#you may not like him all that much but are you going to ignore the person who comes up and announces himself in charge

[mrsshabana]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞

꒦꒷‧₊ Content Mr. Crawling x female!reader, fluff ꒦꒷‧₊ Note 800 words. I wrote this just now, I wasn't planning on writing for him so soon but I couldn't help myself. I hope those of you that know of him enjoy it. ♡

It all started at those stupid abandoned apartments. Your friends dared you to go in, and for some reason you did it. Sure it was spooky inside but there really wasn't any threat. Only when you got lost and wandered around the building for hours, trying to find an exit. 

While you were in the building you felt like someone was watching you. Occasionally spotting a shadow moving out of the corner of your eye, or hearing the sound of something shuffling on the floor. 

However, even after you left the building, you still felt like someone was watching you—every second of every day. This feeling was stronger while you were at home, but it would linger out in public, too. 

It was strongest though when you were trying to go to sleep. In your bedroom, with the lights off, and no sound but the night outside your window. You tried to ignore it, not let it get to you, but you'd be lying if you said it hadn't kept you awake most nights. Only falling asleep when your fatigue was too much to ignore. 

And tonight was no different. You lay in your bed desperately trying to get some rest but the feeling of someone else in your room keeps you awake. 

“You okay?” a strange voice calls to you from the darkness. You have no idea what it said but you're certain you couldn't have imagined the sound. 

You shoot up from your bed to see where the sound came from, but you don't see anyone. 

“H-Hello?” you mutter in a shaky voice.

Suddenly a head pops up from beside your bed, “Hello!” A high-pitched giggle emits from the creature's mouth, a sound that doesn't match its appearance. 

The head rises, and it grips the side of your bed with cold-looking hands. Pulling itself onto the bed with its arms instead of standing up and climbing on normally. 

You scream at the sight, instinctively backing away.

The creature frowns, “You scared?” it says as it retreats slightly, “Me sorry.” It has an apologetic tone in its voice, but it's speaking some kind of language you're unable to understand.

It doesn't come closer, staying at a distance so as to not startle you further. As the panic slowly subsides, you take a closer look at the creature. 

It looks like a man, but his hair is extremely long. Stark black and has a silky straight texture - hanging in front of his face and covering his eyes. Though you can see blood on his skin where it looks like his eyes should be. His skin is pale grey, and void of any warmth. And his clothes, though hard to see since he hasn't stood yet, appear to be a tattered black Yukata perhaps? 

He stares back at you with a wide grin. It's that smile that makes him look creepy and inhuman. Though not entirely unfriendly. 

“Wh-who are you?” you whimper, “What do you want?”

He tilts his head to the side like a curious puppy. It seems like he doesn't understand what you're saying. 

“Me not hurt you,” he smiles, reaching out his hand to pat your head. 

You flinch at his touch, not sure what he just said or what his intentions are. Though he doesn't seem malicious. He may look scary but he hasn't shown any hostility when he's certainly had the opportunity to. 

“Um,” you try to think of what to say to him, “Are you the one that's been watching me?”

“...?” he tilts his head again.

“N-Never mind,” you smile awkwardly, “Erm, I'm going to go to sleep, ok? You can sleep on the couch if you want to stay…”

You put your hands together and make a sleeping motion on your pillow, trying to tell him you want to sleep. 

“Rest?” he looks at the pillow then back to you, “Alright. We rest!”

With a smile he lays his head on the pillow next to yours, looking at you expectantly. 

“N-No! I mean - you can sleep on the couch, not in my bed!” 

He just smiles, your words going in one ear and out the other. 

“Ok, fine,” you sigh and lay down beside him, “You can sleep here I guess…”

You try to sleep, but you can feel him staring at you. And when you open your eyes to see that wide smile of his, it doesn't help. So you turn around, facing your back to him. “G-Goodnight,” you mutter. 

“You rest bed… Me rest bed,” he mumbles, “Me grateful.”

You don't know what he just said, but for some reason, you feel safer with him by your side. Who or what he is is still a mystery. For all you know, this could just be another dream.

But a part of you really hopes that it isn't…

[hxney-lemcn]

Mine, Only Mine — Mr. Crawling, Gap, Silvair, Chopped, Hugeface, and Scarletella x gn! reader

summery: how jealous do some of the Homicipher boys get?

tw: unhealthy relationships (Mr. Hugeface & Scarletella)

wc: 1.2k

Master List

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Crawling

❥I know people have written about how he gets jealous…but I don’t really think he does? Or at least not terribly. The scene with Mr. Chopped and the cat ears show that Mr. Crawling won’t pout or get sad at you showing affection to others, just that he wants to gain the same attention (the ear scene…). So jealousy with Mr. Crawling isn’t too bad, just be prepared to shower him with more affection than the person you originally did. 

❥On the other hand, I do think his jealousy may increase if you ignore him. Say you give more attention to Mr. Scarletella, Mr. Crawling would get a bit sad and pouty, thinking you don’t like him anymore. If this happens, give him lots and lots of attention and reassurance, he’ll be super grateful. I mean he loves your affection anyways, so might as well give him some extra headpats and kisses. Even better if you only show certain signs of affection with him, it makes him feel special. 

❥Overall, not the most jealous, but not completely unaffected either. Make sure he gets his daily dose of attention/quality time and he’ll be as right as rain.

˚₊· ͟��͞͞➳❥ Mr. Gap

❥Uh, he gets more jealous than you’d think. Like…his whole thing is he wants to be special to you…in his own strange way. Doesn’t like the thought of someone taking his place as a jokester to you. Also why he brings you things he’d think you like from time to time, just to make sure you still have that special place in your heart for him <3

❥Hates hate hates when you call him bad or not good. He’s good! He swears! Remember how he’s helped you before! Gets all frowny when you call him not good and then call someone else good. He’s good too! Guess he has to prove it, AGAIN. It’s honestly kind of endearing how he has no clue how he actually kind of does like you? But not exactly in a romantic way? It’s honestly hard to label his feelings towards you, so why should I?

❥I’d say he’s the second most jealous in this list of characters, watching on angrily as you praise someone that isn’t him. Be prepared for magazines and books galore when he’s in this mood, trying to prove his worth to you. Kind of strange for someone to try so hard when they claim to not like you…

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Silvair

❥Definitely the chillest one here. Doesn’t really get jealous at all :/ If anything, he finds it entertaining when you’re affectionate with others. Gives him more insight to his lab rats. Yes, he sees everyone as a lab rat. Idk, I can’t really see him get jealous.

❥Maybe…MAYBE if someone else tries doing research on you, or if Ms. Nurse treats you instead he’ll feel a bit off. Like…you’re his test subject, he knows you from the inside out…literally and not in the fun sense. Why would you go to someone who doesn’t know as much about you and how this world affects you? It’s very hard to spot his jealousy, doesn’t even notice it/recognize it himself. He just doesn’t want anyone to mess up his data…that’s all…totally.

❥In conclusion, not really jealous. Doesn’t feel like he needs to be. You’re ‘friends’, doctor and patient, mad scientist and lab rat not many others threaten that balance between you. 

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Chopped

❥Honestly…Mr. Chopped I’m kinda mixed on how he’d be. Like on one hand, I could totally see him getting jealous if you call others cute or pay too much attention to them. On the other…he could probably care less. He loves himself, you love him, why does he need to get jealous? It’s clear how much you like him with the way you pamper him. I mean we get so many examples where you’re affectionate to Mr. Crawling in front of Mr. Chopped and he doesn’t really bat an eye. 

❥Now, I can see if he gets a bit insecure he might get more jealous. Whether it be because Mr. Crawling pats your head or tucks you into bed, Mr. Chopped feels a bit sad. He’d like to tuck you in, you look so comfy. Might be just a bit pouty, eyeing you like a dissatisfied cat. Easily rectified with head pats or even cuddles. Gets side tracked from his jealousy as soon as you give him a sliver of attention honestly.

❥Mr. Chopped is fifty fifty when it comes to jealousy, but it’s never too bad. He’s pretty comfortable with what you both have and doesn’t really feel threatened by others. After all, you did call him cute.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Hugeface

❥I wouldn’t say he gets jealous? More possessive than anything. Like that scene when Mr. Machete stumbles into his little makeshift dollhouse that he made for you and gets all angry that he’s there. It’s more of a ‘you’re not supposed to be here, this is our playtime’ more than actual jealousy. Throws a little fit whenever someone messes up your playtime. Very accusatory lmao.

❥Does not like when you try to escape. Was he not providing enough for you? Were you unhappy? You’re not allowed to leave! You’re his cute human! He can’t just find another one y’know. Mr. Hugeface may be lenient if he sees you happier, you need enrichment after all. Feels extra happy if you come back on your own violation. 

❥The most childish out of all the characters on this list. Isn’t afraid to throw tantrums, will also punish you by putting you in a solid concrete cube if he’s really upset. Yeah…not the most healthy of relationships to have…BUT! I do think you could convince him to be a bit better…? Maybe? Only if you put enough work in communicating with him though. Maybe punish him in your own way like leaving for longer if he threatens to trap you.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Scarletella

❥Uhhhhhhhhhhh. Top of the list when it comes to jealousy. Watches your every move with curiosity and spite. Why are you doing that to Mr. Crawling? Do it to him instead. Why do you look so happy braiding Mr. Chopped’s hair? Style his hair instead. Why are you looking so fondly amused at Mr. Gap? Don’t you find him amusing? You do like him, right? He likes you. He likes you a lot, and he thought he was enough…was he not?

❥Will stare through your skull. It is so intimidating. His smile? Strained, it makes your skin crawl. You have to make sure he doesn’t hurt your friends, he’s so close to snapping, but he knows that would upset you and that’s not his goal. So instead he stands ominously in the background, body staticing in and out while his hand clenches the handle of his umbrella. 

❥Not that easily mended. Likes to monopolize all your time and affection. Needs constant reassurance as well, he’s quite needy. If you like constant validation and no social life go for it, just don’t get too upset if he threatens your other monster friends…he can’t stand that you could like someone that wasn’t him.

[monalisahyperdrive]

Primarch names from least moanable to the most moanable - entirely subjective.

Factors taken into account:

Name length

How easy it is to say

General vibes ('imagine having sex with a guy and having to moan gilbert')

I wrote this instead of sleeping. I don't know either. This is getting posted and I will probably never address it again if I don't delete it during my break tomorrow. I should not be given internet access past 11pm.

Perturabo

It pained me to put him all the way down (up?) here at the least moanable as I fear he may actually be one of my favourites, however... I am not delusional enough to ignore that not only is this a pretty long name, a good amount of people struggle not only to say it but to even spell it. Not at all dyslexia friendly. I would give it a good go but I feel like in order to enjoy yourself you kind of have to accept you will be calling him 'Perty' or 'Bo' or whatever you prefer.

Sanguinius

Sanguinius fans please spare me but this is a long ass name at 3? 4? syllables. I don't even know what you could call him for short instead. However, I don't doubt that it's entirely possible, I just think it would take a while to stop stuttering through.

Mortarion

Another long name. Are you sensing a pattern yet? I am. More moanable due to having less vowels than Sanguinius and less harsher (?) consonants like in Perturabo. Pretty middle of the road, easy to pronounce, could probably be easier if you just start calling him 'Morty' instead.

Alpharius / Omegon

Alpharius is again another longer name that I feel like I would trip over for a good couple weeks. I am NOT shorting it to Alpha. I must maintain my dignity, whatever crumbs of it remain. Omegon is an easier name - likely due to it having less syllables (3 rather than 4). However, I feel like the only way to shorten it would be 'Meg' and that would make me laugh and I would get distracted. Remember how I said this is subjective? This is why.

Jaghatai

3 syllables, easy enough to say, not a lot of vowels or harsher consonants to trip over. Incredibly doable, and I'm sure many have tried it. Hell, I'd certainly take a good stab at it.

Angron

Harsh G right in the middle, otherwise no complaints really. 2 syllables. Straight forward. You could certainly give it a good go.

Rogal

2 syllables - easy right? Wrong. Evil G right there in the middle again. Probably would have been higher (lower?) on the list if it was softened with maybe an H right after. Alas, it is not so.

Corvus

2 incredibly easy syllables. The V is a little evil (harsh) but with a relatively short name and a soft starting consonant I'm sure it's manageable. Best bird boy. Not much else to say.

Fulgrim

Although apparently a good chunk of people have given it a go - or at least his wives have - we're back to the G dilemma. Personally I'd suggest calling him 'Fulgie' - like Fergie but worse.

Konrad

Quite possibly the most normal name on the whole list. Konrad. Everyone can say Konrad. An easy two syllables with the harshest letter right at the start. Easy peasy.

Roboute

I actually don't know if this is 2 syllables or 3. I even went and looked on Reddit. Some people are saying Ro-Bou-Te, I've been reading it Ro-Boot. Either way these are easy, with the harshest sound being the T of all things. Either way I don't think moaning for poor long suffering Robert is too tricky.

Vulkan

Deceptively soft V and K. What a pleasant surprise. Anyone could moan this easily, and he'd probably be delighted.

Lion

Objectively this is incredibly easy, which is why it made it so high (low?) on the scale. However, I would argue moaning 'Lion' in full sincerity is somewhat hilarious. That sure is the name of an incredibly powerful (and unfortunately incredibly sexy) man.

Magnus

Easy to moan. Probably wouldn't mind if you gave it a go. Again, one of the easier names. I'm sure he'd be happy to tutor you on the subject.

Lorgar

Flows nicely, 2 short syllables, incredibly straight forward. Started mentally calling him 'Lorgie', never recovered.

Ferrus

Incredibly straight forward name. Ferrus, pronounced the same as Ferrous, like the iron tablets. Something something you should do it, it's medicinal.

Leman

Not at the top due to the time it took to decide whether it was Lee-man or Le-man (like lemon). Personal gripe, but if you've gotten this far down without understanding that I don't know what to tell you. Quick, easy, sure why not.

Horus

As much as I wish to be deeply spiteful and shove him somewhere unremarkable in the middle, I just can't do it. This is an easy name. Don't worry, if you struggle at all I'm sure he'd be willing to let you keep trying until you figure it out. Bastard.

[dami-anne-damn]

CookieSized!Beast Cookies x HumanSized!Reader

Cuddling Head-cannons!

Shadow Milk Cookie:

He’s super into cuddling, but only when he wants too. Like, man is clingy in the same way a cat is.

