#that's right i'm into THAT now too bitches

[raynewolferune]

Batmobile Conversations as Heard by a Fast-food Drive Thru Cashier

Batman: "No."

Red Robin: "But what if -"

Batman: "No."

Red Robin: "But I could -"

Batman: "No."

Red Robin: "What if I -"

Robin: "Cease this Neanderthal behavior at once! You cannot be a Red if you are dressed entirely in Green!"

~*~*~

Red Hood: "You're not my fucking father!"

Batman: "The paperwork says otherwise."

Red Hood: "Fucking where, Bitch! I'll burn them!"

Batman: "You'd still be grounded and for even longer if you did."

~*~*~

Batman: "Please tell me you have a Signal action figure now?"

Drive Thru Cashier: "I'm afraid Riddler high jacked the truck they were supposed to be on. We haven't got any in yet."

Batmn: *long heavy sigh* " Of course he did."

~*~*~

Red Hood, driving the batmobile for some reason: "I need 10,000 of one of literally anything you carry other than the Night Wings. I literally don't carry what it is."

Signal: "And one order of Robin Nuggets."

Red Hood: "And one order of Robin Nuggets. We Are Robin limited edition version if you have it."

~*~*~

Nightwing, driving the batmobile for some reason: "I need 6 orders of Night Wings, please."

Red Robin: "There are only two of us? And I don't want Night Wings?"

Nightwing: "Nah, that just cause Hood's trying to steal my lead. I'll get you anything you want other than the Caped Crusader Sandwhich though."

~*~*~

Batman: "No, you may not borrow the Batmobile."

Robin: "It's a right of passage!"

Batman: "You are too young to have earned that right yet."

Spoiler: "Ha! He called you a baby!"

~*~*~

Spoiler, driving the batmobile for some reason: "Do you guys have any glitter?"

Drive Thru Cashier: "Ma'am, this is a fast food restaurant."

Spoiler:

Spoiler: "How many packets of ketchup, mustard, and mayonnaise can you legally give me?"

Drive Thru Cashier:

Drive Thru Cashier after checking with the manager: "50 packets of each."

Spoiler: "I'll take them!"

~*~*~

Robin, driving the batmobile clearly without permission: "I require 2 Robin Meals. One vegan."

Superboy the 2nd: "Oh! I want a Red Hood toy!"

Robin: "What?! Absolutely not! We will take the current Robin toy! A Nightwing if that's not available!"

Superboy the 2nd: "NOOO! I WANT RED HOOD!"

Red Hood, apparently in the back seat of the batmobile: "Dear God. MAKE IT 4 ROBIN MEALS, PLEASE, ANS GIVE THEM BOTH WHAT THEY WANT SO THEY SHUT UP."

Superboy the 2nd happily: "As long as I get my Red Hood."

Robin grumbling: "Ridiculous. Stop acting so thirsty for it."

Red Hood: *strangled, choking noises*

Superboy the 2nd: *mortified squeal* "ROBIN! That is NOT what that MEANS!"

[manzuaves]

ᴄʀᴀᴡʟɪɴɢ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ

pairing. bratty!slytherin!sophia x quidditchplayer!gryffindor!reader

warning. mentions of alcohol. curses. and a bit of kisses. i think.

a/n. pls bear with me. its my first time writing. :') part 2 is up!

You were bored out of your damn mind, and the fact that the annual Quidditch Cup was only weeks away did absolutely nothing to help.

As Gryffindor’s Quidditch captain, you were supposed to be focused, fired up, strategic. Instead, you were just bored.

You’d been in the library for nearly three hours, and at this point, you were aimlessly sketching out plays with your quill, dragging it across just to litter the parchment with Quidditch formations and crossed-out plays.

Until a familiar, grating voice cut through your thoughts.

“Oh, sweet Salazar! Look who's swapped their broom for a book. Can’t you stop thinking about Quidditch for once?”

You snapped out of your reverie, jaw tightening. That squeaky, shrill tone could only belong to one person. Sophia Laforteza. The ever-annoying, ever-bratty Slytherin who had somehow been assigned to this godforsaken group project with you.

Her voice never failed to make you want to rip your hair out.

“And can’t you lower your voice for once?” you hissed, glancing nervously toward Madam Pince’s desk. If the library’s vulture-like guardian heard Sophia screeching again, you’d both be thrown out faster than a rogue Bludger.

“For Merlin’s sake, Laforteza,” you muttered, rubbing your temple. “You’re making my ears bleed.”

“And you’re making my blood boil,” she shot back, dramatically flicking her perfectly styled hair over her shoulder. Her green-painted nails glinted in the light, long and sharp enough to make you think of snakes.

Typical.

“I’m so telling Professor Binns that you didn’t even lift your calloused, dirty fingers to help with this assignment,” she huffed, flipping through a textbook as if she’d been doing all the work.

You smirked, leaning back with that all-too-familiar cocky grin, like a boy who’d just thought of a very inappropriate joke.

“Oh, you wouldn’t imagine what these dirty hands could do?”

Her quill froze mid-sentence.

Sophia turned her head slowly, eyes narrowed, lips slightly parted in disbelief. You could practically see the scandalized gears turning in her head. And for a second, you swore she looked flustered but that was probably wishful thinking.

“You are disgusting,” she muttered, though her voice lacked its usual bite.

You only laughed, peeking over at the shared parchment covered in her perfect penmanship. Judging by how little she'd actually written, it was going to take at least two more hours to finish this godforsaken History of Magic project.

“I already told you,” you muttered, scribbling something half-useful just to fill the space, “if we just focused on Muggles, you wouldn’t be bitching right now. You’d be lounging in your mess of a common room, probably bragging about your new designer hand bag or something with your other bitchy friends, because we would’ve been done by now.”

Sophia rolled her eyes for what felt like the hundredth time. “Like I’d give a damn about Muggles. Dark magic shaped Hogwarts history! I'm just finding it a bit difficult to—”

“—To find something different? Yeah, because it’s always dark magic this, dark magic that. You Slytherins think so highly of yourselves, FYI, dark magic has shaped Hogwarts history in a bad way. If you actually wanted to be original, you'd lower that inflated ego for five minutes and listen to me.”

Her green scarf slipped slightly from her shoulder as she adjusted it with a huff, the signature Slytherin silver threading catching the light.

“Why must you Gryffindors be so damn boastful?” she snapped, nose crinkling in annoyance. “Fine. Muggles it is. But only because you wouldn’t cooperate if I pushed for dark magic.”

You leaned back in your chair with a satisfied grin, quill twirling between your fingers. “Admit it. I’m right.”

“I’d rather swallow a Fanged Flyer,” she muttered.

“You’re welcome.”

She didn’t answer, but the slight tug at the corner of her lips almost made you forget that you were supposed to hate each other.

“Catch up, Sophia! We’re going to miss the match!” Daniela squealed in excitement, her footsteps echoing as they practically skipped down the hallway.

Or rather, Daniela only did, since Sophia didn’t like breaking a sweat or wasting energy on anything that might tire her out. Even the thought of a few beads of sweat sent her into a mini fit.

“You know,” Sophia muttered, dragging her feet, “actually, you might want to go ahead. Lara’s waiting for me in the common room. We’ve got some work to do.” She quickly came up with the first excuse that popped into her head.

Daniela arched an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “I might just do that—only if you can come up with a better lie.” She leaned in with a roll of her Slytherin-colored eyes. “Shut up, Sophia. Just Apparate to the pitch, or something. Lara already told me she’d be there too, watching the game.”

Sophia let out an exasperated sigh, muttering under her breath. “Oh, for the love of the Dark Lord…”

"Plus… don’t you want to see your crush? Heard Y/N’s absolutely annihilating it against Hufflepuff today.”

“My crush?” Sophia smirked, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “More like I’d love to crush their head. And for the last time, stop with the rumors, Dani. I hate that Gryffindor .”

Dani raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the teasing. “It’s not a rumor, Soph. Just something I’ve observed—and trust me, it’s hard to miss with the way you’re always glaring at Y/N during matches.”

Sophia rolled her eyes, but before she could respond, someone down the hall waved at her. “Hey, Sophia!” they called, but she didn’t even spare a glance, strutting past them with her usual air of superiority.

How dare they greet her? They were just a pair of common wizards, nothing special. Meanwhile, she was THE Sophia Laforteza, descendant of one of the Sacred 28, a Slytherin legend. She didn’t have time for pleasantries, especially not with people who weren’t worth her attention.

Dani snickered, crossing her arms. “See? That’s how hard it is to get your attention. You wouldn’t even acknowledge someone saying hi, but with Y/N? You can’t even stop glaring.”

Sophia shot Dani a dark look, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush. “And don’t you think I glare at her because I hate her?” She asked like stating the obvious.

An amused smile tugging at Daniela's lips, “Oh, I know you glare at her. And if I’m being honest, that’s just your way of giving her all your attention.”

Even more irritated now, Sophia made up her mind. There was absolutely no way she was going to that bloody Quidditch match. Daniela could throw the biggest fit in the world for all she cared. She did not have a crush on Y/N.

Y/N savored her glory: 200 to 20. Gryffindor had completely obliterated Hufflepuff, and she stood on the second floor of the common room, overlooking the sea of red and gold as her housemates chanted her name. MVP of today’s game. With a smug smirk tugging at her lips, she thought, Yeah… I could get used to a few more parties like this.

The afterparty was in full swing. She and her friends had basically invited the entire year, and now students from all houses were packed into the Gryffindor common room—dancing, laughing, and sipping from cups laced with smuggled Firewhisky.

“Hail Y/N for beating those arses of a house called Hufflepuff!” Megan screamed from below, half-dancing, half-stumbling through the crowd. Everyone laughed and cheered, including the Hufflepuffs who are so drunk they could barely register what the orange-haired had shouted. Megan was loud on a regular day, add a few drinks, and she was practically a human megaphone. You could probably hear her from three floors up.

Thankfully, Manon, ever the genius of their chaotic little friend group, had already cast Muffliato. As bold as they were, Gryffindors through and through, none of them wanted to risk an earful from Professor McGonagall if the noise spilled beyond the portrait hole.

Manon approached her smug friend, handing her a drink that was probably twice as strong as the last. Why? Well, they were Gryffindors. They liked it strong like that. 

“The tournament’s only just begun and we’re already throwing the year’s wildest party,” Manon said with a laugh, flashing her perfect pearl-white teeth. “Honestly, kind of a Slytherin move.”

Her smile could charm half the student body, and it often did. But not Y/N. She merely raised an eyebrow, unfazed as always.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake,” Y/N scoffed, swirling the firewhisky in her cup. “We wouldn’t want to be associated with the likes of them, now, would we?”

Manon didn’t reply immediately. She just gave a knowing hum, eyes flickering past Y/N’s shoulder. “Funny you say that..”

From your view, your brown eyes caught a glint of green near the portrait pole. But not just any green. That green. Silk scarves and robes that probably cost more than yours and Manon’s whole lives combined, intimidating expressions and that aura that scream we’re better than you and we know it. 

The infamous trio had finally arrived. 

Lara, already looking unimpressed with the playlist. Daniela, waving to someone like she wasn’t crashing enemy territory. And right in the middle: Sophia LaForteza, arms crossed and gaze sharp, like she’d rather be hexed than be in a room full of celebrating Gryffindors.

You sipped again, slower this time.

“Well, speak of the bloody devil,” you muttered, eyes locked at the certain Slytherin who was looking down on everybody with utter disdain. But somehow, people still made space without her asking, like she was kind of royalty. Well not really kind of. She was royalty. 

And yet she still looked pissed to be there. And for some reason that intrigued you. 

You didn’t even realize you were already making your way through the crowd, drink still in hand. Manon’s voice trailing behind you. 

“Didn’t wanna be associated, huh.” She laughed knowingly as she head her way to the other side, entertaining other students. 

You stopped just in front of her, leaning against the red and gold pillar with a nonchalant smirk. Offering your firewhisky, you half-expected a grimace or a quick rejection. Instead, to your surprise, she took the glass and chugged it down in one smooth motion.

Sophia’s eyes flashed as she set the empty glass down with an ease that made you pause. The girl had no hesitation.

You couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. “Well, well, LaForteza. Here I was thinking you were above all this noise. Yet, here you are, crashing the Gryffindor afterparty. Didn’t feel like being a queen tonight?”

Sophia’s gaze flickered, but there was something else in it now, something more raw than the usual indifference. She liked the burn in her chest, the firewhisky coursing through her veins. Just exactly what she needed tonight.

It wasn’t that she was bored—not entirely, but the stress was eating at her. The weight of everything back at Slytherin, her family, the pressure… sometimes, a drink was the only thing that helped drown it all out.

She was actually thankful for you, in a way. No need to go to the drink table and mingle with the rest of the students. You’d brought it right to her, and it was a damn good drink. The last thing she wanted was to be around more people approaching her who doesn't know their place.

She tilted her head, her lips curling into a faint, almost imperceptible smirk. “And here I was thinking you were above all this celebration noise. Your first time winning?”

You shrugged nonchalantly, unfazed by her jab. “First time winning? Please. I think I might need to invite you to one of my games. You must’ve missed more than I thought if you think this is a first.”

Your eyes shifted to one of the lower years you had invited to the party, someone you and your friends liked to send on errands.

“Oi, kid! Pass me two more cups! One for me, and the other for the princess here,” you called out, eyes glinting with mischief as you nodded toward Sophia. “Wouldn’t want royalty leaving the party early now, would we?”

“U-uhh… of course not, Y/N.” The younger student looked at you, wide-eyed clearly starstruck, then hesitantly offered a shy smile in Sophia’s direction. But Sophia, still disinterested, just rolled her eyes, clearly annoyed by both the kid’s awe and even more by your smug theatrics.

"You Gryffindors really do have a knack for being so loudly arrogant, no? Like if you save the day, you’d want the whole world to throw a parade in your name,” Sophia scoffed, taking the new drink from your hand.

She eyed you over the rim of her cup, her gaze razor-sharp and unblinking. You took a sharp breath, caught off guard by how intense the eye contact suddenly felt—like she was reading every motive behind your smirk.

You cleared your throat, doing your best to play it cool despite how her stare was already crawling under your skin.

“Who wouldn’t want the spotlight?” you quipped, flashing a grin. “It’s kind of like when a girl’s screaming my name in bed. Why keep it quiet when you can let the whole castle know who’s winning?" You laughed.

Sophia didn’t know why. Maybe it was your cocky tone or that maddening grin, but something about you just got under her skin. With a dramatic roll of her eyes and a sharp swig of her drink, she turned on her pointy, green heels, already set on walking away from whatever this was.

But before she could get far, your fingers wrapped gently around her wrist.

“Wait—what? You’re leaving already?” you asked, genuine confusion flickering across your face. “Was it something I said?”

Your teasing faltered for a beat, replaced by something unreadable, like you hadn’t actually expected her to walk away.

Sophia froze. Not because of your hold, but because of your stupidly irritating question. She scoffed, snatching your drink from your hand without warning and taking a sip, her eyes never leaving yours. Her glossy lips left a faint mark on the rim of your red plastic cup, and somehow, that tiny, thoughtless act shifted something inside you.

The nerve. The audacity. The way she could steal your drink, challenge you with a single stare, and still make it feel like you were the one off balance.

"You talk like that and then act surprised that someone walks away?" she said coolly, though there was an obvious tint of annoyance in her voice.

Oh, so that’s it. Was she jealous? That you just casually mentioned your bed escapades?

"Talk like what, LaForteza?" you shot back, your confusion quickly turning into a playful smirk. You leaned in just enough, watching her closely, almost daring her to admit whatever was making her so irritated.

Sophia’s eyes narrowed, and for a split second, she looked like she was trying to decide whether to hex you or kiss you, or maybe both.

But then, she paused, her jaw tightening, clearly weighing her options. There was a flicker of something—maybe annoyance, maybe something else—across her features before she quickly masked it with a cold expression.

She took another sip of your drink, which was now probably hers, her voice laced with sarcasm as she responded, “Please, don’t flatter yourself. I couldn’t care less about whatever you do behind closed doors. But keep it down. Not everyone’s interested in hearing about it.”

You took a step closer, smirking as you leaned in just slightly. “I wouldn’t want them to anyway,” you said, her voice lower now, the playful edge still there, but with something more intense beneath it. “I just want you to pay attention, LaForteza. That’s all.”

Your gaze flickered to Sophia's lips for a brief moment before meeting her eyes again, the tension thickening between you two. Everyone at the party who noticed the silent standoff between the two powerhouses of Hogwarts dared not come any closer. The air around you seemed to pulse with unspoken words, and it was as if the entire room held its breath, aware of the electricity crackling in the space between you. It was obvious to anyone paying attention, this wasn’t just another verbal sparring match.

