#and i just want to tear into this and rip apart the whole thing at once and get it all out but again. dont want to hurt.

[blacclotusss]

Don't Be Afraid, Just Start the Tape

Starting off strong, I want to discuss the argument between Louis and Armand. This, in my opinion, is where everything fell apart. It's just them going back and forth hitting each other in the jugular and it made me want to rip my hair out just hearing it. I, personally, have always hated when things like that get thrown up in arguments so that's my own personal bias. Just hearing Louis throw back the CSA in Armand's face and Armand throwing Paul's suicide, Grace leaving him, and his history with Lestat back up brought me to tears almost. It really sucks that these two felt that they had to resort to these things, but that's the tragedy of it all.

But, for some reason, I think Armand was more hurt that Louis called him dull and boring. My belief is that it hit harder because being boring and dull to Louis means he goes out to look for more exciting things and people, leaving Armand home all night. He doesn't want to lose Louis and the first ounce of real love that he's experienced, so he was taken aback by that. Louis walking out into the sun wasn't much of a surprise to me, but I think him doing it at that moment was. I would have expected a suicide attempt back in Paris, or even in Dubai, but not in San Francisco. I do understand now that the story has unfolded. 

I think Louis has just had enough of it all, talking about it with Daniel who kind of brushed it off in his intoxicated state and his argument with Armand only fuels that. He wants to be with Claudia, she's the one that he says is calling him, and if dying is how he's going to get to meet her again, then so be it. Now, the whole situation with Armand leaving Louis on that bed to suffer while he begs for relief definitely rubbed me the wrong way. Louis no longer has Claudia to nurse him back to health, as she did when he was dropped, so he has no choice but to rely on Armand and that sucks. Armand is in here torturing Daniel while he leaves Louis to holler and yell for him, that's so messed up. Even going as far as to contact Lestat and relay messages from him to Louis, and omitting some things. The psychological abuse at play here is crazy to think about.

I also want to talk about the power balance that has been discussed as well. Yes, Louis is able to express himself a bit more and in a different way in his relationship with Armand. They have an understanding of each other and what the other needs and their roles and positions switch based on what one needs at that moment. The whole Arun/Maitre thing is really working in Armand's favor more, in my personal opinion. He knows just how to push enough to get Louis to fall in line with that. You can see that towards the end when Armand calls Louis maitre after all he said. He's all of a sudden asking Louis to lead after everything that has happened, after Louis had to beg, and Louis will happily oblige in order to keep the peace between them. I wonder in what other instances has this happened before. We see Louis trying to keep Armand from falling off of the deep end while he, himself, is the one sitting in the coffin burned and charred begging for blood. So curious as to how this will all unfold in the coming episodes, I know Dubai will be a madhouse just as much as Paris. 

Aside from the analysis of relationships and arguments, this episode was amazing. The styling choices in both the filming and wardrobe were superb. I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact that this was Jacob and Assad's first episode they shot. It had to be funny to go from this to all the sweet lovey dovey stuff in the earlier episodes. I want to hear them talk about this more. Also, the SFX makeup was amazing! Much love to everyone involved with that! And it was nice to finally see Luke! He played that part so well. This and episode two are my absolute favorites so far. I wonder what's to come next in Dubai... 

[thisisallthehattersfault]

Yes yes body horror and Becoming The Monster as in Losing Oneself and the grotesqueries of transgression, of ill-fitting skin stretched too-tight over bones that feel like they don’t belong to you anymore — but what about body horror as metamorphoses? What about Becoming The Monster as in Embracing The Shadow? What about Wen Ning who has never felt more himself when he was alive than he does now that he’s dead?

He is a MASTERPIECE, the greatest work of the greatest demonic cultivator of all time! His life was characterized by fear and uncertainty and loneliness and it was only in death that he learned how strong he really was, how capable, how resilient. If he had been the Ghost General during the war, or right after it, would the Dafan Wen have still died?

I just want Wen Ning to settle into the whole being undead thing and decide that he’s pretty okay with it actually! There’s so little left for him to fear, and the few things he does find actively unpleasant are all things that Wei Gongzi can probably fix if he takes some time to work on it. Wen Ning doesn’t like asking people for things, most certainly not for his own sake, but at the same time… Wei Wuxian, as an inventor, would want to know how his master work is faring, right? He’s never completely satisfied with anything he makes, always tweaking and tinkering, and he does keep Asking of Wen Ning needs anything, so…

I dunno where I’m really going with this but I think it’d be interesting to explore an AU where maybe Wen Ning gets to be lowkey kind of excited that he’s now an unkillable hyperbadass literally powered by all the rage he suppressed for so many years AND he gets to have that while also maintaining his cognizance and his genuine desire to help other people. Wen Qing shielded him from as much as she could but the results of that were Wen Ning feeling like he was quietly suffocating under the weight of his sister’s controlling brand of overprotectiveness — he loves her and appreciates everything she did for him but god was she good at making him feel small and helpless — and it didn’t even work because life under Wen Rohan was such constant stress that by the time Lotus Pier was burned Wen Ning was damn near numb to it. Now? Wen Ning only answers to one master. A master who Knows How To Utilize Him. A master who respects and cares for him as a person without trying to smother him! Wen Ning takes quiet pride in his existence as Wei Wuxian’s magnum opus and consequently in his ability to actually function as his General (personal bodyguard, second in command, right hand man!) he is the living (kinda) embodiment of both his family’s drive to survive and protect each other and his master’s brilliance and ingenuity.

I just think it would be cool! I just think it would be cool.

[skyllion-uwu]

[beautysamour]

squirt training with miguel! mommy pleaseee i’m begging on my knees 🤲🏻🧎‍♀️

squirt training with miguel o’hara ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

— a/n: ❤︎.

warnings ﾟ𐦍༘⋆: vulgar language. reader goes into sub space

“Relax, hermosa, you can’t do it if you’re not relaxed.”

You squeeze his fingers—his hand being too big as a whole—once, twice, as you try to stabilize your breathing. You can barely keep your eyes open, you were too overwhelmed, too aware of the little movements, too overstimulated.

Your thighs shake as Miguel spreads them further apart, “Let’s do this one more time.”

It was a blatant lie, he said the same thing an hour ago, or maybe it was two? Three? You don’t remember, your memory was too hazy due to constant pleasure Miguel kept giving you.

Could you blame him though? He’s only trying to help his poor girl.

You squeezed your eyes shut as Miguel dragged one of his long fingers down the middle of your cunt, your pussy clenches onto nothing by default. “Relax,” Miguel purrs.

You think it’s unfair— no, unrealistic for you to be able to relax. Not with your puffy pussy going through the same routine over and over, cumming so aggressively and then getting pet softly, getting the princess treatment until Miguel hits that spot and prods at it hoping that he’ll get drenched in your fluids—but is only met with cum leaking around his fingers.

“‘m trying,” you murmur as tears start to well in your eyes. You want to so badly, to make him happy, to squirt for him and it makes you so sad that all you can do is pitifully cum around his fingers.

Miguel hums and tilts your chin up, “Look at me. Don’t look away, got it?”

Your eyes fluttered shut as he started to rub circles against the folds of your pussy—and opened just as quickly when Miguel lightly hit your chin with his index finger, “I said don’t look away cariño, closing your eyes is looking away.”

A whimper leaves your mouth as Miguel leaned over you, mouth immediately finding that sensitive spot behind your ear and sucks as a finger smoothly slides itself into your cunt.

“Am I understood, hermosa?”

You jolt as Miguel enters another long finger into your cunt. Usually even one of his fingers can fill up all the space in your tight pussy, but not tonight.

He’s loosened it enough for you to be able to take his dick in one go.

“Hermosa,” your eyes widened, body becoming stiff as he hits that spot. “I asked you a question.”

His eyes flicker down to where your pussy and his fingers connect, the pulsing of your cunt distracting him.

He puts in a third finger as he rubs your g-spot, stars enter your vision.

“Yes,” your voice raises as he quickens the pace of his fingers, “Yes! I under—understa—nd.” You gaze into his eyes. Lust and determination is seen in his, desire and pure ecstasy is seen in yours.

“Bueno,” Miguel whispers. He buries his face into your neck, sucking a pretty little hickey for you. “Muy bueno, hermosa.”

A moan rips out your throat, you aren’t sure if it’s because of the praise—or because of how quick Miguel’ fingers are moving in your pussy.

You aren’t able to think much about it, Miguel pulls his head away from your neck, he eyes trained on your cunt as your body starts to arch off the bed. He sets a hand against your stomach, eyes still on your pussy, and pushes you back against the bed.

“Miguel,” you moan, fingers gripping into the sheet as Miguel ignores you. His pace somehow quickens and then—

A hand flies to your back, supporting your body as your body spasms and something that feels different from cum comes out your pussy. Your eyes are on Miguel’ and finally, he’s eyes are on yours—the lust somehow more prominent in his eyes.

He hums as you start to babble in his arms, his fingers still in your pussy—still moving but slower—and he adjusts your body so your sitting in his lap.

You mewl as your head flops down on one of his tits, a sadistic smirk forms on his face as he kisses the top of your head. The squelching of your wet, wet pussy fills the silence along with your soft, somewhat quiet, whimpers.

He massages your nub as your body starts to shake.

“Miguel,” you weakly call out, “Did—did I do it,” you ask looking for praise.

He presses your nub and tilts your head about with his other hand, exposing your hickey to him. He praises himself internally then presses a kiss on your hickey, “Yes, hermosa, you did,” he licks the hickey, “Knew you’d be able to.”

Your pussy flutters around his fingers, the praise going straight to it, until Miguel tilts your head again to make you look at him.

You look at him, doe eyed, as his flicks your nub and presses a kiss onto your puffy lips. You return the kiss immediately—body pressing up against him and hands caressing his abs. His tongue enters your mouth and you don’t resist him at all.

He pulls away leaving a string of saliva connected to you. His dick hardens painfully as he notes the way you look up at him.

He pulls you closer to him with a grunt and slightly quickens the pace of his fingers—your eyes widen in realization, “Do you think you can do it again for me, hermosa?”

[youryanderedaddy]

can you write gentle yandere taking their darling for the first time vs mean sadistic yandere taking them for the first time?

Btw I love ur work 💖💘💗

tw: female reader, non - con, kidnapping, obsessive/possessive behavior, sadism, degradation, slut - shaming

Gentle ~

You know the type of guy I'm talking about. Big and buff, dark - haired, cries a lot. Watches romance movies in his free time and actually calls his mother even outside of the holiday season. Wears slutty little black fitted shirts after working out and brings you smoothies after work. He smiles and blushes. The man is a massive loser with an undying passion for anything nerdy, be it dragons, board games, collecting marks. Who would really expect this poor soul to hurt even a fly?

But he does.

It doesn't happen until months after he's taken you in. Most of the time he's being the perfect gentleman (aside from literally keeping you captive) - he cooks for you, brings you roses and chocolates (even when you throw them away or tear the petals from the flowers), cleans and doesn't make you lift a finger. He reads you poetry until your ears bleed. He tells you he loves you one hundred times a day and seemingly doesn't care about your snorts or the way you roll your eyes and push him away, already so used to your living situation you can't even find it in yourself to be scared. You think he's harmless - as harmless as a lovesick puppy.