He would totally want to crawl up the inside of your sleeve like a gremlin and curl up on your chest.

Speaking of chest, that’s his favorite place to snuggle up too, either that or your face. Specifically your cheek since he’s tiny. (He likes to be a presence you can’t ignore.)

If you love cuddles prepare to be absolutely smothered in them. He wants to be all you can focus on in this world, and allowing him to cling to you is an opportunity he just can’t pass up.

If you don’t like cuddles then you are fresh outta luck because he does not care. It doesn’t matter to him how large you are, or how intimidating you can be. He’s snuggled up to you and he’s comfortable. Plus… since when were you in charge?

Like, if you’re resting he’s all up in your business, IMMEDIATELY. If you try to push him away enough times, he’ll walk off in a fake huff talking about ‘diva(s)’. But once you finally fall asleep he’s right back where he wants to be.

Ironically enough if you try to cuddle up to him without his prompting, he’ll play hard to get. Might even bat your hand away too- (well, as much as a itty-bitty cookie his size can to a human).

When he’s cuddled up on your chest, sometimes he’ll worm his way up to your ear. He’ll begin to whisper things, things he couldn’t possibly know. Tidbits about your day you never told him, stuff that has yet to happen, knowledge on how to help you succeed in future endeavors. You are normally asleep by the time this advice comes, so why does he do this?

Is it the joy he feels knowing that he has all the answers you need and all the control to tell you only when you’re not listening? Or is it something else? Only he has the answer to that.

——————————————————

Mystic Flour Cookie:

She’s definitely not clingy, but she doesn’t mind it when you two cuddle.

I imagine since she’s the Beast of Apathy she is quite neutral about where she lays in accordance to you in bed. You could have her in your arms, your hands, heck probably even on the top of your head and she’d be ok with it.

She won’t admit this, but her favorite way to cuddle is with your head in her lap and her hand in your hair. Yes, you are still human sized. Also yes, she is still cookie sized. (You guys make it work though.)

Love cuddles or hate cuddles, she couldn’t care either way. Calm and composed, she decides when and when not to allow you to breach her personal space.

Although, if you do catch her off guard with a pick up and cuddle attack from behind. Even if she may not show it immediately, she doesn’t like when people just take what they want from her. Expect the cold shoulder.

On rare occasions, Mystic Flour can and will ask to be held. There’s something unusual about her tone, something more..alive.

When you have long since fallen asleep, she finds her hand stroking your hair absentmindedly. She then slowly lowers her body to lay against your head, all of HER own volition. For cuddling you was her choice, not your will. Hers.

——————————————————

Burning Spice Cookie:

Normally, I would never think that Burning Spice would go for cuddles. Too boring and stagnant for his tastes.

But if you did manage to get him to cuddle, you bet you had to earn that. And it wasn’t easy. So if you like fighting tooth and nail for the right to cuddle, then Burning Spice is your man!

Battle against him, he doesn’t care how large and fleshy you are. He wants a fight, he needs a fight. If you want to cuddle The Great Destroyer, then show him you can handle it! (This is an every night before bed thing too).

Finally you win—(because let’s be honest..he’s like what, 3 inches tall?) —and now you’ve earned the right to cuddle. Burning Spice’s favorite place to cuddle is right against your stomach or heart, things he can hear.

Sometimes during these sessions, you can catch a glimpse of Burning Spice’s face, it looks empty as he listens to your body work and breathe. You wonder whats going though his head.

But as soon as it’s there, it’s gone and is replaced with his usual scowl as he loudly exclaims how ‘bored’ he is with the current situation.

As I’ve already explained, if you want cuddles Burning Spice is definitely going to play hard to get. Much like Shadow Milk in that sense. But on another note, much like Mystic Flour he doesn’t care if he gets cuddles or not. (If anything he seems to project more no than yes. But if that’s really true, why does he still offer to fight you each night?)

——————————————————

Eternal Sugar Cookie:

Are you a couch potato with big emotions?! Do you like to cuddle?! Then maybe you should consider getting yourself an Eternal Sugar Cookie to keep you company!

They are a MASSIVE cuddle monster, (they might even be clinger than Shadow Milk in this sense) you’re like a big warm pillow! They are perched or nestled somewhere on you from 24/7 to eternity.

Their favorite place to cuddle is curled up on your neck. Wings draped over the sides of your shoulders in a sort of possessive hug. Feeling your pulse.

If you like cuddles Eternal Sugar is definitely a provider, and is pretty good at making you feel right at ease. I could imagine them curled up, tangled in your hair and lazily strumming at their lyre with droopy eyes.

Being the Beast of Sloth, I could see them using their power to perhaps make you feel a bit more lethargic than usual.

After a while with Eternal Sugar you might start missing your morning alarm, sleeping in, missing breakfast, lunch, maybe even dinner too…a couple days go by…wait, how long have you been sleeping for again?

——————————————————

Silent Salt Cookie:

Tbh, I see this cookie as very hit or miss when it comes to cuddle time. Either they’re all in on some nice quiet quality time or they want absolutely nothing to do with it.

If they are into it I could see them liking sleeping tangled up in your legs (keeps you from moving too much) or I could see them resting in your hands, especially if you sleep with them curled up to your face.

Don’t expect any kind of talk though, if you start yapping while you two are snuggled up close they’ll just end up getting up and walking away. It’s silence or nothing. (And if you talk in your sleep, just forget about it.)

If they are not in the mood for cuddles, don’t try and convince them. Begging and pleading will only serve to annoy this beast. You gotta let them come to you, like a stray cat you gotta earn the trust of before they come inside your home.

On the days you guys cuddle, if you stay really quiet and still, you can feel Silent Salt press into you almost longingly. Is it despair? Is it loneliness? Want, need? It’s impossible to tell which emotion the beast is feeling with that helmet on. All you can guess is that they are comfortable in the palms of your hands. That’s all that matters…right?

——————————————————

Fin and thank you for reading!

[ray-moo]

Faith as it's defined now often is, but biblically Faith is not belief despite evidence to the contrary, but assurance in things unseen. For example, one may have a belief in the existence of human rights despite human rights being invisible. The Faith presented in the Bible isn't necessarily faith against evidence because the Bible never asks for blind faith, it gives you reasons and argumentations to believe in it's claims, just not always in the sense of empirical data.

The Bible doesn't have a clear teaching on abortion, most Christian views on abortion are an extrapolation of the 'Thou shalt not murder' part of the Bible. Generally a recognition that some rights belong to God which don't belong to us.

The Bible does not mandate that we must allow women who have suffered miscarriages to die alongside their babies just as much as the Bible does not mandate that communion be done with pure wheat bread. This is the result of lawmakers and a voting base too gung-ho about their agenda passing laws and ignoring the consequences. No one wants mothers to die from septic shock, it's a range of apathy to ignorance.

Some Christians are apathetic, some Christians are willfully ignorant. In my experience a lot of the ones I've spoken to might just be ignorant. A lot of us are indigant and outraged that this would be allowed to happen at all, I hope you have enough faith to believe that.

On the specific topic of whether mothers need to die of septic shock because miscarriages are sinful, the Bible is completely silent. What the Bible is not silent about our need to love mothers and care for them.

"Jesus replied: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’" (Matthew 22:34-36)

"If anyone has material possessions and sees a brother or sister in need but has no pity on them, how can the love of God be in that person?" (1 John 3:17)

However, this love extends not only to mothers, but also to their children, born or unborn. So if we are going to argue for the right of a mother to kill her child, of course Christians ought to object. God has the power to judge justly and apportion to everyone exactly what they deserve. He has the power to give life and take it away whenever He pleases, not only bringing about one's birth, but one's resurrection. If a mother kills her child and regrets it, can she bring them back to life? If a mother is ever mistaken in her treatment of her child, can she ever undo what she has done? But God can be perfectly just in His dealings with His children and every injury a person suffers God can restore. "He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away." (Revelation 21:4) Not only can a mother not bring her child back to life, no mother ever 'creates life'. Can a mother spontaneously will a child into being? Can an infertile woman ever have children if she desires to? Can a woman ever have a child without a man? Without a womb? Without the eggs she's born with? If you're going to claim to be like God, make life with your own dirt. But all the things which give you the power grant a child life are the blessings of God, and even with all of them present, it is only the blessing of God that a human being can even come out of it. All anyone, father or mother, has ever brought to the table of the creation of a child is their acquiescence to God's will.

From God all life comes, not only the body, but the soul which I believe we are completely powerless to create. And it is God's desire that all life returns to His side and to join in unity with Him forever.

people tell me i could just choose not to be Christian. that it would save me a lot of struggle. unfortunately, i am hooked on Jesus. irrevocably, incurably, permanently attached to Christ. there's no stopping it - I'm in love with a man who is God

[grapejuicenharry]

Hello, how is your day going? I don't know if you are actually receiving requests, if not feel free to ignore this. What about you and Harry fighting in the car, maybe you're coming from a date and Harry was really late, the walk home is difficult with him and you start a fight, so she decides to get out of the car and walk home alone.

(English is not my first language so I apologize for any spelling errors that may have been made)

a/n: hello! My day is going well, thank u for asking. And yes, I do receive requests. No need to apologize—your english is great!

warnings: angst with a happy ending (sorry I couldn’t leave them like this!)

✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆ . ✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶. ⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶ ⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶

It was 9 p.m., and you had been sitting at this restaurant for the past hour, waiting for Harry. Tonight was supposed to be your date night—something planned since last week. You'd even reminded him this morning, but here you were, alone.

It had been Harry's idea to take you out, to spend time together, to simply enjoy each other's company after weeks of him being swamped with studio work.

When he'd suggested it, you were over the moon, practically giddy at the thought of a night just for the two of you. Just boyfriend and girlfriend. 

You'd dressed up for him in the sheer black dress he loves so much, paired with your black stilettos that accentuated your legs. Minimal make up, save for the bold red lips that added a sensual edge to your look. You’d spent over two hours getting ready, perfecting every detail for tonight. But once again, you sat... disappointed. 

He was late. not just ten or fifteen minutes, but a whole one hour. 

Tears started to gather up in your waterline as the waiter approached your table for the third time, politely asking if you were ready to order. You forced a tight smile, declining him once again, murmuring that you were waiting for your boyfriend. You couldn’t help but feel like the staff was probably laughing behind your back—this poor woman, sitting alone, waiting like a fool. 

Deep down, you knew it wasn’t an emergency or unavoidable crisis keeping Harry away. He’d used the same excuse too many times: Got busy at the studio, forgot to check my phone. Honestly, you were tired at this point of always coming second, but you know your pathetic heart will forgive him the second he starts blubbering out apologizes because you loved him—and you know he loved you, too. 

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

You discretely wiped a stray tear that has rolled down your cheeks as the sound of commotion at the door caught your attention. Your eyes glanced to the entrance, and there he was—Harry, rushing inside, his eyes searching for her. 

The second he spotted you, he knew he’d fucked up. 

Harry strode over to your table, looking down at you with guilt written all over his face. His shoulders sagged as he spoke. 

“Y/N—fuck, I’m sorr—“ 

You stood up immediately, not wanting to hear a word from him. Grabbing your purse from the table, you turned around and walked away. Ignoring him.

Outside, the cold air hit you like a slap, your hair whipping against your face as tears spilled freely down your cold cheeks. You wrapped your coat tighter around yourself, desperate to hold it together. 

“Y/N, please—listen to me.” Harry pleads from behind her, his voice begging. He reached out to touch your arm, but you instinctively stepped back, putting more space between you. 

"Don't,” you muttered, wiping your tears. 

Harry froze, his hand hanging in the air for a second before dropping back. 

His heart breaks looking at your state, your mascara slightly smudged, your nose red because of crying, and your cheeks red with biting cold. You looked so vulnerable, and yet you wouldn’t let him near you. The realization crumbles him from inside. 

“I don’t want to hear anything; I want to go home. Just take me home or I’ll book a cab.” 

You whisper, sniffling, your voice hoarse and shaky. 

Harry’s throat tightened, but he nodded, silently stepping forward to open the car door for you. Without a word, you slid into the passenger seat. You fumbled with your seatbelt and stared outside the window. not glancing a look over him as he starts driving. 

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

The drive home is suffocatingly silent. The air inside felt heavy with tension and unspoken words. The only sounds were the low murmur of the radio and the faint hum of the engine in the background. 

Harry's grip on the steering wheel was tight, his jaw clenched as he fought to keep his emotions in check. The tension was evident as his other hand rested idling on his thigh, occasionally rubbing at his jaw in frustration. He wanted so badly to reach for your hand, to rest his palm on your thigh as he'd done countless times before. But he didn't. He couldn't.

It must have been forty minutes or an hour of driving in silence when you spoke, not able to sit in the tension atmosphere anymore. “Are we not going to talk about this?” You snaps.

Harry exhales sharply through his nose, trying to gauge a response: “What do you want me to say, love?" I said I was sorry.” 

Y/N scoffs at his words, her frustration bubbling over. “That’s the problem, Harry. You think an apology fixes everything. It’s not about saying sorry—it’s about not doing it in the first place. You knew how important tonight was for me.” 

Harry’s knuckles turn white on the wheel. “I didn’t get time to check my phone. I was so caught up in the studio—“

“Right, the studio.” Y/N interrupts bitterly, “Always the studio. Always something important than me.” 

The words hang heavy in the air; Harry’s shoulders stiffen. His lips press into a thin line as he pulls the car over the side of the door, and tires crunching against the gravel.

“What are you doing?” You ask, heart pounding.

Harry throws his car into the park and turns to you, his green eyes stormy and dark. “I don’t know what you want from me; I’m doing the best I can.” His voice was low but sharp. 

Your throat tightening at his words, shaking head, “Well, maybe your best isn’t good enough.” You whispers, trying to keep your tears at bay.

His eyes flicker, a flash of vulnerability breaking through his frustration, but you can’t take it back now. The tension feels unbearable. Before you could think, You unbuckles your seatbelt and reaches for the door handle. 

“Where are you going?” Harry asks.

“Home.” Y/N bites out, stepping out of the car. The crisp air waves through your hair, goosebumps rising in your body. “I’ll walk.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he mutters back before opening the side of his door and stepping outside. 

“Ridiculous?” You whirl around, glaring at him. “What’s ridiculous is me sitting there, pretending that I’m not hurt. Whats ridiculous is you acting like this doesn’t matter” 

Harry’s chest heaves as he looks at you, searching for the right thing to say, but it doesn’t come fast enough; you turn around and start walking, your heels clicking against the pavement. 

