#and not to have terrible things happen to it

[wilwheaton]

It exposes a critical gap of moral imagination to see the Biden era principally as sleepy or boring. Yes, the Trump era was exciting and newsy, like living in a home with an abuser. The Biden era is less fraught. But the drop-off in news readership/viewership was driven in large part because people thought they didn’t have to worry quite as much about the new terrible thing that was going to happen at any moment. They got Biden in and he’d take care of things. They could take a break. The related factor that the journalism business, as well as American civic life, has had to grapple with is that people simply got exhausted. A lot of people who had been regular news consumers through much of their lives decided that the toxicity of American public life was poisoning their personal or inner lives and they tuned out. If you’re wondering where I’m getting this stuff: I have interacted with many readers via email over many years and this is my takeaway based on those conversations. I did no formal study, but this was not just a few stray anecdotes. It’s the upshot of hundreds of conversations over the years in question. It’s a very clear and consistent pattern.

The Brass’s Take on the Shake Up at WaPo

[fagtainsparklez]

Hey I've been observing from afar through your reaction blogging, I haven't been in mcyt as much since the dsmp ended but I still care about a lot of the people in the mcyt circle and I'm interested in what goes on - care to give a rundown of what happened at this twitch rivals thing everyone keeps talking about? (no pressure only if you want to) Aside from the fact I'm sure it was terribly run like most twitch rival events are, but it sounds like there was more to it than that

okay so. i am going to be missing quite a few details because i missed a day myself + my streamer could not care less, so i heavily encourage others to add on stuff i missed

this was a multi-day competition, running for 5 days with prize rewards from 1k to 100k. it started with i think 150 players, with select numbers of people getting eliminated each round. day 1-2 are fairly normal, at least for twitch rivals. of all the games that got played through the whole event, i'd say like 1 was actually good, and maybe 2 were decent, at best. most are bad, poorly-executed, poorly thought out, or just boring in terms of both player enjoy-ability and content creation.

DAY 3 EDIT:

now, sapnap's been sapnap for this entire event already. obnoxious, a bad sport, but most notably, playing DMCA'd songs. the event ran on proximity chat, so while he was unmuted, everyone around him would also be subject to said songs, which could mute vods at worst and terminate accounts at best. most people are fed up with him at this point. while everyone's trying to come up with solutions for the glitch, sapnap spams the discord with useless shit. couriway calls him out in the discord, calling him annoying and obnoxious, then later calling him a cunt in twitch chat. sapnap uses couriway and feinberg's name in his stream title for clickbait and talks shit about them + their friends (hbg/house builder gang). he also makes some weird comment asking if couri is homophobic because sap was talking about having skeppy's dick in his mouth?? or something?? i'm unsure exactly how day 3's issue of the glitch resolved.

day 4 is also your average experience with your usual range of average to horribly painful games. sapnap continues to be a bitch and not take responsibility for his stans attacking anyone in sight, but what else is new

day 5 is. bad. the game set for deciding the final competitors can be cheesed (if you let someone else do all the work, you can punch them in the last second and steal their win) and eliminates like 20 people at once. on top of that, a glitch happens that leaves the server on standby for at least 30 minutes while admins decide what to do. firebreathman sends a picture of a bare naked ass in the discord. someone else sends a photo of their debit card. streamers entertain themselves in various ways, including growing a cactus (fulham), playing osu (purpled), collecting other people's streams for their overlay (fruitberries), playing slime rancher (badboyhalo), and building real-life furniture (couriway). tubbo (who was already eliminated at this point) starts jumping between streams and asking in chat for the tea. the game is eventually replayed, deciding the final 4 players, but it's just as broken and at that point, no one wants to be there anymore. it's revealed through multiple streamers (purpled, i believe also feinberg) that twitch rivals games are not tested before being ran. the only testing done was a stress test to see if the server could handle all original 150-some players. this explains why the games are so bad and poorly organized (some games take over an hour, others barely 30 minutes).

the final four are sapnap, shadoune, sneegsnag, and i think feinberg. it's the most anticlimatic game of connect 4 you can imagine. sneeg eliminates sapnap, and shadoune eliminates fein. notably, fein's game glitches during a throw, which despite being obviously a glitch, the coordinators brush off as being "part of the game". fein and multiple other streamers spend time analyzing every pov frame by frame and all agree that yeah, that was a glitch. shadoune and sneeg are left for the finals. they come to an agreement that this is stupid and a horrible event. tired of this bullshit, they purposefully stall the games and run a podcast for approximately 2 hours, forcing the coordinators to bend to their commands hunger games-style. essentially since the first glitch of the day people were begging twitch to just split the money, something that wouldn't be easy according to tubbo, because everything is pre-signed and delegated before the event. sneeg and shadoune give no fucks, and force the coordinators to split the money anyway, winning the day through the power of friendship. i cannot stress enough how no one wanted to fucking be there by the end of all this.

[iron-fifty-nine]

Guys I love being fat. I do. I love being large and I love having huge thighs and stretch marks and round cheeks. I DO!!! I am fat and I love my body. I’d be weird skinny. I’d be wrong if I was skinny. I’m meant to be fat and I don’t want to change it in any way!!! Being fat is part of my family’s history. My grandpa, my genetic flesh and blood, survived WWII and immigrant camps and Ellis Island and his genetics said ‘we will not let starvation happen again’! I experienced child neglect and my body said ‘we will not let starvation happen again’! I’m fat because my body loves me, because it said these terrible things will not happen again!!! I am fat because food makes me happy and I deserve to be happy! I deserve to eat wonderful things and as much of them as I want!!!

I’m not fat because I don’t care or I hate myself or my body is broken, I’m fat because I’m supposed to be. My body is fat. My body loves me and I love it right back. We work together, and we are happy together. We fight for each other. I will give my body the food it deserves and needs and it will give me the body I deserve and need. And that body happens to be fat!!! It is fat because of love, because of my family refusing to give up, because of my younger self refusing to give up. Because my mom worked so hard to make sure I could eat. Because I work so hard to make sure I can eat!!! Because food is tied to mental health, and my body and I are working very hard on that one!!! we are a team, and hating your team for things they can’t control won’t get you anywhere.

I am fat because my body loves me and wants me to survive no matter what. And not just survive, but thrive. To have good food. To get more sun on my skin. To look even better in my clothes. To have something to show for the hard work it does. My body is doing everything it can to keep me happy and safe and I am. Thank you body I’m proud of us both.

Eat if you’re hungry. You deserve a snack. I’m proud of you and you should be too. Your body loves you and is doing its best, you just have to try to appreciate its efforts. Millions of tiny cells work so hard to keep you going, and they all love you and want you to succeed. They’re making the best version of you they can. You are the best version of you you can be right now. You will grow, you will change, and you will love yourself. If not today, then someday soon.

[babyyhoneyyy]

I wanna kiss your neck H.S

“You mean a lot to me too, Harry. You’re my best friend.”

He grinned. “Oh? You let all your best friends eat your pussy and choke you, then?”

“Don’t be a dick,” she smacked his chest lightheartedly, “we can try like… friends with benefits?”

Or,

The one where Y/N and Harry are best friends, but they’ve crossed a big, fat line that says otherwise.

You can read this as a stand-alone but its more fun as a part two to this one <3

word count: 4K

content warning: mature. I got a little carried away 😭 also fwb!harry (my fav)

When Y/N woke up the next day, Harry was pressed tightly to her back, arm slithered around her waist and stuffing her impossibly closer to his slumbering body. She could feel the rumbling of his snores against her spine and he must have sneaked into her bed after she fell asleep, ditching the couch pallet she prepared for him in her living room. He had a habit of doing that so she wasn’t shocked or alarmed by his sudden appearance behind her.

All Y/N could really think about was what the actual heck happened the past night when Harry offered to ‘make her feel good.’ She would be lying if she said he didn’t make her come harder than anyone else ever had. The way he worked her body had her all hot and bothered again, restless in Harry’s tight grip when he groaned all of a sudden, all raspy and deep right in her ear, “stop moving, Berry.”

Berry.

He hadn’t called her that in a while. It was a nickname he often resorted to when Y/N and him were little, their first meeting being one where Harry caught Y/N blue-stained and sticky-fingered in the playground because she was inhaling the berries her mum packed her for a snack. He pointed at her face with a stern look and said the singular word, Berry. And from then on it stuck, all the way up till they were seniors in high school, where the name lost its appeal and Harry got whisked away into the hot, popular persona he adopted at the time.

After that he sparingly said the word, it only slipping out in unconscious or vulnerable moments, and apparently that morning was one too.

When she twisted in his grasp so she faced him, Harry blinked one eye open, “go back to bed. It’s the weekend for fucks sake.” He shuffled so he was facing her on his side, not withdrawing his hand fully as it still rested in the dip of her waist and thumbed over the smooth skin there. He had ditched his sweater for the night, just in a pair of soft sweatpants. His hair was pulled back in a bun but most of the strands were free now, thanks to his restless tossing and turning in bed. “I know it's the weekend, it doesn’t mean we laze around all morning. I have things to do.”

“Who said anything about all morning? Just five more minutes.”

Five more minutes turned into ten, and ten minutes later Harry somehow made his way between her thighs again. It started with him stroking her side, up to her shoulder and scratching his nails against her scalp. When she would try to make a move to leave bed and freshen up, he thumbed over her jugular and pushed her to lay on her back, scooting closer to her so he could lean over her side.

“Want me to eat you out again?”

It’s a terrible ploy to keep her in bed— one so outrageous it actually works and Y/N finds herself quickly nodding, slipping her hands in his hair to pull his hair tie. He kissed down her neck, sloppy and slow, all the way across her tummy and the tops of her thighs. She didn’t wear anything on her bottom half since she thought she was going to be sleeping alone but that proved a good decision when Harry had easy access to her sopping cunt.

From then on it was as good as it was the first time. In fact, it might have been even better. He was passionate as he stuffed his face into her, lifted her thighs so they bracketed his cheeks like he wanted to suffocate himself. His tongue was unrelenting, wriggling between her folds and making those noises that made Y/N’s face and neck go red as she pulled his locks harshly between her fingers. When he pulled out his favourite move of isolating her clit and flicking the tip of tongue against it hard and fast, it had Y/N shaking and whining out loud. She was brought to the edge very quickly after that, back arching and a loud gasp spilling from her mouth.

Harry popped off from her with a filthy sound, wiped his chin with the back of his hand and smirked up at her fucked-out state.

After that, it became some sort of trend.

Every weekend, Harry would come over to her apartment like he normally did, they’d chat about their week, pick out a movie and crack open a bag of chips only for Harry to nudge her mid-movie with his eyes sparkling and lip between his teeth and he’d ask her if he could go down on her again. So he would, and it would be amazing every time. Somehow he was even more enthusiastic than he was the last time, licking into her eagerly. It was like he wanted to drown in all she offered and one night he refused to let her go, slicking her folds over and over again until she came about three times.

Everytime he made her come she’d ask to return the favour since he was always sporting a painfully large bulge when he pulled away from her. Yet every time he politely declined— told her he was fine and would take care of it himself.

But this time Y/N was not letting that happen.

She was hell-bent tonight on getting him to come, no matter how much he persisted she didn’t need to do anything for him. Y/N knew tonight would be like the others— he’d find himself face-first between her thighs within 20 minutes of walking through her door. It’s not like she didn’t appreciate his very obvious oral fixation, it was just that her body was beginning to get used to his delivery of orgasms every weekend and she now had a different sort of ache that she needed to get fixed.

The ache to be filled up by him.

The burn of his cock inside of her was one she found herself craving often. She knew he was big by the way he would sometimes press his bulge against her thigh for some relief. All she wanted was for him to sink inside of her, reach all those spots she just knew he’d be able to hit and fuck into her nice and deep.

Obviously this was crossing a big, fat, red line.

Y/N and Harry were friends.

Best friends, in fact, ever since they were in the playground. Just the fact that he was spending his weekends suffocated by her pussy was definitely against the rules childhood best friends were bound to follow, but maybe they could venture into something more than just that— and Y/N didn’t mean dating.

Maybe something like a friends with benefits situation.

Yeah, Y/N didn’t mind having an arrangement of that sort with Harry. Besides, she trusted him, and surely their bond was strong enough to go through with it.

When he arrived at her door at about 7PM, Y/N jumped to quickly open it, finding Harry standing there with a single dimple making an appearance, hair pushed back and clad in a pair of matching sweatpants and a hoodie. He didn’t waste a beat in pressing himself against her, his greedy hands all over her waist as he walked her back into her apartment. “Hey,” he breathed, kissing her just below her ear, “I missed you.”

Y/N heard the door shut behind him, her eyelids fluttering under the feel of his lips against her skin, suckling warm kisses across the skin. “You saw me last weekend.”

“Mm. Too long.”

Harry’s voice was muffled against her skin, and he pulled back to brush his nose against her, his hands now sneakily resting against her bare waist. “It’s just seven days you horndog.”

“Heyy. Don’t say that like you hadn’t missed me either.” He pouted, shoving her hip so she fell back on the couch. Harry quickly climbed over her, hips snug between her thighs as he tenderly brushed her hair away from her forehead. Y/N could feel her cheeks heating up as he stared right at her. “Yeah,” she accepted defeat, like his eyes had fed her some sort of truth serum, “I missed you too. A lot.”

He must have liked her answer, because he pecks her cheek, then the corner of her mouth, then skips right over to the top of her chest exposed by the low neckline of her shirt, “did you, now? What about me did you miss, Berry?”

She didn’t respond for a while, lost in the feel of his mouth against her skin, trailing lower and lower until he pushed her shirt up and over her tits. The peaks of her nipples were pebbled, practically begging for Harry to wrap his mouth around them. Warm fingers slivered up her tummy to squeeze both her tits in his palm harshly. “Asked you a question.”

“Fuck,” those same fingers travelled over to her nipples, pinching the sensitive bud until her back arched off of the sofa, “um, your mouth.” The words barely left her throat as she struggled to keep her composure, squeezing Harry between her thighs so tightly he was afraid he’d get bruises on his hips. “That’s nice. Using me for my mouth, then are you? Quite selfish if you ask me.” Y/N knew he was only joking, but she couldn’t help bucking her hip into his, twisting his hair between her fingers.

“I’m not selfish! Just… need you.”

She barely recognised her voice, it sounding whiney and desperate as Harry finally dragged his tongue against her nipple, index finger and thumb bracketing her breast as he held it to his mouth. The way he moved his tongue was almost calculated; careful and thoughtful as he figured out the way to best please her— flicking the muscle against her bud, grazing it with his teeth and lulling long, slow circles around it. “S’okay. You can have my mouth. It’s all yours anyway.”

He popped off from her chest, leaving her a heaving and whimpery mess, though before he could fit his shoulders between her thighs, Y/N was quick to pull him back up with his hair so he was level with her face. The burn against his scalp made him groan as he stared down at Y/N, quite annoyed that she stopped him from having his treat.

“I want something else tonight,” she breathed. His eyebrows dipped slightly as he brought a large hand to wrap around her throat— one of his favourite ways to hold her, “what do you need, princess?”

He was subtly grinding his hips against her, pinning her against the couch as she tried to figure out the words to say what she wanted. “I need you to fuck me. Please.”

All movements paused. His fingers tightened around her throat and his eyes became a shade darker. “S’that what this is then? All needy to get my cock inside of you?” Harry’s thumb subtly caressed the side of her throat as he nudged his nose against hers, “hmm?”

”Yes, please. I need it so bad, Harry.”

She gave him the best doe eyes she could, biting her lip for added effect. Even though Harry was a weak man for a pretty pout, he had to think rationally here. His eyes softened as he stared down at his best friend— if he could even call her that at this point. “Are you sure, Berry? I don’t… I don’t want to do anything that could ruin what we have,” his thumb made its way to her cheek where he stroked lovingly, “you mean a lot to me.”

“You mean a lot to me too, Harry. You’re my best friend.”

He grinned. “Oh? You let all your best friends eat your pussy and choke you, then?”

“Don’t be a dick,” she smacked his chest lightheartedly, “we can try like… friends with benefits?”

This made him somehow smirk even wider and Y/N’s cheeks got warmer, “gosh I just am that irresistible aren’t I?” She rolled her eyes, “don’t make me take it back.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He kissed her forehead then her nose, “‘course I’ll fuck you. I’ll do whatever you want, baby.”

With that, he pulled his sweater off of his head and helped Y/N with her shirt. She had seen him shirtless before numerous times but never allowed herself to ogle him in a sexual way. She didn’t hold back as she let her fingers trail all over his tanned skin, squeezing his sides and pulling him closer so there was practically no space between the two. Harry giggled at her desperation. “Horny, Berry?”

Y/N smacked his head for real this time. “Shut up.”

He rubbed the spot she struck, “that hurt.”

“Well too bad,” she let her fingers work on the knot of his sweats, hastily trying to push them off of his hips but Harry had other plans— long fingers came to wrap around her wrists, pulling her hands away from him and pinning them next to her head. “You’re so fucking bratty all the time. Thought maybe all those orgasms were helping but clearly I wasn’t giving it to you hard enough.”

She whined in his grasp, trying to break free. While he held her hands in one of his, he let the other trail down her body and slip into her shorts. He came into contact with her wet cunt immediately, sliding his index and middle finger through the folds, slowly, surely. He tsked, “slutty pussy.” The words went straight to her throbbing clit as she bucked her hips against his hand, though she was crying out loud when Harry let his fingers slap over the bundle of nerves. “Be patient, Y/N.” She frowned at his words, trying her best to keep her composure.

All the while his fingers continued to explore her folds, not applying any pressure where she really wanted, just feeling around like her wetness amused him. The moment she felt like she was actually going to cry, he slipped a finger into her heat. “Fuck,” he pumped his digit slowly, “perfect little cunt.”

Y/N’s fingers twisted and writhed under his hold, back arching as he showered her in praises, lips pressing against her jaw and neck. Her thighs shook when he curled his finger against that one spot, and she knew a couple more seconds of this and she’d be coming undone around his fingers.

Before she could succumb to her orgasm, Harry pulled his fingers out and stuffed them into her mouth. Her opportunity to protest was taken away from her as he forced her to taste herself, stroking his fingers against her tongue, “s’that good, baby? You’re lucky I’m sharing today. Can’t let anyone else know how sweet this pussy is for me.”

Once she was done sucking him clean, he straightened up to pull her shorts off and got off the couch to kick off his own sweats and boxers. His cock slapped up against his abdomen, long and thick and the way it throbbed looked like it was almost painful. One of his hands came to wrap around it while the other pulled a condom out of his wallet. He climbed back on the couch and pulled her by the hips. Y/N slid closer to him, “ready for me, Berry?” He murmured as he rolled the condom on his length.

Y/N couldn’t find the words to tell him how badly she needed him, only let her nails dig into his skin and nodded eagerly, “yes, yes, yes please. I’m so ready, Harry, need i—“

He didn’t let her finish, cutting her off with a deep groan as he impaled her with his dick. She could feel him snug against her— all of him inside all of her. The squelch that resounded in the room when they came together was loud and embarrassing as Y/N moaned uncontrollably, pulsing rhythmically around him trying to adjust to his size. His slow place built up to something faster and harder, the sound of skin slapping skin making Y/N even wetter.

It was a surprise he wasn’t straight up slipping out of her with how wet she was. She could feel it coat the inside of her thighs when he brought one of her legs up and over his shoulder. The new angle made everything feel a hundred times better— he was hitting places she didn’t even know she could reach. Harry’s hands held onto her hips tightly, one of them sneaking over her mound as his thumb came in contact with her clit. The added stimulation made her squeeze her eyes shut, head angling away and into the sofa beneath her.

He didn’t let her look away, though, as he bit back a moan and brought his free hand to grab her face. His fingers squeezed her cheeks as he manhandled her to face him, “don’t fucking look away from me,” he leaned closer to her. His hips stopped pumping and he resorted to deep, filthy grinds against her g-spot. “Look at me when I’m fucking you. Bet no one’s ever given it to you so good, hmm?”

She can’t find it in herself to come back with a witty remark, so far gone with the feel of him stuffed inside her. It was like he reduced her to nothing but babbles and whines, “uh-huh, uh-huh, yes please, Harry.” Her fingers found his hair again, pulling the locks hard and then tucking them behind his ear. He found himself locked in a tender moment when his eyes met hers, and he pressed a soft kiss to her brow bone before he began thrusting again.

Somehow he was harder, deeper, faster and pulling so much out of Y/N she was ready to burst. Her moans began sounding annoying to herself but she just couldn’t help it, especially not when he began circling her clit again. It took only a couple more seconds and she was coming around his cock, back lifting off of the couch almost too harshly as she clamped down around him. “Tha’s it, gorgeous. So beautiful you are, Berry.”

Harry worked her through it, her warm, wet walls beckoning him closer to his end. “Wait!” She called desperately when her orgasm subsided, “come… come in my mouth, please?”

“Jesus Christ.” He pulled out quickly, ripping the condom off and letting his fingers gather her arousal. The sensation made her flinch in sensitivity but she got over it when she saw him use her arousal as a lubricant, pumping himself as he leaned over her body. Y/N dropped her mouth open and stared right into his eyes. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

When he came, it was a lot.

White, hot spurts that Y/N tried to catch with her tongue, and he just kept coming and coming and coming. The sounds he made were enough to make her all riled up again— his eyebrows furrowed, hair tickling his upper back as he tilted his head. Some of it landed on her jaw and chin but she swallowed as much as she could; which was only what actually made it on her tongue. One long stroke was delivered, and only then was he done, posture slouching as he lazily eyed Y/N. “Incredible.”

She giggled at his praise, still covered in his release. His eyes on her were burning and a second later a mischievous glint made her tummy flutter, “one second.” He leaned over the couch to grab his phone, pulling open the camera app. Y/N’s eyes widened when she realised what he was implying. Harry smirked, “just as a keepsake.”

