#every time the phone rings i think it's them and then i remember they won't call ever again

[soryualeksi]

cw suicide mention in the tags

[singmyaubade]

No Longer Yours

James Potter x Female!Reader

A/N: I am trying a new way of writing these stories, there won't be lots of dialogue in this part, but there will be more; this is just a look into where the story starts.

IB: In The Cold November Rain by @sweetsweetjellybean (Make sure to check it out, it’s amazing and one of the best I’ve ever read !)

Summary: James had disregarded you for multiple years, but when you have an epiphany in your final year, how does it feel to taste his own medicine?

Warning: It may contain swearing and soon-to-be smut.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

You never considered yourself to be a pushover when it came to things. Instead, you would use the word "understanding" and used it the most when it came to James Fleamont Potter.

He meant the absolute world to you since you were nine when you first met him. He lived next to you, both of your rooms being next to each other. You could always see him in his window, not that you were stalking, but you could never quite get your eyes off him.

Every time he would catch you staring, he would give you a wave, never felt weirded out. Then he would ring you up and ask you to come for dinner with your family. You would always accept unless your mother insisted on not intruding on them anymore.

You always caught his look of disappointment when you told him you couldn't come over, seeing him on the phone with you. It would always make your heart flutter, always having to stop the smile from forming on your face.

And then, after dinner, he would always come over, and you two would hang out (of course, with the door open). But you knew James would never try anything.

Your parents had suspicions when you both were fully formed teenagers and had hormones. Again, you knew James wasn't a perv; he respected you.

Even when he would slap your thigh in laughter when you said a joke or when his front pressed against your back when you two joked around, or his touch would linger when he ticked you.

But that was all besides the point; you loved James like no other. You loved the rest of the Marauders, too, but with James, there was no questioning if the love was different.

The only times you weren't sure about that 'love' was when Lily Evans would come around. He never truly knew how to pay attention to or regard you when she came around, but he claimed it was 'love.'

You wondered if he loved Lily the same way you loved him or if it was more complete, passionate, and extraordinary. You could never ask; James wouldn't know what to do. You couldn't blame Lily, it wasn't her fault, and she turned down his advances multiple times.

You were sure that James would move on, but then, during sixth year, Lily confessed that she was starting to have a crush on James.

You tried hiding your disappointment, but it was hard; it nearly broke your heart; you knew James would tell you all about it as soon as you saw him again.

There was no wish to be cruel, but a part of you, maybe the whole, was hoping she would joke. Perhaps she would again realize how immature James was and remember how he bullied Snape.

But that would be selfish and unfair to James; you were supposed to be his best friend, and he deserves this.

And you knew Lily was kind, beautiful, thoughtful, and honest. She deserved James more than he deserved her. You wouldn't break her happiness because it was pure; if you did, it would be evil.

So when she asked you if you were okay with that, constantly questioning your feelings towards James, you said,

"Of course, you should go out with James," You placed a hand on her shoulder, "I think you two would be amazing together." A genuine bright smile passed your face as she embraced you and thanked you for being truthful with her.

While they dated, James would always tell you every time he and Lily did something.

From every kiss, every date, and every cute moment to Lily laughing at a joke he made about crisps in Hogsmeade or the dove they saw randomly, which is a sign that they are genuinely in love.

After telling you every detail, he would embrace you in a tight hug so you could smell his scent entirely. He would thank you for being "such a good friend and say that "he loves you."

You knew he loved you but you wished he loved you in a different way. A way that his heart would scrunch when you were around or a way that made him want to compliment your hair or your smile like he did with Lily.

You wished it pissed you off enough to be mad at him, but every time he hugged you, you forgave him and knew it was just him being happy and wanting to tell a friend.

He still always joked around with you the same and bantered with you, but it was just less, you wanted more, but he could only give you so much time, and you knew that.

Only a few of your friends understood, like Remus and Dorcas. They would comfort you in every moment when you felt unsure of yourself, or you just wanted to talk.

You probably would have been misunderstood if it weren't for them, but they acknowledged and validated your feelings.

That's what got you through that time.

Nonetheless, there was no point in dwelling on past memories. James and Lily broke up at the end of that very year, it being mutual due to the realization of too many things clashing.

He was a bit of a wreck but recognized that it was for the better. It didn't stop him from sometimes crying in your arms, talking about how much he missed Lily.

Eventually, James started to move on, talking to you more, joking with you, and inviting you to sit next to him at dinner. You had missed this for so long and were grateful.

He went back to tickling you and playfighting with you. He would even make you sit with him during potions.

This was until the end of the year Quidditch match, Gryffindor had won, and excitement had raised. You went to congratulate James on the win, having a big jar of Fizzing Whizbees in your hand, his favorite.

You opened the door a crack, overhearing him but not wanting to interrupt his conversation with the rest of the Quidditch team.

"Come on, Potter, don't tell me you aren't going to snog her tonight," A boy you recognized as Matthew Collingwood teased, "She's been over you for years; why not just hit it and quit it?" Your face contorted to disgust after hearing his use of words.

"Don't tell me you are talking about Y/n," James scoffed, "There is no way I would ever think of her like that," A part of your heart broke hearing his words; he didn't even defend his last words.

"I mean, she does have a fat bum," Another boy laughed.

"Oy, she's like a sister to me, don't talk about her like that," James warned, his tone sounding half serious as the boy put his hands up jokingly.

A sister.

"Okay, but come on, Potter, you have to shag her at least once before we graduate," Matthew sneered.

"Listen, boys, I wouldn't touch Y/n if she were the last girl on earth," He belittled, "Besides, she would cling to my cock like crazy after that; I mean, look at her now, can't even take a piss without her peering over my shoulder." He gestured, pretending to take a piss and looking behind him to see if you were around.

The boys hollered, laughing at James’s visual representation of you.

Tears brimmed your eyes as you dropped the glass-made jar, shattering in the process. You let go of the door, turning your heel to run away.

The tears started running down your cheeks as you wiped each of them as they came. You went under a tree, crying your eyes out, wondering why James would be so cruel.

He was your best friend, and you thought he loved you enough to not make fun of you. James could sometimes be thoughtless, but he never was brutal to you.

Did he really think you were clingy, consistently all over him? Did he get annoyed by how much you were around him? Would he never like you even if you were the last girl on the planet?

You were humiliated, embarrassed by his words, his thoughts. Every feeling of James Potter that made you happy and wanted to fall into his arms turned into hate and resentment, his words reiterating in your mind a thousand times.

That night, you vowed never to make James Potter make you feel that way again.

So that night, you didn't join the celebration. You told your friends that your stomach was hurting and you weren't in the mood for festivities.

You didn't know if James had asked where you were during that night, and you didn't want to know after the words he had shared with others.

Since you were allowed to leave Hogwarts the day after summer began, you did. You didn't wait for James to go with you; you left without him, wishing all your friends goodbye, dismissing all questions about why you were leaving early and blaming it on your mother's wishes.

"Okay, well," Lily sighed, "Make sure to ring me over the summer and visit if you can." You embraced her and nodded your head, telling her that you will.

"And don't forget to ring me as well," Dorcas said from behind you as you went over to her and hugged her tightly, "Whatever he did," She whispered in your ear, "Give him hell."

You pulled out of the hug and gave her a smile, "I will."

As she left, you approached the Gryffindor common room to find Remus reading as usual.

"Gonna wish a good friend goodbye?" Remus questioned, looking over at you. You were glad he wasn’t questioning why you were leaving so early in the morning.

"How could I ever not?" You asked, embracing him for a minute.

"So, are you gonna tell me what he did?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"How do you and Dorcas know everything?" You said, rolling your eyes.

"How good of friends would we be if we didn't." He smirked, "I can ta-"

You cut him off, "No, this is not your responsibility; I will take care of it." You smiled, "But thank you for caring; it means the most to me."

"Of course," He said as you nodded and turned to leave, "And take care of yourself." You turned back, giving him a reassuring smile.

After saying all your goodbyes for the school year, you sat in a window seat, looking at the school you loved dearly. You never thought you could quite say this, but you were ready for home.

Once you returned home, a letter was waiting for you on your window seal stating,

Dear Y/n,

Give him hell.

Sincerely the only one you need,

Dorcas Meadows.

And what kind of friend would you be if you didn't do what was asked?

[deceitfuldevout]

Happy Purge

Purge AU: Soft!Dark!Mike Kiernan x Student!Reader

Word Count: +2,068

Warning(s): +18, Non con, Stalking, Kidnapping, Power Imbalance, Use of blood as lube, Mild gore, Purge day.

Author's Note(s): I was thinking about this and coincidentally it's kinktober haha!

It's been almost a decade since the first purge. A lot has changed since then. You remember a time when people didn’t have to worry about looking over their shoulder. Even the morning after was gruesome scene. There was an official purge cleanup crew for that reason alone. You couldn’t help but stare at the clock on the wall.

If you could squeeze in just one last assignment, you'll be free for the weekend. Suddenly, you hear your name being called. It breaks you out of your train of thought, turning to your instructor and apologizing, "Yes Professor! S-sorry..." now embarrassed that you've been caught by him. Professor Mike Kiernan

According to his students, Mike was more than an exceptional teacher. Every last one of them adores him. If not, well then he'd have to look out for tonight. You on the other hand, have always felt there was something off about him. As if he were harboring a dark secret. Maybe it was the building nerves. After all, tonight would be the start of the annual Purge Day.

Mike ends class an hour early, giving his students enough time to reach home safely. You on the other hand, take the opportunity to finish up remaining school work. Mr. Kiernan was also in charge of study hall. He notices you're the last student left and approaches your desk, "Forgetting something?"

You look up at him with your pen still in mouth, taking it out to speak. That's when the realization hits. "Oh sh—shoot!" Quickly correcting the slip up. You had completely forgotten. In about thirty minutes the sirens were going to ring, after that the Purge would commence. You lived a little more than half an hour away. How on earth would you make it to home on time?!

Mike notices your fidgeting, poor thing. You were so caught up in school work that you'd completely forgotten. Always so responsible, one of his best students. So kind and generous. You were always a good student, helping anyone that needed it. Was it bad that he wanted to keep it all for himself?

"Do you need a ride home?" he offers, "It's not safe out there, especially not for a young lady like yourself," kind, genuine words. Your phone is almost dead, and you had no point of contact. So you take his offer, "Thank you professor Kiernan, Seriously," You grateful to have someone like him. He walks you to his car parked on the edge of the lot. He takes his time walking to it. You on the other hand, were in a hurry.

You felt almost embarrassed by the way you held the door handle eagerly waiting for him. To unlock it. He chuckles, clicking the button of his keys to open it. You hurry inside, not wasting a second hopping onto the seat. As he began to drive off you could hear the first warning bell. There would only be two more before the final sirens. Your eyes are glued to the red sirens attached to each public building, the blaring makes you feel sick.

When the car makes a sudden turn off the main road, you begin to grow suspicious, "Professor?"

"Yes?"

"This isn't the way to my house..."

"I know, but it's too late for that now," he answers, "The third alarm is about to go off, we won't make it in time," his eyes are still glued to the road. You gather enough courage to speak up again, "Professor....professor where are we going?"

"I live nearby, you're more than welcome to spend the night," he answers, "The last thing I'd want is for those animals to harm a student of mine," he reassures. Mike lives in the more rural side of town. There's a growing feeling you have that something was wrong about all this. But what other choice do you have? It was better than being out there alone on the streets.

As soon as you arrive to Mike's home, he activates the security system. When he first bought the house, the first thing he did was install a Purge-proof security system. He walks into the kitchen, rummaging for something, "Would you like some tea?" he opens the pantry to fetch some herbs. While it boils he gets some jam and toast for it. As soon as he finishes up, he places both cups on the table.

You notice that Mike hadn't taken a sip from his drink. Your eyes widen with fear, "You haven't touched your cup..." there's a pause. Then he realizes his mistake, "Ah, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to make you nervous," he switches the drinks, "Here, have mine," he takes a sip from your cup to insure it hadn't been spiked. It calms your nerves knowing that there was nothing to worry about.

Mike had kept his promise that you would be safe here. It's been a while since he's had anyone over. He tries his best hosting skills, a round of charade, following by a board game. It was honestly one of the best purge experiences you've had yet. A great distraction from the events occurring outside. He insists on watching a movie to kill the time, you agree. Why not? Besides, Mike's company wasn't so bad.

It was during the middle of the movie when you needed to use the restroom. He points you to down the hall. On your way back, you notice a door had been left open. It was most likely the master bedroom. When you reach the knob to close it, you accidentally take a glimpse inside.

That's when you notice what was there. No....there's no way...You enter his room to get a closer look. Mike smiles to himself. To think that he'd been so worried about everything, and for what? You seem to be enjoying his company. He was right all along, there was something more to your relationship.

He hears you rushing down the hallway, there's an angry look on your face, "What the fuck are these?!" you toss the photos on the ground. Pictured in each and every last one of them is you. Some of them were taken while on campus, others were downloaded from social media posts. He smiles, "Now I know what you're thinking, but if you just hear me out--"

"Not a fucking chance!" you back away from him. He's confused, why now were you acting out? It was going so well between the two of you! Can't you see how much he cares?

"Don't you see the love and dedication I have for you?! And you know it too!" he nears, "I know you feel the same way..." his voice sounding more desperate, there's a deranged look in his eyes that doesn't meet his smile, "Tell me you weren't thinking the same thing, when you waited for me after class," he held a hand to his chest, expressing his love for you.

He's finally letting you know how he's felt for a very long time. You were at a loss for words, there's no way he actually thought--between the two of you? He's delusional. To think you and your classmates actually trusted him. You're pissed, "Get it through your fucking head! You're my professor! That's all you'll ever be!"

After hearing that Mike's smile fades. He could feel heart shattering into a million pieces. Maybe it was a mistake, bringing you here on your own terms. If he knew this was how you would react, then he would've just stuck to the original plan. He knows he could get away with it too. After all, it was Purge day.

Usually, he'd go against something like this. But what other choice does he have? It quickly turns into a fight or flight situation. You knew he was stronger than you, so there would be no point in fighting him. What other choice did you have other than running? Mike is much faster than you realize. He's quick to grab you before you've had a chance to alert the security system.

Mike drags you across his home. He stops by a door located on the side of the staircase. He almost rips the hinges off when he pulls you inside. You fought with all your might, scratching, pushing, hitting wherever you possibly could. To him, they felt like nothing. He's dealt with worse. In the struggle, you're sent tumbling down the stairs.

Mike uses his body to shield yours from the fall. He cradles your head against his chest. Yet still, you were fighting him, after everything he's done. You scurry towards the other side of the basement. As far away from him as you could possibly be.

Mike sighs with annoyance, "You have no idea what it's like..." he lifts himself off the floor, his hands now balled up into fists. He doesn't know how much longer he can hold himself back, "You have no idea what it's like seeing you every day, and not being able to do a damn thing!" he charges, slamming you against a wall, he leans his head closer to yours.

Still there was that look of admiration in his eyes, "We could've been so happy together," Mike grabs you by the throat, pulling you into a deep, searing kiss. In retaliation you bit his lip. He winces in pain, "Will you just...stop fighting me?!" his anger gets the best of him as he slams you against the wall. You're left stunned after getting the wind knocked out of your lungs.

Mike is quick to catch you. He panics, "Please! I don't want to hurt you!" He yells over and over again, "I love you! I love you! Please! I love you!" there are tears in his eyes, "Just please...let me love you..." he sighs against your neck, placing a kiss on the bare skin, "Look at what you do to me..." he grinds his bulge against your clothed mound.

You could practically feel how big it was, even through the many layers of clothing. It makes your skin crawl, how he's played the role of a caring professor and community member for so long. Could he even see himself right now?! "Look, whatever you want, a house, a baby, I'll give ya," Mike never knew he even wanted those things, not until he met you. Don't you see? You're all he's ever needed.

You fought him like a trapped animal. His feisty little wildcat. You use both fists to land a few good hits on his face, over and over again. Hitting his nose with a 'crunch' sound. But still, it doesn't stop him. Mike can't seem to understand why you were trying to escape. It was useless fighting him. This would be so much better if you just gave in. Because eventually, he's going to get what he wants. He pulls you into another forceful kiss.

For that, you headbutt in right in the face. Mike winches, pulling away from you with a now bloody nose. He throws you to the ground. Then pounces, caging his body on top of your own. He begins to unbuckle his belt, dragging his boxers down to free his cock. He spits a wad of blood in his palm, that'll do for now. He doesn't want to waste anymore time. Purge would be ending in a few hours, and he'll make sure to use every last minute of it.

He knows how the law works in this area. If a couple lived together for over a year, then it would legally bind them together as husband and wife. Mike doesn't mind that idea at all, 'My wife...you're going to be my wife," he sighs. Your stomach churns after hearing that, "No...no please, this isn't what I want!"

"You don't even know what you want" Mike starts lifting up your skirt, he's eager, almost giddy, "But I do," yanking down the waistband of your panties. He forces his member deep inside, groaning from the sensation of your walls pulsing. You scream from the intrusion. It resembles a cat's howl.

Tears begin to form, now blurring your vision. Your claws sink deep into his chest, as he began thrusting in and out of your channel. He doesn't stop, not until he finishes. He has only one goal on his mind, to plant his seed, leave a legacy behind, "Take it, take it..." he mumbles over and over again.

"Professor?" a student asks, causing Mike to break from his trance. His student asks the question again, "How was your purge?" genuinely curious. What did Professor Mike Kiernan, of all people, do to earn those nasty bruises? He's still wearing his sweater from yesterday, now caked in his own blood. The first thing he did the morning after, was drag himself out of bed and straight to lecture. He couldn't help but grin, "Well, ran into some trouble, but, no worries,"

His students and coworkers felt bad. They all said the same thing, how Mike was the last person who deserved something like this. If only they knew. After a long day of lectures, he finally drives home. He passes by the Purge's official memorial road. There are numerous photos of people who had either lost their lives or went missing.

When he sees your photo, he can't help but smirk. He parks his car on the side of the road, approaching the stand. He pockets the picture for keepsake, smiling to himself as he returns to his car. It's been a long time since Mike has looked forward to coming home.

Perhaps Purge wasn't so bad.

[neoarchipelago]

And they were roommates (Part 10)

A/N : God... part 10 already! i am so so scared to post this chapter i'm torn to be in between this is good and this is trash so... be merciful!

Warnings: VIOLENCE! BLOOD! GRAPHIC !

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

The realization kept spinning in your brain. He was darkends. He had been so close to you from the beginning. Fuck he knew you before you started working on the damn mission! 

"I… Don't understand… you moved in before I started working on this…" you questioned. 

He sent you a look in the rear view mirror. 

"Correct. The mission had started before they asked you to join. I was supposed to simply make sure they were failing. Infiltrating the base, keeping undercover, ruining your search and probably send you on a wrong path." He explained. 

You watched through the car window, trying to figure out where he was taking you. 

While you started thinking about some way to escape, your mind quickly stopped on your connected watch. 

"But then I met you. Such a pretty girl." 

The praise made you nauseous. He watched the road as you started preparing your move on your watch. 

"You started working on the mission and fuck" he chuckled. "You became even more interesting!" He cheered. 

You kept clicking on your watch, sending your location to your contacts. All of them because you weren't exactly paying attention. 

While you were working on your laptop in the hideout, while you kept passing over and over the events that almost got you killed, you had decided to prepare a little safety net. You hacked your connected watch, creating a locking system that would send your live location to contacts of choice. You thanked your past self. 

"You were so bright, so smart, you managed to fully counter my attacks or find every little thing I tried to hide. Your mind… fascinated me." He kept obsessing. 

You could have been flattered if this wasn't said by a psychopath stalker trying to kidnap you. You were loosening the strap of your watch taking it off. You let it fall on the floor making sure to hide the small watch in your pocket. 