"What, cat got your tongue?" You teased. Snatching your drink back and taking a sip exactly from where the Slytherin had left her lipstick mark.

Sophia followed your actions with her eyes, suddenly feeling hot. And she abhorred feeling hot. But why was this different? Why didn't she mind this at all?

"I'm not the one running my mouth."

"Oh, yeah? Prove it then, princess."

Sophia raised an eyebrow, but you could see the tension tightening in her jaw. You smirked, expecting her to retort, to snap back like she always did. But instead, before you could even react, her lips were suddenly on yours. It was unexpected, and for a moment, you froze, completely caught off guard by the softness and heat of her kiss.

She pulled back just as quickly, eyes narrowed, but there was no mistaking the hint of something unspoken lingering in the air between you two.

"Don't act so surprised, I can play your game, too." Her voice was hushed enough just for the both of you to hear. Yet it was laced with challenge.

You observed how her eyes were now hooded with lust, her usual composure unraveling, and how her thick, glossy lips were slightly parted from the kiss you two just shared. She looked so damn irresistible in that moment, like every challenge she'd ever thrown your way had led to this exact point. The sharp, undeniable magnetism between you two made your head spin.

Merlin's beard, kill me now… You cursed under your breath, your pulse racing as you fought the urge to close the distance even more. But you couldn’t help it—the way she was looking at you, like she was daring you to do something, ignited something deep inside.

Finally, you closed the distance between you two once again but this time you deepened it even more. Your kiss was nothing like the playful teasing before. It was strong, harsh, and passionate. The two of you wanting to dominate.

She gripped the back of your neck like she was claiming territory, nails digging just enough to make you grin into the kiss. You responded in kind, hands confidently sliding down to lift her leg, anchoring it against your waist with practiced ease. The movement made her gasp, and that alone felt like a win.

Sophia kissed like she argued: sharp, challenging, and with no intention of backing down. She bit at your lower lip, a bratty kind of defiance in the way she tilted her chin, daring you to lose control. But you kissed her like you played Quidditch: cocky, calculated, and always a step ahead. You swallowed her challenge with a smirk, deepening the kiss until her bravado cracked, just slightly.

She tried to pull away, to regain upper hand, but you were already chasing her lips again, murmuring against them, “What’s wrong, LaForteza? Thought you could keep up.”

Her answer was another tug at your collar, another press of her mouth against yours, fiercer this time like she’d rather die than let you have the last word.

“I’ll show you how to keep up. Bring me to your room.”

And just like that the game has changed.

[megalony]

Disrespect His Wife

This is a new Eddie Diaz imagine I had an idea for, I'm very pleased with this one and I hope you will all like it too.

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@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro @itsgigikay @harry-satellite @midsummereve1993 @babyqueen17 @buckyyyismahhlife @sammiejane22 @mrsyixingunicorn10 @op-81-lvr-reblogs @talicat713 @niamhmbt @strawberry-canyon @bieberhoodforever @911fangirlie @hollandxxmix @jasmineee05 @creat1venat1onn @devilslittlehelper @darlingcharling-blog @bear8585 @nickie-amore @elliott-calls @person-005 @mbioooo0000 @amara-mars @shypy92 @nikfigueiredo

911 taglist: @teenwolfbitches28 @mandmilovehim @jooniesbears-blog @riywasu @amy2265 @buckandeddiesverison @forestsandgrimoires @peteparkersbug @btskzfav @onetoomanyfichusbands

Eddie Diaz Masterlist

Summary: It's (Y/n)'s first night out since having her and Eddie's youngest, and she goes out with friends. But when fights start to break out, she calls Eddie for help.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The tepid sound of footsteps outside the bathroom door brought (Y/n) out of her trance and she leaned forward, lowering her head down while she twisted from left to right to click her back into place. A twinge rolled through her back and her knees bent forward into the sink that felt like (Y/n) was about to rip it off the wall.

And she had stupidly thought that being pregnant was the only time she would suffer pains like these. (Y/n) hadn't reckoned on the back ache sticking with her and lasting this long after labour, after all it hadn't been like this the other two times she had been pregnant. But she guessed she should be relieved that it wasn't constant. Just a twinge every now and then and some twisting pains like her spine was crooked and needed to be put back in its proper place.

It took some effort for (Y/n) to properly click her spine into place and feel like she could stand and move without some dull sense of pain or like she was stiffening up and turning to stone.

She tried to straighten up but the movement caused her spine to click oddly and send a loud crack through the air which had her quivering on the spot. One hand moved to her lower back and the other pushed up off the sink that had been keeping her upright for a while now and she sighed when she didn't feel horrid pains when she stood up properly.

A deep breath stuttered past her lips and her hands moved to knit into her hair that she had already washed and brushed and tamed into something more suitable.

Lifting her head, (Y/n) darted her eyes around the bathroom to look for the dress she had brought in here with her.

She tossed her shirt into the hamper near the door and shimmied into the dress, silently muttering under her breath for it to fit properly and look as good as it used to. She had already won the fight of getting her tights raked up her thighs. (Y/n) hated tights, they never seemed big or long enough to fit over her legs, but at least these ones were stretchy and soft cotton.

She wouldn't be wearing any tight or uncomfortable clothes for the foreseeable future. (Y/n) may want to look good now that she'd had Evie, but she wasn't that desperate. Comfort was more important than trying to push herself too quickly to look like her old self before she got pregnant.

The previous two times she'd been pregnant and gave birth, (Y/n) was never in any rush to get her old shape back. There was nothing wrong with how she looked after birth, she knew that, and if the way Eddie clung to her was anything to go by, he loved her no matter what.

He was always glued to her when she was pregnant like he thought she was the most beautiful person in the world. He adored the way her shape changed and when (Y/n) called her 'baby weight' annoying, Eddie said he loved it. It showed the miracles she had achieved, he wouldn't change it.

That didn't mean that (Y/n) was always happy with how she looked and if she went out anywhere without Eddie, the old self- conscious thoughts started to get to her.

Once the dress was in place and the crinkes were ruffled out, (Y/n) stepped back and looked down at herself, but she had to fight back tears.

This wouldn't do.

No way was (Y/n) going out for the first time since having Evie and face her friends looking like this. She looked like a rocket lolly, oddly shaped with no flattering curves or edges. This dress didn't even hug her curves or sit as nicely as it used to. (Y/n) was sure she remembered this dress being flattering yet not as tight as clingfilm.

As of this moment in time the dress was baggy in all the wrong places and it made her look like she was still a few months pregnant. It hung too loose over her hips and didn't cling to her legs, she couldn't see where her waist ended and her legs begun.

Her back strained as she grumbled and fought to get the dress off again. She looped it over her arm and tried not to get too upset or worked up as she opened the door and walked out into the hall.

She had heard Eddie walk past a few minutes ago so she figured he would be in the bedroom.

Her suspicions were confirmed and her heart soared in her chest when her sights found Eddie. He was stood near the window, his lips attached to Evie's temple and he was tilting back at an angle to have her laid on his chest.

(Y/n) liked the shirt he was wearing. He had a light beige button up shirt on that looked a size too small for him. It stuck to his shoulders like glue, tensed and bunched up around the elbows whenever he flexed his arms and his chest was straining against the buttons that looked like they were about to pop. But he looked good.

His head turned in her direction and he quirked a brow as he looked her up and down. Stood there near the bed in her black silky tights made her a beautiful sight that Eddie wanted to devour.

His hand began to smooth up and down Evie's back although he knew the two month old was already fast asleep. She had settled almost straight away after Eddie gave her a bottle downstairs; she was the least fussy baby they'd had so far.

"Changed your mind?" He danced his eyes up and down her frame while he turned away from the mirror to face her instead.

She wasn't quite sure whether he meant had she changed her mind about what she was wearing or about going out altogether. Either way it didn't matter and (Y/n) huffed as she tossed the dress on the bed like it was vile and she never wanted to see it again.

"That dress didn't look right, and I'm running out of options."

Her shoulders deflated as she moved over to look in the wardrobe for a dress that would look half decent on her and not make her look a fool or like a football. She would settle for one of Eddie's shirts if she had to, she just wanted something to look good on her.

(Y/n) hadn't been out with friends for months and the last time she did, she had been pregnant so she couldn't drink with them. Not that (Y/n) would be drinking that much tonight anyway, but she wanted to have a few drinks and be with her friends. She was meeting two old friends from work and another three friends who happened to have kids in the same school as Daisy and Lola.

They were all going out to a bar for some drinks and (Y/n) hadn't been on a night out without Eddie in a long while. When he went with her, she never worried about how she looked or if anyone was looking at her but when he wasn't there (Y/n) started to panic.

Her eyes locked on a dark navy blue dress with thin straps and a thread of gold buttons going down the middle and she nodded to herself. That might just do. She swiped it from the hanger and turned so she could drag it over her frame. It reminded her of one of Eddie's button up shirts that she was always stealing because of how loose they were and how well they suited her when she was pregnant.

A quiet grumble left her lips and she huffed as she pulled the hem down her thighs but it put a strain on her shoulders and cleavage.

"Shit."

When she pulled the dress down, she gasped as the top two buttons popped undone. She tried again to pull it down a bit more but it wouldn't go any further, but she wouldn't be flashing anyone.

Her hands moved to the buttons and she tried to do them up again, but it made the dress ride higher and the buttons strained to stay done up over her chest. (Y/n) didn't have a choice but to leave the top two undone, exposing the top of her bra that thankfully didn't make her look indecent.

She fiddled and pulled to try and hide as much cleavage as she could, but she froze when she felt a pair of strong arms binding around her middle. She hadn't even heard Eddie settle Evie down in the crib.

"I like this one." Eddie murmured, punctuating his words with a kiss against her shoulder and travelling his lips up to the side of her neck.

He slid his hands beneath her dress and danced his fingers across her stomach and he felt her breathing hitch when his fingers pawed at the band of her tights that were pulled up near her belly button.

"I don't know if it looks right."

"Why?"

The genuine disappointment in Eddie's voice made (Y/n) wince and slouch back into his chest that tensed up against her. She felt him lean his cheek on top of her head while his elbows pressed into her waist so his arms could squeeze her lovingly into his chest.

"It- it's a bit tight." She bit her lip as she spoke, glad they weren't face to face so she didn't have to look up at him. Her hands travelled down to hold Eddie's wrists and she lifted her head from his shoulder when Eddie leaned forward into her.

He moved his pointed chin across her shoulder so he could pepper kisses across the front of her neck, feeling each shallow breath she took.

"Hm. That's exactly why I like it." He growled through his sentence and punctuated each word with a kiss up and down her neck. She was sure that at any moment Eddie was about to bare fangs and take a bite out of her throat.

"Do you really think I look okay?" (Y/n) glanced towards the mirror before she looked over her shoulder at her husband.

He didn't look phased or disapproving and all she could see in his eyes was love and a whole lot of lust.

His hands continued to roam across her waist and hips while he hummed and nodded into her neck. (Y/n) watched him curiously when he gave her a certain look but her eyes widened when Eddie reached one devilish hand up and tried to hook his finger into the open neckline of her dress near the undone buttons. He tugged until the material moved on her shoulders and he got a birds eye view of her chest.

A gasp tore past (Y/n)'s lips and she swatted at his hand before he managed to undo anymore buttons or skew her dress that she had struggled to get into the right position.

"Baby you look beautiful, and if you weren't going out I'd show you just how good I think you look."

"Eddie…" (Y/n) latched her fingers into his hair when he shifted round to stand in front of her.

Her head tilted to one side and she watched with a quickening heartbeat as Eddie's eyes clouded over. Her fingers dragged through his wavy curls and her other hand clamped down on his shoulder while he roamed his hands across her hips, squeezing and tugging her closer to his chest.

And she tightened her fingers in his hair when she felt him try to grab the hem of her dress and drag it up over her bum and hips. If he started this game (Y/n) was going to end up being late, and Buck was supposed to be coming over for a movie night with the kids and to see Eddie for a while.

"Dad!"

Eddie grumbled quietly against (Y/n)'s throat but his lips curved into a wide smirk when he felt her sigh. He pressed a few more butterfly kisses against her skin, running his fingertips across her hips before he pushed to stand back up to his normal height.

His fingers glided up her sides and he stole a kiss while he slowly pulled her dress back down her hips and straightened it out around her thighs. He much preferred the sight of her without anything on and he wanted nothing more than to strip her down here and now in the bedroom. But they both knew they had no time for that. Not now, not yet.

He stole a feverish kiss from her lips, inhaling every ounce of air she had in her lungs and (Y/n) could barely see when his fingers brushed beneath her chin and his thumb swiped across her lips when they parted.

(Y/n) moved to follow after him since Chris was calling out for him and (Y/n) needed to find her bag and shoes. Her head angled to the side when she saw the way Eddie kept glancing towards her, looking her up and down and how he moved one hand to rub across his chin and down his jaw.

"What?" Her stomach flipped when Eddie reached back to interlace their fingers together while they headed down the hall towards the living room.

"If you look this good when we go out with the team next month, we'll be coming home early."

***

It felt like (Y/n) had been away from home for a lifetime, not just a couple of hours. Maybe it was the hormones and the fact that her internal body clock kept reminding her each time Evie would be due a feed and she realised she wasn't home to give it. Or maybe it was the alcohol distorting her sense of time and awareness.

It wasn't necessarily a bad feeling, but the longer (Y/n) was out, the more she started to yearn to be back home.

She wanted to be back with her girls settling Daisy and Lola to bed. She wanted to be sat on the sofa cuddled up and watching a movie with Chris. She wanted to feed and settle Evie. And she wanted to be back in Eddie's arms with his hands roaming her skin like he was memorising the map of her body from head to toe.

Being out with the girls had been a fun change of pace though. They had sat in a booth, tried at least five different jugs of cocktails, a few of them had been up to dance. And now they were back to the booth joking and sharing stories until their stomachs ached with laughter.

Arching forward, (Y/n) tried to click her back into place once again while she folded her arms on the table that was sticky with spilt alcohol and a few pieces of fruit that had fallen from the cocktail jugs.

Her hands reached out to cradle her glass which held what was left of the Blue Lagoon cocktail which tasted more like fruit and cherries than alcohol.

She looked between Daphne, one of her friends from work, and Angie who worked at a bakery in town and had a daughter a year above Daisy. As the pair of them discussed who was currently babysitting. There was only Laura out of the five of them who didn't have any kids and therefore had no childcare issues whenever they wanted to meet up.

"I can't leave him with Damien for more than a few hours, I'd have no house left."

"My ex wasn't much better. Too bad we can't all have a hot fireman waiting at home for us; I bet he's good with the kids."

"He'd better be, having four."

(Y/n) let a laugh rumble past her lips and she nodded her head as she downed what was left in her glass. She wouldn't of had three girls if Eddie wasn't capable or good with kids. She had been shocked when Eddie's mum let slip that after his divorce with Shannon he told her he wasn't going to have anymore kids. That idea went right out the window the moment (Y/n) walked into his life.

"He's a natural, he just can't cook." (Y/n) straightened up and leaned back against the booth as a fondness bubbled up in her eyes.

That was the only fault she could ever think of, and it wasn't really a fault so much as a personality trait. Eddie wasn't a good cook, he tried his best, he truly did, but he was a natural disaster in the kitchen.

"When uh, when I almost sliced my finger off, my sister came to take me to the emergency room so Eddie could be with the kids. Chris started crying, asked who was going to make him dinner."

"I bet Eddie was thrilled."

Chris had only been eight and Daisy was two at the time. (Y/n) had cut into her little finger so badly she had damaged the nerves permanently. It had been lucky that her sister had been round at the time so Eddie could stay home with Chris and Daisy and she could take (Y/n).

But poor Chris had been hungry and when they told him the plans, he burst into tears and clung to (Y/n)'s leg, asking who would feed him if she was going because he didn't like Eddie's cooking. Needless to say Eddie had been both offended by his son, yet relieved that (Y/n) had managed to make tea before she almost hacked her finger off. All he had to do was put it in the oven, although Chris's comment had bugged him.

"Alright, who's up for another round?"

(Y/n) began to circle her finger around the rim of her glass as she debated that question. She wasn't quite drunk yet, and she didn't have to get back for the kids. Eddie was happy enough to spend the night with them, and Buck would be there too so they would be playing video games or joking around and sharing stories all night.

She didn't have to get back for anything, but she wanted to. She wanted to get home to her family soon. She could stay for another round, but then she would be on her way.

She shuffled to the right to follow Angie out of the booth so they could go and get another round of drinks for the group.

They grabbed the empty cocktail jugs between them and headed towards the bar that was significantly more crowded than it had been last time they came up for drinks.