One of his ringed hands came up to her jaw, cupping it tightly as he forced her head to face the camera. The sight could make Harry come all over again— Y/N’s lips were parted, his come painting her jaw and chin and decorating the edge of her bottom lip. Her neck was littered in purple bruises from all the time he spent there and his hand served as an accessory which she wore with pride. His rings felt cool against her skin when they slid across her jugular.

“Say ‘queef’!”

Y/N’s nose scrunched, “Harry!”

He laughed when she slapped his hand away and quickly kissed her forehead, “I’ll be right back, babe.” Y/N hummed as he left to go to the bathroom, the sight of him covering his dick with his shirt with his bum out making her laugh.

She was so happy.

It might have been the post-orgasm high, but she couldn’t shake the feeling. Obviously the fact that she was doing all of this with her best friend was a big, blaring red flag but it was like she just didn’t care. He made her feel good and confident in her skin— something she hasn’t felt with a number of her past partners.

Just as she fluttered her eyes shut, the sound of Harry’s phone startled her. It was probably his roommate, Niall, wondering where he was. It was nearing 9PM.

She grabbed his phone to silence it, but what she saw made her freeze in her spot.

A picture of a gorgeous brunette flashed across the screen, her eyes twinkling and lips painted red.

Chelsea 🩵

She was smiling wide, and just on the corner of the screen did Y/N catch a glimpse of Harry pressing his lips to her temple.

Her Harry.

The one who’s been her best friend ever since she was in diapers.

Her Harry.

The one who just fucked the living daylights out of her.

Y/N didn’t know what to do so she just watched the phone ring and ring. It was like all the air from her lungs was stolen. Suddenly she felt gross lying here covered in Harry’s come, all that confidence melting away from her body. She felt used. Before she could let the tears threaten her eyes, Harry appeared in the living room. She dropped his phone before he could see.

He walked over to her with a towel in his hand. “You alright?” He asked her, noticing her stoic expression and quiet demeanour. “Mhmm.” Harry must have thought she was just tired after her orgasm, humming as he ran the towel across her thighs and then her jaw. “We did make quite a mess didn’t we?”

He was smirking, trying to get a rise out of her but she just couldn’t stomach the lump in her throat. She faked a laugh, “yeah.” If he noticed her dull responses, he didn’t say anything. When he was done, Y/N sat up and pulled her shirt over head. She was gnawing harshly on her lip, swallowing down tears and anger and confusion as she watched him pick up his phone. His eyebrows furrowed.

“Is everything okay?”

She didn’t know why she asked. Whatever he would say would only make matters worse for her. “Uh, yeah. Jus’ Niall wondering when I’ll be home.” He flashed her a small smile and Y/N felt like the walls of her apartment were crumbling around her. “I have to call him back, Berry, I’ll be right back.” A kiss was pressed to her cheek as he quickly left the room.

Y/N felt like she was suffocating under the weight of his lie. She was disgusted by herself— the same touches she yearned for and looked forward to each weekend now felt like a burden on her body, dirtying her. She wouldn’t let herself cry; she couldn’t let Harry see her like this.

a minute later he walked back in and began dressing himself. “I’ve got to go, Y/N. Sorry, I feel like an ass leaving you so soon but Niall needs me urgently,” he walked over to her, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

She swallowed down another sob, “mhmm.”

He pecked her forehead and whispered goodbye, leaving swiftly without so much as another glance in her direction. Only when her door slammed shut did she allow her tears to spill over her cheeks. They poured and poured like a leaky faucet as Y/N pulled her knees into her chest.

This was probably why he didn’t want to fuck her in the first place.

He was getting his fix elsewhere, and Y/N felt like a fool for ever believing they were anything more than best friends.

Divider by @firefly-graphics

HEYYYY this is just a load of filth :p let me know what your thoughts are and if you enjoyed it !! LEAVE FEEDBACK PLEASE ITS ALWAYS NICE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK !! LIKE REBLOG COMMENT REPLY YADA YADA KISS KISS GOODNIGHT!! xxx

[hidden-poet]

Professor Snow

1/1

Summary; Coriolanus takes a position at the university teaching military theory where he develops an unhealthy crush on one of his students.

Warnings; unethical behavior, teacher/student relationship, stalker behavior, coercive control, dubish consent, reader is not very smart, obsessive behavior, kidnapping, reader isn't described or named.

Editor: @hotline-to-hell

After studying under Dr. Gaul, he took her place at the University. 

She was only looking for a successor, and now that she had found one, she no longer wanted to waste time there. So Coriolanus became the University's military theory professor, in addition to his Gamemaking duties. 

He hated the first year. If the pest of the day wasn’t some annoying boy who had never seen war talking about how he single-handedly would have defeated the districts, it was a young girl wanting to single out his attention.

But in his second year, an infatuation started to soften his days to something close to enjoyment.

She always sat alone, at the front, but rarely took any notes. At first, she jotted every word from Professor Snow, but by the end of the first month, her note-taking had stopped and she drew flowers upon the pages instead. 

When Coriolanus put up a slide depicting the horrors of war he had witnessed, she winced. She was a delicate flower ready for debasing, and Coriolanus found himself protective of her. 

He would catch a young boy staring at her occasionally, innocently or not, and would proceed to make an example out of him. 

He would save her homework assignments to the end, eager to see her opinions and problem-solving. They were both terrible, but he passed her anyway. Her analysis lacked any original thought, she only regurgitated what previous men in power thought. Her disinterest in the class was evident, but he still wrote ‘great job’ on her papers only to see her smile. 

It occurred to him, however, that if he kept passing her, he would no longer have her in his class. She was set to graduate at the end of the semester, and he might not see her again. So he began to fail her homework assignments and even essays that were worth a pass. 

 He watched her face as it sagged when she received her first fail. He hated to disappoint her, but it was for her own good. The longer she was in his class, the more she would warm to him. 

She was embarrassed, hiding her paper in her book bag. 

She began taking notes again in class. Their eyes would meet and Coriolanus could feel himself turn into putty every time she would glance up to look at him. 

It happened twice, he would get so lost just staring at her that he forgot where he was going with his sentence or tune out a student asking him a question. 

Twice was enough to decide that his little blossom had to come home with him, where he could give her the appreciation she deserved. He hated to see her so stressed out over these assignments. He wanted to kiss her brows as they furrowed trying to understand the content. 

“It didn’t matter, darling. Don’t worry about it,” he wanted to say, but instead he put a red line through her work. 

One lecture she did nothing but stare at him. 

“Professor Snow?”  She approached him timidly with her paper in her hands.

“Yes, honey?” It was not an appropriate way to address a student, but she was more than that. 

“I was wondering if you could take another look at my paper?” 

He took it from her soft hold and pretended to review it. She stood so close, he could smell her perfume.

“What about this deserves a higher grade?”

“I got nearly a zero, sir. I met all the criteria.”

“No. Hobbes and Rousseau met the criteria and you copied them. Philosophers I taught about in this class, so I have very little interest in re-reading them in your poor and clunky paraphrasing.” 

Her shoulder dropped and tears welled in her eyes. 

“Oh, sweetheart.” He stood up from his chair and took her into his arms, yet another thing that would be disapproved of by the school board. 

“I am sorry.” She sobbed. Her tears felt so good upon his shirt. He would have kept her there longer but she pulled away, embarrassed. 

“I am sorry. I am being silly. It just seems like no matter how hard I try, I keep failing.” More tears run down her cheeks, making Coriolanus want to pull her back into his arms. He was left with no choice but to cross them over his chest. 

“I tried so hard. I spent weeks on this assignment only to get four percent more than a person who never turned it in at all!”

“I understand, blossom, but I asked you what you thought about the constant state of war. Not what Hobbes thought.”

She nods her head looking defeated. Her body shifts to turn back to the door. He couldn’t let her leave upset with him. 

He pulls her back by her arm and lifts her head up to his level, tipping up her chin. 

“Hey, what do you think? Are people in a constant state of war with each other?” 

He doesn’t remove his hands, liking their place. 

She shrugs her shoulders, her voice small and meek, giving away how much she wanted to leave him.  

“I don’t know. Hobbes said-”

“Forget Hobbes. What do you think would happen if we didn’t have laws governing us?”

He, for one, knows that he wouldn’t be wasting time asking philosophical questions that went over her head. He would pin her to the floor and have his way until his name was the only one she remembered, and then take her home to safety. 

“I think people look for order. We would naturally form some type of governing system that would work for all.” 

God, she was foolish. 

“All people look for order? You don’t think anyone would hurt you if there were no repercussions?” 

He could see he was scaring her so he backed off a bit. Letting his hands fall to his side. 

“We live in the Capitol, sir. There’s no guarantee that they would be met with repercussions here.” 

It was the first original thought he heard from her, and it wasn’t all the way incorrect. Corruption was prominent within the Capitol.

“I think people are good. Mostly. A few bad apples but…” she shrugs again, finishing her sentence before completion. 

“And what should we do with the ‘bad apples’?” 

What would she do to him? 

Another shrug and her eyes go floating around the room. 

“Help them, I guess.” 

A grin spread across his face. She would comfort the wolf that ate her. 

“Well,” he reaches across his desk for the paper and a pen. Although she was undeserving, he wrote a large A across the top. “I must say I disagree but the assignment is based on your perspective.” 

He hands the paper to her who stands shocked, but with a great big smile across her face. 

He would do anything to see her smile, even if it derailed his plans.

“Thank you, sir.” 

His mind raced with ways to keep her close but the next class needed the room soon. 

“You need extra help,” he takes his satchel off the floor and leads her to the door, “Come see me in my office on Tuesdays at 6.”

“I couldn’t sir. I wouldn’t want to be a burden.” 

Coriolanus felt as though he might die if she didn’t agree to come.

“My measure as a teacher is based upon my worst performing student.”

He knew his words stung her and he hated to do it but soon he would only speak sweet words to her. Coddling her from the world they live in.

“I would be more than happy to have a one-on-one with you.” 

—-------------

He dreamt of the upcoming Tuesday. The staff at the University were out for drinks and dinner so the office was always empty. He was completely alone with his girl. It made the long day worth it.  

He sat next to her, too close, as he helped her complete his homework on his office desk. 

She had asked him a question but it was lost upon his ears. 

“Hm?” He hums absentmindedly, before clearing his throat and trying a harder and deeper ‘hm’. 

“I am stuck on question 8.”

He leans over her to check the question. 

“It’s C.” 

“But why is it C?”

The question was simple, and Coriolanus was through with teaching for the day. 

“The answer is just C.” 

He gets up as she fills in the bubble. 

“Are you hungry?” He asks. 

“No, sir. Should I leave? I didn’t mean to interfere with your dinner.” 

She goes to get up but she had only been there an hour. He wanted more time.

“Sit,” he told her, rushing over to hinder her chance of escape. 

She doesn’t fight him, sitting down and dropping her homework back down. 

“I’ll order something in. Finish your homework.” 

He returns from his phone only to find that she had finished all her work. 

Disappointment filled him. It would only take a few seconds to check it and then she would leave. He tries to act indifferent. Essay homework would now be given. 

“Right, let's take a look.” With his guidance, the answers were all correct so his brain worked to make a reason to prolong her stay. 

“Very good, angel,” he praised and she glowed under him. 

“Now, your reading notes. I want to see that you picked up the right ideas.” 

He holds his hand out. Praying that she had no notes to give him. 

Her reaction told him she had not. Her shoulders shrunk, and her nose reddened. 

“You did do your readings, did you not?” He teases. 

“I was going to do it tomorrow morning,” she admits quietly. 

He fakes disappointment. “Oh no, petal. That won’t do. I need to see that you are understanding the content. Readings are crucial to your learning.” 

“I am sorry. I didn’t know you wanted me to have it done.” 

He shakes his head although he could laugh giddily. 

“Take your book out and begin.” 

She looked like a kicked cat as she started her readings. 

He remains close, marking other students' work next to her. He takes a break to retrieve the food when it arrives but her eyes never stray from the page. 

The food was lukewarm and nothing special but he acted as if it was the best thing he had ever eaten. 

He holds his fork out to her, hopeful but she politely declines, stating that she isn’t hungry. 

“You’re going to make me eat alone?” He asks, already opening all the containers on the desk. 

“I should really finish and go home. My parents are waiting for me.” 

“You don’t live in student accommodation?” He knew this already but confessing he did could seem obsessive. 

“No. My parents don’t live far so it's easy for me to commute.'' 

He hands her a plastic fork now that she is distracted from her work and she takes it. 

“What are your plans after graduation?”

He imagined her in his home pregnant. 

“I am not sure. My father wants me to take over the family business, but I’m not sure it’s for me.” 

The family business sold high-end jewelry. She was always adorned in it. 

“Why?” he pushes. 

She avoids his eyes again as she speaks. 

“I would like to do something that helps people,” she admits. 

“But you chose a business major?” Under a normal student/professor relationship he would not have known that without her telling him. But he spent hours going over her academic record. Her grades were not great, but they didn’t need to be. He would look after her.  

“My father chose a business major, I just completed it.”

She pushes her food away and brings back her textbook, “Well, almost. This class is the only one I have to complete to graduate.” 

“Better get back to studying then.”

He cleans up the food. He had no appetite either.  

It was good to know that she was susceptible to influence. If she did what her father wanted, as her husband, she would cause him little trouble. 

She yawns and he supposed he had kept her long enough. It was only a full workday before he could see her in class again. He wondered if he could devise a plan to see her on weekends. But for now, he bid her goodnight and saw her off in her car. 

They continued their Tuesday nights. Coriolanus even managed to get her to come in some Saturdays before a big test. He helped her not only with his class but all she signed up for. Coriolanus was blessed with an academic mind and found her business major incredibly easy while she struggled with proposals and understanding key learning criteria. It worked well for him seeing her nearly three times a week. He was beginning to think he would be able to pass her after all. The sooner she graduates, the sooner their student/teacher relationship ends and something more could bloom. 

When he entered class on Thursday, she was talking to another student. Another male student. It ruined his good mood completely. 

He barked at everyone to sit down, and the other student, who Coriolanus never bothered to learn the name of, thankfully went back to his usual seat up in the stands. 

He couldn’t help but glare at her during his lecture, along with slamming papers down on the desk too hard and manhandling University equipment. 

Did she know of his affections for her, and was now using them against him for a passing grade? Coriolanus Snow would not be made a fool. 

He spoke too fast for her to finish taking notes, leaving her to try to absorb information as much as she could. He dismissed the class after handing out the week's homework assignment, stopping by her desk last.

He places a hand up on her desk. “Stay,” he demands. 

She leaves her packed bag by her feet as her classmates exit the room. The boy had the gall to wave goodbye but she only smiled back.

He knew he had no reason to be mad. Classmates talk. But he is mad. He is so furious. 

He waits until the classroom is cleared before leaning closer with a fierce glare. 

“Is my class a joke to you?” 

“No, sir.” 

“Then perhaps you can tell me why after hours of wasting my time with you, you still manage to hand in something I can barely read, let alone pass?”

“What?” Her voice quivers. The grades were not released yet, so her hope for a pass was still standing. 

“Maybe if you spent less time flirting and more time studying I could have my nights back.” 

As an only daughter, she was unused to being spoken to harshly. So the words of an authority figure upset with her quickly made her eyes water. 

He wanted to pull her up from her seat and kiss her tears away, but she needed to know what she did was wrong. 

“You’ll have to redo it.” 

There goes her weekend and any plans with any boy, he thought. 

She nods her head, “Yes, sir.” 

“I want it on my desk by Monday morning.” 

She nods again. Thinking it was over, she reached for her bag. 

“Well?” He snaps. “Say thank you. I shouldn’t be giving you another chance.” 

“Thank you, Professor Snow.” She mutters. 

“What? Speak up,” he pushes. 

“Thank you, Professor Snow,” she says more loudly. 

“Go,” he flicks his hand towards the door and she rushes out. 

Coriolanus didn’t want to leave for the week with her still mad at him, he had to make amends. So he waits in the multi-level parking garage. It took him a while to find her car, relieved that it was still there. 

He waits for an hour, sitting on the hood of her car. When she does arrive, her eyes are red and puffy from crying. He felt terrible that he had caused her to bawl her eyes out for what was sure to have been an hour and a half. 

“Professor Snow?” She questions, making her way to the car. 

“Oh, precious. I am sorry.” She stood far enough in front of him that he could reach out and tug her forward into his hold. 

“I just want what’s best for you, darling.” And it’s not that boy. 

He proves he is stronger than her when she fails to break free from his hold. 

With his grasp, he uses his right arm to stretch over her and pull her jaw up to look at him. His left arm wrapped around her shoulders keeping her pressed against his chest. A loose curl fell over his forehead and across his eyes. 

“You were doing so well. You need to refocus, angel. We can study more together, you’ll get there.”

“You fail me for no reason”. Well, there was a reason. “I thought you were my friend.”

“I am your friend, honey.” His grip suddenly turns painful, causing her to squirm but he keeps her face still up towards him. 

“Is he your friend too?” 

“What are you talking about?”

The sound of footsteps echoing through the concrete building forced Coriolanus to release his hold. He would have trouble explaining to the school board why he thought this position was appropriate. 

Another female student in tall heels makes her way up the slope. She had large headphones on that quieted the awful sound of her heels meeting the concrete floor, but it drowned further conversation between the two. 

With Coriolanus off her, she unlocks her car, throwing her bag into the passenger seat. 

“I won’t waste any more of your time, Professor Snow. Thank you for your help.”

If the other student had walked any faster, Coriolanus would have thrown open her car door and yanked her out. But even with the students' large headphones if she decided to scream it would be heard. So he steps out of the way, watching the sleek car go. He was left with an empty feeling and a quiet rage. 

—---------------

He taps his pen against his desk while his other hand is pressed against his lips, propping him up. He had expected her to make her way to him by now. He had sent her a reminder message that their study session was still on. 

He knew she would be here. She told him she hated studying at home. Her parents always distracted her. They loved their daughter and never put too much value on her schooling. Their money would take care of her before her husband came along. Her father would be happy for her to never marry and stay in the home, but he knew that he wouldn’t be around forever, and there would be a need to have someone else to look after her. 

Coriolanus knew that they only bothered to send their daughter to University as a hunting ground for eligible bachelors. While not the intended fish, Coriolanus was certain he could win over her parents. But first, he had to win her over. And she was making it very difficult by not keeping their plans. 

She was at the library, he was certain. Only 100 yards from his office. She would sit there until her assignment was done. He was sure to fail it again. 

His chair scrapes against the floor as he pushes it back. He storms through the University without coming across another soul. It was late Saturday, and students and academics had long started their weekend. It was perfect for him. He wouldn’t mind if everyone else in the world died, so long as it left him and his girl. It was a sunny day, the temperature warm enough to stay outside in it. Once he found her, he would suggest that they lay a blanket on the field. 

The library was dead. Capitol students were more interested in the social life of the University rather than the academic. He had expected that it was only her there, head burrowed into a book with her usual perplexed expression.

But through the book stands, he could see her sitting next to the boy from his class. They sat close together with books, coffee, and pens scattered over the table. 

“Trust me, he wants you to write more formally. Try this-” she transcribes his words onto her paper and Coriolanus makes himself known. 

“This is academic misconduct. You both could be expelled from the University.” 

Maybe that’s what she needed. Her family would surely shun her and with no earning potential of her own, it would drive her into his arms. 

“I was just helping.”

“You were just completing her assignment for her.” 

She shook her head, going to speak, “No-”

“Shut up,” he spat. 

He points to the young boy, “I want to speak to her alone. Leave.” 

They both wait until the boy is far enough so their conversation won’t be heard. 

She looks at Coriolanus with hopeful eyes. 

“Sir, I-”

“You fucking slut.” 

“Excuse me?” She asks, shocked. 

“Whoring yourself out for an assignment. What would your parents think?” 

She stands up behind the table, scooping her things into her arms. 

“How dare you suggest that. He was helping me because you suck at your job.”

He crosses the table and grabs her by the arm to stop her from leaving. 

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Home.” She tugged against his hold but she was only a young woman, barely an adult, and he was a full-grown man. 

“We are going to the Dean, and you can explain to him that the reason you cheated is because he hired me.”

He doesn’t let go of her arm, using it to lead her to his car. She doesn’t fight him. She was too stupid to realize that the Dean wouldn’t hear concerns of academic misconduct on a Saturday. Or that Coriolanus had darker intentions than penalizing her for colluding with another student. 

He drove too fast through the city. Her hands clenched his leather seats but she said nothing to him the entire journey. When they arrive at his skyrise and the gates open to his carport, she sobers to the idea that she might be in danger. 

“Where are we?” She asks as he parks the car.

“Get out of the car,” he demands, unclipping his seat belt. 

She follows him willingly into the elevator and up to his penthouse. 

“Professor Snow, why are we here?” 

He slams the door shut behind her and uses the solidified door to push her up against it. 

“You are so fucking dumb, you know that? I’ve never seen anymore more undeserving of a place at the University than you.” 

He had his hand on her neck to keep her there but added no pressure to hurt her. 

“What was your plan with that boy? Use him to graduate and then get knocked up by him? Force him to marry you?”

“No! I didn’t have a plan. We’re just friends.” Her small hands go up around his wrists. 

“Well, I don’t like you being ‘just friends’ with him. You’re never to see him again.” 

She nodded as much as she could in her position. 

“Okay, sir. Just please let me go. My family are expecting me home.”

Now that she was here, he didn’t like the idea of any other place being her home.

“Take your phone out of your pocket and tell your parents that you’re spending the weekend at Sophie's.” 

Sophie was her best friend. She spoke of her often but Coriolanus had never met her. 

She does as she was told, and Coriolanus leans in closer to watch her type the message on the family group chat. She was an adult and could stay where she pleased, so long as it was a preapproved place by her father, and Sophie’s was. 

He takes the phone, pocketing it and releasing her from the door. 

Her hand reached back to open it but the lock sprang up. 

“Why did I have to tell them that?” She questions. 