But then one night he comes home, an unusual frown on his otherwise soft face. There is a certain type of madness in his hazel eyes. They are still so very soft and adoring, he still sees you as a Goddess in need of worship... but there is also something dark and muddy. Something possessive.

Your captor kisses you on the cheek and that much is granted - he does it every day, along with shouting "Honey, I'm home" at the door. He hugs you - tight. Tighter than ever before, it feels as if the man is trying to crush you in a suffocating embrace, like he wants to swallow you whole within his arms. For the first time you realise just how muscular he is - how much stronger he is. And then he picks you up like a blushing bride and leaves a quick peck on your forehead before taking you to the bedroom and carefully laying you down.

He doesn't give you time to ask questions - as soon as he steps a foot in your shared room, he's already tearing apart his clothes, revealing his ripped form.

"See anything you like, sweetness?" the man asks you, rubbing his hands together as he towers over you, caging you between two beefy arms. You stay silent for a moment, mouth agape at the suddenness of it all - you have never seen him like this. He starts caressing your cheeks and slowly moves down, and that's when it finally settles in your mind. You need to act quickly.

"Stop." you say authoritatively, just like you have done so many times before, praying it would work like it had in the past. But not now. This time he simply shakes his head, a crazed smile playing on his lips as he lowers his head and kisses your neck softly, lovingly. It's terrifying. You're not used to this. You don't know how to react. "Baby, I can't hold it in anymore." Your captor whispers, head resting against your shoulder, voice low and desperate - almost whiny.

"I really tried." he swallows thickly. "I swear. I tried cold showers a-and thinking about bad things but..." he bites his lip, staring at you. You look so small and helpless and, God, he respects you, he really does, but he can't help the way his crotch twitches and his pants tighten as he watches you squirm and tremble, oh-so-small and panicky, defenceless little hands scratching at his arms, but failing to make him budge.

"But every time I come home all pent up and annoyed after dealing with bastards all day, all I want is to bend you over," he continues after moving a lock of your hair out of the way so he can whisper directly into your naked ear. "And fuck-”, he says as he pins your hands to the bed frame, enjoying seeing you wiggle and pant. "The shit-" he can feel your heart beat faster and faster as your whole body gets warmer. It's awfully intimate. "Out of-" he's so excited now that he grabs your hips rather roughly, and ruts against your core, whimpering as his crotch rubs all over your clothed slit. "you".

He growls, now more akin to a lion or a bear than to a human.

He tries to enter you slowly so he wouldn’t hurt you, but the moment your tight velvety walls wrap around his hard throbbing length, he’s reduced to a feral whimpering mess, shoving at you in short sloppy thrusts, completely pussy - drunk. He lasts less than five minutes before he pulls out and cums all over your stomach, watching in fascination as his seed marks you. He slams his lips against yours, swallowing your hushed protests as he murmurs “Mine” over and over again, gripping your hips closer when he feels you pulling away.

Once his brain has cleared enough to be able to think properly he helps you clean up, touching you so gently you wonder if this wild, brutish side he exhibited was all but a dream. But it’s still very much there, barely contained under the surface - and one single moment of freedom and passion is enough to open Pandora's box. 

After that night he feels a lot more comfortable with touching you, for better or worse. 

Mean ~

He doesn’t wait for you to adjust to your ‘new life’ before he basically pounces on you like a predator. To be completely honest, he’s wanted to fuck you within inches of your life since the time he first saw you - the only thing keeping him at bay for a while were the countless pretty pictures he had of you naked and writhing in your own bed in the comfort of your home that all the secret cameras he had installed managed to capture.

Before he used to treat your home footage like his own personal cam - girl show; sometimes he would wait to leave work, jerking all over your face on his screen the moment he gets home. Other times he wasn’t so patient, and he had to sneak off to the restroom any time a thought about you occurred, stroking himself to completion as he blasted his recordings of your quiet moans on his headphones.

But now you’re here in the flesh - the real thing, tied so tight you can’t move an inch, trembling all over just like a bunny caught in a trap by the hunter. He wants you completely immobilised - he’s waited ages for this moment and he wants absolutely no distractions getting in the way of him finally taking his price.

You sob pitifully, your mouth the only part of your body left uncovered, and you try to plead with him desperately. You promise him money, influence, anything he wants - whatever would be able to get you out of this hellish predicament. You even offer to give him a blowjob - which he simply sneers at, grabbing a fistfull of your hair. 

“Oh, doll, the night is still young. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.” He looks possessed, ready to feast on your flesh. You shiver, curling into yourself as much as possible - but he pulls your legs on both sides of his thighs, his hands seeming grand across your rickety ankles. “You’ll get your chance to choke on this cock soon enough.” He grabs his bulge crudely, massaging it through his thick stained grey pants. “Right now all I want is to see this cute little pussy stretched on my meat and those pretty tits bouncing in the air as I slap them red.”

It really doesn’t matter if you’re a virgin or not, you’re getting brutalised either way - although his comments would be different.

If you’re a virgin, he’s making sure you get the whole of his length in one - there is something terribly amusing about the toe - curling scream you let out as his cock tears you apart, something borderline pornographic in the way your brows twist and your nostrils flare, lips shut tight as to not give him the pleasure of hearing your pain out loud. But it’s obvious, and he wants you to know that he enjoys it through and through - licking your tears and the sweat off your neck, pinching at your thighs, your breasts, your stomach; whatever makes you cry the most. 

If you’re not a virgin, he still finds a way to get his fun out of you. 

“I don’t feel you clenching on me, you little slut.” He smacks your cheek with little force behind it - it’s not meant to hurt you, but to humiliate you and drive his point across. “Did you have a fucking train ran on you? I should have known you’d be a filthy whore.” He bites at your lower lip, pulling at it until he hears you whine pitifully - leaving his mark on you. “Should’a known with these cocksucking lips of yours, and ngh-” He sinks into you, voice breaking once the tip of his dick brushes against your cervix. “And t-those slutty hips, shit, keep squeezing me just like that, n-ngh, I am going to ruin you all over again!”

He fucks you for who knows how long - when he’s finally satisfied, the sun is already up and you’re drenched in sweat and cum. There isn’t a single part of your body that doesn’t ache.

He leaves you there, snickering at the sight of your empty stare fixed on the ceiling - only reaching to untie you and cuff your ankle to the bed frame instead. You weakly raise an eyebrow in question.

“Stay here until I come back, okay?” He grins with malice, caressing your wet matted hair. “Hah, not that you can really go anywhere.”

[babyleostuff]

today was (not) a fairytale

fluff (+ a bit of angst) 𐙚 established relationship 𐙚 idol!mingyu x fem!reader 𐙚 wc: 1.6k

. . . mingyu forgets about your anniversary

mingyu was a busy guy, that was obvious. but one thing he was never too busy for was you. it didn’t matter if it was just a can you couldn’t open, or a spider that had to be killed - mingyu was always there for you, no questions asked. to be honest, you could call him and tell him you wanted a hug, and he’d drop whatever he was doing just so he could trap you in a bear hug for the rest of the evening. that was how whipped he was. 

and now he was late. two hours. 

at first you thought something had happened - you texted some of the boys to ask if they knew where he was, you called his mom - you even checked the latest news, worried to see any updates about a car accident. 

nothing. 

sitting at an expensive restaurant full of people by yourself was humiliating enough, but what bothered you even more was that it was supposed to be your anniversary dinner. mingyu never missed any milestones of your relationship, he even bought you small gifts on the date you had your first kiss. 

then it hit you - his location. quickly pulling your phone out of your bag, you couldn’t believe your eyes.

he was at seungcheol’s place. 

not bothering to call your boyfriend - it wasn’t like he was answering any of your calls before, so why bother - you called the oldest boy, fiddling with your napkin that you wouldn’t be probably using tonight either way. 

“hey, is everything okay?” seungcheol asked immediately. it wasn’t often that you called him, especially at such a late hour, so he figured something must have happened. 

“is mingyu with you?” you heard some shuffling in the background, and noises that sounded a lot like your boyfriend and hoshi. 

“um, yeah. you want me to pass him the phone?” you could clearly hear seungcheol’s confusion in his voice, but you weren’t in the “shitting rainbows and unicorns” mood, so you didn’t even bother with hiding your annoyance. 

“fan-fucking-tastic.” 

you couldn’t believe he actually forgot about your anniversary. you had been planning this date for such a long time now. getting a reservation at this restaurant wasn’t easy, even mingyu had to pull a few strings and flash a couple of polite smiles, so you could come here on the exact day of your milestone. you prepared matching outfits for god’s sake. how could have he forgotten? 

“tell him not to come back home tonight,” you said, and hung up the phone before seungcheol could say anything. 

you spend the whole ride home trying to keep your tears from falling. you didn’t know what was worse - sitting in a restaurant for two hours waiting for someone who was over at his friend’s house drinking soju, or that the love of your life forgot about something so important. 

the second you got inside your apartment you practically ripped off the dress you were wearing, suddenly almost disgusted by the feel of it on your skin. your shoes joined soon after, and not even five minutes after getting back home you got changed into PJs (for once not being mingyu’s shirt), and poured yourself a glass of wine. 

“happy anniversary i quess.” 

when you were about to turn off all of the lights in the living room for the night, you heard the door open and close with much more force than needed. 

“baby? baby, where ar-,” he emerged from around the corner, stopping right in front of you. you took in his form - hair tousled from the wind, his shirt from practice still on, and shoes on his feet, which never happened - mingyu never wore shoes inside the house. huh, he must’ve been in a real hurry to get here. 

“i’m so sorry, i got here as quickly as possible,” he said, a little out of breath. you had to stop the urge to laugh in his face because what the hell? 

“too bad you didn’t bother to show up where you really were supposed to be, mingyu,” you snickered, anger radiating off of you. your boyfriend knew he was in deep shit the second seungcheol shot him a worried look, and how he would make it up to you, he had no idea. 

“i know, baby-,” 

“don’t call me that. you don’t deserve it mingyu,” you pointed a finger at his chest. just then he noticed you got your nails done to match the design on his tie, and he could swear he died a little bit at that moment. “do you have any idea how humiliated i felt sitting there like an idiot, waiting for my fucking boyfriend who decided to go out with his friends on our anniversary?” 

“i called your friends, your family. i thought you got into an accident for fucks sake,” your voice cracked at the end of the sentence, as you finally felt something else than just anger. the thought of losing mingyu wasn’t something you wanted to think about on your anniversary night. “i was so excited for this, and you knew it,” you took in a shaky inhale, once again feeling the tears brimming in your eyes.  

it took everything from you not to hug mingyu, he looked so… sad, and just so defeated, and that wasn’t something you were used to seeing on your boyfriend’s face. 

“there are a thousand excuses on my mind right now, but none of them will excuse my behaviour,” he sighed, his lower lip trembling. please don't cry, please don’t cry. “i forgot,” he said, straightening his back a little. “i simply forgot, and nothing i do will make up for it.” 

tears clouded your eyes, and you couldn’t help when they started falling down your cheeks, probably ruining the makeup you put so much effort into. if you knew you’d end up crying on your anniversary night you’d use a waterproof mascara. mingyu hesitantly raised his hand, as if he was afraid you’d run away from him, but when he saw you didn’t move an inch, he started wiping off the tears of your face with a gentle swipe of his thumb, almost as if you were about to fall apart. 

