be acceptable (and/or drarry soulmates)?

I love your writing, and I hope December is treating you well! 💜

One single thread of gold tied me to you

Oh, sweet anon, thank you so much! Both for the prompt and for your kind words about my writing. My brain has been being mean to me lately about my writing, so this made me smile.

I love soulmate stuff so much but I'm not sure I've ever written it before! So. Here's my take on it. I wrote a little Victorian AU, because I LOVE Victorian AU!Drarry.

Draco nearly choked on his champagne and had a coughing fit when he saw Harry Potter again. It took everything he'd learned in his decade of decorum training not to simply spit out the large sip he'd just taken of champagne and spew it all over Lady Coatesworth-Haye's gown. Though if Draco hadn't been focusing his energy elsewhere at that moment, he might've had the passing thought that her gown couldn't be made worse for it.

Still, he managed to swallow while keeping one eye on the old woman and the other on Potter. The man moved easily through the ballroom, exchanging greetings with the party-goers. Potter had a charming smile for each of them, but Draco felt his confusion nearly outweigh his shock at seeing Potter continue determinedly through the crowd, as if on a mission.

"...wouldn't you agree?" Draco was pulled from his musings to look back at the haughty and wrinkled face of the woman in front of him.

Draco cleared his throat. "Yes, quite right, madame." He glanced around, relieved when he saw a server coming toward them with an empty tray. "If you will excuse me," he said, not waiting for a reply before walking off, setting his half-full champagne glass down on the passing tray.

Draco moved quickly but tried not to make his haste too obvious, lest the guests think the son of the hosts was trying to leave his parents' own party. He finally made his way outside to the balcony and braced himself on the railing. He breathed heavily, letting the cool night air fill his lungs while he tried to formulate a plan.

What on earth was Potter doing? Draco wanted to scream. He immediately regretted having left his champagne inside.

He had to get out of there, party be damned. He'd claim he'd fallen ill and then take his leave. "Forgive me, Mother," he muttered to himself, preparing to brave the crowd one last time and strategizing how he'd be able to escape without running into Potter.

He heard the door open, the noise of the party briefly spilling into the peaceful night before it shut again.

"Draco?"

The sound of his name, in that voice, brought tears to Draco's eyes. He forced them back, absolutely refusing to let himself cry. "Potter," he replied cooly, not turning around to greet him.

He heard Potter take a step toward him. "I've been looking for you."

Draco kept his expression neutral, turning his head slightly over his shoulder. "Well, you've found me."

"I was hoping to speak with you."

“I’m afraid I must decline."

"Might I inquire as to why?"

"I've fallen ill. You would do well to keep away from me, Potter."

Potter frowned and stepped closer into Draco's space. "You seem perfectly healthy to me." He pressed the back of his hand to Draco's forehead. Draco froze at Potter's light touch. Potter's hand left warmth in its wake when he lifted it from Draco's person.

"Ah," Potter said, nodding. "You are sick. But I believe we suffer from the same affliction."

Draco scoffed. "Oh, really?"

"Yes. Heartbreak is contagious."

Draco whipped around to face Potter fully, glaring at him. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't I?" Potter smiled at him a bit sadly. "We have to discuss this sooner or later, you understand."

Potter's hand moved closer to Draco's, but Draco yanked his hand away. "I see no reason why we should ever have to discuss this."

"I can give you three reasons."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"Easily. First, I miss you terribly." Potter took a step forward, closing the distance between them.

Draco's heart skipped a beat. "What-"

"Second, you pine for me just as strongly."

"But—no, I—"

"And third," Potter placed his hand firmly over Draco's, and a thin, shimmering golden thread appeared and tied itself around their wrists, linking them together. "We belong together," he whispered.

Draco felt a tear slip down his cheek as he looked at their joined hands.

"And no matter how much you want to pretend we'll never work, or that society will never embrace us, it hasn't made me love you any less." Potter lifted his other hand to cup the back of Draco's neck. "Stop running from me. Stop running from yourself."