He knew now, and forever more, he was going to have to spell things out for her.

“We’ve had a terrible fight and now just need time to regather ourselves.” 

He walks towards the open kitchen expecting her to follow. 

“I am sorry. You can tell the Dean. I’ll be expelled for misconduct.” 

“You think I care about academic misconduct? What do you think we were doing these past few weeks? I was doing your homework.” 

She followed him to the kitchen now, and he could feel her presence behind him as he reached into the fridge for one of the fizzy drinks she liked. He stocked up in case she ever did decide to come over. 

“What are you doing? Let me out then.” 

He cracked open the tin and took a sip. It was sweet and too bubbly for his liking. 

“Your parents sent you to school to find a husband. I think it’s time you found one.”

“I told you, I wasn't flirting with him!” She protested. 

“Me, you dumb girl.” 

She looked taken back. She steps back away from him, her eyes wide and frightened. 

“You? Professor Snow-”

“I think given everything, you can call me Coriolanus, sweetheart.” 

She retreats to the living room to create some distance. 

“I am sorry if I gave you the wrong impression.” 

He scoffs at her, placing the can on the kitchen island and following her to where she stood. 

“I won’t tell anyone about this,” she offers, “Just open the door.”

He chooses to sit, pulling her down on top of him. Her dress rises up to her thighs and he takes a second to run his hands up and down them. He helps her position her legs around his waist before holding her down by her hips.

“You don’t find me handsome, is that it?” He asks. He saw the way she looked at him when she thought he couldn’t see her. He knew she wasn’t immune to his natural good looks. 

“Please, Professor Snow. I just want to go home.” 

“Oh, love. You’re going to be staying here now with me, darling.” 

“No. No I can't, I have to go home.” 

Coriolanus shakes his head. “This is your home now, beautiful.”

He really hated to see her cry.

“Everything’s going to be fine, sweetheart. Don’t cry.” He reaches up and wipes the tears as they fall. 

Her jewelry jingles as she runs her hands through her hair. For the first time, it bothered Coriolanus. It felt as though the jewelry was symbolic of her father's hold over her. She was Coriolanus' property now. Her chains belonged to him. 

He began by sliding her gold bangles off her wrists and unclipping the delicate bracelets that hid in between them. He let them fall around him, unbothered. She doesn’t stop him as he reaches for her necklace and earrings. 

He smiles up at her now that she is bare from her jewelry. He slides his hands up to the back of her shoulders and pushes her to rest on his chest.  

—-------------

Coriolanus took the week off work to help her settle. He woke up early this morning next to her and went to get her favorite breakfast sandwich from a nearby café. 

The line was long so when he returned home, he knew she would be up. 

“Are you hungry, petal? I got us some food,” he calls out.  

He places the food on the table, upon hearing no reply. 

“Petal?” He calls. “Sweetheart?” 

He searches his apartment to find her sitting by the door to the greenhouse, crying. He crouches down next to an expensive marble statue that she had used as a battering ram. 

“Well, why did you break it if you didn’t want it broken?” He spoke to her as if he was speaking to a child. 

“It wouldn’t break,’’ she sobbed. “I couldn’t get it to crack open.”

He taps against the reinforced glass that has only minor cracks. 

“It’s tough,” he consoles. If anyone else would have broken his things, he would have gone berserk, but she had free reign to smash and destroy what she liked. 

“Come here,” he picks her up by her arms, forcing her to her feet and back into the bedroom. 

“I want to go home to my parents,” she cried. 

“I am not keeping you from your parents, petal” he says, placing her back into bed, “We’ll go visit them when you feel better.”

She curls into her side and he places himself behind her, halfway on top of her so he could speak gently into her ear. 

“Don’t you want me to take care of you? Make your father proud of the man you’ve chosen? All your parents want is for you to be married. You could give it to them and never have to worry about a single thing again.” 

She uncurls herself slightly, encouraging him to keep going. 

“I’ll make sure you pass all your classes. Have the finest things. All you need to do is be my good little girl. So easy, even you could do it.” 

He knew she had deep anxiety about the future. He could offer her a world, where all of the if’s were disintegrated. She was interested in it, flipping on her back to look up at him. 

“We’ll wait until you graduate to announce our relationship. We’ll tell your parents tonight.” He wanted to strike while she was still in a deluded state. “You’ll move in. Become my personal assistant after graduation. You said you wanted to help people. Help me. Your dad will be so proud of you.” 

He clouded her mind. It was an easy way out from everything that troubled her, offered by a man who she had crushed on but never thought she could have. 

She nods her head, even before she was aware of it. Only the crushing feeling of his lips against hers brought her head movements to attention. 

They both returned to the classroom on Thursday for the final exam. Her mind knew that Coriolanus was not right in the head. That he couldn’t love like a normal person. But it was too late. Her parents approved of the relationship. Her father was glad that it was an older, successful man rather than an immature young boy. And her mother was glad that he was handsome and rich. It would disappoint them, despite the circumstances of the relationship, to break it off. Coriolanus had already promised them a wedding by the end of the following year. Coriolanus acted indifferent to her in class, not even looking at her as he placed the exam paper down in front of her. It was already filled out with the answers. All she had to do was sit there for an hour pretending. Nevertheless, that night they celebrated her achievement. Coriolanus told her how smart she was, and that her grades placed her at the top of his class. And his work ensured that she at least passed the rest of hers. The rest of the school year was spent organizing a graduation party while Coriolanus handed in work with her name on it. This life was easy, but came at a price. Her life was no longer hers. Coriolanus played with it like a doll. 

Everything was done together or not at all. He considered her his, and as such, expected everything she did to be run past him first. 

“Yes, Professor Snow.” She would tease him when he gave her an outright demand, instead of dressing it up with sweet talk. 

He left his position at the University to his successor, much like Dr Gaul did. He had bigger things to focus on. His presidential run and growing family took precedence over teaching military theory and the likes of Hobbes and Rousseau. He laughed at her when she failed to remember the ideas of Hobbes. His dumb, naive little girl never had to worry about the state of warre that plagued mankind. He would protect her from humanity in its entirety. 

[esmedelacroix]

All the ways I defy you.

pairing: exboyfriend!miguel o'hara x f!reader

summary: Since the end of your relationship, Miguel has been acting strange. At home, at work, and even around his own friends. He even goes so far as to break work rules all, for you?

cw: very angsty, depressive behaviors, tiny suggestive part

a/n: Hey! Just wanted to say thanks so much for all the love on the first part I uploaded a while ago! This is coming to you very late I know. I was a bit stressed with finals and moving out of my dorm. Here's part two, I hope you enjoy it! A comment, like, or repost is always appreciated.

previous part | miguel masterlist

*listen to this song on loop for the best experience !

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

Of course, when I thought that I could rid her of my life for good, the universe sent her flying in my direction. I do not want to be near her. Not because I hate her but because I know I make her upset. I don't want her to be around someone she associates terrible feelings with(me). Yet there she was drenched at our front door.

"I'm currently on the hunt for an apartment, but I didn't know this was going to happen—so—sniff—I'll have to stay here for a while. Is that okay?" my sweet girl asked as she averted her eyes. Drenched in rain, runny mascara, and her tears. Voice quivering and body shaking.

"Yes, of course, yeah, come in," I responded a bit too quickly, opening my door wider for her to enter. I stepped aside and rummaged through the bathroom getting her a warm fluffy towel.

"Um, I'll take the couch so you can sleep in our—my room," I said, correcting myself. Which only made her tears spill more.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Yes, you'll catch a cold if you don't," I assured.

"Do you even care?" she muttered under her breath.

Yes, Of course I do baby you're my everything.

"I'll be in my office if you need anything," I sighed.

. . .

Sleeping uncomfortably on your couch is not for that week. But that didn't compare to the feeling of hearing my ex-girlfriend crying herself to sleep in the bed we once shared. Our physical proximity was so close. All I had to do was get up, open the door, and cuddle her. Tell her everything is going to be okay.

How can one be so close to someone but so far at the same time? The paradox of my situation with my ex-girlfriend tore my heart, mind, and body apart.

Just then her cries and sniffs died down and I could hear her familiar soft snore that she swore she didn't have. When I closed my eyes to sleep, the first thought that came to my head was her. Her sleeping form. How peaceful her face looked. The way her chest rose and fell as she breathed. My perfect girl was the first and last thing I thought about. Her mere existence in my imagination had lulled me to sleep. Fuck, I made a mistake letting her go, I thought to myself.

. . .

"Hobie Brown," I said sternly.

"I already know, I get it, but things happen, mate," he shrugged, foreseeing the lecture he was about to receive from me.

"No, I don't think you 'get it' because you broke one of the only three key rules you have to follow here," I interjected.

"Just let him off the hook this time," Gwen interrupted.

"No. I can't. You, Miles, and Pavitr could learn from this as well. Don't disrupt the canon, report to me after every single mission, and never, ever, ever leave your post," I lectured.

"What if something important happens?" Miles questions.

"Nothing is more important than keeping the canon intact," I snapped.

"At this rate, you and your girlfriend will break up before I finish my written report. She must really enjoy your relationship; If you could even call it that," Hobie smirked as he walked away.

That shut me up. Because what he predicted was not far from reality. Are my rules too much? I couldn't say anything back to him because he might have been correct. For the first time ever Hobie Brown got the last word. The rest of the afternoon I reflected on myself and my rules. Not leaving your post is important, I told myself.

. . .

"I got your text," Peter B sighed as he took a seat next to Miguel in the cafeteria.

"You broke up with her?" he asked, quivering a brow.

"Yeah, it was just too much," I sighed, rubbing my hand along my face.

"What do you mean? She's like the best thing to ever happen to you. The first time I ever saw you genuinely laugh was the day you brought her to work and she kept cracking the worst dad jokes. And you're telling me you broke up with her?" he rambled.

"Peter, I was making her unhappy," I admitted.

"Then just stop making her unhappy. It's as easy as that. Knowing her, she probably communicated what was bothering her with you too," he said sternly.

"I can't just stop following protocol," I said, stating the obvious.

"For her? For the women you love? You should be able to," Peter sighed. My lungs felt like they had been attacked by a million bees. Palms were sweating buckets at the mere thought of experiencing my baby Gabriella disappear in my arms again. Her painful screams filled my ears. The grief-stricken reality that her daddy, her "hero", couldn't save her. Amid my miniature panic attack, Peter placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. Successfully pulled me from the nightmare I was reliving back into the present.

"But, Peter, Gabi, I—I can't let that happen again. What if a parent, just like me and you, loses their kid the same way I did? I just-I can't do it. I have to keep the canon undisturbed," I said, stumbling over my words.

"Miguel, that isn't going to happen again, you have us now. You have help," Peter said a little softer, noticing that he hit a nerve.

"I would never forgive myself if millions of families, partners, and could-have-been end or cease to exist because of me," I admitted.

"Miguel, if you were to leave your post, you would have someone fill in for you. You give yourself all of these extra jobs that you don't need to be doing," Peter insisted.

"But if I don't do it, someone's going to make a mistake," I insisted.

"Or you can trust in the people that you hand-picked for this job," Peter suggested.

"It's more complicated than that," I rebutted.

"No, it really isn't. You're just making it more complicated. You need to trust in your team," he finished.

"And maybe get your girl back?" he suggested as he got up to get Mayday from Gwen's lap to go change her diapers.

. . .

You called out of work sick. Truthfully, you were glued to the bed. You didn't have the desire to get up or do much of anything. You hadn't showered that morning or eaten breakfast. All you did was stare at the ceiling, out the window, and the framed photo of you and Miguel that he hadn't put away yet.

Tears stained your cheeks, your eyes swelled to oblivion, and your stomach was empty and practically eating itself. The refrigerator called out to me but I didn't answer. I couldn't. Does he even care like I do? You asked yourself.

Staring blankly at the limewash accent wall of your once-shared room that you were considered a guest in. Just then your phone rang. You shot up and immediately checked who it was. You shamelessly smiled when the contact name "my miguel 💕" popped up on your screen. You clicked the answer button after taking a deep breath.

"Hello?" you said.

"Hi, you're probably at work right now, sorry to be a bother," he started.

"No, not at all. I called out today. I've been feeling under the weather," you assured.

"Do you want me to bring you anything for dinner? I'm going to get Chinese takeout tonight," he said.

"Yeah, I'll have whatever you're having," you responded.

"Okay, I'll be back around 7:00 with dinner. You know where the medicine is, take care of yourself please," he assured.

"Okay, I'll be expecting you," you replied before hanging up first.

He told you he'd be home around seven but you didn't count on it. He broke most promises anyway.

You decided to finally shower and have a small snack. You sat on the couch with your Kindle in hand. The couch smelled like him. The throw pillows smelled like his lavender-scented shampoo. You couldn’t help but wrap yourself in the blankets he had used the night before. It didn’t compare his hugs but it was good enough for now.

You spent some time reading some romance novels. Putting yourself in the shoes of the heroine and pretending that the love interest was him. Pretending that it was Miguel who ran all the way to your house while it was raining to hold you and wipe your tears in the dead of the night. Instead, you sat in your living room wondering whether or not he would actually do that for you.

You heard keys in the door and it opened soon after. You got up and slowly approached it with a pillow in hand as a weapon. You had no idea who could be dropping by the apartment at this time. Just then Miguel turned the corner takeout in hand and you wound up to hit the perpetrator. “Whoa calm down, it’s just me,” Miguel chuckled.

You let out a long exhale in relief. “I just wasn’t expecting you to be home so early,” he sighed as you put the pillow back on the couch.

“What do you mean? I said I’d be here around this time and you said and I quote, ‘I’ll be expecting you’,” he teased.

“Well I’m just kind of used to you saying things and not delivering,” you said under your breath loud enough for him to hear as you helped him unpack the food he got and set it on the living room coffee table.

“Well I decided to be less of a dick today,” he quipped.

“Should’ve done that when we were still together,” you answered half-joking.

He gave you an apologetic look. His mouth opened then closed. Like he wanted to say something but he stopped himself. Like he always did. I wish you could tell me what’s on your mind, you thought to yourself.

“I’ve been pretty shitty huh?” he said with a pained expression on his face.

“It’s not your fault,” you assured taking a seat next to him.

He put something random on Netflix to watch while you got water for the two of you. As usual, he never read the synopsis of anything he watched and accidentally put on 365 days. Classic Miguel. “Oh god, this is a bit inappropriate,” he commented, almost choking on his lo mien.

“It’s nothing we’ve never done before,” you smirked.

You watched his cheeks flush out of the corner of your eyes. He hugged the my melody plush you had gifted him a while ago a little tighter. He adjusted his glasses sheepishly.

You recalled the time you asked him about his glasses. Him being ashamed when he admitted that he needed to use glasses whenever he looked at a screen because played too many video games as a kid.

Suddenly, the TV blended in with all the other noises in the background. The sounds of cars honking on the streets outside the window, the rain constantly hitting the top of the air conditioner, the soft hum of the drying machine, and the—tick—tock—of the clock on the wall.

It was just you and Miguel in that room then. Stealing glances at each other. Contemplating whether or not you should release the many unspoken words bottled up inside. “I’m moving out in 2 days. I found a place,” you said, breaking the silence.

“Oh, that’s….great. Seriously, good for you,” he says looking away. What you didn’t know was that Miguel wasn’t congratulating you. He was trying to convince himself that you leaving was a good thing. That it was good for you and for him. That it was everything he wanted.

You could hear the pain in his voice and although you could see his face. You knew the downcast expression that was painted on it.

. . .

Two days went by way too quickly. Two days of sleeping on the couch. Two days of coming home early and on time to spend time with my loved ones before she left. Two days of baking sweet treats while we watched Romance movies. Two days of soaking in her presence before it was completely gone from my life.

As soon as I knew it, that morning when I decided to help her move her things out instead of going to work. I put Jess in charge of the morning instead which she was ecstatic about.

Once the final box was loaded in the moving truck we faced each other at the front door. The front door I’ve her drunk body through. The front door we used to kiss at when we couldn’t wait to get in our house. The front door she knocked at with all of her stuff when we decided to move in together. The front door where I would chase after her after an argument. The front door I revealed I was Spiderman at. The front door she came to drenched with rain in tears the day I broke up with her. Which was now the front door that we would say our last goodbyes at.

We looked into each other's eyes for a good 30 seconds. Tears filled her eyes and mine. "Just, come here big guy," she sighed, opening her arms to me.

I was hesitant. If I touched I was afraid I wouldn't want to let go and I would hold on forever. All I could control was the now. So I pushed those thoughts of fear away and I held her. Her arms wrapped around my waist. One of my hands rested on her back while the other was on the back of her head caressing her hair. For once I built up the courage to say what was on my mind without holding myself back. I took a deep breath in before admitting, "I'll miss you,"

"I still love you," she replied before letting go and walking out the door for the last time.

I heard the door click and it was final. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

. . .

I felt lighter as I walked down the hallway to my office. Memories of her still played endlessly in my head but I felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulder when I took Peter's advice and split my jobs up with my coworkers.

Today most of the spider society would be in Pavitr's universe catching any extra anomalies that slipped under our radar. As well as closing the quantum hole that was starting to form. We had almost all hands on deck in this assignment and I would be leading it.

The mission reached a new height for us when a Prowler variant from a different universe was found. Gwen and I were on him while also trying to keep the streets and civilians safe. Peter joined us soon after he finished his task. Just when we had cornered him, my watch began to ring. The contact name appeared as "Mi Corazon" and my heart dropped. My heart dropped because the only way she could call me on my watch was with the emergency one I had made for her. She was in trouble. I looked around at Peter and Gwen and they both urged me to answer. "If you need to go, you should go," Peter said, fighting off the Prowler who took this as an advantage to strike.

"Don't worry about us, we got this," Gwen called out, giving Peter a hand while looking back at me.

"But, I can leave my post. I made that rule," I stuttered as the ringing of my watch heightened my nerves. Peter gave me a look

"For her? For the women you love? You should be able to," the words played through my head as the worst possible time.

I can't, I can't do it. I have to stay, I thought to myself.

"You should be able to," I told myself.

As I battled with myself in my head, Peter snapped me out of it. "Answer that call, Miguel. I'm sure you'll regret it later if you don't. We got it covered. Trust in us? Please?" he called out.

Every cell in my body and even my brain told me not to answer the call and not to leave my post. But every beat in my heart and whisper of my soul told me to answer the damn call. So I did.

. . .

I had never swung through the streets of Nueva York faster than I was now. Her little voice fueled me even though biologically I should have no energy right now.

"Miguel I need you, I need you right now,"

If a branch was in my way I simply swung through. They would hit my body and bruise me a bit but none of that mattered right now.

"Someone broke into my house,"

Tears began to form in my eyes wondering if she was okay. If she was safe. “ You still there baby?” I asked as I swung past building upon building.

“Yeah—sniff—I’m here,” she replied. I let out a relieved sigh.

“Just wait right there, baby. Stay on the line, I’m almost there,” I breathed out.

. . .

You didn’t expect him to drop everything at an important mission for you. That's why you didn’t tell him that you knew who robbed your house.

That’s why you didn’t tell him that your ex-boyfriend had texted you the moment he found you that you and Miguel split up. The same ex was the reason why Miguel had to help you tighten your home security before you moved in with him.

So when Miguel found you on the ground a mess with tears still streaming down your face. You felt as though you had to tell him. "This was Kyle wasn't it?" he asked.

"How'd you know?" you asked, looking up at him, his arms still wrapped around you.

"I had a bodyguard follow you around for a while just to make sure you were okay while I figured out a time to help you install some security here. They noticed a guy was loitering outside of your apartment building a lot but they assumed he was a resident," he explained.

"I'm sorry I called you for this, I'm a mess and you were doing something important, probably," you rambled.

"No, nothing is more important than your safety and your happiness," he interrupted.

"Miguel, you don't have to say that to make me feel better. I know how important holding the Spider-Verse together is to you," you admitted.

"You're more important. So much more important. I'd sit and watch the whole Spider-Verse crumble and burn as long as I’m watching it with you safe in my arms," he confessed, holding you tighter.

"I'm sorry I never told you that sooner. Or showed that in my actions when we were together. There hasn't been a single day I haven't thought about you since I first met you. I thought that by breaking up with you, you'd be happier and you'd be free of me. It's hard being in a relationship with me and it's even harder to love me because I'm so flawed," he continued.

All the things he wanted to say but never dared to say to you spilled out at once.

"I just didn't want you to think I'm weak," he admitted sheepishly.

Shock struck your face. He's been struggling so much and you didn't know. "Oh Miguel, I could never think that. You are the strongest man I know. Once I had to bike up a very steep hill to get a bandage for my little brother who scraped his knee, it was really hard. Another time, I took a test that had 120 multiple-choice questions and two essays in two hours. That—was really hard. But the easiest thing I've ever had to do..." you started as you cupped his cheeks with both of your hands.

"...is love you. It's a pleasure—to love you, Miguel. You are not an inconvenience to me" you assured.

The two of you held each other on the floor of your trashed apartment. For the first time out of many to come, Miguel defied his protocols and the canon for you. He challenged his way of being for you. And he conquered his fear of opening up all to be a better man for you.

"I know it's hard for you to talk to me about what goes on in your head, and we'll work on it but this is a really good start. Thank you," you said.

"Does this mean we're back together? You really want to be with me after all this?" he asked.

"Yes, of course," you chuckled.

"I love you to the moon and back," he sighed.

. . .

to be continued ?

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

taglist: @truth-dare-spin-bottles @hobiebrowns-wife @lazyjellyfish300 @scaryplanetdestroyer @lauraolar14 @reader-1290 @prettygirleli @spicydonut25

[gravegroves]

Okay, little stream-of-consciousness-moment:

Billy, who's mind is like a steel trap, who isn't a scared little child, but a healthy, angry young adult. And the mindflayer doesn't even know what hit it. One second it's infiltrating grey matter, overtaking neural pathways and becoming one with this new vessel and the next second it's burning alive, it's crumbling and shrinking and screeching in agony as the human body does what is does best to foreign invaders: try to kill it.