“say something. no, yell at me,” he said, and put your hand against his chest. “you can even hit me,” mingyu said, pleading in his eyes. “please, just do something.” 

“i don’t want to yell at you,” you sniffled, wiping off the rest of the tears yourself. “and i definitely don’t want to hit you. i just-,” you looked at him and only then noticed the dark circles under his eyes. did his face get slimmer too? “when was the last time you slept?”

he looked a bit taken aback by your question, considering he was begging you to hit him like a second ago. “to be honest, i don’t know, but i took some naps in the practice room. that’s not import-,”  

“when was the last time you ate?” you interrupted him again. 

his eyes softened because there was no way he just stood you up on one of the most important days of the year, and you were asking him about his well being. “i don't know.” 

i don’t know. hearing those words from a person who inhaled food like a vacuum, and could never say no to a snack broke your heart. how did you not notice how exhausted he was before? 

“oh, mingyu,” you said, tearing up again. “why didn’t you tell me, i would’ve brought you some food.” 

“i know, but i didn’t want to burden you. i knew i’d be fine,” he said, voice gentle. “besides, that’s not important now. let’s talk about how big of an asshole i am,” he grabbed your face in both of his hands, tilting it more upwards. 

“how can you say it’s not important?” you murmured, nuzzling your face further into his palm. “i don’t think i’ve ever seen you without food for longer than an hour.” 

“hey, i don’t eat that much,” you couldn’t help but giggle at his words, and seeing mingyu’s face lit up at your, albeit quiet, laughter, you felt the anger leaving you for good.  

maybe you were too selfish? all you lived for for the past week was the date, but in the process you managed to somehow miss how exhausted your boyfriend was. yes, he did forget, but he was so overworked lately, you couldn’t really blame him, right? and it wasn’t like you were a saint either, you missed some dates in the past too. 

“whatever you’re thinking, drop it,” he said sternly. “don’t try to make any excuses for me. i forgot, okay? it’s all my fault.” 

technically you knew you had every right to be furious at him, hell - an hour you cursed him out with every curse word you knew, but maybe it wasn't the time to think straight, and just give the light of your life a second chance. “i don’t want to fight,” you said, wrapping your hands around his wrists. “and we still have,” you looked over at the clock, “two hours before midnight. we have the wine, and i think i have a pizza in the freezer.” 

mingyu shook his head in disbelief. “there’s no way you’re real.” leaning in, he placed a peck on your cheek, filling your chest with a warm, fuzzy feeling. “you look beautiful by the way,” he whispered, and put his forehead against yours. “i’m really sorry.” 

“i know, gyu. i know,” you whispered. “and mingyu?” 

“yeah?” 

“you can call me “baby” again.”

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[kelstey]

mattheo riddle ☆ confess

mattheo riddle x reader

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃

he hadnt taken his eyes off of you once.

mattheo's gaze lingered on you the whole time you were on the dance floor, not going unnoticed by you. you continued to grind against some random gryffindor, acting oblivious to mattheo's death stare.

less aimed at you, more at the boy who clearly got too excited. mattheo tried to control the urge to absolutely tear him apart then and there but he couldn't. he didn't fancy getting into trouble.

it was even worse that you were wearing a slightly provocative dress - mattheo didn't mind, he could fight. but he did mjnd the fact that someone else's hands were all over you, not his.

you felt grossed out as the gryffindor's hands trailed down your body, wishing they were mattheos as his touch was the only thing you craved.

mattheo finally tore his eyes away from the scene, going over to the drinks table to join his other slytherin friends.

"when are you going to tell her?" enzo asked as he noticed mattheo's arrival.

"what?" mattheo looked at enzo confused.

"don't act stupid, you're in love with the damn girl. you do realise she's one of the most beautiful

- if not most beautiful girl in hogwarts, and other guys are most definitely plotting," enzo sipped the torturous alcohol mixed punch.

"what if she doesn't feel the same way?" mattheo said before taking a shot of vodka, the burn of the liquor tore down his throat.

"don't be silly. you both look at each other like you're the only other people in the world, everyone can see it. but id hurry cause looks like that boy she's dancing with has some other plans," enzo motioned his head to where you were dancing up against a boy.

mattheo's jaw clenched as the other boys hands made their way around your body, a desperate look in his eyes along with a clear bulge as your ass grinded on him.

without thinking, mattheo walked over to you, ripping you away from the boy. "mattheo what the fuck?!" you slurred.

"what the fuck are you doing?" he asked as he held your arm.

"having fun, what else does it look like?" you replied.

"really? cause i can see the disgust in your face as you dance on this twat," mattheo said angrily.

"what's your deal? it's not like we're dating," you said. what you didn't realise is that those words felt like multiple stabs going through his heart.

he knew you weren't dating, of course. the two of you were just best friends who clearly had feelings for each other but were far too stubborn to ever admit it.

"fine, be like that then," mattheo said and let go of you before storming off.

a week had passed since that party, an awkward tension laid amongst your friend group every time the two of you were there that didn't go unnoticed by the others.

neither of you had spoken a word to each other, once again your stubbornness and pride were both far too high to break the no contact.

"for fucks sake! cant the two of you just make up?" draco threw his hands up in the air. the boys were all having a discussion in the slytherin common room about the whole situation between you and mattheo.

"no way, if she wants to speak to me, she can speak to me. i am not talking to her," mattheo rolled his eyes.

"the two of you are literally two little kids, grow up and get over it," blaise added in.

"i agree, mattheo you have no problem getting with other girls so why is it so hard for you to do that with her?" draco said.

mattheo pondered for a bit. why was it so hard? maybe due to the fact that he was purely and utterly in love with you compared to the other girls in hogwarts who were really only used for his pleasure.

"see! you not speaking says so much, get a grip and tell her," blaise said.

"suck my dick," mattheo said before storming off to go to the black lake. he liked the peace; and even better that it was raining so no other students were likely to be there.

apart from you of course. you were sat feeding a squirrel with some trail mix you had in your bag. you were slumped at the bottom of a tree, reading peacefully before spotting a red squirrel.

it made its way over to you and you remembered the mixed nuts you had. you were in awe of the small creature, how it had no fear being cradled in your hand as you fed it.

a twig snapped which scared the squirrel and it ran off. "are you fucking joking me?" you stood up and turned to the source of the noise.

and of course mattheo was stood there. "what are you doing here?" he asked.

"i wanted some peace and quiet," you mumbled before picking up your book and tote bag, ready to leave.

"what's your problem?" mattheo stepped in your way before you could walk past him.

"you!" you shoved his chest and he stumbled back.

"me? right, and what have i done?" he raised his voice.

you grew frustrated, you didn't actually have much of a problem with mattheo. and it didn't help that he looked amazing as the rain soaked his hair and part of his shirt, just enough for you to see his toned abs.

"you know what you've done!" you raised your voice back, you didn't give a reasoning due to the fact you didn't have one, of course you could not lose this argument.

"yeah? why don't you tell me then?" mattheo walked up to you, his large frame towering over you.

"just get out of my head! fuck! every single day you're just there, and i can't help but think of you all the time. do you know how annoying it is seeing you have a new girl sit on your lap almost every time we eat at the great hall? how you want every girl in hogwarts but me? cant you see i fucking love you mattheo?" you shouted, tears welling in your eyes from the overly raw emotions and the fact you just poured your heart out to him.

"so you think ignoring me is going to solve the problem?" mattheo asked.

"yes - no - i don't know?! i want to stop loving you but i can't! i've loved you since second year and i always will!" you confessed.

"what the fuck? i've loved you since second year!" mattheo confessed back.

"then why the fuck aren't you doing anything about it?" you questioned. your question was quickly answered when mattheo grabbed your face and pulled you in. his lips smashed onto yours and things quickly escalated into a very intense make out session.

the anger and annoyance you had from the past week quickly disappeared, you couldn't help but now feel completed and happy. your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him even closer. mattheo's hands snaked around your waist, somehow getting you even closer.

the two of you broke the kiss, gasping for air.

"why didn't you do that sooner?" you asked.

"i'm doing it now, and i think that's all that matters."

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃

[pers1st]

let down - leah williamson x reader

pairing: barca!reader x leah williamson

warnings: barça being broke

In truth, you shouldn't be nervous.

This conversation had been going on for months - it was no secret that Barça had many financial problems, and paying you, Alexia and Aitana as their midfield would always have been difficult. You had had countless conversations like these before - negotiating your new contract, negotiating your new wage, which you knew would be significantly lower. It didn't bother you, though. You would've picked up a second job if it meant playing for your childhood club, even if they refused to pay you.

This setting, however, seemed a lot more official than it should've, in your opinion.

You were still dressed in your clothes from training, and so was Jona, but the rest of Barça's management was dressed properly - in suits and leather shoes. They shouldn't have even been there yet. This conversation was meant to simply verbalize your new contract, not to sign it yet. You were in no conditions to take the usual photos and sit in front of the camera for an interview after the contract extension. It confused you.

"Y/N, we are so sorry."

That was how Jona started, and in that particular moment, your heart stopped. No, this couldn't- they wouldn't dare-

"We can't renew your contract."

Silence followed. Then, your shaky voice. Barely above a whisper.

"What?"

This whole situation seemed too surreal to be true. Maybe in a few seconds, your eyes would open and you would find out that this was just a horrible dream. If it hadn't been for your manager's piercing gaze on you, you might've pinched yourself under the table.

"We don't have the financial means to pay you enough to stay. I know it's not what you want to hear, but-"

"No, Jona, we talked about this. You can cut my wage, I don't mind. I'll stay here, whatever it takes. Alexia said she would-"

But the man in front of you didn't let you finish.

"You are right, we talked about this. And I told you that you deserve more than what we can give you, and that you cannot let us undermine you. It's not fair to you, it's not fair to all the women who are-"

This time, you were the one to interrupt him.

"But this? This isn't fair to me!"

That was how the argument unfolded, and only after your voice was hoarse from crying and pleading, your cheeks stained with tears and your manager stained with guilt, did you leave the office to fall into Alexia's arms, who had been listening in from the other side of the door for God knew how long.

It was January currently, which meant that as soon as you silently agreed with them to sign you to whatever club payed the most, you were out.

Just like that, the chance to play in front of the Culers for one last time was ripped away from you. They received a half-hearted announcement via Instagram, you received twenty women in your apartment, ready to pack your things. In all honesty, you had wished for no one to see as you organized your life into moving boxes and shipped them over the sea for whoever from Arsenal to receive, mostly because it would've felt even less real. Mostly because then, the goodbye wouldn't have hit you as hard. Ona tried to offer you advice on how to get by in England, telling you all about her experience abroad. Mapi tried to lift the spirits by joking around. Ingrid held you as you allowed tears to fall, and Alexia made sure you didn't forget anything, offering to take care of the things you would leave behind in Barcelona.

It was only you and Alexia at the airport. Your best friend, since the day you had been selected to play for the senior team of Barcelona, had shared many angry words with the management, and at one point even threatened to leave if you really had to. But the papers were signed, and the boxes were packed, and there was nothing left to do for Alexia besides holding your shaky frame as tears clouded your vision for what felt like the millionth time.

"You'll be okay, bebita. You'll enjoy London, and then you'll come back. I promise, you'll come back."

