#at least it's a fucking hysterical lie do you think she came up with that literally on the spot and then went oh huh nice one

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

"i need to see a man about a dog" shes sooo funny

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

And Eat It, Too - Chapter Seventeen: Annabelle

In which Annabelle Cane tells Jon just enough about what's going on to send him into an existential crisis, and Jon receives his final mark...

>>> NOW ON AO3!

Once upon a time, a man named Jonathan Sims ruined the world.

And it wasn't the first time he had.

(Masterpost including playlist)

*

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

It was always going to end here, he thinks.

The one place he knows is a stronghold of the Web, a place that took in orphans and made them agents, a place burned to hell by Agnes Montague because spiders and fire don’t play nice.

They’ve rebuilt. It looks okay.

The neighborhood is quiet, quaint. A nice place to retire, more so than raise children, and he knows the worst of the gossips were glad when no one was left alive here to continue bringing in “troubled youth.”

It doesn’t look like anyone is home.

Jon knows that’s a lie.

Simple brick, two stories. They’ve worked on the landscaping, and it has a hedge, though the lawn is in need of reseeding.

The front door is unlocked.

He doesn’t try the lights. Doesn’t need them. Knows, though he’s never been here before, where the door to the basement is, and where they will be waiting for him.

He tries not to see the webs, everywhere, everywhere. They scare him.

Knowing this is his only choice doesn’t mean he isn’t afraid.

Well, at least I’m bringing a snack like a good house guest, he thinks, and emits one high, hysterical giggle.

Sounding like Michael makes it worse, and he has to lean against the doorframe to the basement for a moment, gathering himself.

No turning back.

They are kind enough to have a light on at the bottom.

It’s a wide basement, unfurnished but for two chairs. One of them is occupied by Annabelle Cane.

There’s a slight discoloration on the floor in front of her, as if a table had sat there for a very long time.

And behind Annabelle—

Behind her but not behind her but there but not there is the form of a spider so huge, so sentient, so present, that it could not fit in this basement or six basements or sixty basements, and he cannot see it if he looks directly, but it is there, constant, in the corner of his eye.

And he feels so small.

“It’s all right, Archivist,” says Annabelle. “No one is going to bite you, or put spiders in your skull. Just sit. It’s time for that answer I promised you.”

Jon doesn’t often get so scared his teeth chatter, but he’s hit that peak now, and he can’t quiet them as he goes to sit down. Gingerly, on the edge. As if that would make any difference at all.

Annabelle is being completely non-threatening. Leaning back, no quick movements. Letting him catch his breath.

Behind her, that consciousness (so aware, so much more than the Eye, so much more than even Mister Pitch, so that by comparison maybe they do all seem like muscle spasms) is focused on them.

“I… I don’t know how long I can take this,” says Jon.

“That’s fair. It can be… a lot, when you’re not used to it,” smiles Annabelle. “And if you lack the temperament to appreciate the beauty.”

“I definitely lack it,” says Jon. “Very lacking. Lacked. Can I go now?”

“You can go whenever you want,” says Annabelle. “But you’ll go without answers.”

Fuck.

He grips the arms of the chair. “Don’t make me wait, then. Get on with it.”

She doesn’t react to his sharpness. “I’m going to tell you a story, Archivist.” (And yes he is eager to hear and the Eye’s hunger rises in him and almost but not quite eclipses the terror.) “I’m going to ask you to sit still and listen to the end. You won’t understand what’s going on… at first. It’ll all be clear, soon.”

Jon checks around him, making sure nothing is trying to web him up while she talks. “All right.”

She smiles. She looks fond. She begins. “Once upon a time, a man named Jonathan Sims ruined the world.” 

She tells him, in brief, of a man so like him, but who came under the influence of the Corruption’s horrible love, and ended the world in rot and gore. And barely, the Spider and the Fears managed to escape to another universe.

“What?” he says.

She ignores that, and then she begins again. “Once upon a time, a man named Jonathan Sims ruined the world.” 

And she tells that story again—but it’s the Hunt this time, and with his power, his mind, the Everchase actually finished, creating a new and screaming ecocosm of predator and prey. 

The Fears escaped the same way.

She begins the story again.

And again.

And again.

“Once upon a time, a man named Jonathan Sims fell in love with an Avatar of the Lonely, and gave the world away in mist and heartache.”

“Once upon a time, a man named Jonathan Sims fell in love with an Avatar of the Lightless Flame, and birthed a new age of fire and destruction.”

“Once upon a time, a man named Jonathan Sims fell in love with his Archivist, Sasha James, and in trying to save her life, gave the world to the Beholding on a silver platter.”

“I don’t understand,” he finally says, because she’s told him twenty variations, and—

“This is not our first universe, Archivist,” says Annabelle. “But we’re hoping it will be the last.”

Jon shakes. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s you,” she says. “It’s always you.” 

He’s breathing too fast. “I don’t understand!”

Annabelle sighs. “Let’s try… something different. You read the statements about the Extinction, yeah?”

“The… the new Fear Adelard Dekkard postulated. Yes,” says Jon, so insanely glad to not be talking about another damned Jonathan Sims.

“He was right. Humans… when they fear something enough, it does take on form. It’s coming, the Extinction, but not for a long time yet. It’s not feared enough. Yet.”

“All right,” says Jon, following, trembling, barely breathing.

“The Mother of Machinations believes you exist because too many people began to fear… a chosen one.”

He stares at her.

“Not a good chosen one—just a used one, a manipulated one, trapped by designs too big to escape. Someone who cannot fix the ruined world they inherited. Someone who has no good choices left, and somehow, Jon, that leads to you. And no matter what we do, no matter where we flee, we can’t stop you from becoming.”

He believes her.

He knows with everything in him that she is right, that this is true, that the Eye was waiting for him to show up again, that it’s so happy he’s here, that his appearance put the world on a doomsday countdown.

And the Web couldn’t stop it? The Web? What in hell was he supposed to do?

“So kill me,” he says, head spinning with tales of apocalypse, of a fucking alternate universe secreted below the floor of this house (Under the basement? Is that where it is?). “Just kill me and prevent it!”

“We’ve tried to prevent it. We’ve killed you in your mother’s womb; we’ve kept your parents from even meeting. But you’re always born, or born again, and you always end up here.”

“Born again? Reincarnated? That’s a thing?”

“It is for you.”

“Anyone else?”

She smiles. 

“I don’t want to end anything!” Jon cries.

“You sometimes do. You sometimes don’t.”

“No!” He gets up and stalks.

Back and forth.

She’s very well-spoken. He sees these lives as she tells these tales, sees every single one of the choices that lead him to each apocalypse.

And he is upset because he understands.

“No,” he snarls, he denies, he lies.

“In the last universe, you almost ended all life, everywhere—including us,” says Annabelle.

Jon stops. Stares at her.

“When you reached the end, as you always do—Beholding, this time—you’d seen too much suffering. You couldn’t bear the pain of the world, even though your Eye gave you pleasure alongside it.”

Jon flushes. He understands. It is a sick joy, a grief and triumph, all at once.

“So when we showed you our plan, to leave, to just… go away, and let you have your world back…” 

He knows. “I didn’t want to curse any other universe with all of this,” he whispers.

She nods. “That. That’s what drove you. You decided instead to gently… end all life. And then we would starve, and the Dread Powers would be no more.”

And Jon can see that, has tasted despair so strong that if it lasted, he wouldn’t see any other way, and he sits again because his legs will not hold him. “What happened?” he whispers. “You’re here. So… so I didn’t do it.”

“You started to. But Martin.”

“Martin?” says Jon quietly.

“Of all the loves of your life—when you have them—you are happiest with Martin, every time.”

That sense of a thing lost, of a goodbye, washes through him again; but he doubles down over the ache. Martin is safe with Tim, or whoever he ends up with. That’s more important. “Martin stopped me?”

“To end all life would end him—and you could not bring yourself to do that..”

“What did we do?”

“Almost too late, you took our escape option, and you went… somewhere else. We don’t know where. It’s beyond our knowledge.”

“They… did they make it? Are they alive?”

“We don’t know, but the Mother thinks it’s a good chance. There were no bodies, at any rate.”

That’s staggering. 

Jon swallows. He hopes they found a happy ending, wherever they are.

The questions are coming, and there is no longer any reason not to let them flow. “So… you keep saying, ‘when you’re in love.’ Are you telling me that’s a key factor?”

“It is a factor. You still bring apocalypse when not in love—based on friendship, closer than a brother. You also do it when you have no one, but when you have no one, you always choose the Dark.”

“Not the Lonely?” he says.

“No. When you have no one, Jonathan Sims, you want everyone around you to hurt—not just drift into despair.”

He hunches. That’s a side of himself he’s never seen, and he doesn’t think he wants to. “Oh,” he says, quietly.

“Those are the times we have to… well. Gertrude sometimes had the right idea,” she says with a smile.

Chop me up and throw me into the pit, he thinks, sick. “Then why don’t you just do that every time?” His eyes widen. “Am I here for that now?”

She laughs. “No. We don’t like that way. It goes against our nature, and does not feed the Mother.”

So I’m lucky they prefer manipulating me, he thinks with rising hysteria. “Fine. Fine! So. What about you? A web… apocalypse? Is that what you want?”

“We don’t want one. We like things the way they are. Neither does the End—though when you’re with Oliver Banks, it is an… interesting conclusion.”

It’s just so inane. “Like some stupid novel. The power of love.”

“The best and worst things are created out of love, including the most delicious fear—and when you are in love, you are willing to do anything. But anything isn’t so predictable.  Your relationships are always too… complicated. That’s why our little escape plan is always necessary, too.”

He suddenly has to know. “Am I ever with Georgie?”

“Yes—when she’s an avatar of the End.”

“Fuck,” he says quietly. “Tim?”

“Yes. Desolation.”

And oh, Jon can see that, can feel how Tim’s wrath could carry him there, and how, if Jon were his, he would want to give him the world in embers and screams. “Wait. Are you saying being with me guarantees they get snatched up by some fear god?”

“You’re with Jared Hopworth, once,” she says, instead of answering.

“Oh, dear lord,” Jon says, and starts pacing again. 

“Whenever Gerard Keay is still alive, you end up with him—and the world is given to the Beholding. Every time. You’re very well matched,” says Annabelle.

“I…” Jon swallows. “I can almost see that.” Another strange regret. 

“If it helps, you’re more often tricked into ending it, or taken,” says Annabelle. “Like tonight. You have been used by the Stranger, before—once. It was ugly.”

“But you still manage to pull the ripcord and get out,” Jon snaps.

“Oh, yes.”

He wrings his hands. Trying to think. “They said I don’t have all the marks.”

“It still would have caused a rift—thirteen out of fourteen? Unstable, at best—and you have read statements of the Buried, enough to know the fear of it. While risky, it might have worked.”

Jon doesn’t want to think about the Buried, about Too Close I Cannot Breathe.

He swings back to something he has to ask, just has to know for certain: “What about Elias?”

Annabelle sighs. It may be scripted, but it’s very well performed.

“That bad, is it?”

“The one time he loved you enough not to go through with it—and it took all our help to make that happen—you did it anyway, because you knew it would make him happy.”

Jon smacks his hands over his face. Now for the painful question. “Did you do Michael?”

“We ‘did’ Michael, yes—but only in encouraging you to remind it that your death would not lead to revenge. It already liked you, conflicting with its need for wrath. It didn’t take much.”

Jon frowns. “But it’s true, what I said. That was my thought. That wasn’t—”

“When you don’t say it, it is replaced by Helen.”

Jon’s entire being lurches.

“Yes, that’s consistent, too,” says Annabelle. “And Elias, before you ask, was going to happen the moment you caught Michael’s attention. Elias assumes he has you, Jon. Just assumes. It doesn’t mean he has to reach for you—you’re an object on an arrogant man’s shelf, part of the collection, guaranteed. He doesn’t have to take you down and look at you to know you are owned.”

“But then he got jealous,” mutters Jon.

“But then he got jealous.”

Jon goes silent.

This hurts. Maybe it shouldn’t; maybe he’s being absurd. Elias is evil, and there’s been no doubt about that for years.

But some tiny part of Jon had believed him, too.

His type? No. Irreplaceable? No. You’re not a cost worth paying? Bullshit.

Elias had to violate him, force him to watch his nightmares, seduce him, just so no one else would get to play with his toy.

Jon wipes at his eyes. It hurts.

Annabelle’s tone is gentle. “Not that it matters. Every time he decides to try for you, it works.”

Jon winces. “Every time?”

She shrugs.

Jon crosses his arms, hiding himself. “I’m… pathetic.”

“No, you’re human,” says Annabelle. “The best and the worst, really. Flawed, wounded, but making choices—usually trying to be good. Needing connection is part of who you are—whether it’s romantic or not.”

“Bully for me,” he mutters.

Annabelle laughs.

Jon realizes he’s no longer panicking. “You knew all this weirdness would calm me down. Thinking about… about the people in my life.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because you need the reminder that you are not alone, no matter how badly you mess up.” She shrugs. “That you can be worthy of love—and it doesn’t hurt to know that when you are in love, you’re more stubborn than almost anyone else on earth, which is important to help you actually think through your decisions.”

Jon has to laugh. “So I’m an idiot messiah.”

“Or an idiot Ragnarok, enfleshed, bringing an end to all things.”

“That isn’t better.” He rubs his face. Wants to leave, cry, rage. Break something. Sleep in the corner. He’s in shock, he realizes. This is shock.

“And that brings us… to here. A billion universes, a billion tries. It’s always you. The Mother of Webs feels you are inevitable, like she is. And we again try to keep you from ending it all.”

Inevitable. Him. What a waste of cosmic resources, he thinks. 

Jon sits down and faces her.

She’s not telling him everything. There’s still the feeling of something huge, hidden just out of sight.

The Spider is still here, too, still taking up too much space, but she made a good choice in bringing Annabelle to him. In spite of himself, he likes Annabelle Cane. “So what’s your solution, then?”

“Our solution?” says Annabelle, eyes glinting.

“Yes, your solution. Don’t tell me you brought me down here just to give me dire news and send me away. ‘Oh, pack a bag, Sims, you’re probably going to end the world any day now, make sure to bring some plasters.’”

She smiles. “We have decided to try… a different tack.”

“Well?” he says.

“Your life usually heads toward tragedy.”

He sighs, slumps. “I’m not surprised.”

“You also know what is at stake now,” she says. 

“Only everything.”

“Yes. So we are going to send you home.”

“What? To wh— of course. the Institute.”

“You’ll have decisions to make there. We’ll be prepared for all of them.”

“What, you can’t tell me what I’m going to decide?” he snaps.

“Not if you’re going to mean them. They have to come from you.”

Oh, good, frustration is now taking the place of more fear. “Give me some sort of clue! Please!”

The Spider shifts. Jon shudders at the sensation of something that complex, that wildly complicated, communicating in human terms, like entire worlds stuffed into a pocket.

Annabelle’s eyes lid. “Apotheosis.”

He blinks at her. “That’s my clue? That’s Michael’s word, for his failed ritual!”

She laughs. “Jonathan Sims… you always want to have your cake and eat it, too, but you never do. This time, for once, maybe you actually should.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” he snarls, then rubs his face, trying to imagine showing up at the Institute this late at night. “Elias is going to be furious.”

“It won’t matter soon.”

“Wh… why, are you going to kill him?” says Jon in horror.

Annabelle laughs. She laughs, and it is light, and somehow free in a way that seems so real in spite of what he thinks she is, and she shakes her head. “It’s time to go, Jonathan Sims. Good luck.”

“Y… you have to give me more than that,” he says, hating that he begs, but what else is there to do? “Please!”

“You have what you need—and  all your questions will be  answered soon,” she says. “I promise. And I kept my word last time, didn’t I?”

She did.

He laughs weakly. “For what it’s worth, you were right. This would have distracted the hell out of me.”

Annabelle Cane laughs. She’s still chuckling as he goes up the stairs, staggering more than a little, and finds a car driven by someone who’s Web, someone who won’t ask questions, and happily, keeps the radio down low.

It’s a good hour to the Institute.

Jon has no idea what he’s going to do.

#

Everything has been so crazy that Jon hasn’t had a chance to process that the Unknowing is done.

They did it. He won.

Everyone lived. He chooses to believe Tim will be fine, and Michael will be fine (oh gods, Michael—

Keep it together, Sims, you can’t help it by freaking out.)

All these things are good—but it’s not over. He’d thought it would be over.

All his inertia was to get him to the post-ritual place, and now…

It’s nearly midnight when he arrives at the steps of the Institute. The driver just nods and leaves—not a word said, not a tip needed. Jon hopes Spiders pay well.

He stares up at the old building, elegant, nightmares housed in stone, and wonders how many more stories he could have gotten out of Annabelle if he’d pushed to ask more.

The Eye wanted more. Jon wanted more. 

Probably why the Spider was there, he thinks as he climbs. Wasn’t about to bully anybody with that breathing down my neck.

He gets to the top, pats down his pockets, realizes he has no keys. He must have lost them somewhere along the way.

He checks the door. Locked.

“Damn it, why did you bring me here?” he mutters, kicking the door in an annoyed and tired sort of way.

“Didn’t,” says Breekon behind him.

“But we sure are sending you somewhere,” says Hope, and they are angry, and their good humor is gone, and they catch him before he can so much as reach the stairs again, lift him in the air before he can even scream, throw him hard into the mouth of the open coffin.

Jon screams.

He crashes down impossible stone steps into a hole that doesn’t exist, a stairway so narrow that his fall wedges him sideways and upside down, and then they close that lid, leaving him in the choking dark.

(part eighteen)

[wizkiddx]

living and reviving II

yep when I said three parts I think I meant 4 oops

summary: an overdue conversation that has to happen - like it or not

warnings: cheating, swearing, pregnancy talk, lots more angst, think thats it?

tomhollandxreader

/////////////////////// prev

So with a new sense of dread and fear and complete and total isolation you uttered three single words before hysterically running away.

“Don’t follow me.”

Not now, not ever.

That had been three weeks ago.

And it still fucking hurt like hell.

It had ended up that Yamna had taken you back to hers, where you had stayed for a couple nights. During that couple of days, Tom had tried. He had tried to apologise, tried to explain, tried to fix things. But it just wasn’t that easy.

Whatever he said, it didn’t take back from the fact that he had in that moment meant it. So no amount of sorrys could ever take that back.

After everyone had realised just how serious their situation was, Tom had moved out of your shared flat - so you could at least be in the place you were comfortable. Afterall the nursery was built in your flat and clearly it was you doing all the baby stuff for the moment. Thankfully Yamna, having been cut loose so without job, offered to move in with you. Which was probably the only thing keeping you going.

Well, that and ben and jerrys ‘phish food’. Honestly the shop must think you’re running some sort of ice cream black market at the rate you’re getting through their tubs.

Everyone kept parroting that it wasn’t good for the baby. Too much ice cream . Too much heavy lifting. Too much stress.

And yes, it probably was. But that was out of your control . The stress and lack of man in the household meant you had to do the heavy lifting of shopping from the car up the stairs. Shopping meaning ice cream, which you only depended on so much because of the stress.

It was a vicious cycle of hell.

Even Yamna, the person you were relying on keeping you sane had started walking on eggshells. It was as though you were literally about to pop, she always had to have at least half an eye on you. You were even banned from locking the toilet door - just in case.

It felt like you were a captive animal, people kept coming to observe you, giving sad looks before gleeing the scene.

You hadn’t been sleeping well either. Of course, being 3 weeks of your due date didn’t help - but neither did the lack of Tom. In fact, for the first time since shit had hit the fan, you had actually been managing to get some decent sleep when Yamna knocked on your bedroom door, quietly calling your name.

“I’m asleep” Groaning, you pulled the covers further over your head, praying to god that she’d leave you alone. But of course that wasn’t happening, she just lightly chuckled before you felt the bed dip - she had perched on the edge… Toms side.

“You never normally sleep talk.”

“I’m never normally this sleep deprived.” She sighed, whilst you still stubbornly kept your eyes closed.

“I’m sorry I woke you…. but this is important.”

“What?” Almost grunting, you threw the covers down looking up at her in anticipation. That was another thing about pregnancy - you were always on high alert, always worried.

“Toms here.”

“Tell him to f off.” Quickly you stopped caring about what your bestmate had to say.

“He’s saying that he’s the little ones dad and that he deserves to be involved and…. and I think I might agree.”

“I deserve a boyfriend who stays loyal to me so clearly neither of us are getting what we want.” You weren’t angry at Yamna and snapping at her wasn’t the answer. And yet you still did it.

“Y/n….I love you and I am completely on your side. I just think that maybe, perhaps, you should at least manage to be civil before baby arrives. Otherwise… thats going to be a lot to deal with all at once.”

It was your turn to sigh, deep and heavy (or at least as deep as the baby let). Most infuriatingly she was right. The conversation had to happen at some point. With a baby there too it would only be even more traumatic.

“He’s here now?” It only dawned on you how broken you actually sounded when the words croaked out of you.

“Yeh hunny… I didn’t let him inside so he’s standing outside the door looking like a dickhead right now.” The image cheered you up a little, enough to sit up in bed and be wrapped in Yamna’s arms. Her actions said it all, she really only meant the best for you and knew how hard this would be. After a moment she leant back. “I almost considered calling the paps so they could get a picture and label him as a groveling dick.”

“You should of.” Of course you didn’t mean it, but the answer had you both laughing. It took a minute to calm down before she changed subject slightly.

“You want me to make myself scarce? I can hide in my room or go to the shops or-“

“Text the guy from the bar - you deserve a night off ‘babysitting Y/n’ duties.”

“I’m not babys-“

“Yes you are. Go out with him and have some fun, I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeh”

That was a bare face lie - but Yamna had been almost too good to you. She really really needed a break. Especially as the current plan was she’d be helping with the newborn too. Right now you wouldn’t have wished a baby on yourself - never mind your best mate.

“Okay, get ready then babe - but do it slowly, leave him waiting outside in the cold for as long as possible.”

“Obviously.” You laughed, hauling yourself out of bed, where she gave you one more encouraging hug before leaving.

After hearing Yamna leave, and brushing your hair and throwing on a new pair of trakkies and hoodie, you slowly walked towards the door. It felt as though impending doom were on the other side and every fibre of you wanted to scream and run the other way. But it just had to happen at some point. Why not now?

With a final sharp exhale, attempting to pull yourself together, you opened the door. Immediately your heart sank, seeing nothing. Had you really been that long? And even so, was a 10 minute wait enough for him to give up? You could already feel the hormonal pregnancy tears starting to spring, when a grunt drew your attention.

What you hadn’t considered was the fact Tom was ready to camp out, sitting on the floor beside your door. Springing to his feet, he seemed shocked you’d actually opened the door - makes two of you. When Yamna left she had told him you were coming, but seeing really is believing.

“Y/n! I-I… I wasn’t sure you were ever going to answer.”

“You and me both.” You replied dryly, still leaning on the door. “Do you er…. do you want to come in?” Again he seemed shocked, as though he wasn’t sure you meant it.

“Is that-that okay?” Shrugging you just nodded, stepping back so he could get in. He did pay half the mortgage afterall.

“You want a drink?” He quickly declined your offer, not vocally but instead rushing past you to the kitchen and turning the kettle on himself.

“Your the pregnant one. Go chill on the sofa, I’ll bring you a cuppa.”

And a bit taken a back by his forcefulness you followed instructions, from the sofa watching how effortlessly he danced round the kitchen. It wasn’t shocking, it was technically his kitchen too. But seeing him there felt so alien, almost transporting you back to much much simpler times. Seemed a lifetime ago.

After a couple of minutes, he rounded the sofa with a hot chocolate in one hand for you (because caffiene is bad for the baby) and a cup of Yorkshire tea in the other.

“So… how have you been?”

“Ate a lot of ben and jerrys” You answered without really answering, except he knew you all too well.

“That bad?” He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his brow “how about the baby?”

“I don’t tend to carry an ultrasound on me but she’s been keeping me up all night kicking - so normal I guess.”

“Thats good” He spoke before realising what he said. “Sorry no I um-I don’t mean it like that!” You all but laughed in the face of his flusteredness, only making the tips of his ears go pinker.

