#NONE of you would like me if I wasn't mentally ill!

[elytrafemme]

what do i have to do for it to matter. people get medication and people get treatments and people get sympathy and people get explanations and people get diagnoses and people get to check all the boxes. it feels like my brain is physically forcing itself not to be too close to an explanation because at the last moment all symptoms will suddenly go away (i’m going to fucking kill Dahlia actually, because I think she’s the reason this keeps happening to me and even if she isn’t I’m just going to keep going until i find the bastard who is responsible). i go to therapy for five fucking years and nothing ever changes. it took whoever i was before this to fucking die before i could be split into this system and that was the most change we ever went through positively was someone fucking disappearing. 

oh mare you could have bipolar ... if your hypomanic periods were more rhythmic :/ or if the manias were worse lol :/ you could have psychosis but its not that bad :/ schizophrenia but you’re too “functional” you talk too “articulately” you’re never getting “anywhere” :/ you could have BPD but your life would be sooooo much more miserable mare and aren’t you happy :/ you could have CPTSD but you can’t even remember what happened to you can you? :/ 

I don’t understand what I’m doing wrong. I’ve done EVERYTHING right I have been so much BETTER about recovery than anybody I have met in my entire fucking life and I get nothing for it. I go to every therapy session I do all the positive self talk I try not to be toxic to people I try EVERYTHING more than ANYBODY. and all I get? Nothing. I never get ANYTHING. 

[seasons-of-death]

brother's best friend

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

genre: smutsmutsmut, minors DNI!!!

synopsis: your brother's best friend has never been too interested in you, but when he sees you after you spent the summer away, he sees you in a new light.

word count: 2.6k

a/n: i've been weirdly into blonde men lately. i might be mentally ill idk. anyway, this is my first time publishing smut so if this sucks i give everyone permission to throw tomatoes at me. and yes i finished writing this at 4am.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩

You had known Rafe Cameron for as long as you could remember, and even some of your earliest memories featured him - you simply couldn't remember a time when you didn't know him.

Or, a time when you weren't crushing on him like crazy.

Sometimes, when you were unable to sleep, rolling around in your bed late at night, you couldn't help but cringe at the memories of being a little girl in pigtails and trying to get him to play kissing tag with you, or always bothering him and your brother when he was over, sticking to him like a burdock, or a barnacle. The memories always made you scream into your pillow.

He had always just seen you as his best friend's annoying little sister, some little girl who'd always stuck her nose into things that were none of her business, even though you were only a few years younger than they were. And even as you both got older, things stayed the same. You were nothing but his best friend's little sister.

Until one summer.

It was August, only one week until summer vacation would be over. You'd spent all of your summer at your grandparents' lakehouse five hours away from the rest of your family. And during that summer, a lot changed about you. You got hot.

Or, at least that was the only thing Rafe could think about when he saw you leaning against your kitchen counter, lazily scrolling on your phone while a small, heart-shaped lollipop was between your lips. You were wearing a flimsy black top and frayed denim shorts, and he could see a bit of the tan lines from your bikini from the thin straps of the top.

He had come by to meet up with your brother, but you had simply shrugged and said that he was out, and you didn't know when he'd be back, but that Rafe was welcome to wait for him. And that's how he ended up in your kitchen, unable to keep his eyes off of you, while you simply ignored him. It was unlike any time else; you'd usually be chatting his ear off about something, always wanting his attention. And he did find it adorable sometimes, but he had never really found you that enticing, until now, when you were almost acting like he wasn't even there, standing there, wearing barely anything.

You let out a sigh, rubbing your shoulder absentmindedly, causing your top to cling to your body even more, and his eyes widened when he realized that you weren't wearing a bra. But then, he realized how creepy it must be for him to stare at you, so he cleared his throat, trying his best to look away, while there was an obvious flush on his face.

"So, uh, how was summer?" He asked, trying to come up with something to talk about, and it seemed to work, as you put your phone away and shrugged.

"Pretty uneventful. I pretty much just did what I do here." You said, pulling the lollipop away from your lips with a pop, and he couldn't help but think about how your pretty, plump lips would look wrapped around his co- "How about yours?"

"Yeah, same here..." He said with a hoarse voice, painfully aware of the semi in his cargo shorts.

"Aw, come on." You said, walking over to the dining table he was sitting at, leaning to place your arms on it, basically bending over, allowing him a generous view into your cleavage as you placed the lollipop back in your mouth. "There has to have been something interesting. There's always something here."

"Nope." He muttered, almost unable to tear his eyes away from your cleavage, your nipples hard against the fabric of your flimsy top as you looked at him with raised brows, the semi in his shorts having turned into a proper tent. "Just the same old Outer Banks."

"Lame." You let out a dramatic sigh, pulling the lollipop away from your lips, the lollipop giving them a slight red tint. As you bit down on your lip, the only thing on Rafe's mind was how much he desperately wanted them against his lips.

"Can I ask you something?" He said suddenly, his eyes narrowing as he inspected you.

"Shoot."

"Are you trying to get me to fuck you?"

To say that his sudden and blunt question caught you off guard would be an understatement, your eyes widening and almost causing you to choke on your own spit as you looked at him.

"Cause if that's what you want I can just bend you over the counter right now."

He could see that some of your bravado had crumbled away, a flush that had nothing to do with the temperature creeping onto your cheeks as you cleared your throat and tried to straighten your back, acting nonchalant, but the slight tremor in your voice, as you spoke, was telling him everything he wanted to know. "Oh, yeah?"

He stood up with a grin, and he could see your eyes immediately shoot to the obvious hardness in his shorts, your breath hitching slightly before your eyes flicked back up to his, his hands creeping onto your hips, a part of his calloused hands meeting the slip of bare skin between your top and your shorts.

"You have no idea how much I wanna do that. Ever since I saw you in that top, I've just been wanting to take it off," Rafe slipped one of the spaghetti straps off your shoulders, "and get my hands on those pretty tits."

His hand brushed against the fabric covering your nipple, causing you to shiver and let out a small gasp as you leaned into his touch, clearly wanting more. He leaned closer to your ear, whispering in a husky tone.

"So, how is it? You want it?"

The words caused a wave of heat and desire to shoot to your core, as you nodded slowly.

"Say it. Say it, baby."

The commanding tone in his voice almost caused you to moan, as you looked at him in the eye, speaking with a shaky, trembling voice. "Yeah..."

With that, he had lifted you into the air, his strong hands around your thighs as he held you up, the veins in his arms pronounced as he carried you toward your bedroom.

The moment your back hit the bed, it was like something had taken over him. His body was immediately pressed against yours, his lips attached to yours as if by magnetic force, rough, sloppy kisses that neither of you could get enough of, his tongue slipping into your mouth as he kneaded your breast through the flimsy top.

You pulled at the hem of his shirt as he kissed you, and he pulled away slightly with a satisfied grin on his face as he pulled his shirt over his head, discarding it to the floor, your eyes immediately shooting to his abs.

"What? You like what you see?" He said with a cocky, shit-eating grin that might as well have been tattooed onto his face, and you ran your hands over his muscled, causing him to tense up as he let out a small groan.

His body was back on yours, as Rafe started pressing kisses down your neck, the little bites he'd occasionally sprinkle on your soft skin causing you to let out a small hiss until he ran his tongue over them as if soothing you. His hands were fumbling with the button and the zipper of your denim shorts while his lips were sucking marks into the skin of your neck, until he detached himself from you again, this time to pull your shorts off

He looked down at you, rubbing his chin slightly as he chuckled softly, looking down at you on your bed. Your black panties matched your top, and your lips were plumped even more by the kisses you two had shared, your hair messily thrown around.

"Fuck, you look gorgeous."

His hoarse words caused a flush to run through your body and you covered your face with your hands, before he leaned over you once again, pulling your hands away from your face, and gently pinned them to the mattress. "Don't you dare cover your face... I wanna see how pretty you look when I make you cum on my cock."

"Rafe..." You breathed out his name, making him grin as his hands released your wrists, and his hand slid under your top and up to your breast, kneading it roughly as you arched into his touch, your breathing now completely erratic.

He pulled your top over your head, his pretty lips immediately attaching themselves to your sensitive nipple, sucking it into his mouth in a way that caused you to let out lewd moans while his other hand kneaded your other breast, your hands now gripping your sheets tightly, trying to bite down on your lip.

You felt slightly relieved when his lips pulled away from your nipple, the stimulation driving you crazy with need and desire, only for him to attach his mouth to your other nipple, his hand now going to knead the breast that he just had in his mouth.

After a while, his lips started traveling lower, leaving little kisses and bites all over your abdomen, each of them feeling as if they were lighting up every single vein in your body. When his lips arrived at the waistband of your panties, he simply grinned up at you wolfishly, as he started pressing teasing kisses over your panties.

When he arrived at your clothed core, you let out a small whine, and he looked up at you, licking his lips. "Fuck, you're soaked... Ruined your pretty little panties, all because of me..." He said with a small groan.

"Rafe, please..."

"Please what, baby? Tell me what you want."

His commanding tone only added to your need to feel him in you, and if he was making you plead, then so be it. You weren't above begging for it, not when he had you like this.

"I want you... I need you, please..."

He let out a chuckle as he pulled away, going to unbutton his shorts, letting them pool at his feet before stepping out of them and throwing them away.

"Well, if you insist."

His fingers hooked on the waistband of your panties, throwing them to the floor and looking down at you filled with desire, the fabric of his boxers was starting to feel suffocating against his erection.

He took off his boxers, letting his dick free, and you look at him with slightly wide eyes. Based on his reputation, you would've guessed he was big, but not... big.

"What's wrong baby...?" He said, his body against yours once again, his cock so close to where you wanted, needed him the most. "Worried you won't be able to take me, huh?"

"Mmhm..." You hum with an uncertain nod, making him chuckle against your skin. "Don't laugh!" You say, feeling your face starting to warm up.

"It's okay, baby..." He brought his hand to your face, cupping your cheek, "I'll be gentle, just for you..."

His hand went to stroke the base of his cock, already leaking some precum as he looked down at your naked form, laying there all pretty and needy for him.

Rafe positioned himself at your entrance, looking up at you, pushing away some strands of hair that were messily strewn across your face. "You ready for me?" He asked, and as he rubbed his tip against your entrance, you couldn't help but let out a whimper that was just pure want. "Is that a yes?"

"Yeah... I'm ready..." You said softly, and you let out a high-pitched gasp when you felt him enter you slowly, feeling like he was filling you up even though all of him wasn't even in you yet.

"Fuck, you're tight..." He breathed out as he pushed more of himself into you, giving you time to get used to his size before he thrust all of him into you, causing you to let out a moan.

He started slowly moving inside of you, every bit of movement causing you to moan, arching into him, his name the only thing that managed to slip past your lips, your hands tightly clenching the sheets as you started to get used to the way he was stretching you out, your eyes pressed closed.

"You look so gorgeous like this, baby... God, I could watch your face forever..." He groaned, his hand traveling down to your aching cunt, his thumb starting to draw circles on your clit as he slightly picked up his pace, leaving you trembling underneath him with pleasure.

"Oh god, Rafe..." You moan under him, the way he was filling you causing your brain to start to short-circuit, his cock hitting that spot inside of you that made you feel so good, your legs wrapped around his torso, trying to pull him even closer to him, making him groan your name.

His ringed thumb was starting to pick up its pace on your clit, while he was thrusting himself into you harder and faster, making everything disappear from your mind, your eyes pressed closed. You could tell that you had lost all concept of volume control, but you didn't care; he was making you feel so good it was as if everything else in the world disappeared.

You felt the familiar feeling brewing up in your abdomen, and you clenched the sheets even harder, your moans turning breathier. "Fuck, Rafe, I'm so close..."

"Open your eyes for me, baby..." He said softly, "Want you to look at me while you cum on my cock like a good girl..."

I forced my eyes open, and as I looked at him on top of me, I couldn't help but let out a loud moan of his name, his thumb circling my clit, his cock hitting the right spot at the right pace.

"Come for me, baby... Let me see you come..."

The coil inside of your abdomen was building up, every vein in your body feeling like he had lit them on fire with his simple touch as you looked into his blue eyes as he thrust into you.

And then it just... snapped.

You felt yourself come undone, moaning his name as you climax, your cunt clenching around him so tightly it was making him groan as he tried to hold back his own release, determined to let you ride through your orgasm. You arched into him, tightening the hold your legs had around his waist.

But as you did so, it was the last straw for him. He felt himself spill into you with a groan while you were mid-orgasm, clenching around him as if trying to drain all of his cum out of him and into you, your moans mixing with his groans.

Heavy breaths filled the room as you both were getting down from your respective orgasms and when he pulled out of you and saw some of his cum leak out of you, he could swear he was starting to get hard again.

He collapsed onto the bed next to you, letting out a soft chuckle as he looked at you, both of you completely blissed out of your minds. He turned to his side, looking at you with a grin as he ran a hand over your bare chest.

"Has anyone told you how beautiful you look when you come?"

You could feel your cheeks warm up, causing you to chuckle as you turned to your side, hiding your head in his chest as he pulled you close to him, pressing a gentle kiss on the top of your head.

Suddenly, you could hear the front door open and close, and you looked up at Rafe with a small chuckle.

"I guess my brother's back."

"Aw, I was having much more fun waiting for him." He said with that familiar grin, pulling you into a soft kiss.

[mangosrar]

let the light in.

matt sturniolo x fem reader.

an: i lowk hate this 🤓 also not proof read and the ending is ass.

warnings: none really just sad matt but it’s a happy ending 🤍

matt was prone to shutting you out due to his mental health. he had done it multiple times before, usually you gave him a few days to cool off and things went back to normal, but this time it was different. your boyfriend had blew up on you about a week ago and told you to leave him the fuck alone. so following normal procedure, you left his house and didn't bother him until 2 days later. under normal circumstances he would invite you over, talk it out with you and things would go back to normal but this time wasn't like that. you had reached out to him multiple times with no response, you even spoke to his brothers who told you they didn't know what to do. they advise you just let him figure it out, but you couldn't just sit around while matt was suffering, so you went over to his place, upon nicks request after agreeing with you.

"hey y/n" Chris said as he engulfed you in a hug after letting you in the house. you hugged him back and made your way upstairs to be greeted with nick.

"im so glad you're here, he hasn't came out of his room in like 3 days, he hasn't eaten or talked to either of us" he hugged you.

"Jesus, i mean i can try and get through to him but i don't know how much help ill be" you frowned.

"its worth a shot" Chris said before you sighed and made your way to matts bedroom door.

you took a deep breath and closed your eyes before knocking.

"hey matt, its me. can i come in?" no reply.

you looked over to Chris and nick, watching you from the living room and they motioned for you to walk in with their hands. you nodded before opening the door and going in.

his room was a mess, laundry all over the floor, his desk covered in paperwork that hadn't been done and his dresser looked like it had seen better days.

matt lay in bed, wrapped in his sheets with his back to you. you started walking round his bed towards him before he spoke, stopping you in your tracks.

"i don't want to hear it y/n. i don't want you here so leave" his voice sounded raspy and tired. you couldn't help but feel a sting from his words. usually matt never wanted to be away from you, hell, he would attach himself to you if he could.

"matt come on, lets just talk" you didn't move from your standing position at the end of his bed. matt let out a heavy sigh before aggressively throwing the covers off of himself and standing up and walking towards you.

"talk about what? how you fucking pity me huh? how im being selfish and im hurting people around me? no, fuck you and your fucking sympathy i don't want it" his voice was raised and he was slightly leaning down, yelling in your face. his eyes were drooped and the bags under them were deep and dark, his face looked sunken in and pale. you were taken back by his words. never once had your boyfriend spoken to you like this.

you opened your mouth to speak but before you could even get a word in, he barged past you, flinging his bedroom door open before making his way into the bathroom, slamming the door and locking it shut. you took a moment to take a deep breath, looking down at your feet, fighting the tears that were threatening to spill. after re-collecting yourself you made your way to his bathroom door trying to open it.

"matt open the door please" silence.

"matt open the fucking door" no reply.

"matt open the fucking door or i swear to god im going to walk out of this house and were over. you cannot keep doing this to me" nothing but the snap of the door unlocking was heard. you immediately walked in to find matt on the floor, slumped against the cabinet, elbows resting on his bent knees, with his head in his hands. you closed the door and sat down next to him on the floor.

"oh matt" you whispered as the tears started to roll down your face too. every ounce of anger that had occurred in you from him walking away, had dispersed instantly. you placed a small hand on the back of his head and gently pulled him to lean on you. he immediately wrapped his arms around your middle and put all of his weight on you, so terrified that you would disappear if he didn't hold you close enough.

"im sorry. i don't know what's wrong with me y/n, i cant make it stop" his voice was broken and slightly muffled.

"you don't need to be sorry matt because there's nothing wrong with you, nothing at all. you just have to talk to us" you pursed your lips together and looked up to the ceiling, while running your hand over his hair soothingly, desperately trying to stop the tears that were cascading down your cheeks.

"i cant because i-... i don't want to scare you away and i don't want to have to burden you with all this shit, you don't deserve that. this is my problem and i have to deal with it myself" he cried harder than before, tightening his grip around you. you immediately put your hands on both sides of his face, pulling his head up so he was eye level with you.

"don't ever say that, you're not going to scare me away. i love you and you're not a burden honey, i promise, you're my life line matt. you don't deserve this either okay? no one does, but its better to deal with it together than alone, this is what im here for, you're supposed to lean on me when you cant handle it. always okay?" at this point you were both full on sobbing. you couldn't understand how he could ever think that, he was your everything. every sun and moon you saw belonged to him. every single living breath you took was his. every single story you ever told had him disguised in it somehow. there was not a single day that passed that wasn't all about him.

"okay" his voice was quiet as he nodded. you followed his movements and nodded with him, searching his eyes for any sort of doubt in your words, you found nothing.

"i love you" he rested his forehead on yours as you spoke, breathing deeply, trying to silence his cries.

"i love you too, always".

taglist: @christinarowie332 @urmyslxt @azkabanstar @biimpanicking @soursturniolo @biimpanicking @kitaysworld @kvtie444 @flowerxbunnie @sssturniolofart @freshlovehacker

[slayingqueenchal]

busy days | marc spector x f!reader

Warnings : mentions of steven and Jake, but marc is fronting, ANGST, before harrow, ammit, and they already know about eachother

Summary : feels like the boys doesn't care for you anymore, read to find out!

"Sorry sweetheart, Khonshu needs me"

"Oh, y/n, I'm so sorry but I can't go"

"Sorry, maybe we'll do it on Wednesday? I'm busy"

And so many other. You feel empty. Back before all of this, you used to cuddle every night, be all lovely, and even when this happened he still tried as hard as he could to get an extra minute to spend with you. But now, it's as if he doesn't even bother.

Even now, everything is some how your fault. When you gave him a book, a simple book at his birthday he was angry. After he told you about his mom, you understood, and that was your fault.

You couldn't do this anymore. He's always busy with work and, the only person that truly makes an effort is steven.

Still that wasn't enough. One time, he told you he asked you if you wanted to go on a date, and you obviously said yes, but, no one was by your side when you left the restaurant.

One time you held a birthday party, and you invited some friends from work and him. But no one came. If it was your co workers it would make sense, but your own boyfriend?

And, finally when he was home, you finally picked up the courage to tell him.

"Marc? " You said. He has not been Marc for a long time, he's often 'baby' or 'love'. You'd expect for him to notice, but he doesn't, getting a cold reply "what? Can't you see I'm tired".

"Marc. I think I need to take a break" You said, sitting on the couch. "Sleep" The guy said. "Marc! How-how much of an idiot can you be! You spread all of your love and care and when you come home there's none left for me! So I'm ending this! It's for the better anyways" You said. Strong, strong, you are strong, y/n you repeated to yourself.

"What? For the better? You're breaking up with me? " Marc says In shock, as his eyes move to you. "Yes, Marc, I'm breaking up with all of you".

"No, no, no, i-ill fix this, i-what do you want I can give it to you" He begs. "For you to stay here for at least one week at a row" You said,simple, just one week.

"Love, you know khonshu is not negotiable" Marc says, walking closer to you. "Then, neither is our relationship" You cried. And you felt so defeated when you let him hug you.