The both of you knew that there was no way she could ever promise that - Barça's financial difficulties were far too severe to sign you back soon - the most expensive player in the world, currently. When, or if the smoke would clear up, neither of you could know. Still, her words soothed you the tiniest as you held onto the glimpse of hope your best friend gave you as if it was a lifeline.

"Enjoy London, okay?"

You nodded, although you knew that you wouldn't. What good was London compared to Barcelona? What good was the capital of England compared to your lifelong home?

"Vamos, carino", Alexia huffed as she let go of you, gently pushing you towards your gate.

"Call me, okay? ¡Te amo!", she yelled after you as you turned away from her, and the hurt in her voice made a new layer of tears stream down on your cheeks, but you knew that if you looked back at her now, you would never board that plane. If leaving to England was what it took for your club to keep functioning, you would. If playing for Arsenal meant that you would be back in blaugrana one day, you would wear that ugly red shirt and call yourself a Gunner. You wouldn't do it happily, though.

London looked ugly when you flew over it, and London looked ugly when you landed in Heathrow Airport. You had expected people from the club to be there to pick you up, wearing Arsenal clothes and a sign with your name on it. It was apparently standard procedure, as Alexia had told you, though neither of you could really know because neither of you had never left the country to play football if it wasn't with the Spanish national team. What you hadn't expected, however, was Laia waving at you excitedly from across the hall, with two women dressed in the same hoodie as her, one significantly smaller (you guessed she was Kim) and one Leah Williamson.

You had never followed English football much, likely why you hadn't recognized Kim when you'd first searched up your new team on the internet, but Leah was the kind of footballer everyone was just.. aware of.

Admittedly, she was even prettier in real life.

"¡Hola, guapa!", Laia shrieked as you strolled over to your new teammates (the word 'teammate' along with 'new' still left a bitter taste in your mouth), dragging your suitcase behind you tiredly. The plain ride had worn you out - in all honesty, the entire past week had worn you out. Ever since you'd been told that you would leave the club that you had bled for, you hadn't been able to close half an eye.

Still, Laia's excitement was unmatched as she pulled you into a tight hug, allowing your face to sag against her shoulder. You didn't allow yourself to cry anymore, and so you could see Leah and Kim smile at you softly from a few steps behind the other Spanish woman without tears clouding your vision.

Laia continued to speak in Spanish, asking you about the flight, about how the Barça girls were, about how excited she was that you were finally here and she wasn't the only Spaniard at the Arsenal.

If Kim and Leah thought it was rude that they were left out of the conversation entirely, they didn't say so. Still, you pushed Laia off gently, mustering the smallest of smiles you could.

"Hello."

Your English wasn't very good, but even you winced ever so slightly at the realization of how truly cold you sounded. You didn't want to be here, didn't want any of them to show you your new apartment, didn't want them to show you the club, to bring you to training, to give you a red jersey and call you a Gunner.

But you needed to suck it up. Life wasn't fair. And if Alexia's words held any truth, this would merely be a temporal situation.

"Hey", Kim smiled at you. Her English sounded funny, but her smile was more genuine than yours as she introduced herself and Leah. You hadn't needed her to, but it was a nice gesture anyways.

"It's good to have you here", Leah smiled as she gently lay her arm across your shoulder.

"Wanna see your new flat?", you nodded as Leah guided you out of the hall, your luggage left with Laia who strolled behind you alongside Kim.

Leah's confidence and her proximity to you, your side pressed against hers, was making your head spin ever so slightly. You had, admittedly, hoped that Leah, as co-captain and being about to return to the pitch, would understand how badly you didn't want to be at Arsenal, seeing as she bled for the club the way you did for Barcelona. Maybe she could grasp the idea of being forced out of her home, and sympathize with you in the slightest. And it seemed she did, as she pointed towards what you guessed was Kim's car, leaving you and Laia in the backseats as you drove through the city. London was different from Barcelona.

It was slightly less ugly now, with impressive buildings and a few bits of nature sprawled around as Kim maneuvered the car through the streets. It was cold, though, and as you were shivering slightly, Kim put the heat just a bit higher. It was grey, as well. Not a single ray of sunshine was able to break through the barrier of clouds in the sky, and it reminded you a lot of your current mood, though you were hesitant to show it.

Leah and Kim seemed genuine in their efforts to make this transition as easy for you as possible, given the fact that your apprehension to leave Barcelona was a very well known fact. You had dedicated an Instagram post with a very heartfelt caption to your departure, which made it very clear that you did not leave on your own accord.

Their dedication to welcome you, though, made you feel the tiniest bit of unfair. The women were genuinely trying, and they promised you during the car ride, when asking whether or not you were nervous, that the whole team was excited to meet you. Maybe you could try a little bit. Maybe you could enjoy this for the time being.

"Here we are."

You could see Kim's smile through the rearview mirror as she parked her car in front of an old building which you guessed was your new apartment complex. The car had left the central of London around twenty minutes ago, and at your confused expression, Laia had huffed that the club was in North London, not Central London.

"¿Es un poco feo, no?", (It's a bit ugly) you asked Laia as you stared at the shabby building. The walls were grey, and the parking lot was grey, and it seemed like everything in London was just.. grey. Plain.

"¡No, Y/N! Leah vida aquí también", (Leah lives here too) Laia huffed at your comment, shaking her head while chuckling at your statement. You shrugged, ignoring the way Leah and Kim furrowed their brows at your Spanish conversation while climbing out of your seat to retrieve your luggage.

You insisted on carrying your suitcase up the small flight of stairs as well, though Laia offered to do it for you. The two of you hadn't been super close when she'd still played at Barcelona, but you had been quite good friends, and having at least one familiar face soothed you.

"This is it", Leah smiled softly as the four of you stepped into the hallway, following your curious steps into the flat. It was plain as well, of course it was. For the first time since calming down on the plane, you had to fight tears again. The flat was nice, sure. The club had organized a quite spacious place, with lots of room and comfortable-looking furniture. But it was bare. You knew that shopping for furniture would be a hassle in the middle of the season, so you had rented it furnitured.

You missed your green couch, the thrifted, quite antique sideboard, the golden-framed mirror. You missed the framed shirts on your wall, the clothing rack with all of the shirts you had swapped with other players. All of those things were now packed away in a storage room somewhere in Barcelona. You missed Barcelona.

"Es pretty", you mumbled, dropping your keys on the white coffee table and turning around to look at Leah, who was still holding on to your large bag, the Barcelona badge imprinted on it. The look she gave you, eyebrows slightly raised, eyes looking somewhat defeated, told you that you hadn't been able to fool her.

Laia and Kim left quickly, with the excuse of having early training tomorrow and needing to run whatever errands, but Leah stayed.

"I live in the same building, so I could help you unpack if you want?"

In truth, you didn't want her to help. You didn't want her to swoop through your things, eyeing all of your personal belongings, all of the tokens of your previous home that you had left so promptly, but you didn't have the heart to tell her no. So, the two of you got to work, after a small tour through the whole unit, finding the bedroom, the bathroom and another room that you guessed you would use for storage. Your kitchen was small, after all, and it was filled with things you didn't know how to use.

"What's this?", you asked as you held up a scoop of some sort, that you had found while rummaging through your cupboards.

"It's a tea scoop, for making loose tea", Leah explained with a chuckle, taking the utensil from your hand to showcase how one scoops.

"I don't drink tea", you huffed, taking the scoop back and shoving it into the back of the cupboard before closing it a little harsher than you would have expected.

"You're in England now, you're gonna drink tea."

You decided to ignore her comment, instead opening the next drawer.

"I have a microwave", you pointed out, moving slightly to the side so that Leah could look. She was awfully close to you again, and it made you nervous.

"So you can make paellas", Leah snickered, nudging her hips against yours playfully. At that, you turned towards her, taking a shocked step back.

"Joder, you don't microwave paellas! What is wrong with you? Mujer loca", (crazy woman) you exclaimed, nudging her back playfully before diving into the next cupboard. Maybe London wouldn't be as horrible as you thought.

notes: this is baaaaad honestly but we move

[tteokdoroki]

ideal valentines gift would be a stuffed plushie ♡ can I swipe sweet on megumi ! ೀ

⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚⟡. — MEGUMI FUSHIGURO. swipe sweet: mailbox.

about. boom, it’s a match! for your first valentines day apart; you send a piece of yourself back home to your boyfriend, megumi ( 0.8K ).

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! sfw, fluff, characters aged up to 20s, college!au long distance relationships, established relationships, afab!reader.

・:〃⤥ bumble date, swipe right event !

“did you get it?” 

“get what?” 

“my gift! that’s why i called you dummy,” you say as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. megumi can’t help but smile to himself, basking in the impatience that coats your dulcet voice as rattles down the line. “i want you to open it while we’re on the phone together.” 

a box had arrived for megumi fushiguro this morning, february fourteenth, at the precise time of eight am. the time he usually wakes up to start his day. gojo had brought him the box with a teasing smile, graciously reminding his junior of the note on top — written by your hand with a glitter pen and stuck to the box with pink washi tape. 

‘do not open until tonight.’ it had read. 

with the distance between you both, tonight would mean the morning for you — and though it wasn’t ideal, it was the only way yourself and megumi would be able to spend Valentine’s Day together. you were studying abroad for a year, leaving your boyfriend behind and despite the tears and shifty internet connection — you’d made it work so far. 

just that this year, you wouldn’t be there in person to give your broody, moody boyfriend his valentine. 

so you settle with an early-morning-late-night phone call, where you can listen to megumi open your present to him after escaping the clutches of gojo for the day. 

“you’re sweet, you know that?” megumi tells you, quiet but earnest, tucking the phone between his shoulder and his ear to keep it steady. his large hands and slender fingers dance over the taped edge of the cardboard box at the centre of his bed  — finding that little uptick of plastic to rip at and pull the whole thing open. “what is it?” 

you scoff on the other end, the sound sends shivers down megumi’s spine. he misses you. “just open it dummy, then you’ll find out.” 

pushing his tongue into his cheek, he laughs airly into the phone and your heart rate quickens in response. “watch your mouth,” the man warns you softly, with no malice or trace of a threat in his voice. your giggling overlays the sound of tearing cardboard and rustling packing paper. 

“or what? we both know that if i go quiet you’ll miss me way too much, megs.” 

“don’t get ahead of yourself —“ megumi’s end of the line goes quiet. a comfortable static crackling through your speakers as you busy yourself with other things, waiting for his reaction to your special shipment from abroad. “i thought we said no gifts.” he deflects, bringing a fond smile to your face. as stoic as he may sound, the dark haired man is grateful that you’re not with him in person. that way you can’t see the way his face crumples and his lips fight to twitch with emotion. fushiguro isn’t the type of person to admit that he misses someone, especially you. “you didn’t have to…” 

but oh does he miss you. that sense of longing hits him with the force of a tsunami, causing his knees to buckle and for him to forcefully sit down on the edge of the bed. megumi thumbs your gift to him — the very first stuffed animal he’d ever won you on one of your very first dates at the beginning of your relationship. 

it’s white fluffy ears and red checked bow tie carry your scent, as if you’d held the bear tight before sending it across oceans to fushiguro. his heart lurches at the memory of you packing the little bear to take with you because you would miss your boyfriend and his closeness.

now he’s the one missing you, and that special bear has made it back to him. 