“I assume you had something to say and that you came here for a reason rather than just pity me?”

“I want to make things right Y/n - I-I mean your having my kid.”

“OUR kid”

“ Exactly! And-and I love you too and-“

“Bullshit” You may have murmured it under your breath but you had intended for him to hear.

“Oh come one Y/n, you know that!”

It was like the man was asking to be yelled at.

“Don’t sit there trying to patronise me! I THOUGHT i knew it but then I saw you all over another girl. So yes, I’m calling bullshit.”

“Ugh I… If your not going to even try to hear me out then…”

“Then what Tom? You gonna kick me out. I mean this is your flat after all! Maybe you’d like to dump the mother of your unborn child homeless on the street and forget about us - how’d that sound? I’m sure your fans would blindly applaud you.”

“Listen! Please would you just listen to me.” His voice was loud and tone harsh, making you flinch a little. Not because you were ever worried he’d hurt you - but how this wave of uncomfort shuddered through your body, baby even squirming in discontent. So focused on that you just nodded, shifting back into the sofa.

Tom had noticed your reaction and seeing you seemingly scared of him like that, well it broke his heart. Even more.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to shout, I just…. I really need to try and fix this.” He leaned closer, letting out a thankful breath when you just nodded, as if to say go on.

“I’ve really really missed you… these past couple of weeks I’ve never felt so gulity in my life. Not because of what I did! Well yeh that but-but more how much it hurt you and-“

“Fuck.”

You couldn’t help but let out that little curse of pain as a new wave of pain, which seemed to originate from your lower back, shuddered through you. Tom looked up from where his eyes had been nervously wringing his palms whilst he spoke. Rubbing a hand over your belly you shook your head and motioned for him to continue.

She was just kicking really really hard. Right?

“Uhm yeh so I just wanted to properly tell you everything that happened that night so at least we are on the same page? A-And I’m not going to try and use this an excuse but I had been drinking so-“

Seemingly baby disliked the end of that sentence too, causing another rippling wave to echo through your body, feeling as though a band was pressing tightly round your stomach. With another small curse it forced you to stand up, in the hope that’d ease her. Clearly she was as done with his shit as you were.

“Need a water.” You muttered, already waddling to the kitchen, where you heard Tom follow you immediately - like an inpatient dog.

“Y/n sit down I can-“

He was silenced by you freezing and grabbing his arm tightly - a physical contact he hadn’t been expecting from you.

“Tom… get your phone.” You spoke slowly, still not having dared to have moved an inch - fingers almost white from how tightly you were squeezing his forearm.

“Wha-are you-are you okay?”

