#FORGIVE ME THE QUALITY the hour is late and i am stupid

[awkwardalpha]

[whumpshaped]

have some tragic backstory idk

masterlist

tw vampire whumper, vampire whumpee, lady whumper, conditioning, torture, burns, dehumanisation, knives, stabbing, gore, disembowelment, choking

"You are late." She shut her book with a loud snap, making Helle wince. "Again."

"Yes, Mistress," they said quietly. "Things have gotten out of hand–"

"Have they?"

They bit the inside of their cheek, taking a deep breath before finally meeting her eyes. Lady Marie was sitting in her favourite reading chair, her piercing red eyes pinning them in place where they stood. She was wearing one of her finer dresses — maybe she was expecting visitors. Maybe they'd messed up royally.

They swallowed, trying not to think about the potential consequences of embarrassing her in front of others. "I brought a human," they offered. "A– a nice one."

"You have been away for hours."

"Yes, Mistress."

She didn't even glance at the enthralled human standing behind them. Her gaze remained entirely focused on them, heavy, almost crushing. It sent shivers down their spine. They desperately wanted to look away, but they also had a feeling she would pounce as soon as they did.

"And you brought a human. A nice one." Her mocking wasn't cold and vicious, already letting them know that at the very least they would go hungry tonight.

"Yes, Mistress," they said dutifully, voice barely above a whisper.

"Well, forgive me for not taking out the nice cutlery."

Helle opened their mouth to argue, then prompty closed it again. She would know they were lying, most likely. No vampire needed hours to find a suitable human. The only vampire staying out that long was a disobedient one.

"I... it will not happen again."

"Oh, it will not." She put the book aside and stood up, and Helle immediately took a step back, bumping into the stupid human. "I knew you would not dare leave me, of course. Apart from the fact that you would not survive a single night on your own, I happen to know that you are very loyal. A useful quality." She walked over to them, and if Helle had been alive, their heart would've been pounding in their chest. "But others... others might question that."

She wasn't expecting guests. The guests had already left the mansion, and they had been out and about the whole time. They tried to swallow the lump in their throat once, then twice. "I apologise, Mistress."

"Your apology is as late as your arrival, pet."

"But I assure you, the blood–"

She moved quicker than they could comprehend, grabbing them by the shirt and hauling them across the room. They hit the wall with a thud, then the floor with another, but they couldn't even get their bearings before the woman was already on top of them. "Do you know what it was like to stand in front of the duchess and say one of mine was out hunting?" she hissed. "Then wait for hours on end as she insulted and berated me because of your incompetence? And you want me to taste the blood of the one pathetic human you managed to bring back for me, as if you had done me a favour by doing the one thing you were made for."

She flipped open her pocket knife, and Helle immediately recognised it as the silver one. They lifted their hand in a pitiful attempt at self-defence, crying out in pain when Lady Marie simply put the blade through one of them. "I am sorry!" they said desperately as she yanked it out, but there was no peaceful quelling of her thirst for revenge at this point.

She stabbed them again, and again, and again, and again, her vampiric strength carrying her through the motions effortlessly, with speed that left Helle dizzy and disoriented. They couldn't block a single one, nor could they keep count. Each one felt more ruthless than the last, drawing all kinds of screams and whimpers from their throat — until she targeted their trachea, of course. It was only bloody gurgles and wheezing after that.

Their whole body was burning by the end of it. Their guts were spilling out onto the carpets, a crime they would no doubt be punished for later. They were well past the point of struggling. They lay still as the corpse they should've been, save for the involuntary twitching of their ruined muscles. The coffin seemed like a favourable place to be, in times like this, safely tucked away under layers and layers of dirt, their only company being the worms that had found their way in. They hadn't appreciated it enough at the time.

"You will never make this mistake again," she said quietly. It wasn't a question that required an answer. It was a statement, and she had made sure no one in the vicinity would be able to dispute it. She glanced towards the other end of the room, and Helle realised the human must've fled long ago. They weren't thinking about keeping the stupid thing still while being stabbed seventy times. "A nice one indeed. Say, pet, do you happen to know the punishment of a servant that came back empty-handed?"

Helle tried to beg. They put their heart and soul into trying to make at least a single placating sound, a gesture, anything. They couldn't do it again. It had been so horrible the last time, they thought they were going to die, they couldn't, they couldn't–

"No? Well, then I shan't spoil it for you. But let me say this: I hope we have a gorgeous, sunny day tomorrow."

~

taglist: @whumpsday @the-scrapegoat @hidden-dreamland @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @delicateprincepaper @whumppmuhw @florissimps @nicolepascaline @oliversrarebooks @the-cyrulik

[seasideretreat]

Idiocy

I like the English language, but I am not sure I like it. You know, the weird thing is that the English have a colourful culture but a drab language; the Dutch have a colourful language but a drab culture. I like writing in Dutch, because it is easy to create a very thick sound; in English, this is much more difficult; however, English can sound very rich and eloquent, but it takes much more imagination. An example: in Dutch, "Ik volsta met volledige uitbundigheid in de vrome veranderlijkheden van het leven." In English, "I suffice with full exuberance in the pious vicissitudes of life." I think the English sounds much drier and clumsier. Here's a sentence from Bertrand Russell: "The speculations of the past as to the reality or unreality of the world of physics were baffled, at the outset, by the absence of any satisfactory theory of the mathematical infinite." In Dutch: "De speculaties van het verleden betreffende de werkelijkheid of onwerkelijkheid van de wereld van de natuurkunde werden verbijsterd, reeds bij aanvang, door de afwezigheid van een bevredigende theorie van het wiskundig oneindige." Here there is little difference as to the sound of the sentences. I must admit it is a very dry text. Still, I can't think of expressive English. It all seems rather tired and cumbersome to me.

I could try to write a gracious English sentence. "Naturally, the folly of being oneself is off-set by the horrid deficiencies of quotidian existence." That's a stupid sentence. "The institution of a more refined religious order was founded on the learnedness of a few select gentlemen of great intellect." Also stupid. "No man escapes the clutches of old age, for time is the great equalizer; it is our fate to bow down to the progress of bodily and mental decay, for we are insignificant next to the glorious splendour of the Divine - a textual necessity that overpowers the senses and makes us pine for the revolutions of the greater wisdom of the truly doctoral men, who do what they can to improve the education of the everyman; and even though I have no qualities of my own, I beg God for forgiveness; there is a structure to the existence of the mean, and I am just a being amongst many others, but I try to think; I must think, for as long as there are beings in ignorance, because I may save them: the cogitation is the consideration of always-time, that transcends ordinal capacity in most ways, and makes us see the most high: so there." I guess we really can't speak proper English. The true calling of English is to be a neutral language amongst all the others, but we can't escape from its pragmatism, and its universality. People think English is easy, I don't think that's fair. I have no command over English, even though I have worked quite dilligently at it.

I don't want to say anything meaningful. Today was an almost perfect day. Yet here I am, writing. Writing is not bad, but it's late and I ain't got nothing to do, and I suppose I am just gonna be writing; whereas, if I had already written by blog-post for today, I could've been writing something else - something more important, perhaps - during this time, like a diary. Don't we all need a diary? I write a blog post every day; I reserve about three hours for it every day; that's a long time, so I figure I'd put them in the morning when I would otherwise be sleeping; that basically means I get up at eight, instead of eleven; now I really like sleeping out, just like I like eating bread late at night, but these are habits that you have to overcome, perhaps; at any rate, I am at a better point in my life right now, and I can start making these changes to my routine; I think it's pretty good when you think about it. I'll tell you something, in fact I believe I'd write all day long if I started writing early in the morning, I am pretty inspired most of the time, and I could write all day, but the thing is this damned blog, which is the core of my writing activity, takes up so much mental energy that I can't write much otherwise, but maybe I can if I have already done it early in the morning; and you know, I follow those light academia blogs and I figure it's nice and light academia to write in the morning; you know, sleeping out isn't necessary, certainly not every day; I dunno, I just really like it, but I will try getting up a little earlier tomorrow to write this frickin' blog, with a nice cup of coffee at my side; it'll be nice, but I ain't gonna set an alarm, I am not crazy, I am not gonna set an alarm on a free day! And you know, good writing is mostly thinking, I suppose; like when we are revising something or just pondering what to write next and skimming over the text pensively, that's all very nice and light academia, and we should cherish those things.

You know, in real academia they cherish concision above most other things, but there's nothing concise about the humanities for instance, and frankly I never felt like I was being very pithy when I was writing my thesis and all that; but I really miss university, even when I was in dire straights, you know, I was really unhappy during my Masters. An asshole I told this actually replied by saying that I should then remember that everybody's got it hard all the time - what an asshole! It my hard time! Certainly everybody's got it rough but we can have a hard time; certainly in hindsight you're not gonna say to someone his period wasn't rough; with the power of hindsight a man can certainly tell whether or not he had a hard time, and I tell you I was very unhappy during my Masters. You know, there were nice people everywhere but everybody seemed like a jerk to me. I just couldn't enjoy a moment of it, and I wasn't involved at all; be that as it may, it was a kind of interesting time in some peculiar ways, but on the whole it was just horribly wretched, and I wish I was in the state I was today during my college days; but you know, this is how it goes; and in many ways, my dad, in the years before he died, he really taught me how to count my blessings, you know? During those hard years; you know, better times have come, but I can still look back on those hard times and see the advantages I got, thanks to my dad; so in that sense he was a clever fellow. Anyway, my Masters. I keep trying to see some value in what I did, you know, I feel like you're not even allowed to say you worked hard; and I was so goddamned distracted all the time; but maybe I worked hard, I can't really tell. Yeah, my masters was so confusing. I went crazy during that time, you know? I am kind of pleased I didn't do a Masters in history, but Asian Studies really doesn't seem like much of a field, it's so damned unfocussed - I guess I still focussed on the history for the most part, you know, I could say I am a historian, but I resent that title. Anyway, they didn't really consider my writing to be very academic at the university - but I passed anyway, I guess because the content was good; before, my content was less good but the writing was better, I got a higher grade out of that; but I don't feel like I learned anything. And there's this saying, right? "Those who come to learn, learn nothing, those who come to teach learn a great deal." And I never taught anything I think. Still, that ain't quite true. You write your thesis as a kind of teaching. But I don't know what I learned. It was all so chaotic. You know, I can really read, you know, when I really have to; and intelligently, I can read between the lines; and I love reading a book ardently, you know? But it takes so much goddamn energy. You know, I reserve time to write, mostly because I enjoy writing, but yeah, I dunno. You know, I wanna read a book well, so that I can write better, that's the process. But there ain't no book really worth reading. I am reading A history of God by Karen Armstrong and it is a nice read, but I will not be reading it ardently; you know, these kinds of popular science books are more meant for passive knowledge, I'd say; you just read them and you remember what you remember; but there are books with subtle truths that you really have to read carefully; then you try to remember everything, I suppose, and nothing at the same time. The next book I want to read is Lipsius' On Constancy, and I suppose it would be ideal to read ardently: but it is a long book, and I don't have forever. The thing is I don't even want to read it half the time. There's so much to read. I read The Bible too. That's also vastly time-consuming, and not very rewarding; but The Bible is a guide in life, and everything you know about it is profit. Anyway, I was also reading a history book about Dutch history; and you know, you remember quite a bit from a good book, but I don't know what I want to remember, I just want to be a better scientist, but I don't know what my field is.

You know, I figured I could be a metaphysician, but that's the thing, there ain't much need for metaphysics, and it takes so much inspiration, you know? You just can't be a metaphysician most of the time. So yeah, I could write about Asia. That's my field, right? Asian Studies. But I don't want to write about Asia. You know, I just want to be learned; I love the humanities and I believe in the meaning of life probably and I am sure I could be a scholar, but I don't want to waste my life peddling idle knowledge that has no relevance, or something. You know, I am standing behind my desk, it's height-adjustable so I can stand behind my desk, it's pretty nice, because I have been sitting a lot today and I just lost a bit of vitality in that way. It's bad, but yeah, I don't know what to do most of the time, I don't really like reading all that much, and I can't really write most of the time because I don't want to spam the internet too much, you know I just want to provide nice dependable content that people can enjoy, but this is what I am saying, if I read a book at some point maybe I could write something that'll actually improve people's lives. You know, I am very interested in stoicism but the knowledge of stoicism is rather arduous, you know? Most people don't really see it as meaningful thought; there's something difficult about it, something problematic, and nobody knows what philosophy is supposed to do anymore; that's why I reserve room for metaphysics, but as I said, there ain't a whole of demand for that nowadays; you know, we just don't want any metaphysics; and it's all pretty weird anyway. You know, I don't know what the point of anything really is, I like writing and I suppose people'll like to read something that is more or less intentional and purposeful, you know, something that has a sense. But yeah, it's weird. I could've written something interesting today; you know, I just feel Asian Studies is such a tiresome field; you know, I just have nothing to say really, I feel like people'll just be glad to read something grammatical half the time; you know, even though I personally can't stand wasting time reading something long-winded; but you can just scroll through it, nobody forces you to read the whole thing, that's the benefit of writing over podcasts or something; but I can imagine someone will like just getting lost in one of these posts, accepting the verbiage and just being glad that there are words here, you know? That there is an author. You know what, reading is such a time-consuming activity; and that's why I post on Twitter as well; but I have more to say, I don't want to be limited to just a bunch of one-liners; this blog is my passion, I suppose; but yeah, as I said, I have to read more to write better, and I am just gonna keep writing this blog in this totally useless fashion that doesn't do anyone any good; it's just a jumble of words, maybe; but yeah, as I am saying, there's is an author here, who is writing something every day; you know, if I had an audience, I am sure someone would like it; it's like a column in a newspaper maybe, only more wordy; I dunno, it's just a pastime perhaps; you know, I don't see it is as a burden to keep this blog, it's probably the high-point of my day, but as I say, I wanna start writing in the mornings so that I can do other things during the rest of the day, you know, there's something very nice about just sitting around doing nothing all day, but yeah, getting up early is a wholesome thing as well, probably, you know, I don't know, maybe having regularity from day to day is nice, you know, a day when you sleep out till eleven o'clock is basically a day spend doing nothing, whereas if you wake up at eight, make a cup of coffee and really sit down and write something good, you have a productive day right off the bat. And it is light academia, a little bit. Anyway, I am not fooling anyone, taking a bunch of courses at uni is not going to make you a learned man, I really have to read a book, I am thinking Lipsius' On Constancy.

I am in a good place right now and I could really make it work. You know, I love studying, but the key to studying is making a precise border between the material and the excogitation. The material is really pointless, you don't have to know it at all, but you should still read it as best you can, because otherwise you won't pass and all that, and you won't have learned anything (which can cause a wide range of problems in your life). The excogitation, however, is when you stay frosty at the test, actually read the questions, let go of everything you've learned and come up with genius answers. That ain't easy, but if you've done the reading you will probably succeed, but you really need to be able to think and pay attention, I dunno, I just had some really bad experiences at tests, you know, I am not really that good at learning. You know, I like it when people say I am smart, I hate it when they say I am good at learning, because they can't know that; but you can kind of tell someone is smart, I think, just by what they say I suppose, and maybe by their actions. Anyway, I am excogitating superbly these days, but I ain't reading. Well, I am reading, and that's pretty good, but I am not reading ardently, I don't have a handbook, you know, whereas that is very important, maybe, to have, a nice handbook, but as I said, there ain't no good books. Of course, I could be reading Seneca and Cicero and maybe even Aristotle, but I wouldn't be reading them ardently, you see, because they are no handbooks, just feeble texts that we have to read; because this is what it is, the state of the art has moved forward tremendously since antiquity, and we can't rely on old learning anymore, although probably in the humanities people still rely on old learning for many things, mostly Aristotle, because those names still carry a lot of weight, and maybe a lot of people in the humanities aren't really all that smart. This is what I hated about university: the staff think they're really smart, but they're really not, they've just blindly accepted the reality of the university, that is quoting from a bunch of convoluted books and writing dense prose that nobody wants to read. However, it seems there isn't really any real humanities anymore; you know traditions were always very important for the humanities, but tradition is a weak thing, just like modernity; and obviously, the humanities only really had stature in the days of religion, when they were still the harbinger of true progress. But we've secularized the universities, but the humanities can never fully secularize. I am just thinking: what can you do with Asian Studies? You know, do I know Asia? To think: does a student of English know England? Obviously, the question of Asia is a factual question; the question of Asian Studies is a cognitive question. What have I learned studying Asian Studies? Mostly the centrality of religion in our thinking lives. But that's an easy answer. You know, secular knowledge. Is that a thing? I don't know. It could be. I don't know, I suppose this is just something I'll have to find out in time.

[thirstyforlulu]

Yandere Hellsing x Reader HCs? Including Millennium

Integra:

She’s a very possessive yandere

With her money and power, she has the means to get her hands on you

She’s good at playing cool, you won’t catch on for a while

Sure you notice that she never sends you on missions and that she’s always having you work near her office, but that’s just her being a good friend

When she decides to approach you romantically, she’s very forward

Around you she’s a touch starved animal, unlike her usual put together appearance

If you deny her feelings or try to run, get ready because she’s not giving up that easily

She’ll pull whatever strings she has to in order to find you

She’ll spend thousands bribing people or tracking you

Once she knows where you are, she’ll send Alucard to collect you

When she has you she’s very loving

She’ll want to constantly be touching you in some way

Usually that means sitting beside her while she works at her desk

As long as you’re good, she’ll let you wander the entirety of the manor

Since you tried to run she’s added all sorts of security measures so you can’t get out

Act up though and she will chain you to the wall in her office

“Y/N, your behavior has been deplorable lately and needs correcting.

Don’t give me those sad eyes, this is all your fault.”

Walter:

He’s a sneaky yandere

Very observant, he’ll learn your patterns and preferences

At the start he’ll leave you gifts like your favorite food or pretty flowers

He uses it as an excuse to get closer to you

He’s always offering to do favors for you, secretly lowering your defenses around him

He’s not the type to take anything from you but he will take the time to appreciate them

If you let him clean your room he’ll likely pause to sniff some clothes

You notice how much he knows about you but you just think he’s very observant

You don’t realize it’s due to his obsession

He’s the type to take more precautions

If you deny his advances he’ll lock you up somewhere, probably his room

He’ll get chains and a cage if necessary

If you really act up, he’ll lock you in the basement

The way you cling to him in fear after spending all night in the dark is addictive

His wires are always nearby

If you try to run you’ll only get a few steps out the door before the wires wrap you up and pull you back

He does his best not to hurt you, but if you struggle too much, a few cuts are inevitable

Seras:

She’s a very clingy yandere

She’ll want you on every mission she goes on

When you have free time she’ll take you out into the area nearby for some quality time

If you ever push her away, she gets angry

She’ll pout like a child then force her way into whatever it is you’re doing

At the time, she’ll act like it’s just a coincidence and you might even believe her

You’re not getting rid of her so easily

She’s also a very sweet yandere

If she feels she’s hurt your feelings she’ll go out of her way to get you presents or treat you nicely

Until you say you forgive her, she won’t stop pampering you

No one else is allowed near you, not even Integra

She’ll make excuses and do whatever it takes to keep you to herself

She would never kidnap you or lock you up because she hates to see you sad, but her “loving” behavior will be a trap in itself

Don’t forget that despite how cute she is, she’s still a powerful monster that can and will do what it takes to keep you

If that means making you one of her familiars then so be it

Alucard:

He’s a terrifying yandere

He can control you and the people around you, holding you captive

You’re not a stupid person, you know how easily he could end your life, so you tend to let it all happen

On the plus side, he’s very passionate and often brings you gifts

He’s such a smooth talker you’ll end up forgetting the terrifying threats he’s made in the past

Anyone who flirts with you will mysteriously disappear

Anyone who hurts you will turn up days later torn to shreds in a ditch

He would never do anything to hurt you, but that doesn’t stop him from making threats

“I could tear you apart just like that man from last week. I would love to hear your moans of anguish, but I’d prefer moans of pleasure.”

When you act out he manhandles you

He’ll press you against a wall and bite your neck to remind you of your place

He enjoys when you become complicit, but he likes when you’re occasionally act out

It gives him an excuse to punish you, which he always loves

After that, you’ll think twice before disobeying him

Millenium:

Jan:

Bro this man is already wild

When he sets his sights on you it’s go time

He won’t let anyone else near you or get to know you, not even his brother

He’ll threaten people, meeting them after work for overstepping their boundaries

He’s very touchy, like he’s trying to leave his scent all over you

Out in public, he’ll hang on you, showing others that you’re already taken

He’ll growl at people that look at you too long when passing by

He flicks a lot of people off, all the time but more so when he’s around you

He’s paranoid and doesn’t like anyone else around you, even friends

Clearly he’s a fan of body modification so if he can convince you he’ll want to get some kind of matching piercing/tattoo

If you get it, he’ll pay special attention to it any time you cuddle, running his fingers over it countless times

He can be very intense so he might yell at you, but when he sees the hurt look in your eyes he backs off

In his own weird way, he loves you and doesn’t want to see you hurting

But if he has to hurt you to keep you then so be it

Luke:

He’s not as subtle as he thinks he is

He tries to play it cool, but if someone tries to touch you he will blatantly smack their hand away

Always has an excuse to be around you and if he doesn’t, he’ll find one

He’s not as touchy as Jan, but he does like to hold your hand

You’ll feel his pinky brush against you before his hand completely envelops yours

His grip tightens when he sees you looking at others

Your attention is something he so desperately craves

He gives you every moment of his time and he wants you to do the same

If you’re ever in danger he’s there before anyone else even knows

It helps that he was already watching you

Be ready to compensate him

At first he’s just worried about you, but then once he knows you’re alright, he’ll start making demands

“You owe me for coming to your rescue dear. Or would you like me to toss you back? Maybe then you’ll beg me in such a cute way.”