"Harry." It came out of Draco's chest like a wheeze; like it was the last gust of air from his lungs. His breath shuddered as a few more tears spilled. "Nothing's changed, you know that. My parents won't accept our soulmate bond, and they never will. Do you know the risk you took by simply coming here?" Draco turned his hand over to lace his fingers with Harry's.

"I had to see you. I was distraught, and hurt, and so angry. But I've thought it through, and I've got a plan." Harry's expression shifted to one of fierce determination. "Draco, come away with me. We can leave now, tonight."

"H-Harry," Draco breathed. "You're mad!"

"Mad for you, perhaps," Harry grinned at him. "Just picture it, Draco. We can escape and live a life of our own. I've got a friend a few towns away by boat. She can take us in while we find a permanent home.

"You've got your own vaults, now; out of your parents' control. And so have I, since my birthday last month. We might not have our titles, or our status, but we'll be comfortable." Harry met his eyes directly. "And we'll be free to love each other, openly. Without fear."

Harry wiped a tear from Draco's cheek. "I know the choice isn't easy. But can you honestly tell me that you would be happier here than with me? Would you truly rather marry someone you don't love in order to please your parents? Instead of the person chosen by the Gods to love you?"

Draco took a shuddering breath. "Harry," he began. "You were right; I've missed you like a part of me." He forced back more tears. "And then tonight, when you found me out here, I thought you were going to tell me you'd given up on me."

"No, my love," Harry shook his head. "Never."

Draco sniffed. "I've thought constantly about that day. About all the things I should have said and didn't. But I don't wish to waste any more time. The answer to your question is yes, Harry, of course. I love you." Draco crossed the short distance between them and pulled Harry into a kiss.

A few skipped heartbeats later, they pulled away, breathless and a bit teary. "Thank Merlin you said yes," Harry chuckled. "I don't know what I would've done."

"Of course I did. I'd follow you anywhere, Harry." Draco sealed his promise with a small kiss on Harry's lips. "Anywhere."

[driftward]

The Stranger Woman: A Desertwalkers Story (thanks to @saesama for helping clean it up)

-*-

It's a quiet day in Stonewood. Uncommon enough, but welcome all the same. The saloon has the low hum of a decent crowd, not peak, not empty. The Saltlick, well, it's just business, and Klynt's very good at minding that. And that's what she's doing when the doors swing open, and the stranger walks in. Every day a newcomer, and Klynt doesn't mind this one over much other than to look her up and down.

Elf of some sort, taller than many of her kind but not so tall to Klynt's eye for all that. A dress, somehow not wholly impractical. Solid boots with ornate heels. Pants that'll be good out in the brush. Gloves that might round out the outfit, if the overall effect weren't marred by the entirely too many bags for good sense. Glasses and straight raven-black long hair that trails down her back give her a bit of a severe look. Blank, gormless expression as she looks around, approaching the bar.

The saloon buzzes. Newcomers aren't rare, but this one's prettier than most, Klynt has to admit. Or at least looks like she knows what a shower is and where her money's at.

“Excuse me,” she asks. "I am given to understand that this is the sort of place that one might find out information. Would you happen to know the owner?"

"That's me," says Klynt, leaning on the bar. "Owner and currently barkeep. You want to talk, save it for later. You want a drink, I can get you that now."

"Ah, but of course. I am rather tired from my journey at the moment. A cup of boiling hot water, if you please."

Klynt turns, and came back with the requested cup. Odd request, but hell if she cared. This one is polite. Too polite by half, she’ll be lucky to last the sennight. Or at least, that's what Klynt wants to think, but something is tickling in the back of her mind, and she can't figure out what.

The woman smiles and thanks her, before digging around in some of her bags, and producing a little metal steeper and stuffing it with small delicate tea leaves.

"We've got mate, if you want something that'll keep you awake," offers Klynt casually.

"Oh yes! I have heard of it. I am quite interested in the local food and drink, but… perhaps later. For now, I think I wish for the comfort of the familiar.”

"Suit yourself," says Klynt, retreating down the bar. She isn't about to charge for hot water, but she isn't going to entertain for free, either.