You hear Harry calling your name, but you don’t turn around, knowing there is nothing for him to say that would make you feel better—nothing. The chill of air whooshes past you as you hug yourself tighter, wrapping your arms around you, and quicken your steps. 

The sound of his boots crunching against the ground, crisp leaves crushing beneath him as he follows you, the sound growing closer and closer, then you hear him say softly. 

“Y/N, please..stop."

Against your better judgement, you stop. You stop in your tracks at his words and turn around. Harry jogs and comes closer to you; this time you let him... wanting to feel him close. His face morphs into something more painful than that clenched jaw like earlier. The lines of frustration are replaced by something softer, something that aches your chest. 

“I get it,” his voice low, laced with hurt. “You’re hurt. And you’re right, I shouldn’t have been late, and I shouldn’t have brushed it off like it didn’t matter. It did; you matter to me.” 

The sincerity in his words cracks your heart walls, the river of tears that you’ve been holding threatening to spill over.

"Harry, it's not just about tonight," you say, your voice trembling. "It's about feeling like I'm always coming second to everything else in your life."

His shoulders drop, and he steps closer, his green eyes fixed on yours. "You're not second, love," he says; the words sound like a plea. "You're the only thing that keeps me going half the time. And I know I've been worse at showing that, but I'll do better. I promise you, I will."

You blink at him, trying to brush away the tears. "You say that, but—"

Before you can finish, his hand gently takes yours. "Look at me," he says softly, and when you do, there's nothing but sincerity written all over his face.

"I'll prove it," he says. "Not just tonight, not just tomorrow—every day. I'll make time. For you. For us. You're the most important thing to me, Y/N. I swear it."

His words sink in, warming the cold that's settled deep in your chest. For a moment, neither of you speaks. 

Then, his thumb brushes over your knuckles, and you realize how much you missed the warmth of his touch; he gently touches them and kisses each of your fingers softly.

"Can I take you home now?" he asks tentatively, a small, hopeful smile tugging at his lips.

Y/N hesitated for a moment before nodding, the fight in you ebbing away.

"Okay," you whispered.

He lets out a relieved sigh and takes a step closer, wrapping his arms around you tightly. "Thank you," he murmurs into your hair. "I'll make it up to you, love. I promise."

[lotus-acid-trip]

hi! I hope you don’t mind me asking but may I request a Telemachus x fem reader where when ody returns and is being made fun of by the suitors while still in this begger disguise yn starts fighting off the suitors and yelling at them for being rude and maybe later joins ody while he is hunting them down and Telemachus has a love sick look while watching yn just like ody did for Penelope back when they were younger before he married her and after seeing how cool and awesome of a warrior yn is later ody turns to his son and says “I aprove of this one 😏” and poor Telemachus is just like 😳 all flustered and adorable what can I say Telemachus is a sweetie 🥰

feel free to ignore if you want to hope you have a good rest of your day thank you ☺️

“I approve of this one.”

Telemachus x Reader

[Epic The Musical]

oneshot

fluff

This is my first proper romantic reader insert fic, so I hope you enjoy!

Odysseus sat at the entrance of the courtyard under the shade of a large olive tree as he silently observed the numerous suitors scattered across the courtyard in idle chatter. Is this really what had become of his home while he was gone? It was baffling just how ungrateful and disrespectful all these guests were. He worried for the state of his palace after being infested with all these unwelcome guests for so many years. It must have been so difficult on Penelope and Telemachus to deal with all of them, having to feed and house them along with dealing with their pitiful attempts at courting his wife. It was a wonder why the suitors still haven’t been driven out by Telemachus yet.

His hand fiddled with the small wooden bowl in his hands. Odysseus was disguised as an old beggar, but as much as he wanted to reveal himself right then and there he needed to be patient and play it smart. He didn’t have anything other than an old knife hidden in his clothes to defend himself with and he was probably lacking a lot of proper nutrients and sustenance after being out at sea for so long with food of limited quality and quantity. If he were to fight all these suitors right now, he was sure to fail. Not only do they have an advantage in numbers, it was obvious they were well fed, and all the used training equipment seen around the palace was all he needed to know the suitors could fight. If Odysseus wanted to win, he needed to stick to the plan, which meant playing his part as an old beggar.

A suitor passed by him devouring a chicken leg and he held out his bowl to him. It would be a good opportunity to not only learn more about the state of his palace and family, but to also know just what his family has been up to in the past years. “Would you care to spare a bit of food for this old man?” The suitor tilted his head to look down at Odysseus for a moment before raising a brow. “And what exactly is this homeless old man doing in a palace like this? Surely your life hasn’t fallen so far into poverty that you’d go scrounging for scraps in the homes of royalty.” He leaned back against the tree, hands crossing over his legs. “Well, that wasn’t exactly my plan. I was just walking by but with the heat of the sun and with a body as frail and weak as mine, I just had to take a break under the shade of this mighty tree. I was always curious of what happened in the lives of royalty anyway.” He said as he looked up at the leaves and branches. He remembers planting it so many years ago to see how to take care of an olive tree as preparation for making his and Penelope’s marital bed. It's grown so much since then, and he wonders just how much Telemachus has as well. “Well, since you have so much spare time to just wander around doing nothing, why don’t you bring us all a meal or two, all the way from inside the palace’s pantry. You want some food? Work for it, old man.”

Odysseus raised a hand waving off the offer. “Ah, but there might be one small problem. I am just an old beggar, remember? I don’t know anything of the layout of the palace. I’m sorry, but I must decline. Can’t you just ask a servant to help you instead?” The suitor seemed to get irritated at his reply. “Ha! Yeah right, those servants can barely do anything right. They never bring the food on time and always seem to be short on stock. Not even their pathetic prince seems to know what he’s doing.” He stared at the suitor judgmentally. “ ‘Pathetic prince’ you say? Bold words for someone who’s staying in his palace.” The suitor looked at him as if he had just said something audacious instead of common sense. “Listen old man, we’re the guests here, not them. Do you not understand basic hospitality?” Odysseus narrowed his eyes at the suitor. He knew his palace, his servants and the workforce in it. They aren’t lazy or incompetent, if they were they wouldn’t be serving his family. Not to mention, if there wasn’t enough livestock there were plenty of skilled hunters and hunting dogs to accompany them. His memories of old hunts with Argos and others were more than enough proof of that.

“Of course I do. Perhaps instead of trying to defend your impudence against the prince, you could put away your prideful hurbis for a moment and just lend me even an inch of the food you already have on you. For someone relying on the shared hospitality of someone else for their own comfort, you sure don’t seem to be able to do the same.” The suitor’s bored annoyance quickly morphed into thinly veiled anger. “Listen you old derelict, need I remind you that this is not your courtyard you are resting in? This is not your abode and I do not tolerate your insults. For someone who seems to preach so strongly for returning hospitality, you don’t seem too keen on basic respect.” Odysseus hid his amusement at the irony with indifference. “Although that may be true, last I checked this isn’t your home either.” That statement alone seemed to be enough to push him over the edge into full blown rage. Odysseus jumped away from the suitor’s flying fist as it hit the trunk of the tree where his head used to be. “You know, for someone so insistent on how they have difficulty doing physical activities you’re awfully quick to move.” The suitor began to walk towards him, his larger form towering over him and casting a shadow that engulfed Odysseus’s entire form. “Listen here old man. If you think you can just run off after that impudence, your mind must be as deteriorated as your age.” Odysseus continued to back up, hand immediately searching for the knife he hid. A chill crept up his spine when his back hit something. Turning around, it was another suitor, the others beginning to close in on him. Fuck, he messed up. The suitor he first talked to grabbed the front of his shirt and lifted him up to his face so Odysseus could face him. “Now, I think it's time that you finally learned a long needed lesson on hospitality and what happens when you don’t respect your host-“

“Hey! What the hell is all this racket?” Odysseus never turned his head away from the suitor, but averted his gaze towards the newcomer. A woman emerged from inside the palace and stared at the scene before her in a moment of silence before her once confused gaze immediately morphed into an infuriated wrath that could rival the suitor’s own rage. “Antinous, what do you think you’re doing! Gods above and below, has no one ever taught you to respect your elders?” She marched on towards the both of them, unshaken by any visible fear at the obvious violent intent of the suitors. She gripped the suitor’s, now known as Antinous, wrist and forcefully yanked it away from him, letting Odysseus fall to the ground. Antinous opened his mouth, ready to yell at her but the woman cut him off as she glared coldly at him. “The queen is watching us.” She said as she stared into the suitors eyes as if daring him to try anything. The mention of Penelope is all he needed to whip his head towards the balcony he knows she always loved to use to watch the courtyard. And there she was, elegant and poised, watching with a composed face as she always does. He could see how she’s changed from when he last saw her, the small streaks of white in her hair that weren’t there before, the wrinkles and tired eyes. But he didn’t care, for it was his Penelope, and Odysseus felt like he was falling in love all over again.

Penelope observed them silently, looking at each person one by one before her eyes eventually met his. For a moment, it felt like time froze and they did nothing but stare at each other. It was like the world itself was holding its breath. It was the smallest difference in her eyes that made his chest swell with warmth. Those indifferent calculated eyes that always seemed to be studying every little detail softened for a moment, her composed face faltering for a split millisecond to look at him with the same eyes that looked at him with so much affection and appreciation when he told her how he’d tackle the challenge she gave him. The tension in the air was so thick, yet only he could feel it… and maybe she did as well. Logically, Odysseus knew that they had only been looking at each other for a mere few seconds, but it felt like he was staring for an eternity at something so close yet so far. And Penelope did nothing else but silently stare back. She shifted her position, pulling away from the scene and returning back inside. Odysseus let out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. It felt like time suddenly began moving once more when it had always been flowing, falling through his fingers like flowing water with no hope of holding on to it.

“Antinous, if you do not explain to me what exactly you were doing I can and will tell Penelope.” The woman said as she walked in front Odysseus, who’s gaze still lingered on the balcony for another moment before returning to look at the suitors and the new woman. Antinous sneered. “And why should I? Your family may be up there in terms of status, but you’re nowhere near close to me.” He sneered. “And? Do you think I care? You already showed just how petty you get because someone bruised your fragile ego. I still haven’t forgiven you for the fight with Telemachus.” The woman took a step forward towards the suitor, but he didn’t move. “And? The boy started it.” Another step forward and another rise in tension. “Who exactly called his mother a tramp? That’s right, you.” Another step forward until she was right in front of him. At this point even more suitors began to crowd around them to see what was happening, and Odysseus dreaded a physical fight would break out.

“Well then, since you seem so keen on berating me for teaching the little wolf a lesson, why don’t I give you an opportunity to even out the scales?” Antinous’s fist met the woman’s face, sending her stumbling back. She regained her balance before gently touching her face, a bruise forming on her right cheek. Whispers and murmurs emanated from the crows as it grew larger, more suitors joining the audience and a few servants discreetly watching from the sidelines. She looked at her own blood smeared against her fingers before turning her attention towards Antinous. “I gladly accept.” She ran forward, fist aimed at Antinous’s face. The suitor held his forearm up to block it, only for her to twist her foot, turning around to kick him from behind without her fist ever making contact with him. Antinous was pushed forward a step from the force of the kick, but quickly recovered, turning around to grab her by the leg she used to kick him. The crowd around them began cheering as he pulled her forward into another punch, which was blocked by her own forearms, now also bruised. He grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her into a headbutt, unable to dodge or move away because of their position.

The sound of a wooden bowl hitting Antinous’s head caused all sound to cease, the silence deafening as everyone’s heads turned to look at the source of the bowl. Antinous glared at Odysseus, who was hiding his grip on his knife in his oversized clothes. Antinous let go of the woman who fell on the floor, wincing at her bruises. Odysseus’s grip on his knife tightened as he took a step forward towards him. He opened his mouth to say something before he was cut off by a young voice. “Stop! What’s going on he- [NAME]!” A young boy shoved his way through the crowd and into the clearing that formed around the olive tree, rushing towards the side of the young woman. He kneeled beside her as he assessed her wounds. Antinous crossed his arms in annoyance as the young boy began to ceaselessly fuss over her. Odysseus stared at the boy, he could recognize those eyes from anywhere. “[name], are you okay? What happened?”

“Tele, I’m fine. It's just a few bruises, I’m not an old frail man.” She said as she sharply turned to look at Antinous. “Unlike the person a certain someone was harassing.” Odysseus stared at the young man- no, his son. No wonder he looked so familiar. He had his mother’s eyes and the same fair skin as her, but the face and hair of his own. His head was reeling, it had been so long since he’d seen his young boy. He was all grown up now, grown through all those special moments in his life Odysseus would never be able to experience. Gods, he missed his first hunt, his first training session, he missed being able to teach his son all the things he promised he’d pass on from his mentorship under Athena. But now Telemachus was right there, but he still couldn’t teach him all the things he wasn’t able to.

Antinous looked at all three of them one by one, from Odysseus to Telemachus in increasing disgust. “I’ve had enough of this, the way both of you act around each other is nauseating.” He said as he left the courtyard and into the building. Telemachus helped [name] up and she turned to look at Odysseus. “I am so sorry for all this. My intent was only to help you get that pig off your back,” She said as she looked at the direction Antinous left in with so much disgust it almost gave Odysseus whiplash from her original apologetic tone. “but it seems my impulsiveness got the better of me. Usually I try not to cause fights but I’m not exactly the best at not doing that.” She said shamefully. “Oh please, it's quite alright. I understand what it’s like. Sometimes, when you’re in the heat of the moment, your emotions cloud your judgement and you’re so focused on doing what you think’s right that… you don’t realize the consequences that might follow.” He said with a wistful smile. “I really have no idea what happened, but I apologize either way. Please, have this for your troubles.” Telemachus said as he handed him money, before cutting through the crowd to probably lead [name] to get healed. Odysseus stared at the coins placed in his hand, it was enough to buy him a whole house.

