#i see my fears and pain reflected in someone's writing

[theostrophywife]

stop the world i wanna get off with you.

pairing: theodore nott x reader. song inspiration: stop the world i wanna get off with you by arctic monkeys. author’s note: the theo brain rot is so real for me besties. i kid you not i listened to the song on repeat while writing this because my mans is arctic monkeys coded. plus, it was only a matter of time before we saw some smutty action from my favorite slutherin 😏 part one: baby won't you be my girl?

You were not a morning person. 

Theo knew that. Hell, everyone in Slytherin knew that. Waking you up before noon on the weekend was a one way ticket to a world of pain. For some reason, your boyfriend was determined to make the top of your hit list this morning. 

You groaned as Theo shifted beneath you, rousing you from sleep. He stroked your hair gently and pressed a kiss on your temple. “I have to go to practice, amorina.” 

Sunlight streamed in through the skylight above Theo’s dorm, reflecting the rippling waves of the Black Lake across your boyfriend’s goose down comforter. You buried your head in the crook of his neck. 

“Five more minutes,” you mumbled against his throat, relishing in his warmth. “Please, Teddy.”

A low chuckle rumbled through his chest. “You said that five minutes ago, sweetheart. Do you want your sweet and sexy boyfriend to be maimed by his captain?”

“If Malfoy so much as touches a hair on your head, I’ll turn him into a ferret again and set him loose in the Forbidden Forest.” You snuggled closer and twined your legs together. “Let’s see how threatening he can be against Aragog.”

“Sometimes you genuinely scare me, Y/N.” He wrapped his arms around your waist. “But apparently, fear is a very effective aphrodisiac for me. I’m learning a lot of new things about myself.”

“I can threaten you some more if you want,” you murmured sleepily. “As long as you stay in bed with me, Teddy.”

Theo groaned as you kissed his neck. “You’re absolutely cruel, you know that?” He tilted your chin up, pressing his lips against yours. You sighed dreamily into the kiss, morning breath and all. 

Even though you’ve only been officially dating for three months, it felt like you and Theo had been together for a lifetime. You were already inseparable before, but after his confession at the quidditch game after party, you spent nearly every waking moment together. Hence waking up in his bed. 

Theo placed a final kiss on the tip of your nose. “Now I really have to go.” You sighed in defeat, pouting like a petulant child. Your boyfriend laughed. “I’ll see you in the stands, babe.”

“Fine,” you mumbled grumpily. 

You watched as Theo hastily threw on his quidditch uniform, admiring the view of his sunkissed skin and toned chest and abs. Thank Merlin for quidditch. 

The cheeky tosser winked before heading for the pitch. You turned over in bed, burying yourself in Theo’s scent as you drifted back to sleep. 

Several hours later, you finally managed to get dressed and dragged yourself to the Great Hall for a late lunch. When you got to your usual table, you found the boys and Pansy waiting for you. Draco and Mattheo were talking in hushed tones, no doubt discussing their strategy to destroy the Ravenclaws while Enzo scarfed down a plate of steak and eggs like his life depended on it. Pansy watched in disgust, wrinkling her nose at your friend. 

“For Salazar’s sake, Lorenzo. You’re going to choke to death and I refuse to resuscitate you.”

“Don’t worry, Enzo,” you said as you slid in next to him. “I’m sure we can find a volunteer to perform mouth to mouth on you.”

As if on cue, a gaggle of fourth years giggled at the end of the table. Enzo didn’t seem to notice. Beside him, Blaise met your eye and shook his head. The two of you often joked that Draco took all the arrogance in their family’s gene pool, leaving poor Enzo hopelessly oblivious. The fact that sweet Lorenzo was related to someone as arrogant as Malfoy never failed to completely baffle the mind. 

“Well don’t you look adorable, Y/N?” Draco drawled. “All decked out in your boyfriend’s jersey.”

You looked down at the emerald and silver jersey with the number 6 embroidered on the front, which was so big on you that the hem hit your knees. Matching streaks of your house colors adorned your cheeks and you had pulled your hair back with a pair of charmed serpent clips that writhed through your pigtails every so often.

“And up before mid afternoon, no less,” Mattheo commented. 

You frowned, flicking him off before reaching for a sandwich. “Speaking of my boyfriend. Where is the little rascal?”

“Last I checked he was still on the pitch,” Draco said as you stuffed a few chips into your mouth. “Practicing to show off in front of you, I imagine.”

“I’ve seen him play before.” 

Mattheo stole a chip from your plate. “Yes, but not as his girlfriend.”

You smacked his hand away and he gasped dramatically. Mattheo fetched something out of his robes and set it down in front of you. The small glass vial shimmered in the light. 

“Your boyfriend wanted me to give you this.” 

A motion sickness draught. Theo knew how queasy and nauseous you got during his quidditch games, so he’d concocted your own special cure for it. Hot and smart. Gods, you were lucky.

You flushed, pocketing the potion. “Thanks.”

“You idiots better win,” Pansy said. “Or else all my hard work for tonight’s after party will go to waste.”

Draco scoffed. “You mean our hard work?” He turned over to you, frowning. “Pans over here had us working harder than a house elf. I’ve got glitter in places glitter should never be.”

“Fitting for someone who thinks the sun shines out of his arse. Maybe it’ll finally teach you some humility, Malfoy.”

Mattheo draped an arm around your shoulder. “You know why our sweet little Pansy’s got her wand in a twist though, right?” He leaned in conspiratorially. “She finally plucked up the courage to invite a certain Ravenclaw to the after party.”

You squealed in delight. “Is that true, Pans? Did you finally ask Luna out?”

Pansy glared at you, practically hissing as she grabbed your elbow. “Say that a little louder, why don’t you? I don’t think they heard you across the room.” 

You snorted. Your best friend has always been a little tightly wound, but Pansy Parkinson with a crush was a whole different animagus. 

“Well, I, for one, am excited for this development in your love life,” you exclaimed, squeezing her shoulder. “It’s about time you did something about this little crush.”

“Says the witch who took twelve years to admit her feelings,” Pansy said with an affectionate eye roll. “Sorry love, but I’m not taking advice from you.”

“I’m choosing to attribute that to first date jitters and not a blatant insult against your best and most loyal friend.” You picked at your sandwich, waving a pickle in the air excitedly. “Don’t be nervous, Pans. She’s going to love you.” 

The encouragement was met with an elbow to your ribs. You paused mid-chew, ready to give Pansy a peace of your mind when a soft voice interrupted you. 

“Hi, guys,” greeted Luna Lovegood. She wore a striped blue and bronze sweater, representing the colors of her house. Strapped to her back was a set of feathered eagle wings that nearly dragged to the floor. “I love your snake clips, Y/N. It’s always great to see displays of house spirit. Beware of the nargles, though. They do love shiny things.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for them, Luna.” You said with a smile. “I’m looking forward to your commentary tonight. It’s going to be a heated match between our houses, but one thing’s for certain. The after party will be absolutely mental no matter who wins. Isn’t that right, Pans?” 

Pansy nodded, the action making her sleek bob graze her sharp cheekbones. You always thought that your friend possessed an austere sort of beauty, but everything about her seemed to soften as she turned her attention on Luna. 

“We can still count on you to make it tonight, right Lovegood?” There was a hint of playfulness in Pansy’s tone that you rarely heard her use. You couldn’t help but smirk. Pansy Parkinson fancied the absolute pants out of Luna Lovegood.

Luna smiled shyly, hiding beneath a strand of platinum blonde hair. “Thank you for the invitation, Pansy. I look forward to seeing everyone tonight.” 

“See you tonight, Luna.”

Luna gave your table a friendly wave before returning to her own fellow Ravenclaws. You waited until she was out of ear shot before bursting into a fit of giggles.

“See you tonight Luna,” you repeated, putting on your best impression of Pansy’s husky voice. “Pansy Parkinson’s totally going to snog Luna Lovegood tonight!” 

“Oh, shut up,” replied Pansy. She tried her best to look annoyed, but the small smile on her face made it rather unconvincing. 

After teasing your friend for at least another hour, the two of you finally headed down to the quidditch pitch. The boys left long ago, presumably to warm up before the big game. You followed Pansy into the stands, cringing slightly at how high up the seats were. 

Across the pitch, the feedback from Luna’s sonoroused voice rumbled through the crowd. “Welcome fellow students. Join me in kicking off this long awaited match between Slytherin and Ravenclaw, the house of yours truly. As always, the goal is to provide live updates and unbiased commentary throughout the game, but I make no promises. Even a Corkendoodle wouldn’t be able to resist showing a little partiality. Now without further ado, let the games begin!”

The crowd roared as players from each side soared through the air at breakneck speed. You gripped the railing, thankful for Theo’s concoction as you squinted at the blur of players. As always, Madam Hooch kicked off the game by releasing a set of bludgers and the elusive golden snitch. With bated breath, you watched as she threw the quaffle into the air which marked the official start of the match. 

A familiar figure zoomed past you, emerald robes streaming behind him as he caught the quaffle and cradled it under his arm. Theo circled through the air, easily outmaneuvering the chasers from the opposing team. He flew straight for a blonde Ravenclaw, making the poor fifth year think that they were going to collide before he swerved at the last second and looped around the frightened player. 

“And that’s Nott of Slytherin with an excellent fake out,” Luna announced in her dreamy voice. “Oddly enough, this chaser is heading in the opposite direction of the goalposts. Another clever tactic, I presume.”

Theo brought his broom to a stop directly in front of you, hovering in mid-air while he cradled the quaffle underneath one arm. He immediately broke out into a grin when he saw you wearing his jersey. 

“In a turn of events, Nott visits the Slytherin stands for a little chat with his friends,” commented Luna. “Actually, that’s his lovely girlfriend Y/N. I did warn her about attracting the Nargles, but nevertheless those serpent clips are a work of art. Oh look, there’s Pansy Parkinson! I know she looks a bit intimidating at first, but she’s really quite nice.” 

Beside you, Pansy turned as red as a tomato. You stifled a giggle just as Theo pulled close, his watercolor eyes crinkling with amusement. 

“My jersey looks good on you, Y/N.” Theo drawled, taking the time to flirt despite the fact that he was currently in the middle of a game. He leaned in and whispered low so only you could hear, “But I bet it would look even better on my floor.”

“Win this match and you might get your wish, babe.”

A smirk curved against his lips. “You evil little temptress. I hope you know that I’m holding you to that,” he inched closer, his gaze dropping to your mouth. “Do I at least get a kiss from my good luck charm?”

You shook your head in disbelief. “Aren’t you supposed to be doing something right now? Like, I don't know, playing the bloody quidditch game!”

He shrugged, winking at you in that cheeky way of his. “I’m perfectly capable of multitasking.” 

Just then, a bludger whizzed past the stands, but Theo was entirely unbothered as he flipped over on his broom to avoid the hit. Your boyfriend hung upside down, keeping his eyes on you the entire time. “Now about that kiss, dolcezza.”

“That’s quite a creative way to avoid a bludger,” Luna continued. “I once hung upside down in a tree in search of moon frogs and it wasn’t the most comfortable position, but not the most uncomfortable either. Oh! It looks like things are heating up for this lovely couple.”

“You’re an absolute menace, Theodore,” you said with an exasperated sigh before pulling him by the collar and kissing him. The logistics were complicated by the fact that he was currently airborne, but Theo smiled against your lips all the same. 

“A good luck kiss,” Luna said with delight. “Those two are absolutely adorable, aren’t they? Ah, young love.”

Satisfied, Theo flipped right side up and palmed the quaffle in his hand. “You hear that, babe? We’re absolutely adorable.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately. “Yeah, yeah. Now go out there and kick some Ravenclaw arse!”

Thanks to Teddy’s potion, you actually managed to keep your eyes open for the entirety of the game. It was a heated match with both teams playing with equal ferocity, but the boys had the upper hand. They moved as one, predicting each other’s moves from years and years of practice. Even the newest additions, Violet and Tracey, seemed to fit seamlessly into the group. 

By the time you reached the tail end of the game, your throat felt raw from cheering and screaming. Pansy was in a worse state, hurling insults when one of the Ravenclaw beaters attempted to grab the tail end of Blaise’s broom. 

“That was obviously a bloody fucking foul!” Pansy screamed. 

“Some colorful words from the Slytherin stands,” Luna said with a little smile, making Pansy blush. “Madam Hooch seems to agree. Robinson has been fouled for blagging Zabini.”

You gripped the end of the railing as Theo zoomed past. The score was tied, but if he made this goal it would put Slytherin up by ten points, effectively winning not only the game but also the Quidditch Cup.

“You got this, babe,” you yelled. “No mercy, Teddy!”

Theo met your gaze and smirked. Vicious woman, he mouthed before careening straight for the goalpost. 

The Ravenclaw keeper looked panicked as Theo dodged the other players and reeled the quaffle back. The shot was perfect, whizzing past the post so fast that the keeper didn’t even have time to react. 

“Nott with the winning shot!” Luna announced cheerily. “That’s game, everyone. Congratulations to this year’s Quidditch Cup winner: Slytherin House!”

The cheers that erupted from your housemates followed you all the way to the common room. In true Pansy fashion, the large space had been meticulously decorated with banners and streamers. The music blared and the liquor flowed, marking the start of a night of mischief and revelry. 

While waiting for the boys to finish showering, you helped Pansy play hostess. You greeted friends from other houses, filling their cups with your signature concoction. A fruity drink that masked the taste of liquor so well that the drinker didn’t realize they were pissed until it was too late. 

“Congratulations on the win,” said a familiar voice. You turned around and saw Murdock raising his green cup in a toast. 

You smiled, clinking your plastic cup against his. “Thanks Christoph. Good to see you here,” you lowered your voice, darting your head around the corner. “So things are going well with Daphne?”

Christoph smiled shyly. “Yeah, thanks for introducing us by the way. We’re going on our first date to the Three Broomsticks tomorrow.” 

After his last disastrous attendance at a Slytherin party, you figured it was the least you could do for your Hufflepuff friend. “Don’t mention it, Christoph. What are friends for? Besides, it’s obvious that you two would be absolutely perfect together.” 

“Who’s absolutely perfect together?” A familiar voice drawled. You felt an arm wrap protectively around you. “Besides us, of course.” 

Even before you were dating, Theo had a tendency to be overprotective towards you. Most of the time he was pretty good at controlling it, but sometimes his jealousy got the best of him. It would’ve annoyed you if it wasn’t so damn attractive. 

“Hey babe,” you said with a little smile, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “I was just telling Christoph here that he should offer Daphne a drink. They’d make a cute couple, don’t you think?”

Realization flooded Theo’s features, followed by a hint of embarrassment. “Definitely,” he said with a rueful smile. “Take it from me, mate. Don’t wait too long before chasing after the girl of your dreams.”

Christoph nodded, looking determined. “Thanks, mate.”

You handed your friend another cup and pointed him in Daphne’s direction. Beside you, Theo smiled sheepishly. His hair was slightly wet from the shower and he smelled like sea salt spray and smoke. The cozy knitted sweater he had thrown on brought out his watercolor eyes. 

“Nice save, babe.” 

“What can I say? I’m a hopeless romantic,” Theo said, placing his hands on your waist. “You bring it out of me, cara mia.”

You rolled your eyes fondly. “You know, I’d be mad if jealous Theo wasn’t so hot.” Theo grinned as you placed your arms around his neck. “But scoring that winning goal? That was downright sexy.”

Your boyfriend toyed with the hem of your shirt. “Oh yeah? Well, I had some motivation, thanks to our little bargain.” His hands slipped underneath your shirt, tracing teasing circles on your hips. “I delivered on my end. Now it’s time for you to pay up, love.” 

“Good things come to those who wait, Theo.” 

Theo pouted. “Fine, but only because I know you’re worth it.”

You pulled Theo in by the belt loop and kissed him, long and hard. He lifted you up and groaned as you tugged at his curls. Theo sighed into your mouth as you took control, showing him exactly how much you wanted him. You topped the kiss off by gently biting on his bottom lip. When you pulled away, Theo looked dazed. 

“Fuck,” he said in a low, dark voice. 

“A little preview,” you said with a smirk. “Just so you don’t think I’m completely heartless.”

“So my dorm or yours?”

You chuckled. “Theo, you haven’t even made your rounds. This party is to celebrate your win, you know.”

“Fuck the party,” he said dismissively. “You think I care about talking to all of these people after that? What do you want, love? Do you want me to beg? Get on my knees for you? I’ll do anything, princess.”

Salazar fucking save you. 

You would’ve taken Theo up on the offer, but this was his moment. He deserved to be celebrated. Besides, he’d be all yours by the end of the night. 

“As much as I love the visual,” you said, pecking him on the cheek. “I want you to celebrate with the team. You lot deserve it after working so hard all year.” You lowered your voice, whispering in his ear. “After that, we can go up to your dorm and I’ll give you your reward. Think you can do that, babe?”

“Yes ma’am,” Theo replied. “God you’re fucking sexy when you’re bossing me around.” 

You smirked. “Good boy.” 

Theo groaned before slipping his hand into yours. “Now come on, before I change my mind and claim my reward right here, right now.”

The two of you made rounds through the party, stopping here and there to talk to your respective friends. Most of the time, you were by Theo’s side watching in admiration as everyone congratulated him on the winning goal. 

Even in deep conversation, Theo never stopped touching you. Whether it was the soothing rub of his thumb across your knuckles or his arm draped protectively around your waist, it was obvious that physical touch was your boyfriend’s love language. 

You couldn’t help but smile at how easy it came to him, like touching you was as natural as breathing air.  

“What’s that smile for, love?”

“I just really fucking fancy you.”

Merlin’s bloody beard. The smile on Theo’s face completely took your breath away. His eyes, which you often joked gave him resting witch face, lit up brighter than the sun. 

“I really fucking fancy you too, darling.”

Finally, the two of you reached your friends on the other side of the common room. Blaise and Enzo were engaged in a competitive game of beer pong against Mattheo and Draco. 

“The man of the hour,” Malfoy announced, clapping Theo on the back. “You fucking killed it out there, mate.” He turned back to the other boys. “We all did.”

“This calls for a celebratory shot!” you announced. “Wait, where’s Pans?”

Mattheo smirked. “Chatting up our commentator. Looks like our little Pansy’s all grown up.”

Across the room, you shot Pansy a wink as she and Luna sat rather close together, huddled on the couch and giggling every so often. You rallied the boys, raising your cups in a cheer. Pansy affectionately flipped you the bird as all six of you hooted and hollered, but she downed the liquor nonetheless. 

The firewhisky must have been a fast acting agent of liquid courage because not even a second after she set her cup down, Pansy was kissing Luna. You squealed in delight while the rest of the group drunkenly cheered. 

This night just kept getting better and better. 

“Another one of our finest lost to young love,” Draco announced dramatically. 

You rolled your eyes. “You could be too if you stopped being a coward and finally asked Hermione out.” 

Malfoy nearly spat out his drink. “Granger? You think I fancy Granger? Little miss know it all, member of the Golden Trio, poster child Gryffindor Granger? Are you taking the piss, Y/N?”

“Oh please,” Mattheo said with a scoff. “We all see the way you look at her in the Great Hall. You don’t just fancy Granger. You’re absolutely smitten, mate.”

Enzo nodded empathetically. “Mattheo’s right, cousin. You should just ask Hermione out on a date.”

“Have you lot forgotten that the madwoman once punched me in the face?” 

“I think she’d be good for you,” you said. “Set you straight.” 

“Set me straight?” Draco repeated. “I don’t need anyone to set me straight. Especially not Granger. I mean, the witch is insufferable with her stupid curly hair and stupid big brown eyes and stupid flawless skin.” 

Blaise sighed. “No offense, mate, but you’re even thicker than Enzo when it comes to girls.”

Enzo protested in response, but Draco was too busy having a meltdown to notice. His pale complexion blossomed with red as his mouth gaped open. “Do I like Granger?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Obviously, you blubbering idiot.” 

Draco glared at you, then at Theo. “Nott, please get your girlfriend away from me before I have a full on fit.”

Theo only laughed, pulling you closer. “Gladly. We were heading out anyway.” 

You hugged your friends goodbye. Draco was still frowning at his drink when you and Theo finally headed out of the common room. 

“Think about it, ferret boy,” you hollered from the door. “Granger’s a catch! We could use more female presence in this absolute sausage party of a friend group.” 

With that, Theo hauled you over his shoulder. You squealed, pinching his bum as he carried you out of the common room. “Alright, love. That’s enough of that.” 

When you finally reached Theo’s dorm, the two of you fell over in absolute hysterics. You plopped down on his bed, spreading like an obnoxious starfish. Theo followed after, diving on top of you. 

“I think you gave Malfoy an identity crisis,” he said, laughing into your hair. 

You shrugged, rolling over so that you were on top of him. “He deserved it.” 

Theo toyed with the hem of your shirt, tracing circles on your hips. “And what about what I deserve?” 

“It’s coming, babe,” you said with a sly smile. “And pretty soon you will be too.”

“Don’t tease, cara mia.”

“I never tease,” you purred. “I only promise.”

With a satisfied smirk, you pressed your lips against his. Theo groaned into your mouth as you straddled his lap, deepening the kiss. Large hands roamed underneath your shirt, his palms rough and calloused from hours and hours of playing quidditch.

A sinfully delicious moan slipped past Theo’s lips as you trailed kisses along his jaw, throat, and neck. You sucked on his flesh, hard enough to leave marks. You liked knowing that every time he changed, little reminders of you littered his skin.

“Bloody fucking hell,” Theo muttered.

“You’ve got a filthy mouth, Theo,” you teased. “I bet I could shut you up though.”

Your boyfriend groaned like he was in pain. “Please do.”

