#i wish i could tell the romantic part of my brain to just SHUT UP IT'S NOT THAT SERIOUS WE BARELY KNOW THEM STOP IT | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tiny-feisty-gay · 10 days

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I see your a fellow Chaggie shipper. As am I. ANd I've asked other Chaggie shippers on tumblr and I must ask you: What are your FULL thoughts on Charlie learning of Vaggie's secret? From finding out in Heaven to her whole anger/hurt/confusion at Vaggie.

i wasn't ignoring this but i needed a few days to gather my thoughts because i have lots of them

between heaven and the two of them meeting back up with an army/weapons in tow, there's roughly a month's worth of time as far as i've been told/can tell, so i'm going based on that rough timeline

charlie's first reaction, imo, was shock; the way she collapsed and let vaggie shepherd her and guard her isn't the reaction of someone who's immediately jumped to anger/mistrust, it's the reaction of someone whose entire life view has just been altered.

i don't think they ever actually fought about it. gut feeling maybe, but considering what we saw (charlie curled in bed crying, vaggie saying "in our room... alone") and my personal hc that she takes after her dad in times of emotional turmoil by self-isolating and sinking into the depression... i have a feeling they didn't even talk about it for a while.

vaggie might have tried to; we got a glimpse of it right around alastor's deal with charlie. i firmly believe that after it was in the open, she probably did try to explain herself, and charlie was still half-shocked and feeling a bit betrayed and didn't have the brain space to deal with it between the upcoming extermination and knowledge that her loved ones were going to be targeted first. she probably did a ton of soul-searching on her own; remember, charlie is +/- a good few centuries, if not older, so while she's very upbeat and happy, it's not unreasonable to think she's had a good while to practice some emotional maturity. she isn't perfect, obviously, but based on how much she adores vaggie, i think she'd want to know firmly where she stands before they talk things out.

i also think vaggie was terrified the entire time that she'd just fucked up the only genuine, good relationship (romantic or otherwise) that she's ever had. we don't get much backstory on what things were like for her in heaven, but she doesn't seem to have been particularly close to anyone there, and "whatever it takes" sort of reinforces that with her "and it felt so good to be understood / but there's so much i wish that i could say." i think she wanted to tell charlie but she kept putting it off, and the longer she put it off the worst she thought it'd be, until she hit a point where she felt like she couldn't tell charlie because what would charlie think of her after lying to her for three years?

charlie did likely wonder how much of it had been a lie and whether vaggie had ulterior motives, because who wouldn't, but i think she dismissed that pretty fast. especially because there's no way angel and the rest of the crew didn't notice vaggie moping around like a kicked puppy; i'm sure they were equally unhappy with vaggie's lying, but the group sentiment didn't seem anything more than mildly annoyed by it.

she was the most hurt by the fact that vaggie didn't trust her enough to tell her; supported by her conversation with rosie. and that seems pretty fair, imo: vaggie knows how much charlie can forgive, can see the potential for redemption in people, and she's had an up-close view of that in vaggie for the last three years. and charlie trusts (trusted) vaggie wholeheartedly, so the idea of that not being reciprocal hurt her deeply.

i think they tried to talk things out ~a couple weeks in, and vaggie shut down in the middle of the conversation from a mix of trauma and fear that she'd lose charlie; i love vaggie dearly, but she's placed a ton of her self-worth on how useful she is to charlie. she very much believes she's nothing without charlie, because charlie saved her and is a large part of who she's become. there's a little bit of a power imbalance/codependency on vaggie's side, and while i don't think that's insurmountable for them nor do i think the relationship as a whole is unhealthy, that piece of it must have made it absolute torture to be pushed away.

i think she and angel may have had a few late-night conversations actually; they seem like they're on better/friendlier terms just before alastor and charlie make their deal; the whole "you ever think she's sensitive about her lack of wings? ... just like her lack of tits :D" bit struck me a lot more like friendly ribbing/trying to lighten the mood rather than actual malice. angel definitely doesn't have much experience with healthy relationships, but he does have experience with damage control, and i imagine he gave vaggie advice that basically boiled down to don't push, let her come to you, she's really hurt and needs to process. he cares a ton about charlie even if he doesn't show it, but i think he has sort of a begrudging respect/love-hate thing with vaggie lol. especially after the battle-bonding.

their first actual conversation about it was probably after the cannibal town army/weapons stockup before the battle. talking to rosie clearly really helped charlie process things, and i do think it's interesting that as far as we know, she hasn't talked to her father about it; not particularly surprising since their relationship is a bit tenuous, but still interesting, since he would likely have been a good perspective for her to have as a fellow fallen angel (ex-angel? idk if vaggie really counts as fallen). but regardless, rosie helped her a lot and most of her initial betrayal and hurt seems to have fizzled out with just the "why didn't she trust me?" piece left.

that was probably the main thing they talked about. vaggie tells her about what really happened to get her stuck here, and charlie is furious, and that alone probably helps her understand; i'd have trust issues, too, if someone i'd known presumably my whole life ripped off my limbs and cut my eye out. vaggie and charlie had an instant connection, clearly, but she didn't trust charlie enough to tell her initially and then things spiraled out of control. by the time she realized charlie might be okay with her past, she'd already been hiding it so long that it felt like too big a secret to share. and i think some part of her still believed this would be something charlie couldn't forgive.

and my favorite hc: charlie can't forgive it. we don't know how many souls vaggie has fully eradicated, but it has to be in the thousands, at least. lute's kill count from one purge was 275, and adam references vaggie being "one of his top girls." there's also a detail i saw pointed out elsewhere; most of the exorcists have plain black halos, except for lute, whose halo has a white glow as well... and vaggie, whose halo shares the same glow. there's a good chance she was high up in the ranks, possibly third in command -- and possibly quickly closing in on having a higher kill count than lute, which would explain her vitriol and eagerness to get rid of vaggie at the first sign of weakness. but obviously, that's just a headcanon. as is much of the above xD

but back to charlie, i don't think she'd be able to forgive that. the good news is, she doesn't have to. charlie is upbeat and optimistic, but she was raised in hell. she's not naive; she knows the people she wants to save have committed heinous atrocities. the difference is that she believes in change. the vaggie she knows, the one standing in front of her, isn't an exorcist. she's her partner, who while yes, eager to anger and easy to jump to violence, only does so when she or charlie are provoked/threatened. charlie is capable of still being disappointed/devastated by vaggie's past and acknowledging that it's not her present - or future.

one of the things i also think is so important is the battle scene. that was a huge test of charlie's acceptance; seeing her girlfriend step back into that role, that violence, was a big thing, one that nobody would've blamed her for recoiling from. she doesn't. she fights alongside vaggie (albeit... creatively, we'll say) and yes, the exorcists are enemies and she has a long history of reasons to hate them, but even during the battle she doesn't. she's still apologetic and doesn't really want to hurt anyone, just deter them. it takes vaggie telling her to be harsher for her to do it, and she follows vaggie's instruction. this is vaggie's area of expertise, and while she may have learned those skills by butchering Charlie's people, she's repurposed those skills. She's armor, not a weapon; she's violent only to defend, not out of bloodlust.

i think it's really easy to misunderstand charlie's acceptance of vaggie's past as naive or their reconciliation as too soon/too easy, but there's three years of history behind them and charlie actively chooses not to let this new information shatter the foundation they've built together. they're a prime example of the idea that relationships work because you continue to choose that person, to choose to work at it, and while that only works if both sides are willing, for vaggie and charlie, they are.

i do really hope we see vaggie find some self-worth outside of charlie in s2, though. she has so much potential to explore the complexity of her character and i really want to see that. i don't think they're bad for each other, but to some extent... vaggie went from serving one entity (adam) to serving another (charlie) and that level of devotion can be dangerous. charlie is infinitely better than adam, don't get me wrong, but vaggie definitely needs to find purpose beyond being charlie's right hand.

i'm personally hoping for sort of an... exorcist/angel ambassador role for her? something that ties into the hotel but is independent of charlie and something she wants to do. or maybe teaching self-defense/offense to the rest of the group (which she likely did for the battle/army, since she knows better than anyone how the exorcists fight).

honestly i probably have more thoughts than this but i hope you enjoyed my stream of consciousness ramble about Them <3

#i love them a lot and i have so many feelings about how they worked through it #chaggie #charlie morningstar #charlie x vaggie #vaggie hazbin hotel #vaggie #rainbowmoth #hazbin hotel #jesus fuck this got long oops

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fromkenari · 9 months

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A mass of fools and knaves

The full email exchange between Alex Claremont Diaz and Prince Henry Fox Mountchristen Windsor from Chapter Nine of Red, White and Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston. Put here for my best friend to read.

A mass of fools and knaves A [email protected] 8/10/20 1:04 AM to Henry H, Have you ever read any of Alexander Hamilton’s letters to John Laurens? What am I saying? Of course you haven’t. You’d probably be disinherited for revolutionary sympathies. Well, since I got the boot from the campaign, there is literally nothing for me to do but watch cable news (diligently chipping away at my brain cells by the day) and sort through all my old shit from college. Just looking at papers, thinking: Excellent, yes, I’m so glad I stayed up all night writing this for a 98 in the class, only to get summarily fired from the first job I ever had and exiled to my bedroom! Great job, Alex! Is this how you feel in the palace all the time? It fucking sucks, man. So anyway, I’m going through my college stuff, and I find this analysis I did of Hamilton’s wartime correspondence, and hear me out: I think Hamilton could have been bi. His letters to Laurens are almost as romantic as his letters to his wife. Half of them are signed “Yours” or “Affectionately yrs,” and the last one before Laurens died is signed “Yrs for ever.” I can’t figure out why nobody talks about the possibility of a Founding Father being not straight (outside of Chernow’s biography, which is great btw, see attached bibliography). I mean, I know why, but. Anyway, I found this part of a letter he wrote to Laurens, and it made me think of you. And me, I guess: The truth is I am an unlucky honest man, that speak my sentiments to all and with emphasis. I say this to you because you know it and will not charge me with vanity. I hate Congress—I hate the army—I hate the world—I hate myself. The whole is a mass of fools and knaves; I could almost except you … Thinking about history makes me wonder how I’ll fit into it one day, I guess. And you too. I kinda wish people still wrote like that. History, huh? Bet we could make some. Affectionately yrs, slowly going insane, Alex, First Son of Founding Father Sacrilege

McQuiston, Casey. Red, White & Royal Blue: A Novel (pp. 239-241). St. Martin's Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.

Re: A mass of fools and knaves Henry [email protected] 8/10/20 4:18 AM to A Alex, First Son of Masturbatory Historical Readings: The phrase “see attached bibliography” is the single sexiest thing you have ever written to me. Every time you mention your slow decay inside the White House, I can’t help but feel it’s my fault, and I feel absolutely shit about it. I’m sorry. I should have known better than to turn up at a thing like that. I got carried away; I didn’t think. I know how much that job meant to you. I just want to … you know. Extend the option. If you wanted less of me, and more of that—the work, the uncomplicated things—I would understand. Truly. In any event … Believe it or not, I have actually done a bit of reading on Hamilton, for a number of reasons. First, he was a brilliant writer. Second, I knew you were named after him (the pair of you share an alarming number of traits, by the by: passionate determination, never knowing when to shut up, &c &c). And third, some saucy tart once tried to impugn my virtue against an oil painting of him, and in the halls of memory, some things demand context. Are you angling for a revolutionary soldier role-play scenario? I must inform you, any trace of King George III blood I have would curdle in my very veins and render me useless to you. Or are you suggesting you’d rather exchange passionate letters by candlelight? Should I tell you that when we’re apart, your body comes back to me in dreams? That when I sleep, I see you, the dip of your waist, the freckle above your hip, and when I wake up in the morning, it feels like I’ve just been with you, the phantom touch of your hand on the back of my neck fresh and not imagined? That I can feel your skin against mine, and it makes every bone in my body ache? That, for a few moments, I can hold my breath and be back there with you, in a dream, in a thousand rooms, nowhere at all? I think perhaps Hamilton said it better in a letter to Eliza: You engross my thoughts too intirely to allow me to think of any thing else—you not only employ my mind all day; but you intrude upon my sleep. I meet you in every dream—and when I wake I cannot close my eyes again for ruminating on your sweetness. If you did decide to take the option mentioned at the start of this email, I do hope you haven’t read the rest of this rubbish. Regards, Haplessly Romantic Heretic Prince Henry the Utterly Daft

McQuiston, Casey. Red, White & Royal Blue: A Novel (pp. 241-243). St. Martin's Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.

Re: A mass of fools and knaves A [email protected] 8/10/20 5:36 AM to Henry H, Please don’t be stupid. No part of any of this will ever be uncomplicated. Anyway, you should be a writer. You are a writer. Even after all this, I still always feel like I want to know more of you. Does that sound crazy? I just sit here and wonder, who is this person who knows stuff about Hamilton and writes like this? Where does someone like that even come from? How was I so wrong? It’s weird because I always know things about people, gut feelings that usually lead me in more or less the right direction. I do think I got a gut feeling with you, I just didn’t have what I needed in my head to understand it. But I kind of kept chasing it anyway, like I was just going blindly in a certain direction and hoping for the best. I guess that makes you the North Star? I wanna see you again and soon. I keep reading that one paragraph over and over again. You know which one. I want you back here with me. I want your body and I want the rest of you too. And I want to get the fuck out of this house. Watching June and Nora on TV doing appearances without me is torture. We have this annual thing at my dad’s lake house in Texas. Whole long weekend off the grid. There’s a lake with a pier, and my dad always cooks something fucking amazing. You wanna come? I kind of can’t stop thinking about you all sunburned and pretty sitting out there in the country. It’s the weekend after next. If Shaan can talk to Zahra or somebody about flying you into Austin, we can pick you up from there. Say yes? Yrs, Alex P.S. Allen Ginsberg to Peter Orlovsky—1958: Tho I long for the actual sunlight contact between us I miss you like a home. Shine back honey & think of me.

McQuiston, Casey. Red, White & Royal Blue: A Novel (pp. 243-245). St. Martin's Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.

Re: A mass of fools and knaves Henry [email protected] 8/10/20 8:22 PM to A Alex, If I’m north, I shudder to think where in God’s name we’re going. I’m ruminating on identity and your question about where a person like me comes from, and as best as I can explain it, here’s a story: Once, there was a young prince who was born in a castle. His mother was a princess scholar, and his father was the most handsome, feared knight in all the land. As a boy, people would bring him everything he could ever dream of wanting. The most beautiful silk clothes, ripe fruit from the orangery. At times, he was so happy, he felt he would never grow tired of being a prince. He came from a long, long line of princes, but never before had there been a prince quite like him: born with his heart on the outside of his body. When he was small, his family would smile and laugh and say he would grow out of it one day. But as he grew, it stayed where it was, red and visible and alive. He didn’t mind it very much, but every day, the family’s fear grew that the people of the kingdom would soon notice and turn their backs on the prince. His grandmother, the queen, lived in a high tower, where she spoke only of the other princes, past and present, who were born whole. Then, the prince’s father, the knight, was struck down in battle. The lance tore open his armor and his body and left him bleeding in the dust. And so, when the queen sent new clothes, armor for the prince to parcel his heart away safe, the prince’s mother did not stop her. For she was afraid, now: afraid of her son’s heart torn open too. So the prince wore it, and for many years, he believed it was right. Until he met the most devastatingly gorgeous peasant boy from a nearby village who said absolutely ghastly things to him that made him feel alive for the first time in years and who turned out to be the most mad sort of sorcerer, one who could conjure up things like gold and vodka shots and apricot tarts out of absolutely nothing, and the prince’s whole life went up in a puff of dazzling purple smoke, and the kingdom said, “I can’t believe we’re all so surprised.” I’m in for the lake house. I must admit, I’m glad you’re getting out of the house. I worry you may burn the thing down. Does this mean I’ll be meeting your father? I miss you. x Henry P.S. This is mortifying and maudlin and, honestly, I hope you forget it as soon as you’ve read it. P.P.S. From Henry James to Hendrik C. Andersen, 1899: May the terrific U.S.A. be meanwhile not a brute to you. I feel in you a confidence, dear Boy–which to show is a joy to me. My hopes and desires and sympathies right heartily and most firmly, go with you. So keep up your heart, and tell me, as it shapes itself, your (inevitably, I imagine, more or less weird) American story. May, at any rate, tutta quella gente be good to you.

McQuiston, Casey. Red, White & Royal Blue: A Novel (pp. 245-247). St. Martin's Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.

#leigh #a mass of fools and knaves #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #red white and royal blue #casey mcquiston #out of credits

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madfantasy · 6 months

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Dears;

Sleepless

I didn't know that I could be more sleep deprived, more in the sense that the nightmares of death and murder wakes me up in fever and chest burn now.

I thought I was okay and I was just witnessing and grieving over everything happening in this world, I can't much speak on it but with my siblings, my guardians ofc know and part of our family even affected by the "wars" that raged in and around 🍉, I still feel just as suffocated, useless, helpless and isolated as I feel everyday if not more. The internet remains my only window to the world..

The only thing I could able to talk to my guardians about is that telling them I feel immense guilt, my other half, my other home is being wiped out, land stripped of human warmth, from recent and ancient memories, all the structures old and new, the nature that hugged it tightly and the music that floated from it's midst. And here I am carrying nothing but a blood connection and writing in immaculate Arabic, one thing I was consistently praised on and ment alot to me in terms of belonging, but literally can't understand the casual/slang part of it no matter how I think I get it. Which I understand finally is what called: a late diagnosis of autism, possible related to those specific speaking patterns.

I'm 80% nonverbal, and when I find my voice, specifically when it comes to expressing myself, everything I say sounds like riddles or poems instead of plain direct speech with clear indication and values. I take so long revising these little writings to make sure at least they are coherent. It's often frustrating as suddenly not being able to scream when u need..

In the same time, I can't deal with being perceived, I can not even interact with what I've shared on my TT or @madmanii because my brain just shuts down, it doesn't matter what's the situation, as long there's social interactions, my rational blanks and stops translating sense to me.. it might be so good I can't even say how much intensely I love it, same as bad.. Even through art, and I thought because it is in art form, something I feel more able expressing, I can't say more or do more or give more engagement than this. While engagement with my art shocks me each time as if It was the first time. It takes all my remaining soul to make this art, this last tether to my sanity and humanity, so I have unmeasured gratitude..

The only release to this raging sense of belonging and grief I had all my life is to make stories, OCs. Those two are just fantasy-ed version of the 2 homes I'm from. But never shared more drawings of them because I did not want to be identified and get any "anything-against-mainstream" phobia towards me as I've been punished for it severely lots in real life. They are even not a romantic pair, just bromancing and 'too' beautiful, and I still drew many other romantic ships and posts them, regardless..

But I worry too much and often my art, posts or whatever is never seen..

Whatever it's the algorithm or doing communication, I can't not do more of what is socially 'required' to be seen and heard, my art is all I can offer and as it always shows me it's never enough, I tried so hard that my art for the first time in my life became just another burden and chore instead of a sanctuary and brain food. Whatever I did, I don't have a presence online, I only have the few Snape fans who truly care about me and showed me humanity I've never known. But I still don't have numbers or popularity, and at this point I'm so burn out from trying that I don't care I'm losing followers or have no likes, it's silence on both ends now...