I've always loved the posts on tumblr that explore how deeply weird humans would be to aliens. Our physiology, our mentality, when spoken of as animal traits they are all deeply disturbing. We're persistence predators. We're built to last. We can survive unimaginable horrors (and also die from the stupidest, most everyday things). Our main predator, is ourselves. A bite from a child can kill another human just from the bacteria alone if left untreated. Our bodies are designed to kill entities both within and without.

Humans are fucking terrifying.

So the mindflayer is so unprepared for an adult human who's been through too much shit already. Not just a tired little slip of a kid, but a healthy, entering-his-prime human and is eradicated with extreme prejudice by nothing more than a good immune system going into overdrive.

But it's too deeply imbeded, so the body again does what it can to protect itself, it encases it. Within the body, but separate. Calcified. Caged.

So here's Billy, who has a rather spotty memory of a car crash and feels like he has a head cold for a couple of days before he gets on with his life. Only weird shit keeps happening to him, now. Like that time he encounters a pack of dogs while out drinking by the quarry, except they look really fucked-up the closer they get, not like any dog Billy's ever seen before, and just as he's prepared for an attack from these things, they just walk up to him and sniff around a bit with their weird flower heads blooming and closing, but otherwise leaving him unharmed. And Billy's just this side of drunk where terrible ideas seem kinda brilliant and he tells the things to sit. And they do. Amazed, he tosses his beer bottle and tells them go fetch, and again, one does.

And then when it's time to go home Billy offhandedly tells them to get lost and they run off back into the woods, and when he wakes up in the morning it's easy to rationalise it away. Probably the beer had been rolling around in the car for too long and it went bad and fucked him up. Should just have thrown the whole sixpack out. Those were just regular dogs, for sure. Except the next day, when he's out behind the pool building trying to find a good spot to smoke, he steps onto soft soil or something and falls down into a weird ass tunnel and a bunch of those same monster dogs just appear out of nowhere and pile themselves on top of each other for him to be able to climb out. And a couple of days later when Neil smacks Billy around for being out late again, one of those dogs honest to God comes crashing through the living room window to shred Neil's leg up and leaves just as quickly at the first sign of panic from Billy.

And yeah okay, by this stage Billy's figuring out things are kinda fucky around Hawkins, and so it's just Billy having his own little side adventure in the background while the rest of the gang are running around Hawkins trying desperately to find the Mindflayer, not knowing that Billy unknowingly trapped it within himself and is just living his life, teaching these weirdly obedient alien dogs to do tricks because they keep helping him or seeking him out.

Anyway, upside down is doomed because their leader is literally trapped inside Billy and Billy is just teaching these dog-things to steal cigarettes from the gas station and volunteering for the closing shift at the pool because he can just get the dogs to bring the pool noodles back into the shed.

[sillymercury]

Make You See My Crazy

AzrielxReader

<3

Warnings: some slightly sexual themes

Word count: 7.9k

It’s split into parts only bc I can’t stop yapping

Summary: Upon joining the inner circle you expected excitement, movement, enterprise. Instead you were faced with mundane, every day was nearly the same and repetitive motion was killing you. It’s hard sneaking around the person you love but it’s inevitable when they’re the one holding you back.

Part 2 to I’m not the Crazy One, She Is

<3

I thought working with the inner circle would be action packed; missions, fighting, or infiltrating other courts. I imagined myself having serious debriefs with Rhysand and far off adventures with Mor or Azriel. But for the first year and some change it’s just been training. Every. Day.

I guess it was to be expected, I had to be thoroughly prepared; even if what I was being prepared for was the impossible.

Some of the scenarios Azriel would throw at me were absolutely off the wall; like being shrunken down and hidden under a walnut casing, being drugged with hallucinogenic cookies that make the enemy seem like friends, being eaten by a shark? It was deluded. I asked him if any of those things ever happened to him, his answer; “Unimportant. It could happen to you.”

I thought I was flying through training with flying colors, and so did Rhysand and Cassian and Nesta and Gwyn and Feyre and Emerie and Morrigan and Amren and pretty much everyone other than Azriel. He always found something to correct or have a question with no right answer. At first it was funny, but then I mastered the sword, dagger, staff, bow and arrow, and my personal favorite nunchucks. Now it’s just condescending.

The time I wasn’t preparing for the impossible I was working on strengthening my powers with Amren and Nesta. I’ve had control of my abilities for the better part of two centuries but using them for combat was different. I had mostly used them to get what I want, adopting strangers on the streets powers to make my night more interesting. Now I was using people’s own powers against them. My abilities expanded beyond what I ever thought, what I had ever attempted. I can connect with at least 3 people, stealing power from multiple sources. I can also connect over a distance but that’s only for people that I know, if I can envision them in my minds eye and envision their powers I can connect from virtually anywhere.

Ive never felt more powerful, more formidable, more like a force to be reckoned with than since I’ve begun working with the inner circle. But for some reason, a reason that edged my last nerve Azriel didn’t see it.

“I can take on anyone in this godsdamned court and hold my own, but it’s always ‘you’re not ready’ ‘you need more training’ ‘what if something terribly unlikely happens?’” I groaned at I threw myself back onto Nesta and Cassian’s shared bed. The female was perched at the top, legs tucked underneath herself, watching me with a sly expression.

“It’s because he likes you,” Nesta teased, a knowing smile making its way onto her face.

I flipped myself over and bit my bottom lip, failing at controlling my smile. “I know,” I said dreamily, I could feel my face heat as I thought of the shadowsinger. “But that’s another thing, he likes me, I know he does. But he’s also distant, not physically but emotionally. He’s holding back from me and I don’t know why. Like go king! Give me nothing!”

Nesta laughed as she slid onto her stomach as well, face close to mine, “That’s just how these Illyrians are. They only want love if it’s torture.”

I rolled my eyes at her words, “What did you read that in a book or something?”

“Or something,” she smirked and I chuckled at response shaking my head. “I can’t help you with your love sick yet sickeningly distant Az but in terms of putting you in the field; talk to Rhys. Tell him that you feel more than ready to have a mission of your own.”

I groaned, sneaking around Az didn’t feel right. I wanted him to see me, see what I’m capable of and want me by his side. “Okay,” I said while I picked at my nails. I peaked at the female and she gave me a pointed look, “Okay!” This time I spoke with more conviction. Standing up I stamped my foot with my hands on my hips “I am going to talk to him,” I turned my head to glance out the window, night had taken over the sky, “tomorrow morning.”

It was Nestas turn to groan, her face fell into the bed as she shook her head, “Your just as bad as Azriel.”

“Come on. It’s late, he’s probably in bed. Plus last time I went to him this late…” I shuddered. Nesta just laughed, obviously recalling the story of me winnowing into Rhys’ office and seeing my high lord and high lady in a… compromising position. “Alright,” I stretched, “I’m going home, don’t wait for me at training. I’ll see Rhys bright and early!”

Her face held mock conviction as she nodded once. I just laughed and leaned over to press a loving kiss to the females head, “Bye!!!!” I sang as I channeled Rhys from afar and winnowed myself home.

I was offered a room at the House of Wind and I stayed there most nights but I still kept my cottage. With the egregious checks Rhys wrote me every month I could afford my own little castle but this was home. A new fae had moved in next door, a very nice one, and the corner was cozier than ever before. Also with Az away, the house of wind felt… colder; I needed the warmth of my space.

I went through my night routine; stripping the leathers I had grown accustomed to wearing, cleaning my hair and skin, and climbing into bed with a shirt that Azriel definitely knew was missing. As I laid I contemplated what I would say to Rhys, he has said he thought I was ready but he still backed up Azriel. I shook my head, deciding I couldn’t wait until morning.

Rhys, I whispered into his mind. Channeling his power I was able to slip past his barriers, something he was truly disturbed to find out I could do. Rhys, I tried again a little louder when he didn’t answer.

Stop using my power against me, he spoke, frustration clear. I hate when you do that.

I giggled into his mind, finding out that mental barriers don’t work against me was a pleasant surprise for me and a source of grief for Rhys. Powers are connected to emotions so the more passionate I made someone the more control I could take over their magic. I need to talk to you.

It can’t wait? I’m… busy. I knew exactly what he meant and shivered as war flash backs played in my brain.

Ewwww, I ragged. I suppose it can. I turned in my bed, making myself comfy.

The silence didn’t last long, Never mind, Nyx just woke. What do you need Y/n?

I paused, a hundred persuasive and graceful ways to ask came to the forefront but I chose succinctness. I want to go on a mission.

He paused, from inside his mind I could hear the wheels turning but out of respect for his privacy I cast my glance away. Waiting until Az is out of town, are you trying to get me in trouble?

No! I just… I’m ready. There was nothing else to say, I’m ready. I know it, Rhys knows it, everyone in this circle knows it; it’s time for me to prove it.

I heard him click his tongue, thinking of how to deny me nicely. I filled his head with my disappointment, my hurt from being consistently passed over. A sigh was heard, and I felt his conviction break.

Okay, I have an idea. See me in the morning.

I didn’t let my excitement slip into his mind but I’m sure he heard it in my voice, Okay, okay! Perfect. I’ll see you!

I disconnected from him and rolled over, giggling into my pillow and kicking lightly under my blanket. I wondered what Rhys had planned, I tried not to let my imagination get me too excited but as I fell into rest depictions of other courts circled my mind.

-

Azriel landed in the training ring with a swift silence. His leathers were glistening in the sun, clean and shiny. He picked up the habit of cleaning them before returning right around the time you started spending nights in the House of Wind. The thought of you seeing him covered in blood unsettled him, he knew deep down you wouldn’t truly care but he wanted to protect you nonetheless.

His bright eyes scanned the ring; priestesses, Valkyrie’s, and a very loud Cassian controlled the space. No you.

She’s not here, his shadows informed him. Upon further prompting his shadows informed him that you weren’t at home, or with Rhys. His eyebrows knitted with confusion as he continued to glance around. It wouldn’t be the first time you skipped training, he pictured the time he caught you tucked into a high-end dress store when you were meant to be in the ring.

He was prepared to take to the skies, ready to find where you were hiding before his brother cut him off, “Az, honey! Not even a hello?” Cass was walking toward him with a natural ease and he couldn’t help rolling his eyes.

“Hello brother,” was all he offered. His voice was void of emotion but his heart was full, coming home to family was always enjoyable. Especially after spending time in the dark tunnels of the Hewn City, seeing someone with a smile on their face was appreciated.

Cass wrapped strong arms around Az’s shoulders, holding him tight. Azriel just returned the favor with two quick taps on his back under his wings.

“I need to go find Y-“ he didn’t make it through his sentence before Cassian cut him off.

“You need to come see these priestesses,” with an arm around Az’s shoulder he led him further into the ring. “We’ve got six more priestesses picking up swords, we have a little battalion on our hands.”

Az lightly smiled and nodded, letting his brother lead him. He figured you could have the day off, you deserve it. You had been doing amazing, you were a quick learner; swift, light on your feet, and knew how to finish strong. Your fighting coupled with your power, you would be daunting in the felid; when you were ready… when he was ready to let you be ready.

Az knew you would hold your on, connecting to his power you would be the assets he always needed but he wanted to protect you, keep you safe from that part of his life as long as he could.

The better part of the morning and early afternoon were spent with the priestesses. Helping them with their swordsmanship, correcting techniques and giving confidence where it was needed. Cass and Az felt something like pride as the watched the females taking back the power that was stolen from them. With training behind them the boys gathered around the island in the extravagant kitchen, chatting with Emerie, Gwyn, and Nesta about the progress being made. You stayed in the back of Azriel’s mind, not being at training and not showing up as the day pushed on. He tried to keep cool about it, you were sensible and strong and he didn’t need to keep you on a leash, but with training 3 hours behind him his hands started to itch at the lack of your presence. His attentive shadows kept him updated, you still weren’t at your house or any of Rhys’.

“So where’s Y/n?” He asked, trying to remain casual as he leaned forward, bracing his arms on the stone island. Lunch had came and went without a word from you. Gwyn’s eyes widened for a fraction of a a second but Emerie quickly pulled her into conversation pertaining to their upcoming book club. Weird.

Nesta just pursed her lips and shrugged coolly, a light shake of her head accompanying the motion. Cassian on the other hand was staring into the tea he that had suddenly became very interesting. That was weirder. If Cass didn’t know he would’ve came up with some witty remark like, ‘she probably found a hot male with emotional maturity’ or ‘she has your account information, probably running you into the ground.’

He stalked a little closer to his brother, Cass just dipped his head further towards his cup. Az bit his cheek, thanking the mother for his brothers inability to keep a secret or produce a good lie.

Az wrapped a wing around his brothers form and dipped down too, “If you put your nose any further into that cup, you’ll drown.”

“Huh? Oh!” Cass laughed as he stood up straighter. He cleared his throat and rolled his shoulders, trying to gain some semblance of confidence. Nesta gave him a look and he turned away quickly, unfortunately for him he turned directly toward Az. The only thing he could do was offer a nervous smile.

Az returned the favor with a saccharine grin, got him. “Where is she Cass?”

“Who?” He asked dumbly. He clenched his fist to keep from slapping his face, he was under the fire of his brothers gaze and he was choking. Az just raised his eyebrows and gave him a pointed look. “Oh, Y/n. Pfft I don’t-“ he tried to do what Nesta did, pout his lips and shrug coolly. He didn’t look cool. “I don’t know. Where is she Nesta?” His voice suddenly carried a faux confusion as he turned to his mate, attempting to take attention off of himself.

Nesta glared, “I. Don’t. Know,” she bit out through gritted teeth. Cass gulped, knowing no matter how this ended he was screwed. He just nodded, humming at her before turning to Az, offering up another lame shrug.

Az looked between the two for a second before glancing over at the other two fae. Their conversation had stopped to take in the scene, at the instant of Azriel’s eyes they quickly turned away and began speaking again.

Az just nodded, the picture of calm. Cassian gulped yet again, he knew he was the weakest link and that Azriel would press him specifically for information. Cassian’s fears were confirmed when the sick smile returned to Az’s face and a firm hand was placed on his shoulder. “Cassian,” Az’s voice was low, slow, “Where is she?” The calmness and gentleness of his words sent a shiver down Cassian’s spine.

“I don’t know, truly,” he was folding. Nesta shook her head before placing it in the arms that were folded across the counter. “She was begging and she wouldn’t let up. Said she was super determined and no wasn’t a viable answer so Rhys caved, sent her on a mission this morning.”

“Good gods,” slipped from Nestas lips. Hand braced on her shaking forehead as she looked into the distance, questioning the mother.

“What?” Az’s grip turned to iron and his brother cringed at the force. He looked between the four in the kitchen, everyone knew. Everyone knew and wanted to keep it from him, if he wasn’t losing his mind he might feel bad.

Nothing else was said, there was nothing left to say, Azriel’s pace was rushed as he pushed through the balcony doors and into the sky.

“Azriel,” Rhys breathed. If the frustration wasn’t clear in his voice, it showed in the way his hands slid down his face.

“Rhys,” he pressed, “I know I just- she just needs more time.” Rhys shook his head at his brothers words, disagreeing. He knew if it were up to Az you would never leave the safety of Velaris. “How would you feel if it was Feyre?” Az’s pushing earned him a growl.

“If you remember, it was Feyre. I had to let her fight far before she was ready. Even so, Y/n is leagues ahead of Feyre.” Az shook his head now, desperately trying to find the words to convince his brother. “If we keep her stagnant any longer the poor female will become destitute.” Azwas quickly becoming hysterical, you meant so much to him and putting you in the line of fire… Hot angry tears pooled on his bottom lash despite his best efforts to keep them at bay, continuing to shake his head as he began clenching his fist. He was fighting so desperately to take control of this situation but Rhys was hard headed and determined to try out his new toy.

“It’s not going to be easy, it will never be easy dealing with the possibility of your mate getting hurt. But if you’re just going to coddle her then what’s the point of bringing her into this circle? She is smart, and strong, let her prove it.”

Az let out a chopped breath. It was his turn to bring his hands to his face, shamefully hiding the tears Rhys was already aware of. He didn’t speak for a moment, pondering. When he brought her in he had to admit he didn’t think of this. He saw it as an excuse to have her close, bring her into the family and keep her around. But after getting close to her, learning her, loving her, he didn’t care anymore. He wanted to keep her hidden from the dark world he had come to know so well. He wished she was offered a different position even though her powers were an amazing defensive and offensive asset; he never wanted to use it.

He shook his head one more time, “I just need more time.” His pleading voice broke and Rhys softened at the sound. All he’s ever wanted for his brother was to feel that earth shattering love like the one he felt for Feyre. How could he tell him those fears were invalid? That they don’t have basis? They’re wrong? He couldn’t and when Az let out one more shaky, “Please, brother,” he couldn’t say no.

Azriel landed in front of the river house with a thud, no shadowy elegance and no preternatural silence. His heightened emotions pushed all of that out of the way to make room for his task; find Rhys, kill Rhys.

He stomped through the house, making his presence and his anger known. He didn’t bother to knock on Rhys’ office door, just blowing it wide open. His high lord sat in his large leather chair while his high lady was perched on the edge of the desk, engaged in loving conversation.

The slamming doors caught their attention as Azriel stopped short of Rhys’ desk, growling his name.

“I figured you’d show up here soon enough, do you have your mission report?” Rhys was calm as he leaned back in his chair, observing Azriel and his pristine leathers and contorted face. Az wanted to stick his eyes and shake Rhys until his head fell off.

“You know that’s not why I’m here,” his voice was low as he struggled to form a sentence and not a fist.

“Oh?” Rhys feigned innocence and Azriel’s grip slipped, fists taking place at his side. “Why are you here then brother?”

A low scoff made its way out, Azriel had to look away to collect the parts of him he could. He didn’t want to play this stupid back and forth game, he wanted to find you. Blowing up on Rhys wouldn’t do anything good for him so he bit out his next words, “My mate. Where is she?”

“Ah, yes.” Rhys just nodded as he continued to look Azriel up and down, sizing how far he could push him. Feyre on the side held a confused face as she tried to decipher the situation. Azriel’s mate? How would Rhys know where she is? A low growl reverberated through Az and his brother just clicked his tongue in response. “She’s fine Az, please-“

Azriel cut him off, walking closer to brace his hands on the desk, “I told you she wasn’t ready. She needed more time to-“

It was Azriel’s turn to get cut off as he held up a hand, “No. You said you weren’t ready. You said you needed time. I gave you time, that times up.”

Az growled again, hands gripping the desk with so much force the wood under his hands groaned. His eyes were wild and his face displayed so much fury Feyre thought he might jump over it and tear into Rhys. “Az…” she said tentatively.

“Did you know?” He looked at her accusingly, not being able to hold his rage back from her. Her eyes widened and she brought a hand to her heart, her hair slid over her shoulder as she shook it back and forth.

“Know what Az? You found your mate? That’s amazing, I-“ Feyre tried to lighten the mood, choosing to focus on the good parts of the conversation.

Az rolled his eyes away from her and back to his brother. “Yes, I did find her.” His eyes held his brothers in challenge, Rhys didn’t back down but Az would either. “It’s a shame though, Rhys seems adamant on getting her killed.” He leaned in slightly, baring his teeth on the last word.

The thought of you out there, alone, in a potentially dangerous situation made his brain fog. His whole body twitched; desperate to tear apart the entirety of Pyrthian until he found you. Deep down he knew his feelings were irrational, Rhys wouldn’t send you somewhere dangerous for your first mission, solo to boot. He knew that you were fierce in your fighting technique. He knew that the reservoir of powers you could access made you one of, if not the most, powerful fae in Pyrthian. He knew you didn’t need him to protect or guard you and that you wanted this. Knowing all of those things doesn’t make it any easier though.

“She’s not- Az please,” Rhys pinched the bridge of his nose and screwed his eyes shut, trying to will away the headache his brother was giving him. “Feyre, baby, give us a moment.”

She just nodded, eyes still examining Az as if she’d find her answer written on his face. She leaned into the kiss Rhys placed on her forehead before moseying out of the office. Rhys pushed himself away from the desk and to the large couch in his office. He grabbed two glasses and the decanter off the liquor cart before sitting down. Az watched silently as he poured two neat glasses of whiskey and sipped one while offering the other.

When Az didn’t move he sat the other glass down and stared at it before saying, “She’s in no danger brother. But you might want to have a drink before I tell you where she is.”

Az’s hands returned to fists and he just stared, zeroed in on Rhys like a deadly predator. Rhys rolled his eyes and gestured to the spot on the couch next time, insinuating he wouldn’t speak until Az at least sat down. Begrudgingly he followed his brothers instructions though sitting down didn’t display any comfort as he was still rigid.

Rhys just watched his brother, looking at him as if the right way to inform him of his mate’s whereabouts would be written on his skin somewhere. The stare only unnerved Az, his skin started to prickle at the attention he was receiving and his vague patience was slipping.

He took a deep breath before grabbing the drink, downing it in one go. It didn’t help his nerves but he let out a sigh anyway before turning back, “Where is she?” His voice was calmer now, the anger was replaced with desperation, exhaustion.

Rhys let out a sigh too, leaning back he stared for a moment longer. “She’s in the day court, where she will remain for the next month and a half.” Az’s eyes widened and with furrowed eyebrows he insisted Rhys go on, “After that she will spend a month and a half in dawn, then winter, summer, and possibly autumn. I’ve spoken with Eris but I’m not entirely sure if we’ll be able to slip her in past Beron.”

Az shook his head, trying to grasp the information being given to him. “Wait you sent her through the courts? For the next 8 months? Why?”

“More training,” he leveled a look at Az whose face still displayed confusion. “Apparently what we’re doing here isn’t enough, so she will train with our closest allies. Learn all new powers along the way and techniques even we don’t have. By the time she comes back, even you will think she’s ready.”