You winked before disappearing underneath the covers. Theo’s eyes fluttered close as you continued kissing down his chest, taking the time to trace your name on his abs with your tongue, which seemed to be a real crowd pleaser. You stripped off his trousers, kissing his perfectly defined v line before licking a teasing stripe along the underside of his cock.

“Figlio di puttana,” Theo cursed, low and rough. Your knees nearly buckled. There was truly nothing hotter than your boyfriend swearing in Italian. “Don’t stop, Y/N.”

“What was that you said about delivering on my promise?” you asked innocently, looking up at him through your lashes. “Because it feels like I’m giving you the winner treatment right now, doesn’t it baby?”

A choked moan was your only response as you took him into your mouth. You gagged as he hit the back of your throat, bobbing your head up and down in a steady rhythm. Theo fisted your hair in his hands, watching through heavy lids as you sucked your cheeks in. 

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he groaned, stroking your cheek. “But I’m willing to die a happy man.”

You chuckled, sending vibrations to his sensitive head. Theo twitched against your cheek as you gripped his shaft, moving along with your mouth. He continued to curse colorfully while you wrapped your lips around him. You felt him tense underneath you, signaling that he was close. 

Theo tugged lightly at your scalp. “I don’t want to cum yet,” he said huskily. “Not until I’m inside of you.” 

Merlin bless your boyfriend and his filthy fucking mouth. Theo flipped you over, his body pinning you to the mattress as he kissed you roughly. You gasped against his mouth, giving him the perfect opportunity to slide his tongue in. Heat pooled in your core and flooded your body with desire. 

“Theo,” you mumbled, tugging at his shirt. “I need you. Now.” 

He ripped off his shirt, grinning. “Then have me, darling.” 

“I want to be on top.” 

You squealed as Theo rolled over, placing you on his lap. He gripped your hips and gently rolled against you. “I’m not about to argue with that.”

With a smirk, you toyed with the hem of your shirt. Theo grabbed your wrist and shook his head. “Keep it on. I want to watch you ride me while wearing my jersey.”

“Have I ever told you how much I love your filthy mouth?” 

Theo grinned before latching his lips on your breast. He looked up at you and swirled his tongue around your nipple through the fabric. “It’s not ringing a bell. Shall I try the other side?” 

“Gods, yes.” 

He gave your other nipple equal attention as you lined his cock up at your entrance. Precum coated his tip, mixing with your own slick as you slowly lowered onto his length. Theo’s teeth sank into your collarbone, muffling his moan. 

“Fuck me,” he exhaled in a shaky breath. 

“I am, baby.”

Theo chuckled darkly. “Smartass.”

You rolled your hips as he gripped your ass, helping you lift and lower at a faster pace. Theo’s mouth collided with yours, his hands roaming underneath your shirt and exploring every inch of you like he was trying to commit your body to memory. 

The intensity of his gaze pierced you with lust and desire. He lifted the hem of his jersey, watching as his cock disappeared between your folds. 

“I love watching you take all of me, pretty girl.” Theo was ravenous, littering your neck and shoulder with love bites. “You ride me so fucking well. Maybe it should be you out there on the broom.” 

“The only broom I’m interested in is yours,” you quipped back. “Besides, you don’t want everyone else knowing my tricks, do you?”

“Fuck no,” Theo whispered roughly as he switched positions. He pressed you against the mattress, hooking your legs on his shoulder before smirking. “This is for my eyes only. You’re mine, amorina.” 

“Yours,” you breathed as he thrust into you. The angle allowed him to slide in even deeper, hitting all the right spots as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. 

“That’s my good girl,” Theo declared proudly. “Now fucking take it.”

The pleasure hits you in waves. The sounds that you were both making were absolutely filthy, and you were glad that music was playing in the common room below otherwise the whole of Slytherin house would’ve heard you screaming Theo’s name. 

“You getting close, baby?” Theo grunted as you fluttered around him. You whimpered in response, raking your nails along his back. “I’ll take that as a yes. I want you to cum with me. Can you do that, pretty girl?”

You nodded as Theo’s slender fingers rubbed against your clit, pushing you over the edge. You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him closer, cursing as the orgasm hit you both. 

Theo kissed you, swallowing your moans of pleasure as euphoria washed over you. He rode it out, hips stuttering as he finished. The two of you laid in the dark, bodies twined together while your heartbeats synced. 

“Holy fuck,” you said in disbelief. 

Theo chuckled. “That did feel a bit sacrilegious.” 

He rolled over and grabbed his wand, casting a quick scouring charm over the both of you. Thank Merlin for magic.

You rolled over, propping your chin up with one hand. “You want to smoke a cigarette, don’t you?”

Your boyfriend shook his head. “Actually, I was thinking about quitting.” 

Now this was news to you. “Oh? Has all my nagging finally paid off?” 

“Maybe,” he said, shrugging. “I’m just thinking ahead. I don’t want our kids picking up the habit.”

Your eyes widened. “Kids? As in, plural?”

Theo nodded emphatically. “Oh yeah, little Theo Jr. and his brother Mattheo don’t need to be exposed to my smoking.” 

You cocked your head in confusion. “Theo Jr.? Mattheo?”

“Don’t ask. I lost a bet.”

“You better be taking the piss, Teddy.”

He chuckled. “Mostly. I am quitting smoking and I am looking forward to a future with you, our hypothetical children’s names to be further discussed.” 

“You absolute menace of a man,” you said, cuddling him with a wide grin. “I fucking adore you, do you know that?”

“I am stupidly in love with you.” 

You giggled as Theo peppered kisses on your face. “Malfoy’s right. We’re truly revolting.”

“Oh, absolutely vile.” 

Theo tucked you into the crook of his neck and kissed the top of your head. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you mumbled sleepily. “I love you, Teddy.”

He pulled you close and smiled. “I love you too, Y/N.”

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masterlist. . .

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∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

JOEL MILLER

▹ late spring, f!reader — you and joel didn’t exactly see eye to eye, but things have started to change, at least for you. [2.2K words]

▹ the gold, f!reader — you don’t like the person joel’s become. [2.1K words]

▹ i’ll be brave, platonic!f!reader — an infected attack leaves you fragile, in more ways than one. [2.4K words]

▹ i am good, platonic!f!reader — joel finally sees the darkness in himself reflected in you. [2.4K words]

▹ the crooked kind, platonic!f!reader — you were sarah’s best friend, and you reunite with joel years after outbreak day. [2.5K words]

▹ the tunnel, platonic!f!reader — joel gets hurt, and in the face of losing the only person you have left, something inside of you breaks. [2.7K words]

▹ to an empty house, niece!reader — tommy hasn’t been your dad for a very long time. [3.0K words]

↳ something is rotten, niece!reader — part two, arriving in jackson brings painful feelings, and even worse conversations. [4.0K words]

▹ so far from it, platonic!f!reader — you get yourself into some trouble, luckily, you know who to call for help. [2.3K words]

▹ all my faith, platonic!f!reader — joel and tess raised you, in a moment of anger, he nearly loses you. [5.3K words]

▹ if the door wasnt shut, platonic!f!reader — months of travelling with joel and ellie come crashing down on you, the fear is suffocating. [5.1K words]

↳ i would let you in, platonic!f!reader — part two, after being abandoned in jackson, tommy and maria take care of you. joel and ellie’s return hurts far more than their departure. [7.5K words] ↳ lock it when you leave, platonic!f!reader — part three, tensions rise in jackson, leaving you scrambling to find your place. [6.9K words] ↳ check under the doormat, platonic!f!reader — part four, settling down fully in jackson means new friends and more patrols. what could go wrong? [9.7K words] ↳ you’ll find the key, platonic!f!reader — part five, after feeling hopeless, you decide it’s time to heal [10.5K words]

↳ please don’t lose it again, platonic!f!reader — a what if one shot, the aftermath, set in tlou part two [2.7K words]

▹ the world is brighter, platonic!f!reader — joel is trying to be someone he’s not. [13.0K words]

▹ weight too heavy to hold alone, platonic!reader — joel’s life in jackson is much more complicated than he thought it’d be [4.0K words]

↳ hoping there’s somewhere to go, platonic!reader — you try to navigate life after the rejection of the only family you’d ever had [3.9K words] — Recent Work!

▹ break beneath the weight, platonic!reader — joel struggles to deal with someone who isn’t as emotionally constipated as he is [3.9K words]

▹ carved over the door, platonic!reader — you’ve been hiding something, and joel finally finds out what. his reaction is… not what you expected [2.1K words]

▹ forgive the sea, platonic!reader — after a trip to the outside world, you come back different [3.0K words]

▹ when the sun goes down, platonic!f!reader — joel doesn’t talk about you, until he does [3.6K words]

▹ the sun was collapsing, platonic!reader — joel thought you moving to a college halfway across the country would be the worst thing to happen to his family [6.6K words]

▹ fight the tide, platonic!reader — you face the consequences of going to seattle, set in tlou 2 [3.3K words]

▹ i was born waiting, daughter!reader — you’ve been looking for your dad for as long as you can remember, is this really him? [8.1K] — Newest Work!

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

TOMMY MILLER

▹ be your armour, platonic!seraphite!reader — after escaping the seraphites, you find that the world is not as they described it. [9.2K words]

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

SPIDERVERSE

▹ is it freedom?, platonic!reader — after losing everything, you struggle to accept the one thing you needed all along [8.0K words]

↳ or is it loneliness?, platonic!reader — you need closure, and information. two visits kind of give you that [9.2K words]

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

. . .check out howl’s song association!

and my platonic joel miller recs!

[obey-me-headquarters]

hi! could u perhaps write about mc accidentally finding out about the boys’ hard limits? like, just something that triggers their fight or flight response. maybe like inflecting severe pain or something. idk… thank you and sorry if u can’t!

Summary: Reader finds out where their demons' hard limits lie.

Warning/kinks: Degradation, Mirror play, bondage, sensory deprivation, punishment, spanking (with your hand and with a paddle), public play (? You're at an orgy, so everyone around you is consenting), food play, safeword use. In general, there's some panic on the boys' part as they realize that they don't like what you're doing. Along with some of them holding in their safeword for a bit, but you reprimand them for it.

Word count: 8,500+

Reader is completely gender natural and their genital isn't described.

-

Lucifer:

You know that Lucifer has complicated feelings when it comes to his body. He hates that he's missing a set of wings, but he wouldn't go back in time and stop himself from tearing them out. Yet his preference towards wearing as many layers as possible stems from more of a fear of being vulnerable than a lack of confidence in his body.

If anything, he's a bit overconfident in his physical appearance, if someone were to ask you.

("Is it really overconfidence, or simply knowing what I'm worth?"

"It's overconfidence Luci, my beautiful stupidity prideful demon.")

Using mirror play in the bedroom has proven to be an excellent way to break down Lucifer's walls. Whenever the demon struggled to get into subspace all it took was bringing out a mirror and having him nakedly kneel in front of it while you remained fully clothed for him to fall straight into subspace.

Something about him being so vulnerable while you remained untouched and fully clothed did something to him. Made him feel small and submissive. You didn't quite understand, but you definitely saw the appeal.

So, when Lucifer struggled to get into subspace one evening. When collars and putting him over your knee didn't do the trick, you brought out the mirror. It was full length and wide, able to reflect nearly half of the entire room, but you doubt that Lucifer would pay much attention to anything besides you or himself.

As you place Lucifer in front of the mirror he snaps at you, barring his teeth into a snarl and you know that tonight is going to be a difficult fight of trying to get him to relax enough to slip into subspace.

That proves true when you watch Lucifer struggle to fall into subspace. His pride battling his desire to be vulnerable and let you take control, you watch as he relaxes, before tensing up and snarling, before relaxing again, creating a vicious cycle.

Determined to break it, you decide to try something else that always makes Lucifer squirmy and lightheaded:

Degradation

"God, you're pathetic," you hiss as you pace around the demon. "Look at you, snarling at your own reflection like a wild animal. You know, sometimes I think you're no better than a wild animal with how much you fly off the handle."

Lucifer blushes at your words, but his pride is still roaming, and it doesn't let himself relax just yet.

"How dare-"

"Shut up!" You snap, wrapping a hand around Lucifer's mouth to silence him.

"Shut your dirty, lying, cheating mouth! How dare you think you can talk like you have something worthwhile to say."

Lucifer's breath catches in his throat, as the haze of vulnerability starts to creep up on him. Seeing his desire spark in his eyes you smirk and continue.

"Come on Luci. We both know that you never said anything worthwhile in your life. That at the end of the day, you're worthless. No, no, you're less than worthless. You only seem to make everything worst, don't you?"

Lucifer feels his pride crumble at your words, washing away as he starts to feel truly insignificant.

"You can never do anything right, can you? Not for Diavolo, not for your brothers, and certainly not for me."

The mention of disappointing Diavolo and his brothers strikes something inside of Lucifer, something he wasn't prepared to feel. Yet before he can examine what he's feeling, you continue.

"You're constantly fucking up, disappointing everyone around you. I wonder how long it'll be before everyone around you sees what I see. Do you know what I see Luci?"

Breath catching in his throat, Lucifer shakes his head.

You raise his chin with your index finger and direct it to the mirror, and Lucifer flinches when he sees himself.

He knows he would look vulnerable, and normally he would take great delight in how small and weak he looks compared to you, but coupled with your words, instead of feeling small and submissive and safe in your gaze, he feels like dirt. Normally when he drops down into subspace he feels soft and cared for, now he can't help but feel worthless and exposed.

Your sneer doesn't help as you take in the kneeling demon.

"Ugh, look at you. Can you believe that you used to be considered the star of the Celestial Realm?" You grab onto Lucifer's chin and force him to look at himself in the mirror.

"Well, can you?" You demand.

"N-no." He asks barely a whisper as tears spring to his eyes.

Immediately your hand drops from his chin as you stare at your demon in alarm. You're used to Lucifer being shy, especially as you break his pride down, you're used to his tears, but you never heard your demon sound so broken before.

"Luci, darling, are you ok?" You ask softly.

"I, I can't believe that I used to be the star of the Celestial Realm, Master. I am, sniff, I am worthless." Lucifer ignores your concern as he continues to cry, tears dripping down his cheeks.

Immediately you wrap your arms around him and pull him into your chest. "Hey, hey, shhhhh. It's ok baby. I don't think you're worthless. Demonus, ok? Demonus, the scene is done, it's over." You repeat your safeword a few times so Lucifer knows that the scene is over.

As you continue to hold Lucifer against you, mumbling praise and assurances slowly the demon starts to calm down. When his tears finally stop he leans away from you for a moment to catch his breath.

"Sorry, I- sorry. I don't know what came over him." He says, looking everywhere but your face or the mirror.

"It's ok sweetheart, you know you never have to apologize for needing to stop the scene. You know that right?"

"Yes, I'm aware. I just, didn't expect to react that way."

"If you're willing, do you mind telling me what caused it?"

Lucifer sighs and collapses back into your hold, and you think for a moment that he's going to shrug the whole scene off, but after a beat of silence he answers:

"It was the degradation. Normally I like it, love it even. But as I fell into subspace, hearing you talk about me like that made me feel vulnerable, and not in a good way."

Blinking, you will your tears away for now. Later, when tensions are lower, and everything isn't so raw the two of you will have a more in-depth conversation about this and will be able to apologize. Now your demon needs you.

"Thank you so much for telling me, baby. I just want you to know that I didn't mean a word of what I said. I, and I'm sure everyone else, rely heavily on you. We don't think you're worthless at all."

"I know," Lucifer states, a bit of his prideful overconfidence returning.

"Now, why don't the two of us stop laying on the floor and listen to a few of my records instead? I got this new one that curses those who listen to it to sing until their throat bleeds." Lucifer stands, reaching out a hand to pull you up.

It's a bit silly, seeing the still naked demon being so confident, but you hold all teasing remarks as you follow along.

-

Mammon:

You wanted to do so much to Mammon that it became a question of not what you'll do to him, but what he'll allow you to do to him.

And it turns out Mammon will allow you to do a lot.

Hence the list. After a very exciting night of thinking about every fantasy, kink, and wet dream you ever had, you came up with a list of what you wanted to do with Mammon, and are currently in the process of working through that list.

A lot of things on the list Mammon never tried (or heard about) before, which took a lot of talking, and a lot of easing him into certain kinks. The very kink you're trying out tonight being one he never tried before.

You gather up everything you'll need for tonight. A blindfold, noise-canceling headphones, and a pair of chains. You're a bit excited that the blindfold and headphones are magic, meaning that cut off all light and noise, as it was basically impossible to find a human realm blindfold that blocks out all light.

You could tell Mammon was getting excited too by the way he keeps eyeing the items, but in his usual Mammon way, he keeps that fact to himself.

It's adorable how he rushes to lay against the headboard at your command, as he's usually a bit of a brat and drags his feet before obeying your orders.

The chains are the first thing to go, seeing as Mammon and you were intimately familiar with them. As you lean over to secure the right cuff Mammon steals a kiss, leaning upward his lips ghosts over your cheek. With a grin, you pin him to the bed.

"Greedy boy~ we haven't even gotten started and yet you're already teasing."

"Guess it's just in my nature to be a little greedy." He teases back.

Rolling your eyes you give him one last real kiss on the lips before cuffing him to the bedframe. As you back to enjoy your work you can't help but feel giddy.

Pulling out the blindfold and headphones you turn to your demon with a grin as you present them both to him.

"Blindfold or headphones first?"

Mammon looks a bit caught off guard at being asked his preference, before eyeing them both critically. After a beat, he answers: "The headphones, I want the extra time to see you."

You huff at the flirt, not believing just how bold your demon can get under the right circumstances. (The circumstances being chained to the bed as you lay on top of him.) Leaning down you place the headphones around his ears and give him a moment to adjust.

"Wow, this is really weird! Woah! I can't even hear my voice! Am I being loud? I feel loud!"

Rolling your eyes you lean down and tap Mammon twice against the forehead - the signal you two came up with when you want to check in.

"I'm really to go! Just give me one last moment to look into your eyes -" Mammon stares into your eyes unblinking for a solid five seconds "- I'm good to go!"

Wrapping the blindfold around his head you plunge your demon into darkness.

And it is incredibly weird for Mammon. As a demon he has pretty good night vision, so even in complete darkness he can make out shapes pretty well. So being in complete darkness takes him a moment to get used to.

The warmth of your body grounds him, and it doesn't take long before he's relaxing into the plush bed.

Shimmy downwards, you try to make yourself comfortable sitting between Mammon's legs, sitting right in front of his cock. Leaning down you give the half hard cock a puff of air and watch as Mammon jumps at the sensation.

"Th-that felt weird. It felt like, a lot? Even though it was so little?" Mammon mumbles, and you wonder if you're going to get a rubbing commentary the entire night.

Maybe you should have added a gag to your myriad of tools.

Wrapping your hands around your demon's dick you begin to slowly pump it. Mammon gasps at the feeling, before moaning and leaning into your touch. Your touch is light and extremely slow, but the demon has always been extremely sensitive and it doesn't take much before he's nearly spilling.

"I'm cumming-"

Your hands fly away at his words, and he growls in annoyance. With a grin, he can't see you bounce off of the bed and begin looking through your toy chest. Normally Mammon would be peaking over, curious about what you'll pick out. But seeing as he can't currently do that, you grin as you realize that you're going to completely surprise him with whatever you pick.

As Mammon comes down from his high he realizes that you're no longer on the bed. The warmth he previously felt emulating from you is gone, and his heart quickens as he realizes that he's alone.

"Hey, what's the big idea? Where'd you go?" Mammon calls out.

You roll your eyes at the dramatics, too busy with shifting through the toy box. "In a minute, Mamms, I'm just getting a few toys." You answer, half forgetting that he can't currently hear. Mammon was just so loud, so responsive, that you momentarily let it slip from your mind that he didn't actually expect a response from you, and couldn't receive one.

Mammon tries his best to calm down. Surely you're just messing with him, right? Wanting to make him crack and beg for your touch? You do like to make him beg. Yup, that's it. You were just teasing him.

You are still definitely in the room with him.

Right?

Seconds become minutes to Mammon as he strains his ears to hear you. Normally he knew exactly where you were and what you were doing, even when he was kneeling and staring at the ground his demon senses allow him to hear everything. Now he has no idea where you are or what you're doing.

"Ok, fine, fine! I give! Can you please touch me?" Mammon whines.

Picking up the fleshlight you want to use on him you intend to do just that. Only to realize that the demon forgot to clean it. Gagging you put the toy aside to clean later, and decide to punish your demon by continuing to ignore him by looking through the toy box.

"Come on, please." His voice takes on a real edge of desperation as he starts to spiral.

What if you left? What if you got bored of him and decided that you didn't want to play with him anymore? Is he all alone, begging to an empty room because he wasn't good enough? He begins to fight against his chains in earnest now, instead of the teasing, testing pulls he's used to. But he finds that they're locked up tight and that he can't break out of them.

Will you hear his safeword if he says it?

Finally finding a suitable and clean toy you stand up and stretch. Glancing over at your boyfriend, you notice that he's strangely calm as he's no longer begging or struggling against the chains. You believe that he's just pouting and the second you touch him he'll start whining about you taking forever.

Before you can reach him, Mammon mumbles out a soft, broken, "Goldie".

Dropping the toy in your hand you rush over to him and immediately remove the headphones before moving onto the blindfold.

"Hey, hey it's alright. I'm right here." You mumble, hands shaking as you lean up to undo the cuffs.

Mammon has never safeworded before, and you're kinda panicking at the moment, but you do your best to remain calm as you rush to take off the chains.

The second Mammon lays eyes on you he lunges at you, pinning you to the bed in a hug. His arms are firm, yet they shake as they hold you. It takes you a moment to realize that the wetness you feel on your neck is from Mammon, but once you do you coo in sympathy.

"I thought you left me," Mammon whispers into your chest.