Rip:

She does not care what other people think

She’ll ruin relationships to get closer to you

She’ll endanger her own job if it keeps you two apart

Doing favors is how she gets closer to you

Anytime you need something she’s there and ready to go

She’d leave in the middle of a mission if she hears you need help

Anyone causing you problems will be slaughtered and presented to you as a gift

“See y/n, I took off their heads just for you.”

She can get very aggressive especially if she thinks you’re denying her advances

She won’t hurt you, beyond a little pinch or so, but she’ll make threats

She’s very sadistic and would be willing to lock you up

Having you as a pet is actually an attractive idea to her

She’ll take good care of you wherever you’re locked up, but she won’t allow many freedoms

“Look at my pretty pet. How lucky am I.”

The Captain:

He’s like a pet, always following you around

He’ll growl at people he doesn’t like around you

His arms are always around you, keeping you close

No one else is allowed to tend to you after missions

When he’s patching you up, he’ll run his hands along your arms and legs, lovingly caressing your limbs

He’ll use that as an excuse to stay around you

Popping in to “check on you” at all hours

You won’t even know he’s come in until he’s sitting on the edge of your bed

He’s the type the would sit there for a moment watching you breathe

If he can, he’ll try to get you to be his assistant

If he can convince the higher ups that he needs one, he’ll do whatever he can

Then he’ll be around you even when he works and will be able to protect you

No one on the battlefield will be able to even get close to you

He’ll ignore his own tasks to protect you

He’s extremely loyal and obsessive

The Doctor

Oh man it is terrifying when he has his eye on someone

He views it like just another experiment, wanting to test and push you

He’ll have you coming to him for “examinations” all the time

He’d likely put a bug on you

Suddenly he knows things you don’t remember telling him, but you can’t prove anything

People you like start disappearing, people you had no idea he knew about

If he suspects you’re starting to catch on and trying to get away, he’ll start drugging you

Then you’ll have to come to him if you’re going to get better

While he’s treating you, he’ll trick you mentally manipulating you to grow closer to him

You’re going to think so highly of him, forgetting all the red flags you’d seen before

He is absolutely a gas lighter but he’s damn good at it

Even if you have experience with this stuff you won’t pick up on it

It’s a game of cat and mouse with him

The Major

He is not subtle and does not care

Your needs or emotions don’t matter to him

If you don’t respond well to his advances he will make terrible threats

If that doesn’t work he’ll take it a step further, allowing the ghouls to get close to taking a bite out of you

Torture is the next step

He doesn’t care about your mood, he has to have you

“Y/N, why do you fight so hard when you know I’m just going to hurt you again?”

He’ll want to do most of it by hand, but if he needs to he will get the others involved

“Would you like me to make a spectacle out of you? I think the others would enjoy that.”

Behave and he won’t hurt you

If he gets mad enough he’ll remove your arms and legs

You’ll become his good little doll, always on display for him

Like a bird in a cage, you’re his favorite display item

[wizkiddx]

your voice

angsty vibe, requested by @hollandlover19 than you for th rq and hop this doesn't disappoint too much :)))

summary: tom says something so stupid and has to deal with the consquences

warnings: a bit angsty, but ends in fluff! argumnts and raising voices, I guess could be associated with panic attacks tho not written with that intention

//////////////////////////////////

“Oh, Y/n er sorry.” Harrisons morning dulcet tones were what you were awoken to with a groan.

Everything was achy, and your head was pounding, making you grumble in discontent as you shifted uncomfortably on the technically too-small-to-sleep-on sofa.

This was not the morning you’d foreseen even 12 hours ago.

Lockdown had been difficult for everyone, even removing the tragic health crisis. Being locked in with your boyfriend and his brothers and friends was, for the most part, amazing. Lots of laughs, lots of beers and lots of quality time that you usually didn’t get. But it was also intense.

Without a doubt, since you first got together, this was the longest time you’d ever had with Tom. And it had been brilliant, your relationship getting so much closer and just learning the subtlest intricacies about the other. In fact, when lockdown had been announced, you’d never lived together (the most a week-long holiday).

Though it was also like a pressure cooker, Toms rented house. When one of you were in an understandable but stubborn lousy mood, it affected the whole house.

Yesterday night had been the perfect storm. The weather was unbelievably scorching; your work had announced that they had to let some staff go because of the financial implications of the pandemic; a ‘mole’ had released personal details of your relationship.

And it was like a pot on the stove; everything went from controllable to violently boiling over in a matter of minutes.

Honestly, you didn’t even know why you had started arguing - it was that pathetic. And yet you’d both said pretty horrible stuff - though it was Tom who had crossed the line. Frankly, the way he’d spoken to you was almost unforgivable.

You’d both known instantly too, all his anger at you had immediately evaporated when he’d realised what he had said. It took no time for him to become a grovelling apologetic mess, however even that- it was already too late.

It might sound feeble, but honestly, you’d run and locked yourself in the downstairs loo. You’d cried on the inside- whilst from the other side of the door, he had been begging and pleading with you.

After an hour though, Tom finally gave up - hence why you’d had a pretty uncomfortable night on the sofa.

This brings it back to Harrison, the early riser of the house, barrelling into the living room after his morning run. All bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, except also slightly terrified looking as he stood awkwardly in the doorway.

“I’m up now” You sighed, dragging yourself into a sitting position on the sofa whilst massaging your crooked neck.

“You er…. you fell asleep watching the TV?” Rolling your eyes, you sighed at the blonde, even if his poor acting was a little entertaining.

“Are we both pretending that you don’t know what went down last night?” Of course, Harrison knew. The walls were thin, you’d been screaming and he was Tom’s best friend. No doubt, Tom had immediately gone to him for help and advice last night.

Harrison held his hands up in response, caught in the act, and clicked his tongue. “What he said was bad. You shouldn’t be the one ending up with the sore back.” He wasn’t wrong.

“And yet here I am…” With a sigh you smiled which he returned with a sickeningly empathetic one “Anyway, don’t let my sad self get in the way, did you come in here for anything?”

Now, because Harrison was mentally a five year old, that’s how you ended up sat crossed-legged on the floor, clutching a wii remote and angrily shouting at yoshi on the mariokart screen. The whole household was competitive as hell and you were no exception - so some rouge elbows were flying when he viciously knocked you off the track.

Slowly Harry and Tuwaine filtered in and picked up remotes too, so the quiet morning was very quickly switched into a tense atmosphere of yelps and shouts. None more so than Tuwaine, who was possibly the worst looser you had ever met.

Really, you knew all the boys were only doing this as there way of showing you they were with you. That they also thought Tom was a massive raging dickhead. And you appreciated it more than they would ever know. Locked down in Toms house, very much not mutual ground, having three stupid boys behind you meant everything.

Just as you got on to the 18th and final race of the house’s mario grand prix, another voice cut across the tense silence as you waited for the coutdown to turn into ‘go’. Naturally, you flipped round to see Tom, looking as though he literally just rolled out of bed with puffy eyes and messy hair and no top. The sight made your heart flutter, to the point you had to consciously check yourself - refusing to smile softly at him like you usually would, instead narrowing your eyebrows and looking back at the TV.

Tom had so desperately hoped that when he came down this morning, everything would be better. That all it’d take would be a quiet conversation for the two of you to make up - for him to have you in his arms again. Primarily as he had heard your excited laugh echoing through the halls in reactions to Tuwaines yelps of protests - it made him hopeful. Waking up to a cold and empty bed was almost soul-crushing this morning. He did not want it to ever happen again.

Which is why his heart sank so much when all you gave him was a scolding look, before turning your attention to the TV. Admittedly, he was naive to think that what he’d done last night would be an easy fix - he knew it too. So with dropping shoulders, Tom silently took a seat on the sofa, watching from afar. You spent the rest of the race more absent, not joining in with the Harrison or Harrys trash-talking, acutely aware of Tom’s eyes burning the back of your head.

Then came Harry’s celebrations as the overall winner (only just) and when Harrison suggested another game Tom piped up again.

“Give me a turn Harry.”

The three boys kneeling next to you all stiffened, looking immediately to you for what seemed like consent - as if they were engaging with the enemy. (At least it was good to know everyone was on your side).

“I’m gonna go prepare for my meeting anyway.” You spoke quietly, already placing the remote on the floor and standing up.

“Y/n I don’t mind swappin-“

“No. Thanks, H but no.” You weren’t being selfless and giving Tom a turn. You were running away from seeing him.

And Harrison was still really angry at Tom. He’d been so selfish and insensitive and had hurt you- someone who Haz also cared a lot about too. Yes Tom was his bestmate, that he’d grown up with and known for years - but Haz really liked you too, in fact all the boys did. So they were almost as pissed with Tom as you were.

So while you threw the cushion you were sat on back on the floor, Harrison shot Tom the filthiest look and practically shooed him away.

“come on Y/n … just one more? Then you can do your boring work.” You were about to refuse when Haz tilted his head toward the door, only then noticing that Tom had slipped out the room. Now that he was gone ,yes, just one more wouldn’t hurt. The meeting prep wasn’t time pressured; it was an excuse for an escape.

Tuwaine whooped a little when you nodded, planting back down and ready for the first race. Yet apart from that, the room was still a little awkward, you being the first to break the silence.

“Actually Haz, would you mind giving me a lift today?”

“What to the shops?

“Um no not quite.” Tuwaine laughed in his usual innocent and infectious style before asking more.

“Seriously? You know we’re locked down? Boris won’t be happy if you going mad and leaving the house.”

“Just to Y/f/n’s. She lives on her own so it’s legal.”

“She lives just down the road right? Can’t you walk?” Harry was confused, making him look away from the screen, ultimately leading to his ‘diddykong’ falling off the track.

“I’ll have my bags. I um… I think I’m going to stay with her till lockdown eases more.”

As soon as you said that, Harry pressed pause on the race, all three boys looking at you mouth-opened.

“For real?”

“Yeh I um… think me and Tom need some time apart and being locked in isn’t helping.”

“I’m not saying to forgive and forget what he said… but he is really sorry.”

“The twats literally kicking himself.” Tuwaine added, making you smile a little for calling Tom that.

“I know just… I need some space and-“

“Are you breaking up?” Harry almost announced, cutting you off. He would miss you too.

“No! Nono I … well I don’t know. I just- we both need this.”

The boys all nodded, looking at the floor for a moment before Harrison’s blue eyes were back on you.

“Course I’ll drive, but… but I’ll miss you.”

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

You’d left merely an hour later, whilst Tom was holed up in the garden doing what looked like an almost unbearable work out. It meant he was also out your hair and you could throw all your stuff into two suitcases without him being any the wiser. It was probably pretty cowardly to leave without speaking to him, but you couldn’t. It would hurt too much and you didn’t want to break down in front of him. No doubt as soon as you had got to Y/f/n you did - into a blubbering mess of tears - but Tom hadn’t seen so it was okay.

Speaking of. Tom.

Tom was not in a good way at all. He’d been trying really hard to curb his’ short fuse’ lately- all of which had been well and truly blown in the past 4 hours. After finally being realised from meetings, which he’d not been able to concentrate on anyway, Tom had mentally prepared himself for a lot of grovelling. Once he’d vaguely hunted the house and not found you there, he naturally asked Harry and Tuwaine (both of whom were in the living room) if they’d seen you around.

It was a typical question, the answer he was expecting was that you’d just gone on your daily walk. And yet the response he got was… well a lot more confusing. Harry’s eyes widened whilst T did his awkward-uncomfortable chuckle, the two locked in an intense bout of eye contact. It was as though they were arguing with each, but through the powers of telekinesis... and it put Tom on edge. He was already stressed because you were so angry with him, so not getting a clear answer out of his brother and best mate - lets just say it tested his patience.

“You two need to tell me what the hell is going on right now.”

The two boys both looked panicked to speak to him, which was the opposite of the usual situation. They were some of the ONLY people in his life that would just say it how it is, no sugar coating. Like if he was away and being ‘famous’ was getting to his head; or if he wore the wrong pair of jeans. Even yesterday evenings events, they’d both called him out on what he’d said to you.

So why the silence?

Eventually, it was Harry who spoke up, but in doing so, practically just waved all responsibility on to another innocent party.

“Ask Haz.”

And then Tom knew. He knew this was bad. Immediately his heart was pumping at an alarmingly fast rate, taking the stairs two at a time and not bothering to knock before bursting the door open.

“Where’s Y/n?”

Harrison was reclined back on his haphazardly made bed, laptop balanced on his lap as he looked up with a sigh. He’d known this conversation was coming, but it didn’t make it any less easy. With a sigh, Haz closed the lid of his MacBook and sat up on the bed.

“Tom just-“

“Where. Is. She.”

“She’s gone to Y/f/n’s.”

“Oh… okay.” Suddenly Tom’s voice was muted, thinking he might’ve blown his top at nothing. This wasn’t weird - Y/f/n was in your support bubble and you went to hers often.

Tom was grossly underestimating the situation - and Harrison heard didn’t fancy stringing him along though.

“No like gone. She um… she took all her stuff. I think she’s going to stay there till-“

Tom was already out his room at that point, slamming the door as he did so. Making a beeline for his own room, Tom then frantically started to pull out the draws and rummage around the shelves, confirming what he already knew. Your clothes were gone, your toothbrush and toiletries were gone, you were gone.

It’s important to note Tom didn’t really cry all that much. Or if he did - it was more inconsequential, at a sad movie or one of the rescue dog stories from battersea. Actually, when it came down to it, he didn’t really cry.

Now though, it was impossible to ignore the burning of his eyes, as he sank down onto the bed that now felt twice the size. With ragged breath, he repeatedly fisted his eyes, not actually letting the tears fall - but it was impossible to not acknowledge their presence. Harrison stood wordlessly at the door frame, knowing it best not to interrupt - whilst at the same time knowing Tom shouldn’t be left alone. There was a delicate balance between the two, which he was walking on a knife-edge on right now.

After a short while, Tom looked up with red eyes and nodded at Harrison, effectively granting him entrance. With a sigh once again, Haz moved and sat next to Tom on the bed, clasping his hands together nervously.

“She said you both just needed a break from each other. Think lockdown and everything was just a bit too intense.” Haz had tried to explain, yet it seemed Tom had only managed to lock onto one of the first words.

“A break? Or breaking up?”

“I uhm… she didn’t explicitly say ending things. But I just… I don’t know to be honest mate.”

“You see the way she looked at me this morning? Like she hated me. Wouldn’t even acknowledge that I was there.”

“I don’t know what to say… she needs time and space I think.” Tom was silent for a beat, shaking his head as he cradled his forehead.

“I hate the fact you and my girlfriend are on better terms than I am.” Anddd his voice was back to scathing.

“I’m not on anyones side. But your both my friends and she… she needed some time.”

With that, Harrison made a quick exit out, getting Harry to take over the Tom supervision.

Ever since the atmosphere in the house had been tense. To say Tom was highly strung was an understatement, particularly towards Harrison. Deep down he was thankful Haz was looking out for Y/n: he was glad that Haz was checking she was okay. It’s not like Tom could, because Y/n was refusing to answer his calls, texts, whatsapps, even the slip of paper he’d slipped under Y/f/n’s door in the middle of an especially dark night.

So it was good to know Y/n was okay, but the fact she was going on socially distanced walks with the rest of his housemates was rubbing salt in the wound.

After a week and a half of complete radio silence on your end Tom had utterly worn down. He didn’t have the emotional capacity to be angry anymore, he was just tired. Tired of missing you with every breath, tired of the ten-tonne weight of guilt pressing on his chest, fucking exhausted with being angry at Haz and Harry and Tuwaine.

The best thing in his life and one of the very limited opportunities was quality time with the people he loved more than anything else. He had ruined it all.

And it was the small things. It was waking up to your soft, whispered voice in the morning; it was your infectious giggle when he surprised you with a hug from behind and gentle kisses to your neck; it was your quiet singing in the shower. Especially when he knew Haz, Harry and Tuwaine were all still seeing you and laughing with you. It hurt like hell.

Which is how he ended up hesitantly knocking on Harrison’s bedroom door at half eleven at night, with his tail between his legs. Having been so uber-healthy all lockdown, Haz was already in bed following his sleep cycle, though for Tom right now- he would be awake.

“I’m um… I’m sorry I’ve been a knob. There’s no excuse of anything I’ve just… I’ve been a knob.”

“You’re not wrong.” Harrison nodded in agreement with a sly smile, motioning for Tom to come into the room, after which he perched on the edge of the bed.

“I just… I need to speak to her but I… I don’t want to push her if she’s still hurting and I…”

“You absolutely promise not to blow your fuse? Because she couldn’t handle that.” Tom’s eyes widened, thinking this would be a much harder pitch than how it seemed to be going.

“Yesyesyes i- I promise. I just, I feel broken you know? Even if all I get is the time to say sorry, I-I really need to.”

Harrison released a deep breath, nodding slowly before throwing the covers off himself. Tom watched all his movements with a curious gaze, silently sitting as Haz pulled on a hoodie, then socks too.

“Well? Let’s go.”

//////////////////

Now, what Tom had not in the slightest bit been prepared for was this to happen tonight. Really, he hadn’t even thought Harrison would agree to let him talk to you… and even if he had, Tom not in hell thought it’d be at 11:30 that evening.

His heart was thundering in his chest, trying to hurriedly script how on earth he was going to apologise meaningfully to you - as him and Haz walked the short distance to your friends house. Honestly the whole situation was peculiar to Tom - finding it hard to believe that if you weren’t to answer his texts you wouldn’t be open to an in person conversation.

What Tom didn’t know, was how you’d been texting Haz at a similar point of desperation. You weren’t happy and even given everything Tom had said and acted - you missed your boy. No matter how infuriating he could be when trapped 24/7 - you’d quickly learnt this was the only way you wanted to spend these weird times.

So yes, Tom’s best friend knew you were hardly sleeping either, but needed that little push to interact with you boyfriend. No doubt, you’d still be awake to answer the door.

Once he’d arrived at the apartment block and walked up the stairs to the right floor, it still took some prodding and pushing from Harrison to get Tom to knock on the door. Plainly, because he was shitting himself. Haz hadn’t given him enough pre warning, enough time to work it all out in his head. So it took another encouraging nod from Harrison for him to knock on the slightly rough-round-the-edges flat door.

Y/f/n was single and young, starting her career in Kingston - so the flat she could afford was modest at best. When it was just occupied by a single person, that was manageable - two was a push. You’d only been living with her for a week and a few days but it was enough to know this flat was not ideal for two people in lockdown. You were already stepping on each others toes. It also wasn’t technically legal to move households but Y/f/n had always been in your support bubble as a single household otherwise. And so there was also a layer of guilt to it all.

Naturally then, sharing a bed with someone who wasn’t Tom meant you just were not sleeping. Even if you had both gone to bed early (just to kill some hours in the day) you were still wide awake at quarter to twelve - when a timid knock echoed through the minuscule apartment. Curiosity peaked at who the hell would be calling now; you silently slipped out of bed, managing to not disturb Y/f/n, and closed the bedroom door.

Now you weren’t an idiot. Even though this was southwest london, hardly the capital for crime, Y/f/n lived in a dodgy building with some questionable characters. And it was midnight. Hence why you approached the situation cautiously, tiptoeing to the door and waiting with your ear pressed against the wood.

“I told you she wouldn’t answer!”

“She will! Might just be in the loo or something.”

“Haz this is stupid-“

The air in your chest froze when you immediately recognised the smooth tone of his voice. It was him… and you’d missed that so much. Already there were tears in your eyes and you couldn’t open the door just yet. So no, instead you slid down the doorframe before calling quietly out into the night.

“Tom?”

The bickering on the otherside of the door was silenced, but you heard a quite tap on the door... and could envision exactly what was going on. Tom, pressing both palms and his ear to the door, as Harrison took a few steps back - sensing his work was done.

“Y/n? You there?” He sounded desperate, you could hear the emotion dripping off his voice. It was only when you tried to reply did you realise your own voice was having a harder time speaking.

“Yeh its-its me.” It felt as though this heavyweight that had been pressing down on your chest was slowly lifting, making your voice all cracky and low.

In response, there was a short and sharp exhale. It sounded relieved before some fidgeting as you imagined him crouching down beside the door - mirroring your image.

“Fuck, it… it feels so good to hear your voice.”

“Yours too… I’ve-i’ve missed you.”

Tom snorted at that, a gentle bang allowing you to realise he’d just whacked his head on the back of the wood.

“You have no idea how this week felt.” He was wrong though, you did.

Yes, maybe without the insurmountable guilt that Tom was rightfully feeling, but it didn’t mean that the time apart wasn’t easy.

“I do. This hasn’t been a nice holiday for me you know?”

He sighed, knowing that yet again he’d said the wrong thing. This time though, he didn’t rebut instantly (which surprised you), instead his response was more measured and calculated.

“I am so sorry. And of course, I know because I was the one that hurt you too. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive myself for that.” You nodded but given this conversation was happening through a door Tom didn’t see your gentle agreement - opting to fill the silence.