I wish I could achieve more and be more helpful and not worry about fearing anything, my existence here online is done by secret to begin with and not consistent cuz I have trash net, and I don't know how to do more.. even for myself..

It's my birthday month, and that's ticks down one year of six..

About perception I relate to Hard: https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSNQeJy8u/

Thank u for reading, Sweet dreams, precious 🖤❤️

#text #drawing journey #vent

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satancopilotsmytardis · 2 months

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*breathes deeply

Oof. This was a lot. Dabi knowing he should leave but he can't because he has to know just what this guy is to Shig. It doesn't really seem that Dabi knows a whole lot about the kink scene, just by the way he described everything happening.

Dabi shifting back because he gets horny and gets off to them. 🫣 I don't know how to feel. Although knowing Dabi, he's also getting off on the shame of it too. (You know the author's good when you also feel like an uncomfortable voyeur.)

Dabi realizing that he could never have Tomura that way, because he's just a cat to him. Even if he was to reveal himself, there's the chance that Tomura would hate him for lying. That and the fear of rejection that comes with the fact that he'd been lying for months. Pretty much spying on him and using him. My heart can't take this.

Oh everyone knows, whoops.

Dabi moping after the incident, debating whether to leave or not is heartbreaking. He tries to punish himself, but that makes Shig worry so he can't do that. He can't leave either because that'd hurt him too. He's stuck because it's either him or Shigaraki suffering, and he really doesn't want Shig to suffer more because of him. 😢

No! That does not mean stop being human.

Oh, we get to see how a meeting with the less favorable League members go. Exciting!

...

TANCO WHAT THE FUCK?!?!!

So AFO bribed Moonfish with flesh to kill the 'distraction' Tomura is having. And Dabi nearly died. (How the fuck could you do this to Tomura on his birthday? He did not wish for his cat to almost die.)

The only thing Dabi thinks about while dying is Tomura hurting again. His job was to make Tomura happy and he failed at that. Agajfkrbee Dabi not expecting to be sad when he dies again fucking hurts. (He knows the League will take care of Tomura, that's sweet)

"Being Onigiri was worth every pain of being Toya and Dabi because they brought him to Tomura." 😭😭😭😭😭😭 He was happy, that's why it was worth it. He didn't think he deserved happiness, and he got it anyway and didn't want to let it go. He agrees to stay alive because he's not gonna let down Tomura. Because Tomura cares and he can't do that again. 😭😭😭😭

I can now see how you made yourself cry. You made me fuckin cry too.

Recovery is a bitch. Dabi promising to do better for the League, because there's no way he'd be doing it for himself.

Dabi hating the cone like a true cat.

Toga trying to make Shig and Keiro happen because she wants the drama and she's a romantic at heart. And her getting the pet stairs. Toga is such a sweetheart. I love her so much. Dabi trying to condition Shig to hate Endeavor.

Tomura standing up to AFO. I'm so cheering for him. Especially because he tried to fucking kill Onigiri. You don't go after a man's cat.

Stain's back! Watching Spinner and Toga lose it over their idol. And Stain just not caring lol. He just shuts them both down. It's interesting to see your take on Stain, since he's never been a major part of your writing before. I adore how you write characters and Stain is no different.

Taking buttons? Oh however can Dabi abuse them? Immediately demanding treats. Not surprising. Aww a pet button, how cute.

...I'm crying again damnit. Dabi just can't. Tomura doesn't understand because he's just a cat, and Dabi wants him to know. He wants Tomura to know so bad he wants to cry only to find out he can't. My heart can't take this anymore.

Tomura admitting to bring Stain back as a bodyguard for Onigiri. Because he couldn't handle that loss again. He's nearly lost Oni twice and he's so determined to keep him around.

It's cute that Stain tells Onigiri he did a good job helping Shig. Because it really was the cat.

First babysitting job for the cat. Tomura learned his lesson with Toga and now has instructions for the treat jar. Dabi being smug that he has more hidden. His favorite button. 🥺

WHAT?! Stain knows?! You broke my brain. Officially gone. Does that mean Stain's a shifter too? Is that how he got around unnoticed for so long? I have so many questions now.

Dabi has two choices, be a dumb cat, or tell the truth. And we know Dabi isn't gonna tell the truth.

God this chapter was such an emotional rollercoaster. I ate it up though and I can't wait for more. May the Muse be with you my friend.

YES, YESS, YEEEESSSSSS!!!

Dabi was such a mess this chapter from the voyeurism, to nearly dying, to confessing his feelings, to getting found out! He was going through it!!!

Stain is so immediately done with his fan club, Onigiri is the only one who gets a pass!

Dabi does have to immediately abuse the buttons, you can bet that Shigaraki had to hide the "treat" button as soon as they brought it upstairs

I'm so excited for the next chapter and I'm so glad you enjoyed this one! Thank you so much for commenting!

#tanco speaks #asks #ask

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fanficapologist · 3 months

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Hellooo hellooo! So I did not expect two chapters in rapid succession but no complaints here!

About the latest ODAM chapter; this made me wonder, does Alys have romantic feelings for Aemond? Or is the tension between her and Maera due to the fact that Maera challenges her? I mean if her confidence in the war room is anything to go by, it seems she’s not used to having her decisions questioned. Or at the very least, she can shut them up because she can reason that she’s seen things. But it also made me think about how Maera’s being there might reveal that she’s not as omniscient as she makes herself out to be. Her prophecy may work for the lord and to Aemond at one point, but I think Maera is the type that sees through the smoke and mirrors.

A part of me is desperately wishing that she does make a prophecy and the opposite happened- Maera gets vindicated! I’m also happy that Maera’s demonstrating she’s not someone to be messed with and can put these lords in their place.

It’s nice to see Aemond trying, like when he proposed to speak with Alys regarding her conduct. But, Maera is right, only time will indeed tell. As for me, I need to see how he acts later on and whether Alys will try anything. I think Maera was right to asset her status and dominance when they were discussing strategies because had she allowed Alys to go about as she wished, I’m sure Alys would have taken this as a sign that Maera yields to her and the other lords as well. I just can’t help but huff to myself “the nerve of Alys”, I’m genuinely curious as to how she thinks Maera should act around her. Should Maera also be starstruck or fall at her feet because she has visions? Or should she be grateful Maera married Aemond and is now a princess? Should she just ignore the fact that she slept with Aemond?? I’m 🤷🏻‍♀️right now

And the Aemond POV!! Thank you so much for writing it!! It’s nice to take a peek into his mind and see how his connection with Maera started. I liked how there is a distinction between their POVs because little Aemond pre-Vhagar sounded melancholy but still hopeful. Like I could tell he still holds out hope and he’s not hardened yet, so to speak.

I don’t know what to say except thank you so much for these chapters!! Your updates never fail to cheer me up and they always pop out around the time I feel terrible, really just thank you!! ☺️🥰

Hello my love! I am once again off work with PVFS so I’m finding myself devoting more time to writing in order to keep the old brain active. Hope you’re well 🖤

Ok so let’s have a look at these points:

Alys’s feelings: honestly? Even I’m not sure. It could be she sees Maera as a rival for either love or power but I might leave it up to interpretation 🤷🏻‍♀️

She is definitely pushing the boundary though. Even though I’m writing her I’m like ughhh this bitch 😩 suppose since Aemond went there and basically executed everyone she’s had free run of the place, as taste of power. If that were me, I wouldn’t want it to be taken away either.

I do thrive on seeing people get wound up in the comments, it will make the coming chapters all that sweeter for me 😏

Part 2: Aemond POV! I was honestly on the fence about writing it. After all, it’s Maera’s story and he’s been a bit of a twat! BUT there were some other points I wanted to explore from Aemond’s side. And I was getting bored of him simply telling Maera shit so I thought I’d just show it 🤣 things will get traumatic later though with Aemond’s POV so pre warning 🖤

#maera wylde #aemond targaryen #aemond x oc #aemond fanfiction #chapters #hotd aemond #hotd fanfic #house targaryen #house wylde #hotd helaena

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carlosfruitsnacks · 2 years

Note

no but like— rockstar carlos with this song 🤭🤭

https://open.spotify.com/track/5uffB0o1ruF4O5o3KOelvu?si=THp_7wXMRLaWBxP5Lcqnrw&utm_source=copy-link

😍😍😍

"hopelessly devoted to you"

PART 2

summary:

— Friends, it's the only way Carlos knew you saw him as. He was so sick of being stuck in the friend zone so, with his last given chance, he decides to shoot his shot by dedicating a song to you at his gig.

genre:

— songfic & modern au

notes:

— gender-neutral reader. I do not speak fluent Spanish and all of the Spanish here is translated from google, feel free to correct me.

warning/s:

— mild cussing

a/n:

— omg as soon as i listened to the song, it's already giving me Carlos energy hehehe

Not a day passes without Carlos' eyes getting distracted by the mere sight of you. It has always remained that way, you being so close to him yet too far to reach. He's aware that he's been longing for his best friend. He was caught between being contented with the friendship and absolutely hating it. Carlos could never find the reason why he fell for you out of all the people in the world.

Countless nights did Carlos spent playing guitar up in his room, simply singing sad songs about you and his yearning to move past the friendship. He has written plenty enough songs to form an album but he'd always kept these songs hidden in a drawer. Carlos was brilliant in disguising his feelings for you but he's afraid that he can't keep the secret any longer. One day he'll accidentally puke all of his romantic emotions for you and he's terrified that it'll make you never want to talk to him again.

"Hey, Carlos? Dude, are you even listening?"

You snap a finger in front of his face. Carlos quickly collects himself and shoots you a scoff as he fixes his hair. His eyes began to linger again as he watched you blabber god knows what. He's besotted with the way you're simply you when together. You're so honest, open-minded, and patient with him that it's beginning to drive him insane. Carlos questioned if he deserved to be a part of your life.

"You doing okay, Carlos? You've been zoning out a lot"

"Estoy bien. Just a bit tired"

"Not getting any good sleep?"

"Yeah"

This is your fault because you're always in my mind that it's hard to fall asleep

Carlos frowned. He's so sick and tired of being stuck like this. Don't get him wrong, his friendship with you was insanely precious to him. But he wished for something more, something you'll possibly never give him. He sighed and walked you home for today. As you were about to shut the door, he stops you and it catches you off guard. You noticed the troubled expression on his face.

"[Name] I...I need to tell you something"

"Oh, sure! What is it?"

You see Carlos purse his lips, his eyes darted around avoiding yours. You can tell he had a lot in mind but you have no idea what he wanted to say.

"I...I think"

"You think, what?"

"[Name], I have..."

Oh for fuck's sake Carlos spit it out!

Carlos' brain screamed at him yet his mouth refused to say his feelings for you. It felt like an absolute disaster stuttering at your doorstep unable to profess his love for you. Carlos believed he was the most stupidest and cowardly person on earth right now. Just when he thinks there's nothing that can save him right now, his mind suddenly comes up of a quick idea.

"I think you should come to my gig this weekend"

"Oh! Okay! Why not? I'd love to see my best friend play with his band"

You agreed and Carlos forced a smile on, hiding the ache he got when you called him your best friend. The moment you softly shut the door, he went sprinting back home. He threw himself to his bed and grabbed the nearest pillow to scream against it. When he pulls away to breath, Carlos sees his brother giving him an odd look, he throws a pillow at him.

"Get the hell out, Camilo!"

"Bro we literally share rooms!"

"I don't care! Leave!"

Carlos stood up to push Camilo out the door but the latter resisted, further driving Carlos frustrated. Camilo leans against the doorframe and inspected his brother. Carlos' cheeks looked tinted than usual, he was sweating all over, and his lip was quivering. All of a sudden, he hears sniffing.

"Holy shit, are you...crying?"

"¡No! ¡Cállate!"

Carlos shouted as he faced away and wiped his eyes furiously. Camilo, deciding to be more empathetic than usual, comes closer to his brother and gave him a side-hug.

"Hey, what's wrong, hermano?"

"I fucking hate myself so much"

"What happened?"

"I...I wanted to confess to [Name] earlier but my stupid mouth couldn't say it. I felt like a fucking bafoon stumbling over my words in front of them"

Camilo lightly chuckled at him but Carlos hits him by the shoulder. Camilo yelped and sighed as he continued to comfort his brother.

"Look, there's plenty of people out there. I'm sure you'll move on from [Name]"

"Camilo I can't, I'm...I'm hopelessly devoted to them"

"Yikes, buddy"

Carlos felt embarrassed to say any of this to his brother, he's sure that Camilo is going to use it against him one day but he's too emotional at the moment to prevent it. Ubeknowst to him, his twin brother formed a plan in mind. Camilo shakes Carlos' shoulder.

"Hey, you have a gig this weekend right?"

"So? What about it?"

"I think I have a plan"

"Oh please, save it, I'm too busy wailing about my unrequited love"

"Ay, dios mio, ven aquí"

Camilo groaned as he dragged Carlos to him and elaborated his plan. For the first time, Carlos finds himself thankful for his twin brother.

Never did Carlos expected to get severely nervous before the start of his gig.He was currently preparing backstage with his bandmates as he tried to calm down. Carlos hoped to see your face in crowd. Later, when it was his cue to enter the stage, your face was the first he saw. There you were, smiling encouragingly at him on the front row, his heart swooned by it.

There was a mixture of nervousness and confidence within Carlos yet he urges to play his guitar and let his voice ring amongst the crowd. Meanwhile in the audience, you cheered for Carlos as he performs songs with his band. He was truly talented and you were genuinely having a great time. It was near he end of the gig when the music died down and he pressed his lips closer to the mic.

"I would like to dedicate a song for a special someone in the crowd right now"

The audience cheers and you clapped, wondering who this special someone was. You were not expecting Carlos to lock his eyes on you and smiled.

"Hey [Name], this is for you"

He says and it mometarily makes your heart stop beating. All of a sudden, an old tune was played by the band as you watched Carlos passionately strum his guitar.

"Guess mine is not the first heart broken"

"My eyes are not the first to cry"

"I'm not the first to know"

"There's just no getting over you"

Carlos sings and remained his gaze on you, stealing every breath in your lungs. You took note of the look of yearning in his eyes, it merely looks sad and it worries you.

"I know I'm just a fool who's willing"

"To sit around and wait for you"

"But baby, can't you see"

"There's nothing else for me to do"

"I'm hopelessly devoted to you"

Your staring made his eyes go wet but he blinks the tears away. Carlos can feel himself crumble slowly with every lyric he sings. The chorus kicks in.

"But now, there's nowhere to hide"

"Since you pushed my love aside"

"I'm out of my head, hopelessly devoted to you"

"Hopelessly devoted to you"

Even with the crowd singing along with him, you couldn't find yourself doing the same. You were too busy processing the song he dedicated to you. Various emotions surfaced and you don't know how to react. But you were awestruck by Carlos singing along with the wonderful music.

"My head is saying "Fool, forget them"

"My heart is saying, "Don't let go"

"Hold on to the end. That's what I intend to do"

"I'm hopelessly devoted to you"

Carlos continued. He desperately wanted to look away but your eyes were begging for him to glue his gaze on you. He couldn't tell what you were feeling by the look on your face. Carlos couldn't barely stand the thought you probably weren't enjoying what he was doing but he held on to what little hope that he has left that you were somehow hiding feelings from him too.

"But now, there's nowhere to hide"

"Since you pushed my love aside"

"I'm out of my head, hopelessly devoted to you"

"Hopelessly devoted to you"

You feel your skin tingle solely by Carlos' voice as the song comes to an end. When the crowd roared, it was safe to say they were impressed seeing the rockstar suddenly sing an old song at the gig. Even if it was unlikely of him, you liked it. So, as the gig ends. You come searching for him backstage. You search in the band's dressing room.

"Carlos?"

"Oh, you missed him, [Name]. The dude already left seconds ago, he looked like he was in a hurry"

One of his bandmates told you. Now, left with puzzlement, you stood there thinking what to do. Why did Carlos flee? You didn't understand. You were left to walk home alone and lie awake on your bed.

"Oh, Carlos, if only you knew..."

You muttered with a frown. Just when he sang that song for you, he left too early that he didn't get to hear you say you liked him too. Carlos never got to know that he's the one that you want.

taglist: @pochi-moochika , @cahmilo , @vanevafu , @irisia-ckzkb1109 , @elegantkidfansoul , @candykamikun , @justzei , @try-cry-why-try , @nanaisheretomessupthings , @eichenhouseproperty ...join here

masterlist

#encanto #disney encanto #encanto fanfiction #encanto fanfic #carlos madrigal #carlos my beloved #carlos madrigal my beloved #carlos madrigal x reader #carlos madrigal x y/n #carlos x you #carlos x y/n #carlos x reader #jay's fanfics™️#jay's song fics™️

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paperbagnotes · 7 days

Text

11:10

I woke up minute before

Dead electronic

Plug it in

My chest sinks and my heart explodes

Stinging down my nose

Tears gush from my eyes soaking my pillow

Idk what woke me

You are not here

You are not in love with me

In a dream you were holding on to me

So happy

Beaming - smiling - shining

Looking at me lovingly

When you kissed me it almost felt real

Dissolved to nightmare

You were avoiding me.

Much like reality

You weren’t real to me

Treating me like everyone else

Or worse even

I felt your neglect

Not making eye contact

You couldn’t even look at me

When moments before you couldn’t look away

What changed

I can not feel the heart beat in my chest

Yet it’s racing

I ran into a man as I was running away

Even though I knew I was so lost, only trying to get back to you

He said “sometimes it just takes longer, but if It’s inside of you it’s always been there, it will show, you’ll see”

I can’t go back

But I’m stuck right here

A dirty secret being tried to forget

I’m never beautiful when I wake up

Eyes puffy,

Now swollen from so many tears

I see my reflection as I pass the mirror

“What makes me think I’m beautiful enough to be your equal”

Your beauty is almost unmatched for me

I don’t believe I can even compare

“What made me think I’d ever go far”

Woke up to hyperventilate

I’m not living a dream

I’m drowning

My soul is exhausted

Each day moves on and I don’t hear from you

I fear I never will again

I don’t know how we’ll ever be able to spend any time together

Part of me believes that currently it’s completely impossible

I’m trapped in love with you and I can’t even explain how it happened

I feel this is torture

My lips quivering

Why do I feel this way

How does it change?

I don’t know what’s true

Nothing makes sense to me anymore

I saw it all

And now there’s nothing?

Only see you in my dreams. Nightmares.

Wake up worn out already

Done with the day

Ready to go away

Ready to die already

Idk what’s wrong with me

I don’t know anything

I don’t know what to do

Keep asking for gods guidance

But how can I believe in it if it’s hurting me so much

I have no dreams. I have no desires.

Given up on happiness

Even simply being alive hurts so much

Thinking/living in the after math

Of your avoidance and neglect

Meant to be “bubbly” “happy go lucky”

But I feel nothing

Only sorrow

I don’t even feel alive.

I let that sink in

& numb me

What more can I do

I’m at a stand still

You have all the power

Only you can choose

And I’m not even being spoken to

Idk how else to think it’s anything else but done for you

Maybe I was never anything to you but just something new..

I thought I did better then that. Knew I was.