“I think my waters just broke. Get the phone. Now.”

~~~ feedback is really appreciated + would love to know what u think as still in the process of writing so can be guided / helped by asks !!! ~~~

taglist: @maraudersandco @@minejungwoo @sippin-on-tea @thegirlintheswivelchair @lovehollandy12 @hollandlover19 @thefernandasantana @hunnybunimdun @hallecarey1@cedricdiggorysimpp @msmimimerton @hollandfanficlove @pandaxnienke @crossyourpeter @thegirlwiththeimpala @tom-softie @sunwardsss @spiitfiiires @radcloudenthusiast @ladykxxx08 @prancerrparkerr @wildxwidow @arctic-monkcys @ownbauer13 @tomhollandlol @marvelsbitch8 @peterr-parkourr @lizzyclifford13-blog @user1683 @elishi03

[qqueenofhades]

Re: the post you reblogged about Bush. I'm 21 and tbh feel like I can only vote for Bernie, can you explain if/why I shouldn't? Thanks and sorry if this is dumb or anything.

Oh boy. Okay, I’ll do my best here. Note that a) this will get long, and b) I’m old, Tired, and I‘m pretty sure my brain tried to kill me last night. Since by nature I am sure I will say something Controversial ™, if anyone reads this and feels a deep urge to inform me that I am Wrong, just… mark it down as me being Wrong and move on with your life. But also, really, you should read this and hopefully think about it. Because while I’m glad you asked this question, it feels like there’s a lot in your cohort who won’t, and that worries me. A lot.

First, not to sound utterly old-woman-in-a-rocking-chair ancient, people who came of age/are only old enough to have Obama be the first president that they really remember have no idea how good they had it. The world was falling the fuck apart in 2008 (not coincidentally, after 8 years of Bush). We came within a flicker of the permanent collapse of the global economy. The War on Terror was in full roar, the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan were at their height, we had Dick Cheney as the cartoon supervillain before we had any of Trump’s cohort, and this was before Chelsea Manning or Edward Snowden had exposed the extent of NSA/CIA intelligence-gathering/American excesses or there was any kind of public debate around the fact that we were all surveilled all the time. And the fact that a brown guy named Barack Hussein Obama was elected in this climate seems, and still seems tbh, kind of amazing. And Obama was certainly not a Perfect President ™. He had to scale back a lot of planned initiatives, he is notorious for expanding the drone strike/extrajudicial assassination program, he still subscribed to the overall principles of neoliberalism and American exceptionalism, etc etc. There is valid criticism to be made as to how the hopey-changey optimistic rhetoric stacked up against the hard realities of political office. And yet…. at this point, given what we’re seeing from the White House on a daily basis, the depth of the parallel universe/double standards is absurd.

Because here’s the thing. Obama, his entire family, and his entire administration had to be personally/ethically flawless the whole time (and they managed that – not one scandal or arrest in eight years, against the legions of Trumpistas now being convicted) because of the absolute frothing depths of Republican hatred, racial conspiracy theories, and obstruction against him. (Remember Merrick Garland and how Mitch McConnell got away with that, and now we have Gorsuch and Kavanaugh on the Supreme Court? Because I remember that). If Obama had pulled one-tenth of the shit, one-twentieth of the shit that the Trump administration does every day, he would be gone. It also meant that people who only remember Obama think he was typical for an American president, and he wasn’t. Since about… Jimmy Carter, and definitely since Ronald Reagan, the American people have gone for the Trump model a lot more than the Obama model. Whatever your opinion on his politics or character, Obama was a constitutional law professor, a community activist, a neighborhood organizer and brilliant Ivy League intellectual who used to randomly lie awake at night thinking about income inequality. Americans don’t value intellectualism in their politicians; they just don’t. They don’t like thinking that “the elites” are smarter than them. They like the folksy populist who seems fun to have a beer with, and Reagan/Bush Senior/Clinton/Bush Junior sold this persona as hard as they possibly could. As noted in said post, Bush Junior (or Shrub as the late, great Molly Ivins memorably dubbed him) was Trump Lite but from a long-established political family who could operate like an outwardly civilized human.

The point is: when you think Obama was relatively normal (which, again, he wasn’t, for any number of reasons) and not the outlier in a much larger pattern of catastrophic damage that has been accelerated since, again, the 1980s (oh Ronnie Raygun, how you lastingly fucked us!), you miss the overall context in which this, and which Trump, happened. Like most left-wingers, I don’t agree with Obama’s recent and baffling decision to insert himself into the 2020 race and warn the Democratic candidates against being too progressive or whatever he was on about. I think he was giving into the same fear that appears to be motivating the remaining chunk of Joe Biden’s support: that middle/working-class white America won’t go for anything too wild or that might sniff of Socialism, and that Uncle Joe, recalled fondly as said folksy populist and the internet’s favorite meme grandfather from his time as VP, could pick up the votes that went to Trump last time. And that by nature, no one else can.

The underlying belief is that these white voters just can’t support anything too “un-American,” and that by pushing too hard left, Democratic candidates risk handing Trump a second term. Again: I don’t agree and I think he was mistaken in saying it. But I also can’t say that Obama of all people doesn’t know exactly the strength of the political machine operating against the Democratic Party and the progressive agenda as a whole, because he ran headfirst into it for eight years. The fact that he managed to pass any of his legislative agenda, usually before the Tea Party became a thing in 2010, is because Democrats controlled the House and Senate for the first two years of his first term. He was not perfect, but it was clear that he really did care (just look up the pictures of him with kids). He installed smart, efficient, and scandal-free people to do jobs they were qualified for. He gave us Elena Kagan and Sonia Sotomayor to join RBG on the Supreme Court. All of this seems… like a dream.

That said: here we are in a place where Biden, Bernie Sanders, and Elizabeth Warren are the front-runners for the Democratic nomination (and apparently Pete Buttigieg is getting some airplay as a dark horse candidate, which… whatever). The appeal of Biden is discussed above, and he sure as hell is not my favored candidate (frankly, I wish he’d just quit). But Sanders and Warren are 85% - 95% similar in their policy platforms. The fact that Michael “50 Billion Dollar Fortune” Bloomberg started rattling his chains about running for president is because either a Sanders or Warren presidency terrifies the outrageously exploitative billionaire capitalist oligarchy that runs this country and has been allowed to proceed essentially however the fuck they like since… you guessed it, the 1980s, the era of voodoo economics, deregulation, and the free market above all. Warren just happens to be ten years younger than Sanders and female, and Sanders’ age is not insignificant. He’s 80 years old and just had a heart attack, and there’s still a year to go to the election. It’s also more than a little eye-rolling to describe him as the only progressive candidate in the race, when he’s an old white man (however much we like and approve of his policy positions). And here’s the thing, which I think is a big part of the reason why this polarized ideological purity internet leftist culture mistrusts Warren:

She may have changed her mind on things in the past.

Scary, right? I sound like I’m being facetious, but I’m not. An argument I had to read with my own two eyes on this godforsaken hellsite was that since Warren became a Democrat around the time Clinton signed Don’t Ask Don’t Tell, she sekritly hated gay people and might still be a corporate sellout, so on and etcetera. (And don’t even get me STARTED on the fact that DADT, coming a few years after the height of the AIDS crisis which was considered God’s Judgment of the Icky Gays, was the best Clinton could realistically hope to achieve, but this smacks of White Gay Syndrome anyway and that is a whole other kettle of fish.) Bernie has always demonstrably been a democratic socialist, and: good for him. I’m serious. But because there’s the chance that Warren might not have thought exactly as she does now at any point in her life, the hysterical and paranoid left-wing elements don’t trust that she might not still secretly do so. (Zomgz!) It’s the same element that’s feeding cancel culture and “wokeness.” Nobody can be allowed to have shifted or grown in their opinions or, like a functional, thoughtful, non-insane adult, changed their beliefs when presented with compelling evidence to the contrary. To the ideological hordes, any hint of uncertainty or past failure to completely toe the line is tantamount to heresy. Any evidence of any other belief except The Correct One means that this person is functionally as bad as Trump. And frankly, it’s only the Sanders supporters who, just as in 2016, are threatening to withhold their vote in the general election if their preferred candidate doesn’t win the primary, and indeed seem weirdly proud about it.

OK, boomer Bernie or Buster.

Here’s the thing, the thing, the thing: there is never going to be an American president free of the deeply toxic elements of American ideology. There just won’t be. This country has been built how it has for 250 years, and it’s not gonna change. You are never going to have, at least not in the current system, some dream candidate who gets up there and parrots the left-wing talking points and attacks American imperialism, exceptionalism, ravaging global capitalism, military and oil addiction, etc. They want to be elected as leader of a country that has deeply internalized and taken these things to heart for its entire existence, and most of them believe it to some degree themselves. So this groupthink white liberal mentality where the only acceptable candidate is this Perfect Non-Problematic robot who has only ever had one belief their entire lives and has never ever wavered in their devotion to doctrine has really gotten bad. The Democratic Party would be considered… maybe center/mild left in most other developed countries. It’s not even really left-wing by general standards, and Sanders and Warren are the only two candidates for the nomination who are even willing to go there and explicitly put out policy proposals that challenge the systematic structure of power, oppression, and exploitation of the late-stage capitalist 21st century. Warren has the billionaires fussed, and instead of backing down, she’s doubling down. That’s part of why they’re so scared of her. (And also misogyny, because the world is depressing like that.) She is going head-on after picking a fight with some of the worst people on the planet, who are actively killing the rest of us, and I don’t know about you, but I like that.

Of course: none of this will mean squat if she (or the eventual Democratic winner, who I will vote for regardless of who it is, but as you can probably tell, she’s my ride or die) don’t a) win the White House and then do as they promised on the campaign trail, and b) don’t have a Democratic House and Senate willing to have a backbone and pass the laws. Even Nancy Pelosi, much as she’s otherwise a badass, held off on opening a formal impeachment inquiry into Trump for months out of fear it would benefit him, until the Ukraine thing fell into everyone’s laps. The Democrats are really horrible at sticking together and voting the party line the way Republicans do consistently, because Democrats are big-tent people who like to think of themselves as accepting and tolerant of other views and unwilling to force their members’ hands. The Republicans have no such qualms (and indeed, judging by their enabling of Trump, have no qualms at all). 

The modern American Republican party has become a vehicle for no-holds-barred power for rich white men at the expense of absolutely everything and everyone else, and if your rationale is that you can’t vote for the person opposing Donald Goddamn Trump is that you’re just not vibing with them on the language of that one policy proposal… well, I’m glad that you, White Middle Class Liberal, feel relatively safe that the consequences of that decision won’t affect you personally. Even if we’re due to be out of the Paris Climate Accords one day after the 2020 election, and the issue of climate change now has the most visibility it’s ever had after years of big-business, Republican-led efforts to deny and discredit the science, hey, Secret Corporate Shill, am I right? Can’t trust ‘er. Let’s go have a craft beer.

As has been said before: vote as far left as you want in the primary. Vote your ideology, vote whatever candidate you want, because the only way to make actual, real-world change is to do that. The huge, embedded, all-consuming and horrible system in which we operate is not just going to suddenly be run by fairy dust and happy thoughts overnight. Select candidates that reflect your values exactly, be as picky and ideologically militant as you want. That’s the time to do that! Then when it comes to the general election:

America is a two-party system. It sucks, but that’s the case. Third-party votes, or refraining from voting because “it doesn’t matter” are functionally useless at best and actively harmful at worst.

Either the Democratic candidate or Donald Trump will win the 2020 election.

There is absolutely no length that the Republican/GOP machine, and its malevolent allies elsewhere, will not go to in order to secure a Trump victory. None.

Any talk whatsoever about “progressive values” or any kind of liberal activism, coupled with a course of action that increases the possibility of a Trump victory, is hypocritical at best and actively malicious at worst.

This is why I found the Democratic response to Obama’s “don’t go too wild” comments interesting. Bernie doubled down on the fact that his plans have widespread public support, and he’s right. (Frankly, the fact that Sanders and Warren are polling at the top, and the fact that they’re politicians and would not be crafting these campaign messages if they didn’t know that they were being positively received, says plenty on its own). Warren cleverly highlighted and praised Obama’s accomplishments in office (i.e. the Affordable Care Act) and didn’t say squat about whether she agreed or disagreed with him, then went right back to campaigning about why billionaires suck. And some guy named Julian Castro basically blew Obama off and claimed that “any Democrat” could beat Trump in 2020, just by nature of existing and being non-insane.

This is very dangerous! Do not be Julian Castro!

As I said in my tags on the Bush post: everyone assumed that sensible people would vote for Kerry in 2004. Guess what happened? Yeah, he got Swift Boated. The race between Obama and McCain in 2008, even after those said nightmare years of Bush, was very close until the global crash broke it open in Obama’s favor, and Sarah Palin was an actual disqualifier for a politician being brazenly incompetent and unprepared. (Then again, she was a woman from a remote backwater state, not a billionaire businessman.) In 2012, we thought Corporate MormonBot Mitt Fuggin’ Romney was somehow the worst and most dangerous candidate the Republicans could offer. In 2016, up until Election Day itself, everyone assumed that HRC was a badly flawed candidate but would win anyway. And… we saw how that worked out. Complacency is literally deadly.

I was born when Reagan was still president. I’m just old enough to remember the efforts to impeach Clinton over forcing an intern to give him a BJ in the Oval Office (This led by the same Republicans making Donald Trump into a darling of the evangelical Christian right wing.) I’m definitely old enough to remember 9/11 and how America lost its mind after that, and I remember the Bush years. And, obviously, the contrast with Obama, the swing back toward Trump, and everything that has happened since. We can’t afford to do this again. We’re hanging by a thread as it is, and not just America, but the entire planet.

So yes. By all means, vote for Sanders in the primary. Then when November 3, 2020 rolls around, if you care about literally any of this at all, hold your nose if necessary and vote straight-ticket Democrat, from the president, to the House and Senate, to the state and local offices. I cannot put it more strongly than that.

[ukai-simp-services]

just tonight

oikawa tōru x fem!reader warnings: smoking weed, cursing, degrading/humiliating, nsfw and smut ofc, corruption kink, slight biblical references, y/n is kinda bitchy, voyeurism, temp/heat play, high during intercourse, choking, dumbdification. a/n: i literally don’t even like smoking or care for it at all BUT THIS FUCKING IDEA CAME TO MY HEAD AND OOOHH BOY. so here’s an alternate universe oikawa being a mf bad boy stoner with piercings and tattoos, and lowkey an asshole.

  fake friends, fake fucking friends, you thought to yourself. you were standing outside of the loud - practically vibrating - club. the one that your friends invited you to; yet here you were, alone while they were driving away with sloppy looking men that just wanted to hook up with them. 

  bass-boosted music rang through your ears, while the ground you walked on literally shook from the bouncing club. you felt a wave of goosebumps rise on your skin, the dress you were wearing was a little too short and it didn't help that the sleeves were spaghetti straps. it was only the beginning of summer, a late june night with a chilling breeze. not to mention, you were two fucking hours away from home, you had no car and a dead phone. the best you could hope for was that someone was kind enough to call a cab for you, or an uber - but there was no one around, except for the people inside the club that you could no longer enter.

  “someone looks lost~” a low, yet teasing voice came from behind you.

  you whipped your head around; taken aback by the sudden voice, but felt slightly relieved when you were greeted by the presence of a young man.

  “yeah, i guess you could say that...” your voice was timid as you trailed off, still nervous of this unknown man gracing your presence. 

  “’s not safe for a pretty girl like you to be walking around this area with that lost look on your face, you could attract some bad news.” he stepped closer and closer to you, almost hesitantly. 

  “like you?” you cocked an eyebrow back at him, gesturing to the array of large, black tattoos littering his arms.

  he clicked his tongue at you, ”should someone like you really be judging others by their looks?” the stranger got uncomfortably closer and you could see that his eyes resembled a warm brown color and his fluffy hair matched them. his face certainly didn't match the rest of his appearance. 

  “someone like me? i look exactly like what i am, a girl who's stranded with no phone or car and could use a nice person to call her a cab home. get lost, creep.” you practically spat back. 

  you spun on your heel and began walking away, you half expected him to chase after you and snatch you into the darkness of an ally, and half expected him to just give up and walk away. your speed-walking was put to a halt when he did neither of those things, when he started laughing hysterically. you spun around quickly out of curiosity to see him doubled over, crouched down on the ground trying to get a grip on himself. 

  “what's so funny?” you were both pissed and skeeved out, what the hell was this asshole creepy laughing at you for?

  he began wiping the tears from his eyes dramatically, “nothing, sorry. it’s just that girls like you are so stereotypical. always looking down on men like me, always thinking you're better than everyone else. it’s just kinda funny instead of insulting.” 

  you were at a loss for words, did you really come off that bitchy? and didn't you have a right to? he was the one lurking in the shadows.

  “i'd call you a cab, but i left my phone at home. i could go get it and come back?”

  somehow, you weren't convinced he’d let you go that easy. something about his tone when he first approached you, was just too teasing and insinuating. 

  “no thanks, i can find someone else to call one for me.” you nervously tugged at the chain on your purse, you knew that was a damn lie. the streets were empty, and this man was your only hope.

  he smirked, a knowing look planted on his face. he wouldn't push, but he knew you'd have to resort to his help in the end. 

  “suit your self.” he treaded away slowly, eagerly expecting your plea to come. 

  you furrowed your eyebrows slightly, he wasn't going to keep pushing you? was he not just saying how unsafe the streets were for a young girl like you?

  “actually- wait.” you stammered hesitantly, embarrassed that you needed his attention again. 

  he turned around swiftly, a small smirk gracing his lips - smugly trying to hold back a grin. 

  “i'm sorry, could you please call me a taxi?” you failed to notice his sly expression.

  “sure thing, but will you be safe here on your own while i get my phone?” he feigned the worry in his voice and the twinkle in his eyes. 

  you bit your lip, hesitant to pick your next words.

  “how long would you be?”

  “should be a 10 minute walk there, another 10 minutes back.”

  “so, 20 minutes?”

  “yes, around 20.” the mysterious man toyed with something between his long, slender fingers, barely giving you a glance. 

  “oh...” you looked around awkwardly, you thought 20 minutes might be too long. who knows what kind of person would approach you, plus it felt like the breeze against your so very exposed legs was getting colder by the minute.

  he looked up to catch your nervous gaze.

  “of course, you could join me on the walk, wait outside my house when we get there.” he pursed his lips, making it look like he had just thought up the idea with no further intentions. 

  no, no fucking way you would go with him.

  but in his gaze, you caught something. a glint in his eyes; trust, comfort. 

  your better judgement faltered as you lost yourself in the charm he held in his eyes, the start to many more risks you would take that night. 

  despite his eccentric look; piercings littering his ears, leather jacket with the sleeves rolled up, obscene tattoos and all black attire - he had a deep warmth in his eyes. and you may have felt so stupid in the moment, but you found yourself trusting that warmth.

  “okay, can't be worse than staying here alone right?”

  he chuckled, “right.”

  but were you actually wrong?

  the walk to his apartment was quiet, mostly because you were nervous he was gonna snap and pull a knife out and murder you in an ally.

  “you know, you don't have to walk 10 feet away from me, right?” the guy looked over his shoulder and squinted his eyes at you. 

  you bit your lip, deciding to stride a little closer to him - making a more comfortable distance.

  “i don't even know your name, mystery man.” 

  he chuckled, stepping to the side a little to give you more room to walk.

  “neither do i, mystery woman.”

  “wouldn't you like to know, i asked first anyway.”

  you were now walking by his side, a little more confident than you were before. your fingers held themselves behind your back, purse still hooked over your shoulder.

  “it’s oikawa, tōru oikawa.” his eyes flickered up to yours, hopeful for you to open up and tell him your name too.

  “told me your full name huh, i guess i should too.” you rocked on your heels nervously. you were still uneasy about telling him your full name for some reason, but when you looked into his orbs of warm chocolate brown, you felt like you could trust this man with your life.

  “l/n y/n.”

  he smirked, looking up ahead at the road again, “pretty name, definitely suits a pretty girl.”

  you rolled your eyes at his sudden flattery, he seemed to do a lot of that - you noticed.

  the two of you continued walking for a few more minutes, casual conversation bouncing off each other. you noticed he began to slow down his faster walking pace when you both reached a tall apartment building.

  “we’re home.” he winked at you.

  “oh shut it, don’t take too long please. it’s so cold...” you hopped from foot to foot and rubbed your exposed biceps with your hands.

  oikawa thought for a moment - running his tongue over his teeth while contemplating how to make what he was about to say not sound creepy.

  “why don’t you come in with me? it’d only take a second and i don’t trust the people around this area to leave you alone out here.”

  you paused for a moment, you were usually very street smart and would know exactly how to avoid this situation. if he were any other guy, you’d just say ‘no thanks, i can handle myself’ and refuse his offer - but his eyes, why were you so allured by his eyes? what was it about him that you trusted? 

  “it’s okay if you’re uncomfortable, i’ll be quick and you can wait out here-“

  “no, wait. i'll come, just...don’t pull anything weird, kay?” you were readjusting your purse on your shoulder as you hesitantly stepped closer to the apartment door.

  “of course, i’d never.” there was a glint of mischief in his eye after the words left his lips, but you didn’t notice it.

  after oikawa let you into his apartment, you were greeted by the strongest smell of weed in your life - and a lot of loud talking and laughter. you were just about ready to turn on your heel and leave.

  “sorry ‘bout that, my friends are really loud.” oikawa apologized and locked the door behind you.

  you waved him off, dismissing his apology. you didn’t care about his loud friends, you were just bothered by the disgusting scent of marijuana that hit your nostrils. you wouldn’t tell him that though, at least not yet.

  you followed oikawa into the living room; also known as the source of where the horrid smell was coming from. the room was dimly lit and felt bigger than it looked. there was an L-shaped brown couch in the center of the room being occupied by 3 men - seemingly the same age as oikawa and yourself.

  “hey guys, this is y/n. she got lost and needs me to call her a ride home. do you guys know where my phone is?” oikawa spoke to the men in front of you, they all seemed to immediately drop their conversation the second oikawa walked in.

  “nah man, i dunno.” a boy with short light brown hair spoke up while twiddling a blunt between his fingers.

  oikawa sighed and ran a hand through his hair, quickly scanning the room for his phone before looking back at you.

  “wait here for a sec while i go look in my room, kay?” he raised an eyebrow at you before hearing your response.

  you would’ve snorted at the tall man with tattoos and ripped jeans using the term “kay”, if it weren’t for the intimating group of men staring you down at the moment.

  “sure.” you forced a nod, signaling oikawa to exit the room.

  you looked around the room awkwardly, hands clasped together against your thighs. you weren’t sure how long he would take, and you certainly weren’t up for small talk with these ‘troublesome’ looking guys.

  “take a seat, we don’t bite.” the man with messy black hair and thick eyebrows chuckled at you.

  yeah right, “that’s ok, i-“

  “i insist.” his voice was deep and his eyes were burning holes into your own. you weren’t sure how someone so high could come off so serious.

  you swallowed down your nerves and took a seat on the far right of all the boys on the couch, plopping down next to one of the quieter men; he had spiky black hair and wore a denim jacket. 

  “so, ‘kawa’s picking up strangers off the street n bringing 'em into our apartment now, eh?” the man next to you spoke up, plucking the blunt from his friends fingers and placing it between his own lips. 

  the light-haired man laughed, following it with a cough from previously inhaling the smoke, “wouldn’t be much of a surprise, knowing him.”

  you wrinkled your nose at their laughter. you tried to be polite, you really did, but you simply didn't belong here; didn't belong in a room with these ‘delinquents’.

  “i am not, ‘from the streets’, for your information. i don't even live around here, i was just clubbing with my friends, but they-” 

  “yeah yeah, we get it. you're a typical stuck-up girl who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.” the light-haired boy (it would really help if they told you their names) mocked you in a high-pitched voice.

  “i'm not stuck up, i just-” he kept cutting you off.

  “oh please, the second you walked in here, you were sticking up your nose at us, looking us up and down with a disapproving glare. you're just that kind of girl, face it.” 

  the messy-haired man chuckled lowly at his friend’s joke and added, “just oikawa’s type!”

  “that's enough, you two.” the quieter man next to you spoke up for a second time, giving the other two men a threatening glare. 

  you swallowed awkwardly as the room became quiet, only the soft sounds of sucking in smoke from the blunt being passed around were heard. 

  you were busy absentmindedly picking at the polish on your nails, a nervous habit, when a small orange glow next to your head caught your eye. 

  “you wanna hit?” the guy next to you was holding the blunt out for you to grab, the strong smell getting a little too close to your nostrils. 

  you scrunched your nose at his offer, shaking your head to further decline.

  “no thanks, i don't really do that stuff.”

  the spikey-haired male nodded - accepting your decision and taking an extra hit himself, when you heard a chuckle come from behind him.

  “god, she really is a prude.” the voice of the impudent light-haired man spoke again.

  you were just about ready to bite back a reply, but the man sat in-between the two men with the deeper voice beat you to it. 

  “makki, bet you 10 bucks she was only at that club for a half-hour before she was beggin’ her friends to go. that's probably why they ditched her stuck-up ass.” the boys cackled in unison at their stupid jokes. if they weren't pissing you off so much, you might even had found their cackles funny. 

  “makki, mattsun, shut your mouths.” the man next to you rose his voice slightly. you were thankful that he was sticking up for you, but there was no way you'd let it go without defending yourself.

  “ha, sorry that i actually have my life together and don't need a mind-altering drug to live my every day life. you guys are the pathetic ones, not me.” you laughed bitterly at them. what you were saying was only half true; you didn't have your life together and you couldn't care less if people that weren't you did mind-altering drugs, but you did think they were pathetic. 

  3 pairs of eyes widened in your direction in response your bitchy remark, they knew they had it coming - yet they were still surprised to hear it. 

  “please, humble yourself sweetheart. you aren't any better than us for not doing drugs.” the man with dark hair, presumably mattsun, laughed coldly at you whilst leaning further back into the cushion of the couch. 

  “yeah, you're only missing out.” the man called makki chimed in.

  “missing out? oh please, on what? a fried brain? smelly breath? black lungs? yeah, i think I'm doing just fine.” you leaned back against the couch, content with the newfound confidence you held. you weren't normally this snappy with people you first met, so this was quite a shift in your usual dynamic. 

  this time, all three boys laughed at you, this included the quieter man who's name you still did not know. 

  “oh darling, you're cracking me up. just say that you're a prude and go, you're honestly embarrassing yourself.” makki pushed your argument further. 

  “yeah, you shouldn't knock something before you try it. just because you're a virgin doesn't mean you have to act-” 

  “what makes you think that im a virgin? what does weed have to do with my sex life, like at all?” your voice was getting defensively higher and you were now leaning over the man in between you and makki and mattsun to get your point across. 

  “you're not a virgin because you don't smoke weed, but you don't smoke weed because you're a virgin.” makki put it bluntly, staring straight at you with a completely blank face. the two boys next to him chuckled at his stupidity. you were completely dumbfounded. 

  “you're joking right? this has to be a joke. you can't seriously think that i’m some prude who's never had sex before just because i've never smoked weed before - and never will.” you were crossing your right leg over your left now, lifting your posture significantly to get a better look at the men.

  “actually, sweetheart. that's exactly what we think.” mattsun glanced over at you, half-lidded eyes burning into your own. 

  you felt a shudder run through your body at the nickname, trying your hardest to push down the heat rising to your cheeks and somehow maintain your snarky persona. 