……………………………………………………

……………………………………………………

The metallic stench of blood filled your nose as you walked across the wet floor, the red liquid staining your sandals. The faint light of the torches could barely illuminate the dark room, the moon’s light nowhere to be seen through the windows. What little the light did show was nothing but puddles of blood and the faint outline of bodies. Right there, at the end of the room were twelve axes that were originally supposed to be used for the challenge queen Penelope made for her suitors. It didn’t take long for you to hear about what went wrong, and it took even shorter for you to make your way here. You grabbed one of the axes, testing its weight as you gave it a few experimental swings. The silence of the challenge room was so quiet you could hear your own wet footsteps echo as you tested the axe. You internally facepalmed as you looked down at your weapon, realizing just how little you thought this through. You had no plan in mind, you just heard that Telemachus was also fighting and just had to join. The idea of fighting alongside him was exhilarating, and meeting his father, king Odysseus and master tactician that won the war? You didn’t really think too hard on your decision to join. As much as you hated to admit it, Telemachus and your father were right. You really needed to think things through more. 

Your body tensed when you heard the sound of heavy footsteps approaching the room, your grip on your axe tightening. Well, if you were good at one thing, it was brazenly charging into battle. You readied your stance, prepared for a fight. Since you weren’t able to kill Antinous, you’ll have to settle for killing the suitor first. The moment the bright light of a torch rounded the corner of the entryway, you charged forward, swinging your axe towards their head. Being on the other side of the room, they had plenty of time to jump out of your way. Now, you were at the entrance and they were trapped inside the room. Their torch illuminated their face and you took a moment to look at them. Eurymachus, the cowardly one. “Hey, [name], let us talk about this! I never once went out of my way to hurt you nor Telemachus, I always payed my due respects to her majesty. It was Antinous that-“

“Lead you and your fellow scum in the plan to execute my betrothed in secret.” You said with a sneer, throwing the axe at his head. It flew past the torch, the push of wind blowing it out as the man in front of you fell to the floor. He met the floor with a loud thump, his remains now nothing but another body in the landscape of corpses in the room. You moved to pull the axe out of his head with more aggression than needed before leaving. His words irritated you to no end, the man was nothing but an idle fool who made the choice of inaction. Never once did he try to stop his fellow suitors from tormenting Telemachus, never once has he tried to lessen all the resources they waste, never once did he leave when Telemachus ordered them. None of them did.

You let out a sigh as you walked through the hallways. Where exactly was Telemachus? And where was Odysseus? They most likely passed through this area already, if the bodies everywhere said anything. The father son duo was probably closer to the courtyards of the palace outside where the suitors must have fled towards. Either that or the pack of meatheads ran towards their weapon supply. You guessed it was the latter and promptly made your way through the familiar halls, passing by familiar faces on the floor that will never be missed. Surprisingly enough you couldn’t find any signs of struggle during battle. Nothing but the light of torches fallen on the floor could light up the scene, the moon and stars never daring to gaze upon the massacre. Bodies upon bodies were piled up in a gruesome display of vengeance with a vile stench that made your nose wrinkle in disgust, and yet each and every one of them only had an arrow to the head or chest to blame for their demise. No bruising nor cuts of a blade, only a lone arrow on each suitor. It was only after a long time of walking did the bodies slowly lessen in numbers, but still remained ever present. A silent reminder of the ruthless monster that lurked in these dark halls.

Your head turned towards the sound of metal blade against metal blade just to your right. Carefully peeking over the edge, your eyes widened at the sight of Telemachus fighting a suitor on his own. The light of a fallen torch reflected the glint of a knife in the darkness. Your grip on your axe tightened and you swung at the knife wielder without hesitation. The suitor’s screams were drowned by his own blood pouring out of his mouth, your axe lodged into his throat. Looking behind you, a surprised suitor was stabbed from behind, his blood coating the rest of the blade that pierced through him. The sword was pulled out and the suitor fell to the floor, revealing Telemachus behind him. “[name]? What are you doing here?” He asked as he looked around as if worried anyone might be eavesdropping. “Did you really think word of your suitor hunt wouldn’t get out? Tele, the entire palace could hear the screams of terror.” You replied as you rested your axe on your shoulder. “Of course I didn’t think we’d be able to hide a mass genocide! What I’m asking is why you came here after learning about a giant fight-“ He paused mid sentence, and you didn’t need to see his face to know he was staring at you with the most unimpressed expression you’ll ever see. You barely tried to hide your amused snickering as he rolled his eyes at you. “You know what? I retract my statement. The fight was all the reason you needed to come here, wasn’t it.” It was less of a question and more of a statement.

“Actually, not really. At least, it wasn’t the only reason.” You said you stared directly into his eyes that reflected the ever dancing light of the torch. The flame flickered, going from bright to dark and back within seconds. You could barely see Telemachus, but you poured every bit of attention you had into listening to Telemachus go from unamused to curious. “Really? Then what was it?” He asked as you smiled. “I’m looking right at it.” Telemachus looked around once more, but this time to find what you were staring directly at rather than look for hidden dangers. “Wha? But the only thing you’re looking at is… Oh.” You didn’t even try to hide your amusement this time, bursting out into a fit of howling laughter at his flushed face. “Really? Do you have to tease me even in the middle of battle?” You shoved your face right in front of his, mere inches away. “Yeah, cause you haven’t told me to stop yet.”

“Euryalus, he locked the rest of our weapons in one of the rooms! These are the only ones we have, none of us could open it up-“ Telemachus looked towards the group of new suitors, who immediately drew their weapons at the sight of the both of you. “Shit.” You cursed under your breath, you were kinda having a moment here. With much annoyance your stance changed from relaxed and playful with your axe on your shoulder, to a defensive battle stance with your weapon at the ready. Even with Telemachus, you could only handle so many suitors. “Hey Tele, remember what I told you about hunting wild hogs?” You asked as he looked at you incredulously. “Aim for the area around the shoulder or the head? [name], what does this have to do with anything-“ You cut him off with a mischievous grin barely lit by the torch. “Exactly. I suggest you aim for the chest since you’re too short for their heads.” You could practically see the gears turning in his head before he opened his mouth in a baffled offense.

You charged forwards to the four suitors, stepping on the torch and putting it out as you ran. You moved to the side of the group and swung your axe at the outermost member. He blocked your axe, and at the same time you heard the clash of metal from the other side of the group. You could barely see anything, but you recognized the silhouette of Telemachus fighting off the other two suitors. Another suitor came up from behind the one in front of you to aim his sword at your side. You pushed the sword blocking your axe downwards to block the other suitor’s sword, before pushing both of them off. Spinning around, you hit the head of the first suitor you attacked with your axe, killing them. The sight of another sword in the corner of your eye made your breath hitch, it was far too close for you to move away and turn around to block. You still tried to pull up your axe to block it, and a spray of blood passed by your view. By the time you were fully turned around to face your attacker, they were clutching their hand in pain. Or more like their lack of one. In front of you stood Telemachus, sword in hand as he charged forward, stabbing the suitor in their chest while they were writhing in pain. “[name], what did I say about minding your surroundings!” Telemachus said concerned as the suitor died and joined the rest of them on the floor. “Hey, it turned out okay in the end. He’s dead and I’m alive, I’ll be fine-“

A large thud behind you made you jump, and you slowly turned around with your axe held up. “You know, my son is right. If neither of us were here, you’d be another body on the floor.” You blinked and stared at the man before you. “Father!” Telemachus gasped from behind you. Oh. OH. “Odysseus?” You asked bewildered. He was a lot shorter than you expected. Now you know why Telemachus was shorter than all the men his age and you while his mother still towered over everyone in the room. He nodded with a gentle smile. “And you’re the [name] my son has so fondly told me about.” He said as he drew back his bow. You looked back at Telemachus and you both made eye contact, before you looked at Odysseus. “Wait, what? He talks about me? Wait, what did he say? Tele, you better not have told your father about the sand incident.” You heard him stifle a small chuckle, and you whipped around to gasp at him with all the exasperation you could manage. “You did not!”

“I did.” He said unapologetically. You stared at him in betrayal, jaw dropped before turning back to Odysseus. “Hey, your majesty, did you know that before I got with your son he trained Argos to run at me so he could pretend like he accidentally let him loose to make an opportunity to talk with mMMFFF!” Telemachus slapped his hand onto your mouth as you struggled against his arm. “I did not do that, she’s lying.” He said indignantly as Odysseus stared at the two of you amused. You shoved at Telemachus’s wrist while you both physically struggled against each other. You saw him eyeing your hand on his wrist and you looked at him sternly. “Don’t you even dare- OW!” The madlad bit your hand and you pulled away from him, your bodies detaching from one another. “You menace.” You said as he shoved his face into yours, mere inches away like you were mere moments ago. For a moment, he just stared at you and you stared back at him. It was like all the emotional intensity that was interrupted before was returning full force, a shameless rush of affection like a raging river. You’ve always been told by Penelope that there were moments between her and Odysseus that felt like time stopped, when they looked into their eyes and saw love for eternity in each other. But right now, you felt nothing close to that. It was like time was rushing past you with no end, quick and intense. Every small detail blurred together into Telemachus, and in his eyes you saw the life you have right now.

“Telemachus, I know little to nothing about you, and even less about [name], but I see the same love I have for your mother in you, and I see the same love Penelope has for me in [name].” You both stared at him, hands that had intertwined subconsciously squeezing tightly. Telemachus looked over to you, and once again you saw not just your life in his eyes, but yours and his. “I approve of this one.” Your lover blinked in sync with you. “Besides, weren’t you the one who said how much you loved it when she stood up for you before you got the courage to fight Antinous?” Telemachus stared at his father and after a beat of silence, screeched with embarrassment. “FATHER, DON’T-“ You looked at Odysseus with a devious grin, and began to explain every single Argos incident while Telemachus hid his face in your neck.

[put-me-through-the-wall]

All Bark, No Bite

━━━━⊱♡⊰━━━━

BodyGuard!Simon "Ghost" Riley x rich girl!reader

Word count: 2.6k

Summary: Simon takes on a job that may be more than he bargained for.

Content warnings: This story contains elements of intoxication, sexual assault, and violence. If you are not in the headspace to consume this content please scroll on.

A/N: Hello folks, I am kinda getting back into the swing of things. While working on another story this idea popped into my head and I had to get it down while the creativity was flowing. Pumped this bad boy out in one day so if it seems rushed I apologize. I just wanted to get it done tonight before I have to go back to work. As usual let me know what you think. If y'all like it I may do a part two. Thank you so much for all the support! Love you guys!

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At first Simon was irritated at such a small time job being given to someone with his expertise. Growing more resentful by the day as he prepares for his stay at your family's property. When he was offered a long term private security job he thought it would be more along the idea of escorting an important political figure or guarding an extremely dangerous weapon of mass destruction. He never thought he would see himself packing suits and nice shoes for a job.

He becomes a little less irritated when he is introduced to you. Seeing such a beautiful young woman greet him in the entryway of your dazzling family home he figures the next few months may not be so bad. Getting to watch a cute little thing like you all day stroll around the expansive acres of gardens and woodlands.

As he takes your delicate hand carefully in his own upon your first meeting. “Pleasure to meet you ma’am” making sure to use his best manners.

 You roll your eyes. "Why would I need a bodyguard?" you scoff to your father’s assistant, hardly bothering to make eye contact with Simon. 

Simon was taken aback by the rude attitude that mismatched with your sweet appearance. It is explained to you that now that you are going out on your own you need someone to make sure you're safe. After a huff you stomp off, thus beginning Simon’s first day. 

During your first night together he can see why he was requested for this job. As soon as the sun sets you're out the door without a word. Simon scrambles to catch up as you climb in the backseat of your private car. Slipping in just before the driver slams the door in his face.

"Oh my god, are you serious?" you look at him in shock. Scooting as far away from him as possible, pressing against the opposite car door, as if his very presence was an assault. "No way this is happening. You’re staying here,"

"Sorry ma'am. Just doin' my job," he firmly plants himself next to you and stares ahead. 

You huff and puff the whole drive to town. Complaining that he is going to ruin your night and scare away any man who approaches. Simon silently smiles under his mask at your bratty tone. 

When the car pulls up outside of a raging club you are quick to crawl over Simon's intruding frame and get out ahead of him. In your haste unintentionally flashing him a pretty view of your lace panties underneath your criminally short dress. 

You get a brisk pace once out of the vehicle, rushing past all the patrons and straight to the bouncer. Flashing him a smile and your ID he seems to already know you well and you walk past barely slowing down your pace.

The bounce is quick to halt Simon in his tracks though. Makes him stop to explain before reluctantly allowing him access.

When he step inside he is momentarily stunned by the pulsing colorful lights and pounding music. His height gives him an advantage as he scans the crowd of partygoers searching for you. You have managed to mix in with the sea of people while he was held up at the door. 

He pushes through to the bar, carelessly shoving away anyone in his path. Ignoring the excuse you's and angry swears tossed his way. He eventually finds you, sparkling in your rhinestone covered dress leaned provocatively against the bar trying to get the bartender's attention. He watches you bat your eyelashes and cross your arms under your breasts. Proudly showing off to anyone who would look your way. 

When you feel the large presence behind you, you look over your shoulder with flirty eyes until you realize who it is. "God, take a hint," you shout over the loud music. You turn back to the bar and bang your hand on the counter top, "Hey! can I please get a drink!" 

The bartender finally steps over. "What will it be tonight?" he greets you smugly with a knowing grin.

"Hm surprise me," you counter with a sweet smile.

He mixes a colorful drink and pours it into a martini glass before sliding it over to you. You hand over your gilded credit card, "Keep it open," you wink. You spin around while taking a sip of your drink, almost bumping into Simon.

"Look, if you're going to hang around all night you need to give me room to breathe at least." You shove your hand into his chest and push him away harshly. Though, frustratingly, he hardly budges. 

Simon suppresses the urge to grab your little wrist in his crushing grip and show you how to be respectful to others. Instead he stares down at you refusing to break your annoyed stare. He can tell you're used to people shrinking away under your gaze.

You quirk in an eyebrow and humorlessly chuckle before breezing past him and onto the dance floor. You maneuver into the crowd up towards the DJ. Simon keeps his distance for now allowing you to dance freely under his watchful eye. He finds a high table in an unlit corner of the club at the edge of the crowd. 

You move to the pulse of the music. Swaying your hips loosely, the jewels of your dress reflecting the passing lights. You spin and twist like a human embodiment of a disco ball in the center of the dance floor. Your free hand trails down your body sensually as you mouth the words to the song playing. You are carefree as you sip your drink quickly extinguishing its contents. 

It's not long until a stranger approaches you from behind. Both hands coming around you to pull your hips into them. You smile and move along with them. The man ducks his head down and whispers into your ear causing you to giggle. 