But maybe you’re just not who I think you are

I haven’t experienced any real you

Only pleasantries and niceties

Proper politeness

A total of maybe an hr spent together

It doesn’t make sense that this is ripping a hole through me

Bigger than the Caspian Sea

I keep telling myself I don’t know you

Don’t understand this connection I feel

I pray I haven’t been delusional

But maybe that’s the truth

I need to kill all these parts of me

I don’t know how to empty or drain any of this from my brain

How is it so easy for him

To keep loving the same life he’s been

Not having his whole world changed

He resisted

Blew it out the door before he shut it and my first fuck up fucked it

Not looking to work through anything with anybody

I showed him I had questions I wanted what’s real and raw..

Maybe (pissed)pushed him off (away)

Maybe he never feels or thinks for me

All I have is maybes

And a broken heart

No one has ever hurt me like this.

I’ve never had to constantly be reminded someone is leaving me, not believing in me,

I wish it was just romantic rejection

Everyone could say no if he said yes

But I don’t even know him

It’s impossible to know what’s true

If he won’t even tell me anything

How can I feel any of this

If he can treat me this way

God help me

I can’t feel like this anymore

I fear I’ll never heal and I can’t even explain any of it

I’m warped and changed and I’ll never be the same

And it’s not fair he is unchanged and

Not even ..my own mother believed he could love me..

But she’s never believed in anything for me

Who am I? I must not be worth keeping

Inside or out

I wasn’t enough. I messed up

So easy to drop me

Leave me for dead

What’s the difference then personally killing me, ending everything. Then forcing me to live in this peril plagued existence.

I’d rather be peaceful

Resting easy

Then my heart hurting this badly ..just endlessly? For eternity?

How could you do that to anybody

Let them die slowly

Miserable

And alone

Do I belong in hell?

What have I done?

Because I honestly believe this is my nightmare

And I’m living it every horrific thing I’d hope don’t happen to anybody

Befalling

Why do all these horrible things have to happen to me. Why do I have to be the one to go through every gut wrenching, unspeakable action the world can imagine..

I don’t want to be strong

I want a life I love

I want to be loved by someone other than me, treated better than I can treat myself,

Someone I dream of too

Together in it all only

Not like this

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winter-spark · 3 months

Text

Someone I follow was just talking about her struggle in knowing if she's actually aro or just her priorities just differ from the general expectations of society and she's just questioning.

And I feel so seen tbh.

Like it's hard. It's so hard sometimes. Like don't get me wrong I'm a fan of shipping too but like watchimg media sometimes the added in romance sours the story because it feels like they think it more important than friends. They act like friendship and romance are separate and romance ranks above it and it tends to be something that feels to be the case irl too but to me that's just not the case. The person I follow said that for her friendship is more important and she doesn't get why people crave to be in romantic relationships when they have friends and that's exactly it right? Like for me friendship is first and foremost but also for me romance is soooo close to friendship anyway.

Like literally to me the only difference is really the intent/motivation and mood behind it. Like like in the simplest terms you can go to the movies with a friend that's normal. So is going to the movies with a date. What's the difference? Like you're going to spend time with them and enjoy something together either way. Both are your person. There's just a slightly different mood when you set something up as a date. But that doesn't mean it's more important that a friend hang out.

But then it's like. Am I the only one who sees things that way? I at times fantasize about a happy love story but I wouldn't say I crave romance. As a matter of fact sometimes it sounds very off putting to me. When I "fantasize" about it it's honestly more like "what if this thing led to me meeting the love of my life tee hee" kinda way. Like I'm definitely a hopeless romantic most likely. But also sometimes it's like what if that person had a crush on you and I'm like please don't. That's my thought sometimes. Even up until 8th grade I was so sure I wasn't even gonna look for a relationship until I had a successful career. (That only sorta ended because I told one of my friends that and she was like "but everyone will be gone by then" and all that did was shake my world and I've never had a solid future plan again.)

And of course that doesn't mean I'm on the aro spectrum nor the ace spectrum. Heck I've had two full crushes and 2 half crushes. But the thing is I've never just found people attractive(I can tell when people are pretty but I still don't find them attractive lol) or even really wanted to date them. The two full crushes I moreso did but even then I didn't. I didn't even think they were "sorta cute" until I liked them. And my goal in telling them I liked them was to be rejected so I could move on. I had a whole friendship courtship first. They were people I was friends with first.

Actually part of the reason I think I've question being demi is because of that and I saw someone say that being demi for them they get squishes (friend crushes, people you really want to be friends with) and that of their few crushes all of them were squishes first (not that all their squishes became crushes but all their crushes were squishes first) and that more inlined with myself. They get a lot of squishes I get a lot of squishes. They were friends with their crushes first. Same but.

But like. I don't know that I am demi. I've had a celebrity crush and of the info I've gather people who are demi don't tend to? Mine was a strange case and I got over it rather quickly. But does that make me demi? Does falling for Kurt Cobain after reading abunch of his quotes and his wikipedia biography to the extent that you wished you'd gotten to meet him, that more people were like him, that you do the math to figure out how old he'd be make one demi? Not neccessarily.

So ye.

Uhm. This is going on longer than I entended I don't know where I was going but I haven't eaten breakfast and I feel my brain shutting down so I'm just gonna end it here. Thanks for reading this if you did. There's no conclusion.

I mean... The person I follow found comfort in knowing certain things to be true about herself even if she doesn't quite know if she falls under any label. I guess I find comfort knowing well seeing that there are people questioning the same things I have. Now to find people with other similar hesitations to me on other sorts of labels

#Messages from the swamp #I guess #long post #personal thoughts #Questioning

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fromkenari · 9 months

Text

Waterloo Letters #3: A mass of fools and knaves

McQuiston, Casey. Red, White & Royal Blue: A Novel (pp. 239-247). St. Martin's Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.

#a mass of fools and knaves #waterloo letters #you probably see this one quoted often #firstprince #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #red white and royal blue #casey mcquiston #out of credits

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glorifiedbones · 2 years

Text

im telling myself i have to keep going. for this cruise my aunt paid for already. i just need to keep going until my birthday and this gift i am so gracious for. and yet part of me despises it because if it wasnt there i would get out of my bed right now, creep into my kitchen, grab a knife, probably stand still in the kitchen. put it back, pull it back, put it back. id stand there for a couple moments in eerie silence of the night. id contemplate if thats something id really want to do or not. i think the answer is yes. i almost gave my friend a hundred dollars for his birthday cause i figured if im dead i dont need any money. i changed my mind because i thought that was pretty fucked up even for me. i think to myself maybe stay alive long enough just for grandma to die. thats morbid i know; but my grandfather has already passed but the worst part is i think to myself maybe not. because at best she has twenty years left. my worst because i cant wait twenty years. in twenty years ill be forty and im positive ill kill myself before i turn twenty five. if im realistic probably twenty three.

its not healthy you impose your mental health on someone else but sometimes i wonder if i had a significant other id change my mind about killing myself. i like to think itd be because id be happy. but i know you shouldnt impose life altering feelings such as those on someone else. you cant control other people. my metaphorical boyfriend/girlfriend that doesnt exist could leave me. lately ive thought to myself that id be okay with a boyfriend that would abuse me because at least that would mean he hasnt left me. in my sick and twistsd mind that tells me, at least he still cares enough about me to comit domestic violence. and than my stomach turns because holy shit that is mentally ill i shouldnt be wishing that im abused just for some love or pity or attention seeking or whatever the fuck it is im missing so badly in life. i think the answer is yes. id grab the blade and head to my shower turn it on. fill the tub with hot water. place the blade on the counter. id turn back to my bedroom door, lock. closet, new clothes my future dead body clothes. i think about how my corpse would look sometimes. how it would degrade if no one found my corpse. would i have gnats flying over me and maggots crawling over my grey skin and i wonder what i would look like if i had a gun and spewed my brains out all over the wall if i put it in my mouth and pulled the trigger. thats a bit dark but y’know. whatever. id put my dead body clothes on and turn the light off and shut the closet door and grab my phone thats in my room charging on the charger. id pull it off and open up musi. id probably play the playlist my friend made me. or maybe id press shuffle on my whole playlist. it sits on top of the back of my toilet. id sit on my knees on my spiderman bathmat if the tub wasnt full yet while i waited for it to fill. turn it off when it does. grab the blade. step in the tub. sit. lean back. my breathing would be heavy because holy fuck am i really about to do this? its what ive been waiting for, for fucking ages! im jealous of the me i picture in my head right now. because the me in my head right now makes an ugly whimpering sound as i slice two lines dug into my arms and rolled up sleeves. like how hannah baker did on that dumb fucking show. i havent even finished it because it got dumb as shit with the raped girl and her boyfriend. i wonder what noises i would make if someone else was stabbing me. not like a metaphorical lover but like a serial killer or something. though i suppose if i was to go out by a lover than maybe theyd play the part of grieving boyfriend well. or theyd kill themselves after too, one final act of love and devotion. but thats a bit fucked up like romeo and juliet and that wasnt romantic because romeo was a dumb piece of shit who promptly forgot that the plan was to fake their deaths. obviously she wasnt dead you numbskull. and juliet how could you be in love with a man so stupid? how could anyone be in love with a man so depressed like me?

how could anyone look at me and think thats their person? its not a question of am i worthy or not, its a question of am i desirable enough. the answer is im not by the way. raging mental illness is hot on chicks but thats like the bipolar im obsessed with you or im a whore mental illness. not the i am literally fantasizing about my death right now mental illness. is it a crime to want to be the former rather than the later? maybe id wear a black corset and flaunt my breasts and suck cock and get laid and tie long straight brown hair up into a pony tail and get my nails done. but im not a woman and those things arent exactly the me i have in mind. maybe woman me would be cool with that, at least shed be getting laid. but im just me, the male me by the way, and im not confident at all like that. i wish i was a different person. taller, blonder, chiseled jaw, id work out and each vegetables and know how to cook and clean, id be like the boys on tiktok who wore maid outfits for the funny trends, and id probably shop for clothes more often to stay trendy and stylish, id post body checks and thirst traps on tiktok and instagram and maybe id play the guitar better than i already do. pst, i dont really know how to play, im faking it. at least thats what i tell myself in an attempt to self sabotage and diminish any real qualities i may potentially have about myself because the thing is at least if i have nothing going on in my life at all it makes sense to kill myself you know?

but the thing is i play the guitar and i play video games and maybe all my friends are online but those are still friends and i should have reasons to not kill myself, those are plenty good reasons. a family that loves and cares and provides endlessly for me. and im fucking selfish because for whatever reason thats not enough for me. id hiss at the hot water as it stings my skin and id hiss as the blade cuts into my skin and id cry because maybe ill finally be happy if im fucking dead. my blood swirls in with the water. it sloshes over the sides of the tub and onto the false wood of the ground. just another thing my lazy useless selfish self has left for someone else to pick up after. id kill myself in the bathtub because itd make it easier on everyone else to clean up my corpse. the thing is my mother would never know for hours because id do it at night when i make sure shes asleep. shed sleep for eight to ten hours. thatd be eight to ten hours where im dead and she couldnt do anything about it. no more intake systems that kick me out after two days because they either dont care about me or im not depressed enough to warrant a stay or maybe we paid for that and im just too fucking broke to deserve being helped. no more feeling like the most useless person on the planet because im literally a fat as fuck discord admin who lives in their moms basement except im worse because they can get discord kittens and ive never even held someones hand romantically. ive never had my first kiss, ive never had sex, ive never touched another womans breasts or felt the feeling of another mans cock inside me or gone on a date. ive never cuddled someone who noses at my neck leaving soft kisses, ive never made someone giggle so much because i made them feel safe and loved. ive never been with another person and i put all my self worth onto this imaginary person. and its selfish because im expecting this falsehood to cure my illness but ive been depressed for years and its not going to be cured. ill forever be like this. in truth ill probably chicken out because im a pussy and ill leave more words like these and play more games and gain more weight and be more of a loser.

maybe ill kill myself when im thirty two and id live by myself and i dont talk to my mother or father or aunt or uncle. i go to my minimum wage job and go back home again. ive gained a hundred pounds and im a fat ugly fuck who cant see properly because id be too broke to buy new prescription glasses. i have no one to call, no friends, not even online ones, still a virgin, a pathetic no life no one. this is how i see myself now but if im thirty two and still living itd be even worse because thats just a grotesque depressed mother fucker whos pathetic. id drink alcohol so im piss drunk, id have a gun purchased and registered under my name, and id be able to buy it because i havent been medicated since early highschool and theres no legal signs of my depression and truthfully its not thay hard to lie to professionals. but honestly id probably be golden with the gun licensing because they dont exactly have super strict regulations everywhere, so id just go somewhere that doesnt have many. id be drunk off piss warm beer i choked down, maybe fruity vodka because the idea of piss warm beer is disgusting but the beer would be cheaper i think. id choke down the whole six pack, maybe pull out a smoke, id sit in my creaky old chair id probably bought off amazon or facebook market place. the gun and bullet casings would be on a table beside me. id grab and load the weapon, cock it in my mouth and pull the trigger. simple as that. easy as that. id be dead and no one would find my body. my corpse would get caught because a neighbor would complain about a rancid disgusting smell coming from my flat. i wouldnt care about who cleans up after my mess because there is no one to worry about. theyd clean the splatters of my brains and blood off the wall, maybe theyd take a picture or two. is it fucked up that im romanticizing the idea of my death inside my head right now? im fantasizing about my future inevitable demise and i would fucking smile with glee if i wasnt so exhausted.

but its late and im tired and my bottom lip is pushing uncomfortabley close against the skin of my chin. i cant tell if its because of my buck fucking teeth or if its because im getting fatter, the fat flooding to my face. its already all over my stomach and thighs, im disgusting and undesirable. i miss being sixteen because even though i was fucking depressed and suicidal i was skinny because i would starve myself and my mother would never care because she hated me then. whether she would admit it or not i know my mother did not care about me when i was sixteen. and its not just me being dumb as shit “oh everyone hates me” it was genuinely her actions. choosing people who hurt me over me, staying and standing by their side even to this day but its hard to admit that even to myself because if i do that means its true and isnt my mom the one person in the world who should pick me her son over everyone else, would rather pick someone who hurt me and hurt her and it would also mean no one would ever pick me at the end of the world. im almost jealous of him sometimes. he has someone who would pick him and i have staring at my bedroom wall for sixteen hours a day. god im pathetic. i had one french fry today and i regret eating it so much because if i didnt eat it, that would mean i havent ate anything at all today and part of me needs that back. part of me needs sixteen year old me because i had an undiagnosed eating disorder as a cry for help which no one saw or recognized. and now i have body rolls and im almost two hundred pounds. i had an anorexia tumblr account and i was thin and my stomach was flat and i was thin i was so thin and now im fat and its even worse on me because im fucking short as fuck. i had friends i went to homecoming with i had a best friend and it was us against the world but only in my mind because ive never been anyone elses “its us against the world” and i smiled because even though i struggled mentally i had things that i dont have now. im jealous.

i think often about the person i would be if we never moved. id be in college, have a job, shed still be my best friend because i would have never moved, maybe id have a girlfriend because i was super like into chicks back than and maybe id never fall out of love with women the way it seems i so often have a back and forth now. or maybe id be dating the cute boy i had a crush on who picked me up and span me around the lunch room. or maybe id be dating the girl who grinded up on my cock at homecoming, she was cute. i still have her number, id text her since we were friends back then if i still lived there but we arent friends now and i dont live there anymore. i am not that person anymore. i have to wake up and accept the fact that im not him anymore, “your not that guy, pal. your not that pal buddy. your not that buddy, dude. your not that dude, man. your not that man, guy.”

and so the cycle repeats. i fantasize about the knife in my kitchens knife block. i thing about slitting my throat and slicing open my stomach and killing myself often because im depressed and suicidal and unmedicated and im fucking pathetic. because i wont kill myself. every day i wake up and get on my computer and play video games all day. i wont kill myself because im pathetic and scared, because in truth i want to get better because getting better means being happy and being happy means truly living and truly living means im not stuck inside this ugly shell you call a life that ive crafted for myself. i wont kill myself because i dont know if god is real or not and im scared to die because what if the world is just dark after? i dont think i can truly comprehend how isolating death would be. the burning in my brain, the ringing in my ears, hearing the voice that is thinking inside my head, the feeling of my skin and the ache inside my legs. all of it would just stop and i cant comprehend that and im scared of that. but at the same time i think of that lady gaga interview where shes asked if she could do one thing without any consequences, what would she do?

die she answers. she would die.

#sept 21st 22

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mercy-burning · 3 years

Text

Your Favorite — Part 1

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: When Y/N comes home from college for the summer to meet her mom's new boyfriend, she finds herself in a rather tough spot when she can’t stop thinking about him— And it seems he feels the same... Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Adults w/ age gap, masturbation (female and male), minor exhibitionism kink, oral sex (male receiving), penetrative sex, breeding kink (kinda? i think? 😅) Word Count: 7.3k (do you see now why I had to make it a miniseries? alsdjfdk)

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | MASTERLIST

DISCLAIMER: In this story, Spencer is dating Y/N’s mom while also having a sexual relationship with the reader herself. Because of that, there are obvious undertones of cheating, alongside some perv-y tendencies when it comes to a partner’s daughter. That being said, Spencer and Y/N’s relationship is consensual. However— If any of what I just forewarned is something that you think will make you uncomfortable while reading, please do not read! If there are any more disclaimers you think I may have missed, don’t hesitate to tell me! There is another post I made HERE with some disclaimers as well if you want to know more about what this story will entail.

NOTE: This intro is already too long, so I’ll just get this out of the way: you can find visual nsfw inspirations for this story over at @mercy-midnight, I’m working on a playlist for this story on my Spotify @/mercyburning, and I don’t know when part 2 and 3 will be out, but you can assume they’ll be here within the next few weeks.

———

JUNE 5th

I hate my mom's new boyfriend.

For the past three months she'd been telling me about this new guy who's "The One" as if "The One" hasn't been like four other guys in the past two years.

And as much as I'd love for my mom to find someone to spend the rest of her life with, I don't believe she'd ever find Mr. Perfect at this rate. Unless she spent more than a few months with them at a time before dragging me home from college for a weekend to meet them, I really don't see it happening.

It just sucks. Because every time she does this, every time I return home, I see the glimmering hope in her eyes and the diminishing spark in his, and I know. I know it won't last, and her heart will be utterly broken within the span of a few months.

I always thought maybe she just had terrible taste in men.

But this time around, when I begrudgingly walk through the door of my childhood home for the summer and see my mother clinging to a man who returns that glimmer in her eyes, I know she's picked a good one.

And I hate him.

His name is Spencer Reid, and he's a retired FBI agent who teaches full time at local colleges now.

He greets me with a bona fide, radiant smile, unlike all the others before, and it sets my insides on fire. And when we sit down for dinner, he's polite (but not in a fake way,) and he seems genuinely curious about my studies and my personality and my relationship with my mother. And when dinner is finished he offers to clean up while Mom and I settle in the living room.

I see the way he looks at me as I leave, a gentle, closed-mouth smile and eyes that linger a little too long on my exposed legs before averting, a glint of shame pooling within them, and it only spreads that fire in my belly.

Maybe I'd been imagining the whole thing, because deep down I wanted him to look at me the way he had... But it's hard to tell when my brain is mostly setting off sirens, blaring "THIS IS WRONG! THIS IS WRONG!" on a loop with blinding lights.

And they're even louder when my mom wraps her arm around me and lays her head atop mine. "Well, what do you think? He's great, huh?"