Blinking back tears you lean down to kiss the demon's forehead.

"I would never leave you alone like that Mamms. I just wanted to get a toy from the toy chest. I'm sorry, I should have communicated that to you."

"It's alright just... I don't think blindfolds and noise-canceling headphones are for me."

"That's OK, that's alright. Sometimes we're going to find stuff we don't like."

-

Levi:

Levi is an extremely obedient sub. In your many months of dating each other he never once received a punishment. You two set out rules together, with him not being allowed to touch himself without your permission and him being required to leave his room and go to RAD a certain number of times each month.

You had expected a rule to be broken at least once, so you were very surprised to see that it never was. Levi was just obedient, and even when he didn't want to do the thing you ordered him to do, he did it. (Even with an excessive bit of whining)

So you were content to never punish your scaly demon.

Levi wasn't.

"Why do you never punish me," Levi asks, pouting in his bathtub. His face is partially hidden by the pillow he's clenching to his chest.

"Because you never actually break a rule or be a brat?"

"Hmmmmm," Levi pouts. "It's not fair! You punish the others! Yet you never punish me. Is it because you don't want to? Because you could never bring yourself to punish a gross otaku like me?"

Holding back a laugh you crawl into the bathtub. Really, only your Levi could be envious of those you've punished.

"Well, if you're so interested in being punished, why don't you do something bad?"

Levi's eyes snap towards yours, like he never actually considered that option. "Gahhhh?!? Be, be bad? How could I, wouldn't you hate me forever?!"

Softening you reach across the tub to cup Levi's face in your hands. Moving his shocked face towards yours you pepper his face in kisses.

"Nope! Levi, I could never hate you." You say softly, stopping your kissing momentarily to gaze sincerely at your boyfriend.

Levi blushes at the look and hides his face in the pillow that's currently squished between you two.

"O-ok, if you say you wouldn't hate me, I'll, I'll try being bad!"

-

You walk towards Levi's room with a pep in your step, excited to continue playing the new RPG the demon recently brought. You only stopped playing last night as your eyes burned too much for you to continue looking at the screen.

As you cheerfully open the door to Levi's room you immediately notice that something is off about the demon. Instead of excitedly smiling at you and handing a controller over to you, he's curled up on his gaming chair and nervously fidgeting with the blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

"What's wrong?" You ask. Standing over your boyfriend you check him over. Did Mammon steal something of his again? Was an anime he liked canceled?

Levi shakes off your concern and reaches for a controller. "N-nothing is wrong! We don't we start playing?"

He shoves the controller into your hand before scurrying off to turn on the game console. Unsure of what else to do to help your nervous demon you follow along, thinking that he'll open up once you start playing.

As the title screen of the game pops up you see Levi nervously staring at you in the corner of your eye, and you debate asking again if he's alright. Before you're able the title sequence stops and you press the "play" button. A column of saves pops up, and in your confusion, you momentarily forget about Levi's nervousness completely.

"Levi, where's my save?" You ask, flicking between the different saves, yours mysteriously gone.

"Oh well. Um. I sorta maybe, deleted it?" He says in a whisper so quiet you have to strain to hear it.

Snapping your head towards him you watch as Levi nervously fidgets. His left arm is covering his face in a classic sign of Levi's nervousness as a blush paints his cheeks.

Wait. Blush?

All of a sudden your previous conversation about punishment from yesterday comes back to you. You honestly didn't believe that Levi would gather up the courage to do something "bad", so you're momentarily impressed that he did.

All previous concerns about your save fly out the window, as you're sure that Levi backed up the save and is only pretending to have deleted it to elicit this punishment. Stalking forward you wrap your arms around your demon's shoulders and force him to face you.

"Oh, did you know? I didn't know my little demon could be so.... naughty~" You tease.

Levi's face darkens, at both your close proximity and your words. His mouth opens to defend himself but no words make it out. You watch as Levi reboots himself as you teasingly rub circles onto his shoulders.

As moments pass by and Levi is nowhere closer to calming down, you decide to pick up the lead again. "Does my demon want to be punished? Is that it? Were you sitting here in your room wondering what you could do to make me mad and pull you over my knee?"

Wordlessly Levi nods and confirmation, and you can't help but laugh a little. Even when being punished your demon can't help but be good for you.

Returning to your chair once again, you pat your chair and pat your thighs expectingly. Rushing to comply Levi lays across your thighs, and you give him a warning smack of what's to come.

"Ah!" Levi cries out, more in surprise than any real pain, as it will take a lot more than a little smack to hurt a demon Iike him.

It's not the first time you had Levi over your knee, though the previous times were more to explore a curiosity than for a punishment. Yet the previous experiences fill you with confidence, as you know where to smack to tease him, and where to smack that will cause him real pain.

As Levi gets himself situated on your lap you pull down his pants in one quick motion, jeans and all. The demon shivers as cold air meets his rear and you laugh at the pout he gives you in response.

Testing out the waters you give the bare ass a firm smack, and delight in the way Levi flinches at being caught off guard.

"Ah hmmm!" Levi moans, thrusting back for more.

"I expect you to count and thank me after each hit Levi-chan." You say sternly.

"O-one! Thank you, Master!"

Grinning you continue, giving your demon a few more smacks. You didn't give him a number on purpose, as you want to see how many smacks it'll take before his ass is a bright red and he's sobbing out for mercy.

As his ass gets redder and redder Levi begins to squirm against you, thrusting his hips against your thighs. You sigh in response, deep and disappointed, and the sound snaps Levi out of his pleasure filled hazy.

"No grinding against me. This is a punishment, remember? You're not supposed to be enjoying this."

Your tone is harsh, and it sends Levi flinching. You never sounded so.... frustrated in a scene before. Levi is used to you being teasing and gentle, always there with a soft word and a teasing touch. The idea of you being upset with him sends him spiraling.

Tensing up Levi tries his hardest to sit still and obey you, believing that maybe if he shows you that he can be good, and is willing to listen to your commands, you'll praise him. (You'll still want him.)

The next few swings of your fast, delivered before Levi has the chance to count them individually. Because of this, he miscounts them.

"Fifteen, s-sixteen, seventeen! Th-thank you, master."

Slowly, as Levi catches his breath your hand trails upward before suddenly wrapping tightly around his hair. Pulling him upward you lean down to whisper in your best Disappointed Dom voice: "Are you sure you counted right?"

Levi feels his heart stop at your words. He did, right?! He wouldn't miscount - didn't mean to miscount! He swears! It was an accident-

Slowly you watch as Levi's breath starts to stutter, stopping completely before gasping in and out. Immediately you drop your hold and Levi begins to hyperventilate against you.

"Sorry, I'm s-sorry. Didn't -gasp- didn't mean to! Sorry!"

Instantly you pick the demon up and hold his back towards his chest, hopeful that the extra room will allow him to calm down, as you begin mumbling praise into his ear.

"Hey, hey, it's ok! I'm not angry, I promise! There's no need to be sorry, it's ok, I forgive you."

Eventually, Levi gets his breathing under control, and he collapses against you once he does. Shifting him slightly, you pull him into your chest and he immediately buries his face into your neck. You continue to whisper praise as you being to gently stroke his back, allowing Levi the time to compose himself.

"I'm sorry." Is the first thing he says when he does.

"I know baby, I know. There's nothing to apologize for, though, you know that right? When I was disappointed that was only a part of the scene, right? Like when you sometimes pretend to not like something when you do."

Mutely you feel Leve nod against you.

"I, I didn't actually delete your save. I have it backed up on my computer."

"I know, sweetheart, I know." You whisper before leaning down to kiss the top of his head.

"How about this, we continue sitting here for a bit longer, and then we both get something to eat and drink. Then we have a little chat about the scene before loading up my save?"

Levi grumbles at the idea of actually having to talk about what happened, but he nods against you once.

"Good boy. That's my good boy."

-

Satan:

You hold up a pair of handcuffs and Satan grins.

You two haven't played around with the idea of bondage much, there were other kinks that you wanted to try out first. Sure, you toyed around with pinning his hands down to the bed or ordering him to sit still while you edged him. But you two have yet to use any tool to bind him.

A distinct click echoes throughout the room as you fasten the cuff to his right hand before moving to his left. His hands are looped around the bedframe, stopping him from reaching down to touch himself or you as you play with him.

A wise choice seeing as you plan to edge him until he's sobbing.

The first edge passes through him well, only resulting in a choked-off groan before you give him a few moments to calm down. As you do Satan begins to pull at the handcuffs, testing out their strength.

As he pulls his hands back and forth he feels his heartbeat pick up for a different reason. A looming sense of dread slowly starts to creep in, but before he can focus on it you begin to stroke his dick once again.

Arousal floods through his system once again, but so does anxiety. As he chases his denied relief once more he pulls against the handcuffs, flinching when they make a loud clicking noise as they scrape against the headboard.

When you shift away to allow him to cool off the anxiety settles in replacing all thoughts of arousal. He begins to fight earnestly against the handcuffs, pushing and pulling them, trying to will them to break. But they're strong cuffs, made out of demon-resistant metal and almost impossible to break.

In your mind all you can see is Satan shaking against the bed, sneaking out the pleasure you've denied him. But in Satan's, he's reliving an experience he hasn't felt in thousands of years: entrapment.

Memories of heavy chains wrapping around his body, caging him in and denying his escape as he withers and shakes in rage. Memories of dark closets and being chained to this very same bed as he screamed out curses and profanities until his throat bleed.

He thought he was past this stage of his life, where he was angry and trapped. Caged like a wild animal.

"S-SHAKESPEARE!" Satan growls out your safeword - a safeword that has never been used before.

It takes you a second to realize what he said, but once you do you're on him in an instant. Reaching up you fumble with the keys to the handcuffs as Satan struggles beneath you. You whisper praise and assurances as you unlock the cuffs, but you doubt he can hear you.

The moment he's free Satan flinches backward, his back hitting the wall as he scrambles to get away from you. His eyes are wide, his pupils are pinpricks as he studies the world around him. Akin to a wild, caged animal he crotches down like he's preparing to lunge, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

You know he wouldn't attack you, yet you do your best to look passive as you raise your hands in surrender.

It takes a few moments, but eventually, Satan comes back to himself. He seems to realize where he is, and what's going on, as he composes himself.

"Baby, are you ok?" You ask in a low, gentle tone.

And Satan breaks.

He completely shatters as he rushes into your arms. You barely have time to realize what's going on before you feel your chest wetten as Satan begins to sob.

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm so sorry." You mumble, hands lightly touching Satan's head. When he leans into the touch you begin gently petting him.

"It's, sniff, it's ok. You didn't know I would react like that. I didn't even know I would react like that."

"Still, I saw you struggling against the handcuffs, I should have checked up on you."

Satan doesn't know what to say to that, too tired to try to argue with you so he simply hums in response. After a few minutes of sitting in comfortable silence, your hands threading through his hair, he leans up and rubs the remainder of the tears out of his eyes.

"Do you want to talk about it? Or would you rather we do something else?" You ask, rubbing circles into his back.

"Can we read a bit first?" Satan asks, and on a normal day he would cringe at how timid he sounds, but he's too tired to care right now.

One day he'll tell you about his "childhood". About this memories of chains and ropes, of dark rooms and confined spaces, of rage and curses.

But now he just wants you to hold him as the two of you pour over a good murder mystery, him free to move around and shift, and you with your hands wrapped around his waist.

-

Asmo:

You and Asmo tried nearly every kink known to man, and even some only known to demons. So you know when Asmo's limits lie, and he knows yours. You know when he's fake whining to get a rise out of you, and when his cries border on actually "too much", you can tell the difference between pleasure tears and pain tears, and after many many conversations you know what kinks he absolutely wouldn't want to try under any circumstances.

Fortunately, polygamy wasn't one of them.

It wasn't often the two of you invited another into your bed, you could entertain each other just fine. But sometimes you wanted to see Asmo dom another person, or Asmo wanted to show off his skills next to a less experienced sub, and gangbangs were just fun! You only had two hands, and sometimes you wanted to see Asmo be taken apart by a dozen.

The orgy the two of you are going to tonight didn't have a "main character", but it was hosted by a prominent sex toy brand owner, and Asmo said that the snack bar was "to die for". So you decided to give it a try.

Asmo was being a brat the whole car ride over, pawing at your jacket and trying to kiss you. Trying to save the poor Uber driver you tell your demon to behave, but Asmo only giggles in response as he tries, and fails, to undo your buttons.

You hope that once you got to the orgy Asmo would settle down, but he's  committed to being a brat. As you hand over your coat to the door demon, Asmo rushes ahead of you and sits down onto the lap of a demon he knows, who is very clearly in the middle of having their dick sucked by another attendee.

He tries to persuade them to let him take over and replace their sub's spot, but you're able to pull Asmo away by his collar and onto your lap.

For one glorious moment, you believe that this calms your demon down enough to start behaving, as he quiets down once as he gets settled. It wasn't long after that another demon started up a conversation with you, asking if you were the legendary exchange student, and how you felt about RAD.

While you talked Asmo absentmindedly sucks on your fingers. He tries squirming against your lap, but one smack to his thigh was a clear message for him to calm down.

Or so you thought.

When Asmo continues to grind against you and begins adding teeth to his sucking, you snap. If he was so determined to be punished tonight, he would get punished.

Rising you stand before Asmo wearing your best Disappointed Dom look. He giggles at the look, clearly happy that he thinks he's getting what he wants. That is a public spanking.

You have different plans though, and you walk towards a corner of the room no one is standing near. Snapping your fingers at the corner you command your demon:

"Asmo, over here now."

Asmo rushes off the couch to obey as he skips over. He eyes you a curious look as you force him to his knees, obviously not expecting his punishment to be somewhere so out of the way and private. You pay it no mind, and when he sinks to the floor and assumes a standard kneeling position you give him another command:

"You're not to move, and unless it's your safeword you're not allowed to speak either until I say your punishment is over."

He pouts as he feels the command take hold, staring up at you with pleading eyes. But you don't allow yourself to be swayed.

"Since you were so determined to be a brat and not be patient, this is your punishment. When I think you're finally to sit still I will release you."

You give him one last pat on the head before making your way back to the couch.

As you resume your conversation with the other demon about RAD, more demons start to join in. Some are curious about your life as an exchange student while others are more concerned with the reason why you're here.

A bold demon leaned in close and whispered something in your ear, causing you to blush and gently swat their arm. After that it was like the other demons suddenly remember that they were at an orgy and not a press conference, and began cuddling up to you.

All the while Asmo stews from his spot kneeling in the corner. At first, he was upset at you for hiding him, but now that you're getting more and more attention a prickle of envy runs through him. Not at you, but at the demons now vying for your attention. You should be focused on him - even if it was to punish him.

Normally Asmo wouldn't mind you getting cozy with a few other demons, under different circumstances he would have been delighted to sit back and watch as you had your way with a few of them. Now? When he's hidden away in a corner, forgotten?

Something stings in Asmo, and he desperately tries to whine out for your attention, but the command stops him. All that leaves him is the wheeze of his chest as he desperately tries to force words out of his mouth. Your safeword was on the tip of his tongue, and if you two were alone he wouldn't hesitate to say it, but something about being in a room full of demons stop him.

He's the Avatar the lust, and this is barely a punishment, what would the other demons say if they saw him use his safeword just because he was put into a corner? He knows that safewording isn't a sign of weakness, but he can't shake the thought of what rumors might follow him if he shows vulnerability.

But when he sees a demon crawl into your lap, and you kiss them on the lips, he can't help but yell out a desperate "Majolish"!

Immediately you push the demon out of your lap and rush toward Asmo. Your knees hit the ground with a loud thud but you pay it no mind you kneel before the now sobbing demon.

"All commands are over! Asmo are you ok, what happened?!"

Asmo doesn't waste a second as his arms shot around you and pull you close. As he sobs into your chest your hands slowly wrap around your demon, trying to piece together what went wrong. You don't get must time to think before Asmo's lips are on yours, kissing you desperately, which you quickly return with enthusiasm. Asmo calms down once you make it clear that you desire him, slumping into your chest.

When you break for air you timidly look around the room and breathe a sigh of relief as you notice that the surrounding demons are making an effort not you look in your direction. As you make eye contact with a demon they mouth out a "side room" while pointing at a closed door.

Understanding that this must be some type of aftercare room, or simply a private room couples can retreat into, you quickly pull Asmo up and lead him into the room. As you make it through the doorway you relax as you see that no one else is in there and gently push Amso onto the bed.

"Asmo, sweetheart, darling, we don't have to talk about what happened right away, but I do want to make you feel better. Can you please tell me if there's anything I can do?"

Asmo, whose been holding your hand in a death grip slowly nods as his other hand wipes at his tears.

"Yeah, yes of course. Just can you, can you hold me for a bit?" His voice gets quieter at the end. "Maybe tell me you love me?"

It's rare to see Asmo so shaken up, even after using his safeword, and something breaks inside of you. But you're determined to focus on him, and you nod.

"Of course baby, scout over."

Asmo does as he's told and you're quick to pull him into a tight hug before you begin to slowly rock him back and forth. All the while whispering praise into his ear about how much you adore him, and how beautiful he is.

-

Beel:

It seemed so simple when you suggested the idea: why not mix two of Beel's biggest pleasures and bring food into the bedroom?

You haven't had much experience with food play before, but after doing some research (watching porn on DevilHub and writing down things you found hot), you were confident you could make food sexy.

After discussing what will happen in the scene, you and Beel come up with a game plan. Beel was a bit worried about not being able to focus on sex when he was eating, so you proposed a solution: you will command Beel to sit still and tease him with food from Madam Screams. When he's a good boy and shows patience, you'll reward him by feeding him a piece of food and then stroking his dick. Trapping in a cycle of wanting pleasure, and being hungry.

The start of the scene went according to plan, with Beel able to control himself as he sinks to his knees in front of you. You dangle a curly fry in front of his face, and Beel drools at the sight.

Teasing him you press the fry against his lips and tell him by a good boy and hold it there. Like a dog, Beel obeys and holds the treat against his lips and makes no move to bite. While your other hand sinks to the edge of his boxers.

Palming his dick Beel lets out a guttural groan, the motion causing the fry to ever so slightly push past his lips and he gets a slight taste of the slaty goodness before you rip it away. The glutton barely has time to mourn that loss before he sinks into pleasure once more as you pull his dick out of his underwear.

Already hard and dripping Beel's dick bounces against his stomach, and you coo in delight.

"Oh baby, you're already so wet for me. Excited already?"

Beel moans in response, unable to think clearly as it was growing harder to think through the pleasure filled haze of his mind.

Wrapping your hand around your dick you give it a firm tug, just how he likes it. All thoughts of food and hunger spill out of his mind as you begin playing with his dick.

Until you press the curly fry against his nose and he breathes in the scent. Hunger overtakes him once more as he tries to lunge for it, but you move it away before he's able. Pressing a firm finger against his slit Beel groans as he's stuck in a tug of war between his two different desires. Food, and sex.

As you deny him his treat once again a growl rumbles through his chest and you pause. Beel has never growled like that during sex before. Smiling you continue to jack him off, but Beel is less excited about his rough growl. He normally tries so hard to keep his hunger rage away from you, what if he loses control?

You don't give him much time to worry about concern as you pump him toward an orgasm. Yet the moment Beel feels like he's going to tip over, your hands retreat and he's left wanting.

As a reward you pop the fry into the demon's panting mouth and he instantly inhales it. But it doesn't provide him much relief as he just feels hungrier.

Beel is used to fighting off his hunger and he's used to you edging him. But dealing with both at once? It's an overwhelming, all encompassing desire he never felt before.

And he's not sure if he likes it.

As you lean down to touch his dick once again Beel lets out a throaty whine, sounding more desperate than you ever heard him before. Horny, but worried you glance up at your gentle giant.

"Are you doing alright, buddy?"

"Hungry- no, horny. I can't, I don't know. I want to stop." He rushes out the last part quickly, but you hear it all the same.

"Oh! OK, alright. Yeah, we can stop no problem. Um, which one do you want first? Do you want me to get you off first or do you want to eat first?"

Beel moans hopelessly at the question, and you mentally berate yourself for even asking. It's not like he can't do both at once.

Shoving a handful of fries into his mouth you begin pumping his dick in earnest now, determined to actually get him off this time. Every time Beel moans in hunger you're quick to feed him more food, and Beel is treated to the sensation of eating while getting pleasure.

It doesn't take long for him to cum, shooting into your hands and getting a bit of your chin as he does. As he breathes out a sigh of relief he lays boneless against you, and you remember to finally undo the sit still command you previously placed on him.

Patting his back with one hand the other reaches over to grab a nearby drink and you hand it to him to help wash down the food. After he downs it one gulp he leans back to give you a dopey, but incredibly fond look.

"That was nice. I liked it when you feed me while jacking me off."

Grinning at the honesty, you lean in and kiss your demon.

"Thank you. I liked how desperate you were and how to relied on me to give you everything you wanted. What about the teasing?"

"I.... didn't like that. I was afraid I'll get too needy and hurt you." Beel says the last part ashamed and you're quick to lean up to give him another kiss.

"I get that, it seemed like a lot. If you want to do this again I would tease you again, I promise."

Beel grins, and you momentarily mourn your wallet at how much food you'll be buying in the future. But that fond look is enough to banish all mournful thoughts in an instant.

"I'll like that."

-

- Belphie:

Belphie being a brat isn't a new development for you. He's been a brat since the first time you bedded him. Which resulted in a lot of punishments. A lot.

You almost believe that Belphie prefers to be punished than his regular scenes, and that makes you want to up the ante and show him a real punishment is like. Maybe you'll finally convince him to be obedient for once.

So you got a new toy you wanted to try with him, a paddle. It's a thick, strong paddle. Made in the Devildom because you don't think a human realm one will survive Belphie's ass.