“I um… I’m not good at this whole um… speaking my feelings. But I’ve hated myself ever since I picked that fight with you. It was stupid and uh it-it was all my fault. I’m so so sorry for hurting you.”

“‘Why?” You tried to ask, except the words were stuck in your throat, making you have to clear it before asking again. “Why did you say it?”

“To get a rise out of you. It’s stupid and petty and fucking-fucking dumb. I said it not because I’ve ever thought it, I never ever have, but I knew it’d hurt you. I was preying on your insecurities because I was angry at the world and that was so unfair. “

“No shit.”

Silence reigned as you fiddled with your fingers - specifically with the promise ring he’d bought you a year ago.

“You-you think you could ever forgive me?”

“Thats the annoying part. I want to hate you because you literally stabbed me then twisted the knife but… but all I’ve done this week is miss you. Even when I saw Haz or Harry or Tuwaine. I just fucking missed you.”

“Can you open the door please love?”

Clumsily you scrubbed the tear tracks off your face, scrabbling to your feet so you could thrust open the doors. Because you might still be bloody pissed at him, but at the same time - you needed your Tom. Thrusting the door open, the first thing you registered was being pressed into Tom’s chest. His arms slinked around your waist and held him tight, which you reciprocated, squeezing tightly round his neck. Your senses were all being assaulted by one thing and one thing only. Tom.

He smelt like usual, except maybe the slightest bit stronger than usual - you figured he hadn’t showered in a day or two or bothered with cologne. The top of your forehead was pressed up against his chin, and as he readjusted his grip on you, you felt the scratchy feeling of his unshaven stubble. He kept whispering apologies against the top of your head, almost desperate and religiously.

Arching back, you brought both hands to cup his cheeks, looking into his glassy brown. eyes, which looked so lost and confused.

“I’m still angry.”

“Of course-“

“I’m still angry but I’m going to kiss you okay?”

Safe to say Tom didn’t require a verbal response, taking it upon himself to nudge his lips against yours, yet waiting for you to initiate the kiss. And that you did, everything else about this godforsaken week and a half. His index finger traced the angle of your jaw, whilst he held your lower back tight, pressing himself as close as physically possible to you. Needing you.

Eventually arching back, your thumb ran over his deep and sunken under-eyes, which added so much age to his face.

“You look tired Tommy.”

“Can’t sleep without you telling me goodnight.” That was another tradition you had had. Even when he was away, you’d even set an alarm for whatever bedtime was for the other across the world. Just so you could send a little message or voice not saying goodnight. Was it cringey? Yes. Did either of you care? No.

But since you’d been away all the evening wishes were absent from you. Which hurt Tom more than you may ever know.

“I know you’re still angry but will you please come home to me? I need you to be the last thing I hear at night and the first thing in the morning.”

would love to hear any feedback <333 (but think this is a bit of a shitter so im sorry!!!)

tagging: @lovehollandy12 @pandaxnienke @thegirlwiththeimpala @msmimimerton @hollandfanficlove @hollandlover19 @hunnybunimdun @crossyourpeter @thefernandasantana@hallecarey1

[dokoni-mo]

Nights Like These || All for One x F!Reader

Summary: You were his favorite.

SFW // not fluff but not angst

Word Count: 2802

WARNINGS: obsessive behavior, toxic behavior/mindsets, manipulation, possessive behavior, all for one is evil as usual, fear tactics, some sensual touching, kisses, mentions of death if you squint, swearing, age gap relationship of you squint, but reader is depicted to be in their late 20s, also the fact I also didn't proofread this one lmao (pls forgive me I was working on this at like 3 am).

A/N: This takes place before AFO became the potato man. This is my take on how he would be like in a "relationship". If you want some PRIME AFO content, however, AND ARE THE AGE OF 18 OR OVER, go check out @nonobadcat 's story A Hypnotic Nightmare. It's one of my favs atm (also, badcat, if you're reading this, i haven't forgotten about the fanart! i've just had a lot on my plate bc of the end of school. im terribly sorry if it seemed like i left you hanging).

~~

You hated armored black vans.

Ever since meeting him you knew exactly what they meant.

They would come to you when you least expected it, and often when you really didn't want them to. You could be anywhere in the world, and one would always find a way to roll up next to you. If you tried to outwalk them, they would just drive faster. If you pretended to ignore them, they would cut you off in your tracks.

Persistent little shits.

Just like him.

This time, it was late into the night when one rolled up next to you. You hadn't seen one in some days beforehand, and was relishing in that fact when the dread-vehicle rumbled up next to you. You had just gotten done doing some late-night grocery shopping for yourself, looking decent but in no way perfect. Sighing through your nose, you gave the tinted windows of the van the glare of your life, trying in vain attempt to get it to just piss off.

Even though that tactic never worked before, it would never stop you from trying.

The van pulled up to the curb next to you and slowed to a stop. Seeing as there was no way you could run or try to ignore it now, you stopped in your tracks, clenching your plastic grocery bags tighter. A moment later, the van rolled it's driver's side window down, revealing the driver to you. You didn't recognize this one; it wasn't one in his normal rotation.

You wondered if he killed one of the other ones, and this one was the replacement.

Looking into the eyes of the driver, you shot him another glare, your face morphing into a frown. This didn't seem to phase the man, however, since he just stared back at you with a blank expression.

You knew you weren't that threatening, but, come on. At least show something.

"What is it?" you questioned the man, your voice firm and serious. Although you already knew the answer to that, you prayed to whoever was listening that it would be a different answer this time.

"He wants to see you."

No dice.

You let out another sigh through your nose, this time more frustrated and annoyed than the last one.

"I just saw him the other day," you tried to bargain, "and I have ice cream in here. Can it wait until tomorrow?"

The driver shook his head, "Sorry, miss. He wants you now."

Your face assumed a deeper frown. It wasn't often that these drivers made it known to you how persistent he was being in seeing you. This made a lump form in the bottom of your stomach. What did he want this time? Another date? Quality time? Or just to remind you of who you belonged to?

You hoped it was one of the former two.

Looking from side to side nervously, you swallowed the lump in your throat before speaking again, "Can I at least put my groceries in my apartment first?"

The driver shook his head, "We can get someone to do it for you, miss. But we need to leave. Now."

Damn, this driver really meant business.

Finally admitting defeat, you slowly took a few steps towards the van, watching as the large, jet-black doors rolled itself open for you. Leaning down, you set your bags on the clean, vacuumed floor of the van, ducking down and pushing yourself inside next. The driver watched you in the rear-view mirror, making sure that you sat down and buckled your seatbelt. Once you were safe in the backseat, he shut the door to the van and pulled out into the street again, driving noticeably careful.

A soft sense of dread washing over you, you leaned up against the van door and planted your elbow on the armrest, resting your chin in your palm. Not feeling up for friendly chat with the man driving you, you fixated your gaze out the window, watching as the neon lights of Japan rushed by you.

You wondered which location you would be at today.

He seemed to have spots everywhere across the world.

You hoped it was the Tokyo one. That one had your favorite food and view.

Hugging yourself closer to the door, you tried to ignore the dread winding up in your stomach. You tried your best to just focus on how pretty the lights looked at night, but couldn't help but have your mind linger back to the racing thoughts that plagued your head.

You wished your friend had never introduced you to his stupid fucking cult. He would deny over and over that it was a cult, but it was a cult. You had been quirkless for so long, and content being so all your life. But, when your friend told you about the man she met that could give you your very own quirk, you would be lying if you said you weren't intrigued.

Biggest mistake of your entire fucking life.

~~

Alas to you, the driver didn't take you to the Tokyo location. It ended up being the Osaka location. You felt rather disappointed by this.

The driver was at least nice enough to help you out of the car and escort you into the hands of your body guards for the night. The guards quickly surrounded you, almost suffocating you by how close they were. After relaying the message that you had arrived, the guards practically drug you into the tall, looming building.

You wondered when the next time you could go outside would be.

Going through the doors, you were greeted with the familiar sight of clean, shiny marble floors, your feet clacking against them as they always did. Everything about the building was ornate but simple, reminding you of some fancy hotel.

It was so fucking obnoxious.

Only one dude and occasionally yourself lived here. And not even full time.

It make you frown.

Eventually, the guards and yourself made your way to the elevators. When one eventually came down (it didn't take long because you were most likely some of the only people in the building), all of you packed in the elevator like a fucking clown car. You were shoulder-to-shoulder with the much taller guards, suffocating on their cologne.

The dead silence in the elevator made you wanna puke.

~~

The guards left you once you were at the door.

You were now all alone in the hallway, the tall, dark, looming door before you. Your fingertips were trembling, yet you didn't know if it was out of fear or anticipation.

He probably already knew you were here. Why did you even have to go through this step? Just for his sick kicks?

Most likely.

You didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

You swallowed and closed your eyes, taking a few deep breaths in and out of your nose. You had to give yourself a pep talk before you could lift up your hand, curling your knuckles to knock on the door.

You stopped before you could knock even once. If there was any time to run, this is it. If you could just-

No. It's impossible.

God how you knew it was impossible.

No matter where you went, no matter what you did, he seemed to always know.

You've seen him angry before. It ran shivers down your spine and made you contemplate whether or not there was an afterlife or not.

You didn't want to know how he was like when he was pissed off. Especially if it was directed towards you.

And, you knew, trying to get away from him was a sure as fuck way to royally piss him off.

Taking in one last deep breath, you put on your brave face and knocked on the door, feeling your dread become almost overwhelming in your gut.

You wet your lips before you spoke.

"It's me."

...

Silence.

Your head perked up at the nothingness that greeted you back. Was he not here anymore? Did he leave for a different place without telling you?

You opened your mouth to say something again, but quickly shut it again.

Could you... leave? Go home?

This was definitely a first.

As soon as your excitement welled up, however, you were quickly shot down again from the deep voice behind the door.

"Come in."

Fuck.

Squaring your shoulders and putting on your bravest face, you gingerly opened the door and stepped through, leaning your back against the wood as you shut it again.

Why did you do this to yourself? So willingly walk into the lion's den?

It didn't take you long to remember.

Fear.

Looking inside the room, the lighting was moody to say the least. Barely anything was turned on, and it was so deafeningly quiet, sans the sounds of the city below and the hum of the AC.

Scanning the room with your eyes, you felt your stomach do a flip when you landed on the man of the hour.

The man who had taken over your life for the past three years.

Him.

Shigaraki. Or, as he was known by everyone who wasn't you, All for One.

Probably the most feared man in Japan. Hell, the world even.

Christ on a fucking bike.

He was seated on the couch that faced the door, his usual sly smirk on his face. One of his legs was crossed over the other, and he seemed to had shed his black coat long ago. His crimson eyes bore right into the very fiber of your being, right into your very soul. His presence was so fucking overwhelming it made you feel like you couldn't breathe. The amount of power that dripped off that man was uncanny.

It always made you wonder what he wanted with quirkless little you.

Unable to maintain eye contact with him for any longer, you dropped your gaze to the floor, your back still pressed against the door. Even though you couldn't see him anymore, you could feel his eyes on you, raking up and down your body.

You prayed that this night went by quickly.

"You're late, little one." He said to you, making your shoulders tense up.

"I..." you began, your nervousness painfully obvious as you brushed your hair behind your ear, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be."

All for One let out a hum, and you could practically fucking feel his smirk grow bigger from across the room.

You wondered if he knew that you were only half telling the truth, or if he was just that delusional.

After a moment, he spoke again.

"Come into the light, darling. Let me get a good look at you."

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you hesitated for a brief second, your fingertips twitching against the wood of the door. Seeing no possible way out, you decided it was best to just do what he said. Pushing yourself off the door, you took small, timid steps into the light, keeping your gaze down on the floor. Awkwardly trying to figure out what you should do with your hands, you decided on clasping them in front of you, picking at the skin around your nails.

You could really feel his eyes on you now.

He looked you over for what felt like an eternity before he said something else, making your eyes flicker back up to him.

"There's no need to be shy, my dear," he said, sensing how nervous you were, "There's nothing to be concerned about. You know I would never harm you."

You wanted to snort out a laugh, but decided against it. Yes, he had never hurt you before, but you doubted it was out of his realm of capability.

Not knowing what to respond with, you simply just nodded, turning your attention back to your hands.

Shigaraki continued to stare at you for a good long while, his red eyes lingering on your cute face and nervous eyes.

Fucking hell you were just too adorable.

After a good second, All for One lifted up his hand, making you look up at him. He was holding his palm out to you, his usual smirk on his face.

"Come here." He said.

Shit, he was getting serious tonight.

Your cheeks tinting a faint pink, you forced your feet to raise up and make you walk across the room. Once you were close enough, you put your hand into his, watching it as it was nearly swallowed by the sheer size of his palm. Knowing exactly what he wanted, you slipped yourself in between his long, thick legs and sat back into his lap. Your side was nuzzled into the crook of his armpit, his strong arm wrapping itself around your waist to keep you in place. Just like he liked, you rested your head against All for One's shoulder, gently lying your hands across his broad chest. This seemed to please him greatly, since he put his other hand on your lower thigh, gently rubbing circles into the side of your knee with his thumb.

You must really be fucking insane.

Gently, Shigaraki pressed a gentle kiss into your hair, mumbling out a quiet good girl in the process.

You couldn't stop the pink dust from spreading across your cheeks.

"How was your day today, darling?" He asked you, the rumble of his voice in his chest loud in your ears.

You hummed before speaking.

"It was okay..." you said, feeling the hand on your side gently stroking up and down.

"You had a lot to do, didn't you?" He asked, making you glance up at him.

Of course he fucking knew about your goddamned errands and job.

"Yeah..." you said, "I was expecting to go back home and chill the rest of the night, but..."

Shigaraki let out a chuckle at this. You didn't have to finish your thought for him to know what you meant.

"Oh, I'm sorry, little one." He said, pressing another kiss to your temple, "I know you must be tired."

You nodded in response, maybe a bit too eagerly.

"I just couldn't bear another second without you, darling." He continued, tracing circles on your thigh this his pointer and middle finger, "I just had to have my special girl with me tonight."

You shifted your weight in his lap, looking up at him, "Did something happen?"

Shigaraki chuckled at this, reaching up and brushing the hair out of your face, "Let's just say I had some... family issues tonight, my dear."

Family?

Shigaraki had family?

This was definitely a first.

You couldn't help but to be nosy.

"Family?" you asked.

"Oh, nothing for you to be concerned about, my sweet girl." He said, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.

"You never told me you had family." You pressed, not wanting to let the subject go.

"You never needed to know, small one. Besides, it would be too dangerous for you to meet them anyhow."

"Dangerous?"

"There's a possibly they would try to take you from me."

"I highly doubt you would let that happen."

He chuckled, "As clever as always, my darling."

"What are their names?"

"Let's move on from his, my love."

"But I-"

"Are you hungry, dear? I can have someone fetch you something."

"Shigaraki, I just-"

"I said no."

A shiver went down your spine and you were quick to shut your mouth. You knew what that tone meant. It meant shut up or you get a punishment.

You always just chose to shut up.

Seemingly pleased at your compliance, Shigaraki assumed his usual smirk again and planted a kiss on your cheek, rubbing more small circles into your side.

"Have I told you how radiant you look tonight, my dear?" He asked you.

Not feeling in the mood to talk anymore, you just shook your head no.

"You always look gorgeous to me, my dear. Every single piece of you."

Pulling you closer to his chest, he lifted up your chin and looked deep into your eyes.

"My special girl. My favorite."

Closing the distance between the two of you, All for One pressed his lips to yours, stealing your breath away. His kisses were always just like him: strong, confident, and dominating.

Kissing Shigaraki always filled you with a whirling of emotions. Perhaps it was because you were tired that night, or perhaps it was because of the air, but you allowed yourself to fully enjoy his kiss. The feeling of his hands on you, the feeling of how small he made you feel, the feeling of his power radiating off his skin...

He always had this affect on you. When you were apart from him, you found it hard to love him.

But, when you were together...

you found it hard to stop.

[myhockeyworld87]

Not So Dangerous Liaison - Sidney Crosby - Part 23

Word Count: 4,542

POV: Starts with the Reader then switches to Sid’s

Warngings: Language, NSFW, Smut

Notes: Sorry this is so late tonight, but well you know life, but here it is finally. Last when we saw these two, Sid had screwed up when he tried to apologize to (Y/N) and accused (Y/N) of flying back to Pittsburgh and sleeping with another man, his teammate. Now let’s find out what happened. As always love your feedback and Happy Reading! Let me know what you guys think.

Not So Dangerous Liaison Masterlist

READER'S POV

 "Are you ok?" Matt asked, throwing an arm around you as your head hung low in your hands. You could tell by his soft voice he wasn't sure if you were crying or not. Oh, you could that was for sure, but not from sadness, it was out of anger.

"No," you mumbled, then stood up and started to pace the floor. "I'm pissed off."

 "I can tell," Cully answered as he watched you move around the great room.

 "Who does he think he is?" It was a rhetorical question, so Matt stayed quiet. "I can't believe he has the nerve to think that I would just fly home to Pittsburgh and just jump in bed with someone. And that for him to think that I would sleep with you!" That came out a bit harsher than you intended. "Not that you're not hot or anything, but you're Dad, you know, and then there's Bridget and…"

 "I get it, (Y/N)." Matt chimed in saving you from further embarrassment.

 "He's just so fucking frustrating." You plopped back down on the couch next to Matt. "He never asked me to move in, you know. He just thinks I'm a mind reader or something. I mean sure I would've loved to move in, had he asked, but did he? NO!" You fought the urge to jump off of the sofa and start pacing again. There was so much tension and frustration that was bundled up inside you, that you just needed to get this nervous energy out of your system. Instead, you reached for the carton of sweet and sour chicken you'd order and shoved a piece in your mouth. It tasted like the cardboard it came in, but that had nothing to do with the quality of the food and everything to do with the nasty after-taste your conversation with Sid had left in your mouth. "I don't really think I'm being unreasonable here…do you?"

 By the look on Matt's face, he was still trying to figure out what you'd said as you hadn't even swallowed the chicken before rambling again. He finished chewing his egg roll, like any normal civilized human being would, though at the moment you didn't feel normal or polite before he answered you. "First off, you're right he should've asked you about moving in." Matt could tell you were about to interrupt him, so he quickly continued. "And you're right about him jumping to a big conclusion about you sleeping with someone, though honestly, I'm quite a catch, just ask Bridget I'm sure she'll tell you that."

 "You are," you said giving him a little wink, even though you'd never looked at him that way.

 "Thank you, now as I was saying, and I'm not trying to make excuses for him here…"

 "I feel like there's a big but coming."

 "But," there it was, you saw it coming a mile away. "I've played with Sid for a year, but I've known him longer than that. You're like the first woman he's ever really had a relationship with. I just don't think he knows how to act." That couldn't be right, you thought. "I mean sure he's gone out on dates and taken someone to an event here or there but nothing like what the two of you have."

 You'd known that he'd been hesitant to get involved with you because he thought it would interfere with hockey but you hadn't really given much thought to him not having experience in a relationship, but what Cully was saying made some sense. "I mean think about it, (Y/N). Hockey has been his whole life until you walked in. He went from being this amazingly talented kid to a superstar center and he's had no chance to experience the stuff that went in between with it. And do you know why that is?"

 You shook your head no, wanting to hear what Cully's assessment was. "Because he's been afraid." Your brows knitted together as you tried to take in that concept. Sid wasn't afraid of anything that you knew of. Thankfully, Matt continued to explain this abstract notion to you. "He's afraid that he'll fail at it. With hockey he can control it, he can work at it. He can go out on the ice and shoot five hundred pucks until he gets that shot right. But this," Matt said, waving his hand in the air then back at you. "This thing he has with you. He has no control over it and that scares the hell out of him. There's no manual on how to be the perfect boyfriend or what to do when you have an argument, and he certainly can't go out to a rink and practice how to do it. He's afraid he'll make the wrong move, probably like he just did, and well…you'll be gone."

 Fuck. That was the only word echoing through your brain. You'd never looked at any of this through Sid's eyes, but you knew that Cully was right. You tossed your head back on the sofa cushion, looking up the ceiling for some sort of divine intervention on what you should do next. "He still shouldn't have said I was sleeping with you."

 "No, he shouldn't have." Matt attempted. "I guess the question is what do you want to do? Is what you have with Sid worth working things out? Are you brave enough to navigate the waters so to speak, where no one else has; helping him along?" You closed your eyes already knowing what you were going to do, but still thinking all your options out. "I remember a certain someone," he jabbed his elbow lightly into your ribs. "Being a bit insecure herself about dating a famous athlete not too long ago."

 You looked over at Matt, head still firmly planted into the headrest of the couch, and rolled your eyes. "Yeah, yeah, and Sid reassured me about everything." Now it was your turn to reassure him you supposed.

 "It's up to you what you want to do. The ball, or puck in your case, is in your rink so to speak."

 "I'm still mad at him," you told Cully, finally sitting upright on the couch.

 "Rightly so."

 "Which means he can stew a little bit longer."

 "Bridget would agree with you." You had to laugh at that because you had a feeling Matt's wife had left him in the dog house a time or two before he was actually forgiven.

 Blowing out a long breath, you'd come to your decision. "But I will forgive him."

 "That's my girl," Cully said then handed back over your Chinese carton to continue eating. "Now that that's settled. Can we finish eating?"

 It was a couple hours later before Matt left for the evening. "Promise me you won't let him wait forever before talking to him."