"So you decided to try to kill me ?! That makes no fucking sense Peter! If that's even your real name!" You raged. Fuck your throat right now. 

"Oh it is. It's not Hansen though. I didn't try to kill you. You were so sad when I met you… remember?" He spoke in an angrier tone. 

You were trying to figure something out, some way to escape even if you had to jump out of the car. 

"Because of that dickhead." 

"Don't call him that!" You yelled. 

"Shut up!" He roared. 

You were taken aback. It was the first time he actually yelled at you.

"That fucking asshole left you broken. And then he comes back and you let yourself be manipulated by him! You were meant to be fucking MINE." 

You felt your skin crawl. He was turning completely mad. And you were feeling the panic grow. 

"You and me…. Can you think about it? How we'd be the most powerful couple ever? We'd be Bonnie and Clyde…" 

"They fucking died…" you noted. 

"Such a smart mouth. You're lucky I also like that about you." He threatened. 

You bit your lip. Now wasn't the moment to be a smart ass. 

"So yeah. I got jealous. I thought maybe I could make you realize he wouldn't keep you safe. And then I'd propose to be your bodyguard and you know, make you fall for me… make you realize how good we'd be together." He kept explaining. 

You were finally understanding where he was headed. To one of the bases exit. He was trying to take you out of the base. 

"You won't be able to take me far. Even if you leave the base." You said. 

"Don't worry. I have friends waiting for us." He smirked. 

You swallowed hard. 

"What are you going to do with me…" that scary question was the only thing in your mind now. 

"That'll depend on you." 

The way he said it scared you horribly. It was terrifying. 

The tension was broken by your phone ringing. Price was calling you. 

"Go on birdie. Answer. Put it on speakerphone and give. It."

You obeyed, although unwillingly. 

"Sparrow, where are you?!" 

He sent a look in the rearview mirror for you to answer. 

"I'm in the car with Hansen." 

"Are you alright?! We found Soap." 

"Is he alright?!" You worried immediately. 

"He's ok. He said Hansen injected him with something." 

"What?! What the fuck did you do! You said you didn't hurt him!" You yelled, making Price aware of the listener. 

"I didn't. I simply tranquilized him. He took a nap." He laughed. 

"Hansen. What's going on?!" Laswell roared. 

"I'm simply taking what belongs to me." He spoke matter of factly. 

"What are you talking about?" 

"My birdie." 

Silence fell on the call. You knew she had understood. She knew the truth. 

"You won't be able to leave this base, I can assure you that." She said. 

"Ah don't worry. I'll manage. Where's the other disguised idiot? Hand him over. I want to speak to him." 

You closed your eyes. No. This was going to be horrible. You were absolutely shocked to hear Price laugh. You opened your eyes wide, a look of confusion on your face. 

"He's already gone. He got in his Jeep and is hunting you down." 

You saw Peter visibly pale. 

"He doesn't even know who you really are. You hurt his friend. You stole his bunny. You're already fucking dead." 

Peter grabbed the phone in a fury, opening his window and throwing it out. You gasped out loud. 

"Hey!" You scolded. 

"Don't try me!" He threatened again. 

You were getting dangerously close to the exit. You couldn't let him bring you out of base. You couldn't.  The idea of jumping out of the car finally settled in your mind when a glimpse of a vehicle to the left made your head turn. You had very little time to process what was happening when the impact made your seatbelt block. A military car had driven right into the car you were in at full speed, aiming for the driver's seat. 

Both cars were now at a stop, your head ringing. You were hyperventilating, now watching Gaz and Konig stepping out of the car and aiming their guns at Peter. He immediately made the car roar, trying to drive away when a second impact made you shake again. You yelled this time. Peter's car was stuck in between two big ones. You had to get out now, you had to make a run for it. 

Your blood ran cold when you saw Peter reach for his own gun. No nononoo.. FUCK. 

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE CAR!" Soap's voice roared. 

Soap… fuck. They were here. They were here. 

You pushed the seatbelt, finally freeing yourself and opening the car door. 

"DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE BITCH!" Peter Screamed. 

Konig appeared in a flash, grabbing Peter's shirt through the window, taking his attention from you. In another flash a black shadow passed over the hood of the car pushing Konig away and throwing the driver's side door open. 

"Simon!" You let out in between a yelp and a whine. 

He wasn't listening. He had a knife in his hand. He cut through the seatbelt like butter. He grabbed Peter's gun, throwing it somewhere on the ground. He very roughly pulled Peter out. 

You were frozen in place. Your mind was trying to process what was happening. Everything was happening so fast… Your car door opened, making you jump. 

"Y/N!" 

You cried. You let out a broken exhale and you cried. 

"Johnny…" 

"You're ok! You're ok! We're here!" He smiled, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you out. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck. He was ok. He was fine. God, you felt so guilty. He got hurt because of you. If he had been killed-

"I'm ok! I'm ok… breathe. We need to get you out of here!" He soothed. 

"It's darkends!" You let out loud in between cries. 

He froze. He immediately turned to the rest of the team, catching Gaz's eyes as he wasn't too far. 

"HE'S THE HACKER!" Gaz repeated in a yell.

You looked at Ghost who had Peter pinned against the car, arms behind his back. As soon as it clicked in his brain, he threw Peter to the ground and jumped on him. Your eyes widened. 

You pushed by Soap, surprising him enough to give you a chance to run around the car to keep the fighting men into view. 

"Y/N NO!" You heard him reprimand.

You froze at the sight, Ghost was on top of Peter repeatedly punching him in the face, blood coating his hand. 

Soap caught you as Ghost reached for his firearm, pointing it at Peter's head. It took a second. No hesitation.

"DON'T LOO-" 

The gunshot made you jump. Soap's voice lost in the sound. Your ears ringing. 

It's funny how your brain fixates on the little things during shocking moments. For you it was the little splashes of blood on his mask. You could see them as Simon noticed you, wide eyed. 

That's all you could take in before Soap made you forcefully turn around. 

"BLOODY HELL Y/N" he screamed worriedly.

You tried to catch your breath. More cars came rushing. You could hear Price and Laswell's voices. It was over. He was gone. Darkends… Peter. He was dead. Your were safe. You were shocked. And what terrified you wasn't the fact that Simon just executed him in front of you. He clearly didn't mean to show you such a horrible thing. You knew it. He had tried to shield you from the sight by pushing Peter to the ground. No. What terrified you was how grateful you were that he did it. That he killed him. 

The thought was horrible. But Peter was dead. And you were glad he was. Because that man, who helped human traffickers, drug dealers and other horrible people, had used people to get to you, had tried to kill you and kidnapped you. 

"Hey hey hey!" 

You blinked, finally falling back into reality. Kate was looking at you, features torn in worry. Her hands on your cheeks. You took a deep breath. 

"Are you alright?!" 

You nodded. 

"I… I'm fine. It's… over" you stumbled over your words. 

She held you, her arms now wrapping around your shoulders. Price was behind her, talking to Soap. You could clearly understand Soap explaining how you had witnessed Ghost kill Peter. The shock in Ghost's eyes flashed in your mind. No! Fuck! 

You couldn't be sure but he was probably feeling horrible having done that in front of you. He probably thought you hated him, that you thought horribly of him. 

You pushed Kate off of you. 

"Simon…" you called. 

"Y/N-" she tried.

"I want Simon!" Your voice broke as another cry escaped your lips. 

You needed him. You fucking needed him. You wanted him to hold you. And never fucking let you go. You felt vulnerable. The whole situation, the whole fallback of emotions made you want to be wrapped into his arms.

"Y/N." Price approached. "Not now. You need to leave this place." 

You were going to interrupt him. But he kept trying to reason you. 

"He needs to calm down-" 

"No!" You screamed, you've never heard this desperation in your voice before.

Soap looked divided. But as he looked at you, the way you were begging him through your gaze, he made up his mind. 

"LT!" He called. 

Price and Laswell turned to him furious. 

Your breath quickened. You weren't leaving without him. Fuck. You'd leave with him.

Price turned back to face you this time looking behind you. 

"Simon-" he started. 

But too late you had already turned around. Fucking hell. He looked absolutely nightmarish. His full black tactical clothes, his skull mask bloodied. His black hood casting a shadow on it. Even like that you could see pupils blown out. 

You must be insane. You must have gone completely mad. Because all you could see was his eyes. All you could notice was how hard he was breathing, how his shoulders were incredibly tense. 

Yes. Everyone must have thought you had gone completely insane. Because you ran to him, wrapping your arms around his waist burying your face in his chest. It took him a second before wrapping his arms around you. 

"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry… fuck… I'm sorry…" he chanted repeatedly. 

He held you tightly. You could hear Laswell and Price barking orders. But you blocked it out. You needed this. You needed to be in his arms. He saved you again. He rushed to come to you. 

"I'm sorry…" he let out again. 

"Simon" 

He stopped, looking at you directly, awaiting orders. As if your every word was a command. 

"Take me away…Please... Take me out of here…" You asked. 

He didn't hesitate. He held your hand, pulling you with him towards Price. 

"Price!" He roared, capturing the man's attention. "I'm taking her out of here!" 

He nodded, throwing him his keys. 

"Take her to the hideout!" Price ordered. 

You would have preferred to go home but your home had been trashed… it wasn't the best idea.

He held your hand as he pulled you to the passenger seat, making sure to block your view of the mess behind him. 

"Close your eyes…" he ordered softly. 

"But-"

"Please. Fuck. Bunny, please." He pleaded. 

So you did. You closed your eyes. You heard the car door open. You trusted him as led you in, sitting you and buckling you up. You kept your eyes closed as he closed the door and until his opened. Even then and until you were rolling away, you kept them closed. 

"You can open them now…" he softly let out. 

You batted your eyes, adjusting back to the light. You turned to him. His grip on the steering wheel was rough. 

"Simon…" you called. 

He flinched but didn't look at you. He was clearly speeding. Very clearly. 

"Simon!" You whined. 

"We're almost there. Please." 

You took a deep breath, Falling silent. 

"You did good…" 

You almost thought you imagined it. 

"I.. did?" You asked. 

"Yes. You did so good. Sending me your location. Being brave. You did good." 

The praise was oddly comforting. 

You had managed to arrive at the hideout in a crazy time frame. You both walked out. You were slightly calmer even if your heart still played drums in your chest. You walked to the front door, two soldiers standing in front of it. You walked in, Ghost behind you. The door closed, leaving you both finally alone to face the inevitable. 

After several seconds he spoke. 

"I'll tell the men to keep guard. Laswell should be joining you soon." 

You looked, appalled, as he turned to leave. 

"You're leaving?" 

For the second time, you didn't recognize the heartbroken tone in your own voice. He was running away. He didn't want to face you.

He looked at you immediately, worry in his eyes. 

"You… Want me to stay?" He asked in dismay. 

"Yes.. please… you're the only one I want to stay with…" you admitted. 

He looked completely lost. You wanted to make him understand how badly he mattered to you. That you found a peace in his violence that was insane. Unreal.

"I. Just executed someone, in front of you." He started, fully turning to you. "I will never fucking forgive myself for it" 

"You don't have to! I ran to you! You tried to hide it!" You knew where this was going. You could feel it. 

"You should have been taken away right away! I should have ordered Soap to do it! You didn't deserve it- " 

"I RAN TO YOU! " You cried out. Your poor throat reminding you that it was a terrible idea. 

You were both out of breath. He was slipping away from you… he was slipping through your fingers every second that passed he was pulling himself away from your embrace. He was trying to break everything, trying to save you from himself. He didn't seem to understand that you needed to drown in him.

"Don't…" you desperately asked. 

"Don't what…" he asked in a hopeless tone. 

"Don't do that to me… Simon please…" you wanted to cry. You wanted him to feel how helpless you were feeling. How much you loved him. How much you needed him. 

"Don't walk away from me…" your tear stained face begged. 

He closed his eyes. 

"I'm a fucking monster." 

"No. You're Simon!" You stepped closer to him as he opened his eyes. 

"You're lieutenant Simon Ghost Riley!!" You captured his clothed face in your hands. 

"You're my Simon ghost Riley…" you whispered. "Please… tell me you're not giving up on me… please… tell me I'm yours too…" 

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you incredibly close. 

"Are you not scared of me?" He asked in a breath. 

"No…" you answered. 

"Don't you hate me? Despise me?" 

"Never.." 

"You're fucking crazy." He concluded. 

You giggled bittersweetly. 

"You make me crazy…" 

"I am a monster." 

"Simon-" 

"I am. You should find better. You would be happier…" 

"I want my monster. I want all of him, I only feel safe and important with him…" 

He choked on a breath. 

"You wanted an answer." He started. 

You frowned a bit in confusion. 

"You wanted me to make up my mind. To tell you." He explained. 

You finally understood. Yes. You had asked him. You held your breath. 

"I want you in my life. Fuck you're all I want in my life. Tell me you want to be mine… I swear I'll never fucking leave you… I'll be as loyal as a dog, I swear I'll do everything to make you happy." He pleaded in a dark tone that contrasted heavily with the vow he was preaching. 

"Simon." You called making him look at you in the eyes. "I'm already yours." 

His hand left your waist to lift his mask up to his nose. Your breath hitched, time slowing when his lips fell on yours. You felt dizzy. His lips against yours in a desperate kiss to ground you both to each other. His soft tongue pleading access to more, that you willingly admitted, your own craving of more, of him, burning through you. The world disappeared. You had read this many times in books. You had never thought you would ever get to a point where you finally understood it. 

He groaned against you, you wrapped your hands around his neck. He lifted you up, sitting you on the table. You spread your legs, trapping him in between and pulling him closer. You were addicted. Absolutely lost. He kissed you like you were the only reason he'd ever inhale and exhale again. Desperately. His taste on your tongue was something you wanted to imprint in your mind forever.

You almost pitied the fact that you had to breathe when you separated to catch your breaths. He remained there. His forehead touching yours. You remained eyes closed. 

The atmosphere had entirely changed. It was as if you weren't being kidnapped thirty minutes ago. 

"Simon… don't leave…" you begged in a murmur. 

"Never." 

The night had fallen very quickly. Laswell had indeed passed by. She was relieved you were fine. She also fully understood that you needed time and decided to leave you two alone for a few days. The day had been terribly long. Horribly. You and Simon didn't let go of each other for hours, even dining with you sitting on his lap. Poor man hadn't even changed when it was finally time to go to bed. 

"Hey… bunny…" he called softly. 

You shook your head, knowing what he wanted to say. 

"Bunny come on… I need to change… you're gonna get dirty." 

"Don't care…" 

He chuckled. He sounded relieved. 

"Y/N, I promise .. I hop in the shower and I come to bed with you if you want. It'll take five minutes, I swear." He tried to convince you. 

You didn't want to let him go. But you understood he probably wanted to wash away all reminders of what happened. You nodded against his neck. He walked to the bed and softly dropped you. He grabbed Reaper from the ground. 

"Here doll, your plushie."

"Reaper…" you corrected him. 

He chuckled. Taking out his gloves, he let one of his thumbs run over your cheeks, brushing your hair away.

"I'll be right back." 

He was already ripping off his tactical gear as he walked out. You had time to catch a glimpse of his back, various bruises and scars, more or less recent painted it. It made you want to follow him and kiss every single one of them. Maybe it was too much… everything that was happening was confusing but fuck at the moment you couldn't care less. 

He had kept his promise, around 5 minutes after, he was back in the room, a towel around his midsection. 

Your breath caught in your throat. 

You sat in the bed. He was wearing a new balaclava. 

"Simon…" you called. 

You watched the bruises and cuts on his chest with a worried look. He stepped closer to you, grabbing your chin in one hand softly. 

"Hey. Eyes up." 

You obeyed.

"It's nothing. It's just a scratch. Alright?" 

You whined. 

"Shu-huhu…" he soothed. 

Fuck… your mind was a fucking blurr. You weren't drunk this time. But the adoration, the heart eyes were back. 

"It's nothing, little one…" 

You closed your eyes, leaning into his touch. 

"Fuck…" he cursed under his breath.

You opened them back slowly. 

"Turn around love, let me just grab some pants." 

You blushed, nodding. You turned around facing the wall. You heard him open his bag that he had brought into your room earlier. A few seconds later you felt the bed dent. You glanced back as he slipped under the covers with you. His arms immediately wrapped around you, pulling you to his chest. 

You both sighed at the same time. 

"Simon…" you called. 

"Yes bunny…" 

"Thank you for coming to save me…" you let out in a whisper.

"Darling… I will always come for you." He whispered in your ear. 

"I'm so glad it's over" 

"I'm glad too…" 

You smiled. 

"Let's sleep, little bunny… It's late." 

You whined a bit. 

"I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. " 

You closed your eyes at that. The warmth and the comfort of his arms and body pulled you  to sleep. 

The two next days felt out of reality. Laswell didn't contact you and the rest of the squad didn't pass by. It was only the two of you. And you couldn't let go of each other. Especially Simon. You didn't fully understand what was happening. You honestly didn't care. A silent agreement stood between you two that nothing mattered. No questions on the relation, no questions on behavior, nothing. 

You just basked in each other's presence. 

That night, you tried to get up to go to the bathroom. After close negotiations he had unwrapped his arms from you. You went to the bathroom, glanced at his dirty gear on the ground, and tried to put it in the washing machine. Tried. Because he had already crawled out of bed to find you.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

"I'm just putting this in the washer for-" 

"Forget about that…" 

He picked you up bridal style. 

"S-simon…" you blushed. 

"Fuck that. Come back to bed." 

And you did. Not getting out of bed before 11 am the next day. 

You had shared brunch. He stood behind you, hands over your stomach and face in your neck while you washed the dishes in his shirt. Then he pulled you to him making you follow him on the couch where you both laid down, a blanket over you, some tv show on screen. 

When you went back to bed that night, you made the mistake of stepping inside your bedroom without him. 

"Where are you going?" He asked. 

"Oh.. hum… I thought you might want to rest without having me annoying you…" 

He had stepped closer to you, incredibly close. 

"One more night… please…" he whispered. 

"Anything…" you whispered back, gladly pulling him after you. 

It calmed down for a bit the next day. You were able to walk around the house without having Simon attached to you or running to pick you up to immobilize you against him. Though none of this bothered you, you tried to focus a bit on what happened. You also tried to buy a new phone. Even like that, he made you sit on the couch in between his legs, with your laptop on your lap. 

He was watching TV, fingertips drawing circles on your naked thighs. You had first cursed yourself for wearing PJ shorts, and then had lost all track of your search for a new device, leaning back against him. 

On the third day, things seemed to fall back into your old ways. Playful, kind, sweet. Again a silent contract linked you both, as if the two last days were yours to keep. It was a moment needed for the both of you, after a painful time. You still put off a serious conversation about your new relationship to a later time. 

The boys were finally allowed to pass by. Soap and Gaz had immediately hugged you. 

"Little Sparrow!" Soap cheered. 

You hugged them back. 

Konig was also here and even though you didn't know him well, you couldn't stop yourself from hugging him. He saved you too. 

"Thank you konig." 

He had rubbed the back of his head, giggling. 

Price had held you in his arms for a little while before planting a kiss in your hair and stepping back. 

You all sat in the small living room space. Simon was still very possessive and made you sit in his lap on the ground, hands wrapped tightly around your waist. 

"Thank you everyone. For keeping me safe and saving me. And… I'm so sorry johnny…" 

"No no! Don't worry. I've gone through much worse. I'm the one who should be apologizing. I fucked up…" 

You shook your head. 

"No… we were all under pressure… no one suspected him." 

"I did." Interrupted Simon. 

You smiled. 

"Yeah… you did…" 

You could see the boys looking at each other, obviously a question on their mind. The burning question. Soap felt the bravest.

"Soo… what's this?" Soap asked changing subject and pointing repeatedly in between the both of you. 