She's so lovesick, it hurts. It hurts even worse knowing that all I can think about is his big hands wrapped around my throat while he fucks me into the squeaky twin-sized mattress in my bedroom upstairs.

But I can't tell her that, obviously.

And so I decidedly hate him. And I have no choice but lie to her face, embracing her joy and hoping that I'll be able to survive this summer.

"Yeah, Mom. He's really great."

JUNE 19th

It's been two weeks and I can barely stand to be in the same house anymore.

I try to keep myself busy by going outside, to the beach or for long walks in the park; but it's too hot for my liking, and our town is so small that unless I want to spend my time in the grocery store or one of the three bars on Main Street...

I'm stuck either outside where it's hot and uncomfortable, or in the house where it's also hot and uncomfortable.

We have air conditioning, of course, but that's not the problem.

It's Spencer.

I thought by now my little crush on him would have gone, but the longer he hangs around the house, the stronger my feelings for him grow. They're not romantic—nor do I think they ever could be given the fact that if anything serious really were to ever happen between us, my mom would disown me for the rest of my life and murder Spencer with her bare hands—but that doesn't make it any easier on me.

Every day he just exists, right in front of me with that tug-able mop of hair, those warm honey eyes, and his hands that never stop moving. I swear, it's like every time he breathes, his hands are breathing too, challenging me to try and stop them.

But I refuse to touch him. Because I know the moment I do, all will be lost. I won't be able to control myself anymore. And if I don't drop to my knees and try sucking his dick at the dinner table, I'm sure I'll blurt out how I can't handle it anymore and that I need him, and either way I'd be royally fucked.

Right now he's in the dining room, teaching my mom how to do a disappearing card trick. She thinks it's utterly charming that he can do it at all, but mostly that he's patient and willing enough to teach her. And normally I'd agree, but I can barely look at them without wanting to waltz over, grab his wrist, and suck his fingers into my mouth.

It's truly pathetic.

So I try to focus on the television just a few feet away. It's one of those rare instances where I wish our house was bigger, because while I don't mind having less wall-space between rooms, I do mind not being able to watch TV without the kitchen table in my periphery at a time like this. And I think about going up to my bedroom instead for a moment, but I'd have to go past the kitchen, and I just know Mom is going to ask if I'd want Spencer to teach me his magic trick.

And I most definitely do not want that.

In another life, maybe, where he isn't a hot professor and rather an average-looking dude who's way too into fantasy football... But not in this lifetime.

So there I sit, concentrating so hard on Family Feud that my face hurts.

When I hear a flutter of cards and joyous giggling from the other room, it's more than my face that hurts.

It's also my chest, churning and tensing at the hands of the green devil.

Fuck!

I barely even know this man... I haven't really talked to him because I'm afraid that if I try to hold a conversation I'll snap. He's literally just some hot older guy who's dating my mom, and still, my whole body twists and aches with envy when they do anything together, and it fucking sucks. Not only because of the jealousy, but it's also the fact that my mom deserves to be happy.

This time it's different. This time, she's really found someone who returns her every loving gaze, who makes her laugh, who's kind and genuine and not a total douche. She's happier than I've seen her in years.

And the one time she finally finds "The One", every waking second of my life is spent longing for him fuck me.

But it's only been two weeks.

And it's also been nearly two years since I got laid, so maybe that's just my issue...

I figure it can't hurt, so in a spur of the moment decision, I turn the TV off and sprint towards the stairs, right past Mom and Spencer before they can ask questions.

———

I hardly even register the dimness of the light inside the house by the time I glide up the steps, fumbling with the key and trying to make my entrance as quiet as possible. Though, because I'm so used to the dark by this point, the light—no matter how dim—nearly blinds me. The door shuts louder than I'd have liked, and I cringe inwardly, pausing as if that will keep anyone from seeing or hearing me. Not like it'll matter, considering Mom and Spencer are the only ones that are staying here and they'd also been the only ones aware of my plans for the evening.

Well, somewhat, anyway. I told them an old friend invited me out and I probably wouldn't be home until late.

Regardless, that instinct of trying not to get caught coming in late at night is stronger than common sense. Throw a little cheap beer and some shots into the mix, and it almost feels like I'm a teenager again.

The only thing different now is that I have a pool of some stranger's cum soaking my underwear and a man in front of me who stands like an angel. An exhausted, almost scruffy-looking angel more like, but my point still stands.

"You're up late," Spencer observes. It's a simple enough statement— not really judge-y, but I can tell that regardless of his knowledge of my coming home late, he seems shocked to see me coming through the front door right now.

And it's hard to look away from him. Just like it has been for the past two weeks. Still, I try, just barely avoiding his eyes as I cross my arms and fight the urge to clench my legs together. "I'm a whore. What's your excuse?"

Maybe not the best thing to say. But like I said, common sense? Gone.

"O—oh... Umm..." Spencer stumbles through his words, obviously stunned by my response, and the look in his eyes kind of makes me want to curl up in a ball and die from embarrassment. Still, I stand my ground and wait for him to continue.

He settles on a short, "I can't sleep," and then there's nothing else.

"Ah," I express. One syllable. I don't draw it out, I don't exaggerate it... This is the first real conversation I've had alone with him, and I've made it extremely awkward, so I sigh and take a few steps forward, trying to walk past him. "Okay. Goodnight."

I only make it a few steps before he stops me, his hand reaching out to tap my shoulder. "Wait—"

The touch makes me jump, and he pulls it away immediately as I turn to face him. My heart is racing at the speed of light, my panties are soaked through, and if I'm not careful that whole 'no common sense' thing is going to bite me so hard in the ass I won't have one left.

"Can I talk to you?" His voice is barely audible, and the gentle rasp it has to it seems to make me even more wet.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

"Look, I um... Your mom has been totally transparent with me about her relationships, so I know that she's been through a lot of them in a short amount of time... And I know that must be a little difficult for you. Especially now that I'm here... And you've been... distant. And I know that I don't know you that well, so forgive me if I'm assuming anything, but I just want you to know that I don't have any intention of making things difficult for you and your mother."

Too late, pal, I think bitterly, the gentle authority in his tone setting my insides alight. I'm positive that voice could get me to do so many things...

That's the alcohol and sex talking, Y/N, just shake it and move on...

He starts again, but I cut him off with a short wave of my hand. "Look, I... I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I had a really long night, and I'm exhausted. I just wanna shower and go to bed."

I expect more resistance, but Spencer only nods. I still can't bring myself to look him in the eye, though this time I catch his hands clenching at the bottom hem of his shirt. "I understand. Sleep well."

Without another word I turn on my heel and walk a little faster towards the stairs, and I'm about to take my first step when I realize he's followed me. His voice calls out my name softly from a few feet behind, and it stops me in my tracks regardless of my desire to get out of there as fast as I can. And then I turn around and finally look directly at his face.

Big mistake.

His eyes are on my legs again, trailing slowly upwards until he reaches my face. The light over here is dimmer, barely noticeable at all, though I swear I can see red forming on his cheeks.

"I like your dress," he says softly. It's almost meek, like he'd been afraid to say it but took a chance anyway.

It's such a random, small compliment, but with the alcohol and endorphins flowing through my body after the night I'd just had, it nearly makes me quiver.

It also makes me incredibly stupid.

An amused, almost sensual grin forms on my face as I make eye contact with him, and I feel myself throb at the way I can just barely see his throat move. He looks like a deer in headlights, afraid to make one sudden move.

"Turning to flattery to try and win me over, are we?" I say slowly.

I almost think he'll stumble over his words once more, but again he surprises me with a full answer. It's only three words but it's clear, and his voice is deep, and I want to fucking jump his bones right then and there.

"Is it working?"

This has to be the alcohol making me imagine things... I swear I didn't even drink that much tonight, but it has to be an obvious lapse in judgement. The drinking mixed with the sex mixed with the dirty thoughts I've been having about this man lately have to be what's making this feel real. It's all culminating into this one big fantasy (or delusion, more like), and all I need is to shower and sleep it off.

That has to be it.

So because there's no other reasonable explanation that my brain can conjure up, I take a chance and throw Spencer a wink before turning and sprinting up the stairs.

And it's that same seemingly undeniable reasoning for this illusion that doesn't keep my hands from wandering in the shower. Even though those warning sirens in my brain keep blaring, telling me that the common sense is still there for me to utilize, they're drowned out by my thrumming heartbeat and the repetition of Spencer's soothing, authoritative voice, guiding my movements.

Keep rubbing your clit for me, baby... Just like that, nice and slow...

Warm water cascades down the front of my body as I lean back into the wall of the shower, but that's not why I'm so warm. This heat radiates through my insides, spreading like wildfire and bringing out small whimpers and mewls that I know I'll have to contain in fear of waking my mom from her bedroom right next door.

But then the thought of her hearing me next door as I cry out her boyfriend's name only excites me more. I keep it quiet still, but just knowing that someone else is in the house while I'm having these thoughts right now (one of them being the object of said thoughts) is what finally brings me over the edge.

I finish my shower on weak legs, definitely overstimulated now, but also feeling even more tired. I know that the moment I lay down on my bed, I'll be pulled into the sweet, soft surrender of a deep sleep.

Nothing else has ever sounded so pleasant.

———

When I woke up that morning after, I was feeling surprisingly calm. Realistically I knew that my whole 'this has to be an illusion' montage had been less truth and more inebriated babble, and the longer I sat on it the more I thought it'd all turned out for the better.

Turns out, tipsily masturbating in the shower to thoughts of your mom's hot new boyfriend was a surefire way to get it out of your system, right?

Wrong.

It really had been okay at first. I thought about Spencer almost immediately, and yeah, he was still hot as fuck—But there wasn't this overwhelming desire within me to jump his bones when I saw him that morning, his hair messy and his hands clutching a cup of coffee while Mom made breakfast behind him.

But that good feeling I had about all of this? It lasts only about a split second.

Because the moment he looks up and sees me, the mug falls out of his hand and shatters to pieces. His eyes stay glued to me, even as my mother darts over to pick up the pieces of the ceramic that are scattered about the table and the floor. And when she turns back to grab a paper towel, he still stares at me, once again at my legs.

It takes me all of four seconds afterwards to remember that not only did I talk to him briefly last night, but I also flirted with him after he complimented me.

That whole part seemed to have slipped my mind when waking up, and now that his gaze is bringing me back to that moment, that 'this has to be an illusion' montage is starting to become larger than I'd remembered.

It isn't until he finally snaps out of it and starts to help my mom clean up the mess that I snap out of it, too, going back upstairs to clear my head and cool the heat radiating over my skin.

———

There's a knock at my bedroom door about an hour later, and it sounds different than my mom's usually quick two-knock succession. That means it's someone else, and unsurprisingly, my stomach tightens at the thought of seeing him again.

"Yeah?" I call out, turning in my desk chair and meeting Spencer's figure in the doorway. He's changed, a rather nice pair of slacks and a white button-up shirt clinging to his limbs.

"Can I come in?"

"Mhm," I say. I still don't know if I entirely trust myself to say anything more than a few words to him, and as he enters the room and sits on the foot of my bed, I wonder if he can tell.

He tries, really tries, to look me in the eye, but I know that it's hard. I've been in the same spot. And then he takes a deep breath before folding his hands in his lap.

"Y/N, I want to apologize... When we... talked last night... It was kind of weird, and then this morning wasn't really any better..." He can barely get out the words 'talk' and 'last night'... And then he avoids my gaze altogether, staring at the floor and trailing off, trying to put his thoughts together it seems.

And that's when it starts to click into place.

There's one thing that both last night and this morning have in common, and I've noticed it almost every time I've caught him staring at me. At my legs. It's happened almost daily since I've met him. And then, the night I come home clearly having just been fucked, waltzing past him, entertaining his fascination with my legs and then masturbating to thoughts of him in the shower, he finally starts dropping mugs.

He must also really feel something here. Something similar to my own feelings. And really, that should be a red flag, because he's my mom's boyfriend, and it's a goddamned fucking mess...

But fuck, it excites me.

I'm still wearing my pajama shorts, silky and lavender in color, and I use them to my advantage, slowly crossing one leg over the other and just barely gaining Spencer's attention back.

"Yeah, what was that, anyway?" I ask him, amusement dripping off my tongue.

I can tell from his reaction that he wasn't expecting me to ask. A few times he opens his mouth to speak and then closes it , stumbling before panicking. He's been pretty good so far at coming up with answers and explanations, so the fact that this time I finally seemed to have broken him down makes it all the more clear.

He must have heard me in the shower.

Right?

I'm almost completely positive that's what this is about. And there's one way for me to get the confirmation I'm looking for.

"So you heard me, huh?"

I try to keep my voice as plain as I can as not to give away my motives, and with my luck Spencer is so flustered that he probably wouldn't have even noticed it at all. He looks up at me, his eyes desperately trying to find something he can use to make up a lie, but in the end there's no use.

I've caught him. And he knows it.

"Yes," he whispers. He looks exhausted, guilty, and also a little like he wants to cross the barrier and kiss me.

Okay, maybe that part's just in my head. I really can't tell. But I do know that hearing me call his name out in the shower last night is what brought him to this point of severe distress. As much as that excites me, though, it also embarrasses me a little. Maybe if it hadn't happened we could have avoided further destruction.

It must read on my face, because Spencer perks a little. "Oh! Y/N, I'm not... I'm not mad or anything. I really didn't mean to overhear and invade your privacy... Really, I-I'm sorry."

The fact that he's apologizing to me right now, rather than acting all grossed out that I even did it in the first place, tells me he either feels guilty for not being able to help himself from hearing me, or he's just a good guy who loves my mom and doesn't want to ruin it because of a little mishap.

Either way, it's frustrating, because I don't know what to do.

Well, I know what I want to do, but I don't know if I should hint at it.

But then he does something. It's small, and no one would have noticed, but I've been fascinated with his hands since the moment I met him, so my eyes are instantly drawn there.

They're clenched so hard, his knuckles are nearly white.

He's nervous.

To ease his mind a bit, I hold off on poking the bear harder (though it's really tempting to see what will happen if I don't) and nod, trying to make myself look as apologetic and small as possible.

"It's okay... I... I won't make it awkward if you won't?"

His shoulders slump, and his body seems to relax. "Y–yeah. Yeah, deal."

He gets up off the bed and blurts one final apology before heading for the door, but that part of me that wants to poke the bear further makes me stand up and follow him.

"Spencer?" I call out.

He freezes and turns to face me, and I don't think he quite expected me to be as close as I am. I have to tilt my head up to look at him, and the angle gives me an added layer of this innocence I'm trying to achieve.

"I'm sorry, too..."

No the fuck I'm not.

Whether he can sense my lie or not, he doesn't show it. But I think he at least knows that I'm pitching my voice a little higher on purpose, and if that doesn't give it away, the way I'm staring at him sure should.

Still, he only nods and retreats.

All there's left to do is see what happens.

JUNE 25th

For someone who agreed not to make things awkward, Spencer sure can't keep his eyes off of me.

To be fair, I have tried to keep things fairly normal. I only really interacted with him if I had to, I kept my distance, and I saved my skimpier clothing for the strangers I was regularly going out to see almost every weekend.

My lustful feelings for him aren't as strong now that I've been getting some on a semi-regular basis and keeping myself occupied. I've been doing my part.

But I still can't shake him entirely.

Whenever he spends the night (which is surprisingly most nights), the occasional wet dream about him gets me frustrated when I know he's just down the hall and sleeping soundly next to my mom. On those days I try to cut as much interaction with him as I can, though it doesn't keep me from seeing the occasional stare he throws my way.

I wish I could say that I hate it.

But I don't, and it increasingly gets worse. It's only been a week, so there's still time, but honestly, I don't think there's any shaking him.

Today especially is one of those days where it's hard not to give into the incessant need to tease him and coax some stronger reaction out of him.

I talked to Mom earlier this morning about getting some new clothes, and she had this brilliant idea to have Spencer take me. "It would be a good chance for you two to bond a little, don't you think?" she insisted, nudging him in the side and silently pleading with her eyes for him to agree.

I could tell from the look on his face that he really wasn't ready to be alone with me again, but that only excited me.

"Yeah, I think that's a great idea," I piped up, positively beaming.

Mom was so excited for us to 'bond' and also that I was gladly inclined to go through with it that Spencer couldn't have said no to her even if he wanted to.

And I was pretty sure he didn't want to.

Yet here we are, sitting in the car, the air conditioning so strong it's blowing some of my hair into my eyes. I think it had been his way of punishing me for choosing today to wear a short skirt, something I usually refrain from nowadays unless I'm going out, and it makes me smile. I can't help it.

I also can't help the way my fingers play with my skirt, dying to tease him some more. I just want to see, to know for sure that I'm driving him mad.

"No offence, but you seem weird today... Is there something wrong?" I ask him, lifting my skirt just a smidge. The air from the car blows the fabric in waves.

"You're acting this way on purpose."

Well, I hadn't been expecting that answer... All this time he'd hardly been confrontative, and now he's full-on calling me out. It's plain to see that he's finally snapped, and I would have felt sorry about it if I didn't find it extremely sexy.

"What do you mean?"

"Y/N..."

My name on his lips is a warning. He's clearly annoyed, exasperated, and I'm loving every second. "Don't act oblivious. I'm not stupid, and neither are you. I don't want to make you hate me or anything, but you have to know where I'm coming from. I was willing to let the shower thing slide... And you said you were too, for that matter, so I don't know what's changed, but it has to stop now. Understood?"

Oh, all I want is to argue with him. I want to point out that none of this is really my fault because he's the one who hasn't been able to stop staring at me all summer so far. I want to tell him that if he wants this to stop he has to make it stop.

But that isn't going to give me any of the answers I'm looking for or further proof of my theory that he wants me just as badly as I want him. And I am not going to fuck this whole situation up by making a poorly-timed move on him.

I have to know for sure.

So, I fold my hands neatly in my lap, sigh, and look dead ahead. "Right... We said no awkwardness. I'm sorry."

Spencer seems to accept my apology and continues down the road.

When we make it to the mall I think he's calmed down. At least, he seems a little more comfortable around me, and honestly I'm okay with it. As much as his spiel in the car turned me on, it also exhausted me to the point of silence.

Even as we walk around each store in the mall, I just lead and he follows, not saying a word when I pick out a top or a pair of pants or whatever else I need. And when it comes time to pay, he takes the basket from me and pays for it with no question.

Near five bags of clothes later, I figure I could get used to this new dynamic.

But then we pass a lingerie store, and I remember that the main thing I'd needed was new underwear. I start to turn into the store, but stop suddenly, pausing awkwardly and deciding to go straight ahead instead.

"You don't want to go in?" Spencer asks.

I shake my head. "No, it's fine. I can just pick some up later, it's not a big deal."

He sighs then, nodding his head towards the sign. "If you need to go in, you can... I'll just wait out here if you're uncomfortable."

I really want to call him out, ask him if he's the one who should be worried about being uncomfortable. But so far this afternoon has been pretty decent, and I really don't want to make things any weirder than they have to be.

Besides... If my theory is right...

"Sure. Thanks. Uh, how am I gonna pay, though?"

"O—Oh... I'll uh... I'll just watch the counter and come in when you need me."

"Orrrr, you could just give it to me?"

This time I get a laugh out of him. "Not a chance. Go in, I'll wait."

I smile at him and hand him the bags to hold onto while I leave, and it fills me with absolute amusement that he'd just given me one more ounce of proof that I'm right.