The woman pulls out some notebooks and maps, and begins to read over both, flipping pages and scribbling spirits-knew-what. It doesn't take long for one of her other customers to grow bold enough to approach the woman, letting out a low whistle as he draws close.

"Well aren't you a pretty thing. Wouldn't mind showin' you a thing or two.”

The woman does not look up from her notebooks. "I wish to be left alone right this moment, thank you."

The man - Jonesy, Klynt notes. Local idiot, runs his mouth too much and didn't know when to leave well enough alone. Jonesy decides to help himself to a seat next to the woman.

"Well, now, just makin' conversation. Say, that's a nice dress. Pants are a bit much for a woman like you though, don't you think?"

The woman stops what she’s doing, and turns to stare at him. She has a bit of an unnerving look to her, if you asked Klynt.

"Please leave me alone," she says.

Jonesy, being an idiot, isn't deterred, as he leans into her personal space, causing her in turn to lean away from him.

"Now come on. I know I heard you ask Mz Gohtawyn 'bout information. I can teach you everything you might need to know."

"Please leave me alone," she repeats.

"I'd listen to her if I were you, Jonesy,” says Klynt warningly, starting to reach under the counter for her shotgun. Jonesy always paid his tab, but damn if putting up with him just isn't worth the coin some days, and this was shaping up to be one of them. The woman continues to stare at him as he swings around to face Klynt.

"Now, now, don't be jealous just because I've found nicer prospects than payin' one of your ladies," he says.

That’s it. Klynt is going to - well, Klynt is going to do nothing, as Jonesy starts screaming. And the reason he is screaming was because the woman has pinned his hand to the bar top with an impressive looking hunting knife while he was turned away.

Klynt blinks. The woman had moved awful fast.

Jonesy, gasping between breaths, grabs at the knife to pull it out, but the woman slaps her hand over its hilt, and grabs his face with the other hand. "No. Not like that. Pay attention to me. Look! Listen! Pay ATTENTION." Her voice suddenly has an odd and powerful command to it, seeming to be underlined with ice. "Do not pull that knife out. You will bleed heavily, get that blood all over the place, possibly pass out, and will certainly be risking an infection. Here. Like this," she says, as she grasps his hand with the knife still in it, and pulls him free of the countertop.

He begins swearing a blue storm as she lets go of his face, and uses her now free hand to pull out bandages to wrap the knife to his hand. "You will find the local chirurgeon, and you will get their help in getting that knife out of your hand. Now go," she says, shoving him off his stool and towards the saloon entrance.

Klynt begins howling with laughter as he runs for it. "You pyschotic bitch of a whore!" he yells.

"Please ask the doctor to make sure I get my knife back," calls the woman after him.

"Hot damn,” says Klynt. "I think I like you."

"Thank you?" says the woman, seeming to be confused. And then, after a moment, “my apologies for the inconvenience,” before returning to her tea and notes. For the next few moments, the bar is a ruckus of hooting and hollering and shouts. The woman seems uninterested, somehow completely ignoring the noise, and a few looks from Klynt is enough to get the crowd to calm down. Gradually, things begin to return to something like normal.

She -should- kick her out. But fuck Jonesy, Klynt decides.

“What’s your name, stranger?” She asks.

The stranger pauses. “Zoissette Vauban,” she says.

“Klynt Gohtawyn. Mz Gohtawyn, if you kindly. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Pleasure is mine,” says the woman, Zoissette, not looking up. Klynt decides to leave the matter there.

It’s less than half a bell later when Mathye shows up, angry as a bobcat.

"Who the hell's going around stabbing people in my town!?" he demands.

The woman turns as he enters, and looks at the knife he is waving around in his hand. "Oh! That is mine," she says. Mathye begins swearing as he approaches, spitting mad. Klynt starts cackling again. She'd sort that out in a moment, but in the meanwhile, this is the funniest shit that has happened in the Saltlick in a while.

Yeah, she decides. Yeah, she likes this awkward swan of a woman.