Simon hates watching this stranger run his hands along your perfect body. Smelling your perfume and touching your hot, soft skin. He knows the stranger only wants you for one reason and it angers him to watch. Simon feels a fury building inside of him but he stays put, not wanting to make a scene just yet. Waiting to see how far the exchange will go. 

The man's hand slides up your waist,  brushing the underside of your breasts. You don't seem to mind as you continue dancing, closing your eyes and bringing one of your hands up to hold onto the back of his neck and running your fingers through his hair. 

After a few songs together and several more drinks the man is now kissing up your neck and fully groping your body. The movements are growing more heated by the second. He whispers in your ear again and you bite your lip in response. You look through the crowd until through the wall bobbing heads your eyes find Simon's through the busy crowd. Your playful smile drops when he raises his hand to wave at you letting you know he is still here and still watching, much to your discontent. 

You spin around to meet the stranger face to face. Your movements have become sloppy and uncoordinated with the amount of alcohol in your system. You pull him down by his shirt so you can mumble in his ear once more. He smiles and grabs your hand quickly pulling you in the opposite direction. You nearly trip over your own feet following him. You look back at Simon and wave back sarcastically with a wink before disappearing in the crowd of dancing bodies. 

Simon makes a beeline towards you but by the time he breaks through the congestion of people you are nowhere in sight. He walks along the perimeter of the room not seeing you at the bar or sitting in the lounge area. He grows frantic in his search scanning for you but finding nothing. 

He find his way to a hazy corridor lit by strips of red lights along the ceiling. The walls lined with couples making out or smoking in the cramped passageway. He breaks apart a few offended couples to make sure it wasn't you. He can’t believe he agreed to do this shit. Chasing around a spoiled rich brat was not the job he signed up for. 

He reaches the exit door at the end of the hallway. He pushes through to reveal the dim city alleyway. Worn brick walls scattered with graffiti are lined with trash cans and dumpsters. He steps down from the stoop to the concrete ground littered with garbage. He looks back and forth, seeing no signs of life besides a few roaches scattering underneath an old can. He is about to head back inside for another look when a nearby noise catches his attention. 

He freezes in place until he hears more shuffling and soft mumblings. He steps quietly down the alley. Walking past one of the large dumpsters he locates the origin of the sounds. Finally finding you. You’re pressed against the side of the dumpster along with the stranger. 

The man's hand covers your mouth and his other freely roams your body, dipping underneath the hem of your dress. You whimper out weakly trying to push him off with no avail. Your unfocused eyes widen when you see Simon walking towards you. Your muffled protests grow more persistent as you plead for help. "I said shut up, bitch," the stranger hisses.

Simon’s brain short circuits at the sight before him. It all goes red. He wastes no time snatching up the back of man's jacket and yanking him off of you. Without the man holding you up, you fall back against the metal side of the dumpster. Weak legs unable to hold you up as you crumple to the dirty floor. 

Simon pushes the man to the other side of the alley and into the wall. Immediately bashing his shocked expression with several punches and he holds him in place by the collar. The man grunts out in pain with each hit, his cheekbone and eye socket swelling from the abuse almost instantly. 

"You like taking advantage of girls?" Simon questions dangerously. His voice came out as more of a growl before continuing his assault. “Piece o' shit. I’ll fucking kill you,”

In between punches the man attempts to put his hands up in dense, "I'm sorry man! I-I didn't know she was yours" the words quickly tumble from his bloody lips. 

Only infuriating Simon further he pulls his pistol from his concealed holster on his back. He grabs the side of the man's jaw harshly until his mouth is forced open. He shoves the barrel into the man's mouth. “I should blow your bloody brain out. That’s what I like. Killing sick fuck’s like you. Would you like that, mate?” He cocks his head in question. 

The man shakes his head urgently. Simon shoves the barrel further into his mouth, completely stretching the man's mouth open to fit the intruding cool steel. “It doesn’t feel good, does it? Being forced to take it, huh?” 

The man shakes his head again looking to be on the edge of tears. Simon removes the pistol from his mouth “I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Please don’t kill me” the man whimpers. Simon pulls the man off the wall and pushes him towards you, gun now pressed to the back of his head. 

“Don’t say sorry to me, say sorry to her” Simon demands

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry. I thought-” The man is cut off when Simon hits him in the back of the head with the handle of his pistol. 

“You thought nothin’. Just say you’re bloody sorry” He grits out. 

“I’m sorry” the man cries. 

Satisfied that the man has had enough punishment for now Simon reholsters his weapon and leans until he is only inches away from the man’s face. Simon’s crazed eyes darted across the man’s face. “If I ever see you again, you are dead. Yeah?” Simon's voice now scarily calm. The man nods frantically. Simon nods in return then shoves the man backwards. 

He falls back onto the dirty concrete ground roughly. He scrambles back up to his feet and bolts out of the alley way.  

Finally Simon turns his attention back to you. On your hands and knees sniffling as you gather several of your items that spilled out of your dropped purse. 

Simon quickly kneels down to meet you. "You alright?" you shake your head and look up to him pitifully. Your makeup is now smeared down your cheeks. Your hair hangs messily around your face. 

"He broke my purse," your words coming out slurred and whiney. 

Simon's heart pangs with sympathy as you hold up your sparkling purse to show its broken strap. 

"S' alright, we'll get you a new one," he gently takes your hands and brings you to your feet. He adjusts your dress for you, pulling down its hem to cover more of your exposed thighs and push your fallen strap back on your shoulder. As his hand brushes the exposed skin you shiver causing your skin to erupt into goosebumps. You hold your arms against your chest to combat the chilly evening air.

“He told me he just wanted to talk somewhere quieter. I-I didn’t even realize wha-” 

“Shh, S’ gonna be okay. You don’t need to explain. I know.” Simon takes off his large coat and puts it over your shoulders, pulling it tight around you so you are totally swallowed by its dense material.

"Can we go home?" you ask shakily.

"Course, ma'am" his hand comes around your shoulders to usher you out of the alley way. You wobble when you try to walk. Simon catches you as your legs start to buckle beneath you.

Without a second though Simon scoops you up in his strong arms. He is surprised at your lack of protest. You drop your head onto his shoulder as a few tears continue bleeding into the fabric of his shirt. You mumble watery apologies, half of the words lost as incoherent slurs.

"Don't need to apologize. Just doing my job, ma'am," Simon steps out to the road and sees your car parked and waiting just across the road. The driver hops out and opens the door for him. 

Simon carefully places you down on the seat before ducking into the car himself. When he sits you scoot closer and drop your head to lean on his bicep. Your arms wrap around his forearm, finger dancing across his skin tracing the veins down to his hand. You gasp when your blurry vision focuses on his bloody knuckles.

“Oh my god” you mumble.

“M’ alright ma’am. I’ve had much worse.” Simon reassures you. He looks down to see you already gazing up at him. Even with your disheveled appearance he can't help but think how effortlessly beautiful you are.

"You don't need to call me ma'am," you chuckle and rub your damp eyes, smudging your makeup further. 

"What would you like me to call you?" he asks. He brushes away a stand of hair in front of your eyes, tucking it behind your ear. 

"Don't know, what do I look like?" 

Simon takes a minute to ponder. He watches as the passing streetlights cast a fleeting light into the window of the backseat. The yellow beams illuminating across each rhinestone on your shimmering dress peeking out from underneath his jacket. Your diamond earrings and necklace frame your face, matching the rest of your glittering outfit. Simon thinks they are nothing compared to the sparkle in your big round eyes. Then he wonders when he becoming such a hopeless sap. He wonders if you will even remember this in the morning.

All that fuss and harsh words from you earlier now a distant memory as you lean against his side. You were wrapping around his arms in a vice. Legs curled up under you, one of your heels had fallen to the floor of the car. You look up at him expectantly still waiting for an answer. 

"You look like a princess,"

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[freaky-deaky-cookies]

Hi can I make a request I totally understand if you don’t want to write about this. I wasn’t sure if you take angst request like this so im sorry if I’ve sent this and you dont take requests like this. My request is for bg3 companions with a tav who is kind of a shell of a person. Like a demon could take their soul and they would fine with because they see no use for it. They just sort of go through life and are just waiting for their death. This is due to their tragic backstory that I won’t go into detail about but there is themes of repeated sa involved (you don’t have to mention this if you don’t feel comfortable) this request is based off of my oc which I hold very close to my heart and really just looking for some comfort right now. Like I said tho if this isn’t something you are comfortable with I completely understand.

BG3 Companions x Tav who is an empty shell (Comfort HCs)

Gale

Gale is a lot more perceptive than he appears to be

He notices the void of sadness behind Tav’s eyes

If Gale felt a genuine concern for Tav, he would ask to speak to them in private

When he approached them, he would not demand attention. Instead, he’d sit quietly beside them, offering only the weight of his presence. He wouldn’t try to fix them, but simply be there, sharing the silent knowledge that sometimes, just being was enough.

Wyll

Wyll would approach the situation quietly and calmly

He wants to ensure Tav knows that he – and the others – are a safe place for them to feel whatever they need to 

Offers a listening ear and only comments if asked

“I know what it feels like to think you’ve lost it all,” he’d begin, his gaze gentle. “But I want you to know something. You don’t have to carry this alone. You have people here who care. And that’s worth something, even when it feels like it isn’t.”

Astarion

He understands, he really and truly does

He himself has been there hell, he is still trying to dig his own way out of the void

Astarion was not a man accustomed to offering comfort. He was far more at ease with sharp words and cynical humor than with gentle reassurances. But with Tav, it was different. When he saw the emptiness in their eyes, he felt an instinct he couldn’t ignore—a tenderness that surprised him, even though he would never admit it aloud.

“You know," he’d start, his voice unusually soft, "you’re not as invisible as you think. I see you. I know what it feels like to be hollow—nothing left but the shell of a person. But you’re still here. Still standing. And that counts for something."

Lae’zel

Comfort is not her strong suit, like at all

While she may not take the most gentle approach, she respect Tav like no other and does not with to bring them any unwanted harm

She didn’t have the words to soothe the soul, but she had something she could give: strength. Her voice would be sharp, but it was clear she was trying to reach through to them, to remind them of the warrior they had the potential to be.

She wouldn’t coddle Tav, but her presence would be one of unwavering support.

Halsin

(I believe he would be the best to go to when faced with anything troubling)

His own heart breaks at the sight of someone he holds dear in so much pain

While Tav does not show it, he knows them well enough to see through that facade

“You are not beyond healing, Tav,” he’d say, his voice like the rustle of leaves in the wind. “It may not be quick, and it may not be easy, but you can grow from this. And I’ll be here to help you, however long it takes.”

Shadowheart

Shadowheart understood loss in a way that few could. Having sacrificed so much in the name of her faith, she had learned the deep ache of feeling lost and broken, even as she clung to hope. When she saw Tav, something in her recognized the emptiness—the hollow look in their eyes that mirrored the darkness she had once lived in.

Shadowheart would not push Tav to speak, but she would stay close.

Jaheira

Jaheira wouldn’t offer empty platitudes or tell them to ‘snap out of it.’ Instead, her words would be measured, rooted in the kind of wisdom that comes only with age and experience.

Jaheira wouldn’t rush toward Tav or overwhelm them with too many words. Instead, she’d give them space but remain near enough to show she was there, a steady presence in the quiet of the camp. Her approach would be measured, as she always was, and her tone would be gentle, but there would be no hiding the firmness of her resolve.

Mithara

When she saw Tav—someone who had already resigned themselves to the idea of being worthless, someone who had already given up on their own soul—it hit Minthara harder than she would admit. It was a reminder of the darkness she had lived in and the toll it took.

“I won’t pretend I have the answers. And I won’t ask you to simply believe in something when you don’t,” Minthara would say, her voice tinged with the knowledge of her own mistakes. “But I can tell you this: You don’t have to walk through it alone. If you want me to stay, I will. If you want silence, I can give you that too. I am here.”

She would stay by their side, offering her presence more than anything. It wasn’t a grand gesture, and it wasn’t about trying to force Tav to snap out of it or seek some grand redemption.

Karlach

"Hey," she’d say, sitting down beside Tav and offering her broad, calloused hand. "You’re not in this alone, alright? I’ve been to places where I didn’t think I’d make it through. But I did. And I don’t care how long it takes. You’re going to make it too. You don’t have to be alone in this. Not while I’m around."

Her words would be warm, her fire like a shield around them. She’d hold Tav’s hand and, even if they didn’t respond, she wouldn’t leave. Her presence was a quiet promise that they didn’t need to do this by themselves.

[murdrdocs]

Little miss Americana coming over to try n seduce Rick who’s like twice her age, trying to find a reason to get off his porch n into his living room and pants. with like idk a batch of cookies or it cld be guised as her coming over 2 discuss some community issue she doesn’t give truly give two figs abt… how surprised wld he be when he finds out she actually just wants to um.. fuck!!!! 😳😳

and you're so right anon! MDNI 18+ w/ RICK GRIMES

you think you're being obvious.

a faint scent of soft perfume clinging to your skin and clothes, a sweet smile and wide eyes painted onto your face, jeans that hug your ass and hips and a top that showed a hint of your cheetah print bra. it's your third time here since they've all moved in, surely rick knows what you're up to.

but from your end, rick grimes is either painfully oblivious, or pretending to be. when he opens the door, he seems shocked for a second. his eyebrows slightly raised, lips tugged up at the corners just enough for you to notice, blue eyes staring straight at you before they slowly trail down to the porcelain plate with stacked brownies in your hands. he adjusts his stance, worn in boots thudding against the hardwood, and he leans further into the door.