(Y/n) couldn't help but glance down when they approached the bar. She wished Eddie was here, she always felt calmer and more relaxed when he was beside her and if this hadn't of been a girls night out she would of asked him to come along.

People were starting to get rowdy. There was a large group at the end of the bar who were slamming glasses down, demanding refills and pushing each other to the point of winding one another up. They were people (Y/n) would be keeping an eye on to make sure to keep out of their way. She didn't want to be around them if they were going to start a brawl.

Just one more round, and she would go home to her family.

***

Glancing his eyes to the right, Eddie sighed and propped his head up on his hand with his elbow resting on the back of the sofa.

"You know anyone would think they're your kids, not mine." Eddie couldn't help but roll his eyes when he watched his best friend with his youngest.

Buck looked like he was in his element, slouched back into the cushions with his knees pushed out near the coffee table. He had a rather chilled expression on his face, and Evie sprawled out on his chest. The newborn had her head tucked up against Evan's collar bone and he was slowly and tenderly running his hand in circles on her back.

He looked so calm and happy that anyone who walked in right now would think that Buck was the father, not Eddie.

"Is it my fault your kids love me?"

Glancing down, Eddie moved his free hand to prod Chris who was sat between them. "Help me out here."

Chris had his head resting on Eddie's chest, an arm slung over his dad's abdomen and his legs curled up with his feet pushing back into Buck's thigh. They had all been playing a video game until Chris started to get tired and they switched to an old movie.

Once he eventually went to bed, Eddie would probably turn the PlayStation back on and try to beat Buck in a few games.

A soft "Love you more," mumbled past Chris's lips as he snuggled his head into Eddie's chest. He loved his uncle Buck, but he loved his dad too.

"Don't forget who's taking you to the zoo next week." Buck mumbled, but he was grinning and his attention was turning back to the little girl on his chest. He liked winding Eddie up, him and Chris were always finding little pranks and ways to tease Eddie and keep him on his toes.

"You ready for bed yet?" Eddie leaned down and kissed Chris's curls and began smoothing his hand up and down Chris's arm, but his boy was quick to shake his head.

"No." There was a defiant tone to his voice, but it didn't mask the tiredness that washed over him and caused Eddie to grin. Eddie glanced at his watch as he hummed.

"When the movie ends, you go to bed." Eddie's voice was soft and he shifted to prop his feet up on the coffee table. The movie only had twenty minutes left, if that. Once it finished he would go and get Chris settled in his room but he guessed that his boy would find his way into Eddie and (Y/n)'s room after a little while.

That was, if the girls weren't already in there. Eddie had put them both to bed a few hours ago and he was surprised how quickly they settled, considering Buck was still here. All the kids liked staying up when they had company over, but they had been tired and they were satisfied when Buck told them he would be taking them all to the zoo next week and therefore would be spending the whole day with them.

He continued to glide his hand up and down Chris's arm, although the rhythmic motion seemed more soothing to Eddie than it did to Chris who was already half asleep. Eddie needed to stay awake or he would be asleep with the kids rather than staying awake to chat to Buck. It had been a while since anyone had been over like this and Buck had brought drinks, Eddie couldn't exactly fall asleep before they'd properly started drinking.

He glanced over at Buck again, who seemed intent on keeping Evie even though she was fast asleep. Eddie didn't mind. If his little girl was happy and settled having a cuddle Eddie wouldn't quibble or ask Buck to set her down. She was still napping, it didn't really matter whether she was napping in her crib or in her uncle's arms.

With a deep breath, Eddie straightened up a little and clicked his neck from side to side. He needed to liven himself up a bit. A few more minutes then when Chris was settled in bed, they could put some music or a video game on and that would stop Eddie from feeling like one of the kids needing a power nap.

He looked down at his watch again, but before he could try to nudge Chris and tell him what time it was, his phone rang.

He settled his hand on Chris's arm while he fished his phone from his pocket and looked down. It was (Y/n).

"Hey babe, you having fun?"

Eddie would be lying if he said he was expecting (Y/n) to call. He had only expected to see her stumbling through the door in a couple of hours. Or maybe get the odd text asking how the kids were, if he was having fun with Buck. Something like that.

A phone call wasn't what Eddie had in mind because (Y/n) was out having fun, the whole reason Eddie hadn't called or messaged her since she left the house. He didn't want to disturb her. (Y/n) was having a night out and she hadn't gone out with her friends in a long while, she deserved to go have some fun and let loose.

After all, next month the team were having a big night out and all their partners were going along too. Bobby had already gotten the shifts covered in advance so they could all go together and no one would have to hang behind or be on call.

Eddie was eager to have a night out with (Y/n) and be with the team and not have to worry about getting back for the kids or getting up for work the next morning. As much as he loved spending time with their family and taking the kids out, he wanted a night with just (Y/n) too.

He felt Chris nuzzle his cheek up against Eddie's chest so he could look up at him and he murmured "It's mum?" although he could barely keep his eyes open or focus on what Eddie was saying.

When Eddie nodded, Chris grinned before he tucked his face back into Eddie's chest. He was tired. Otherwise he would have demanded to have the phone and talk to (Y/n) to ask what she was doing and to say goodnight, but right now he was too tired and sleepy to demand the phone.

"Babe?" Eddie pressed the phone a bit tighter to his ear to try and listen for (Y/n)'s voice but so far, he hadn't heard her speak. He could hear music blasting in the background, he could hear people laughing and a few incoherent splutters, but he hadn't heard his wife.

Had she meant to call him? Had she rung him by accident? Was she drunk?

"Are you busy?"

Her question made Eddie grin despite his confusion and he pondered what was running through her mind. She didn't sound too drunk or out of it, and she hadn't said hello or tried being cheeky before she jumped in with the questions.

"No. The girls are in bed, Evie's been confiscated by Buck and they're having a cuddle. Are you enjoying yourself?"

He tilted his head back on the sofa and stretched out while he waited for (Y/n) to tell him some crazy story about what they were all up to or what they had heard or where they currently were. What he got in response wasn't what he expected to hear.

"Can you come get me please?"

"Now?" He snook another glance down at his watch as a deep frown set in his features. "You've not been out that long, baby. Fed up already?"

"There's a few people- shit, a few people are fighting. I'm done, Eddie please pick me up." It wasn't often that (Y/n) used his name, in fact it was so rare that Eddie couldn't remember the last time she said his name other than when she was talking to friends or the team and not to him directly.

That alone had Eddie pushing forward until he was sat on the edge of the sofa and the hairs on the back of his neck started to stand on end. (Y/n) sounded worried, like she was panicking and Eddie didn't like that. Not one bit.

"Are you alright?" His question cased Buck to sit up in concern, Evie still settled on his chest while he stretched one arm out towards Chris when Eddie carefully moved him over.

He eased Chris back onto Buck's lap instead, watching his eldest curl up as he was on the brink of sleep. He didn't seem to notice the tension in the air or the fact that his dad was moving and seemingly nervous about something.

"Someone pushed into me and Daphne and she slapped him… I wanna go home."

Eddie could practically see the panic written across his wife's face from how she sounded down the phone. He knew Daphne, he had met her a few times from when she and (Y/n) went out. She wasn't the kind of person who would settle or walk away if someone pushed her or a friend. She would start a fight and Eddie knew she wouldn't leave until the fight was over.

And (Y/n) didn't feel able to walk out when her group were still in the bar and some of them were arguing with strangers who were getting rowdy. There was a big fight breaking out and everyone was getting too much to handle.

She wanted to go home and she knew that Eddie would always come and pick her up no matter where she was or what time it happened to be.

Pressing the phone to his ear, Eddie looked over at Buck who was staring at him patiently waiting to know what was going on. "Can you stay with the kids for an hour? Someone's started a bloody fight, I need to go get (Y/n)."

"Yeah sure." He wasn't bothered, it wasn't as if he would of been leaving anytime soon. He would get Evie and Chris settled to bed and then he would just wait for Eddie and (Y/n) to come home, it was all fine with him.

"Okay, okay I'm coming now tell me where you are."

It was a good job he hadn't had a drink yet.

It didn't take long for Eddie to get to the bar in town where (Y/n) said their group had been for the past two hours. He didn't even get inside before he heard the commotion happening inside.

His lips curled into a snarl when he looked around and jogged through the doors and looked around.

Why did this place have no security? Almost every bar Eddie went to when he and Buck went out for drinks had some kind of security on the doors or hanging around outside to prevent fights from happening. This place either didn't make enough money for that or they didn't care if a fight broke out.

He couldn't see anyone stopping the three guys to the right of the bar who were pushing, shoving and yelling at each other. And he was sure he could see fists being thrown, despite the friends crowding round them clearly trying to make them all stop.

If Eddie was being a good Samaritan he would have tried to intervene, but he didn't have the time or the patience for that.

He was here for one reason and one reason only; to get his wife out.

His hands flexed at his sides, fingers continuously curling into his palms as he scanned around to try and find any familiar face to indicate where (Y/n) was. He expected her to be near the doors or even waiting outside, desperate to leave. She had been panicked on the phone and pleaded with him to hurry up, as if Eddie would take his time when he knew she needed to leave.

He spotted Danielle first, stood to one side and wobbling back and forth which showed how many drinks she had consumed tonight, not that Eddie blamed her at all. She had one hand knitted in her hair and the other pressing her phone to her ear making him wonder whether she was calling a friend or partner for help or if she was possibly calling the police.

He couldn't see Laura who he knew was with them, but he spotted Angie at the bar which then led his sights to (Y/n).

(Y/n) was stood near the bar, one hand trying to pull Daphne back who seemed to be in an argument with a man so drunk he could barely open his eyes half way. But her other hand was reaching out at her side, pushing a guy away who was getting far too close to her.

"Don't touch me." The venom in (Y/n)'s voice set her words alight as she turned to the right and flung her arm out at the idiot who had been arguing with them for the last ten minutes.

She didn't want him trying to set his hand on her shoulder or trying to force her to turn around and face him. If he didn't leave them alone (Y/n) would stop holding Daphne back and let her have a swing at him too. She had already slapped one of the guys who was now fighting with someone from his own group. Daphne would gladly hit another person getting out of line.

(Y/n) would have gone to wait outside after she called Eddie, but she couldn't get far from the bar like this. The girls were all still in here somewhere and (Y/n) didn't want to leave any of them during sporadic fights that were happening all around. And she couldn't walk out when Daphne was arguing with someone who had been out of line trying to hit on her and touch her when she said no.

Her grip tightened around Daphne's arm as the panic started to rise within her but she pushed herself into her friend's side when the stranger tried to grab her again, this time reaching out for her hip.

"I told you to stop." (Y/n) could feel her heart lurching up into her throat and her pulse throbbed through every inch of her skin that was prickling with heat. She hated confrontation but she couldn't just stand and let him try to reach out for her.

Her blood ran cold when she heard him sneer "Don't be such a tease," in a low, gruff voice that made her want to be sick.

Who did he think he was? Did he really believe that was going to do anything to change (Y/n)'s demanour towards him or make her relent and give in? Had that ever worked on any other women before? Her hand gave Daphne's arm a little shake and she pushed up to try and get closer. "Let's go."

They could grab Danielle and Angie and find Laura somewhere and they could all leave or go their separate ways. Standing and arguing wasn't going to do them any good. Daphne had tried her best to make her point and stop these pricks from being so rude and unreasonable and they had somewhat listened to her. That was enough.

"Fine."

Relief overwhelmed (Y/n) when Daphne didn't argue and she turned to face her. She stayed holding her friends arm both to bind them together and to make sure she didn't start throwing fists around as they tried to leave the bar. And (Y/n) could feel her heart pounding out of her chest when her eyes locked on Eddie.

He had spotted her. He was pushing through the crowd to reach them. Everything would be fine now.

(Y/n) didn't know who spoke. She had no idea who was shouting at who or if anyone was trying to talk to them. She heard something along the lines of 'where the fuck are you going?' and a few lewd remarks coming from all angles like they were stood in the middle of a pitch with people arguing from both sides.

Someone pushed her. A rough elbow whacked into (Y/n)'s waist and sent her colliding into Daphne, who in turn bashed into one of the men who had been ranting and raving at someone at the bar.

"You bitch."

"Hey, no-" (Y/n) cringed when Daphne gave the man another shove once she heard his words. She hadn't bumped into him on purpose and she wouldn't have him being rude to her. She was drunk and eager to put people back in their places.

A rendition of 'stop' and 'leave us alone' left her lips but it made no difference. She switched to calling Eddie's name when it felt like people were crowding them from all angles. There was no escape. (Y/n) couldn't get away. She was trapped.

"Eddie-"

A horrific scream left (Y/n)'s lips when it felt like a fire had broke out on her left shoulder and all down her arm. Trembles overtook her system and her knees wobbled as tears welled up in her eyes and her head tucked down into her chest. Her body coiled over until her abdomen was creased and she was bent forward like she was about to be sick.

Her temple pressed into Daphne's arm but she let out another scream when her pulse started to shoot and throb through her arm.

It took all of (Y/n)'s effort to open her eyes which blurred with tears and her wet lips parted, letting out strangled gasps as she continued to shake. Her neck ached when she tried to look to the left, suddenly afraid of what she would see when she looked down at her arm.

Her body was pulsing, her skin felt broken and throbbing and her arm had gone numb from her shoulder down to her fingertips.

Glass. (Y/n)'s breath caught in her throat as she stared down at the glass littering her arm. Blood began to trickle all along her arm like she had a red sleeve covering her arm and various shards of caramel and chocolate brown glass chunks were stuck to her arm.

Someone had hit her with a beer bottle.

Whether they meant to hit her or someone else, (Y/n) didn't know but it didn't matter. Someone had swung a bottle and it had broken into her skin. It cut into her. She was bleeding, she could have glass stuck in her skin. She would have to go to the emergency room to get this cleared up.

"Oh my God!" Daphne's voice trembled as she bound her arms around (Y/n)'s waist, doing her best not to touch her bloodied arm that was beginning to trickle blood onto her dress and leave droplets on the floor.

Tears continued to trace down (Y/n)'s features as she gasped to gain a proper breath, but all she could do was shake and panic until her vision was blurring with spots instead of tears. It hurt. Her shoulder felt like it was swelling up. Her skin was on fire. She was lathered in blood and the alcohol wasn't doing much to dull the pain.

But everything stopped when she saw Eddie.

He reached her a second too late. He hadn't been in time to reach out for her and pull her behind him or step in front of her and block the idiot who had been swinging an empty bottle in the air like it was a flag he was parading around.

Eddie hadn't been in time to prevent his wife from being hurt, but he was right on time to grab the person who attacked her.

"Hey- what the Hell?" The guy's drunken stance made it much easier for Eddie to overpower him and stop him from trying to stumble away or lash out in defence.

His face twisted in confusion and anger but it did nothing to dissuade Eddie who grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and practically lifted him off his feet until only the toes of his shoes were touching the floor. His hands grappled for Eddie's wrists, but it didn't stop him from shaking the man by his collar and forcing him backwards.

"What the fuck did you do that for?!"

Red was all Eddie could see and it was the colour his skin was starting to turn until he looked sunburnt. The vein in his neck began to pulse and throb and his jaw locked so tightly his teeth started to grate together and rub uncomfortable, but he didn't care. He wanted to know why he had just watched this man hit his wife with a beer bottle. What did that achieve? Why do that to her? What did she do to make him think he had any right to hurt her like that?

"Wh- what? Piss off." He either slurred or hiccupped through his words, Eddie wasn't sure but it just made him even more volatile.

He clenched his hand around the back of the man's neck and forced him to look towards (Y/n) who Daphne was cradling and shielding from all the on-lookers. Her injuries and the sight of blood had caused most of the other fights around them to cease. Especially when the bartender announced he was calling the police.

"You hit my wife with a fucking bottle." Each word was spat through gritted teeth with venom laced through them.

Eddie leaned closer until he was breathing down the stranger's neck, keeping hold of him to force him to look at the chaos he had started and the injuries he had inflicted. Injuries (Y/n) didn't deserve and shouldn't be experiencing, all because someone got a little too drunk and thought he could do whatever he wanted with no consequence.

The stranger tried to roll his shoulders and straighten up, but Eddie's hand on the back of his neck forced him to keep stooped forward and looking towards (Y/n).

And Eddie hated the way the stranger looked (Y/n) up and down with something between a grimace and a smirk. As if he were both pleased and frightened about what he'd done to her.

"That- that show off? She's a tease."

This time when a scream echoed through the bar, it wasn't (Y/n). She wasn't sure who it was, but they seemed to express the shock everyone in the room felt.