Yet the demon doesn't so much as cower when you present the toy to him after he caused you to sleep in and miss class again. Well, you'll show him. You'll have him pleading for mercy in no time.

The Avatar of Sloth, true to his name, doesn't put up any type of a fight as you pull him across your lap. Only grinning when you pull his pants down and you notice that he's not wearing any underwear.

"You were really committed to being a brat today, weren't you?" You tease, giving the demon a quick pop on the ass with the paddle.

Belphie moans at the sensation, and giggles a cheeky "no". Wasting no time with foreplay you get right into business by delivering a fury of blows to the demon's plush. You don't bother to tell him to count them, knowing that he wouldn't, or that he'll miscount on purpose.

Moaning at the feeling Belphie arches his back as he leans into the swatting, enjoying the pushing sensation.

Yet, as time continues and you keep hitting and his ass gets redder and redder Belphie starts to feel weird..... tender. You normally don't cause him to feel this raw until much later in his punishment. When both of your hands sting with the amount of blows you dealt, the two of you are out of breath and ready to tear each other's clothes off.

As you strike down the paddle once again, Belphie feels something he hasn't felt in a very long time:

Pain

Sure, your spankings hurt before. But it was more of a force, a push, a physical reaction to movement than any real kind of pain.

And Belphie is not prepared to handle real pain. As the spoiled youngest of the Avatars, he's used to not having to lift a finger. This made your punishments even more exciting as Belphie felt the closest he did to pain he felt in a long time, without actually crossing over into actual pain.

He may not be as physically resistant as Beel or Lucifer, but he's still an Avatar, a high class demon who can take a lot before anything even fazes him.

Which makes this situation laughable.

A simple human like you, causing him, a ruler of the Devildom, pain? It's impossible, it should be impossible.

Yet here he is, forcing back tears as a flimsy wooden paddle causes him pain he hasn't felt since the Celestial War. He wants to laugh, but he wants to cry even more.

The safeword is on the tip of his tongue, but he refuses to cave. He's been spanked dozens of times before, why should he admit defeat over a stupid paddle? He knows you'll disagree with him framing it like that, but you're too busy creating welts on his ass to argue with Belphie's mind.

When you show no signs of stopping or slowing down, Belphie starts to crack. For once he just wants a punishment to be over and for him to apologize and for you to hold him in your arms.

When you strike down once more, Belphie cries out a "No!" That's a little too desperate, a little too panicked, that snaps you out of your rhythm

"Baby?" You ask, placing the paddle next to you. "Are you ok? Do you need a breather?" You know not to suggest stopping, as Belphie will scoff at the notion before edging you on, but something about the way he's flinching makes you want to pause the scene for a moment.

"No," Belphie sniffs, hand reaching upward to rub the tears out of his. "No I'm fine, keep going." He insits, but you notice the way he leans away from you as he says it. Belphie may be a brat, he may pretend to huff and hate punishments, but he never shifted away from you during a scene pause.

Placing down the paddle beside you, you host Belphie up and press him against your chest. The moment you do he's hiding his face in your shirt, an act of shyness that's out of character for the demon.

"Belphie, baby, are you ok? We can stop if you want to."

Belphie sniffles against your shift and you raise your hands to rub comforting circles into his skin.

"I'm fine, just.... I'm not letting a stupid paddle break me." He mumbles out the last part, but you're able to catch the gist of it and you frown.

"You know that's now how that works. You're not admitting defeat, or saying you're not strong enough if you use your safeword."

Believe grumbles out a response you don't catch, but you doubt he's agreeing with you. Shifting his head upwards you create eye contact between the two of you, and don't relent until he's staring into your eyes.

"What if I didn't want to do something and so I used our safeword? Am I breaking then?"

Belphie pouts, knowing that he'll never think any less of you if you were to use the safeword. So reluctantly he shakes his head.

"Well, why's it any different for you? Because you're a demon?"

He flashes pink at being so easily read, and he keeps his mouth shut as he shrinks down.

"No, but......" Belphie trails off, unsure of what to say. Smiling softly you lean forward to press a kiss into his lips, one he's quick to mirror.

"Alrighty, so no more holding in your safeword, ok?"

With an exaggerated sigh, Belphie nods before cuddling up to you. As you lay down with your arms wrapped around him, careful to shift him so his tender ass isn't touching anything, you begin stroking his hair. In the following silence, all that can be heard is the steady rise and fall of both of your chests before Belphie says determined:

"I'm going to burn that paddle though."

-

[scribbleseas]

in love & in war: the one where he meets you

Description: Join Ciel, the Earl of Phantomhive, as he embarks on one of the most difficult challenges of his professional life: getting you to fall in love with him in order to become the next chairman of TransAtlantica— your father’s vast shipping empire.

Warnings: The reader’s opinions are a bit old-fashioned, and they don’t reflect my own! Besides that, I’m sure there will be some explicit content down the line, but honestly, this story is much more romcom than our usually scheduled programming. It’s just a silly palette cleanser in season for Valentine’s Day.

Author’s Note: Hi! You guys expressed that you guys like more frequent posts, and I’ve reached a bit of a roadblock on my main Ciel fic right now. I thought I would write up a quick beginning to a potential drabble series! If you guys are interested in this premise, let me know! It’s fun to write such chill stakes content for once lol. Also, this isn’t based off a particular request! I’m still playing with my ideas from those, and at this point, I can confidently say you guys are getting either a one shot or a 1-3 part series based on one. Thank you all for submitting, and feel free to keep them coming.

Happy Reading!

- Dan

MASTERLIST

In Conference

April, 1895

Your life was nowhere near as easy as it seemed.

Perhaps, the average onlooker might see you and presume that the expensive jewels wrapped around your neck and your fingers were the most burdensome aspect of your privileged life. Or perhaps they might have thought it would be the pinch from your stately heels or the strain from a brilliant, yet strategic, permanent smile.

Your business smile. Your future-Countess-of-Richmond smile.

But they couldn’t have been more wrong.

This very moment was exact proof of that— you were in the midst of your world collapsing. The abject shock rattling through your mind was akin to a nightmare. Your eyebrows pulled together in a contentious pout, the horrified look you used to get away with your most childish crimes from your parents.

“Marriage? Simply not.” You begged, alreadying feeling your will to fight waver under your father’s tired stare, your mother’s pained grin. “I’m only—”

“Of perfect age to begin looking for a potential partner. 22 is well past ready, I would say,” your mother answered for you.

“I would be— but—” you sputtered like a fish out of water only to inhale deeply through your nose. You needed to collect yourself. Negotiate thoughtfully and logically. That was the only way to get yourself out of this.

“Speak with intent, Y/n,” your father interjected boredly, retraining his attention on the business reports he was reading. He fixed his glasses, pushing them further up the bridge of his nose.

Speak with intent. You knew those words well. They were your solace, the lighthouse in the storm that came with childhood temperament. Your father, no matter the cause of your distress, would answer: Speak with intent.

“Right,” you cleared your throat apologetically, glancing down at your hands as they sat clasped in your lap. “Sincerest apologies, sir.”

Your father hummed, eyebrows jumping a fraction of a centimeter. He picked up his pen and scribbled his signature at the bottom of the report. Your mother’s hand fell on the nape of his neck to make him turn his gaze back up at you. He hesitated before doing so, waiting to click a stamp onto the signed report.

“I do not wish to marry,” you enunciated your words carefully, confidently. “At least, not yet,” you added, now catching your father’s attention for the blunder. “I’ve yet to meet someone I love,” you felt your face redden, a desire to run back to your room threatening to overtake your fortitude. You were only so strong under your father, the Earl of Richmond’s deliberation stare. It struck fear into the other side of conference tables, lecture halls, and courtrooms. And now, across his desk at his only daughter.

Before your father could remind you that love wasn’t the most important aspect of a successful marriage, your mother interjected gently.

“What about the Duke of Clarence’s son, Antonio? He seemed to like you,” she prompted. Wrongly. You’d danced with Antonio at the Summer Solstice gala that the Pembroke family threw annually. The man opted to use the waltz’s entirety to brag about his family’s Italian vineyards and his love for agriculture. And, of course, his admiration for your father’s entrepreneurial genius. His shipping empire, TransAtlantica, had just successfully fortified shipping systems in all of the states; a step forward from simply cycling through all major ports along the east coast.

“He doesn’t love me,” you complained, “he loves TransAtlantica. He’d much prefer to marry our family corporation!” Antonio was suitable. He was decent, but that’s all he truly was to you. It’s all he ever could be.

You met your mother’s eyes pleadingly, and she pursed her lips, fully knowing the next words out of your mouth. You had a deal. From a young age, you knew the Richmond family, the Y/l/n line, respected contracts more than all else. Since you turned 17, you had one signed by all three parties and dated.

Your mother sucked in a breath through her teeth. “I remember the deal,” she said, taking a moment to consider her own words. The corners of her lips twitched as if she was attempting to hide her amusement with you. She understood— her own father, your grandfather, was just as militant, stiff with professionalism. Promises were negotiations with terms, signatures, and stamps. There were no arguments this way. “Dearest,” she addressed your father, the hand that was on the back jumping to his shoulder, “you do as well.”

“Do you?” You challenged, indignantly crossing your arms. “I request you restate the terms, mother.”

“If we are to pressure you into marriage before you feel ready, you must consent to the courting party,” your father took the liberty of answering gruffly. He squared his shoulders, regarding you purposefully— equal parts exhaustion and respect for your endurance. He cultivated it, after all. It was a fire that burned in your family for generations, as sacred as a temple flame.

“Yes,” you affirmed, “and so, I must choose the man I wish to be with.”

“With respect to your titles— no one below your station. And he must be chosen by the end of this courtship season,” your father added, negotiating. He tilted his head, analyzing your next move.

You knew of the first term since you were a child. You even remembered the exact day you learned them. You were a young girl, a little younger than seven. A young commoner boy had attempted to hand you a rose. Your maid at the time had scolded him for standing in the way of a noble family, since he had stepped out in front of you. It was a discernible moment, truly.

As for your father’s second term… you were unconvinced such a thing could be done.

“The end of the courtship season is in four months,” you replied, frowning. You were sure you met most eligible men in your social class. How were you to form a genuine connection in such little time? Even if you couldn’t find love per se, you still wanted to find someone you were compatible with.

“If we reach that deadline and you find no one, we can talk about it,” your mother answered. “And, you must allow me and your aunt to fix you on outings with suitors we like.

“Fine. Only if Daphne joins me,” you replied, knowing fully well that you weren’t allowed anywhere without your handmaiden present.

. . .

Next week

Your mother was sure not to waste any time in beginning to schedule supervised outings with a different well-educated and ennobled man that was within the appropriate age constraints. You’ve never had such a boring week, brutally torn away from the studies you adored so much.

“—And we’ve got another vacation home down in Tuscany, I think,” the Viscount Lineford’s son concluded, taking a peremptory drink out of his tea. He was dressed crisply in beige trousers that rolled up past his ankle and low leather shoes. His sterling watch sparkled in the spring sun.

You fought a building yawn that tempted the back of your throat, determined to hide your exhaustion with the man. It was a good effort, but you certainly weren’t impressed.

“That must be incredible,” you answered absently. “It must be such a lovely foreign getaway for the Lineford family,” you grinned diplomatically, blind to the horror that twisted his — you didn’t care to remember his name, unfortunately — face.

“Foreign? Excuse me Lady Y/n, but my family traces far back into Italian culture that we are practically Roman…” he started, only for you to interject.

“Will you just excuse me, please?” You struggled to keep the desperation out of your face, calmly searching for your supervisor. She was meant to be sitting at a table nearby, merely ensuring that your outing remained within polite societal constraints. More importantly, Daphne served as your escape when your potential suitors proved most unbearable. All you needed to do was subtly tilt your fan to your left ear and the woman would always scramble over to you with an excuse to steer you out of any scenario you found distasteful.

Such as this one.

Daphne never normally left your side, a realization that allowed worry to creep into your tone. “I’m unsure where my maid went, and I would like to fetch her,” you replied, standing and shouldering your small day bag over your shoulder.

“I’m sorry?” He asked, chuckling with bitter disbelief at your rudeness. Ladies were supposed to be demure and polite. You were impatient and honest, a product of an Earl knowing that his daughter was the object of his legacy. Your father trained you as he would a son, and your tutors followed in suit. “Surely you’re joking; this is the middle of our tea.”

Her pocketbook and her sweater weren’t even sitting on the chair she had been occupying, causing you to blink at the empty table in disbelief.

“No, I’m not. I think something might be wrong,” you shouldered past the man, stepping between other individuals sitting at the common tables in the park.

“Fine, you aren’t worth it anyway!” He called at your back, but the words hardly registered with you.

The area was rather common for courting pairs to visit in the early spring. However, it could also be populated with…criminals. “Excuse me,” you mumbled, quickly walking down the paved pathway through the greenery to the main sidewalk, the London pavement heavy with pedestrians. The streets were perhaps more crowded with carriages and sweating horses.

You couldn’t be alone in the city! As a woman of your stature, it simply wasn’t done. Never. Ever. It was an affront to your teachings, and it was unsafe. You needed your friend, not some stranger.

“Where is she?” You mumbled, rapidly attempting to discern every face that passed you. Surely it wouldn’t be long until someone recognized you— you were one of the most photographed families in the country. In fact, you were fortunate no one had offered your location to the press while you were on this outing. You never would have heard the last of it.

Some took hold of your handbag and darted off, using your distractedness to his advantage. He ran to the end of the block and crossed the street, weaving through pedestrians once the crossing guard allowed your side to walk over. If your hand hadn’t been tightly clutching the strap as you walked, you never would have noticed.

You did your best to pick up your speed and chase him, yelling out.

You cried out, glancing down at your long springtime dress. Your short heels were nowhere near efficient enough for you to make a chase out of the robbery, nor should have needed to! Even still, you lunged into the street — without looking.

In fact, if you had committed to your step, you would’ve been flattened by an oncoming carriage, given that the crossing guard had ordered pedestrians to stop passing moments prior. The only reason why you didn’t make the life-ruining step seemed to be… a tall young man with a serious face and staggering presence. He only had one exposed blue eye, the other was concealed by a black eyepatch. His grip tightened around your arm, pulling you intimately into his chest.

You breathed heavily, tearing yourself out of his arms. A flair of irritation caused you to glare at him as you righted your stance and smooth your dress. However, he did save you from a potentially life ending situation. His immediate insurance of your safety was more meaningful than a misaligned gown that you fixed in seconds.

In fact, the moment truly was a bit theatrical. The man was handsome enough to make you smile with uncertainty, your irritation melting. “Thank you for that,” you said, relieved that the sidewalk seemed to clear, the crowd dispersing from the main street. “I could have been killed.”

“That would have been quite a shame,” he replied, locking eyes with you. The man made a thin attempt at returning your smile. He was enchanting, regal… your heart skipped a beat, considerably flustered.

…Until he spoke again, completely distorting the immediate magnetic lure you felt from his sharp features: “Rather careless of you, my Lady. You ought to be smarter than that.”

You frowned. “In case you failed to notice, that man stole my handbag and essentially disappeared,” you snapped impatiently. It had your identification, emergency notes in case you needed to purchase something, the current novel you were fixated on…how were you meant to return to the estate now?

“You weren’t catching him, I don’t think,” he noted astutely, watching you as you stepped past him to go in the direction you came from. Perhaps Daphne circled back to the park in search of you. You absolutely needed to find her.

“Thank you for your help. Good day,” you answered brusquely, continuing to walk. However, he remained in stride with you, still unabashedly smug. It quickly absolved you of any former gratefulness you had toward the man for pulling you away from oncoming traffic. Perhaps it might have hurt less to have collided with a horse and a carriage over the velocity and mass of this random man’s ego.

“What, don’t tell me you going to go chase him,” He said patronizingly, a sardonic pull infecting what you thought was initially a careful smile. No, the man was just another arrogant bastard, it seemed. “In those shoes, especially,” He perused, causing you to stop once more and regard him.

“I am a noble woman, you will not speak to me in such a manner no matter what line of—“ you caught the sapphire family and silver crest rings around two of his fingers — “mediocre destitution you come from!” You jabbed purposefully, undeserving of his rudeness and his condescension, no matter what title he occupied in your class. You were the partial inheritor of TransAtlantia; you trained to run the company to some degree since you could speak. Few could step to you.

“I believe I said good day, kind sir,” you added poisonously, daring him to continue to test you before speeding back towards the park. You needed Daphne, you needed an officer…anyone besides this pompous— you ended the thought before you could further infect yourself with such unladylike curses.

It really wasn’t so easy being the daughter of an Earl.

CIEL PHANTOMHIVE

“I’ve planned things so Lady Y/n’s maid is off helping a little girl find her mother; I separated the two by distracting the girl with a kitten. Y/n will panic without her maid being within her immediate reach, drawing her out to the street. I will cause her to put herself in harm’s way by distracting her at the corner of 89th Street and Arthur. Be ready by the street post. I’ve made the new paralegal late to his case, he will have instructed his butler to drive quick. You will need to pull her away from the street. If you miss, things may end rather…unfortunately for the young woman,” Ciel Phantomhive’s butler, Sebastian Michealis, outlined.

Sebastian was Ciel’s head butler, his head chef, head landscaper, tailor, tutor… but most importantly, the Earl of Phantomhive’s contracted demon. The supernatural being was at his disposal and his bidding; his new role being the most interesting one of all: matchmaker. He fabricated a scene for Ciel to meet Y/n Y/l/n, and ideally, make her love him.

It was simple, really. Ciel needed a wife; Y/n’s family needed a competent businessman to run that prosperous giant of a shipping enterprise; and most importantly, the woman seemed to be rather competent. The only danger to his strategy was, of course, Y/n’s foul storybook idealism, apparently. Ciel knew Y/n was highly educated and well graced in ettiquiete, but she seemed intent on finding some happily ever after of sorts.

She wanted a husband— a bloody love match. No— she needed an actor to convince her that she was worth marrying beyond the incredible status she represented. There was no asset greater than a title and an economic monarchy to inherit, and securing such a prize meant that Ciel needed to woo her.

“My Lord, you must be considerate, but not too kind. Though you should also refrain from acting too smugly or the lady may take offense,” his butler had offered some horrifically embarrassing — and incredibly unhelpful — acting lessons for him to express the particular warmth Lady Y/n seemed to be looking for.

Love. A feeling Ciel hadn’t known in around nine years. Arguably, it could’ve been more. And yet, in order to stop being solicited by desperate mothers and unlikely candidates, he was securing his bride.

According to Ciel’s butler, that meant he needed to create a memorable foundation in the woman’s mind, an introduction that would leave her curious, impassioned. Wanting more. Something to make him stand out amongst the other faceless, classless mouth breathers who would be vying for TransAtlantica, now that word of her search for a suitor was widespread.

The company and Y/n’s hand were all one in the same courtship, and Ciel was sure the was going to win both.

The Earl of Phantomhive was never one to lose. He’d be remiss to start now.

[spicyicetea]

Just my luck that I'd mention the poll saying one thing and it suddenly changing. I've decided that I'm going to go off of what the poll says as I'm writing chapter 1. Currently its caught between having no powers and being able to take peoples powers when they've been defeated. I'm going to go off of the idea that she can take powers from someone once they're dead, but the power is weakened. For example, she could take a dead mans stand but it would be nowhere near as strong as it was with the original user. I hope this makes all parties happy, yall still get your horny yanderes don't worry.

You were always ours

JJBA various!Yandere x reader

MDNI with this story it will contain NSFW themes and behaviour, you are responsible for the content you consume. TW!Blood/Mentions of Sexual assault/Y/N degrades herself due to past abusive relationship.

prologue/(Chapter 1)/Next part

With a groan and your head rocking against the cold stone beneath, you lifted yourself up. The left side of your head and hair were wet, having been soaking in the puddle you awoke in. Everying still hurts, head spinning in a nauseating way. What had just happened? Where were you? Your hands were covered in light scratches, stinging as your fingers flexed to gain your bearings. The last thing you remembered was… yes that thing grabbing you and your eye.

“Thank god you're awake! Y/N are you alright?” Eliana knelt beside you, cradling her own arm.

Blood ran down her fingers and dripped into the puddle, a rather large gash in her upper arm. In her other hand was a what looked like a letter opener, bloodied and chipped. Her hair was a knotted mess as she grabbed your face and tilted it left and right, inspecting the bruises from the harsh ground. She pause, starring at your eye with an odd intensity.

“Holy shit, no way, that looks the exact same as their birthmark. A star but not perfect, slightly warped… oh no… is that why we're here? Is this England?”

“Eliana, what are talking about-” She harshly turned your head to look at your reflection in the water, and as she stated, one of your pupils was now a strange looking star.

“So that wasn't a dream… I did see my eye right in our dorm. Wait does that mean that purple thing was real too?”

“Purple thing?”

“Yeah, there was this man who grabbed me from behind when i tried to help you after you passed out, but his body was purple…”

“No way… that was-”

“What are two little ladies like you doing out here in the middle of the night. Didn't think girlies like you were prostitutes.”

A man grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking you up to stand on the tips of your toes. You hissed in pain as he held your hair tightly, his other hand grabbing the neck of your shirt. His friend just stood behind Eliana grabbing her arms as she went to punch him.

“Woah there pretty girl, you'll get your turn once we're done with your friend here.” They laughed, fear shooting up your neck, feeling the bile rising in your throat.

“Get off of her you bastard,” Eliana thrashed, biting the mans arm.