"is that for me?" he asks before correcting himself. "for us."

you can hear the subtext in his tone. what he doesn't say is more?, or again?. but rick says what he feels, you know what, so you reason with yourself that if he didn't want you here, he would kick you off of his porch.

hopefully you can manage to make your way into the house this time.

you nod, considering thrusting the brownies out to him. before you can complete the movement, you hold the plate closer to your chest. as of right now, this is your way in. "yeah, they're for you," a moment of hesitance, then, "and whoever else you wanna share them with."

rick smiles though the gesture doesn't completely spread up to his eyes. he reaches his hand out and there's no longer an excuse for you to hold the treats hostage, so you extend them to him, trying to ignore the way your heart begins to sink.

for the third time in less than a couple of weeks, you've found yourself on the porch of house 101, practically canvassing except you're attempting to promote yourself. it's as if you're saying please have sex with me!. at least that's what you're trying to say, coming over here in denim skirts, flowy sundresses, and now your best pair of jeans that have somehow managed to hang on. if he's still not getting it, then you'll have to try something else.

when rick asks you, "is there anything else i can do for you?" you grin for a moment before dropping it for a solemn look.

you play with your nails, curling your body in on yourself as you nod, look at the floor, and say, "yeah, actually".

it works. ricks tone is softer when he tells you to come in. he holds the door open for you, closing it behind you as you walk further into the house.

you've only been in here once before, back when you first got to alexandria and deanna let you tour a few houses before you moved into yours. not much has changed, it's not like rick's group could go out shopping or anything, but the atmosphere feels different.

you're already heading towards the kitchen when rick's voice tells you to go there.

you end up standing against the island, your hip pressed into the counter. rick stands across from you, mirroring your position. he crosses his arms over this chest, furrowing his eyebrows as he stares down at you.

"what's the problem?"

you hesitate and rick takes it as nervousness.

he bends a little to meet your eye. "nothing to be nervous about. you can tell me, alright? it's just me and you here."

good, you think to yourself.

rick stands straight, staring down at you. he knows.

he's not an idiot. it may have been a while since he's had someone flirting with him, but he still knows what it looks like. he remembers the way suspects would scoot closer to him when he interviewed them, or how waiters serving him and shane would continuously find reasons to come by their table.

rick knows when he's being flirted with.

but he's just playing along for now, seeing how far you're planning to take this.

you hesitate after his question, glancing around the kitchen before your eyes land on the brownies sitting on rick's counter.

"do you mind?" you ask him as you reach for a square. rick shakes his head as if to say go ahead. he wasn't going to eat it anyway, not yet at least.

you take your time chewing the first bite and as rick stands there, forced to watch you stall, he starts to consider that there isn't anything wrong at all. that this is another ploy.

he tries to hide his smile, glancing to the side and taking sudden interest in michonne's sword sitting atop the mantel in the living room.

when he looks back at you, you're licking your thumb and then shooting your tongue out over your lips to clean any crumbs.

jesus, you're not hiding it anymore.

"the problem is ..." more hesitance and rick blatantly raises his eyebrows. "i just feel like some people in the community are reluctant to accept your new position of power here. it feels like disrespect, doesn't it?"

rick shrugs. he agrees, but it's fine. when the time comes, they'll see. "deanna gave michonne and i this position so it's not up to the others, is it?"

"yeah, but," you take a step closer, forcing the tension between you two to exist in an even tighter space, constricting it to the point that rick knows it'll eventually come to a climax. "surely something can be done."

you sound so sincere and right now, rick doesn't know if this is something you've made up to get yourself in this position, or if it's coming from a place of genuine worry. it could truly be either, he concludes.

either way, you're here, in rick's kitchen, standing nearly toe to toe. this close rick can smell your perfume and see the coating of makeup on your eyelashes and over your cheeks. you dolled yourself up to come over here and see him.

it's cute.

"i appreciate the concern," he tells you.

you don't say anything for a moment. you're just looking up at him, lips parted, eyes a little wide. rick stares back and that's how he notices when you glance from his eyes to his lips.

for a moment, you aren't sure you're going to do anything. you consider continuing your bullshit story and then going back home to force your hand between your thighs once more. but something comes over you and suddenly you're moving closer, standing on your toes to inch your lips closer to ricks. you're moving slowly, leaning room for him to move away if he wants to.

even further, you stop before you can get too close, and when nothing happens, you whisper, "please."

rick swears under his breath, nearly too quiet for you to hear but you think he simply says the lords name.

he knows what you want, he's known for a little while now, but having you so bluntly ask for it like this does something to him. a chill runs down the back of his neck as he's moving closer, asking if you're sure through a single breath, and as soon as you nod he has his hands cupping your face and your back pressed into the counter.

[chaoskull]

Briton Rivière - Una and the Lion

Devoided of Words - part 2

Lion El'Johnson x fem!reader

Summary: Lion has now learned about his mistakes, but in a moment of closeness in isolation, was he truly able to keep such a promise of composure?

Thank you so much for the love on Part 1!

Finally finished part 2, I'm not sure what happened, I had a clear vision on the start, but then I just kept going.

Days have passed since she last saw him, from what she has heard, nothing like that has happened ever since, it was most likely he'd been in the castle for a week.

Unexpectedly, as she wanders through the fortress, she hears the voice of Luther.

A window seat outlooks a patio below, if she's lucky enough she may be able to see him, so she sits inclined forward to observe the scene below her. She can't quite make the situation he's being punished for, but through the strings of curses, and the anger of the one reprimanding him, she can recognize that he won't be able to leave his wrath until he deems him conscious of his actions.

Lion stares at the man, Luther scolds him, but all he thinks is how those men dared to take him away from you days ago, their smell must've been all over you, he despises the ideia. He wished nothing more than to hold you again, bathe you in his scent, he must take you away from them, where no one is to find your location, to be the two of you alone in your closeness.

He knows what he's done is wrong, the look Luther gives him says much, but he ignores the motive he was actually here for, he is to find you tomorrow at best, perhaps you may be near the place he once found you.

Something catches his attention, he's being watched, instinctively he looks up only to find her, she quickly tucks her head in to view him more discreetly, blocking his sight of her. The words stop for a moment and she hears the movement of steps of someone in armor.

Luther approaches the boy, he follows the boy's gaze to the window and he questions Lion, firmly pointing up to the window, he looks back at him dismissively, Luther sighs and pats the boy on the shoulder leading him away.

Now she's curious of the boy's behavior, she'll have no other way, she must find him and have her answers. He might've not spoken to her, but his conviction afflicted her, his utmost obstinacy and determination captivated her. ‘Today I must wait, they don’t seem to want to leave him alone yet’ she concludes.

Luther never thought one could improve their knowledge in such short time, and yet the young man, who he discovered, is far more clever than others he'd deem near his age, in addition to that, he knew nothing before he was taken to study.

To learn a language, as late as the boy started, is both complicated and grueling. He heard from a few colleagues that it would be hard to teach the boy, but this case is exceptional.

Values and morals are complex to understand, but Lion seems to absorb them at an incredible rate.

However, the knight can be stressed at times the beastly habits the boy shows appear erratically, it was to be expected. He was to make Lion into an honored person, he decided it'd be best to teach him another lesson on the matter.

He guides Lion to a study, where he can learn and be uninterrupted, as it seems the boy seems not to care for his teaching. The walls of the room seem to be entirely covered in books, he takes a long while finding which to take as he looks back he's met with the bored gaze of the boy, he's in desperate need to find a second tutor to supervise him.

A round wooden table is positioned in the middle of the room, he places a book he deems fit to educate the young man on it and sits, gesturing for Lion to do the same.

He does what the man asked of him and sits, he did not wish to be reprimanded again, specially after being chastised in her presence, it was humiliating to know that she was attentively watching as Luther shouted rules and principals at him, he doesn’t feel anger as much as he’s ashamed, he thinks she know what it meant when he was punished, that he was wrong for his doing, and so if he was to see her again only for her refuse him as she initially did.

The book cracks when opened, Lion awakes from his thoughts, and Luther starts, he speaks with clarity to emphasize every syllable, the boy was sick of this, he takes a look at the book, searching for words, focusing on their meaning, he points to 'need' and 'girl’.

He did not want to be separated from her so quickly, their moment together was far too short, and yet he yearns for her.

"You've known her for minutes! What are you talking about?!" Luther exclaims, perplexed by his proclamation, "No, you do not." He says as clearly as possible for the boy to definitely understand.

The answer is a simple connection for Lion now, the opposite of ‘no’. "Yes." Lion replies, it's been days since he uttered a word from his mouth, his deep voice, without practice, is hoarse as he speaks. “So now you speak, I see” Luther is starting to feel more irritated by the second.

“I will take you to her, you finish this first” He gives in to the boy’s wishes to prevent what could become a far worse scenario.

Lion's eyes are now trained to the book in full concentration, he silently hears the teachings, just as how it was in his initial days, when he was completely foreign to civilization.

As Luther explains to him the subject of human relations yet again, he disciplines the boy about the importance of boundaries to prevent the boy from being part of another disastrous scene. Lion waits for this expendable conversation to end.

Lesson concluded, as promised, Luther took the boy to where she could possibly be, he found her at a secluded watchtower, now abandoned, many artifacts, books, and scrolls could be seen everywhere.

She was sitting on a couch that was pushed in front of a bookshelf but quickly got up to greet them. What he did not expect was to not be acknowledged, she looked at Lion, who stood still as if he was asking for a cue so he could act.

The look they give each other is what one could describe as embarrassment or nervosism. Luther stands in front of the girl, grabbing Lion by the arm as if he'd latch himself at her immediately if he were let go, they were two adolescents, an adult figure interfering their communication, and so they stare at each other not knowing what to do.

Although it's clear something else is present in Lion's mind, he seems tense at the presence of Luther near you, his jaw was clenched, shapely eying the man, he wishes to get rid of him.

“I've come to you as it seems Lion is fond of your company, I am in need to have a reunion with members of the order” Luther speaks breaking the silence, he pats the boy on the shoulder and takes his leave. “I'll leave you two be, Lion” He says in a warning tone.

The moment the knight is out of sight he gets closer, he knows you won't be interrupted a second time if he is to be less abrupt, so he tries to get near her as caustically as possible. That is in his view to walk towards her and embrace her in his arms.

Luckily she expected it to be like this and so she lets him hold her, waiting until his grip on her loosens a little to move back.

“Do you… speak now or…?” She tentatively asks and receives no verbal answer, only another grunt.

He tries again to envelope her in an embrace, but she quickly catches his arms holding in place, he leans forward anyways, in what could be almost considered a careful attempt to pounce on her, only to make her stumble from his weight and fall back to the couch.

She winces, being squashed between him and the furniture. “What a graceful hunter you must've been.” she comments and is met by a displeased gaze from Lion. “...you understand me?” she asks, curious to know if he knew what she said.

He presses her further on the couch only to drop himself entirely on top of her, pulling his arms off her hands. He nods, no matter how much he learns, he's always kept himself silent, although now that could change, there is more that stops him from doing so.

Even in an environment that is foreign to him, Lion had always had himself in control, as a hunter he'd have a plan for all possible scenarios in his head. Now his issue was not one in need of a violent or authoritarian resolve, he was to present himself in a much different way, one he had no idea on how to do so.

Caring gestures were out of his mastery, as of now he's found a solution, closeness. At times, in the forest and castle, he'd been observant of the couples, both beast and human, one common factor had always been fisical affinity.

In truth, the reason for his lack of words was that Lion was not trusting of his speech, he had no knowledge of the habits of humans in such regard, as the subject seems to be closed for those who participate in such costumes and Luther had no interest in teaching him about such things.

The girl was waiting for a response that would not be uttered, even if he did know what she said meant he could not answer her yet. His expression said enough, he thinks, although in her vision he practically didn't move a line on his face. But one thing didn't change, his eyes, once again, almost made her tremble in his hold.

He leans in, his face getting closer to hers for a second - she notices the awful bruise he must've gotten had healed already - only to nuzzle on her hair and shoulder. She will be certainly his, he'll make sure they will all know that.

“What are you doing, Lion?” She says, just to avoid having a long period of stillness.

Placing her hands on his shoulder blades she can feel the rise and fall of his breaths, and when doing so she notes a fairly small hum coming from his throat.

Shifting slightly to properly lay on the couch she accidentally drops a book she was reading before. The action surprised Lion, lifting himself from her to look at the perpetrator only to find another book, how he despises them now.

She reaches out for it but is stopped by Lion who takes it himself and is about to throw it across the room “You want to read it?” He stops to look at her, she seems so interested as she looks at him in fascination, an itch let her read it takes ahold of him, no matter how much he despises when Luther does so.

Shoving the book to her, she takes it, and opens to reveal what appears to be a historical book, she does not truly know what could be understood by him, but regardless she starts to read to him.

Lion didn't care for it, he stopped listening after a while, all he could concentrate on was her voice, her lips, and eyes. He had to sit beside her, inclining into her back. A hunting beast can wait patiently for long before they are certain they'll claim their prey, and now he embraces her, in a blissful moment, as if his life depended on it.

A true successful capture would be if no one was to disturb the two of them, but that will soon happen no matter how much he's against it.

I'm not sure I'll be able to continue writing so I kinda left it on an open ending, hope yall like it!

[strawberrydutchling]

Little Coffee Shop II | Transformers Au

Summary: You meet Jazz!

You like your job. But that doesn't mean you don't have your least favorite part of it. Case in point, cleaning the dishes. Specifically, cleaning the burn stains of the pans after accidentally putting them on a high flame for too long.

'That's the last time I take chocolate-making lessons from a short video.'  You internally sighed after you finally finished rinsing the last of the bowl.

In the process of putting them on the dry rack, you heard the hanging chimes by the door ring.

"Hellooo~, [Name]? You here?" A loud voice boomed through the once-quiet atmosphere of the cafe. A small gasp almost left your lips in surprise. You knew fully well who that voice came from.

"Jazz, is that you? Hold on a second, I'll be right there! "

You picked up the pace putting them all on the drying rack as quickly as you could, wanting to personally greet one of their f̶a̶v̶o̶r̶i̶t̶e̶ customers.

(Regular is an understatement. Though you were not hiring, Jazz occasionally plays live music for the cafe, when he's not busy with assignments and student Council work. You once asked him about it, and he simply replied he 'just really loves playing music and enjoyed the vibe of the place' as he put it.

... Noble his words may be, you're pretty sure he's doing it 'cause of the free snacks and drinks that comes with the gig. )

After wiping your hands with a dry cloth, you step out of the staff room, ready to greet the young mech.

You walked out of the staff room, and there stood a figure standing by the coffee bar, dressed in white and black. You could see Jazz's face beaming the moment you came to view it. "He~ey! There you are! Mah favorite barista!"

He sure has a way with words, and his accent adds more charm to it.

You couldn't  help but share the same sentiment and gave your own brightened face."Good morning, Jazz. It's been a while." Summer break is 3 months for the university, and it didn't seem much has changed for Jazz by the looks of it. Same stance, same attitude, and same blue visor.

Though... is he taller? The last time you saw him, he was just about your height! But now, he was looking down at you...