Azriel shot up, hands coming to slide down his face has he passed around the low table. You were gone? For potentially 7.5 months? This was wrong, so so wrong. You should be here, by his side where he can see to it that you get the training you need. The thought of someone else, potentially another male, training you… his skin felt hot to the touch.

“Rhys! I don’t- what do you mean?” He stopped pacing in front of his brother, he wanted to scream, tear him a new one but he felt too manic to focus on that now. “So she’s just gone? For months?! I don’t- how could you do this!”

Rhys poured Az another glass as he spoke, “What was I supposed to do Az? You were safe guarding her to the point it was damn near suffocating. She just wanted to do something, to feel like her time was productive-“

“It was productive!” Az cut in, “She was with me! I was training her! Sending her away like that- what if someone finds about her powers? Do you know what other courts would do to get their hands on her?!”

“Yes Az,” Rhys spoke in a tried tone, being able to tell this conversation wasn’t going to cool down anytime soon. “She knows, she’s safe guarding her powers. She won’t use them in training, just learning other courts techniques and studying their powers to bring back here and implement.”

Az scoffed and shook his head, resuming his pacing. He wasn’t convinced, there was worry and anger, and longing taking up all the space for rationality. “She just wanted to get out there, you know she’s never left Velaris?”

Az’s eyes flew to Rhys’ at the question. “Of course I know,” he bit out. He knew everything about you, everything you were willing to offer him. Late nights spent in your room- at a respectful distance- gave way to room for life stories. You indulged in your early life, family, friends, love history, hobbies, likes and dislikes. He kept it all stored away in meticulous detail, committing everything you’ve ever said to him in perfect memory. You vulnerability inspired him, encouraged him to do the same and bare his soul to you. He told you everything, except for one, or maybe two things. He was safe guarding the bond, not wanting it to influence your decision. He wanted you to choose him because you wanted to choose him, not because you thought you had too.

Rhys hummed, nodding. “Well, she wasn’t going to stop until I gave her something. She’s safe and she’s happy and she’ll be back in no time.”

Azriel rolled his eyes at his brothers hypocrisy, he would be beside himself if Feyre left for that long. He moved toward the door with determination, he was going to find you. He needed to tell you that he was sorry, you didn’t have to run or sneak behind his back. He would tell you what he knew was true and promise not to hold you back anymore. “No you won’t,” Rhys cleaved through his thoughts. “One visitation permit was issued from the courts, Im sure they wouldn’t appreciate my spy sleuthing around. Not to mention how she’d feel about it.”

Az growled at that, cutting his brother a loathsome glare before slamming the doors once again behind him. Rhys just sighed, leaning back and polishing off the drink Az didn’t finish.

-

No time, that was bullshit. The months passed like years and Azriel swears he could’ve lived multiple lives in the time you were gone. He wasn’t himself, out of step, out of sync. It was kinda crazy, he lived so long without you and after just a few hours of knowing you were gone he reverted to a shell of himself.

Some days he barely tried to train, moving through the sessions like a phantom. Other days he laid his hurt bare, taking it out on Cassian until his brother had to tell him ‘no more.’

Work wasn’t able to distract him, he had been on one mission since your departure. Rhys refused to let him go, claiming he was too frazzled to focused. Despite knowing its truth Az tried to disagree, he ended up losing train of thought half way through the conversation, proving Rhys’ point.

You had sent letters, 3 came at least twice a month. One to Rhys, giving updates on where she was and how training was going. One to Nesta, the two had grown close in her time training with the inner circle. One to Azriel, it was similar to Rhys’, she was giving life updates and telling him wonderful stories. Azriel wanted to answer, truly, but the longer he thought the more he realized he had nothing to say. You were having so much fun, meeting wonderful people, exploring new powers, and seeing Pyrthian like you always wanted. He was ashamed by the fact that if it was up to him, you wouldn’t have gone. He sat down to write how sorry he was, how excited for you he was, how he wished he could see it all with you but his letters only made it as far as the fire. He was convinced you were angry with him, that’s why you left while he was gone. He read and reread every letter so much they were a crumpled mess in his hands, some terrible part of him convinced him they were pity letters. His fears were “confirmed” when his letters stopped halfway through the third month.

He was a bit surprised when around the middle of the fourth month he felt talons tapping on his mental shield, far more polite that Rhys has ever been. He opened his shield just enough to let you in, not far enough for anything other than communication.

Hi Azriel, your voice rang through him like a church bell. He shivered at the pleasant invasion, unwittingly letting the rest of his walls down from you. His subconscious wanted you everywhere, invading every part of him, committing all of him to memory.

Hello, Y/n. He hated how timid his voice sounded. But he couldn’t help it, talking to you made him nervous, especially after ghosting your letters.

He heard you sigh into his mind and he couldn’t help himself but duplicate the sound. Hearing your voice, feeling your essence, provided much needed relief.

I’ve missed you, he spoke in his mind. The words came out as a soft whisper, tentative and unsure.

Yea? I could tell by the way you ignored all my letters. He cringed at your words, your tone was joking but he didn’t miss the thinly veiled frustration. He was silent; not sure how to respond or if he even could. His remorse flooded his head and you surely caught on, based on the way you quickly spoke again. I’m sorry, shouldn’t have-

No, he cut you off. You’re right, I should’ve responded. I just wasn’t- I didn’t know what to say. I was- I still am ashamed.

It was your turn to be silent. If he stilled his mind he swears he could feel you nodding. Your questioning voice came through, You think I shouldn’t have gone?

I thought that. But I’ve read your letters, the ones to me and the ones Rhys gave me access too. Your progress is… you couldn’t have achieved what you are now if I kept you hidden.

You were silent, Azriel could feel the contemplation. After a couple beats you spoke again. I’m sorry.

Don’t apologize, ever.

You waited before speaking again, But I am sorry. It felt wrong leaving the way I did, like I was sneaking behind your back. I didn’t even get to tell you goodbye.

Azriel chuckled lightly out loud. It’s a good thing though, I probably wouldn’t have let you go.

Oh yeah? You laugh. What would you have done? Restrain me? Your voice held a playful edge that excited something in Azriel. The lower end of his stomach began to twist and he had to control himself with you still in his mind.

It was his shadows that spoke next, let her see. Their encouragement drew back the curtain of self control and he opened his mind deeper for you. He let you into the fantasies of restraining you with his shadows. Covering your vision with wisps of darkness, blurring your senses to ensure touch was heightened.

He showed you how he would be slow, take his time with you. How he would push your body to absolute extremities, take you to your peak over and over before cradling your exhausted body. You were silent as you witnessed his eagerness, his willingness to give you all the pleasure your body could handle. He heard you let loose a breath, If I knew that’s what you’d do to me I would’ve left a lot sooner.

A dry chuckle left Az’s lips, Then perhaps your punishment should be to withhold such treatment. His smirk was evident in his voice, and you gasped out a laugh at the mention of what had become an inside joke.

You’re a tease! You shrieked down the mental bond and Azriel laughed freely.

Az stayed connected with you late into the night, speaking of pretty much anything under the sun, or in this case the moon. He talked until your voice slowed down and became soft hums of acknowledgment. Eventually your presence in his mind was peaceful, calm; the proof of your sleep

-

3 weeks.

10 days.

4 hours.

15 minutes.

The time that had dragged its feet through sand was now moving at a lively pace. It was by no means quick, you had still taken your time coming back. But with daily mental communication, daily mental flirtation, having only minutes between the two of you Azriel felt his skin buzz. His wings moved on their own, display his anticipation for the world.

Az had woken up early… earlier than usual. The sun was teasing the horizon, threatening to spill its light across the mostly sleeping city. Azriel couldn’t help the coy smile as he greeted the morning happily. Little tasks had kept his body busy as his brain counted down the minutes of your arrival. Shower, train, shower again, morning flight, cleaning, bureaucratic busy work, trip to the shops, following Cassian around for a couple hours. Azriel couldn’t sit down, if he did his leg would bounce and he would be up again in seconds.

But here he was, smoothing the already smooth leathers as he waited “casually” in the greeting room of the river house. He had cleaned up your room in the HoW when you left but he took to dusting it, changing your sheets, and adding fresh and fragrant flowers to liven up the space.

5 minutes, his shadows whispered as they danced around his ears. They reflected their masters eagerness, also unable to sit still and be patient.

You hadn’t connected with him today, most likely too busy getting your affairs in order. Azriel didn’t mind though, it added to his anticipation. For the first time in what could be ever he felt like a kid, bouncing around the room with an insatiable excitement brewing below.

Azriel rubbed his rough hands together and made eye contact with his shoes, a heavy breath left his lips and suddenly it felt stagnant. Everything stopped.

Seconds turned to hours as his head turned upwards. For a moment everything stoped, the world was lost to Azriel as he finally saw you. The sounds of the room became slow and muffled and the only sound was a soft song. A light airy melody, a beautiful blend of bells and chimes. A sweet sound made only by your presence.

The air finally left his mouth and the world returned to normal, time picked up and everything was moving again. The shadows that carried you in dissipated and the ground shook with the bellows of his family.

Cassian was first to reach you, spinning you around like a doll. He barely has time to put you down before Nesta latched on and mumbled something only you could hear. Feyre greeted you with a smile and open arms, Rhys extended a hand that you took firmly. Elaine and Amren gave welcome to your presence and suddenly it was Arziel’s turn. Even his shadows beat him to you, circling every inch- noting every tiny change within you, all the things that didn’t show though your voice in his mind every night. The lines created from muscle, the natural lightness added to your hair that only comes from saltwater and direct sunlight, the clear and unmistakable scent of raw power. Every little thing was reported back to him, the way each minuscule movement of yours was silent, the advanced lightness of each step that brought you closer, the disciplined posture you now carried. Then there was the perceptive glint in your eye, one that seemed to bore into his skin, one that traced every cell and tendon in his biology; tracking his synapses and learning his bones. One that tore apart his soul and memorized it.

“Azriel,” Your greeting was clean and simple; and it almost brought him to his knees. He steadied himself with a breath and clenched the fists that wanted to reach for you. Not yet. Not here.

“Welcome home Y/n,” all the courage that made a warrior was used as he held your eyes. You were still you, still the same female he devoted each waking thought to. But you now held an edge, a deadly aura that put even him off. “I can’t wait to see what you’ve learned.”

You smiled, all of your venom hidden behind perfect, pearly structures. “I can’t wait to show you.”

Your long awaited return was celebrated with dinner, drinks, and the promise of putting your skills to the test at first light. You celebrated and mingled, held your drink dutifully but didn’t take a single sip. Your months of watching your own back and the crippling paranoia that you would be made kept you from inebriation. Not to mention you wanted to be at your best when you displayed yourself. You casually turned in early, leaving the festivities to the ones who actually indulged. You took to setting your room up in a way only self preservation would justify. Weapons were hidden all around your space, a habit from being in enemy territory with no back up. You had to be ready for anything at any time, being caught off guard would be the difference between life and death. Once you felt confident in your new arrangements you climbed into bed, channeling Azriel’s shadows to watch you in your sleep.

-

I awoke before the sun, prepping myself in fighting leathers and a clean hairstyle. My go bag was packed and placed at the foot of the bed where it could be grabbed on the way out. It was full of all the weapons I had grown accustomed to using. Most of it was basic, knives, sabers, and folding spears. There were also more elaborate weapons unique to the courts I spent time in; light directors, specific for centralizing the power of light from the day court. Loch detonators, a device that turns powered water into intense explosives. The collection was impressive but most of it would prove to be useless today, I planned on taking the boys in hand-to-hand combat.

I pushed open the window of my room before climbing out. Scaling the monstrous house, I jumped and grabbed all the edges that would lead me to the roof. The roof was hipped into a long line, on that I ascend and landed at the apex. One foot balanced on the line while the other crossed over my bent knee. My hands stretched out on either side, keeping my center of gravity directly over the line.

The cold dusk air heightened every sense as I let loose. Thoughts escaped as my perfectly poised body found peace, my steady breath the only tether to the earth. With my mind clear and body at ease I was able to connect with every part of myself, honing every part of me for battle. After an hour of meditation I stood up and began to move. To any onlooker it would look like I’m dancing on the roof not partaking in an ancient practice of energetic redirection. I came across the art of Tai Chi in my time spent in the summer court, a friend I had made took me to her village on the southern edge and though it is a closed practice one of the elders agreed to teach the basics. I had also managed to find some scrolls on the subject in Helion’s vast library and continued my training. Now it was part of my daily exercise; balance my mind, body, and energy.

Nearly two hours and passed before I left the roof, opting to winnow in and grab my bag before making my way to the training ring. Cassian and Az were there, preparing for the day with calisthenics.

“Good morning angel,” Cassian greeted with the trademark smile that comes before saying something stupid. “Done dancing on the roof?”

I looked to your feet as a smile creeped onto my face, “Yea, ready to dance with you now.”

“Ohh, we’ll see about that,” Cassian’s face was smug but I kept smiling nonetheless. It made sense, he had no reason not to be. He’s perfectly unaware of what I’ve learned and what I’ve taught myself. Azriel on the other had looked calculating, like he was trying to note all the ways I’ve changed. His gaze was piercing, like he could figure out all I’ve learned just by looking at me. He knows all of my experiences, everywhere I was at any given time but my training was not something we had discussed in detail.

“What about you Azriel?” I tilted your head as I looked him up and down. Blatant and greedy, not even trying to hide my hunger. He had opted to train shirtless this morning, something whispered that it was a subtly attempt to distract me. “You ready to dance with me?”

Azriel smirked, stalking closer as he continued to tape his knuckles. “Hmph,” he matched my actions, eyes taking over the way your lean body contorted under my leathers. “I was born ready for you.”

I felt my body rise a hundred degrees and his words and gaze, I wanted to jump on him the same way I did in our shared visions. But I kept my composure, he was trying to rile me up. “I sure hope you mean that.” one finger made its way to his arm, tracing the tattoos there until it met the glove on his hand. I grabbed his hand and brought it to your lips, kissing his knuckles in a light teasing fashion. His nostrils flared as I looked up at him through l lashes. “Because Id want nothing more than a go at you.”

He opened his mouth but was cut off by his brother, “Good morning! I hope you’re all ready because I know I am.” Rhys strolled over with Feyre, Amren, and Mor in tow. He rubbed his hands together in a gesture that showed excitement before shoving them in his pockets.

“I hope you’re ready for a show,” Cass spoke as he stretched one last time, “Y/n plans to dance.” I just smiled in response, Rhys raised a brow and his eyes shone. He was the one receiving daily briefings. I had connected with him and let him see some of my work through my eyes. Some. The rest I kept safeguarded, waiting until this moment to show them off. Since I were essentially stealing the powers I was exposed to I didn’t have anyone to train me in their use, normally that would put me at a disadvantage but Rhys changed my outlook on that. Since I hadn’t been taught how to use them I was never put in a box, never limited to what everyone else thought was possible. I could experiment with the powers I encountered, come up with my own ways to use them, and create different techniques than those normally seen. The magic belonged to others but when I used them, the powers were wholly mine.

“Okay Y/n, who do you want to dance with first? Cassian or Azriel?” Rhys asked, the knowingly look on his face was obvious. He knew what I would say, and I wasn’t in the mood to disappoint.

“Aww, I can’t have both?” I pouted lightly, turning from Rhys to the other parts of the trio, “I’ve always wanted to take on brothers.” The tease in my voice lit a double meaning behind the words. Cass snorted and Az just ducked his head and shook it side to side, even so I could still see the small smile on his lips.

“Well what are we waiting for?” Cass said clasping his hands, “I’m in the wish granting business sweetheart.” I just nodded simply as I pursed my lips, looking them up and down once more before grabbing my bag and heading to the far end of the ring. As I was wrapping my own knuckles Nesta came over with a water bottle meant for me.

“Thanks honey,” I smiled as I took the water. “Promise you won’t hate me if I bang your mate up a bit?”

Nesta laughed, “Hate you? Baby I’ll thank you. That male needs humbled.” We both chuckled at that statement as I finished with my hands. “What weapon are you going to use?” Nesta asked as I shuffled around my bag. I hummed before pulling out a small fan and sheath to keep it in. The fan looked like any other handheld fan except instead of fabric it was made of metal that weren’t fixed, meaning they could move if struck. “This,” I smiled, strapping the fan to the outside of my thigh.

“Just that?” Nesta questioned, I nodded in response. Honestly it was a lie, I had no plans to use the fan, at least not as a weapon. I pulled it for show, it would be decoy used to distract and throw off the boys. The fan wasn’t wholly useless though, I picked up different ways to turn it into a weapon when wielded skillfully. It would be too cocky to walk in there with absolutely nothing and as much as I wanted to, I knew Cass wouldn’t recover from the ego hit he would take if I acted like I knew I could beat him with my bare hands; even if that was the plan. She tilted her head before humming as well, “What exactly did you learn out there?”

I just smiled, “I can show you better than I can tell you.” I winking before turning away from her, facing the ring to show that I was ready. I heard a whoop sound come from my friend as she made her way over to join the rest of the peanut gallery.

Cassian had chosen twin broad swords, something that would look comical in the hands of a human looked normal with the giant fae. Az had nothing in his hands but there were multiple daggers lining his pants, still no shirt. I would make sure he regretted that.

“Alright,” Rhys said bringing attention to himself “no need for idle chatter or pointless speeches, begin!”

And with that I stepped completely into the ring, focus trained on the warriors in front of me as the rest of the world disappeared. I couldn’t stop the dangerous smirk that snuck onto my lips, “Let’s dance.”

A/n: don’t hate me!!! I’m so sorry it took me so long to update. I was waking up at 12 then working from 3-11 and crashing when I got home. I work on a crisis unit so that shit is madddd draining, emotionally and physically. I felt like I had nothing left to put into my writing :/ but I finally switched to 3rd shift and for nearly my entire shift I don’t have to do anything but be there so I can write at work and I have more of my day open to relax and recharge. I’m sorry I had to split this into 3 parts but this just got so long and if I would’ve kept writing it would’ve straight up been a book. But I promise part 3 will not take as long to come out. Maybe not this weekend but soon! Anyways if you made it this far I LOVE YOU, thank you so much for giving me and my stories your time :)

Masterlist

[queensunshinee]

Time Of Our Lives || Part 9

warnings: SMUT! 18+!, dirty talk, p in v sex, oral sex, fingering, praise.

Part 9

"What did I miss?" Liana asked as she sat down, seeing the boys exchange looks. Sometimes they spoke without words. She always envied that connection. She didn’t have anyone who could understand her with just a nod or a blink or, in this case, a stare.

"Hello, Earth to Art and Patrick?" she tried to join in, but something about the current situation didn’t feel right. "It's my turn to go inside. I need to drink some water. You two catch up, it's been a while since you’ve seen each other," Art said without looking at her, causing Liana to frown as he walked away. "That was weird, right?" she asked Patrick, who responded with a half-smile. "When is Art not weird?" he said. "How are you?" he asked, turning his gaze back to her and seeing her give the widest smile she could offer anyone. "Do you forgive me?" she asked, moving to sit next to him, placing her head on his shoulder. "What do I have to forgive you for, Amanda?" he chuckled, tracing shapes on her shoulder while taking another sip of champagne. "I was terrible. The exams made me crazy," she tried to justify her behavior over the past month. "Do you know if you're leaving yet?" he asked. "I’ll know when we get back from vacation. I’m terrified," she murmured. On one hand, Liana desperately wanted that year in Oxford. She wanted to see Europe. The architecture. The atmosphere. The culture. She wanted to see something other than the American suburb she had lived in her whole life, with the same people and the same opinions and the same tennis. On the other hand, she didn’t want to break her parents’ hearts. Her parents who had always talked about Stanford and how she’d join the family business after she finished school, and her parents who were the best people she knew but whose dreams for her flew past them as if they were never there. And now there was Art too. Art, who in the past two days had made her feel things she had never felt before. Art, who in the months at Stanford had become an inseparable part of her life. Art, who made her stomach ache at the thought of not seeing him for a year. Art, who still didn’t know she was considering leaving. "You’ll pass that test, we both know you will," Patrick said calmly. "And then you'll conquer Europe, building by building." He chuckled, but his voice faded with each word. "And we'll stay here, missing you," he said, and she straightened up, looking at him. "I’m not going to die, you know," Liana rolled her eyes, trying to lighten the conversation. "No, you're just going to meet people much better than us, and I'm enough of a bastard to be worried about that," he said honestly. "I don’t think there are many people in the world better than you, Patrick," she concluded. The next day Art left. He texted her that a spot opened up in some tennis group he could join, and he didn’t want to miss the opportunity. That he’d see her at Stanford. When Liana tried to call, he didn’t answer. So they kept missing each other throughout the vacation, she trying to call just as he was going into practice or the shower or falling asleep, and him sending messages that he was okay, just busy. On the last day of the vacation, she received a message that her exam results had come in. She had been accepted. Liana cried. Which wasn’t anything special because objectively Liana cried a lot, but this time she cried out of excitement. All the effort she put in had paid off, and now she could prepare for the student exchange. She could make her dream come true, start being a real person in the world. The conversation with her parents was horrible. There were shouts and accusations, and her mother said they wouldn’t pay for this, which Liana had suspected might happen. Her father seemed more conciliatory but didn’t say much. "Do you think Mom will be mad at me for long?" she asked him on the way to the airport. If there was one thing Liana hated, it was that it was always obvious she had been crying. Her pale face would turn red, and her eyes would swell, sometimes for days. This was one of those cases. It could be said with confidence that Liana looked like she had been run over by a bus yesterday.

"I know it doesn’t look like it, but we’re proud of you. Mom will come around, don’t worry," her father hugged her as they got out of the car. "I want this so much, Dad," she sighed.

"I know, honey," he said, kissing the top of her head. He hated seeing the emotional turmoil his daughter was in. His daughter, who above all feared disappointing people. "I’ll come back to Stanford after that," she mumbled, feeling the lump in her throat take over again. "I don’t want her to hate me," she looked at him with teary eyes.