  “i-”

  “found my phone- what is going on here?” oikawa entering the living room interrupted your retaliation, suddenly becoming confused with the obvious tense atmosphere in the room. 

  “tch, your little prude of a friend over here just called us pathetic for smoking weed.” makki rolled his eyes before placing the blunt between his lips, it was now a quarter of the size it was before when you first entered the home. 

  “only because your asshole friends were calling me a prude and a virgin for not smoking.” you snapped back immediately, turning your body to face oikawa to make your point. 

  “asshole friends? that isn't very nice now is it, sweetheart?” mattsun teased you again, using the same nickname that you were shamefully flustered by before. 

  you opened your mouth to argue back, but oikawa interrupted your spiteful words with a long laugh.

  “i knew you were a stereotypical stuck-up girl the second i met you, didn't i y/n? this comes off as no surprise to me.” oikawa’s arms were now crossed and he was eyeing you down from his standing position above you.

  “oooh, her name is y/n. just sounds like a prude’s name.” makki proceeded to torment you. 

  “come on asswipes, be gentlemen.” the quieter man next to you spoke up again for the first time in quite a few minutes. 

  “sorry, iwa-chan, but i’m gonna have to side with makki and mattsun this time. if y/n wants to act like a little prudent brat, then she’ll just have to be treated like one.” oikawa stepped closer to your spot on the couch, a teasing lilt to his voice.

  you were flustered by how fast oikawa’s personality had shifted, he had alluded you to think he was a charming, trustworthy man not even 20 minutes ago. where was that energy now?

  “such a stuck-up brat, probably gonna live to be a perfect little virgin mary, yeah? never gonna compromise her health, never gonna sleep with a man, and never gonna commit a sin, isn't that right?” oikawa now stood directly in front of you, legs brushing against yours with your head at eye level with his crotch. 

  you hesitated for a moment, contemplating if your pride was really worth doing this. 

  of course it was.

  “pass me the fucking blunt.” your head whipped towards makki, holding your hand out towards him, praying to god that he couldn't see how much you were shaking.

  makki widened his reddened eyes at you while trying to figure out if you were being serious or not.

  “are you deaf? let me take a fucking hit.” your eyes were dead and cold, boring into his surprised ones.

  “alright... now that's what i like to see.” makki’s lips curled up into a smirk as he passed you the medium-sized, glowing blunt. 

  everybody’s eyes were on you as your held the object between your thumb and your pointer finger, mimicking the movements you've seen others do so many times before.

  “you sure you can handle the smoke, darling?” oikawa’s voice was anything but caring and sweet, it held a mocking tone laced with faux sympathy. 

  no, you were very sure that you couldn't, but you were too stubborn to go back now. your pride was on the line and you would be damned if you didn't prove yourself to these four men.

  you looked up at oikawa through your thick lashes, placing the blunt between your lips at the slowest, most seductive speed. 

  “i'm a big girl. i think i'll be alright, kay?

  oikawa let a low chuckle out, still staring down at you from his tall position above you with his head slightly tilted to the side. 

  “we’ll see about that.” his voice came out deeper and smoother than it had before.

  you wanted so badly to prove to these assholes that you weren't as prudent as they made you out to be. sure, you were a little pretentious and always stuck your nose up in disapproval when your friends did similar actions that these boys did, but secretly, you always wished you could let yourself loose like everyone else. you were raised to be a perfect, well-behaved girl, so you've always kind of stuck by that title for as long as you knew. just going to clubs, like you did tonight, was totally out of your comfort zone. if tonight was going to be the one night where you let yourself loose, then there was no reason that you couldn't do this, right?

  you seemed to underestimate how many hits it would take for a lightweight like you to get even the slightest bit high, all you wanted was a little buzz - just to get these dickheads off your back. 

  it was only after coughing up an entire lung after your two first hits, that you realized that this might've not been such a good idea.

  you set down the glass of water that iwaizumi - the only nice guy out of the bunch - got you from the tap. you were four hits in and absolutely miserable. your entire chest felt on fire and to make matters worse, you didn't even feel high yet - not like you would know what that felt like, anyway. 

  “nuh-uh, that's enough for you.” oikawa quickly snatched the blunt from your fingers before you could react.

  you rolled your eyes, not wanting to back down from what felt like a competition. 

  “pft, look who's the pussy now.” you reached to grab for the small piece of blunt left in oikawa’s hand, but your slow reaction rate caused you to miss horribly. 

  “i’m not a pussy, i just know what'll happen to a light-weight like you. if you over-do it you're bound to get sick, and the last thing i need is some random girl who pushed her limits to lose her shit in front of me.” oikawa’s words were harsh, but a playful smirk was planted on his lips. 

  you weren't having it.

  he was right, you had pushed your limits - and oikawa didn't know the half of how stubborn you were. you weren't about to let the guy that was just making fun of you for being so prude, to change his mind and withhold you from proving yourself. 

  “thanks for the advice, but i promise you i can handle myself.” you spat back at the man hovering over you, proceeding to snatch the blunt back from his hand. 

  oikawa chuckled and shook his head at you, deciding to take a seat on the coffee table in front of you.

  “suit yourself.”

  you continued the assault on your lungs; taking long hits of the remainder of the blunt, coughing hysterically, drowning yourself in water, then repeating the process again. you'd think the group of boys would have some complaints about you hogging the last few hits of their weed, but they just sat back and reveled in the sight of you struggling to keep up your pride, entertained at the sight of your flushed cheeks. 

  it wasn't until you were sucking at practically nothing that you realized you'd finished the blunt, still unsatisfied with the lack of buzz you felt.

  “wow that was exactly what I thought it would be, a total waste of money and lung health.” you laughed dryly, leaning back onto the couch in discontent. 

  “not your money.” mattsun rolled his eyes at you.

  “just wait till it hits, she’ll be fucked.” makki laughed loudly at your expense, nodding his head in your direction at mattsun. 

  all the guys chuckled in unison, they seemed to do that a lot through out the night.

  “glad our weed was just a waste to you, maybe buy your own next time.” oikawa’s eyes held mischief in them as they glared at you, a playful scowl on his lips.

  “oh i’m sorry, did i waste your precious weed?” you jutted your bottom lip out in a faux pout, your eyes containing an unintentionally seductive glint in them. 

  oikawa narrowed his eyes back at you, feeding into the little game you were starting. 

  “yeah, I think you did. how ‘bout you pay up for it, hm sweetheart?” he leaned over his lap, forearms resting on the tops of his thighs and his face nearing closer to yours. 

  your mouth opened to retort something back, but words failed to come out as your vision started becoming hazy and an urge to laugh started sprouting in your stomach. you couldn't contain the laughter that spilled from your mouth, cheeks heating up and body beginning to feel numb. 

  “yeah...she’s gone.” iwaizumi chuckled. 

  oikawa smirked at you, his face still so close to yours that you could faintly feel the warmth of his breath on you. 

  “no i’m not...” you let out a few more giggles as you felt a numbing feeling take over your arms and legs. you slapped your legs in hopes to regain some feeling in them, giggling once again at how heightened your senses were becoming. 

  “oh god, wasn't expecting to have to babysit today.” makki groaned from the other side of the couch.

  “you literally aren't doing anything.” mattsun prodded back at him.

  “true, this is oikawa’s problem now.”

  the chesnut-haired man chuckled in front of you, pressing his hands to his knees as he pushed himself off the coffee table.

  “there's no way i’m letting you get in an uber tonight, come with me.” he held his hand out in front of your face.

  your mind was on a whole different level than his. your vision felt extremely clear, you couldn’t help how your eyes trailed over every tattoo and vein running down oikawa’s hand and forearm right in front of you - mouth unapologetically agape at the sight. 

  “come on, don't give me a hard time, yeah?” his voice sounded smoother than you ever heard it, it echoed in your brain and overstimulated your senses. you wanted to hear more. 

  “no.” you pouted, reddening eyes glancing up through your lashes to lock with his. 

  “no?”

  “no.” you were firm, or tried to be, another fit of giggles threatened to bubble out of your throat. 

  he cocked an eyebrow at you, clearly not following your message. 

  “want...oikawa...” you were unable to finish your sentence, your brain suddenly forgetting what words were supposed to come next.

  he leaned down to your height with his hands propped up against his knees, face merely inches from yours. he held a permanent smirk on his lips and his eyes teased you with faux seduction, oikawa almost always knew what he was doing. 

  “want me to do what?” his voice was lower than usual, softer too. 

  “need...” you knew you needed something, you just couldn't think of what.

  “yeah? keep going, baby.”

  you furrowed your brows in frustration, your brain was a little too hazy for your liking and the small bit of rationality that you still had inside you was getting fed up with how stupid you were acting. 

  “kiss.” you blurted out, then bit your lip and dropped your gaze as if you just exposed a secret that you weren't supposed to tell anymore. 

  “a kiss where?” he taunted you, bringing a finger underneath your chin to lift your gaze to his once more. 

  what felt like a few seconds to you - was almost a full minute in real time, of you staring up at oikawa; mouth agape, eyes hooded, not saying a word.

  “everywhere.” he almost couldn't hear you, because of how soft your words came out. 

  oikawa didn't show it, but his stomach erupted in warmth at your words, that same warmth flooding down to his crotch. he bit his tongue before responding to you, he knew damn well you were in no state of mind to be making these decisions. 

  but you just looked so pretty sitting below him like that; eyes lidded with the daze from your high mixed with lust, lips parted, and legs crossed to cover up the growing wetness coming from your core. 

  “mmm, tempting, but i don't particularly enjoy taking advantage of women while they're high.” he sighed, shaking his head in hopes it would get rid of his lewd thoughts.

  you pouted in return. sure, the buzz from your high was strong, strong enough to make you regret how bold you were acting when you woke up tomorrow, but not strong enough to have sex with someone you had no interest in. no, you had been looking him up and down all night long. you wanted this, the buzz just gave you the confidence you didn't have before - and who were you not to take this opportunity? 

  it wasn't just the lack of rationality from your high that made you want this from him, it was the heightened senses. every time you were close to him, everytime his eyes gazed over yours, you felt a million sparks burst through out your body. you were convinced that the second he touched you, your skin would ignite with flames. 

  you grabbed his hand, pulling him back in to destroy the distance he made between you two. 

  “i know what i want, and i've wanted this the whole night. despite what you think, i’m not some virgin mary. so are you gonna continue to act like a little pussy, or are you going to fuck mine?” 

  a gasp was heard from the right of you, makki. he quickly slapped a hand over his mouth after oikawa sent a glare his way. 

  “and what happens when you regret this tomorrow?” he raised an eyebrow down at you playfully.

  “something tells me that, that won't happen... unless, you're saying that it's short?” you questioned him with a gaze that fluttered down to his crotch, then back up to his eyes. 

  oikawa had to hold back the growl that threatened to escape his lips, and the hand that twitched in anticipation to squeeze your throat. 

  “oh, it’s most certainly not.”

  you had expected oikawa to take you back to his room, at least. 

  you didn't think he'd wrap his hand around your throat and push you up against the couch right there. 

  right in front of makki and mattsun.

  right next to iwaizumi. 

  you struggled against the strength of oikawa’s death grip around your neck, unsure if your hazy vision was from the loss of air you were getting or the impending high from the weed. 

  “you said you wanted to be fucked, right?” oikawa’s words were laced with a venom you hadn't heard from him before, his eyes sadistically glaring down into yours. 

  you opened your mouth to respond, but your words were cut off with a harsh cough from the painful position you were in. 

  “c’mon ‘kawa, at least loosen your grip a little.” iwaizumi’s voice of reason brought a warmth to your chest, suddenly grateful for his presence. 

  oikawa smirked above you, moving his hand from its grip on your throat to mindlessly caress the outside of your breasts, thumb pressing against the material of your dress where your nipples would be. 

 “fine, but only ‘cause iwa-chan said so.” you glared up at him, your competitive nature fighting the fear of him choking you again.

  you cleared your throat, well aware of the burning sensation still evident in your wind pipe, “i said i wanted to be fucked, yes, but not in front of your friends.” 

  that earned a chuckle from makki and mattsun - and a smirk from oikawa and iwaizumi. 

  “but i thought you wanted to prove you werent a little prude, i thought you would want to prove my friends wrong - or are you a coward like i predicted?” his thumb and middle finger were now pinching your nipple through the thin material of your dress and your bralette, making you squirm underneath him. 

  you could feel what you only assumed to be the peak of your high reaching, it was making every touch and every word from oikawa feel and sound 10 times better than it would've before. at this point you were willing to fuck him wherever he wanted. 

  cheeks flushed, and eyes averted to the side - away from oikawa’s face, you muttered a “fine.”

  “what was that, sweetheart? i can’t hear you.”

  “i said fine.”

  makki joined in on the teasing, “wait, what did she say oikawa? i cant hear from all the way over here.” 

  god, you couldn’t stand these fuckers.

  “i said, it’s fucking fine. jesus chri-” your aggrivated screams at the men were soon cut off by oikawa’s tight grip on your jaw, a searing kiss pressed against your lips soon following.

  “enough talking, you need to take my dick now.” oikawa was breathless after engaging in the fiery kiss, he was soon found ripping off your dress.

  you felt it, you felt the peak of your high approaching. everything felt so fucking good; his hands grazing your body as he ripped your dress off, the burning stares of makki, mattsun, and iwaizumi, and the empty buzz in the back of your head - it all made you feel breathless. 

  oikawa noticed your dazed out face, he hadn't even fucked you yet and you already appeared to be full of bliss. 

  “no fair, she’s high out of her mind and i’m sober. do me a favor and roll me a blunt while i eat her out, makki.” oikawa pouted above you, continuing to discard your clothing while he waited for makki to prepare him a blunt.

  you may have been peaking, but your mind jumped at the thought of oikawa eating you out. you were suddenly becoming extremely aware of the situation at hand again. 

  “i- are you sure about-” you stuttered, shaky hands from the numbing feeling of your high came down to grip at the soft panties you wore that oikawa was attempting to rip off. 

  “‘s the matter? has our little virgin mary never had her pussy licked before?” oikawa smirked down at your burning body, both burning in embarrassment and in an immense amount of desire. 

  you decided to stay silent, gaze averting to the side once again.

  oikawa wasn't having it, he gripped your chin with his free hand - pulling your gaze back to his.

  “you were all bark before, where's the bite? don't disappoint me now, y/n” his gaze was intense, to say the least, and your body still felt like it was floating from the peak. 

  you swallowed the thickness inside your throat, building the small amount of courage you had left. 

  “i can bite, and i will.” you looked up at him with complete malice, and he mirrored your expression, adding his trademark smirk to his lips. 

  “we’ll see about that, little one.” 

  the unexpected nickname had your head spinning, you were quick to feel a familiar heartbeat thumping down towards your core. 

  you soon felt extremely aware of the way he was touching you, head lowering down towards your thighs, gently pushing your hand away from its grip on your panties. 

  it was true, you hadn't been eaten out before. you only had sex once and your boyfriend at the time finished in 30 seconds, tops - leaving you unsatisfied and humiliated. 

  but oikawa felt different, even though the sex was initiated to save your pride - a competitive desire to prove yourself to people you had just met - you could tell that behind his teasing, he cared about your pleasure. it showed in his small touches; the way he gently caressed your skin before ridiculing you, the way his eye flickered up to yours before dipping his head in-between your thighs. you sensed the emotions he held deep inside of him, the ones he kept hidden. maybe that's the reason you felt you could trust him, maybe that's why you didn't run out of his house the second you saw his sketchy friends.

  maybe that’s why you so badly wanted to prove yourself to him. 

  makki began to roll a blunt, as instructed by oikawa, as he began eating you out. mattsun and iwaizumi’s eyes burned holes into your skin as they watched.

  your body twitched after the first few licks from him, immediately becoming obsessed with the feeling. oikawa’s tongue felt warm and soft against your clit, the slow pace of the circles around the bud were driving your body crazy. your thighs instinctively went to close around his head, but he held them down with a firm grasp, only intensifying the pace of his tongue in disapproval of how your body misbehaved.

  “relax.” he drawled into your skin, continuing his assault on your clit.

  you bit your lip and nodded in response, trying to keep your calm as your body had never experienced such pleasure before. 

  oikawa expertly switched his tongue from your clit to your hole, replacing the stimulation on your clit with his thumb whilst fucking you slowly with his firm tongue. you unintentionally let out a loud whine, head thrusting back into the plush pillow of the couch and fingers going to thread in oikawa’s brown locks.

  “feels good?” the voice came from next to you, iwaizumi’s. 

  your eyes glazed over to his, lids becoming heavy and lips parting open as you panted out a “yes.”

  oikawa noticed your attention diverting over from him to his best friend, his brows furrowed in annoyance. to grasp your attention once more, he removed his tongue from your hole and replaced it on your clit again, then shoved his middle finger inside you with no warning - making sure to curl it all the way up. 

  his harsh actions against your cunt had you loudly moaning with your head thrown back in both pain and pleasure. just one of his fingers alone filled you up more than your exes entire cock ever did. 

  your eyes immediately squeezed shut at the feeling, toes curling from the sensation of his finger thrusting inside you, mixed with the feeling of his tongue swirling your clit. 

  oikawa lifted his head to click his tongue at you, “no baby, you’re gonna look at me while you cum, okay?” 

  his tone was sweet, but firm enough to make you quickly shoot your eyes open and nod at him obediently. 

  he mumbled a “good girl” before going back to licking up and down your cunt. he went through a routine of switching between circling your clit, swiping his tongue from side to side, sucking on your swollen bud, and rapidly lapping up your pussy - all while fucking you with his finger. 

  he didn't even get the chance to add a second finger before you felt your climax approaching. your head was still spacey from the high, so you weren't sure if this feeling was from oikawa or if it was just your hazy brain, but you found out sooner than later as you orgasm began to take over you. 

  oikawa got the idea that you were reaching your climax as your little hole pulsed around his finger and your legs shook around his head. as much as he wanted to tease and edge you, he decided he wanted to fuck you more.

  he helped you ride out your orgasm as his tongue prodded at your clit relentlessly, licking and sucking at the firm bud, finger curling further and further into the depths of your gummy walls, 

  euphoria took over you as you felt the numbing feeling from your high intertwine with the body-racking orgasm that oikawa was providing you. your entire body felt lighter than it ever had before; sweet, pure release exiting your body. 

  your head was spinning and your chest was heaving from the aftermath, your body began to feel extremely tired. the weight from the entire day you had came crashing over you, as the sweet release you once felt subsided. you felt good, but you needed a nap. 

  through eyes that were barely open, you watched as oikawa smirked down at your disheveled form and carefully grabbed something from makki’s outstretched hand. 

  “glad you enjoyed that, princess, but it’s my turn now.” oikawa stealthily unbuttoned his pants after placing his blunt in-between his lips, strategically sucking in the smoke and blowing it out without having to remove the object from his lips. 

  you nodded at him, half-understanding what he meant. you were by no means sober, but you definitely felt the strong buzz dying down. 

  “i’m gonna need verbal responses, sweetheart.” he leaned down just above your face, breathing out smoke as he got closer. the strong scent filled up your nostrils.

  you couldn't help but scrunch your nose up at the strong smell, you may have been sucking down a blunt yourself not even 30 minutes ago, but you would never get used to the grotesque odor. 

  oikawa noticed, and raised a curious brow at you. 

  “ah, so we still think weed is gross? after you smoked almost an entire blunt by yourself?” his tone seemed amusing, but his eyes told a whole different story.

  “god, first she wastes our weed and now she acts like she didn't even like it?” mattsun crossed his arms over his chest while facing you, eyes giving your naked body a once over. 

  you were too blissed out to even fight them this time, you just desperately wanted a nap, 

  “hey, all i said was that i’d prove to you guys i’m not a prude, and i did. doesn't mean i have to like the smell of your stinky weed.” your words were mumbled from your tired state, but still not wanting to accept defeat.

  “nah, i don't think you’ve proved yourself at all yet.” makki chuckled dryly at you.

  “yeah, all you've done is get high and be a fucking pillow princess for oikawa.” mattsun chimed in.

  “and a brat too.” makki added on to mattsun’s sentence. 

  oikawa raised his chin cockily, clearly satisfied with his friend’s insolent words. 

  then, an idea clicked in his mischievous mind. he narrowed his eyes down at your pathetic figure sprawled out underneath him as he thought about it. 

  “oh please, don't be sore losers. i smoked your fucking weed and let oikawa eat me out, just admit i’m not a prude like you thought i was.” you tried to regain the similar confident composure that you held before, glaring over at makki and mattsun. 

  “hmm, maybe you aren't a prude, but you're still a pretentious brat, and brats deserve to be tamed. don't you think?” oikawa’s voice was smooth and easy-going, but his words were dripping with malice.

  you found the courage to narrow your eyes back up at oikawa, despite the internal feeling of your heart hammering against your chest.

  “and how do you plan on doing that?” you tested him.

  he chuckled lowly at your obviously feigned confidence, he could just tell by your flushed cheeks.

  he lowered his face to hover above yours for the nth time that night, placing the blunt in-between his lips and sucking the smoke into his mouth. before even inhaling, he pulled your bottom lip down with his thumb and put his lips on yours, releasing the thick smoke into your mouth. 

  your once lidded eyes were now widened, your hand quickly came up to grab at oikawa’s arm. he pulled away quickly, chuckling at how you choked on the smoke - eyes watering up again just as they had done before. 

  “you-” you choked out another cough, “asshole.”

  oikawa raised an eyebrow at you, reveling in the way his best friends laughed from the sidelines at your expense.

  “mmm, i don't think you're in any position to be calling me names.”

  you glared up at him, quickly blinking away the stray tears that remained in-between your lashes.

  “oh, and what position would that be?” the fire you held before was coming back, and this time it wasn't because you wanted to prove yourself.

  no, you just wanted to see how far you could push him. 

  a familiar large hand came up instinctively to wrap around your throat, pushing you against the couch once again as he tauntingly held the burning blunt inches away from your face. 

  “i wouldn't test me, darling. clearly, you aren't aware of how far i'll go to put a bitch like you in your place.” he spat down at you, his eyes were dark and he was still holding the glowing blunt way too close to your face for your liking.

  but you couldn't stop yourself, you kept pushing and pushing. 

  “show me then. i’m not getting any younger here, am i?” 

  a laugh was heard from your right, it was quickly muffled as mattsun slapped a hand over the mouth of its carrier: makki, of course.

  oikawa clicked his tongue at your confidence, knowing damn well that you'd regret it later. 

  “sure, i’ll show you.” he spoke in a low voice as he brought the hand holding his blunt down your body, stopping when he reached your thigh. you sucked in a nervous breath in anticipation, the burning bud was only a centimeter away from the smooth skin of your exposed thigh. your heartbeat was increasing and you felt your blood running cold, you opened your mouth to protest at the last moment, but the sadistic man beat you to it.

  you felt a burning sensation press into the outside of your thigh, causing you to immediately grab at oikawa’s arm with a shrill scream escaping your mouth. the man only laughed above you, nudging your death grip on his arm off with ease.

  “what’s the matter? i thought you could handle it.” he jutted his bottom lip out to feign a sorrowful expression, you wanted to kill him. 

  “you just- you just fucking burned me.” your chest was heaving and you felt yourself slowly getting terrified at what would come next.

  the boys next to you were silent as they watched the scene unfold, oikawa could only smirk down at you. 

  he pulled another hit out of the blunt and dipped his head in-between the crevice of your neck and shoulder. you tensed at the feeling of his lips being so close to your skin, then relaxed when you felt him blow the warm smoke into your skin. the subtle feeling of the warmth from the smoke ghosting over your skin almost made you moan out loud. instead, your body betrayed you with a shudder.

  “mmm, something tells me you liked that. don't act so innocent, little slut.” your breath hitched at his words.

  “just because i may have liked that, doesn't mean i enjoyed being used as an ashtray.” you gestured towards your scorned thigh.  

  he chuckled lowly at you, then brought his free hand down towards the burn mark left in your skin and pressed his thumb against it slowly. this time, the painful feeling of a sting in your skin forced a guttural moan out of your throat, instead of a screech. you instinctively brought your hand up to cover your mouth, eyes wide in embarrassment. 

  “really? ‘cause i think you do.” oikawa laughed at your obvious humiliation and pulled your hand away from your mouth, rolling his eyes in the process.  

  “c’mon, quit acting like a damn prude still, darling. admit you're enjoying this shit.” mattsun spoke from his spot on the couch, now resting his right arm over the side of the couch to get a better look at you. 

  you scoffed at him, cocking your head towards him in response. 

  “i thought i was a brat, not a prude anymore.” 

  makki chuckled at your rebuttal.

  “’kawa, i think she’s getting a little too feisty again, you might wanna smoke her out again.” 

  you almost choked at his words, quickly whipping your head back to face oikawa. you felt your stomach drop at the devilish smirk he gave you. 

  you were just beginning to sober up, and they already wanted you dumbed down again? 

  “fair point, makki. i can't fuck her while she’s running her mouth like this, right?”

  before you knew it, your mouth was being filled with smoke again. oikawa restarted his method of sucking on the blunt before pressing his lips to yours again. your mind was entering a similar haze as before once again, body also being filled with warmth and pleasure as oikawa began rubbing his bare cock against your pussy. 

  before sliding in, he pressed his shortening blunt against your skin once more - this time, on the fat of your right hip. you pleasantly moaned at both the pain and pleasure from the sensation this time, and oikawa couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of your walls visibly crashing down. 

  he didn't even give you a second to adjust to the searing pain you felt on your skin before he was thrusting into you, causing you to practically scream at the feeling of his cock stretching you out. 

  “oh, f-fuck.” your nails made their home on the skin of his back, sinking into his smooth flesh in response to the pain you felt in your core. to your dismay, the numbing feeling that spread across your body from your high didn't help at all to prevent the newfound pain from oikawa’s cock entering you. 

  “god, look at her. our little virgin mary is being corrupted.” mattsun’s deep voice was heard from across the couch. you were surprised to look over and see him fisting his own girthy cock while staring down at you, makki and iwa were doing the exact same thing. 

  oikawa chuckled breathlessly at his comment, earning your attention back to him. 

  “shit, you're tighter than i expected, princess.” his bottom lip was caught between his teeth, his eyes were slightly hooded from his approaching high, and his tattoo littered arms were flexed in front of you for support - you decided you had never been more turned in your entire life. 

  “move, please.” you begged breathlessly, head feeling hazy and numb, while your body felt extremely sensitive to the touch. your senses were heightened once again and it had you craving an orgasm more than ever. 

   “since you asked so politely.” oikawa’s hips began snapping at that moment, hard thrusts sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. 

  next to you, the three boys began pumping their cocks with more fervor, pace quickening in time with oikawa’s. 

  oikawa didn't cease his antics of blowing smoke into your mouth either. with his cock slamming into you at such an ungodly speed, your lips were constantly parted open - leaving him easy access to fill up your lungs with the same smoke you disdained so much. 

  your body was betraying your mind. physically, you felt fucking amazing - but mentally, you wanted to yell at oikawa to quit his abuse on your lungs. 

  “q-quit it with the smoke. i think i’m high enough.” you stumbled over your words.

  oikawa bit down on your neck in response to your distaste, hot breath fanning over your ear to whisper lowly, “quit being a fucking brat first, and take what i give you.” 

  you shut your mouth obediently, until makki chimed in.

  “you should be grateful that oikawa is being so generous as to blow his weed into your mouth without making you do a damn thing. say thank you, slut.” his words were harsh and gritted through his clenched teeth as he pumped his cock harder, eyes burning into your skin.��

  you whimpered at his pitiless words and at the feeling of oikawa thrusting into you with more power, clearly encouraged by his friends praise.

  “i-” your remark was cut off by oikawa’s firm hand around your throat once more.

  “what do you have to say to me?” his eyes burned into yours, telling you that his question was not actually a question, but a demand. 