He's gonna have to come inside and pay for what I bought. He could have just given me the card, and maybe he truly doesn't trust me with it (which I don't know why he wouldn't honestly), but he chose to come inside all the same.

I browse happily then, going through the displays and picking out things I need, but also things I know Spencer will like.

Specifically, I stumble on a pair of lavender panties, embroidered with flowery trim up top. The pattern from the outside is lace, but there's a thin layer of cotton underneath designed to be more comfortable to wear.

I've noticed that he can never seem to look away when I'm wearing anything, really, but it's more intense when I wear one of two things. Florals, and any type of purple. And these fit both of those bills perfectly.

Now there's just one more bill to take care of.

I stride over to the counter and turn around, finding that Spencer's caught my eye immediately. Either he truly had been paying attention to the counter the whole time, or he'd been watching through the glass, following me with his gaze to the best of his abilities. Either way, he blinks a few times and looks like he's gathering the courage to go in before actually taking any steps.

I laugh to myself, eager to gauge his reaction to this next step.

Surprisingly, he holds up well. The air between me, him, and the cashier is obviously awkward, but he doesn't say anything and barely looks at what she rings up. (I say barely because he tries extremely hard not to look at the purple pair I picked out, inadvertently adding another checkmark to my list of proof.) She tells him the total, he hands her the card, and within a minute, everything is in our possession and we're leaving the mall entirely.

I don't think there are any more steps to my plan today once we get in the car and I tell him thank you. (To which he responds a short and simple, Sure thing, and turns the radio on.)

But then there's a note taped to the front door, and it instantly gives me another one.

My Sweethearts,

I got called in on a work emergency and won't be back until 7. I would have called but I figured you were having a nice time and didn't want to interrupt! I'll bring home dinner, and then maybe you can tell me about how your day went. Can't wait to hear it!

XOXO,

Eve/Mom

I check my phone, seeing that it's almost 3.

Perfect.

But I don't want to give myself away too quickly, so I thank Spencer again for taking me out and tell him that I'm going upstairs to make sure everything fits right. He nods and lets me go, though not without lingering eyes. I can feel it.

The smile never leaves my face as I try all my clothes on. Once each article has been fitted, I throw it in a laundry basket and move to the next, until I get to the last piece.

The lavender panties.

As expected, they fit perfectly, and as I look at myself in the mirror I picture what Spencer would look like when he sees me wearing them.

That's right. When.

I throw back on my earlier outfit and grab the basket, acting as bored and normal as possible to find him sitting at the kitchen table, reading a book.

"Hey," I greet him, setting the basket in front of me once I reach the bottom of the stairs. "Everything fits good, I just need them washed now. Could you run these down to the laundry room for me? I think I'm gonna make something to snack on before Mom brings dinner."

It doesn't surprise me to see him look at my legs before my face, even if it is brief. I want to smile, but I hold back, watching him nod with a tight smile of his own.

"Sure."

He disappears and then I wait.

One...

Two...

Three.

I sneak as quietly as I can to the laundry room once I hear the washer door open. I hadn't specifically asked him to put them in the washer for me on purpose, and it looks like now he's doing exactly what I thought he might.

My head peeks around the corner, barely in his range of sight as I watch him empty the basket. He takes one item of clothing at a time and throws it in the washer, and halfway through the basket he stops, just to place a pair of my new underwear on the dryer beside him.

My heart races faster the more I wait for him to get to the end of the basket. Once he does, he pauses again, and I think I know exactly what he's looking for.

Still, he sets the basket aside and picks up the stray pair of underwear, a simple black cotton pair that I'd been getting for years, and drapes it over his hands. My thighs instantly clench, and I try so hard to remain where I am so I can see where he takes this.

He takes it straight to hell, apparently, tentatively pulling his dick out of his pants and gripping it firmly. I can barely see since his back is partially turned, but I see enough, and god he's so fucking pretty. My underwear dangle from his left hand while the other works slowly over his erection, a soft sigh falling from his lips.

I fight to let one of my own slip as my hand sinks down the front of my body, past the lavender cotton and lace that I know he just wishes he had right now.

And then, a few seconds later he's already coming, using my brand new underwear to catch each rope of it, and the sight nearly has me on my knees.

And because I want to catch him in the act, I quickly draw my hand away from myself and step into the room, barely giving him time to recover.

"You come fast."

Spencer looks utterly devastated when he turns to see me standing in the entryway to the laundry room, arms crossed and an amused smirk adorning my face.

"Y/N... I—I... I'm so sorry, I didn't... I..."

"Don't worry about it," I say, taking a step towards him and shrugging. "You heard me, and now I heard you... We're even. Besides, I... figured you might be looking for these."

He's still stunned, but he looks down all the same, watching my hands slip under my skirt and glide the lavender panties down my legs. I step out of them and hold the garment up on one finger, a soft smile still on my face.

"I picked 'em out just for you, you know," I tell him, tossing them past his face and into the washer. "I've noticed that you like purple."

This time he's quick to respond. "Y/N, we... We can't... This isn't right."

"Says the man holding my underwear soaked in his cum..."

He looks panicked again, extremely guilty, but if this isn't going to end in a total disaster, then I have to reassure him that I'm okay.

"Spencer, I'm not mad..." I take another step forward, and it feels much like trying to approach a wounded animal. I can see in his eyes and in his posture that this conflict is killing him, so I decide to show some rapport. "And I know... I know this is messy... I love my mom... And I'm sure you care about her a lot... But are we really going to ignore this? We tried that, remember? And now look where we are."

"I..." He swallows, shaking his head and trying to avoid my eyes. "I can't stop thinking about you... I can't..."

My hand finds his arm, and the light touch has him sighing out, an incredulous, breathy laugh escaping him. "Y/N, please... Don't."

"Don't what?" I ask softly, praying he won't turn me away. If he does, we're just back to square one, only the square is jagged, sharper than ever before, and in serious danger of injuring someone.

When he meets my eyes, I see nothing but a desire for something he knows he can't have. "Don't want me."

Now it's my turn to laugh. My knees start to wobble as I go down, keeping my eyes locked onto his, and I swear I see them dilate fully. I scoot in closer, sliding my hand up his leg and finding the words in my heart to finally say out loud.

"It's too late for that..."

My face moves closer, and the hand of his that doesn't currently hold my underwear flies down to gently tug at my hair, keeping me in place.

"If you do this... God, Y/N, I won't be able to stop myself..."

A smirk dances over my lips as I lean in, breath fanning gently over his exposed skin. "Don't."

He swallows. "Don't what?"

"Don't stop yourself."

I barely get the words out before his hand is completely pulling me towards him, and the second my lips press against the silky skin of his hard cock, he loses it completely.

His fingers thread through my hair as I kiss and lick my way softly up to the tip. Once I'm there, I swirl my tongue out and taste the small beads of cum that had remained after he came, a low, satiated hum radiating through my body and making him shiver under my touch.

And then I wrap my lips fully around the head of his dick, and there's no stopping the most beautiful sound I've ever heard come out of his mouth. It's a broken, desperate whisper of my name. The crack in his voice when he says it spurs me forward, and I take him deeper into my mouth until he hits the back of my throat.

That's when he tosses my underwear in the washer and uses both of his hands to grab my head, roughly guiding me along his cock and fully taking control of my actions.

The fire in my belly doesn't ease up, not even once he's decided that he can't take it anymore and pulls me off of him harshly.

And that's only because now he's fully turned over, finally given into these desires that have been plaguing him presumably from the moment we met.

"I want you stripped and in your bed, on your hands and knees within the next five minutes."

I get up off the floor and walk up to him until our bodies are flush, my arms reaching up to wrap around his neck.

"What are you gonna do to me, Spencer?"

He searches my eyes, and his own grow dark with the purest form of sin I'd ever seen. And when his hands come up over the back of my legs, and under my skirt to grab my ass and pull me even closer to him, I can't help the little mewl that slips past my lips.

He smiles, and if it hadn't been for the grip he held on me, I would have fallen to my knees. "Little girl, when I'm through with you, you'll have to come up with some excuse to your mom about why you can't walk straight... Is that what you want?"

The mention of my mom should send me running in the opposite direction, but his threat only prolongs that fire in my veins and makes me want him even more.

I tilt my head up and press a gentle kiss to his lips.

"Do your worst..."

———

Turns out he was very true to his word.

Sitting at the kitchen table is somewhat of a relief, but I try not to walk around as much when Mom gets home. She'd asked me almost immediately if I was okay, and I told her I was just hungry and needed to eat something.

She seemed to have bought it, rushing to the kitchen to unpack the fast food she'd ordered for us. Over her shoulder, Spencer gave me a sly smile, and it took everything I had within myself not to crumble.

Through bites of food, I only half-listen to Mom telling us about the stuff she had to do at work because most of the words I'm hearing are in my head— A loop of endless dirty talk that plants deep into the soil of my stomach and spreads out through my whole body. It infects me, like the most beautiful poison, and I never want it to stop.

"Tell me, sweetheart, you ever let a man come inside you before?"

His weight on top of me coupled together with the heft of his voice has me whining out in pleasure, each snap forward of his hips over my ass as he pounds into me from behind the most delectable burn I've ever felt.

"Uh huh," I answer happily, twisting my head to feel his cheek against my own. "That night you heard me in the shower... I walked through the door with a stranger's cum soaking my panties... And you know what?"

He grumbles, his hips hitting into me harder as he waits for me to continue.

"I wished it was yours..."

My legs clench together under the table and I take a large gulp of water.

I feel something graze over my bare shin, and I already know it's Spencer's foot, a silent reassurance of his presence and that no matter what, he'll always be here.

"Here's what's going to happen..."

He has me on my back now, my legs hoisted over his shoulders and bent back so I'm nearly folded in half. His hips are flush against mine and I can feel his cock throbbing as he comes into the condom.

"You're gonna make an appointment to make sure you're clean... You're gonna make sure you're on good birth control... And then the next time I fuck this pretty little pussy, you're gonna really know what it feels like to have a man come inside you."

Right... Like I really need a reminder of his presence.

I can practically feel it still inside me, taking up every inch of space my body could provide. And no matter how long I go without seeing him, I have no doubt that it'll always remain.

"But that's enough about me, I'm sorry." Mom's voice shifts and breaks me out of my fantasy. "So, how did your day of bonding go? You have fun?"

Spencer and I share a look, a smile spreading over his lips that makes me smile in turn.

"Yeah, Mom," I say. "It was great."

He nods in kind. "Yeah... We'll definitely have to do it again."

His foot grazing over my leg under the table cements the unwavering smile on my face, as does the way my whole body burns at the memory of him fucking me upstairs only hours before.

I don't even flinch or get sick to my stomach when Mom reaches over and gives Spencer a kiss.

———

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sortasirius · 4 years

Text

Dean Winchester be like:

I hate myself because it’s what my father taught me to do. I hate myself because it’s a defense mechanism. I use sarcasm to cover up the fact that I believe I am worthless. I raised my brother into a good man, that’s the only good I’ve ever done. I’ve saved some people, they don’t say thank you, but that’s okay. I wish I could have been the man my father wanted me to be. I break everything I touch. All the people I love I end up killing or leaving me. I am broken. I don’t do romantic love, it’s asking for me to get my heart broken, more broken than it already is. I sold my soul to a demon so I could save my brother, because he’s the best thing I ever did, the only good thing. I’m afraid to go to Hell, but I pretend I’m not, because what’s the alternative?

Hell proved that I was the person I always knew I was, a bad person, willing to torture to get out of pain. I met an angel, he’s not like I thought. He’s a soldier, like me, he’s taking orders from a father he can’t see. He starts out as an ally, but he’s different than the others, they say he likes me. He’s awkward, he stands too close to me sometimes. I started the Apocalypse because I wasn’t strong enough. My brother is going down the wrong path, and I don’t know how to stop it. The angels tell me Lucifer has to rise, but the one that pulled me out of Hell disobeys to help me stop it. I think I should consider him a friend. Lucifer rises anyway.

The angel is on the run from Heaven, he’s a good guy, I like him a lot, more than I think I should. I don’t know what to do, if I say yes to Michael, we can save some people. Maybe I’ll get to know peace, maybe my father will be proud of me then. The angel and my brother are angry at me, but I’ve always been a coward, they just don’t know it. But they know me best, I can’t say yes to Michael if it means disappointing them.

My brother goes to the cage with Lucifer and Michael, the angel disappears, and I’m left to pick up the pieces, living a life I feel like I stole from somebody else. I always sleep with a gun and holy water under the bed, even though I know every entrance is secure. My brother comes back, but he’s different now, he’s not the same, I should have looked for him. I feel guilty. We found out his soul is gone, his soul, his soul. The angel is back, but he’s no real help. I kill myself to speak to Death, who brings back his soul in exchange for me playing Death, where I learn a few hard lessons.

I find out the angel has been working with our enemies. Why does it feel like my heart is broken when he won’t meet my eyes? I leave him to the demons, but not before one last look. I’m not sure why. The idiot, he ends up dying trying to get souls from Purgatory, desperate to win his war in Heaven. Why does everyone leave me? The Leviathan are out there, a new threat. At least I know how to kill, so I won’t have to think about the muddy trenchcoat in the trunk of my car. I lose the closest thing I have to a father with a bullet to the brain. I feel like I’m spinning out of control. My brother loses his mind. The angel comes back, he doesn’t recognize me, that hurts. When he does remember me, I tell him we need him, but I really mean that I do.

I get sent to Purgatory, I meet a vampire turned ally turned new best friend, but I won’t leave without the angel, I can’t leave without the angel. We find him, he was running from me, why does everyone run from me? We make it out of Purgatory, the angel gets left behind. It turns out my brother didn’t look for me. Why am I so dispensable? The vampire is the only one I can trust now. I dream about the angel, about the way I couldn’t save him. I feel like I can’t save anyone these days. I see the angel in the air around me, am I going crazy? But then he shows up behind me, why do I care so much about him? I don’t even care where he came from, as long as he’s here. My brother takes on trials, they start to hurt him. We find a place to call home. I’ve never had my own bedroom before. The angel is distant, I wish I could reach him. He doesn’t answer my prayers. He and I find the angel tablet, he hits me. I tell him I need him, never able to tell him that I think I might love him too. He snaps out of it then walks out of my life again. I wish I was lovable. I almost lose my brother to the trials, he has to know I can’t lose him, he’s all I’ve got. The angels fall, I wonder about my angel, if he’s alright.

My brother is dying, and I make a deal with an angel to save him. My angel says he’s a good guy, and I’m too desperate to vet him properly. I watch my angel, now a human, die in front of me, the angel in my brother saves him, it’s one of the only times I’ve ever put someone else over my brother. I feel guilty about that. I have to kick my angel out, it tears me in half to do it, but I have to protect my brother. I watch the angel from a gas station window, I try to find the courage to go see him. I use humor to hide how much I miss him. My brother finds out about the angel, which cost the life of a kid I was supposed to protect, he’s so angry at me. Well, I deserve it this time. I take the Mark of Cain to defeat Abaddon, it can’t be all that bad. I start to lose my grip on myself. My angel gives up an army for me, and it’s the closest I feel to being me in months. My brother and my angel try to stop it, but it’s too late. I die in my brother’s arms.

I wake up with black eyes. I don’t care about anyone, anything. There’s a tiny part of me that’s screaming to wake up, but I drown him out easily enough. My brother finds me, says he wants to cure me. I don’t want it, I don’t want to be me, not feeling is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. They do cure me though, my brother and my angel, and waking up from the blackness is like surfacing from deep water. For a while, I feel loved. But after what I did, I don’t feel like I deserve it. I’m still not me, and when my friend, who I loved like a sister is taken, I go off the deep end again. It’s too easy, but violence is all I know. The angel tries to stop me. I have him where I want him, a blade to the heart and this is all over. But I still can’t kill him, I still can’t kill the angel. Death tells me I have to kill my brother. I almost do it. But killing Death releases me, and I’m me again. Sometimes I still wish I wasn’t.

I have this connection to this Darkness. It scares the hell out of me. I wish I understood it, I wish I could stop it. Am I pulled towards the Darkness because I, myself, am darkness? Is it because I am, because I’ve always been bad? I lose the angel to Lucifer himself, how did I not notice until it was too late? Why would he leave me like this? Will I ever get him back? My head is foggy around the Darkness, but not when it comes to him. I just wish I could get through to him. Lucifer taunts me, my heart rips in half. We get the angel back, but nothing good can last in this life, can it? God himself returns, I have to sacrifice myself to stop the Darkness. I’ll do it, because of course I will, if I have an opportunity to do some good, I’ll take it. The Darkness doesn’t kill me. She thanks me.

My mother is alive. It’s everything I’ve always wanted. I have to learn fast that she’s not what I thought. That’s hard. Me and my brother end up in prison for trying to kill Lucifer, and we find out this girl is going to have his kid. How will we kill someone innocent? I can’t think about that, I’m a killer, I’ll kill if i have to. The angel kills a reaper to save me, but what will happen to him? We start looking for this kid, but do we even want to find it? The angel nearly dies for me, he tells me, my family he loves us. I wish I could tell him the same, but the words won’t work right in my brain, so I do what I always do, I look away. The angel finds the girl, but the kid inside her gets to him, and he runs away from me. Why does everyone run from me? We find them just in time to find a rift to another world, and my brother has to drag me away from the angel, who is going to sacrifice himself to kill Lucifer. He comes back, but before I can say the words I’ve been holding onto for so long, he dies in front of me, only this time, it’s real. My mom is taken from me too, and I’m left by the angel’s side, staring up at the sky, wondering why, why me?

I bury the angel, my brother insists we can’t kill the kid, even though it’s his fault my mom is gone and the angel is... I beg God to bring him back, please, bring him back. You owe me this, please bring him back. He doesn’t listen. I’m alone. We burn the angel, and I try to learn to live with regret and grief and crippling pain all at once. I hate the kid, this is his fault. I kill myself again to save some souls, but also because I want to die this time. I can’t take it anymore. Death tells me I have work to do, but how much more work can there be? How much more can I take? It’s like the Universe reads my mind, because my angel comes back, and it’s like the last few weeks haven’t happened. I still can’t say the words, but maybe this time I’ll get there. Maybe this time. We go to the other world, we save some people, I find my mom. I let another Michael from the other world possess me to defeat Lucifer, but then I can’t expel him. Before he shuts me in my memories, I am desperately afraid.

My brother and the angel find me in my own head, the snap me out of it. I should have known this bar was too good for me, I knew I didn’t deserve it. I shut Michael in there, but I know I won’t last long. I think I’m too weak to hold him, so I build a box designed to hold me forever. I dream about it, claw the sides of the wall until my nails are bloody, but if it’s my eternity or Michael’s rule? I’ll take the ocean every time. The angel will always try to save me, I still can’t say the words. The kid, my kid, he destroys Michael, but something is wrong, and I don;t realize until it’s too late. My mother is dead, at the hands of the kid, and I have never been angrier. I hate the kid again, I hate the angel too, I hate myself more. I pull a gun on the kid, but I still can’t pull the trigger. Sometimes I wish I could put it to my own head. God comes back, turns out he was the villain all along. Typical. He kills our kid. I can’t let myself feel.