Despite how much you wanted to scream and gouge this fuckers eyes out, you couldn't move. It had been a year since your ex had been chased off by Eliana, but it seemed he still haunted you. The echoes of his hands against your bruised skin, nails digging into you neck as he squeezed as hard as he could. Why? To punish you of course. You had spilt cola all down his shirt and you had to be taught a lesson. Always misbehaving, you couldn't do anything right. Maybe he's still watching you… maybe you deserved this. It was impossible to see with your vision obscured with tears, just letting yourself go limp as your legs became cold due to your trousers falling to your ankles. Just like him… you can just play dead and he'll get bored.

“What are you doing? That's no way to treat a lady!”

Your bare legs hit the ground as your ears rang, barely keeping you conscious. A pair of hands grabbed your shoulders as someone pulled you to your feet, helping fix your clothes. As the ringing stopped, new voices stood out from the general ambience, helping bring you out of your trance.

“Is she going to be alright? Poor thing, no true gentleman would even think of touching a woman like that. Such a fair maiden as well…”

“She'll be fine, it isn't the first time… sorry that's not my information to divulge…” Eliana said, her face coming into focus as she wiped tears from your cheeks with a handkerchief.

“Not the first? Blimey… good thing Jonathan and I got here when we did. Ah her eyes, hey are you feeling better?”

You looked over the three people in front of you, Eliana handing a handkerchief to a blue haired man. To his right was a blond man, the one who was just speaking, his eyes scanning over your face attentively. Swallowing down the feeling of anxiety as much as possible, you nodded and he smiled, turning to his friend to get his attention. His friend turned to you with a soft smile, handing you the handkerchief motioning to bellow your nose. You touch your upper lip and notice the small amount of blood stuck to it, you must have bitten your lip in the struggle.

“Ah thank you…” Your eyes scanned the cloth he had handed you, reading the name on it. “Jonathan Joestar. Thank you Jonathan, genuinely thank you so much.” Tears bubbled up in your eyes as you stepped forward, your shaky legs giving way as you face plant into his chest. He gasped before grabbing your shoulder, his other hand raising your head by your chin to make sure you hadn't hurt yourself. It was like the world went silent, his eyes staring into your own. His thumb rubbed over your bottom lip as his pupils dialated, head cocking to the side before he jolted back. His friend had put a hand on his shoulder, muttering something before he gasped and let you go.

“Ah yes! I have to return to father! Thanks for reminding me Speedwagon, you should accompany me! After my father is given his antidote I'm sure he'd let you stay with us, you wouldn't have to worry about nasty men like that anymore. I'd keep you safe.”

“I… I cant accept that Jonathan, you've already done enough.”

“Nonsense! I can't leave a defenceless woman like yourself in such a dangerous area!”

“He's right, these streets aren't safe for a sweet woman like yourself, I should know.” Speedwagon added, him and Jonathan sharing a strange look before nodding and turning back to you.

“I'm flattered, I really am but I cant leave my friend behind-”

“Then she can come to, come on then keep up we don't have time to waste!” Jonathan picked you up by your hips, holding you bridal style in his arms and he ran from the alley.

“HEY WAIT UP” Eliana yelled, running after him and Speedwagon.

“I said you had to keep up!” Jonathan yelled back, smiling down at you.

There was something about that smile, so sweet and consuming. He was so… warm. Maybe he was right… having somewhere warm to sleep would be nice. So warm…

While resting your head against his chest your eyes slipped closed, falling asleep against him. You couldn’t see the way he smiled down and squeezed you tighter, just making you mumble in your sleep.

“So what are you going to do with my friend while you’re confronting Dio huh?” Eliana said, catching up finally.

“Wow, you’re faster than you look. I’ll do what I have to… wait, how do you know about Dio.”

“We overheard you talking earlier, mentioning him poisoning your father.”

Jonathan gave her a suspicious look, before turning his head back to your sleeping form, running a hand through your hair, despite the knots and wet half. Eliana observed his motions and her face contorted in concern. This isn’t how Jonathan is meant to be acting, we shouldn’t throw off the plot too much… but Y/N she doesn’t know… is he glaring at me? Eliana snapped out of her thoughts as her eyes met Jonathan’s again, caught in a harsh glare. His gaze soon softened as he put on a smile but it was too late.

“I can carry Y/N, she’s my friend after all.”

“Oh don’t worry, she’s perfectly happy with me, what was you name again?”

“Eliana.”

“Well Eliana, we’re at my home, I’d appreciate it if you waited outside with Speedwagon while I tend to my father. Y/N is staying with me.”

“What, no what if Dio-“

“I’ll handle Dio, now stay here, it’s not safe for you.” Jonathan left to go inside as Speedwagon put a hand on Eliana’s shoulder, stopping her from following.

“So that’s your name darling… Y/N… how pretty. Hmm, Y/N Joestar.” His eyes widen as you shift in your sleep, clinging to his shirt as he tightens his grip on you. “Oh you’re so precious.”

“What have you got there Jonathan? Already moved on from the last wench, or is she some…” the man paused staring down at you. Jonathan shifted you to his side, placing your body down by the door.

“Dio… keep your evil eyes off of her. Now, we have business to discuss!”

[thebellearchives]

HEYYYY BELLE 💗💗💗 I am so excited to see your requests are open 😍💗 Can I please request Solomon + You’ll always be safe with me 😭💗 I am so in love with the way you write him and this prompt sounds so comforting! Thank you so much 💗💗

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄

~ solomon ; obey me [nightbringer]

✧˚ · . S Y N O P S I S : even in the worst of situations you know there’s someone who will always be your safe place

‧₊˚ c o n t e n t s : gn!reader, set on nightbringer lesson 11, comfort and fluff, a little tiny bit of angst ~ established relationship

‧₊˚ a / n : aaaa winter ~ !! yesss of course anything for you love, i’m so glad you enjoy my sol shots (‘: thanks for requesting ily i hope you like this one too 😭🫶🏻

prompt list

You stared at the floor, where the faint blue luminescence illuminated its texture. Solomon and Thirteen were nearby, you could barely hear his voice explaining everything that had just happened and Thirteen arguing with him.

Their bickering turned into background noise until their words morphed into white noise. You brought your knees against your chest and rested your chin in your arms, ignoring the slight chill of the magic that kept books floating around this section of Thirteen’s cave. It had been so long since the last time you had lived such conflicts with the brothers, you had spent so many days and months living alongside them that you had forgotten how scary and anxiety inducing it was to be targeted by them. Or how heartbreaking it was now.

A hand was placed on your shoulder, Solomon’s familiar warm voice calling your name pulling you out of your messy mind.

“Did you listen to what I just told you?”

“Uhm, no, sorry” you shook your head slightly, trying to chase away your thoughts and focus on the present “what was it?”

Solomon’s silvery irises studied you, reflecting clear concern. The sorcerer sighed and sat down next to you.

“I’m really sorry you have to go through this… again.”

You bit your lower lip, trying to keep your composure. You were in a different place now, a place where mostly everything looked the same, all of your friends looked and sounded the same, and yet they weren’t. The brothers that loved you unconditionally now looked at you and saw nothing. Solomon’s hand suddenly grabbed yours, your body almost jolted in surprise to his touch.

When your widened eyes went to look for him you found him staring back with a melancholic expression painted on his features.

“You know I will always be here for you, right?” his soft voice warmed your heart “you can always count on me, I will always protect you.”

A knot formed in your throat, you stared at him, that sweet reassuring smile and the way his pearly white hair fell on top of his forehead, charming eyes fixed on yours. The man who had followed you through realms, through space and time, the one thing in your life that remained constant, imperishable.

Immediately you buried yourself in his chest. He sighed, his arms slid around your body and held you firmly, anchoring you safely amidst the chaos, the familiarity of his worn out cologne grounding you back into security.

“I know” you managed to answer, feeling the warmth of his body surround you and making all your fears and anxiety dissolve into thin air, his love was morphine to your pain.

“You will always be safe with me my love” Solomon buried his face in your hair, his nose grazing your temple.

The moment his lips left a small kiss on top of your eyebrow you knew. You knew there wasn’t a single place in any timeline safer than the arms of your lover.

[kimbap-r0ll]

What if reader flinches whenever the twist boys argues/moves suddenly/makes a movement towards them because their ex was very toxic and abusive. How'd they react? Sorry if this makes oyu uncomfortable, feel free to ignore this request if you want. Just want some comfort headcanons with the twist characters because I had a very crappy break up with a recent abusive boyfriend of mine...Also, I love your work!!

Hi! Sorry I'm getting to this so late ;-; I'm glad you like my writing! I hope you're doing better too, and for anyone who is going through a toxic relationship or had experience with it I hope you are/will be in a better place now. I'll put this under the cut in case this is sensitive to anyone, but I'll choose the characters as Floyd, Riddle, Sebek, and Deuce.

tw: implications of an abusive relationship

Floyd, Riddle, Sebek, Deuce with an s/o who experienced an abusive relationship

Floyd

At first he didn't think much about his aggressive even dangerous behavior around people. He thought it was funny to see people look scared when he threatened to squeeze them and things like that. Even with his behavior, you two somehow started dating (perhaps it was your love of basketball or maybe similar interests in the sea).

He once punched the wall more or less because he was annoyed at someone (it was not you at all) and was muttering to himself about the said person. However, when he looked up to see you (who was there studying with him in his room), you were frozen in place and just staring at him.

This caused a different emotion from him to rise up: fear. It was the fear that he scared you, caused you to see someone that hurt you for so long and so much. His usual grin or threatening aura disappeared immediately and he carefully approached you. However, you backed away, flinching when he tried to reach out his hand to you

Floyd and you end up having a long talk that day about your past relationship. If anything, Floyd was ready to find whoever your ex was and beat the shit out of him. However, what you needed from Floyd the most was comfort, which he did by giving you what felt like the softest hug you had ever received in your life. He didn't have the words to comfort you as he was not experienced in softness, but he listened to everything you had to say, told himself what he needs to do to help you heal.

Floyd is extremely attentive, even for someone that may seem so careless. He never again acts violently in front of you, rather opting to give you surprise (gentle) hugs and joking around with you. Seeing you laugh and smile always made his heart flutter. However, seeing you smile after hearing your past makes him want to protect you more. You're in safe arms, he tells himself that when your with him. He'll make sure of that

Riddle

For someone who grew up in a strict, painful childhood, Riddle thought he would understand how to not make people cry. However, the habits he learned from his mother seemed to replicate in his actions as a dorm leader. You and Riddle seemed like an unlikely match with how kind you were, but somehow you two quickly became friends and started dating

Riddle never raised his voice at you, he was the complete opposite of the way he acted to his peers. However, Riddle one day raised his voice at you when you came back to the dorms late. He yelled at how worried he was as it was storming outside, that you could get hurt and how you had to fix that habit. The next thing he knew, he was looking at you holding yourself away from him, almost like you were scared

It was as though he was seeing a reflection of himself from his childhood, one that was frightened but unable to move. HIs heart felt sudden pain, especially when he tried to talk to you but you turned your face away from him. Riddle softly said an apology, swearing he would never do that again and that he would listen to you if you wanted to talk about it

When Riddle learns about your abusive past relationship, he can't help but wish to slap himself back when he yelled at you. He wished he had known, perhaps then he could have worked harder to make you feel safe with him and never worry about being pulled into something so traumatic again. Riddle tells you he's grateful you let him know about your past and that he would do everything he can to help you and protect you. For the first time, you see your uptight boyfriend loosen up, hugging you gently and placing a kiss on your head

He will speak softly to you as he usually did (Ace and Deuce may ask you how you accomplished this) and will always be there when you need comfort. He has warm tea when you call him over because you just need someone to talk to, and he's happy you trust him. He knows it can be hard to open up to people after such a horrible experience, but if anything, Riddle will make sure the two of you walk together and that you are safe with him

Sebek

As uptight as he is, he was never one to throw hands (though the threats of doing so are much more common). He prefered being classy, almost professional in school. Perhaps that was how he met you, either through opposites attract or through similar interests. Either way, he quickly fell in love and the next thing you knew it the two of you were dating (and Lilia thought it was the cutest thing ever)

Though it seemed like you two were very close, there was one thing that always stuck to the back of your mind: his voice. It was handsome when he spoke to you gently, but there were times when it would scare you. One day, the two of you had a heated argument and he yelled your name, perhaps in a vain attempt to get his point across. However, this resulted in you freezing up, feeling tears well up in your eyes and just holding your breath, perhaps waiting for something to hit you

Sebek saw this, and he immediately knew what he did wrong. He knew his impulses were horrible, but the last thing he wanted was for you to be affected by it. All the fiery anger diminished, his voice was almost a whisper when he said 'sorry' and asked if you were alright, saying he was in the wrong for raising his voice like that.

Sebek will give you time to calm down and talk to him about what happened. He has a feeling it was something traumatic, but what he hears makes his heart break. How could someone hurt you like that? Who could do such a thing to someone so kind, so amazing, that you had to live with that fear in the back of your mind? Sebek will tell you he never wants you to be afraid of him and that he's grateful you told him about your abusive ex. If anything, it will be a promise for life that he will protect you rather than harm you

Sebek isn't the best at comfort, but he can be surprisingly gentle when he wants to be. Quiet dates around the forest or reading in the Diasomnia lounge is common with the two of you. He will try his best not to raise his voice, and he can be overprotective of you. If he ever runs into your ex, he may have the urge to beat him up. However, you come first to him, he will make sure you are safe.

Deuce

He's never had the best reputation, he knows. That's why when he went to NRC he decided to completely change his ways and become an honor student. What he didn't expect was for him to fall in love with you and ask you out (in what you could say was the cheesiest way possible). You two went on dates right away, often causing Ace to complain about being a third wheel (though he thought you two were super cute together)

You knew about Deuce's past as a delinquent because he told you about it. However you never really thought about seeing it happen until one day when he ran across some rowdy people at the seashore you two were hanging out at. The men not only catcalled you but tried to grab you, causing you to flinch. Deuce didn't think before throwing a punch at them, telling them in the most aggressive way ever to stay away, and eventually scaring them away enough for them to run. When he turned to you, he didn't see you smiling, rather you were burying your face in your arms, crouched down and trying to hide your tears

Deuce gently crouches down too, telling you it's alright and that the guys are gone. However you ask him about the violent reaction, and he realizes something's wrong. You were scared of him too. Whispering your name, he slowly pulls you into a hug and lets you cry, whispering you'll be alright and that he's sorry for scaring you like that. If you want to talk about it at a later time, he'll wait and listen when you do

If anything, Deuce would want to punch the living shit out of your ex for causing so much pain. At the same time, Deuce will want to be even more protective of you, wanting you to feel safe with him and making happy memories together. He'll make sure of that by promising to not act out violently with you around and to protect you from harassers. He'll give you a warm smile and pinky promise it too

Deuce is a bit awkward and cheesy when it comes to comfort and hugs, but it's what makes you smile. He loves seeing you happy, it's like walking through a sunny day to him, and he'll do everything he can to protect your smile. He will listen to you if you need to talk to him, and sometimes the two of you go on a magical wheel ride (as that is a way he de-stresses). If anything, he will be protective of you, but super comforting at the same time

[taylortruther]

The way almost EVERY single line in YLM can be related to a previous like she wrote about Joe is INSANE. Like YLM is basically the song that would most fit the theme of Midnights (reflecting on the past and integrating it into the present) and guess what? She left it out (for reasons that I understand).

Here we go;

You say I don't understand and I say I know you don't// Give you the silence that only comes when two people understand each other

We thought a cure would come through in time now I fear it won't// I thought the plane was goimg down, how'd you turn it right around?

Remember looking at this room, we loved it 'cause of the light...now I just sit in the dark and wonder if it's time// The entirety of Daylight duh

Remember looking at this room, we loved it 'cause of the light...now I just sit in the dark and wonder if it's time// The entirety of Daylight duh

Do I throw out everything we built or keep it //I am an architect I'm drawing up the plans (I'm reaching here I know)

I'm getting tired even for a phoenix always rising from the ashes // I am ash from your fire

Mending all her gashes // is this the end of all the endings, my broke bones are mending

You might just have dealt the final blow // Darling this was just as hard as when they pulled me apart (these two lines feel so similar to me)

Stop you're losing me (I hope I never lose you) I can't find a pulse my heart won't start anymore// he got my heartbeat skipping down 16th avenue

Every morning I glared at you with storms in my eyes// after the storm something was born on the 4th of July

How can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dying// There's many different ways that you can kill the one you love, the slowest way is never loving them enough

I sent you signals and bit my nails down to the quick // I gave SO MANY SIGNS

My face was GREY but you wouldn't admit that we were sick // I don't like anticipating my face in a RED flush (I could write an essay about just this grey/red parallel but nvm)

And the air is thick with loss and indecision//clearing the air I breathed in the smoke

I know my pain is such an imposition // You don't really read into my melancholia // Always taking up too much space or time // I'm not your problem anymore

Now you're running down the hallway // I heard your key turn in the door down the hallway // You were standing hollow eyed in the hallway

And you know what they all say "you don't know what you've got until it's gone" // he better lock it down or I won't stick around 'cause good ones never wait

How long could we be a sad song // each bar plays our song

Till we were too far gone to bring back to life // Do I really have to tell you how he brought me back to life?

I gave you all my best mes, my endless empathy // I'd give you my sunshine, give you my best// After giving you the best I had, tell me what to give after that?

And all I did was bleed as I tried to be the bravest soldier // All the bloodshed, crimson clover // And if I bleed you'll be the last to know // soldier down on that icy ground

Fighting in only your army // I'd sit with you in the trenches

Frontlines don't you ignore me // I'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me

I'm the best thing at this party // best believe I'm still bejeweled when I walk in the room, I can still make the whole place shimmer

And I wouldn't marry me either // She would've made a lovely bride // I'd marry you with paper rings // all they keep asking me is if I'm gonna be your bride // the entire bridge of Lover

A pathological people pleaser // what a shame she's fucked in the head // mirrorball tm // my covert narcissism I disguise as altruism

Who only wanted you to see her // Walking with his head down, I'm the one he's walking to

And I'm fading thinking DO SOMETHING BABE // Some boys are trying too hard he don't try at all though

SAY SOMETHING // You don't ever say too much

LOSE SOMETHING BABE RISK SOMETHING // this ain't for the best

CHOOSE SOMETHING BABE I'VE GOT NOTHING TO BELIEVE // stood on the cliffside screaming "give me a reason"

i have nothing intelligent to say but I LOVE THIS, let's discuss

[angelzofdecay]

Aftermath Blade x gn reader

Summary: after a mission goes horribly wrong you run to the only person you believe can comfort you. CW: cursing, violence, ptsd, blood, fluff, blade is gentle, ps he's only doing this bc it's you, hurt with comfort, happy ending. AN: I can't get this man out of my head so here's a short but sweet oneshot. I head canon that he's a mix of tsundere and yandere so that is totally reflecting in my writing.

As a trailblazer, you had encountered many monstrous beings before. However, this particular encounter felt different. The assignment was initially planned to be a simple one, but upon your arrival, the level of the curse suddenly transfigured to a huge fucking problem.

The creature's physical appearance was almost human-like, except for its nearly translucent skin and intricate armor adorning its body. Its muscular build was cloaked in an aura of immense power, making any attempt to replicate it seem futile. The sheer energy emanating from the beast was so intense that you found yourself trembling on your knees as you tried to stand firm. You completely forgot about the newbie who had tagged along with you. 

Neither of you were prepared for this at fucking all.

It blitzed towards you with insane force, leaving you with scarcely any time to protect yourself before being hurled through three solid walls. The intense agony rippled through every fiber of your being, almost rendering you immobile in its wake. It was at this moment, right before its fist went through your skull, your temporary teammate sprang into action, jumping in to save your life. 

You could make out the sounds of a blood curdling scream, bones breaking, and a powerful technique being released. It all felt miles away yet deafening at the same time. As your body was writhing in pain, you could feel your adrenaline surging, propelling you into action. Finally, with a sudden burst of energy, you managed to strike the final and fatal blow. But alas, it was too little too late to protect the life of Yukine...

The car ride back home began with a heavy silence. There was no conversation to be had, no words exchanged between the driver and yourself. Maybe the reason for the lack of communication was the fact that your throat was sore from crying or screaming, but in reality, it was just you. Your mind was in turmoil, unable to comprehend or articulate anything. The only thing it could focus on was replaying the events from earlier, over and over again. You felt a sense of terror grip you like never before - it was a fear so real and so palpable that it consumed your thoughts entirely, leaving little room for anything else.

Blade

Blade, patiently waiting for your return at home. Would he scoff at your perceived weaknesses or worse, abandon you entirely for your poor actions? You couldn’t help but painstakingly wonder what his reaction will be to the news that you failed to save someone's life today. In failing to do your job, to be strong, you let down not only yourself, but the one you cherished deeply. As a trailblazer, you know all too well how unforgiving this world can be, especially towards those who falter in their duties. But how would Blade treat your failures…

The car came to a screeching halt as you arrived at his home, your home. “Miss, I really recommend you go and see a doctor…” His plea fell on deaf ears as you stepped out of the car. You kept your head low as you reached the doorstep… What were you going to do when he opened it? 

You knocked once, twice, three times before your hand fell limp at your side. The sounds of his shoes pattering against the floor caught your attention. Each heavy and calculating step made your heart jump. The creaking sound of the door being opened, the light illuminating from the entrance, and the confused look on his face when he gazed at you sent you into a frenzy. 

“What the hell happened?” Tears began to pour from your eyes, you stumbled forward reaching for any type of solace. “I-I-m sorry” you hiccupped through sobs as you profusely apologized for how badly this assignment went. You practically fell into his arms, the warmth radiating off of his body enveloping you. One of his large hands reached up to run his fingers through your disheveled hair. 