"This is our first hug in a few months, funny how it's when we're about to break up" You scolded. "No were not, we're not going to break up, I'm going to talk to khonshu, we're gonna be just fine"

"No, Marc, I need to take a break, and, I need a little getaway too, we're not breaking up I just, need space" You said, ending the long hug.

"Okay, I understand, but please come back, yeah?" The accent changed, and suddenly it was steven. "Of course ill comeback".

You didn't. You haven't came back since that awful night. And that was six months ago.

And finally Marc gets a taste of his own medicine. He has never felt more lonlier. Sure he had steven and Jake, but, he felt empty.

These days, Jake has been fronting the most. It's because he's the strongest mentally and physically amongst the three. So, Jake has been cruel. Now he works more for khonshu, and kills people without a single drop of mercy.

Steven has been miserable, he never really talks anymore, when he fronts he gets drunk, he's just a messed up guy now.

But there you were, talking to khonshu in a small, dark, alley.

"Y/n" The tall god says. "What? Now you stalk your avatar exes?" You said. "Sorry, he didn't say anything about breaking up. But it is important to me that Marc does well and lately he hasn't. You promised to come back"

"And so does he, he promised to go home and ne an actual caring boyfriend for me, and its not even his fault. It's because of you! He can't even stay home for three days before you ask him to do your work, but that doesn't mean I stopped loving him! And as selfish as this sounds I hope he's feeling miserable because I've never felt so alone and so terrible! " You said wanting to leave. B

Suddenly, someone grabbed your wrist. "Oh funny! You're here! Did you set this up? " You looked at Marc, then khonshu. "I'll go now" The God says, disappearing into thin air.

"Are you guys besties now? Partner in crime? " You scoffed. "Y/n I'm sorry, please just listen"." Fine, I bet I won't even hear a thing anyways" You looked away.

"If you come back with me I'll stop working for him" Marc says, half begging, half demanding. "M-marc that's not fair, Steven loves this whole thing with Egyptian gods, Jake practically worships him, you can't just quit it"

"I can actually, if that means I can have you back just please" He begged. "Marc.. You swear you love me right? ", " Right", "that's all I need to know. Go back to khonshu, cause, you gotta love your self too and you, Steven, and Jake kinda love this job" You said.

"We-we kinda love this job but we love you! Please y/n" Marc cries, which was a rare thing. "I love you too, but I just can't, alright? We should just stay what we used to be before this chaotic thing and I know that wouldn't happens so no, we can't go back with each other.

You left, expecting miracle to happen,but, the world just got darker.

[lazybutsmexy]

NOOO NO NO NO TAKE IT BACK APOLOGY W TEARS RN IM SOBBING CRYING DON'T DO THIS TO ME THIS IS A PERSONAL ATTACK(it was delicious, scrumptious wow i love seeing sadness) MAKE IT BETTER OW OW BRING THEM BACK(it was so good i love your writing eating it up yumyumyum) I crave more of them all being platonic (HURT/COMFORT?!??!) plsplspls begging for crumbs in tears ill do anything

Hmmm... I am a slut for hurt/comfort myself...

Task Force + affectionate reader Pt. 3

Pt. 1 Pt. 2

Warnings: HURT/COMFORT, bit of cursing.

The people who smile the most are often the saddest. The people who share the most love often don't feel any towards themselves.

Or: it's your team's turn to show affection

It was one of those days.

One of those days where you didn't have the energy to care about yourself. You were able to keep up with your little routines around base, somehow. But it was dimmed, a matte finish to what was once all shiny and sparkly.

Because it was one of those days.

You always became like this after taking leave for longer than two days. You'd visit your family during that time - or rather, they would come to you as soon as they realized you were at your place downtown and not the barracks - and bombard you with anything they set their minds to.

No matter how grueling your missions were, your family always managed to make you feel even more drained during leave. Their constant demands and mental games, the guilt-tripping and manipulation, always made you feel as if you were walking on eggshells around them.

Tracking down and dismantling human trafficking rings seemed like a walk in the park compared to dealing with them.

You personally tried your best to keep your personal problems away from your work, greeting everyone around you with the same cheery tone, and going about your little routine with the others as usual.

But they had started to notice how your smile didn't reach your eyes, and how you seemed unable to shake off the frown in your brows.

And to avoid unwanted questions that you were too ashamed to answer, you simply chose to distance yourself.

Price shared a look with Ghost, who stood across the room from him, and he shared the same concern in his eyes as they watched you walk into the debrief room

you sat yourself at the back, whereas you'd usually choose to sit in the middle of your team

they immediately knew what was going to happen, you were about to start isolating yourself.

they were having none of that.

Price had always kept a close eye on the family relations of his team members.

it was a security measure, after all, to make sure that not only they weren't targeted by dangerous people, but also to make sure they were no connected in any way to their missions.

but in your case it was different, he monitored your family to make sure they never stayed close to you for too long.

it seemed it hadn't been enough this time, and he saw your haggard state as the consequence of that failure.

he would definitely fix that

he began talking to both Laswell and his superiors to get you one of the smaller houses within base

even though you were unmarried and didn't have any children, he knew it would be impossible for those pesky family members to get close to your home without permission

your parents had managed to talk your landlord into giving them access to your apartment - that would not happen under Price's watch

he would actually blacklist them if he had the chance to do so

he wouldn't let you know he was trying to get you a house, at first - he didn't want you to feel like a burden

but he was not exactly subtle when he began asking what colors you preferred on your walls, if you minded only having a shower head or if you preferred a bathtub, etc

Soap wasn't subtle at all, oh no

boy got you hooked in a one-arm hug for as long as you'd let him

that could be a few minutes or all day long, he didn't mind one bit

endlessly squeezed and smooched on your hairline whenever he caught you lost in thought

definitely the one to (lovingly) manhandle you into a blanket burrito and snuggle you into his lap to watch movies

surprisingly a great cook, he would go all out and cook you whatever your comfort food was

it didn't matter if it was 3 AM

you would be fed, and you could almost taste the love he poured in it

definitely wore a 'kiss the cook' apron to make you giggle and try to get a smooch from you

Gaz is the king of self care

you would not let your skincare/hair routine go under his watch

he would do it for you if you didn't have the energy to do so

he would just sit you on the toilet and he'd take care of all the steps of your skincare routine

if he didn't have all the steps memorized, he definitely had a bulletpoint list of specific instructions to guide himself

same with your hair - trust this man with your hair, you won't regret it, ever

this man had magic hands for scalp massages fight me if you disagree

if you aren't comfortable being nude in front of him, he would simply put a chair in front of the sink like a makeshift hair wash basin and work like that

if you were comfortable being nude in front of him, he would make it into a full-body wash

after working with your hair, he would scrub your body down

every now and then he would massage your tired muscles while telling you how much he appreciated you as both his teammate and his friend

after shower cuddles were a must

you would very likely doze off in his arms while he held you impossibly close to him

Ghost didn't see himself as a person capable of comforting others

but all doubts flew through the window the moment he saw your downcast gaze and a tired hunch of your shoulders

at this point in time, you had become about 80% of the team's moral incentive

of course he knew it was quite unfair to dump all of that on you, he supposed you would have your down days too

but you were part of a team, and no one fought alone - be it terrorist organizations or their own inner demons

he would work alongside Price to get you a new living place

any person trying to ask you stupid and/or unwanted questions would find themselves at the other end of one of his famous death glares

or at the aim of his fist

when you approached him to pat him on the shoulder like always, pretending that everything was all right, he placed his own hand on your shoulder

he looked into your eyes and spoke to you with such sincerity that you were shaken to the core

"...You know that you are just as deserving of love as everyone else, right?"

moments later, you were clutching his middle, with your face buried in his chest while he hugged you tightly

he didn't mind that his shirt felt a little wetter with your tears

he focused on stroking your hair and rubbing your back, while glaring at anyone who dared to look at you questioningly

he would let you hug him until your arms fell off if that's what you needed

more cuddles!!

...he wouldn't mind it too much either if Soap and Gaz joined in a cuddle pile - he pretended to be annoyed, but he thought it felt nice

imagine how much nicer it would feel for you :)

[sparkbeast20]

Kings and their subjects

It's such a shock for me to see have fucking envious the nobles are in this event. Like I know that it's Hades and that Leviathan is the biggest offender of this sin. But see Glasyalabolas and Barbatos getting jealous taken me aback.

Maybe cause they never show that side in the main story before. They've only show their devotion to Leviathan. We've seen in Gehenna that some would be honored getting hit by Satan... If it isn't from him getting upset or angry.

Avisos/Abyssos let Beelzebub pierce or give them on the spot or invite them. In Tartaros, you are literally Mammon's property.

Mentally preparing for what extreme side of devotion for Niflheim, Abaddon, and Paradise Lost.

Also

I wasn't that surprise about this level of devotion to Leviathan with them fine being choke to the point Leviathan say "This isn't punishment anymore"

This reminds me of how fucking devoted people with some of the Royal family in the past are or in old history.

Since I grew up being taught to be my own individual and choose who I should follow base on what I think is the right leader. I could see people being taken aback by this kind of behavior.

Even if the devils in WHB tells you that, you are free to do whatever you want. They themselves are slave to their internal instinct to follow and be devoted to their kings, especially the 72 devils/nobles.

I think that PB did the right thing and made sure that the Kings themselves aren't tyrant or like a bad ruler.

All four has shown that they do care for their people, and nobles. Sure they might choke, kick, etc. But they aren't taking advantage of them or using them in the wrong way if you know what I mean.

For me, The kings are whether or not they know it. Are slaves to their sins. They carry the burden of enduring feeling (Wrath, Greed, Envy, Gluttony, Pride, Lust, and Sloth) to the point that it may have something to do with their "Mental illness"

Imagine living your none ending life, feeling one sin and you can't ignore it. That would be torture.

Maybe that's why they are fascinated by Solomon and MC, they have the same desire and vices as they are, but they have the freedom of whether or not to act upon them.

[dokoni-mo]

Crave: Part Three || William Afton x GN! Reader

summary: Your first time with him.

NSFW // smut

word count: 8,088

warnings: age gap relationship (reader is 20 while William is pushing 40), allusions to mental illness, allusions to dysfunctional parent-child relationships, talks of divorce and custody battles, smoking, will is a bit delusional, will has scars, corruption kink, usage of pet names, Will is a bit of a creep, obsessive behavior like REALLY obsessive, and possessive, sensual touching, swearing, Michael is briefly in this too, kissing, brief and faint sir kink, breeding kink, aftercare, also yandere vibes for a very little tiny bit, praise, body worship, fingering, virginity loss, premature ejaculation, dom/sub undertones, general smut lol

minors dni // please read warnings!!

a/n: omg omg my first fic back!! I had to polish off the rust (esp with writing smut) but i got so many requests for part three of this I just had to!! anyways I hope yall enjoy!! Ive tagged a few people whom I thought would like to read this, but if you'd like me to not tag you pls let me know! enjoy! (also just a little disclaimer, i do NOT condone this type of relationship irl!! this is just my take on being with Willy)

part one // part two // part four

~~

William could remember the first time he ever laid eyes on you. He remembered it as plain as day and recounted it often.

In fact, it was probably one of the most solidified memories in his mind. Even more so than the birth of his children, or even the day he married his ex-wife. He could recall every single little detail; what clothes you and him wore, what you smelled like that day, how you styled your hair. Every last little bit, he remembered. The first meeting is always important, yes. But this one was much more important to William. In a way in which he doubted anyone but you would understand.

For it was the first time in nearly all his life that William wasn't faking.

From very early on, William knew he wasn't normal. Or, at the very least, what everyone else deemed as normal. Even as a boy, William was hard to excite, or even get some sort of reaction out of. Toys, games, new friends, holidays; none of it was ever appealing to him. He found it all boring. It caused his mother great worry too. William could see the way she looked at him. Even as a boy, he knew what that look meant.

Perhaps that's why he began to lash out in his early years. That's why he was labeled a "problem child".

William had thought that if conventional means of joy and excitement couldn't elicit a response out of him, perhaps other means would. Lying, cheating, getting into trouble. It had some effect, he had to admit. The thrill of it all. He had gotten pretty good at not being caught, too. But, of course he would slip up some times. That's when the trouble arose. William was emotive, at last, sure. But no one liked it. At least, no one liked how it came about. His mother often scolded him. Teachers too. And, if William had a father that gave two shits, he was sure he would've received punishment from the man as well.

It was confusing. Terribly, terribly confusing. Couldn't he finally be happy doing what he loved? That's all his mother wanted, wasn't it? What everyone else wanted, too? For William to find himself, and be emotive?

Then why were they mad at him. Every. Single. Time.

It was frustrating. And, the more frustrated William grew, the more he acted out.

It was a balancing match made in hell. And William grew tired of it all. William accepted that in order for him to have peace, he must comply. Mr. Afton would have to wear a mask of his own face, and be what everyone wanted him to be.

Charming. Handsome. Intelligent. Charismatic. Great husband. Better father. Businessman. Inventor. Successful. Approachable.

William played these charades for nearly 40 years now. Enough to where the lines on his face grew deeper, and the roots of his hair turned grey. He played it through the unpleasant surprise that was his eldest, Michael. Then again at his wedding to that bitch Clara. Again though Elizabeth and Evan's births. Then continued after the divorce. And on through the custody battle. And on and on all the way to now.

Every. Single. Day. For 40 years.

William was tired of it but found no avenue to stop. If he dropped the act now, he couldn't even imagine the headache that would be the fallout of it all.

He had to keep it up. He had to. This was the life he made for himself. He made his bed long ago, and now he had to sleep in it. William was in a prison of his own making. That no one even knew was constructed. He hated that he got Michael out of all of his kids. He hated his business. He hated his neighbors. He hated his friends that weren't Henry. He hated his fancy house, expensive car, and clothes.

This life was his fate, and how unfortunate he was.

Or so he thought.

He didn't want to pay for Michael's college. William would never admit it out loud, but he thought that boy trying to make something of himself other than a minimum-wage employee was a joke. That's why he forced Michael to pay his own way. In reality, he told Michael it was to "make him more of a man", but William knew his son saw right through it. Michael could be smart, sometimes.

Sometimes.

Because Michael was, in fact, a minimum-wage employee at his father's diner, the young man couldn't afford much else than the local community college. Not that that was a bad thing to the young man; Michael didn't care that much. William wouldn't have cared either way, but Michael's compliance made things easier. And, being around other people his age, Michael was out of the house more often. This meant less fights that William would have to deal with weekly. It was a win-win all around.

And, when Michael was home, he would often be accompanied by one or two of his friends. William didn't mind, as long as his house was kept tidy, and no one made too much noise. Any distraction that would take his idiot of a son away from him was welcome.

If William was around when Michael showed up with a friend, William was polite enough to them. A smile and a how are you, perhaps even a question or two. Just small talk, enough to keep up his façade of good dad, better person.

That was until, years into his university, Michael brought you over.

William was in his house that day, doing paperwork at the kitchen table with a cigarette pluming smoke in the ashtray nearby. The Diner was closed whilst the state was doing their bi-annual health inspection. While Mr. Afton preferred to keep himself occupied to his workshop in the basement, he thought that perhaps a change of scenery could do him some good. Smoking in the basement made it stuffy down there, anyway.

He would later be so, so grateful for this decision.

From the opposite end of the house, William heard Michael's keys in the door, twisting the lock to let the young man in. Listening a second longer, William could discern two sets of feet walking along the wooden lining of his foyer, along with two hushed whispers bantering amongst themselves.

Mr. Afton breathed a quiet sigh through his nose.

Great. Michael was home. And dragged some other runt along the way.

William knew that in order to reach Michael's room, his son and his friend would have to go upstairs. And, much to William's dismay, the entrance to the stairs was positioned in such a way that his son and his friend would have to go through the kitchen.

Great.

Hearing the footsteps grow closer and the whispers louder, Mr. Afton leaned back in his chair, tamping out his cigarette in the process. Grey eyes situated on the paperwork in front of him, William put on his well-rehearsed soft, friendly smile, waiting for his son to show himself.

Michael was the first to round the corner, the care-free smile slowly fading off the young man's face as he saw his father sitting in the kitchen. Sensing Michael's presence in the doorway, William looked up from his work and to his son, his fake smile growing to make up for the disgust he felt.

"Dad..." Michael groaned, "What are you doing here? I thought you had work today..."

William chuckled, "Michael, I told you this morning. Inspection, remember?"

Michael rolled his eyes and sighed, looking around the corner of the door and saying a few more hushed words. Whoever his son's friend was, they must be shy. William couldn't blame them too much. Mr. Afton was probably the most popular guy in town these days, with the amount of business the Diner had brought in.

Michael turned his attention back to his father, "I have a friend over. Is that alright? Or are you gonna throw another fit?"

William clenched his jaw, "Of course, of course, it's no trouble at all! Just keep it quiet upstairs, yeah?"

Rolling his eyes again, Michael said a few more words around the corner before making his way to the stairs. William had dropped his gaze for a moment to fill in a few of his signatures. When he sensed that his son's friend had finally shown themselves around the corner, William looked up to give them a friendly smile.

Oh, and there you were.

Adorable, precious, beautiful, darling you.

The world around him seemed to fade away when William laid his pale grey eyes on you for the first time. Instantly, he knew you were the single most breathtaking creature he had ever had the pleasure of meeting. You put his ex-wife to shame ten times over. A hundred times, even. All of his past flings as well. They were nothing compared to you.

You were a timid little thing. William could tell by the pink on your cheeks and your hands clasped in front of you. You had a small, soft little smile; your lips so perfectly round and plump. The way your hair had framed your face made you look as if you were hung in the Louvre itself. Your eyes were kind, looking at the older man with a warmth William didn't know possible. Genuine warmth, too.

The way you looked at him. The way you carried yourself. The way you smelled, even halfway across the room. The way you smiled. The way those clothes hugged you in all the right places. The way your body curved and bent...

William swallowed the saliva building up the back of his throat. Without noticing, his lips had begun to part, but he was quick to fix it with a smile.

You gave Mr. Afton a tiny little wave as you shuffled awkwardly towards the stairs behind his son, your voice barely above a peep.

"Hi, Mr. Afton." You had said, "Sorry to interrupt you..."

Shit. Your little voice saying his name like that. It matched you so well.

William's smile grew as he leaned forward in his chair, setting his paperwork to the side.

"Oh, it's no trouble at all, love." He said in his thickly accented voice, "At least you're getting that one out of my hair for a while, yeah?"

William almost never made jokes at the expense of others. At least, not around everyone else. He kept his true feelings in his mind most of the time. He knew most folk wouldn't react too kindly to what he really thought of them. But you...

You didn't seem the type to need such filters. He could see it already. You were the type of person to tell it how it is, and not apologize for it. Just like how he wanted to be.

How interesting.

You let out a little giggle, covering your mouth with your hand. William could feel his jaw clench again. Why were you hiding yourself from him? He wanted to see your smile. Your laugh was so cute, surely your smile is too.

William felt himself still. William wanted to see it. Your smile. That was the first time he had ever wanted someone's smile. And the fact you laughed at his joke about his son...

"Yeah, well, it's not like I wanted to, but someone's gotta do it!" You responded with sarcasm, Michael's groan making you giggle to yourself again.

Without even having to force it, William felt a laugh bubble up from the bottom of his chest. He heard it reverberate off the walls of his shiny, sleek kitchen, and it surprised him greatly. Mr. Afton couldn't remember the last time he didn't have to force a laugh. Let alone a smile. All attempts from others just made him cringe on the inside.

Idiots.

Michael had dragged you up the stairs after your little joke, annoyed by the banter between you and his father. William's eyes were fixated on you as you disappeared from sight, watching as your cute little legs carried you up his staircase.

From your height compared to his kitchen counter, William could deduce that you were much shorter than him. If he had to guess, you'd probably only about come up to his shoulder. From the lingering smell in the air too, he could tell that you took good care of yourself. You were clean. Fresh. Supple. And, from the tiny bit of your personality he saw that afternoon, William already knew he liked you. In fact, it was from that moment on that William would think of you.

He encouraged Michael to bring over more friends in hopes that you'd come back. If you weren't in his house, William found himself wondering where you were. What you were up to. What your routine was. What he assumed to be an infatuation quickly grew. He begun to think of you more frequently. When sitting down for a meal, he would wonder if you would like what he had made. William wondered what such a cute little thing like you was doing in this nowhere town. Did you have dreams away from here? Is this were you wanted to be? He had never seen you in his diner before, he was sure of it. He would've surely remembered such a pretty little thing. Although, his diner was the talk of the town. For both adults like yourself and for children. So where were you?