“i didn’t,” you hum at the same time that megumi lays back on his bed — holding the soft toy to his chest. your voice stays low, uses gentle affectionate tones and he feels as though you’re right there with him. whispering your love into his ear while you jay beside him. “but i’ve been gone for half a year, so i figured you’d hold onto the little guy for me for the other half. you know, until i get back and you don’t have to miss me anymore.” 

“you’re full of yourself,” fushiguro states, nose tucked into the white fluffy fur of your teddy bear. he inhales the scent of your sugary perfume and relaxes. “‘m pretty sure you miss me more than i miss you…but, uh, thank you.” 

“thank you, megs, for waiting for me.” 

megumi closes his eyes and pictures the day you get back, and the day that he can finally return the plushie to you. “there’s not long now,” he rasps just before the clock strikes midnight for him. “happy valentine’s day, baby. i…i love you.” 

“happy valentine’s.” comes your doting whisper. “i love you right back.” 

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[katebishopsbow]

UNWANTED • CHARLES LECLERC

pairing: charles leclerc x sister!reader

summary: your brother was ready to give you a serious lecture after you tried sneaking home from a late-night party. but when he saw your teary eyes and found out that a boy had made you feel unwanted, he felt like his heart was being ripped apart.

tags: angst, hurt/comfort, self-deprecating thoughts

word count: 1.5k

(image is not mine)

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

“Do you have any idea what time it is?”

The voice of your brother echoed through the dimly lit corridor of your home, startling you as you tried to sneak in quietly from a rather hectic night out. The disapproving tone of Charles’ reprimand couldn’t be missed, but you couldn’t find the strength within you to deal with his brotherly lecture just yet – not when the urge to cry clawed at your chest from the embarrassment you had just gone through at the party.

“Whatever, I don’t even care,” you muttered quietly before turning around to leave, but a hand clasped around your wrist and stopped you before you could escape to the sanctuary of your room. “What’s with the attitude?” Charles asked with a displeased frown, ready to unleash his scolding about how irresponsible you were being and the audacity to lash out at him when you had your family worried for the whole night. 

His words came to a sudden halt when he finally had a proper look at your face, noticing your red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks, and his heart was filled with a dreadful fear that something terrible had happened. “What’s wrong, chéri?” The previous irritation in his voice completely disappeared as he asked you tenderly in concern, but you refused to meet his eyes because you knew you would only cry harder if you did. “Just leave me alone,” you whispered with your head hung low, and you were grateful that he didn’t try stopping you as you trudged up the stairs to your room.

After a long shower that involved more tears and sobs, you thought you were beginning to feel better about the situation, but when you crawled into bed and had nothing but your own thoughts to keep you company, you found yourself wanting to burst into tears again. That was when a soft knock could be heard on your door, and you answered with a muffled “Okay” when your brother asked if he could come in.

Charles peeked his head through the gap in the door, looking so much like a lost child it was almost endearing. “Hey… do you want to talk about it?” he said with a cautious glint in his eyes, not wanting you to feel forced or pressured to talk to him if you weren’t ready to. You thought about it for a second, and nodded yes when you decided that you much rather have his company than be alone with your anxious thoughts.

The look of utter dejection on your face was something Charles wished he never had to see ever again. “Do I have to beat someone up?” You vehemently shook your head, well aware that he wasn’t joking around and would do anything to protect you. “No… It was my fault, anyway,” you spoke with a sorrowful voice, silently blaming yourself when the events of the night drifted across your mind once more.

“Tell me what happened, chéri,” Charles asked with a worried frown, and so you suppressed the embarrassment you were feeling and recalled what had happened at the party to him. 

You told him about this guy who you’ve had the biggest crush on and how you two talked for the entire night at the party, and even flirted a bit with each other here and there. Things were seemingly going well until he leaned in and tried to kiss you. For some reason you panicked and pulled away, telling him that you weren’t ready yet and wanted to take things slower. He proceeded to call you a tease for leading him on for the entire night, and said that you were “such a waste of time” before walking off and leaving you there all alone.

Tears pricked at your eyes as you admitted the truth to your brother, but even through your blurry vision, you could see how furious Charles had looked as he struggled to comprehend your words. “That asshole called you what? Give me his address, I swear to God —“ The pure rage that simmered in his chest was almost blinding, and he was certain he could actually murder someone right now. How dare that guy say such horrendous things to you?

“No, Charles, he was right. I shouldn’t have led him on,” you sighed before burying your face in your hands, failing to see the absolute disbelief on your brother’s face. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I shouldn’t have pulled away… I shouldn’t have flirted with him if I wasn’t gonna let him kiss me!” Your muffled voice as you blame yourself did nothing but fuelled the anger that burned within Charles, but it also shattered his heart to see you like this.

How could you ever blame yourself when it should have been the guy’s fault for not respecting your boundaries? Why would you invalidate your own feelings just because of something a stupid boy had said to you? How dare that guy break his little sister's heart and make you believe that you were a waste of time? 

Seeing you cry tears of frustration made him want to cry with you, and so he wrapped his arms tightly around you while you wept into his shoulders, wishing that he could take all the pain away and shield you from every bad thing in the world. His hand rested comfortingly behind your head, giving you gentle head pats like he always used to do when you two were kids, “You should never feel bad for having boundaries, chéri. If he doesn’t know how to respect that, then it's entirely his fault, never yours, okay?” 

“I just feel like an idiot. When I stood there all by myself after he had left, I felt so unwanted, so undesirable… like no guy would ever like me for being me,” you blurted out between quiet sniffles. Charles was shaking his head before you could finish your sentence, refusing to let you continue with your self-deprecating words. He never ever wanted to hear you talk about yourself like that.

In his eyes, you were the most perfect little angel ever. As your older brother, he understood who you truly were, witnessed the realest side of you. He knew you had the most beautiful heart – always putting others above yourself – and every day you continued to amaze him with how much of a selfless, compassionate, and loving person you were. You meant the entire world to him, and it pained him more than anything to see you speak of yourself in such low regard.

“Don’t say that, please,” he sounded almost pleading, and the raw hurt and vulnerability that was hidden behind his wavering words made you want to cry even harder. “You’re the sweetest, kindest, most amazing person in the world. They don’t ever deserve you if they can’t see that.” 

Your brother leaned down to press a kiss on your forehead, fighting back the misty tears that clouded his own eyes as he whispered earnestly, “You are so loved, chéri, and you are so much more than the opinions of others.” Closing your eyes, you allowed the weight of his words to wash over you like soft, gentle ocean waves.

For the longest time, you had always believed that you needed to be a certain way to be loved, and how people perceived you slowly became the entirety of your self-worth. You craved the feeling of being wanted and the validation that came with being chosen, so you allowed people to walk all over you because you were terrified of being left behind.

And while you were so busy searching for the love that you longed for, you had forgotten to give yourself the same love you so easily give to others and overlooked the love that had always been there for you. Charles, your family, your friends – you were so entirely loved that your thought of feeling you were ever unwanted pained them, that seeing you get hurt broke their hearts into pieces.

If you had stopped for a second to look around you, you would realize that you had been searching at the wrong places all this time. You never had to be perfect to be loved and accepted – for it was your imperfections that made you human, that made you, you.

“Try getting some sleep, mon ange,” Charles breathed out a hushed whisper, his voice smooth as velvet. As you rested in the loving embrace of your brother – your pillar of strength and the one who would always have your back, your eyelids slowly fluttered close as your mind drifted toward a tranquil calmness. 

“But seriously, what is the guy’s address? I just want to have a little chat.”

[sinsirellaxx]

This request is so middle school core but I'm such a sucker for this trope, could you do how the toxic Slytherin boys would react to either them finding out they were a bet or you finding out you were a bet? I <3 your writing

Slytherin boys – You find out you are a bet/They find out they were a bet

Warning: Toxic Slytherin boys and physical abuse (Tom Riddle), so please proceed with caution. Otherwise have fun reading!

Also: Not proofread.

A/N: Thank you for your kind words! Honestly, same – I love those tropes that are all over TikTok. 🙈 Glad you enjoy my writing!

Mattheo …

… clenches his jaw when you glare at him with tears in your eyes, angry at himself and angry at whoever told you about the stupid bet. He watched you shake your head in disbelief before taking something out of your pockets. It was the money they had bet on. You flung the money in his face before storming out of his room. Mattheo just closed his eyes, his anger reaching a new peak as the money made contact with his face. How dare you throw something into his face?

He wouldn’t bother running after you. You’d be crawling back to him in no time.

Theodore …

… scoffs at your accusations. “Do you really believe them over me? Do you have that little trust in me?” He raises his brows, mock hurt all over his face. Theodore would make you feel bad for doubting his love for you. If his friends were the ones who told you, he’d have to talk with them. If your friends somehow found out and told you, he’d make you question their loyalties. “Don’t you see, bella? They’re trying to rip us apart. You know your friend still has a crush on me, don’t you? I didn’t want to tell you, because I don’t want to see you hurt, but it is true, cara mia.”

And just like that, you start apologizing to him. With a heavy sigh, Theodore pulls you into his arms, holding you close to his body. “I forgive you. But please – never doubt my love for you again.”

Bullet dodged.

Lorenzo …

… rubs his hands over his face as he paces around in his room. You have been trying to talk to him – apologize for your wrongdoings – but he simply wouldn’t listen. Lorenzo had already known about the bet – he was the mastermind behind it after all. He had been watching you for a while but did not know how to approach you without appearing too needy. So, instead he told his friends to make a bet with you – the goal: You have to seduce Lorenzo Berkshire. You had actually agreed and given it your best. Enzo had enjoyed the advances you had made; all the attention you had given him.

And this whole drama of him ‘finding out’ and you tearfully apologizing was just a positive side effect. It was his way to ensure your emotional dependency on him.

“How could you do this to me?” He cried softly as he slid down the wall, face in his hands as he forced himself to cry. You immediately ran to him, falling to your knees in front of him as you tried to pry his hands from his face, apologies falling from your lips like a mantra.

When you finally uttered the magical words, he had hoped for he bit back a smirk before removing his hands from his tear-stained face. Please, I’ll do anything you ask of me!

Draco …

… stared at you in disbelief. How did you find out? Raking his hand through his hair he stared at you silently. For once, he didn’t know what to say. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Because he knew that nothing he said would make it better. After a minute of silence your tears finally fell, your bottom lip trembling at the betrayal. How could you do this to me.

Your voice came out in a broken whisper before you walked out of his room, leaving the blonde to watch you leave with sad eyes.

Blaise …

… was honestly impressed when he found out about the bet. He never would have guessed you to engage in silly things such as bets. He’d underestimated you. Blaise would tell you that he knew – he’d let everything play out and watch your reactions whenever he mentioned words such as ‘bet’, ‘honesty’ and ‘loyalty’.

“I love you so much, babe. I really appreciate your honest and good-natured heart.” Blaise whispered against your lips before passionately kissing you. When he wanted to pull back, you followed him with your lips not wanting to part yet – not ready to look him into his eyes yet. You were obviously ashamed for hiding something from your boyfriend and Blaise knew. Oh, he knew, and he would enjoy watching you squirm and do anything to please him. And if you ever got mad at him for something or denied him any request, he’d throw the truth into your face and make you pay.