"She doesn’t hate you. Li, look at me." Her father tried to wipe her tears. "Your mother is a stubborn woman, and you’ll see that a month after you’re there, she’ll come visit you." He smiled, and she nodded, not sure she believed what he said. "Besides, you have another semester at Stanford. Make the most of it, maybe you’ll love the place as much as we did." He shrugged, seeing her take a deep breath, trying to calm down. "I love you, Dad," she hugged him again and started to walk away, hoping everything would calm down and her mother would eventually look at her like she did before she told her she was planning to leave. Art opened the door after five knocks, looking at her with a puzzled expression. "Did we have plans?" he asked. "Hey Arthur, I missed you too," she rolled her eyes and gave him a small kiss on the lips, seeing him close his eyes and deepen the kiss within seconds as he closed the door. "Hey," he smiled at her and moved her hair out of her face. "Have you been crying?" he asked after examining her. Art couldn’t stop himself from asking. It was like an instinct; seeing what he could do to make her feel better. But he was so mad at her that he didn’t really want to talk to her or know how she felt right now; after all, she didn’t care how he felt. He did want to fuck her. He wanted to feel like she was his. He was afraid he was a little addicted to the feeling of looking at her and feeling like she was entirely his. He was afraid that if she left, he wouldn’t feel that way again. He was afraid of losing.

"Did you know?" his mother asked on the phone. Her voice worried. "What?" he returned the question, panting after practice. "That Liana is planning to leave for Oxford? Did you know that?" she demanded the truth. And the truth was that he knew she was leaving. But he didn’t know where or when and he didn’t know it was official. His heart pounded faster. "Yes, I knew," he mumbled, not wanting to reveal how far he felt from Liana in reality. Not wanting to reveal how stupid he felt that of all people, Patrick knew before him. "How could you not say anything, Art, she's our Liana. How will she manage in England alone? She barely manages to find her way in the supermarket without getting lost," his mother sighed. And she was right. He knew she was right. And she wasn’t even their Liana; she was his Liana. And she was his Liana for exactly two days. What an idiot he is. "She’s a big girl. She can navigate the supermarket in England without getting lost. I have to go," he mumbled, angry at himself for still feeling the need to protect her. "Just tired from the flight," she smiled at him a tired smile and felt his lips leaving small kisses on her neck, causing her to close her eyes. "Can I help?" his voice was teasing as he took off her shirt without much resistance. Examining her for a second, as if trying to remember how she looked. "You're already helping," she smiled a genuine smile, and his lips were on her again, hungrier than she had felt him so far. "I want you so much, Li," he groaned into her mouth. His tongue intertwining with hers as if he had wandered for years in the desert and she was his source of water. "Do you want this?" he asked, as they moved to his bed and she nodded. In complete haze, at this point, she decided that Art Donaldson could do whatever he wanted with her. And it was a liberating decision. Knowing she was safe in his hands and he decided how good she could feel now. "Words, Liana," he demanded as he started taking off her jeans. She didn’t even notice she was already half-naked in front of him. "You're wearing too many clothes," she mumbled incoherently as his hand brushed over her panties. "You're already wet, Li?" his voice was amused as he took off his shirt. "Already ready for me, and I haven’t even touched you yet," he whispered in her ear and heard her moan, which caused him to release a groan of his own. "Do you want this?" he asked again. This time his hand applied more pressure over her panties. "Art." Her voice was desperate. "Please," she whispered, and he bit his lip. Stopping himself from all the things he wanted to do with her. "Please, what?" he asked, his mouth close to hers, teasing, barely touching. He kissed her right cheek and then her left

"Touch me. Please," she almost cried out of frustration and desperation, exactly the way he wanted her. His. His again. And he felt desperate too, so her panties came off in a flash and he gave her exactly what she wanted. He heard her moan beneath him as his fingers moved inside her rhythmically. He felt how tight she was. He tried not to imagine his dick inside her, thinking he might not last. She was a virgin. He knew that. She had told him. He was going to be the first inside her. "So good for me, Li," he murmured and smiled, never taking his eyes off her. He didn't think anyone could look better than Liana did now, beneath him, eyes closed, desperate sounds escaping her, moaning his name. He was sure the student in the room next door was jerking off to the sound of her. He was sure no one in the world could resist Liana Levy when she looked like that beneath him. He was no different from anyone else. Almost captivated. Almost helpless. Just wanting to deliver. Just wanting her to always be like that for him. His lips roamed over her body until they reached her clit, while his hand sped up.

"You take me so well, Li," he said as the room filled with the sound of her fluids and moans.

"I'm going to-" she mumbled, her voice breaking, making him look up at her. He had to see her come. He had to remember this moment.

"Come for me, Li, come on. I want to see you," he demanded in the most authoritative voice he could muster, even though he felt himself melting under her influence.

"Art," she moaned again.

And he was right, her face in that moment was truly the most beautiful thing he'd seen in his 20 years of existence. Her half-open mouth, her eyes closed, slightly teary, her hand on her breast. It was a magnificent sight and he knew only he had seen her like this.

Her body shook and he gave one last kiss on her sensitive clit, then stood before her.

"Open your eyes, Li," he said, and she did exactly as he commanded. "Kiss me. Taste yourself." Another half-command with a smile and scheming eyes. Within seconds, her lips were on his, her tongue mingling with his intensely, just wanting more.

"I want to be inside you," he murmured, and she nodded. "Can I?" he asked. He had to ask. He knew she could say no and he would have to accept it, and if he were less greedy, he might even be satisfied with that anyway.

But he was so angry with her. He wanted her to know. He wanted her to know that just as he was hers, she was his. That she couldn't just ignore him like that. Dismiss him as if he didn't matter.

"Yes," she murmured into his mouth, feeling him smile against her.

"Yes, what?" he asked, teasing.

"Fuck me," she whispered, and it came out vulgar and blunt, uncharacteristic of the girl in front of him. She was even surprised by the words that left her mouth, her eyes widening for a moment before remembering it was Art and relaxing. She was safe with Art. He wouldn't use her words against her. It was okay for her to need him.

"I didn't hear you," he murmured, removing the rest of his clothes and moving to his desk to grab a condom. "I'm on this side of the room, Liana. You need to speak louder." He leaned against the wall as he put the condom on, taking a breath. He had to steady his breathing if he wanted to last inside her for more than three seconds.

"Please, Art. I want to feel you inside me," she said louder, more confidently, more desperately. He moved toward her. "Please fuck me," she looked him in the eyes and bit her lip, feeling almost small but also kind of powerful. He looked almost as desperate as she did as his hand traced her face and then her chest, stopping at her sensitive nipple, making her moan.

"That much, huh?" he asked, positioning the tip of his dick at her entrance and hearing her sigh in response. "Don't worry, I've got you. Are you going to be good for me, Li?" he asked, watching her nod in response. "Are you going to take me like you were made for me?" he asked again.

"Yes, please. Art." She was almost crying with frustration. Liana didn't know what to do to make him enter her already. To feel him. For him to fill her with himself. For him to be close to her. Part of her. She didn't know when she started feeling all these emotions for Art Donaldson, but now was not the time to figure it out. He began to slide into her.

"Oh, Art," she bit his shoulder, making him groan.

"Fuck, Liana. So tight. Fuck. Hang in there, baby, are you okay?" he asked, studying her.

"More," she mumbled. The pain didn't matter. She just wanted him. She wanted all of him. He did move more. A bit more each time. Another moan and another sigh each time until he was fully inside her. Their lips merged in their most sloppy kiss yet. They were one for a moment.

"You can move," she managed to say after a few seconds.

"Are you sure?" he asked, seeing her nod. "Fuck, Li. I won't last long like this," he murmured, his movements gentle. He was careful with her.

When he felt he was close and knew she wouldn't come from the first time someone inside her, he added a finger to play with her clit.

"Fuck, Art," she moaned his name for the umpteenth time.

"I know. You're doing such a good job, Li, taking care of me so well," he said, feeling her tighten around him, bringing him to the edge almost with her.

After a few seconds, he gently pulled out of her, seeing her panting and feeling just as spent. He took off the condom and walked it to the trash, finding his boxers on the way and putting them on. He saw the girl in front of him, completely naked. Completely his.

"When were you planning to tell me?" he asked, looking at her from a distance.

Liana was still in euphoria, her eyes half-closed, confused by the question. "What are you talking about?" she sounded amused, looking at him with a smile as he put on a shirt. For a moment, she felt fragile, not understanding how she was still completely naked while he was fully dressed in front of her.

"About leaving Stanford. About Oxford? I don't know. Maybe there are more things you'd like to tell me." His gaze was cold, making Liana freeze too. She felt her nakedness now. She understood why he was dressed and she wasn't. She was vulnerable right now.

"How long have you known?" she asked quietly, swallowing and searching for her clothes.

"My mom asked me about it yesterday," he said, never taking his eyes off her. "Do you know how stupid I felt when I lied and told her I knew?" he asked. His voice didn't rise, but the frustration was clear.

"Art, I found out two days ago," her eyes glistened and she breathed quickly, feeling everything slipping away from her. He was slipping away from her.

"You're lying," he stated with an eye roll, sitting down on the bed.

"Art," she knelt in front of him, studying his face. He showed no emotion, only coldness.

"It's okay, Liana. We both know what this is," he said, instinctively moving her hair out of her face.

"What is it?" she swallowed. She knew Art. She knew he was about to say something he'd regret, and yet she still pushed him to say it.

"It's me passing time until Tashi realizes she wants me," he said, seeing her expression change to one he'd never seen on her before. She moved his hand from her face quickly and scooted back on the floor as fast as he didn't know she was capable of, as if afraid of his touch.

"Wow." She swallowed, looking at him, feeling the tears welling up in her eyes. "I'm sorry if I hurt you," she tried to salvage the situation, and he chuckled.

"Come on, Liana." He rolled his eyes and lay down on the bed, no longer looking at her.

"You just fucked me, Art." She felt sick. It was the first time she had slept with someone. He knew that. She felt so humiliated.

"I know. I was there, and if I remember correctly, you asked for it. More precisely, you begged-"

"Shut up. Just shut up." She cut him off and stood up. She couldn't hide her tears anymore.

"Why did you do it? We could have just continued meeting at family dinners. Seeing each other in the hallway and occasionally saying hello. Why did you do it?" It came as a sob. She had never felt so humiliated. It was like a truck had run over her.

"I was bored, and you were cute, and let's be honest, a little desperate," her hand found its way to his cheek with a force neither of them knew she possessed. She wanted to apologize automatically because she wasn't violent, but it didn't come out.

"I hate you so much. I will never forgive you. You are the worst person I know." She mumbled and moved toward the door.

"At least I beat Patrick to it," he found himself saying. He had to have the last word in every argument.

"No, Art. You lost to Patrick. Even in twenty years, you won't have half the character and heart that Patrick has already. You're a complete loser compared to him, and I hope you never forget that." She said without stuttering while he didn't take his eyes off her, swallowing hard, finally hearing the door slam.

The moment Liana reached her room, after passing a considerable number of people who looked at her with worried expressions, some even trying to ask if she was okay, she collapsed on the floor and let out the loudest cry that had probably ever escaped her. She felt dirty. Almost used. She had trusted the wrong person.

She picked up the phone to call the only person she thought could understand her.

"Liana, are you okay?" Patrick sounded concerned and confused, probably because of the late hour.

"He really hurt me and I didn't know who else to call," she managed to say through her tears, hearing Patrick sigh, as if silently saying he knew. He knew this would happen.

Writing this part kinda broke me. I know Art was being cruel, but well, he was acting out without thinking about the consequences. Got your requests and maybe on the weekend we'll give Liana/Patrick/Art some more layers. Keep sending me questions and such. I LOVE it. Hope you're still enjoying and again, if you wanna join the taglist, say the word ❤️

taglist: @swetearss @ganana @yoitsme-04 @igotmajordaddyissues @jackierose902109 @imbabycowboy @do-it-for-kicks @izzywags478 @4deline08 @serenadingtigers

[hyoqa]

pairing: hoshina soushirou x gn!reader (no prns)

request: can i pretty please request a drabble where gen has a sibling and that said sibling and hoshina are dating? even better if gen's sibling is an officer/troop leader in the first division and partakes in the rivalry between the third and first division but outside of everyone's view— gen's sibling and hoshina are terribly lovey dovey!

warnings: none I believe!

wc: 1200

This was not something that started today. Rather, it had been this way for as long as anyone could remember.

From the moment you had joined the 1st Division, you had always been bickering with Hoshina— just like your brother. It was plain as day you were none other than the younger sibling of Narumi Gen. Although you lacked the power and passion for fame that Gen had, you weren't any less competitive than him.

However, unlike your brother, you were better at neutralizing smaller size Kaiju than him— naturally making you more competitive with Hoshina. While you were incredible at what you did, you seemed to fall just a step behind of Hoshina most of the time. You were insanely good, but Hoshina was just a little better. You had beaten him just once in the neutralization test of smaller sized kaiju, and you just couldn't seem to do it again.

This was well known among most of the first and third division, and they did enjoy your playful banter that arose even in the toughest of times. It wasn't always easy to keep the mood bright when things got difficult, but the two of you would never fail to do so. They hoped this would never change and your rivalry would never fade.

However, there were things that had changed that no one really knew of. The two of you had started dating a year ago, and you were madly in love. It was your little secret. Well, your little secret that Gen accidentally found out about.

Neither of you had told Gen about this and quite frankly, the two of you were planning to keep hiding this from him if it were possible. It wasn't new that he despised Hoshina quite a bit, and he was extremely weary of the people you meet, especially men. Naturally, to find out that Hoshina was your boyfriend wouldn't exactly be celebratory news for him. Not to mention that Gen was loud when he had complaints. You knew he absolutely would not shut up about it. So it really wasn't the plan when he had found out.

You were in your room lazing around in a baggy shirt, specifically Hoshina’s shirt, which covered your short-shorts while Hoshina was in your kitchen cooking something quick. Until you got a shared place, this happened rather often. It was either him in your room or yourself in his room. However, a lot of your stuff had found a place in his unit and vice versa, so it was very easy for you to visit each other whenever. A little too easy, perhaps.

“Hoshina, you don't have to make anything fancy,” you said. “Anything’s fine. You had a long day too.”

“I'm literally making us ochazuke. It couldn't be easier—” he was starting to say when the door swung open.

“Guess who's here!” Gen had yelled while walking into your place.

Immediately you looked back at Hoshina in the kitchen and gave up. “Oh gosh,” you said.

“What did I say about ringing the doorbell?!” you yelled back at him.

“And what did I say about locking the door?!” he exclaimed back.

“I thought I did—” you started to yell, but then you remembered you had forgotten to lock the door after Hoshina came in, hands full of groceries to stuff your empty fridge. You were a little too thrilled to see him. “My bad.”

You knew Hoshina was going to scold you later— he's been telling you to be more careful about locking up properly.

Gen saw the extra pair of shoes by your doorway and immediately met eyes with Hoshina in your kitchen.

“Why the hell are you here?!” he yelled.

“Oh, can you please be quiet,” you said. “He's visiting.”

“Why, hello! That would be me!” Hoshina said, greeting Gen properly now that it's come down to this.

“Why is he visiting you, in your room, alone, with you dressed like that?” Gen continued to ask. He wasn't understanding nor did it seem like he wanted to.

You let out a sigh, you didn't mean to, but there was no getting around this one. “What's wrong with having my boyfriend in my room,” you said.

“Your boyfriend? Hoshina?” Gen said, horrified. He didn't think matters could get worse, yet here he was. “Why him?”

“Oh, why not him?” you asked. “He's the best I could ever wish for.”

Hoshina didn’t expect that— especially not to your brother, just like that. His eyes widened as his heart tightened. Oh, how he absolutely adored you. You said it so naturally, as if merely stating a fact. To you, that really was all it was though.

Gen had a lot more to say and complain about while staying far too long, long enough to steal some ochazuke for dinner (which he also managed to complain about) before you were finally able to kick him out. Yet, through all of that, Hoshina couldn't be happier to be with you, bickering away as you ate a 5 minute meal at a small make-shift dining table.

As soon as Gen finally left, you spread your arms out in front of you, asking for a hug, which Hoshina promptly returned.

“He's finally gone…” you said, relieved it was finally just the two of you.

“Not sure he liked me much,” Hoshina said with a smile and you rolled your eyes.

“Like we didn't already know,” you said. “I really didn't plan for him to barge in like that.”

“I have to admit, I do enjoy watching you two bicker though. My brother and I are not nearly as close,” Hoshina said and you rolled your eyes again when he said ‘close’. You wouldn't ever explain your relationship as ‘close’. “However, you ought to make a habit of locking your door. What if that wasn't your brother and I wasn't here.”

“Yes,” you said, quietly but clearly— but avoiding eye contact. “I will.”

“Thank you for saying that earlier,” he said, turning your head to face his. “To this day I don't know what made you choose me.”

You immediately realized what he was talking about.

“Oh, please,” you said. “Be serious. I am the luckiest person alive by your side.”

He kissed you and you kissed back, but he truly wouldn't let you go. You started hitting his arm, hoping he would let go so you could catch your breath. After what felt like the longest moments ever he finally let you pull back, letting you breathe.

“Soushirou, I can't breathe!” you said, trying to sound irritated, but your tone lacked the edge you were hoping for.

He completely ignored you, however, and pulled you back into a tight embrace.

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” he said. “Just you and me.”

“In this small place?” you said, laughing a little.

“Absolutely wherever,” he said. “As long as you're here with me.”

[thesilmarillionblog]

𓏲 𓂃 L o s i n g Y o u

Part: 8

Click here to read the first part.

Summary: Everything was good as a member of Payback and Soldier Boy's secret girlfriend until the team and your relationship with him began to fall apart due to a new member and her developing relationship with Ben right in front of your eyes.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: heavy angst, hurt , language, PTSD, mention of drugs, mention of torture

Word Count: 4538

A/N: English is not my first language.

* This story is inspired by the song "Losing You" by Dream Evil.

You asked Ben again, “What did you do to those people?” while he continued to look at your furious and angered look.

He avoided watching the news and simply replied in a dry voice, “I didn't mean to hurt them. Everything happened so quickly.”

Despite your hopes that, after all this time, he would change a little, you came to the conclusion that his appearance was the only thing that had changed. He was the same guy who hurt everyone around him like they were just insects, never thinking twice about it. He remained the same merciless man who just cared about himself.

You were too ignorant to believe that it was Crimson Countess had drastically changed him, but this was simply another lie you told yourself in defense of Ben's behavior. It was just who he really was.

You talked softly while Butcher continued to watch TV, “How can you even stay the same after all the things that happened to you?”

“I killed the doctor who hurt and tortured you. You already knew; whatever I did for him, he deserved it,” he angrily said, gesturing to you as though he were doing you a favor and somehow trying to convince you.

“Should I feel like a graduate and thank you?” You questioned him bitterly, glaring at him. “You are the reason I spent decades being imprisoned and subjected to torture in vain. You are the reason I am currently homeless and the state's number two foe. How come you're still so blind and self-centered?”

Ben grumbled, “Calm down, baby,” ignoring your inquiries as he roughly grabbed the remote control out of Butcher's hand and flicked through the channels. “We can talk about things at a later time. For now, take a moment to rest.”

Ben continued to stare at the TV and shifted on the couch in an attempt to make himself more comfortable, so you replied, “Don't call me 'baby.'”

“It looks like Tony Montana is going to bed alone tonight.” With a cunning grin, Butcher attempted to reclaim the remote control from Ben's grasp. “Also, don’t be dramatic and so upset, you have a place to stay, you’re not homeless.”

“Tony Montana—who the fuck is he?” Ben muttered, pushing Butcher's hands a little too hard while refusing to give up the remote control. “I’m in charge in here. What I watch, you'll watch too.”

“Hey, you remember our deal, don't you? I'm hoping you won't back down.”

You turned to Butcher and questioned, “What deal?” with a confused gaze on your face when he suddenly started speaking in a serious and mysterious tone.

Ben stepped in immediately and shot Butcher a quick glance, saying, “It's not so important.”

“All right, there's nothing to worry about. Your teammate just promised me that he would help me kill a cunt named Homelander.”

Ben kept shooting Butcher with a deadly look as he immediately spilled the beans.

“I'm not worried about anything,” you cut Butcher off abruptly, averting Ben's tough stare. “Whatever he's up to, he's alone in this. But tell me, what’s deal about.”

“Sweetheart, I don't need your help anyway. You simply stay at home and take care of things while you chill,” Ben said in an amused way, attempting to hide his tiny sense of hurt that came from your coldness.

He didn't intend to include anything that would distress you further, but he couldn't stop remembering the times you supported and fought alongside him. He would never ask you to get involved in the Homelander situation, though, since he knows you've already been through a lot of terrible things. He was also too proud to accept your assistance.

Turning to face you, Butcher added, “You don’t have to be so ruthless. He made the deal to get help from me to save you.”

Butcher believed that, given Homelander's strength, helping him would be beneficial and that it would be great if you would just soften and offer a helping hand. Butcher knew Soldier Boy would be happy to let you fight alongside him, as he was aware that he took your suit from Legend. You were once the strongest superwoman, after all, and he would have a better chance of finally killing Homelander.

Hughie, thankfully, returned to join you with a meal in his hands before you could ask Butcher any more questions. You were so hungry that you didn't even realize it until you smelled pizza. It was all about pleasure, yet even if you starved for decades, you wouldn't die.

Hughie smiled hesitantly and said, “Sorry, I didn't ask you before ordering, but I hope you're okay with pizza.” It's likely that he was the only decent person in the room. You wondered why this person was willing to work with a man like Butcher. He gave off an air of deception.

“Of course it's okay,” you said as soon as you smelled it. You then gave him a graditude look and said, “Thanks a lot.”