You blushed heavily. Soap's grin growing. 

"She's my girlfriend." 

You were? Fuck. 

"Am I?" You asked, looking at him. "You never asked" You teased. 

"I asked you to be mine. You said you were. So, mine." He stated without a worry in the world. 

The boys laughed and you nestled closer to him. You spent the rest of the day hanging out together, finally at peace. 

In the next few days you met with Laswell. A few things had to be resolved. Your room needed a makeover. You wanted darkends's devices to gather information. 

"We'll keep his devices but you can't have them now. You need some time away from all of this." 

You had rolled your eyes but deep down you agreed. This had been a close call. Way too close. She had told you she would keep you informed about the apartment so for now you remained in the hideout with Simon. The boys passing by very often. 

You had been very happily shopping, the military giving you a huge amount of money as reparation for almost being killed in their care. You had bought new components for a brand new PC, a new phone, clothes and other things. One thing that you seemed to absolutely love doing was asking Simon's opinion on everything. 

"Simon, do you like this shirt?" 

"You'll look adorable in it." He kissed your forehead. 

You even used this new hobby to tease him. 

"What do you think of this skirt?" You smiled innocently. 

It had entirely backfired. 

"If you promise to wear no panties with it, it'll become my favorite piece of clothing." He growled.

You had blushed and thrown him a pillow. 

Some moments of serious talk had also been present. 

"You know I'm doing something dangerous… it could put you in danger… Are you sure you want to be with me?" He asked. 

"Simon I don't need to date you to be in danger. I'm the one who keeps getting attacked and almost killed, you're the one who should be having second thoughts!" 

The Best moments were the ones where He would steal kisses from you whenever he could. He'd stare at you from afar, making blush. He'd always stare into your eyes, asking for permission to kiss you. As if you needed to ever say it out loud to him.  Sometimes it would heat up very fast, but he would always stop. Much to both of your frustrations. 

But you did have this conversation. He had wanted to, and asked to take things slowly. He wanted you to be sure of things before heading to more. 

You had wanted to go spend some money at the shopping center, asking him to come with you. He had politely declined, offering to call Soap, Konig and Gaz to go with you. Shopping wasn't particularly his favorite thing to do. He sat on the couch, legs spread, a file in hand, looking down at you. The sight was particularly comical yet extremely exciting. You had dropped to your knees in between his to get his attention, he had immediately tensed. He looked at you like he wanted to devour you. You kept asking for him to come with you, he'd decline, his voice deepening more and more each time. 

"Y/N. Get up." He ordered. 

"Please… Simon come with me shopping…" you whined again, biting your lip. 

It was obvious. So obvious. But he played through, adoring the sight before him. 

It had been interrupted by Price and Soap walking in. You remained on the floor, now turning your head to Soap. 

"Soap! Ghost won't come with me…" 

"Try taking his pants off, it's easier to cu-" 

You had blushed heavily. Price tried his best not to laugh. You had never seen a man run so fast in his life. You had gotten up, after ghost had gotten up as well , walking out the door behind Soap. Price had finally laughed, you were heavily embarrassed but you had won, thanks to Soap. 

Today Simon was particularly quiet. He walked around, stealing kisses and touches every now and then. You were writing on your laptop, some things about darkends needed to be reported for the full file. Laswell had told you it wasn't urgent, but you wanted to finish it. You were also getting annoyed. The tiny place was starting to get on your nerves. You wanted to go back home. 

It was an antagonizing thought as you also were uncomfortable going back in that space. It felt different. Peter had been there. You had opened your door to him and he had broken in and trashed your stuff. You had talked about it with Simon, about your anxiousness. He had understood and tried to comfort you. 

So here you were, sitting in the small, now crowded space with everyone. Laswell, price and squad 141 including Konig. 

"Sparrow, ghost told me about your thoughts on your apartment." 

You sighed. Of course he did. You looked at him as he looked at you with a soft expression. 

"So we came up with something and I'd like to ask you if you'd be alright with it." 

You were now visibly curious. Price took the lead after Laswell. 

"Until we can find a new and better way to keep you safe, we thought about moving you closer to the base. Some place you'd feel safer." 

"What are you saying?" You asked. 

"There's a house in a residential area, very close to the base that's free. It's a family house so it's quite big." Laswell explained. 

"And we're all moving in with you guys!" Soap cheered, interrupting her, Gaz nodding. 

"It's temporary, it doesn't have to be permanent. It's an option, after everything that happened." Price added.

You looked at Ghost with a smile on your face, brows rising. 

"You accepted this?" You asked, a hint of a laugh in your voice. 

"It's safer if we're all there. I can't always be with you… and maybe you'll feel better in a new environment." He explained. 

You had mixed feelings. It sounded fun. But you'd have less privacy with Simon. You had started to accept them as a family. And after everything that happened it was perhaps best. 

"Alright… let's do that." 

[blushweddinggowns]

Steddie Drunk Dialing Fluff

Steve Harrington-Munson was probably one of the happiest men to be alive in the modern era. He had the perfect life, against all odds. Because apparently having your late teens and early twenties ruined by demons equated to a fantastic adulthood.

He had it all. A loving family, the best friend/surrogate sister he could ever ask for, and he was married to the love of his life. And okay, yes. That had included some extremely embarrassing revelations and internal meltdowns and... a pretty brutal disownment. But he had figured it all out in the end. And here he was, a decade later with a ring on his finger and a nice hyphenated name. Not to mention how he was basically a trophy husband.

Eddie hadn't wasted a moment of the last decade. A symptom of almost dying it would seem. He went for the GED, gathered the band back up, moved across the country to chase his dreams and play in every shitty dive bar he could until they were discovered. All while dragging Steve along for the ride.

As much as Steve had believed in him, neither of them had been prepared for his music career actually taking off. Especially not to the level it did. It was undeniable that his husband was an A-Lister, despite how universally hated he was by half the country. You don't get many out and proud metal front man who loved parading around his high school sweetheart at every social event he could. But Europe loved him, as did the entirety of gay, rebellious youths world wide.

It was so stupid. There Eddie was, painted as an insane freak who was fake-married. With tabloids running story after story about his secret children, his drug addiction, a wife from another country, anything that they could think of. All while Eddie spent every free moment at Steve's side, always opting for a night in with his baby when given the choice. And when he wasn't doing that, he was busy playing surrogate fun uncle to the kids, who were definitly not kids anymore. But that didn't stop them from all getting together for Dungeons and Dragons once a month, hundreds and hundreds of campaign hours on everyone's belts. And that was his life. Spending time with his family, forcing them on hikes and runs, volunteering, working occasionally to help Robin with her translating work, all while coming home to the sweetest thing that ever existed.

God, did Steve love that man. Reminiscing about the love of his life while he was on tour was not helping his fretful sleep. He just... really had given him everything. He loved him so much in fact that he was only slightly pissed when he was woken up at three a.m. from the phone ringing off the hook.

Steve reached for it blindly, still half-asleep when he mumbled, "Mm-Eds?"

"Steeeeeeeeeevie," Eddie's voice slurred back at him, "Baby booooy. How's my baby boy? I miss my baby boy."

Steve smiled despite himself, yawning into the phone. Eddie was lucky he was so cute, considering how the love of his life who could not remember what time zones were, "He misses you too. And he's a little tired right now babe. What's up?"

"Day drunk," Eddie sighed, "Guys, morning show, mimosas, hotel room to sleep it off. Missing you."

"You won't be missing me for long," Steve softly laughed. Though... hearing his voice was quite the reminder of how cold the bed suddenly felt, "Just... one more week. That's not too long right?"

"Too long!" Eddie groaned, dramatic, "I miss you now. Why can't I see you now? Wait-Can I see you now? Cause planes and trains and-"

"And no," Steve interrupted with a chuckle, "You'd only get me for a few hours before you'd have to leave again."

"Worth it," Eddie mumbled out, his voice a little muffled as he tumbled around in his hotel bed, "Want my baby."

The pathetic tilt to his voice was enough to make Steve's heart clench. God he was too precious. Suddenly a red-eye in the middle of the night for a two hour make-out session didn't sound like such a bad idea. But he could be the strong one for tonight, "You have me sweetheart. Want me to stay on until you fall asleep."

"Yes please," Eddie sighed, "Love your voice. It's so... nice. Like... audible perfume. Like poetry or something."

"Oh baby you are wasted," Steve said as he laid back down, nestling the phone to his ear, "Please tell me you drank some water before laying down?"

"... maybe?"

"Babe."

"I knoooow. Keep nagging me though. I missed that too."

"Is my bitching your bed time story?"

He could hear Eddie nodding, rusting against the fabric, "And it's the best. Keep going?"

Steve rolled his eyes, but he did what he was asked. Saying every silly little grievance he could think of. He whined about how cold it was in bed without him, how Eddie had promised to take out the trash before he left and forgot. Again. How he hated how quiet it was without him, how much he missed hearing his voice trailing in and out of every room.

And Eddie listened, mumbling out a few sleepy m'sorrys and I love yous along the way. Until all Steve could hear was the slow, steady sound of his breathing. But he didn't hang up. Not when that was one of his favorite sounds in the world. And the perfect thing to fall asleep to.

Steve smiled to himself as he closed his eyes, a little amazed that Eddie could still make him feel so loved, from hundreds of miles away.

But one thing was for sure. He still had to be the happiest man on earth.

[reashot]

Jaune Phone Call with Papa Arc.

Team JNPR Dorm Room.

Jaune: I'm gonna fail this assignment because my dad won't open up.

Ren: Me and Nora going to fail because our parents were killed because of a Grimm attack.

Pyrrha: Wow I didn't knew that Ren. I'm sorry to hear that. And are you doing Nora's homework?

Nora: Fo'sho. What? You expect me to do my own homework? Please think even less of me.

Ren: Look Jaune, back on topic. A lot of people feel more comfortable talking about personal things when it's not face-to-face.

Nora: Maybe you should try calling your dad.

Jaune: I guess it's worth a shot...

*ring* 🎶

Mistralian Restaurant.

Papa Arc: Hello?

Jaune: H-hey dad. What'chu up to?

Papa Arc: Eating lunch. I just needed a break from work you know. Lately I've been thinking about all the people I've had to kill...

God. The first, five, ten times you take a life it's eerie you remember every detail. I can see all their faces. One had a beard. Each time I pulled the trigger I tied a little knot in my memory no amount of whiskey could loosen...

Nora: *Scoots away from the phone call*

Papa Arc: Of course eventually I stopped caring. Now I can put a bullet through a man's head while figuring out how much VFC to pick up on my way home. It's usually no more than a bucket.

Pyrrha: 😱

Papa Arc: The sick part is I've come to love it. Snuffing out lives. I crave it. I feel like an angel of death, the messenger of eternal darkness, a merciless demon with an unquenchable... Oh! They just put more orange chicken on the Buffett gotta run. *phone ended.

Nora: *Hiding under the bed*

JPR: *Stunned in place*

Back in the Dorm Room

Jaune: I can't turn this in. It's all about my dad killing people.

*someone enters into the room*

Yang: What is this about killing people?

Pyrrha: Hey Yang, it's nothing we're trying to finish our assignment.

Weiss: I already finished mine ages ago. What took you guys so long?

Ren: We're trying to get Jaune's dad to talk about what happened during his time, but so far he's being "uncooperative"...

Blake: How is he being "uncooperative?"

Nora: *shivering* You don't want to know....

Ruby: Oh, maybe I can help you with your dad? 🙂

Jaune: *rub Ruby's head* It's okay Ruby. It's my assignment after all. You don't have to do anything to help me.

Ruby: *purr* 😸 (Oh yeah, that's the stuff... Run my head like you own me. 😚)

Ren: Call your dad again and get him to talk about something else.

*ring* 🎶

Papa Arc: Hello?

Jaune: Hey dad.

Papa Arc: Son, glad you called. I was kind of bumming thinking about your mom.

Jaune: W-what, why?

Yang: (Isn't she the hot one?)

Papa Arc: *sigh* I feel like our lovemaking has lost all its intimacy. We're not attuned to each other's love energy, we're just slamming away...

Jaune: Dad! I'm here with the girls on speakerphone.

Blake: (Don't interrupt him! 😾)

Papa Arc: Hey girls! So, Lovemaking sure can turn into sex without you even noticing it. And why not sex with your mom feels great!

*Team RWBY starts circling in to listen closely.*

Papa Arc: It's easy to think, maybe there is love and then there's the performer in me always trying to get your mom turned on.

Weiss: (Scandalous...)

Papa Arc: I pull her hair, choke her lightly or not so lightly.

Ruby: (I wish Jaune will do that to me one day.🥵)

Jaune: Dad! When you were my age. What was the cost of a loaf of bread.

Papa Arc: The focus becomes how hot she gets. How many times I can make her shudder with pleasure.

RWBY: *giggling*

Jaune: Allright this is enough... *gets tackled to the ground*

Ruby: Don't, disturb your dad! 😠 *gag Jaune's mouth*

Jaune: *muffled scream*

Yang: Dad. What do mom boobs look like?

Papa Arc: I'll tell you Yang they're perfect. Creamy, twins with faint blue veins running over them like cooling streams I can wash my face in it...

Yang: Oh that's hot.... *starts rubbing herself.*

Blake: Hmmph! You never get this hot when you're with me...

Yang: Really? Maybe I should change that then... *long sensual kiss*

So how do you like it my kitty cat?

Blake: ... It's a start. *return kiss*

Ren: Shouldn't we stop this?

Nora: What! No I say we join in and turned it into an orgy.

Ren: Wait, what? *gets mounted by Nora*

Papa Arc: Of course it still wasn't enough for the both of us...

Ruby: So Jaune... Now that everyone are enjoying themselves. Maybe you want to do it with me too? 😊

Jaune: Ruby I...

Pyrrha: You can't! b-because Jaune is mine... *kiss Jaune*

Ruby: *gasp* (How could Pyrrha NTR Jaune away from me? He's mine I saw him first!😫)

Papa Arc: ... And even then we still weren't satisfied. It got so bad your mom decided to bring another woman into our bed to spice things up, as she puts it. Oh, the looks on your mother's face as I plow the other woman in front of her. Turns out your mom likes to look.

Ruby: (Could that be the solution. Me, Jaune and Pyrrha? I mean I do find the both of them to be extremely hot... Ah, who am I kidding. YOLO.) Pyrrha. Can you let me join with you and Jaune? 😇

Pyrrha: Well since you ask nicely...

Jaune: Wait, what do you mean by that? Pyrrha, Ruby why are the two of you looking at me like that??! No, no, no, stay away!!!

Weiss:

(No one wants to be with me 😢)

Papa Arc: And that's why Jaune you probably have another half-sibling running around right now... Oh, you having an Orgy in there? Don't let me stop you, son. But do remember to use protection. Unless you want to have an unexpected surprise like me. But seriously use a condom or I will castrate you... Oops. Gotta go Jaune. My egg fooyong is finally here.

Beacon Academy.

Cardin: ... That's why my Dad walked out of his Dad's funeral & I will walk out of my dad's funeral!

Peter: Great presentation Cardin. Now Jaune you're up. Show me your report on your father.

Jaune: I-I'm sorry, Professor Port but my dad wasn't really willing to answer the questions.

Peter: Nonsense young man. I give you an entire week. What were you even doing all those time?

Ruby: More like what haven't we been doing? 🤭

Pyrrha: *giggle* Stop it Ruby, you going to get us into trouble.

Ruby: I can't help it Pyr. So. Same thing tonight? 😉

Pyrrha: Most definitely, we're not going to let Jaune get any sleep tonight. If you know what I mean.

Peter: Why if I don't know any better, I think you are trying to get out of this assignment?

Jaune: Okay. Is that what you think? Okay professor Port here we go.

*Walks up to the front of the class*

Jaune: *click* Hey dad, I'm calling in front of my history class. So who was the councilman when you were a kid?

Papa Arc: Oh, I don't know but I guess I think about killing myself pretty frequently. And why not. What so great about living? You know when I'm happy? For about five seconds when I first wake up. Before I remember who I am and what my life is about. Anxiety, disappointment, diarrhea more often than not. I don't know if there's an afterlife. But who cares. Nothingness couldn't be worse than my meaningless March through my empty days.

Jaune: You see professor Port... Professor Port?

Peter: He's right, it's pointless, Salem will kill us all... Life Dismissed. *jumps through the window*

Nora: I guess class is over?

[iamthecomet]

You can't just say Aethdew sexting while Dew's on tour and get away with it

I'm so glad you asked about this. It's been plaguing me for literal weeks. (@miasmaghoul can back me up on that). Enjoy. <3

Aether's phone buzzes late. Well after midnight, like usual. He doesn't know what time it is where Dew is--earlier by an hour or two he guesses. He'd like to say he's keeping track. That he knows exactly where they are. He kept track for the first week or so. Looked at all the pictures, watched the videos. But that started to crack something painful open in his chest. Loneliness. Jealousy. He made the right choice--he knows it. But man, it doesn't make the ache for the stage any less. He wants to be there with them. Mostly, he wants them all here with him.

The message doesn't wake him up. Sleep has been elusive since his pack went on tour. He finds himself awake most of the night--sleeping in fits during the day. Curled up in sunspots. Dragging Sunshine into a nap with him. His mind wanders less in the sunlight.

The TV is on low. Still on the show Sunny left it on when she went to bed, kissing Aether on the temple and telling him not to stay up all night. The light flashes over his face, he's watching, but he isn't. It drones on, something about baking that Cumulus probably loves.

Aether looks at his phone. He knows it's Dew before he really looks at it. He's the only one who texts him in the middle of the night. Heedless to time and basic human decency. Aether is grateful for these middle of the night texts. He gets one almost every night. He probably won't mention it to Dew--then he runs the risk that they'll stop.

Droplet: Can't sleep.

Aether shakes his head. He thinks about asking what time it is. Asking more details. Asking him why, exactly, he can't sleep this time. But he doesn't really want an essay on the shitty hotel bed and the scratchy sheets. Or how the bus is too loud. He just wants Dew. A: How was the show?

D: hot. Good I guess. A show. You know?

Aether does know. They run together after a while. Blending until it's hard to remember what happened in France and what happened in Spain. He doesn't miss that part, the exhaustion, the bone-deep fatigue that you have to push through every day.

A: hotel?

D: yeah. Rooming with Swiss. Wanna help me sleep? Aether looks at the text. Tries to smother the desire already curling in his gut. Of course he wants to help Dew sleep. He wants Dew to be here so he can press him into the couch and kiss him breathless. Wants to sheathe his fingers inside Dew's over-warm body and finger him until Dew begs.

A: you could ask Swiss.

D: don't want Swiss.