“It’s alright, I’m gonna get you fixed up.” His face remained frozen in an unbothered expression; lips stuck in a thin line. If only you could see the shock and hurt in his eyes you would know he cared. Comforting another person was not his forte. Nor was he very good at taking care of another life besides his own… But he knew what it was like to fail, to lose, and to believe there was no coming back from it. Blade did what he assumed any person would do, he took care of you. 

He lifted you from the floor with ease, carrying you bridal style to your destination. The restroom, you desperately needed a bath. You couldn’t process him delicately undressing you or eyes only temporarily lingering on the delicate parts. You could hear the water running and his feet shuffling but the noise in your mind blurred it all. How many times must you relive it before you could have peace?

Blade gently washed the dried blood from your hair. His long fingers running through the knots and lathering them with soap. His moves were far more delicate when he scrubbed the blood from the rest of you, carefully avoiding intimate parts. The water was quickly turning a dark brown, but the smell was graciously covered by jasmine scented body wash. Throughout the entire bath you did not look at him, you did not move. You were still frozen in time, still stuck in that place. 

He adorned your body in the softest silk robe you had ever felt… Definitely out of both of your pay grades. Blade sat you on the edge of the toilet, getting on his knees so he could do his work. It’s important to note he never gets on his knees. He meticulously searched your skin for any wounds, glancing up at you to search for any sign of discomfort. 

He wasn’t a natural healer by nature, but he had his fair share of injuries. Any cut that remained was rubbed with medicinal lotion and wrapped so it wouldn’t get infected. He took his time with each injury, ensuring your comfort above all. It was odd, in all the time he’s known you there was never a situation where you were this quiet. And yet, it was the most comfortable silence of his life. 

There was no way in hell you were going to be able to eat tonight. He knew that the sight of anything edible would probably cause you to empty the rest of your stomach contents on his floor. He opted to immediately take you to bed and pray a good night's rest would fix you… Though he doubted you would be capable of sleeping after that. 

It was surprising, the way he gently laid you down and tucked you in. You were enjoying every second of the attention though you didn’t show it. His presence was fighting against your thoughts and forcing them away. You had a single moment of clarity when he turned to leave. 

“Stay…”

“Please.”

You grasped his wrist, pleading with your eyes. Blade appeared far more shocked than you imagined. This was the most expressive face he’s had since you met. He took a moment to process, to ponder, before he made his choice. “Move over.” 

He slid under the covers next to you, pulling your arms so they wrapped around him, and you were firmly pressed under his chin. His heartbeat, his breath, his warmth, everything about him was lulling you into a sense of ease. You raised your head to admire him just once, carefully gazing at every detail and embedding it into your brain permanently. 

His lips curved slightly, in an almost unnoticeable smirk. Then the other most unexpected thing happened that day… Blade gently pressed a kiss to your temple. His soft lips blessing you with their touch. “You’ll be okay, I got you.” 

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Chronicle of Emotions (Fluff)

FastForward!Raphael x reader

Gif credit: isitdonproof

A/N: This would very much create a paradox in space and time, but fuck it. Let have some fun!❤️ Also, I know that BTTS aired in 2008, but April mentions that they have been gone for around a year, so I’ve set their return to their own timeline in 2007.

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Being punished with cleaning off Cody’s collection after an incident with Mikey, Raphael stumbles upon your diary from the past.

Warnings: Other than invasion of privacy, one that I can think of❤️

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Raphael grumbled and cursed to himself as he dusted off the boxes around him, mumbling about how much he hated the future. He couldn’t believe he was the one that had to take the fall for this! It was Mikey that started it! Continuously poking that Helix game into his face, until Raph finally jumped on him to give him a beating. But Master Splinter wasn't having it, especially not in Cody’s penthouse. So Raph was the one that got punished with cleaning Cody’s collection.

Raphael wandered through Cody's collection of artifacts, recognizing quite a few of them. A samurai suit, some utrom technology and things from their lair. Some of them were more dusty than others, like the many books that once stood in Leonardo’s bedroom. Understandable. He didn’t even read them now in the future. But as he browsed through the items and boxes, one particular object caught his attention - a small, worn notebook. Raph frowned. He had never seen this before. Was it one of Donnie’s notebooks? Or one of his future ones? Raph did not know, so he opened it and looked at the first page.

Property of (Y/N) (L/N).

Raphael's heart skipped a beat. (Y/N). The name resonated with a sense of familiarity and warmth. You. One of his best friends left back home in 2006. Officially his best friend, yet he had dreamed of you to be so much more to him. He admitted it to himself long ago - he loved you. And to be standing there, 99 years in the future with your diary in his hand, he could not help but feel a slight pain in his heart. He missed you.

But to say that Raphael didn’t find himself curious about what the diary in his hand held, would be a lie. So with a mix of curiosity and trepidation, Raphael delved into the diary, turning to the first page.

19th of July, 2003. Dear diary You wouldn’t believe what just happened to me today. I’ve met four turtles! Four MUTANT turtles! Talking, walking on two feet, carrying weapons and doing ninja things! And get this, they are my age! How sick is that?! I know, I know, it’s hard to believe. Even I feared I had lost my mind for a moment, but they are as real as the page I’m writing on. And they are nice. They are sweet and funny and I hope I can see them again soon!

Raph felt a smile spread on his lips, remembering the day he and his brothers first met you. It had been a Friday night when you came to surprise your cousin April, not knowing she already had four mutant turtles and their rat father staying in her living room, using it as a hideout for a short time. Raph and his brothers would have stayed hidden away from you in April’s closet, had a bug not been crawling on Raph’s arm, causing him to burst through the door and directly into your face.

Raph felt his face get hot when he remembered that you actually caught the bug, and managed to calm him down, even though you were still shocked by the sudden surprise of a humanoid turtle in your cousin’s home. And that had been the starting point for Raphael’s growing feelings for you.

Raph flipped through the pages, skimming at the words, feeling curiosity growing. There were entries about battles fought and victories celebrated, about friendships forged and broken. Names he knew and names he had never heard of before. Someone from school or work mentioned once, just to never be mentioned again. Raphael's eyes widened as he read about your reflections on their encounters, realizing that his presence had left an impact on you just as you had on him. Raphael's cheeks warmed, and he couldn't deny the fluttering in his chest. You were not just a friend; you were someone he had held close in his heart, even if it was a secret he had kept buried beneath his tough skin. And even though it was wrong of him to be reading the words of your thoughts, he just couldn’t help himself.

In the quiet solitude of Cody's futuristic lair, Raphael found himself drawn not only to your words in your diary but to the feeling of being around you once more. He couldn't deny the impact your diary’s presents had on him, awakening emotions he had long kept guarded. Raph knew he would see you again one day, but he could not stop himself from missing you.

“How is the cleaning going, Raphael?”

Splinter’s voice from the doorway made Raph jump. Even with his graduation to Chunin coming up, Raph’s skills could not match his Master’s sneaking skills… especially not when he stood with his beak deep in your diary.

“Great, Master Splinter!”, Raph said, hiding your diary on the back of his shell. “Absolutely great!”

Splinter was quick to notice the way his son was standing. His smile on his face, along with the way his arms was bent to the back of his shell. Having been the one raising Raphael and his brothers for the past 18 years,  Splinter knew way too well how it looked when they tried to keep something from him. But knowing Raph’s hatred for the future, Splinter found it somewhat comforting that his son had found something he wished to keep hidden. To keep for himself. Maybe it was enough to make him more comfortable with their current situation.

“That sounds good”, Splinter said, taking in the somewhat cleaner state of Cody’s collection. There was only so much you could do with an almost hundred years old collection and an angry turtle. “I believe you’ve been punished enough for today, Raphael”.

Raph breathed a sigh of relief. After his father’s reaction to he and his brothers finding April and Casey's old journal, he feared what he would say, had he known about your diary in his hands. He thanked his Master before waiting for him to leave, so he could run to his room all while keeping the old worn book in his hand a secret.

Once Raph was sure he was alone and that none of his brothers would burst through the door, Raph turned to open your diary once more. With a page open he turned to look at the date.

29th of July 2006

Raph almost slammed your diary shut again. His hands trembled a bit. That was the day he and his brothers traveled to the future. The day they left you, April and Casey in the past, reminding him just how much he hated the future. Yet Raph did not leave your diary.

Raph’s heart broke a bit when he read your words. A whole year you were left in confusion before any of them returned home. You, Casey and April looked everywhere for them. Every place you had known for them to call home. You had searched in Casey’s farmhouse and Leatherhead’s lair. April had even traveled to Japan to ask the Ancient One, while Casey searched out of state, all while you stayed back, just in case they got home. A whole year, and nothing. April and Casey came home empty handed. No one knew where the turtle brothers and their father were.

Raphael continued flipping through the worn pages of your diary, his eyes scanning the entries searching for something he did not know how to describe. As he turned a page, he halted.

13th of September 2007

Raph knew he shouldn’t read it. Donnie has already told him and his brothers the dangers of meddling with their timelines, and how just being in the year 2105 could already have made unknown changes to their own future. But did Raph care about that? No. He already hated the future as it was, so making it worse would feel any different to him.

It happened! They are home! The boys are home! So much happened, and I don’t know where to start, but the most important part is that the boys are home and safe. April and Casey texted me and told me they had found them in the lair. And it was true! They were all there! Leo, Mikey, Donnie, Splinter and Raph. Speaking of Raph, it happened. It fucking happened. Finally it fucking happened!

Raph narrowed his eyes in confusion. What happened? Or… what will happen? - The fucking future thing was going to fry his brain one day.

Raphael kissed me!

Raphael's eyes widened as he absorbed the words on the page. The realization hit him like a tidal wave. He kissed you. He would kiss you! At some time in the future… or in the past… fuck that shit! He kissed you!

He did not say hey nor let his brothers say anything. He just walked straight over to me and kissed me! Just like that! In front of everyone! I will not lie and tell you that I didn’t want it, because in actuality, I did. I really wanted it, probably for way longer than I originally thought. I do really like Raphael, and it’s safe to say that he likes me as well.

His heart thudded in his chest as he read your words. You liked him? Just like he liked you? His hands shook as he tried to calm his breath. It was like an adrenaline bomb had hit him, making his heart raise even further.

Raph was tempted to read further. Turn to the next page and learn what would happen next. What words you would exchange and what actions the two of you would take. But just as he was about to turn the page, he decided against it. He already knew too much. Or maybe just enough. He now knew it was safe to kiss you when he turned home, and that you wouldn’t push him away nor fight against it. Learning more than that would take the excitement out of everything the two of you would do together.

Closing the diary with a mixture of awe and anticipation, Raphael couldn't help but smile. The knowledge that you harbored feelings for him, even if it was in a moment he had not yet experienced himself, filled him with warmth. And as he snuck out of his room to return your diary to Cody’s collection, he hoped that none of his brothers would notice him nor the little skip in his step.

Maybe the future wasn’t as bad as he had made it out to be.

[hauntedwitch04]

Fools in love

Remus Lupin x reader

Words: 1,8k words

Warnings: none, just fluff and idiots totally in love with each other

Author’s note: Hi everybody! It fells so good being back, I missed writing and this is the first one-shot I write in a lot of time, so I'm really grateful for every tiny bit of love you gave me. Hope you enjoy the first day of my Halloween Party

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🎃Halloween party 🎃

DAY 1: “Take my sweater, I love you and i don’t want you to transform into a popsicle”

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Rain beats hard against the windows of the Gryffindor common room. The fire near me crackles, and the pieces of wood seem to break like bone after a very hard punch, as my heart probably had a few hours ago.

I've spent a lot of time by the fire, but even so, I can't shake the cold that got into my bones, in the rush in the rain I made to get back to the castle, after waiting for more than two hours for a Ravenclaw boy who asked me out, outside the Mielandia.

I still remember the feeling of the cold wind against my cheeks wet with hot tears. My sweater was now dumped on the sofa, soaked with rain, and dripping rhythmically on the floor, mesmerizing me.

The fire dances before my eyes, and I can't help but feel like two people hugged tightly, dancing to music of their own created by their love.

A little bit I feel stupid in feeling so bad, for a guy who basically I don't even like since I've actually been in love with one of my best friends for what seems like ages now, but I think the thing that has hurt me most of all is not being able to be loved even by this mysterious guy whose name I honestly can't even remember.

For hours now I've been asking myself if I'm really worth loving? Why should people fall in love with me? Am I worthy of someone's love? If I can't even date a guy I don't like, how could I ever date the one I consider the love of my life? And why the hell does Remus John Lupin have to be so perfect?

I spend what seems like days sitting there staring into the fire. I hear people passing by, coming in and out of the dorms, some stop and look at me with compassion, trying to somehow share my pain, while others whisper hypotheses and theories about why I am in that situation. I, however, remain impassive, like a marble statue, the only emotion I allow to shine through are the tears I cannot stop.

It is still a long time before I can glance at the clock without seeing it fogged up by my crying.

Midnight.

I close my eyes and pray for any otherworldly entity to erase my memory of this rainy early October day, when my thoughts are interrupted by a warm hand resting on my shoulder. I turn slightly and my breath catches in my throat for a moment, for fear that the object of my thoughts will see itself reflected in my eyes and be able to read into me, into my soul.

"Lily told me you've been stationary here for more than four hours. I had to practically make a deal with the devil to get Poppy to let me leave early to come to you, luckily yesterday wasn't too bad." He says quietly as he sits down next to me, the famous Remus Lupin, every Hogwarts girl's dream, looking at me softly. Shit, I think to myself, there was a full moon yesterday that's why I didn't see him all day. I hadn't worried about it too much actually before I went to the appointment, too caught up in the anxiety of this meeting, but now I realize what a shitty friend I've been to him. I look at him and see his face battered by sleep and exhaustion, while only a few new scratches or scars adorn his face. My eyes land on his, and selling his worried look I can't help but feel guilty and go back to crying. After a few seconds, I realize that I am not only crying out of guilt, but also out of the realization that he, the boy I love more than my own life, will never see me in the same way that I see him but only as a friend to be taken care of.

His warm hands brush my shoulders and I immediately shiver at that contact. His gaze grows even more concerned and he immediately decides to take off his heavy sweater, one of his favorites that his mother made him last year after his had all grown small when he grew up all of a sudden during the summer. As he takes off the sweater, with his arms still above his head and this one still covered by the garment, his T-shirt, which he wore underneath, rises slightly so that his athletic body covered in scratches can be seen. I feel my cheeks turn red as I look at him, but I am quickly distracted by my friend handing me his sweater.

"Take my sweater, I love you and I don't want you to turn into a popsicle," he says, fixing his hair. His words strike me more pain than a bullet, but I hide my distress behind a bitter smile, and put on his sweater. Immediately I am hit by his scent: chocolate, cinnamon, ink mixed with book pages and cigarettes. I thank him in a thin voice, before returning to silence.

"I guess I understand that the date didn't go very well." He says after a few minutes, trying to figure out if I felt like talking about it, watching me carefully as I played with my sleeves.

"Actually, there wasn't even a date." I reply, chuckling bitterly.

"What do you mean?" He retorts confused, as he moves closer to me, to study me better.

"Well he never showed up. I stood like a moron in front of the place where he told me to meet for a couple of hours, even caught some rain, then when I realized that I was merely making a fool of myself I came running back here, and I haven't moved from here since." I explain quickly, not wanting to cry again.

I see the anger mounting in his eyes as he takes one of my hands between his and brings it to his mouth.

"If anyone has made a fool of himself it's him, honey. He's a fool if he missed an opportunity like this. You deserve so much better, the best person the world has to offer." He says in a whisper as he holds me in his arms, doing nothing but twisting the knife in the wound making me bleed more and more.

After a while he breaks away from that grip and takes something out of his pants pocket, which I discover is a piece of chocolate, and hands it to me.

"Eat, you'll feel better." He tells me, but I shake my head.

"I don't feel like eating, Remmy." I try calling him by his nickname, hoping to soften him, knowing that when he puts his mind to something, it's hard to change his mind.

"Honey, I won't take no for an answer. I care about you, like a sister, and I don't want to not only see you suffer for that moron but also starve to death." He continues, pulling my face up, resting one of his fingers under my face.

I don't know why I feel something breaking inside, as if a pitcher full of water has decided to pour in, and I no longer have control over my words.

"That's exactly my problem Remmy. I'm not crying, sitting here for over four hours for a guy whose name I can't even remember, I'm feeling like I'm dying inside because what happened made me realize that the only guy I've ever really loved in my life will never look at me, if he's not even interested in me even a person who's not even worth a hole in his sock. I've been sitting here for hours crying because I'm afraid that I'm not worthy of being loved, because I'm afraid that I'll have to live with these damn feelings, because I'm afraid that I'll see this boy grow up and fall in love with someone else while I'll still be here, and he'll continue to see me as just a sister, and he just happens to have reminded me of that fact himself just a little while ago." At my last words I see his eyes light up, having realized who I was talking about, after being dark and dull throughout my entire speech. "And now if you don't mind, after screwing up our friendship, I'm going to bed." And I try to get up, but I don't make it in time because a hand encircles my wrist and Remus draws me toward him forcefully, in contrast to his delicate lips brushing against mine. It takes me a few seconds to return the kiss, unsure of what this moment might change between us, before I let myself go completely to him. I bring my hands behind his head, and run my fingers through his hair, while his hands go around my hips to take me on his lap, as we continue to kiss, as if we were suffocating and that was our oxygen.

"I love you, I love you, I've loved you for what seems like forever, and I'm just a coward for not telling you sooner." He says pulling away slightly, so he can breathe before giving me another full kiss. Then he starts giggling, and I look at him shocked, before I start laughing too. We laugh until our stomachs hurt and tears furrow our faces. Remus stands up, picks me up and lays me down on the couch in front of the fire, then lies down next to me.

"We are two idiots." I say, chuckling some more. "We are so stupidly in love that we didn't realize each other's feelings."

"We're all idiots in love, honey." Remus replies, kissing my forehead. "Sirius will never get tired of holding it against me that he was right." He says giggling and hiding his face in the crook of my neck.

"Not even Lily." I chuckle in response as well, before I feel that being held tightly in her arms, sleep is slowly taking over my senses.

"By the way, you look very good in my sweater, honey." Those are the last words I hear before I fall completely asleep.

At that moment, however, neither of us knows yet that our friends will never let us forget the fact that they found us the next morning cuddled on the couch in the Common Room, in front of the fire, and I was wearing the sweater of what would become my husband and the father of my children, to whom Sirius would tell this story and how their parents fell in love and how he and Aunt Lily were right.

[el-yon]

when did Ichigo 'fall in love'?

Some self-indulgent meta on Ichigo coming to terms with his feelings for Orihime because fic writing... Relating a lot to this poor boy's intimacy struggles, I figured Ichigo's falling in love could be expressed through taking steps towards this particular relationship, little by little.

And that starts with the ground he stands on: empathy

the basis of their relationship is empathy. The series start with him noticing her, worrying for her because he knows her pain.

step 1: he acknowledges that she notices him, too

And that is literall because he says "i had no idea you could see us", referring to Orihime seeing his shinigami form. But he also had no idea that she noticed him, paid attention to him and thought of him to such high standards. Seeing himself through Orihime's eyes surprised him at first, but it also helped steel his resolve. She gently holds a mirror to him and says "see, you are a kind, brave person", and he sees that. He sees his own qualities through her eyes - and this is a big deal.

step 2: he lets her in

now, once again, her display of affection surprises him... and he welcomes it.  He is yelling to the world “I won!”, exhausted, and is (literally) hit with this genuine, tender sentiment that she has for him... and he is grateful for it. In her crying for him, he sees his own desire to see his friends safe, he sees the same level of care that he displays - but he’s also taking in the more intimate concern that she is showing for him. This is another big deal, because allowing someone in like that opens the vulnerability gates, which leads to

step 3: dealing with vulnerability

... and now, he is confronted with facing the consequences: he let her in, now it can get under his skin. Now it can hurt him.

And it does. He sees his own personal failure in her injuries, but the apex here is the fight with Grimmjow: when he sees her frightened eyes, he doesn't see the kind, brave man he saw before, he sees his own fear. Orihime says: "i can't see my own reflection/ i don’t recognize him"... and neither does Ichigo. Her not recognizing him is mirroring his own personal fear of losing himself to his hollow.

... but right after, when her loving feelings get to him, he is empowered. She is not just saying “look, you are still a wonderful person”. She is saying “look, this is my heart: it is scared for you, it hurts because I can’t bear to see you get hurt, just like you can’t stand to watch me or anyone else get hurt”. He sees care, he sees love, he sees acceptance and empathy, he sees his old self, and he takes that to heart.

And now, she reaches even deeper.... which brings him to extreme places

And yet he does not fall back on his decision to let her in. It takes him a while, and quite the pain during FB Arc, too, but finally, TYBW comes and we see that he finally took the next step.

step 4: rely on her and their bond.

Ichigo finally takes the leap of faith and trusts in their intimacy. He is trusting eye contact to pull a master move to use his hollow - the power that has made them both so afraid before, the extreme place he went within himself, with her. He is confident in himself, confident in her, confident in their relationship, confident that with her by his side, he can do this. He moves past his fear of being vulnerable, he moves past his fear of failing her. He still worries about her, he always will, but now, he is ready to embrace their bond as it is, trusting that the intimacy they built so far will come through - and it does.

This is love.

... and all he needs now is time and encouragement to reassure himself and take the final step.