Tom …

… is deeply disappointed when he finds out. The more he thinks about it, the angrier he feels. And when you finally walk through the door of his dorm – he is filled with blinding rage.

“I didn’t think you’d stoop so low … how pathetic.” He grit out, his steps slow as he walked towards you with a dark look on his face. You stared at him with confusion written all over your face, your eyes wide with fear as he pressed you against the wall, trapping you between his arms.

“I can’t believe I didn’t find out sooner – and don’t you dare deny it.” He spat, clenching his jaw as he penetrated your mind. Your eyes widened when he found what he was looking for. He knew.

“Yes. I know.” He murmurs, dragging his nose from your cheek to your ear – and before you know it, one of his hands moves to your throat, fingers gripping tight as he smashes your head against the door.

“Time to reap what you sow.”

[artemis32]

yandere superfam drabble i

listen, i have a ton of ideas for the batfam. really, i do. but come on. superfam.

dc masterlist

Thinking about Clark and his family as yanderes.

Individually, they're enough of a headache, but together? Damn.

Clark Kent sees himself as your father. The problem with him as a yandere is, he's genuinely terrifying. I mean, ignoring the fact that this man is literally Superman, he's also incredibly delusional.

I think most people downplay, or forget exactly how strong this man is. He's strong, fast, and so insanely smart. All that being said, there is literally zero chance of you avoiding him, under any circumstances.

The only saving grace in this situation is the fact that he's, like I said, delusional. Not in a 'oh, I know this is kind of wrong, but I can justify it as being right' kind of way. Rather, he wholeheartedly believes he's helping you, doing the best thing for you by allowing his obsession and thoughts of you overtake your life.

You don't even have the luxury of a slow descent into the situation. His mindset regarding you shifted really quickly, and by the time you were clued in on it, you'd already been stolen away to a farm in the middle of nowhere, ripped away from your life without warning.

The only aspect of his mindset that doesn't quite fit in with the delusional yandere archetype is the fact that, if you push the right buttons, he will absolutely fly off the handle. That in itself proves that, no matter how much he insists otherwise, he knows what he's done to you is wrong.

Jon Kent is a carbon copy of his father. He firmly believes that your place in life is with them, as a part of their family. The fact that you weren't born into the family means nothing to him. If you weren't meant to be with them, the your paths would never have crossed.

The only difference between him and Clark is that Jon has no doubt in his mind that what they're doing is okay. Clark is delusional; Jon is deranged. A part of you believes you can't really blame him - he's a child, a product of his environment. If that's what he was taught his whole life, by the people he loved and trusted, then of course he didn't see a problem with it. But the larger part of you still hated him, hated the fact that he saw you as the crazy one, as if his family hadn't abducted you from your crappy Metropolis apartment in the middle of the night.

And the fact that he was a few years younger than you didn't stop him from treating you like a child. Granted, he was insanely strong and fast, but that didn't mean you had to enjoy him manhandling you as easily as his father and brother whenever he thought you were getting too fussy.

Conner Kent, a few years your senior, isn't like Clark or Jon. He's completely aware of what they're doing to you, of how invasive and creepy it is. He just doesn't care.

I'd almost argue that him being fully aware of how wrong it all was might've been creepier than the shared delusion of Clark and Jon, especially since he could stare you dead in the eye, blank faced at the sight of your tears, and tell you in the most monotonous voice you've ever heard that he didn't care about what you wanted.

Besides a few uncanny moments with him, he was mostly pretty cocky and snide, with this keen way of getting under your skin. It's almost as if he revelled in the fact that you knew he knew they were wrong, the fact that he could do something to help you get away from all this, but he just... didn't.

The worst part was, if he hadn't, you know, kidnapped you, you might've liked him. He was easy to like, if you ignored the annoying sarcasm and ever-present smirk, the type of person you might've wanted to be friends with.

Too bad he spoiled all that by being batshit crazy.

Lois Lane, to her credit, was against the idea at first. She acted as the voice of reason in the family. Or, at least, she tried to. But the men in her family were nothing if not determined.

She realised how crazy, how morally wrong it was to rip someone away from their life for what you thought might be best for them. She also realised how terrified you'd be, surrounded by people, beings who were so much stronger than you, able to subdue you with little more than the tip of a pinky finger.

But, in the end, they won her over. The idea of someone to take care of, someone normal in the family - someone like her, and a daughter to boot - the offer was too sweet to pass up on. She's an odd mix of mindsets, a point somewhere between Clark's delusion and Conner's unwavering sanity, and that makes her scarier than the rest of them, somehow.

The fact that she knows it's wrong, but is able to convince herself it's for your own good - that's terrifying.

Though, she is great in the motherly role, acting as neutral ground for whenever one of the others overwhelm you past what you can reasonably handle. She seems to have a sixth sense for your threshold too, appearing as if out of thin air whenever you're close to snapping at one of the three men who are always in your hair.

Out of all four of them, you'd admit to liking her the most, though admittedly, it's for a selfish reason. She's the easiest person to slip by - the rest of them have super sight and hearing, and even if you could slip away, they'd catch up to you in a few seconds flat. Lois, as much as you may dislike her, was only human. Yes, she had this weird sense for when you'd try to pull something, but for the most part, you had more leeway with her than anyone else.

As a result, you stuck to her like glue, which lead to Jon whining that you were playing favourites. Jon, you could understand. He was a child, one who was used to getting his way most of the time. Clark, however, also tended to develop a strangely endearing pout whenever you ignored him, one that had even Lois caving and forcing you to spend time with someone other than her.

One thing all of them had in common was the fact that they were so damn clingy. They seemed magnetically drawn to you, hanging off of you like children at all hours of the day. It was infuriating, constantly having your personal space intruded upon.

Even at night, when you tried to sleep, you'd wake to find Conner or Jon sliding in beside you, or, even worse, you'd mysteriously wake up in Clark and Lois' bed the next morning. That always made you uncomfortable - how had they managed to move you several rooms down without you once waking up?

Your only saving grace was that all four had their own lives outside of the household, often leaving for work or school, or even patrols, so you very rarely had to deal with all four at the same time. Your favourite days were the ones when it was just you and Lois. You could slip away in the morning, right after Jon caught the bus to school, and spend the entire day away from the prison-like household.

They at least trusted you enough to let you roam around the farm freely. Well, not trusted, exactly. More like, they knew you couldn't get far before one of them caught up to you.

The perks of living in the middle of buttfuck nowhere.

On the bright side, they acted as if the entire household revolved around you. You could decide what everyone ate for breakfast and dinner, you could decide the 'family activity' of the week. They tended to give in to what you wanted pretty easily, on the condition that you gave them something in return, whether it be attention, affection, or some crudely handmade gift that wasn't worth much.

Despite their joyful front though, they could all be terrifying, especially Clark. You'd learnt that the hard way when they'd first taken you. One of them snapping usually only happened if you put yourself in harm's way, but there were other circumstances where they (Clark), felt punishment was warranted.

You'd once made the mistake of making genuinely hurting Lois (or, her feelings at least), to the point of making her cry. Once, and never again.

But since then, you'd learnt how to play your cards, how to skate by in the Kent household with only a small dose of anxiety. You'd managed to avoid being metaphorically (and literally) shackled to the bed, like when you'd first arrived. Time had made things easier - time, and getting to know them.

As much as you were loathed to admit it, getting to know them had made it easier to handle them. It'd been a hard pill to swallow originally, but as the months went by, you'd had to accept the fact that you weren't going anywhere, and it was better to adapt to the situation than remain sullen and miserable for the rest of your life.

They seemed to believe you were slowly but surely coming around to the idea of being a part of their family. You definitely acted like it. But deep down, you were biding your time, waiting, planning for the perfect moment.

You'd leave, run and hide, go to furthest corner of the earth to get away from them. You always thought you would, and one day, you did.

[exactlyyoungchaos]

Loss of my life.

(ex) husband Simon X f!Reader

Part 2.

CW: divorce, hurt, angst, mentions of emotional cheating, trauma. let me know if I missed any, enjoy!!!!

(Don't mind the mistakes.)

If you know it in one glimpse, it's legendary

You and I go from one kiss to gettin married

Still alive, killing time at the cemetery

Nobody prepares you for something like this. What do you do when someone you loved more than your own life, rips apart your soul in pieces? What do you do when the one person you trusted your heart with, leaves you to gather scraps of whatever is left of it?

It's been months since that day. The day you found out that the man you love loved someone else. You moved out the next day, he didn't try and stop you, didn't try to argue or make you stay, he just stood in the corner and watched as you packed up your whole life in a suitcase and left.

When your lawyer served him divorce papers, he didn't hesitate. he signed it immediately as if he was trying to get rid of you, or maybe he was. you don't know, you don't know anything anymore.

When you were young, you were scared to be in relationships because the idea of trusting somebody with everything and giving them the power to hurt you was ridiculous. you always thought love was a sham, just something for romance books and movies.

it was when you met Simon you realized it was all real. the chemical reaction inside your brain that makes you want to stay with someone forever. Laughing at their stupid jokes, waking up next to them, love them was all real. Or maybe it wasn't.

now all you recall, was how you almost had it all. how it all just slipped from your hands without warning.

maybe it was your fault. maybe you weren't enough. maybe you didn't know how to love properly, maybe you were unlovable.

maybe, maybe, maybe.......

Or perhaps it was a sign that a prophecy in your name had already been written. you are not meant for love, you were sent here to be alone, to be betrayed by whoever you trust, to be unworthy. so others would know what not to be.

You sat on the bed of your new apartment, looking at your wedding ring that was still on your finger. you couldn't get yourself to take it off. your heart wasn't ready to accept what your brain already knew.

You couldn't cry anymore, your tears were gone, and all that was left was a deep ache of loss in your chest.

Why? Why did he do this to you? why did he make those vows when he never meant to keep them? you wanted answers, that you knew you'd never get.

If your parents saw you in this state, they would be ashamed of you. you're ashamed of yourself. you can't eat, you can't get out of your bed, because something counterfeits dead.

The house you once called home is haunted by the ghost of lies and deceit. How long has it been going on? how many times did you lay with him in your bed and he wished it was her instead of you?

You were driving yourself crazy. Day by day you were losing your sanity as you combed through your whole life trying to find where it all went wrong.

you've been getting calls from your friends, and messages that you keep ignoring. What were you going to tell them? They bought his lies too.

He said forever and you bought it.

And the worst part is, you miss him. You miss your life, how it used to be filled with laughter, love, and light with him. How he used to hold you when you broke down. How he caressed you when you were in pain, how he made love to you.

Now you're sitting in a cold, dark, and empty apartment on another continent, you don't know who to call and ask for help.

All of your things remind you of him. Do you throw all of the things you built together or keep it? you were tired, mending your gashes on your own. He dealt a final blow and left you to deal with it.

And he doesn't care. He's already with her. he already replaced you. Nothing you two had was real.

But then why do you feel like dying? Why was it that you can't feel anything anymore? Is this how it will always be? Will you ever be okay enough to want to live?

all of these were very big questions you weren't ready to ask yet, or maybe you never will be.

you needed a distraction and you needed it fast.

you picked up your phone for the first time in the day and went straight to the one person you knew who could give you a reprieve from yourself.

Laswell.

You felt numb as you dialed her number as if a switch had been turned off in your brain. She picked up on the third ring.