Aether stares at the message. Three words and he's already chubbing up. Show me he texts back. Slipping his free hand into his sweatpants and wrapping his fingers around his cock. Let me help. The next thing Aether knows his phone is ringing. He fumbles with it, trying to answer the video call and keep his hand on his dick. He half expects Dew's face to fill the screen, instead he's met with his cock. Hard, already flushed red at the tip and shiny with pre. Dew's spidery fingers are wrapped around the base. Aether watches the way his stomach muscles jump as his fingers contract and release. Dew's sweatpants are pulled down to his thighs, bare toes pressed into the white tile floor, already curling. "Tell me what to do," Dew whispers. "Are you in the bathroom?" Aether asks, narrowing his eyes and trying to get his barring. Dew snarls. "Does it matter, come on, Aeth. Please." It's the please that gets him. Always is. It's a rarely used weapon in Dew's arsenal, but it's lethel. Aether can't deny him when he asks nicely. Why would he want to? "Go slow, tell me what it feels like." Dew's breath stutters. Aether watches his hand drag up the length of his cock. Watches it kick in Dew's palm. "Better if it was you." "Wish it was," Aether says. He's fully hard now, heavy in his own hand. He matches Dew's pace, mimics his motions. It's almost enough to pretend it's Dew's skinny hand. Aether bites back a moan as Dew rubs the palm of his hand over the flushed head. "Aeth," Dew whines after a few minutes. He's shaking a little. "Need more." Aether knows the feeling. Body screaming for him to just move, for more, for something rough and desperate. "Yeah, yeah, faster now. It's ok." Dew groans when he finally lets loose. Aether matches his rough pace, precum soaking into his sweatpants. Listening to Dew pant and whine as stands, dick in one hand, phone in the other. Aether watches Dew's pre drip from his cock and onto the tile and he thanks Satan for good internet connections and better phone cameras. Dew makes a noise Aether knows too well. Gut punched. Desperate. He can see his toes curling. Can see the fine shake in his thighs. Aether longs to reach out and touch him. To be the one with his hand wrapped around that cock, to feel the pulse of it. He squeezes his own, balls drawing up tight against his body as he watching Dew drag himself closer and closer does him in. "Aeth--" "Me too, let me see it. Come on Dew, make a mess for me I wanna--" Dew swears, his rhythm falters. His cock kicks in his hand and Aether watches as he cums across his own knuckles and onto the floor. The video shakes as Dew tries to keep the phone in his hand as he cums. Gasping. Aether wishes he could see his face--could watch the way his eyes roll back in his head--next time. He doesn't need it, the sight of Dew cumming is enough to send Aether over the edge. Groaning, spilling into his sweatpants and over his hand. He digs his teeth into his cheek and tries to keep his eyes open--watching as Dew wipes his hand off on his pants and pulls them up. Aether drops his head back against the couch cushion and tries to breathe normally. Dew's face fills the screen next. Flushed, still panting. His hair is a mess. He smiles at Aether, wide and dumb and sleepy. Aether can't help but smile back at him. He feels insane. He feels like if he tried hard enough he could reach through his phone and drag his fingers over Dew's cheekbone. "Better?" he asks. Dew nods. "Still miss you though." "Few more weeks, Firefly. And it'll be my hand, I promise." "Hopefully more than your hand," Dew grins. He tries and fails to stifle a yawn. "Go to sleep, Dew." Dew frowns. But he steps out of the bathroom and kills the light. Dew's face is illuminated now by only the light from his phone and the TV, droning in the background just like it is for Aether. "Same time tomorrow?" Dew asks. Aether nods, "I'll be waiting."

[defectivevillain]

this winding labyrinth, ch7

chapter seven: survival

pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Reader (reader is not gendered, race-ambiguous, and no physical descriptors are used)

summary:

You wish you never met Hannibal Lecter. But you yearn for his presence. You want to forget him. But he never truly leaves your thoughts. Now, you’re left to pick up the pieces of a broken design. A battle of instinct rages on in your mind—one of bittersweet relief and cloying grief, fearless resolve and poignant regret; a clashing between affection and antipathy, pride and pain. What will win, in the end? Only time will tell.

this is chapter 7, act 2 of this broken design. if you haven't read act 1 or chapters 1-6, this won't make too much sense.

ao3 version | Spotify playlist

warnings: nightmares, drowning; canon-typical blood, violence, gore, & death. y'all know the drill by now, i think.

If your dreams were vivid before, you’re not even sure how to describe them now. The moment you close your eyes, you’re transported somewhere else. Suddenly, you’re walking with bare feet on muddy soil when wrists shoot out of the damp earth, grabbing onto your ankles and yanking you back through dirt until you fall down next to a decaying corpse… 

Then you’re swimming through a sea of broken glass, every movement burying shards further into your skin. Your blood slips through the fragments, a crimson bubbling sea rising around you until you’re being pulled under by the ferocious current… 

…You’re restrained on an autopsy table, a surgeon making an incision down your chest. Your chest aches, but you suspect the feeling isn’t just from the scalpel. Sure enough, you feel something clawing at your chest cavity and you lurch forward against the iron manacles forcing your wrists down. Claws prickle against your skin and, suddenly, a bright bird bursts from your chest and flies about the room… 

Then you’re standing across from Hannibal, as he stares at you from his confines. He presses his fingertips to the glass boundary and it crumbles to dust in the stale air. For a moment, when you blink, you see bloodstained antlers branching out from Hannibal’s head. When you blink again, he is standing impossibly closer. You’re screaming at yourself to move, run, but you’re entirely frozen. Just as he reaches out, there’s an impossibly loud blaring sound… 

You open your eyes to find yourself tangled in your bedsheets, your alarm making incessant noise. You reach out to grab your phone and turn off the alarm, before rubbing a hand over your face as you try to ground yourself to reality. These dreams of yours aren’t helping your sleep at all, and you sometimes find yourself staying up later in the foolish hopes of outrunning the horrors you know you’ll be met with when you close your eyes. 

There’s a buzzing sound ringing in your ears—an aftereffect of the dream. You clamp your hands over your ears, surprised that the effort actually dampens the sound. Then you glance at your nightstand and realize that your phone is ringing. You stare at it for a few moments in confusion, before groaning and picking it up. There’s an incoming call from Jack—you immediately accept and push yourself up to a sitting position, before bringing the phone to your ear. 

Jack neglects a greeting. “There was a murder,” he says. Immediately, all of the thoughts you’d been trying to push away—namely, the Tooth Fairy killings and your conversation with Hannibal—come flooding back. You take a short breath in. “A prisoner at Baltimore State Hospital died yesterday; he choked on his own tongue.”

Foreboding clings to your skin like a vice. Jack doesn’t need to provide any more detail, because you can already picture—with almost complete certainty—who the victim was. All you need to do is close your eyes and remember the disgusting feeling of saliva on your cheek, followed by the ice-cold shiver that ran down your spine as you saw the fury gleaming in the Ripper’s eyes. Just as you expect, Jack confirms that the victim was Miggs—the same inmate who you had that rather unpleasant interaction with but a few days ago. 

You’re lost for words. Thankfully, Jack isn’t expecting an answer from you. “Chilton wants you here,” he continues, a hint of annoyance creeping into his tone. “Now.” You’re still sitting in bed at this point—and Frederick Chilton isn’t exactly a person you’d rush out of bed to assist. 

“Tell him I’ll be there this afternoon,” you answer after a moment’s contemplation. You have plans to visit Abigail today—which you refuse to reschedule. Plus, you need to review the case files and autopsy reports before returning to the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. “And if that’s not soon enough… then too bad.” Chilton isn’t your boss—Jack Crawford is. And you know Jack has far more pressing issues than a house call from a hospital administrator. 

Your suspicions are correct, because Jack doesn’t argue. “Got it.” The call ends and you groan, rubbing a hand over your face roughly in an attempt to fight off your exhaustion. It’s a bit earlier than you intended to be awake, but you know you won’t be able to fall asleep again. Conceding defeat, you brush your teeth and get dressed before heading out to the kitchen for a light breakfast. 

Not long after, you find yourself taking notes on what you know of the Tooth Fairy so far as you sit on your back porch, wind whipping at your skin. The cigarette dangling between your fingers is a small comfort, and it doesn’t provide nearly enough warmth as you desire. Even as you try to focus on the imminent threat—the Tooth Fairy—all you can think about is your interaction with Hannibal. You should have known that he would aim to harm Miggs. Indeed, that vicious snarl on Hannibal’s face was indicative of what was to come. You should’ve fucking known. Then, maybe another person wouldn’t be dead. Then, maybe you wouldn’t be sitting on your porch with this selfish guilt crawling around in your chest. You have no right to be guilty—you practically allowed that murder to happen.

…Right? 

You’ve caught yourself getting stuck in that mindset rather often recently. Your psyche loves to assign you the guilt and award you the responsibility. Sometimes, you know it’s deserved. But, in cases like this—in situations like the murder of Miggs, where you were just a bystander—you feel like you’re giving yourself too much credit. 

There’s only so much time you can spend mulling over the details of the Tooth Fairy killings and refreshing your memory before you find yourself growing agitated. You’re buzzing with restless energy, your foot tapping against the deck impatiently. Your thought process has grinded to a halt; the just barely visible trail has now gone cold. It’s frustrating to have so little information on this killer, especially when you know exactly when he will kill next. You feel as if you’re just fighting against the inevitable, at this point. But murder should never be inevitable. The BAU needs to find a way to get this guy behind bars. 

You shake your head and push yourself to your feet, collecting your materials into a relatively coherent pile and moving back inside. The sky is looking a bit overcast, and you’d rather not have raindrops scattered across the files. Besides, it’s nearly time for your visit with Abigail, you realize as you look down at your watch. 

You’ve been visiting her off and on since the encounter with her father in their home—since he sliced his daughter’s throat and stared right through you, those eerie, dusty green eyes pinning you in place with ease-

Safe to say, your memories of Garret Jacob Hobbs still aren’t buried, even after so many years. He’s the first of the many voices sounding in the cacophony of your mind. 

You push thoughts of the murderer aside and walk up the path towards the building. You sign in with the receptionist and walk over to the waiting area, taking a seat on the couch. It doesn’t take long before Abigail makes an appearance, and the two of you exchange greetings before you walk outside, settling on one of the benches under a willow tree. The wind rustles through the leaves and there’s a slight chill to the air, but it’s far from unpleasant. You place your hands on your knees and try to pretend as if you aren’t feeling tense. You’re here to speak with Abigail—you can abandon thoughts of bloodstains and corpses until you leave. 

For a few minutes, Abigail and you sit on the bench in companionable silence. You get the feeling that Abigail is trying to figure out her next words, and your instinct is proven correct when she breaks the silence moments later. “I’ve been placed into a foster home,” she reveals. 

You raise your eyebrows and try to study her reaction. She doesn’t exactly look thrilled. Actually, on second thought, Abigail looks as if she wants to be happy—but she’s preventing herself from being hopeful. You suppose that’s a normal reaction, for someone who’s been through what she’s been through. “That’s wonderful news, Abigail,” you say with a smile. The smile on her face flickers and you frown. “What’s the matter?”

Abigail sighs, clasping her hands in her lap. She is being uncharacteristically evasive. You decide to be patient and wait for her to gather her composure. Eventually, she takes a deep breath. “I… I’m scared.” The admission seems to take a lot out of her. She’s avoiding your gaze now, staring ahead at the building she’s been practically trapped in since she woke from her coma. 

“What are you scared of?” You hum, genuinely curious. You don’t want to patronize her, so you try to ensure that your expression is as open and honest as possible. 

Abigail is silent for a bit. “Disappointing them,” she eventually admits. You try to digest that confession. “And I feel like… I don’t deserve this. After everything I’ve done…” Everything she has done, indeed. Abigail was not entirely innocent in her father’s crimes—and she was more than just complicit. She helped him source his victims, pretended to make friends with them so that they would let their guard down. Maybe that’s why you have formed such a kinship with Abigail: you both know cruelty; Abigail and you have both been victims and perpetrators. “What if they don’t like me?” Abigail whispers, so quietly you nearly convince yourself you imagine it.

Then you’re abruptly reminded that, above all, Abigail is still a young girl—practically a child. Your throat burns a little as you process her statement. “They’ll love you, Abigail.” You’re quick to reassure her. 

“What if they don’t?” Her voice cracks and your heart breaks a little. 

“Then you can make a break for it,” you respond with a dramatic wink. The remark successfully diffuses the tension that had been settling in the air and Abigail laughs. A small part of you wants to offer for her to stay with you, but you know that’s a foolish promise to make. You suppose it’s normal to want a family—every human craves connection, in one way or another… regardless of how that connection may manifest. But you’re not deluded enough to think that you have all the necessary tools to be a parental figure to Abigail. You’re busy enough fighting off your own demons. Abigail deserves a normal life, and you’re not able to give that to her. 

(Maybe, in another world, you would be able to provide her with a quiet, ordinary life and a loving home. Maybe, in this other world, you would have someone to share that responsibility with you—someone who cares about Abigail just as much as you, someone who would protect her with all the ferocity and compassion that she deserves. Someone like…)

Your thoughts are veering into dangerously fantastic territory. You shake your head and try to shift your focus back to the conversation, ignoring the deluded (but compelling) calls of domesticity and belonging. Ultimately, you have never belonged. And you don’t see that changing any time soon. 

“So… it may be a while before I see you again,” Abigail says, tearing you out of your reverie. You stare at her for a few moments. 

“That’s okay,” you then reassure her, upon seeing the guilt written all over his face. “You’ll be busy—going to school, hanging out with friends. You won’t even think about an old geezer like me.” You smile, hoping to cheer her up further. Your efforts seem to work, because a smile rises on her lips. 

“Shut up,” Abigail says with an amused huff. “That’s not true.” 

“It is true,” you say, a fond smile growing on your face. You hope she’ll be able to move on from all this and live a normal life: go to school; hang out with friends; and engage with her hobbies. You can only hope that Abigail’s father doesn’t haunt her mind the same way he haunts yours. “And I wouldn’t want anything less for you.” You maintain. 

A pleasant silence descends across the air once more. A gentle wind blows through the trees and Abigail sighs. You mimic the gesture and she smiles. You’re not sure how long the two of you remain seated in companionable silence before an orderly appears in the doorway of the building and taps her wrist, indicating that your time is almost up.

You dig your hands in your pockets and find the item you intended to give her, turning it over in your hand and hesitating for a moment. Abigail follows your gaze and looks at it. You realize it’s too late and take a deep breath, offering her the object. “If you ever need me,” you say pointedly. 

Abigail takes your business card and looks down at it, raising her eyebrows. “Ooh, how professional,” she teases. You roll your eyes. The orderly motions pointedly and a sudden sincerity stifles the air. “I’ll make sure to text you.” She promises, the resolute gleam in her eyes indicating that she will not go back on her word.

You stand up and she does the same, before turning towards you and reaching forward to hug you. There’s a kind of sadness lingering in her movements, in the unspoken way she tucks her head into your chest and stays there. It’s clear she’s still nervous about the whole foster parent affair, and you don’t blame her. “They’re going to love you,” you assert, resisting the uncharacteristic urge to ruffle her hair. 

“I hope so,” she murmurs against your shoulder. 

“They will,” you reassure her. They’d better, you think darkly. The two of you eventually break apart and Abigail regretfully traipses back to the building, leaving you to walk to your car with conflicting feelings of relief and stress. You get the feeling you’ll see Abigail again, but it may be a little while. You’ll be busy with work and she’ll be busy adjusting to a new lifestyle—a peaceful one. 

Overall, your visit with Abigail was a welcome distraction from everything going on; unfortunately, the moment you start your car and pull out of the parking lot, all of your anxieties come rushing back. You’re supposed to meet with Frederick Chilton. Supposedly, he wants to speak with you. You can only hope that your conversation won’t be centered around getting you to participate in a consultation appointment with him. 

And, to your immense fortune, Chilton doesn’t mention a consultation appointment once. Perhaps he’s finally accepted that you’re not interested in participating in a vulnerable conversation with him (or a conversation at all, if you’re being perfectly honest). Instead, he levels you with a wary gaze as you enter his office, his eyes tracking your every movement. You settle for standing in front of his desk with your hands shoved in your pockets. Admittedly, you’re feeling pretty restless—but you don’t want to give Chilton the satisfaction of knowing that. 

“You wanted to see me.” You prompt, after a few seconds pass and the administrator doesn’t make any move to address you.  

“I’m assuming Jack has briefed you,” he says, cutting right to the chase. You nod and he pinches the bridge of his nose. “The prisoner who died was Miggs… His cell was near Lecter’s.” You aren’t very surprised and the thought briefly makes you feel guilty, before you remember why exactly Miggs was imprisoned. “When I went to review the security footage, I noticed something interesting,” Chilton continues ambiguously.

The look on his face is nothing short of pure suspicion. You’re quickly losing patience with this circular conversation. “What?” You demand tersely. 

Chilton doesn’t seem surprised by your sudden rudeness. Instead he just exhales slowly, clasping his hands on his desk and looking at you with an unreadable expression. “There was an altercation between you and the victim.” He states. 

“Yes, he spit on me.” You recall, unable to hide your distaste. Chilton grimaces in sympathy. It’s a fleeting gesture—one that is performed for pretense, rather than out of genuine sentiment. Although, you’re sure he’s had similar experiences with prisoners—what with his position as the hospital’s head administrator. 

“Immediately after, you spoke to Lecter.” Chilton continues. This is just one of the numerous reasons you don’t like Frederick Chilton: when he has the opportunity to speak, he monopolizes it. He likes hearing the sound of his own voice, so he’ll go into painful and unnecessary detail for his own amusement. You always struggle with being patient in these moments, and right now is no exception. “Then, hours later, Miggs turns up dead. That seems like more than mere coincidence.”

You grit your teeth, catching the implications of his statement immediately. “You think that I spoke to Lecter and ordered him to kill Miggs?” You repeat, a little indignation seeping into your voice. You’re trying your best to remain calm, but it’s difficult when you’re being accused of a murder you didn’t commit. “Why would I do that?”

“Miggs spit on you, disrespected you,” Chilton answers. It’s an incredibly weak justification, and it almost looks as if he regrets uttering it. In your infinite generosity, you give him a few moments to take it back. But he doesn’t move to apologize or rescind his remark, so you’re forced to acknowledge it.

“My pride isn’t that easily wounded,” you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “I think you know I didn’t sic Lecter on him just for a simple discourtesy.” 

“Men have been killed for far less.” That may be true, but you wouldn’t kill someone over a small act of disrespect. You want to think you wouldn’t kill at all, but you’re afraid it’s a bit too late for that. Your victims cackle in your ears, reminding you of your cruelty and hypocrisy. 

Chilton is staring at you expectantly. You remember that it’s your turn to respond. “Yes, it’s probable that Lecter killed Miggs,” you acquiesce. “But I didn’t ask him to do that.” He did it of his own accord, you know. Arguably even more frightening. 

“Even so…” Chilton breaks off. 

“Just stop,” you interject, before he can hurl any more unfounded conjecture at you. “You’re grasping at straws here. Not to mention, if you checked the security footage, you would know that I left the building after that encounter. There’s no way I would’ve been able to get back in and have another conversation with Hannibal.” You don’t notice the slip until you see Chilton raise a brow, and you’re quick to continue speaking. “Besides, if you wanted to know what he said to me, you could’ve just asked.” You suspect that’s been the prime motivator for this conversation. Chilton likely knows that you didn’t commit the murder—he’s just trying to lead you into a verbal trap in which you reveal details of your conversation. 

“Very well,” Chilton acknowledges with a gesture of mock-surrender. “What did he say to you? The footage shows you about to leave, before you return to Lecter for a few moments.” He recalls, glancing at his computer before looking at you again. 

“He was calling my name,” you remember. “I went back.” I’m not sure why, you neglect to say. “He asked me if Miggs spit on me. I told him that he did. He said it was discourteous. I told him it would be fine.”

“And then?” Chilton asks, practically leaning forward in interest. 

You smile. “Then I walked away.” You answer. 

Chilton visibly droops and you just barely manage to hold back a laugh. Honestly, you can’t believe he had the audacity to try to play mind games with you. You’re a criminal profiler and investigator—you’ve spoken to far more dangerous personalities and have manipulated people far more threatening than Frederick Chilton. The fact that he thought, even for a moment, that he could talk circles around you is insulting—and it speaks to his towering ego. 

“Now, I want to speak to Lecter,” you assert. I’m not letting this visit be a complete waste of time, you think to yourself. You’re already here—you might as well try to squeeze some more answers out of Hannibal. Will you actually get any valuable information? Probably not. But you won’t know unless you try. At least, that’s how you try to justify it to yourself. The voices don’t like that justification, though—Franklyn whispers that you’re just like him, that you just crave his full attention-

“Knock yourself out,” Chilton sighs dejectedly, tossing you his keys. You’re roughly torn out of your thoughts and you just barely manage to catch them, surprised that he’s trusting you with his keys after he just finished accusing you of murder. Your thoughts must show on your face, because Chilton just shakes his head in disbelief. “It’s been a long day.”