You became illusive to him. You were full of mystery, and he had to know more. It would never be enough. He wanted more. William began drilling Michael about who you were. This was met by some animosity by the young man, but William didn't fucking care. Eventually, when Michael became obsolete of information, William took to other means. He would eavesdrop around the diner on the security cameras, hoping one of the other college kids in there would utter your name. It was slim pickings, but the thrill of it is what got to William.

Every single little thing he learned about you was priceless to him. He committed it all to memory, as if you would vanish if he had not. You were a plague to him. It was your name he thought of first thing in the morning, and it was the last thing he moaned quietly into the night. His fantasies grew dirtier by the day. He had imagined you in oh so many different scenarios. Different positions. Places. Outfits.

Everything about you was perfect to William. From the very top of your head to the very bottom of your feet. You were his soulmate. He just knew it. Every single little thing about you had been crafted just for him. Everything you did, said, perfection. He could be so, so good for you, just as you'd be so good for him. He made more than enough money to spoil you rotten. His house was big enough for you to move in. Not that you'd need the extra space. Of course you'd be sharing a bed with him. He wouldn't have it any other way.

Couldn't you see it? How you and him were meant to be? Couldn't you picture your budding life together with him? This is what all those years of suffering were for. To lead him to you. You were his everything. His sun, moon and stars. The oxygen he breathed. The food he ate. The ground he walked on. All of it.

You.

His precious, precious little bunny.

~~

William already knew he loved you. He did, he really did. He didn't have to fake that part about him. Loving you came as naturally to him as breathing. And with you pinned underneath him, Mr. Afton felt as if he was on cloud 9.

Sure, this isn't exactly how he'd plan things to go. He didn't want to have his first time with you on his couch. You were better than that. You deserved all the nice things he had to offer. But William wasn't too sure he could contain himself long enough to carry you to his bedroom. He had already waited so long to have you. Surely you wouldn't mind, right?

You didn't seem to, at the very least. As the man continued to grope and squeeze at your chest, his other hand ripping his tie off, he studied your face carefully. His pale eyes never left your pretty little face, not even for a moment. Your cute little hands were gripping the fabric of his couch, and soft little moans escaped past your puffy lips every so often. Your eyes were focused on his arm rather than his face.

He found this to be a shame. He understood that you were probably embarrassed, perhaps even overwhelmed. This was your first time with him, after all. Oh, but it just wouldn't do, little bunny. He wanted your eyes on him.

Where they should be.

After finally getting his black tie off, William used his free hand to slip underneath your chin, using his pointer finger and thumb to tilt it up towards him. Your glossy doe eyes met his, and he could feel an uncontrollable grin creep across his handsome features.

Just look at you. Not even five minutes in, and already so eager to please him. William could see how much you were enjoying yourself already, the pleasure of it all making the ache in his pants all the more tighter.

Patience, William, patience. The night is still young.

You are something to be savored. Not just a quick fix.

"(Y/N), my darling," Mr. Afton said to you, feeling the heat radiating off your cheeks, "keep your eyes on me. I want to see you, love."

William leaned down to kiss you again, feeling how your hands gently found a spot on his chest before he could do so.

"W-wait..." you peeped out, making William still his movements. He pulled away from you for a moment, his smile falling as he looked into your worried eyes.

"What's wrong, my love?" He asked, "Please, tell me. Do you want to stop?"

You shook your head, "N-No! It's just-"

William removed his hands from you, clasping your little fingers around his own, "Please, my bunny. Whatever it is, I'll fix it immediately. Please tell me."

Mr. Afton watched you like a hawk a you looked over your shoulder towards his door, the heat on your cheeks creeping down your pretty little neck at his words.

"It's just..." you whispered to him, "What if Michael walks in on us? He should be back any minute, right?"

Oh, that. The lie he told you. He had forgotten all about that, actually. William was glad you reminded him.

Mr. Afton pressed a small kiss to your fingers to ease your worries.

"Don't worry about him, my love." He said, admiring your features as if they were fine art, "It's all taken care of, I promise. Keep your focus on me, darling. On us. You can do that for me, hm?"

After studying his face for a moment, William watched as you nodded in response, making his smile widen as he kissed your fingers once again.

"Can we maybe just move, erm... this, somewhere else then?" You asked, "Please?"

Oh. So you did mind. William mentally kicked himself. Stupid fool. Of course you would mind. How could he have overlooked that? Stupid, stupid, stupid.

William leaned in and kissed your sweet lips one more time.

"Of course, bunny." He whispered to you, finally letting go of your hands. William got off from on top of you and planted his feet on the ground. Once he was secure, he leaned down to you again and slipped you into his strong arms, holding you bridal-style close to his toned chest. He felt his heart swell inside of him as you wrapped your tiny arms around his neck, nuzzling your cute face into his neck. Gently, the older man carried you through his house and into his dark bedroom, using one of his legs to push the door open.

Once inside, William gently laid you down on top of his bed, giving you a kiss before leaving breifly to shut his door. After he was sure that it was shut tightly, William turned his attention back to you.

Heat creeped down his face and neck when he saw his precious bunny on top of his bed. Oh, little one. If only you knew how many times he had pictured you there. How many times your name was repeated over and over like a mantra within these very walls. Even with all the fantasies William had played over and over in his mind, none of them compared to the real thing. Just look at you. So so cute.

And just for him.

Walking back over to you, William was sure to drink in the sight of you on his bed, and commit it to memory. His hands on autopilot, William unbuttoned his purple dress-shirt as he neared closer, exposing his chest to you.

You must've felt awkward being the only one with all your clothes still on. He saw how you went to shrug off your jacket, but was quick to stop you as he took his place on top of you once again.

Silly bunny. That was his job.

"Ah, ah, my darling." He whispered to you, gently taking your hands away from yourself, "No need to worry about that. Just let me do all the work, yeah? Just relax, and let me take care of you."

Mr. Afton saw that his words seemed to go in one ear and out the other. Your eyes weren't on him. Instead, they were lain gently on the expanse of his chest, going up and down over and over. The dim lighting made it a little hard to see exactly, but William knew what you were doing. Ogling him.

William wasn't sure how much harder he could get. Look at you. Precious little you, drooling over his chest. What a good little bunny. That's exactly where your eyes should be, little one. On him. And only him. He only had eyes for you, so wouldn't you do the same for him? Of course you would, bunny, of course. By the end of the night, you will. Mr. Afton is gonna show you so many levels of burning hot pleasure you didn't even know existed. Why? Because you'll be his. His bunny. No one else's. And if anyone dared try take you away, then well-

"How did you get these?" William heard you peep out to him, snapping him out of his trance.

He felt one of your little hands pull out of his grip, and gently trace lines up and down his chest and stomach, earning a shudder out of him. Elation ran through his veins, knowing this was the first time you had ever touched him. Touched a man like that, too. Slowly, whilst coming down from his high, William could recognize the patterns you were tracing.

Ah, yes. Those. He had forgotten about those, too. His scars. He hadn't even remembered to warn you first. He knew that at first glance, they did look rather gnarly.

But, still. You didn't seem to mind. You were his good bunny, after all. Of course you'd be good for him. Love him no matter what he looked like. Just like how he loved you.

While you continued to feel up his chest, William shrugged off the remains of his dress shirt and tossed it to the floor. He subsequently leaned down close to you, capturing your lips in another kiss. The following ones trailed down the side of your face and to your exposed neck, earning another whimper of pleasure out of you.

"It's nothing to worry about, love." He whispered to you, pressing more kisses to your skin, "Let's just say the early designs of my spring-lock suits weren't without their... flaws."

"Do they hurt?" You asked him, your little fingers finding a place on his shoulders.

William's breath fanned across your heated skin as he chuckled, "You ask far too many questions, bunny."

William gently bit down against the swell of your neck, earning another gasp out of you.

"Just, relax, little one." He said, his hands slowly working your jacket off of you and discarding it to the floor, "Do you want to stop?"

"N-no! I just..." you trailed off, your voice fading to a whisper "I just want you to be okay."

Mr. Afton picked his gaze up from your neck to look into your eyes, committing to memory the pink on your cheeks. Oh, precious, darling little bunny. If only you knew just how much he loved you. If only you knew just how you made him feel; the gravity of your presence around him.

The older man leaned forward to kiss your neck again, his large hand gently slipping underneath your shirt.

"My darling bunny," William whispered, "you're far too kind. So, so good for me. My bunny. Mine."

The brit's movements begun to get more frantic and passionate as his hand crept up to your chest, groping and squeezing from under your shirt. Your moans became more frequent in conjunction, along with the sheer amount of bruises and marks he was sucking into your soft, warm skin. Your hands found their way across his bare shoulders, one eventually travelling up to tussle into his dark brown hair. William rumbled out a groan from the back of his throat as he continued attacking your neck.

Once he was certain that you'd have plenty of hickeys in the morning, William detached himself from you and sat back slightly. His hand ran further up your chest, pulling your shirt along with it. Once your garment was halfway up your torso, William brought his other large, calloused to the base.

"May I remove this for you, my sweet?" He asked through half-lidded eyes, the tent in his pants growing more and more uncomfortable by the second. His mind told him over and over to just cut to the chase and pound you into the mattress already, but he dismissed the thought. He needed patience. William had waited for this day far too long to piss it away. He wanted to savor it. Stretch it out as long as possible. Not only for his selfish reasons, but for your sake too. You were a virgin, after all. He didn't want to scare you away, oh no. Eventually you'll get the hang of it, anyway. Don't worry about that, little one. William promises to show you how all of it is done. Show you just how amazing he can make you feel, and spoil you rotten in the process. Give you the treatment that only his bunny gets to have.

But, for now, slow and steady it is.

You looked him in his eyes as you gave him a timid nod, making another grin stretch across his face.

"Let me hear your words, darling." He said.

"Y-yes, Mr. Afton. Please... take it off." you responded.

Fucking hell you were so goddamned cute. Sweet bunny if only you knew just how many times he imagined your cute little voice saying those exact words to him. How long he dreamt of it.

Another shudder ran through the man's veins as he pulled your shirt off of you, leaving you bare-chested in front of him.

"Please, love," he whispered, "Call me William."

The tips of his fingers ghosted over the expanse of your chest and stomach, earning a shudder of your own under his touch. Leaning down, the older man pressed more open-mouthed kisses to your collarbones and chest and his hands crept down further, stopping at the hem of your pants.

"Though, if you're up for it," he continued, "I'm quite fond of sir as well."

Before you could babble out any sort of response, William gave a few more open-mouthed kisses to the space right above your pants, your hands finding a home in his hair again. Your soft whimpers underneath the brit made his kisses all the more violent, and his hands all the more wandering. They traveled underneath you, coping a few feels at your butt before slowly trailing down your thighs.

It was getting harder by the second for the brit to control himself. He wanted to go slow, he really did, for you. But he wasn't too sure how much longer he could restrain himself from taking you as his. Here you were, right where he had wanted you for so long. Moaning and whimpering underneath him just like he wanted you to. You were already so good for him, even without him having to coach you on what to do. You truly were made for him.

So, perhaps you would forgive him for picking up the pace a little bit.

Could you do that for him, bunny?

"How about we remove these next, yeah?" He asked you through half-lidded, lust-filled eyes, his fingers picking at the hem of your pants.

You nodded in response again. Embarrassed and bashful.

Oh, naughty naughty bunny. Didn't he tell you to use your voice?

"Words, darling." He reminded you, his tone soft yet laced with firmness. He didn't want to punish you, no. Not yet, at the very least. It was your first time, and William was a generous man. He could let you off the hook this time, bunny.

This time.

"William, please..." you breathed out, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mr. Afton had to take a long, deep breath through his nose to keep his eyes from rolling to the back of his head, a cold, sharp shudder running down his body. Begging him already? Oh, sweet little one, you were made for him. You were you were you were. You were what he was put on this earth for. Not his stupid fucking business, or being a father. No. Not at all. It was for you. He was put on this earth for you. To be your man. To give you every single little thing your precious heart desired. Money. Fame. Love. Pleasure. All of it. All of it for you. And oh did he have plenty to give you. You were his soulmate, he was sure of it. How else could you be here now? How else would he have happened to find you in this small, puny town? Amongst all these fucking idiots? You and him were meant to be, little bunny. Couldn't you see it too? Just look at you. William fits so perfectly on top of you, doesn't he? And you look so adorable underneath him with that blushy face of yours. His sweet little rabbit. His darling beloved. His sweet angel. His treasure. His love. His. His. HIS. HIS. HI-

...

Oh.

Oh shit.

Pressing a few more kisses to your belly, he snuck one of his hands down to feel around his crotch. The tips of his fingers were greeted by a small wet patch.

Damn. He really got carried away that time. First on his phone call with you, and again now? Could you notice? No, surely not. It was too dim in his room. His pants were dark too, so that made it all the more unlikely. You probably wouldn't care either way.

He was still plenty hard for you.

Composure, William, composure. Don't ruin all the fun before it even begins.

Making sure to settle down the many thoughts in his head, William gently lifted your legs and cute little butt off of his bed. Slowly, he was able to discard your pants off of you, giving your shins and thighs a few small kisses as his hands returned to the hem of your underwear.

"This too, love?" He asked.

Out of instinct, you nodded again, "Yes, but... what about you?"

William breathed out a chuckle. Silly bunny. Don't tell him you're becoming the impatient one now. As adorable as it was, William had to still go slow on you. Patience, little one.

"That'll be soon, rabbit." He told you, one of his fingers hooking underneath your underwear, "You are a virgin, yes?"

He already knew the answer to that. He just wanted to hear you say it.

"Yeah, I am... Is that a proble-"

"No, no, little bunny, no." He said in response, gently sliding your underwear down your legs and discarding it on the floor, "I just have to make sure you're prepared. Besides..."

William shifted his weight down so he was face-to-face with your lower half, guiding your thighs to rest on his shoulders. Looking up at you, he pressed his kisses into your soft flesh, throwing in a few bites for good measure as he cupped your heated sex in his palm.

"Your body is so beautiful, my love." He said, "I want to savor every part of you. My needs can come later."

William watched as your whined and squirmed underneath him as his hand made contact with your lower half, his cock aching inside of his pants yet again.

"I will warn you bunny," the brit said, "It may sting a little to start with, yeah? Are you okay with that?"

You swallowed the saliva that had been pooling in the back of your throat, "Y-Yes, that's okay. I trust you."

William let out a satisfied hum, "Good bunny."

Slowly, William trailed his hand downwards, the tip of his middle finger inching close to your hole. Mr. Afton had to swallow the saliva that invaded his mouth at the sight, worried about drooling on you and making a fool of himself. If he could focus, he would be able to tell that his hands were trembling with excitement. Oh if only you knew how long he had dreamed of this day. He was already halfway there. Halfway to making you his. He just had to make sure his precious bunny was ready first.

He didn't want you in any pain when he filled you up with his love.

William gave you a few seconds to get ready before he pushed his finger inside of you, immediately making your back arch and your hands find his shoulders and hair. The grip you had on his grey-brown locks was tight, but compared to the elation he felt while inside of you, it was nothing. A pitiful drop in the bucket of his ecstasy. You were so warm around him. So so warm and tight. A million times better than what his fantasies made him believe. And a trillion times better than those sex toys he bought.

Mr. Afton let his excitement get the better of him just a touch as he begun to pump his long, bony finger in and out of you. His other hand gripped as your thigh, squeezing it as his lips placing gentle kisses on the flesh of it as a form of silent praise.

The noises his finger made going in and out of you were sinful, and echoed off of the walls of his room. Or perhaps, his shared room now. It'd only be a matter of time now before he'd ask you to move in, if all went according to plan. He was pleased to see that you eventually loosened up around his digit and you started to become more comfortable, once all the residual pain had subsided. This is when you started to moan for him. Quiet at first, but gradually got louder and louder as he found the more tender parts of your insides.

William's eyes would often flutter shut as he heard his sweet bunny's sounds underneath him. He was elated that you were enjoying yourself. If William knew he did one thing right in his life, he knew he was pleasing you like you wanted. He could die happy knowing that. That he got one chance with you; got to hear his bunny's sweet songs just once.

But, no, no.

William was a greedy man.

He wanted more.

And he would get more.

"That's it, my beautiful little bunny," he praised you, his deep accented voiced husked with his lust, "Just like that. You're doing so amazing, my darling. So perfect for me..."

William forgot to give you a warning as he inserted another finger into you. But, with the moan that escaped your lips as he did so, he was pleased to see you didn't mind. And, he was even more pleased with the way you found your own rhythm with his fingers, helping him to finger-fuck you all the better.

"Ah- Ahh! Oh my god, Mr. A-Af- William..!" you cried out to him, your grip on his hair becoming tighter as he found the most tender part of your insides.

You were playing with fire, little one. Did you want him to have another accident?

"Oh, my sweet bunny," he groaned, trying to shift his weight to relieve some pressure off of his crotch, "yeah, that's it. Keep making those pretty sounds for me, love. Make them for me."

"W-William, I-I feel-"

"Shh, my darling, it's alright. Let it happen. Make a mess all over me, my love. I want you to. I want it, bunny. Cum all over my fingers, goregous. Don't dare hold back on me. So, so good... my precious bunny. My bunny."

The pace of William's fingers quickened the more he said, until he felt you spasm around you and a flurry of moans escaped your lips.

He did it.

He finally did it.

William has waited for so long, and he had finally done it.

Halfway there.

Halfway to go.

Mr. Afton helped you to ride out your orgasm by pressing his fingers into you a few more times. Once you had settled down, and your moans had turned into soft, breathy pants, William took his fingers out of you, pressing reassuring kisses into the plush of your thighs.

"So good, little one," he whispered to you, "You did so well, my love. Perfect, absolutely perfect."

After a few more kisses, to allow you to catch your breath, William sat up again on his knees, looking down at your sweat-gleamed, adorable little face. You were still breathing pretty hard as his hands found his belt buckle, the clink of the metal making you look up at him again.

"William... please, I need you so bad..." you breathed.

Mr. Afton's breath hitched in his throat, "I know, love, I know. And you'll have me. You've been such a good bunny for me... 'Gonna make you feel so good, my adorable little rabbit."

A rush of relief washed over William as his belt was shed to the floor, along with his sleek black trousers, making him groan. He watched as you little eyes kept flickering between his tented crotch and his face, not sure of where to look to be polite.

Silly bunny. You were allowed to look anywhere you wanted.

As William finally was able to pull off his boxers, he breathed a sigh of relief. His cock had been aching for what felt like hours now, and he was finally able to give it some relief. He could feel how he throbbed against the cold air of his room as he looked down at you once again, drinking in the sight and committing it to memory.

William knew he was a well-endowed man. Hell, that's probably why he was so popular to begin with, at least amongst the women. None of that ever mattered to him before. He didn't care. Yeah, he had a big dick. So what?

It never mattered to him, that is, until now. He could see how scared you were when you looked at him. See it in your eyes, how you worried how something like that would fit into you.

You needn't worry, sweet bunny. William would never try to hurt you. Not ever. It'll fit, sweet one, don't worry.

Don't you trust him?

Mr. Afton gave a few pumps to his length, coating it in the slick of his pre-cum as he lined up at your entrance. He could feel waves of excitement and need wash through him as the tip made contact with your flesh, making him let out another shaky breath. Though in the past the brit found missionary to be rather boring, he found himself to not mind it with you. It allowed him to be close to you. To see your face, and hear you well. All he ever wanted.

Besides, he could always try new positions next time. If you were ready.

"It might sting a little again, bunny." He warned you, "But it won't for long."

"O-Okay..." you said, "Just... Can you hold my hand? Please?"

William felt his lips part, "Yes, my love. Yes, of course."

Shifting his weight briefly onto one arm, William slipped one of his large hands into your own, interlocking his fingers with yours. His other hand was firmly situated next to your head, careful to avoid pulling on your hair.

"Good?" he asked.

You nodded, "Yes.. I'm ready now. Please, William..."

"As you wish, darling."

Excitement bubbling in his veins, William gently pushed his hips forwards, the tip of his cock entering inside of you. Along with your gasp, the man above you let out a low, breathy groan of pure, raw pleasure, a shudder making its way down his spine.