[erismerald]

𝐓𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 (Samuel Drake x Insecure Fem! Reader) 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈

𝐀/𝐍: Hello my loves! I know I have been some time away and without any kind of inspiration, however this has been a very complicated year for me and I have not been well enough mentally to even be able to read or post anything!!! But luckily I am slowly getting better (because i´ve meet someone who´s inspire me, and tbh he is a lot like Sam) and now I feel a little more inspired and motivated to write!!! I wish you a good read and I would like to remind you that my orders will open in a few days or so feel free to send me something!!!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: It's amazing how exciting and terrifying living alone can be, during a sleepless night as you think back and rethink the nights others warmed the bed of the person you loved the most, a storm of pleasure hit your door.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Insecure reader, Age gap, Semi-Nsfw (sexual tension is in the air for now eheheh) a huge load of fluff, Drunk Sam

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2,517

Lust is a pleasure bought with pains, a delight hatched with disquiet, a content passed with fear, and a sin finished with sorrow. It's not reprehensible to want something that isn't ours, to desire in the depths of our thoughts something that our heart yearns for, that our body malevolently covets, to be enveloped by the sin that torments our thoughts… during the day it's as if it's just a specter that struts around your heart, but when dusk sets in, this carnal sin dominates every sensation in your body, until the revelry of your hands sliding across your soft skin begins, caressing every centimetre of the core of your body, allowing your thoughts to imagine him in your place… in his most libinous state, such a pure sensation, you begin to imagine his body attached to yours, both in a voluptuous battle to feel more of each other, his lips brushing against your neck and his husky voice a melody to your ears, you imagine his hands pressing you against the mattress, his tongue obscenely tracing its way down between your legs… in the pitch black, you utter his name lovingly like a lover whispering the most lascivious promises, you purr his name, yet your hands caress your core, feeling the wave of pleasure run through every cell of your body… when that pleasure finally sinks in, you open your eyes and feel yourself gasping for breath, and you realise that it was nothing more than your imagination.

You get up calmly from your bed, your body still recovering from the forbidden sensation of pleasure, you see your naked figure in a small worn mirror given to you by the person who kept your mind occupied day and night, quite possibly looted during one of his countless adventures with his companion Sully, and you realise that your face is flushed, ashamed as you remember the previous events, you look away in a struggle to maintain focus, redirect your gaze back to the object and in its reflection observe your nude physique, from your perspective it was no big deal, for many years you hid yourself because you were ashamed of certain features, until you met Samuel Drake, a charming man you were fortunate enough to meet at a conference given by one of your favourite journalists, Elena Fisher. Since then, your friendship and your love for him have intensified, even though you knew that your feelings for him were completely doomed and incorrect… for various reasons: your age difference, your lack of experience in relationships, his lack of interest in you… Sometimes you let your mind wander to the immensity of the women he'd already had and that brought you a feeling of craving… jealousy, but deep down you knew that it was completely impossible for anything to happen between the two of you, he saw you as a godchild, a kid in his eyes… You shook your head in an endeavour to dispel these negative thoughts and focus on what was important at that moment: finishing your college paper, you still had a few days to hand it in but you'd rather get it done before you suffocate yourself with work.

The temperature had dropped over the last few days, you could feel it as you walked barefoot across the cold living room floor of your small flat, your gaze carefully examining the clutter, the abandoned sheets and books in battle, on the living room coffee table, on the desk, even on the kitchen table, you could tell that these last few days had been extremely busy, and a large part of you wanted to finish this work as soon as possible so that you could rest and take a few days for yourself. Contemplating the huge window in front of you, it was raining heavily and the only lights were those of the huge city on the horizon, this kind of weather had been your favourite since you were a child, you slowly made your way through the small room towards the kitchen, a coffee would be your salvation for the night, or so you thought.

The sound of lightning echoed through the sky, hours had passed since you started working, you quickly glanced at the window and the rain had become heavier and steadier, completely distracted by the storm brewing on the horizon, you were surprised by the ringing of the doorbell… you weren't expecting anyone that night… or any other night, but for a moment you felt a wave of anxiety run through your body, who could it be? You walked cautiously to the door and peered through the peephole, holding your breath as you saw who was on the other side… Sam… his wet clothes clinging to his muscular body, his hair in disarray and on closer inspection you noticed that he had a wound on one of his arms and his nose was once again broken… You quickly opened the door, his expression changing from serious to relieved within seconds of seeing you.

"S-Sam? what happened-" your question was interrupted when your bodies came together in an embrace, you could feel his breathing quicken, his body relax as it came into contact with yours, his perfume was intoxicating mixed with the blood that dripped down his arm, his face was hidden in the hollow of your neck and that activated something in your body, a strange warmth travelled through your whole being "S-Sam…?" you asked once more.

"I'm sorry for turning up unannounced, darling, but I didn't have anywhere else to go so I thought I'd pay my dear Y/N a visit." For a few seconds his raspy voice against your neck provoked another feeling, a river of pleasure emerged from between your legs, but you put that thought aside when you smelled the alcohol, he was drunk… and had most likely got into some kind of bar fight. As much as it pained you, you pulled your bodies apart and looked straight into his eyes, you had to take care of him, he needed you right now.

"Come on… Let's take care of you, big guy" he chuckled softly, and with a little effort you managed to get him to the sofa, but when you got there you unbalanced yourself on one of your books and almost fell on top of him "S-sorry, the mess is huge, I've been busy-" your eyes met and you could see amusement in the depths of his eyes, his gaze analysed you calmly from top to bottom, your heart started racing, you could feel his breath close to your lips. … but you quickly pulled away, you knew that look wasn't really directed at you, you knew that because he was drunk he could do and say things that he didn't really feel. "Whilst I get the first aid box, please Sam stay still" you stood up from your position, you heard a snort of laughter coming from him, you could feel that cunning old man smirk

"Your house… your orders love, I promise I'll be quiet" he said as you walked away towards the bathroom, picking up the small white box, you stopped in front of the mirror, you were flushed red, your breathing fast, you couldn't get out of your head the image of him lying on your sofa, his sweatshirt clinging to his body… for a man in his 40s, he's too well preserved… you got lost in your thoughts and only came back when you heard his voice pulling you back to reality "What's up Y/N?" his voice was mesmerising, once again you tried to push those thoughts out of your head, you had to focus on the task at hand.

You quickly return to the living room, Sam was sitting on the sofa going through some of your papers when you arrived. "You've been really busy, huh? Have you had any time to yourself? with so many books around I don't think so" he said as you made room to sit next to him, every touch of your skin, even covered by clothes, made your blood rush through your veins "please can you pull up your sleeve? It's funny that every time we meet I have to look after you and yes I've been busy unfortunately" you sighed opening the box and taking out some of the materials you'll need, he smiled as he took off his shirt, as you turned to him you saw his naked torso in front of you, you automatically got embarrassed and looked away, he saw you blush and smirk, he knew the effect he had on you, the air around you was hot. … you wanted to focus on the task at hand but you couldn't, the sensation of his body close to yours, the heat he emanated… it was like a drug was affecting you, but with a lot of effort you managed to finish bandaging his arm. You felt his gaze intensify on you, those earth-coloured eyes analysing every bit of your skin exposed by the pyjamas you were wearing. Sam had looked at you like that before, but on all those occasions he had been drunk, and in an attempt to divert the subject you asked him how he had got himself into that state.

"Well, I'm in town for a few days, Victor and I think this might be our next clue to an artefact we're looking for, and since I had nothing to do I went for a drink, but I think I pissed someone off by trying to flirt with the barmaid…" he said, leaning back on the sofa. Jealousy… That feeling from earlier again… Anger and insecurity ran through your head, and you weren't even listening to what he was saying anymore, it was as if your mind had focussed on that one detail, it was obtuse to think of him as a lover, let alone be jealous of something that wasn't even yours, but that feeling was consuming you and you only managed to return to reality when you felt his touch on your arm "Hey? are you listening darling?" You immediately looked at him, you could feel tears forming in your eyes and so as to avoid having to deal with questions or the feeling of pity, you got up and walked to the kitchen "I'm going to make some coffee", was the last thing you had said before leaving the room.

You shouldn't feel angry, you shouldn't even desire what isn't yours, but somehow that feeling consumed your whole being, just imagining the women who warmed his bed, the cries of pleasure that came out of their mouths, the touches, the words spoken… everything you couldn't have but wanted, everything you longed to have but once again didn't have… you let your mind wander, until you felt a gentle touch on your shoulder, you looked back and Sam's face seemed somewhat saddened to see you like that, neither of you uttered a single word, but the silence was quite comfortable, but unfortunately you couldn't hold back the tears that you had fought so hard to keep in your eyes, and finally they dripped down from your eyes, wetting your face. Sam stroked your arm first, pulling you closer to him, cutting the space between the two of you, and gently lifted your chin so that your eyes meet, wiping away the tears that were still running down your cheeks with his thumb, without cutting your gaze… inside you were nervous, sad, but the feeling of his caress made you feel at peace with yourself.

"Tell me, dear, what's wrong? You know you can trust me with everything" he whispered in your ear as he pulled you into his arms, the only thing you knew how to do was hide your face in his chest, hugging him tightly… asking the gods that this moment would last forever.

"Sam… I… I know I shouldn't, I know it's not the right thing to do, but I've had feelings for you since the day we met… every time you call me, every time we meet, I wonder when I'll be able to see you next… you've stolen my heart in a way that I can't even express myself…" You said softly, still hiding your face in his body, "I long for something that isn't mine, and I get jealous every time I know that someone else is taking the place that could be mine in your bed… next to you." Saying this out loud was a really difficult task, you didn't want to give in to temptation, but you couldn't bear to let yourself feel this anguish any longer, no matter how much you'd be rejected, you'd rather tell him than hide it. Sam once again grabbed your chin and forced you to look up. The light around you was tenuous, and you could hardly see what was around you, but for mere moments it was just the two of you in that kind of darkness. You felt Sam slowly approaching you, his lips brushed your neck "Do you want me?" he said as he gently kissed your exposed neck "Sam…" you felt his tongue drawing little 's' on your skin "Answer me darling, do you want me?" his lips moved up to your lobe, nibbling, letting out a slight moan, "Y-Yes… " you answered breathlessly, he pulled away, leaving you in the interlude of a forbidden pleasure, your eyes locked once more, one of his hands rested on the side of your face, forcing your lips to be mere millimetres apart, the other slid down your body until it reached your waist, pulling you towards him, claiming you as his.

"My dear Y/N, ever since I laid eyes on you I knew I wanted you… no other woman can fulfil the desire I feel for you… i thought you'd reject me so i didn't go through with it, but god damned, each night i wished it was you whispering my name, that it was you moaning with each thrust, that it was your heart that beat close to mine after we fell on the mattress tired and sweaty from the carnal battle that neither of us had won" and with that he sealed your lips, you felt his tongue asking permission to enter and you gave in, you were both gasping, but the fight didn't stop there. With a simple gesture, the hand that was holding your waist lifted you up onto the stall, forcing both your legs open, where he positioned himself in the middle, his kisses went down to your neck once more and all you could do was moan his name.

"Tell me you want me, darling, beg for me, let me be a priest who worships you, let me make you mine, and only mine…" he said between kisses and caresses, your head was light, the only thing you could hear was the sound of your heart and the pounding rain, but with effort you answered

"Yes… please."

𝐓𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝…

[idolatrybarbie]

the world tipped on its side

epilogue - a sip or a spoonful

series masterlist | read on ao3

pairing: francisco "frankie" morales x f!reader

word count: 1.9k

rating & summary: mature | he wants all of your love.

warnings: hospitals, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff and feels, discussion of surgery and anesthesia.

notes: we have reached the end of this months-long delve into emotions, disability and family! omg - it's really insane to think that this lil' fic brought me some amazing new friends and introduced me to a great new writing community. twtois is my baby, and i love these two. i hate to say goodbye, but all good stories must come to an end. thank you to everyone who has followed me because of this fic, and/or showed this fic any love. it was a gamble writing about disability - as in, no one coulda read this fic and we would not be here - but like frankie i am a gambling man. and it paid off! so thank you again, and i hope you enjoy.

You’re stuck in the waiting room. Doctors won’t let you past the threshold of the medical floor, so here you are. Family only. Try as you might, the assertion still stings. He’s going to be okay. He has to be. It’s the only thing keeping you from losing your mind.

This ultimate curve ball you’ve been thrown has you reflecting, the flimsy chair you’ve chosen threatening to create a human spill of you at any second. Things with Frankie are easy. You have no clue why you ever wished for anything to come along and complicate that. Except that’s not entirely true—another lie, but you’re getting better at catching yourself.

When you’ve spent so much time acquainted with pain and uncertainty, the lack of it becomes a foreign concept. Existence without struggle is like pulling teeth. Feeling that free-flowing ease that Frankie somehow provides in droves still sometimes makes your skin crawl. It's a learning process. But nothing could possibly be scarier than the thought of losing him. You learned that today. Every other fear, all discomfort you hold fades to the background. He and you are inextricably linked.

A man bursts through the doors of the E.R., a whirlwind for your mind to grasp onto amid the sea of sterile white pain. He’s a bit shorter than Frankie, skin beige and brow creased as he strides through the waiting area like he’s on a mission. His walk makes him impossibly familiar: the way he wears his shoulders like earrings, toddling in the slightest with every right step. When he reaches the front desk and speaks to the attending nurse, his spine only relaxes slightly.

Of course you eavesdrop on their conversation.

“Here to see Francisco Morales,” the man says, speaking precisely.

“I’m afraid he’s not accepting any visitors right now,” the nurse replies.

“You’re looking at his emergency contact. Santiago Garcia…you look it up, you’ll see me.” His words are forceful; a slap across the face with an order to stand at attention.

You mumble an, “Excuse me,” and join Santiago at the attendant's desk. “How is he?”

“Ma’am, I already told you—”

“Please. I’m his…girlfriend,” you say. The word tastes weird in your mouth.

Speaking to Santiago, the nurse says, “I can speak to you. I can’t speak to her.”

Rolling your eyes, you push yourself away from the desk and walk back to your seat. Rubbing fingers into your temples brings no relief to the steadily growing tension headache at your forehead. Your brain is working overtime, thoughts echoing as you try and take deep breaths.

He’s going to be okay.

“Ma’am?”

You’re expecting the nurse again, ready to ask you to vacate the waiting room to make space for the family of someone else—someone more important than him. You fix your mouth to tell her to get bent before you see who it is. Santiago.

“Oh, um—hi,” is all you manage.

He takes the seat next to you, keeping his back straight against the bendy top rail of the chair. “Frankie didn’t tell me he was seeing anybody,” are the first real words to you from this virtual stranger.

“It’s new.”

“I’m glad someone else is here,” he says, presenting you with a hand to shake. You take it, grasp firm around the bones of his knuckles before you let go.

He’s got palms like Frankie’s. Scarred and worn with use, from carrying a gun. From killing people, the back of your mind whispers. You ignore it. What was it that Frankie had said about this Santiago?

“He’s the only one still doing military shit these days…a bit of an asshole. You two probably wouldn’t get along.”

And then there was that other thing—the medical death wish. Perhaps an urge not entirely reserved at the hands of a doctor if he’s out there pretending to be G.I. Joe while all his friends have retired. Suddenly, unfortunately, you understand this Santiago Garcia better than most people you’ll ever meet. The pang of jealousy that hit your stomach at his materialization dissolves as you finally make proper eye contact. You introduce yourself. He does the same, telling you to call him Santi.

“Did they say anything about his condition?”

“He’s fine,” Santi shakes his head. “Just giving him a few to recoup, taking a couple tests.” Silence lingers a while before he broaches the topic of your relationship: when, where, how long. He asks nicely enough that you find yourself answering.

“We met on this stupid fucking movie,” you say. “I needed a helicopter and a pilot to fly it. And I’m sure you know he’s the best.”

“Oh, for sure,” Santi agrees. “You made the right decision.”

“Wasn’t me actually,” you say. Despite yourself, a smile creeps along your face. “My best friend—Mia. She’d worked with him before and it just happened to work out… I don’t know. Strange series of events.”

“Sounds like Frankie.” When you give him a questioning look, Santi explains, “He has a habit of finding himself in unconventional situations. Like crashin’ a fucking helicopter, for example.” The breathy laugh that accompanies his words should lift your spirits, but it doesn’t.

A drop of water falls to the back of your hand, and before your brain can catch up, you’re sobbing in the emergency department waiting room. The pliable chair beneath you threatens to fold with every sob that wracks your body. Santiago sits next to you, frozen in uncertainty.

“Sorry,” you say, voice garbled with tears. “I—it feels like my fault. He shouldn’t have been there in the first place.”

“Look, hey. Listen,” Santi starts, “People like us, like Frankie and me…we do dangerous shit. It comes with the job description. That’s the deal we cut.”

You don’t want that. Not for Frankie, not for Santiago. Not for anyone. You love what you do—what you did, before the accident. You know there is no reward without risk, but somehow that doesn't seem quite fair. The hardship you’ve endured is a different sort of pain, but you know regardless. No one should have to live that life.

“But I can tell you that these last few months, Frankie’s been the happiest I’ve seen him since his kid was born. He’s not one for show ‘n tell, so I wasn’t sure why. But I am now.”

“You don’t have to say that.”

“Sweetheart, with all due respect, I don’t say anything that I don’t mean.” He averts his gaze now, staring out at nothing as he says, “Frankie’s been through a lot. Done a lot. I don’t know what he’s told you. But I do know when that man cares about something, he will do anything in his power to get back to it.”

You get tissues from the nurse’s desk, settling in. You’re in the middle of trading Catfish tales when you freeze mid-sentence. The man himself stands before you—patched up and limping, but alive. They’ve taken his clothes and given him a hideous set of toothpaste green scrubs. You practically rush him, pulling Frankie close in a bear hug. The material crinkles like paper beneath you.

Your nose brushes against his jaw, the smell of him under soap and cleaner. Frankie carefully wraps his arms around you in turn. The action warms your skin, bringing you in from the cold.

“You’re okay,” you whisper.

“I’m okay,” he confirms. Frankie pulls back from the hug to look at you. “You saved me.”

“I don’t think—”

“You did. Thank you.”

“Always.” The word falls from your mouth like second nature.

Frankie must spot Santiago over your shoulder, giving him a nod before he pulls you in for another, briefer hug. Then he moves to Santi. You watch as they pat each other on the back like brothers. The shorter man paws at Frankie’s shoulders to get a firm grasp. They share a deep, concentrated stare; their communication is all in the eyes. Maybe that’s where Frankie gets it from. Regardless, you can’t decipher it. Whatever the two men share stays between them. Frankie embraces Santiago, lifting him an inch off the floor for effect.

“Alright,” Santi huffs. “Put me down, Fish.”

“I see you two have already met,” Frankie says as he steps away.

“Quite the lady you got here.”

“He was telling me some stories about your first deployment together,” you say.

“You got here right in time,” Santi says. “Was just about to tell her about how you got that call sign.”

“I think that’s enough storytelling for tonight,” Frankie says resolutely.

You narrow your eyes at him with a laugh. “You can’t escape me, Catfish. I’ll find out sooner or later.”

They let you take Frankie to your car in a wheelchair. Santiago makes Frankie promise to call him before he walks it back to the hospital doors. Frankie’s seat sits at an incline, letting him lay down while he stays buckled in. He looks exhausted, thoroughly worn down and ready for days of bed rest.

“We’re headed home, okay?” you say, readjusting the seat cushion beneath you at a red light. “You’re gonna sleep, and then when you wake up we can order food. That sound alright?”

Your fingers tap against the center console, a tick you’ve picked up from Frankie’s own car habits. You stop when he takes your hand into his own, squeezing gently. He looks up at you with round eyes, dark circles beneath them. He’s okay.

“I’m already there,” Frankie says.

-

You hate hospitals. The smell of antiseptic can never truly hide the stench of death. Your dad died in one; the possibility of living life as you loved it was robbed from you in a room just like this. And yet here you are putting your faith in this hospital, the doctors that work within its walls, and the spirit of hope that lingers here. Or maybe that's just Frankie.

They've got you in a gown, laid out and waiting. Soon enough, the anesthesiologist will come in with another doctor and stick you with a needle. You'll count back from ten...and light outs. It won't be up to you anymore.

Until then, Frankie's by your side. Holding your hand, kissing your forehead. Talking to you about nothing, really, but you like to hear his voice. He stops you short when he asks, "Where do you want to go first?"

"What?"

"When everything is, y’know, said and done. If you could go anywhere?" he explains.

"Home. In a wheelchair. I won't be doing much of anything," you say.

"Come on, just—anywhere."

You laugh. "Frankie, there's nowhere to go. What, are you gonna wheel me across Europe?"

"If you want," he says.

"You are ridiculous."

"And you still love me for it. Where?” Frankie insists. He's not letting this go.

You sigh as you answer, "I don't know. I kind of liked that story you told about Michigan. With the snow."

"The one where I almost froze to death?"

"Yeah, that one. Except maybe we skip out on that part this time," you say.

"There are more glamourous destinations,” Frankie says.

"You said anywhere. That's where I want."

"The great state of Michigan.” He leans back in the plush seat beneath him. “Okay. I think I can make that happen." His phone chimes. Frankie pulls it from his pocket to take a look. "Mia's on her way."

"What? Why?"

"I called her," he admits.

"She won't be here in time, and then I'll be in surgery for a while," you say. Five hours. Three hundred minutes, give or take, to make or break your life. "I won't be discharged for a few days."

"I'll be here. We both will," Frankie says.

"You don't have to—"

"I'll be here," he repeats, firmer this time. The look in his eyes is fierce; halfway between love and a safety net, your own face reflecting back at you.

Part of you, jagged and lingering, wants to call his bluff—expect the worst and you aren't disappointed when it happens. But no, Frankie looks serious. His face is stone, jaw set tight as he holds your gaze. You have no choice but to trust him. Forever and always.

So you nod, squeezing his hand. "Okay."

tags! @wannab-urs @iamskyereads @anoverwhelmingdin

[margarethx]

I was genuinely surprised with the responses I've got on the first part of [THIS story]. It was such a random burst of motivation to write that I didn't even think it through and just posted whatever came out of my head. But I'm very glad that you liked it, since it's the first story I've showed to other people in like 4 years.