You decide to leave it at that and leave his office, heading downstairs and pacing down the hall lined with iron bars and dehumanizing cages. The prisoners aren’t nearly as rowdy as they’ve been in the past, and you think you make it all the way to the final door before Hannibal’s cell without being harassed or insulted. That might just be a record, you think to yourself wryly as you unlock the security door with Chilton’s door and shut it behind you. Immediately, your eyes aren’t drawn to Hannibal—but to another cell. 

Miggs’ cell is empty. There’s a sizable chunk taken from the toilet (evidently, that’s what he threw at you). More worrying, however, is the rather large, light pink stain marring the floor. It’s clear a janitor was tasked with mopping up all the blood that Miggs left behind. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like all of the blood came out. You shake your head and rip your eyes away, that familiar nausea prickling at the back of your throat. 

When you settle in front of Hannibal’s cell, you realize that something is different. Hannibal is seated at his writing desk, staring down at the cracked wood as if it holds invaluable secrets. He looks up when you take another step, but you’re too busy looking at the empty shelves behind him. Consulting your memory, you realize that his books aren’t crowding the shelves anymore. 

“Where are your books?” is somehow the first question that leaves your lips. Hannibal clearly doesn’t expect the question, because he blinks for a few moments before helplessly quirking his lips as he turns to face you. “Chilton took them?” You ask before he can answer. 

“Yes,” Hannibal nods. The irritation that is normally hidden behind layers of his mask almost seems to froth and bubble over, spilling over his frame and tightening his posture. He clasps his hands on the desk and stares at you, studying you. You’ve gotten used to the feeling of being shoved under a microscope and relentlessly examined with attentive eyes, yet it doesn’t fail to unnerve you. 

“I’ll speak to him,” you suggest after a few moments. Getting Hannibal his books back may help him to trust you, which could prove beneficial in the long run. But that’s not the real reason you’re offering, is it? “In the meantime-” You try to continue. 

“Will you really?” Hannibal interjects, staring at you scrupulously. There is little emotion in his voice—no sign of hope or gratitude. The statement is spoken with an entire lack of substance. Perhaps captivity is slowly eating away at the man. Somehow, you doubt it. 

“Yes, I will,” you promise before you can consider the consequences. Why did you do that? Somehow, you felt pressured to agree—and Hannibal hadn’t even formed any expectations for you to do so. You just volunteered to speak to Chilton on his behalf… entirely of your own accord. And that troubles you. You thought you were maintaining a professional distance, but your actions are speaking to something deeper. 

“I would be grateful,” Hannibal says. “There is little to do in this cell.”

Now you’re feeling guilty. You’re falling prey to his mind games, knowingly, yet you aren’t doing anything about it. You are an entirely willing deer prancing about near a lion’s den. “Books keep the mind at bay, I’m sure,” you murmur. You’re speaking before thinking and it shows. “Anyway, that’s not what I came for-”

Hannibal inexplicably gets up from his seat and you flinch. He paces towards the glass barrier, until he is a mere two or three feet from you. Then he inhales through his nostrils. The man’s brows furrow and his expression turns pinched. “You smell of smoke,” Hannibal remarks astutely. His eyes flit up and down your form, likely looking for evidence of your new habit. 

“I’m surprised you didn’t notice sooner,” you say guardedly. Indeed, from what you remember, he has always had a keen sense of smell. That primarily manifested in him making those eerie types of comments, but you also noticed his nose scrunch at unpleasant scents when he thought no one was looking. 

“I noticed the moment you approached the glass, before our most recent conversation,” Hannibal confesses. You frown. “I dismissed it as a once-off occurrence… It appears I was incorrect.”

Silence. You don’t know what to say. Hannibal seems content to let the silence drag on painfully, as he just stares wordlessly. Just when you’re growing to be a little too uncomfortable, he breaks through the quiet air. “Tell me, do you enjoy the thought of lung cancer?” He hums lightly. 

You don’t bother dignifying that statement with a response, instead burying your hands further into your jacket pockets. Your fingers find the steadfast cold metal of your lighter and you take a deep breath. A cough is building in your throat and you tilt your head to the side and cough into the crook of your elbow. You don’t need to look at Hannibal to know that he’s staring at you with a knowing expression, but you find your gaze pulled back to him (as it always is). You’re instantly surprised by the sight of Hannibal frowning at you. You were certain he would take pride in foreseeing your suffering, but instead, he looks concerned. Surely you must be seeing things. 

“Does it bring you solace?” Hannibal breathes. You don’t need to ask him to elaborate, but he does anyway. “Burning yourself from the inside out, that is.” Admittedly, you have thought about that before. A part of you, however small, does take solace in the fact that your new smoking habit is slowly destroying your lungs, rendering them entirely inedible to a cannibal. Maybe this is just a small delusion you’ve allowed yourself—one fleeting act of resistance against a never-ending, surging tide. 

The Chesapeake Ripper is waiting for an answer. Inwardly, you find amusement in the realization that, out of all the things you’ve done, smoking is what bothers Hannibal. You have done far more cruel, dangerous, and self-sabotaging things—but this is where he draws the line. Once a doctor, always a doctor. 

“I’ve grown used to the flames,” you mutter. 

He doesn’t find your answer satisfactory. That much is clear, from the way his lips are pulled tight in a thin line to the disappointment lingering in all that remains unspoken between you. “And to addiction?” Hannibal asks. His presence before you now is one big contradiction: his words are non-confrontational, yet there is a combative desire written in the harsh lines that sew him together. 

“You’re not my doctor,” you snap, with a bit more bite than usual. You take a deep breath and rub a hand over your face roughly, shaking your head in disbelief. Hannibal remains entirely enigmatic—too unpredictable for your liking. One moment, he’s murdering an inmate; the next, he’s attempting to warn you off of smoking. These interactions never fail to give you whiplash. 

“Very well,” Hannibal acquiesces, clearly sensing that he won’t get more information about your harmful coping mechanisms. Before you can get in another word edgewise, Hannibal is continuing to speak. “Send in Dr. Chilton, will you?” You’re being effectively dismissed. Somehow, you feel humiliated. This entire time, you were foolish enough to think that you were controlling the conversation, that you were the one with the power. But that was never the case. Your presence, your existence behind these nondescript walls was always his to dictate. 

“Sure,” you respond through gritted teeth, cursing yourself for letting your guard down. You turn on your heel and walk away, very tempted to ignore his farewell. You eventually settle for throwing a wave over your shoulder as you depart, lost in thought. 

You come back to yourself as you’re standing in Chilton’s office. You blink dazedly and look around you, confused as to how you got here. You don’t remember walking back through the halls, but you must’ve—otherwise you’d still be standing in front of Hannibal. You rub at your eyes roughly and try to collect your composure, painfully aware of Chilton staring daggers into you as you stand there. He’s nearly vibrating in curiosity; unfortunately for him, it takes you a few minutes to regain the ability to speak. 

“He’s asking for you,” you finally utter. Chilton nods and steps out of his office. You stand frozen in the doorway until you hear the doors to the hall shut behind him. Then, as if possessed, you move to his desk and look down at his computer screen, which is focused on the surveillance camera feed for Hannibal’s cell. For a few minutes, Hannibal remains seated at his desk in solitude. Then, Chilton appears in the hall. The camera feed is slightly grainy and there’s no audio, but you try your best to ascertain what’s happening from their nonverbal gestures and posture. 

“I need to speak to Jack Crawford,” Hannibal says.  

“And why should I listen to you?” Chilton scoffs. Chilton is standing at least a foot away from the glass wall. You’re starting to think the administrator has a bit of a complex when it comes to Hannibal. Now that the Ripper is behind bars, Chilton is foolishly convinced that he is the one who holds the power. But Hannibal’s surrender was tactical, and you’re almost certain that he has something more up his sleeve. 

Hannibal doesn’t respond, instead staring at him silently. It’s abundantly clear that the man isn’t very fond of Chilton. 

“Fine,” Chilton responds. “But don’t expect to be getting your books back any time soon.” He adds.  

You’re left to speculate on the nature of their conversation, and you’re forced to make your escape once you notice Chilton leaving. You manage to make it out of the building before he returns, thankfully. As you drive home, you can’t help but think about the interaction you just witnessed. While you don’t know what the two men discussed, you do know that Hannibal will likely get his way. 

And indeed, he does. Unbeknownst to you, within three hours, Jack Crawford is standing before Hannibal Lecter’s enclosure with an annoyed pull to his lips. Moreover, the next time you visit Hannibal, you will notice that all of his books have been returned to him—in addition to the toilet seat and his drawings, which were both removed as punishments. These occurrences will serve as yet another reminder of the power Hannibal holds. He is no ordinary prisoner—no ordinary killer, no ordinary man. 

“You are far from ordinary,” Hannibal had told you once. Even now, years later and separated by a seemingly impenetrable wall of glass, his voice echoes down the halls of your mind palace and slips right past your defenses. You spend the rest of the evening trying to suppress old memories.

thanks for reading! <3

check out my other works, sorted by fandom.

hannibal taglist: @its-ares @tobbotobbs @xrisdoesntexist @gr1mmac3 @tiredstarcerberuslamb @yourlocalratwriter @kingkoku @kahuunknown @atlas-king1 @pendragon-writes @slipknotcentury @cryinersaved @the-ultimate-librarian @starre-eyes @pendragon-writes @peterparkeeperer @gayschlatt69 @flow33didontsmoke @mrgatotortuga @house-of-1000-corpses-fan

friendly reminder that i don't give permission for my writing to be shared to other sites, stolen, copied, translated, or used in any way. thanks!

[richeeduvie]

obsessed with baby not being allowed to come on their like 3 day business trips and it being such a drama and heartbreak

imagine them on the phone and roman finds out she’s going to some party stewy’s throwing back home, he’s threatening to commit one second and being degraded the next

'Roman. I love you.'

'...'

Roman's staring at the message and already feeling like death's on his skin.

'what'

'if you see anything on social media or in the press, it is nothing like what you would be thinking. Stewy is throwing a party. Not even anything stereotypically drug-prominent. It's professional and I'm inviinited.'

Baby's so nervous that it's like she had a stroke in the midst of her text.

Roman doesn't respond.

'Roman'

'Roman please do go overboard on a reaction. It's a professional event and if there are drugs, serious drugs, I won't do anything. You know that.'

Roman doesn't respond.

'Roman'

It's five minutes until Baby gets a photo sent to her. It's a knife on a dresser.

'slitting my wrists ttyl'

...Baby just sighs.

'Roman. Don't be a bitch about this. Suicide's dramatic.'

'I said ttyl fuck off.'

Roman's looking pissy and small when he phone begins to ring. And ring - he scratches his head. He's already whiny.

He picks up, breathing into the phone and pressing the tip of the knife into the dresser.

"Hi, you dirty fucking whore. You're a slut, you already picked out who you're gonna fuck at Stewy's gangbang or do you need to do a gutter-pill or two to do that."

"Roman-"

"It's a been three fucking days. I just hold no importance to you. I don't know why I believe your assurance. Every fucking time. I think I'd be ten times stronger as a male if I was a incel. Screw your vagina. Screw you!"

"...Keep it up and you will be. You can't fuck anybody else and no, I don't plan to fuck anyone myself but sometimes you push it, Roman."

Roman takes in a breath, raises a hurt brow.

"...Why the fuck would you say that?"

He sounds hurt. Baby, in her panic, took the degradation a bit to harshly. It's all fake, but she still shouldn't mention any idea of wanting someone else. Not with Roman. He takes nothing seriously, but nothing's a joke when it comes to her.

"I was joking, Roman. You're planning to slit your wrists, harshness is sensible."

"It's fucking bitchy. And hurtful. Fuck you."

Baby closes her eyes.

"I won't go. Okay? I'll call you tomorrow, we can screen-watch a movie."

Roman just wants to go home, not having you to press your hands into him, like you'll grab at the hot parts of his stomach makes him even more sick. But he'll fucking take it over you at Stewy's party. He doesn't care if you don't do anything. You just should be...waiting for him.

He waits for you. It's only fair, he doesn't think of doing anything outside of you other than work or something with his family. Jesus, Roman can't love you more than you love him, that's just ridiculous.

But if he outbids you in that sense, he can hold it over for you forever.

"Stay on call. Don't be a fucking bitch."

"Okay, Rome."

The best thing you can do is just keep yourself breathing into the phone, it's easy to not be a bitch when you're not saying anything for Roman to get at.

And Roman listens, knife pressing harder into the dresser as he relaxes on the bed. He presses harder remembering you want to go to Stewy's stupid fucking party.

But Roman chucks the knife across the room once you've settled with your breath.

[gabigabigabby]

saved me | r. de andrade

richarlison x fem!reader

a/n: i just had this dream and OH MY GOD i need me a richarlison in my life ☹️ sry if this is badly written, i'm literally writing this dream from memory (with a few bullet points i'd written as soon as i woke up). also let's pretend richy can speak impeccable english. happy birthday richy! enjoy lads! ⭐️

synopsis: in which your guy best friend is an idiot and won't leave you alone, but richy has a boyfriend instinct

—

of course it had to conveniently rain the day you tell richarlison he didn't need to pick you up from school. and of course, you didn't think to pack your umbrella with you. you fish out your phone, about to text richy, but then remembered he's out with antony and emerson.

"y/n?" a voice called from behind you. you turned, and it was your classmate, danny.

"hey danny." you smiled.

"boyfriend's not picking you up today?" danny almost scoffed.

"i told him not to today so he could hang out with his friends. i've been hogging my time with him nowadays, so..." you shrugged.

danny nodded. "no, i get it. hey, you can wait for the rain to die down at my place. can't have you waiting for an uber here, it's not safe." you didn't want to trouble danny, but he insisted. so you found yourself in danny's passenger seat, driving back to his house.

you never knew danny enough to trust him. and it doesn't matter how many sos messages you'd sent to richy, he's probably off his phone. and will be for a while. you curse yourself for being so stubborn. he was willing enough to drop his friends for you, but you insisted he go and meet up with them.

danny pulled up into the driveway of his house. he got out of the car, unlocking the front door and allowing you to come in and take a seat. "make yourself comfortable. is there anyone i can call?"

"no," you tensed up. "i can make some calls myself, danny. thanks."

"okay." he scoffed, and as soon as he walks away, you let your anxious tears fall. you didn't know danny that well, and he almost forced you to get in his car. you'd do anything to have richy with you right here, right now.

you heard the doorbell ring, hoping it's somebody who thought something was wrong and tracked your location; hoping that somebody is richy. danny came brisk-walking out of the kitchen, going to answer the door. "i think that's my parents. hol' on."

as soon as danny answered the door, his expression changed and he disappeared behind the door. you were grateful danny left the door ajar, so you slowly creeped over towards it, peeking out of the crack danny had left.

it in fact was danny's parents, but there was another silhouette facing away from the couple. the platinum hair and bald back gave it away; it was richy. and danny was talking to him.

you slowly walked out of the house and past danny's parents, flashing them a quick smile. you moved towards richy, finding your spot next to him. as soon as he noticed you, he offered you his right arm. without hesitation, you took it, finally feeling his warmth. "are you having a fever?" you quietly questioned him.

"no," he replied, flashing a blank stare at you. you knew what it was; he was trying to control his emotions. danny was feeding him every single lie he could think of, but richy didn't buy a single word at all. "thank you. for bringing her here."

"yeah, no problem, man," danny shrugged. "did you, like, text him or something?"

you shook your head and were about to answer his question, but richy butted in at the right time. "no, i've got her location. realised it was raining, left my friends at the bar and came here straight away."

danny nodded; his turn not to buy a single word richy was offering him. "you okay?" richy asked, bending forward a little bit so he could see your face.

"yeah," you smile. "just cold."

"okay. so i guess i'll be getting out of your hair now. thanks again, for..." richy drifted off, trying to find the right words. "taking care of her."

"yeah, dude, anytime." danny nodded, richy about to direct you back to his mclaren.

"my backpack," you pull on richy's arm. "i'll go grab it—"

"no. i'll do it." richy said.

"it's on the couch." you told him as danny led him into the house. you waited for him by his car and he was in and out.

"let's go babe." richy wanted to ask the very question that'd been ringing in his head ever since finding out you weren't in school or back home. but he waited. he waited until he drove out of asshole danny's driveway and far away from his neighborhood before he could ask.

you had been sniffling since he reunited with you at danny's house, so he ran his hands through his pockets while he was driving, finding scraps of tissue, hoping you'd take it to dry your tears. "have these. are you okay?"

"i'll be fine. you saved me," you said, looking at his hands. "where are these from? they're all crumpled and shit, i don't want it."

"they're clean, babe," he said, dropping them on your thighs anyway. "look, i'm sorry. i should've known something like this was gonna happen. don't ever tell me to go along with my plans and not pick you up. you're never getting in that asshole's car again. you hear me?"

"yeah..." you mumbled.

"do you hear me, babe?" richy raised his voice a tad higher, hoping he'd make himself clear.

"yeah, rich. i won't ever get in asshole danny's car ever again. i hear you." you enunciated every word. you really meant it.

"i love you. i mean it. i'm never ditching you for my shit friends, ever."

"they're not shit—"

"they are shit if i say they're shit."

[sysakiddo]

I am so insane about this AU I made a moodboard for it. If anyone knows how to make the quality unfucked, hit me up please. Èze bit is already halfway cooked. first part second part

"Do you usually take all of your interns here?" Daniel asks doubtfully. He is wearing a silk shirt under the blazer. On his hands, he is not only wearing the usual wedding band but four other diamond rings. The Harry Winston one, sapphire set in diamonds on his right ring finger, is his favourite. A gift from Max for their third anniversary. He wears it only for special occasions. 

Max furrows his eyebrows when he sees it shining brightly in the restaurant's lights. A dinner with an intern is not a special occasion. 

"Marais is the place for youngsters." Max shrugs. Daniel's answering laugh is too loud. It makes him cringe a little. 

"Youngsters, oh my god, Maxy," he shakes his head disapprovingly. "You're too young to talk like this." 

"Not again with the age talk." Max snaps, can't help but remember how Daniel looked in the dim light of their bedroom when he said China might be his last chance. "Besides, what's wrong with Marais? I thought you liked it." 

Daniel looks like he belongs here, anyway, with his tanned skin and designer clothes. 

Before he can answer, Max's phone beeps, and he stands up to find their guest in front of the restaurant. When they arrive at the table, she is shocked to see Daniel already sitting there. 

"Your excellency," she says, her voice rough with nervousness. "I did not know you would be here." 

Daniel smiles broadly, shaking her hand. "Please call me Daniel. I hope I won't be interrupting." 

She blushes a bit, amazed. "No, of course not, your exce- Daniel, I mean." She sits down when Max pulls the chair for her. "I am Anne; it's a pleasure to meet you." 

"Let's switch to English," Max proposes, even though Anne's French is immaculate. He doesn't like talking to Daniel in French, only connects it to work in his head. 

Daniel knows this, but it doesn't stop him from smirking at Anne. "It's because he thinks my French sucks," he tells her, this time in English. 

Max flips a page of the menu, not taking his eyes off it. "Don't take him too seriously," he tells Anne in Dutch. She keeps looking at them with wide eyes like she can't believe she had the luck to see this. She has heard many stories about them in the office and back home at uni, the rockstars of Parisian diplomatic life. Now, a bantering couple having dinner on a busy Friday night. 

Daniel knows enough Dutch by now not to be sidetracked. "Oh, yes, Anne, please do not take me seriously at all! I am here only for the oysters and gossip." 