Holy fuck. It was so much better than he had imagined. You were so much better than he imagined. He was sure of it now, more than ever. You were made for him. You were pure perfection.

And all the more reason to make you his.

Get to work, William. His bunny is waiting for him.

Careful not to squeeze your hand too tightly, William let out another breathy groan as he slowly pushed the rest of his length into you. At the feeling of being fully sheathed inside of your hole, William felt his eyes roll to the back of his head, nuzzling into the crook of your neck to save-face. You were breathing rather hard underneath him, your other arm having come up to drape across his bare, scarred shoulders for extra support.

As you he felt you slowly start to relax around him, Mr. Afton pressed soft, loving kisses to your jaw and neck, the hand next to your hair stroking it softly.

"Th-That's it, love..." he whispered to you, "So good for me... My adorable bunny."

You whimpered underneath his touch, "William, I... i-it's okay to move now. Please..."

Pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, William gently pulled his hips back, then thrusted up into you. He watched as you bounced slightly underneath him, a low moan escaping your lips. With all the conformation he needed, William was quick to find a steady rhythm inside of you. He never found himself to be that vocal in the bedroom from past experiences, so the brit continued to surprise himself with every groan and sigh that escaped past his lips. But, then again, it was quite different now. This was you.

And damn did you make him feel amazing.

After finding a good pace, William was able to angle himself better, trying to find the most sensitive part inside you. With one lucky guess, he was able to see how you threw your head back in pleasure, your nails digging into the skin of his back as you moaned for him.

"Ohh goddd, William..! F-Fuck, right there!" you cried out for him, your encouragement making him pick up the pace.

"Yeah, bunny?" he goaded you, "Does that feel good? You're so fucking cute. You- hahh - you feel so fucking amazing, my love, fuck..."

The brit could feel your peak drawing nearer with every clench of your walls around him, his cock twitching back in response as it continued its barrage of your most sensitive parts. This only made him snap his hips into you all the more sharply.

"(Y/N)..." he cried out to you, "(Y/N), my love. So fucking good for me. So, so good... You're perfect, (Y/N). Perfect, my bunny. Perfect."

"W-William, I-I'm gonna-"

"Me too, bunny, me too. Please, bunny - fuck - please, together, my love. Let me fill you up, my darling. With my love. Let me show you how much I adore you. Will you, my love? Please, please."

"Yes, Will! Oh my god, yes please!"

With your sweet words ringing in his ears, William made one final push inside of you, sinking in as deep as possible. Mr. Afton groaned loudly as he could feel your orgasm around him, his following not long after. He was able to manage a few tiny, sloppy thrusts inside of you as you both rode out your high, feeling as how your insides became coated with his orgasm; no, with his love.

So, so much love.

And, you, finally

were now

his.

At long, long last. He finally had you.

Happy was an understatement. Overjoyed even more so. No, William was a new man. He was now yours. Your man to protect and take care of you. And no one else's. Just as you were his now, and no one else's.

His.

It took a good while for William to catch his breath again, as well as you. Once he did so, William found the strength to pull out of you, one last ripple of pleasure washing over him. You were looking up at him through your glossy eyes and heated face, a small, dumb smile on your face as you breathed heavily. He was able to get one more kiss on your lips before he shifted his weight off of you.

"Wait here, love." He said, "I'll get something to help you clean up."

As much as it pained him to leave you without him, William knew that aftercare was important. Especially to the inexperienced. In the past, he was never fond of doing too much of it, but with you, it came naturally to him. You were such a good bunny for him, it's the least he can do to show his appreciation.

The brit was quick to disappear into his bathroom and grab a towel, feeling the cold air around him in the dark. By the time he returned, he saw that you had already turned on your side, and had wrapped yourself in nearly all the covers on his bed. Creeping closer to you, William saw that your eyes were closed; soft, steady breaths escaping past your little lips.

Damn. You were asleep already. William knew tonight would wear you out, but damn.

Looks like he still has it.

And you were far too cute to wake up now. It would just be mean if he did so. Very well. You win, bunny.

Placing the towel on his nightstand, William peeled back the last little bit of blankets you allotted him and slipped into bed behind you. You being much shorter than him, he found it easy to meld his body against yours, wrapping his arms around your little waist and pulling you close to his chest. You were so warm, and he couldn't help but take a long inhale of your scent. He was hoping to talk to you a little more after, and tell you how amazing you did, but this was fine. He could do all the in the morning. You were too cozy for now.

But that couldn't stop him from giving you some praise.

"You are perfect, my darling." He whispered into your air, as soft as he could as not to wake you, "Just as I knew you would be. You're going to learn just how much better I can make you feel, sweet thing. This is only the beginning."

William pressed a few soft kisses to your hair.

"I'm sorry I had to lie to you to get you here. I just couldn't think of any other way to get us alone. But, you'll forgive me, right?"

You didn't answer, of course.

"Oh, I know you will. If you ever find out, that is, bunny."

There's some things you're better off not knowing, anyway.

"Get plenty of rest, love. I'll be right here, I promise. I promise."

How could he ever leave you now?

"I love you."

Goodnight, little bunny.

~~

tags: @guinea-pig16 , @the-official-memester , @randomwriteralan , @mrsrogerwaters , @laylaaftonshit , @cherry-slushee , @insert-memical-username , @mrssafton , @horrorking2000

apologies to any blogs tumblr wont let me tag!!

[alavestineneas]

Glass and mirrors

pairing: young!coriolanussnow x fem!reader summary: There is one thing the world needs to know about her: she didn't become a star overnight. She was born to be one. warnings: canon-typical violence, mentions of mental illness, narcissism, blonde men who need therapy, unhinged women, people in shitty relationships and toxic industries word count: 4.6k PART TWO IS HERE

author's note: Hello and welcome to our small community of people who have fallen victim to the charming (and evil) blonde man! This fic is heavily inspired by the edits of models that pop up on my ticktock feed every day. Shout out to them and the talented editors who bless my eyes with their creations. As for YN this time, prepare to be on quite a ride because she, surprise-surprise, is evil! In my head, there has to be at least one victor who feels no remorse at all; they can't all be morally good (and relatively sane) people. Also, the obsession with beauty in this fic is, in fact, intentional, so bear with me. Feel free to comment or insult the author in the comments, but only if you are creative with it. Enjoy and see you in part 2!

In all of her short childhood, she always loved mirrors. Her grandma used to joke about it with her old friends while they shared lunch at the factory: ''That empty-headed child wants to do nothing but stare at herself all day.'' The women would laugh, their raspy voices making the glid, already filled with toxic fumes to the brim, hotter. YN didn't mind; she would pretend not to hear them, clinging to the machinery in front of her instead. She would get out of here sooner or later, and she'd see whose laughter would be left echoing all through the narrow streets.

She wasn't born to rot in this place like these people were; YN was sure of that. Not with a face like hers, with manners she taught herself from the bright magic box in their cramped commune apartment, where a few times a year the government played the show. It was supposed to be a punishment, YN reminded herself each time, but it didn't look like one. She watched the children eat more food than she had seen in a month and then cry on the stage in front of millions. She wouldn't cry if she was there, that was for certain. People die every day here, but none of them get to dress up in the jewels provided by the wealthiest people she has ever seen.

It was funny how they had all the money in the world and still chose to dress so horribly. Mismatched fabrics and smudged colours on their faces, like the colours of the lake near her house—the factories polluted it with dyes, turning the water green, purple, and sometimes even pink. That's how she got her old grey dress to be such a pretty lavender colour. It didn't matter that everyone at school laughed at her, even Miss Kyla; she was horrendously ugly anyway, her hair resembling the colour of unwashed underwear. YN wore her dress with pride, mimicking the voice of the funny multicolour-haired man on the screen, chatting with long o's and a's.

That's how she ended up here, on the first floor of the newly renovated training centre, with a drink in her freshly manicured hand. She had two hours before her stylists would need her again—a time designated for sleep, which she apparently so greatly lacks. YN doesn't care; she went without sleep for much longer than two days. Instead, she does what she loves the most—turns on a shiny screen and watches the golden letters appear: the 15th Annual Hunger Games.

It starts with reaping, as always, but YN skips that part—she doesn't like seeing herself in those dirty rags, although, as papers would later state, ''nothing could make this girl ugly, even if a potato sack was put on her body.'' She likes interviews better. Luckily, the wait is not very long; soon enough, her favourite host pops up, his hair shimmering with sea green.

''And now, our dear viewers, I am more than pleased to announce our next tribute from District 1—please let her hear how excited we are to meet her!'' His voice booms through the theatre as the crowd erupts into applause.

YN moves gracefully, a beaming smile on her face matching that of a host. Her gloved hands wave at the supposed people in front of her as if they were guests at her birthday party. But most importantly, dress. The one she chose herself, arguing over it with her stylist for the last few hours, the one that fitted her perfectly. Capitol enough to appeal to the audience, district enough to highlight that she isn't one of them—she is something new, undiscovered, and worth keeping an eye on. It's almost not a dress at all—the sparkling, sheer fabric of beautiful white, with stars gathering at her chest and bottom to finish the ''almost naked'' look. And the crowd goes crazy for it. People shout, and the splashes of the cameras blinding her create a new melody that is so unfamiliar to YN's ears. Admiration. The thing she craved for so long.

''Alright, alright,'' Lucky Flickerman smiles, gesturing for the crowd to settle down. ''We don't want to scare her off now, do we?'' He turns to her, a microphone in hand. ''What's your name, sweetheart?''

''YN Y/L/N. And I am afraid you can't scare me off, no matter how hard you try. The thing is, I am here to stay,'' she jokes, cocking an eyebrow at the man beside her.

''Oh, how I love your confidence! Now tell me—we heard you are a volunteer—the first in the history of District 1! Are there any special ties to the girl who was supposed to stand here tonight, or what's going on?''

''Well, I was dying to see you in person, of course—no pun intended.''

Oh, there weren't any ties to the girl, or the boy, for that matter. No, YN simply wanted to go at her peak chance of winning—countless years of secret preparation in the factory; working a night shift after school and full days of weekends; hours of studying every plant and animal known to mankind—all to ensure that she wouldn't waste her chance like most kids here did.

''That's an honour coming from your lips; we are happy to see you in the Capitol, Miss Y/L/N. Since you came here by choice, what strategy are you planning on using in the arena? Maybe something tied to your district's craft?''

''If you promise to keep this between us, I'll confess—I will use my charms to make everyone fall in love with me and watch them fight by promising the winner a kiss—and then I will take it from there.'' YN turns to face the lights, staring directly into the camera for a few seconds. The crowd laughs once more, some going so far as to cheer and whistle in excitement. ''But in all honesty, I think I have a fair shot—I would win in a day if it meant the unlimited supply of those amazing cupcakes with sprinkles on top.''

''Well, in that case, you should definitely get a good rest this night—you are not the only one who got your eye on them! Ladies and gentlemen, prepare for the Cupcake Games tomorrow, and don't forget to sponsor this lovely girl right here if you want to see her win! And now, a short word from our sponsors.''

Cupcake jokes are still funny to her, even after two years, although she got sick of them a week after her victory and was just as sick of all the titles papers came up with to fit her into the candy girl box. It served her well, for which she is grateful; the sponsors did send her a shitton of things, although mostly useless.

Next is the introduction of everyone else; YN doesn't care to look at it for more than just a few seconds, speeding it up to maximum. It's boring to no end—how do Capitolees watch it every year with such excitement? She stops to look only when her face appears on the screen, covered in crimson blood.

She counted six canons when she finally stopped to take a breath in and look at her surroundings. That was about right, although YN didn't count how many times she pulled a knife out of somebody's still-warm body and lurched into another nearby. The sand soaked up the blood fast, she noticed, stepping over the pile of what used to be her competitors and walking towards the cone-shaped something. Nobody in sight—each one of the ''better'' kids is now dead without a chance to kill each other, to kill her, and ''others'' will die like flies under the hot sun of what looked like a desert. YN noticed that some even left behind the given jackets; she collected them before stepping into the Cornucopia, claiming them as her own. Not everyone grew up in hot factories, she thought to herself, so they have no chance of knowing how cold it gets at night.

YN doesn't like how the uniform looks on her; the T-shirt hangs around her frame too loosely. It's evident that she didn't eat enough back then, but it was tolerable. The dried blood looked worse; with her stoic face and eye colour, the streams looked too grotesque, almost unserious; it didn't fit the look she was going for. Her hands itch to wipe it before YN remembers that it's non-existent now—the girl on the screen is just a recording. She forwards a little more, looking for the commentary of the first night from the hosts—their excitement and praise never get old—but hears knocking at her door just as she is about to press play. YN glances at the clock—it's too early for the prep team, so it must be someone else—and turns off the TV just to be sure she heard it right.

When the knocking continues, she shouts a quick ''Come in,'' after checking her reflection on the now dark screen. ''Ah, Maggie!''

''How many times do I have to repeat that my name is Mags, not Maggie? Not Mags with fangs either, to be clear. Just Mags.''

''But everyone calls you that! And I want to be special,'' YN whines, laying back on the sofa.

It's Mags. YN likes Mags. Mags is the only girl besides her on the victors' list. Mags is the one who is always down to eat lunch together or to watch the new collection in the magazines. She is funny and down to earth, and, most importantly, Mags doesn't take bullshit from anyone.

''Even more special?'' Mags smiles, opening the fridge to look for something edible. There isn't much; they both know that YN would never eat something to ruin her figure. ''I saw your photoshoot on the street today. It's beautiful.''

''Thank you,'' YN smiles. She doesn't remember which one of her campaigns was supposed to air today, but it doesn't matter. ''Are you here for the promo again?''

The curly-haired woman nods, not looking up from the shelves. ''I hate it. I wish they would just leave me alone, so I can go home and forget about all of this.''

YN is always weirded out by such comments from Victor from 4 but never says anything. Not everyone was born to be in front of the camera; if that were the case, her talent wouldn't be so special anymore. ''It's our job, Maggie. They'll never leave us alone.''

''I know.'' Mags sighed, planting her body on the sofa beside her.

They are different, but YN thinks it's better that way. They are the same age, both 20, and that's about the only thing that ties them together. YN watches as her friend's chest rises and falls as she stares at the ceiling, her long, curly hair in some type of twist. YN would never style it like that, but Mags doesn't ask, so she stares at her in silence, trying her hardest not to compare them. She knows what type of conclusion will sparkle in her brain, but she doesn't want to admit it. Mags is her friend, her only good friend, so something inside YN fights hard to leave her alone. It's an unusual feeling, almost foreign, but YN wants to make an exception. She thinks Maggie deserves it.

''Are you okay?'' the woman asks her, finally snapping out of her trance. ''You are less talkative than usual.''

''Oh, yeah—just a little tired from work, that's it.''

Work. It's not the type of work people can really get tired from, and if anybody thinks otherwise, they never worked a day in District 1. Sometimes, YN can still feel the burning cloud of steam hitting her face when she closes her eyes. The work she does in Capitol is child's play—photoshoots, interviews, promotional campaigns, and runways. She is the only one with this kind of hectic schedule, the only one who is interesting enough for the general public to want to see her everywhere they go. Multiple shows a day wasn't uncommon; photoshoots until five a.m. were basically her usual routine; she did so many of them that she never remembered the brand name for more than an hour.

''Well, I hope I don't interrupt your me-time,'' Mags notes. ''Panem knows you need it. ''

''You worry too much about me. Better tell me about how life is in 4—anything new?''

There is probably nothing exciting, but it feels nice to listen to somebody talk with such love for their home as Mags does. It's also a great opportunity. YN catches every subtle expression and every movement of her friend with attentive eyes, making sure to parrot them later. She noticed from the recording today that her speech misses a certain effortlessness.

-

Curl and twist, curl and twist—YN has learned the pattern by now, sitting in front of the gigantic mirror, surrounded by a team of stylists. Hair, make-up, nails, and toes—five people work hand in hand for her to appear for two minutes on the long podium. The backstage is loud, and a lot is going on—last-minute changes, alterations, and quick touch-ups. YN doesn't bother to look around; she closes today like a face of the collection, and after she is done with this podium, the day is finally coming to an end.

''Oh, YN, darling, here you are!'' The bald man in his forties appears on the horizon of her peripheral vision, clasping his unnaturally white hands together. ''How are you doing, my little star? Anything you need?''

She is irritated to no end; her team booked seven shows for her today; she hadn't had anything to eat in the past six hours; and the loud music makes her head throb. But she doesn't voice any of that—nobody really wants to know how she is feeling.

Just like she guessed, the man doesn't wait for her response. ''There have been some changes in the order today, sweetheart. Jenovia will be closing today, and you will walk in her dress instead,'' the man says, turning to face her styling team. ''Change the hair to fit, and take off the blue in her make-up—it won't match. Good luck!''

''Do what he says,'' YN announces, her mouth twitching just a little. She is furious. To have that blonde bitch Jenovia walk in the best dress of the collection YN inspired? Over her dead body. Or, should she say, over Jenovia's? She will figure it out but do so later. Now there are only four girls before her, so she needs to be ready.

''Three, two, one! Go, go!'' the stage coordinator shouts, opening the curtain for her.

Right and left, hip and hand, followed by the strong clicking of her five-inch heels. The music is even louder here, with the beets vibrating through the runway and pouring into her bloodstream. She doesn't pay any attention to the glass floor underneath her. Surprisingly, her training before games helped her model more than one could guess. YN doesn't see anyone but the blinding lights lining the podium—not that she needs to see the hungry faces of the spectators. It doesn't matter what piece of fabric covers her body; they are looking at who wears it. Final pose at the centre—no smile is her go-to. Hold and turn is the golden rule.

''Here you are!'' One of the seamstresses grabs her hand, pulling her into a small, curtained space with countless clothes on racks. ''Calio wants you to hold a purse for the backstage photo and lose the belt. Where the fuck is the golden belt?'' she shouts, searching for one. ''Wait here; I'll go find it,'' she finally announces, running away before YN has the chance to suggest anything.

YN looks around, carefully moving the laying rags with her foot. She mentally goes over the outfits labelled with names, rating them one by one, until her eyes stop on the white dress. The closing dress, the one she was supposed to model. Underneath it are velvety black high boots.

The idea comes to her mind quickly: she steals a needle from the nearby table and carefully places it inside the shoes, making sure it looks like an accident.

''Finally,'' the woman returns with a belt in her hands, oblivious to YN's half-smile. ''Put it on and go; they are already waiting.''

''Of course, thanks.''

YN isn't sure how much time has passed before she hears a scream, standing up from her place in the corner with a blanket around her exposed shoulders. Surely enough, Jenovia is on the floor, crying crocodile tears—a needle inside her heel deep enough to make a few of the girls around her gag.

''What the fuck happened?'' It's Calio, the boss here; he was ordering her around before.

''I don't know,'' all the blonde girl can manage before bursting into tears one more time.

''Well, can you walk?'' he asks, kneeling to take a look.

''No,'' Jenovia whispers, her hand holding her bloodied foot.

The bald man sighed, more annoyed than concerned. ''We need a replacement. You,'' he points at YN. ''Take it off and change into the dress. Quick!''

YN does what she is told in no time; she doesn't want to wait until Jenovia suddenly gets better or the man finds a better-suited girl to close. After a few minutes, she is almost ready; she only needs the lipstick to finish it off.

''We don't have time!'' the man roars, dragging her to the exit. ''Here!'' He puffs out her hair and adjusts the layers of fake pearls covering her neck. ''Three, two, one! Go, fucking go!''

And go she does. A few steps on the runway, and she discovers that lipstick is still in her hands. YN puts it in the pocket of the enormously large black coat that hides the gorgeous white dress underneath. Step after step, her long black boots draw patterns on the glass. She will have no choice but to buy them; YN doesn't care if it's stupid. They helped her, so she will have them.

It's time for the final pose: YN takes out the lipstick from her pocket and applies it with two swift motions, blowing a kiss to the camera. It will definitely be a hit with the photographers. YN throws one last look before turning around and returning to the curtained exit. On her way back, when the lights lower to follow her back, she can see a little clearer. In the sea of vibrant hair colours and clothes, the platinum-blonde hair and a simple black suit stood out too much not to notice. There is only one person who could afford to look so simple—YN knows it. An opportunity of a lifetime.