 "I won't." Though you did want him to suffer just a bit longer.

 "Good, because I have a feeling he'll be blowing up my phone until you talk to him." You walked Matt to the door.

 "Sorry, you got dragged into this mess."

 Matt leaned in and kissed your head like any dutiful dad would that was helping his daughter. "Get some rest. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

 "Night, and thanks again."

 SID'S POV

 You turned over for what had to be the hundredth time in the last hour and looked at the clock. Which literally read twelve minutes after three. Exactly seven minutes from the last time you'd looked at it. Why hadn't she called already? Was she going to? She probably hated you and she had every right to. You were so fucking stupid accusing her of sleeping with someone when all you wanted to do was apologize for the first fuck up you'd made the night before. Instead, you'd gone and made things a million times worth.

 The tone of her voice said it all. (Y/N) was pissed beyond words at the accusation and you knew that had she been standing in front of you she probably would've smacked you across the face; deservingly so. There was no point in laying in bed and staring at four walls so you got up and went to blow off some steam by working out, though it didn't help.

 You were a walking zombie by the time training practice rolled around though you put every ounce of effort you had into it, at least when you weren't checking your phone to see if (Y/N) had called. She hadn't. Physically, you were exhausted and it was only six o'clock at night. Nate suggested going out for dinner but you couldn't stomach the thought of eating a nice meal knowing that your relationship was barely hanging on by a thread, so you opted out and instead just grabbed some takeout at home.

 You'd spoken to Matt a couple times, though all he would say was to give (Y/N) time. How much time though? That was the real question. Should you be jumping on a plane and flying down to Pittsburgh at this very moment or would that make this worse? You'd really made a mess of things and had no clue how to fix it.

 Sleep evaded you again that night, even though you were both mentally and physically exhausted. You finally fell asleep around four-thirty in the morning only to have the alarm go off at six. You dragged yourself out of bed and headed off to train, hoping that it would take your mind off things.

 "You look like shit, man," Nate told you as soon as you walked into the building. "You sure you want to be here today."

 "What else am I going to do?"

 Nate shrugged not having an answer of his own for you. "Have you at least talked to (Y/N)?"

 "No, I haven't called her. I'm trying to give her time."

 Nate looked you up and down a few times assessing you and weighing his words before he spoke again. "I know you're trying to give her space, but maybe you should go see her. I've never seen you like this man."

 "I want to." All you wanted to do was get on a plane and head straight to her. "I'm just not sure it won't make things worse."

 "I know she wanted you to stay and train, but honestly Sid, neither one of us is going to be pushing hard when you're completely exhausted. I'm not saying to fly back and stay in Pittsburgh. Just go there and work things out with her." Nate clapped you on the back. "For both our sakes."

 Maybe he was right. You could just fly down for the day and come right back. All you needed to do was call and get a plane. "You're right. As soon as we're done today, I'm going to call and get it all set up. I've got to win her back."

 "That's the spirit."

 Training went a little better as you formulated a plan to win back (Y/N). You were even smiling some at the end of the day. "So as soon as we get that Tim Horton's shoot done, I'm flying out. Think we can get it done by four tomorrow afternoon?" You asked Nate as you grabbed your bag and headed out of the facility. "The plane can be ready by five, so that gives me an hour to get to the airport. Think that's enough time?"

 You were looking at your schedule on your phone making sure that you could fit everything in before flying and not paying attention when you heard Nate say, "I don't think you have to worry about making that plane." You looked up at Nate not knowing why he would say such a thing when he was the one that suggested you go to Pittsburgh in the first place. He nodded his head pointing in the direction of your Suburban. There stood (Y/N) leaning up against your car.  

 You blinked once and then repeated the action, not believing that she was really there. It had to be some sort of dream. Were you hallucinating? Lack of sleep could do that to a person. But as you drew near, it became evident that she was standing there in the flesh and blood. She looked stunning, wearing a plain belted t-shirt dress; her hair tied back in a simple ponytail, with little wisps framing her face. God, you'd missed her.

 "Hey (Y/N)." Nate's voice brought you out of your musing and you shook yourself, trying to regain your composure.

 "Hi Nate," she waved back, before pushing off the vehicle.

 "Good luck," Nate told then took off for his own car.

 You were too busy staring at the woman in front of you though to pay any attention to Nate. "Hi," you whispered in a small voice, one that was shaky and unsure of how to proceed.

 "Hi, Sidney." You found yourself frown at her use of your name. It wasn't Sid, or babe, or hun, or any of the other million nicknames she called you. "Can we talk?" You wanted to, that was your whole point of planning to go to Pittsburgh for a whirlwind of twelve to sixteen hours, but now that (Y/N) was standing here, you had no idea what to say.

 "Yeah," was the only word that came out of your mouth and you wanted to kick yourself for not saying anything more.

 "Not here," she said motioning to the parking lot.

 No, this wasn't exactly an ideal place to have an intimate conversation about your relationship. "Did you want to go back to the house?" Oh god, maybe that was a bad suggestion. "Or we could go grab something to eat?" Even though that was the last thing you wanted to do.

 "The house is fine." She opened the passenger door and then crawled inside the car before you could say anything else. It took you a minute to gather yourself and walk around to the driver's side. You'd planned on coming up with a whole speech to say to her while you were on the plane. Now you had exactly nine and half minutes, if there was traffic, to think of how you were going to apologize to the woman you loved.

 The ride was silent except for the radio playing in the background. It was weird to drive like this with her. Normally your hands would be interlaced resting on the console in the middle of the car as you drove with your free hand, but as you glanced over you saw that she was sitting on hers. A clear sign that you were not supposed to touch her. It killed you and so your hands remained at ten and two on the steering wheel in a white-knuckle grip as you fought the urge not to reach over and grab her.

 You glanced every so often at her, wondering what was going through her mind. It killed you that she wasn't saying anything. "How was your flight?" you finally blurted out when you were halfway home.

 "It was good. Had a bit of a layover in Philly. So not as good as flying privately with you."

 That flight was one you wouldn't forget. It was the first time you'd been thirty thousand feet in the air and buried deep inside (Y/N). Definitely an experience you'd thought you'd be repeating again. You hadn't expected that you'd be in the car with her now wondering if you still had a relationship.

 By the time you pulled into the driveway, your nerves were shot, wondering if (Y/N) had flown all the way just to break up with you. You tried to think logically and tell yourself that if she wanted to do that, she would've done it on the phone, but knowing (Y/N), she would have to tell you that in person and not take the cowardly way out. She followed you into the house, where you sat your bag down at the door before Sammy came wondering up for her nightly pats. "Hey Sammy, how are you sweet girl?" (Y/N) said bending down to show your dog more affection than she'd shown you.

 You coughed trying to work the lump that was in your throat out. "Can I get you something to drink?"

 "A water would be great." You grabbed two bottles out of the fridge, opening hers like you always did, before handing it over to her, both of you taking a drink.

 "(Y/N), I'm…" you started to say right as (Y/N) said "Sid, I…" The two of you laughed, even though it was hollow, it still broke the tension.

 "Do you mind if I go first?" (Y/N) asked though she didn't really need to as you'd gladly give her anything as long as she didn't say she never wanted to see you again. "I hope you know that I would never, not in a million years, cheat on you. I'm not sure how you jumped to that conclusion but I'm not that kind of person, Sid. If I wanted to be with someone else, I'd be upfront with you and tell you. I wouldn't go running off and sneak behind your back."

 When she took a breath, you jumped in. "I know that (Y/N). I truly do. I don't have an excuse for why I said that other than to say that I was jealous and upset, but I'm truly sorry for saying it. I don't know how I can make it up to you."

 "I just don't understand why you think that. Have I ever given you a reason to believe that I would do something like that?"

 "NO!" You shouted, not really yelling at her but wanting her to know it wasn't her fault. "I'm just stupid. Stupid and crazy in love with you, and sometimes…" you blew out a breath. "I'm just so worried I'm going to lose you or you won't love me anymore. I'm not good at this (Y/N). I've never had a relationship last over a couple weeks. I'm afraid I'll do something wrong and push you away, but that's what I did anyhow."

 "Sid," (Y/N) said taking your hands in hers. You relished even that small contact. "You're not going to lose me or do something wrong." She moved a step closer to you, and you breathed in the intoxicating fragrance that was (Y/N). "I love you silly, and yes I was upset that you didn't see my point about staying here, and we both did stupid things, but that doesn't mean I stopped loving you." Her hand came up and cupped your cheek and you found yourself melting into her touch. "We both need to learn to communicate better. No more running away, for either of us." You were surprised she was including herself in this part, but you supposed she considered taking an earlier flight to Pittsburgh running away as well. "Do you think we can do that?"

 "Of course, if you think you can forgive me for being a selfish jerk and wanting you with me all the time."

 She rocked her head from side to side a small little smile playing across her lips. "I think I can do that. Besides, I kind of like that you want me around all the time."

 You pulled her close, so that no distance separated the two of you, as you wrapped your arms around her waist. "You do huh?"

 "MmmHmm." It was then that she leaned up and captured your lips. God, she tasted like heaven. It had been almost four days since you'd kissed her, yet it felt like four million years. You poured all your love into the kiss hoping to show her how much you not only loved her but how sorry you were for everything that you had done.

 When the two of you finally came up for air, you asked her, "So when are you flying back? Tell me that there won't be a car here in fifteen minutes to pick you up."

 "It's actually thirty."

 "That would've been so much more convincing if you weren't smirking the entire time," you told her giving her hips a little squeeze.

 "You're stuck with me until Sunday night. That is if I can stay?"

 "Are you crazy? Of course, you can stay, but where's your stuff?" You distinctly remember seeing her have only her purse with her when she was leaning against the car.

 "Oh, well. I stashed it in the garage before I had the car drop me off at the rink."

 "So, you mean to tell me you planned on forgiving me all along?"

 "I had some very good advice from a mutual friend, that lead me here." She had to be referring to Cully. You definitely owed him when you got back in town.

 "Well, I'll be sure to thank him." You dropped a kiss to her lips again, just needing to touch her in any way possible. "Did you want to go out for dinner? I can change and be ready in ten minutes."

 Her arms tightened around your neck, as your hands moved up and down her sides. "I'd rather just stay in and order if you don't mind."

 "Not at all," you answered with a raise of your eyebrows. "Though there is something I have to ask you." She pulled back slightly and cocked her head to the side in question. "I was stupid before to assume that you'd just move in with me. So now, this is me asking. (Y/N), I know I can be extremely difficult and stupid at times, but there's nothing I want more than to go to sleep every night lying beside you and to have you wake up next to me every morning. Any chance of making this happen?"

 You could see her thinking it over and you weren't sure if she was trying to be cute and make you wait for an answer or if she truly had concerns. "I would love to, on one condition." It was your turn to give her that questioning look. "If it becomes too much, you know being with each other at home and at work; you'll tell me so I can move back to my place."

 "Babe, it's not going to be too much. I don't want you six feet from me now. That's not going to change."

 "I know but if it does…"

 "If it does, we'll talk about it. Like mature adults. I will not storm out of the house and go stay with Geno." She laughed then, the sound music to your ears.

 "Well, then Mr. Crosby it looks like you just got yourself a roommate."

 "And a pretty one at that," you said kissing her soundly on the lips. "Now, what would you like for dinner?"

 "Maybe we should skip that and go straight for dessert?" (Y/N) was peppering you with kisses and making it hard to concentrate. This was your first fight and you weren't sure if you should just give in and go all out for makeup sex or take things slow and continue to talk things over at dinner. The last thing you needed was to make another mistake that's for sure.

 Pulling back ever so slightly from the embrace, you gazed at (Y/N). "Are you sure about skipping dinner?"

 (Y/N)'s hand slid down to your crotch where she cupped your ever-growing erection. "Yes, I missed you." You didn't ask anything more, knowing that you could always order a pizza later. Instead, your lips captured hers, stealing her breath away before you scooped her up in your arms and headed upstairs. One kiss melted into another and then to another until you were laying her down on the bed that you'd shared only days ago. The same one that had felt too big without her lying beside you.

 The two of you were a mess of tangled limbs and you weren't sure who was removing what clothing. All you knew is that neither one of you could be naked fast enough. Your lips traveled down her neck until you sucked on her nipples. Her body arching into your mouth greedily. One hand slid down her stomach, parting her thighs, leaving her open and wanting for you, as your lips started to travel the same path. (Y/N) stopped you though, her hands cradling your cheeks. "I need you inside me." As much as you wanted to feast on her pussy, the pleading tone in her voice had you giving in to not only her wants but yours as well.

 You settled yourself between her legs, grabbing her hips and edging her just that inch or two closer. You could feel the heat radiating off her body even before your cock slid between her folds. She was deliciously wet, and being inside her felt like coming home after a two-week road trip. (Y/N) was everything. She was your shelter from the worst storm. The light when only darkness surrounded you. There was no other woman in the world that was made for you like she was, and with every thrust of your hips and every kiss from your lips, you tried to tell her that. You would articulate it all into words for her later when you were holding her in your arms, but for now, you let your body speak them for you.

 Her legs started to tremble, and you could feel her fluttering around your cock, as she took you in deeper and deeper. You knew she was close and with a few more thrust, you felt her lose control. "I love you," she cried out, right as she hit that peak, and it was those words that sent you spiraling over the edge with her. Your own declaration of love spilling from your lips.

 The two of you laid there for some time. Soft kisses being exchanged here and there as your breathing returned to normal. "I don't ever want to fight with you again," you told her, as your fingers trailed up and down her heated flesh.

 "Me either." She agreed before kissing you soundly. "Though the makeup sex, was kind of fun."

 You shook your head at her, a soft chuckle escaping you. Sex with (Y/N) was always great. "While that was pretty amazing, I'd rather not have you absent from my life and my bed for four days. I was a mess without you." Just then your stomach growled. "I haven't eaten a decent meal since this whole thing went down."

 "Well then, we better feed you before you wither away to nothing." She reached over and grabbed her phone. "I'll cook for you tomorrow. Tonight, you're getting takeout and then after that, I plan on making up for lost time."

 "Sounds good, but I also plan on stocking up for our days apart." You wrapped your arms around her tightly, hating the thought that she'd be leaving in just a few short days, but you knew that when you finally got back in Pittsburgh, she would be there waiting for you, this time ready to build a home with you.  

[theghostofashton]

hey , when you are free ( only when you're feeling good , i don't want to burden you since you're already in the middle of writing another fic ) can you do a short fic on your interpretation of how both kurt and blaine decided they needed help and went to therapy and how it all played out leading upto s6 where we see them.

you sent me this so long ago and i'm so sorry it took forever. i decided to kind of write two fics? writing kurt and blaine's individual processes felt more natural as separate fics, because they are both in very different places. they got kind of long (i am so sorry - i cannot shut up to save my life lmfao) so i didn't go into the actual therapy sessions, but i can definitely write follow ups that do, if you want!

pretty heavy trigger warnings for depression in both of these. keep that in mind before reading.

i hope you enjoy :)

Blaine is numb.

He doesn’t feel anything. He doesn’t want to feel anything. Everything’s hurt for far longer than he’s been able to bear. It’s finally starting to fade into a slow, steady ache, dull at the edges and no longer as painful, and for that, he is relieved. It’s the kind of hurt that he can tolerate, the kind that just blends into the background, a low buzz that just remains constant.

He just wants to lay here forever. Maybe until the world ends, or his body decomposes, whichever comes first.

It all happened so quickly. Sometimes it feels like someone took a sledgehammer to his life and left it in thousands of tiny pieces. He’s sitting amongst the wreckage, unsure of where to even begin rebuilding. Part of him isn’t sure it’s entirely possible to put back together the smithereens of everything he thought he knew.

The rest of him just doesn’t understand how things got to this point. He doesn’t understand how it happened, how he went from daydreams and decisions about wedding menus, to trying to soften the lump in his throat long enough to deal the last blow. I will never forgive you. I won’t.

I will never forgive you for this.

In the moment, it was all he could do. All of the strength he could summon had been poured into those seven words. He wanted them to hurt, to sting Kurt the way Kurt had stung him, icy hot and merciless. He wanted Kurt to know that it would take more. He wasn’t that easily breakable – at least, not on the outside. He would have the last word, and he would tell it like it was.

He doesn’t know how he could ever forgive Kurt for this.

More important than Kurt, Blaine doesn’t know how he’ll ever forgive himself for the series of bad decisions the past couple of months have dissolved into. Day after day spent in bed, tear tracks drying on his face as he stared at nothing on his walls and tried to keep conscious for a respectable amount of time. He knew it wasn’t a good thing to be sleeping for more hours out of the day than he was awake, but he couldn’t find the energy to do anything else.

Kurt had left.

He was gone.

And Blaine, as much as he tried to fight it, was broken by him. He was broken by the realization that he had put so much of his happiness, so much of himself into his relationship with Kurt and his future wedding, that, now that it had been yanked away, he didn’t know what to do with himself. He didn’t know anything, anymore. His life no longer looked anything like he had envisioned it turning out, and he was forced to live with that. There wasn’t anything he could do.

Kurt doesn’t want him anymore.

There isn’tanything he can do about that.

A part of him isn’t too surprised, if he’s really honest with himself. Things have been different for a while. He’s been scared for a while.

His gut could tell something bad was coming. It was obvious, in the way Kurt moved around the apartment, in the lines of his body in bed at night, the way he was perpetually tensed, stiff with everything he was holding in. Maybe he’d wanted to break up sooner, but held back to preserve Blaine’s feelings.

Blaine isn’t stupid. He knows that that night at the restaurant wasn’t planned. He pushed just the right amount for Kurt to finally blurt out the thing that had had a hold on him. For how long, Blaine isn’t sure, but he knows it had to have been longer than the length of time he kept Kurt waiting at that table.

At least, that’s what he keeps trying to tell himself.

Because the alternative, the biting realization that Kurt hadn’t intended to break up with him, that it just slipped out, something so impulsive yet so final, is too much for Blaine. He doesn’t want it to be true. That isn’t the Kurt he knows. None of this makes sense, but that…that Kurt made the decision to end their relationship, their engagement, so quickly and easily, is too much for him to take.

It was his biggest fear. The thing he kept convincing himself would never happen. Kurt loves you. He always will. He told you he will. He’s not going to leave you. He loves you.

Kurt said he loved him. He said it back, in a moment that Blaine was sure he wouldn’t. But did he? Did he really? The way Blaine sees it, loving someone means fighting for them. Choosing them. Working through the hard things with them.

And Blaine doesn’t know why. He can’t ask. He can only guess. Spend some of these painful hours of consciousness contemplating exactly why he wasn’t good enough for Kurt to stay with. Because the Kurt Hummel he knows is the strongest, toughest fighter he’s ever met. Things had to be dire for him to not even make the effort.

Kurt had finally figured it out. What made him so intolerable, so exhausting to be around. He had realized what he was getting himself into and made a break for it before things could go any deeper. Blaine supposes that is for the best. Get out now, before the papers are signed and things are officially official, before it is much harder to make the break for it.

This is what he’s been scared of, been terrified of, since he and Kurt got back together. And he tried to push it to the back of his mind, because Kurt said yes and invited him to New York and promised to make it safe when he fell. Kurt promised to be there for everything, promised that they belongedto each other, promised that he would never stop loving him.

Blaine wonders when he did.

He wonders when all of this fell apart, how blissfully ignorant and idiotic he must have been not to see it.

How long was Kurt planning to do this? How long was he thinking about it? How long did he keep this to himself, wake up next to Blaine and kiss him goodbye every morning, knowing he was holding onto to the mother of secrets that had the power to destroy everything? Why did he get to be the one making that unilateral decision about their relationship?

Kurt controlled whether they got engaged or not, and Kurt controlled how it ended.

It was all up to him.

Blaine just had to hope they were on the same page about everything, and now it’s clear that they weren’t.

He’s so tired of other people getting to make decisions about his life, and leaving him to deal with the wreckage of their choices. He’s tired of not having any control. He doesn’t know how he ended up here. His life doesn’t feel like his anymore.

Madame Tibideaux had decided that he wasn’t worthy of another year at NYADA, that his emotions weren’t a good enough excuse for the quality - or lack thereof - of his work. It didn’t matter what he was feeling, or how bad it hurt. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t like every other person who could channel their pain into their art. It didn’t matter that he’d been doing it for as long as he could remember, feeling through every lyric he sang, every performance he gave. The cup had to dry up eventually. Something had to happen that was too bad, too painful, for him to sing his way out of. It wasn’t his fault. He’d tried so hard, given everything he could.

It didn’t matter that he desperately, desperately needed someone to see him. Not the things he produced, not the contributions he would make to a performance, him. His real self. The part that no one seemed to want.

It didn’t matter that Blaine Warbler felt like a lie he’d forgotten how to live years ago. He remembers grappling for it, trying to tug on the same mask he’d donned after the Sadie Hawkins dance, turn off his emotions and shift into autopilot, sing and dance and perform like he didn’t wish he could stop existing in that moment.

None of it mattered.

Blaine was just not good enough for NYADA, like he was not good enough for Kurt. He should’ve realized it sooner. It’s his own fault he didn’t.

“Honey?”

Blaine startles at the voice, jolting upward in bed and blinking rapidly against the sunlight pouring into his room. “Huh?”

“I brought you a little something to eat.” His mom sets a plate of buttered toast and a glass of water on his nightstand, and then leans down to drop a kiss against his head. “How are you feeling?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbles honestly. He doesn’t want to lie to her. “Tired, I guess.”