Anne laughs lightly, closing the menu. "I fear I won't be very helpful in the gossip area." 

"Oh no, I'd like to hear everything! Is he quite dreadful? Does he make you triple-check the daily update for the ministry? Do you still have to send him the media digest every morning? Did you know he subscribes to four different types of newspaper and refuses to go to bed without finishing the crossword in each of them?" 

Max scoffs while Anne shakes her head. "No - I enjoy my tasks," she says, sneaking a look at Max. She doesn't want to seem like she is trying to kiss his ass. "I like that we actually get to do the real work. I mean, it's great to see that someone thinks I am able to do more than just take the minutes."

Daniel sees the soft blush coating her cheeks and looks at Max, who is smiling at her. He is shocked to see it's his genuine smile, not the one he uses at work. 

"I heard those stories, yeah." he nods. Daniel doesn't like managing his interns, makes the chef of the protocol do it. Max, however, likes being close to his staff. Daniel privately thinks it's just a way to control them better. 

"It's even worse as a woman, I think," she continues, more confidently now that they seem interested in what she has to say. "In Cairo, they wouldn't let us do anything else than make coffee and filter the mail. The ambassador told us only the men had access to the conference rooms." 

Max furrows his brows, leaning closer to her subconsciously. "What?" he barks out. 

The unexpected reaction makes her freeze. Daniel sees the moment when it dawns on her, a shadow setting on her face. She has never connected the dots, and it got away. She did not realize that the ambassador in Egypt shares a surname with her current boss. 

Daniel clears his throat. "I wouldn't let my interns make me coffee, Anne, that's for sure. Nobody knows how to make it properly for me, not even my husband," he says with a big smile, kicking Max's foot under the table. 

Max blinks, still waiting for more words to come out of Anne's mouth. The distraction doesn't work; both of them awkwardly quiet. The waiter comes out of nowhere as if he felt they needed something to save them from the sticky situation. 

Daniel orders twelve oysters and only then Max snaps out of it. "You can't be fucking serious-" he mutters, kicking him back. 

"I bet Anne will split with me, right?" he winks at her and she smiles thankfully, nodding. Thank you, she mouths while Max is ordering for himself. 

Max can feel Daniel's phone vibrating in his pocket, the constant buzz audible even over the loud chatter in the background. Daniel makes no move to answer it. Instead, he moves to top up their glasses with more wine, smiling broadly at Anne. When he sits back down, he squeezes Max's knee, waiting until Max squeezes his hand back before moving it away. 

Max insists they walk home after dinner. They are quiet for a while, the sounds of the streets distracting enough. 

"You really like the kid," Daniel says eventually. 

Max nods. "She asked me to be her mentor, actually." Daniel hums. The request is nothing extraordinary. Everyone wants to get mentored by the best. "I think I'm going to say yes." 

Daniel raises an eyebrow at him, tonight full of surprises. He has never agreed to do that before. 

"I also thought I would invite her to Èze with us. What do you think?" 

"Èze?" he stutters, shocked. Èze is for the closest friends. And Charles, Max would always add begrudgingly. He would rather eat an oyster than count  Charles into his 'closest friends circle'. 

Max furrows his brows in confusion. "You don't like her?" 

Daniel shakes his head. "You've never done this, that's all." 

Max is walking a bit faster now, shrugging his shoulders. "I thought it would give me something to do, y'know. In Beijing or whatever. I was thinking about it and - yeah, I could mentor the kids and write a memoir. That way, I wouldn't be so bored." 

This is not the first time Max has mentioned wanting to write a biography. Daniel tried to persuade him that writing a memoir at 25 is a bit too cocky, even for someone like Max. 

This is, however, the first time Max mentioned Beijing since Daniel's big revelation. 

He is not ready to have that conversation yet, so instead, he asks him what's been bothering him throughout the night. 

"Your father-" 

"Don't." Max stops him before he can breathe in, holding his palm up. Max's father has been a taboo in their household since The Catastrophe. And because The Catastrophe was the reason why Max moved out of their flat for two months, the only time when Daniel used the word 'divorce' and Max couldn't stop talking about jealousy and holding grudges, he lets it go.

Daniel rolls his eyes but takes Max's hand in his. "Invite her to Èze. Pierre is also bringing an intern, so she won't be alone." 

Max hums, squeezing his palm as a silent thank you. 

At home, Max is brushing his teeth when the DHoM calls. He spits out the foam and rolls his eyes. A call on a Friday night has never been a good sign. 

"The President cancelled the visit of the Netherlands, I am afraid," she says, straight to the subject, just as Max has urged her to do every time. 

"What? Why?" He spent weeks trying to negotiate the visit. The preparations started five weeks ago. 

"They did not give me an official reason. But David told me, in confidence, of course, that they've added Australia to his Pacific tour. The submarines are long forgotten."

Max paces in the bathroom for a few minutes after hanging up. 

When he finally enters the bedroom, Daniel doesn't even have the decency to look guilty. 

"You've seen the dates of the visit in my diary." he accuses him, a thunderstorm in his eyes. 

Daniel knows what he is talking about. Of course he does. He is just glad Max did not get the call while they were still in the restaurant. "How was I supposed to know they would cancel instead of postponing?" Max is breathing fire by now, but Daniel isn’t wearing his glasses so all he sees is a figure that could be his husband but also could be a very handsome burglar.

Max waves a finger in his face, looking menacing, even when wearing nothing but his sleeping shorts. He knows Daniel is full of shit. "You should have had the decency to inform my office." 

Daniel has the nerve to roll away from him. "No work talk in the bedroom." 

Max grinds his teeth together and grabs the duvet, rolling it up into a ball and throwing it at shocked Daniel. "Then get the fuck out." He also throws the pillow, his finger pointing to the living room. Daniel huffs but stands up and gets out of the bedroom nevertheless.  

In the morning, Daniel's back is fucked from sleeping on the couch, and he spits a few harsh words in the general direction of Max's still-sleeping figure. When he returns from the market, Max is sitting at the kitchen table with a tea in his hands. He blinks a few times to make the morning fog disappear and is only partly successful. Daniel is sheepishly holding ten teddy bear sunflowers in his hands. 

Max lets Daniel kiss him with a soft apology, standing up to get the vase. "Your coffee is next to the toaster!" he says before turning around. He misses how Daniel's face glows up, smile small and real and only for Max. 

fourth part

[niyanii]

𝘤𝘶𝘮 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 ||𝘑𝘑𝘒

Genre: Smut, angst. Friends w benefits AU

Pairing: Jungkook! Best friend X reader

One-shot. !! I am not sexualizing Jungkook, this is simply FICTION !!

You're fucked. Feeling hopeless, you toss and turn in your bed, unable to find an escape. It's as if this sensation is consuming you from within, and you are powerless to resist it. As you clench your thighs together, the visions of the dream that jolted you awake flood your mind. The sensation of horniness engulfs you, overpowering your every thought. You attempt to disregard it, yet the intensity continues to grow unabated. You are unable to ignore the arousal that burns inside you, akin to an unquenchable fire. That's the effect Jungkook has on you. The longing you feel for him is almost too much to bear.

Remembering the dream again, you arouse even more at the thought of Jungkooks cock splitting your folds. It's mouth-watering and you can't help but grow frustrated over the fact you can't just go to his house at 2 in the morning just to fuck. Can you? You let out a deep sigh, frustrated over the fact that you can't do that. You get up from the bed, still aroused, and try to do something to distract your mind from the frustrating thoughts. You start to think that maybe you should just send him a text instead.

You grab your phone and quickly type out a message, trying to keep it as casual as possible. "Hey, I'm bored u up?" You hit send and wait for a reply, the anticipation building in the back of your mind. You start to wonder if he will respond, or if he's asleep. After a few minutes, you get a reply. "Oh really? I'm sure you can find something better to do than text me". Your fingers are fast and you reply "Oh yeah? What did you have in mind?" You hit send, and wait for his response. "I don't know baby, up at this hour and texting me out of all people?" You could imagine the teasing in his tone and you almost rolled your eyes. Instead, you playfully respond "Don't flatter yourself, I just can't sleep and why do I have you as a friend then?" It was like a game of cat and mouse, where you were both trying to outwit each other with your words. He would make a sly comment, and you would respond with a witty comeback, keeping the conversation going. It was an entertaining volley of back-and-forth banter that kept you both engaged. Every exchange brought a new wave of excitement, as you challenged each other to come up with more clever remarks. The thrill of this verbal sparring made the conversation feel alive and vibrant. "I don't know baby, why?" Your heart quickens up with the pet name he teases you with, adding a touch of affection to the playful banter.

What are you doing to me.

"I don't know either, can I come over?" As you hit send, you glance at the time. For you, it wasn't late at all, especially when that tingle between your thighs is frustrating you the fuck out. "At this hour? No, I'll come over instead" You smile instantly at his reply and send him a quick 'okay' before throwing your phone next to you.

The wetness between your thighs and the tingling in the pit of your stomach is frustrating. Waiting for his arrival is making you want to throw yourself off a cliff. You need him, you want him. And you know he won't ever say no. In fact, you think he already knows what this is leading to.

As the doorbell of your apartment rings, you're instantly running towards the entrance to open the door for him. As you open the door, he reveals himself, his hair stuck to his forehead due to them being wet. The rain had soaked him through causing his clothes to stick firmly onto his body. The black shirt stuck onto his upper body, causing the shape of his muscles to become clear for your eyes. It was something about him with wet hair that made the fire in the pit of your stomach grow. "Missed me?" He remarks with a smirk as he enters the apartment, as he passed by you could smell the scent of his cologne. Something about it made him even more attractive and you almost moaned at the delight.

You shut the door lock it and follow him to the living room. As you both stand in the centre of the living room, he looks at you before asking."Do you have any clothes of me here?" You nod slowly, your heart racing in anticipation as you walk to the bedroom and he follows like a lost puppy. He couldn't help but admire the way your hips swung and your ass was perfectly visible in the shorts you were wearing. "Here.." You say, almost breathlessly, as you give him a pair of pants and a shirt he left earlier when he slept over. He took the clothes, his lips formed in a sly smirk. As he takes the clothes you decide to exit the room and give him privacy to change.

"Damn, won't you help me get this on?" You turn, your eyes scanning his face. It was painted with mischief, the tone in his voice proved so. A tense silence filled the room, the temperature rising as he waited for your response. You could feel the electricity in the air, the anticipation building as you both locked eyes. "I think I'd prefer to watch you do it," you replied, a smile playing on your face as you watch his expression change. Shocked by your boldness. You walk up to the bed and sit down, slightly laying back, your arms holding you up. He slowly moved closer, his hand on your cheek as he leaned in. His lips were just a fraction of an inch away, and you could feel his warm breath on your skin."sure baby, anything for you" He replied before moving away, a smirk playing on his lips.

You watch as he tugs his shirt off, his toned body perfectly before your eyes. He was teasing you, the smirk on his lips betraying his intentions. His eyes were alight with mischief, and it made your heart race. You knew he was going to do something else, but you had no idea what it was. As he shakes his head, the droplets of water land on your skin. His hand reach the hem of his sweatpants, he pulls it slightly, and the band of his boxers show. Calvin Kleins causing you to press your thighs together, and he noticed it. His fingers were slowly sliding the pants off, and you could feel the heat emanating from your body. Your breathing became shallow, and you felt like you couldn't move. He was undressing in front of you, and you couldn't look away. His gaze was locked on yours, and he teased you by playing with the hem of his sweatpants.

He moved closer, leaning into you as he whispered in your ear. His breath was hot against your skin "Can I?" He asks, you nod as soon as he finishes his sentence. The next thing you know his lips are pressed onto your skin. His hands were everywhere, exploring your body as his lips trailed down your neck. His hands travelled to yours, one hand grabbing both of yours he lays you on the bed His lips moved lower, exploring every inch of your body as he kissed it, his hand crept under your shirt and soon you felt him cupping your breasts.

You could feel the heat between you, and you moaned in pleasure. He continued to kiss you, switching from one breast to the other, eliciting more moans from you. His hands explored further, slowly taking off your clothes as he moved lower until he was finally between your legs. "No panties, fuck you were really looking forward to fucking huh? Not letting you reply, you gasped in pleasure as his tongue licked a long stripe between your folds.

our taste lingering on his taste buds. He then started to lick and suck on your clit, before he entered you with his tongue. He flicked his tongue in and out of you, sending shockwaves through your body as his fingers moved in circles against your inner walls. Your hands clutched onto his long black locks, pushing him into you. He was eating you out, making you moan in pleasure as his tongue explored every inch of you. His fingers were moving in circles, making you cry out in pleasure as he increased the tempo. You were in a state of bliss as he kept licking and sucking on your clitoris, sending waves of pleasure through your body. As he pulls away you manage to get a glance at him, his lips soaked in your arousal, he licked his lips before he hovered above you.

Whispering in your ear he asks for your permission "I'm gonna fuck you, m'kay?" The rasp in his voice causes you to get even more aroused. You hum in reply and he pulls away. He jumps off the bed and heads up to the pile of wet clothes, his hands reaching into his pocket he pulls out the foil package. You wiggle and adjust yourself on the bed as he rips open the package and rolls the condom onto his shaft. Hovering above you once again his lips find yours, as he teases you with his tip.

His cock spread your folds, the wetness making it easier for his tip to glide in. You gasp at the stretch and he takes the chance to enter his tongue in your mouth, exploring you. He takes his time, rocking his hips gently as he goes deeper and deeper. His moans and yours mix in the air, creating a beautiful symphony of pleasure. His hands caress your body as he continues to explore you. His head buried in the crook of your neck as he starts to speed up. His breathing becomes erratic as his thrusts become harder and harder. You clench around him, feeling your orgasm reaching.

"Fuck fuck, Relax baby.." He whispers and you clench again He grips your hips tightly as he continues to thrust faster and faster. Your breath quickens up as he releases a set of curses. You feel like you are going to burst any second and he can feel it too. He grunts as you reach the peak of pleasure. He rides you through it chasing his own orgasm. You whine at the overstimulation, he kisses you on your neck calming you down. "You feel so fucking good baby.." He whispers and you clench around him again. And soon his balls tighten and he reached the peak of pleasure. Pulling out of you and leaving you empty. You collapse in a heap, feeling exhausted. He lays beside you and wraps his arms around you, holding you close. "You wore me out, baby"

[yril-writes]

– DAHLIAS

synopsis ; flowers always had this hidden meaning behind them. the sad part about it is knowing what it means.

scenario ; he was caught in an accident that unfortunately caused him to have an amnesia, and the worst thing about it is that he cannot remember a single thing but you know him well.

"I won't leave, I'll come back tomorrow and the next tomorrow and the next again. Until the next season comes. I'll be here with you. "

type ; short story

include/s ; iwaizumi hajime

pairing/s ; character x fl! reader

genre ; a mountain filled with sad corn, angst

The sight of this day is rather sad, leaves began to turn from the hues of red or even yellow. A cool breeze then began to swift your locks of hair to your side revealing your bare neck kissed by the cold yet refreshing wind.

But still this time of the year is one of her favorite seasons, the way that the surrounding just creates this vibe was one thing she liked about and more specifically the flowers that only bloomed in this time of season.

Dahlias.

Another season of this year yet to be faced, walking down the pavement only hearing the wind brushing between the branches of the trees and rustling of the leaves and the clacking noises under your feet are your black sandals with heels.

People may see her as a woman from the city or even from another country because of her get up, but this was never a new sight for her to witness because for the past years you've walked these very same pavements.

Today happens to be that very same day, that the treasure from her arms soon flew as the wind streams the leaves from the branches away from its place.

Upon mesmerizing her surroundings it was about time she heard her phone ring, this made her stop at her feet.

"Tooru, took you long enough to call." She uttered with a soft voice as she stared at the tree branches being swayed by the wind on top of her head.

The breeze of the wind kept on going, but this time you couldn't hear anything only Oikawa's voice stuttering on the other voice line. The silence even made you think that you can hear your heart beating.

Badump.

Badump.

Badump.

Breathing slowly yet anxiously awaits for the answer of the man behind the phone was keeping her restless. Not until the man successfully said what he wanted to tell her.

But upon hearing it she thought that for a few seconds she could only hear her heart beating and her breathing heavily. She didn't expect to hear what she just heard, just one sentence made her run at a second.

Tears then began to flow down to her face, she had mixed emotions overflowing her inside. But one emotion stands out and that is relief.

A glimpse of her memory popped up and this was the first time they met under the big tree behind the school campus at break time.

"Iwaizumi, did you know that I love the autumn season?"

"I didn't, not until now. " Said the little boy in an uninterested voice as he slowly made his way under the tree to sleep.

"It's because dahlias bloom this season!" Said the girl cheerfully as she made her way down kneeling and shoving her face near enough to make Iwaizumi open his eyes only to see this girl ecstatic with flowers.

"Is that so? Well, in my perspective it's kinda sad when autumn comes around." He says in a nonchalant voice not even surprised at the gesture of the girl in front of him.

That ends her train of thought, as the wind flows like and endless stream pushing her hair to every places. But still didn't bother the woman running, as if she was catching the wind.

As she runs as fast as she can, one of her heels broke making her fall down, now that her stockings are ripped and one of her legs are scrapped she still didn't give up. She eased the pain and got up.

Removing both of her sandals she ran again, despite of the tears running down from her eyes to her cheeks and the pain from her injured leg she didn't mind having all of these, all she cares is that she will make it on time.

Upon rushing as fast as she could she was in front of the hospital that Iwaizumi was staying in. People who witnessed how ragged her breath was and her condition, she drove them away.

As she walks struggling because of her leg injury but also her feet that are bleeding due to running on rough roads. People offered to help her politely declined and proceeded to walk towards the counter.

"Iwaizumi Hajime, room number please." Catching her breath, she still tries to talk despite the pain and the struggling she is currently facing.

The room was said and done but despite running towards the elevator she ran to the stairs. The pain she endured was slowly creeping in to her body and it was as if the more she went up to the stairs the more heavier she felt her body was.

(Move, body! Please hurry up and move!)

She pleaded to herself as tears flooded her eyes making it all blurry and her face damped. She now sees how much her legs are shaking and how ragged her breaths are.

(You can do this, just keep on moving...!)

Another glimpse of that time was the graduation of the last year she had to face in the school.

"Why does that even make you sad?" She asked cluessly as she placed her back against the man's back.

"Well, summer is finally coming to its end again." He said as the man stares at the sun setting down on the horizon.

"I don't get you at all." She let's out a sigh and closes her eyes as she slowly drifts of to sleep.

Glimpse of memories came crawling back to her as a form of motivation to keep on going. She gets up on her knees and keeps on going.

Catching her breath she now stands in front of the door she only has to enter to see the face she longed for. But then fear starts crawling behind her back.

[ So you're going far away after graduation? Pursuing to be a veterinarian, I presume?]

[ Hajime, I'll come back! I promise you! And I'll be back before you know it!]

Memories after the last year she had after entering Aoba Johsai with Iwaizumi and Oikawa was one of the best three years she had. She grew closer Iwaizumi and Oikawa in no time. Even became on of the boys as well, she fit right it.

But losing contact with Iwaizumi was the worst one she had to face, years passed and she focused on studying and studying until she graduated. She was busy and slowly soon after all the years passed she forgot.

She forgot the promise she ever did make to someone she holds dear to her heart.

Time gradually became slow for her as she gives all of her hours and minutes onto working, she lost track of her goals she lost track of what her promises were until.

"Did you hear about the news?" Said the old lady, turning her attention to the televisions displayed on the shop.

"Oh, the athletic trainer that got into an accident? Poor thing." Replied the old lady next the gossiping one as she too turns her attention to the television.

(Athletic trainer?)

The sight of a familiar face pasted on the televisions on display in the shop where two women were gossiping about putting her in awe.

(Hajime...?)