She makes another stop in the middle of the podium, right in front of his seat. The coat slides off her shoulders effortlessly, and YN catches it just when the fabric is about to hit the floor. The crowd goes crazy, clapping and whistling at her tricks, but YN has no wish to entertain them any further. YN pauses for a moment, her eyes meeting icy-blue ones, before turning away and finishing the show. There is one thing the world needs to know about her: she didn't become a star overnight. She was born to be one.

-

Since the last show, she has done fifteen more—day after day, opening and closing. Her little trick got her where she wanted to be, with more money than one person could need in a lifetime and nowhere to spend it. Even now, standing in the long hallway of the training centre, she wears nothing she bought herself; all are gifted, sent, or handed by the adoring fans. Like a rag doll, with no say in how she looks or what she does, YN hears everyone say that it was ''a price of fame''. She doesn't think so; she was told what to do long before she tasted real butter on her toast.

The sliding door to her apartment moves almost without noise. While most victors complain that the lock system reminds them of prison, YN is grateful to have it. The thought of some crazy fanatic waiting for her in the dark isn't the most pleasant one. The designer bag finds its place on the floor, soon joined by the coat—room service will clean it up later. The heels slide off her feet quickly, leaving bloodied marks on her skin, but YN doesn't care enough to do something about them.

''Forgive me for joining you without an invitation.''

YN turns around, her hands grabbing the keys in her hands tighter. She mentally goes over her means of escape or fight—a mirror could easily be broken and used as a weapon; if necessary, she could also grab a nearby ottoman. The man in the chair doesn't look too impressed with her thought process. His lips curve into a smile, blue eyes staring at her with undivided attention. A suit, not very different from the one he wore at her show, was a deep brown colour.

''Mister President,'' YN breathes out, lowering her hand.

Coriolanus Snow. Light, almost white hair frames his face like a halo, with his suit hugging his waist just enough to highlight the broad shoulders. YN saw him on TV a couple of times, but seeing him in person was something entirely different. It's like the air shifts around him and changes with his presence.

''I believe we met before,'' he humours her, his eyes shining with mischief.

The light knocking on the door doesn't leave YN any time to answer. She presses a button near it, fixing her hair before opening it. YN tries to look as composed as possible without betraying her nerves—why was he here? ''Yes?''

''The dinner, Ma'am.'' the room service declares, pushing a cart in front of her.

YN nods, even though she didn't order one. ''Leave it here,'' she says, gesturing to the place nearby. When the door closes and she is alone with the man in her room again, her heart skips a beat.

''I took the liberty of ordering; I hope you don't mind.''

Even if she did, she knew better than to say anything. Instead, YN watched as the man stood up and took the dishes from the cart, placing them on the coffee table, before turning to her once more.

''Please, have a seat.''

She does what she is told, sitting down on her king-sized bed—the chair is already taken by him—and waits for the blonde man to start speaking. He doesn't right away, choosing to pour a glass of wine for her and himself.

YN watches the dark liquor pour into the glass, swirling with each drop. She isn't hungry—she rarely was—and the soup he ordered looks more like vomit than a dish, but she still takes the spoon and carefully places it into her mouth. Her lipstick stains the silverware with colour, leaving a small circle right at the end—that's when the man finally decides to speak.

''Dare I say I am a huge fan of your work ethic? Everyone who I've spoken to is very satisfied with your,'' he pauses, searching for the fitting word, ''dedication .''

''Thank you, Mister President,'' YN replies with a polite smile before returning to her soup. She watches him only from the corner of her eye. The way he cuts his steak with his ringed fingers and the way he places a small bite in his mouth before his lips close. There is a subtle roughness in his movements, a power play of some sort.

He catches her gaze and, for a moment, is silent. ''You probably wonder why I am here in the first place, outside of the amazing steak they cook here, of course. The thing is, Miss Y/L/N, that you are popular not only with the general public but with people higher in power as well. One may even say they fell in love with the way you present yourself.''

''I am pleased to know that, Mr. President, but I am only doing my job as a victor.''

''Then you will understand the weight of my dilemma. Those people who have served Panem all their lives faithfully usually don't ask for much recognition; they work because they want to build a better future for all of us. So, when they do ask for a small favour or two, I am more than happy to satisfy them. But recently, all they ask for is you .''

''I believe I don't quite understand. They want to meet me?''

''You can phrase it like that, yes. For a night or two, of course, with all expenses covered.''

It's heavy, the understanding of what Mister President really implies. The thought of someone's hand roaming her body brings her dinner up YN's throat. ''Why?'' Her voice is shakier than she would like, but she is more focused on composing the rising anger than noticing it.

''I am sorry, Miss Y/L/N, but I am afraid there is nothing I can do; I am greatly outnumbered. Unless,'' he starts but doesn't finish his sentence.

''Unless what?''

''Unless you are seen with me.''

His piercing blue eyes look at her, but there is nothing in them. Her chances are limited, and he knows it. There is something rogue in him beneath the veil of chivalry he offers. YN smiles at him. That's what this whole charade was about—he wants her. Coriolanus Snow, the most powerful man in the whole world, wants her.

''Of course, Mr. President. That's very generous of you.''

''Mister President is too official, don't you think, Miss Y/L/N? Perhaps we could find a more informal way of addressing each other?''

''Informal?'' YN asks, tilting her head to the side. If he wants her, he'll get her. ''What about Mister Snow?'' The buttons on her shirt are easy to manage—a few quick motions, and it slides off her shoulders onto the cream cover. ''Or, Sir Coriolanus?'' The pants are a little trickier, but YN learned that backstage, every second counts, so they soon also pool around her heels, the fabric hitting the floor with a slight thud.

The blonde man watches her intently, his eyes following every move of her hands. His legs are still spread wide on the lime-green chair as he slightly leans back. YN can't tell if he is enjoying her antics or not, but frankly, she doesn't care; she is enjoying it.  The way her shadow dances on the wall, the way the air shifts in the huge room, transforming it into a tiny stage. YN looks at him with mischief, with superiority, even. After all, she is the show here. Why not let Mr. Savior think it is for him?

''Come, Mister Snow,'' she says, throwing it in his face like a bone to the dog.

He doesn't have the haste to join her; on the contrary, he stands up painfully slowly. His tall figure almost seems to stretch as he raises, covering the floor lamp behind him fully. When he finally circles the table to stand above her, his presence is overwhelming. YN lets him stand between her legs, his unusually cold hand on her thigh.

''I prefer Coriolanus,'' he whispers in her ear, lowering himself enough to touch her ear with his velvety lips. He pulls away slightly, planting a kiss on her cheek instead. ''Have a most pleasant night, Miss Y/L/N.''

And then he walks away. YN watches as his figure disappears behind the sliding door before she lets out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. Her gaze instinctively finds her reflection in the nearby mirror; there is no reason to shine if no one watches her.

[olderthannetfic]

Is there a label for people who don't feel sexual or romantic attraction and have no desire to get into a relationship or have sex? I used to use aroace, but people on my campus, in my fanfic notes and in my dorm building keep telling me aces have sex and aces have romance, and when I try to say I'm aroace, they just repeat, "Ace people date." "Ace people get laid." "Ace people are normal." And... well, I'm not normal. I don't want to date and bang and all of that and forcing myself to do so always made me miserable. Back when I found the term ace, I was happy, because I thought it applied to me. But after every. single. person. I mention I'm ace to informing me ace = dates, has sex I'm realizing I don't have a label that actually describes someone like me who isn't normal. (One guy at a dorm floor activity asked if I had a mental illness, since he figured that would be the only thing that made someone not want to have relationships or sex. None of the other queer people present said anything. Two nodded.)

I tried Googling to figure something out, but it just kept giving me the wrong answer (aroace). Then I figured hey, OTNF knows a shit ton about queerness. If anyone can tell me what label actually applies to people like me, it's you.

--

Hah. I'm no expert on this stuff. Nobody was talking about it in my youth. (Yes, I know we have documentation of college queer groups including the word 'asexual' on their signs from long before my time, but it just wasn't a thing in any of the queer books and magazines I read in the 90s or circles I ran in until the last five to ten years.)

The issue you're running into is simply that the term is too broad, covering people who are definitely not experiencing attraction to others but still enjoy sex to people who... well... it's uncharitable, but there are some people where I wonder if the main reason they identify that way is that they have a very faulty understanding of what attraction looks like for others.

But it certainly does include people with no interest in sex or dating.

[rottenrosethorns]

Promise | Part One

Pairing: RE4!Leon S. Kennedy x co-worker!fwb!afab!Reader 

Genre: Friends with Benefits AU, Smut 

Synopsis: You and Leon had a strictly professional work relationship and strictly physical personal relationship. But recently, you start to notice more affection from Leon little by little. With his upcoming mission, will you be able to confront him before he leaves? 

Warnings: 18+ SEXUAL CONTENT MINORS DNI, vanilla, oral sex (mutual), throatfucking (receiving), choking (receiving), cum swallowing (mutual), hair tugging (giving), public oral, physical restraint – hand wraps used (received). Please inform me if I missed anything! 

Word Count: 5.6K

A/N: this is my first leon fic and im very, very new to the RE fandom but not new to writing, so i apologize if some parts/personality is non-canonical! im still working on learning more about the universe. also, this is my first fic ive written since a year so…if this is bad, im so sorry, working hard to get my writing back to better as well <//3 also there might be a part 2 but might not??? depends idkkkkk, if this goes well or not lolll

.....

- masterlist - 

- part two -

.....

You don’t remember how it started. All you knew was that somehow, it became routine for you both to spend Friday nights together after work. 

At first, it was every few months, nothing structured really. A stray text, here and there. A brief "My place or yours?" or "Are you up?" sufficed whatever cravings either conjured during the quieter nights. 

If he needed to be satisfied, you’d be there. If you needed to relieve stress, he’d be there. And that, for the longest time, was the determination of the relationship. There wasn't really much need for anything else. Leon was always out on missions, fighting off whatever offspring the latest virus variant had mutant and you were diligently cooped up in your tiny office, researching past strains, tracking patterns for the next possible mutations, and investigating outbreaks. 

Even though you both worked at the same company, albeit in different departments, crossing paths with Leon was not uncommon. Despite the frequency, every interaction was conducted as if you both were strangers. Partly because nobody at work needed to know the personal agendas you both occasionally shared as well as the work dynamic between your titles and ranks. It didn’t matter anyways, nobody would ever catch on that a DSO agent and a researcher would intermingle in bed anyways. 

But eventually, those seldom visits became monthly, always being on the first Fridays for convenience. It was weird to keep a schedule like that, especially when the appointment was solely for sex, but it’s what worked best for the both of you and neither of you had any complaints. Almost like a regular wellness checkup with your family doctor except none of you suffered from any illnesses. 

Then, monthly became weekly. Both of you needn’t ask to come over anymore, practically leaving work together on Fridays. You clean up whatever case you were working on, pack up, and head towards his apartment. This was routine. 

So, it was obvious what your plans for tonight were. 

“L/N.” A few knocks accompanied your colleague’s voice. She was Poppy, a sweet girl from a few doors down. One of the only co-workers that was near your age. 

Your desk was a mess, papers skewed everywhere from the recent case concerning a missing girl filled every square inch surface of your office. Briefly glancing up from the disarray of files, you caught a glimpse of her with her light coat and bag on, “Clocking out?”

Poppy cheered, “Yup, my shift at the bar is starting. Care to join me and the rest of the agents?”

“I’d love to, but I have plans for tonight already,” A mental image of you sitting yourself on Leon’s throbbing dick painted into your mind. Or perhaps maybe you’ll let him take the lead tonight with him pinning you down on all fours, “Maybe Saturday, if you're not hungover enough.”

“I’m always ready for a good time, hungover or not! If you change your mind, come find us downtown,” Admittedly, that’s what you liked most about Poppy. She was always cheerful, a great change of pace in the gloomy environment of your job. Not that you were overly pessimistic, you were just very logical and had a job to do. A job to find a missing girl and investigate the T-virus. So, you both exchanged goodbyes before you sighed and continued to review the deadend clues for the nth time. 

“You have plans for tonight?” 

You raised your eyes in surprise, sure that you were alone in the office, having this time of evening to been way past normal work hours as well as the rest of the floor supposedly at the bar. Well, everyone but him now. 

“I have plans every Friday, Kennedy.” You blinked innocently, keeping your facial expression neutral as you initially reference your workload; however, the sight of him in the cursed tight t-shirt underneath his jacket immediately shifted your tone into a sneaky innuendo. 

Leon was fairly well at keeping his composure, speaking nonchalantly without skipping a beat as he leaned up against your office door frame, “More important than catching up with the crew?”

You caught on to his dismissal, not willing to embarrass yourself with desperation to fix your sexual desire. Thus, you mockingly tapped your files as if Leon couldn’t see the plethora of papers for himself, “I have a case.”

“You’ve been on that case for weeks now,” As if to taunt you with silent temptation, he crossed his arms, defining his biceps. Damn him, you thought. Although you couldn't see them underneath his jacket, you could tell just by the strain of wrinkles folded in the fabric. Damn his shirt too, you thought. 

You shook your head, motioning towards the bulletin board of cold trails, “I’ve got to find a lead.”

“It’s one night, you can get back to it on Monday,” Leon pushed off the doorframe to welcome himself further into your office. You thought he’d make his way to inspect your bulletin, only to be surprised when he placed himself directly across from the other side of your desk. He bent forwards, placing each hand on the edge of your wooden desk and leaning his face close to yours. Even without words, you knew he wanted you to take a break. 

“I have to find the missing girl.” 

“One night,” Leon sighed before taking one hand to take the files out of yours and shutting your laptop closed, “It won’t kill you.”

“It could be enough to kill the girl,” You argued. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have said that to save yourself a glare from Leon. A moment of silence passed before you sighed, not in frustration but in defeat,  “Let’s go before I change my mind.” 

Since when did it become so hard to say no to him? 

.....

“So, you decided to come after all!” Poppy cheered with a slight slur in her speech, already moving to pour you a drink, “I knew Leon would convince you.”

You gave Leon an accusatory look to which he dodged by moving to greet another colleague, “You-”

“Cheers!!” Poppy all but screamed into your ear whilst practically shoving the glass of alcohol to your lips. You quickly reacted, taking in the liquid in a few large gulps. 

“Damn girl, you practice that?” Poppy scrunched her eyes playfully, suggesting that you practice with more than just drinking alcohol in your down time. 

From the corner of your eye, you saw a ghost of a smirk appear on Leon’s face before disappearing as quickly as it appeared. Regardless, you shot him a dirty look. 

“Take a seat!” Poppy beckoned, sluggishly taking your coat and bag. 

There was only one spot left located on the far side of the table. Just as you were about to make your way, Poppy’s voice halted you, “Hey, move it, will you?”

Poppy’s question was more like a demand towards another colleague, “What? I’m already sitting here. Why should I move?’

“Just move!!” Poppy pretty much shoved the poor man out of his seat before turning towards you with a soft smile and gesturing you to sit. For a moment, you’d forgotten how this sweet girl could become a special agent, but with that display, you remembered just how tough she could be under that kind smile. 

“Thanks,” You laughed nervously, not wanting to be on the other end of her wrath. You wondered why sitting here was such a big deal until you realized it wasn't where but who you were sitting next to. With a seat so hidden in the corner and a private room full of many people, you were sandwiched between Leon’s sturdy torso and the wall. From where you were, you had to ask Leon to grab any drinks or food for you. 

“Want something?” Leon looked at you, ready to grab anything that you wanted. 

You nodded and thanked him. You did feel bad for making him grab all the things you wanted – especially since you were known to be a menu hog – but you really didn’t have much of a choice. It was either use him to do your bidding or climb over his lap in front of everyone. Just as you were about to ask for your desired dishes and drinks, Leon already knew what to bring to your plate without you needing to tell him. 

Since when did he know your favorite foods? 

.....

“You’re going on the missing girl mission?” 

Leon nodded, persona instantly switching to serious. His jaw tensed, brows furrowed as the tiny wrinkles creased between them. This was usual, almost like a pre-mission ritual of his to get in the mindset of gore, bloodbaths, and bioweapons. Afterall, nothing can prepare a man for the horrors that go on during those missions. Not even you. You've investigated countless missions, earning lead researcher in many strain cases, yet whenever it came to Leon being the leading agent you suddenly had so many questions, overly irrelevant and useless. 

Will you be okay? How long will you be gone? What’s your mission? Will you come back alive? Are you going alone? Is it dangerous? What if you get sick? What if you don’t come-

“Y/N!”

“Huh?” 

“I asked you a question.”

“Oh, sorry,” You slightly winced, holding a hand towards your head and checking to see if you were ill. It was unlikely of you to get distracted so easily. Forcing out a cough, you cleared your throat to compose yourself, “What was your question?” 

“Are you okay?” Leon shares a look of worry, placing a warm hand over your shoulder as if to comfort you while his other hand replaces the one on your forehead, “You don’t seem to be burning up.”

You gulped, tongue and mouth agonizingly dry as your eyes flickering towards his touch. As much as you wanted to shy away, his touch was warm and you craved his heat. It was unlikely of him to be in such near proximity to you, especially when you both could be seen through the glass walls of the briefing room. You averted your gaze, shakily looking at his baby blue eyes so it wasn’t obvious you were fixated on his hands, “Was that the question?”

“No,” Leon admitted with a small frown painting his sharp features, “You just don’t look so well.”

“Just thinking, I guess.”

“About?”

“Your mission.”

A half-lie, half-truth. Sure, you were concerned about his mission. You're highly paid and trained to be worried about these missions, but moreso, your concerns focused on him. In actuality, you didn’t really need to, he always came back safe. On the brink of death sometimes, yes. But, still alive nonetheless. 

He gave a curt nod, “I’ve got training soon, but can I swing by later to get your debrief? It’s your case, you’re the expert. I need all the help in order to save the girl.”

“Of course, how late are you staying at the office?” You brought up your schedule, double checking if there were any meetings you still needed to attend. 

“Actually, I was thinking we could go back to my place?” Leon nervously smiled, eyes squirting slightly, “Um, you know, because I got to sharpen my knives before I go.”

“You want me to debrief you at your place while you sharpen your knives?” The tail end of your tone stretched to be high pitched in your confusion. Was this a joke?

Leon let out an airy chuckle, “Yeah?”

You followed suit, letting out a laugh to ease the confusion, “Sure, I guess, wanna order in?”

“Yeah,” Leon smiled, “Pizza would be nice.” 

“I'll see you then.”

Since when did Leon come up with excuses to see you?

.....

“Pizza’s here!” 

Leon leapt up, putting his knives and sharpening tool on the wooden coffee table and rushing towards the doors to retrieve the pizza, “Thank god, I needed a break.”

You flipped through the debrief packet, only having gone through the first few pages of the hefty pile, “It’s a lot, these people – uh zombies? – are dangerous and fucked. Better to be safe than sorry.” 

“I’ll save the girl, promise.” 

Leon set the pizza box and wings on the table, careful not to let the grease seeping through the cardboard touch the mission materials and quickly left to grab plates and drinks. Meanwhile, you had continued to read aloud whatever essential background information he’d need to understand the nature of this mission. You hadn’t realized you were so heavily engaged in your notes to notice Leon plating two slices and setting a drink for you before helping himself. So, you continued until you heard the sound of Leon’s soft chewing. 

Looking up, you finally noticed that Leon moved to sit on the floor and rest his back on the legs of the sofa. Putting down the packet, you followed him and moved to sit next to him, “I got a bit carried away, huh?”

Leon shared a smile, showing no signs of disdain, “Just a bit. Take a break, we can get back to it later.” 

You held back a yawn, disguising it as you sipped your water and started devouring your pizza. You hadn’t realized how hungry you’ve gotten. You suppose you shouldn’t be skipping lunch anymore, but you knew that you’d probably forget that change in habit the next day. You both ate in silence. Normally, you found silence comfortable, but alone with Leon? You despised it. 

“You look troubled,” Leon scanned your face, “Wanna share?”

You pressed your lips together, indeed you were troubled. The sight of his sharpened knives had invoked the bombardment of concerning questions again. They burned on the tip of your tongue, begging to be spoken. 

“It’s...” You hesitated. 

Leon didn’t speak. Not because he didn’t have anything to say, but as if to encourage you, letting you know that all of his attention was on you and that he had no intention of interrupting you. 