Wow, Summer growth sprout is no joke.

" 'Certainly has! Sorry, I didn't stop by on the first day. It's only been the first week and some of the profs are already bombarding us with quizzes. " He sighed in exasperation.

"It's fine. student life isn't exactly easy, so I understand. But I am honored that you even thought about visiting me." You smiled at the compliment, if not, flattered even.

"Well, why wouldn't I? 'is not every day I get to enjoy good coffee and chat with a cute barista. "

. . .D, did he just--?

Oh....

OH!

OH MY PRIMIEJDJD-- um, Sir?? It's too early for this!

"aurgh-HEM!" You let out a rather loud cough, turning away like you're going to break a neck to prepare the ingredient... and to hide the rising flush on your cheeks.

Did I forget he has a...way with words, too? Unfortunately, you still aren't used to ... that.

"W-what can I get for you?"

You heard a low chuckle coming from behind, which you chose t̶r̶y̶ to ignore. He sat on a stool, which was facing right in front of you. "I'm feeling like taking a Double Espresso today. So, I'll have that. "

"Mhm. Cool, cool. .." You muttered, nodding and writing it down on a pad (still refusing to look back). Jazz is a variety type of mech, willing to try everything on the menu. Sometimes he will ask for something creamy, or something bitter... It really depends on what he's feeling.

Though, either way, he usually like to accompany with something sweet. Something like...

"Would you want a slice of cheesecake to go with that?"

Though you weren't looking, you could tell by the faint gasp that those words caught his attention.

"You got it on strawberry or blueberry?"

"Both."

"Then, I'll take the strawberry—"

"Okay, one slice of strawberry... "

"... 'Cause I want to taste something as sweet as you. "

.  . . . .

Dear Primus, help you.

｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡☕｡･ﾟ♡ﾟﾟﾟﾟ

An amused laugh escaped Jazz's as he watched you scurrying into the back room. He could feel his grin grow when he heard a faint sound of am embarrassed groan, barely audible but he knew it came from you. It's cruel, but just couldn't help it! It can be fun to tease you.

It's the way your face make when he pulls out some unexpected lines, ranging from a nonchalant blank face to frozen surprise 'as a deer-in-the-headlights.'

Once that amusement subsidized and the laughter died down, he sat there in comfortable silence. The soft melody of jazz music playing in the background. He takes a look at the place, eyeing every little detail. Nothing much has changed- same white accent walls, and same decor with the motivational words.( Even the one that says: Keep Calm, Fuck Shit up, courtesy from a certain red and orange speedster.) There's even the small stand where he used to do play live music. He's thinking about doing that again soon.

And most of all... same you. Same adorable you. 

"I'm back!"  Your voice snapped him out of thought, leading him to turn head and watched you push the door with your back as both arms were currently occupied carrying ingredients.

"Sorry, 'had to get a few things." You sighed as you placed the items on the counter.

You turned back to face Jazz. It seemed like you've already calmed down from his little teasing. A calm, service smile now evident on your face.

"Your order will be ready in 5 minutes. "

A low amused chuckle rumbled in his chest. "Take your time, doll. I'm not going anywhere any time soon. "

ANOTHER CRITICAL HIT! Just when you calmed down too... At least you didn't almost drop the cup (this time).

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

Comment on who you would like to meet next. They're highly appreciated!

[hircines-hunter]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @skyrim-forever

Gonna tag @thequeenofthewinter @bougainvillea-and-saltwater @umbracirrus @moicaire @vivifriend

@pocket-vvardvark @fangsandsoftgrass @nyarevar @oblivions-dawn @illumiera

@sulphuricgrin @moriche @theoneandonlysemla and anyone else that wants to do it! And please tag men if you do it and didn’t tag you! Crying gently! But anyways!

Uh don’t really know what to share. I have a bunch of wip but it’s like….. spoiler or just…. Not good lol. But this may also be boring lol. Just a short conversation about Sifkni, and past events between two Werewolves

“She’s rather unconcerned about this all.” The older Nord woman puffed on her pipe. She watched the group surrounding the Hare from the safety of her camp. She watched as Sifkni’s camp slowly woke up except for the owner of the camp. Kolfreyja knew Ilfhil, but why was that Nord ignoring the Hunt and providing safety for the Hare? She wondered.

“Want me to go stir things up?” A large Nord pushed away from the tree. He cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders.

“No. Not yet, Kristjan. Gunnar isn’t back.”

“We don’t need him, Kolfreyja. We can handle four werewolves. That boon can be ours.”

Kolfreyja laughed as she took another puff of her pipe. “I don’t doubt we could. But you saw what they did to Saoirse and Nilara. And the Hare’s old pack. She killed [redacted].”

“Well, he’s not really dead. He will come back in a few days. Maybe sooner if Lord Hircine wills it.”

Smoke billowed from the old woman’s nose. “If the Lord Huntsman wills anything. Besides, remember the last time you underestimated a Hare.” She cackled.

Kristjan groaned. “Aye. Aye. Mother of Hunters kicked all of our asses. Especially mine and Gunnar’s.”

“I’m also waiting for Lady Adelina to join in soon.”

Kristjan laughed. “You think she will?”

Kolfreyja puffed on her pipe. She hummed. “At least for a while. I don’t think she will be happy either way….”

Kristjan hummed. “You don’t think?” He laughed. “How much do you wanna bet the loving couple will have a fight?”

“Oh, I’m not betting. Lady Adelina is going to throw a fit. Maybe even cancel the whole Hunt.” The old woman laughed as smoke surrounded her. “No matter, we will participate until she states otherwise.”

[1toreyouapart]

The Lies We Tell

***FANFIC THAT INVOLVES REAL PEOPLE. 18+ ONLY. MDNI. DO NOT READ IF YOU DON’T LIKE FANFIC THAT INVOLVES REAL PEOPLE***

Summary that tells you nothing: Sometimes everything you ever wanted has been right there, within reach, all along.

CW/TW: Angst, fluff, swearing, friends to lovers, jealousy, smut, fingering, PinV, pet names, friends with benefits, mention of mental health (past attempt), more to come as I actually get things written out.

Masterlist

We Mend

Days. Days of her moving out of his way. Of her refusing to look at him or acknowledge his presence, even though he was right there next to her. It was enough to drive him insane. He almost preferred her yelling at him. Maybe he had crossed a line. Probably not the best thing to bring up her past struggles with her mental health. He literally could have said anything but that. Yet he’d chosen to go that route. Like a prick.

Noah watched in silence as she brushed right past him, setting her coffee on the counter. Not a word out of her, even to tell him to get out of her way. She just moved past him, like he wasn’t there at all. Jolly cleared his throat, pulling his attention from her.

All of the guys sat at the kitchen table, heads down, pretending to scroll on their phones. He couldn’t blame them. Poor bastards were caught in the middle of his screw up.

“Sure is cold in here,” Jolly grumbled, glancing his way.

Fuck it. If she was going to refuse to speak to him, he was going to make it impossible for her to keep ignoring him. Let the games begin.

Moments before she picked her cup back up he snatched it from her grasp, smirking. Quinn’s eyes narrowed as he brought the cup up to his lips. At least now she was looking at him. Score one point for him. Slowly, dramatically, he took a sip, trying not to wince at how bitter it was. He’d forgotten she liked her coffee strong enough to degrease an engine and black. Jesus. No wonder she complained of her stomach hurting all the time.

“Give me my coffee.” Her voice was low, deadly.

“Mmmm.” He tapped his chin, pretending to think. “Nope. Thanks for the coffee, babe.”

“God. You’re such a fucking child.”

Noah laughed, walking away, cup of engine degreaser in hand. He wasn’t really going to keep it. Quinn was smart enough and knew him well enough to know that. However, he knew her well enough to know that she would follow him, claiming she just wanted her coffee back. When they both knew it was easier to just get a new cup of coffee. They’d been down this road before. However, he’d never snatched her coffee from her before. He was surprised she hadn’t hit him. She could be testy first thing in the morning. This may have actually been a miscalculation on his part.

With a weary sigh he set the coffee on his desk, settling into his computer chair to wait. Either she followed him or she didn’t and was downstairs setting a trap for him. Thankfully he didn’t have to wait long to find out. His bedroom door closed and he turned fully toward her, leaning back in his chair.

“Give me my coffee, Noah.” She sounded just as weary as he felt.

“Come here.” He patted his leg, motioning for her to come sit with him.

“Noah,” she whined. “Just give me my coffee, please. I’m exhausted.”

Definitely a jerk move taking her coffee. Guilt gnawed at him as he finally really looked at her. The dark circles under her eyes. How she stood there, shoulders slumped. She suddenly looked frail standing there in her sweatpants and shirt.

“Come sit,” he urged, holding his hand out to her.

Quinn groaned, acquiescing. Slowly, as though she wasn’t sure if she really wanted to she approached him, perching delicately on his leg. Exhausted but still stubborn as all hell. Noah rolled his eyes before fixing her with a stern look.

“Are you going to actually sit or do I have to do everything for you?”

“I’m tired, Noah. If I get comfortable I might fall asleep.” She yawned, stretching slightly.

“Then fall asleep, Quinn.”

“Too much to do,” she yawned again, relaxing into him.

To say he loved these moments was an understatement. The ones where no matter what was going on, no matter how mad at him she was, she just curled into him, tucking her head against his chest just as she was now. Nine times out of ten this was all it took. No words needed for an apology. Just a simple cuddle. But this time he had to apologize.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, burying his face in her hair. Peaches. She always smelled like fucking peaches and he loved it. “I crossed the line the other night.”

“I maybe might have, too. I’m sorry. But don’t take my coffee again. You’re lucky I’m too tired to fight.”

Noah chuckled, wrapping her up in a tight hug. These were the moments worth living for.

Tags: @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @mrscevans @supersquirrel1996

[inkpot909]

Your Relationship Trope (Bucciarati’s Gang)

↳ Gender Neutral Reader. Takes place after the events of Part 5 in a everyone lives!AU.

A/n: It’s been a while! I had to take some time for personal matters, so sorry for my absence. I wrote something just a tad more breezy to help ease myself back into it; I really missed writing. I hope y’all enjoy!

Warning(s): None.

Giorno Giovanna

-> Love at First Sight

This deeply romantic, cheesy, guy.

Because of how much he prides himself on understanding, and by extension owning, his own thoughts and feelings- he could tell there was something drawing him to you the moment he met you. A gut feeling that he’d really care to know you better; one that he knows better than to ignore.

Good luck trying to hide anything from him yourself, either. He is as good at reading others as he is himself.

Therefore, if you felt immediately drawn to him as well, he’s going to notice. You might not say anything outright or maybe try to bury it deep down… but either way, he can tell.

Not that he minds your affections, of course. Giorno gets into this cheeky habit of dangling the concept of a potential relationship above your head. Just out of reach.

Yes, it’s in part because he wants to tease you. Seeing you grow flustered at his unapologetically forward flirtations… it never gets old.

But Giorno is also a very busy individual.

It’s difficult for him to plan meetups with you, being gone for days on end at times. Even up and leaving at the drop of a hat if the need arises. He takes his position seriously, and has been a rather involved Don since day one.

And Giorno is a sucker for the details, so he won’t make the final push to become official unless it’s the perfect moment.

Luckily for you, he’s a patient guy.

And as mentioned, he can read you like an open book. He knows you’re not looking at other men or women. Keenly aware you’re waiting for him to make some grand gesture.

Some guilt inevitably spawns whenever he gets extra busy, but your happiness at getting to see him again quickly puts those worries to rest for the time being.

All that in due time… after all, if it’s really true love, he is in no desire to rush.

That being said, the people in his inner circle would absolutely like him to rush. Who knows about his feelings for you? Everyone.

That’s not hyperbole, he’s fairly certain everyone around him can tell.

He will never shut up about you. In damn near any situation where it may be appropriate. Not in any situation that it would potentially reach your ears.

Mista himself has commented that he doesn’t know which he would prefer: Giorno before a relationship with you or during. Either way he’s ‘dealing with a lovesick fool.’

Giorno doesn’t care much, already knowing it’s something his closest friends ought to get used to. Confident in himself and what he picks up on.

After all, your smile says what his mind is already thinking.

Bruno Bucciarati

-> Reunited Childhood Friends

Bruno Bucciarati is a man that has stuck with the same haircut and pattern of clothing since he was twelve years old.

Of course he’s still not over you by the time of the inevitable reunion. Like Giorno, he’s definitely a ‘one love’ sort of man.

Getting contacted by you felt like a dream… but it also brought forth initial hesitation.

Due to the specific turn his life took, he had to leave a lot of things behind. Some more regrettable than others… and you were one of his biggest regrets for a long time.

Regardless, his heart won that day- as he agreed to meeting up with you faster than he would care to admit.

The excitement and build up to it after a date was set is a beast in of itself. The prospect of finally seeing you again after all these years fills his chest with a warmth he’s only ever associated with you.

His mind whirls, all his thoughts leading back to the hope that he’ll get to know the person you have matured into.

Your career, hobbies, how your family is doing, the path you’ve been walking down ever since he’d left its course far too long ago… and him praying there’s a distinct lack of a ring on your left hand.

Bruno’s glad to say that his hopes were well-placed. Upon seeing you again, you proved to be just as eager to know how he’s been doing all this time.

Your questions leave him feeling bittersweet; something he knew would happen.

How could he even begin to explain himself? Would he even want to? You deserve more than a short explanation or a lie. But he cannot and will not bring you into gang affairs either. And if he was honest…. where would he even begin?

“I committed murder to protect my father when I was twelve and ended up entangled in gang affairs. Sorry for not giving you a phone call.”

… it needs work, to put it lightly.

He’s not the type to succumb to fear but… it’s difficult not to stress over what you would think of him if he’s completely honest with you. It’s a testament to how deeply special you are to him; hardly ever getting this mentally worked up over anything outside his beloved team.

The push and pull of wanting to be honest with you- yet not wanting to risk putting a target on your back.

Whether it’s due to the years of separation or just the undeserved kindness you offer him, at some point, you admit to only thinking of those old days fondly.

Regardless of being quite startled with his sudden absence in your life, you couldn’t hold it against him. You knew of his parents divorce, and the last thing you had heard, was that Bruno’s father was in the hospital.

At first, he’s just resigns himself into being gratefyl you had it within yourself to forgive him.