The working title will be "Assassinate them with Kindness", and I'll use that as a tag for later parts when I add them. It's also [available on Ao3] if you'd prefer to read it over there.

Enjoy <3

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

The weird man does not go to Sam's group on Monday.

Which is not as big of a relief as Sam thought it would be.

Because if the man is not here... where is he? And why did he even ask if he could join the group? Was he just taunting Sam? Teasing him with the knowledge or Sam's schedule and whereabouts, but not revealing how and for what purpose did he get that information?

Sam briefly glances at his wrist, covered neatly by a long-sleeved shirt and a warm blazer. The day is way too hot for this type of clothing, but he refused to look at the bruises on his skin for more than two seconds after noticing them for the first time. He still feels the pain, but it's easier to make it fade into the background, if he pretends it isn't there at all.

In spite of his nervousness and constant worry, Sam leads his group like a true professional. Calm, collected, funny when needed. A shining example of an ex-soldier who has left most of their PTSD far behind by working hard to healthily rejoin society. Definitely not a person, who started carrying a gun in public again after singular weird encounter, and who constantly has to fight with himself to not look over his shoulder and check if there isn't anyone watching him from the shadowed backroom.

But the man was not there. The meeting went well. And all the people leaving the room with their polite "good bye's" and casual "see ya!'s" have no idea about the turmoil in his head.

"See you Thursday," Sam smiles pleasantly and grabs Tyler's hand with both palms, shaking it lightly, as a young vet stops by. "It's nice to see you again. It's been a while," he adds, hoping that his eyes convey genuine warmth.

Tyler is young - too young to deal with this sort of trauma. A typical example of a teenager pulled into a military machine by life circumstances, not because of any principled believes. He went to have a better chance at higher education afterwards. And he lost half of his right leg for it.

He is secretly Sam's favourite in the group, with his sense of humour and positive attitude. Though Sam is sure there is a lot of fears and sadness hidden behind all the jokes, because he acted the exact same way when he first sought out help after coming home. It was easy to see the reflection of younger Sam in Tyler's behaviour.

And it was also great to have someone in the group who could keep everyone's mood relatively light when topics were getting heavy, without making others feel as if their confessions were not treated seriously. It was, of course, Sam's job to control the atmosphere as best as he could , but on days like this - when he himself didn't feel stellar - it was a relief to not shoulder all the emotional weight of the meeting on his own.

"Is everything alright, Mr. Wilson?" Tyler asks, also shaking Sam's hands a little.

"It's Sam, we've talked about this," Sam smiles, deflecting by playing their classic game of arguing over formality levels of their relation. It's a bit worrying. To know that he can put on a mask and his vets might notice his distress anyway. But no one else said anything, so maybe he fooled the rest of them successfully?

"Apologies. Is everything alright, Mr. Sam Wilson?"

Tyler sends him a bright grin and Sam sighs. He doesn't have much energy left to argue or pretend. He did not sleep very well last week, to put it lightly.

"I'm alright," he finally replies without much conviction. "It's personal stuff, you don't need to worry about this. It should be resolved by the next meeting," he adds, hoping that this little lie will make his situation look like a solvable problem with the end in sight. Maybe if he believes in it hard enough it would even come true?

For now, it seems that Tyler buys the explanation and drops the topic. As they exchange goodbyes, he still glances at Sam with a slight frown, but he doesn't push. It'd be unusual if he did. As much as Sam loves working with these people and helping them, they're not that close. His vets don't get involved in his personal life.

...They don't know where he lives, for example...

Sam shakes his head to stop himself from thinking and gathers the papers on his desk with a bit more energy than the task requires. He needs to get out of here. The conference room he uses is relatively big, but the walls seem to get closer and closer, the ceiling pressing down on him.

He exits the building, taking long steps, and avoiding everyone's eyes. Fortunately, most people he passes don't know him, so he's not stopped for any conversations about his last weekend and all the fun his co-workers had while he sat on his guestroom floor surrounded by unhealthy snacks, and wondering if it's reasonable to invest his meager savings in an upgraded security system.

It's embarrassing, when he thinks back to those three days. It shouldn't be that big of a deal.

But something about that man... About his eyes. About the bruises he left.

Sam really tried to not look at them too closely to avoid spiraling again, but he's pretty sure his skin almost broke in some places, as if pinched too hard. The only reason he didn't notice it right away was probably the sheer rush of adrenaline that flooded him in that moment and dulled the pain.

Once he's outside, Sam leans on a nearby wall, out of everyone's sight, unsure of what to do next. Even though he spent the last weekend hidden in his home, the place did not feel safe. All he could focus on were unusual noises or the headlights of random cars passing by, casting uneven shadows on his walls. At some point he was sure one specific shadow looked like a person, but when he carefully peered outside, his garden was empty, with the exception of a small bat the flew in circles under the nearest lamppost, catching moths in peace.

Normally, he'd stay, watching the little guy and reminiscing about the time he too could fly at such speed, but it didn't feel safe, so he moved as far away from the window as possible.

All Sam wants right now is to get back to his bed and hide under the covers, go to sleep, and wake up to realize that the whole thing was just a dream.

His bag slips from his shoulder when he slumps against the wall and the strap catches on his wrist. He hisses in pain, reminded once more - as if he forgot, somehow - that his paranoia is actually justified and that his home is not some safe haven he'd like it to be. Because someone strong enough to nearly break his bones with a strong grip knows where he lives and could come back at any second.

If the guy was a real vet, why didn't he come to the meeting?

And again... if he's not here... Where is he?!

Sam readjusts his bag and straightens up. He cannot come home right now, but he needs to sleep somewhere. He could ask one of his new friends to take their couch for the night... but it's not Delacroix and his friendships here are not on the "sleepover" level yet. And if the man decides to look for him, Sam would drag the danger to someone else's home.

He's not that selfish.

Maybe he could find someone on a dating app and stay the night?

He shudders at the idea. It reeks of desperation even to his clouded brain. He would not do that to some random innocent person. And he would not do that to himself. He has enough dignity left.

The mere fact that he came up with a solution like that sobers him up a little bit. It sounds almost ridiculous and he's sure he would laugh about it one day... if he lives long enough to tell the story about his lowest point post-Afganistan.

What he needs to do is to go to a public space. A place with cameras, a nice crowd with enough eyes, to catch if something's wrong - but not crowded enough that a person would fade into the sea of faces and moving bodies.

With that in mind, Sam takes another deep breath to calm himself and marches towards the nearest bar he knows. The place is probably half-empty at this hour, but an evening wave of patrons should start trickling in pretty soon.

The inside of the establishment is a bit too dark for Sam's liking, but as he sits at the bar he feels some of the tension leave his body at last. Behind the bartender there is a freshly cleaned mirror, showing most of the tables, so Sam can keep an eye on the room while eating.

He's not in the mood for drinking - mostly to stay vigilant, not because he couldn't use a nice glass of whiskey right now - but the place offers some typical fast food options, so he picks them from the menu instead. He'll have to really push himself during the next training session to pay for the sugar and fat intake of the last four days, but he feels like he's earned the right to be indulgent for at least a while.

As he eats, Sam observes other patrons suspiciously, looking over his shoulder from time to time. At some point he's sure he feels someone's eyes on his back, but no one new entered the building in the last twenty minutes and the people on nearby tables seem preoccupied with their own thoughts and conversations, so he's sure it's just the paranoia.

It's starting to get dark outside and the bar fills with shadows before someone turns on a few extra laps. There are more people sitting around Sam now, some staring in silence into their drinks, others talking casually, or flirting with the bartender, as per usual.

The guy behind the bar seems cute. Probably a bit younger than Sam's typical partner, but still in his bracket. He accepts the compliments with a calm smile not cutting them off right away, but not doing much to encourage the attention. Sam gets a little lost for a second, observing the man's hands as he prepares the drinks, almost hypnotized by the movents.

Suddenly, one of the patrons - one that's been sitting by the bar before Sam even came in - drops her wallet in a clumsy attempt to pay the bill. She smiles awkwardly at the bartender, who simply grabs the wallet for her from the floor, clearly used to similar shenanigans.

As the guy leans forward, a curtain of thin braids covers his face for a brief second and he glances somewhere in Sam's general direction from between them before standing up.

Sam freezes.

The man looks basically nothing alike the guy who stood at his doorstep last week, but something about that look causes the memories to flood Sam once again. He feels dizzy and the comfortable atmosphere of the bar becomes overwhelming and stuffy in a blink of an eye.

He nearly jumps out of his chair and makes a beeline to the bathroom. He's not sure why. He just needs to... Wash his face maybe. Look into the mirror and have a stern talk with his brain. Something. Anything! To finally calm down.

As he walks towards the bathrooms, he notices some man sitting in a booth he previously didn't see. He's dressed pretty formally, phone in hands, and an annoyed grimace on his face. He looks more like a person currently working than someone who just went for drinks to wind down after work.

His eyes meet Sam's which sends a cold shiver down his spine. For whatever reason, this man - looking like a banker or low-lever politician, which is a common sight in DC - scares Sam just as much as the creepy stranger haunting his thoughts.

He breaks the eye contact and darts towards the bathrooms even faster, nearly colliding with someone who exits the door.

There are three other people in the bathroom, two of which wash their hands and fix their hair in front of the mirror. Neither of them look particularly suspicious, but Sam keeps an eye on them anyway, walking towards the stalls and locking himself in one of them.

He sits there for less then two second before he realizes that he's made himself more vulnerable by isolating himself from the crowd, but he's really not sure what to do next. The brief moment of fear after seeing the bartender with hair hanging over his face seems silly in retrospect. He could've just ignored the panic, push the discomfort down, and go back to the main room. But the man in suit sitting in a secluded booth?

That was actually worrying. Because he didn't just look generally annoyed or angry. He seemed to be specifically mad at Sam. Which would be concerning with any other influential White guy, but in this particular instance Sam feels like there's more to it.

He hears another person enter the bathroom, interrupting his thoughts. Two of the people washing their hands leave. Someone else comes in. Sam keeps track of everyone inside and at some point he's pretty sure he's the only person still sitting here, so he quietly exits the stall.

Just as he expected, the bathroom is empty. It's a bit weird, all things considered. It's a Monday afternoon, sure, but this place is not alive just on the weekends and in the night, when students party. There should be a constant rotation of people going in and out at any point.

But the room is silent as Sam stands there, wondering what to do next.

He's pretty sure he hears some water running on the other side of the wall and muffled laughs, seemingly coming from a group of women washing their hands and talking in an adjacent room.

Sam's familiar with all the overdone jokes about girls visiting the bathroom way more often than guys or about them going there in hordes. And, stereotypical or not, there is some truth to those... but Sam's pretty sure it should not be this disproportional.

The man's bathroom has been empty for over five minutes. Which is way too long, considering the size of the crowd.

A motion activated light loudly going off in one of the stalls makes it even more clear that Sam's suspiciously alone in here.

He washes his hands just to do something when, finally, the door to the main part of the bar opens. A wave of sound - clinking glasses, loud conversations, a ringtone - fill the empty space until the door closes again, cutting the noise off.

Sam exhales with relief and moves to dry his hands.

Then he notices him.

The man from his porch, now standing behind him, staring straight at Sam in the mirror.

He looks even bigger now, taller, and more broad at the shoulders, his hair still covering the face like a greasy veil. His eyes pin Sam in place like a wild animal who's fight or flight instincts fired so many contradicting impulses in its brain that it ended up just freezing.

In any other situation Sam would feel vindicated. He was right! He was not safe, he was observed, and someone is going after him - for whatever reason.

He can take that useless sense of satisfaction and bring it straight to his grave.

The man doesn't move. He just looks at Sam or through him, maybe. As if he's mentally not here. Maybe his soul has also left his body, like Sam assumes his own did right now?

It's just like that day at his home. Awkward, tense silence and creepy staring. Sam feels the hairs on his arm stand up like a coordinated unit. His heart beats so fast and loud that it must echo on the bathroom's walls. If Sam's ears were not filled with ringing, he'd probably be more sure about that.

The man blinks, just once.

And something in Sam just... breaks.

When he'll think about it later he'll have no idea why he did it. But he simply turns off the water and turns towards the guy in one smooth motion.

"Oh, I know you" he says, tone casual.

The man frowns this time, still looking directly at Sam. One of his hands is hidden inside or his unzipped jacket and it twitches a little. Whatever he's holding there probably isn't a bouquet or a dove, he'll produce out of nowhere and present to Sam like a magician.

"Fancy meeting you here," he adds, like it's a normal conversation. Like they're friends from work or as if the man was his favourite cashier at a local store. "In the bar, I mean. Not in the bathroom," he jokes.

The man's face does a weird thing. It's difficult to tell what kind of emotion he wanted to convey, but he seems confused. Does he even recognize Sam? Maybe he's really not as mentally present this time?

The water drips from Sam's hands to the tiled floor - tiny rivulets running down his fingers. It's quiet again, just as before, until one of the other motion activated lights goes off in the stalls. Then the next one right after it. Click. Click.

The guy flinches twice, his hand moving under the jacket's lapels.

"Can I help you with something?" Sam asks finally. At this point it feels like his mouth is operating on its own, entirely independent on his brain. He's also there, but not really.

Maybe he's already died and hasn't realized?

"You didn't go to my meeting today." Why does he keep talking?! "Do you plan to join this Thursday?"

By some miracle, this question seems to work. The guy's eyes dart around nervously and he shivers as the last of the lights in the stalls section goes off. The room is dimly lit by now only by the small lights over the sinks. And Sam cannot ignore that they're still, somehow, alone in here.

"I'm sorry I didn't come today," the man says and he sounds sincere, though monotone. "There were too many people in there."

"Well, it's a group meeting," Sam smiles. "The people are kind of a given."

He feels like he's body is operating on a pure survival mode. It reminds him of his time in the military, in a way; of the time, where he had to put one hundred percent of his focus on staying alive and keeping other's from dying, too, but couldn't actually think about it. Because there were bullets flying by, and his hands were sticky with someone's blood, and there was a wound to stitch, and a person screaming. If he registered all of that in full, he'd just collapse on the ground, overwhelmed and paralyzed by fear. So it was easier to just switch his brain off and let the instincts and years of training take the wheel.

"If you're worried about confessing in front of others, it's okay." He keeps talking and the man's stare becomes even more intense. His eyes seem very blue, even in the poor lighting, which Sam didn't truly notice before. They look cold, but not because of the colour. More like there's not enough life in them. "There's no pressure to tell your story right away. Some people in my group love talking. Other's just sit and listen. If no one's up to talk, I take over and give a little speech," Sam grins.

And he somehow knows that if he looked into the mirror to his left, his smile would look genuine.

"I don't like talking," the man says eventually.

"I figured," is Sam's reply. "Like I said, I won't push you to say shit."

It's probably not the most professional way of phrasing it, but he's not at work and, frankly, he's about to be murdered, so it's not like they'll reprimand him for inappropriate language.

"Also," he continues, "I can give you a number to one of my colleagues who does one on one therapy sessions. That way you could..."

"No."

"...avoid groups," he finishes awkwardly. " Fair enough."

"Do you do it? The therapy? One on one, no people?"

Sam doesn't. And he'd probably lie about it, even if he did.

"Not these days. I already have a ton of work with groups. If you want to see me, specifically, you know where to find me."

Clearly.

"I do," the man confirms like it's not the creepiest thing Sam's heard in his entire life.

"Well, I have to go now," Sam tries, hoping that if he sneaks out of the bathroom fast enough this whole nightmare will finally end. If the guy's here to kill him, he's doing a pretty bad job right now, so maybe Sam could just... walk away from the situation. Surely, he won't get stabbed in the back in the middle of a bar? Right?

The guy's face contorts in a painful way and he finally removes his hand from under the jacket. Sam tenses, but the gloved palm is empty. At the same time, the guy sways a little on his feet and grabs the wet counter with both hands.

Before Sam has time to process what's happening, he's already next to the guy, holding his elbow carefully and looking straight into his eyes. The pupils are dilated and then suddenly small like a poppy seed, changing in a matter of milliseconds. Sam's never seen anything like it.

"Are you alright?" he asks unnecessarily, trying to keep the man from falling face-first into the sink.

They look at each other and the man seems panicked, more than anything. The unwashed strands of brown hair hang over his eyes, but this time Sam's too worried about him to let himself spiral again at the now familiar sight.

The counter makes a strained noise and a small crack appears on the surface. Sam imagines his own bones turning into dust under such grip and his wrist pulses with pain he felt in the background for the last few days.

"Are you okay?" he asks again, sounding more urgent this time. He doesn't even care at this point if the man's here to kill him. Sam's a paramedic first, and if someone's fighting for their life nearby, he'll always drop everything to make things better. Even if his body might end up in trashcan behind the bar for the effort.

The man blinks, licks his lips, and takes a ragged breath. There's a weird grey cast to his face now and he didn't even look that healthy to begin with.

"I have to go," he whispers finally and stands up. His forehead shines with sweat and his pupils are wide again. "Thank you," he adds quieter and walks away unnaturally fast.

He's there. And then he's not. The door closes so quietly behind him, that Sam doesn't even register the sound.

Sam sits down, not caring about the wet and disgusting floor and stares at the opposite wall in silence. In the women's bathroom someone laughs out loud and a sharp sound of the shattering glass reaches him from the bar.

It almost feels like he's lost his hearing for a while and it suddenly returns to him. As if he's been under water and came break to the surface once more.

He also tastes blood on his tongue and realizes he must have bitten it at some point without realizing. The unpleasant sting of a cut is what finally helps him to come back to himself. He cannot stay in this place a second longer.

He washes his hands again so they stop feeling as clammy and touches his face with them too. The cold water helps a lot, but his own eyes look wild in the mirror.

As he exits the bathrooms, he looks over the crowd that gathered inside since he fled the bar. Just as before, most people don't even look in his direction and he realizes that the man in a suit who stared at him earlier is gone as well.

Then, he turns around to close the door and suddenly he's faced with a bright yellow sign that warns: "Under Maintenance" in bold, black letters. An official looking printout below adds: "DO NOT ENTER".

None of those signs have been there before.

All Sam can do at this point is grip his bag, lower his head, and exit the bar as fast as possible. If he is getting strangled or stabbed today, he at least wants for it to happen in his home.

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

Shoutout to tumblr for glitching a making me feel like I've lost over 700 words of a draft <3 That mini heart-attack was very necessary.

Btw, funny thing about this chapter is that I've basically spent the entire time thinking that I'm doing too much. Like... I keep pushing Sam deeper and deeper into this spiral, but nothing really happened to him. It's not a big deal, calm down, man.

But then I have to remind myself that if some suspicious looking man knocked on my door, told me that he got my address from a person I don't know, asked me where I worked, and grabbed my arm so hard it nearly broke... I would simply perish on the spot from the stress xD Or I'd spent the rest of my life paranoid, even if nothing more happened.

So I think Sam should be allowed to have a 4-day almost panic attack, as a treat.

[ddixon99]

Not a lot just forever- Daryl Dixon x fem reader Fanfic

Description: Daryl believed that everyone around him would end up leaving him, ever since he was a young boy, with the conflict between his father and everyone close to him that had died, but y/n proved him wrong. This story reflects on the beauty and imperfections of their relationship, pointing out that it's beautiful to have someone who loves you no matter what, despite disagreements and fears.

(This is set after the prison era and they are on the road)

500-word count

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Laying hand in hand, analysing the stars above us. Bodies sewn together laid delicately on the grass. No sound surrounds us, just the hushed tone of Daryl's breathing. You turn your head to look at him, his head looking straight up at the stars. His long locks of hair scattered across his face. You manoeuvre your hand over to his hair to slide the loose strands to the side, getting a view of his mesmerising face. It's just a few seconds before he turns his head to the side, facing you, his eyes so trustworthy and gentle. “You're so beautiful,” you whisper, loud enough for him to hear. Even though it's quite dark you can see well enough from the moon shining down upon the two of you, the colour of a faded pink spread from his cheeks. Letting go of your hand he brings his hand over to your waist, wrapping his arms around you, bringing you close. Your head laid onto his chest, the serenity of his heart beating. Just you and him, conjoined, huddled up together. You feel so safe and protected around him. The both of you share these special moments together, just the little things that make you the happiest.

Just moments after you hear faint sniffling. Untangling yourself from his arms you sit up to see his eyes glistening with tears, slowly sliding down his cheeks. Quickly but softly bringing him up into a hug, he accepts your hug and wraps his muscular arms around your waist resting his head underneath your chin. “M’sorry ya ain't supposed to see me like this.” Silently shushing him, while rubbing his back. “You don't need to be sorry, tell me what's on your mind, Daryl”. It took him a minute to open up, you can tell he gets uncomfortable when opening up. “M’scared to lose you”. Looking at him in the face, he looks up at you with fear. “I’m never gonna leave you, Dixon, never think you're ever gonna lose me”. You looked at him concerned. “M just everyone that I loved, have left. How m’ I supposed to love with the fear of someone leavin me?” You could understand the pain he's going through. Ever since the apocalypse started you had to expect death from the ones who are close. “Listen, Daryl, nothing can spread us apart. Not even death. It's gonna be you and me forever, intertwined. I have loved you my whole life.” With a reassuring look, Daryl's eyes softened, as you lightly wiped his tears away. “I promise”, Holding him in a tight hug. After a few minutes of staying in each other's arms, Daryl whispered. “I love ya, my girl”.

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Hello, to whom will read my fanfics! This is my first time creating a fanfic and posting one. I'm quite nervous to post this, but if anyone has any thoughts about my writing please let me know so I can improve my work! I hope you enjoyed this short story. I normally base my inspiration for writing these stories on songs, so if anyone has song requests for me to turn into a story, let me know!! :))