You sighed, “I’m just worried.”

“About the mission? I’ll save the girl. When have I ever failed?” Leon smirked. 

For a moment, you laughed as well before becoming solemn again, “Not that, more about you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you.”

“Why?”

Without thinking, you split all the questions you’d been brewing since earlier. Pizza forgotten, you didn’t realize you’d been rambling until you’d run out of breath. Yet, Leon never interrupted you, letting you vent out. 

“Sorry,” You looked away embarrassed, shoving the slice of pizza to prevent you from speaking, “I don’t know what I’m saying. I’m sure you will take care of yourself.” 

If it had only been a couple of seconds, it felt like excruciating hours had passed from Leon’s silence. The room felt stuffy, the lights felt like they were shining too bright, and the sweat was sticky on the palm of your hands. The voice in your head was begging, crying for him to say something, anything. You didn’t care if he laughed in your face or reassured you. You just needed to hear something from him, so that you didn’t drown in your own thoughts. You had a tendency to overthink. 

You shrinked back, heavy under the gaze of Leon. You didn’t know what to do, so you made an excuse of needing to use the restroom to escape the invisible chokehold. You hovered over the sink, closing your eyes and taking deep breaths to calm yourself. It didn’t help much, but it at least eases your heartbeat back to a normal range. Eyes now open, you pathetically look at yourself in the mirror and internally berate yourself for your foolishness. Has Leon made you lose all your self control now? 

A brisk knock on the door pulled you from your thoughts. As much as you didn’t want to face Leon, you couldn’t hide in his bathroom forever. 

“Leon, I-” 

Leon doesn’t wait for you to fully open the door, pushing his way in and pulling your body flush against his. His lips find a way to your neck, sucking and licking at the fragile skin. You were sure they left marks in its wake. Your words are cut off with a quick moan, your hand coming up to cover your mouth in shock. You weren’t sure what made him act this way, but you definitely weren’t complaining. If this is what’s going to distract him from the previous conversation, then you were more than willing to satisfy him. Plus, today was Friday. This was routine. 

Leon’s hands trail all over your body as the both of you stumble back into the living room and fall onto the couch. This was quick, this was sloppy, this was like two horny teenage virgins having sex for the first time. But you were with Leon, so all of that didn’t matter. You didn’t even undress fully, only having discarded your shirt before you got off Leon’s chest and kneeled on the floor to face him as he sat up. Greedily, you pushed up his shirt midway, half-hazardly exposing his tense abs before clinging your hands around the waistband of his sweats and briefs and tugging him free in one motion. 

“Excited there, big boy?” 

Leon’s cock twitched, slapping against his lower abdomen in anticipation. His length was impressive, but his girth was even more breathtaking. His tip glistened under the lights, heavily leaking with precum. You snickered internally with a silent smirk blooming across your face and eyes twinkling with mischief, amused at Leon’s erection from being untouched. 

“Watch it,” Leon’s voice was serious, tone stern and authoritative with his eyes narrowed as he watched you lick your lips at the sight of him. He was always serious and demanding during sex, yet always attentive of your needs. It was one of the things that you loved about him. You had a knack for power imbalance and an even bigger knack for defiance. 

You kissed his thighs, starting from his left knee upwards, skipping his begging cock and back down to his right knee. Leon grunted with displeasure, rolling his eyes at your cheekiness. Just as he was about to get impatient, you moved forward, lips barely brushing against his shaft. He could feel your hot breath, twitching in anticipation once again. Yet, you didn’t want to comply, having too much fun teasing him with your antics, “Watch what-”

Leon narrowed his eyes into slits, annoyance clear on his face and clearly ran out of patience with you. Wordlessly, he dug his large hands under your arms, lifting you up and throwing you roughly where he sat on the couch. Stunned and turned on from the sudden manhandling, there you laid upside down with your head slightly hanging off the edge of the cushion. All you could get out was a squeak of surprise before Leon grabbed your head on both sides to support you and shoved his dick in your mouth and roughly throatfucking you. Immediately, you gagged from the unexpected rough entrance, but loved his abrasiveness with you. Leon watched as you took all of him, throat bulging with every thrust. He basked in the disposition of your bobbing Adam’s apple and the lewd squelches echoing off the living room walls. Leon was normally attentive to your limits; however, he had a habit of getting carried away during oral, leading to you tapping his thigh twice and pushing him off. Instinctively, you spit out your cum mixed saliva as it slowly slid down the side of your cheek and sticking to your hairline. It’d be a bitch to clean later, but you could care less at this moment. 

Eyes opened, you took a deep breath in as you gasped for air. With his left hand, Leon continued to pump himself, slick hands rubbing along his length to keep his high going. With his right hand, Leon caressed your cheek with his thumb rubbing your cheekbone. 

“I’m sorry. Safeword?”

You shook your head, chest heaving, “I’m good, just give me a sec. Don’t worry, I liked it, just haven’t done this in a while.”

Leon nodded, eyes softening with slight guilt although you showed no signs of being upset, “I’ll make it up to you. Promise you’re okay?”

You kept your hand on his thigh as if to tell him that you were okay. Still with one hand, Leon took off his shirt and used it to gently wipe your face. You laughed, finding the delicate gesture humorous as he still stroked himself. 

“What’s so funny, huh?”

“Nothing.”

You smiled innocently before replacing his hand with yours and sticking your tongue out to accept his length again. Leon hissed out your name, eyebrows crinkling with pleasure. You slurped him one, twice before humming in acknowledgement. The vibrations only elicited another hiss-like moan out of him. Feeding off the noises he was making, you kept at your bobbing head, licking, gagging, and kissing all along him. You took him out of your mouth, cold air blowing against his shaft causing him to shiver. He was close, and you both knew it. 

“Choke me.” 

It was a simple demand, but it was the green light that Leon needed to resume throatfucking you. You put your hands down, using one to sneak into your pants and circle your aching clit. You hummed against Leon, earning a satisfied grunt from him, “Keep that up and you’re gonna have to swallow.”

He released his hold from you, letting you have a moment of air. You looked up at him, challenging, “Good thing I like the way you taste, Kennedy.”

Leon responded to you with a short grunt, but you didn’t fail to miss the slight flush on his face before he thrusted himself back into your awaiting mouth. His thrusts were much more forceful and rough, basically pushing your body deeper into the plushness of the couch. Your fingers switched from rubbing your clit to inserting your fingers inside yourself. Leon’s hold on your waist kept you pinned to the couch before moving to pull your pants down to view the sight of you finger fucking yourself. He never liked it when you touched yourself when with him, but at least he could watch you while you did. Must be a pride and ego thing, you thought. 

He also didn’t like when you had too much clothes on. Albeit you were definitely no less than conservative at this moment, Leon just noticed you had your bra on the whole time. He didn’t like that. His hands swiftly moved from the dip of your waist to push down the straps of your bra and expose your jiggling tits. Moments like this, Leon became obsessed with every curvature of you, latching both hands on your breasts to hold as he pounded rougher into you. 

“Almost done,” He choked out like he was the one out of breath. Borderline whimpering and whining at this point, begging for release. 

You encouraged him by using your free hand to grab his hip and guide him. Three thrusts later, Leon’s hips stuttered and knees fell slack as he released his hot, thick ropes of cum into your mouth. You pulled away, lapping up every ounce he gave you. 

“Still okay?” Leon asked, breathless. 

You nodded.

“Say it.”

“I’m okay,” You confirmed, moving to sit upright. 

“Need a break?”

You shook your head, greedily bringing his hips towards you. He looked down towards your slit, messily covered in your slick, “Who’s excited now, hm?”

You rolled your eyes, scoffing, “Shut up, Kennedy.”

He smirked, teasing you, “Don’t want it now?”

You sighed in defeat, needing to cum more than needing to save your pride. You gave Leon your best pleading eyes, brows creasing in desperation, “I do want you. Please, I need you. I need you to make me cum.”

“There we go,” Leon cooed, “How would you like me? You have to tell me what you want.”

“Please, please, I want your tongue,” You sighed, “I want to cum on your tongue.”

Thoughts about begging Leon to get to it and rail crossed your mind; however, you couldn’t resist the opportunity to beg him to eat you out. Not that it wasn’t often, it was just a special treat and you were always the type to take advantage of your situations. You’d been missing his tongue, and you craved his expertise and enthusiasm despite the snarky comments that came with it. 

“Copy that, agent,” Leon smirked, bending down and lifting your legs over his shoulders to bury his head in between your legs and licking a long stripe up your cunt, stopping to engulf his lips around your clit. 

You sighed with bliss, curling your fingers into his hair and giving a taught tug to his blonde locks. Leon released his hold, blowing on your clit as he gripped your thighs tighter and spread them further, “Behave.” 

He went to delve his tongue back into you until the shrill sound of his ringtone echoed, taking you out of the steamy atmosphere. Leon shook you off as you tried to push him away, “Ignore it.”

“But-” 

“I said leave it.”

The ringtone ceased, leaving the sounds back to being Leon’s tongue pushing in and out of your hole. Only a moment later, the ringtone came back to life and now taking the both of you out of the steamy atmosphere. Leon threw his head back with a frustrated groan, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

You bite your lip, can’t help but hold back your curiosity, “Who is it?”

“The President.”

.....

Leon was leaving. Leon was leaving for Spain. Leon was leaving for Spain to fight against an infected cult to save the President’s daughter in an hour. 

Arguably, you were more nervous about his departure than him. Actually, you were more nervous than he was. All your questions from the previous night flooding your mind again. So, you took it to the company gym to let out your worries. A researcher usually doesn't occupy the training room, but you need the stress relief. Why? Because your other stress reliever was leaving the country! 

“You’re hurting yourself,” Leon leaned against the door frame, clad in his tight tactical gear. Hip pouches and combat knife strapped securely on his sturdy figure, combat boots tightly tied and double knotted, and most importantly his handgun safely holstered along his belt. Although you hated the reason why he was in his uniform, you can’t help but drool over him. 

You’d known you pushed yourself past your limit a while ago. The sting of your knuckles along with the faint patches of blood staining the fabric of the punching bag made it obvious. You’d been bleeding through your wrap for a while, but you didn’t care as the pain helped you forget about your worries. Technically, this was equally helping as it was hurting you. 

Meanwhile, Leon pushed himself off the wall, steadily walking over towards you and grabbing both your wrists. You glanced up through your lashes, staring a bit too long in his baby blue eyes, “Shouldn’t you be gone already?”

Letting go, Leon panged fake hurt from your words, “Want me gone already?”

“You know what I meant, Kennedy,” You continued throwing punches, despite Leon’s disapproving looks. Regardless, you were thankful that he didn’t try to stop you. 

“Flight leaves in an hour or so, just doing my last double checks on equipment and saying my goodbyes.”

You raised a sweaty brow with doubt, freezing mid punch and fist never meeting the punching bag, “You don’t say goodbyes.”

“I don’t.”

“So, what are you doing here?” 

“Am I not allowed to be here?” Leon perked up, knowing that he would overturn you in any conversation. You stared at each other in silence, challenging the other person to say something first. Sighing, you broke eye contact, going back to punching, “You should bring a jacket. I heard the weather is pretty bad over there. Plus, you don’t look very inconspicuous.”

“Outfit screams “On my way to save the President’s daughter from contagious B.O.W.s,” right?” Leon laughed, “But, what’s on your mind?”

You half shrugged, “Just got some stuff on my mind.”

“Like?”

You. 

“The mission.”

Leon nodded, face turning stern as if he were calculating battle tactics in his head already, “Same.”

Silence fell over the both of you again, but this time, awkward. You cleared your throat, turning away from Leon to grab at your water bottle, “Nervous?”

“Not really,” Leon’s demeanor switched to devious, “Honestly, just want to get this over with. I got some unfinished business.” 

“Unfinished business?”

Leon’s eyes held a glint in them, patiently waiting for you to catch on. 

Unfinished business. Your unfinished business. You never got to finish. 

You slapped Leon on his upper chest with a hiss, “You can’t be serious!” 

“But, I am.”

“We’re at work!” 

“And?”

You gawked at him in complete disbelief, “And? Um, I don’t know, we could get caught, we could lose our jobs!” 

Leon shugged, smiling confidently, “There’s no cameras.”

“Someone could hear us!” 

“Only if you’re loud.”

You hated the smug look on his face, knowing that you were pretty vocal. It was only until your eyes followed his as he watched you subconsciously squirm and press your thighs together. Leon gently grabbed your shoulders, pressing soothing circles on your skin, "Do you trust me?" 

The look in his eyes was so fierce, your lips quivered, "With my life." 

Leon's hands slid down your arms and snaked them around the curvature of your ass before supporting the back of your thighs, "Jump." 

And, you did. Instantly, Leon's lips peppered your skin as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. You cringed, thinking about the accumulated sweat from your workout session, but Leon didn't seem to mind. He'd make you sweat even more pretty soon anyways. You sighed with pleasure, running your hands along his arms and feeling the firmness of his biceps under your fingertips. Whilst distracted by the heat of his touch, Leon took his chance and backed you up towards the Smith machine.

“Leon, what are you-” 

He hushed a whisper in your ear, causing a shudder through your spine, “You trust me, right?”

Leon looked at you, pausing all movement until you spoke a soft, “Yes.”

“Good,” Leon glanced at you through the mirrors spanning across the entire wall of the gym, “Remember to be quiet.”

Leon unraveled your blood stained hand wraps, lacing them together over your wrists and over the bar while effectively tying your hands tightly against it. Once finished, Leon gripped his hands over the ridges on the bar, unhooking it and effortlessly lifting the bar onto a higher post on the machine. You definitely didn’t miss the bulge of his biceps. Through the mirror, your arms were outstretched way above your head with the soles of your shoes firmly touching the ground. 

Leon moved in front of you, back now facing the mirror while keeping eye contact with you the whole time. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

He pulled down your pants, noticing the lack of undergarments. He raised a brow and teasing smile itched to bloom across his quivering lips. 

“Shut up, it’s easier to workout in,” You huffed, a bright blush rushing across your face. 

Leon hummed in satisfaction, “It’s easier to eat out too.” 

“Hey-” 

Your scolding fizzled out into a loud moan as Leon repositioned your legs and dove under you with his tongue flicking your clit. His hands traveled up and down your legs, taking the time to squish your plush thighs. Leon kept his rhythm for a moment before pausing, “I thought I told you to be quiet. Unless you like the idea of being caught.”

You involuntarily clenched at his teasing, jaw tightening from your lack of composure, “Hurry, you don’t have that much time yet.”

“Don’t need that much anyways.”

Leon uses his hands to push away your legs, running his fingers up and down the skin of your thighs. He grips them every so often before sliding his hand around, cupping the crease just below your ass, and firmly tugging you forward with his tongue stuck out along your slit. You choked out a sigh, careful not to be too loud as you threw your head back in pleasure. With the guidance of Leon’s hand, your hips began grinding on Leon’s tongue as he licked and lapped your dripping sweetness. The sight of yourself through the mirror was lewd 

“I’m- I’m almost-” 

“Hold on for me.”

Leon meant it metaphorically, wanting to show off the skills of his tongue and mouth just a bit more. But he also meant physically as Leon hoisted your thighs upon his shoulders, carrying most of your weight with the help of his arms hugging you secured around your lower back. Regardless, you’d instinctively grabbed the metal bar, flexing your arms to hold yourself up. Half not to crush your weight on Leon, and the other half in need of something to grip while waves of pleasure ruined you. 

You thrust your hips forward, needing more of Leon as you ached for him, “Please, almost there.” 

Leon pushed you closer towards him, hoisting you higher so that his face was centered at your core. Leon pushed his tongue deeper into you just as you reached the apex of your climax. A deep sigh of relief came over you as you ground the last of your ecstasy onto Leon and just in time for his flight departure. Gently, he set you down, pulling your pants up for you and untying your restraints. Without saying anything, he took off your hand wraps entirely, blowing cool air on your scratched knuckles, “Take care of this later.” 

“Take care of your mission.”

Leon nodded, switching back into his agent persona. You watched him begin to walk away before he hesitated right as he passed through the door frame, “Hey.”

“Yeah?” You cast him a longing look. 

“I’m going to come back, okay? Promise.”

Since when did Leon make promises? 

[cosmicjoke]

What Levi's Lack of Response to His Assault Tells Us:

Something else I want to talk about in "Bad Boy" is how Levi reacts to the treatment of the men who assault him, and what it tells us about him and his expectations for how he should or would be treated.

He doesn't cry, and he doesn't beg, and he doesn't expect anyone to help him.  He’s essentially non-reactive. 

Levi nearly gets beaten to death, and he's obviously in extraordinary pain, and he also gets threatened with sexual abuse, assault and kidnapping.  But he never really shows any fear, even as his face is twisted in agony and desperation, and he never really protests the treatment he's receiving, either through tears or pleading. He never shows any offense at how they speak to and about him. He never asks them to stop hurting him, and he never even tries to defend himself or get away. Even after being brutally beaten, kicked viciously in the chest/abdomen, he only tells the men to give his mother's tea set to him, that it belonged to her. He doesn't beg them to stop, or beg for mercy, or for his life, he simply keeps insisting that the set isn't theirs.

What this tells us about Levi is that he's used to this kind of treatment.

A child who wasn't used to being beaten or roughed up in this manner, or even threatened in this way, would with certainty cry and even fall into hysterics. They would scream and beg and cry for help. They would be sobbing. They would be terrified.

But Levi displays none of these behaviors. In fact, he even shows defiance in the face of their treatment, insisting they give him back what, by rights, belongs to him, and only fights back when they start speaking ill of his mother, something which highlights, once again, Levi's heartbreaking and inherent selflessness, that even then he felt others were worth fighting for, even as he felt no such inclination to fight for himself, something we see in him again and again throughout the main story. He did this knowing it was only going to result in him being hit again, knowing it was only going to result in him being more badly beaten.   He was willing to take that to defend his mother.

But again, Levi's lack of response, his lack of tears, lack of fear, lack of any attempt toward self-preservation, tells us that Levi is used to being smacked around and beaten up. That he's beaten almost to death, and he still doesn't show any fear or beg for mercy shows he's been raised to expect this kind of treatment, and that he's been raised to believe this is what the world is, and this is how people will treat you, that this is how he expects people to treat him.

It's pretty obvious to me from this that Kenny used to beat Levi, and that he let Levi get beaten by other men, probably in some twisted attempt to bring out Levi's power.

Further, the fact that Levi showed no, true initiative to fight for himself, despite the kind of treatment and threats he was being subjected to, shows that he didn't care if he lived or died, that he had no real regard for his own life, well-being or safety. It shows a breathtaking lack of self-worth. 

That’s what happens to a person who’s been repeatedly abused and exposed to deep trauma, physical, emotional, and mental, at the very least.

Further still, when Levi finally does fight back, his attack is completely ineffectual.  This shows us that, while Kenny taught Levi to fight, Levi himself showed no real ability, strength, talent for or natural inclination toward violence.  Despite Kenny’s lessons, Levi is still helpless, and even exceptionally so.  I’ve always thought if someone with a propensity for violence, like Eren, for example, had received the kind of training Levi did, he would have been deadly.  He was deadly, even without training, as we see with how he approaches Mikasa's kidnappers.  But we see here that Levi is completely at the mercy of these men, because, as I’ve said again and again, Levi isn’t naturally inclined toward violence.  I don’t think it comes naturally to him at all.  What this tells us is that, almost certainly, Levi was on the receiving end of many bad beatings without being able to actually defend himself, and doubtless all manner of other abuses.  And that would only have been worsened by what we see here in him, which is a total lack of will to live or sense of self-preservation. 

It isn’t even a will to live that makes Levi eventually kill these men.  It’s simply the awakening of his Ackerman powers, compelling him to act in defense of himself without thought, an instinct to survive sparked and driven by something outside himself. 

This story just continues to shatter my heart into pieces.

Levi really is a miracle of a man.  That he’s still so good, and so caring, and fights so hard for others, despite all of this… God, it’s truly devastatingly tragic. 