(Y/n)'s bloodied, numb arm stayed pressed against her lower chest, although she felt like it was glued there with the blood rather than staying there for ease and comfort. And her right hand shot to cover her mouth and muffle the gasp she let out when she watched what her husband did.

She watched Eddie swiftly force the man down by the hand on the back of his neck, moving so fast that it took a second for her to realise what he was doing. Eddie rammed the man's head down into the wooden counter.

Each glass, bottle and jug resting on the countertop trembled at the force of which the stranger's head rebounded against the edge and the shock was hard enough for an echo to overpower every other sound in the air.

The stranger's nose made a deafening crack that made everyone freeze on the spot and look towards him. Everyone seemed to recoil and wince and cringe, all knowing his nose would now be broken and bent right out of shape. And with how forcefully his temple hit the bar, he would likely have two black eyes to match.

A sense of glee lit up Eddie's insides and the tiniest of satisfied smirks pulled at his lips when he watched a puddle of blood splatter across the bar counter. And when he let go of the man's neck and shoulder, he stepped back to let him crumple to the floor like a used tissue. The force and the alcohol had made him pass out, and Eddie gladly let him flop to the floor.

For once, he didn't care. He didn't bend down and try to check whether the man was still breathing. He didn't check if he was choking on the blood that would be trickling down his throat and probably into his airways.

Not like when he had been fighting and he at least checked on the opponents he had knocked out or called an ambulance for them. This time, Eddie didn't care what happened to his opponent. He only cared that the man was out for the count and wouldn't be getting up to disrespect his wife again.

"Eddie…" (Y/n)'s hand lowered from her mouth and slowly stretched out in Eddie's direction while shock and utter bewilderment crossed her face.

What had he done? He could get arrested for that. The bartender had called the police, and they wouldn't care if that man had started the fight and injured (Y/n). Everyone had witnessed Eddie do that, he would be the one to get into the most trouble.

Deep, rugged breaths left Eddie's lips as he stared down at the man for another second or two before he lifted his head. He rolled his shoulders and clicked his neck into place before he looked around with raised brows and parted lips.

"Anyone else got a problem?"

A round of blank faces stared back at him and Eddie stepped back and motioned his arms forward when a rather petrified young lad pointed towards the man on the floor. He wanted to check on him.

(Y/n) tried to stop herself from trembling as she weakly pulled out of Daphne's arms and stepped towards Eddie. Relief and comfort swarmed through her in huge shockwaves when Eddie's hands settled on her hips and his arm bound around her waist.

He pressed his chest into her back and nodded when she meekly tilted her head, indicating that they should leave.

Daphne was quick to grab (Y/n)'s bag from the bar and follow the couple out, along with the rest of their group who all accumulated together to make their exit. It seemed like a lot of people were eager to leave, mostly those who had been fighting since they knew the police were on their way.

The fresh air seemed to hit all of them like a truck. (Y/n) shrank back into Eddie's chest and tilted her head back on his shoulder as tremors tore through her from both the cold air and the adrenaline that was countering out some of the pain in her arm. And she could feel Eddie shaking from the rush and each breath he took was so deep his lungs must have been close to bursting.

"You know, if you didn't already have a medal, I'd give you one for that."

(Y/n) glanced across at Angie who smirked at her and Eddie while she fished her phone from her bag to call for a cab. Fuelling Eddie's ego wasn't going to help when he had technically been in the wrong for doing that.

"We need to go… t-they could arrest you for that." (Y/n)'s wide pooling eyes stared up at Eddie who turned his sharp jaw to look down at her.

"You think I give a shit about that? Look at your arm, we need to go to the hospital."

The thought of being arrested didn't cross Eddie's mind and even if that possibility came true, he wasn't likely to get a big caution for it. He had defended his wife and ultimately stopped all the fights in there. He made the peace, with a little bit of assault in the middle. It was payback and Eddie had been provoked, he didn't start the fighting, he only ended it.

(Y/n) nodded, although she didn't necessarily want a hospital trip. If they were waiting too long she would just ask Eddie to sort her arm and take her home. He would probably end up doing it anyway as (Y/n) only calmed down for him. He was a trained medic, he knew how to pick glass out of cuts and check that her arm was clean and didn't need stitches- he could do the stitches too if necessary.

Her eyes closed and her face tucked into Eddie's neck while the girls all said their goodbyes and Daphne hung (Y/n)'s bag on Eddie's shoulder before she parted ways with Laura in tow.

"Alright mi amor, let's get you down to the emergency room. And I'll call Buck and let him know what's going on, he's gonna be babysitting for a while longer."

When Eddie pressed his lips to (Y/n)'s temple and moved one hand to cup her cheek, he felt her hum against his neck and he was sure he felt her smiling against his skin.

"Our night out with the team better not end like this."

[heartfullofleeches]

[Male Reader]

"Please choose me...."

Overcome by grief and anguish, your headache of a partner crumples at your feet in a shivering heap. He retches - the rawness of his throat igniting a bitter, painful wave of nausea. As they gather the strength to pick themselves off the floor, a stray glance at his phone sents him right back to the dry heaving, pathetic shell of a person they were moments prior.

You'd be more concerned for his miserable state - if it weren't for that damned phone. It's caused you and them more harm than good.

"What is it now, V?"

"It's the one thing money can't beat."

V pounds their fist against the floor - howling into the carpet.

"How the fuck am I suppose to compete with a girl with an ass that fat?!"

Today is not the day. You've contemplated strangling them for months, but today is not the day you catch a murder charge.

"What in the actual hell are you going on about?"

Tears pouring down their cheeks like a faucet, V drags himself off the carpet - shoving his phone in your face. It's then you realize your own mortal error.

"The bitch you posted on your page! Look at her ass in those yoga pants! It's practical bursting out of them! It's fucking natural too - I can tell!"

That alone sends V into another hysterical fit.

"Normally I'm more of a stick, but next to her I'm a toothpick."

Don't kill him. Don't kill them. Don't kill him.

"So. You're able to tell just by looking at it there was no plastic surgery involved?"

V almost seems offended you'd question their expertise. "I've looked at enough asses in my time to know what's real and what isn't."

"If you're such an expert then why's it taken you so long to think that maybe the ass in that photo is mine?"

With a sniffle and a soft hitch of breath, V's cries screech to an abrupt hold. Their head pivots from their phone, to you, back to their phone - gradually scaling down to the outline of your rear in the baggy slacks you currently hand on.

"This... " V taps at their screen, zooming in by pure accident. They salivate at the magnified image - sucking air between their teeth. "This you?"

"Yup. I told you I was starting pilates days ago."

"Fuck." V clasps a hand over his mouth, scrolling back and forth between photos. "No wonder you wear baggy clothes all the time. Just look at that thing. Damn."

"I know what it looks like, V. It's my ass."

V pockets their phone, adjusting the waistline of his sweatpants.

"Well if you need me I'll be in my room doing... taxes. Keep up the good work."

V pats your shoulder, sneaking a kiss to your cheek as he shuffles off towards his bedroom.

[bahngarang]

chapter 9.0 ☆ imposter syndrome

ss: 18

wc: 862

cw: food mentions, mentions of physical fighting

a/n: I lost two years of my life trying to edit that photo if it looks bad don't tell me (also the initials l . y are l/n y/n if you're confused)

"okay, okay, hear me out," minji paused, chewing a heroically sized mouthful of pizza, holding her finger up as if to hold her place in the conversation.

it went on for just long enough to be awkward, and yn took a sip of their soda – as if they weren't already stewing in a pool of their own embarrassment at this whole situation. and it was embarrassing, to say the least. how long would it have taken them to get to this point if not for some... some bitch trying to steal their soulmates? honestly, yn thought they would have the opposite reaction to this sort of thing. the other yn – she was pretty, able-bodied from what they could tell, and she seemed remarkably put together. a far cry from their own life. she seemed to be everything yn wanted for their soulmates.

well, except for the fact that she was almost undoubtedly a sasaeng. stray kids' management had gone to great lengths not to show their soul marks, but there had been a few slip-ups over the years, and despite their best efforts, it had come out that the group were soulmates – and that there was one more person included. that came with a lot of failed attempts of stalkers trying their best to convince they boys that they were their soulmate. up until now, it had always been fairly mediocre attempts, and/or easy to see through. it was different this time, almost indistinguishable from yn's own (before the accident).

but apart from that, theoretically, she was perfect for them. and yn... wasn't. but that didn't stop the pit of frustration burning deep in their stomach – frustration at themselves, mostly, at the world, and everything else. although, that last one was the more general ire for living made worse by this whole debacle.

sometimes, privately, yn wondered if it really was just a big coincidence, if they really were their last soulmate. it just felt like they... didn't fit. and, just occasionally, they wished it was that way – although, not really. they didn't know the others, and didn't really know how to feel about them just yet, but the idea of chan being with someone else made yn's chest clench painfully.

"what if," minji started again, "what if you showed up at the company building with like, one of those massive rose bouquets and blasting a sad song on your boombox?"

"well, first of all," yn said, "where are the funds for this rose bouquet? with the price of everything these days, i'm not sure i even have enough for twelve. secondly, a boombox? how old do you think i am? contrary to apparently popular belief, i do not have a boombox. and, you know, i think security wouldn't let me within 50 metres of the building."

"darn."

the quiet clicking of lego pieces broke the silence between the poignant lack of ideas in the brainstorming session. it was difficult, coming up with a way to explain to your best friend that you'd been hiding the fact that you were his last soulmate that made you look least like a buffoon. it was unavoidable, looking like an idiot, but surely there had to be a way too minimize the damage, right?

it wasn't going very well so far.

yn sighed heavily to themselves. any angle you looked at it, it was bad. the problem being self aware was exactly that – being self aware. the second-hand embarrassment at their own actions had suddenly hit them like a freight train early that morning during classes. it had not been a pleasant day, with every free moment spent shrivelling into their own skin in a very visceral reaction. god, it was just... ugh.

the doorbell rung out through their apartment, breaking the spell that had fallen over the three of them. bingus trotted in, complaining loudly at the intrusion. his fur was all scruffed up, indicative of his 47th nap of the day that he'd just been rudely awoken from.

chika furrowed her brows, glancing in the direction of the door. "you got a package coming or something?"

"uhh... not to my knowledge..." bingus jumped up onto yn's lap, circling a few times before climbing up onto their shoulders like a parrot. chika reached over to brush his fur back into place, eliciting a deep, crackly purr as he pushed his face against her hand. "i'll go see who it is..."

yn stood up tentatively, gently supporting bingus's ass so he didn't fall off during the process, before walking over to the door, grabbing the keys off the hook next to it and unlocking it.

"hey," minho said conversationally, like he hadn't just shown up at yn's door unceremoniously.

"hi," yn mumbled, forcing the word out. they couldn't decide where to look, the doorframe taken up by not only minho, but seungmin and hyunjin as well, the other two appearing at least a little more awkward about the situation.

"we know."

< prev ☆ series masterlist ☆ next >

a/n: if you're wondering I do find joy in torturing people with cliff hangers

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[thevoidstaredback]

Part 1

Gotham City Airport was, for better or worse, on the outskirts of the mainland, basically not even in the city, meaning that it was almost a straight shot from there to Bristol. Another place that isn't technically part of the islands that make up Gotham City, but who is Danny to judge? A spiteful bitch, that's right.

The car parked and he rushed out to grab his bags before Alfred could. Then, he made it a point to drag his feet the entire way up the drive to the doors of the Manor itself.

"Talk about old money," he muttered.

As he already knew, the sky that covered what he was calling the Gotham Archipelago and all of it's sister-cities-that-are-actually-a-part-of-Gotham-City-for-some-reason and Bludhaven was murky and blocked out all chances of seeing the sun, let alone the stars. He'd be amazed if he even saw a single person with a natural tan in this place.

And the cloud cover, despite what Gothamites would have everyone believe, isn't even clouds! Most of it's left over shit from rogue attacks that've found their way into the condensation cycle! Fear gas is too heavy to evaporate properly, but too light to stick to the ground; whatever Mr. Freeze puts in his ice sticks to whatever clouds there are like glue, holding them together and keeping them in place; light pollution from both the actual lights and the fires that start every week; whatever toxins have made it into the harbor and river; et cetera.

And don't even get him started on the names on the Rogue Gallery Roster! It's great and all that they're explaining their whole gimmick, but can't they be at least a little creative?

"Danny?" Damian said, making him realize that he'd made it to the gilded front door that was way too tall for any human.

Alfred pushed the doors open. "Welcome to Wayne Manor, Danny," he turned with a smile, "You're home for as long as you'd like it to be."

Danny scoffed and hefted his bags up the stairs.

The entry hall was more befitting of the phrase 'Grand Lobby', somehow making the too-large doors seem normal. A grand staircase was carpeted red, leading up to the second floor. There was a gold and pearl chandelier, too, flanked by two smaller, identical chandeliers. Huge windows on wither side of the door were framed by red velvet curtains, open and letting whatever sun they could into the room.

He felt small. He hated it.

"If you'll follow me, Danny, I'll take you to your room." Alfred started to walk up the stairs, Damian following only a few steps behind him.

Danny didn't move. "I'm not sleeping in a room big enough to be an apartment."

Alfred turned and looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "It would be inappropriate to put you up in the servant's quarters."

Damian was looking at Danny like a kicked puppy. Well, as much like a kicked puppy as his training allowed him to look. Danny didn't particularly care.

"Then stick me in a shed. I'd rather not spend the summer feeling agoraphobic, thanks."

"I can assure you that the others in the house-"

Danny interrupted Alfred by shaking his head. "I don't want anyone to know I'm here."

"But, then how will you patrol with us?" Damian asked.

"Go without me," he answered.

"Now, now, Danny," Alfred said as he walked back down the stairs, "I will not allow you to spend the whole summer cooped up in a garden shed."

"Great!" Danny smiled falsely, "Then I will take my things and go back-"

Alfred grabbed a hold of his bags and swiftly started his way back up the stairs. "Then you will simply have to go without your stuff. What will your mother think-"

"I don't have a mother." Danny spat, making the two others pause. He took a deep breath. "Fine. If that's how you want to play, then fine." He glared up at the two. "Game fucking on."

Part 3

[mintyys-blog]

I JUST SAW THAT U ARE ACCEPTING THRAGG REQUEST! OH LORD! OH GOD!! I'm a weak weak bitch for him. Like, I love and hate him so much. I wanna be his worse nightmare but at the same time I want him to nor know hot to live without me anymore... I think I went a bit insane there, teehee.

Hope this isn't too late of a request for Thragg. This is the idea: reader with Adaptive Resurrection. Thragg had planned to use you just like most females to breed him more viltrumites since you used to be a hero that could withstand some punches but eventually he gets too annoyed with your stubborness that he ends up accidentally killing you. He doesn't sweat it and just ask for your body to be disposed. Big surprise!! You wake up fully healed and pissed as hell ready to bitch smack Thragg. Just because of that, suddenly Thragg not only finds you useful but aluring with all that fire inside of you. The fact that now you CAN'T die by any means thanks to to your power, he now knows he doesn't have yo hold back and loves every bit of that.

VERY LONG I KNOW BUT I CAN'T BE NORMAL FOR THAT BASTARD.

Hope you keep having wonderful and nice days, Mintyy! Wish you the best!

KILL ME AGAIN | thragg x reader

INVINCIBLE MASTERLIST 2 | WARNINGS: attempted murder, blood

The Viltrumite throne room reeked of cold blood and scorched stone.

Your broken body hit the ground with a wet crunch, limbs twisted, eyes wide with the last traces of disbelief. You’d fought tooth and nail—just like always. You hadn’t begged. Hadn’t cried. You had mocked him. Called him a coward. A tyrant. A parasite who bred a dying race through conquest and control.

And in return?

Thragg had driven his fist through your heart with surgical precision.

“Such a waste,” he said, his voice devoid of remorse. “She could’ve served a purpose.”

His hand dripped red as he turned from your corpse, already dismissing you. “Have it incinerated with the rest.”

That was the last thing you heard before darkness swallowed you whole.

You woke up three hours later. Naked. Cold. Locked in a morgue cell on a Viltrumite warship. And very much alive.

It wasn’t the first time you’d come back. But it was the first time it hurt this much. Your heart reformed in your chest with a slow, pulsing agony. Bones snapped into place. Your brain rebooted from death. You screamed—not from pain, but fury.

Thragg had killed you.

Not even in a fight for survival. He’d done it casually. Like swatting a gnat that bit too hard. All because you refused to submit, to be used, to lie down and let your womb be his war factory.

And the worst part? He didn’t care.

You stormed into the war room still barefoot, the fabric of your discarded uniform hanging in strips from your form. Blood smeared your chest and lips. Your hair was matted, eyes glowing faintly from the raw surge of your returning power.