But how can he hope to ignore… how lovely of a person you have grown up to be- inside and out. In the long run, it just doesn’t happen. His feelings truly snowballing for the first time in years.

Suddenly, he feels like a foolish child again. Only now, he must be doing something right because you could cause traffic to stop with the way you start to look at him.

There’s a warm nostalgia to you. Someone who knows him; truly knows him. Outside of his work and the contradictions he over for it for years.

And it gets to a point where Bruno resolves he must tell you how he feels. And by then, he won’t dally.

You’re back in his life again, and he’s sure as hell not leaving. Especially not without expressing his feelings.

Only took him short of nine years.

Leone Abbacchio

-> ‘We’re Just Coworkers’

He doesn’t necessarily meet people outside Passione, not one to go out of his way to seek companionship.

He has the team. He has Bucciarati. There isn’t much he wants, or feels like he can, ask for.

It’s because of this that you both are most likely to meet through the organization.

And there’s no doubt that Abbacchio is… apathetic to your position in the gang at first.

Now, he’s not as harsh on you as he was comparatively to Giorno. You’re not a fifteen year old with a savior complex and a tendency to act with a sort of righteous grandeur.

So, in short, you’re already doing great as far as he’s concerned.

Not that he warms up to you quickly; quite the opposite. Weeks will pass before he starts to slowly accept and involve you in any meaningful capacity. A guy like him just needs time to get used to someone so new to him… lots and lots of time.

Once that need has been met, he figures you’re alright.

Not bad company- in or out of Passione business. Far favorable to other people around him, as far as he’s concerned. He finds that you’re much better to converse with than Mista or Fugo.

It’s in his nature to compare a little bit, so when he starts seeing you from a fairer perspective… that’s when a quiet appreciation forms.

Alas, his heart is not as immovable as he likes believing it to be.

Over time, the two of you start to metaphorically lean on one another.

It starts off professionally enough, relying on one another in the heat of battle. Then, it gets to a more personal level- quieter conversations maintained between the two of you beneath the usual noise of the others interacting just a foot or two away.

Still, you two only work together. It’s professional. Without question. At least, that’s the case if Abbacchio or you are asked about it directly.

But the others are oh-so-quick-to-point-out that him letting you crash on his bed during particularly exhausting nights is not exactly platonic behavior. Nor is just how sucked into conversations the two of you get, or how much time you spend one-on-one.

And Abbacchio is nothing if not the type to do the exact opposite of what everyone says.

He’s going to deny it for months. Hell, years if you let him.

Never mind the fact the two of you already act like a couple. Getting ‘mistaken’ as one when going out, regardless if it’s just the two of you or not. Each time, you’re both insistent that you’re merely work friends.

It would be ten times more frustrating if there wasn’t any truth to it that neither of you are prepared to admit to.

It takes a healthy amount of whack cartoonish logic for things to finally fall into place. Being locked in a small room for twenty minutes, or possibly an accidental kiss to the lips… that sort of thing.

Guido Mista

-> Coffee Shop Regular

Mista likes the simple things in life, no doubt.

There’s many ways that fact manifests. One example is that he often wanders around the city in order to check out local businesses. Diners, secondhand stores, and little coffee shops. He knows the area well, and likes sparking up conversations with the people he comes across.

And a cute worker at one of his favorite coffee shops? Makes his day even better, he’d figure.

He was already a regular at your place of employment long before you were hired. Meaning, when he saw a new face behind the counter, he had to offer a hello with a relaxed smile on his face.

And to his credit, it was incredibly easy to like him.

The type of customer who’s always in a decent mood, not too impatient, and always knowing what he wanted to order long before walking in.

Sprinkle in a pleasant ‘hello’ or a lighthearted joke every now and then, and he starts to notice your face brightening every time he enters the shop.

He won’t argue against the idea it fills him with something far deeper than pride.

Beyond finding you initially attractive, he considers you a good worker. He cannot imagine being a barista is always easy, but he’d care to point out that you make it look easy. You know his order by memory after a while, and conversation with you comes naturally.

And soon, the workplace barrier is finally shattered. Happening so casually it was practically thoughtless.

One day, Mista walked into the store just when you were sent on a break. He greeted you as always, and offered to sit with you while you decompressed with a cup of coffee of your own.

That’s when he’d say that something a bit more concrete formed. More real, past the relationship of worker and patron.

And he grows unapologetically forward by then too.

He’s not the type to hit on you at work, but certainly not above blatantly asking for your number after he felt it may be appropriate to do so.

He finds it to be a casual and natural progression, something that is in his nature to embrace.

Like Giorno, though, he’ll drag out the time before asking you out just in order to tease you. He doesn’t automatically figure out that you might be into him, but he’ll get the hint by the time you two start calling one another regularly.

He’s not easily affected by the others teasing him over you, either. He openly admits that he’s into you, why get embarrassed?

Now, if someone makes a comment about it in front of you, then he’ll get flustered. An emotion expressed through frustration and defensiveness.

Regardless of that, it’s such a relaxed progression that at some point he thinks meeting you may have been fate. There’s a ton of coffee shops all around Naples, yet you chose to work at one of the small handful he regularly likes visiting.

If his life is predetermined, like he believes it is, then he’s grateful fate is on his side.

Pannacotta Fugo

-> Friends to Lovers

This man looks at someone with a view on love like Giorno and scoffs with distain.

The notion of ‘love at first sight’ is one that is only entertained by foolish and idealistic individuals, according to Fugo. Rolling his eyes, a scoff escaping his lips… he thinks that mindset is ridiculous and is unafraid to express it.

Hell, romantic relationships aren’t even on his radar in general.

He doesn’t look down on or think negatively of anyone in one, of course. But it’s hardly ever on his mind. Focused on Passione and the team he is proud to be a part of.

And that doesn’t change one bit upon meeting you.

As usual, such a thing doesn’t cross his mind once. The prospect of a potential new ally and friend is the only one he cares to ponder, even if you start off on the right foot. He’s a little distant, but polite and fair enough to give you a chance.

Good thing he did to, as far as hindsight is concerned.

A funny individual and someone who hardly ever makes him want to flip a table? He’s glad to call you his friend once a foundation of trust is established.

If he thinks about it, he’d have to admit to himself there’s something very earnest and warm about the relationship.

You’re a good conversationalist, he respects your intelligence, and even silence around you is comfortable.

More than that, you’re reliable. Stress doesn’t come quite as easy whenever you’re around. And when it does, you understand him. You know just what to say and how to say it. And he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try to express the same kindness.

He starts thinking of you when you’re not around, especially when he’s alone. Thinking of anything from a fond or humorous memory, or simply the curve of your smile.

Oh… oh no.

Tackling his own growing feelings is a lengthy process. He wasn’t interested in seeking out a partner, but he catches feelings before he even realizes it.

And figuring out your feelings on the matter? Forget it.

He won’t say a thing unless you make a move yourself, too wary to even admit he could realistically do something himself. A fact the others are quite keen on reminding him of.

His insecurity won’t last forever, though.

Being around you is such a joy that it’s hard to get trapped in his own mind in the moment. That smile on your face, and sentences leaving your lips in the familiar tones of your voice…

You are his friend first and foremost; someone he feels he can really talk to and trust.

And that’s why you turn out to be everything he didn’t know he’d ever hope for.

Narancia Ghirga

-> Will They, Won’t They?

Giorno is going to start making Narancia pay for his therapy appointments. Abbacchio once made a sarcastic remark about wanting to start drinking again because of this. Mista has given Narnacia approximately twenty three lectures over the subject. Fugo is pulling his hair out.

And really, who can blame any of them?

Having to watch you and Narancia interact on a regular basis is a frustrating experience- to put it lightly.

That feeling only heightened by the fact that it’s something no one feels as though they can even comment directly on whenever you and Narancia are both around. Simply swallowing any words bubbling to the surface.

All this to say, Narancia falls for you quickly and he falls hard.

At first, there wasn't a single complaint to be had from anyone on the team. On the contrary, the others took the time to hype him up with wide smiles and pats on his back.

Narancia himself is excited to be experiencing something as genuinely sweet and grounded as a crush, and that elation was contagious.

But then a couple weeks pass... then a month... then another month... then another....

If the others were a smidge more invasive, they would've just pushed you two in front of one another yelling 'to just get on with it already' months ago.

Specifically Fugo, who actively lets it get to him in a way that Narancia merely huffs at. Sometimes offering a noncommittal response if he feels it’s necessary.

It doesn't matter how much his former tutor gets on his case, Narancia’s not budging. A light blush present on his face when he insists for the hundredth time that there's no way you could possibly feel the same.

Your own friends go through a very similar situation on the other end of things.

Similarly with someone like Abbacchio, the two of you act like a couple far before anything is set in stone. Unlike him, it's less causal and downright mind-boggling to the people around you.

Your legs lazily draped over his lap, going on drives that last for hours at a time, one barely ever seen without the other, and talking about each other constantly.

The latter became so frequent that Giorno once had to pull Narancia aside and tell him to stop mentioning you at Passione meetings.

Narancia has to bit his lip just to stop himself, but he manages. Much to the Don’s relief- never wanting to have that kind of conversation with a friend again.

Giorno cannot and won't try to control him outside of work, though, so it was merely half the battle.

Not that Narancia particularly minds the others' reactions to it very much.

Months into his affections and he's gotten used to the constant stream of teasing. Besides, he lies to himself figures that maybe they're just jealous. He wouldn’t blame them if that’s the case, finding you as special as any person can be.

Regardless of what anyone says, the sweetness is there.

An amusement to be had over how truly clueless the both of you are, despite interacting with flushed faces and stuttering words. It’s sweet, then annoying to the point where it circles around to being funny.

But you and Narancia retreat into your own little world where all of that melts away. He’s loyal, and since you hold his heart, it would be an understatement to say you’re just important to him.

Who will give in and admit the crush first? It's up in the air.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 20 - Birthmark

@jegulus-microfic November 20, Word count 922

Previous part First part

James was seething all over again. He couldn’t believe that Snape could sink so low as to have Regulus’s room destroyed like that because he was jealous of his art. James was glad Regulus was living with him because he would have ended up camping outside his door every night to make sure he was safe. He may only be in his twenties, but he didn’t fancy sleeping on the floor for the foreseeable future. He suddenly became aware of the scuffle beside him. Sirius was trying to get to Mulciber and Remus and Regulus were holding him back. James had thought Regulus would be more upset over the matter, but he seemed to be handling it well. James decided to stop pondering and actually help with Sirius. He came up behind him and lifted him off the floor. Sirius’s legs and arms were flailing everywhere, but James just walked him out of the doors and onto the grounds, heading towards the carpark. 

“Put me down, Prongs!” Sirius growled angrily as he tried in vain to weaken the grip James had on him. Regulus and Remus were just behind them. Remus had hold of Regulus’s hand, but Regulus seemed more concerned about calming his brother.

“Sirius, it doesn’t matter. I won anyway; my art is on show and his isn’t. I don’t need you to avenge me,” He pleaded, but Sirius wasn’t listening. 

“James, let go of me! Snape’s going to regret the day he messed with my little brother!”

“Sirius, will you calm down!” Regulus groaned. James got them to the car but then realised to get his keys, he’d have to put Sirius down, and that bugger could run like lightning given the chance. He’d never catch him if he got away now. 

“Reg, love, could you get the keys out of my front pocket?” He’d ask Remus, but these were some of his tighter jeans and the pockets weren’t all that roomie. Regulus’s hands were more slender than Remus’s. 

Regulus didn’t even hesitate. He plunged his hand into James’s pocket and fished out the keys while avoiding Sirius’s kicking legs. He unlocked the car and held the back door open for him. “Remus go round the other side and put the child locks on,”

“I am not a child!”

“Then stop acting like one.” 

Remus ran around, and after a second pause to click the little switch in the door, he jumped in. “Right, Padfoot in you go,” And James threw Sirius in feet first. Regulus jumped in after him, flicking the child lock at the same time and slamming the door. James could still hear Sirius’s protests from inside the car, but he could deal with that. He went over to the driver's door and got in, ignoring the profanity spouting from Sirius’s mouth, and drove them home.

“I take it you guys really don’t like Snape then?” Regulus asked during a lull in Sirius’s tirade. 

“Yeah, we were all living in halls last year and, unfortunately, so was he. He lived in the room next to mine and Sirius’s, and Remus was on the other side. He did not appreciate that we knew how to have fun, and he didn’t. He was always making complaints about us. We even offered for him to swap with Remus, and that way, he’d have an entire room between us, but he refused to give up his room. We, er, we may have pulled a few pranks on him.” James said as he stopped at the traffic lights. He pulled off again and turned into the carpark outside their block of flats. “Let’s just say we don’t get on and his friends aren’t much better than him.” James finished as he got out and opened the back doors to let his passengers out. Sirius, thankfully, had calmed down. He was clearly still plotting vengeance, but at least he wouldn’t go and do something stupid straight away. 

James’s phone rang and he answered it. 

“Oi, Potter. I’ve got space tomorrow if you still want that tattoo,” Mary said cheerily down the phone to him. 

“Yes! Definitely! I swear this time I’ll show up.”

“You’d better, or I’ll tattoo it on some rando,” She warned him mischievously. 

“I swear I’ll be there,” James promised. 

“You’d better. Love you,” Mary cooed at him and hung up. 

They walked up to James’s flat, and they all went inside. 

“Was that Mary?” Remus asked once they’d found seats and flopped down. 

“Yeah, I was on my way to get a new tattoo but then…” Regulus winced. 

“Sorry,” He murmured into James’s chest where he’d snuggled into. 

“Don’t be daft,” James chuckled, stroking Regulus’s hair out of his eyes. “That was important and Mary didn’t mind.” 

“What are you getting?” Remus asked with interest. 

“Regulus’s stag painting.”

“Sweet, where?” James leaned forward and dragged his t-shirt off over his head and, after moving Regulus a bit, he managed to swivel towards Remus and pointed at his chest.

“Right here, under Sirius’s stars and your moon. I thought the sunset would look good under them.”

“Oh, yeah, that’ll look great,” Remus beamed at him. Regulus’s finger brushed against his side; he tensed a bit at the touch as it tickled him. 

“You’ve got a birthmark,” Regulus said quietly as he traced the darker patch of skin. “It looks like antlers,” 

“Yeah, it does,” James laughed. “That's how I got the nickname Prongs,” James told him, and they broke into the story of how they all got their nicknames.