[viesantewrites]

𝐋𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐝

(𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧)

Robert Fischer (Inception) x Reader

note: Hey guys, I‘ve rewritten this story a bit and decided to post it on my sideblog. I've changed some of the themes and also that the main character is no longer an OC named Victoria, but the reader. I think this story is kinda difficult to write, which is why I've rewritten it several times. I love plots like Shutter Island and tried to do something similar here & it‘s also a story about parasocial relationships and unrequited love.

summary: The reader is hopelessly in love with her boss Robert Fischer, but he doesn't seem to be interested in her. By an unexpected coincidence, they meet in the city and his sudden intense affection for her confuses her. The reader begins to suspect that something is wrong, and when she finally uncovers the truth about her encounters with Fischer the heartbreaking reality is revealed to her.

you don‘t have to watch the movie to understand the story.

age gap, but the characters are both adults. Robert is 37-39, is divorced and has a child. The reader is about 28/29.

word count: 5000+

warnings: topics like mental illness, depression, this is a quite dark and heavy story

It was just half past seven when she heard the familiar footsteps in the corridor approaching the office next door. A key was inserted into the lock and a moment later the door opened.

Glancing around to make sure her workspace wasn't too messy, she threw an old paper cup into the bin before her boss poked his head through the door.

"Good morning, Miss YN, so busy already?" he asked with a tired smile. "It doesn't reflect well on me as a boss to have my assistant here before me. I'm sorry, Monday mornings are always a bit stressful for me."

"No problem, Mr Fischer. I've already sorted the mail for you, it's on your desk," she said kindly, watching him as he took off his coat and hung it on the coat rack, a little damp from the rain.

"Thank you, I can count on you."

He was a very elegant, handsome man, about ten years her senior, with dark hair, blue eyes, high cheekbones and an elegant black suit. She must have stared at him a little too long, because he turned to her with a questioning smile.

Immediately her cheeks flushed and she turned back to her computer screen, but by then Mr Fischer had already approached her and placed some documents on her desk. "Please scan them all and email them to Mr Parker, he's been waiting for them for days," he said to her. "It would be best if we sat down together later and quickly discuss my tasks for today, there is a lot to do. If I'm not mistaken, I have a client meeting at three today."

"At two, sir," she corrected him, handing him a planner with today's date thickly underlined.

He started to grin. "You see, this is exactly why I have an assistant."

Fischer disappeared into his office.

She sighed slightly and went to work scanning the documents. She had been working for Fischer Morrow, one of the world's largest energy companies, for barely a month. Their headquarters had moved from Sydney to London after the death of their CEO, Maurice Fischer. Her current boss, Robert Fischer, was a direct descendant.

She liked Fischer Jr a lot. He was friendly, supportive and didn't get angry when things didn't go to plan. But in some ways he always seemed so unapproachable. For example, he never talked about his private life and YN had no idea who he was outside of work. Then again, he was her boss and his private life was none of her business. But deep down she admitted that she was very interested in him.

The days flew by and she finally felt as if she had been employed by Fischer Morrow for an eternity. But who Robert Fischer really was remained a mystery.

One evening, as she was about to leave, she quietly opened the door to Fischer's office. He was sitting in front of his computer, his chin resting on his hands. "Have a nice evening, Mr Fischer." He jumped slightly, obviously not having heard her come in, but then he smiled. "Thank you, you too."

YN looked at her watch. "It's almost half past seven, don't you want to finish your work soon? Don't you have a wife waiting for you?"

Mr Fischer shrugged. "I've been divorced for a few years now, and I only see my daughter at weekends. The only thing waiting for me is an empty, dark apartment."

YN held her breath. It was the first time he had told her anything about his private life. But in the same second, he seemed to regret his words.

"No one waits for me either," she said. "Except for my cat."

Fischer raised an eyebrow with a smile. "At least that's something."

Finally she said goodbye and left the office. But all the way home, she kept thinking about her conversation with Fischer.

Was he perhaps as lonely as she was?

Tired, YN lay in bed. She didn't even have the strength to change her clothes and remove her make up. Although she wanted nothing more than to get out of that itchy, uncomfortable dress and tights. A soft meow sounded beside her and she felt something soft brush against her arm. Smiling, she pulled the cat closer and buried her face in its white fur.

Since leaving her small home village for London, she had no one to talk to. Her old friends had all left her and moved on with their own lives. Robert Fischer was the only one she spoke to regularly, though it was far from a friendship. With the cat in her arms, she turned to the other side. But what if she had feelings for him?

Maybe she should tell him. But wasn't that too much? He was still her boss, after all, and there were probably plenty of women who were interested in him.

She quickly pushed the thought aside and closed her eyes.

Robert Fischer turned curiously when he heard the quick clicking of heels in the corridor. Panting, his assistant opened the door and dropped her bag on the desk.

"Miss YN, are you okay?"

Her hair was messy, her coat hung loosely over her shoulders as if she hadn't had time to put it on properly, and her lipstick was a little smudged.

"I… overslept," she said, panting. "I'm sorry."

Fischer looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "It's okay. But it shouldn't happen again."

"Of course not, sir," she replied immediately.

He quickly disappeared into his office and returned with a thick stack of papers and a folder.

"Would you be so kind as to sort these documents alphabetically for me? They've been on my desk for days and I haven't had a chance to get to them. I know it's not an exciting task."

She nodded and took the heavy pile from his hand. Fischer thanked her and hurried back to his office.

Sighing, she set to work. But with each page, she found her concentration fading and her mind wandering. Her head ached, her eyes burned and she felt incredibly tired. But she tried not to show it, kept working as hard as she could and finally put the sorted file back on Mr Fischer's desk.

Exhausted, she walked back to her office, sat down in her chair and buried her face in her hands. She was shivering and her ears were ringing. Was it because she had forgotten to take her medicine today?

"Miss YN?" she heard her boss' voice.

She turned immediately and forced a smile. "Yes, Mr Fischer?"

"I have an job interview scheduled for ten, would you be so kind as to prepare the conference room for it?"

"Of course, sir."

He stopped halfway and looked at Victoria questioningly. "Are you okay? You look so pale." She nodded quickly, forcing a smile. "Everything's fine, Mr Fischer." Fischer looked at her, raised his eyebrows, then handed her the key to the meeting room and disappeared back into his office.

A strange feeling of dizziness spread through her head as she walked down the long corridor leading to the conference rooms.

What was wrong with her today?

When it started to get dark outside, YN finally turned off her computer and reached for her bag. The strange dizziness had improved during the day, leading her to conclude that she simply needed a break from work. Fortunately, it was Friday. She knocked gently on Fischer's door, as she always did before leaving, to wish him a pleasant evening. He was sitting there as usual, his chin resting on his hand, deep in thought. He glanced up briefly and nodded politely, noticing her in the doorway. He looked stunningly handsome today, even after this long and exhausting day.

"I didn't ask you how the job interviews went this morning," she asked curiously. Fischer shook his head. "Terribly," he said. "None of these people I'd want in my company." His voice was cold and dismissive, and for a moment she thought he was referring to her, even though she knew he meant someone else. She smiled awkwardly and shrugged slightly. "Well, maybe the next one will be better."

Fischer remained silent.

"Have a good weekend, Mr Fischer."

"You too, Miss YN." He gave her a friendly smile.

"Do you have any plans for the weekend? I know a good restaurant, would you like to join me?" The moment she realised what she had just said, she bit her lip, her face turning red. Had she completely lost her mind? She desperately hoped he hadn't heard what she'd asked, but it was too late. She could see Fischer raise his eyebrows in confusion and stare at her.

"No, Miss YN. I'm not interested. I keep my work and personal life strictly separate." She immediately looked down, embarrassed. Thoughts raced through her mind like a rollercoaster and her cheeks felt as if they were on fire. "I'm sorry, Mr Fischer, I shouldn't have asked you that." She finally grabbed her bag and left the office without another word, feeling Fischer's gaze on her back.

It was drizzling lightly as she walked through the busy streets of London. The cold air did her good and she felt her head clear a little.

Why had she done this? It had been clear from the start that a man like him would reject her. But the words had come out of her mouth as if she had completely lost control. She felt a tear roll down her cheek and quickly wiped it away. She didn't want to have a mental breakdown in public, even though it felt like Fischer had torn her heart into a thousand pieces. Suddenly the strange dizziness returned and her vision blurred slightly. The sounds of London became muffled, as if she were incredibly far away.

"Miss YN, wait!" she suddenly heard a voice behind her that seemed to be getting closer.

She turned around. The dizziness had disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Startled, her eyes widened as she saw the person in front of her - it was Mr Fischer. What was he doing here? Had he followed her? She tried to speak, but all she could manage was a hoarse stutter.

"I wanted to apologize, Miss YN. It wasn't very nice of me to brush you off like that," he said with a gentle laugh. His voice sounded strangely different, softer than usual. Wordless and spellbound, she stared into the pair of light blue eyes before her, apologetic and gentle in their expression. She knew Mr Fischer had blue eyes, but she'd never noticed how incredibly bright they looked.

"It's okay, don't worry," she managed to say, her knees shaking with excitement.

"No, no, Miss YN. I'll think about the dinner offer, okay? Just because we work together doesn't mean we can't have dinner together, does it?" Fischer suggested, and she nodded slowly, then smiled.

Why this sudden change of heart?

"Well, see you soon." He waved goodbye and YN, still completely confused, raised her hand in response. But before she could form another thought, he had disappeared into the crowd.

Carefully, YN pressed the shutter on her old camera, focusing the lens on the small lake in front of her. Satisfied, she lowered it. She was confident that this snapshot would turn out well. This park was a place she often visited to clear her head and pursue her passion, photography, as it offered many beautiful subjects. Especially now, in autumn, when the trees were covered with colourful leaves and the silence was slowly descending, with only the occasional pedestrian passing by.

Her dizziness had eased a little, but not completely. Fortunately, it was Saturday and she had the whole day to herself. YN sat down on a bench under a tree that looked to be at least a hundred years old.

She sat there for a while, lost in thought. Eventually she got up and made her way to the West End. The streets of London were noisy and busy as she walked, looking for a warm place in a café and something to eat. Crowds of people rushed past her, music played from somewhere and loud voices filled the air. Exhausted, she rubbed her temples. Maybe she should have stayed home and rested.

Suddenly she held her breath as she spotted a familiar face in the crowd. Dark hair, high cheekbones and piercing blue eyes. Fischer. But before she could think, he had already noticed her and started to smile at her.

"Miss YN, how nice to see you! What a coincidence!"

It was the first time she had seen him in his casual clothes rather than one of his business suits. But this was no less elegant and stylish. He was wearing a well-fitting black coat, a grey knitted jumper underneath and black trousers. It was so strange to see him outside his office at Fischer Morrow Company. Suddenly he didn't seem so unapproachable and distant anymore.

"What are you doing here?" she asked curiously.

He paused for a moment. He seemed to be considering whether or not to tell her.

"I brought my little girl to her friend's house for a sleepover. She's been asking me for weeks because her mum won't let her."

"So you're a cool dad," YN replied.

Fischer rolled his eyes. "I'm the one who lets her get away with everything. We had to turn back twice because she realised she had forgotten her favourite stuffed animal and her toothbrush."

She laughed softly. In a strange way, she enjoyed him talking so openly about his life.

"Oh wow, that looks amazing. It's quite old, isn't it?" Mr Fischer pointed to the camera around her neck. "From the 1960s. But it takes incredibly good pictures for that time," she explained. Fischer seemed genuinely impressed. "Do you have more like it?"

"I have quite a few. From the 50s to the 80s, actually, and of course some modern digital cameras. Photography has been my passion since I was a child," she explained. Fischer looked at her with an interested smile. "So there's actually film in there that needs to be developed?" she nodded in confirmation. "Some photo shops still offer that service, yes."

Mr Fischer seemed genuinely interested in her hobby, asking her questions about it as they walked side by side through the streets of London. She felt incredibly comfortable in his presence and hoped he wouldn't leave so soon. Finally he pointed to the camera again. "Would you take a picture of me, please? I'd like a 60's style photo of myself." YN's heart began to beat faster in her chest. What had he just said?

"Of course, Mr Fischer," she replied nervously. "Robert. My name is Robert," he replied. Suddenly, she stopped in her tracks, completely surprised. No one at Fischer Morrow Ltd called him by his first name, and outside the company she had only heard his uncle, Peter Browning, call him Robert.

"Let's find a nice spot for the photo," he said, letting his gaze wander until it settled on a beautiful fountain.

Carefully, she picked up the camera, took a few steps back and held it directly in front of Robert's face. "Smile, please," she instructed him, finally pressing the shutter.

A pedestrian who had just passed them looked at YN with a confused expression and shook his head. Frowning, she looked after him before carefully tucking the camera into her handbag.

Are you hungry?" asked Robert. "We could go to a restaurant."

Surprised, she looked at him. "I don't know…" she said hesitantly, biting her lower lip. In fact, she had never expected to be asked such a question.

He looked at her with raised eyebrows and she could see the disappointment in his eyes. Finally, she worked up the courage to say what was on her mind.

"It's just… To be honest, you told me yesterday that you were someone who kept your work and personal life strictly separate. Maybe it would be better if we did. After all, I'm your employee."

As much as she wanted to spend time with him, she was afraid of developing even more feelings for him. Robert nodded slowly and shoved his hands into his coat pockets.

"I really like you. I just never wanted to show it, that's why I was so reserved with you and told you I wasn't interested in you".

She closed her eyes and let out a sigh as a ton of thoughts went through her head. Robert finally nodded at her with a slightly disappointed look on his face and turned on his heel.

"Wait!" she called after him.

He stopped immediately and looked at her hopefully.

"Let's give it a try, shall we?"

"YN… is that a French name?"

Robert's voice sounded slightly tipsy as he grinned curiously at her, twirling his wine glass casually in his hands.

He had taken her to a rather fancy and expensive place, the walls were dark wood panelling, the chairs were covered in red velvet and soft jazz music was playing on one of the radios. Robert looked hauntingly beautiful that night. His skin seemed incredibly soft and flawless, his jawline even more prominent, and his blue eyes shone almost ghostly in the dim light, almost like he wasn’t real…

She smiled, nodded and took a sip from her glass. "My father is French. I grew up in France but moved to England when I was 15."

He nodded with interest, rubbing his chin with his finger.

"And you? I heard you're Australian," she asked curiously.

Robert laughed and ran a hand through his dark hair. "Well, my accent makes it obvious."

YN blushed and looked down at her plate. What a stupid question.

But Robert didn't seem to mind too much, because he started talking about his life in Sydney, how he had finally moved to London after his father's death, and she listened with interest.

But suddenly he stopped and looked at her thoughtfully. "But I'm probably just boring you."

YN immediately shook her head. "No, you're not," she told him. "I find it really interesting to find out all this about you."

At that moment a waitress came to their table with a smile and asked YN in a friendly tone if she had enjoyed her meal. But the waitress paid no attention to Robert, YN noticed with surprise. Perhaps she was just being extra polite to the lady.

Robert pulled out a black leather purse and rummaged through it. Quickly, YN pulled a few notes out of her habdbag and handed them to the waitress. "Keep the change," she said.

The waitress looked at her with wide eyes, "Thank you, ma'am," she said gratefully, "have a nice evening.

Then she turned and left the table.

"You didn't have to do that," Robert said. "As a gentleman, it's actually my job to pay."

She shook her head in amusement. "I bet that's never happened to you before, has it?"

Robert shook his head and took the last drink from his glass. There was a moment of silence between them.

"All right. So what's the plan for the rest of the evening?"

She looked at him in surprise. As soon as he said the words, she felt a tingle in her stomach.

The church clock struck twelve as she crossed the street hand in hand with Robert. It was freezing, and she had pulled her scarf so far up her face that only her eyes and nose were visible. Her date looked at her with amusement. "Are you going to rob a bank?" he asked, laughing out loud.

"Shh!" she snapped at him, putting her fingers to his lips. "You'll wake up the whole neighbourhood."

Although it was quite dark and she could only make out Robert, she knew that his typical mischievous grin was back on his face. She pulled him firmly behind her until they reached the small white building.

"Is this where you live?" Robert asked.

She put her finger to his lips for a second time until Robert stopped talking and looked silently into her eyes. Her heart was beating in her chest as she finally stood on her toes, put her arms around his neck and placed her lips on his. Robert returned the kiss without hesitation and gently pulled her into his arms. YN could hardly believe what was happening. It was everything she had secretly wanted for months. They remained like this for a moment before she finally let go of him and reached for her key.

She felt for Robert's upper arm and finally pulled him into her apartment, closing the door behind him. She immediately wrapped her arms around him and began to kiss him again. His lips were a little cold and tasted of wine. Together they stumbled backwards into her bedroom, taking off his coat, which she tossed carelessly to the floor.

Robert's fingers stroked carefully along her hip and fumbled a little with her belt while she was busy putting little kisses on his neck. With slightly trembling hands she pulled his jumper over his head and Robert took her hand.

"Are you nervous?" he wanted to know. She remained silent.

"Don't be," he whispered softly into her ear, taking her in his arms again and pulling her onto the bed. Breathing softly, she clung to his chest, leaned back and finally closed her eyes as she felt his warm skin against hers.

The sun shone through the half-open curtains, creating a narrow, bright streak across the floor. Blinking, she opened her eyes and stretched. But immediately a sharp pain shot through her head again and she held her forehead tiredly. Confused, she sat up and tried to remember what had happened yesterday.

But when she heard soft breathing next to her, she turned quickly and all the events of last night came back to her. Smiling, she looked over at Robert, snuggled up next to her in her beige blanket, sleeping peacefully. Tenderly stroking his messy hair, she lay down beside him again and then began to caress his bare chest. Perhaps what they had done was wrong. After all, they were two people who should never have fallen in love. But it had happened, and it felt so right. They remained in this position for some time, Robert asleep and YN lost in thought.

Her eyes swept through the bedroom until they settled on a small white box on her dresser. Quickly sitting up, she reached for it and put a small pill into her mouth. Eventually, Robert began to move a little beside her, opening his eyes tiredly. Smiling broadly, she gave him a small kiss on the tip of his nose.

"Good morning," she whispered.

"Good morning," Robert murmured in a raspy morning voice.

"Did you sleep well?" she asked.

"Yes, wonderfully." He yawned loudly and took her into his arms as she laid her head lovingly on his shoulder.

"Wait, what time is it?" he suddenly wanted to know.

"Quarter past ten, why do you ask?" she replied.

"Shit," Robert muttered as he let go of the hug, jumped out of the bed and started to pick up his clothes, which were strewn all over the floor.

"Wait, wait, where are you going?" she asked, looking at him in confusion.

"I should've picked up my daughter by now," he replied, hurrying to get dressed.

Sighing, she pulled the blanket around her a little tighter. "Can't it wait? Can't you stay for breakfast?"

"I'm sorry, but I'm sure she's already waiting for me.“ Robert dodged her questions, grabbing his coat on the floor and sighing when he saw her disappointed look.

He walked slowly towards her, stroking her chin with his finger, and finally whispered: "We can catch up later." Then he put a soft kiss on her lips before turning around and disappearing through the door. She sank back into the pillows and pulled the blanket over her head.

The rest of Sunday flew by. Mostly because her mind was on Robert and she could hardly wait to see him again tomorrow at work. She had probably never looked forward to a Monday in her life as much as she did that day.

The next morning, YN carefully applied her lipstick and looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. She noticed that the collar of her white blouse was a little crooked and quickly adjusted it. She wanted to look her best for Robert today, so he wouldn't change his mind and lose interest in her.

Humming softly, she put on her black high heels and grabbed her handbag. She quickly put another pill into her mouth and put the box in her bag. Her headache was completely gone and her head finally felt clear and light again. In a good mood, she breathed in the fresh morning air and made her way to work.

Her heels clicked on the floor as she walked down the familiar corridor of Fischer Morrow. The lights were on in Robert's office. She ran a final hand through her hair, smoothed her blouse and opened the door to her own office.

The air was stuffy and hot. Coughing, she ran to the window and opened it.

"Good morning, Miss YN, I hope you had a nice weekend," a familiar voice sounded from behind her.

Startled, she turned to see Robert's face as he stuck his head through the door, as he always did.

Why didn't he call her by her first name? Confused, she stared at him, trying to form a clear sentence. "But… But… we spent it together…" her voice finally broke. Her head suddenly hurt again.

He seemed so different again. Not the Robert she had spent the weekend with, not the one who had apologised for being too rude to her, not the one who had made her laugh and told her about his life. He seemed more like the one she had worked with for months, the one who never revealed anything about himself.