The Viltrumites turned like wolves scenting a phantom.

The doors didn’t open. They exploded off the hinges, metal screaming.

You stood in the threshold, one hand still clutching the handle of the morgue’s incinerator you’d ripped off its hinges.

Thragg looked up from a war map. He blinked once.

The room froze.

“You,” you hissed, voice trembling with rage. “You think I’m a tool? A corpse to discard when you get bored?”

He raised one brow. “You’re alive.”

“No thanks to you.” You hurled the incinerator handle at his feet.

Thragg didn’t flinch as it clanged across the floor. He studied you. Unbothered. Cold. A flicker of interest in his eyes.

“And yet, here you are. Whole. Stronger.”

You walked right up to him. “You killed me.”

“You challenged me.” He stepped closer, towering over you. “And proved you are more than flesh.”

Without warning, you slapped him—open palm, full force, across his face.

The crack echoed through the room like a gunshot.

Thragg’s head turned with the blow. The silence was deafening.

Then— He smiled.

It wasn’t a kind smile. It was the slow, possessive kind of smile a predator gives when prey turns out to have teeth.

“Fascinating,” he murmured. “You weren’t bluffing about your resurrection.”

You stood your ground. “Try killing me again. Go ahead. I’ll just keep coming back. Stronger. Faster. Meaner.”

“I want you to.” His voice dropped low. “Because now, I no longer have to hold back. Not in battle. Not in… anything.”

Something dangerous shimmered behind his eyes.

Desire.

Not for your body—not just that.

But for your defiance.

The resistance that refused to break.

“You’ve gone from broodmare to miracle,” he said, taking your chin between two fingers. “And I find myself… intrigued.”

You jerked your face away. “I’m not yours. You’ll never own me.”

“You say that,” he said, amused. “But you keep rising. Again and again. Always back to me.”

You snarled, “You’re not a god, Thragg.”

“No,” he said, brushing a knuckle across the healing scar on your chest. “But you? You might be becoming one.”

[luv-lock]

Have you ever thought maybe the reason that there's a rise in far right, are retards like you?

And no I'm perfectly fine and healthy unlike you because I bet you hit your head when you were a kid. And that's sad because your mommy didn't loved you enough to look after your ass. That's explain why you turn out like this.

A whore is a whore. Just like a teacher is a teacher and a doctor is a doctor. Doesn't matter the gender. I call men whore too. And yeah the job of people matter when it's come to their opinions. That's why you go to a doctor when you're sick. That's why people watch someone like Destiny when it's come to politics and not Mia Khalifa.

About the misogyny thing, the fact that you think you have the right to tell me what to do and what to say is misogyny, bitch.

And why calling a whore, a whore make me a hypocrite? I just wrote only fic when it's come to this type of things and it's literally about a girl who's life was ruined by men around her, it's not something that she's proud of, it's something she have to do to survive. Because that's how women like that live. Funny how retards like you want to celebrate the misery of women and yet you call yourself a feminist. But ofc you're a fucking retard so you don't understand what this life is like, y'all see the "sex work" as only these only fans bitches who make millions of money and are proud of it. There's two different worlds but you only see one of them. Who's the hypocrite here?

Btw just so you know, the word "sex work" was made up by pimps to normalize trafficking women and children.

Now let's get to your bullshit about soldiers. First of all I have said I, do you hear me, "I" have respect for soldiers. And I probably know more than you when it's come to that matters because I bet you're just a karen who's mad at world because daddy and mommy didn't love you enough. And you're trying to tell yourself that you're a good person because you go around policing people, and being a piece of shit.

Yk there was a protest in Iran for women rights, after they killed Mahsa Amini because of her hijab. And yeah I was there, and I was fighting for my rights. What have you done for women rights huh? Did you bought a blue bracelet and shave your head? Omg so brave. Fucking clown.

And you know who were people that helped us to escape? They were soldiers!

Yeah they had to do what government told them to. They were forced into it. And yet they would still help people. I was shoot in the foot and it was a soldier who hide me from others until my cousins found me.

Interesting how you call me misogynist when I literally bleed for my rights. Go fuck yourself bitch.

Retards like you are the reason that people are turning against the left. You did that to yourself. Now cry about it.

[timkontheunsure]

Saying I love you

While Stolas isn't able to tell Blitz directly yet; he also doesn't correct Blitz saying that Stolas loves him.

They're arguing at the time, and he could definitely have been a petty bitch. Split hairs telling Blitz that that's not what he said.

But Stolas' basically says 'yes your correct that told you I love you. And if that's your reason for not believing me, I'll forgive you for the yelling, and roleplay smeg'

'Like sure, tell me whatever reason you'd have to struggle to get this very simple, and obvious fact through your think skull?'

He just wants to know why Blitz can understand that he said as 'I love you', but still not believe a word of it.

Because Stolas knows he's not been even a little bit subtle about showing his love for Blitz.

(This shits visibility from space)

But honestly Stolas struggling to tell the people he loves in words makes so much sense.

When he was neglected and alone the majority of his childhood.

And hit for showing basic respect.

Paimon is not the sort of dad putting his kid to bed with a bedtime story, and a 'I love you'.

Neither is Mr 'don't get excited on your birthday, because it makes you a pain to handle' Butler.

But Stolas is the sort to tuck his little girl up with a story, and make her feel loved. Even if he's bad at saying it.

I think a lot of us grew up with parents that couldn't say this, because violence and neglect were such a big part of their lifes growing up.

And it's hard to model behaviour if you never see it.

It's honestly amazing how well a 19 year old did at breaking the cycle, showing his daughter that he loves her.

Even if she's confused right now, because she doesn't understand he can love more than just one person. That love isn't finite.

But Blitz and Stolas kinda are the two reactions to generational abuse I've seen in my family and SO' family. (And an bunch others but I'm trying to keep this neat lol).

Mine when Blitz's rout, with a conscious trained effort being used to tell the kids they are loved. It's replaced our goodbyes. (Didn't always match behaviour. But braking the cycle is hard, and they did try).

SO's family went the Stolas' rout, when love is seldom said, but show in lots of actions. Normally with 'care' filling in for it if it ever needs to be said at all.

It mostly gets said one, and assumed to be true till further notice. Which I do think might trip Stolitz up later on.

And makes me wonder if this is one of the things tripping Via up now.

That because it was never said she assumed alot of big things. Like her dad and mum must loving eachother, because that's what parents are meant to do.

That because it's only ever her dad who's shown her love; but she was wrong about such a fundamental thing, that 'he at somepoint must have loved Stella'; she could be wrong about that too.

And because her dad the one changing her status quo, by asked for the divorce, and leaving; Via can't shake the thought that could of changed his mind about her as well. (Even if she's wrong basically every part of that).

Question of the day:

Have you ever noticed that Stolas never SAID "I love you" directly to someone?

Show love through actions? Absolutely. In a flawed way, sure, but still, he showed just how much he values Blitzø and Octavia. He's willing to give up his own happiness for them.

But he hasn't really voiced his love in a direct way.

At most he said "I care" or "I think so very highly of you" towards Blitzø, when he gave him the Asmodean Crystal. And we all know how much damage his (and Blitzø)'s communication issues ruined everything.

And with Via, we know he looked out for her constantly, and spent a lot of quality time with her before everything went to heck after Stolas' affair with Blitzø.

And even considering just how much Stolas cares for her, he never said "I love you" to his own daughter. He definitely gave her hugs, pet names and a normal life, but never those three words were heard.

Until in "Sinsmas".

Right when Via cut ties with him, because he couldn't be fully sincere with her about everything.

...

I love it here... 🫠

[bitchesgetriches]

My dearest Bitches: at long fucking last I’ve set a goal to buy a house! Here’s the deets: five years from now, I want to walk through the front door for the first time. Budget of $150k, aiming to have $25k for down payment and closing costs. Goals right now are raising my credit score to at least 700 (I’m currently hovering just above or below 600, depending on the month, which I don’t feel is too shabby seeing as I’ve gotten it up from the mid-300s), paying down debt so I’ll have more cash free both to save and for my eventual mortgage payment, and saving up that chunk of change.

My sister used to work in the mortgage industry and has cheerfully agreed to let me abuse her knowledge and skills, but this is one I think might be better addressed to you: part of my savings plan is stashing my down payment somewhere it’s gonna produce dividends via interest. I have a bank account with a 3.00% APY, but I have the feeling I can do better. What will give me the biggest bang for my very literal buck?

Condragulations babycakes!!! We're very proud of you! First, a couple guides we've written for your situation:

Season 2, Episode 2: “I'm Not Ready to Buy a House---But How Do I *Get Ready* to Get Ready?” 

From HYSAs to CDs, Here's How to Level Up Your Financial Savings 

Dafuq Is a Down Payment? And Why Do You Need One to Buy Stuff? 

Long story short, you should look into putting the down payment in a CD with a higher interest rate than 3% and a timeline that matches when you think you'll be ready to buy the home. I know I don't need to lecture you on putting short term savings in the stock market, and at the moment CDs are pretty damn stable.

Good luck!

Did we just help you out? Say thanks by donating to our Patreon!

[izzyfishie]

SQUID GAME ANALYSIS PART II -- TEASER IMAGES

part ii to my previous post. SPOILER WARNING!!

IMAGE 1 -- hyun-ju, gi-hun, and jun-hee. contrary to strange beliefs, gi-hun is not wearing young-il's jacket, nor is hyun-ju wearing gyeong-seok's. but gi-hun looks incredibly dispirited. i'm really worried for him.

IMAGE 2 -- gi-hun is being held down by guards, the same way he did when sae-byeok and jung-bae died (and sang-woo in my headcanon!! #sangihun) but why? i think it may be jun-hee related. maybe they take her away? or could this possibly be him being restrained for voting and later handcuffed?

IMAGE 3 -- in-ho looking.. strange. in all these shots he looks very remorseful. but why, i wonder? i feel it's too early to tell for now but i think we may be getting an in-ho centric episode, if not one surrounding the internal structure of the games. now. i'm on the hwang brothers train, and i have full confidence his general demeanor change is related to jun-ho - his emotional achilles heel. could he possibly have found out jun-ho is still searching for him, even after all these years?

IMAGE 4 -- myung-gi, covered in blood. myung-gi has no friends so i don't know who he may be crying over. i think he may have killed somebody and is feeling the guilt of it.

IMAGE 5 -- dae-ho. other players are looking up.. do you think maybe the rebellion members have been hung? COULD THIS SCENE MAYBE BE WHERE HE REALIZES JUNG-BAE HAS DIED? and i wonder if they're going to do something with young-il's "body". play dead, perhaps? or it could just have gone missing.

IMAGE 6 -- jun-ho. he's found the island. not much to say here tbh.

IMAGE 7 -- NO-EUL AND THE OFFICER!! i think she may end up killing him, or maybe he ends up betraying her. i'm scared. rip min-sang 😔

IMAGE 8 -- yong-sik and geum-ja. "if you pull anything stupid, i'll hang myself right here." yong-sik may get himself recklessly killed in the next game. maybe he throws to sacrifice for his mother. geum-ja may hang herself after this.

IMAGE 9 -- jun-hee is red. she looks remorseful, but why? she's on myung-gi and geum-ja's team... could there be something else?

IMAGE 10 -- seon-nyeo praying. she has many charms and bracelets, which have me questioning. doing a ritual of sorts?

IMAGE 11 -- min-su you BITCH. O again. i don't want to hear it, i can't defend you no more. this looks like the fourth game backdrop.

IMAGE 12 -- nam-gym looks insane. i think he's going to lose his mind. not much else to say, really.

[batsovergotham]

hi !! :3

I was wondering if you have any suggestions as to where I could read Invincible online? (If there's anything available!) I'm unfortunately too broke to buy even 1 comic 🥀🥀🥀

I absolutely want to read invincible, its driving me clinically insane

okay so first of all, YES i got you. second of all, this question got me clutching my 3 compendiums like pearls. i got them for like $120 MAX back when the economy was only mildly abusive, before inflation pulled up in 7 inch heels and curb stomped everyone’s bank accounts. now? i’m scared to even check the price. they probably cost a soul and a titty.

but you came to the right broke bitch hotline, because mama’s got the LINKS.

you’re not alone. comics are expensive, capitalism is rancid, and invincible is TOO GOOD to gatekeep. so yes, i will be sliding you some very illegal looking but spiritually just websites where you can read the entire saga, trauma and all. full dilf-ification of mark for free!!!

because what are friends for if not to help you consume unhinged viltrumite violence while you dodge rent and romantic stability? ;))

[rivendell-poet]

We now interrupt our irregularly scheduled BBC Sherlock fandom treats, to bring you one with marvel. Based off the prompt 'cold'

*･༓˚✧ ❝𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫❞ ‧͙⁺˚༓˚✧ « may drabbles/treat »

GN!Reader | Wordcount : 100 words | TWs : None

Somehow, Bucky is standing outside without a jumper on right now. Despite the snow settling on the ground, or the weather forecast that’s telling you it’s freezing out there. Opening your door, you call out to him, “How long have you been up?”

“Not too long.” Turning around, he looks at you, “Don’t worry about me.”

“I’m not worrying about you,” you correct him, “You’re just making me cold.”

That gets him to laugh, and his eyes gaze back into the house, “Don’t we have about fifty different layers in there?”

“Ah, so you’re just ignoring them all for fun.”

A/N: Technically, this day is tied with the entire Marvel Cinematic Universe. I'm just picking favourites.

« masterlist » thank you for reading *･༓˚✧ Taglist : @withasideofmeg / @raikan624 / @wordbunch / @killermarionette / @bespectacledhuman / @howling-medic / @zeldastrife / @deannie13 / @paigemackenzie0206 / @satans-bitch / @awayaesworld ✧ wish to join the taglist?

[theaskscenter]

How to start life when basically you had no life at all just 20 years of pure blank how can I start living now?

Coming back to the room works best. A lot of things happen in your head and they shield you from seeing life. I'd say getting out of your head and back into the room.

Not being a victim is a close second. It's so easy to think everyone is attacking you and sometimes when people are in fact attacking you, it's never that serious. Like okay they don't like you yeah that sucks but what will they do about it. Important to know just because something feels like a threat doesn't mean it is. You're not as much of a victim as you feel you are, and a huge part of gaining your power back is this. Okay it's scary but is it real?

Taking control of your life is actually in the small tiny things. I have a post ab this on my telegram. It's not as much sid figure business as it is making your bed and not using your phone after you wake up.

Getting out of freeze. Most of us aren't fight or flight baddies we're freeze baddies. You've been stuck in the freeze part and to step out I feel like Google gotcha. I could tell you but if I tell you everything how will you become independent?

Extending from above learn to do things and to rely on yourself. Just basic tiny everyday skills. Independence is living. You should be able to do it. Simple step is don't ask too much try to find out for yourself.

Let bitches bitch. A lot of us spend so much time entangled in other people especially abstract people like people on the internet don't exist. It's not important to you who is beefing with who in entertainment those are celebs their emotions shouldn't affect you if someone is being shitty you can always just block them or ignore them. Even in real life. Probably not living your life because you're living everyone else's life. My man says dogs bark. If you're not one why are you?

Do things with your body that require you to use muscle and move. Go for walks work out swim take up skating you're a mammal and mammals are hedonistic by nature. Wind in your hair sun on your skin muscle movement. A lot of depression lies here.

Have boundaries. It's pathetic to hold others to boundaries if you can't hold yourself to them. Have boundaries with yourself then with others. Yourself first. Then others will respect them.

Be pretty be healthy (mid BMI) be respectable be make money mind your own business.

dont engage with people in arguments don't argue as long as you're concerned they are right you are wrong. You're sorry you had a brain of your own they absolutely owned you there. Arguing is such weird behavior it's never about facts it's about power play. Submit and go home. ESPECIALLY with people that don't matter. Your child and partner are the only people that matter. Like I said arguing is sibling and HUSBAND (not bf) or WIFE (not gf) privilege. Everyone else is right. You're wrong . Apologies for being stupid thank you for schooling me .

Go to therapy or get a life coach. I'm pro therapy on the condition you can see TANGIBLE results in two months. Feelings are not results no one cares about those. In two months if you take a look at your life and see no tangible results drop out. With a life coach that's one month. In one month no tangible change take your money where it's useful to you.

Pick one and follow. *WHaT iS riGtFoR mE* nothing. Pick one and go. Indecision is where all your time and energy goes just make a decision band go

Fear men. When you have free time use it to fear men.

Master your masculine before your feminine. Masculinity is the art of survival.

[mentally-a-tree]

Warning: Anything you say can and will remind me of supernatural.

I HOPE YOUR APPLE PIE WAS FRICKING WORTH IT!