The opening of the door surprised her and knocked her out of her thoughts. And a familiar figure greeted her right of the bat.

"Tooru?" She uttered.

"So you came after all these years, huh?" He smirked off giving her a an attitude.

"Tooru, how is Hajime...Is he doing well?" She replies as her voice began cracking the more words she uttered out of her mouth.

He simply sends a slight nod not even sending her an eye contact, but looking at his eyes she knew there was a catch despite him waking up.

"Keep this in mind, he waited. You know, years passed and he still waited. He is an idiot."

"Patiently waiting for you, believing that one day you would knock behind his doors. He waited for you like a dog waiting for his owner to pick him up!"

"..."

"No matter what I did, for him to forget about you. To let his memories of you die, nothing worked! I was only pushed away by Iwa-chan!"

"I hated that fact that he still waited for you after all these years and now, you are here. But it's all too late now. "

"Tooru, what do you-"

"When you go inside, introduce yourself. Don't be dumb, I told you on the phone."

Oikawa stood in front of you with those puffy red eyes and dark circles under his eyes, you knew for a fact that he stayed restless taking care of Iwaizumi who was in a coma for a few weeks now.

It is said that he tried to save the little girl who was crossing the street nearly getting hit by a fast driving car on the road, thankfully the child he saved was safe but on the other hand he was the who was harmed.

Catching a few deep breaths, she knocks on to the door.

"Come in."

Says the raspy voice on the other side of the door said. Upon opening the door rays of sunlight blindly stung her eyes for a moment only to reveal a man sitting up right on the hospital bed staring at the window.

"Hajime..."

The man slowly turned his head facing her, in his eyes he sees an injured woman panting heavily and that she needs to take a seat.

"Haji-"

"Please, take a seat."

She was stunned at the words uttered by the man in front of her, she then takes the offer and tries to calm herself down.

"Have some water, the loud man left this a while ago. "

(Loud man? )

Iwaizumi then stares behind the window, having the view of the red and yellow hued leaves on the branches of the trees outside.

The wind stirs up the leaves and twirling it around the air, he was somehow amused by the looks of it.

The woman on the other hand was staring at the bedridden man, who was covered in injuries and even a broken arm at that state. But one sight breaks her heart and that is to see him with a smile despite of his situation.

"Do you like flowers? " He asks out of the blue as he stares intemately outside the window.

"Yeah..." She replied with a low tone of voice.

"I once liked them, it's because they only bloomed in autumn time. It's a shame not to see them bloom in any season. "

"..."

"But overall, autumn is a sad season. Because days become shorter at this time meaning you won't have as much fun under the sun that long. "

"Leaves in autumn turn red or even yellow and brown, making it all fall down from the trees as well, until no leaves were left behind. "

"..."

"Sorry, it appears that whenever I rambled these I tend to remind myself of something I once forgot. The loud man who was here looked at me with pity, I wonder why that is. "

"..."

"The same eyes you are looking at me right now is the same gaze the loud man looked at me."

"Hajime—"

"Oh, I remembered the flowers. They were dahlias. How can I forget, this note on my wallet gave me a glimpse of it."

Opening the note with blood marks scattered on it made you shiver.

I once saw autumn as a rest for my eyes,

Until I saw this flower that caught my eye.

They only bloomed at autumn,

What a shame to even know them.

Leaves start to fall in this time around,

I ponder will they last for this round?

I guess not, for they are just like a breeze.

Who comes and goes as they please.

I hate this season, and I have a bunch of reason.

But the flower I saw that day,

Will erase those burden I carry all day.

Maybe some day, I'll come to love autumn day.

"The initials placed at the end of the note only means that I made it, it's kinda sad to read it. It's as if the me who wrote this only has a flower anticipated to wait for this time of day. "

"Those are dahlias right outside of your window are potted plants of dahlias. " She pointed with her index finger as she came up to show a smile. The best smile she had to show.

"They are pretty, wish that they would bloom until the next season comes. Too bad they don't, huh? " He says at a nonchalant voice and releases a short sigh.

The cold response from the bedridden man made the room silent for a little while, then he turned to gaze on the woman sitting right beside her.

"You're injured. " He said noticing the injured marks on her legs, knees and even her feet.

"Yeah..."

"You should get it treated. "

"It can wait..."

Giving him a sincere smile, the man smiled back like a clueless boy. That smile was the same old smile she saw under the tree from where they were kids.

"Iwaizumi, did you know that I love the autumn season?"

"I didn't, not until now. "

"It's because dahlias bloom this season!"

"Dahlias? "

"Here, are pretty flowers! " She placed it in front of the kid who was laying down under the tree.

Those days were the first time she had share something precious she held to someone she soon will treasure.

But the last days that autumn came at the time of their final and last graduation was one of the times she wished to forget.

"Why does that even make you sad? When the flowers bloom in autumn? "

"Well, summer is finally coming to its end again."

"I don't get you at all."

"It means that, when flowers blood this day. You'll leave me once again."

The wind rushes towards the both of them, and only the tree branches and leaves where heard due to the wind going branch by branch.

"Leave you? "

"You know what I mean, so it's sad. I hate autumn, because at this time. I know that dahlias will bloom meaning you staying here is coming to an end again."

Staring at the dahlias, the man in front of her stared at her for a while.

"You really like those flowers, you keep on staring at them. "

"I—"

"I don't think I caught your name on your way in here, do you mind if you tell me? "

Hours have passed and the sun sets down leaving a nice orange and dark tone before it fully turned to dark sky. They talked and talked for a while under the man decided to take a nap.

And then, she decided to step out for a while, then she came across the same man that she encountered coming inside the room.

"That was a long talk you did there. So, how was it. " Said Oikawa who is leaning beside the wall outside the door.

"He didn't remember me..."

"I told you that on the phone, did you not hear me? "

"I dropped it the minute you told me he was awake. "

"Stupid." He flicks her forehead that it left a redish mark.

"I'll get someone to treat your wounds just stay there and get some rest. I'll go home for now. "

Walking down the hallway of the hospital going farther and farther away from Iwaizumi's room she can feel her legs that have given up, and that the pain she endured and ignore now are throbbing as hard as they can now.

Silent crying was one of her weaknesses, the way that this type of crying makes her vulnerable and weak is what she hated the most.

Enduring all the tears that about to fall down as she listens to the man she loved talk about her as if she was just someone he couldn't remember pained her to see and even hear.

"You really like those flowers, you keep on staring at them. "

"I—"

"I don't think I caught your name on your way in here, do you mind if you tell me? "

(I can't just tell him my name, I'll just—)

"I am just a person who tends to have time in their hands and came to visit you. My name is confidential! So, it'll be a secret! "

"Pfft, sure mystery girl. How about I call you Dahlia like these flowers. My guts are telling me the second you get out of here you'll just go without even telling me. "

"..."

"Was I right? "

"I won't leave, I'll come back tomorrow and the next tomorrow and the next again. Until the next season comes. I'll be here with you. "

He gave a satisfied yet a pained smile she didn't want to see, she was keeping an act of a strong character but in the end she just keeps breaking knowing that she was the reason as to why he hated the one she loved.

"I'm so sorry, Hajime. I'm too late..."

"You were just in time you know, I knew you'd break. My guts were telling me the truth alright."

"Hajime..."

"Help me remember, and maybe once another autumn has passed and dahlias bloomed again, maybe I would remember. So you have no other excuses but to stay by my side until then. "

(Why, why are you acting like this for me...!)

"The loud man told me everything you know, in detail even. It was hard to believe in at first but when I read that poem in front of you you were just ready to cry. It made me think that you must be the woman Oikawa was telling. "

"I even heard him through the door, telling you. That's why I said he is a loud man. "

"...."

"Until seasons change every time, I wished that there will come a time that I won't be scared of autumn. So stay, won't you? "

"Yeah, I will. "

Maybe the next autumn, I'll come to love you again. My Dahlia.

- I. H.

a/n ; i plan to upload some of my short stories here from AO3! but if you want some spicy stuffs, do visit my AO3! if ever you want to be tagged in my posts please do leave a comment or send me a DM! send me a tip! taglist ; @sammushy , @gcj-doesart, @ryuuudesuwa, @jasugoi, @saltyheartkid

[theferal-possum]

hey so nobody knows this blog but i got out of control while telling my friend about a writing a prompt i thought of and so now im giving it to you fire emoji (below the clip)

au where lance had his schoolbag for some reason (he doesnt know why he grabbed it, he likes to think it was the universe letting him have things from home to remind him that yes, he will make it back) and as they reach the edge of the solar system, his bag starts to ring, his familiar ringtone playing throughout the lion.

he's not quite sure why he decided to go on a hunt to find a charger to get it's battery up, maybe fate playing with the strings a bit to get it to happen, he's not sure.

it's what the paladins have deemed as "night-time," around 9pm back on earth. he was nearly asleep but is now clambering for his bag, worn from the years he's spent using it in space. he rips the phone from it, staring in disbelief that he was able to get a signal from all the way out here.

the words are clear on his screen, though his eyes are blurring them, tears threatening to fall.

MAMÁ

his hands are shaky as he clicks the accept button. the heart threatening to beat out of his chest the only thing assuring him that it isnt a dream.

it's quiet for a moment, before his mother's quiet words ring through his ears.

"..mijo?"

she sounds as if she's aged 10 years in only 5, but her voice was still heavy with that slight spanish accent, worn from years of english, that used to scold him and tell lance how much she loves him. but it's everything he's missed. and he can't helps the way his voice breaks when he says,

"mamá. oh mamá we're coming home."

----

lance doesn't know why, after the call with his mother ends, he calls keith. sure they're friends now but he hasn't been sure if theyre that close yet.

but he does anyways.

it only rings for a second, the image of keith appearing on his screen. pajamas on, and kosmo laying their head in his lap, with his comm pad held lazily in one hand. the screen lit up with one of the crosswords allura had given them to help with their altean.

"hey man, what's up? you alright? you look like you've been crying."

he leans forward in the chair, much to kosmos dislike, his eyes squinting and brow furrowed in concern.

lance suddenly feels concious of how he looks, eyes red and puffy, but just wipes at his eyes, looking at the side of his controls rather than the screen.

"yeah, it's just uh. i got a call from my mom, from my old phone. and i just, i don't know."

keith sits up fully in his seat, although knocking kosmo's head off fully, and clicks his comm pad off and setting it onto the floor.

"dude, really?! i'm surprised you got signal all the way out here. but i'm glad for you! how was she doing?"

keith looks genuinely happy for him, not something lance often had the privilege to see.

"she's uhm."

he takes a moment to steel himself. taking a deep breath as he reminds himself that he won't have to talk about only memories of her the next day. it won't hurt to talk about her.

"she's doing good, she was uh. really happy to hear from me. says she called me every week just to see if i would maybe pick up."

and lance's heart can't help but break, as he thinks about his mamá, face creased with worry, sat with her phone in hand, hoping her son would pick up. hoping that he would come back. that he would come home.

"she uh, only starting calling once or twice per month after the first year, so i guess i got lucky. it was really nice to hear her voice again. i almost forgot."

(his face falls, as he thinks of the countless nights that he'd try. try to hard to remember what she sounded like. how she rolled her r's, how she sounded as she yelled at him to do his chores faster, how she said i love you. he could never get it just right.)

"it's funny honestly, i used to hope for the day that i wouldn't have to hear it as much. i'd mock her voice from behind my door after an argument. but now i can't even imagine that. i guess, you don't know how much you'd miss something until you lose it.

and i know it seems silly to miss her this much considering we were gone only 2 years. but for her it was five. and at some points i wasn't–"

his voice begins to crack, his hand gripping the edge of his seat so hard that his fingers were white. the tears in his eyes threatening to fall.

"–i wasn't sure if i'd ever see her again. if i'd be able to tell her that i was coming home."

lance gives a watery laugh, rubbing his hand on the back of his head as he realises that he just dumped that all on keith.

“sorry that was, kind of a ramble.”

he finally looks back up at the screen, tears pricking the back of his eyes as he tries not to cry again. keith is staring at seemingly nothing just behind the screen, face drawn up in an expression lance can't decipher. thoughtfulness? he's not quite sure. but he doesn't have time to figure it out before keith speaks again, his gaze falling down to the floor as he starts to fidget with the string on his sweatpants.

"i understand what you mean. and im not trying to make this about me but, after spending two years on a space whale, i learned theres a lot of things you don't realise you'll miss."

he looks up, his face almost determined as he looks at lance directly now.

"but hey, you'll get to see her tomorrow, you won't have to miss her for much longer."

lance nods, smiling as a warmth spreading through his chest. he feels a renewed hope for the next day. he was going to go home.

(little note but the idea that theres a big group that surrounds the lions after they land, which the paladins get lost in immediately

and so lance is desperately searching through the crowd trying to find his family, before seeing keith waving and pointing almost frantically, but a smile on his face.

and as the crowd moves his mamá comes into view, standing next to keith

she calls out to lance, and he immediately runs over, engulfing her in a hug that lasts, definitely more than 20 seconds, and once he pulls away she starts tearfully rambling about how much she missed him, how she always knew in her heart that he'd come back, etc. etc.

but after a moment wipes the tears from her eyes and cheerfully exclaims that she was struggling to find him before keith had helped her, saying how nice he is, mother stuff yk

and keith is looking away blushing slightly from the compliments, and lance just looks at him and thanks him with such a genuine tone that keith cant help but smile fondly at him)

[milaisreading]

PART 2

Couples:

Yandere!MSBY 4 x Kageyama Twin!Reader

Side couple:

Komori Motoya x Kageyama Twin!Reader

Warnings: Cheating, non-con(not too much), obsessive and possessive behavior, general yandere tendencies. This is my first time writing explicit content like this, sorry if it's boring:/

PS: Send in requests if u have any...

Part 1:

"So how have you been? Everything going ok with Komori-san?" Tobio's voice sounded through (Y/n)'s apartment as she cooked her dinner.

"Yeah! Everything has been great with us, tho the distance is really killing me, but we phone each other every day." (Y/n) answered back, waiting for Tobio to speak up again.

"Well, you did pick pretty far away cities, Shizuoka and Osaka I mean. But as long as you find time to call each other, it should be fine." (Y/n) smiled bitterly, nodding her head Kageyama's words

"Yeah, but enough about my love life, what about you? With how many fangirls and those fansites you have, you must have someone in mind." She teased, already imagining her brother blushing at her words.

"You know I am not interested in that, at least not now. Volleyball is more fun."

"You should honestly think of marrying it at this point." (Y/n) joked, not surprised by his answer.

"Shut it! But anyways, I need to go now. You will be off to Shizuoka this weekend?" Tobio wondered as (Y/n) went to pick up her phone and turn off the speaker.

"Well I was planning to, but Motoya told me he will come. Something about getting away from Shizuoka and all." The med student answered, recalling the conversation she had with the pro athlete a few days a

"Well at least you won't have to travel after the exam then. By the way, did Hinata text you at all in the past 2 weeks? Since the game with Komori-san's team, it's been radio silent from him."

"Hmm? Now that you mention it, I didn't hear anything from him either. Could that loss bumped him out so much?"

"Who knows. He can be off at times, but I am sure he will come around. Anyways, I got to go now. Hoshiumi-san wanted to take Hirugami-san and I out for a drink."

"Have fun! Give them greetings from me!"

With that, they ended the call and (Y/n) went back to making her noodles so that she can return back to studying as soon as possible. Groaning, the med student went through her phone, trying to find the last few notes she needed to revise.

"Just this one more exam and then I will have some time for myself..."

She yawned, looking at the clock on her wall, groaning.

"I will barely catch any sleep these days..." (Y/n) groaned as she put the phone away and went to eat her dinner, her mind going from her exam to the orange haired volleyball player.

'He really has been acting off... ever since graduation to be honest...'

She thought in worry.

With Hinata...

The man tossed and turned in his bed. He was supposed to go to sleep hours ago, but he just couldn't. Every time he closed his eyes, the image of (Y/n) and Komori flooded his mind, and he just ends up angry.

"Stupid Komori...is it his height that makes him attractive? His looks are average at best.. or his money? If (Y/n) was in need of financial support, she could have called me-"

Hinata's rambling was cut off by his phone ringing, so he quickly went to answer it.

"Sakusa? Why are you up so late?" The orange haired man wondered.

"I was talking with my aunt over some family meet up later this month, and she let the information about Motoya visiting Osaka slip out... do you know where I am going?"

Sakusa said sternly, clear annoyance lacing his voice as he mentioned his cousin.

"Do...do you think it's the right time?" Hinata wondering, his eyes going wide as he remembered the plan.

"Another time we won't have. We need to break them up... Aunt told me that he plans on proposing to (Y/n) soon."

Hinata's eyes widened and he clenched his fists.

"Ok...did you think of a plan to break them up?"

"Yeah, I will handle that."

"Good, I can't wait till that pest is gone."

"You and I both."

Sakusa sighed from the other side.

With Atsumu...

Atsumu groaned as he kept on stroking his cock as he went through the pictures he saved of (Y/n). The pictures were nothing special, just some from the beach he found on her Ig, but those were enough to rile him up. The image of the young woman underneath him, panting, crying and begging for release kept playing inside his head.

'(Y/n)... please...'

Groaning, the faux blonde as he came all over his hand. Panting, he got up from his bed and went to clean himself up. Once he was done he went back to his bedroom, sighing sadly as the images he had were just pure fantasies, the kind he wanted to be true.

Huffing, he sat down on his bed and scrolled through (Y/n)'s social media, smiling when he saw a new story was posted.

But, that smile faded away as soon as he saw that it was a picture of her books and a cup of coffee.

'Why is she up so late? It's nearly 1 in the morning. Shouldn't that useless boyfriend of hers make sure she is sleeping?!'

"Stupid! I knew that guy was no good! Why did she pick this prick of all?"

Atsumu's stare hardened as he thought of the brown haired libero. Back when he met Komori at the training camp, he thought of him as a possible friend. But now...now that he was with the girl of his dreams, there was no way for him to have that position.

"I wanted to so desperately see him cry that night. Show him and (Y/n) who the better one is...better player and better boyfriend, but..." Atsumu sighed as he rubbed his face, feeling like crying.

"But the whole time (Y/n) kept distracting me. That smile and her cheers, wonder how it would feel like to have her cheer on me, wear my jersey-"

Atsumu stopped his monolog as a message popped up. Quickly opening it, he saw that it was Bokuto.

'Komori is coming to Osaka tomorrow. We need to break them up this weekend. Sakusa said he is planning to propose.'

The message set an already frustrated Atsumu on fire. There was no way he will let that Komori put a ring on her pretty little finger.

"Besides, he can't afford what (Y/n) really deserves, unlike the rest of us. And Komori (Y/n) just sounds wrong."

The next day...

"I honestly don't know if I will pass this one, but the most important part is that it's over!" (Y/n) cheered as she walked out of the building.

"I am sure you will pass. When will the results be?" Miwa asked from the other side of the phone.

"In like...5 days or so. Unless the professor starts grading them today."

The med student yawned, already dreaming of her soft bed.

"Sleepy? Are you off home?" Miwa asked, worried for the youngest sibling.

"Yeah. Motoya will arrive in Osaka later tonight, so that gives me some time to rest."

"Alright. I have to go now since a client arrived. Have fun you two, but not too much~" The older woman teased, causing (Y/n) to blush a little as she said her goodbyes.

'She can be too much at times.' (Y/n) groaned. All of a sudden, the young woman felt someone grab ther shoulder, causing her to jump away and turn around.

"Easy there (Y/n), it's just us!" Sighing in relief, (Y/n) noticed the familiar golden and black eye.

"Bokuto-san, Sakusa-san, what a surprise! What are you two doing here?" (Y/n) asked, smiling as the two athletes took off their masks.