"Miss YN? I haven't seen you since Friday, when you left my office after… asking me that question."

Her heart almost stopped. Suddenly her knees gave way and she sank to the floor.

"Are you okay? Are you feeling unwell?" Concerned, he bent down to her. "Do you want to go home and rest?"

She nodded slightly and wiped a tear from her eye, which had turned her fingers black from the carefully applied mascara. Then she got up and left the office.

At home, she lay motionless on her bed, tears streaming down her cheeks. She couldn't think straight and her throat felt incredibly dry. The door to her room, which was only ajar, opened gently and something small and white slipped through. Sniffling, she stretched out her arms and lifted her cat onto the bed.

Everything that had happened that weekend had been fake. She had made it all up. And all of this happened because she had forgotten to take the pills she was taking for her delusions. Robert hadn't really followed her on Friday evening; it was all a figment of her imagination. While his real self was still sitting in the office, probably not thinking about her at all. Everything suddenly made sense: why Robert looked a bit different, why his voice sounded different, the waitress who ignored him on Saturday because she couldn’t actually see him, the pedestrian who gave her a confused look because she was talking to herself while taking the photo.

The photo.

She immediately got up, put on her shoes and walked to the photo shop where she had left the film to be developed. Her heart raced as the staff handed her the envelope with the photos. Trembling, she finally grabbed the Saturday night photo, without looking at it herself, and held it up to the staff's face. "What do you see?" she asked.

The young man looked at her in confusion, but remained polite. "The fountain at Piccadilly Circus. Great picture, it turned out really nice."

"Anything else?" she asked.

"No, ma'am," he replied, and it felt like a slap in her face. Fischer had never been there with her. Only her lonely and sad mind had led her to believe that he was interested in her and loved her. Tears welled in her eyes and she left the shop without another word. When she got home, she immediately took the white box of pills from her handbag, rushed into the kitchen, opened the box and poured the pills into the bin.

Crying and with burning eyes, she finally lay down on her bed and buried her head in the pillow as her cat purred softly beside her. She must have stayed like that for hours, as the sun began to set again outside her window. When she finally lifted her head and wiped the tears from her face, she saw a dark-haired man sitting beside her bed, looking at her lovingly with his pale blue eyes. A smile suddenly appeared on her face and she began to laugh, pulling the man into a tight embrace.

some explanations because i know that story is kinda mind-fucking:

• Is Robert Fischer all a creation of the readers mind?

- No he actually exists, he’s her boss and she‘s in love with him, so she imagines dating him.

• When is he real, when is he fake?

- - The Robert Fischer in the office is real, he turns her down when she asks him out, leaving YN heartbroken. The moment she leaves the office, she starts to imagine what it would be like if he apologised to her, so the man who follows her is just her imagination. The real Robert Fischer is still in his office at Fischer-Morrow.

When she visits the city on Saturday and meets "Robert" and goes on a date with him, it's also just her imagination. That's why other people react to her with confusion, because she's basically talking to herself all the time. On Sunday morning, when she wakes up next to him, he's still fake. When she takes her pills, he quickly "disappears" (he says he has to pick up his daughter...) because they stop her delusions.

On Monday morning, when she gets back to her office, the real Robert Fischer is there again, who hadn't seen her since he had rejected her on Friday evening.

When she gets home, she throws away her pills and her delusions begin again. The man who sat next to her on the bed and comforted her is again the imaginary version of Robert.

[callofdudes]

✨GhostSoap incorrect quotes✨

With 141 chaos included.

Soap: Oops, got your mental illness 😊

Ghost: You give that back.

Ghost, pulling out a knife: That was a gift from my father!

-------

Ghost: I'm sorry for being mentally ill.

Soap: ...

Ghost: And a bit messed up in the head.

Ghost: The sex will be good though.

-------

Ghost: Johnny, this place is fancy and I don't know which fork to kill myself with.

-------

Soap: Simon, you're late for date night again, what was it this time?

Ghost, standing in the living room covered in blood: Well...

Soap, sighing: Baby I want to go out for dinner!!

Ghost: I know but just one more time love- next week we can go on a proper date but-

Soap: Hiding a body isn't a date!!

-------

Ghost: I don't want you talking at my funeral!

Soap: What?

Ghost: You can go to my funeral but you can't talk-

Soap: Why??

Ghost: My funeral is my time to shine!

-------

Soap: I don't know what the big deal is

Gaz, sighing: Ok, let's break this down. First of all, you don't fix any of the appliances in your apartment.

Soap: Yeah, it's too hard.

Gaz: You don't fix up your apartment in general.

Soap: Couldn't be bothered.

Gaz: Dude, you can't even fix up a decent meal for yourself.

Soap: What even is a stove. I mean...

Gaz: Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you??

Ghost: Hey, can I have 40 bucks real quick?

Soap, leaning in to whisper: I still think I can fix him.

Gaz: For fucks sake-

-------

Soap: Ghost, what's like a word your parents wouldn't let you use growing up. Like they said it was a curse word but it really wasn't.

Ghost: No, I can't say that, it's too embarrassing.

Soap: Oh come on I'll go first, my parents told us 'shut up' was like a curse. Like it was a terrible phrase we couldn't use.

Ghost: What? My parents said that to me all the time.

Soap: Really?

Ghost: Ok, this is a word we literally never used in our house. I don't even know if I'm pronouncing it right... Uh, love?

Soap: What?

Ghost: Oh I am pronouncing it wrong. Uh, luvé?

Soap: Uh no, it's pronounced love.

Ghost: Oh, yeah, well we never said that.

Soap: Ghost, you- you know I'm here for you right?

Ghost: That's so kind of you Johnny. You know what, I tolerate you.

Soap: What... What?? Tolerate? That's mean

Ghost: What, no it's not! That's like the deepest form of affection you can show somebody!

-------

Soap: Have you seen a person named 'Ghost' around here?

Gaz: Ugh, yes. He made a horrible mess of the blood fountain.

Price: It looks fine to me?

Gaz: IT USED TO BE WATER!!!

-------

Ghost: *Screams*

Soap: *Screams louder to assert dominance*

Gaz: Should we do something?!

Price, observing: No, I want to see who wins this.

-------

Gaz: On a scale from “damn Daniel” to “fre sha vaca do”, how are you feeling?

Soap: In between “it’s an avocado, thanks” and “how did you defeat Captain America”, but as a solid answer I would say “I don’t need a degree to be a clothing hanger”. How about you, Ghost?

Ghost: Probably “road work ahead”.

Price: I speak many languages, and this is none of them.

-------

Ghost: I think Price was right.

Soap: I'm surprised he haven't marched in here to say 'I told you so.'

Gaz: He wouldn't do that.

Price: You're right, Gaz. For once in your life, you're 100% right. I would never say that.

Price: *turns around, the shirt they're wearing says 'Price Told You So' on the back*

-------

Ghost: I just ended a four year relationship.

Soap: Oh, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?

Ghost: Hm? Oh yeah, I’m fine. It wasn’t my relationship.

*Gaz and Price fighting from across the room*

-------

Ghost: This is bothering me.

Soap: Well, you are digging up a corpse.

Ghost: No, not that. That's, uh, pretty par for the course, actually.

-------

Ghost: Can you please be serious for five minutes?

Soap: My record is four, but I think I can do it.

-------

Ghost: Oh just so you know, it's very muggy outside

Soap:

Soap: Ghost, I swear, if I step outside and all of our mugs are on the front lawn...

Ghost: *Sips tea from bowl*

-------

Ghost: Okay. I get it. You've had a really hard time lately, you're stressed out, seven people died-

Soap: Twelve, actually.

Ghost: Not the point. Look, they're dead now and really whose fault is that?

Soap: Yours!

Ghost: That's right: no one's.

-------

Ghost: Soap was banned from the chicken shack, so we had to go out of town to get some.

Soap: Well, they shouldn’t say “all you can eat” if they don’t mean it.

Ghost: Soap, you ate a chair

--------

Ghost: Do you think you’d actually notice if someone didn’t cast a shadow? Or if their limbs were just slightly too long? Or if they had just a little too many teeth? like how many times have you passed Something on the street and you just didn’t Notice It?

Soap: Stay woke monsterfuckers ur love is out there!!!!!

Ghost: Yknow what? Not my point at all in any way whatsoever, but I’m glad I could be an inspiration.

-------

Ghost: Sorry it took me so long to bail you out of jail

Soap: No it’s my fault, I shouldn’t’ve used my one phone call to prank call the police

-------

Ghost: What is your biggest weakness?

Soap: I can be uncooperative.

Ghost: Okay, can you give me an example?

Soap: No.

-------

Ghost: It’s dark in here

Soap: Don’t worry dude I got this

Soap: *Stomps his feet*

Soap: *Skechers light up*

-------

Ghost: I'm 10 times funnier and sexier than you

Soap: 10 times 0 is still 0 though

Ghost: Jokes on you, I can't do math

-------

Ghost, in a meeting: My policy is if you see something, say something.

Soap: I saw a squirrel in a tree today!

Ghost, with the tone of someone who is used to Soap: Outstanding.

Ghost: This is what I’m talking about people.

-------

Ghost: You saved me. I owe you my life.

Soap: No thanks. I’ve seen it and I’m not very impressed.

-------

Ghost: I've already sent good vibes your way… they’re coming. There’s nothing you can do to stop them.

Soap: This is the most threatening way I’ve ever been cheered up.

-------

Soap: Am I in trouble?

Ghost: Take a guess.

Soap: No?

Ghost: Take another guess.

-------

Soap: Remember when you didn't try to solve all your problems with attempted murder?

Ghost: Stop romanticizing the past.

-------

Ghost: I'm a reverse necromancer.

Soap: Isn't that just killing people?

Ghost: Ah, technicality.

-------

Soap: I can explain.

Ghost: Can you?

Soap: If you give me thirty seconds to think of a lie.

-------

Ghost: Fitness tip: never stop pushing yourself. Some say 8 hours of sleep is enough. Why not keep going? Why not 9? Why not 10? Strive for greatness.

Soap: Next time you’re working out do 15 push ups instead of 10. Run 3 miles instead of 2. Eat a whole cake instead of just a slice. Burn your ex’s house down. You can do it. I believe in you.

Price: There were so many mixed messages in that I can’t-

[sanddollarpoems]

I left my job in May. It wasn't a decision I had been planning to make. I may not have loved my job, but it was a paycheck, and I didn't have anything else lined up. The worst thing about my job was navigating my unhinged boss' mod swings. One day, I would be her favorite employee, showered with praise and compliments. But then, like a switch had been flipped, the next day, she would find fault in everything I did. She would verbally berate me and make me wonder if I was actually a terrible employee. This bizarre behavior was starting to leave stress marks on my life. I hated the days that she was in the office, and I was terrified any time she would come to talk to me. I didn't know what was wrong or how to fix it.

It ended one day when she called me into her office.

"I'm writing you up." She said it almost smugly. I tried to hide the shock and horror on my face. Write me up for what??

I remained professional and calm, trying to keep my mind clear on everything she was saying. There was a vague "isn't living up to work expectations" and a comical "overly social" (my work responsibilities required me to be very outgoing). She even threw in something from months ago that had already been resolved. None of it was legit.

I went home, and my shock turned to anger. I've always been an extremely hard worker, dedicated, professional, and kind. This wasn't my fault. But being targeted in such a way by my direct boss felt like total betrayal. When I shared it with my friends, they all agreed that she was just doing the paperwork to eventually fire me. They said I should stay and let her play out her plan so that I could sue the company for wrongful termination. I wanted to do that. It sounded so vengeful. But the thought of letting that woman continue to abuse me was more than I could do. Instead, I wrote my resignation letter and turned it in the very next day. I worked out my two weeks, not because I had to, since it was an "at will" company. But I've always given two weeks everywhere I've worked, and I wanted to keep my own standards. It was a painfully long two weeks.

I want to say that I left and never looked back, but the truth is, the words she said to me still hurt. There's still a part of me that wonders if she was right. There's still a feeling of insecurity and fear that I'm actually a failure. I think the hardest part was that there was still that similarity between her and my mother. The way she made me feel so worthless and weak felt too familiar. Perhaps that's why it's so hard to shake.

I have taken the opportunity to go back to school and finish up my degree at last. I know the right job will show up at the right time. I can feel that providence in my life. A part of me is scared. I keep thinking about the chance of getting another boss who gaslights and abuses me. After fighting to get where I am now, I won't take that anymore. I want to find a way to prove to myself that I can make my own success without risking my emotional safety. I need to have a reason to say, "See? She was mentally ill and cruel. I am really good at this. She was a liar."

She was a liar.

[bibibbon]

if we're talking personality disorders (of the cluster b variety). obvi its not 1=1 but its far more likely and reasonable to say toga has bpd (with izuku or ochako being her "favorite person") than aspd. also when people call villains (or characters they don't like (← seen this one more than the first tbh)) "unsympathetic psychopaths", it really feels like they know nothing about aspd, personality disorders, and how they form. It also just feels kind of ableist towards real people with aspd? idk maybe i'm seeing things that's aren't there

These people know that aspd (and other personality disorders) form due to outside factors right? obvi there's the genetic factors but that just increases the possibility. these outside factors typically tends to be factors that is in some way traumatic for the person in question like emotional/mental abuse or neglect (*gestures to dabi*)

if anything, based off of that alone, toga being a "psychopath" just makes her more sympathetic in my eyes and people around her even more unsympathetic than they already are and I doubt anyone calling her a "psychopath" without aspd in mind wants that

.

.

.

this is also how i feel about people needless throwing around the word "narcissistic"* when it comes describing bakugo. (saying this as someone isn't a fan of him). bakugo with npd** could make him a more interesting if written correctly*** tbh and could probably be backed up in canon but in turn it would force people to seriously think and question if he actually had a good childhood and good parents… which from what i've seen alot of anti-bakugo people (including the ones that call him a "narcissistic") believe he has

*i'm sure there's bakugo stans out there call him "narcissistic" without npd in mind but atm i've only seen bakugo antis do that

**same with aspd

***without portraying bakugo as an ableist stereotype and/or excusing his actions

.

sorry abt the rant i'm just tired of the demonization surrounding personality disorders

You're definitely correct anon in saying that people tend to use words they either don't know the full meaning of or just mental health issues to demonise characters they don't like and this is a problem within all fandoms I have interacted with not only MHA.

When people use the words "psychopath" or "narcissist" it's rare to see them using it in the right context as most of the time it's used to demonise a character. For example take atla I have seen plenty of people label azula a psychopath but they do that to demonise and dehumanise her not to actually say that she is mentally ill. The same thing is done with characters like toga, Dabi, shigaraki and more!

Now I know that you're mainly quoting of the ask that @sapphic-agent sent me and actually she has made it clear that she doesn't view toga as psychopath and actually brought light to the issue of people dehumanising and purposefully misinterpreting the leauge. Now I don't know much about aspd in general but from what I have seen toga does seem to have some symptoms of aspd but it also makes sense to speculate that she may have BPD (none of this is cannonically confirmed but they would make for some interesting headcanons). Also like you mentioned it would be incredibly interesting to explore how toga got to such a mental state in the first place as mental health issues can happen to a variety of reasons for example or could be an environmental or social issue as we see that toga wasn't given the right support at home and was taught to simply build a mask and burry her urges deep down until it all broke and she broke, toga associated blood and cannibalism with love and self expression from early on. Also, it could be a biological factor since toga was born with a strong fascination for blood.

Overall, toga and her mental state is heavily influenced from all of those factors and it would be interesting if she was cannoncially diagnosed and had that be explored in depth.

However, mha does already have a character who is heavily implied to be mentally ill which is twice. Twice is heavily implied within the show to suffer from DID (dissociative identity disorder) and I think the way horikoshi presents this is really interesting it's to the point that it's incredibly integral to twice's character whether that be his name or what his quirk is.

We see exactly how his mental state worsens in his backstory and how he has reached his breaking point multiple times. Twice is also presented as the most redeemable of the leauge and we see that even with that the system doesn't care for him as twice mercilessly kills him even though he had a high and good chance of being saved and redeemed.

I do wish that hori spent a bit more time delving deeper into twice and developing him before killing him off while also making his death have a long lasting impact between characters (specifically the league)

I think what's interesting is that hori doesn't demonise jin for his mental issues but addresses them in a serious manner and a lot of the scenes where we do see him struggling we are able to feel a lot of sympathy for him.

This ends up being the exact opposite of what people usually do by demonising mental health and using it to dehumanise characters. Horikoshi uses it to humanise his characters whether that be twice who struggles with DID or tamaki who struggles with social anxiety. These issues are brought to light and aren't a one time thing but it's something that's integral to their character.

Now, moving onto my final comment : yep it's bakugo!

I admit that I have seen many bakugo antis and critiques label bakugo as a narcissist. I also believe that they don't inherently speak of the mental disorder when labeling him in such a way but use the word in exchange of other terms for bakugo like self 'absorbed' or 'selfish' or 'only cares for himself' etc.

Now, I agree this is bad and shouldn't be done. I do however want to offer my own view on this subject (iam also a big bakugo critic/anti) I personally don't think that bakugo suffers from Narcissistic personality disorder and I don't think that mitsuki is abusive towards her son.

I think that the scene with mitsuki hitting bakugo was played in a comedic light. This is the only scene we see mitsuki act aggressive towards bakugo in the whole manga while in the other scene she expresses concern over her son (for example katsuki doesn't like rain etc). I think @delawaredetroit post surrounding this has the best explanation

I also want to add the fact that bakugo feels comfortable enough to sit next his mother. He is right in between his parents (he could of sat away from her closer to his father if he wanted to but he didnt). Bakugo also feels comfortable enough to express himself in such a manner whether that be him calling his mother "hag" or also shouting at her when he is equally pissed off.

I do think that because the manga had already made it clear that abuse was a theme that was in the story and gave us an example of abuse (the todoroki family) that many did raise their heads at this scene and may of been concerned that this is abuse when it's not but its hard to spot since it's being presented in such a weird manner.

You do have a point bakugo's behaviour comes from somewhere and that's not talked about enough. I personally think that horikoshi didn't explore how society influenced bakugo's behaviour and his raging quirkless discrimation (maybe it's because hori didn't want to paint bakugo in such a bad light so he didn't make him prejudiced against the quirkless and didn't explore the theme of quirkless discirmation that he implemented into the story). There is also the superiority and inferiority complexes that bakugo seems to have that could be a result of a mixture of factors (biological, social and environmental) Now his brash behaviour could come biologically from his mother and it turned worse due to his environment where he was built up to be this guy who had everything so he should be happy as he fits into the status quo.

Tldr: mental health shouldn't be used as an excuse but it also shouldn't be used to demonise characters either.

[fairycosmos]

I’m wondering if you could speak more about the adolescent life experiences you missed out on because I am curious and also heavily relate and am seeking solace in shared experiences

from the ages of like 11-16, it was particularly difficult for me. i had very few friends and people at school would either make fun of me or straight-up act like i wasn't there a lot of the time. so eventually every single day just became a battle where i refused to go to school or participate in life much during those years. i'd have meltdown after meltdown and it was honestly exhausting. i think when my classmates were discovering the foundations of who they were and learning to acclimate to social situations and developing bonds and memories with those around them, i was either sleeping or breaking down or on my computer. basically half-mute, missing out on massive chunks of my secondary education bc i was/am so beyond mentally ill & also could not handle the alienation/ridicule. i can't stress enough how much damage i think this has done to me and my sense of self and my life as a whole, the direction of it. i usually feel like i did not even develop a personality or a selfhood at all tbh. the only reason i kind of broke out of that cycle was bc i lost a bunch of weight, dated a random dude i met online for a bit + started smoking/drinking which allowed me to cope with reality a little easier. not recommending any of that as a way out btw because none of it has actually helped the root of my issues lol and it put me in a lot of dangerous situations, which also set me back emotionally, just in a different way. i'm really sorry you can relate, i know it's hard. i know there's a lot of grief involved in living like this and constantly wondering who you could've been had things been different, constantly wondering why you had to be like this while everyone else got to be "normal." i'm working on abandoning the idea of a conventional timeline that everyone has to follow but still, it's so so painful. especially when hardly anyone around me is willing to abandon their idea of the conventional timeline, which gives it a lot of weight as a concept. it's hard to live with. i completely understand and will be here if you need to talk. x