You gotta go be gay for that poor dead intern.

Noboby in the history of torture has been tortured with the torture like the torture you're going to be tortured with.

Suck dirt and die, Rufus.

I wish I didn't feel a damn thing.

Do I look like a ditch-able prom date to you?

Family don't end in blood, boy.

And I You, Sam.. the boy with the demon blood.

He's baby driver.

I've got... genital herpes.

You're not doctor sexy!

Close encounter, close encounter!

...Nipples?

Fight the fries! You fight those fries, Sammy. FIGHT THE FARIES!

Did you just molotov my brother with holy fire?

You exploded Jofyel. Or did Jofyel explode himself?

I'm back, baby!

They ate my tailor!

You don't know what it's like to be human!

I just want to be loved. I deserve to he loved!

House rules Sammy, driver pick the music, shotgun shuts his cake hole.

Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray to castiel to get his feathery ass down here.

I need you... I need you Cass.

I've always wanted to punch the devil in the face.

We've got work to do.

Balls!

Idgits.

Pudding!

I'll interrogate the cat.

Well, that's great, because without your powers, you're basically just a baby in a trench coat.

You really gotta stop calling yourself the- meat man.. it doesn't mean what you think it does.

...it was yummy.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.... That was scary.

Dean, what do you think you're doing? This is a very serious investigation. We don't have any time for your blah blah blah blah blah. Blah blah blah blah blah. BLAH!

I'm so proud of us.

I lost my shoe.

Don't you dare think that for a second that there is anything in this world that I would trade you for.

Well... maybe you are crazy. Well, you were crazy before, but maybe you finally cracked.

Son of a bitch!

Well, of course I was manipulating you.

Ready to play a game, bitches?

Hey, bitches.

I like your hair, it's so... bouncy. Why, thank you. Do we have to fix him? Rowena. Oh, Samuel.

Here, play with this.

I torture my friends, it's how I show affection.

Mr. Fizzles can tell when you're being a liarrr. Mr. Fizzles is gonna go where the sun don't shine!

My people used to worship a rock in the shape of a penis.

I'm two...twenty...two... I'm twenty-two.

I watch the bees.

He showed up on my car. Naked. Covered in bees.

Dude, you fugly.

Ugh, you bitch! Oh, my. Looks like someone owes a nickle to the swear jar. You know, when I feel like swearing, I say fudge. Yeah, I'll try to remember that. *two seconds later* You fudging touch me again, I'll fudging kill you!

You shot me.

I killed Hitler.

Jesus Christ! No, I'm Castiel.

I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.

I'm not supposed to laugh, right?

Hey, do you hear that bomb..?

I need to check your temperature. Nope. That's not happening.

I need you to let me touch it.

Oh you shake it up, baby.

Are we talking about... the sex?

Did you kiss him? What!? Just wondering..... NO! *cough cough* Why'd you take a picture? Why'd you use tongue?

Give me the baby before I stab you in the neck.

Yeah, well, people might not be too happy when he turns Asian.

He was my gay thing.

[kingkat12]

So Kate's (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: dom/sub dynamics, foul language, humiliation, office misconduct, reader is a freak ouf

summary: being a brat has its consequences-- did you really think Mr. Godfrey was going to let that go with no repercussions? time to smarten up, and dress up too.

word count: 9,670

← previous chapter |

a/n: I've been obsessed w Zendaya's shoes as of late, so you best believe I managed to squeeze in a chapter about Louboutins....... and we are FINALLY getting reader and Letha being cute besties again omfg so TIHI ENJOY<333

Handling pain is a skill.

However, there are some people that are born without the ability to feel pain, and that is often a lethal flaw-- if you don't feel pain, then you're actually more susceptible to injury, did you know? I didn't. After scouring BDSM forums all over the internet, I had quite frankly gotten obsessed with finding out everything I could, and the more I got into the pain aspect of it, the more I found myself unable to understand. 

I didn't like pain. Never have, never will like pain. That wasn't the part I enjoyed, or wanted, out of my odd relations with my boss. Although, it seemed I might be into the emotional pain of being Mr. Godfrey's secretary-- it certainly made my brain hurt and my cheeks burn, but in the most intoxicating way. Something told me that was a feeling I had been chasing my whole life, and now that I had it, I finally felt complete, and unable to let go.

But, back to it-- if you're unable to feel pain, then you're prone to unintentional self-injury, because you literally can't feel it when you get a paper cut, or when you've bitten your tongue too hard, or even broken your bones. Maybe it's alright to be in pain sometimes? Maybe it's fine to feel it in exchange for health? I had no idea. All I knew, was that I had managed to triumph over the worst pain a woman could handle; not my period, no, not childbirth, but--

Wearing So Kate's.

The classic stiletto by Christian Louboutin, famously worn by Zendaya and probably all of Hollywood.

I'm joking, of course-- I know there are much worse things I could go through. However, I had gotten a pair as a gift for finishing college, and originally, I fucking hated those pretty sons of bitches. They were gorgeous, elegant, classy, perfect, yet agonizing to wear. I couldn't walk for more than five minutes before my feet would beg to be beaten with a hammer in order to not be able to walk in them anymore. However, after about four months of wearing them around my apartment, making dinner in them, washing the dishes in them, doing my laundry in them, they almost started to feel like socks.

I had pushed past the pain, and gained something beautiful-- a wearable pair of Louboutins. 

And today, I finally dared to wear them to work. It wasn't like I was running track around Godfrey Industries, right? I could totally wear them without even noticing how ridiculously tall they were. I knew how to handle them, after all. I could totally fucking do this. 

Anyway, I needed something to distract me from the psychological warfare Mr. Godfrey was waging on me for biting his fucking thumb. Stupid, stupid girl.

Using my shoulder, I nudged the door to his office open and slipped in like a shadow, keeping myself small and unnoticeable. Hoping to get it over with soon, my first step was hurried, and that made the cup clink clumsily in the saucer; with a quiet hitch of my breath, I deliberately slowed, pressing my steps into silence. Thank fuck I wasn't a spy-- I'd get myself killed with my heavy damn steps. Or was it the Louboutins? 

One cube of brown sugar.

Not too much milk.

Stirred three times, exactly.

I always got Mr. Godfrey's coffee just right. I always made it with the utmost precision. If anything, I was the picture-perfect secretary right now (if you excluded the times I got off behind my desk, or the two times in my boss's office whilst he watched me). Had Godfrey Industries been a fair place to work, I wouldn't have any problems here. However, it wasn't-- this place was somewhere I'd guess the Anti-Christ would set camp, if he could choose. 

So, with my heart lodged in my throat, I continued making my way to Mr. Godfrey's desk, not daring to take my eyes off the coffee; there was no way in hell I'd spill any of it and give him more reasons to deem me incompetent. 

But just as he had done every day for the past week, Mr. Godfrey didn't look up. 

There was not as much as an acknowledgement, not as much as a glance. He sat behind his desk, back perfectly straight, one hand poised near his temple with a pen resting lightly between two long, slender fingers. His green gaze scanned some document with such intensity that it was almost theatrical, like he knew I was standing there and he was choosing, with full awareness, not to acknowledge me. Fucker. 

With a subtle roll of my eyes, I cleared my throat; "Your coffee, sir,"

I put it down one inch from the edge, centered with the stack of papers to his right, just as he had instructed me to do during my first week here. It was perfect; I was perfect. I put it down with a trembling sort of reverence, my hand ghosting over it for a second, unsure, like maybe if I lingered just a little longer, he'd finally look at me. Maybe he'd say something, acknowledge me? I didn't need much at this point. I'd take anything, just a glance, a huff, a sigh, anything.

But... nothing.

The air between us stretched thin. I could hear Mr. Godfrey's pen scratch against the paper in front of him, could see the way his sharp jaw flexed once, twice, like my presence was physically bothering him-- and then, he moved.

I held my breath as Mr. Godfrey's hand reached forward, slow and unbothered. For a moment, I thought he was going to say something, that this would finally be the morning he gave in and spoke to me again, even if it was just a snide comment or a thinly veiled insult-- I was so starved for his attention, I would've taken it like praise. I would've taken it with open arms, whatever it would be. Even if it was just a tiny 'this coffee sucks', itwould probably make my day, and maybe even make me orgasm on some higher level right in my Louboutins.

But instead, Mr. Godfrey lifted the coffee cup by its delicate handle, turned a fraction in his seat, and... dropped it into the trash bin beside his desk. The ceramic hit the bottom with a sharp crack, and I flinched. The sound echoed in the quiet room like a slap-- I stood frozen, watching the faint steam curl up from the bin, mixing with the scent of scorched sugar and shame.

I balled my hands into fists. 

Mr. Godfrey had been pulling this crap on me for a week now, and I knew that it was because I had bit his thumb. I knew it, deep in my gut. But after he had let me cum on his shoe (yes, I know, I'm deeply ashamed, don't you worry), and I bit him (because I was overwhelmed by the power he held over me, like any fucking newbie would be), he had stepped on me and called me a brat! Who the fuck does that?! If anything, I should be spitting in his OCD-coffee!

... Oh, that's a good idea, actually.

I wanted to spit down at his feet too, maybe even specifically on his right shoe, where I had gotten off. How dare he make me feel this way? How dare he play these games with my head?! At the end of the day, it was fucking childish, and at the end of the day, it... was getting to me. Ugh. Why couldn't he at least look at me?

I forced a swallow past the burn in my throat, and I nodded even though he couldn't see it. Or maybe he could? Maybe he was watching me through his periphery with that sick, surgical precision he had, cataloguing my humiliation like it was data, like it was proof that this was working?

Bastard.

However, in the midst of my frustration and anger, I recognized that I had missed the sickness of it all. The twisted feeling of being scorched, and feeling my skin swell in resistance to the burn. I stood in Mr. Godfrey's office a beat too long; way too long, actually. Maybe I was stupid enough to believe that if he got uncomfortable enough, he'd say something? I just needed him to speak to convince myself that I hadn't imagined the whole thing, that I hadn't invented the way he had pressed me down onto this very desk, the way he had looked at me, and the way I had unraveled in his hands like a silk ribbon--

But Mr. Godfrey didn't change his mind. He wouldn't-- not for me. He didn't look at me, nor did he give me anything as much as a hum. Instead, he merely raised his hand and gave a short, dismissive flick of his fingers, a wordless, effortless command for me to leave, the same way one might shoo away an insect buzzing too close to their ear.

The flick of his wrist felt like a phantom bruise, and as though I had been slapped, I turned around on my Louboutin heels and marched out of Mr. Godfrey's office, stomping my every step to his floor. Hopefully, I'd leave a large scratch or two. 

How long would this war last? What did I need to do to get him to sign a peace treaty?

Ugh.

This day sucked.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

.... Okay, fine, maybe this day had some redeeming factors after all.

"--He's really sweet and all, but I feel like he can sometimes be too sweet. This isn't high school, y'know? I don't like going on dates with him and feeling like I'm going to prom every time!" Letha swirled the rosé in her wine glass, tutting the tip of her tongue against the roof of her mouth with disapproval. "What the hell happened to normal men in the 21st century? What happened to them, seriously? Where did they go?"

I could only laugh, glancing down at my Louboutins as she continued complaining-- lunch with Letha was always amusing. She also worked for Godfrey Industries, but much higher up (nepotism alert), and therefore always had access to my schedule. Even though she worked remotely from inside some mansion her father bought for her as her graduation present, she could therefore calculate when she could swoop by the lobby on the first floor and ask for me to be called down for lunch; the Godfreys were all smooth like that. 

Letha was the one who had gotten me my Louboutins for graduation, and Letha was the one who got me the interview at the company-- I could trust her. If anything, I needed her opinion on what was happening between me and her cousin, without her knowing who I was talking about. However, I needed to get to that somehow, eventually. "I don't know," I answered, placing my elbows on the table and putting my face in my hands. "But I promise you, you could find someone way crazier than someone who wants to date you the old-school way." Much, much crazier.

Letha sighed, cocking her head to the side as she looked back at me with those classic Godfrey-green eyes. It was almost scary how similar they were to Mr. Godfrey's-- well, of course. They were cousins, after all. Maybe I could keep looking into Letha's eyes for the rest of my life, and that'd relieve the withdrawal symptoms I was having from my boss no longer looking at me? Yeah, that sounded like a good plan. 

"You might be right," she purred, steepling her fingers as well, mimicking me. "Or maybe I just find it repulsive that he's into me? I've been scouring the internet, and that's what comes up most of the time."

I shrugged; "I don't know, Lee. Maybe you should bring that up with the guidance counsellor, just like in the good old days?"

"Ha-ha," Letha rolled her eyes, grinning from ear to ear. "But I think my main issue with this guy is that he seems genuinely nice. Big difference from Chad-- do you remember Chad? That asshole didn't even bother to pay for dinner when we flew to Aspen together!"

"Of course I remember Chad! But him not buying dinner for you doesn't really indicate whether he's a nice person or not, though?--"

"Come on! It's enough to show he was a shitty boyfriend!-- Oh, wait, yeah, that one's mine," 

Our conversation was cut off when our food arrived, and as we exchanged polite smiles and short thank you's, I couldn't help but notice the look in Letha's eyes when she scanned our waiter; it was almost flirty, yet openly hungry. She brought her hand up to her shiny blond locks, twirling it around her finger as she locked eyes with the guy, blinking sweetly, innocently-- I had to do everything in my power to not groan or laugh. It was crazy how this sort of stuff always worked for Letha without fail, because as predicted, our cute waiter left the table with a pink tint colouring his cheeks.

Godfrey-green eyes met mine once more with a playful smirk. "I love the waiters here," she purred. "That one's my favourite. He's particularly yummy!--"

"Okay, enough!" I grabbed my cutlery, suppressing my giggles. "You were just talking about the guy you're actually dating. What was his name again?"

A rather pregnant pause ensued. Letha swallowed, clearing her throat with suspicious anxiety. "Well, I call him Barty..." she mumbled, barely audible.

Wait. Immediately, I put down my fork. "No," I breathed, stunned. "Lee, don't fucking tell me his name is!--"

"He's from old money!" Letha whined, placing her glass next to her plate. "Of course he'd end up with a name like!--"

"Bartholomew?!"

"I know!" With a cry-like sigh, Letha grabbed her fork and stabbed her salad, visibly upset. "Okay, now it's decided. I should definitely break up with him."

I bit down on my lower lip, crossing my legs at my ankles as I hoped to regain my composure and hopefully not be too harsh with Letha's endeavours. "Again, I don't agree with that. Maybe he has a crazy name, but at least he seems normal! There are much worse men out there, believe me. Seriously, maybe you should stick around and take it slow, this time?" Believe me, believe me.

Letha stabbed another cherry tomato with such force you'd think it had personally offended her. "I'm not so sure about that," she mumbled. "Ugh... Bartholomew just sounds like the kind of name you moan by accident when you're trying not to finish."

I choked on a piece of salad. "Jeez, Letha!"

"Tell me I'm wrong!"

"You're... not," I muttered, trying very hard not to imagine anyone whispering Bartholomew in a sexual context. Ew. Could not be me. "But I'm also begging you to change the subject."

Letha smirked, clearly pleased with her joke. "Fine, but I'm not wrong about him. He wears Balenciaga shoes unironically. You know how I feel about men who dress like they're about to blow Kanye West in the middle of January!

Ew, ew, ew! "Yeah, but you've dated worse!"

"And that's not a comfort!"

I ended up rolling my eyes, letting her spiral while I pushed my salad around my plate. This restaurant was glossy and cold in that exclusive way, and I knew I had to eat my food until its last crumb to not offend the head chef or something--- with its white tablecloths and modern chairs, this was the kind of place that pretended it wasn't trying too hard, even though you knew a thousand-dollar lighting consultant had planned the ambience. It was a typical Letha-place to dine. The wine was crisp, the water had cucumber in it, and someone was definitely eavesdropping from the next table over.

Still, it was better than the office, where Mr. Godfrey was ready to make my life pure hell. 

"Well," Letha said suddenly; "At least your love life's probably better than mine. I haven't seen you in a while, so I expect a good fucking update! Who are you dating at the moment? Does your guy also insist on intense eye-contact during sex? Sickeningly long cuddles afterwards? Ugh, I could barf..."

My fork paused halfway to my mouth-- I set it down gently. Eye-contact? If only. Physical intimacy? I wish. Sex? Oh Lord. I cleared my throat; "Actually, about that..." Your cousin is into some form of office sadism and has seen me cum multiple times. Did I tell you I came on his shoe last week? "I know you have more experience than me regarding relationships and men, so I need your opinion on something."

Immediately, Letha's ears perked up, and she beamed at me from across the table. She grinned like a cat who had just heard a mouse blink; "You're seeing someone?"