  “t-thank you, oikawa.” your eyes were brimming with tears from the lack of oxygen circulating towards your brain. 

  he only squeezed harder.

  “what's my fucking name.” his lips were ghosting over yours now, his hot breath only added to the heat that was already evident on your face. 

  your bottom lip wobbled, you had no idea what kind of name he would like. if you guessed wrong, what would he do?

  “thank you, sir.” you silently prayed you chose the right one, and your prayer was granted as oikawa removed his tight grip from your throat and smashed his lips onto yours - practically growling into the kiss. 

  you moaned into his mouth as you felt the pleasure in your stomach building up at an increasingly fast speed. your head was spinning and your body was on fire, you never felt better in your life.

  “feels...so fucking good.” your words came out in pants. you could barely think straight anymore; your mind was only filled with oikawa’s cock and the impending numbness from weed. 

  your attention was snatched from oikawa as you heard a deep guttral moan come from the side of you, it was iwaizumi’s. the once quiet man was becoming more vocal as his own orgasm was approaching.

  “yeah, you like getting high and getting fucked in front of random strangers you just met, huh?” your face burned at his surprising words, never did you expect to hear such a sentence come from (what you thought was) such a polite man’s mouth. 

  then again, you never even expected you would ever be in a situation like this before either. 

  “y-yes, i do.” your walls had broken down and they could all see it. there was no more sticking your nose up at them anymore, no more bratty comments at the expense of their drug of choice, and no more pretending like you weren't enjoying yourself tonight - because you clearly were. 

  the boys chuckled all at once at your sudden submission, but oikawa wasn't surprised. 

  there was only a small bud left of what was the blunt in oikawa’s hand, but he manage to suck one more hit out of it. you parted your lips with expectations of him to release the puff of smoke into your mouth, but to your surprise, he ducked his head above your left breast and let out the smoke slowly over your perked nipple. the subtle sensation left goosebumps all over your body, causing you to moan under his soft touch.

  see, unbeknownst to you, oikawa was a man of observation - and he couldn't help but become blatantly aware of your body’s hypersensitivity to the small, subtle actions he went about. whether it be from the weed or from your inexperience in sexual situations, oikawa didn't know. he just knew he was extremely fascinated and infatuated with the way your body reacted to him. 

  he bored down into your lidded, reddening eyes, your lips were parted as you panted out his name and the look on your face only told him that you were gone.

  he swore he had never fucked somebody prettier than you, he silently hoped one day he'd get to see you with your lips wrapped around his cock. 

  unable to help himself, oikawa stuck his thumb into your mouth, pushing the digit as far in as it would go. 

  you were taken aback by the action at first, but your mind was quickly put at ease by the warm feeling of being filled by him in two different places at once. you swirled your tongue around his finger, both sucking on it and licking it.

  the sight in front of him had his knees practically buckling above you, he couldn't fight the approaching feeling of his orgasm unraveling before him. 

  “you're gonna be a good little girl and let me cum inside you, yeah?” his voice was hoarse, moans and grunts beginning to spill from his lips more while he looked down at you with complete darkness in his eyes. 

  god, you weren't thinking straight.

  but you really didn't care. 

  you nodded as best as you could with the spinning feeling inside your head, body filling to the brim with pleasure as you felt your own orgasm approaching you. oikawa quickened his pace as he felt your cunt squeezing his girth, almost like your body had a mind of its own to suck him dry. 

  “such a little slut, letting you fill her up with smoke and cum.” mattsun’s deep voice was heard from beside iwaizumi. his eyes were still glued to your form and the head of his cock was a bright red, begging for release. 

  “let’s see you try and act fucking innocent again after this.” makki added with a chuckle, he was just as close to finishing as his friend. 

  you moaned helplessly at their ridicules, feeling your coil so close to snapping.

  “god, you fucking revel in the attention don't you? you're literally getting off from being watched like this, so exposed and vulnerable.” mattsun spoke up again.

  yours and oikawa’s labored breathing harmonized as you both got closer and closer to your releases. 

  “they're right, you're such a little fucking attention whore. sucking in my cock like that while my friends watch. you're so desperate, it’s pathetic.” oikawa was internally amazed at himself for being able to muster a complete sentence out while his cock was so close to being practically milked. 

  you whined in response, your cheeks heating up. you didn't care about anything else, you just wanted to cum. 

  “p-please, i'm so close.” you cried out, tears beginning to brim at your eyes. 

  “fuck. cum, cum princess.” the voice came from your right side, your eyes trailed over to the source, being iwaizumi. 

  oikawa scoffed, “you don't listen to anyone else, got that? just me, sweetheart.” he shot daggers with his eyes towards iwaizumi, and he shot them right back at oikawa. 

  you blinked your eyes at oikawa, not realizing the competitive banter between them until now.

  “let her fucking cum already, ‘kawa.” iwa growled at his best friend, his cock was an angry red. you could tell he just wanted to finish, as well as makki and mattsun. 

  oikawa gritted his teeth, knowing damn well that his orgasm was approaching too. 

  “alright, cum for me, slut. squeeze my fucking cock with that pretty little cunt of yours, okay?” 

  his wish was your command, and it’s not like you were able to hold back anymore, anyway.

  you felt the coil snap inside you; already fuzzy mind going completely blank, mouth dropping open in a silent scream, and thighs shaking around oikawa’s torso. he felt your cunt pulse around his cock and he couldn't help how quick his orgasm followed after yours, teeth instinctively latching onto your shoulder as he pumped you full of his semen. 

  oikawa helped you ride out your high as he slowed down his thrusts, eventually ceasing them. your orgasm combined with oikawa’s was so intense, that you failed to even acknowledge that the three boys next to you were coming too, fists beginning to slow down their movements. 

  after a few minutes of collective panting heard throughout the room, makki broke the silence.

  “holy shit.”

  you agreed, holy shit was right. 

  after passing out on oikawa’s couch from pure exhaustion, the sobering-up man carried you, with some effort, to his room to spend the night. being the gentleman he was, he tucked you in carefully under the covers of his bed and set up a somewhat comfortable sleeping arrangement for himself on the living room couch. 

  before retreating to his makeshift bed to crash on for the night, he peaked into his room once more - eyes scanning over your sleeping figure as you slept soundly. he noticed that while you slept, all the worry and pouting that was usually so evident on your face seemed to fade away. you look relaxed, at ease even. he thought maybe you just needed to loosen up more, to let your worries fade away every so often, while you lose yourself in the late hours of the night.

  he thought that maybe, he could be the one to teach you how. 

[daddysuga101]

I’ve just always wondered, if the darling successfully ran away and mentally blocked it all out what would happen if Deku found her? But she doesn’t remember him at all, it’s complete trauma-induced amnesia. Would he forcibly kidnap her again? Would he try to make things right and not scare her off again? What would he do?

WAIT I LOVE THIS

-Drop requests for mha x reader below y’all:)

Alright let’s get into it:))

WARNINGS: Manipulation

-

A painful throb.

That’s what you felt, you felt as though someone had dropped a rock on your head.

Despite this your eyes fluttered opened and you sat up to get a feel of where you were.

You had no idea where you were or what time it was. All you could confirm was that it was dark out, raining, and the clouds were covering the sun. And your head...

Damnit your head was killing you. Not to mention it was freezing and your clothes clung to your body as the pouring rain continued to hit your skin.

You stood up slowly groaning at the pain your body was also in. Bruises and sore mucles all over.

What happened to you?

How did you even get behind this creepy ass alley.

All these questions started pilling up before you heard the squeaking of shoes in the rain on concrete. You felt yourself freeze up as the foot steps got louder and louder.

Before an ever so visible silhouette came into view.

“I found you sweet heart...did you honestly think you could run away?” A voice from the darkness asked,

You felt yourself back away from whoever the sound came from, as you mentally prepared yourself to run.

“You’re fucking pathetic.” He says harshly, you swallow hard as you opened your mouth to speak.

“W-Who are you? What do you want?” You ask stuttering slightly, the cold now effecting your speech.

As the man got closer you noticed something quickly, he was tall. Like really fucking tall.

You guessed he was at least 6’5 or 6’6.

The man had green hair, visible freckles even in the dark. His eyes were a pericing green and his aura was even more terrifying.

He seemed so...angry.

In the middle of your thoughts you heard him begin to laugh hysterically clutching his chest as if you had told him the funniest joke ever.

You watched the man with wide eyes before he caught his breath and looked up at you with anger in his green eyes.

Before you knew it the man had moved from his spot and was now in front of you. Invading your space.

“I-.”

“DONT LIE TO ME!” He shouted loudly, you freaked and slapped him hard across the face cause him to stumble at the impact.

“I don’t know who you are.” You say again,

“I-I don’t fucking know where I am. My head is killing me. So forgive me if I don’t know who you fucking are.” You say almost hysterically,

The cold, mixed with your frustration, mixed with the unavoidable pain you were in was making everything start to piss you off.

He wiped his mouth and stood up straight. Looking at you intently almost confused. Before his eyes trailed to the side of your face.

The side where a bruise was no doubt developing due to the pain that side of your head was in.

“You aren’t lying.” He said more to himself than you, he ran a hand through his hair before chuckling slightly.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers,

“What?” You ask, he sighed deeply.

The man walked over to you and hugged you tightly.

“It’s gonna be okay now. I got you.” He says, you clammed up in his arms before he pulled away grabbing your wrist.

“Come on imma take you home.” He says gently, you were scared but for some reason you felt as though you could trust him.

So you did.

You followed him back to his house which turned out to be some sort of mansion.

You felt so out of place as you followed the much taller man into the house.

“This place is insane.” You whisper,

“It’s your home. It’s our home.” He whispers in your ear from behind you.

Your turn around to face him still very confused as to who he was or what your relationship with the man was.

“What-.”

“You must be freezing. I’ll send a maid to your room to dress you for bed, you must be exhausted.” He says cutting you off,

“Thank you and yeah, I am. Clothes like these aren’t very fit for freezing rain.” You say slightly gesturing the the shorts and short sleeve shirt you had on.

Why you were even wearing that was a mystery to you.

“Also...Kinda... tantalizing to wear...that around me isn’t it?” He asks cocking his head to the side.

“What?” You ask before looking down at the torn shirt that clung to your body. Not to mention it was practically see through since it was white.

“Deal with it.” You say simply, he chuckles.

“Always the sassy type.” He says, you shrug before an elderly lady came downstairs.

“Hello miss (y/n), please follow me.” She says, you nod and follow her up the stairs.

-After your shower you found yourself sitting on the bed in the pjs playing on the iPad that was left on your dresser. While you tried to distract yourself you couldn’t help to notice how many unanswered questions you had.

So many in fact the lack of answers were putting you off.

There was a knock on your door a few moments later.

“You dressed?” The mans voice asked from the other side,

“Yeah, come in.” You say, he walked into the room looked down that the iPad in your hands.

“I see you like your gifts.” he says. You nod.

“I do thank you for this.” You said before putting the iPad down.

“What?” He asked noticing your resolve.

“I don’t know. All of this feels strange. I still don’t get why you were so upset earlier. Like what did I do?” You ask, he bent done leaning his elbows against the bed before grabbing your hand and kissing it gently.

“I’m sorry I yelled, I wanted to wait until I told you this but your obviously curious so I’ll be honest with you now.

“It’s just your in danger (y/n). People wanna hurt you. We live here in this mansion cause I wanna protect you from everyone who wants to use you, your quirk, your body.” He says sweetly.

“I’m the reason your safe. Everyone wants to hurt you, beautiful.” He whispers softly, as he gentle strokes your cheek.

You feel your eyes swell up, you don’t remember much but his demeanor from earlier completely changed. And you felt...:

Safe.

“W-Why are people after me?” You ask,

“You’re strong and powerful. Everyone wants you to themselves but me...no....no I would never use you like that. That’s why you love me.” He tells you,

“Thank you.” You whisper looking at the much taller man.

“Thank you for what you’ve done for me.” You say genuinely thankful for him.

“Your welcome.” he whispers gently.

“I’m gonna take good care of you from now on. I’ll keep you safe inside this house. I will provide everything we might need.” He tells you before continuing.

“If you need something from the store I’ll have it delivered. If you want your hair done I’ll have someone come over. If you want to have a pool hell, I’ll get you one.”

“There should be no reason why you leave this house ever again .” He says a bit harshly for your taste but you nod anyway.

“Thank you uh...” You say trailing off waiting for him to give you his name.

“You should just call me Deku or Midoriya. You may also call me Izuku when you feel comfortable enough with me to do so. He tells you, you nod and smile at him.

“Thank you Izuku.” You say, he smiled wide.

“Your welcome.” He says before standing up.

“Go to sleep now, you must be exhausted.” He tells you, you yawn in response nodding before lying down, turning on your side and closing your eyes.

After wishing you a good night , Deku closed the door behind him with a shit eating grin stretched across his face. He was overwhelmed with happiness.

“What kind of lucky bastard am I? Poor baby doesn’t remember shit.” He whispered condescendingly as he walked back to his room.

“My dearest (y/n), you really think you could ever run away from me? Think again.”

“I promise to be a real good boy for you though. After all I only hurt you when you defy me. Just keep being my good little angel and everything with me will be fine.” He whispered possessively to himself.

He laughed before going on his computer to watch the video feed of you sleeping peacefully in your new room.

You had no idea about the cameras.

But that shouldn’t upset you right? He’s only watching you cause you broke his trust when you ran away like some abused orphan. It might be invading your privacy watching you like this but who gives a damn.

It’s your fault.

You were his and he wasn’t gonna fuck up like last time.

This was a clean slat.

He had a opportunity of a life time here. And he couldn’t pass it up.

“Yes, I’ll be real good to you my love. Just you wait.” He whispered.

Without knowing you it had walked yourself right back into hell.

With satan himself.

[nishisun]

suna rintaro is NOT a genius.

summary: you loved the idea of soulmates. suna rintaro didn’t. it isn’t that hard to put two and two together to realize that maybe people with different opinions on things don’t belong together.

part 2

a/n: this was literally supposed to be a series, i gave up on it because i just didn’t like the way it turned out. it used to be called “out of my league” and this was the intro. i also renamed it. just emptying drafts!! please don’t get confused with the random timeskip, once again, this was a part of a series i never ended up posting😭

WARNING!!: suggestive themes, mentions of death, idk kinda angsty but tell me if i missed anything

Soulmates. Whatever the hell that means. The idea of soulmates is something I truly don’t understand. It’s bullshit, honestly. It’s all-pervasive.

My mother always told me I'd eventually find "the one.” I used to believe that when I was younger of course. But in my opinion? It’s all cliches. It's unhelpful, and it's certainly not true. Destiny is an excuse for the weak. Why do you think most marriages end in divorce? It's 'cause people who believe they are “destined to be" assume everything will fall into place without any effort. I don't appreciate people pontificating bullshit like that just to make me feel better, especially if they haven't found their "soulmate" themselves. My sister once told me, “People who believe in soulmates are more likely to break up and encounter more difficulty in their relationship, which will lead them to give up on one another eventually.”

I sure do believe that.

My mother is a prime example. Fumeiko Suna, my dear mother. Well, she clearly hasn’t found hers. I found out when I came home after a tedious day of school in 5th grade and found my dear mother on the floor crying, with bruises all over her face and a busted lip.

Initially, I thought a burglar had broken into our home once again, but if that were the case then there would’ve been missing furniture. But there wasn’t.

In fact, the place seemed cleaner than usual. When I ran up to her and asked her what had happened, there he was. The devil himself. My father. He reeked of alcohol, and I could detect his shadow towering over me. It’s funny how that I think of it. I used to fear that son of a bitch. Now, I’m way taller than him, and hate his guts. I turned around to see a faux-sympathetic smile plastered on his face.

He explained how my mother was being “clumsy” and had fell and busted her lip on one of the corners of the kitchen table and when I turned back around to face my mother, she smiled gently and nodded in agreement. She didn’t say anything after that.

It was then I realized my father had beat my mother to a pulp.

Long story short, when I found it was my father, sure, I was frightened. In fact, I remember going into my siblings’ rooms to inform them, they shrugged it off and told me that dad had been doing it for a while now.

Over time, when my dad had found out that I was aware, he didn't mind beating the absolute shit out of my mother in front of all three of us. This was when my burning hatred for that man started. Nobody in the house even attempted to stop him. I did a few times, though. He took all his anger out on me. At least my mom had a break for the day.

I almost pitied my mother. Almost. Maybe if she was strong enough to leave him, then yeah, I’d feel bad. But she still decides to stay with his sorry ass. It’s pathetic. It’s unrequited love or whatever you call it. How could she still love that asshole?

I mean, I’m not even going to lie, I’m an asshole too, but I’m definitely not my dad. I would never want to be him. He’s not someone I looked up to, he doesn’t do anything inspirational. He’s a businessman. He travels the majority of the time, and I’m pretty sure my mom invites men over when he’s gone. I don’t care enough to find out. But if I ever hear some guy rearranging my mom’s guts, I’ll kill him. I don’t even blame my mother. What she’s doing is wrong, she knows it and so do both of my older siblings. But they don't seem to care so why should I?

Who knows why she just won’t leave him. Maybe it’s cause they don’t want to ruin how people view our “picture perfect” family. I wonder what they’d say. “I thought the Suna’s were the ideal family? I guess not.”

My dad would probably lose it if he heard that.

Both my mother and my father are the cause of this broken family of mine. They never fed me or any of my siblings the love we always desired when we were younger. They never came to any of my volleyball games when I was younger. They never applauded me for the little recitals we’d have in class in primary school. They were never even here for most of my childhood. They always put money first and left us with the housekeepers. Hell, the housekeepers probably know me better than my own parents.They failed as parents. I despise them for it. They’re most likely the reason I am the way I am, but to be honest?

I don’t give a fuck.

In fact, I should thank them! Because of how they “raised” me, i’m extremely blunt, which is why people respect me. I use the hatred I have for my family and take it out on people and no, I’m not proud of that. I may be a heartless asshole, but I like that people fear me. The hell? Does that make me a sadist? Either way, people know to never fuck with me cause I’d fuck their shit up. I’ve overheard many people say it’s ‘cause of my privilege. It probably is. Money can’t buy happiness, but it sure can buy you many other things.

If my parents were broke, I’d probably be expelled from school by now. Abuse of alcohol and drugs are forbidden on school property. I don’t even take them at school, I somewhat care about my education and health, but sometimes I just need to blow some steam. Even if I did, nobody’s gonna say shit since my dad is the head of Japan’s board of education. How did his ass even get there?

Call me lonely or cynical. Maybe I am. But how is that a bad thing? Why do people need a significant other to rely on? What, a soulmate is just going to turn my life upside down then suddenly bring me happiness? Pfft, I’m gonna need actual proof that shit like that still happens. I’ve only seen shit like that in fairy tale movies. It’s whatever, though. I can live with being alone. I’ve basically been alone my whole life and it isn’t as bad as people make it.

You loved the idea of having a soulmate. The thought of meeting someone who just understood you, accepted you for who you were, and most importantly, loved you excited you. You couldn’t wait to meet your soulmate.

But recently, you weren’t sure soulmates existed.

When your older sister, Akira, came into your room and burst into tears, it frightened you. Your older sister, the one who’d always provide you advice on relationships and how to keep one was in your room sobbing hysterically because hers hadn’t worked out.

“I just can't believe it,” she sobbed.

You couldn’t believe it either. Your sister had recently gotten engaged to her boyfriend of 9 years. They started dating at the age of 15 and managed to make things work out even after high school, and out of all those years of dating, they never broke up. Not even once.

They’d go on romantic dates on Saturdays and they’d always write love letters to one another every day, just to remind one another of how grateful they were to have each other in their lives. On Halloween, they’d dress up as fictional characters from TV shows and books and take cute selfies and bake a bunch of sweets. They’d invite you to come bake with them, but you would politely deny. You knew they were only offering so you wouldn’t feel left out, which you appreciated.

Of course, they’d argue every now and then, but at the end of the day, they always managed to talk things out. Oh to have a relationship like theirs. They were everything you wanted to have in a relationship and more.

“I really thought he was the one for me, y’know?” No, you don’t know. But that doesn't matter. What mattered was cheering your sister up.

“Maybe he wasn’t ‘the one’ Akira, and that’s okay! People come and go all the time, soulmates come and go all the time as well-”

“You still believe soulmates are real, huh?” she let out a humorless laugh and sniffed her nose, “What If I missed my one shot at love, Y/N? What if I lost my soulmate?”

That’s some deep shit.

Now that you think about it, were soulmates real? Soulmates come and go, yes, you’re aware of that, but even though they leave, it’s always temporary. Soulmates always find a way back to their other half, the piece that completes them.

Your dad never made it back to your mother.

He died in a car crash 5 years ago. Your mother and father had been arguing because she claimed your father was cheating on her since he wouldn’t let her check his phone.

You were 13 at the time. Your sister Akira was accompanying you in your room, listening to them arguing back and forth with one another. There was furniture flying across the room, glass breaking, and both of them throwing curses at each other. You were scared. They never argued in front of you and your sister. They'd bicker sometimes, but it was never anything too deep.

Eventually, your father had enough of your mother’s false accusations, and out of anger, he packed his things and left home. For weeks. It wasn’t until one of your uncles called your mother and broke the news. She didn’t take it very well.

Late 2012-early 2013.

Not many people came to your father’s funeral, his family didn’t like the fact that he and your mother were together, they said your mother was trouble, but your dad still stayed with her, even if that meant it would completely destroy the bond he had with his family. Now that’s true love, you had thought. Only your mother, Akira, the Sunas, your uncle, and you, of course, attended the funeral.

It hurt a lot. It hurt when your mother informed both your grandparents on your mother and father’s side and all they could do is put the blame on her. It hurt how they had claimed you, Akira and your mother were a hindrance to your dear father’s well-being. How could they be so cruel at a time like this?

That was the first time you ever questioned if soulmates were real. Maybe they fell in love at the wrong time? Who knows.

After your father’s passing, Fumiko Suna, your mother’s best friend, was there to help your family out financially. Your mother couldn’t even find the motivating to go to work. Your mother and Fumiko have been best friends since junior high, they’ve literally been inseparable ever since. In fact, after they both got married, they decided to live right next to each other.

Your mom didn’t cope with your father’s death very well; none of you did. But your mom had it the worst.

She would cope with alcohol and clubbing which would always result in her bringing different men home almost every night. You didn’t say much about it, you thought it would be selfish to since that’s what seemed to make your mother feel better about herself, but your sister hated it. She was already 19 and in college at the time, but when she visited and found out that your mother had basically been neglecting you, she was furious.

“Seriously, mom? This is what you’re gonna do while your 13-year-old daughter is in her room having a literal mental breakdown because of your childish behavior?” Your sister had barged into your mother’s room when she thought you were asleep, she was screaming loud.

“You’re interrupting something important, Akira. You know better than to-”

“Oh, shut the hell up mom. You’re the last person on earth to be saying shit like that.”

“Well, if you’re done, you can leave my room now. You’re being disrespectful, and this behavior is not tolerated!” Your mother was screaming now. The man in the bed covering his body under the covers and looking back and forth between Akira and your mother.

“Sakiya, maybe you should hear your daughter out-”

“Not now.” your mother scarcely interrupted the man, eye contact never leaving Akira. “Y/N has never complained about this when you were in college. She knows this is my way of coping, why can’t you understand that too!”

Akira scoffed. “So what, getting fucked by random strangers you find on the filthy streets is your way of coping? Getting wasted every damn night to the point where Y/N has to drag you up to bed is okay with you? Do you even know how much this is affecting Y/N? Did you even bother asking her how she felt? I hate breaking it to you mom, but you need serious help.”

“You selfish child!” Your mother screamed, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around her body, getting up from the bed. “How dare you say that to your own mother?”

“I’m only telling the truth! If you’re the mother, then it’s your job to be taking care of Y/N, not neglecting her. When’s the last time you’ve engross in an actual conversation with her when you were fully sober?”

Your mother was silent. She quickly walked up to Akira and grabbed her by the hair and slammed her headfirst against the wall.

“You’ve got a big mouth! Maybe I should wash it with soap like I did back in the day, hm?” Akira was attempting to push her mother away, but she wouldn’t let go of her grip. The man that was still on your mother’s bed was in panic, yelling her name, which didn’t have any effect. He might as well stop.

"Look," Akira mumbled, struggling to get away from your mother's grip, "I know it's been hard ever since dad left-"

“Mom! Let go of her!” You cried from the door of her room.

All 3 adults froze and looked at your glassy eyes, mouths wide open.

“Hey, kiddo, I thought you were asleep?” Akira playfully said, your mother let go of Akira and crossed her arms then looked away from you.

“Well, I can't really go to sleep when there’s a bunch of adults yelling about my well-being,” you muttered incoherently. You quickly wiped the uncontrollable tears off your face and sighed.

“Honey,” your mom started, she walked slowly to you, carefully examined your face, and attempted to hug you, but you didn’t accept the offer which made your mother frown. She stopped walking until she was almost face to face with you and placed a hand on your shoulder gently. “Baby, your sister told me that you weren’t happy. Is this true?”

You looked away from her and stared dully at the floor, subtly shifting your feet, then you softly shook your head “no.”

“See Akira, Y/N is happy. So please stop stressing her out.” Your mother said through gritted teeth, then faced you once again. “Y/N honey, how about I go tuck you into bed, hm? I’m so sorry for the excessive noise that was caused.”

“Mom, how clueless can you be? Y/N looks miserable! It’s unhealthy for Y/N to be living-“

Slap.

Your mother just slapped Akira on the face.

“I know what’s best for my daughter! I am her mother! You are not the one who should be telling me how to take care of my own kid!”

“That’s enough, Sakiya.” a familiar voice said from the door.

“Fumeiko-“

“It’s fine. Sakiya, we need to talk.” It was Fumeiko Suna, your mother’s best friend, also known as your next door neighbor. She had been standing in the hallways the whole time, you didn’t even know she was there. Akira was the one who called her over.

That night your mother agreed to get help for her drinking problem. She was gone for 6 months. During those 6 months, the Suna’s took you in since Akira would be in college and you couldn’t have been more grateful.

You and Rintaro were the only kids in the house, being that you both were the same age and the others were in college. It was okay, they were all very polite, dinners were awkward, you could feel some sort of tension between the family but you didn’t pay any attention to it.

When your mom finally came back, it was awkward at first. She still seemed the same, loving and caring, just sober and free of alcohol. It was nice. You two spent the weekends bonding at the mall, watching a movie, or even getting your nails done. Eventually, she gained your trust back, and you couldn’t have been happier.

January 2017.

“Akira, don’t say that. You may not believe me now, but you are such an amazing person, don’t ever think you’ll never find love again. It’s all about having a positive mindset!” you said, thoughtfully stroking her hair as her head laid on your chest.

“I told you that.”

“You did,” you chuckled, “you should take your own advice.

“Oh, shut up!” you both laughed, and Akira let out a shaky sigh. “Thank you, Y/N.”

“Of course, you don't need to thank me. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

— so this is one of the writings that i wrote in January 😭 it’s been in my drafts and i re-read it once and instantly hated it right after. if there’s any typos please tell me!!

— also i wanna apologize again for putting gmds on hiatus,, i feel so bad 😭 i wanna make it up to you guys but idk how so if you have suggestions pls tell me

[cinnamonest]

Can you share some more things from the sexist history you know about? :o