"Sparrow,"

She still called you by your code name. Your first team that you were assigned to as a rookie medic gave it to you.

"I need a job," is all you said.

AN: SOOOOO!! DID WE LIKE IT? THOTS? I might have shed a tear or two writing this. don't mind me.

@ssc7514 @rrtxcmt

If you want to be tagged in the next part do tell me.

Until next time sugarplums.

ALI-💋💋💋

[dcxdpdabbles]

DC X DP Fic idea: Retired-Rouge.

Danny gets into making teddy bears. He didn't start that way; honestly, he was mostly trying to fix Bearbert Einstein after his mom accidentally burnt him with a misfired ray gun.

Jazz had broken down into tears, and it had ripped apart his heart and his core to see her so distressed. He went to the local- and only- fabric store in Amity Park to find materials and try to repair his sister's beloved teddy bear when his mom's attempts to fix the bear only made him look worse.

Just his luck that the only fabric shop for miles around was Weston Fabrics and that the person manning the cashier was Wes himself. The other boy had nearly thrown him out when Danny walked in, but thankfully his older brother Kyle had talked Wes down and helped Danny find fabrics for Bearbert.

Surprisingly, Wes had even helped him set up one of their sewing stations to get started on Bearbert.

The strange part was when Danny turned the machine on and found his hands moving independently. As if he had been doing it for years, he expertly put together the bear and even went through the other fabrics to make him new outfits. Wes had watched the whole time, raising a brow when Danny got up to pay.

"Thought you didn't know how to sew?"

"I thought so too. Must be a ghost thing." Danny replied then smirked as the redhead glared.

"A ghost thing?" Wes all but sneers. He still trying to expose Danny as Phantom and had yet to get proof, even with Danny teasing him in the open. As it were, Kyle, who was unpacking new needles rolled his eyes behind the red hair teenager.

"Yeah, since I have a protection core as Phantom, it sometimes transfers into my human side. Do you know how teddy bears guard children at night against bad dreams? Same thing"

Wes pauses, then slowly blinks; he whispers with a small baffled smile, "That's kind of adorable. A teddy bear to keep you safe through the night."

And Danny? He didn't mean to, but he found Wes sort of hot at that moment. Not the Wow, that guy is a celebrity hot but a Be careful who you call ugly in middle school because Puberty made them delicious over the summer break hot.

He will admit that he returned to Weston Fabrics to flirt more with Wes and made so many teddy bears as a disguise. The good news was that all his works were a hit, and even some kids at school started asking for special commissions when word got around about the special Nightmerica teddy bear he made for Sam's birthday.

He makes money, gets a boyfriend, and when he donates the teddy bears to a local hospital, he discovers a new power. Through items he made himself, Danny can send waves of comforting energy to the people around the item, like a miniature zen distributor. The patients that have his toys start to show greater rest from both nightmares and lower anxiety, depression, and general sadness.

He lets Wes name this power, which later becomes the name of his teddy bear business- Phantom Relief. After dating for two years and graduating, both boys agree the spark had been lost but remain good friends. Danny takes his thriving teddy bear-making skills to his new college in Gotham while Wes leaves for Star City.

In Gotham is where things get....stranger. See, Danny knows someone new to the city will never truly understand a city's problems. But the rapid amount of homeless kids is so shocking he starts making clothes and blankets to try and give them out because they shouldn't be out there freezing like that! He even tries passing along some teddy bears to them, hoping to soothe their pain with some Zen waves.

The key word is tries.

Gotham kids do not trust or like free handouts. Danny burst into tears when a thirteen-year-old asked if he wanted the kid to use his hand or mouth in exchange for the new blanket. The street kid seemed surprised when Danny was horrified by the question. No one else found it strange, the kid said, wrapped in a Superman blanket that Danny made only a day before, it's just how things are done around here.

The worst part is the homeless thirteen-year-old is right. Everywhere he looks, Danny finds more people needing protection- physically, emotionally, and mentally. Gotham is just filled with people suffering. He couldn't keep up. It's tearing him apart trying to help everyone.

His core feels like it will burst from all the overloaded cries of help it can pick up. One night Danny can't take it anymore, so he shifts into Phantom and flies out to the old Drake manner, abandoned since Janet Drake's murder, where the cries are muffled, and dials Wes' number with shaking hands.

His ex picks up listens to his sobs and tells him "You can't save people who don't want to be saved. But you can try to reach them in a way they understand."

It's precisely what he needs to hear.

Ancients, but he misses the man sometimes. Why did Danny ever let Wes Weston go? Well, as they say, Right person, wrong time. Maybe that was why.

So Danny decided the only way to get to Gotham was to be like Gotham. And who were the people that dramatically changed the city with every random plot? With every random heist?

Gotham Rogues.

So all Phantom had to do was become one, which shouldn't be too hard since people in Amity Park still debated if he was good or not years later. He fixes up his Phantom suit to something more Gotham villain, keeping the colors but removing the jumpsuit and adding a suit and vest alongside a mask and two giant needles.

He appears in Crime Alley- because that's where the most cries come from- and just challenges everything and everyone to take the area from him. He fights off so many gangs- even Red Hood, who puts up a great fight- but after the dust settles, he now runs the place.

He then starts- fixing the place. Starts sending out clothes for the homeless, starts fixing up buildings, gives Phantom Reflief out-teddy bears to kids, fake emulates to adults, starts sending the gang kids back to school, forces landlords to lower the housing, and illegally makes everyone get along.

He spreads his tyranny to the rest of the city, fighting the good and bad sides of the law. The bats give him one hell of a challenge, but Danny beat the Ghost King when he was an untrained brat. This is nothing. Batman gets better with every fight, and so do his associates.

Things look good until the Joker tries him too much when the clown somehow gets to Wes. Has the love of his life tied to a bomb with enough Joker Venom to fill half the city, and Danny sees red.

When he comes to, it's to Wes holding him in his arms, whispering reassurances, and Joker nothing but a smear on the ground. Danny can't live with what he's done; he runs away, shifts into his human side, and vows to never be Phantom again.

After four years of peace due to Phantom's hostile takeover, Gotham mourns the loss but doesn't fall into so much crime now that the ghost crime lord is gone. Danny thinks he's done his job and chooses to melt into the background. He opens a little shop for fabrics and custom-made teddy bears.

Wes finds him, agrees to try and rekindle their love, and a year later agrees to the marriage.

All is well until seventeen-year-old Tim Drake strolls into his fabric shop. Clutching a superboy teddy bear, he gave a shivering fourteen-year-old the first week as Phantom Gotham Villain with a stern look in his eye.

"Phantom- I need you to help me find Batman, who is lost in time, or I will expose your secret identity to the rest of Gotham."

Well, shit.

[eldritch-thrumming]

what, like it’s hard?, pt. one

“it’s just that… if i want to win a seat in congress by the time i’m thirty, i need to find someone who’s serious about my career. not some little elementary school teacher that cares more about his students than what he’s wearing on my campaign stops,” tommy tells steve, as they’re sitting in quite possibly the fanciest restaurant steve’s ever step foot in. the menu hadn’t even included any prices.

“but… i’m seriously in love with you.” steve feels like his whole world is falling apart. just last week he’d been so sure that tommy was getting ready to propose. he’d introduced steve to his family—they’d spent a week out on martha’s vineyard for a family reunion at which steve had met tommy’s great-grandmother, hands laden with rings as she’d winked when tommy had asked for a private conversation. steve had been so sure that conversation was about the family ring.

“and i love you too, baby, but look. you don’t want to have to leave your students for half the year to come on the campaign trail with me, do you?” tommy asks, not even really looking at steve. he continues to just eat his stupid dinner as if he’s not ripping steve’s heart out at this very moment.

and steve can’t help but think how silly this all is, because it’s not like tommy’s actually running for anything right now. steve doesn’t even teach yet, beyond the two days a week he does his student teaching. they’re only 22, they haven’t even graduated northwestern with their bachelors degrees! but tommy’s saying these things as if they’re all real, right now.

“and i’m off to harvard next fall. it’s not like we’ll stay together while i’m there and you’re still here, right?”

and the thing is, steve had actually thought he’d be going with tommy to boston. they’re both set to graduate in the spring, steve with his degree in education and tommy with a dual major in pre-law and political science. they hadn’t really ever talked about it, but they’d been together since the beginning of their sophomore year. so yes, steve had thought they’d still be together when tommy started at harvard law.

but now steve’s starting to feel extra stupid.

“so… what? you’re breaking up with me?” steve starts to feel his chest tightening, like he might cry. he can’t believe that two hours ago he thought he’d been getting ready for a proposal.

“don’t think of it as a breakup, stevie… think of it as a conscious uncoupling. we’re just moving in two different directions. i’ll be at harvard law next semester and you’ll be…” tommy gives him a look of slight disdain—steve has never seen tommy look at him like that. waitstaff? sure. his driver? absolutely. but it’s never been directed at steve before. “well, you’ll be teaching snot-nosed six year olds. we’re on different paths.”

and that’s what truly makes steve’s blood boil. his passion for teaching and education is one of his greatest qualities and he’d thought that had been part of the reason tommy loved him. he didn’t realize that tommy loved him in spite of that. he’s not gonna let some asshole like tommy montgomery hagan iii tell him he’s no good.

so he doesn’t respond. he just takes the linen napkin off his lap and throws it on his half-eaten steak dinner and marches out of the restaurant.

tommy doesn’t even follow him out.

~*~

“oh steve… i’m sorry,” robin says to him about an hour later while steve lays his head in her lap on their dingy couch.

“it’s not even that he broke up with me,” he explains through tears. “it’s that he basically said i was worthless. like i couldn’t do anything better than teaching. as if teaching isn’t even an admirable profession! where would he be without his teachers, huh? isn’t this all about going to stupid harvard? what does he think the professors there actually do? knit?”

“is this a bad time to tell you that i always kind of hated him?” robin says, maybe trying to get him to laugh. but it kind of surprises steve. he sits up, knocking her hands from where they’ve been carding through his hair in the process.

“you did?! no, you didn’t.” he searches robin’s face for a moment and then sighs. “why didn’t you say anything? you could’ve saved me a whole lot of wasted time.”

“babe, you were so gooey-eyed for that guy, nothing i said was gonna change that. a crowbar couldn’t have pried you away from him. but you have to know he was an asshole.” when steve stares at her blankly, she huffs. “steve, he used to offer to cover the whole tab when we went out. how often did he ever actually pay, even for his own drinks? he made poor jonathan cry the last time we were all here for game night, just because jonathan asked for clarification on the rules for pictionary.” steve is still staring at her. “he tried to stiff argyle by offering him a flight on his dad’s private jet instead of paying for his weed and we all know he doesn’t even have access to the jet. dude was cheap as fuck and not even nice about it.”

steve thinks about it. it was kind of true. tommy was a horrible tipper—steve usually laid down a couple of twenties when they went to dinner together when tommy wasn’t looking. he can remember more than a few times where the guy had sent their food back even though it had looked perfectly wonderful to steve. so… okay, maybe robin had a point.

steve tells her as much, then adds, “but he was always nice to me.”

robin snorts. “are you kidding? he’s stood you up so many times i can’t even remember all of them. remember that time he said his first impression of you was that you weren’t as hot as your pictures? who says that to the person they’re dating?”

steve groans and lays his head back down in her lap.