"Oh, hardly,"

"You're... sleeping with someone, then?"

"Not really?"

"What?" Letha chewed on a cherry tomato as her brows drew together. "How can you not really sleep with someone? Do you, like, exclusively dry-hump or something?"

"I'm-- yeah, I don't know what the fuck this is," I scooted closer to the edge of the chair, lowering my voice so that the rich aunties next to us wouldn't hear me. "It's not sex, but it's not nothing... it's much deeper than that."

Letha blinked, putting down her cutlery with urgency before leaning closer. "What do you mean?"

"There's-- there's this guy," I whispered. "And I feel like he's literally inside my head! It's like he knows what I'm thinking, like he knows my nastiest thoughts, and it's freaking me the fuck out because he uses it against me!"

Letha looked like she was about to explode like those birds in Angry Birds, barely able to contain her excitement. "I'm listening,"

"No, no, this is not a good thing!" I tried, fiddling with the napkin nearby. "He knows what I want before I even know it, and... these past few weeks, I've done some really crazy shit, and I just-- have you ever let someone control you?"

Letha's plush lips parted slightly, eyes scanning my face with confusion. "That sounds really... kinky,"

"Yes, but have you ever?"

"... No? I don't think so,"

"Are you sure? Has a guy never, like..." I couldn't even say it out loud. I glanced at the nosy ladies next to us who were trying to eavesdrop, and they quickly turned away from us and our conversation. Sighing, I turned back to Letha-- how was I supposed to avoid making it obvious that I was talking about her intimidating (and ridiculously hot) cousin? "Have you ever, like, for example... humped guy's a shoe?" Maybe it was a normal thing? Maybe I just wasn't experienced enough?

But then, Letha practically jumped in her seat, gasping; "Humped a shoe?!"

"Shut up!" I hissed, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand. Oh God. "Lee, please, I!--"

"I need to lie down!" Letha exclaimed, blissfully stunned. "Preferably in traffic, because this is so much juicier than Bartholomew! What the fuck have you been up to, seriously?! Who are you, and what did you do to my best friend?"

"--I didn't know what I was doing, okay? It just happened, and now I can't look at him without thinking about it! And even worse, he won't even look at me anymore! 

Letha had both hands over her mouth, but I could still see the unhinged smile hiding behind her fingers. "Oh my god. This is... this is the craziest thing I've ever heard in my life," she whispered, barely containing herself. "You humped a shoe? His shoe?!"

"He told me to!" 

"And you just did it?!"

"I told you, I've lost my mind!" I stared down at my plate in shame; I knew I had gone mad when a piece of lettuce started to look judgmental of me as well. "Forget I said anything... Seriously, just forget it."

"Right..." Letha's voice was now a reverent hush, like she was observing a religious moment. "So, you're saying he won't look at you anymore?"

"Yeah," I breathed.

"Maybe he's ashamed?"

I cocked a brow; why was she suddenly sounding like she was actually helping me? "Nope,"

"Well, to me it sounds like he might be toying with you, then," Somehow, Letha had calmed down, and was now casually back to eating her salad. "If he's the type of guy that tells you to hump his shoe and then ice you out, he's playing a game."

"... Oh?"

"Definitely," She tilted her head and flashed me her pitiful, green eyes. Gorgeous. "And I don't know too much about this sort of stuff, but if I were you?" Her voice dropped, soft as a dare, yet served with concern; 

"I'd learn how to play the game."

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

There was a woman waiting for Mr. Godfrey. 

I stared at her from where I sat behind my desk later that day, wondering what on earth she was here for. She had been waiting patiently outside his office for about fifteen minutes, refusing to sit down on the designated seats, and it had now gotten to the point where she was clearing her throat and squirming uncomfortably because of her heels. 

They weren't very tall, yet I guessed they were a pair of those kitten heels that felt really comfortable in the morning, but became absolute killers by the end of the day. 

However, she was gorgeous. With legs that could probably reach all the way to China, she was statuesque, poised, and everything I'd guess Mr. Godfrey was usually into. Something in me burned when I realized that he'd be alone in his office with her, and images of me throwing my computer at her and ruining her beautiful face flashed before my eyes-- I shook my head, hoping to get the thoughts out of my head before I continued smashing my fingers against the keyboard to hopefully complete the weekly report I needed to hand in soon. The harder I clicked the buttons, the more I felt my aggression relieve itself-- God, how I wished I could relieve myself my usual way, yet Mr. Godfrey had installed something in my brain that wouldn't let me. For some reason, I couldn't physically bring myself to go against his words, and that scared me more than anything.

Ms. Long-Legs cleared her throat again, making me wonder whether it was a tic, before she approached my desk for the fourth time today; "Are you sure that he remembers my appointment? I was scheduled for 13:45, and I have been waiting for fifteen minutes! It's almost two o'clock now!"

With a long, dramatic sigh, I glared up at the woman; I couldn't bring myself to be nice to her, knowing she'd be alone with him shortly. Would she also be asked to hump his shoe? Did she get off in front of him too? "Mr. Godfrey is a very busy man," He's not running a business for fucktards, after all. "He will be with you shortly." And you can shove your cock up your ass.

Was he maybe toying with this woman too? Was he making her wait because he knew this would drive her crazy? It seemed he had a pattern.

She scanned me up and down, sensing my hostility. "And you're sure��he knows I'm here?"

... Something told me she had been a part of the Godfrey circus longer than I. 

Bitch.

I blinked, angered. Because this, I wasn't actually sure about. Mr. Godfrey's blinds were rolled down. Therefore, I had sent him an email about this ten minutes ago, yet he hadn't answered any of my emails the past week, so... ugh, I knew what I had to do. With a sharp breath and an unprofessional roll of my eyes, I got up from my seat, expertly poised in my high heels. As I graciously made my way past her and her pained feet in Louboutins that were nowhere near a heel-height threshold she could handle, it made me feel on top of her in some evil way. Better than her. Why would Mr. Godfrey want someone who couldn't deal with some pain?

Hoping to hide my anxiety from the woman waiting for him, I knocked thrice on Mr. Godfrey's office door. 

No answer, of course.

I glanced over my shoulder-- Ms. Long-Legs was still watching me like I was an idiot. Frustrated, and keen not to be seen as incompetent, I knocked again, this time a bit harder. My stomach knotted with anxiety, because I knew the woman was still staring, arms folded, one foot angled awkwardly as if trying to relieve the pain in her heel. When I didn't get any answers again, I pressed my ear closer to the door, feeling as though I was breaking all the laws in the universe. 

I quickly pieced together that Mr. Godfrey was on the phone; "--No, I said I don't care who signed off on it, you run it past me first, that's the entire goddamn point!--"

Then, the door flew open.

It was clear that Mr. Godfrey had dragged his hand through his hair multiple times; it was a mess.  The top two buttons of his shirt were open, and the anger flaring in his green eyes was unmistakable. However, despite all of it, he looked handsome as ever-- bastard. 

I blinked up at him, staring; up close like this, I could smell his cologne, probably with hints of his aftershave as well. Just as I started to feel pink mist seeping out of my ears, I cleared my throat, hoping to get his attention through his scattered energy, and--

Oh.

He looked at me.

Mr. Godfrey looked at me.

For the first time in about a week, eyes wide with frustration with the person on the other side of the phone he had pressed between his shoulder and his cheek, he looked at me.

"Sir," I tried, nodding towards his guest. "Sorry to disturb, but you have a-- a visitor... she was scheduled for 13:45."

Visibly annoyed, Mr. Godfrey's green eyes landed directly on her, and immediately, his expression faltered. It was momentary, like he was horrified to see her, and his jaw tightened as he kept his eyes on the beautiful woman waiting to get a moment of his precious time. "Right," he breathed, probably debating whether to jump out the window in his office, or if it'd be easier to shoot himself with the gun I knew he had in his third desk drawer. "And you are?"

The woman straightened up; "I'm with HR. We met a few weeks ago,"

HR?  What the fuck had he done, now?

Mr. Godfrey sighed, relenting; "Come in, then,"

Ms. Long-Legs straightened immediately, her discomfort forgotten in favour of the crisp swish of her designer skirt as she strutted past me and into his office. I remained outside, still holding the handle, uncertain whether to close the door behind her or not, until Mr. Godfrey made the decision for me-- he slammed it shut in my face.

The blinds stayed up this time, and for a second, just a second, I saw him-- Roman Godfrey. Not the suit, the tyrant, or the freakishly composed bastard I'd come to hate and want at the same time, but the man; pale, quiet, and rattled.

He was visibly uncomfortable, leaning against his desk with his arms crossed over himself, as though that would somehow protect him from whatever the woman was there to tell him. I watched as his eyes narrowed and fixated on the way Ms. HR shifted in her heels in hopes of relieving her discomfort.

Then, through the blinds, I watched as his gaze flicked to mine.

My heels.

His lips parted, just slightly. Was he maybe thinking about the difference? The way I looked like I could be in these hell-bringers for hours, yet the other woman couldn't even hold herself for fifteen minutes? High, thin stilettos, black patent; perfectly balanced. I hadn't shifted once-- I didn't need to, and I wouldn't. I could stand in these all day.

But Mr. Godfrey didn't seem to allow himself to stare on any further. Without a word, he stood up with a sharp clack, and approached the blinds-- I couldn't read him when we locked eyes, and I didn't have any time to, before he snapped the blinds down again. 

Ugh. I couldn't see anything now, so I did what any dangerously curious person would do; I stayed frozen and pressed my ear up against the door, just close enough to hear.

"I'm here about the complaint filed last month by your previous secretary," came the woman's voice. Cool, measured, practiced, HR; that was what she was. Not a girlfriend, not a sub, but an executioner. Thank fuck. "I assume you've read through the preliminary documents. There were some... disturbing claims. Specifically about a personal dynamic between the two of you that was allegedly coercive."

A sharp scoff followed from Mr. Godfrey, almost a laugh. "She begged for that job back after I fired her," he huffed. "There was even a whole fucking scene the day I interviewed for my new secretary! If anything, she should be the one in trouble right now! There was nothing coercive of the sort, and I'm even suing her for saying that crap, ask my paralegal!"

"That may be," the woman replied, cold. "But the concern is the power imbalance. The possibility that you encouraged certain... behaviours."

Mr. Godfrey snapped back, raising his voice; "That's bullshit! She was undeniably nuts, you must've realized that during your talks with her?!"

"-- Mr. Godfrey, please, this is simply a formality! You must understand that!"

"I do!" he hissed. "And you've done your job, so are we done? Can I go back to doing mine?"

"If you're asking if I'll be filing a formal report, then no... But this will stay on record,"

Mr. Godfrey groaned-- I didn't need to see him to know that he was rubbing his temples. He did that whenever he got properly annoyed. "If every woman I'm going to work with is going to try to squeeze this company for my money, then I'm compelled to only hire men! But I can't fucking do that because of your fucking inclusivity regulations!"

"Mr. Godfrey, I suggest you stop speaking!--"

"This is my company! If my previous secretary is going to press with crazy claims, then I expect you to be on my side!--"

"I am not here to shield you, sir! I am here to protect your employees, and quite specifically, your young, new secretary who frankly looks terrified of even being in your vicinity!"

Something thudded inside the office-- maybe a drawer slamming, or a fist. I couldn't make it out. In an instant, I scurried to my desk, sitting down with the utmost hurry. So, my suspicions had been correct; the previous secretary had definitely been his sub. Why couldn't Peter have told me this? How many people knew? With trembling fingers, I tried to go back to working on the weekly report-- I had to submit it in about ten minutes, and I realized all I needed was Mr. Godfrey's signature. Fuck. 

Then, I heard harsh footsteps nearing. The door to Mr. Godfrey's office whipped open with a gust of air, and the man himself stormed past me like I was invisible. 

The HR woman stepped out shortly after, smoothing her skirt and offering me a polite smile; I could see the evil glee behind those gorgeous eyes of hers. I didn't return it. Bitch. 

For some reason, I felt beyond angered by what I had just witnessed. If Mr. Godfrey was being hounded for something that was consensual, that was simply unfair. I would never do that to him. I would never, ever, even though Letha confirmed that my afflictions were irrational, even though I knew it was irrational-- in a hurry, I grabbed the weekly report from my desk and rushed after him.

I wasn't terrified of Mr. Godfrey; I needed him to know that. If anything, I wanted him near at all times. The HR bitch had no idea what she was talking about!

That was why I was now on my feet, heels clacking sharply against the marble as I chased after him. "Mr. Godfrey-- sir-- wait!--"

But didn't stop; he wouldn't. He was a storm in motion, cutting through the office like it offended him just by existing. A few people looked up as we passed, some quickly ducked their heads back down behind their screens, and others openly stared. I didn't care; all I saw was the back of his head, the sharp angle of his jaw as he strode ahead of me, fists clenched so tight the tendons in his forearms stood out.

"Mr. Godfrey!" I tried again, clutching the paper against my chest. Maybe talking about the report would make him see that I wasn't scared? I had no idea what I was thinking. "I just-- I just need your signature on the!--"

In an instant, he stopped so abruptly that I nearly crashed into him. Mr. Godfrey turned around, eyes blazing, lips parted with fury-- and before I could take a breath, duck, save myself, he shouted at the top of his lungs; "What do you want?!"

The hallway went silent. Several doors cracked open. Somewhere, a printer stopped mid-page. All I could hear was the thundering pulse in my ears.

I blinked up at him, stunned.

"What," he spat, "is so fucking urgent that you need to chase me like a lunatic down the goddamn hallway?!"

I froze. "Sir, I-- It's just the weekly rep--"

"I don't give a shit about the weekly report!" he barked. "You think I'm in the mood to babysit your paperwork right now?! Don't you see I have more important things to deal with right now than your incompetence?!"

My ears were burning red from the humiliation, but this wasn't the kind I had previously liked-- this felt like torture. I couldn't yell back, couldn't oppose him, not in front of the whole office. My body betrayed me, and I felt my eyes well with tears; did he think I was incompetent? Was that maybe all this week had been about, that I just... wasn't good enough? 

Had I imagined everything?

Mr. Godfrey wasn't done. "Oh, don't stand here and look like a victim! I told you to stop stuttering, and to wipe those fucking tears you always have! And still, week after week, you hand in your work like I should be grateful you managed to use a stapler!" he yelled. "If you need my signature on bullshit like the weekly report, learn to forge it, and save me the fucking waste of time! How incompetent is it possible to be?!"

A lump rose in my throat, and I pressed my lips into a straight line, not wanting to give away the way they quivered with my building tears. 

But then, Mr. Godfrey's voice dropped, and he got all up in my face-- to truly cross the line, he pressed his finger into my shoulder, giving me a harsh shove in hopes of me losing my balance; I didn't. Not in my fucking Louboutins. I didn't dare to look at him, and I screwed my eyes to the floor. 

"Fix it," Mr. Godfrey hissed, low and lethal. "And get out of my fucking face."

With that, the scratch of the heel of his shoe violated my ears before he stormed off, yelling something I couldn't catch at the rest of the employees who were watching. 

My hands were still gripping the report, wrinkled now and damp where my fingers had started to sweat. My vision blurred as hot tears finally spilled over and fell, one after another, down my cheeks and onto the paper. I didn't even wipe them away. I just stood there, crying silently like some stupid little girl who couldn't even handle a bad grade. How could I have been so thoughtless? How had I manage to convince myself that Mr. Godfrey was into me, when all along, he was just a plain fucking sadist?

Letha's words stung me as I stood there, frozen, staring at the floor, and specifically at the marble that shimmered faintly beneath the artificial lights. Somewhere behind me, someone coughed. A keyboard clacked. A door eased shut. Life went on, yet I couldn't move. How was I supposed to play Mr. Godfrey's game? 

Then, a voice cut through the blur, urgent but soft; "Hey-- hey, hey," A warm hand appeared on my arm, and I instantly knew who it was. 

Peter's handsome face was a mix of worry and fury, his brows drawn tight as he stepped between me and the eyes of the office. "Come here," he murmured, shielding me with his body. "Don't just stand here, come on."

I shook my head and tried to push him off, tried to regain my dignity, but he wouldn't let me; "Don't argue with me right now," Peter said, gentle but firm. "Look at the state of you... Jeez, you're shaking. You're coming with me."

Like the saviour he was, he ushered me toward his office, blocking the view of every curious face that dared look up, his hand never leaving the small of my back. He opened his door, pulled me inside, and shut it behind us with a soft click. "There you go," he murmured, guiding me into the chair across from his desk before leaving to close the blinds. 

The moment I knew no one could see me, I allowed myself to unravel-- the sob clawed out of my throat before I could stop it, and I bent over my knees, hands clutching at the short skirt I had specifically worn for Mr. Godfrey, just trying to hold something, anything. My pride, maybe?