OMG yes

/// discussions of very real things that have happened to people in the past so be warned

Specifically what I read was in a Euro history class, one American history class, and specifically an Eastern European/Central Asian history class. And don't take this 100% detailed accuracy, I'm not a historian, I'm just saying this is what I was taught and read about when I took them.

Ok so like. Listen. The concept of what we call yandere has always existed, and it was like... Normal. Back in the day in some places it was just called... being male.

Like, you want to kidnap that girl you met once? Yeah that's a normal desire for a dude to have honestly, can't blame you. Like... If you look at historical literature and records, even in cultures where bride-snatching wasn't necessarily the *norm*, it's wild how frequently you can find accounts of some dude deciding he liked a girl from a village over yonder, who he'd never spoken to in his life, and decides to get some buddies together who are willing to help him rope her up and drag her back. On the condition, of course, that one day he'd help them do the same. And like, they didn't have to lie. They could just be like "yeah this is my wife that I stole" and people would be like ah ok.

And like they were well aware they were stealing some poor girl from her life and family. It's like "but consider... I wanted her." That's all the justification needed!

Granted this was mostly a thing a long while ago, like prehistory, mostly BC eras, but depending on the culture persisted a bit later. But at one point, the idea was generally kidnappers finders keepers when it came to girls. Generally the village/nomadic group/tribe/whatever the girl came from didn't see it as being worth the trouble to get her back, unless it was nobility or the rich, which was usually not the case. So if you got snatched that was kinda it, this guy's your husband now.

Some things persisted even later. You want your wife to stay inside at all times and never speak to another man without explicit permission? Yeah that's the way things should be. That's normal. Basically it just comes down to hippity hoppity women are property mindset. But really what is fascinating-but-creepy to me is how, in historical records I've read at least, so much of it is addressed as "the nature of a man" or "natural male behavior." Like, for them it wasn't seen as abnormal the way it was today, it was seen as a thing that was just. "Oh you're a guy yeah that makes sense."

--

One idea that persisted in Western culture, particularly in the 1800s in the Anglosphere, was the general idea that a half or so of women couldn't like... Control themselves. They thought all women were either non-sexual entirely, OR, if they showed the slightest enjoyment of it, they were labelled as like, basically out-of-control nymphs. And that they had to be watched 24/7 or they'd hop on the first dick they saw. So it wasn't unheard of for some guys to like. Keep a wife under constant surveillance if they could afford to. Bc if they weren't, it was their "nature" to basically go find something to fuck. It's so wild to me how they saw horniness as if it were demonic possession or something.

But it was considered the husband's duty to "take care" of it. Like dude, you gotta be a good husband and make sure to breed your wife until she can't walk and cure the horny, you know how they can be! And likewise it was believed by some that deprivement could affect behaviors. Like, of course today you hear people say "get bent" or the like but it's more of an insult. Back then they often genuinely believed that if your wife was seriously mad about something you just needed to... Dick her down and then she'd feel better. And much like vibrators in later years, prior to that, getting dicked was seen as basically a cure if you had a "hysterical" wife who was nagging and easily upset. And again, this is still... Often believed by some rather sexist dudes.

We learned about this one American factory town where the women worked in textile mills, and the men in logging fields right? Back then you would have whole settlements more or less dedicated to a few select occupations. Well the textile mills had overseers to watch the girls, which is normal, but at the end of the day they would basically be herded like sheep back to the living area of the town in a mass group and each one dropped off at her house, or taken back to communal living where some women lived together. Bc they believed that like, if they didn't ensure they got back, your wife might just, I dunno, go walking out on the streets and find some random guy and fuck him? They were so wildly paranoid it's hilarious but sad. So yeah, imagine being herded around, your husband drops you off at work every day and then you're corralled like cattle back home at night bc they don't think you're capable of even walking to and from work without running off and sleeping with someone, ye olde creechur of lust. It's wild.

But yeah that's the lesson for today lmao I'm sure there's more I'll remember eventually but have these.

[blkgojo]

Two Superheroes, One Bed | Carol Danvers x Reader

In which, you and Carol hate each other, but have to share a bed. 

Request: Anonymous

Despite popular misconception being a former terrorist does not make people like you. If anything, it makes them hate you. Despise you. Question you incessently with things such as, "Why did you do this? What is wrong with you? How could you have justified those acts?" And to be honest, your answer was less than satisfying. There was no tragic backstory. No great villain speech. Just you and your hatred for the government.

Living in the Avenger facility did little to change that.

See, the thing about Carol Danvers was that she wasn't an "Earth" hero. Logically speaking, there should've been no reason you disliked eachother as much as you did. You didn't work for the Kree. You had no squabble with saving refugees from colonial rule. On paper, you two were two peas in a pod. Both looking after people who didn't have others to help them, but you hated her the moment you laid eyes on her. Carol Danvers with the huge ass ego. Carol Danvers who somehow was fighting an intergalactic empire, but saw no problem with the way the US military conducted business. She hated you because honestly, who likes a murderer. Redemption arc be damned. You know how it goes.

"I just feel like I've done nothing to deserve this."

"You've killed hundreds of people."

"In total, the Avengers have killed like 2000 so, I don't really see how that's relevant."

Natasha sighs. Steve steps forward and when you cut your eyes at him, he raises his hands in plea.

"Half the universe's population is gone. The US government just needs a win."

You nod slowly. "And sending me across the fucking galaxy with-" You gesture vaguely to the blonde who until that point had decided to be quiet. "- is somehow a win."

"I hate to say this, but I agree," Carol interjects. "I work better alone. Y/N will just hold me back."

"We just need someone to go back to the planet where the infinity stores were destroyed. Make sure there are no remnants."

"It'd be quicker if I did it by myself."

"Y/N is the only one with the ability to replicate organic life," Steve retorts. "If there's a possibility she can locate some particle of infinity stone and replicate that, we need to take that chance."

"It'd be good publicity for her image and it'd bring us one step closer to bringing them back," Natasha continues.

"The world needs you to put aside your differences for the mission."

That was another thing you regretted about joining the Avengers. Steve had no shortage of motivating speeches under his belt. The good thing about villains was that they weren't much for conversation - there was no need to give motivating speeches when the odds were in your favor.

But, people were gone. Wanda, the only one you remotely liked, was gone. Snapped. Looking at Carol now, it looks like she must've lost someone, too. Her unpleasant face looks somehow more restrained than it usually did.

You sigh and fold your arms. "Fine."

All Carol does is nod.

--

It would take two earth days to reach his planet. Two. There'd been complications with the engine and so, it would take not the twenty four hours you expected, you know the time span that was customary for light travel, but it would take two days. Between that and the ship having to lower the heat to maintain proper oxygen levels, it wasn't fun.

"I could fly us there," Carol offers.

"Are you forgetting I can't breathe in space?"

Carol shrugs. "You replicate organic life right? Just replicate yourself a new pair of lungs."

"Fuck you."

She smirks, takes the only other available chair next to you. At first, she seems content to annoy you by tapping her fingers against the dashboard. Then, she grows bored. Worse, she tries to talk to you.

"Isn't all of this stuff automated?"

"Yes."

"So," she begins, stretching out the word. "You don't actually need to be here monitoring it. You can get on the cot." She shrugs. "Take a nap."

"I'd rather keep watch."

You think that'll be it and she'll be done, but she continues. You never would've pegged her as the type to not like silence. But, maybe that's not even it. Maybe, she just wanted to squeeze information out of you. God knows you weren't exactly open with the other Avengers when Fury made you join.

"You ever been to outer space?"

You shake your head. "When you're flagged as a global liability they tend to prefer you on the ground."

"A global liability? Is that what terrorists call themselves?"

"At least, we don't give ourselves cutesy nicknames like Black Widow or Captain Marvel."

She scoffs. "No. You guys just blow up innocent civilians."

"Yeah, I guess accidentally killing them is way better." You smile thinly. "For the greater good and all, you know?"

She stares at you long enough that you don't think she'll actually speak. Finally, she looks away and out to the empty abyss in front of you. "I don't pretend to know what the Avengers did while I was off-world. I see them now and they're good people."

You don't respond and she continues. "You must agree. Otherwise, you wouldn't be here."

"Fury said it was either this or experimentation."

"Fury didn't say that."

You laugh bitterly. "He didn't, but he didn't need to. The governments experiment on all mutants - that's how we got Steve and Wanda - they just don't talk about it anymore." You spare her a glance. There's nothing in her expression that would tell you what she's thinking. "So, I chose the Avengers. And here we are."

"You could've escaped."

"Where?" You lean forward in your seat and prop your elbow on the dash. "Please tell me. Where can someone who's wanted internationally hide?"

She squints her eyes. "I'd help, but unfortunately, my knowledge of ideal vacation spots is pretty limited."

Carol's lips seem to be trapped in a permanent smirk - the corner always tilted up in vaguely hidden amusement. Even now. Her snark never stops. You feel your own anger dissipate as quick as it came. There was no point being angry with her. She loved it. Fed off it like a parasite or leech.

"It's almost like you're trying to piss me off."

She places her elbow on the console, leaning forward to shrink the gap between you two.

"Would it make you more angry if I was?"

One time, you and the raccoon had a bet. Whose eyes were more blue: Captain America or Captain Marvel? Like this, you'd have to say Carol. Her eyes had their own halo wrapped around the rim, highlighting the blue and making it fluorescent.

You rub your lips together and lean back in your seat, turning away from her to once again, look at the controls.

The ship breaks down when you reach his planet. You and Carol spend the first ten minutes after landing, arguing back and forth, blaming eachother. The next fifteen, Carol leaves you. Fucks off like a glow stick and searches the planet. When she returns, you haven't moved. Haven't left. You opted instead to lie down in the flowers. It was a beautiful planet. Perfect for retirement. The air was pure, almost light enough to get high in.

"I found his cabin."

"Great." You jump up. The blood rushing to your head and spotting your vision briefly, almost enough to cause you to wobble. "Let's go."

She steps in front of you, quick. You stop just short of bumping into her. Your faces are inches apart. That same infuriating smirk on her lips. Your eyes dart down, down to her chest - she was quite muscular, you could see that even through her clothes-  down enough that she has to clear her throat.

"It's too far by foot." When your eyes meet, she's trying to not look smug.

You arch a brow. "Well, we can't fly."

"I'll have to carry you."

You groan.

"Believe me. I'd be more than willing to do anything else."

"Fine. Do it."

You step back and gesture at her to turn around. She rolls her eyes and in a breathe you didn't know you were holding, throws your arm around her shoulders, wraps her arms around your waist, and jumps. You scream. Through the rush of wind, you think you hear her laughing or perhaps, that's a lie and it's you. Laughing hysterically. No. You are screaming. Hitting her chest. And she's laughing. Fuck Natasha. Fuck Steve. When this is over, you're quitting.

When your feet touch the ground, you bend down and kiss it. Pray to it.

"Anyone ever tell you you're dramatic?" She asks.

"Anyone ever teach you about consent?"  

"You told me to do it."

"I don't care!"

The two of you spend hours looking for remnants of the stones before you finally give it up and return to the ship. You were careful not to drift too close to his cabin. The Avengers never recovered the body. The rot of Thanos was thick, enough to gag over if you got too close. This planet wasn't used to death, not the harsh meat of Thanos. It had been months and he was still there, newly rotting as if it had been a week or two.

"I'll look again tomorrow before we leave." Carol pops a chip in her mouth, her feet kicked on the co-pilot chair while you lounged on the cot. "For now, you should get your rest."

"Don't you need to sleep, too?"

"I have been." She gestures to the chair.

You stare. Frown. The chairs were nowhere near comfortable.

"We can switch. I'll just take the blanket," you offer reluctantly. The nights here were cold anyways. Much colder than space. You involuntarily shiver.

"I prefer to sleep sitting up."

"Is that a military thing?"

To your surprise, she laughs. "Why?"

You shrug the blanket higher - the thin layer providing little comfort. "Cap likes to do that too."

As the sky gets darker, the cold filters in the cracks of the ship and between the layers of your comforter. You snuggle tighter within yourself, curl your knees up to your chest, burrow your hands underneath your pits. When that doesn't work, you shift again. It was always something. The blanket doesn't cover your feet here. You're uncomfortable there.

"You still up?"

You peek up to glance at Carol. She's leaned back in the chair, her head propped back against the headrest. When you shift, she pops one eye open.

"It's cold," you respond. "Are you cold?"

She shakes her head. "Temperature stops being a concern when you get superpowers like mine."

"Oh, yeah. Forgot you're a glow stick."

She snorts. "You talk a lot of shit for someone whose close to being an icicle."

"Bravado under pressure. It's my best quality."

You think she's gonna retort with another snort, but she stays silent. You make a move to stand, but she stops you.

"It's colder over here. See." She breathes out and you can see the cloud of her breathe. You frown.

"I can't sleep like this."

You think she's gonna do something like procure a blanket or throw you her jacket. You even think she might use her powers to heat the ship. It would make sense. Now, that you thought about it - she could've flew your ship to Thanos's exact location. You open your mouth to say as much, maybe, even yell at her as well, but she surprises you by standing.

Her head tilts to the side. Her mouth opening and closing again as if she's mulling over her next words carefully. If it were brighter, you might say this is the closest to nervous you've ever seen her get.

"I could lay down next to you." You blink. "My body generates a certain amount of heat due to -"

"Your powers. Yeah, I get it."

Slowly, you scoot over in the small cot. There wouldn't be enough room. You'd be touching regardless, but if you didn't turn over, it'd be okay. You could pretend instead of Carol, it was some space heater next to you.

"Come," you order.

You feel her weight in the cot, the warmth of her sinking in and spreading across the fabric. It hasn't even been a minute and already the cold has been dissipated. You could sleep if you wanted to. But, you don't. No matter how much you had wanted to pretend she was just some space heater, she was Carol. She felt stiff like a board and she was unbearably loud in her stiffness, her unwillingness to move.

"You can relax you know," you mumble.

"I sleep on my side."

You wonder now if she's smirking.

"No one's stopping you from doing that."

She moves and you know without looking that she's facing you. Her breathe tickles the hair on the back of your neck. You wouldn't be able to sleep like this. She's thinking so loud that whatever thoughts she's having are sure to interrupt your dreams. You turn over towards her - your faces are a hair apart. She's not smirking. Her lips are parted and her eyebrows raised, her expression torn between surprise and delight.

"You're making it difficult to sleep," you say simply.

"Am I?" She retorts. There it is. She's grinning. "That sounds like a personal problem."

You don't take the bait. "You know why you're making it difficult?"

She shifts her head slightly to imply 'no'.

"You're too far away. I'm still cold," you say.

She arches one brow. "This is too far away for you?"

You nod.

She shifts closer. Close enough that there's no room for you to glance at her lips. There's only her eyes staring into yours.

"This good enough?" She whispers.

"No."

"You're proving difficult to please, Y/N." And you can tell she's trying to be smooth, but right now, you just want her to shut up.

You barely have time to open your mouth to say as much before she's kissing you. Pressing her soft lips to yours, her hand finding its way to your hip and resting there. She tugs you closer to her until your bodies are flush against one another. The soft pecks growing longer. Light sparks from her fingertips, burning the trim of your jacket. She fists it as she presses you into her. Her touch still gentle if demanding.

You pull away slowly to breathe. To catch air. You forget why when your lips stop touching.

"Been wanting to do that for awhile," she says with a smile.

"I didn't know I wanted to do it honestly," you respond because it's true. All you knew was that Carol was infuriating. Still is. Only now you want to kiss her, too.

"Really?" Carol asks. "You didn't know you wanted me?"

"You find that hard to believe?"

"I do," she grins. "You know the raccoon and Groot have a running bet on which one of us would crack first. Groot bet on me."

"Groot lost, then." You mean to kiss her, but she pulls back.

"You're the one who invited me into bed with you."

"Because you offered your services."

"Because you complained about being cold."

You groan, snuggle into her chest so you don't feel the need to respond to her. Thankfully, she stops. Her spare hand strokes your back and slowly, you drift into sleep.

[amphetamine-keen]

Live Blogging my reactions to the Marble Hornets comic series

I’m gonna put each issue in a different reblog, that way any followers don’t have to scroll through an assload of repeated posts. Everything should be below the [read more] but I dunno if it’s gonna work right with the reblogs.

filter out “#keen reads MH” if you’re worried (on top of the usual spoiler tags)

I have lit my favorite candle, made some tea, wrapped myself up, and Masky’s creepy black eyes are staring at me from the coffee table. So without further ado, let’s get into it.

I read the first issue when it came out, but it’s been a while, so I may as well be going in blind.

Jackie’s art blows me away every time. It’s just the right amount of cartoon and realism, and the water color adds to the spooky effect of the whole thing.

Loving the world building around the events of MH, especially that the weird shit that went down at Rosswood was noticed by more than a few people. Also that Jessica goes from a podcast about dealing with trauma, to listening to a conspiracy podcast directly relating to her own? Hysterical. I would do the same thing.

Everything about Jessica’s last delivery sets me on edge. We start strong with her losing a fair bit of time, and it only goes up from there.  She only gets one, so I think “in and out. Easy,” but they wouldn’t bother showing us the end of her day if nothing happens. Jessica’s already on edge after lunch, and I can feel it. It only gets worse as I read more of the podcast she’s chosen. She gets to the address and I can feel her anxiety spike. None of our MH crew has had good luck with dilapidated and abandoned buildings, and Jackie’s art style really ramps up the creepiness.  Then she sees her own name on a package, addressed to a house she doesn’t know. Which she knows is weird. Icing on the creepy cake.  (Also, Tim’s name at the bottom of the contacts on her phone? Love that. I can’t help but think Sydney’s name was chosen for that reason. Cute little easter egg)

Skully! Love this bitch! Holy shit! Our favorite spook! (I typically use “it” to refer to Skully, but for simplicity’s sake here I’ll be using “them” for Skully, and “it” for the Operator)

Jessica automatically picking up and brandishing a weapon at a weirdo in a mask? Very logical and very in character. Fuck ‘em up Jess!

Should I know who this jogger is? oh dope, she’s just a side character

Jess looks like shit, and she’s seeing the Operator? Fuck yes. I genuinely can’t tell if she’s hallucinating, or if it’s actually there. My bet is on both.

The black backed pages? FUCK YEAH I stg I can hear pages 34-37, and the torn edges of the panels are so clever. the whole thing is a nightmare sequence I could only dream of putting into words. The way the panels go back to normal on 36 as Jess sees someone and feels relieved only for it to be a lie? The edges deteriorating as she starts to panic again? Chef’s kiss.

I’m living for the way “Can you see me?” is emphasized

I’m interested to see what these two dudes are up to. I assume they’re the podcasters? At least the bearded one has some common sense.

Theory Time

I wonder how the events of the YT series are perceived in world. Clearly these guys think it’s fiction, but there’s got to be a reason why Alex and Jay were never reported missing. 

Jay said that the white shirt guy was never reported missing or dead either after Alex brained him in the tunnel. Perhaps the Operator took them to that same sort of pocket dimension where Tim found white-shirt’s body? Whether or not that’s the “ark” is up for debate Regardless, I wonder if some weird reality fuckery happens when the Operator takes someone there which messes up their place in the normal dimension, where it just kind of erases them? I can’t wait to see.

[chaoticpuff17]

A Dangerous Game

part 7

masterlist 

Kim Namjoon. That was the name of the devil. This was the information that they had wanted her to find. How ironic that she had it only after it was too late to do anything with it. She wanted nothing more than to call the police force and scream the information to the high heavens, to tell them where she was, who he was. More than that she wanted to go home. She wished she had never come her at all.

“At least it’s better than RM.” She huffed bitterly under her breath wrapping her arms around herself in her some semblance of comfort although it really wasn’t all that comforting.

“You should get used to it, jagi.” He hummed looking quite pleased with himself. “You are the lady of the house now.”

Her head shot up at that gazing at him with eyes wide and fearful. “The what?” she whispered hoping she had misheard him.

“The lady of the house.” He repeated smiling at her as though there was nothing wrong with the current situation. She could name a hundred things that were wrong with the situation she had found herself in. Her chief concern was RM, Kim Namjoon. “That is what the staff have been referring to you as.” He explained picking up his cup to sip at his tea.

Her brow furrowed in thought thinking back to her interactions with Miss In. “Bu-in.” she murmured contemplatively. “Is that what that means?” she nearly shrieked jumping up from her seat in a panic.

“Sit down, jagi.” He barked giving her a stern look. “You’re still recovering. All this upset isn’t good for you. Drink your tea.”

She glared at him wanting nothing more than to launch the tea cup at his head, but thought better of it choosing instead to sit down and glare at him from her seat. How could he go from barking at her to cooing over her health in less than a minute? She had called him insane before, but maybe he actually was.

“The tea, jagiya.” He reminded elegantly motioning towards the cup she had left sitting on the coffee table untouched since it had first been handed to her. “It’ll make you feel better.” He encouraged as though he had any right to care about her wellbeing when he was the one who had put her in this mess.

“Don’t act like you care.” She scoffed harshly.

“I care very much what happens to you.” He refuted taking another sip of his tea, infuriatingly calm.

Her eyes narrowed as she hissed at him. “Bullshit. You don’t give a damn about anyone but yourself.”

A frown marred his features pulling down the corners of his mouth as his eyes lost their warmth and sharpened back into the cold calculating expression she was used to. “I don’t appreciate your tone, jagi.” He tutted shaking his head slowly as though he was disappointed in her. “You’ve already tested my patience once today. Let’s not do it again.”

The warning was clear. Behave or suffer the consequences. So she picked up the cup and took a sip allowing the ginger tea to warm her from the inside out and settle her rolling stomach.

“I forgave your lapse of judgement earlier, but I won’t allow such disrespect in my house, Y/N.” his entire body radiated dominance as he spoke, watching her with those cold dark eyes. “There are rules here, even for the lady of the house.”

“I’m not the lady of this or any house.” She hissed through gritted teeth allowing the anger to seep into her tone. “I’m not your god damn wife.”

He smiled. She hated that smile. Nothing good ever followed it. It was cold and cruel, predatory in nature. “You and I both know that in this world the legal trivialities don’t matter. If I’ve claimed you as my woman, then by the laws of our world, you are as good as my wife. No one can touch you here.”

“Except for you.”

“Except for me.” He agreed pleased by her understanding of her place in this new twisted world he had thrown her into. “Let’s go over the rules shall we, jagi?” His tone was suddenly cheery giving her whiplash. “Unfortunately your little stunt will have consequences.” He tutted though they both knew he didn’t have any real remorse for anything he was about to do. “I can’t have you throwing yourself out windows or causing harm to yourself or the staff. Until you’ve adjusted you’ll be confined to these rooms.” He announced watching with a gleam in his eye as she stiffened. “They were prepared with you in mind, jagi.”

She couldn’t stop herself from scoffing. “I don’t give a flying fuck who you prepared the rooms for.”

“Language!” he barked shooting her a harsh glare. “I will not have my wife swearing.”

“I’m not your wife!” she shrieked gripping the tea cup tightly in her hands debating whether or not it would be worth it to chuck the porcelain at his head.  The look on his face told her it wouldn’t be. As satisfying as it would be, she couldn’t afford to incur his wrath any more than she had in the past few hours.

“Y/N.” She didn’t like that tone. She didn’t like how patronizing it was. “Watch your tone.” He warned. “You are the lady of this house now, but I am still its master. If you behave I can give you a very good life, Y/N. And if you don’t I can make your life very miserable.” It wasn’t a threat. It was a promise. “Now be a good girl and listen to what I tell you.” God how she wanted to slap the smirk right off his face.

She clenched her jaw but made no move to do or say anything else. “Until you can be trusted not to be a danger to yourself or others you will remain here. The staff is, of course, at your disposal, but they will not help any of you with any ill-conceived escape attempts. They are nothing if not loyal to this house.” She nodded slowly, and he seemed content that she understood and was listening. “Once I’m satisfied that you’ve… adjusted, you’ll be allowed free reign of the house and the gardens. You will not be allowed outside the estate without my supervision, though I suspect you won’t be ready for that privilege for a long time.”

The look he sent her was pitying, and it did nothing but make her skin crawl. They both knew that he held no pity for her. He was more than pleased to have her settled within the confines of the estate. Marcus had been a controlling and vile man, but he had never actually locked her away from the world. This was a new form of torture even for her.

“You are a rare bird, and I enjoy your fire, but I will not condone the same behavior I saw today. You will not swear. You will behave in a way that befits the lady of this house. And you will never lie to me. Do you understand me, jagiya?” He asked leveling her with a hard stare. “I’ve already told you that any more of your ill-conceived attempts at freedom will result in punishment. Oh!” He paused as though a thought had just come into his head. “The windows. I’ll be having them sealed until sure you won’t try to throw yourself out of them again. I’d prefer not to put bars on them, but I will if I have to.” He warned, and she knew he meant it. No more window themed escapes for her.

“Don’t fret, jagi.” He cooed getting up and strolling around the coffee table to kneel in front of taking her hands in both of his. His hands dwarfed hers. “You’ll be well taken care of here. I even have a gift for you.”

“What more could you possibly do to me?” She spat trying to pull her hands away from his, but his grip tightened preventing her from doing so.

“I haven’t done anything yet, jagi.” There was that smile again. It would have been such a warm expression if only it could reach his eyes, but those remained cold and hard. “I have no intentions of hurting you.”  

“I doubt that very much.” She huffed trying once more to pull her hands from his though the effort was futile.

He took one of his hands away to reach for something on the coffee table, a little black box that had previously escaped her notice, and her eyes widened at the sight of it. The box was opened to reveal a ring nestled against the velvet. It was large and glinted wickedly in the light. The center stone rested proudly in a nest of smaller diamonds that ringed it in sharp contrast all tied together in a silver band. The black diamond shimmering in the middle reminded her rather sickeningly of his eyes. They were both dark and cold.

“What is this for?” She asked eyes the piece of jewelry suspiciously. “Please… please don’t tell me this is meant to be a wedding ring.”

He smiled at her again, this time the expression reached his eyes, and she wasn’t sure which expression was worse. The cold hollow smiles seemed to suit him. They were unnerving and dangerous, but they suited him. This smile held a genuine fondness to it that was far more disconcerting. It suggested that somewhere in that twisted head he actually cared for her, and that was far more terrifying than any anger he could show her.

“Of all the jewelry I plan to give you, jagi, this is the most important.” He explained carefully, removing the ring from its box and taking her limp left hand in his. “This ring is never to leave your finger.” He slipped the offending jewelry onto her finger keeping her hand tucked between both of his. “And I do mean never, Y/N. You won’t like the consequences of if it does.”

“What are the consequences?” She whispered her eyes transfixed on the stone that now weighed down her finger.

He hummed contemplatively reaching up a hand to tilt her chin up so that she was looking at him. That retched smile was still there accompanied by those damned dimples. “I won’t hurt you, Y/N. I’m not a man who takes pleasure in beating his woman like some savage, but I have other ways of punishing you, rest assured. I went to a lot of trouble to bring you here. I won’t have you harmed while you’re under my care.”

She huffed out a laugh bordering on the hysteric as she moved her head away from his hand. “I’m sure the great RM had so much trouble kidnapping one foreign girl.”

“You will call me Namjoon, never RM, not to you.” The correction was emphatic as though it offended him to hear her call him by that name any longer. “You are after all for all intents and purposes, Mrs. Kim.”