“Sam called the house again,” she says. She takes a seat on the edge of his bed and reaches out to brush a hand through his hair. “He left a message, said you haven’t been picking up your cell. He’s worried, Blaine. I’m sure Tina is too.”

Blaine winces, dropping his gaze down to his blankets. Just one more thing you’re sucking at lately.

He hasn’t called Sam or Tina since he got back to Lima. At first, he was too ashamed to tell them the truth, although he knows that Sam is probably aware of what happened. Kurt and Mercedes talk, and even though Sam isn’t with her anymore, he knows that he and Mercedes are still very close. Sam’s been blowing up his phone for weeks. He sent a perfunctory, “back home for a while, but going to be really busy for a while” text, so Sam wouldn’t assume he was ignoring him, but he’s sure Sam has long figured out it was a lie.

“You don’t have to call him back until you’re ready,” his mom tells him. “But I do think he’d love to hear from you, baby. He could come over and keep you company, play some video games, you could-”

“No,” he mutters, shaking his head. “I don’t want him to come over.”

“Why not?”

I just don’t,” he manages. I don’t want him to see me like this.

I don’t want him to be mad at Kurt.

I don’t even know if I want to be mad at Kurt anymore. All of this is just so exhausting.

“Have you given any more thought to what we talked about a while ago?”

Blaine snaps his head up to meet her eyes. “You- no, mom. I’m fine, I promise. I just need a couple more days to…” He trails off with a sigh. To what? Wallow in his sadness? Sleep away and accomplish nothing? He hasn’t been the slightest bit productive since he left New York. It feels like he used up all his energy packing up and moving home.

That was over a month ago, and he still hasn’t recovered from it.

“It’s not really a matter of being fine, sweetheart. You know that. I just think talking about it might-”

“I don’t want to talk about it!” He snaps. And then he watches her face shift and crumples, lump in his throat throbbing as he squeezes his eyes shut. “I’m- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

A pair of hands reaches for him, and he lets himself go, lets her pull him into a hug and buries his face in the crook of her neck. He takes a deep breath, and then another, hot tears burning at his eyes.

He doesn’t want to cry anymore. He feels like he’s done nothing but cry about this. He doesn’t know how he still has tears left.

“I know,” she murmurs, rubbing his back. “And I know you don’t think it’ll help. But you might be surprised, Blaine. I just think you should give it a chance. Get yourself back on your feet and feeling a little better, hm?”

She presses another kiss to the top of his head and props him back against his pillows. “You don’t have to make a decision right now. Just think about it, okay?”

“Okay,” he chokes out.

“I’m just going to be downstairs doing some work. Let me know if you want another piece of toast, all right?”

At his nod, she makes her way out of his room, and Blaine slumps back against his headboard, still fighting tears.

She’s probably right. It would help, far more than it would hurt. His mom has been a proponent of him seeing someone ever since Sadie Hawkins. He insisted he’d be okay then, and, seeing his distress, she didn’t push too hard for it. He knows she regrets that now, knows she blames herself for things getting as bad as they have. If he had gone, back then, maybe they would’ve been able to address some of this before it turned so bad.

But talking means talking about everything. About the dance, and meeting Kurt, and it going from so good to so bad, in such a short amount of time. It means talking about the things he hoped would stay buried, the ways in which he and Kurt were not perfect, his tendency to latch onto things and cling to them, tighter than he probably should have.

He isn’t sure he’s ready to think about more than how angry he is, or how much this hurts. He isn’t sure he’s ready to move out of this stage of staying in bed and not facing the world, holing up in his childhood bedroom and not confronting the life that he feels like he put on pause a month ago. He knows things are different now. He just isn’t sure he’s ready to see how much everything’s changed.

He doesn’t feel like he’s ready to move past all of this, but he knows he needs to.

He knows he needs to leave all of this behind, to start talking about it and thinking about it and rebuilding the pieces of his mess of a life. Otherwise, he’s destined to feel like this forever.

And that scares him even more.

---

Kurt is exhausted.

And if he’s really honest with himself, he’s felt this tiredness for a while now, become so accustomed to it that it feels like he’s leeched it into part of his personality, taken on the ache in his chest and the heaviness of his bones like a jacket with rocks in the pockets, weighing him down with every step he tries to take.

It’s the kind of tired that feels consuming, quicksand that swallows him the more he tries to get out of it. The kind that makes him feel like he’s running on empty, with no sign of a gas station for miles, the kind of tired that makes every day, every action, every conversation, feel like too much.

Part of him thought that this would stop once he ended things with Blaine. He didn’t want to go there. He never wanted to believe that Blaine could be the reason for all of this. How could the person that made him feel so, so loved and safe on his worst days also be the person that made him feel like this? It just didn’t make sense.

It never felt true, but the thought continued to linger, and with every passing day, ate more and more away at him. He tried not to spend too much time in that place. It hurt too much to think about until he was blurting out the words he didn’t even plan on saying.

And then, everything changed.

The breath it allowed him to take, the exhale, didn’t last long. Instead, he’s left with the image of Blaine’s crumpled, heartbroken expression every time he closes his eyes, the I will never forgive you for this playing on loop in his head every time he tries to think about what it could mean going forward.

That was it.

He ruined it.

He drove Blaine away for good.

Kurt remembers the day it happened so clearly. Getting home after a long day of classes, worn out and ravenous, only to be greeted by Blaine’s key to the loft sitting on the kitchen table. He’d sent Kurt a text that had far too many periods and was capitalized in all the right places – which, Blaine usually tended to do, but never in his life had Kurt read a message from him that felt so stiff and robotic and formal – about the rest of his portion of rent and bills for the month.

Blaine was gone.

Really, really gone.

And Kurt was alone, feeling further and further away from the people that loved him with each passing day.

In the beginning, he thought that was what he needed. Time away. A chance to be by himself and reevaluate the decisions he’d made over the past year. Crunch the numbers and figure out if Blaine remained in the equation by the end. He just wanted to be certain, be sure, that he wasn’t opening himself up to be hurt again. He wasn’t sure he could take it one more time, give his heart back to Blaine only to have it dropped, shattered like a stone.

He just wanted to feel safe.

He wanted to be sure of it, sure that he could let his heart go, run wild and free like it did in the common room, racing toward the boy with the beautiful voice who had held his hand and made him feel seen for the first time in his life. He wanted it to feel like that again. Untethered, too strong to control, defying each doubt with that wave of invincibility. So pure and open, expansive with all of the potential, broken parts shaved off to make room for the newness.

Maybe he just wasn’t meant to have that with Blaine, he’d thought. Maybe Blaine was supposed to be a bridge that helped him on the road to finding that. Maybe he’d meet someone else that would make him feel like Blaine first had, someone else that would make him feel weightless.

He tries to just go for it, to let it happen, but it never does. It never feels right, never the kind of right that it felt with Blaine. He lets Elliott set him up with friends that the other deems perfect, just your type, and feels nothing.

He tries speed dating, and starts getting more serious about Tindr. He matches with a few guys, goes on a couple of dates, flirts and reciprocates and tries, to let himself fall headfirst. It’s fun. Every date is a good time. They’re warm and light and exploding with newness. But the sparks die out after the first twenty minutes and then Kurt finds himself back in his head, thinking about hair gel and bowties and nonfat mochas, intertwined hands and the insides of coffee shops, the way it all felt like the safest home he’s ever known.

And he hates it, he hates that he feels nothing. He hates that his heart belongs to the hair gel and the bowties, because he fucked that up. He ruined that.

Kurt goes to class, goes to work, and comes home. Sometimes he sees Elliott, and sometimes he stays past his shift to chat with Artie at the diner, but otherwise, he spends every day the same. Sitting and staring through shows on TV, shoving spoonful after spoonful of ice cream in his mouth, and trying desperately to turn his brain off. Trying desperately not to wade into the murky waters of every moment that led up to that night.

I will never forgive you for this.

The realization slaps him in the face.

He’s trying to move on, and then he’s crying in public, humiliating himself in front of a perfectly good Tindr match, overcome with the sheer magnitude of the words that came out of his mouth so many months ago. It hadn’t hit him until then, how insistent, how cruel he had been in the moment. How he had the power to turn Blaine from light and warm and excited, to completely and utterly broken, in the span of a single conversation.

He did that.

And sure, it wasn’t just about toothpaste and towels and Blaine’s newfound habit of tardiness, sure, there was so much painful and deep and wrong underneath the surface. Sure, Kurt had had doubts ever since the car ride and the non-surprise of a proposal, sure, it would have come to the light sooner or later, sure, he was just speeding up the process.

But never in his life has he been so disgusted in himself. Never in his life has he gone back over a moment so many times in his head, wished he could turn back time and that 20/20 happened before hindsight and that he could see the future of misery he’d end up in and not decide to ruin the best thing that had ever happened to him.

They could’ve talked about it. Blaine is one of the most understanding people Kurt has ever met. He would’ve absolutely been open to something like that. One of Kurt’s favorite things about him is that kindness, that space for grace he is able to hold for others.

Talk to me. Tell me you’re unhappy.

We’ve been putting this off for far too long.

Don’t you think we should have the talk?

Wait, Kurt, let’s talk about this.

Blaine always wanted to talk. It was how he felt safe, Kurt is realizing. Blaine wanted the words, the vocalization that everything was okay in that real and concrete way. It was how he grounded himself.

Kurt’s never been one for talking. He keeps his feelings close to his chest, locked up tight. He knows they’re not what people want to hear. They’re messy, and don’t always make sense. Sometimes they feel like the worst parts of him all bundled up into one, complete with pieces of him that haven’t fully left the horrors of high school behind.

Talking about them is effort he doesn’t have to exert. He’ll be opening Pandora’s box with no way to contain the contents. He doesn’t necessarily want to know how the people in his life feel about him. He doesn’t want to hear what they have to say. It scares him too much. There’s just no reason to ruin a perfectly good foundation by having conversations that uncover all of the cracks.

No, it’s better to drop a bomb on the entire thing and destroy it in one fell swoop.

He sometimes feels like he’d fallen asleep after Finn died and is only now being wrenched out of his nightmare, waking into a world that is far different than when he left it. Everything’s been on pause for so long. Hitting play feels like coming back to a reality he barely recognizes. A person he barely recognizes.

He hadn’t realized how much he didn’t like himself until there was nothing to distract from it. And maybe it isn’t his entire self, per say, but who he’s turned into. The person that’s been morphed together after the tiring, tumultuous year they’d all had. The stress, the anxiety, the exhaustion, personified. Even the littlest things – the tiny, stupid, don’t matter in the grand scheme of it, things – make him angry.

He’s been living on fumes for too long and everything feels like it’s at a breaking point. He’s trying to hold on to the reins, but they’re slipping out of his hands too quickly and he’s too tired to keep running to catch up. His life feels like it’s unraveling and it scares him, because he has never been this person. He has never been unable to keep going, unable to push through, to carry on, put all his stock into the rainbow on the other side and his nose down until he reaches it.

But everything that’s happened in the past few years, high school, and Karofsky, and all the little things he let go, all the things he said were okay and tried to move past and eventually decided didn’t mean anything anymore, never truly went away. They laid dormant for a while, so much so that he’d just about forgotten about them, until they decided to come back with a vengeance. Like he’s being reminded of how messed up his life is, because for once, hewas the one to cause it.

He’s spent so long being too gay, or too fragile, or too feminine, to get the things that he really wants. There’s always been something he couldn’t control, something inherently wrong with him, which keeps him from getting anything on the first try. It always takes extra work, extra effort, the need to prove that he does deserve it and has earned the role, or the solo, or the opportunity that is almost inevitably given up to someone else.

Maybe a small part of him thought that Blaine would be like that too.

The proposal wouldn’t be enough to propel them into a lifetime of happiness.

It couldn’t be that easy.

He wouldn’t get to be that happy.

There is so much wrong with him. Kurt knows that. He knows he can be bitchy, sometimes cold, often not someone that’s easy to get close to. He knows he has a tendency to hold everything in until he reaches a breaking point and lashes out.

He knows he’s angry. He knows he’s in pain.

And he knows Blaine didn’t need to see any of it, didn’t deserve any of it. Blaine was too good, too warm, too unimaginably kind, to deserve these parts of him. He didn’t want their relationship to turn into it, go sour and stunted until Blaine began to resent him.

Blaine loved him anyway. In spite of everything. Blaine’s capacity for love was so massive and unlimited, and Kurt couldn’t understand it. Blaine wanted to work on things, always, and Kurt didn’t understand that, either. He’s spent his entire life trying desperately to be okay, to be enough, for people, to not be a problem they will one day resent solving and decide to abandon by the side of the road. People don’t want a mess. They don’t want someone who’s broken. They don’t want to be there when the going gets bad.

But everything is just so much, and Kurt has never been more tired of fighting.

He can’t hide it anymore. Can’t compress it down and pretend it isn’t happening. A recent study session with Elliott turned into a minor – he would deem minor, although Elliott would definitely evaluate it way worse – breakdown over one of his theory papers. What should’ve been some simple frustration over his inability to phrase his argument was instead far more loaded, the depths of his anger and stress seeping through, unable to be contained.

Maybe talking is – finally – what he needs. He’s tried everything else.

He reaches over and into the pocket of the jacket he wore a couple days ago, and pulls out the card Elliott pushed into his hand as they left the coffee shop. For the therapist I used to see when I first got to the city, Elliott had told him. She really helped me sort through some stuff, and I know she can help you too.

Call, he had urged quietly. Please, Kurt. It doesn’t have to be like this.

It isn’t the first time Elliott’s brought up seeing a therapist. That was his first suggestion when Kurt broke the news of his and Blaine’s breakup. Kurt had ignored him then, insisted that the breakup was all he needed. He’d be fine.

But the lump in his throat has been there for weeks, and he is so tired of being on the verge of tears all the time.

That’s what he tells himself, as he grabs his phone. His fingers shake as he puts in the number and presses ‘call’.

He’s so tired of being tired.

[gallivantingheart]

who?: dk/seokmin x (f)reader

word count: 890

genre/s: omg angst

warnings: a heap of swearing, angsty stuff, maybe some unhealthy relationship coping mechanisms

synopsis: seokmin needs to stop being so nice - there is only some much you can forgive.

a/n: bro this is hella angsty. this is kind of hefty. something more serious than i’ve ever done. just a fun fact, i suppose.

He's shaken by the venom in your eyes, like nothing he's seen before. They sit nestled on top of a broken snarl.

"Yeah, Seokmin, really nice of you to show up late again after bending backwards for someone you barely know instead of giving your own fiancee a hand with the upkeep of your own home. Again. Always." You say with the most bitter smile. The chuckle is sour in his ears.

He sweeps at his fringe. "Is there something wrong with being a good person?"

You roll your eyes. "No. Until you favour the entire of Korea over your own girlfriend. I asked for your help weeks ago. Weeks! We even made a stupid schedule, since that's the only language you speak. And all you've done is put it off for things you and I both know can wait. You work hard on everything but your relationship, it seems."

"How the hell am I supposed to put my career on hold for something you can hire someone to do?"

He's not liking how quickly this is all escalating, your irritation grating on his tiredness as much as it is on his own emotions. Seokmin inches in as carefully as he can, trying to calm himself. If he can do that, maybe he can get through to you.

"I'm sorry for coming home late, but I will do it."

"For me or for someone else?" You were past the point of reasoning, your chest aching to scream. 

He huffs. "Someone else? What is it with you and other people? You aren't the only other person to exist. I honestly didn't think this would be such a big deal."

"My god! And there’s the problem with all of this - it’s become a big deal! I'm sick of you playing martyr every five minutes with everyone you meet then coming home - if you even call it that - and throwing in the towel. All I wanted was a bit of help and a bit of your time, but it's like pulling fucking teeth with you! God, it hurts feeling like you have no support."

You're yelling now, tears streaking your face and stinging your eyes. Your breath heaves as you wave your hands about helplessly, feelings laid bare. He flinches in shock, his ears ringing and heart aching for you. You said hurt. Like a trigger word for him, his eyes sting, welling up with tears. Even the cursing, a rarity, seems to twist the knife.

"Every other month there is someone else stuffing something up and coasting on our couch. Because you say ‘it's all good! She won't mind!’ Fucking welcome! You don't listen!"

You break then, having said your piece. Far more breaking the surface than you both expected. You wither and slump against the dining table, eyes squeezed shut and unable to face him. He sniffles and hiccups, bracing himself on a chair across the other side of the table to support himself.

"I...You're sounding really selfish. If you can help someone, shouldn't you? I'm sorry, but I don't understand why this has us both so strung up. Seeing you hurt-"

You glare at him, mouth ajar. Then do the unthinkable: you walk away. Down the short hall to the bedroom. He can't help but chase after you for answers. He sees you change your shirt and put on a coat, jamming your phone and wallet in your pockets.

"I'm going out. I n-need to clear my head - or stew in it, wh-whatever - until I'm calm enough. Or I will say something I’ll regret. I'll listen t-to your side when I get back.” Your brows are crumpled up in more pain than he’s seen in a while and you heave a sigh. The gaze in your eyes is nothing short of broken. “I know, I know it looks selfish what I’m doing right now, just l-leaving this in the air. But, Seokmin, we both know that I’m nowhere near calm enough to listen clearly. I’ll do something to mess this up.”

He stands, lost in the doorway. “H-How long will you be gone?”

You sniffle and shrug. “I dunno. I’ll let you know if anything changes. I love you.”

He nods. “Love you too.”

At least there was that. 

He watches you from the front door as turn down the hill, head bowed. Seokmin faces the rest of the flat and enters the bedroom, the source of the argument. You had been so excited when you brought a new and bigger bed for the both of you, sitting in his lap as you compared colours and headboards. You even upped the quality of the mattress for him, insisting on the super fancy one to give him the best sleep money could buy. For him. Now the stacks of flat pack boxes are leant against the hallway wall, your old mattress stood against the wall inside the bedroom. All the slates and materials from the last one were stacked neatly in a corner, leaving a gaping hole in the middle of the room. Something a little too physical as to how he was feeling.

He was supposed to be home two hours ago. You were so excited when you messaged him that it had arrived, on schedule. Now look. The house dead quiet and devoid of the one he loved.

[docholligay]

I’m sorry if this is too personal. I was really late for work today and now i feel like a total lump of trash.( first real job). Any words of advice besides don’t oversleep?

I mean, don't oversleep is the best way to avoid feeling like this in the future. Not being late is the best way to avoid the feeling of shittiness, over being late. 

I’m not sure whether you want advice on not being late, or on not feeling like a piece of shit, so we’ll double prong it. At least half of the “stop being late” advice, you and anyone else reading this won’t take, but at the very least I can say I put it out there. 

I have ADHD, and so a lot of those tips are based around what works for me, but certainly you don’t have to have ADHD to use them--inattention is a sign of a million different things, as is executive dysfunction, and sleep disruption is basically normal in our constantly connected culture. You don’t need any pedigree to use this. 

On Not Being Late, With Special Attention to Sleeping. 

Go to bed at a decent hour. 

Figure out how much sleep you need in a night to move quickly in the morning, and move your bedtime back so you have a certain amount of cushion in the morning, depending on how far you live from work. It may annoy you to go to bed at 9, 10, etc, but you want to be a human being who does well at your job, and that takes certain sacrifices. 

Don’t just lay in bed, sleep

Here’s the one no one will listen to me on: TURN OFF YOUR FUCKING PHONE AND PUT IT ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE ROOM. PUT IT THE FUCK DOWN. Not only does it keep you awake for longer, but you’ll roll over at 2 am to “check the time” and end up on it for at least another half hour. You can keep it next to you if you legit have the willpower not to pick it up--I am not allowed to pick mine up from about 11:30 to 6 am, and I’m fine with that--but most people especially starting out, just don’t. Our addiction centers have been hijacked by technology in a ton of ways. If you need a transition, I really highly recommend getting a real, physical book and reading for about an hour before you go to sleep. 

But I can’t sleep, I just lay there! Well, just lay there in the darkness!! Have some meditation and alone time! When I was a kid, my mom always used to tell met that I didn’t have to sleep, but I did have to rest. I still wake up every night about 3ish and stay awake for about a half hour/hour, but I don’t grab anything! I write stories in my head, I think about things, and eventually I go back to sleep. Meditate, recite poetry, whatever, but DON’T GRAB YOUR PHONE. 

Get a very loud alarm clock and put it on the other side of the room. 

When I was in high school I literally had this: 

With the volume turned ALL the way up, playing reveille. It was the only way, really, to get myself up and get moving. I’m a lot better now, but in initial training, it was really tough for me. Putting it on the other side of the room means you can’t hit snooze. Don’t. Snooze is dead to you now. Snooze isn’t helpful and half the time you go back to a fitful sleep, and for what? 

Leave your phone alone while you get ready. 

 I wake up early so that I can do my morning routine of reading the NYT on my phone. If you need “phone time” in the morning, make it a specific, laid out thing, not come endless scroll while you’re supposed to be doing other shit. My alarm goes off, I grab my phone and read, another alarm goes off, and it’s time to set down my phone and get dressed. Set multiple alarms for yourself, ONE MINUTE APART, NOT FIVE, if you have trouble setting down your phone. Annoy yourself into compliance. Set it down, and leave it at your bedside table. If you forget and pick it up, correct yourself, set it down, and keep getting ready. I find it useful if I’m having a rough time of it to put it by the door, or something, somewhere inconvenient. 