Peter was already crouching beside me, his sigh falling warm against my knee. He didn't touch me, didn't shush me-- he just stayed still and let me fall apart. "Hey," he eventually said, voice barely above a whisper. "He doesn't get to talk to you like that."

I shook my head, but I couldn't speak. The tears kept coming, thick and hot, soaking my lashes until the whole world looked smeared. My ribs hurt from holding it all in, and now it poured out with everything I had been hoarding for a whole week.

Peter shifted closer, eyes round with concern. "You're not stupid," he said, softer now, reading my silence. "And you're not bad at your job. Roman just needed someone to bleed on, and you were standing too close... It's not your fault, kid."

I let out a shaky laugh; my tears were shockingly salty as they spilled over my lips. "I'm so pathetic," I whispered, voice breaking. "Crying in your office... Over him."

"No, you're not pathetic," His voice was steel now; "He's the pathetic one, for taking his shit out on someone like you."

Someone like... me?

The phrase echoed. Someone like me. Someone who still wore short skirts because she wanted the attention, someone who played pretend-submissive in her head like it meant something, someone who thought she could turn lust into safety, or longing into control. Someone delusional. Someone small. Someone pliable. Someone discardable. Someone unimportant. 

"I just thought he--" I stopped, swallowing another sob. "I thought he liked me." Stupid, stupid girl. Why would anyone like someone like me? Especially Mr. Godfrey, who could have anyone he ever wanted.

Peter's silence was heavy. It wasn't cruel, wasn't judgemental, but full of all the things he didn't want to say too quickly. "He did-- He does," he tried. "But not in a way that's good for anyone." Peter looked at me, earnest, eyes kind in a way that only made it worse. "I can't say much because of legal reasons, but the way he handled the last secretary wasn't... it wasn't okay. None of it was alright."

He shifted, gently placing his hand on my knee; something about it made my skin pleasantly buzz. "Look... This is a guy who grew up being told he was a God. He's been bathed in wealth we can't even begin to comprehend, and his mind is all screwed up because of it, so anything he says, comes from his sheltered little dream-land. He doesn't understand consequences. He doesn't understand that you're sitting here, upset. Imagine it like... like he's constantly in a moderate bubble of psychosis. Life is not real to him, so you can't make him real. Roman Godfrey is the virus in your computer, and it's time that you either tossed the whole thing out or built a firewall,"

I blinked at him, my heart aching in some small, tender way I wasn't prepared for. "But... I like my computer," I whispered. 

Peter reached out with his free hand, slow, careful, and peeled the wrinkled report from my grip. "It's a very nice, shiny computer," he said, rubbing my knee with his thumb in soothing motions. His eyes rounded out further with concern and pity, and he sighed before he landed his last blow;

"But you really need that firewall if you want to keep using it,"

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Handling pain is a skill.

Going through a full workday at Godfrey Industries was also a skill. It could break the strongest of soldiers, kill the most resilient of wolves, yet somehow, I had gotten through to the end of it. 

Mr. Godfrey hadn't come back from where on earth he had ran off to (probably his palace in the depths of Hell, if you ask me), and I had been back from Peter's office for a while now, sitting behind my desk playing my favourite game-- snake. Now that Mr. Godfrey wasn't here to give me any assignments, I had nothing to do, and quite frankly, I couldn't focus on anything that garnered my full attention; I needed something to space out to, and this was perfect.

I had about thirty minutes until I could go home. Hopefully, my crazy, evil, handsome bastard of a boss wouldn't return from Satan's secret lair, where he probably resided, and I wouldn't have to face him until the end of the day.

But as you likely guessed, speaking of the devil--

Mr. Godfrey's steps were usually harsh, quick, rash, and I'd usually be able to hear them from miles down the hall. However, he had somehow managed to appear in front of me with the swiftness of a CIA-trained spy, completely undetected. He leaned against the wall opposite my desk with his arms crossed over his chest, not looking at me-- instead, I saw the way his eyes had fixated on my Louboutins, and most specifically, the heel of them.

Then, just as I thought he was about to yell at me some more, and just as I grabbed my desk with dread, his first words were shockingly soft; "Those are sharp," he mumbled. "Sharp and high. I wondered why you were so tall today."

Stunned, I shifted in my seat, straightening up. I couldn't believe he was talking to me again. Swallowing over and over, I scanned him; was he wearing a different shirt? Maybe he had sweated through the previous one-- the whole incident with the HR lady seemed intimidating, after all. "I'm glad that how I dress doesn't utterly disgust you anymore," I huffed. "Is there anything I can do for you, sir? Maybe I could go get another cup of coffee for you to dump in your trash?"

Despite my sharp words and attitude, I flinched when Mr. Godfrey's green eyes darted to meet mine. However, they weren't terrifying like they had been earlier. Something had changed. "Yes," he said, pushing away from the wall and swallowing the reprimand he wanted to give me for mouthing off. "There is something you could do. Follow me."

There was something unbelievably relieving about hearing Mr. Godfrey talk to me and treat me like a normal person. If anything, it made everything worth it, and I felt sick for even thinking it. Some part of me would maybe even let him yell at me every day, if he'd come back at the end of it and speak to me softly like this. Without saying a word, I nodded and followed his long steps into his office.

The door shut behind me with a muted thud.

I stood in the middle of his office, unsure whether to sit or wait for him to tell me to. It felt like I had walked directly onto a wooden stand, ready to have my head chopped off by the dreaded Godfrey guillotine. 

However, Mr. Godfrey didn't look at me. The silence was suffocating, and the room smelled like that expensive cologne he wore, mixed with the adrenaline still lingering from whatever fire he'd walked through to get back here.

Without saying a word, he went to the bar cart by the dying orchid, fingers brushing over a crystal decanter before pouring a glass of what I could only guess was brandy. That alone told me something was off-- he never drank during office hours, meaning something was brewing, and it might be the cauldron where he was going to cook my remains.

Mr. Godfrey walked over to me and handed me the glass. What? I took it because I didn't know what else to do, and placed it beneath my nose; yeah, this was brandy, alright. 

Then, finally, he spoke, still not looking me in the eye; "What happened earlier... wasn't supposed to happen,"

"What are we talking about?" I asked, clutching my glass. "Me getting off on your shoe, or you yelling at me in front of the whole office?"

That did it-- Mr. Godfrey's eyes snapped up, ready to burn a hole through mine. It was clear that I had caught him off guard, and that he had obviously meant the latter, but I had been dying to finally say it out loud. You've seen me cum. You've seen me cum!

I was building my fucking firewall, piece by piece. Thanks, Peter. 

I had to play Mr. Godfrey's game to defeat him, the ultimate boss. Was he perhaps the modern equivalent of Bowser? That wasn't a thought I wanted to think right now, but anywho-- thanks, Letha.

"I crossed a line," Mr. Godfrey finally said, his voice tight with discomfort. "But I'm not usually surrounded by like-minded people, so... I got ahead of myself. I got too excited."

"Like-minded people?" I took a careful sip of my brandy as my words echoed the office. What was that supposed to mean?

Mr. Godfrey's mouth twitched like he regretted saying it out loud. He turned away slightly, running a hand through his hair; it was disheveled again in a way that made him look younger, almost boyish. "I saw something in you," he said after a pause, quieter this time. "Or, well, I saw you, and what you did, and I suppose I took that as an invitation. But was it?"

"Was what?"

"Was it an invitation?" he pressed, swallowing. "That first time I saw you? Did you want me to see it?" 

I stilled, pressing the glass to my bottom lip as I tried to find my words. "No," I breathed-- that was the truth. It'd had nothing to do with Mr. Godfrey. I was simply doing what I had been doing for years, and I had only wanted to relieve myself, but... "But I think I part of me wanted you to."

"To?"

"To see me, sir," My gaze fell to the floor, glancing at my Louboutins as anxiety burned its way into my fingertips-- or was that the brandy? "I just... wanted to be good."

Mr. Godfrey blinked. "Good?"

"Yes, sir,"

"Good for... me?"

Green eyes burned into mine when I dared to meet them again. The tone of his voice, the way it was painted with a delicate stroke of uncertainty, made my heart skip a beat. "You're doing it again," I breathed. "You're talking to me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like this is something more than me being your secretary, and you being my boss,"

The air between us grew thick with tension as Mr. Godfrey's gaze never left mine. His lips parted slightly, but no words came out. His broad chest rose and fell as if trying to steady himself, like he was trying to catch up with something that had just slipped through his fingers. "You're right," he said, his voice low and controlled, though there was a hint of something raw beneath it; "And I don't think I'm able to stop."

Oh God. 

I didn't know how to respond; I was suspended in that breathless pause, feeling like the wind had been knocked out of me, and not because of anything cruel, but because Mr, Godfrey was so composed now, so gentle. I opened my mouth, daring to speak, but he lifted a hand-- calm, slow, before he delivered the final blow; "So, if you wish to leave, you're not going to walk out of here with nothing. Don't worry. You'll get the severance package, full benefits, letters of recommendation, glowing ones... You'll be taken care of. I want you to land softly after what I've put you through,"

I stood still. 

Very still. 

Too still. 

It felt like any movement might shatter the fragile air between us, but in this tension, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't exist. So, I downed the brandy, to Mr. Godfrey's surprise-- I put it down on the floor next to me, flexing and unflexing my fingers like a nervous tic. I could feel my eyes well with tears as all my air got stuck in my chest; was this really happening? 

No, no, no.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no!

"Sir," I breathed, hoping my voice wouldn't crack. "Are you firing me?"

Mr. Godfrey's eyes widened slightly-- not with anger, not with that usual razor-sharp contempt he wore like a suit, but with something closer to confusion. However, there was no uncertainty when he gave me his answer; "No," Immediate. Definite. "I'm not firing you. If I fired you, you wouldn't get the severance package, so no. I'm not firing you. You're just... allowed to leave."

Something within me had cracked, and I couldn't mend it. I was trying to scoop up my emotions and stuff them somewhere I couldn't reach, but there was no going back. My tears had blurred my vision completely, and I had no idea how they hadn't spilled down my cheeks yet. This was an immediate panic unlike anything I had ever felt before. It felt like I was about to be executed, and like my entire reality was shattering. "Am I really that bad?" I breathed. "Did I-- Did I do that bad?"

"... What?"

"Did I do that bad of a job? Was I-- was-- I that bad?"

Mr. Godfrey stilled, but not like before; this was different, quieter, slower, like I had said something in a language he only half-understood. He took a single breath, and then, almost cautiously, exhaled; "You think this is about your job,"

"I just!--" I swiped at my eyes, furious that I couldn't stop my tears. "I'm just trying to-- to understand, sir! What did I do-- do wrong?"

Mr. Godfrey blinked. His hands gripped the desk even harder, as though that would ground him in this unforeseen conversation. Something told me that no one had cried like this in front of him before, and that he had absolutely no idea what to do with the crybaby in the room. "I thought I was doing you a favor," he tried. "I thought you'd want out, after what I've been putting you through?"

I placed my fingers beneath my lower lashes, hoping to salvage at least a bit of my makeup. 

Now that I was faced with the option, I finally knew what I wanted, after all the different inputs of the day. Just the thought of no longer seeing Mr. Godfrey, no longer being told what to do, no longer chasing the pain, the humiliation, the exhilaration, along with the high of having his full attention, made me want to scream. I needed him like water, despite what everyone else thought I needed. I'd had a taste of what I could have with him, and I needed, needed, needed, needed--

"No, I need this," I said, suddenly, voice thick with the kind of desperation I didn't know I was capable of exposing. "I need this job, sir. I need the rules, I need you to keep telling me what to do, I need-- I need this."

I watched as Mr. Godfrey flinched and pushed away from the table, shaking his head as though I was telling him something he shouldn't know. He paced back and forth, chewing on his bottom lip. He stopped with his back to me, his hand dragging down his face. "You can't need that," he muttered. "You shouldn't."

"But I do!" I cried, louder now, surer; it was a relief to say it out loud. "This, whatever this is, has been the only thing that's made any sense to me in a long time! It's like-- it's like I've been living under a damn rock for years, and all your bullshit makes me feel alive!"

Mr. Godfrey practically spun around on his heel, facing me with his brows drawn together in a look of offence; "My bullshit?"

"Yes, your bullshit!" Sniffling, I rubbed my nose, trying to get myself together. "You haven't even as much as looked at me for a week now because I showed some resilience!"

"That's not!--"

"No, that was why, sir! That's why, and I've loved it!" Tears ran down my cheeks as a broken laugh slipped past my lips. God, what a relief, and what a revelation-- all the emotions from my week of being ignored had culminated in something I had never felt before; important. Because Mr. Godfrey had taken the time to single me out, put his energy into ignoring me, and that made me feel beyond special, beneath all the pain and confusion. 

I needed this. I needed this.

Mr. Godfrey stared at me like I had just spoken in tongues. He was absolutely baffled-- positively scandalized. I watched it ripple through him; first the disbelief, then the reluctant understanding, and then that flicker of dark, stunned delight. "Are you sure?" he eventually asked, scanning me for any possible cracks. "Are you sure that this isn't just some new obsession of yours?"

I took a shaky breath; I was sure. "It's not,"

"And how can you be sure?" Something told me that Mr. Godfrey was nervous about this too, somewhere behind his deep, green eyes. He had previously had a hefty telling-off from HR, which I definitely should've have witnessed, so I could understand that he was reluctant to step into this again, no matter how much he wanted to; however, something in my head stopped working, and went into a gear I didn't know I had.

My brain short-circuited and did the most instinctive thing I could've done. I stepped forward away from the door, one step, two step-- I was sure, and this was the only way to show him.

I dropped to my knees before Mr. Godfrey.

The carpet grazed my knees, but I barely felt it. My breath came down in hard, choppy motions, but I didn't let it show. I simply placed my hands on my thighs and waited. I waited for him to say something, to deny me, to accept me, to step on me once more and call me a stupid little girl with a brain the size of a nut, anything-- I had to lower my gaze.

And for a few agonizing seconds, nothing happened. 

Then, I heard the sound of his shoes.

Mr. Godfrey stepped forward, silent, until the tips of his expensive shoes were nearly touching my knees. I didn't look up, I didn't move-- I couldn't. I was offering myself up to his dominance, to his control, to his liking, so I needed to stay very, very still. This felt like a mating dance I'd see birds do on National Geographic, because that was their nature, and this was ours. I could sense the air change above me, hear his soft sigh, and then--

Mr. Godfrey snapped his fingers, and I didn't need to talk to know what he wanted.

I tilted my head upwards, daring to meet his green, unreadable gaze. From this angle, he was gorgeous as ever, breathtaking-- I couldn't believe I even had a sliver of his attention.

Mr. Godfrey's thumb touched my bottom lip; his skin was warm. The pad of his thumb pressed inward with gentle pressure, and his eyes never left mine, even as they fluttered with my shaky exhale. 

I parted my lips, inviting him, accepting him.

He let his thumb rest inside my mouth a moment longer, not controlling, just there, like a question he already knew the answer to; I wouldn't bite. I wouldn't do that again, and he knew that now. When he eventually pulled it out, slowly, carefully, he brushed it against my cheek, smearing my spit into my skin, wanting to see whether I'd whimper with discomfort or squirm with disgust.

I did neither.

With a dreamy sigh, Mr. Godfrey crouched down in front of me, getting on my level for the first time-- it almost felt symbolic. We had accepted each other. It was done. He leaned in closer, so close I could smell his cologne again, so close I could trace the outline of the blessed Forbes nose, close enough to make me wonder whether he'd kiss me or not, before he whispered; "Are you sure?"

My lashes were heavy with my drying tears. "I'm sure,"

"I've been burned here before, so I need you to be clear with me. Do you consent?" Mr. Godfrey's green eyes seared into mine as his words clung to the thick air-- he needed to know. He needed to know, the same way I needed him to doom me.

I needed him to specify; "To working here?" 

"No," Mr. Godfrey breathed. "To being my submissive."

My heart stuttered-- finally.

It was out in the open, and in the midst of my joy, my eyes scoured his, searching for lies, searching for anything Mr. Godfrey could trick me with, but this was one of those rare moments where he was laying out everything for me to see. Something told me I wouldn't get him like this ever again. If anything, this was the opportunity of a lifetime, and an opportunity I had been waiting for him to give me since the second I met him. 

Finally, there was no question in my mind. I didn't need a firewall; I needed a dominant.

"Yes,"

(a/n: there is so YUMMY about this guy.... wtf is wrong w me?? OH WELL<333 HOPE U ENJOYED, MWAH MWAH MWAH FOR ALL THE SUPPORT!!!<333)

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