“No.” The word came out as a whisper. She shot up from her seat breaking away from him to pace in front of the fireplace ignoring the nausea and light headedness the sudden motion caused.  “No!” She was more frantic now. “You can’t… you can’t…” She had stopped pacing a rush of dizziness going through her causing her to lean on the fireplace for support as she swayed on her feet.

“Y/N.” Concern colored his features as he slowly rose to his feet. “Y/N, come sit down.” He held out a hand to her trying to convince her to come back to the sofa.

“You can’t just… just…”

He watched horrified as the color drained from her face, her eyes wide, blinking in an attempt to banish the black dots that spotted her vision. And in the next moment she dropped crumpling like a rag doll as she did.

part 8

[scorsoneamelia]

I like the way you write II wanted to ask if you could write a story where there is a shooting and link is shot

thank you so much :’) i like this idea a lot!!

this is gonna be a big one sorry it took me a while to write because it’s heavy lol

yall are gonna hate me for ending this the way i did lol

tw: shooting

         The thing about life is that you never know what to expect, everyday you live life never knowing how the day is going to end. Some like the idea of never knowing, some think it makes life more meaningful while some people sit on the edge full of anxiety because they need to know when their last breath will be. It’s like how some will take a test to tell them if they have the cancer gene, the Alzheimer’s gene, a disease, etc., and some will refuse to know because they’d rather not know than always expect the worst.

         Death is so familiar to Amelia, she’s seen her own father fall to his death right in front of her, even though she might not remember it as well as her brother did, the trauma still impacted her. Rolling over to notice that her boyfriend’s heart was no longer beating and his body was ice cold, her brother getting ripped out of her life too soon; it’s all familiar to her. You’d think this is what she’d be used to, the worst case scenarios but nobody really is ever used to hear the worst news of your life, no matter how familiar it may be.

          They had just been leaving from a dinner with Link’s parents, and although neither have them have spoken or seen much of one another since the afternoon on the beach; since the proposal, it was quiet. The only time they’ve communicated lately is for the sake of their son, who was currently being watched by Meredith. Link told his parents they’d both be there because it was ‘easier’ than explaining the alternative. Dinner was fine, the least amount of awkward it could have been, both of them putting on a smile and an act which was easy for the two of them since they acted like a perfectly happy married couple for her sisters before. This was easy.

          Link parked the car in front of a gas station, a small one along the outskirts of the city because he needed gas and a snack, even though he just ate. Neither of them said much to one another besides, “Be right back.” which came from Link and he was already exiting the vehicle.

            Amelia hadn’t said much to Link directly since he picked her up, she wasn’t sure what the right thing to say was and whatever she wanted to say, he wouldn’t care to listen and she knew that. He was hurt; and he was upset and even though she had her own reasons and feelings, hers weren’t important because Link was hurt.

             Her finger was tapping down onto her contact list to find Meredith’s number, a heads up that they might be a little big longer than expected cause the drive home will be a long one. Her attention was diverted away because there was a loud noise; an explosion sound and there was screams immediately followed after. Civilians were running down the street, people jumping into their cars to speed away, the sound of their rubber tires squealing against the pavement along with screams; terrified screams. A young girl ran out of the gas station, blood soaking her pant leg from the knee down and she was crying, her hands were trembling and she was dialling 911 on her phone.

             The gas station, the realization came and a wave of panic hit her, her heart pounding against her chest and now her hands were shaking. A man was running to the bleeding girls side, putting pressure on her leg while she cried out. Quickly, Amelia pushed open the passenger door and the screams were even louder. “He has a gun!”

             It only took a few moments before Amelia was throwing the gas station door open, knowing damn well that if there really was someone with a gun in there that she’d be risking her life. But there was something that was making her go in there, she wasn’t thinking and her heart was beating so hard in her chest it felt like it was going to pop out, and her hands were shaking and she couldn’t keep them still. Just as she expected, a white man with dark brown hair had the man who worked behind the counter at the gas station at gun point. His finger hovering over the trigger and his knuckles white, the innocent man had his hands raised in the air. The man had a black cotton mask covering his face so you could only see his hazel eyes, a backpack secured to his shoulder.

              There was a chime when Amelia opened the door, attention being drawn to her and immediately her hands were raised into the air, her breath being caught in her throat. “Don’t move, or I shoot.” The guy wasn’t facing her yet, but his eyes were burning into her. This was all too familiar, way too familiar. A man being held at gunpoint that worked at a gas station, her being in the same building and her hands trembling.

               “Amelia,” Link had been hiding behind a corner and he came out to expose himself, the gunman turning his attention to Link and pointing it directly at him, only causing him to raise his hands as well. “Sir, please, don’t do this.”

                Now that the shooter had his back towards the clerk behind the counter and his gun facing Link, he slowly reached for the cellphone to dial all emergency vehicles. Amelia didn’t move, she was frozen in place and her hands were still raised in the air and she was breathing deeply and slowly because she was about to have a panic attack. “One step and I shoot!” The man yelled, his voice was deep and it sent a chill down Amelia’s spine.

                “Link,” Amelia choked out, her voice thick with terror and there were tears trying to escape her eyes. “Link.” She said again, a cry coming out through her throat.

                 “Shut up!” The man yelled even louder, stepping closer to Link, his grip tightening around the gun. “I will shoot every single one of you.” There was no doubt this man would, there was a look in his eyes, a look that would terrify anyone.

                 There was sirens off in the distance, meaning someone had already called because the innocent man behind the counter couldn’t hold the phone still by how much his hands were shaking. The gun man heard the sirens, his eyes looking over at her as if she called them. “This pretty boy your boyfriend?”

                 “Uh,—“ was she supposed to lie in this type of situation? “Yes—, yes he’s my boyfriend.” Her breath was caught in her throat, it felt like she couldn’t breathe, like her throat was closing in on her.

                 “That’s too bad,” the guy laughed. His laugh was evil, the type of evil that made your stomach turn. A group of police cars rolled up at the front of the building, sirens and lights on and police men and women were surrounding the building within seconds. “Fuck!” He was yelling now, a frustrated hand running through his hair and he was bringing the gun down away from Link’s chest. Link thought it was enough time for him to make a run for it, ducking down and trying to make it to the front door.

                There was a ringing in her ears after the gun was drawn and the man’s finger pushed down onto the trigger, the bullet embedding into Link’s rib cage, blood wetting his white coloured shirt. She stopped breathing, it getting stuck at the bottom of her throat and her chest was tight. She could feel her heartbeat throughout her entire body, she could hear it in her ears and her hands wouldn’t stay still. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t breathe and her chest was closing in. Her vision was blurry, black auras surrounding her eyes, and she was lightheaded, so dizzy she might fall over and it felt like her knees were about to buckle.

             The door behind her was thrown open and the chime went off throughout the store, her ears still ringing and she could barely hear anything. “Hands in the air!” The police were inside now, all guns drawn to the suspect. “Drop the gun!”

            She still stood there, losing her balance and grabbing onto one of the counter tops behind her. Link was laying on the ground, blood pouring out of his side and he was coughing, his face scrunched up in pain. His hand was reaching down and covering the injury with his palm, trying to put pressure on his own wound. Amelia couldn’t move, her legs were giving out and her entire body was shaking.

            She stood there for a few more moments, as the gun man tried to escape, running to the back of the store and one police man was talking to the man who worked at the station and another was standing over Link, calling for emergency back-up.

            “Sir,” the police woman was kneeling next to Link, addressing the injury. “Can you hear me? You’re gonna be okay, the ambulance is on their way.” Link was groaning and you could hear his pain.

             “Oh my god,-“ Amelia finally snapped out of it, running over to Link’s side, placing both of her hands on top of his ribcage putting as much pressure on the wound as she could. “Link, oh my god.” She was stumbling over her own words, panic arising.

             “Stay— Stay with me! You’re not dying, stay awake!” She was yelling, completely terrified, you could hear it in her voice and you could hear her crying. “Link, I love you so much, okay? I love you, I’m sorry...” She was in hysterics, you could make an ocean by the amount of tears that were streaming down her face.

            Her hands were covered in blood, and she was continuing to hold pressure. “Stay with me, Link, don’t close your eyes. Don’t-“ she choked on her own years. “Don’t leave me too.”

           Link was coughing even more now, she could see spots of blood in his mouth and his eyes were fluttering shut, so much pain written all over his face. “No, no, no!! No!!” Amelia was yelling even louder now, a police officer having to step in and try and comfort her. “You’re not leaving me too! No! Link! I love you, I love you!”

          “Ma’am,” the police officer said, placing a hand on Amelia’s shoulder. “No! Don’t touch me!” Amelia snapped, one of her hands reaching up to his throat and she could feel a pulse, it was faint and weak but it was there.

         “His pulse is weak, we’re not losing him! I am not letting you guys lose him.” Her hands were moving to the centre of his chest now, and she was doing CPR, because she needed him alive. 

         “I can’t do it without him, I won’t- I won’t survive this.” She wasn’t lying. She will not survive this. She can’t lose another person that she loves, especially to a gunshot.

          The police officer had the audacity to try and pull Amelia off while her bloody hands where pushing down on the middle of his chest, trying her best to keep him alive. “No!” Amelia screamed, using one of her hands quickly to shove the police officer away.

           “No! He’s dying, what are you doing?!” Ignoring the police, she continued giving Link CPR, also ripping her jacket off to put it against his wound. “I’m a doctor, I know what I’m doing.”

           She was sobbing, her entire body taken over with cries and shakes. There was still ringing in her ears and she was trying to slow her breathing so that she wouldn’t have a panic attack. There was so much blood, it was pooling on the floor and his white shirt was almost completely dark red and Amelia’s hands and wrists were coloured. She’s a doctor, a damn surgeon, she should be used to the sight of blood but there was so much. She could hear the sirens off in the distance meaning an ambulance was coming, he might be okay. She hopes he’ll be okay, she’s praying. Link’s eyelashes were slowly opening and then slowly closing, his hand weakly reaching for Amelia’s that was moving up and down on his chest. A weak cough escaped his lungs. “Please-“ She cried out, there was blood on her own shirt now.

            A team of paramedics and a gurney was next to Amelia, and they were taking over and instead of leaving them to do their job, she leaned over and grabbed Link’s face in her hands. “I can’t do this without you, Link, I love you.”

           The paramedics where then lifting him onto a gurney, a mask put over his face while one of the paramedics pumped it, giving him some oxygen. She grabbed his hand, hers shaking in his and his was weak, but his fingers were loosely intertwined with hers. They were rushing him into the back of the ambulance, and she followed, sitting down beside him in the van while paramedics worked to keep him alive.

             “I’m in love with you,” she whispered, tightening her grip on his hand. “Oh my god, I’m in love with you. Please god, I need him to live.” She was praying, begging, she needed him.

             The ambulance was already making their way to the hospital, Grey Sloan being the closest. She pulled his hand up to her cheek and there was still tears spilling out of her face, and her other hand was running through his hair softly. “You’re going to be okay.”

————————

             The doors of the ambulance flew open and the paramedic jumped out, pulling the gurney out with her. “GSW to the chest, pulse is there but it’s weak.” Owen Hunt, head of trauma was the one who was there to treat him, followed by her sister, head of cardio, Maggie Pierce.

              “Oh my god.” Maggie said softly, stopping in her tracks for a brief moment to focus on what she was looking at. Link in a gurney, covered in blood, and Amelia was also covered, stepping down from the ambulance. She was concerned, very worried, and confused why her sister was covered in blood. “What happened?”

             “Crazy gunman,” Amelia’s voice was so soft that Maggie could barely here her. Her eyes were puffy and it was obvious that she hadn’t stopped crying. “There was a robbery at the gas station and he shot him.” She broke down in tears again, falling to the ground. “He shot him, Maggie. I saw it happen, I saw-“

             Maggie kneeled down in front of her while Owen rushed Link inside the hospital to bring him into a trauma room. “Hey,” Maggie whispered. “I’m going to do everything I can to save him.”

            “Please-“ she choked out. “Please make sure he’s okay.”

             While she stood outside the window of the ER room, it felt like the world was moving in slow motion. The doctors working on Link were moving slowly, in her mind, and they were assessing the situation, their stress levels through the roof. Amelia’s hands were still shaking and she was covered in blood, if nobody knew what happened they’d think she was the one who was hurt.

            “He’s crashing!” Maggie yelled, immediately moving to his chest to start compressions. “I need a crash kart!”

             The nurses were running in with a kart with a defibrillator, soon after Maggie reached down for them. “Charge to 300!” She yelled and placed them on both sides of his chest before telling everyone to clear, and then they shocked him.

          “No rhythm, charge to 400.” She places the paddles on each side again before the shocked him once more. “C’mon.”

           “We have a rhythm!” Maggie yelled, placing the paddles back onto the kart. Amelia let out a sigh of relief before Bailey was running over, peering into the trauma room window herself.

            “Oh my god, what happened?” Bailey asked, slightly reaching over and touching Amelia’s shoulder for support, but she was numb. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t speak, the world was moving in slow motion around her. Her mind was all over the place, and she kept feeling dizzy.

           “I have to bring him to surgery.” Maggie said, coming around the corner while pulling the gurney with her. “I’m going to do everything I can do.”

            “I’m coming with you,” Amelia finally spoke, stepping forward and grabbing onto the gurney. Her pulse was still high, and her mind was still fuzzy.

            “You’ll wait in the waiting room like every other family member.” Bailey ordered, which made Amelia’s eyes roll and a huff came out of mouth.

           “Please, Bailey.”

           “It’s the rules, you know that.” And Amelia gave up, because it was the rules. She would have to wait like everybody else, and try to be patient but she felt like she won’t be able to sit still.

            “I’ll give you updates as much as I can.” Maggie brushed her shoulder before they were going through the Authorized Personnel Only sign and she was sliding down the wall. She couldn’t cry anymore, it was like she was out of tears. She sat on the floor, her back pressed against the wall while the blood dried onto her sink. She didn’t want to move, she couldn’t move. The waiting room was too far, she thinks waiting here on the floor is a better idea.

            How can something like this happen again? How can she relive something as traumatic as this? Will she even survive this?

[abluescarfonwaston]

Stupidly in love

Based on this very good post by @darkverrmin

It all slowed down for one horrible moment as the potions fell. The glittery blue. The shocking purple. The feces brown.

Well he always said that mage would be the death of him. He just got which mage wrong.

“Jaskier!”

The sound of breaking glass. Geralt’s pungent but familiar scent. Pressed into his nose as Geralt shielded him. Firmly held in his arms.

“Oh fuck oh cock oh bloody shit wood are you alright fuck-” He cursed. His hands seizing on the fabric of Geralt’s shirt. 

The arms around him squeezed and Geralt nuzzled against his cheek. Soft sounds slipping from his chest.

“Geralt?’ Geralt insistently nuzzled against him. The stubble of his fading shave beginning to sting. “Geralt? Uh. Let’s. Get away from the shatter glass?”

He followed willingly enough stepping with him. Not letting go. One of his hands slipped under his shirt. Running up his spine.

He pushed him back gently with a forced smile. “Let’s get that shirt off before those concoctions do more damage alright?”

Geralt let him. But he wouldn’t let go of his wrist. His neck. Constantly moving in to cover the gap that separated them.

It took a staggeringly long time to remove the stained shirt.

“Well that shirts a loss.” He admitted. Geralt’s eyes were hazed and trained on his face. A dopy grin marring his normally stern countenance. “Are you alright? I mean clearly your not but can you tell me what’s going on because a little guidance would be so helpful.”

Geralts eyes drifted lower. Watching his mouth move as he plead for answers. 

Geralt leaned forward.

Tilted his head.

And kissed him.

He stayed still as Geralt pressed their lips together. Soft then hard then soft again. As he took his bottom lip between his teeth and slowly pulled back before finally letting go with the most contented expression.

“Oh.” He said simply. “It was a love potion.”

It was really as simple as that.

He grabbed the sword they’d promised to retrieve and guided Geralt out. When they got outside  Geralt got distracted by petting Roach long enough for him to make use of both his hands to lead them home.

Geralt menaced behind him as he turned the sword over. Growling when the woman got too close. One hand pressing into the small of his back.

“He’s fine.” He assured her. “Little issue with a potion. Don’t suppose you know any non-abandoned mage homes nearby?”

“I heard the town to the east recently had one move in,” Geralt tucked himself into the crook of his neck. His arms wrapping around his waist. Inhaling. “Are you alright? Is he going to...” She trailed off nervously. Her eyes flickering between him and the Witcher attached to him.

“Never been safer.” He assured her with a bright smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “No harms going to come to me while I’ve got a Witcher fastened to my side!” He winked cheerily.

No harm but the damage done to his heart.

But hearts were robust things. He’d survive. He always did.

“Now one more question.” He tucked their payment away. “Which way is east?” 

The routine of setting camp distracted Geralt. Gave him breathing room. A chance to slow his pathetically racing heart.

He laid out their bedrolls the customary few feet apart as Geralt cooked dinner. Stood and pointed at him.

“I going to take a piss. Do. Not. Follow me. Do you understand?”

Geralt scowled at him but shrunk down at the scolding enough that he suspected he’d gotten the memo.

Stupid love potion. Stupid mage. Stupid Geralt for protecting him from it. Wouldn’t have done shit to him. Except the stupid part of the ‘stupidly in love’ potion. But Geralt always called him an idiot anyway so really what was the difference anyway?

He was already stupidly in love with the gruff idiot.

He came back. Geralt still sat next to the fire. Watching there dinner.

But he had a sly grin on now.

“What did you do?”

“Dinner.” He said.

So he wasn’t completely beyond words then. Just mostly. 

Geralt lost his words occasionally anyway. He picked up his mess kit and thumped down next to him.

Geralt shuffled, in what he imagined was meant to be a discrete motion, next to him until their shoulders touched. 

He took a bite. Chewed.

Geralt watched him.

“It’s good.” He offered.

Geralt preened before digging in himself.

“Geralt?” He trilled in acknowledgement. “Promise I won’t hold any of this against you. Or let this be weird. You’re my best friend. I promise we can weather a love potion.”

Geralt nosed at his hair and kissed the lobe of his ear before returning to his meal.

“I’ll say it again once we break the spell but if you can understand I want you to know its okay. Nothing you’ve done or would do can possibly change how I feel. You are my best friend and I love you.” He stared down at the bowl in his lap. “So I promise i’ll only make fun of you for acting like this to you. To show theirs no hard feelings.”

Geralt took his hand and joined their fingers. Eating his food with his other hand.

He turned to watch him. Savoring the unearned warmth of Geralt next to him.

“I love you.” He whispered. Refusing to answer the tears longing to fall. “You are my  best friend.”

Geralt smiled. Turned. Kissed him.

They finished their meal in silence.

“Geralt where is my bedroll?”

Geralt ignored him.

“Geralt. Where. Is. My. Bedroll?”

A self satisifed smile creeped onto his face. He shrugged. Lifted his bedroll.

“No! Tell me where you hid it Geralt of Rivia!”

He got an eyebrow raise for that.

“OH!” He choked in insult. “How Dare you! I do not go out of my way to buy rooms with only one bed. How dare you even imply it! If anything you should be thanking me for saving us money because chaos knows we never have any!”

He smugly shrugged and lowered the blanket. Sighing in mock contentment. 

“I hate you and I will never forgive you for this.” He said as he climbed into the bedroll. Elbowing him slightly more than necessary. “Really. How dare you.”

Geralt pulled him to his chest and held him there.

“Stupid Witcher.” he mumbled into the warmth of his chest. “We’re going to overheat like this.”

A heartbeat later he was sound asleep. 

“Oh you have Got to be kidding me.” He lamented when the door opened. “Why does it have to be you! Are you following us?” He jabbed a finger at her pointedly.

“You’re the one at my doorstep. If anyone’s the stalker its you.” Her eyes caught on Geralt. Who was busy scenting his neck. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Love potion. Stupidly in love would have been the name on the vial. Had said vial had a name. Also there was more than one? I’m not totally sure which one did this. Oh and before you ask. No I didn’t bring them. They broke. On Geralt. Obviously.”

She sighed in an overdramatically put upon manner really. “Geralt. Follow.” She ordered. 

He did. Lilacs and gooseberries he’d have to hear Geralt sigh for the next month.

“You wait outside.” She halted him with a hand to his chest. “It’ll be easier to break without you there.” She lied. That smile definitely said it was a lie.

“Didn’t want to come into your stolen house anyway. Who knows what I might catch.”

“You won’t get to catch anything. Or pitch.” She smirked and closed the door on him.

Stupid attractive witches. Stupid attractive Witchers. Stupid mages and their cursed potions stored on rotten wooden shelves. He kicked at the stones around the house.

He froze at Yennefer’s roaring laughter through the window.

He ran too it. Banging on it until she magicked the lock open. He scrambled through.

Geralt growled. Face buried in his hands as she rolled with laughter.

“What happened? Did you break it? Did the magic bounce back and make her laugh hysterically? Because if so I think this time we should really leave her to it. She’ll be fine.”

“She broke it.” Geralt confirmed without looking up.

“Stupidly in love!” She wheezed. “Got that right at least!”

“You know laughter's the best medicine. So by that logic I think that we’ve paid plenty already. Lets go shall we? Before she decides to turn us into something?”

He tried to tug Geralt back out the window with him for a dashing escape. The absurd man refused.

“You know you were easier to manuver before she broke the love potion!”

“It wasn’t a love potion.” She wiped her eyes. Makeup still terribly perfect. “I’d call that mixture stupidly honest instead.”

He stopped his tugging. Hands still holding Geralt’s arm.

“Uh?” He so elegantly composed.

“The potions didn’t make him feel anything that wasn’t already there.” She explained. Like he was daft. He felt a little daft.

“Oh.” He managed this time. “Well. You’re my best friend.” He said once more. “And I love you.”

[seijorhi]

Untouchable

TW: Kidnapping, implied/referenced abuse & non-con

“Would you like something to drink? Water maybe? We have tea or coffee, or I’m sure we have some hot cocoa somewhere, it might not be the world’s greatest stuff, but it’s war-”

You plaster a tight smile across your face. “I’m fine, really.”

It’s a lie, but he nods politely anyway, the faintest hint of a flush dusting across his cheeks. He’s young, older than you obviously, but he barely looks old enough to be wearing the uniform at all, and certainly not old enough to be a Sergeant, but he’s shown you his badge, and Sergeant he is.

Sergeant Shinji Tanaka of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department.

But of all the officers they could have passed you off to, they stuck you in here with him - that had to mean something right?

He smiles gently, easing back in his seat. “Alright. So why don’t you start at the beginning, hm?”

You swallow, dropping your gaze to focus instead on your hands, twisting uneasily in your lap. Maybe this was a mistake. You weren’t thinking straight when you’d run, this- this was the first place you’d thought of coming.

This was the only place you’d thought was safe from him, but what if this was a mistake? Would they even believe you? Hell, what proof did you have?

You’d seen news footage once of some poor woman being rescued from her abductor's basement. Her captor had kept her locked away for months, he’d hurt her - understandably she’d been a mess. The image of the poor woman had stuck in your head for a long, long time afterwards. Sallow skin stretched too tightly over bones, covered in bruises and cuts, hair wild and untamed, and there had been this look in her eyes - hollow and vacant and yet so, so terrified. Nobody looking at her would ever doubt that she’d been through something awful, something traumatic.

You on the other hand… he always took such good care of you. He kept you well fed and healthy, made sure you had plenty of pretty things to wear, that your hair was brushed until it shined. He showered you in gifts, treated you when you indulged him and played along.

There were bruises and bite marks that littered your body - your breasts, the insides of your thighs, the soft, sensitive skin of your neck, but those were easily explained away. Love marks, left in the heat of passion. Hardly a smoking gun.

“It’s okay, take your time. There’s no rush, you’re safe here,” he murmurs, and it’s oddly calming. Your heart’s still pounding in your chest, and you’re terrified that at any moment that doors gonna swing open and there he’ll be with his arms folded over and that cold, disapproving stare… but despite that fear, it’s a little easier to breathe. He gives you an encouraging nod, “You can start with your name, and we’ll go from there.”

Your voice is little more than a whisper as you talk. You give him your name, and you don’t miss the way that his eyes widen just a fraction and the blood drains from his face.

“That’s not possible,” he breathes. He’s staring at you like he’s seen a ghost, and you have to fight the urge to curl up in a ball and shy away from him. It’s not like the stares that you’re used to, but it makes you feel vulnerable all the same - as if he’s laying you down bare and peeling away whatever was left of your defences. “You-” he takes a sharp breath, shaking his head. “I thought you looked familiar when they brought you in, but I never…” he trails off, clearing his throat loudly. Your heart is pounding against your ribs, and you can’t bring yourself to speak, and you don’t know what you’d say even if you could. You can only sit in that uncomfortable plastic chair and watch as the Sergeant tries to process… whatever it is that’s going on in his head. 

He seems to realise that you’re waiting on him to explain and he takes a deep breath, swallowing audibly. “September 27th two years back, we received a call from a young woman, hysterical, crying that her best friend had been kidnapped. Two officers were dispatched, and sure enough, the girl’s apartment was a mess. There was blood on the floor, furniture broken - signs of a struggle. Clothes were missing, some jewellery, a few pictures, but nothing of value. It wasn’t a burglary.”

You can barely breathe, you can hardly hear him over the pounding of your own pulse in your ears. You don’t remember much from the night you were taken, but you know that there wasn’t much of a struggle at all - not with his Quirk. You never stood a chance against a Pro Hero like him. The blood, the destroyed furniture, he must have done that later.

Yet it’s not the reminder of that night that you were stolen that makes your throat tighten uncomfortably, but the mention of your friend, your best friend -Riko. 

Does she still live in the same apartment, not two blocks away from here? You’d thought about going to her first, she was the one person you knew would believe you, but the thought of him finding you there with her-

She was Quirkless. Innocent and sweet and you loved her more than anyone. You couldn’t bear the thought of putting her life in danger for the sake of protecting you - he wouldn’t hesitate, you knew it. Not if he thought she was standing between the two of you. 

Sergeant Tanaka kept talking, his wide eyes fixed uncomfortably on yours, “They assigned me your case in my first few weeks here. A test, I suppose, or maybe just luck. Pretty young girl abducted from the ‘good’ side of town. They even had some heroes trying to find you, Hawks and Midnight… Eraser Head, I think-” He misses the way you flinch, your hands tightening into fists in your lap at the mention of your captor, too caught up in his recollection. You didn’t know that Aizawa had been a part of the search for you, but somehow it doesn’t surprise you in the least. “But you were just… gone. There was no DNA evidence, no trails or leads, nobody saw anything, nobody came forward and well, eventually the case went cold…” he trails off, awkwardly rubbing a hand against the back of his neck, but you know plenty well what he isn’t saying.

You were nobody important. People went missing all the time - nobody expected him to keep searching forever, especially not Pro Heroes. Still, you can’t deny that it hurts, that your life, your disappearance was just shoved away into some file in a box in a room full of dusty old records.

A sudden memory flashes to your mind - long fingers brushing through your hair, his lips trailing a loving path from your neck up along your jaw. ‘Nobody will ever love you or care for you as much as I do,” he murmurs. ‘You know that, don’t you, kitten?’

Something flickers in the Sergeant’s eyes and he sits up straighter in his chair, “I can’t help but remember the cases that I don’t solve, all the people I’ve let down, but I never thought I’d ever see the day that you would just walk through those doors. I-I,” he exhales harshly. “I am so sorry.”

And suddenly you’re crying, tears spilling down your cheeks as your shoulders tremble. If anything, the Sergeant only looks more alarmed at the sudden burst of emotion and he reaches for you only to pause with his hand hovering awkwardly a few inches off your shoulder. “Please, I- I need your help,” you manage to gasp between sobs. “I can’t let him- I can’t-” you can barely finish your sentence, but the Sergeant just nods.