Ben quickly got up, tossed the remote control in Butcher's face, and grabbed the pizza from Hughie's hands as he sat next to you before you could move. Ben stepped closer, spreading his legs a little and making contact with your thighs, but you put some distance between you two right away. You didn’t understand why he was acting like that out of the blue, but you didn’t ask anything.

None of you spoke, even though you felt Ben's gaze briefly lingering on you. Although you were unsure of what Ben truly wanted from you, you were determined to learn from your past mistakes. Therefore, it was best to clarify it for him as well.

Upon seeing Noir's visual on TV, you exclaimed in shock, “Is Noir still working for Vought?”

That was the moment you understood. Earving never came to save you. If he just wanted to, you knew he could and would find you. You could understand why he might not have wanted to take the risk of going through the same things with you if he had a legitimate reason for not saving you. You had no right to be selfish. However, you were certain that you would behave differently if he were in your place. You therefore couldn't help but feel a little let down.

Ben angrily remarked, “Of course he does,” as he watched you devour the pizza. “He wouldn't even take his shit without the permission of Vought. Fucking traitor. He didn't even give a fuck about the things you went through all those years. I had no doubts that he was going to abuse your friendship. There was always something sneaky about him.”

You couldn’t left out a small hiss as Ben started to talk about loyalty.

“All right,” you replied, casting him a piercing glance. “I got used to being betrayed.”

He aggressively exclaimed, “Don't compare me with that son of a bitch,” and launched into a self-defense tirade. “I came to save you too as soon as I was free, and I looked for you everywhere.”

“How could I ever compare you with him while I know you are worse. And yes, Ben, you're quite considerate to have searched me in the Countess' home. Many thanks for it.”

“I payed a visit to her because I knew she was most probably the one tricked you. It was nothing else.”

“Whatever,” you said back harshly. “I don’t care anyways.”

Butcher interrupted you after making a brief phone call in the kitchen, saying, “Listen here, Bonnie and Clyde. Hughie and I need to get out and meet some buddies, but if you're not going to make trouble and if you don't want to fuck in peace all night, it's best if you don't stay at home. In every other case of emergency, you need to join us.”

You hurriedly swallowed the large slice of pizza and gasped, “We won't... I mean, we wouldn't,” to Butcher. Your cheeks flushed. “It's not like we're together or anything, so don't misinterpret and talk like this, please.”

Ben leaned back to the coach and said, “Well, I'm all in, baby,” pleased to see you flushed and in a panic. “Keep in mind that. Since I'm free, I didn't even fucking jerk off once. You can use me however you like,” he stated, stretching his legs and making an attempt to brush against you briefly while grinning genuinely and invitingly.

You grumbled, “I'm trying to enjoy my meal here,” ignoring the absolute filth that was flowing from his mouth.

“All right, that's OK.” Butcher urged you to complete your dinner, saying, “You can continue eating where we go. We must leave in five minutes.”

Ben growled, “Don't fucking order her around.”

“It's fine,” you stopped eating right away. “Where we're going to go?”

“We have to get some Temp-V from Hughie's friend. It appears that we will need to use it soon,” Butcher replied, glancing at Ben. “Unfortunately, you can't beat Homeland with just one guy.”

Ben did not even respond to Butcher's crap; he only rolled his eyes. He was aware that Homelander would be the easiest to take down. He was Soldier Boy, and someone of Butcher's age wouldn't fully get who he was.

You and Ben were seated in the back of Butcher's car, and Ben was covering the whole place almost as if he wanted you to lean into his body. He was always on the move, both his hands and his legs, and occasionally you would think he looked a bit bashful if you didn't know just how arrogant he really was. Somehow, you sensed the uncertainty, but you didn't look him up or ask him questions.

You couldn't help but feel confused and depressed as you gazed out of the car window at the enormous, gleaming structures. You no longer felt like you belonged in the world because so many years had passed in a tiny little cage. It seemed as though no one knew you, cared about you, or you had no place to stay. It's not your world, but rather other people's, that you see when you peek out the window.

You said, “Everything looks so different,” as a sense of melancholy took over you.

“Not at all,” Ben remarked in an arrogant tone, as if he had figured out everything in a single day. “I've learned many things; I will teach you all; don't worry.”

You challenged him, casting him a skeptical glance. “What do you know?”

“Well, I might teach you a thing or two because you're too eager to learn. For instance, GPS and the Internet were quite helpful in helping us learn about you and the place you were kept,” he added with pride as he smiled at you and waited for your reaction.

You whispered, “You're just making those words up,” unsure if he was trying to trick you.

“Those words are real words. I had said the same to that fuckface; believe me, sweetheart,” he continued, giving Hughie a harsh shoulder pat. “Hand over your damn android phone to me.”

Hughie murmured in distress, “Oh, God,” as Butcher nodded awkwardly and gave him an odd look. “Just don’t break it or something, please.”

Hughie handed his phone reluctantly to Ben, who took it with a swift move, and Ben used it like a pro, tapping the screen quickly. When he wrote down his name and yours on the screen called 'Google', your eyes widened open as you saw a ton of images and details about the two of you, Payback, and everything else.

Captivated by what Ben showed you, you muttered, “Everything about us is written down there.”

“See,” he declared with pride, chuckling at your bewildered response. “I told you I was very well-informed. The name of this one is Internet.”

You challenged him again, interested in learning more about this small device, which seemed to know a lot of things. The modern world is unquestionably something else, with easy access to knowledge at any time and about any subject matter.

“I am familiar with social media. If you don't want to be identified by your real identity, you can put up a fake profile and follow anybody you want. I made one for the two of us as well.” Ben responded, seeming proud of everything he had achieved with a cunning smile on his face.

You pretended to understand everything he said as you asked, “And what's your fake name?”

“It’s ‘soldierboyy/n69.' Pretty creative, isn't it?”

“Oh my gosh, Ben,” you said, pushing the phone and his hands in an annoyed tone as your face turned red. “Everyone will know that it is you. I shall be accused of having once again supported your actions if they find out the identity of your account. Why do you act so carelessly?”

“Everyone has those fake names,” Ben said, grimacing at how much you disapproved of what he had done. Nobody will find out because I'm not using it anyway."

He intended to show you that he never thought of himself apart from you and that he thought of you even while he was setting up the account, but all he managed was to distress and upset you once more. Observing your defensively crossed arms on your chest, he sighed and moved his strong arms to your seat in an attempt to get close to you.

“How are you so sure?” you asked as he handed over the phone to Hughie in a rude manner.

“Because that's the way the modern world works, sweetheart. Nothing and anyone are real when it comes to Internet.”

“Indeed,” Butcher said, glancing at the two of you through the mirror. “He is right; no one will find out. It's not really a big deal; trust me, if it were, I would have problems as well because of him.”

You cut it short, closing your eyes and lowering your head to the seat. “Okay,” you mumbled.

It was as though some odd numbness overcame your body, leaving you exhausted and unbalanced even after decades of sleep. It was most likely due to the quantity of sleep that your body became accustomed to, and it's also possible that you were experiencing a side effect from what you experienced in the lab. Nonetheless, it didn't concern you because you knew you still had your strength. You only needed to get a bit more rest. As you closed your eyes to give your body a break until you got there, you inhaled deeply.

You slowly opened your eyes, feeling Ben's gentle touch on your cheek, and heard him say, “You really turned into sleeping beauty, didn't you?” in a lighthearted manner.

“Have we arrived?” you muttered as you opened your eyes and noticed his intense gaze on you. The moment Butcher and Hughie slammed the car door, you immediately fully came to your senses.

Ben nodded, confused, not knowing how to react to your coldness as you gently moved his hands away from your face.

Ben and you had just followed Butcher and Hughie to the small, slightly desolate house. You looked around the room, and the other two women, who were glancing at you warily, exchanged glances. You could tell they were supes, just like you, from the whiff of Comp-V in their scents. You were a little nervous because you had no idea what their intentions were toward you. You had no friends or someone to rely on anymore, and you were a stranger to everything after all.

“Ladies, how are you doing here?” Butcher grabbed a glass of whiskey from the kitchen and inquired as he sat down right away on the closest couch.

“I can't believe you and you especially you Hughie,” the blonde remarked angrily. “You two really set them both free, and you forced me to take so much Temp-V; we're going to be caught. It's only a matter of time.”

“So you're the supe woman that bottom-faced guy pounding?” Ben aggressively exclaimed, pushing the short-haired man to the right while he snatched a cola from the refrigerator. “And the one who works for Vought when you're not getting off and doing other things.”

“Stop it, Ben,” you said in a warned tone as his abrupt aggression caused the air to thicken.

“Why don't we just sit down and have a nice chat?” Hughie looked at you anxiously, as if you wanted to soothe Ben before anything happened.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he said, flashing you a cunning grin when he spotted you approaching him, and you gave him a cold look while he sipped his coke in joy.

“Well, Annie, that it wasn't in vain. Soldier Boy and I struck very useful bargain, didn't we?” Butcher inquired, glancing back to Ben with a sly smile. “We're going to kill Homelander together.”

You felt uneasy, and your thoughts turned to the Homelander once again. Even if you didn't care about Ben at all, you couldn't help but feel concerned because you were both strangers to Vought and the outside world now that Ben had gotten into so much trouble. Not only did you not want to return to the lab, but you also didn't want Ben to go through the same painful experiences. Even though he had been vile to you, you didn't want him to suffer forever in Russia.

Annie replied, “You should have told me, Hughie,” casting a disappointed glare at her boyfriend. “You’re so acting strangely these days.”

Hughie insecurely responded, “I know, I know,” rubbing her cheeks. “And I’m really sorry for it. It won’t happen again.”

The man with short hair said, “You all know that they both are being searched by the government, right?”

Butcher shot back, “Of course we all fucking know that, Frenchie.”

Annie looked at you and said, “Well, I guess Y/N's situation is worse,” while you stood by Ben, watching him carefully to make sure he didn't suddenly lose his temper and start some serious drama. “Well, she's a known traitor after all.”

You immediately defended yourself by saying, “I'm not a traitor,” and you were enraged at her haughty demeanor. Despite her lack of knowledge, she was constantly talking about things she had no idea about. “Vought only spread lies and caused us pain in order to build up the next generation, which is your generation. They tortured me for years just because I wanted to quit.”

Annie's expression softened as she realized that Vought would do something like that and that she was having trouble as well in Seven. She then apologized to you by looking at you and sincerely saying, “I'm sorry to hear that.”

She went on, making an effort to get you to see how complicated the situation was, saying, “But you need to understand that no one will believe you. For all this time, you have been regarded as a spy for the entire world. The same remains for Soldier Boy.”

“What is your point?” Ben cut her off with a harsh voice.

Ben was becoming mad at those morons; they were just some stupid kids who liked to order other kids around, but he was a man, a true leader, the strongest supe to live, and they had no idea what him and you had been through or who had been in charge decades earlier. He was already becoming a little tense about that blonde's cunning ideas, so he realized he had to proceed with caution going forward. He had to watch out for you too, in order to keep you safe.

With defensive hands on her hips, Annie retorted, “The thing is, it's best if you don't see each other for a while. I can help you spend a week in various secure locations, separated.”

Ben abruptly tensed up, enraged that the blonde had already made plans in her cunning mind to keep him away from you. “No fucking way,” he said. He was certain that those fucked-brains would propose something so incredibly moronic.

Even if it made sense, you realized those new guys weren't to be trusted as they were strangers. It was true that you needed some alone time apart from Ben, but for the time being, it was preferable to ignore what you’re told.

“Everyone is talking about what happened in New York and Ohio,” Annie said furiously. “I’m just asking you two be hidden for a week. Everything’s already complicated in Vought and I have my own problems.”

“Look, sneaky woman,” Ben hissed, “I don’t give fuck about your problems or anything at all. If you ever suggest such thing, you won’t have a head to think such idiotic things anymore. I’m warning you.”

“Ben, you need to calm down,” you said. You scowled at the feeling that his chest was unusually heated compared to normal. 

Frenchie agreed, saying, “Y/N is right; there is no need to fight each other.” The supe woman next to him smiled and patted his shoulders.

Butcher responded, “Annie is right too, though,” as he examined the Temp-V carefully on his lap. “Too much attention has been paid to Soldier Boy during the past three days. We are also doomed if he is seen soon enough.”

“They could be right,” you acknowledged, nodding to Butcher, understanding that his points were reasonable. Since you and Ben were currently the state's number one and two foes, you also didn't want to get into any sort of trouble.

Ben cursed, “Fuck that,” and he gave Butcher a menacing stare. He got offended at the fact that you instantly agreed with them but not with him. “I didn't realize I had done business with so many jerks. If you're that afraid of what's ahead, I might accept your suggestion, but Y/N is staying with me.”

“Calm down, buddy. Why are you so obsessed?” Butcher questioned, putting the bag down from his lap.

When you realized Ben was about to start an argument without reason, you asked him, “Why are you being like this?” in an irritated tone.

“Are you saying that you're prepared to follow those fuckfaces' instructions?” While you could tell he was angry, he inquired quietly, “What's wrong with you?”

Ben set down the coke and paid no attention to Butcher's irritating remarks. Instead, his attention was drawn to you. The fact that you didn't trust him but did trust the new people you had met most disturbed him. It was not them who saved you, but it was him who considered your safety and future. Still, you were ready to follow what they had to say. You'd been away from each other for a long time, so there was no reason to spend another minute separately.

“I'm not saying anything, Ben. I just want you to quit being irrationally dissatisfied and to be reasonable.”

Butcher sighed as he watched you start to debate, but Annie grasped Hughie's arm and guided him to another room to have a conversation.

Ben stated, “I'm not getting angry for no reason,” while attempting to stay controlled.

Despite Ben was desperate to touch you, he restrained himself since he knew that you two needed to have discussed the situation before acting on it. How in the world was he supposed to talk to you properly after a week apart? “I'm just saying, we don't have to spend a week alone and separated,” Ben said with a low voice.

Your eyes wandered around everywhere except for him.

“I'm not sure, Ben,” you teased him, feeling hesitant about his response. “Maybe we should.”

“How can you be sure that those people won't imprison you to a metal box once more? Do you really want to go back to that lab? You're saying you have faith in them, but not in me?”

You angrily gasped, “Don't you ever talk to me about trust. I would never make the same mistake by trusting you again.”

He tried to calm himself down, saying, “I'm the only one who saved you,” but the heat inside his chest kept growing.

“Will you stop arguing?” Butcher got up and asked, watching Ben trap you against the kitchen table while grinning at Ben and sipping his whiskey. “She obviously wants to be by herself for a while. Would you please just accept her decision and let her to enjoy herself?”

Ben angrily remarked, “Mind your fucking own business; we are fucking having a conversation here.”

You stopped disputing with him and cast a puzzled glance at his chest as soon as you felt the warmth in his chest increasing once more.

Butcher said, “It's like you're forcing her for something she doesn't want to though. Don't be such a drama queen,” ignoring Frenchie's warnings. “She might just want to spend time alone in a nice place and fuck with some hot dudes, savor the time she missed all those years.”

Ben snarled, turning to face Butcher and ignoring you this time. “Watch your fucking language," he growled. “If you say one more word, I fucking swear I'll rip your heads off.”

Ben's chest began to glow suddenly before he could finish his sentence, and your eyes widened, sensing the anxiety and the heat coming from his body.

“Ben,” you whispered quietly, uneasy with his rage and the anguish on his face, as if he tried to maintain self-control.

With an expression of fright on his face, Frenchie and the supe woman next to him also retreated a step. “Calm down, buddy,” Butcher muttered. “Let's not cause another accident. You've already done enough damage, huh. ”

But Ben's chest continued to glow, alerting you. “Hey, what's wrong with you?” you asked as you walked up to him, stroking his arms and then his face and making him to look at you.

He snarled, “I can't hold it,” and shoved your hands away right away. “Stay away from me.”

Instead of following commands, you remained in the same spot and continued to massage his upper arms in an effort to soothe him though you got extremely anxious. Then, in the hopes of calming him down a little, you put your hands on his burning, hot chest. Even if there was smoke slightly arising from his body, your hands felt chilly.

You whispered, “It's okay,” feeling his temperature drop beneath your fingertips gradually.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

A/N: Comments and reblogs are very appreciated! -`♡´-

Taglist: @mostlymarvelgirl @xmariakx @spnfamily-j2 @suspicious-stain-in-spain @atomicsoulcollecto @yvonneeeee @starryperson @mfnqueen1 @chaand-sitara @boywivlove @stilinskisthings @brynanna @delaynadee @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @yoyoanaria @n-o-p-e-never @ghostslillady @certifiedhaters @deans-spinster-witch @demodemo909 @stoneyggirl @cheynovak @libby99hb @moneyburner

Let me know if you want to be tagged for this series. -`♡´-

[softsan]

˚ 🔪⊹ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐈: 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒. (𝐩𝐭.𝟏)

✉️ ・ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭.

✉️ ・ ── 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬: | 01 |

✉️ ・ ── 𝐦𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 | 𝐲/𝐧'𝐬 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬

✉️ ・ ── 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: Mafia AU, Angst, Kingpin!Hongjoong, Former Doctor!Y/N, Fem!Reader, Opposite sides, Old Rivalries, Betrayal, Eventual Smut.

✉️ ・ ── 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: You were the eldest daughter of the infamous Mafia kingpin ' The Crocodile'. You had managed to crave a successful, ordinary life for yourself as a physician, however, your world is turned upside down when your father's men decide they'd prefer you to rule in your brother's stead. You were now in hiding trying to avoid the hit your brother had placed on your head. Whilst in hiding you accidently come across a wounded man, and nurse him back to health. Unbeknownst to you, you had just aided your father's number one enemy, the great dragon Hongjoong.

✉️ ・ ── 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Possessive Themes, Future Explicit Sexual Content, Murder, Drowning, Torture, Weapons, Graphic Violence, Angst, Explicit Language, Alcohol Consumption, Mentions of Drugs, Betrayal, Morally Grey Characters.

✉️ ・ ── 𝐨𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭.

You took a deep breath, your lungs expanding to their full capacity. You came forth, your heels clicking against the marble tiles. Their eyes watched you like hawks, observing your every move.

They’d eat you alive if they sensed the most minuscule amount of fear... You didn’t care to admit it, but, in more ways than one, you were your father’s daughter. And like your father, The Crocodile, you wouldn’t buckle nor bend.

You stepped in front of the podium, your eyes hardening with resolve, “Lieutenants, soldiers, engineers, and drug lords, I welcome you to our humble abode.”

There was a slow clap that echoed from the audience. Your eyes momentarily flickered to your younger sister Heejin, sitting behind her was Hyuntae, your antagonistic brother.

You were the eldest out of the three, which brought hostility between you and your brother. Your father had always intended for Hyuntae to be his successor—believing a male figurehead to be the idealist of options. And you were perfectly content with this too, as you had no desire for the perilous life of a mobster.

However, some of your father’s lieutenants thought otherwise. Hyuntae was terribly impulsive, explosive, and sadistically vengeful making him a terrible candidate to lead others. You were the Crocodile’s firstborn, and they believed you ought the be the rightful heir to their organization instead of Hyuntae.

You addressed the room of heads, your speech, and your confidence faultless. Hyuntae further writhed in his seat, growing all the more infuriated as you won over more of the crowd.

“As per our system, the annual growth will continue—”

A loud gunshot erupted, the sound deafening your ear. You stood, stunned, not comprehending what was happening around you.

‘Y/N!’ Your sister Heejin desperately yelled aloud.

Blood seeped your blouse. You stared down at your chest, your fingers brushing against the crimson stain, which was growing bigger by the minute.

Your legs gave out from underneath you, your vision turned ablur.

I’ve been shot? It still didn’t register.

The last thing you recalled was the agonizing screams from your sister before darkness consumed your conscious mind.

Present.

The sea breeze held a terrible bite. It cast a cold front that left those in its wake with frostbitten fingers and toes. Hongjoong tried to keep his composure, his teeth violently chattering as his limbs spasmed in the wintery depth of the bay.

The night had an eerie hold on Hongjoong—a foreboding feeling that tonight's affairs would end up in shambles. In foresight, he should have trusted his gut and followed his intuition, but alas, he'd been foolish to underestimate The Crow's subordinates.

Gunshots rang through the air, its blinding flashes flaring into the pitch of darkness. Hongjoong dived deeper into the chilling abyss, avoiding the numerous bullets that penetrated the water's surface.

He knew he wouldn't last long in the sub-zero temperatures, the risk of hypothermia heightening with prolonged exposure. He kicked his protesting legs with all his might, forcing his arms to swim ahead.

To Hongjoong's favor, The Crow's sea cruiser hadn't traveled far from the marina—where the other gentry docked their sea vessels. After a tireless swim, he finally made it to the boat's staircase. He grumbled and cursed as he dragged his wounded torso across the cold aluminum.

What am I to do now? His forearms gave out, exhaustion getting the better of him. Hongjoong rolled onto his back, grasping his arms around himself as he shook uncontrollably.

Don't tell me this is where I die. He thought bitterly in disbelief.

Hongjoong was in a foreign enclave. He had no standing nor command in these parts. Up North, he was regarded as a king, the infamous and the only 'The Dragon'.

Even in the unlikely case, someone had stumbled upon his injured self and pitied him enough to take him to the hospital. Hongjoong would be nothing less than a sitting duck. His enemies in the masses would come out of every nook and cranny seeking to finish him off for good.

There has to be another way out of this... He dwelled, his eyelids beginning to droop. This isn't how I'm supposed to die. 

You groaned, stretching your neck side to side. You had, had another strenuous shift at the beachside resort, which was located not far from the marina.

You had been posted in the restaurant as a waitress, flipping tables and serving large drunken parties of rich socialites who had returned to their yearly absorbent lifestyles by the bay.

You hated summer for this particular reason. The once sleepy township was now overrun by intoxicated, rich folks. They had no filter and had an endless list of demands. They threw around their wealth, expecting everyone to bend to their behest, all the while looking down upon the town's local residents.