Lay stuff out the night before. 

Clothes, breakfast, etc. Then you can basically run through like a whirlwind. I can be ready in 30 minutes or less, generally, which ALSO gives me some slack. 

All this has helped me IMMENSELY over the years and I do pretty well now! 

On Not Feeling Like a Piece of Shit 

I am a big believer in the useful qualities of guilt! Guilt is often a good guide for ourselves about the things we probably should be doing. We feel guilty blowing our entire afternoon refreshing tumblr/fb/etc because it’s a dumbass way to waste a lifetime. That being said, like anything in life, it has its limitations. 

Are you working toward doing better next time, in a real, concrete way? Have you put things into place to try and make it less likely to happen? Than the guilt has served its purpose. You can release it. Even go all Marie Kondo and thank it for having shown you more of the person you’d like to be, but then let it go. Clinging to it out of some desire to self-flagellate without purpose is a kind of self-centered behavior. Who benefits from you stewing in your own natural juices? 

DO we all do it? Of course we do, we’re only human, after all. But I want to encourage you that when you think, “I was really late for work one day, I’m a stupid piece of shit” you answer, “I made a mistake because I’m new to the workforce, and that sucks, but I’m taking steps to make sure it doesn’t keep happening. What more can I ask of me?” and if the answer comes back, “Well, you’re not putting your phone down/going to bed responsibly/etc” then recommit yourself to doing that! But I think, if you’re working, and you are sincere with yourself, you’ll find that sometimes the answer is, “I think I’m asking all of me that I can” in which case, you have no responsibility or even right to hate yourself over it.

 It involves a lot of level of honesty with ourselves, but I believe that you’re capable of it. Be FAIR to yourself. And being fair is neither permissive nor cruel. If you’re doing your best, you hav to give yourself permission to forgive yourself. A mistake isn’t worth castigating yourself over. It’s really only repeated patterns of behavior where I think you’re allowed to give yourself a little bit of a spanking, and I’ve been on that side, for sure. But always think, “Is this FAIR to me? Would I consider this FAIR to someone else?” 

I mean if I had an otherwise good employee who was really late once, I would think of the times I’ve completely fucked up my schedule. Once is nothing! I’d probably ask if everything was okay, and as long as it wasn’t a repeated thing, no big deal. 

[carolsideblog]

Undiagnosed Autism in Adults | Being Shamed for Special Interests

What is a Special Interest?

I’m 27 and I have autism.

Therefore, I have special interests. Generally speaking, in the context of the autistic spectrum disorder, a special interest is... just genuinely hard for me to describe or explain? Here are some links with definitions of special interests.

Autism Fandom Wikia

Ambitious About Autism

Amythest Schaber - Ask an Autistic, What are Special Interests?

Purple Ella - Autism & Special Interests 

... long post ahead / cw for cussing and swearinig ...

The Comfort of my Special Interests

My special interests are things that I’m deeply passionate about and something that I latch onto, almost as a coping mechanism. I have a variety of special interests that shift in and out of focus through out the months in a year, but I could prattle on and ON AND ON for HOURS about any of them.

When I’m immersed in my current favorite special interest, I am over the moon. I feel productive, the world makes sense, I feel like my life makes sense, and I can calm down faster from a stressful, overwhelming day.

Adulthood and the Expectations of Neurotypicals

But in adulthood, it’s generally not seen as a mature thing for an old woman in her twenties to STILL be fucking talking about “dumb shit.” Shit that’s “bad,” shit that’s “problematic,” or shit that’s not for “my age group.”

I don’t fucking know what women in their late twenties are supposed to do. I’m not a sensible enough of an adult to know.

I also know very well that my shit is problematic, bad, and/or not for my age group. I probably researched 5 hours straight on my special interest for nearly a month when I discovered it. I know books, games and movies that I’ve taken a shine to forwards and backwards, I know deep-cut fandom jokes in different things I like, I know who created what and when.

But this isn’t impressive to anyone. To the rest of neurotypical society, one needs to have a bunch of light hearted little hobbies that you can switch too whenever you want because that’s “healthy.” It’s “not healthy” whatsoever (apparently) to STILL be talking about something that I love, because I’m an adult and I should have hobbies and I should have a job filing away things and writing data in spreadsheets like a good little working woman.

Or whatever, I don’t know.

Guilt, Shame and Stigma

I just... don’t understand why people shame people for the things that bring them joy, even if the things that bring them joy are objectively poor quality or badly made. The things I love make me happy, and they make me happy for lots of different reasons.

Some reasons include...

It was close to my childhood and I have a strong attachment to it

It was the lifeline I clung onto when I was going through a rough part of my life and the memories I have of it bring me comfort

I felt proud investing time in researching information, collecting memorabilia, and becoming an “expert” in that special interest

To me, my special interests were so important to my ability to cope, it got to the point where some parts of them became almost like an addition to my identity; my special interests are part of who I am and how I navigate the world. It might come from not really having a strong sense of self in the first place, I don’t know.

So when people scold me for still talking about my special interests, or make passive aggressive, off-hand comments about my special interests, or when they’re even out-right criticizing my special interests, (”It’s a bad book, it’s a bad game, the movie sucks,”)

Even if I know they’re right, it feels like an attack on me. It feels like they’re scolding me for liking the things I like. It feels like they’re criticizing me for liking something bad. It feels like they’re being passive aggressive and unfair because they don’t like me.

Rationally and logically I know this isn’t true. But it still feels like an emotional punch in the gut. It still feels like people are policing what I should and shouldn’t like. And it pisses me off and makes me ruminate.

An Open Letter to Neurotypicals 

Hello, ally.

Life is hard. You and I both know that. But thankfully, there are loads of things in this world that can bring us joy. We have lots of things to keep us entertained, to socialize over, and to be passionate about.

But I get it: someone in your life keeps talking about that one thing all the time. Maybe you’re tired, maybe you’ve heard so much about this thing before, you’ve had enough or got bored. I dunno? But you’re tank is empty and you need a break, and that’s fair.

If for whatever reason your friend won’t shut up about something they really seem to love and it makes them happy... Be nice about it I guess?

If I could say anything to any neurotypical that I’ve spoken too in my lifetime right now, it’s this: be frank, honest, and straightforward. Don’t beat around the bush and don’t “drop hints.” Don’t always rely on people figuring it out for themselves. Just because things might come naturally to you doesn’t mean those same things come naturally to others. And this is okay, I only ask that you communicate clearly and honestly when you can.

If a topic is getting tiresome to you and you need a break, just tell them. Most of the time, it will be fine. When you’re up for it and wondering about a hobby or interest that someone told you about, bring it up with them again. It might brighten their day.

You don’t have to participate in the special interest of a friend if you don’t want too. Just be there for your friends, lend an ear if you can, and be supportive.

An Open Letter to the Neurodiverse

Hello, friend.

Don’t let people get you down about your special interests. If there’s something in this world that makes you passionate, that keeps you up at night because you’re so excited, that makes you rush to wake up  because you want to do your Favorite Thing in the Entire World™, then please keep embracing that thing.

It doesn’t matter if it doesn’t fit the standards of neurotypicals. You don’t have to please people. If people are giving you a hard time because something makes you happy??? They’re probably not the right people to be around anyway. Someone in your life just kinda humoring you and you wish you had more? Same! But it’s okay. People who love you are listening as best they can, but please, I promise you if you keep looking, you will find your like-minded people and you will be able to find people to talk about your passions with.

If it makes you happy, if it brings you joy, if it brings you comfort, please don’t let that go if people keep nagging you for it. You have no reason to feel guilty or ashamed for something that helps you cope, that keeps you grounded, that makes you happy.

Also know that as much love and joy and comfort that your special interest gives you... remember you are still a whole entire person. You can wear your special interest as apart of you if you feel that brings you the most honest and genuine comfort and joy, but just remember that you don’t need to be limited to just this one thing. You have full permission to also be anything else you want to be in addition to this special interest. This is not to scold or shame you, but this is to remind you that you are a valid, whole person, and you are allowed to transform however you want too.

Closing Ramblings and Musings

I’ve been really bothered by this.

Like I’ve been thinking about this a lot, on again and off again, since November.

Through out my life, people have made lots of comments about my hobbies and the things I like. Most of them negative.

From the music I like to listen too, the bands and groups I follow, to the books I loved to read, to the movies I like to watch, to the games I love to play. I have my own genuine criticism and critiques that I have for a variety of things that fall under my special interests. I’m passionate and thorough with my feedback because I love all of my special interests so much, and I know they could be better.

I have a lot of complex feelings and a lot of things to reconcile with my special interests. It’s so hard to grow up and start to learn and realize how... bad they are all. How problematic some are, how poor quality or laughably simple they all are. I can give you all of my different reasons for why I like them and I could tell you all day about how I know they’re all bad... but I know some of the things I love are just laughing stocks and punching bags in pop culture to the neurotypical society. 

But I can’t just let them go. That’s what I couldn’t stop thinking about in November and December. I really just couldn’t let these things go. For personal reasons, for nostalgia reasons, for coping reasons. I love these things. And I carry a lot of guilt and frustration with myself because I can’t let these things go. I can’t just switch to new fandoms, new books, new movies, new groups. At least, maybe not yet. I don’t know.

I just don’t know. I want to reclaim the parts I love but I know that It’s not a real solution. There’s such a major divide between the special interests I love and what I actually believe in and stand for. They directly conflict with each other and it’s frustrating and complicated.

I really don’t know how to close this post, to be honest. This post won’t solve the problem I have. It won’t explain to the people who scolded me for my special interest, it won’t make them understand or forgive me about why I keep talking about a stupid book with a bad premise, it won’t make them understand why I have “bad taste” or why a 27 year old woman won’t shut up about something largely assumed “meant for kids.”

This was just to vent and maybe lend hope to people feel the same way or have the same struggles.

[raevenlywrites]

The Ties That Bind 19 of ???

I couldn’t sleep this night, and there was little point in trying. So I stayed among my people, hoping my presence would reassure them where my words might have failed. I had never been more grateful for my people’s habit of holding our emotions close; it kept my fury with my mother’s milquetoast words at a manageable distance.

She was better than this. I’d heard her give inspiring speeches all my life, words that inspired hope where it was waning, fervor where it was lost. I could only view tonight as an act of sabotage, and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why. What would she have to gain from undermining me, and the peace I was trying to build? Was it not what we all were working towards?

On the one hand, I wanted very much to speak with her, to demand an explanation. But on the other... well, I had sort of given up. From the moment the Disa suggested marriage, my mother had been shut down. There was more at work here than the surface negotiations of peace. My mother seemed deeply disturbed at the notion of my life deviating from her plan for it--and that was just too bad. It was my life, my reign, my people. Her ways and her mother’s ways and her mother’s mother’s ways had not led to any resolution. I was willing to try something new.

But I was never alone with my thoughts for too very long. It was rare for the Shardae to mingle nowdays outside of festivals and holy days, so many were eager for my attention. Many offered wishes for my continued good health, simple excuses to engage and be near. More than I wished expressed their condolences for our “wasted trip” out to the Mistari, which I politely redirected back towards the news of Irene’s expectancy. Those that topic did not turn away expressed interest in my singing in the birth, and did that mean that I would be returned to my work with the midwives, now that I would no longer be needed on the battlefields? It was an excellent question, and one I hadn’t considered, but found that my answer was an eager yes. It did much to buoy my spirits to think my family gifts returned to acts of growth rather than simply easing the pain of loss. Perhaps even my mother--

I didn’t care to think on my mother overly much this night.

So I stayed among my people until well after moonset, making note of those faces that stayed, those that seemed cautiously hopeful, and those who’s distrust and disdain I’d had to redirect. There weren’t many who lived directly in and around the Keep; I knew most by family name at least, from the Lyssia tailors to the jewelers who ran the Aurita, to the Silvermead blacksmiths and soldiers.

One I did know by first name, Jeanne Kejamarl, approached me much later in the evening. I remembered her from our shared school days, when I was still learning to shape my letters and reading only the simple sentences chalked on the board. The children of the Keep were all raised and educated together, because there were so few. So while I had little cause to interact with the Kejamarl tanneries directly, I knew Jeanne by name, though I wouldn’t call her a friend now, the way I did Elanor. Which I only considered because of how utterly forward her question was.

“Forgive my asking, Shardae, but why wasn’t Captain Andreios by your side this evening?”

I blinked, long and slow and foolish. My brain felt like thick mud, unwilling to allow my thoughts to rotate and pivot this conversation change with any speed.

“I know it’s not my place to question, but if you’re not going to announce him your alastair....”

Jeanne’s cheeks colored, and I realized with shock and horror the direction this conversation was headed, too late to head it off. She was interested in Rei, and I had dragged my feet so long that others were wondering if they might court him.

It wasn’t entirely uncommon for young adults to pursue one another. Yes, alastairs were often chosen for children in their infancy, but tragically all too often, those alastairs and pairbonds did not live to see adulthood. And while it was traditional for men to take the role of alastair--chivalrous protectors--it wasn’t unheard of for a would be pairbond to express her interest in being pursued. And Rei was handsome, and highly ranked, and courteous and thoughtful and dependable--

The thought of his lips against mine came surging back, filling my own cheeks with heat. Luckily, Jeanne misinterpreted my reaction for embarrassment at the topic--or maybe not so much a misinterpretation--and quickly backed off.

“I’m so sorry, m’lady, I shouldn’t have asked.” She ducked her head, chin all but tucked to her chest as she tried to make herself small. “It’s just after all the rumors of the Arami’s proposal, and with Rei’s absence--“

“He didn’t propose!”

I snapped a too rapid answer in a furious whisper, too caught up in my own snarl of emotions to keep my usual decorum.

“I don’t know who started that stupid rumor but I would really appreciate it if people stopped speculating about my private life!”

Jeanne looked up, horror warring with curiosity. It was utterly unlike me to be so emotional--and if she was a lover of gossip, this was too good to miss. I cursed inwardly and did my best to regain my composure.

“Jeanne, please. It has been an excruciatingly long day, week, all of it, and I am tired of my love life being the topic of so much discussion. It’s unseemly, don’t you think?”

“Yes, m’lady, of course. I shouldn’t--“ “No, you shouldn’t. And I would ask you please to keep others from discussing it as well? I have enough to deal with right now.” I sighed, hoping to use the show of emotion to my advantage. “I hope to start my own family under the light of peace, not in the shadow of my brother’s funeral.”

“Yes, m’lady. Gods above, yes of course. I’m so sorry.”

I reached out, laying the lightest touch on her arm. “Please. I don’t need your apologies, just your consideration. You knew me when I still couldn’t form my S’s front ways.” She smiled at the shared memory, and how ridiculous it was that I couldn’t write out “Shardae”. “Please give me the room to be just Danica where I can. There are so many places where that won’t be possible.”

“Of course, my--Danica.”

I smiled, trying to positively reinforce the behavior. My mother had become distant from our people, and by extension, me. So many of them had expressed a desire to see us out and among them again. If I could befriend my people again, help them see this shift as a positive one, become their darling, golden young queen, perhaps it could help me regain the power our family had lost to the generals. I could sell them an idealistic young family, a vision of the future that was shiny and bright.

Maybe, if I sold it hard enough, I might believe it myself.

“Rei is back with the serpiente, helping keep the Arami safe.” Jeanne’s eyes widen, and I nod, leaning closer as if in confidence. “There’s no one else I would trust with so high a priority. Here among my people, I could not possibly be safer. But I worry for Zane--as my mother said, this is an extremely brave thing for him to be doing. I hope my people will greet him with courtesy and dignity, but I am too pragmatic to trust his safety to anyone less than Rei.”

There. Maybe using his nickname twice will drive the point home. Of course, a part of me whispers that if I just declare my intentions on him here and now that would end all of it. I have no reason not to. Everyone assumes I’m as good as his pairbond. But for some reason I don’t--probably because I worry the story will grow in the telling, much like my “proposal” from Arami Zane. No, when I’m ready for word to spread, it will be through an official announcement, not from wildfire gossip from an old schoolmate. I release her arm and take a step back, letting some of my weariness show on my face.

“Now I think its time I take my leave. We all have a big day tomorrow. I should try to sleep while I can.”

I take another step back and melt into my golden hawk’s form, trusting whoever is on my most personal guard duty to peel off and follow as they always do. Only I don’t fly up to my balcony on the far side of the Keep. Instead, I turn my flight towards the east, and the waiting encampment of serpiente. - I am not so foolish as to have not considered this to be a potential invasion. I have let a score of serpiente warriors within an hour’s flight of the heart of my kingdom. But as I have said, more times than I care to, I refuse to behave as if Zane will betray me. It will either happen or it won’t. If a cobra is destined to slay a hawk again, then I have made peace with it being me. Our people began with one golden queen, if they are to end with simply one, then Fate will have her way no matter what we design. And honestly, they could do worse with a conquering monarch than Zane Cobriana. From what I have seen, he is fair, just, considerate, and generally in favor of art, self-expression, the well-being of his people--

I bank and circle back, realizing  my mental wandering has allowed my wings to wander as well. I am too tired to think, but thinking is all I seem to be able to do. I want to see Rei, to wrap myself in the warmth and comfort of his arms to maybe try another few kisses, softer and gentler this time, to reassure myself that my life has not turned completely upside down. Instead I am circling around the encampment, having flown right over it while thinking of Zane Cobriana’s qualities as a king.

I realize as I circle in to land that partially my mistake was due to the sheer size of the gathering. I don’t know what my distracted mind must have made of the numerous campfires now dotting the fields, a small village perhaps, but it is certainly too many for the two score of soldiers or so that should be out here. This gathering is nearly twice that, centered around a ring of figures--

Dancing.

Zane and Adelina are dancing, with six other serpents besides. They weave in and out of each others’ steps, intricate rings within rings, scales flashing in every color of the rainbow.

Serpiente warriors can grow a scaled demi form, much like the large, angelic wings we avians sprout. While ours are used to give us an aerial advantage in battle, theirs provides a natural amrour that only the keenest arrow can pierce. And much like our wings can be used as an expression of beauty, an elegant backdrop to fine garments and jewelry, so are the serpiente before us using their scales now. Lines of color sparkle like living veins of gemstones, from the iridescent white of Adelina’s viper, to rich reds and greens of dancers I do not know, to the shimmering obsidian of Zane’s cobra.

They are a perfect complement to each other, his dark hair and scales reflecting red in the firelight, hers glinting gold like a low harvest moon. They sway and swirl, moving around each other and through their fellow dancers as if bound by an invisible chord. It is heartbreakingly beautiful, and I understand why every one of my subjects simply stands and stares. It is like nothing any of us have ever seen before, except maybe the soldiers.

I remember the ready pose Zane and Adelina fall into so easily, and thinking how perfectly it would transition to either dance or combat. I am mesmerized by the dance; I can only imagine how impossible they might seem to fight. I am struck with the sudden realizaiton that our survival til now seems nothing short of miraculous. Without the falcon’s am haj to allow us to fight with such lethality from the skies--

I want nothing more to do with this line of thought, so I land, picking a spot far enough away from the dancing serpents so as not to startle anyone. The avians in the crowd all know the silhouette of my hawk’s form, but it is late, and I am trying to be discrete. Still, several soldiers peel away, bowing swiftly as they make a report.

“No trouble yet, your majesty. As you suggested, the serpiente are well able to sense intent. None were allowed past the outer perimeter that were anything other than curious.” Curious. I should have thought of that. Raymond steps up at my side, and I realize he was one of the ravens flanking me. “Erica flew in during your mother’s speech, m’lady, with a message from Zane and Andreios. Neither one of them say any harm in letting a few come and see, but--well, I wished they’d said it was more than just a few. I never would have fielded such a decision for you if I’d thought--“

“It’s alright,” I say, holding up a hand. “If Zane allowed it, and Andreios cleared it, then I trust their judgement. I didn’t even think folks would venture out, so they’re steps ahead of me.” I gave Raymond a tired smile. “In all things security, I don’t mind letting Rei make decisions. It’s matters of battle and war I wish to be consulted on. Allowing a few--okay, more than a few--curious folk out to meet our guests...”

I trailed off, feeling sick at the idea of how poorly this could have gone. We were treading the most precarious line, and I’d barely thought any of it out. And Zane had simply come, trusting.

I should have worked something else out. I never should have asked him to come here--

“Dani.”

Rei was suddenly before me, undoubtedly alerted to my presence here. Too tired to care anymore who saw or what they thought, I let myself fall into his arms. This was all I’d been seeking. I hadn’t meant to stumble onto more trouble, more problems--I just wanted to be held, and get some sleep.

“Do you have a tent sent up?” I asked, trying at least to keep my voice between just the pair of us.

“For you? No, but we can--“

I shook my head. “Yours is fine. I’m exhausted, we’re in the field. There’s no where safer for my than by your side, right?”

Rei sighed, but I could see him caving in. “I mean, ostensibly you were safer back at the Keep, but yes.” He tucked his arm over my shoulder, with all the familiarity of an alastair in private. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed.”