The angel tries to convince me that we’re real. How can I believe that? Is everything I am just a story? Have I ever chosen anything? Does the angel really care about me? Do I really care about him? Another one of our friends dies. I blame the angel, I push him away, because I can’t look at him if I think what I feel for him might not be real. I meet up with someone I loved. He’s a monster now, I have to kill him. He dies holding me. I wish I was dead sometimes too. My brother is sick, he gets kidnapped by God. I’m spinning in circles. Me and the angel end up in Purgatory again. He gets taken from me. I’m so alone, so scared, I break down in the one place I could get lost in forever searching for the angel, I don’t want to leave him, please, don’t make me leave him. I have to keep looking, get back to the real world to save my brother. How will I choose? Thank god, or, whatever, I find the angel. I’ll tell him this time, but he stops me. He must know. He doesn’t want me, no one wants me. Why would they? Chuck has taken everything from me. I have to kill him, no matter the cost. The cost is gonna be our kid, raised from the dead by Death. I guess the one thing we have going for us is we don’t stay dead for long. I’m ready to let my kid die for my freedom. My brother stands in the way, I pull a gun on him. He talks me down, he’s the only one that can. I decide to take it out on Death, my pain, my anger, my rage. I take the angel and we find her, she chases us. Another trap. I realize that I’ve trapped us both. Why am I so worthless?

The angel looks at me. He smiles. He tells me how worthy I am, that I’m good, that I changed him. How can I tell him how he changed me. He tells me he’ll die for loving me. Then he shouldn’t, I’m not worth his life. Don’t leave me, please, I can’t lose you, you don’t know what it does it me when you leave me. He tells me he loves me. I try to tell him a fraction of the things I feel for him, but it’s too late. He’s taken before my eyes, and this time I know there’s no getting him back.

I’m left on the floor, unable to move.

This time I know, I’ll never let myself love again, because my heart is so shattered that it’s powdered, there’s no repairing it now. I’ve always been broken, but this time I’m not just broken: I’m destroyed.

#so uh yeah idk what this is #dean #spn #my writing #supernatural #dean winchester #destiel #im so sorry????? idk where this came from #I have never loved anyone the way I love him

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seriouslysnape · 3 years

Text

To the Limit

Severus Snape x Fem. Reader

Warnings: Slight smut. Use of safeword. Language.

Request: Hi! Can u make Severus × Reader when the reader use the safe words for the first time because idk maybe it's too much for the reader that day or smth else you like..Thankyouu 💕💕 love ur writings btw ❤❤

A/N: Here we gooooooo. Reminder, everything is consensual.

Word Count: 2,947

“Okay, darling. Whatever you want.”

Severus has always been flexible in the bedroom. Yes, Severus Snape is versatile in the sheets and has more love making skills than you originally would’ve given him credit for. Sex with Severus can range anywhere from slow and careful where praising your body is his main objective, to fucking you so mercilessly that stars are dotting the back of your eyelids with each hard thrust.

Sometimes, you don’t have to establish what kind of theme your sessions will take on. If Severus comes home angry from a long, obnoxious day then you very well know that a rough fucking will get it out of his system. When you’ve just watched one of your favorite romantic drama Muggle movies that have sent you into tears, he knows that something more unhurried is in order so you are reminded of how much he loves you.

Other times though, there isn’t really anything that determines the kind of sex you’ll be having. If the mood is right for both of you, then you often will just figure it out from there.

Severus’ return on Friday night from a long week of classes was coated with his desire for you. You could practically feel the hard sexual tension radiating off of his whole being. From the moment he walked in the door, you knew what tonight would hold for the both of you. More than likely, it’d be a whole lot of rutted fucking and orgasms until neither of you had any stamina left to give. Normally, a seed of excitement would be planted and begin to grow in your core at the thought of being touched by him, but you didn’t feel it this time.

It had been a bad week to put it simply. Work was weighing you down and you had taken more hits than you were used to in a five day time period. Exhaustion had riddled you, and stress has gotten the best of you. Emotional breakdown was the only way you could describe how you were feeling. You really weren’t feeling up to what Severus wanted to do. However, you couldn’t bring yourself to deny him when his hands and lips were on you, moving to all his favorite places on you.

His voice was silky smooth in your ears as he uplifted you with how he had been thinking about you all day, and how he wanted to be with you when you weren’t around. It wasn’t Severus’ fault that you had a bad week, and it surely wasn’t all his fault that he was this turned on. The way he gripped your legs with his strong hands was an indicator that he wanted to go well into the night, which your tired state wasn’t a fan of. But you loved Severus, and you always wanted him to be happy and well pleased. So you figured you could handle a couple of coarse rounds to satisfy him.

Oh, how wrong you were.

Once access was granted, Severus leapt onto you without hesitation. A tornado of clothes being removed whirled around the room, your shirt and pants ended up on complete opposite sides of the room. Hot and unruly kisses were shared, marks were left on your necks, and no part of you went unattended.

Admittedly, the first orgasm was actually enjoyable. Severus’ fingers were knuckle deep in your needy cunt and pumping vigorously as he found all the best spots. The strenuous activity melted some of the week’s stress from your conscience, your mind being stripped of all your worry as it clouded with ecstasy. Severus thrived off of the moans and noises of delight that he was drawing out of your throat, perfecting his movements to give you an even stronger release. Severus worked you to your finish as you came around his fingers, slicking them with arousal and relief.

He left lazy kisses over your breasts while you took a moment to recover, preparing yourself for the next round that was undoubtedly on its way. Tiredness had plagued you long before Severus had even walked through the door, and you had suddenly been robbed of even more energy, so you were confident that you might not get a proper orgasm this second time. But the moment Severus slid you onto his dick and stretched your walls the way only he knew how to, you knew that you were going to cum whether you felt like you could handle it or not.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to. You loved seeing Severus so enraptured in waves of pleasure and gratification, but you were beyond fatigued. Still, you bounced up and down on his lap over and over again, your already sensitive clit throbbing with each rub of his fingers. Severus’ other hand guided your hip movements to meet the way he thrusted up into you, hitting your g-spot just right.

When you came this time, your sound of release was more of a strained cry than a content sound. Severus didn’t seem to notice, since he was too focused on the intoxicating feeling of filling you with his own finish. You popped off of him before he was even emptied out, the rest of his fluids landing on your inner thighs. You fell onto the bed next to him, your breathing much heavier than usual.

You were totally tuckered out with absolutely no hope of another round. Your muscles ached and your bones were wiped out. Although, you felt a queasy feeling of despair when you saw that familiar look of lust in Severus’ eyes. He spoke lowly, his voice echoing in your ringing ears.

“I’m not through with you yet, love.” He purred.

Usually that would’ve sent a whole mess of arousal through you, but you were too worn out. But Severus usually didn’t last more than three rounds, so this would for sure be the last one. You thought you could push through so he could at least get his release, but this third go round wasn’t a good feeling for you at all.

With your arms above your head and the pillowcase below your head in your fingers’ death grip, you turned your head to the side to fight through his persistent hard fucking into you. On a better day, you’d be all over this and relishing every moment. But now your eyes were screwed tightly shut in discomfort, for each time you opened them Severus would only be able to see the whites of your eyes. The thumping heartbeat in your ears was deafening and your entire body was stiff and rigid, but not in a good way. You wanted to tough it out so at least Severus could finish, but it was just too much for you tonight.

You had to tap out.

“Polyjuice!” You squeaked out, your voice raspy.

In an instant, you saw any expression of lust wiped straight from his face. He pulled out the millisecond that the word registered in his head, his face stricken with worry and concern at the first time use of your agreed safe word. Severus’ heart dropped at your whimpers of displeasure, his brain reeling and raking over what had gone wrong.

“[Y/N], what’s wrong? What happened?” He asked frantically.

“I-I just...”

Shaky breaths and uncomfortable whines were the only noises you could seem to make. You sat up from where you were laying down, bringing your knees to your chest and hiding your face as you began to cry. Your emotions were all over the place, and it didn’t help that you were overstimulated and overworked. Severus went to pull you to him, but withdrew his hand. Upsetting you further would absolutely crush him, but he needed to know that you were okay.

“Can I touch you, darling?” He whispered out.

The yowl of approval was enough for him to feel fine with carefully wrapping his hand under your arm and dragging you across the mattress to where he was kneeling on the middle of the bed. He pulled the covers over your skin to keep you from getting cold from the loss of heat from being active. You buried your head into his bare chest, your tears leaking and falling down his skin.

“I’m sorry, Sev. I’m really sorry.” You sobbed, your hair sticking to your sweaty skin.

“No, no, no. Don’t ever be sorry for telling me to stop when you’re not comfortable,” He reassured; “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

The shake of your head brought relief upon him, but he was still worried. He rocked you in his arms until your sobs died down enough to where you were coherent. Severus was getting ready to ask you once more what was wrong, shifting you so he could see your face. When moving you, his hand accidentally brushed against your swollen, sensitive clit and you wailed out pathetically. Severus’ pale face went even whiter.

“Oh, my love...I worked you too hard, didn’t I?” He queried.

Severus would always admit that sometimes he’d get into the zone and completely drown everything else out. He wouldn’t really be able to tell how hard he was pulling in and out. It was rare, but from time to time you’d have to ask him to soften his thrusts or slow his pace when he got too rowdy. But you had never asked him to stop completely until now. He feared that he had seriously pushed you over the edge this time.

“It’s not just that.” You confessed with a sniff.

Severus had drawn your head back to gaze into your bleary eyes. The tear tracks being swiped away with his thumbs as he cradled your face.

“What is it then, sweetheart?” He asked with wonder.

A fresh set of salty tears pooled and fell down your cheeks, but for a different reason.

“I’ve had a horrible week. Nothing has gone right,” You explained croakily; “I wanted to make you feel good and I thought it might make me feel better...but I’m just exhausted and I couldn’t handle it tonight.”

You fell apart into another set of choking sobs and gut wrenching cries, prompting Severus to bring you back into his chest. He stroked your skin and left kisses so light that they were ghostly.

“It’s alright, angel. I wish you had told me before that you weren’t feeling up to it,” He consoled; “You’re worth so much more than sex. I want you to tell me sooner next time if you’re uncomfortable.”

Your nod of understanding offered a wash of comfort over him that you were calming down steadily. He hated that this happened. He knew that was the whole reason for your established safe word for when things went south or things got dicey. He just never thought you’d ever have to use it. He felt absolutely terrible.

“I’m sorry, Sevvy. I really wanted you to get off, I just-”

“Please don’t apologize for this. This is my fault. I should’ve seen how tired you were and how I was being overly hard,” He said; “I’m the one that should be sorry.”

The sniffles from your nose had increased as you tried to flush down all the drainage from your crying. Your tears had stopped as you sat up from his body, wiping at your cheeks with the back of your hand. The red blotches in your puffy eyes were pinging at Severus’ already guilty conscience. He saw the littered hickeys across your neck and breasts, and how your lips were swollen from his severe kisses. He had rocked your burnt out body to the max.

“I’ll tell you what. How about we go get cleaned up, and then we can get into bed. Then you can tell me about your week if so wish.” He suggested, cautiously guiding you off of the bed.

“I think I just want to get a bath and get some sleep.” You said, barely able to stand on your wobbly legs.

“Okay, darling. Whatever you want.” He smiled softly, hoping it’d offer you some kind of solace.

Severus ran you a hot bath, filling it with all of your favorite scents and smells. Your stance was still despite your shaking legs, and you seemed to be staring off into an endless trance. You slipped into the tub when it was ready, sinking down just below your nose under the bubbles. Normally, Severus would be sitting across from you or you’d be snuggled up on his lap, but he wanted you to have some space for a bit. You were honestly too tired to object.

He simply casted a charm to freshen himself up, finding and selecting his favorite pair of sweatpants and soft shirt for you to change into. Your eyes were closed, and you had just begun to drift off to sleep when he re-entered the bathroom, changed into some casual day time wear, despite how late it was.

“Here are some clean clothes for you, pretty girl.” He remarked, setting the folded sweats and shirt on the end of the tub for you to get when you got out.

You only gave a light nod as a response, your eyes following him as he stood awkwardly. He was unsure of what to do for you now. He thought that you might want the bedroom to yourself for the night, which was fine because he wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing he had pushed you so hard anyway. He placed himself on the floor by the tub, sitting with his legs criss crossed over one another. It was quiet in the room, the only sounds were the occasional gentle splash when you moved your leg or arm. His eyes were still full of worry, and he was kicking himself big time now.

“I’m so sorry...” He breathed out, running his fingertips dragging leisurely your damp arm that you had resting on the ledge of the bathtub; “I never meant to hurt you.”

“You didn’t hurt me, Sev. I promise.” You responded, wishing he wouldn’t take this so hard.

When it came to you, Severus took everything to heart. There weren’t many things in the world that made his heart beat with a purpose. You were the single person that allowed him to want to get up in the mornings. The thought of hurting you was enough to break him down. If he could have it his way, you would be indescribably happy with every passing moment of every day. He never wanted you to feel anything other than joy.

But he knew that life would never allow it.

Your eyebrows dipped when you noticed his attire, wondering why he wasn’t in his own sleepwear. It was much too late for him to go anywhere.

“Where are you going?” You questioned, your voice thick with weary.

“I’m going to go back to the school. I have some grading to do.” He half-lied.

It was true that he did indeed have a stack of papers to be assessed, but that wasn’t the real reason why he felt like he wanted to leave. Severus Snape grading on a Friday night when he had the opportunity to be cuddled up with his lover? He’d choose you every time.

Now you felt bad for causing him to scurry off. You wanted him there with you regardless of what had happened.

“Severus,” You called out tenderly, reaching for his face; “I don’t want you to leave.”

A genuine look of doubt flashed over his features as his head lulled into your hand.

“I think it would be best if you got some good sleep tonight. I’ll just be in my office so if-”

“Stay with me. Please?” You requested, the thought of sleeping without him was disheartening.

A sigh of awe expelled from his chest. He couldn’t say no to your puppy eyes and slightly pouting lower lip.

“Okay, okay.” He agreed.

“I think that some boyfriend snuggles will make me feel a whole lot better.” You spoke rather cheekily.

He hummed affirmatively. The sound of nestling up with you was impossible to turn down. He took your hand from his face and kissed your palm gingerly, holding the warm skin to his lips for a brief moment. He eventually stood from the floor, but stopped when you held your arms up.

“Help me up?” You asked with the first genuine smile of the evening.

He chuckled, obliging and lifting you effortlessly from the tub. The warm towel was heavenly as you dried off, changing into the clothes that Severus had left for you. Severus went and changed as well, laughing to himself when he exited the closet to see you already curled up.

The sheets draped over him easily when he laid next to you, waiting for you to nuzzle up to him. He held you close and flush to him, thanking his lucky stars that you were okay.

“My sweet girl...” He hushed out, noting that you were just seconds away from falling asleep; “I love you.”

You mumbled out a sleepy “I love you” in return before drifting into a deep slumber to snooze off the night’s drama. Severus, as expected, didn’t sleep much that night to ensure that you were sleeping soundly and comfortably. He still felt dreadful, even after you had told him over and over that he didn’t hurt you. The weekend to follow was filled with Severus doting and cherishing over you every chance that he had, trying to make up for what had happened. You were the light of his life after all.

And he prayed that he’d never see that flame go out.

#severus snape #severus snape x reader #severus #severus snape x you #severus snape x y/n #severus snape x female reader #severus snape smut #harry potter #harry potter snape #harry potter fanfiction #alan rickman #seriouslysnape #anon request

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teklarn · 3 years

Text

𝔂𝓸𝓾'𝓻𝓮 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓶𝔂 𝓫𝓸𝔂𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭 - 𝓴. 𝓫𝓪𝓴𝓾𝓰𝓸𝓾

character(s): katuski bakugou x gn!reader

a/n : y’all this was gonna be for kirishima bc i love possessive kiri but like it works so well with bakugou. first part will be from third pov, following parts will be from second pov (reblogs are greatly appreciated !! <3)

summary: bakugou x gn!reader. they have feelings for one another but have no idea how to express them, however y/n has someone pining for their attention.

genre: uhh idk a lil bit teeny-weeny dash of angst i guess

warnings: mild cursing, possessive bakugou, mutual pining, jealousy, aged-up to third year, possessive y/n, love triangle (square?), implied manga spoilers but not directly stated, tiny bitta tokage slander (sorry lol), slow burn romance (like SLOWWW SLOW BURN), lowkey enemies to lovers, like a lotta tension between bakugou and y/n

word count: 3k

UNEDITED w/ minimal or no typos. i shoved it into grammarly’s ass and prayed for the best okay

here’s pt 2 loves <3

- - -

y/n was used to picking and their skin, irritated at the girls fawning over bakugou. they were always on the sidelines, watching from afar, jealousy warping their heart. could these stupid girls not see that bakugou didn’t even care for their attention?

this time it was setsuna tokage who was begging for his eyes on her. y/n assumed it started in their first year when they’d been put against one another when the classes still had a clashing rivalry. (they still did, much more tame now, however.)

she leaned forwards, tugging on his short sleeve. bakugou’s uniform jacket was slung over one shoulder. he’d lost a lot of his angry demeanor from when he was younger, however it was easy to tell when he was pissed. it was inevitable he wasn’t going to lose his temper entirely.

it was easy to ignore the girls—most of the time, at least. what was ticking y/n off the most was the fact that bakugou didn’t seem pissed at all. his face was neutral, almost like the perfect mirror of todoroki on a daily basis. his eyes were not fired up in his usual ‘get the hell off of me’ manner. he was relaxed.

it didn’t seem like he reciprocated tokage’s feelings, however he wasn’t doing anything to get her off him and it was pissing y/n off to no end.

her sensuous lips were pushed into a slight pucker as she spoke, arching her back in a manner that made it appear much more provocative than she probably intended.

bakugou stood there, eyes flicking from her grasp on his sleeve and back up to her eyes. he didn’t say anything, didn’t move, only kept looking her up and down. not in a romantic way, of course. right?

y/n scoffed at themselves. they swallowed the lump in their throat, shoving down the pinging envy in their chest with it. why wasn’t he reacting?

heat rushed to y/n’s cheeks. why do i care?

tokage was nearing his face. she didn’t have any intent to press her lips to his, which y/n was more than glad for.

y/n had come to the conclusion they had feelings for the explosive boy weeks ago. perhaps they always had, but now that they were fully conscious of them... gosh, it was frustrating.

“you’re staring again.”

y/n turned to see kirishima, the only other person who knew about their feelings for bakugou. he’d lost the twinkle in his eyes after first year. he’d picked up a dominating sneer and a withering glare reserved for anyone who desired to cross his friends. everyone at UA had after what went down. it was a shock most of them survived anything.

“so?” y/n snapped, shoving their hands away and kicking a pebble before them. kirishima and y/n continued their walk through the courtyard.

“so it makes you look creepy.”

“no, it doesn’t. he didn’t even notice me.”

kirishima snapped his fingers. “partially my point here. that’s bakugou katsuki, you really think he’s going to notice you?”

“excuse me?”

kirishima pursed his lips, twiddling his thumbs. “i didn’t mean it like that, y/n. it’s just...well, he has so much to work for.”

y/n raised a brow, questioning his nervous antics.

he continued. “bakugou works hard. probably the hardest worker in UA aside from midoriya. and it’s bakugou. he doesn’t really see a point in relationships. you know that.”