“okay, so maybe you have a point about that too. but i was gonna marry him, rob. what do i do now?” he knows he’s whining, but he feels just a little bit entitled to it right now.

“i don’t know, babe. get over it, i guess. welcome to the world of us singles. it sucks out here.” steve can hear the fondness in robin’s voice as she says it, but still. it does sting just a little.

they sit there in silence for a while, with robin running her hands through his hair again. it’s so soothing that he almost jumps out of his skin when she speaks again.

“hey, you know what would be super funny?” she’s laughing a little as she says it.

“what?” steve had been dozing just a little and his voice sounds muffled by fatigue.

“if you got into harvard and just showed up on the first day. imagine the look on his face.”

steve laughs at how ridiculous that sounds. like he could get into harvard. plus, he’s got teaching to think about. he doesn’t have a place yet, but he knows he’ll get one soon.

but as he sits there with robin’s hands stroking through his hair, he begins to daydream about how shocked tommy would be. about how he’d have no choice but to eat his words when steve proves himself by getting into one of the most competitive programs in the country. about how good it would feel to prove the bastard wrong.

“robin?” she hums in response. “you’re a goddamn genius.”

~*~

“dingus, are you sure you want to do this?”

the spring semester starts in three days. it’s their last semester at northwestern and there’s nothing but great big darkness on the horizon of steve’s future. he hasn’t slept in two days, busy studying, thick workbooks piled around around him at the kitchen table. he knows what he must look like, over-caffeinated with bruises under his eyes.

“i’m sure.” steve has his lsat exam in one week. “i have to take the exam this week. apps are due by march first.”

“no, steve, i don’t mean taking the test. i mean applying at all. it’s clearly more stress than it’s worth. do you even want to go to law school?” robin sounds concerned and normally steve would think it’s very sweet, but currently it does nothing but irritate him.

“i could,” he responds grumpily.

robin sighs. “i just mean… is this worth it?”

steve looks up then and sees her biting her lip, clearly worried about him. he puts his pencil down and stops the timer on his phone, giving her his full attention.

“this isn’t just about tommy.” robin gives him a skeptical look and it’s his turn to sigh. “it’s really not. maybe it started out that way, maybe it was just a stupid joke to get revenge on the asshole, but now it’s more than that. it’s proving that i can do something unexpected of me.” he swallows. “no one even believed i would get into college. i was just some stupid jock in high school who’d never amount to anything. and then i got in to northwestern and i was so shocked and happy. but i found out that my dad had actually pulled a bunch of strings. so i hadn’t gotten in on my own merits. he didn’t think i could. but now…” he runs a hand through his hair nervously. he’s never said any of this out loud before. “he’s not around now. there’s no one to help me. no safety net. if i can do this, it’ll prove something to me. something that maybe i don’t really believe yet.”

he expects robin to say something about external validation being a corrupting force and identity built on academic achievement being solely a losing game, but she doesn’t. instead, she sits down across the table from him and picks up a workbook.

“okay,” she says. “what do we have to do?”

~*~

“mail here?” steve calls out when he hears the front door close behind robin.

there’s a moment that feels like a pause. “yeah, it’s here.”

steve practically sprints from his bedroom to his living room. robin holds a single white envelope in her hand. steve all but snatches it from her.

his fingers move to rip it open, but then he hesitates. he thrusts it back towards robin. “i can’t,” he tells her. “you do it.”

her eyebrows shoot up. “you’re sure?” steve nods. he watches her rip the envelope open, bouncing on his feet. she scans the page and then she’s smiling.

steve grabs the paper from her. “oh my god?!” he yells. “oh my god!”

robin practically jumps into his arms. “179, baby! harvard law here we come.”

~*~

even after such a successful run at the lsats, there’s still the little matter of actually getting in to the school. steve’s only experience with the academic application process was with undergrad and it appears that applying for anything beyond a bachelors degree is an entirely different ball game. he’s so out of his depth that he’s forced to turn to grad school message boards for advice and tips of how to get in. it seems like everyone else is applying to a hundred different schools while steve’s only applying to one. he learns this is a terrible strategy for planning one’s future, but that doesn’t really matter to steve. for him, it’s harvard or nothing.

there are so many different parts of the application that it makes steve’s head spin. there’s the statement of purpose and the personal statement—the difference between those two requires robin’s careful and slow explanation about three separate times. then there’s the writing sample and the application and the recommendations and the transcripts and and and

but with robin’s help, steve completes each component and successfully sends his materials by the day of the deadline.

steve’s never been a patient person. no one on earth would accuse him of that, so even he can tell that he’s getting on robin’s nerves every day as he practically pounces on her when she returns from collecting the mail.

and then one day, finally, at the end of april, she comes through the front door and clutched in her hand is a big, thick white envelope emblazoned with the words ‘harvard law’ in bold, beautiful crimson red.

~*~

“last chance to back out,” robin says smiling as she swings herself up into the passengers seat of their rented u-haul.

“nah.” steve returns her smile as he slides his sunglasses from his hair onto his face. “let’s get out of this dump.”

and with that, they leave their first apartment behind, headed to the coast.

[wanted to finish this completely before posting but my benadryls kicking in and i have no self control. eventual steddie, promise! no tag list for this one, sorry!! it’s giving me anxiety on the other one lol absolutely not edited, if u see a typo no u don’t. i wrote this on my phone in a feverish frenzy. also, i originally invented someone for the role of warner but then i was like ‘IDIOT!!!!! why would u not choose tommy?????’ so if there’s a name in here that shouldn’t be, no there isn’t.]

[xhoneygirlxx]

he's not magic

eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: the time of the month has come and Eddie is the only person who can sooth you.

warnings: talks about menstrual cycles/blood. mentions of dying. tooth rotting fluff. Eddie is a cutie pie. pet names used; sweetheart, baby, honey. shitty writing/spelling errors; if you find any plz ignore it lolololololol.

a/n: i'm currently in so much pain from my period and the only thing i want is for someone to coddle me and tell me i'm going to be ok. i hope you guys enjoy this very small thing, it's not much and it's not good but maybe it'll help you feel good on those days when life is shit. love you all <3

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You're dying, a slow, painful, and mournful death. At this point you stopped caring, stopping all the begging you've done all morning for your life to continue. If this was how you were going out than so be it, you just wished your end had come faster.

You've already bled through two pairs of panties and two pairs of shorts, now left in your trusty period panties and an oversized shirt. Your stomach was bloated to the point it was uncomfortable, your breasts were so swollen that your chest felt like it was going to concave under the weight, and your back felt as if it was going to snap in half at any moment.

It felt like you tried everything, ibuprofen, heating pad, and propping a pillow in between your legs - none of the tricks worked. Now you were left in the fetal position, arms wrapped around your middle and knees pulled to your chest.

For the past how ever many hours you've been moaning out in pain, the stabbing feeling in your uterus just too much to handle. You're sure if someone were to walk in and see you they'd think you were insane and right now you couldn't blame them.

You did look insane, hair wild and matted to your face from all the sweat you've accumulated, voice hoarse and scratchy from all the wounded animal sounds you've made, and your face screwed up in an unflattering way.

Your phone has gone unanswered all day, the only person to have texted you was Eddie. At first it was only tik toks, small comments he thought would make you giggle, and then it turned into him updating you about his day at work, and finally worried questions about if you were okay.

You felt so fucking guilty for not responding, not telling him that you were fine but you just physically couldn't move from your crouched position. This only made you angrier, the fact that your temporarily paralyzed and are restricted from doing the things you need to do.

The fridge sits empty and in need of new groceries, laundry stays piled up by the washer where they wait to be cleaned, and Eddie is waiting for your response worrying about your well being - that is if he hasn't already contacted the national guard to track your location.

Everything is so shitty, the pain, the hurting, the guilt, the frustration. You feel like you're a balloon that's been filled up too much and is waiting to burst at the seams.

You don't have to take long before the heated tears from your eyes fall down, hitting the bridge of your nose, only to land on the pillow beneath your head. It's not a violent cry, at least not yet, just frustrated tears that seem to slip away from their barricade.

You don't even notice the front door of your apartment opening or the sound of Eddie calling for your name, only focusing on the pulsating of your uterus that debilitates your body.

"Fuck, baby I've been worried about you," You don't even turn and look at him, your eyes are still harshly closed. By the sound of his voice you know he's out of breath, brown curls probably wild from the speed of his running.

"Shit, sweetheart, are you okay?" The worry in his voice hits right on the spiderweb crack, shattering you into a million little pieces.

You can't hold it back, the wailing that rips from your throat is something close to bone chilling. Tears streams from your eyes without relent, whole body shaking from the cries that rip from your body.

It doesn't take more than thirty seconds to feel the bed dip as your boyfriend crawls into bed next to you. He doesn't think twice before pulling you in, one arm wrapped around your back and the other soothing down your hair on the side of your head.

"It's okay, baby. M'here, you're okay." Eddie coos and it's like music to your ears.

The warmth from his body fills you in a way your heating pad couldn't. Even with the mucus that fills your nose you catch a whiff of his scent, smoke, pine, and outside -undoubtedly him. His calloused hand runs soothingly up and down your back, allowing your bones to relax into his touch.

Eddie doesn't have to ask, he knows you better than you know yourself, and the way your scrunched up on your bed and crying he knows that you've been battling your pain all day.

"Sweetheart, you have to breath. Can you do that for me? Take one big deep breath, s'all I want, okay?"

You nod your head against his chest, following the way his chest moves as he demonstrates for you. Between hiccupped breaths and streaming tears, you allow your lungs to fill up with as much air as you can take in, releasing it right after in one long exhale.

"Good job, baby. Did such a good job f'me." Eddie's being soft with you, a side of him he only allows you to see and no one else.

You let his praise melt over you, soaking it right up like the plants in a drought. For the first time since you woke up you feel lighter, something you only feel when Eddie's by you. The cramps that have been going nonstop have finally subsided, the presence of your boyfriend scaring them away.

"It hurt so bad, Eds. S'really bad today." Your voice is shaky, as if one wrong move and you can break out into another sob.

"I know, honey, but it's okay. I'm gonna take care of you, kay? I'm gonna make it all better."

You both know that he has no control over what your body decides to do but just the promise alone has your worries easing away. Your body relaxes into him, your knees slowly falling down to their normal position until your laying right up against him.

"On a scale from one to ten, where are you at?" You take a moment to think about it, really evaluating the squeezing of your organs.

"Was a ten but now it's like a seven."

Eddie hums, his hand still soothing up and down your back. A small pause settles over his words, like he's trying to wrack his brain for the next action he's going to make so you can feel better.

"How 'bout you get some rest, then when you get up we'll get you something to eat? Sound okay?" You nod again, too tired to form any sort of response.

Eddie acknowledges your response with a kiss to the top of your head, making you hum in content when he does. It doesn't take long for the tiredness of your body to settle over you, quiet snores coming from your nose in no time.

Even if his arms fall asleep and his back feels stiff, Eddie stays there with you, soothing you in your sleep to ensure that your pain stays at bay. When you do wake up he's right there, waiting for you with some water and more medicine before helping you into the shower.

He's not magic and he has no idea what to do when it comes to woman's health but Eddie Munson will be damned if a period makes his girl cry like that again.

---