The Ties That Bind Tag list: @thehellinsideyourhead @therecouldbecolorsandlove @adventuresofacreesty @writing-with-melon @rainydaydarling @faithfire

Raev’s Gen Tag List (should I tag you guys in this? It IS a thing I wrote. I’m gonna say yes unless you guys are like “no of course not we’re sick of hearing about your stupid fic for a twenty year old book XD)

No one has complained yet so yall gonna keep getting tagged :P

List is currently: @lordkingsmith @writinglyra @drbibliophile @mperialscribe @adie-dee @lexiklecksi @theramwrites @writinginslowmotion @raenawrites @apollon-arium @anika-writes @faithfire @thehellinsideyourhead @adventuresofacreesty

[suggiebabe]

Some MHA Boys AND Girls Getting Jealous

A/N: Oh hey there ;)))))) POSTING 2 DAYS IN A ROW??? WHO AM I LOL!!! I’m not sure if I’d post tomorrow though cause I have some lessons to take care of!! But enjoy these headcanons (that’s literally all I do, I am so sorry LMAO)!!!! I’m doing boys AND girls, so lets get it! Its my first time writing for the girlies!!!!

Pairings: Kaminari, Uraraka, Tsu, Kirishima, Momo x Reader

Warnings: Slight Angst but with a happy ending

The two of you decided to go to the beach for the weekend because why not! You had some alone time together, and this was the perfect way to spend it

On the train ride there, it was going perfectly, no one you two knew was coming, so it was guaranteed that there would be no distractions

Or so you thought..

As soon as you got to the beach, you went to change into your bathing suit, and he went to go change into his 

When you came out, he wasn’t ready yet, so you decided to sit on the bench outside of the restrooms

That’s when the familiar sight of green hair appeared in front of you

“Hey Y/N! Came out to enjoy the beach? Who are you here with?” he asked sitting down next to you

“Oh hey Deku! I’m here with Denki, we just thought it be fun to have a beach date!” you said, smiling at him, “who are you here with?”

“I came with Iida, the two of us were gonna get some training done out here. So wheres Kaminari? he asked looking around for the blond 

“He’s still changing, he should be out in a little. Oh look! There he is!” You stood up and waved him down, as soon as he saw the two of you, he frowned

“Whoa whats up with that face?”  Deku asked mildly confused as to why Kaminari wasn’t happy to see him

As he was walking towards you two, Iida also emerged from the bathrooms and called Deku over.

“Come on Deku! We don’t have time to waste! Lets proceed with out schedule!” Iida shouted

Deku said bye to you and Kaminari, and went on his way with Iida, and as soon as they left, Kaminari pulled you into a hug

“I can’t believe Deku saw you in a bathing suit before me... thats so unfair!” 

You smiled at him and patted his head, “he may have seen me, but he doesn’t get to spend the day with me! Now c’mon jealous boy, lets go have some fun!” you said, pulling him towards the water

“I’m not jealous!” he said under his breath

“Yeah, sure, whatever you say, now lets build the biggest sand castle ever!” 

He laughed, and got to building

It was your 7 month anniversary, and the two of you had decided to have a movie night in Ochacos dorm since you couldn’t leave the campus

The idea made you two extremely excited since you haven’t been able to have quality time together in a while due to hero work

The school day was rather normal, except Ochaco noticed that during lunch, Shouto seemed to have a lot of your attention. 

She would wrap her arm around yours, and you would pay little attention to it,continuing to talk with Shouto. The two of you extremely invested in the conversation you were having, so invested to the point where you didn’t even notice Ochacos glare towards Shouto

He got the hint, and slowly ended the conversation so there wouldn’t be any trouble, especially on your anniversary

After lunch, the two of you could hardly hold in your excitement for the rest of your classes.

After school, you both agreed to meet at her room at 7 pm to watch the movies you had picked out. You were in charge of the movies, while she was in charge of snacks

When you arrived, she welcomed you with a kiss, and the two of you got settled on her bed

“So what’d you pick out for us Y/N?” she asked, holding your hand in hers

“Well, I have a couple, but I wanted to watch this one first! Shouto recommended it to me, and it sounds really good!” you said squeezing her hands

Her smile turned into a frown, “So Shoutos your number 1 best friend now or what? You’ve been hanging out with his so much lately!” she said while pouting

You giggled at her cute expression, “Bun, are you jealous? Well fear not, because the reason I have been talking to Shouto a lot is because I know his taste in movies is so great! I wanted this night to be perfect for us!” 

‘Oh.. really?” she said, her pout turning into a smile

“Yes really, now lets watch this movie, he said it’d have you on the edge of your seat the whole time!” 

She blushed and then pressed play “I may have been a little jealous...” she said quietly

“I know” you said kissing her cheek

You and Tsu had always sat together for lunch, so when you approached her to tell her you had to go to the library with Ojiro to study for a quiz, she was a bit bothered, but she didn’t let it show

You promised her that you would walk with her to class when lunch was over, so that was a trade she was willing to make

Lunch without you was boring, but she was looking forward to the period ending so she can walk with you

When the bell rang, she waited for you, but you never came. After waiting a while she walked to class, she didn’t want to be tardy

1 minute before the bell you and Ojiro came running into the room, with your stuff in your hands, you two laughed as you went to sit at your desks

To say Tsu was bothered would be an understatement. Did you really forget to meet with her? Did she really not cross your mind?

Your mind was so occupied with the quiz, that you had completely forgotten about walking with Tsu. You looked at her, and made eye contact, but she quickly broke it, looking down at her desk. Your heart ached

After class you approached her and began profusely apologizing 

“Tsu! I’m so sorry! I completely forgot about our agreement!” you said pulling at her hand

She looked at you with a frustrated look in her eyes, “was Ojiro really that much more entertaining? How could you forget about your GIRLFRIEND?” she said frowning, but she didn’t pull away

You squeezed her hand, “Tsu, Ojiro wasn’t on my mind at all! It was this stupid quiz we had to take... I completely forgot about anything else.. I would never think about anyone more than I think about you, silly!” 

She smiled a bit, “Okay, well then prove it. After school, my dorm, movies and cuddles!” 

You smiled at her cuteness, “alright alright alright, if that’s what it takes for you to forgive me, then I’ll give it to you”

She kissed you on the cheek and you both walked to hero training, tonight was going to be fun

Of course you two are workout buddies, that’s how your relationship started in the first place!

The two of you agreed to workout after school in the dorm gyms to distract yourselves from the upcoming finals exams

After school, the two of you came up with a schedule to meet up an hour after school ended to walk to the gym, and get some work done

Everything went according to plan, and the two of you were able to get to the gym before anyone else

You and Kirishima don’t really workout together, but you workout in the same room, so it kind of made sense

You two started your own workout routines, and it kept you both pretty busy.

His routine differed on certain days, and today's workout seemed to take a bit longer than it usually did, so you decided to do another one of your workouts, a new one

This routine had some things you hadn’t done before, so you had trouble with a few of the steps, but got the hang of it for the most part

Except for 1. Pike push ups. 

You had tried to get Kirishimas attention, but he was so immersed in his own routine, he failed to hear you calling for his help

Lucky for you, Bakugou had just entered the gym, so you decided to ask him for help

After some argument, he finally agreed to teach you how to do it

“It’s just a push up, except you have your ass in the air, stupid” he said showing you his form

While the two of you were interacting, Kirishima looked in the mirror and saw you with your butt in the air next to Bakugou and immediately went to see what was up

By the time Kirishima was walking towards you guys, Bakugou left, and you were able to focus on yourself. 

As you were in position, you looked up to find your frowning boyfriend looking down at you

“What was that?” he asked crossing his arms

“Kiri, Bakugou was just showing me how to do some pike push ups, nothing weird” you said crossing your arms “I tried to get you to help me, but you were too busy..” you said pouting

“Awh babe, I’m never too busy for you, just come tap on me next time, and I’ll help you for sure!” he said giving you two thumbs up

You smiled at him, and nodded “alright, but you better always be prepared!” 

“I will, I will...” he said sitting down next to you, “So these pike push ups..”

It was midterms time again, and you had asked Momo for some help sine your English grade was SUFFERING!

Her being the lovely girlfriend she is, accepted your proposal happily since it was also just an excuse for the two of you to have some time together

Too bad for the both of you though, because other people in class heard, and immediately started asking for Momos tutoring as well

She couldn’t refuse, because she wants the best for everyone, and you were fine with that!

Time skip to after school when you were all walking to her dorm together

Mina was holding your arm and the two of you were talking about a new anime that had just come out

When Momo saw the two of you practically glued together and laughing with each other, she felt a jab in her heart, but she decided to ignore it

During the study session, you and Mina kept talking about the anime, and Momo was getting kind of fed up with the lack of attention you were giving her

“Excuse me, (Y/N) and Mina, could you two please pay attention? This chapter is important..” she said sternly, with made you both shut up right away

After the study session, you approached Momo after everyone had left

“Hey, are you ok? You sounded a little mad back there...” you said while playing with your thumbs on her bed

She sat next to you and grabbed one of your hands to hold, ”I apologize for my actions, but I guess i just got a little jealous over how close you and Mina were..” 

You looked up at her surprised, “Oh my goodness! Momo I’m sorry! I didnt realize!” you said while going to hug her

She hugged you back and the two of you fell back onto her bed

“Cuddles?” you asked in hopes to make it up to her

“Cuddles.” she said squeezing you tighter

Another A/N: Hey guys! Sorry some might be a little longer than others, I just had more ideas for that character! Today I discovered that my computer is a little waterproof after spilling a whole cup of water over it! Thank u computer gods for letting me write this post!

[problematicfavesareproblematic]

The Inherent Risks of Loving a Wild Man

Bill Guarnere x Reader

Summary: Word about Bill Guarnere and the NCOs going to Sink reaches you, but by the time you hear it’s been so muddled with misinformation that you think he’s dead. After hearing another person saying that he’s alive, you are let with the awful task of waiting....

Warnings: no-no words (it’s hbo/war, kids. people gonna curse), allusions to sexy times, some vv lite sexy times™, angst (kinda)

~

William Guarnere was a dead man- that much you knew for sure.

The only thing you weren't sure of? 

If he was going to die by Sink’s hand or yours.

Sink, you thought ruefully to yourself, throat feeling tight again as you had an intrusive mental image of Bill crumpling to the ground after the crack of a gun. Sink has no other choice, his hands are tied.

For probably the fiftieth time that evening, you walked over to the window in the in-law unit attached to the side of the house you’d been assigned to in England. You knew better than to expect any of the NCOs to go out of their way to tell you, not with the strict curfew Sobel has imposed on them after the idiot himself led Easy astray during a training exercise.

The grandfather of the family you were staying with had told you about it in passing after coming across Dick and some others after his morning bike ride. You’d tried not to openly criticize Sobel, but when the old man mentioned a flustered soldier yelling “high-oh silver!” as he arrived late (and from the wrong direction), you hadn’t been able to hide your scowl.

“He’s going to get us killed.” Bill had grumbled to you a few days ago, after telling you about yet another catastrophic day of training. “I swear to god, Y/n, that cow-eyed bastard couldn’t find his own dick in a well-lit room—”

“I get the picture, Bill. Please don’t ever make me think about Sobel’s dick ever again.”

He’d chuckled at that, pinning your arms above your head and looking down at you with a smug grin.

“I’m awful sorry about that, Miss Y/L/N. Let me make it up to you?”

He’d kissed the air from your lungs then, and any thoughts of Sobel or death were put on the back burner….

It just seemed horribly ironic now- Sobel really was going to be the thing that gets him killed, it just hadn’t happened as straightforwardly as youd anticipated.

Headlights suddenly blind you, and your blood runs cold as you recognize it as one of the airborne’s Jeeps.

It must be Nixon, he’d tell me. Whether i want to actually hear it or not.

Your throat feels tight as the truck pulls to a stop by the front garden, and you don’t realize you’ve been holding your breath until the figure that exits the car forgoes the direct footpath through the family’s garden, instead walking straight towards your window.

There’s only one person who does that, did that….

Throwing your window open, you stand on the desk beneath it and crawl out gracelessly, your limbs feeling disconnected from your body as you try to squash the painful hope trying to bubble in your chest.

The man stalks up to you, the light coming from your room illuminating the handsome, sharp, and perfectly alive face of Bill fucking Guarnere.

“Cara mia.”

He’s raised his hands to hold your face in his typical greeting kiss, that stupid grin bright on his face- as if he hadn’t been dead in your mind up until a few milliseconds ago. 

So, it was to be you to kill him. Okay then.

You clapped him across the face, palm stinging as you watched his head snap to the side. In the low light, you could see a pink handprint on his cheek and feel a little bad for hitting him so hard.

Then you remember why you’d hit him in the first place, and you get over it.

“What in the actual fuck were you thinking, pulling that shit?” 

Your voice is as sharp as your slap, slightly wavering as tears began to cloud your eyes.

“How could you even think about doing something so stupid, and not even bother to let me know…..and you don’t even say ‘goodbye’?” 

He said nothing, his face still turned away and his jaw working as you tried your very best not to yell and wake everyone in the main house up.

You then surprise the both of you by bursting into tears, throwing your arms around his neck and sobbing so hard you forget to breathe.

His arms are quick to wrap around you, pulling you impossibly close and nosing affectionately by your ear.

“Hey, don’t cry….oh darlin’, please don’t cry,” the rumble of his voice only makes you cry harder, the sound so comforting and warm and essential, and for four horrible hours you’d tried to wrap your head around the fact that the man you loved was dead and you’d never get to hear that perfect voice again.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. I didn’t mean to make you cry—”

You pull away, glaring at him tearfully. “No? What part of you either leaving the airborne- and not telling me, or getting executed for mutiny- without bothering to say anything…..What part of either of those things breaking my fucking heart are you not getting, you stupid fucking idiot?”

You shake your head, only stopping when he unwraps his arms from around you and takes your face in his hands (as he’d intended to before you smacked him).

“Did you even think about what that would do to your mother? Or your father, for that matter—?”

“I’m sorry.” he interrupts you, and when you frown at him he sighs anxiously. “Fuck, baby….”

Seeing that you weren’t going to easily forgive him, Bill wipes at your tears with his thumbs and looks at you sadly.

After standing in tense silence for a few moments, Bill pulls you into another embrace- hands hot through the material of your thermal pajama top.

“I love you.” he mumbles.

A mournful scoff escapes your throat, and he squeezes you tighter.

“Hey, listen to me...” he turns his head so he can look you in the face. Your eyes showed your doubt, and you watched as he seemed to understand just how deeply he’d hurt you.

It was uncommon for either of you to voice your affection for the other and not get an immediate echoing response, the both of you having abandoned any sort of stoicism for the other during your time in one of the Carolinas.

His dark eyes are swirling with deep regret, and you don’t think you’ve ever actually seen him remorseful before. It was heartbreaking and heartwarming at the same time, seeing one of the cockiest men you knew looking at you as if you held the key to his happiness. His heart.

“I. Love. You.”

You close your eyes as he repeats the sentiment, unable to bear his intense look without wanting to start crying all over again.

“I didn’t think….well,” he cuts himself off, and when you peek at him you see that he’s nodding to himself. “Nah, that’s it. I just didn’t think. I just did because—”

“I’m not mad that you refused to follow an absolute moron into war...” you interrupt, watching as his brows furrow in confusion. You bring a hand up to wipe at the sticky tears drying on your cheeks. “Bill….losing you will kill me.”

He’s shaking his head now, whispering your name harshly. “Don’t say that—”

“I have to say it because it’s the truth. And if you love me a fraction as much as i love you, you probably already know that.”

With a tired sigh you bring your hands up to rub at his chilled ears, the cold air making your breath fog between you as you speak.

“But, I also know the reality of what’s about to happen- and I’ve made my peace with it as much as I can—” “Cara mia—”

“—because i know that i’ll at least get to see you once before we drop, before all the shit hits the fan, and I’ll get to tell you I love you..... and that if by some miracle we do both make it I’m going to marry you and then we’ll never have to do anything like this again.

“But you almost took that from me.” You swallow your sadness and rest your forehead against his. “Jesus, William….”

He kisses you sweetly, and you know he can also taste the salt of your tears as he does so. Bill’s hands are running up and down your back, following paths and trails he’d first mapped with his fingers the morning after the two of you had slept together the first time.

“Say it back,” he whispers between kisses. “I need to hear you say it back—”

“I love you.”

His hands suddenly stop, and he pulls back to look you over with a furrowed brow.

“Oh shit, darlin’, you’re barely wearing anything!” With commanding hands he turns you around and starts to march you back to your window. You had forgotten that you were just in your pajamas, feet still bare on the chilled ground.

When you climbed in he followed with silent movements, barely getting the window latched before he shirks off his outer few layers and is embracing you again, torso warm and inviting when you held him again.

“I’m gonna be pissed if you get sick, you know that right?”

He’s teasing you again, but his voice still is soft from emotion.

You smile and press a kiss to his cheek. “Yeah, Bill. I know….”

He turns his head before your next kiss lands on his cheek, resuming the sweet kiss from outside.

When you nibble at his bottom lip he groans softly, one hand knotting in your hair while the other one slid down to your backside and kneaded the supple flesh of your bottom with a hungry grip.

“You want some more, baby?” Bill’s voice has taken on a rough quality that never failed to make your heart beat faster and your stomach to curl sweetly. “Want me to show you how sorry I am?”

You shut him up with a kiss, knowing from experience that once Bill got talking like this there was only so much you could take before becoming a flustered and needy mess.

Bill takes the hint, only breaking away from you to quickly pull your shirt over your head before ducking right back in. the material of his button up is rough against your bare nipples, the peaks harder than stone ever since you’d first stepped out into the chilly night air.

His hands drew goosebumps across your back as he brushed his fingers up and down your spine, worshipping you in such a way that made all your teenage years of self-consciousness seem preposterous in hindsight.

“Fucking goddess,” he’d proclaimed once between hot open mouth kisses across your collarbones after you’d both come down from your third orgasm of the night. “If I had my way, you’d never have to cover a single goddamned inch of your body from me. Could fucking taste you whenever i wanted…”

When your hand cups him through his pants he hisses, laughing headily into your mouth.

“I’m still mad at you.” you say, pulling back so you can watch his face scrunch up attractively as you massage his stiffness.

He nods, eyes closed  as his jaw goes slack. You can’t help but feel somewhat smug at being able to elicit such a reaction from such a fiery man.

“Thought I was ‘sposed ta be taking care of you, darlin’....”

You hum, walking him backwards so the back of his knees hit your mattress. 

“Maybe I want you to suffer a little bit,” you offer as you press on his shoulder to make him sit down before you. He looks up at you, eyes heavy and breathing rough.

There’s now a clear handprint on his cheek from where you slapped him, and some flicker of sadness must show in your eyes because one of the hands that had begun tugging your pajama bottoms down your legs comes up to take the hand you’d hit him with and he kisses at your fingers sweetly.

“I’m okay with some sufferin’, ‘s long as you’re the one dealin’ it.”

You fist his hair and duck down to kiss him urgently, letting him help you step from the clothes around your ankles so you can straddle his lap. 

“C’mon, baby….I can take it.”

You respond by craning his head back and placing biting kisses down his throat.

Because as wild as Bill Guarnere was, you were still the one who’d tamed him.

And he wouldn’t just do that for anyone.

You were going to be sure he remembered that.

Even if it took all night.

(Hey kids, wrote this while trying to get through writers block a little bittle ago, and there is a part 2, so holler at ya girl if yall’er (: interested ok thank your bye)

(ALSO! I saw someone else describe Sobel as ‘cow-eyed’ in a different fic. I’m trying to find it so I can give the author credit (bc it’s a perfect description!), but if any of you guys know which one i’m talking about just dm me and i’ll link it!)

(ALSO PART TWO: let me know if you’re interested in being tagged on any future garbage I write!)

[hoodwinkd1]

Your Eyes Whispered Ch 16

Ch 15 here.

Here it is! The final chapter!! So much love to all of you that have followed along with this story <3

Chapter 16: you are in love. true love.

Reality hit Eris in the face, harder than any bitch slap.

They hadn’t left his chambers for almost an entire day, legs tangled and words whispered over breakfast, lunch, dinner, and tea. Eris was ready to hand over his title and power for the opportunity to spend the rest of life like that, with no interruptions and no one around except for her.

Unfortunately, leaving the Court in the hands of someone random seemed ethically dubious and potentially problematic. Equally unfortunately, his stubborn mate loved her job and actually cared about her students. For both of these reasons, Eris found himself kissing Rhia goodbye on her doorstep just before midnight.

“Two whole days apart,” she teased, drawing patterns on his tunic with her finger. “How will we ever survive.”

Eris ducked to kiss her head. “You shouldn’t joke. I might die.”

He watched her lean against the door frame, remembering that neither of them had gotten enough sleep last night. “I’d really rather you didn’t.”

“I’d feel much better if you simply moved in,” Eris grumbled. They both froze. “Joking. That was definitely a joke.”

“You shouldn’t joke,” Rhia teased. “I might die. Leave, before I drag you upstairs and lock you in my room.”

Eris pouted. “Don’t threaten me with a good time. Good night.”

They exchanged one last kiss, so sweet and gentle that Eris’ heart broke and mended itself as their lips parted.

Although her absence ached, Eris had to admit that a full night of sleep called to him as soon as he winnowed back into his chambers. Rhia brought out so many wonderful qualities in him, but falling asleep during one of the countless meetings tomorrow might not reflect well on his leadership potential.

----

Water dripped from her hair, sliding down between her shoulder blades. Rhia knew she should grab her hair oils, knew she should comb out some of the remaining tangles, or she would regret it in a few hours. But his scent teased her, pulling her from the bathroom and into her bedroom.

Strange how she thought the days apart would drag on forever. She felt like it had only been a moment as her eyes scanned his body, hands behind his head and long legs draped across her bed.