He ends up going to fetch you that cocoa that he mentioned. 

When he comes back it’s with your file, and a notepad and pen. “I want you to tell me everything, or as much as you can,” he amends when he notices the way you stiffen.

But there’s that nagging feeling in the back of your head that tells you he’s not going to believe a word of it, and what’s worse is that you can’t even blame him for it. Pro Heroes were supposed to be good, pillars of the community, role models for children everywhere.

Aizawa’s record is spotless. He might not have the rankings of Endeavor or Hawks, but he’s respected all the same, especially as one of the teachers at UA!

Your fingers play with the hem of your skirt, and you can’t bear to meet his gaze, so you just stare at the metal table instead, willing yourself not to cry again. 

This time, the Sergeant doesn’t miss your discomfort. “Hey, look at me,” he says, and reluctantly you tear your gaze from the shining metal surface to meet his stare. “Whoever it is that did this to you - they’re not gonna get away with it. They can’t hurt you here, I swear it.”

But they don’t know Aizawa like you do - the lengths he’ll go to for you.

You take a deep, shaking breath, “... Even if the person who did this is a Pro Hero?”

Tanaka’s eyes widen for just a split second before he schools his face into a blank mask. The seconds that tick by as you wait for him to speak feel like a lifetime, and the silence is deafening. 

You know the level of Hero worship that’s so prevalent in Tokyo, hell, you’d been guilty of it yourself before everything happened. They were your heroes too, they protected you, protected the City and they could do no wrong - at least, until Aizawa ripped that fantasy away from you.

You can’t read his face, you don’t know what he’s thinking and it’s awful. You have no reason to lie; you don’t want some big public spectacle or fame, you don’t even care if he gets punished, you just want to disappear somewhere and know that he can’t ever find you again. 

You just want to go to sleep in your own bed without having his arms wrap around you and pull you close.

It’s an eternity before finally, the Sergeant’s impassive facade breaks and he huffs out a sigh and shakes his head. “Un-fucking-believeable.”

It hurts. You’d braced yourself for it - the disbelief, a scoff or a roll of his eyes, but somehow it’s worse than you expected. You feel a wave of nausea rise up and suddenly, it’s all too much. The room is too bright, too quiet, and you can’t bear the thought of spending another second in there with the Sergeant. Tears prick at your eyelids, stinging, and you have to blink them furiously back. Part of you just wants to disappear entirely, but mostly you just want to run and hide and cry your fucking heart out. “I-I shouldn’t have come here,” you mutter, forcing your shaking legs to stand. “I’m sorry-”

Sergeant Tanaka stands so abruptly that it startles you. “A name.”

You can only blink owlishly at him. “What?”

“Which Pro? I need his name. Or hers.”

The tension in the room is palpable. You can’t bring yourself to hope, but… “You believe me?”

The Sergeant’s eyebrow quirks, but his face is stony and impassive. “Are you lying to me?”

“No.” Your voice doesn’t waver this time.

He nods, slowly lowering himself back into his seat, “Good, then I need you to sit back down and tell me everything, starting with their name.” When you don’t move, he sighs, his expression softening, “Please. I failed you the first time, and it’s not often we get a second chance. I don’t give a flying fuck how powerful or popular the Hero who did this to you is, I promise you - for whatever they did, they will be punished and, more importantly, they will never, never lay another finger on you again.”

“S-shouta Aizawa,” you whisper, sinking back into the plastic seat. “Eraser Head.”

He leaves shortly afterwards promising to bring water and something to eat. You’re shaking and food is the last thing on your mind, but you nod anyway. 

It could have been five minutes or twenty by the time he returns, there’s no clock in the interrogation room, and you don’t have any way of telling the time. When he does come back, he’s got a sandwich for you, and there’s another officer with him - older than Tanaka and judging from the pristine uniform, more senior. The Sergeant introduces him as Chief Inspector Ishizaki.

The two of them listen as you begin again, talking through the night of your abduction - or what you can remember of it at any rate. You tell them about waking up in Aizawa’s apartment, and the first few weeks there. They don’t interrupt when you describe the punishments - the degrading acts he so loved subjecting you to, or the first night that he fucked you, ignoring your desperate cries and pleading as he got himself off. You don’t have the courage to tell them that he forced you to enjoy it too - you can’t forget the feeling on his calloused fingers rubbing circles in your clit as he rocked into you, or the way that he’d eat you out for what felt like hours at a time, making you cum again and again until you begged him to stop.

They listen without judgement as you describe the first time you’d tried to escape, only making it to the end of the street - and the broken arm you’d earned for your efforts.

Shouta had been particularly cruel after that little incident, but there was a sick kind of satisfaction in his smile as he’d held you afterwards. He’d showered you in his kisses, tucking your sobbing form under his chin, murmuring threats so sweetly that you could have sworn they were soft declarations of love.

You can’t bear the thought of what he’d do to you if he ever got his hands on you again. 

The Chief Inspector’s phone rings as you finish explaining how you’d finally managed to escape, and with an apologetic bow to you, he leaves you alone with the Sergeant.

The silence that fills the room isn’t exactly comfortable, but you just don’t know what to say. Your head is pounding, and you’re suddenly grateful for the water that they’d fetched earlier. There’s more you can tell them - you’ve barely scratched the surface of the eighteen or so months that Shouta kept you, but you’re exhausted and emotionally drained and it’s taking all the energy you have left just to keep yourself sitting upright.

Tanaka’s face has remained a carefully sculpted blank mask since his superior stepped into the room, but it softens now that it’s just the two of you. He offers a small smile, “You’re doing really well. I can’t imagine how difficult this must be for you.”

You don’t really know what to say to that, so you just nod.

“Is there somebody you’d like us to call, your family perhaps or-”

“Riko.” The words slip out of your mouth before you’re even aware of them, but Tanaka's smile widens just a fraction. 

“Of course. I’ll see if we can’t-” but his sentence is cut off as the door opens again. You can’t help but jump as a burst of panic jolts through you, but you calm yourself when you realise it’s only the Chief Inspector.

Tanaka says something but his words are drowned out as Ishizaki looks at you. His face is grave and pale, and there’s this look in his eyes which makes your heart drop into your stomach. He ignores the Sergeant entirely, focusing instead on you. “I-I’m sorry, truly. It was above my head.” 

With a bowed head, he steps aside and your heart seizes in your chest as another figure steps into the light.

Aizawa. 

He’s not wearing his Hero costume, just a pair of dark grey sweats and an old black sweater of his. With his messy hair hanging loose and his eyes bloodshot and rimmed in red, he looks disarmingly non-threatening, but you know better.

The moment that your eyes meet his, your world implodes. 

“Have you had fun, kitten?” he asks with a cold smile, his voice deadly soft. 

He takes a single step inside and you jump to your feet, “No,” you breathe, shaking your head. “No, no, no-” Unbidden, tears spring to your eyes and you lurch back away from the table, away from him, until you hit the wall. 

He can’t be here, he - you… no.

No.

You can’t comprehend the betrayal, the shame that burns on the Chief Inspector’s face, all you can focus on is the dark, possessive look in Aizawa’s eyes as he stares at you from across the room. It’s like a scene from your nightmares as he walks towards you, arms open as if he expects for you to just fall into him. 

“What the fuck is this?!” Tanaka growls, all but throwing himself between the two of you. “Chief, you heard what she said, what this piece of shit did to her!” he spat, glaring up at the Hero as you cower away behind him. “Like fucking hell am I gonna let him lay another finger on her!”

Aizawa’s smile doesn’t waver, “Move.”

“Chief!” Tanaka snarls as you cling to his back and whimper, a detail that isn’t missed by the Erasure Hero. 

The older man just sighs, “Stand down, Sergeant Tanaka. There is nothing we can do.” 

His words drop like the executioner's blade, and what little was left of your resolve crumples. But Tanaka just shakes his head, “Like hell there isn’t. He kidnapped her, he raped her! Since when do we stand aside and let monsters like him walk free?!”

“Since we received orders to do so from the Commissioner to do just that. I won’t repeat myself, Tanaka. Stand. Down.”

The unspoken words ring loudly in the air. Aizawa’s a Pro Hero; he’s all but untouchable.

Aizawa watches Tanaka impassively, his dark eyes gleaming as the Sergeant spits on the ground in front of him and glares, but he complies - reluctantly tugging himself free of your grip to step aside.

With Tanaka out of the way, Shouta grins at you, though it’s a far cry from the soft, loving smiles you know he’s capable of. It’s a look that promises pain - punishment - and revels in it. 

“Sweetheart?” he purrs, “It’s time to go home.”

You can barely force your legs to move as the tears spill silently down your face. You don’t want to go back to him, and every fibre of your being fights against it, but just like Tanaka, you know you don’t have a choice anymore. The longer you make him wait, the worse it’ll be.

Shouta lets out a barely perceptible sigh as you walk into his arms, and he wastes no time in tucking you against his shoulder and placing a surprisingly gentle kiss against the crown of your head. “There’s my girl, I’ve missed you,” he murmurs, nuzzling his face into your hair.

You don’t reply. It’s only been a few hours since you’d escaped him, but you were never really out of his reach at all, were you?

[wickedw3asleys]

MINEFIELDS - Pt. 3

George x reader

-> Part 1 , Part 2...

WARNINGS: emotional scenes, mentions of depresion, ptsd... george and y/n had had a hard time basically

AN: sorry for posting these so quickly, for once i had them written in advance and i want to post a part every day :) aLSO VERY SORRY ABOUT DEAN HE'S AN ANGEL AND I LOVE HIM I PROMISE TO DO HIM BETTER IN THE FUTURE :(

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You woke up too a silent house, the moonlight shyly entering your window and resting on your face. You were feeling a little better now, more rested and ready to enter your new journey at the Burrow.

You were feeling peaceful, feeling the sheets in between your fingers and listening to the old house creaking and breathing in the wind that was calmly brushing it's walls; but your peace was quickly interrupted by the thought of George. He had told you that he wanted to talk to you, and now seemed like the moment to do so.

Looking at the clock on the wall in front of you, you were afraid of the current time of night, but as a fortunate surprise, it was only 2 a.m., meaning that George would probably be still awake, or at least, not deeply sleeping.

You got up from the bed, instantly feeling the cold floor under your feet; put a sweater and made your way to the door.

No one was awake anymore, not one light was peeking from under the doors, not even from the living room, so you thought George would still be in his room.

You shyly knocked, not too hard, afraid of Angelina waking up fuming rage, but hoping it would still be loud enough for George to hear it. You waited outside his door for a while and you actually were actually ready to go back to your room and let him sleep when he quietly opened the door.

"Sshh...", he put his finger on his lips. You looked over his shoulder and saw Angelina's back on the bed.

"Okay...", you smiled.

George closed his door and smiled at you, "Let's go then..."

You followed him downstairs, where the fireplace automatically lit up the moment you stepped in the living room.

"This has always amazed me...", you chuckle.

George continued smiling; he warmly took your hand and you both sat on the couch.

For a while you kept looking at the fireplace, still feeling George's gaze on you.

"It's rude to stare...", you tell him without looking at him.

He softly chuckles, shaking his head, "Sorry... I'm still processing the fact that you're here"

"Me too, actually..."

You felt his body relax next to you, his back now on the back of the sofa.

"I don't really know how to start this conversation...", you admit, looking at him.

"Me neither... I want this to be calm and with no rush... Like we used to talk..."

"These were the best talks...", you smile at the thought.

"Okay, sorry for being so direct and shitting on the "no rush" part, but... why did you leave, Y/N?", he asks after a few seconds.

"Going right in, I see...", you chuckle, "After everything, I thought it would be better for me to disappear from everyone's life... I thought it would be better for your family, for me... And for you... I thought it would help us heal quicker..."

"No offense, but... That's bullshit...", George chuckles, making you laugh too.

"Fuck you! Everything I did was to protect and help you!", you pushed his arm.

"Ouch! No need to get aggressive on that one!", he laughs, "But really... Why did you leave?"

Your smile slowly faded away, not totally sure how to say it. "I wasn't sure if I would have been able to look at you ever again...", your voice breaks.

As sad and selfish it sounded, it was the truth. It is terrible and literally the worst thing someone could ever say but you couldn't lie to him, not anymore, not like that.

"I felt the same for so long...", George answers, "And because I know and understand that feeling, I can't be mad at you for that..."

"George..."

"It's true... I mean, it's normal... I don't have any bad feelings towards you for that... It's just-

"I don't know how to justify or explain myself... I truly don't, but I promise, George, that it is not like that anymore... I see you, my friend, my Georgie. I was just afraid... I don't know how to explain all of that...", you started to feel you throat getting sore and dry, not knowing how to continue, "I-I... I was afraid to see him in you, and not being able to see you anymore... Does that make sense...?"

"It does... I get it... Promise...", he warmly smiles, "I was feeling exactly like that at first... I was afraid to forget about me and only seeing... Fred... And the first time I looked through a mirror I... I couldn't do it...", George lowered his head.

"Y/N... You loved him, right?", he asks after a few seconds of silence.

You nodded as you felt your eyes fill with tears again, "I'm sorry, George... I should have told you..."

He gently took your hand in his, locking his eyes with yours again, "I knew... Don't worry about that...", he softly smiled, "I've always thought you two would have ended up together, y'know?"

You let out a shaky breath you didn't know you were holding. For all these years spent with the twins, you have found yourself wondering the same thing too, and hoping for it to be true. You truly loved Fred. More than a friend. Always.

"But it's okay now...", you smile between tears, "He was still my best friend after all, just like you... I forgot about these feelings... I just miss him as him, as my best friend..."

George sighed, but never let your hand go, "Me too..."

"I didn't want to leave you, George... I want you to know that... What I did was stupid and impulsive... But I never wanted to do it..."

"I know, darling... I know...", he smiled at you, "But I needed you..."

"I know, I'm sorry...", you felt your eyes burn with tears, "I swear leaving was the biggest mistake in my life..."

"Like I said, you're here now... That's all that matters...", he says, tightening his grip on your hand.

"And what about you? You and Angelina, huh?", you tried to calm the situation.

"Uhm... Yeah...", he smiled, "It's... a long story..."

"That's why we're here, right?"

He chuckled again, "Well... I've had a... pretty bad time after... Fred's death...", his voice broke, "And I needed someone to be there for me... And she was there... She was writing to me almost every day, asking about me and how I was holding on... And when I told her that every day got worse and worse, that I wasn't even able to look at myself in the mirror... She came here... And she never left..."

"She helped you get better...", you say, faking a smile.

"Sort of... And one thing led to another and well... We've been dating for 3 years now..."

"I'm happy for you"

"No, you're not...", George laughs, making your

mouth open in fake annoyance.

"W-what do you mean? Of course I am! You're my best friend! I'm happy you had someone like her during these difficult times..."

"You're happy I wasn't alone... You're not happy for that person to he her...", he winked at you. He definitely knew you too well. It was true, you would have hoped George to have anybody else by his side but her.

"She wasn't very nice to me in school... I've always thought she hates me or something...", you awkwardly rubbed your forehead.

"Oh she does, she definitely does..."

"George!", you laugh loudly.

"What? You stole us from her since day one!", he laughed with you, "First Fred, then me... You were always first..."

"It's that true...?", you ask, looking at him in the eyes.

"Of course...", you could see him gain nervousness as he started looking at the fireplace, "It was always you... For everything... For Fred and for me..."

"W-what do you-

"Don't ask, you know what it means...", he looked down, as if he was ashamed of his answer.

You were completely in shock by his confession, paralyzed; not knowing what do say or even how to form words.

"Come on... You're going to tell me that you didn't know?"

"I-I... No... I didn't know...", you put your hand on your mouth, not believing anything, "You mean... You and Fred?"

He didn't say anything, he just smiled and nodded.

"Oh..."

"Sorry, Y/N..."

"It's o-okay... I just... I don't know...", you felt your heart beat quicker and quicker every second.

George chuckled and pulled you into a hug,

"Don't say anything, you don't have to if you don't want to... It's alright", he whispered to you.

It's not that you didn't want to say anything, you actually had a lot to say, but you didn't know how, and words refused to leave your mouth, fearing to say something bad when you didn't mean it. So you just stayed there, in his arms, breathing in his cologne and enjoying the warm feeling of his body against yours.

"And about you... How's it going with Dean?", he asks, breaking the silence.

"You know about Dean?", you were surprised by the question, you'd never thought he would know.

"Huh? How do you know I'm with him?"

"Hermione snitched last year...", he chuckles, "I'd never thought he was your type, though..."

"Come on, you just don't like him for breaking your sister's heart...", you smile.

"That's... not entirely false...", he says, making you laugh.

"I needed someone too... He was there when no one was..."

"Did he heal you?", George asks.

You take a moment to think about your answer. Has Dean really helped you? Did you heal thanks to him? You really appreciate him, and cherished every moment he stayed with you when you couldn't sleep or eat. He helped you ease your mind and find a little peace in your life. He was there when no one was.

He fed you, held your hair up when your stomach couldn't handle the food, when you woke up hysterically crying at 4 a.m., when you totally dissociated from reality...

"I would like to say yes, because he was there, always... At any time of the day and night... But I know he couldn't give me what I needed... And I know he tried his best, he has spent the last 4 years taking care of me, basically... Without asking anything in return...", you sigh, "But deep down I know he's not what I needed..."

"And what do you need?"

"I don't know yet..."

Once again, you let the silence install between you and George, not really knowing what to say, just thinking about everything.

But quickly, your thoughts got interrupted by the sound of the family clock hitting 4 a.m.

"We should go back to our rooms...", George says, helping you stand up with him.

"Yeah... I'm sorry for keeping you up, you have to sleep too"

"Don't worry, it was my idea after all...", he smiles.

You exchanged a quick smile and glance before going up the stairs together through the darkness of the house.

"Good night, Y/N..."

"Night, Georgie...", you took his arm and placed a soft kiss on his cheek, petting his hair on the way.

"Thank you for coming back, I truly mean it..."

"Thank you for not hating me...", you smile. And with that, George smiles and go back to his room, quietly closing the door behind him. You copied his actions and got back to yours, thinking about the conversation you had with George. You knew that lots of things were still needed to be said and talked about, but you didn't have the heart to ask more of it. You didn't want to rush things or pressure George to talk about the past or his feelings, so you thought it would be a good idea to go slowly but surely; letting George take his time and talk to you whenever he feels like it. After all, as selfish as it would sound, you were there mostly for him. You were happy to see the others, especially Molly; but you knew George was the most affected by everything, and you wanted to stay with him.

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tag-list:

@28cnn , @lindsaytriestowrite , @jenniweaslee , @amityyyjade , @dracossimp01 , @themoonwithprophets , @hufflepuffflowers , @georgeweasley19 , @mendesdelight

[petri808]

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Inukag Royalty Au

A month had gone by since that moment in the library and it appeared that Kagome’s worries regarding the Inu royal family were unfounded. No one treated her differently so far, if everyone even knew the full circumstances, but even Inuyasha’s father didn’t hold her responsible for his son’s decision. Frankly, the man hadn’t been all that surprised Inuyasha had fallen in love with Kagome stating that it would take someone like her to reign him in. The Inutaisho counseled them about the obvious discretion that needed to be maintained, but at least with one less worry out of the way she could breathe again. Kagome returned to her duties tutoring Rin with a reinvigorated attitude and left the rest in fates hands.

The morning started out normal, with nothing special planned and just the daily routines to follow. Kagome and Rin were in the library during the morning tutoring session when a palace guard unexpectedly came looking for her. “Ms. Tanaka, I’m sorry to interrupt, but there is a woman at the gate calling herself Sango who purports to know you.”

‘Sango?!’ “Oh! Yes!” ‘What is she doing here?!’ Kagome internally panicked but kept her cool. “She’s an old family friend of mine.”

“Very well,” the guard bowed. “I shall have her escorted to your room.”

“Thank you,” Kagome nodded. “I’ll be there shortly.”

Once Rin was settled into her studies with instructions, Kagome rushed to her bedroom to find out why Sango had come looking for her. Part of her was frustrated for having revealed her location, but she knew the woman enough to know she wouldn’t have come unless it was important. Immediately upon entering the room, Kagome’s instincts were right. Sango looked rushed and worried as she paced back and forth. She hugged her friend. “Is something wrong?”

The woman nodded as they separated. “I’m sorry Princess, but it was a matter of urgency I come. I was informed that the betrothed King has changed the marriage arrangement and demanded that the wedding be held immediately, or he will invade our kingdom.” Sango dropped her head, “so when I realized the gravity of the situation, I knew I had to tell them the truth to protect the kingdom. Your parents tried to hold things off…”

“What?! But when I overheard them talking about this prince, they said he was a good guy. Now he’s threatening an invasion?!” Kagome slumped on her bed and stared at the floor. “I never would have thought— I mean I guess I hoped he would just drop this if I wasn’t available anymore… wait a King?” Catching her confusion, she looked up. “I swear they said a prince?”

“I’m very sorry Princess, I don’t know all the details, but I fear for the King and Queen. From what I’ve learned this King can be ruthless.”

“Did they tell you a name?”

Sango nodded. “King Naraku.”

“Wait, I know that name! He was here not long ago visiting the Inutaisho. Inuyasha didn’t trust him either.” Kagome shuddered, “he was so creepy.”

“Well, whoever this guy really is, he sounds serious.” Sango pulled a crown from her satchel and handed it to Kagome. “We must leave immediately Princess.”

Kagome took the crown from her attendant with a sigh. “I… I-I’ll need to tell Inuyasha. I can’t just disappear, and to leave Rin that would— I can’t…” Kagome’s shaking head dropped into her hands. “Oh, I don’t know what to do.”

“If you must tell him, then tell him, but Princess, we really must leave as soon as possible.”

“I know… I know…” Kagome stood up slowly as she affixed the crown to her head. She’d never wanted to wear the piece again, but she had no choice. “Follow me. I believe he’s in the training hall.”

They could hear the echoes of clanging steel and sounds of gruff words being thrown around the closer they got to the training hall. It was a special building on the opposite side of the castle near the stables where the prince would often train with his guard Miroku to pass the time. Kagome tried to ponder on the right words, but is there a right way to say anything like this? It was all a lie… I’m sorry you fell in love with me and broke an arrangement because of me… I love you too, but I must marry this other guy… Tears were already trickling down her face as she opened the door. The men stopped mid-swing when they heard the door open, turning to see who’d come in. Kagome’s breathing hitched at the site of the glistening hanyo, sweat beading down his bared chest. Oh, heaven’s if it were under any other circumstances then this one, but the sight only broke her emotions wide open.

“Kagome?” Inuyasha lowered his sword, but instantly sheathed it and rushed over when he saw the tears. Miroku followed the prince as well but kept his weapon out. “What’s going on?! And who is this?! And what—” he touched her crown before clasping her cheeks between his hands. “Kagome, what the hell is going on?!”

“Inuyasha…” Kagome’s tears broke down into a full-blown hysterical sob. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I-I don’t know how to tell you this…” her body went limp under the weight of the pain. She didn’t want to leave him. She didn’t want to leave Rin. She didn’t want to leave the palace and the Inu’s who’d she come to adore… It all hurt so damn much that she was even in this situation!

Inuyasha caught Kagome and they both slid to the floor onto their knees. He cradled her to his chest as her tears fell and she gripped to his vest. “Tell me what? Please! What is going on?!”

“I’ve been lying… about who I really am,” Kagome’s shaky voice choked out the words. “My true identity is Princess Kagome Higurashi of the Higurashi kingdom…”

“You— wait, so all this time…” Inuyasha glanced at the other woman. “And who is this?”

“Sango is my friend and Lady in Waiting.”

“But why now?” He gripped Kagome’s shoulders and forced her to face him, “I want the truth Kagome!”

Kagome faced him but kept her eyes averted to the ground. “I ran away because of an arranged marriage, but now that suitor is threatening my kingdom if the wedding doesn’t take place. Sango came to warn me—” Turning her pleading eyes to him. “Inuyasha, I don’t want to leave! But she said this King is a ruthless man threatening to invade and I can’t just let him hurt my people! I can’t…” her voice quieted, broken and defeated. “I know I shouldn’t have run, and I swear I never intended for any of this… but I have to go.”

Inuyasha’s grip tightened in restraint and his voice lowered almost into a growl. “Do you really think I’d just let you walk out of here!”

“But Inuyasha—”

“WHO IS THIS KING?!” He shook her hard in his anger. “Tell me!”

Her eyes flashed wide with fear. “Naraku! King Naraku!” Kagome spit out.

Inuyasha suddenly let Kagome go and looked up at Miroku. “So that’s why that bastard was staring at Kagome! He recognized her!” He jumped to his feet. “Fucking bastard! I won’t let him get away with this! I’ll track him down and kill him!”

Miroku stepped forward and grabbed Inuyasha’s arm. “We can’t do anything brash, your highness. You need to speak to your father and apprise him of the situation.”

“Then go find him and we’ll meet in his war room,” Inuyasha instructed Miroku. He then turned to the women, helping Kagome to her feet. “You two follow me.”

On the way to the war room, Inuyasha pressed the women for more information. He wanted to be upset with Kagome for hiding her identity from him, but under the circumstances had no time to let it affect him and besides, was he any better? He’d refused to accept a marriage arrangement too, so who was he to judge her for wanting out— especially to a guy like Naraku. According to Kagome she didn’t even know until that day King Naraku had been the intended betrothed. Regardless of his own emotions, Inuyasha was a man on a mission with a Princess to save.

The Inutaisho sat down on a chair and listened silently as Kagome first came clean about her true identity. She told him everything from start to finish, from the running away and why, up until meeting him in the palace, baring her soul to the man. Then she, Inuyasha, and Sango provided all the information they knew of the situation with Naraku, including Inuyasha’s suspicious from the last visit. Inuyasha implored his father to do something because King Naraku shouldn’t be allowed to do what he did. All through the conversation, Kagome couldn’t tell what the king was thinking as they told their story, because he showed little to no emotion, simply sitting there listening intently. Once they finished, the man sat back and pinched his brow.

“This is such a mess…” Inutaisho sighed.

“Is that all you have to say?!” Inuyasha snapped. “Did I not make it clear? He needs to be stopped!”

“Oh, I heard you loud and clear,” Inutaisho stood up. “And this is a giant mess!”

Kagome dropped to her knees in a low bow. “Your majesty, please forgive me for causing all these problems. I never intended to cause anything trouble.”

“No, my dear,” he kneeled and placed his hand on her shoulder, coaxing her to rise. “I fear your parents and I are partially to blame.”

“Huh?” The four young people uttered at the same time in confusion.

“What do you mean?” Kagome and Inuyasha asked simultaneously.

Inutaisho dropped back onto his chair. “The reason neither of you were told who you were marrying is because we’d feared if you found out, you would object. We figured we’d wait until just before the wedding to reveal the information… and I realize now that was a big mistake.”

He turned first to Kagome. “You ran away. But your parents never informed me of that information. I can only assume they hoped it would all work out, but now I know why they easily accepted the new agreement I offered after Inuyasha objected.”

“And you son,” he turned to Inuyasha. “At first you accepted the arrangement, but after meeting Kagome decided to rebel.”

“I’d only met with your parents,” Inutaisho addressed Kagome, “so I didn’t know you were their daughter when you came here. I suspected because of your scent and your behavior but assumed you may have been a distant relative.”

Kagome turned to Inuyasha. “Wait so that means…”

“You and I… we’re supposed to be married,” he finished her sentence.

“Wow, what a small world,” Sango chuckled. But when she received a swift glare from Kagome, she apologized. “You have to admit it’s amusing, Princess.”

“Fate is working overtime,” Miroku added. “You two should be thrilled. But, your majesty,” he directed his question to the king. “Then how did Naraku end up in a pact with the Higurashi’s?”

“I can only assume as Inuyasha surmised, that he recognized Kagome during the visit.”

“But he still wouldn’t have known she was available,” Sango chimed in with a genuine confused question. “I don’t understand how he would have known.”

“Spies…” Inuyasha growled under his breath. “I wouldn’t put it past him to pay off a palace servant to report on information.”

“That may all be very true, but for now we’ll need to figure out how to undo this debacle…” Inutaisho lowered his voice. “And quietly, just in case there are spies under this roof.”

“How are we supposed to do that?” Inuyasha questioned his father.

Inutaisho smiled. “I think I have an idea, as long as the Higurashi’s agree to it.”