“it’s not like i’m looking for anything with him, though. gosh, kirishima, you’re acting like this is some school girl crush.”

he tilted his head, giving y/n a look that screamed, are you really sure it’s not though?

y/n huffed out a breath, crossing their arms. they’d already vomited up their feelings, why all of a sudden call it a crush? sure, it was a tiny crush that was no larger than the brain of a dinosaur.

“i can swear that it isn’t, kirishima. you’re looking too deep into things,” y/n defended once again.

the red-head held his hands up in surrender, sucking his lips in to avoid another snarky comment slipping out.

the two looked up at the towering building that had been home to them for the past three years: Heights Alliance.

during their second year, the teachers had settled with having the dorms set up in a way that allowed the students’ rooms to be set up in a gender-neutral fashion. they’d been able to select new dorms beside whomever they wished. rooming next to kirishima was a blast, but the only person bakugou wanted to room next to was him.

mina had moved in next to you, and kaminari to her right, and sero right across from y/n.

y/n had no issue being squished between a group notorious for their goofiness and ability to never take anything seriously, however (especially on weekends) they were exceptionally loud to the point they were sure China could hear the blaring music.

friday was finally going to be over in a few hours. y/n felt a giddiness well up inside them, anticipating the weekend. it’d been a rough few days, for everyone, not just them.

class 1A had been bombarded with assignments and pop quizzes. y/n was lucky they finished it all in class. some of the homework was finished when they’d sacrificed their precious free time to get it done, but in the end, it was worth it all.

y/n let their bag sag down their arms as they entered Heights Alliance.

bakugou had just been asked out on a date. for the third time. first time, he’d denied. second time, he had to shove tokage off him. third time, he’d calmly accepted her offer, and she’d skipped away with more than a smile.

she’d squeezed his bicep, gave him a wink and an unnecessary peck on the cheek that bakugou had wiped off the moment she turned her back. he was now in his bathroom and, despite her not wearing any lipstick, he was scrubbing his cheek raw so that the skin was a blotchy red.

the date was tonight, and he found himself wanting to go, and questioning why he accepted in the first place.

bakugou forgot about tokage the second he won that match his first year and tossed her in the cage. he only noticed her when she and her group of friends giggled and passed by. (it was mostly her chortling, but whatever.)

he continued rubbing his cheek aggressively with a scratchy towel. he was repulsed by how he had stood there without bothering to snap at her to leave him alone for the third time.

instead, bakugou’s mind had buffered, and if he was in a video game, he had surely glitched. he should probably just tell tokage he didn’t want to go anymore. in fact, he never wanted to go in the first place and wants to jump out his window and escape.

it was almost comedic. the thought of him going out on a date? goodness, he wanted to throw up.

as he continued scrubbing the cloth along his cheek, bakugou found himself more than grateful for how much his quirk made him sweat. if it wasn’t for the nitroglycerin-like substance he produced, his skin would be scratched and dried up.

a knock sounded at his door. silence came, until the knock found its way to his ears. a set of three knocks, then five, then it was a needy banging.

whoever was on the other side heard his audible groan and shuffling feet dragging across the floor, because they knocked a lot harder.

he swung the door open, hinges crying out.

bakugou’s upper lip curled in disgust. tokage twirled her hair around a finger, eyelashes sticking together with mascara. “katsuki,’ she greeted.

his eyes narrowed on her. “don’t call me that.”

“what should I be calling you, then? baby? or honey?”

oh yes, bakugou wanted to vomit. what even was her name again? whatever, it didn’t matter. “lizard teeth, listen. i-”

“lizard teeth? why would you address me like that?”

“because i don’t know your damn name, alright? i don’t-”

“tokage. need me to spell it out for you?”

“no. shut up. i need to-”

“you should remember it, because i was one of the few who got in through recommendations, remember?”

“and yet here you are in class 1B. can you shut the hell up now?”

“well, you’re just being shitty.”

“why are you here, tokage.” more of a demand than a question, as bakugou’s questions always came across if he ever bothered to ask them.

“because, for our date tonight, I need to pick up some things and I really hope you’re up for coming with me.”

“no.”

“please?”

“no. stop pushing. and I don’t want to-”

“come on, grouchy.” tokage activated her quirk, one scale slipping into his dorm and pushing him towards her. she gripped the collar of his shirt and grinned. “come with me for a short bit, and I’ll count that as our date, m’kay?”

bakugou opened his mouth once more to protest, but tokage silenced him by pressing one slender finger to his lips.

“I’m fully aware you don’t want to go on this date with me.”

he relaxed, shoulders slumping. if bakugou was younger, if he was even just a little bit more stubborn as he had been before, perhaps he’d be out of this mess already, or never in it in the first place.

tokage let her hand fall back to her side—both of them. the scale returned to her lower calf; the jet-black leggings she wore now had a perfect hole in them.

“do you think i’m dense, bakugou?”

“then why ask me out?” bakugou felt himself leaning back.

“because if i can get under the skin of that stupid little...what do you like to call them? stupid little extras? yeah, that stupid extra who can’t stop fluttering googly-eyes at you every minute, then i’ll be perfectly content.”

“who the hell are you talking about?”

“alright, so you are oblivious.” tokage took a step back and crossed her arms. “are you both unaware of how you’ve both been pining for each other’s attention? y/n, that classmate of yours.”

“...y/n?”

“do you know their name or do i have to describe in excruciating detail what they look like?”

“no, no i know who you’re talking about. but you’ve got to be shitting me, alright? there’s nothing there.”

“i’m from 1B, and if there’s something going on in 1A, monoma is going to tell us.”

“shithead, get out of my face.”

“you still have to go out with me.”

“why the f-”

“because, bakugou. if you don’t, i’ll be sure to make sure y/n knows about your feelings, whether they’re real or not.”

“why would they care? more importantly, why would you care?”

y/n kicked their feet up and down, a lollipop in their left hand, phone in their other. kirishima was in his bathroom while y/n was playing a game on their phone. they’d stashed away a bunch of candy back in their dorm and had snatched a handful for the two of them to share while hanging out in kirishima’s.

he was currently combing a hand through his hair, and then proceeded to rummage through his cabinets.

kirishima emerged with his lips puckered. “want to come to the drug mart with me?” he stuck a thumb to his door.

“what for?” y/n didn’t take a glance away from their phone.

“this.” he chuckled softly. when y/n looked up, kirishima had two fingers parting his hair. the roots were a jet black, just growing long enough to become the slightest bit visible.

“you’re going to fry your hair.” they were already shoving their phone away and tossing their sucker into the trash bin.

“it’s a monthly tradition to do this, y/n. it would be fried by now if i was bad at it,” he joked, tapping his roots once more.

y/n laughed alongside him as they exited the room.

it was late, and the lights made everything feel like it was set in a world of backrooms. when the rest of the world is sleeping, it is more than quiet, and nothing feels real―possibly in the best ways.

kirishima scratched at his chin, staring intensely at the hair-dye boxes lined neatly on the shelf before them.

y/n tapped their foot, not out of impatience, but because of the creep staring at them through the aisle. yes, through.

between the boxes of hair dye and scattered makeup products, the beady eyes of setsuna tokage could be seen. she smirked when she tugged her hostage closer.

bakugou’s height had shot up to around six feet in the past two years, so all that was visible was his chest and the black sweatshirt loosely hanging off it, however his grumbling and stream of colorful language was unmistakable. it was him.

“you okay?”

y/n’s head snapped to their friend. “what?”

“you seem on edge. is something wrong?”

“nothing. nothing is wrong.”

“you sure? if you need to talk, i’m here.”

“yeah, yeah, i’m okay. don’t worry.”

“alright.” kirishima held up a box, wiggling it in one hand. “got it.” he gave y/n a toothy grin.

“good.” y/n snatched his arm up and dragged him along.

“woah,” kirishima released a breathy chuckle, tugging his arm back. “what’s got you in a hurry?”

“nothing,” y/n said, shrugging. “just wanna get home.”

gosh, kirishima knew them too well. his eyes squinted just a bit, and there was that playful grin lingering on his lips, just ghosting over his face, barely visible to anyone who didn’t know him. instead of pointing out the obvious, which was standing just a few aisles behind, kirishima decided to play around. “goodness, honey, the kids are going to be fine back home.”

heat raced to y/n’s face. “what?”

kirishima winked. “it’s nice that you care about them, but care about me a little, would’ya? i miss you, too,” he said a tad louder.

this caught bakugou’s attention. his eyes clashed with y/n’s, and he didn’t look away until y/n did. even a few seconds after, y/n still felt the blaring heat of his gaze upon them.

kirishima slung an arm around his friend, enjoying their flustered image. of course, he would never even think about pushing boundaries. the thought never crossed his mind, but he knew they’d let him know if they were uncomfortable.

when y/n looked back as kirishima led them away, bakugou’s jaw was clenched, and his eyes were alight with jealousy.

of course, y/n didn’t notice the emotion flaring.

tokage smirked, clutching his loose sleeve.

y/n looked back to their friend, and kirishima flashed them another knowing smile. bakugou was getting antsy with his best friends’ hands all over y/n. well, not all over, but a tap on the shoulder was enough.

despite the way kirishima’s face dropped, y/n swiped his arm away and wandered over to tokage a bit more angrily than intended. they glanced up to bakugou, who was reaching up to retrieve something for tokage.

“what brings you guys here? didn’t expect to see you.” inside, y/n was screaming. gosh, their heart was angry.

“just running errands together.”

bakugou? going for errands? with tokage?

“cool, cool,” y/n said, nodding. “i was doing the same with kirishima.” they paused, awkward silence filling the space.

impatient as ever, bakugou tossed the item into tokage’s basket and clicked his tongue.

y/n didn’t know why. why were they being so stubborn? despite their protesting thoughts and their entire body screaming to hold back, y/n wrapped their fingers around bakugou’s wrist.

“actually, bakugou, i have something to ask you. i need your opinion on it. you’re smart, right?” y/n’s voice lifted at the end. although they couldn’t see the, what the hell are you doing face kirishima was making behind them as subtly as possible, they could definitely feel the glare burning into their back.

“tch, of course i’m smart, shithead.”

“good.”

“we’re actually kind of in a rush,” tokage spat out, snappier than usual.

“do you think i fight okay? i need someone with a perspective like yours to know if i do.”

“what kind of question is that, dumbass? i don’t care if you can fight well or not, just so long as i can beat the shit outta ya.”

tokage let out a low growl.

y/n smirked, hand still around bakugou’s wrist. “i’d like to know if i can beat you, then, so you can tell me if i’m good or not.”

ohgoshohgoshohgosh where was this coming from?

bakugou squinted. he leaned in closer, like he didn’t hear them. “speak up.”

y/n knew he heard them correctly, but he got awfully close.

feeling a little sneaky themselves, y/n ghosted their fingers over his strong jaw, tilting his head closer so they could speak clearly into his ear. “let’s train together,” y/n said, staring tokage dead in the eyes.

it was a stupid rivalry, really. they’d both been accepted through recommendations. they’d been friends all throughout middle school, and yet when y/n made it into 1A, tokage felt it a necessity to excel at everything and rub it in their face. no way was y/n letting them get away with this.

“i want to see how strong i am.” y/n let their voice drop just a bit. “you’re strong, right?”

“are you taunting me?” bakugou said, voice nearly a whisper. he still hadn’t moved from leaning down and hadn’t bothered to move y/n’s fingertips from his jaw.

“absolutely not.” y/n sent a small grin in the direction of their rival. “let’s just see who can beat who. we’ve never been against one another like this.”

tokage huffed, tugging bakugou back. his eyes were softened when they met y/n’s, and there was simmering, small grin on his face.

tokage, however, looked less intrigued. “he’s not your boyfriend.”

y/n shrugged, already backing away. they spread their arms in a mockery of surrender. “he’s not yours, either.”

328 notes · View notes

muffindaddystyles · 3 years

Text

KISMETS.

Harry Styles x fem!reader.

Slow burn, platonic love and jealousy clićhes.

Fluff! Fluff! Fluff!

Frenemies and dad!harry.

Author's Note: The concept's kinda weird but if you've watched F.R.I.E.N.D.S and Phoebe Buffay carrying child for someone. You've got it my pal!

MASTERLIST LETS TALK! PART 2 PART 3 PART 4

"Can ya stop breathing like, THAT!?" She whisper yells twisting to give him a sharp glare full of spleen elbow poking at his side abs, "Like what!?" He half squeaks peering down at her with doe eyes palms flat at sides to convey his surprise.

"Like a train engine whistling -- it's annoying." She mutters rolling her eyes and turning back to listen to instructor.

"Now, I can't even breath without ye' comin' fo' me throat?" He grits with a kink of brows and when she confirms with a no --- He gasps dramatically. It's gonna be a long journey of Hell for them. Harry hates her hormones. Little bitches.

Y/N is carrying a baby for Harry and his girlfriend --- but something went downhill.

Twinkling droplets of crystal rain pelts against the bricked road subsiding harsh noises of surrounding but a nettled groan caught everyone's attention ‐‐‐ stares turning in direction. Have you ever wanted to just disappear under a warm invisible cloak and enjoy the drollery aspects of life without worrying? Because this is what Y/N wants at the moment as she stands under the bus stop shelter with few people beside her and the british showers starts pouring mocking at her for not carrying an umbrella with her.

Everyone leaves when the bus didn't arrive — who remains behind's Y/N huffing and pouting wishing for rain to stop. When it didn't she muttered a 'fuck it' before risking catching a cold and stepping under the pitter patter with her books atop her head for less damage.

Trying to punch in the passcode of society's gate with shivery fingers perhaps it opens before that startling her wet-y self. Similar car drives near her and a head pops in from inside with his big goofy smile and crinkles by his charming eyes, "Ni!" She exclaims pushing away the drippy hair sticking to her lips with her pinky.

"Pet you're gonna catch a cold. Want me to drop ya?" Niall kinda yells over the rain's loudness. She sighs fog whirling infront of her. Shoves her hand in her trench coat's pocket to seek for heat instead it's all icky and drenching.

"No it's just a tiny walk away. I'll manage — call me will tell ya how my class went." She waves him looking at him from her shoulder while rushing away towards the most elegant house in the block. Niall gives her a thumbs up from before getting out of sight and she tries to hop over the puddles of water to make it to doorsteps.

The water she brings from outside pooling at the dark timber floor - it trails behind her past the pink door as she rushes jumpy-ly where the most hot's in the house and apparently it's more than she expected, "ouch. ouch my eyes!!" She screams covering them at the sight of Harry butt naked pinning his girlfriend against the wall near fire place. Her face turning into a tomato at the horrendous raid but she seems pissed and well . . displeased that Y/N ruined a mind boggling orgasm for her.

Before, they could disattach from eachother to unravel their humiliation Y/N jogged up to attic into the guest room slamming her forehead against the door to knock away the embarrassment. She always barges in Harry's house without announcing but sometimes she forgets he isn't alone everytime his girlfriend comes to live by every two weeks (it's his fault too that he never locks the main door as anytime anyone's coming at his place). Changes into clothes she forgets at her visits, tries to dry her hair with a towel that no-more smells like Harry but expensive fabric softeners and has a pep talk for a minute to show herself down infront of them.

Instinctive voices coming from the Kitchen and she pads towards it. They act like nothing happened. Like Harry wasn't dick deep into Chessie moments ago. Harry ushers her to barstool and hands her a cuppa tea moving on with a kiss to her head. It still gives her butterflies even though how many sense awakening scoldings she gave to herself at 3 ams.

"'M sorry." She squeaks with a wavering smile wrapping her palms around the mug. Harry cackles softly brushing the underbelly of his nose as Chessie cordinated the cutlery drawer, "'s okay moppet. we finished our business when ye' left." Y/N almost choked on her hot beverage gulping it down when Chessie shocked gasp throwing little socksies that were laying ontop of the counter at Harry. Are those of toddler? Adam's out of town so there's no way it could be his daughter's socks. Maybe Chessies's one of friend's?

"Should've called me t' pick y'up. Niall was loafin' around too —- wear it you're turnin' blue, pet." He comes back with a swarmy chunky knitted sweater Anne gifted him at his birthday handing it to Y/N and sitting opposite of her pulling Chessie with her wrist into his lap clearing his throat to bring Y/N's attention back from eyeing the socks on the floor. Her eyes flicker between them chest tightening at the love and glow that radiates from Harry when he looks at her.

No. She's not jealous. Mightyyyy bit yeah –- cause she could never be this lucky to have someone as Harry. He's the most caring towards her since ten years been her compass to the home she wanted, her anchor saving her from sinking and the sixth sense of a blind to her. In fact she thinks he's her soulmate and not every soulmates needs to be romantically involved some could watch them growing beautiful in love. Y/N's doing it. Admiring the maturity of his life with the person that truly makes him enough---or she thinks so.

"How was ye'r meditation class?" Harry asks (she took a semester off as she was unable to haul the burden'; Harry convinced her how her health should be her first priority) breaking a cookie in two giving half of it to Chessie who thanks him with a kiss in return, "Was good been feelin' great!" She chirps pulling the sleeves of the sweater that's drenched in cinnamon vanilla-y smell with lingers of what comes of as Chessie's scent. She assumes they cuddled shit loads.

To subside the gnaw in her brain down she finally asks the question pointing at the sock that nobody gave a heed to pick up, they stop chewing looking at eachother to come up with something. Chessie's face distressed knowing Harry wouldn't hide it from Y/N. He tells her everything and sometimes it could be too personal to share.

"Erm. . I bought 'em — 'cos. . " Harry stammers and Y/N smacks her hand atop her mouth avoiding from giving a shocked reaction, "Oh my goodness ye' guys are pregnant!?" It was enough to make Chessie flinch and hike down Harry's lap.

"No! 'S not what ye'r thinkin'." He shakes his head making Y/N confused. "Then you bought it fo' your fingers? Cause that's the only body part it could fit." She teases him to break through the insight tension around and he chuckles shaking his head grabbing Chessie's hand rubbing her knuckles how he used to when Y/N's anxious and over the edge.

"We want to have a family." His words low as he looks at Chessie but she shrugs in return as 'in it is what it is'. Y/N stomach twisted at that. The thought that one day He's gonna have a family of his own and the little bubble that Y/N would be privy to made her throat dry. Because she has no-one despite Harry and he deserves the whole world not just baby keeping Y/N everytime.

"So . .? What's the problem?" She raises her brows looking between them noticing Harry's fingers fiddle with the flower tea mats, "There are complications from Chessie's side." Chessie sighs in disappointment and Y/N ponders over the idea, clocks working and spindling wildly in her mind.

"I could do that for you guys — since I took a semester off --–" She puts the offer nervously and both of their jaws went slack Harry with an adoring grin while Chessie in hitting shock. "--Erm we could go through a traditional surrogacy."

"Are you sure?" Chessie asks squeezing her shoulder and Y/N nodded taking both of their hands, "Anything for ye' guys!" Harry's eyes glossing over and he leaves his spot sprawling his arms calling for her, "Gimme a hug pet. Life saver ye're - we're gonna take care of ye." They group hug tightly and excitedly.

Sometimes actions could speak much more than words because the lies that words hold could ruin the great bondages.

. . .

They went through the medical procedure two days after Her, Harry and Chessie being guided by their acquired doc. She was nervous and sweaty but Harry's presence beside her soothed out any negativity that was building inside her brain. By womb the babies would be Harry's and Y/N but legally Chessie's and Harry. She's just wishing that everything goes alright cause that happiness of them is million worthy to her.