“Take your time, love,” Eris smirked.

Rhia snapped her gaze back to his face. “What?”

Eris moved in a way that heated her blood. He sat up, arms coming down to cross his chest. His eyes flashed in a way that screamed predator, but for once, she was completely fine with being prey. “Stare at me for as a long as you want. I’ll wait patiently for you to finish.”

“Cheeky,” Rhia replied, a flush blooming from her cheeks and down her neck. She had never been more grateful for her dark skin, hiding the pink tinge that would have jumped out on a face as pale as her beloved’s. “You speak of patience; I’ll just have to test that out.”

She loosened her grip on the towel, letting it fall to the floor.

His reaction did not disappoint. She watched his pupils dilate as his eyes narrowed. Rhia bit her lip at how his pulse raced, one vein in his neck standing out in the most tempting manner.

“Stare as long as you wish.” Rhia took two steps backward, leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom. “I’ll wait.”

She turned around, making sure he wasn’t deprived of any view, before stepping fully into the bathroom and reaching above the sink for her favorite, lavender scented oil. As her body stretched, she counted to five in her head.

Rhia didn’t even get to three. Eris launched himself from the bed, appearing behind her so quickly she let out a giggle. He caught her eye in the mirror and raised an eyebrow. She took it for the question it was, giving him a quick nod and leaning back into his warmth. There was something so infuriatingly dirty about the feel of his soft pajamas against her naked skin.

Eris raised his hands slowly, letting them drift up and down her sides, raising goosebumps and her heartbeat. At the same time, he dropped his head to press light kisses to her neck, her shoulder, her spine, a million small points on her body.

Rhia set down the bottle of oil preemptively, knowing she was about one kiss from smashing it on the ground in a fit of passion.

“Hold on,” he murmured against her skin. “We can’t have your hair drying out tomorrow, can we?” He snatched it from her, pouring a small amount into his palm.

She groaned at the feeling of his hands in her hair. While his talented fingers felt like heaven, she really would prefer to feel them somewhere else.

“Oh? And where would that be?” Eris asked. She flushed again, realizing she’d spoken out loud. “Tell me what you want.”

Of course Eris was a talker in bed. He never managed to shut up normally, so Rhia should have seen this coming.

She turned in his arms, running her hands up his chest. Letting her lower back rest against the sink, she looked at him and tilted her head to the side in a silent challenge. “Touch me.”

Eris leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss on her lips. “I am touching you.” His left hand drifted from her side to her stomach, tracing circles that never landed where she wanted him. “You’re going to have to be a bit more specific.”

She sighed against his mouth, savoring the warmth and safety of this moment. There was no fear, no bad memories, nothing dragging her from pleasure. “Lower.”

He complied, circling down to her hips, running his knuckles against them. “Good?”

She was good. Surprisingly good.

Suspiciously good.

“Yes.” She kissed his shoulder, right below his neck. His shirt would have to go soon. “Keep going.”

He moved his hand and ---

Rhia shot up, clutching the sheets around her. No longer in the bathroom, but back in her bed where she’d fallen asleep.

A fucking wet dream. Cauldron, Eris found new ways to make her feel like an adolescent even when he wasn’t around. And now she had to go through the next day and a half thinking about him, missing him even more than before.

-----

“Fuck,” Eris cursed, jumping out of bed and running into his closet. “Fuckity, fucking fuck.”

He was running late. So late that he would have no time to plan out his outfit, brush his hair, eat some damn breakfast, or shower. And as much as he wanted to do all those things, he actually needed that shower right now.

Preferably a cold one.

While he usually prided himself on his body’s exceptionally accurate clock, rarely relying on alarms or servants to wake up on time, his stupid brain had kept him unconscious this morning. All because of a stupid dream.

“You’re a dirty pervert,” Eris growled to himself, grabbing a boring black suit that felt like something Rhysand would wear. Thinking of the Night Court calmed down his burning desire, at least for the moment.

His imagination had played a glorious scene for him, ending with him taking Rhia on the large countertop in his bathroom. Eris shoved the image of her out of his head, head back against the mirror as her back arched towards him, scrambling for some semblance of control as he stalked to his first meeting.

He’d dealt with frustration before, but nothing comparable to this. Eris hadn’t wanted to think about her in that way since their night together. She had set a clear boundary, one that he would never dream of crossing, even in his own head.

Except he literally did dream of crossing it. Eris snarled under his breath as he strode into the chamber, covering up his shame and anger with a mask of disdain. The group of merchants waiting for his arrival had done nothing to earn his ire yet, but the elitist males certainly deserved it.

“My Lord.” One of the eldest Fae at the table, Cephalus, greeted him as the rest of the guests stood and bowed quickly. “I hope you can forgive us for beginning the meal without you.”

Eris couldn’t have cared less about breakfast. “Fine. What business?”

Cephalus waited until Eris sat at the head of the table. “We’ve completed an inventory of the remaining, undamaged farmlands across the territory. While the designated areas for livestock and wheat can produce sufficient levels of product, we have sustained heavy losses in the Eastern regions by the coast.” He paused for a moment.

“Must I sit through an agricultural lesson?” Eris snarked, summoning a mug of coffee. “Get to the point.”

The old Fae held his tongue, although irritation danced across his face. Cephalus nodded to the male sitting directly on his right, someone Eris had never had the displeasure of meeting.

“We’ve created a list of produce that will be affected,” the stranger continued, his voice pitchy with nerves. “As well as other areas that might work as replacements while farmers heal the land.” He held up a long roll of parchment, eyes downcast.

Eris snatched it from him. His eyes scanned the list quickly, groaning internally. Based on the mention of grapes and barley, most of his favorite alcohols were in danger of becoming rare commodities.  “Have you spoken with anyone from these towns? Or my Treasury?”

Cephalus leaned forward. “The Treasury has sent over some preliminary budgets that you may review, but I believe are reasonable.” He paused then, tilting his head. “What would we need to speak to the towns about?”

“Taking over their land.” Eris sipped his coffee. Lukewarm. He sent a shiver of flame across the ceramic. “Have you even checked if the land is available?”

The male from earlier finally looked Eris in the eye. “We already checked for any buildings or development. The land is clear.”

He’d heard enough. These merchants were either stupid or simply had their heads shoved up their asses. “Let me rephrase. Until you have explicit permission from the members of the town to use their land and a fair agreement that reinvests profits into whatever they desire, you may not move forward with agricultural efforts.”

Cephalus cleared his throat. “If I may, that process might take too long. The land is currently serving no purpose and--”

Eris held a hand up. “I didn’t ask. Nothing on this list is essential enough to warrant stealing. If you’re worried about timing, make the agreements extremely favorable to the people living there.”

He grabbed the second list, the one with the list of towns, and held it up to the group. “Surely between the seven of you, someone must have travelled to each of these places before. Go back, or invite a representative to meet here.”

The male from before failed to hide his displeasure at Eris’ command, likely anticipating the additional work these negotiations would require. Eris really didn’t care. The merchant class had flourished under Beron’s rule at the expense of the other Autumn citizens, taking what they pleased and enforcing bullshit agreements that stole resources from small villages.

He finished the meeting after addressing some of the others’ concerns, working on a plan to upgrade the Navy’s presence on the Eastern Coast to protect continental traders from various threats.

Gerwin waited for him in the hall outside. He fell in step as Eris took off towards the training rooms, eager to work off the tension that had been building since the moment he woke up.

“Who was that dark-haired male with Cephalus?” Eris asked.

Gerwin glanced over his shoulder. “Jarod something. He claims his father worked with Beron before dying during Am--, during her reign, as the head of several Royal vineyards. Jyn looked into him and a couple other new faces when they claimed leadership roles.”

“So he’s clean?”

Gerwin snorted. “Would you care either way?”

Eris scowled. “He just pisses me off with his elitism. Probably overly pretentious about wine. too.”

“You’re pretentious about wine,” Gerwin remarked. They’d reached the training ring and began to arm themselves for a proper spar.

Eris chuckled, remembering his conversation with Sofi and Rhia a few weeks ago. “Maybe I’ll test his knowledge.”

“Try him for treason if his wines aren’t up to standard.” Gerwin tossed him a practice blade. “Let’s see how that pretentiousness holds up in battle, huh?”

---

Somehow, Rhia survived another night of scandalous dreams and waking up to a frustratingly empty bed. Her mind and body seemed to be at war with one another, pushing her on a nauseating pendulum between wanting Eris and despising physical touch.

Not all physical touch, though. Really, Rhia just wanted to have him in her arms again. She had called herself all sorts of names, a sap, a clinger, a cliché mate. Sofi had laughed, asking if Rhia would let her cynicism get in the way of her heart.

So although it felt fast and Rhia felt pathetic, she resolved to have a conversation with Eris the moment he arrived in her kitchen that night. The conversation. The moment he arrived.

“I’m moving in.”

She probably should’ve started with “hello”. At her words, Eris’ eyes widened and he coughed on air.

Rhia smiled sheepishly, holding her hand out to take his coat. “Sorry. Hello, how was your day?”

“No, no let’s go back a second,” Eris insisted. “What did you say?”

“Give me your coat and let’s sit like civilized Fae.” Rhia held her hand out further, waiting until he complied.

He watched her hang it up as he sat himself at the table. “Is this a tea or a wine conversation?”

“Wine. Definitely wine.”

Eris magicked a bottle onto the table. “I’ve been told I’m a bit pretentious, but I do believe that tonight deserves an especially good bottle. Now please, put me out of my misery and repeat what you said.”

Rhia scrunched her nose. “I think I’d like to move into the palace. Part time, at first.” She waited for those words to sink in, focusing her gaze on the two glasses filled with red liquid.

“And?” Eris prompted.

“And what? Do you approve?”

He laughed. “Of course I approve. I thought I made it very clear that I’d prefer to never leave your side ever again.” They both took a sip, and he continued. “What changed your mind? Are you sure you want to leave this place?”

“It wouldn’t be permanent, not at first.” Rhia swirled the wine, once, twice. “I wouldn’t do that to my students. But I thought about my life, and I want to do something risky for the first time in awhile.” She looked at him, smiling at how much better she felt simply looking at him. “I want to build a life with you, with your people, in the capital.”

“As much as I love to hear that, the burden shouldn’t be entirely on you,” Eris replied. “Just because I’m High Lord--”

Rhia interrupted. “Yes, it should be. But not because you’re High Lord. Eris, you’ve fought and bled for your role, and I see how hard you work now to make this Court a safer place. I want to do that with you.” Her hands shook with emotion as she reached out to take his. “Whatever reason the Cauldron had, I’d like to believe that it made me your mate to help you. I love this town and these people, but it’s not enough for me, not when I know how much good I can do for thousands of others.”

“This Court doesn’t deserve you.” He squeezed her fingers. “I obviously do not deserve you.”

“Eris--”

He held one finger up. “I’m not stupid. I’ll take all the help I can get, especially if it keeps you in my life. I just- I never imagined we could get here.”

She steadfastly ignored the tears that threatened to show. “And where is here?”

“I have a partner.” The wine lay forgotten as he gripped both her hands. “I never thought you would even consider speaking to me, and now you wish to live with me, work with me.”

“And love you,” she added. “Don’t forget that.”

Tears began to fall on both of their faces, but neither moved to wipe them away, unwilling to let go. The moment seemed to echo, across time and space, putting together all the pieces of their relationship that they had spent so long building. All of the truths, all of the sacrifices, all of the pain lined up to form a picture Rhia could now see, like a painting that only made sense once you took a step backwards.

“I accept the bond. I accept you .”

There was no exchanging of food. There was no shift into primal protectiveness. And there was certainly no lust-driven madness.

But there was a bridge. There were golden strings of light and music and joy that pulled her towards him, a stronger pull than gravity.

Eris let out a sigh and a shudder and a wave of warm emotions that Rhia could taste. “I’m going to kiss you now. And possibly never stop.”

As he shoved his chair out of the way, Rhia stood to meet him. As their lips touched, she opened for him completely.

As the bond permanently snapped into place, she let go of her fears that they would never progress physically and she would always remain broken. None of it mattered, not when the cruelest prince of Autumn found a way to love her so fully.

------

thank you for reading!

tag list: @moonbeamfenrys @qamariana

[chandisiacs]

satsified. ✧ seo changbin

genre ✧ a bit of fluff, but mostly passionate, (lowkey) filthy smut

warnings ✧ nipple play, fingering, (maybe) overstimulation, mentions of gagging, deepthroating, and blowjobs 

word count ✧ 1946 

note ✧ requested by @violethhj and anonymous. for my baby @bruh-changbin. happy birthday, love. i’ll most likely be asleep when you read this, but i hope this satisfies you enough. have a great birthday! 💓💓🥂

song recommendations ✧ problem with you and stand still by sabrina claudio

[11:20pm] truth is, you were only a little satisfied with the satin sheets and silk nightgowns, the five-star michelin caribbean cuisine and top-tier hotel that would pass for a millionaire’s penthouse. it was part of the fbi agent boyfriend package, and who are you to deny offers such as traveling with your fbi agent boyfriend to the middle of the caribbean to deal with matters you never bothered to indulge yourself in? this was the life you always wanted, but there was one thing missing. 

changbin. 

being part of the fbi agency meant more work and less pay, and you knew that. he had already told you about it one time when you were whining about his late comings and early morning leaves. you figured that perhaps a little caribbean vacation would earn you more quality time with changbin, but you were stupid enough to even consider “business trip” labeled over “vacation”. nothing can beat satisfaction other than the feel of your boyfriend on your body, the light kisses on your cheeks and eyelids, and the warmth of his hand in yours while gallivanting across the caribbean roads. sadly, satisfaction wasn’t on your side today. 

as you stared out into the gleaming city at night, bokeh lights from skyscrapers and buildings shining in front of your figure, you tried to lift the heavy heart settling on your chest at displeasure. you didn’t even notice the door opening behind you. it was only changbin’s tired voice that snapped you out of your thoughts at that very instant, but you didn’t dare to turn around and face him. “i’m back. man, today was a total drag! there were a couple of guys that we had to take downtown, and none of them had an alibi to the culprit.” 

“a shame.” you hummed, words shallow. changbin was busy tossing his blazer by the bed and loosening his tie to notice how empty that sounded, and gave you a scoff. “a shame indeed. i swear, [first name], when we get my hands on him, i’ll--”  

he faltered when he sought you by the balcony, arms folded over your chest and back silhouetted by the raging white city lights and moonshine from across the night sky. changbin then knew that something was up, for he slowly approached you, placing his hands on your shoulders and whispering gently on your ear. “hey baby, what’s on your mind?” 

that was it. the warmth he was sending you through his palms smoothing down your shoulders, the breath brushing past your ear. you longed for his touch all day, longed for that voice of his. you never woke up to him beside you these past mornings, neither have you fallen asleep with his arms around you, so forgive yourself for being touch-starved. you had to tell him. 

“binnie,” you stared across the blinking skyscraper from a mile’s distance. “i’m tired. how come i never wake up to you beside me anymore? how come i never get to hear your ‘good night’s to me before i sleep? how come we never get time together? i agreed to come with you to this trip because i wanted us to spend some time as a couple. this was definitely not what i was expecting, changbin.” 

changbin stood silent the whole time, staring into the same distance as yours. it took him a few moments to respond, before he finally spoke up. “i’m sorry that i didn’t reach your expectations, [first name], but you already know that it’s less work--” 

“less play, i know.” you interjected, inhaling a sharp breath at the familiar sentence he would always pull up as an excuse every time he came home at unreasonable hours. changbin seemed to catch on to your irritation, and pulled your body closer to his, wrapping his arms around your waist. “i have a free day tomorrow.” he mused in hopes to cheer you up, which piqued your interest a bit. “we can have the whole day to ourselves, baby. just you and me. we can go window shopping, hang around a few beaches, eat in fine dining. how does that sound, hm?” 

a small smile spread to your lips at your boyfriend’s reassurance. sighing, you finally turned around to meet your hands with changbin’s while giggling softly. “i just want you, changbin. i could just stay in bed all day, as long as you’re with me. i ask for nothing more.”

if a smile could light up a thousand suns, then that would be changbin’s smile the moment you laid that onto him. this was nice. no, it was perfect. you’ve longed for moment where he’d have his lips on yours again, his hands intertwined with yours like tangled strings furled and difficult to pull apart. you could only thank the heavens for that moment to come true, and you gladly kissed back when he did, smiling at the love hidden beneath the warmth of his lips.

“i’m all yours.” changbin mused once he pulled away, and held his palm on your cheek, stroking his thumb against your skin. “what shall we do, now that i’m here?” 

you were just about ready to enumerate a couple of things that you would like to do with your boyfriend tonight, but that was interrupted when you felt the sneak of his fingers threading the strap of your nightgown, tugging it down slowly. you raised a brow at changbin, amused, and your amusement even delved deeper when you found him smiling at you innocently, a stark contrast to his fingers sliding the next strap down as easily as the first one. “i don’t know, binnie. what shall you do?” 

“you said you wanted me? here i am.” changbin kept his eyes locked on yours as he lead his fingers to trace down the line of your cleavage, before settling his fingertip on your right nipple. he circled around the nub before bringing two of his fingertips to squeeze it, and his smirk deepened when he heard your breath hitch from his touch. “ah, so this is what you wanted.” you responded, though your voice sounded smaller than usual. you couldn’t keep your voice at bay when changbin toyed with your nipple like that, and it only mildly frustrated you that you were growing wet just by his touch. 

“it is.” he hummed back, and grabbed a hold of the collar of your nightgown before staring at you. “but is it what you want?” 

“yes.” is the only thing that escapes from your mouth before changbin released the fabric from his hold, its lavender silk smoothing down your body before it dropped to the floor, revealing your stark naked form in front of his clad one. you grew hot just by changbin’s eyes darting past the entirety of your body, eye-fucking every single bit of you that you wondered how you looked like in his fantasies. “you slut.” he husked out, and it only took you little to no time to recover from that short spasm shooting from your spine at his name-calling before he grabbed a hold of your waist and pulled you inside, shutting the balcony doors shut and drawing the curtains close. 

changbin enraptured his lips on yours once more, this time needier and hungrier compared to the chaste one he gave earlier. the both of you were clumsy as you fiddled with getting his belt unbuckled and him fiddling with the buttons before his clothes were discarded on the carpet floor, and you let out a small squeak when you fell upon the mattress, changbin caging you beneath him as so. 

he wasted no time in kissing you senseless, saliva-coated lips making its way from your jaw, to your neck, then to your breasts. he took delight in taking your nipple in his mouth, his lips smacking and nibbling on the hardened nub like it was the cherry on top of a vanilla ice cream. you lulled your head back against the satin sheets, whimpering and moaning from the stimulation of changbin on your pleasure spot, and you buckled yourself when you felt his hand fondle at the folds of your pussy. his fingers worked like magic as he spread your folds apart and busied his middle finger on swirling pressure onto your clit. 

“spread your legs, baby.” he mouthed on your nipple, pressing soft kisses around the nub before moving over to your left nipple. you did as he was told, spreading your legs apart and adjusting to the strokes of changbin’s fingers in you. you cried out in immense pleasure when you felt two of his fingers sliding deeper onto you, and the pace quickened as well as his tongue on your nub, sending your mind into a total frenzy. 

eyes rolled back, moans spewing out from your mouth like a broken record, you braced your body from changbin’s foreplay and humped on his fingers, absolutely feeling blissful at the feeling of his digits around your walls. he was chasing your high before you knew it, and with jumbled words of, “i’m gonna cum”, you spilled all over changbin’s fingers, marking that as your first orgasm of tonight. 

changbin’s pace slowed down after that, and he pulled away from your reddened nipples to take in your form. you were panting heavily beneath him, sweat marring your temples and chest filled completely with saliva. your legs were twitching from post-orgasm, jizz drizzling down your inner thighs that looked like heaven in changbin’s eyes. lustful gaze locked in with your clouded ones, he brought the two fingers you cummed in to his mouth and licked them clean. he saved the last bit for you, of course, and drew his wet fingers in your mouth, breath becoming bated as you sucked on them like a filthy cumslut. 

“you taste yourself, baby?” changbin said lowly. “how do you taste?” 

“good.” you mewled in response, licking every bit of your cum and his saliva further down your tongue before you took every bit of his fingers in. you eyed him with thirst as you took his digits in your mouth, and changbin fought back a low growl when he felt the bulge on his boxers hardening on the fabric. instead, he shut his eyes and imagined his fingers as his cock, being dicked down and licked by your tongue and deepthroated by your mouth. he wanted you in him so bad, so, so bad, and he dimly thought about how he was so glad he was taking the day off for the whole of tomorrow. 

he could go all night with you if he wanted. 

with that idea in mind, changbin released his fingers from your mouth as soon as you were finished, and flipped you over so that you were on top of him. you were caught in surprise by his act, but as changbin smirked up at you, you wondered why he was such in a mood before he grabbed your hand and guided it on his erection, now hard and leaking with precum. 

“help me?” he asked innocently, the same tone as the one he asked you earlier by the balcony. you scoffed at his change of dominance, but you didn’t mind one bit at it. “you are unbelievable, seo.” you said one last time, before tugging his boxers down and finding your palm right on top of his hardened cock. 

with the small whine changbin let out, and the next pool of arousal building around your core, the both of you knew that this was going to take all night. you dimly thought about how you were so glad that changbin was taking the day off for the whole of tomorrow, and with that thought in mind, you were more than just glad that changbin was now all yours.