"We were just walking by after practice! Do you live here somewhere?" Sakusa asked flatly, already knowing all the information.

"Oh no, my university is in this location tho! How are you two? Has practice been going well?" (Y/n) asked while smiling, causing Bokuto to blush a little, meanwhile Sakusa hid his by putting his mask back on.

'Adorable...my (Y/n) is so adorable.' The black haired thought as Bokuto spoke up.

"It's been great. Today we were let go a little sooner than usually. The coach and captain were a little easier today, after all the hard training before."

"Yeah, they got a lot stricter after our match with Komori's team." Sakusa explained, getting more annoyed at his cousin than he already was. (Y/n) blinked for a moment, and then remembered what he was talking about.

"Sorry to hear that you two, but you guys were still amazing. I guess it depends on the luck you have that day."  She answered back, trying to lighten up their moods. Which seemed to work, as Bokuto stopped pouting, sending her a grin soon after. Sakusa seemed to lose his annoyed demeanor, but his eyes stayed as passive as possible, so she wasn't sure about him.

"Really?! Did you see that service ace I delivered at the beginning?! Worked on it for a while." Bokuto boasted.

"Yeah! That was pretty cool! I am happy that you hard work paid off. Hope the next time you performed it, it will be the winning points."

Bokuto grinned at the praise and continued talking to the younger. Sakusa clenched his fists are the sight, envying how easy the conversation between the two was. How familiar they are to each other. It's not like Sakusa didn't talk to her before, she visited his place often with Komori, but he always had a hard time talking to her.

"Hey uhmm... the two of us, Atsumu and Hinata are free tonight, want to go out for dinner?"

The black haired boy's question surprised not only (Y/n), but Bokuto as well.

"Well that sounds nice Sakusa-san, but Motoya will come over tonight, so I really can't. And I don't think it's that much of a smart idea, I don't want to piss some of your fangirls off."

(Y/n) shuddered, remembering how some of the girls from her class came into her, after pictures of her and Atsumu talking surfaced on social media.

Sakusa and Bokuto ignored the part with Motoya, as they were more concerned over the 2nd part.

"Say...none of the fans caused you any trouble?"

"Ahh...all I can really say is that Atsumu-san's fans love him a little too much." Was all she said, which made alarm bells go off in both of them.

"But nothing to worry about! I already handled it! Anyways, I need to go now, gotta rest a little till Motoya arrives! Bye!" (Y/n) said, walking off quickly, trying to avoid any form of questioning from either of the two.

"What are you doing?" Bokuto wondered, his gaze switching from (Y/n) retreating form to Sakusa's, who was dialing a number on his phone.

"I will call my dear cousin over for a drink... the plan is going in action tonight."

"Alright! Let me go and call Hinata then." The Fukurodani alumni grinned, excited about tonight.

"You are meeting up with Sakusa-san? Why didn't you tell me earlier?" (Y/n) asked the brown haired libero over the phone.

"Sorry, it came out of the blue, I will try not to stay for too long with him... you are not mad?" Komori asked from the other side, gulping as he thought of her reaction.

"Why would I be mad, Sakusa-san is your family after all. Just, tell me sooner next time." She asked softly. There was really no reason for her to be annoyed, aside from him not informing her sooner.

"Sorry, I really am. But I have something for you, which might make it up for my mistake." Komori said sheepishly, causing (Y/n) to grow curious.

"What would that be?"

"You'll see! But I need to hang up now, sorry."

"Ok, have a safe trip! And have fun."

Turning off her phone, (Y/n) sighed and went to her living room, opting to watch a movie or two till Komori arrives.

A few hours had passed and (Y/n) was beginning to get nervous, not only was Komori supposed to arrive at her place an hour ago, but he also wasn't answering his phone.

"Should I call Motoya again? I have been calling him for the past 20 minutes and nothing... Maybe Sakusa-san will answer me." (Y/n) muttered nervously as she dialed the athlete's number.

She didn't have to wait for too long, as he answered his phone quickly.

"Hello? (Y/n)?"

"Sakusa-san! Thank God you answered, is Motoya with you? Why isn't he answering his phone?"

'I probably come off as controlling, but fuck it!' She gulped, waiting for an answer from the man.

"Motoya? Why would he be with me? I am out with Hinata."

(Y/n)'s heart dropped at those words.

'There... But why would he say?'

"Hello? (Y/n), you still on your phone?" Sakusa's voice interrupted her thoughts and she quickly answered him.

"Uhmm...I... Motoya isn't with you 100%? He said you two would meet up for a drink."

"No, we never agreed to that. I have practice tomorrow, so that's out of question-"

"I need to go. Bye, sorry for interrupting you two." (Y/n) didn't let Sakusa finish as she hung up and went to call Komori again, her heart racing and alarm bells ringing.

"Come on...answer please....Motoya..." She desperately begged, thinking of the worst possible scenario.

'He wouldn't... Motoya wouldn't cheat. There is no way, but why else would he lie?'

"Why aren't you answering?!" (Y/n) screamed as she threw her phone on the couch, tears escaping her eyes.

"Please...let this be all a prank, I swear I won't be mad. Please-"

A notification popped up on her phone, and (Y/n) quickly ran to her phone, thinking this might be Komori. Unlocking her phone, (Y/n) read the name of a private Ig account, which sent her a few pictures. With a heavy heart, she opened the message, only, to her horror find pictures of Komori sleeping next to a unfamiliar girl. The sight of the woman smiling next to a seemingly naked Komori made her heart break and she quickly turned of her phone.

Shaking and sobbing, she plopped on the couch and started crying harder, the pathetic feelings of sadness and betrayal taking over her body.

"Motoya...why?"

"Should we go now?" Hinata asked as Sakusa finished his call with Atsumu.

"Yeah, the woman sent those photos to (Y/n) and already left. With how much Motoya drank, it will be a wonder if he remembers anything." Hinata nodded his head as they walked of to Sakusa's car.

"All the better for us, (Y/n) will just think that he is lying and trying to pretend nothing happened."

Sakusa silently nodded his head, grinning like a madman that this years old nightmare is coming to an end.

'Finally she will be mine...tonight is the night.' The black haired man hummed as him and Hinata walked off to the meeting spot.

A few hours passed by and (Y/n) was sound asleep in her bed, all the crying drained her, and she just wanted to shut off everyone. So much so that she didn't even answer her brother or sister's calls. The silent apartment was soon disrupted by the sound of the entrance door being opened, and two figures walked inside.

"Shouldn't we wait for Hinata and Atsumu?" Bokuto whispered as Sakusa nodded his head.

"I really could care less where those two idiots are right now. Besides, we should go and prepre our little princess." The Itachiyama alumni muttered as he walked to (Y/n)'s bedroom, his whole body shaking in excitement along with Bokuto's.

"Finally, I have been dreaming of this moment for so long." Bokuto grinned as Sakusa slowly opened the bedroom door. Breath hitching up, Bokuto walked inside and up to (Y/n)'s bed. The man gulped as he looked at her sleeping face, her puffy, red cheeks and pout causing his cock to harden.

Groaning, Sakusa slowly removed her covers, enjoying the sight of her vulnerable figure. Bokuto let out a a sigh as he sat on the bed and caressed (Y/n)'s hair.

"I can't wait for those two." Sakusa finally said as he hovered over the woman, and slowly grabbed onto her pajama pants, pulling them down.

"Finally." Bokuto grinned as Sakusa pulled off her pants, licking his lips when he saw her panties. Quickly unbottoning her pajama shirt, he was more than pleased to see her bare boobs.

"Naughty girl~" Bokuto giggled as Sakusa started kissing up (Y/n)'s leg, her soft skin turning him more and more on.

'And that bastard Motoya kept all of this to himself?! And with how he is, he probably didn't please her to the fullest.'

Bokuto was meanwhile kneading (Y/n)'s nipples, watching in pleasure as the woman started groaning and moaning, her eyes slowly opening, looking at her surrounding in confusion.

"Looks like my little slut is finally up? Look Omi!"

"Wh-what th?!-" (Y/n) shrieked as she realized what was going on, desperately trying to wiggle her body out of this. But all of this was to no avail as their grips on her body tightened.

"Shh baby, we will take great care of you. Just be compliant."

"Get off of me! What the hell?!" (Y/n) glared up at Bokuto as she tried to push him off. This pissed the white/black haired man off, causing him to grab her arms and pin them down, sending the woman a warning growl.

"Don't make it so unnecessarily hard, baby. We know you want this, you are all wet just from our touch." Sakusa cooed as he inserted a finger inside, enjoying the surprised expression and her attempts to hide her moan.

"Don't hold back baby, I want to hear all of the noises." The black haired man laughed, insisting a 2nd and 3rd finger shortly after.

"Stopp~" (Y/n) moaned out as Bokuto played with one of her nipples and sucked the other, moaning at how soft she felt.

"Good girl, just lay back and enjoy it." Sakusa smirked as he pumped his fingers faster and faster, enjoying how hee moans were getting louder and louder.

"You smell so nice... I have been waiting for so long. We all have." Bokuto muttered in between of kissing her neck, leaving a bite mark or two in the process.

"Wha-what are you t-talking about~" (Y/n) panted as she felt her climax approach her.

"We all have had our eyes set on you since high school, and it really enraged me...us to see you with my cousin of all people. But you will soon learn not to mess with us, baby~" Sakusa chuckled as the younger came onto his finger, enjoying the moan she let out.

"So sensitive... Atsumu and Hinata will sure enjoy this." Bokuto teased as he wiped her tears away, kissing her cheek right after.

"Please...please don't go any further... Sakusa, Motoya will be-"

(Y/n) flinched as both men glared and let out low growls.

"Still thinking of that pest? While two of the most sought after athletes in the country are about to give you the night of your life?" Sakusa said as her got up, signaling to Bokuto to change positions. (Y/n) was about to use the moment her hands were free to get up, but Sakusa stopped her.

"You are not going anywhere. The fun is just starting." Sakusa said as (Y/n) watched in horror as Bokuto started taking off his pants. Then suddenly, the younger heard her bedroom door open, and a familiar voice fill up the room.

"Hey! Why didn't ya wait for us?!" Atsumu growled as Hinata whined at the betrayal. The black haired man rolled his eyes along with Bokuto.

"Next time don't take so long. Now wait till Omi and I are finished."

"Not fair! I know (Y/n) longer than any of you, I should do it first!"

"Deal with it, Hinata." Sakusa said, looking down at (Y/n)'s teary eyes, the sight causing him to grow harder than he already was.

The next day, (Y/n) woke up feeling sick and body aching from all the bruises and bite marks the 4 left on her body. But besides that, a weird form of relief washed over her body as she noted that neither of the men were with her. Perhaps, she thought, they left or something. But, just as she started hoping that, her door opened and revealed Hinata's smiling figure. (Y/n) cringed at how normal he was acting, as if he and his friends didn't force themselves on her last night.

"You are awake! Just in time too, Omi made us breakfast." Hinata said cheerfully as he approached her bed, causing the woman to flinch away as he touched her shoulder.

"Huh? Was I that rough with my marking last night? Sorry baby, I will be gentler next time." (Y/n) looked at the grinning man in horror as he said that.

"N-next time?"

"Of course, did you think this was a one time thing?" Gulping, she felt Hinata grab the back of her head and rest his forehead against hers.

"We all are in love with you for years, and if you thought we would leave after we got a taste of how sweet you are...you are dead wrong." Hinata said, the crazy and lovesick look in his eyes made her realize in just how much trouble she was in.

"Besides...of you don't want Komori's career to end in a cheating scandal, you will play the role of the obedient little kitten." Atsumu said from the doorway. (Y/n) moved to look at him in shock as Hinata started kissing her neck, moaning at the pleasant smell.

"How do you-"

"How do we know? Easy, we set him up. You should have seen how much we had to make him drink to convince him that woman was you." Her eyes widened as Atsumu chuckled and walked up to her bed, patting her head and kissing the top of it.

"Remember, your body and soul belong to us from now on, so better not look at any other man, or else these pictures of Komori are going into the public."

(Y/n) felt tears start rolling down her cheeks as Atsumu showed her those again. She knew there was no way out, if only she knew sooner how crazy these 4 were...maybe she would have been more careful. Maybe she would have stayed in Tokyo or even in Miyagi to study,but with the way they were, (Y/n) doubted this distance would have prevented any of this. Atsumu chuckled at the hopeless look the younger had on her face and leaned in to lick some of the tears away.

'Finally I have you hopeless and desperate, just like I always wanted it.'

@kei-tsuki21 @thebrunetteavenger @sicklyinlove @kittykatiekat @torriblack97 @locogvrl @omi-kunslysol @yuushs

[paisholotus]

What You Heard?

Shuri x black fem reader

Summary: You and Shuri get into an argument, and you end up breaking up with her, including your engagement. She finds you at the club with your friends, but sees you alone being man handled.

Warnings: Strong Language, Possessive Shuri

Requested By: Anonymous

Translations: Sthandwa( My love) Intombazana yomntwana ( Baby Girl) Umfazi wam ( My Wife)

A/N: inspired by the song what you heard by Brent Faiyaz

Y/N Pov

"EACH AND EVERY TIME YOU DO THIS SHIT! I try to schedule time for us, but you always change your plans to go to THAT FUCKING LAB YOU'RE ALWAYS IN!" I yelled at Shuri in a rage, my eyes burning from tears.

Shuri glared at me angrily as she slammed her glasses to the ground and wiped her face. "Y/N! I AM QUEEN OF THE MOST POWERFUL NATION! OKAY? I HAVE OTHER SHIT TO CONSIDER. YOU ARE NOT FIRST PRIORITY! PUSH THAT RIGHT THRU YOUR SKULL!" She shouted in my face.

I took a step back, allowing the pain of her words to wash over me. I wiped my cheeks angrily, snatching off my kimoyo beads, breaking them. I smirked at her and nodded. "Ight, I bet you won't have to worry about me, no time soon."

I took one last look at her and walked out her lab, and her life.

➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖

It's been eight months...

I haven't spoken to or seen Shuri, and I didn't really have any plans to. The three years we've spent together have been a complete waste of time. And she didn't even try to communicate with me; she just threw herself into that cold lab.

Given that I am aware of her ongoing grief over the loss of her mother and brother, I understood the strain of being Queen. But I made an effort to talk to her and try to console her. But she only seemed to get angrier and shorter with me. And I was FULLY aware that her country comes first, but DAMMNIT!, I WAS YOUR FIANCE! And for her to simply say what she said, made me feel as though I didn't matter.

In order to avoid ruining my makeup, I quickly dried my eyes before turning to look at the ring on my dresser.

I moved back to America. Got my own apartment, a new job, and I changed my number just to be sure Shuri couldn't contact me.

Tonight I was going out with my friends, and i just put the finishing touches on my hair and makeup.

My phone starts to ring with the same unknown number that's been calling all day, so I decided to answer it.

“hello” I said, answering the call. As i propped my phone up on my dresser. “long time no see, Sthandwa.” the person said, making my whole body freeze. I sat my pallet down, and it was no other than, Shuri.  “how did you get this number?” i said. Applying highlighter to my cheeks, the bright gold shade matching my dress.

“Do you honestly think, I didn’t know where you were? You're my WIFE” she said. Bringing a glass to her lips, that had dark brown liquor in it. “where you going?” she asked me. I scrunched up my face and gave her a unbothered look. “Out” I responded plainly as i picked up my earrings. “out where?” she asked again with more authority in her voice. Any other time that would have turned me on, but I was determined to not let her get to me.

“first of all who are you talking to like that? And why you worried about where I'm going? I ain't first priority remember? Fuck You calling me for? You ain't my parent!” i yelled at her, rolling my eyes. Shuri was quiet for a few seconds, as she looked at me. I stared back into her eyes through the camera, and she tilted her head to the side and smirked. “you look beautiful ” she said as she licked her lips. I huffed and mumbled an "thank you" as I went to go look for my shoes.

"So you're not going to answer my question, Intombazana yomntwana?" I looked at her with irration and smirked. Slowly walking towards the phone putting extra sway in my hips, and bended down. "Nope. But I'm sure imma have somebody entertaining me tonight. You just worry about that it's not gonna be you." I said, ending the call before she could say anything else.

I walked downstairs grabbing my keys and walked out the door, to meet my friends.

➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖

Shuri's Pov

I see, she thinks she's funny. I thanked Okoye before getting into the car. Now, I gave us some distance for more than 8 months and allowed her to believe that she could easily elude me.

And now she believes that she can simply go out with her 'friends' and have both women and men touch what is mine? Oh, I fucking don't think so.

So when I get to this club and finally bring her home, she better act like she already know what  it is. She think she finna give up my pussy and she not. She think she's done with me and she's not. If she thinks we're over, WE'RE NOT! SHE MY WIFE.

I brought the brown liquor to my lips and took a squig out of it.

Fuck your mind up, waste time

I'm prone to that, do it all the time

Keep your guard up or wait in line

You don't need me, please believe me

This ain't easy, you know I've been feindin'

Let me unleash my demons on you

I know that I neglected her and screwed up. But when we went our separate ways, I worked towards keeping my temper in check and also used that time to grieve my loss properly.

What's the word? Tell me what you've heard

Don't tell me what to do, just tell me when it hurts

I would hear whispers and talk about how cold I became towards her. I didn't want to be that way, anymore. So I focused and meditated and tried to find peace within myself. But now I was ready for Umfazi wam to come home.

I walked in the club pushing sweaty bodies out of my way, looking for Y/N. Okoye was ordered to remain outside because I didn't need her assistance.

I combed through the crowd looking for her, but the loud, awful music made it difficult for me to even hear myself think. Then I noticed her dancing on an unsightly man on the balcony.

As I walked over to her, shoving more people out my way, my jaw clenched. But I stopped when I saw that she was attempting to push him away and that he was acting roughly towards her, grabbing her throat.

When I get you to myself, it's murder

In seconds I grabbed the bastard and pushed him up against the wall. Y/N rushed over to me, pleading with me not to kill this man.

I looked at him menacingly, seeing fear in his eyes and seeing him shake visibly. I leaned over and whispered in his ear, "If I EVER see you lay your DISGUSTING ASS HANDS ON MY WIFE AGAIN, IT'LL BE THE LAST DAY YOU BREATH AIR THROUGH YOUR PATHETIC LUNGS!" And returned his gaze, "Do I make myself clear?" I asked him, dangerously low.

He nodded quickly and I let go of him, watching him scurry away.

What the fuck you call this? Hopeless, not romantic

I ain't got no kids, so don't be so childish

You be wildin', I be wildin', too

But not like you, shit, maybe a little like you

Maybe we ain't so different, maybe I be trippin', too

I turned to Y/N, and she tried to run, but I grabbed the back of his dress and yanked her around to face me, clutching her jaw. “if you ever do something so stupid like you did tonight  again, you’re gonna be in a world of fucking trouble” I said. She nodded rapidly, in hopes that i would release her. "Now we going back to that apartment to grab your stuff, then we going back to Wakanda. Do I make myself clear?" She eagerly nodded, and I leaned down kissing her forehead, and grabbed her hand.

"Wait what about my friends?" She asked me. "I'll send Ayo to come get them." I told her.

Okoye opened the car door for us, and I drew YN onto my lap and kissed her on the neck, then kissed her lips. moaning filled the car as she started to grind on my leg, I let her move at her own pace. Letting her push me backwards into the car seat.

You ain't gotta worry

Bout a thing, bout a thing

You ain't gotta worry

Bout a thing, bout a thing

I pulled away from her and looked her in the eyes. "Sthandwa, please accept my apologies. I know I messed up and hurt you, but I'm willing to go to any length to reclaim your love and trust. Let me try for you. Let me try for us."

"You going to let me try for us, baby?" She nodded and gave a small smile. I pressed my forehead against hers and brushed my lips against hers. “i love you ma”