You took a restless walk down the beach, your shoes in your hands. You stared at the sea's undisturbed pandemonium, waves dark as the sky above violently crashing into the rocks on the shore.

Your feet sunk into the damp sand as you kept a safe distance. You'd only stroll to the pier and back. After a long demanding shift, it was part of your routine to walk beside the water and wind down.

As you stepped closer to the wooden length that extended out to the ocean. You caught sight of a dark figure. 

It couldn't be. You squinted your eyes, trying to get a better look. Is that a body?

You kicked your feet, taking off in the direction of the lifeless mass. Your heart pounded the closer you got, adrenaline running through your veins.

A handsome man laid on his back, his eyes painfully scrunched shut, while his breathing labored. You quickly checked the skin of his forehead with the back of your hand. Not only was he pale and colorless, but he was cold to the touch.

You checked his pulse, placing two fingers against his neck, below his jaw, and where his carotid artery ought to be. His heart rate was slow and lethargic, a factor that contributed to your diagnosis of hypothermia.

Furthermore, as you examined the man, you noted the blood soaked into his tee shirt. You lifted the bottom, revealing a nasty gunshot wound that had penetrated the side of his abdomen. Fortunately, the wound didn't seem too serious on first inspection, hypothermia being your bigger concern.

"Can you sit up for me?" You gently asked.

Hongjoong stirred at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. You helped him upward, quickly stripping off your jacket and putting it onto him. You had every intention to take off his wet clothes, but first, you had to get him off the pier and somewhere you could treat him more effectively.

As you zipped up the jacket, you noticed the faint outline of a dragon tattoo on the man's chest. It peaked from the white material, which had gone almost transparent when wet.

He's one of The Dragon's men. Your mouth quivered, shocked at the revelation.

The country you resided in was split into five notable territories, each belonging to one of the notorious mafia families.

There was The Bull, The Crow, The Jaguar, The Crocodile, and lastly, The Dragon.

You were painfully aware this bay and township belonged to The Crow. Hence the appearance of one of The Dragon's men was so astounding. He shouldn't have been here. In fact, his very presence placed him and you who had aided him in terrible danger.

I can't just leave someone to die. You grappled. That goes against the medical oath I swore.

You pulled up the hood of your jacket in an attempt to obscure the man's face. You then roped one of his arms around your shoulders and dragged him back to the beach and eventually to your car, which had been parked in the restaurant's parking lot. 

The drive to your shabby apartment felt like an entity. Finally, you reached your destination, the man in your back seat slipping in and out of consciousness.

As preferable as it would have been to take him to the hospital, you knew how dangerous it would have been for him. As soon as anyone caught a glimpse at that dragon tattoo of his, he'd for sure be forsaken. He'd be more likely to leave the hospital in a body bag than to receive any medical treatment. This left you with little option but to take him in yourself.

You set him down on your bed, and immediately with a pair of scissors, you cut off his damp clothing. You dug out an abundance of towels and blankets from your cupboard, warming them with a hairdryer before applying them on and around his head, neck, and chest.

Next, you headed to the kitchen to boil some water on the stove. You filled one mug and used the rest of the boiling liquid to fill some spare water bottles you had lying around. You brought this all back to your room, wrapping the bottles in hand towels and positioning them against the man's body.

"Can you drink a little for me?" You encouraged, brushing away a strain of wet hair that stuck down on his cheek.

Hongjoong murmured something incoherent, slowly moving his shoulders as a sign he'd try to sit up.

"Here," You assisted him, placing your palm against the back of his head and tilting it up, "This will warm you up," You assured.

Once the man was settled and his temperature started to normalize, you shifted your focus onto his open wound. The bullet had shot clean through. Luckily, for its small caliber, it didn't inflict as much damage as a larger caliber would.

You gingerly washed the wound, and stitched and bandaged the entity of his abdomen. When you were done, you went to your bathroom to scrub your hands clean. You then searched through your stash; you didn't have too many drugs on hand, but what you did have would suffice. You continued to shuffle through your medicine cabinet, pulling out a packet of antibiotics and another packet of painkillers.

A year ago, you used to prescribe and treat patients on a daily basis...Your expression deflated as you recollected the past.

You had nearly finished your residency and were about to obtain a full-time position at the hospital until Hyuntae, your callous so-called brother, threw your world into chaos.

The life you lived, the one you had tirelessly built for yourself, was now destroyed. You'd never be able to practice medicine again, let alone be able to step foot into a hospital.

Hyuntae had left a wake of bodies behind in his attempt to rid you of your father's territory. You had been fortunate to make it out of the city with your life, even if it meant leaving everything and everyone you knew behind.

The terrible coldness had since dissipated from Hongjoong's body, leaving but a dull ache on the left side of his abdomen. In his drugged haze, his mind drifted, reminiscing on an exchange between him and trustworthy consigliere Seonghwa.

"Why have Wooyoung wed her?" Seonghwa expressed his disbelief.

"Would you have preferred I to have married her instead?" Hongjoong challenged.

Seonghwa grimaced, unquestionably uncomfortable with the subject at hand.

Hongjoong disinterestedly sat upon his ottoman, pouring himself a stiff drink and hurling it back.

"I would have preferred for none of us to find ourselves in a situation where we have to forge alliances through marriage," Seonghwa's distasted evident from his tone of voice, "But since we're stuck under such circumstances—"

Hongjoong roughly placed down his glass, the sound interrupting Seonghwa.

Seonghwa threw Hongjoon an annoyed look, "You and I both know tradition calls for the head of the organization, which in this case is you," Seonghwa exasperatedly pointed his finger at Hongjoong direction "Is to personally elope when the bride happens to be a fellow Kingpin's heir."

Hongjoong knew of the customs, and yet, stubbornly, he had no intentions of marrying himself off. He'd not accept just anyone to stand beside him, to rule as his dragon queen.

"By having one of your caporegimes, no matter how highly-revered they may be, marry in your stead. You are purposefully offending The Crocodile." Seonghwa made his last attempts to talk sense into his boss.

"My order still stands," Hongjoong dismissed, filling the glass again and placing it against his lips. He took a large gulp, the fire of the alcohol burning down his throat, "Wooyoung will be the one to marry Heejin, The Crocodile's daughter."

Hongjoong wasn't sure how many days had passed since the incident at the marina. But the one thing he was certain about was that he owed you his life.

His lethargic eyelids slowly cracked open, the light from the morning sun momentarily stunning him. He groggily inched his back off the bed to lean against the headboard.

The pain from his side protested, but Honjoong chose to ignore it, setting his sights on you. From your bedroom with the door ajar, he had the perfect view of the kitchen.

He watched as you softly sang to yourself, taking out two slices of toast from the toaster oven and quickly tossing them onto your plate to avoid burning your fingertips.

The sweet melody of your voice and the cute little shimmy you did as you cut off the crusts brought an unexpected smile to Hongjoong’s face.

It was unlike him to be so in awe of another. He wanted nothing more than to get to know you, your likes, dislikes, your darkest of dreams, and your wildest of ambitions.

NETWORKS: -​

MONI’S NOTE: This is another repost! There are fewer changes in this one but, I still hope you enjoy it! Please leave a like/reblog or comment letting me know your thoughts.

TAGLIST: If you'd like to be added to the taglist please let me know!

© softsan - all rights reserved. please do not repost on any social media sites, translate, or modify any of my works.

[yuwuta]

love f2l where he’s already hopelessly in love with you and pining in a way that’s so obvious to everyone else but you, but also love the moment in f2l where it clicks that “oh shit… i think my friend just turned me on.” even better when one person doesn’t realize they’ve turned the other one on and they’ve just gotta live with the memory replaying in their head for a few days. friends keep saying they’re distracted and they just nod their head like yeah uh sorry… was uh… sorry what were we talking about? bc these days if it’s not about that moment, zero processing has gone on 

megumi and satoru are the worst at coping with this. 

for megumi, it’s such a 180, a switch has been completely turned on when it happens, that it makes him upset. he can’t even tell if he’s angry that it happened in the first place, that he couldn’t tell he was attracted to you before, that he can’t stop thinking about it now, or that it’s possible that other people could have already had this realization and be thinking of you like this too. every option brings a mean scowl to his face. and it’s embarrassing above all because you were just trying to take off your shoes. when lifting your leg and holding onto to his bicep wasn’t enough, you crouch down to struggle with the straps instead. megumi sighs—all he wanted to do was get your drunken ass home in one piece and now you’re crouched down in the middle of the street, and when he looks down to see what’s taking so long, that’s when it hits him. you bent down like that, looking up at him and groaning and pulling on his shirt and whining for him to help you does very terrible things to him. and it shouldn’t, you’re only calling for him because you lack the hand-eye coordination (and clearly critical thinking because this is the middle of the road and you cannot walk barefoot) right now to undo your shoes, but it’s your blown pupils and pout and the calling for him—you have to stop whining. and saying his name. immediately—not to mention the angle and tilt of your head to look up at him. megumi can barely help himself, much less you, which is why he grumbles, hoists you up by the scruff of your neck so you’re standing up right. you giggle in your haze but megumi just hisses his teeth, tells you “stop looking at me like that,” and before your mind can catch up, he grabs you by the waist and hoists you over his shoulder because looking at your face is not an option right now. and this is for the best for everyone—now your feet don’t hurt, you’ve stopped groaning, there’s no more eye contact, and megumi has the rest of the walk back to your apartment to contemplate what the fuck just happened to him 

for satoru, it’s actually partially his fault, because not only is it so far from sexual and yet turns him on anyway, but he’s so annoying that his actions lead to a cascade of other terrible turn-ons that and now it’s a cyclical problem. you’re just borrowing something of his for the convince of it—his glasses because it’s sunny, or maybe his jacket because it’s cold, something small and innocent—but it ignites such a strong flame in him that his visceral reaction is to snatch it right back from you, and run away like some school girl. “hey—satoru what the fuck, come on, you weren’t even using it!” you call, but your voice is already an echo at the speed he’s scurried away from you. the flash vision of you in his belongings was terrible, but it’s the memory of it that makes it worse, brings a blush to his face, and leave him shaking his head like a crazy person because what the fuck this is insane. you didn’t even do anything so he has no reason to act like this, there’s no way the slightest insinuation of you thinking of him/his belongings as something to borrow, or hold, or have should make him react this way, but it does. and he hates it. and he’s not normal about it at all, and it takes you confronting him, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him back and forth, asking him what the fuck is wrong with him, which is warranted, but worse because that also leaves him red from his face to his check with Awful Realization Numbers 2 and 3: (2) you usually just Deal with him being strange, but right now you’re mad and you’re really hot when you’re mad, and (3) you’re very close to choking him out right now and if you did, he wouldn’t stop you

yuuji is the one who has had this effect on more people than he knows, which is hilarious to think about because he’s either completely oblivious, or using his charm to play innocent. and when you have that moment, you’re definitely left stunned. you were just fishing for more snacks for your self-care night—a tradition that used to between you and nobara, but now includes megumi, and most times yuuji, but tonight, he had plans with todo, which you were grateful for because there’s no way you could have been around him after what happened. in a hurry to grab his water bottle from the fridge, yuuji doesn’t bother you with words to maneuver through the cramped kitchen, just mindlessly puts his hands on your hips, lifts you, pivots, puts you down, grabs his water bottle, puts it on the counter, lifts you again, pivots, and places you right back where you were, flashing you a million-dollar smile, before grabbing his bottle and rushing out to catch the bus. you’re left blinking, body on autopilot as you finally reach for the chips, and zombie-like when you make your way back to the living room where nobara’s putting a sheet mask on megumi. when you’re finally seated on the couch, you blink for the first time, blurting out to nobody in particular, “is… is itadori hot?” and it’s comedic how quick, blasé, and autonomic the in-sync replies from both megumi and nobara are, “yes”, “unfortunately.” oh. well that’s reassuring you suppose. you might have been the last to realize it, but at least you’re not alone. 

if you told yuuta he had the ability to seduce anybody he would probably just laugh awkwardly and think it’s some kind of joke. the great irony is that rooming with him has left you with many instances to confirm that he is attractive, but the defining moment is when you realize just how much yuuta has grown in his year abroad. your apartment is nice and relatively modern, but there are still some tight spaces. usually you and yuuta just giggle while shuffling around each other, but today, you feel like you’ve gotten between a rock and another rock because when did yuuta—your scrawny, awkward, endearing yuuta—gain fifty pounds of muscle? it’s a terrible moment for you to be squished between him and the tiny enclosure of your storage closet and even worse that he’s the one who apologies, and smiles, and carries on reaching for the spare napkins while you’re left with the filthy thoughts about your best friend. 

[eaudecrow]

Well, I promised context to anyone who begged sweetly, and that’s sweet though for me. (I say as if I haven’t been dying to rant about them for weeks.)

The short story: The Target, aka Din, is the assassination target of Father Kilter’s adopted revenant kid, Pigeon. If Din dies, both they and Pidge will rot in an existence worse than hell, as the unjust death and necromancy magic fuses their souls together in eternal agony. Kilter stays in contact with Din via Sending and Dream spells to keep the two apart (and manages to steal their heart by being wet and pathetic and teaching them how to care).

The full story (buckle the fuckle up):

So. The Target. They have what we’ll call a… justified god complex. As the self-appointed harbinger of truth, they run around exposing secrets and toppling corrupt governments for the betterment of the world. Unfortunately, this makes them public enemy number one. So what did they do to keep themself safe?

Trade away their face, of course.

The Target bargained with Truth itself. They would give it their long-lived service, in exchange for the power to mete out justice and a face that cannot be remembered. The moment you look away, you forget it.

Now their enemies have a new problem to contend with. How do you kill someone who can’t be found or even identified? The answer comes in the form of a revenant: a being so hellbent on killing one person, it always knows their target’s position, regardless of what magic is used to hide them. And this target is so important to eliminate that a necromancy cult artificially manufactures one to go after them.

Enter Pidge.

For a while, the only thing Father Kilter could do when the Target got too close was hold Pigeon as they scratched and stabbed and clawed, trying to bring about their own end as well as some random stranger’s. He had no idea who the target was, no way to contact them and keep them far, far away from his kid, no way to keep them safe—so he jumped at the chance to spy on them when they happened to pass within viewing distance.

One poorly-timed hunting snare later, and Kilter was left hanging upside down, before their horse, at their mercy.

Luckily they seemed inclined to have mercy. Despite Kilter’s terrible attempts at lying and generally suspicious nervous energy, their curiosity was piqued. They let him down. They joined him for some wine, even, introducing themself as “Din”. The two had a chat that started with each trying to subtly pick the other apart, and ended with Kilter completely losing that battle—so desperate for a semblance of help and genuine connection, that he spilled his backstory and his secrets to this literally faceless stranger. All they had to do was touch his knee and say “you aren’t alone” and he was FINISHED. In the end, he had no choice but to trust that they had good intentions and the means with which to act upon them.

That’s where things are at in the canon campaign. Outside of that, @couchtaro and I have been going FERAL over future things such as:

Kilter finally being able to touch someone bare-handed in their shared Dreamscape

Them providing Kilter a place to sleep without being haunted by Pestilence’s manipulative nightmares, and it somehow devolving into cuddles

To get around the face enchantment, Kilter reading the arch of their nose and brow and lips like braille, memorizing the shape of their scar so that he can recognize them by touch

The Target’s myriad 14-foot thick, adamantium emotional barriers getting blasted to itty bitty pieces by Kilter fixing their blood-loss-induced hypothermia with his own body heat

They’re so suspicious of each other right now. Little do they know they’re in for a rollercoaster of learning what it means to love, and by proxy what it means to live. Thanks for asking @booksandberries!

[khaire-traveler]

Hi! Could you help me? I really want to worship the Theoi, but it's hard when i read the mythology :(

I mean, in the myths so many gods do it terrible things... Apollo on Cassandra and Marsyas, Dionysus on Pentheus and Orpheus, Artemis on Kallisto, Hera on Zeus's lovers and offsprings...

How can i worship, for example, Apollon, after all the horrible things he do it in the myths, i really want to but the more i seek into greek mythology, more hard is 😫

Hey, Nonny,

The most important thing to remember about the myths is not to take them literally. The myths are just that: myths. They are stories written over 2,000 years ago in a culture where many of these things were, unfortunately, considered normal. These days, we look back and frown upon these things, but back then, it was widely accepted.

The myths are not "The Bible" of Hellenic worship. Mythic literalism isn't encouraged. The myths were meant to explain things that happened in nature or why we should respect the gods (due to their power and influence), but they are not meant to be taken literally. There are lessons to be learned from them, such as to not be rude to others or to be kind to strangers and guests, but in my opinion, they're not literal representations of the gods.

In my experience, the gods are significantly different from how they're represented in the myths. Apollo, for example, is extremely kind, respectful, and doesn't overstep the boundaries that I've set. He's helped me through some of the darkest moments in my life and has been there for me right after I was SA'ed. As another example, Zeus helped me escape from a horrible abuser. He helped me cut all ties with them and protected me from their influence. He forgave past transgressions that I had made under the abuser's manipulation. He was kind, understanding, and made me feel safe. Hera, as another example, helped my family when I had prayed for her assistance during a time where my family's future was entirely uncertain. She came to me with a warm, motherly energy, and even though I had been nervous, her presence was reassuring.

Ultimately, it's your choice if you want to take the myths literally; I'm not going to stop you or anyone else from doing so. However, I disagree strongly with that point of view. The gods have proven themselves, in my experience, to be nothing but compassionate, accepting, and respectful. They have lent me their aid freely and helped me grow into a more mature, better person. I don't believe we're meant to take the myths so literally. I think the myths are stories, written thousands of years before our lifetimes, by people who thought atrocious actions were ok based on the culture they stemmed from.

I hope this clarified my opinions on the matter, and maybe it brought you some peace of mind. Take care, Nonny, and best of luck on your journey. 🧡

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

NSFW, s/h mention, smoking mention

AITA for not telling my boyfriend how I felt about something sexual that we did?

So, my (19f) boyfriend (22m) was in town visiting me over the summer. I live with my parents while I'm not at college, so he was staying with me, my parents, and my four younger siblings. The event that I'm talking about was at the end of his visit, the night before he had to head home back to his own place (different state, about a 7 hour drive from me).

Some important context for this before I begin is that I am somewhere on the asexual spectrum (he knows this and we have discussed it) and don't typically derive any sexual pleasure from anything that we do. This isn't to say that I don't enjoy it -- I'm typically very neutral on sexual things, but I like feeling close to him and I like the pleasure that it brings him. This is to say, I find enjoyment in what we do in my own way, and everything we do is with extremely explicit consent. He also has some issues when it comes to sexual acts from a relationship in the past, and while I don't know all the details, it's clear that he is hesitant specifically about making sexual advances towards me. We are both technically virgins in the strict sense. We both have histories of deep body image issues and self-harm (mine ongoing, his (mostly) in the past).

This particular day I was super overstimulated all day for reasons that had absolutely nothing to do with him (hunger, exhaustion, ongoing depressive episode, other unrelated reasons). We started messing around at night and, although I was not terribly in the mood, I was still enjoying being close to him (and wanting to be intimate before he left in the morning). It went further than I think either of us expected it to (again, EXPLICIT consent from both parties). Obviously I won't share details, but at the end of the night there was cum on me and in my bed.

Now, while all this was happening, I was enjoying it. Not sexually but sensually and romantically. But afterward, the overstimulation of being dirty and my bed being dirty hit me like a wave and I sort of internally freaked out. I made sure to reassure him that everything we did was good and that I wanted it all, which I did. He then asked if I wanted to shower together or separately. I said separately and went to shower. I took a longer time in the shower than I intended to and had a minor meltdown. I ended up self-harming (not majorly) to calm myself down and get myself out of the panic. When I came back to the room and he left to wash up, I smoked a little weed and nic while he was gone (he's a nonsmoker but knows that I do) to calm myself down more. When he came back I told him I didn't want to sleep in my bed because it was dirty, and asked if we could sleep on the couch in the living room instead (relatively isolated living room, both fully dressed and literally just sleeping, no chance of anyone stumbling upon us in the morning except MAYBE my 16-year-old sister). The rest of the night was fine.

Here's where I'm almost positive I'm the asshole. He was clearly upset with himself after what happened even though we had both wanted it, and he kept apologizing and telling me he loved me. He asked me to turn away so he could get dressed (which of course I did) which is a major change from usual. I think it was because I asked to shower separately from him and then expressed discomfort at my bed being a mess. Even though I reassured him almost relentlessly the entire evening that everything was good, he was obviously deeply upset with himself. He was also crying when he got out of the shower, but I'm 90% certain that was because he was upset about leaving the next day, since we were going to be apart for the longest we'd ever had to be due to his career.

So I just didn't tell him about the self-harming or the smoking or the meltdown. I knew he wouldn't find out because he was leaving the next day.

Why I am almost certainly the asshole: I wasn't communicating about something he almost certainly would've wanted to know about. The self-harming is particularly shitty on my part. We are both very open about our mental illness and relate in a lot of ways, so he knows I actively s/h and is not upset by it (apart from just like generally not wanting your partner to s/h). But he's so intent on communicating all of our feelings about everything that we do together that I know he would've wanted to know that I was upset, and actively hiding that I was hurting myself is a deeply deeply shitty move on my part. I know that.

Why I might not be the asshole: telling him would've done absolutely NOTHING positive for either of us. Everything we did was consensual and enjoyable, and it was only the mess afterward that overwhelmed me and just happened to be the straw that broke the camel's back after a really long day. There's absolutely nothing he did wrong or nothing he could've done to prevent it. I feel like telling him couldn't have brought about any positive results since he wasn't really responsible for it and it had nothing to do with him. It would've just led to more insane self-flagellation and self-hatred on his part.

I'm almost certain I'm the asshole here. It's been weighing on me like crazy since he left. But I almost feel like telling him would've been MORE of an asshole move on my part.

Feel free to ask any clarifying questions.