People might call her stupid and brainless for going through sickness, crankiness, back pains and the pain during labour just to give those babies to someone else (she's too afraid to call them her's cause she knows her emotional attachments could be very destructive) but she loves Harry and love makes you do those thingies.

At the moment she's on the toilet seat eyes bolted shut counting threes with the pregnancy test in her wavering fingers. "Please it better work." A squeal of surprise leaves her lungs when her eyes fell over the two positive lines quickly dragging her panties over she tumbled outside where everyone's waiting for her.

"You guys are pregnant!!" Sounds dumb right? She announces loudly. Harry's and Chessie's heads perked up while everyone cheered beers spilling from the rims. She flashed grins to each one of them splitting her gaze away from Harry giving Chessie a celebratory kiss.

"Thank you. Oh my god, love! Can't belive it." Harry held her from shoulders giving her a toothy smile and it puts her off that Chessie didn't say anything just a nod along Harry. "Me too." She breathes out as he leads her to sofa sitting her cautiously. "We'll visit the doctor tommorrow." He reassures popping his head from Sarah's neck as she hugged him tight.

"We're gonna have a little Y/N and Harry running and pooping it's nappies soon." Everyone went silent. A grimace on Y/N and Chessie's face. Niall doesn't know when to shut up does he? Y/N's gonna strangle him alive. Harry laughed out aloud not caring about the thick tension in room, "I'll rip ye'r hair if you'll turn me baby into a golf freak Niall." His baby.

Niall raises his hands in defence, "No guarantees Harold."

. . .

They had a check-up and Y/N indeed's pregnant. Harry's over the moon. Kissing her forehead. Thanking her for millionth time – to the point she told him to let her watch telly in peace and shut up. Chessie bringing her organic vegan dishes that Y/N isn't a fan of but eats nevertheless under Harry's stern gaze. "'S not about them only I want ye' to be healthy too, pet. Can't be selfish now can I?" He'd insist.

When she'd be sick he'd be at her side giving her back rubs while Chessie stood at the doorframe of washroom. Y/N thinks since she's pregnant her womanly instincts has gotten more sharp as she sensed something's off between the pair.

He'd be at her flat early morning waking her up to have a morning walk with him not giving in her grunts and whines. Who'd want to leave their crispy warm bed to just be out in the cold? A fool like Harry only. Making her brekkie afterwards as a reward giggling and massaging her shoulders when she'd gobble down food like a greedy squirrel, "Easy there love. 'S all yours."

Chessie's back at LA. They had a small argument because Harry wants her to be participating in all of this as much as he's. But, her priorities are not set for this. They never were.

Y/N was at Harry's place nibbling onto chocolate cupcakes Anne sent specifically for her with a note ("my grandchild shouldn't be privy to their Nana's bakin' skills all my love to Y/N." along a winky smiley) when she spilled cold milk all over her nooked tee-shirt. Harry gave her his clothes to change into and baby wipes but she warded him with a scoff that water exists. She has become more feisty with each passing day.

Was discarding the tee when her gaze fell over the sveltest of bump in the mirror taking her breath away. It makes her realize it's all real. She never touches her belly in fear if she'd she will never stop. Now, when the pads of her fingers skim alongs the skin it strips shivers down her spine. She always wanted this. Not in this scenario though. Shaking her head of the thoughts she slips Harry's hoodie over it climbing down the stairs and it causes Harry to snap his head in alert. He stops chopping the carrots spinning to see Y/N standing feet away from him.

"My baby bump's showing." Her voice almost a whisper and it widens Harry's pupils as his hands fell in air midway between them hesitant to reach her, "Can I see?" She bobs her head shyly cheeks blazing red while revealing the bump for Harry to see. It's not like he hasn't seen her before. He has. But, this's more intimate than all of that. It made him fall on his knees. He's a sensitive person in general. Pure from heart but during this period it seems like he's pregnant not Y/N which's quite amusing too.

"She's beautiful." His gaze full of adoration. "She?" Y/N furrows her brow with a smile. He bobbed his head with a grin, "Think so our baby's gonna be she." Now that's the problem cause Y/N doesn't know which ours he's talking about.

"My pregnancy instincts says it's he." He scoffs, "Bet!?" She rolls her eyes forwarding her fist to do the hand shake they do while betting, "If you loose your pink macbook gonna be mine." They solid the deal with their traditional shake.

"Can I touch it?" Harry's asks politely. When she gives him permission he spreads his warm palms flat against her tummy tongue tied with the affection boozing in his veins for the baby that's not out in the world yet. Y/N eyes flutters and her fingers twitches by her sides from carding them into his hair. This's wrong she scolds herself. Her hormones all over the place.

"You wanna send a picture to Chessie?" At this his lips thinned and he gave her a curt nod standing up to fetch his phone, "Sure. But she might be busy..." on the verge of spitting his words in vile.

. . .

Y/N was reading a crime mystery book. Stroking the side of her baby bump carelessly. Cosy in her blanket hoodie telly murmuring in the distance. "Your dad's taste in books is shit, innit?" She peers down with a smile. It's the first time she's talking to them. "We'll read loads of good books together so that when you'll grow up – I could know what to gift you on Christmas." She tries to grab more popcorns from the bowl but it's empty. "Wanna be best aunt out there!!"

"Will you miss me? As much as I'll when we'll be separated?" Tears well up at her waterline. She huffs through her nose running her hand down her belly several times. It's coming; the breakdown she was toiling for days. "I know it sucks I cant be your mommy." Her cravings kicking in and all she want's a strawberry oreo icecream.

"Oh no. Seriously? I'm sad and ye' lil bean want an ice? Let's call your daddy and see what he got." She rings him and he picks up on the third one. Voice groggy from the sleep. She wants to feel bad but she isn't when all her taste buds could think of is strawberry flavour.

"'M cravin' strawberry ice-cream bad. . . Is it possible for ya to bring one?" He's already throwing duvets off his body reaching for his phone and wallet, "No worries pet I'll be there in tick."

"What the fuck Harry? It's three in the mornin'." Chessie groaned from beside him throwing pillow at her face. "We already stored her fridge with alot of food — " She squints about to change the side.

"She's carrying a baby for us Chess. Ye should know better since ya didn't wanted to." She sits up like bullet folding her arms against her chest.

"Thank you for throwing it at my face, H." He doesn't even spare her a glance walking outside and Chessie wants to scream at the top of her lungs. Why did she even agreed to this?

. . .

When he bought her ice-cream she throws herself in his arms kissing his cheek and he giggled in return feeling good when her bump pressed against him. They ate ice-cream with a bantering mess discussing names of the babies, the one that Chessie and Harry decided, him telling her about the little onesies they bought hearing that Y/N stood up taking out a little bag from the chests of drawers.

"I hope you wouldn't mind." She mutters showing him the lil knitted gloves and Harry slid his palm above her's wrapping them snugly, "I don't want ye' to think ya can't love on 'em 'cos after all it's ye'r womb they belong too." Her lip wobbles at his words and she stuffs her face against his chest fisting the hem. It fred away butterflies inside Harry. He sucka his lip. He shouldn't be acting like this. He has a girlfriend that he's gonna have a baby with. They're happy or atleast he thinks so.

They've been bestfriend for years and those feelings never drowned him. Is it because now she's having his babies? Maybe? Harry tries to convince himself.

When he looks down Y/N's drooling onto his shirt deep into slumber. He pecks her hair slipping his arms under her to hold her firmly against his chest. Laying her on the bed tucking her under blankets.

. . .

It sounds like multiple thuds as doctor hovered the ultrasound device over her gelled cover belly. Her belly growing way faster than it should. Her gaze glued at the ceiling fingers crossed. Harry and Chessie holding hands tight gazes fixed at the screen both of them confused at the disoriented image. They all were on the edge of their seats waiting for their turns. Y/N wished that someone could give her a huge warm hug to soothe her nerves down. But, in the first place she shouldn't be worried about the gender as it's none of concern but theirs. It's getting hard day by day.

"It's twins!" Doctor announces chirply getting a wave of silence in return. But, soon the room filled with happy giggles and gasps of Harry as he went to hug Chessie who's expressionless from shock. Y/N pouts wishing it was her. Smiling at doctor when she squeezed her hand in consolation. She's frightened though. How could she deliver two babies? To deal with the roughness that comes along them? Gonna be pretty hectic.

"We hit a jackpot, innit?" He grins down at her kissing Chessie's cheek last time before leaning down to hug her. "Gonna be super carin' with ye' now." Y/N gives a pat to his back in return awkwardly eyeing as Chessie left the room hastily.

. . .

It rakes against the wood harshly as Chessie glided keys of Harry's house towards him without a word. He puts the baby guide book aside arching his brow, "I can't do this anymore. I want an out." Dread. Seeping down Harry's bones.

Guarding himself down he grits, "What do ya mean you want an out? We agreed with full consent of yours Chessie." She shakes her head furiously.

"I didn't sign up for two of 'em Harry I could barely be there for one!!" He puts his elbows on his knees head lowering, "But you wanted to have a family with me didn't ye'?" His eyes tearing and she throws her head back in annoyance finding it difficult to make him understand.

"No. No – No. You wanted a family! Because of your continuous protests I gave in. Told you I wasn't ready for all of this bullshit now we are here." She emphasises. Harry stands up from his seat towering her pointing a finger at her.

He's rageous. Could burn this house down. How could she be so mean? Cowarding back at the last moment.

"Don't call it bullshit." He spits full of venom for the woman he mighty love and she snaps her head other way, "Congrats she finally ruined us and couldn't be more happy – now that she's having your mother fuckin' babies." He stumbles back knocking the coffee table lungs congesting.

"Don't drag her in all of this she's innocent." She laughs ironically looking him square in eyes yelling like a maniac, "Gave her your sperms now you can't hold back from fucking her. I knew it. You were fucking her behind my back weren't you?" She thinks of him like that? A cheater? He loved her and she always thought he was cheating her.

"Don't yell. I don't want to see ye'r cruel face when I come back home." He tries not to croak mustering strength to walk away from her. Exposing himslef to freezing weather locking himself in his car and crying his heart out. Sky crying along him. He punches the steering wheel brutally shouting "why's?" Head falling atlast as he thought of all his dreams shattering at his feet.

She caged him instead of giving him shelter. Replaced the butterflies he used to get from her with a burning hell in his pit, should've been mother of his children now she's just an ex.

The excruciating part is how he's gonna tell Y/N about this? She'll be crushed.

. . .

"Oh my god . . ." It was the roar of thunder that startled her but something else took her attention away. That tinsy kick protruding the taught skin of her belly, ". . . which one of you?" She was extra happy today. It's swimming in her head. It's just a thought but sharing it with Harry wouldn't kill someone. She wanna ask him if she could've one of the babies. It's just she's too much into the moment that she forgot she still have a degree to complete. A career to pursue and a life she always wanted.

When there's a knock at door she tries to stand up with the support of armrest a hand on her back. A gasp falling from her mouth at the sight of Harry's clothes soaked and another when he looks up with bloodshot eyes. Tears dried cheeks and heaving chest seeming utterly devastated.

"Pet what happened!?" She grabs him from elbow pulling him inside and he falls onto his knees smashing his cheeks against her showing tummy -- a sob recking through him, "Harry you're scarin' me. Tell me what happened is everything okay?"

"Chessie don't want these babies - sh-she didn't wanna ruin her career but atlast agreed . . . n-n now she doesn't want 'em 'n wants an out." He stutters. White noise deafening Y/N's ears and she steps back with expressions as if she's scared. Horrified of the future.

"It means she never had complications? She just didn't wanted her body to go through all of this." When Harry didn't fill in to her inquiry she flopped onto sofa from the shock shoving her face into her palms giving out a cry of hurt at her stupidity.

"God. I'm such an idiot!" He shakes his head crawling towards her with sad eyes and lil hiccups, "No please don'tcha say that. We'll figure it out yeah? Never wanted this t'happen." God. How bad he wants her to assure him that it'll be alright.

"You'll figure out what, huh!? Leaving them just like she did!?" Swear Harry felt a dagger jabbing it's way into his heart more upsetting tears spilling down his throat. "I hate you guys. They're none of your babies from now on. . ."

"Leave." She orders him wiping her tears roughly with the sleeve of her jumper. Running out of breath with each sniffle. Raises her hand stopping him to step forward and protest, "I said leave before I make you!!" He nods inhaling breath of remorse looking at the ceiling for a second then to her.

"Before, that want ya t'know. I still want 'em. They're mine. How could I not? love 'em. Hope ya'll forgive me." Then it's just sobs of Y/N taking over the buzz of telly as the door ticks. He didn't leave though. He's too afraid to. His back sliding against her door knees closing against his chest letting it all dawn upon him. His green luscious orbs hooding with sadness and the fluff of his curls.

Dunno if Y/N would be able to forgive him.

. . .

He woke up to a boot nudging to his thigh squinting up to find Niall stating down at him with consoling eyes. Poor Harry slept in the hallway. His neck sore and limbs stoned.

"Heard it 'lad. Was suspicious with Chessie long way." He helps Harry stand up patting his shoulders, "Y/N called ye'?" He grogs rubbing his eye with knuckles. When Niall confirms he quips with pleading eyes in a low whisper knowing he'll get his hair ripped if that furious little mama bunny will find him outside.

"Ye' think she'll forgive meh?" Niall chuckles to light up the situation, "'course H. Do ya think our pet's that ruthel—" He bites his tongue. Harry's gaze following the snap of his neck when the door opened revealing Y/N in a lilac chunky sweater. Puffy eyes and swollen lips. Harry feeling like a dickhead at her condition. It's all his fault. Then their eyes fall at the piping hot cuppa of tea in her hand.

With a stoic face she hands it to Harry and pulls Niall inside slamming the door at curly boy's face. So, she knew he was there sharing a door with her the whole night.

. . .

"Isn't it a good thing thou, love?" Niall smiles. He's chill in all of this. Watching it unwrap. They were meant for eachother Niall thinks so, "You wanted one of 'em and ended up havin' a whole bean can." She groans throwing her peach plushie at his chest. A smile swirming up her lips at his silly statement now that she's more stable less sad.

"You're the absolute worst, Ni!" He holds her cold hands tugging her close to make her look, "Want ya to forgive H. He did nothin' wrong, pet." When she pouts ruffling the silk strands of her rug with her feet he grabs her chin.

"Remember how happy he was? Don't go mad on him yeah?" She bobs her head not meeting his gaze. Meanwhile, there's knock at the door and Niall takes it laughing to himself softly at the box of doughnuts with a note.

"What is it?" He's already flopping beside her hooking his nimble finger around the white doughnut with rainbow sprinkles, "If I'd have known pregnant ladies gets treated this way. Would be havin' one baby every year." She smacks him in belly and unlatches the note reading it with a sucked lip.

Ye'r antenatal class's tommorrow. Don't forget to take ye vitamins :)

How gentle, calm and optimistic Harry could be needles her some.

. . .

Harry's waiting for her in the car fiddling with the radio. He isn't gonna lie. He's been going through a heartbreak. To cope with it he wants to accompany Y/N in her parent craft classes. When she waddles towards his car cosied up in a yellow baggy sweater and a cardigan Harry remembers she stole from him ages ago he mighty scrunched his nose in adoration at her cuteness.

Her nose pink and cheeks flushing as she slips into her seat, "Can you stop bringin' me stuff. I know how to take care of myself." She nips at him when he forwards her a kale smoothie. He doesn't seem to mind. Both, of them knows very well she's trying to avoid drinking it. She finds it yucky!

"Wanna take care of ya'll is all." He mumbles putting it in her side's cup holder. Ya'll .She regrets it instantly. Damn his puppy eyes!

. . .

"Mr. Styles and . . . Miss Y/N." The instructor calls them and they both raises their hand awkwardly as if in elementary school. "You're the parents of twin right?" She asks. Y/N wanted to say that their supposed to be parent ran off from the fear. But, she couldn't. Could never. It'll be like rubbing salt to his wounds. Bestfriends don't do that shit even in their most anger.

"Yes." She confirms. When Harry didn't. Scared if he might say something wrong. "Ok then! Lay your mats n' have a seat." Harry guides her with the little of his hand on her back. Her shoulder nudging his taut chest, and goosebumps pimples at her skin when his fingers brushes the side of her belly as he helps her sit down.

She takes an all rounder of the room and none of the parents looks like they're here to prepare for war unlike them. She shyly waves at the two mothers beside her and Harry twinges his lip equally flustered as her.

They start with relaxation and breathing exercises. Telling Y/N to let herself loose in Harry's arms. She fumbles with the hem of her sweater when his fingers gingerly winked at her sides and the lull of his breath hit her earlobe.

"Like a train engine whistling -- it's annoying." She mutters rolling her eyes and turning back to listen to instructor. "Now, I can't even breath without ye' comin' fo' me throat?" He grits with a kink of brows and when she confirms with a no --- He gasps dramatically. He hates her hormones little bitches.

It's gonna be a long journey of Hell for them.

. . .

"Are you hungry?" He asks turning the heat on knowing how cold her feet could get in the span of seconds. She huffs trying to buckle her belt and it squirms a fond smile out of him at her cute effort to be put in place due to her bump. If he'd coo. She'd rip him into tiny bits. It's better if he gazes away.

"Does it mean emptying your pocket?" She arches her brow sinking into her seat. "Bitso. . " He chuckles softly drumming at the steering wheel.

"Then I'd love to." She adds with a smirk. Clasping her hands atop her heart outta excitement. It makes him shake his poof of hickorey curls at her silliness.

They end up taking a takeout of onion loaded cheese burgers. Greasy fries. An iced-tea and a box of cookies from Babara's shop a block away from Harry's house.

"Wanna choose fo' ye'rself?" He asked her before going inside and she denied with a worried expression. Not knowing how she'll explain all of this to Babara who's her one of the good friends from UNI. Harry respects that. If she isn't ready to talk about it he isn't gonna pressurize her. They've been dodging the serious talk since she let him take to parental classes. Knows one day or another they've to decide how it's all gonna work.

. . .

Good food can make you more high than actual drugs. Licking their fingers off now they feel all sleepy and lazy sitting on the comfortable sofa watching telly with hooded eyes.

Harry's cheek smushed adorably against her baby bump ears tuned into what his babies are talking about.

"You know what? 'S not about winners or loosers. Bu' I won." She bubble hiccups slumping deeper with sugar rush hitting her. "Huh? Harry mumbles eyes drooping. The cotton balls of snowflakes glittering outside, collecting at the window and foging them up.

"I get to have babies of my bestfriend and this nice foodddd — 'n what did Chessie got? No babies and no happy feeling of being their mother." Harry shots up from his snooze blinking up at her and she quickly takes it back regret eating her alive, "'m sorry it slipped."

"No!!" He almost shouts cupping her cheeks making her look at him. His dimples deeps that someone could scoop them like an ice-cream. He gives her an eskimo kiss that makes her veins run with glittery blood.

"I wan' ye' to be the mother of me babies." No hesitation. No dithering. Just him asking for the tinsy bit of her heart. For her forgiveness. For the love they've kept blind eye for years. "We'll figure this out, yeah?" He murmurs their lips brushing and breaths kissing. Pulling back with a forehead kiss.

She lives for forehead kisses makes her shallow tin heart explode with glittery firecrackers.

She nods to give him the affirmation that she wants what he wants.

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