#law needs to do better and stop waiting 2 confess

[soleilnomoon]

hello! I saw from your writings that you love doing angst.. so i have a request if you don't mind! But I don't know your "level" of angst tolerance so u can tell us later if u want!

So it's a scenario where Law falls for a s/o that's a strawhat, classic right?

But what if s/o has a devil fruit that makes it impossible to touch people cuz it sucks their energy or sum, it's very dangerous and so in her childhood she couldn't play with kids cuz they feared her, but she's at the same time a little goofy ball of energy and with a lovely personality?

Law at first (like always) didn't fall for the charms but after finishing Kaido and returning to the crews, he notices for the first time s/o's clothes and how she's all covered up wearing long kimonos with long sleeves (so that she doesn't accidentally hurt someone)

He feels a bit weird and dismisses the feeling as pity but it just makes him remember the amber disease and how he would hide the white spots sometimes when it was necessary and then he realizes again that s/o's case is worse than his cuz that's definitely not a disease and she can't remove her devil fruit... And also he 'Respectfully' thinks she's kinda cute tho (like Bepo a bit).

In his awkward ways he tries to make conversation with her about her DF but it comes of suspicious to the crew and he nearly gets cut off by Zoro the first time and Luffy in the second attempt, so he just does his 'research for SCIENTIFIC reasons' with the info he has, and in that period it takes like one to one and a half year (in wich he STUPIDLY feel in love even more with the strawhat) to realize that the more she uses her powers the less years she will live and... THAT just DEVASTATES him, cuz he read just some days ago that Luffy found the One Piece and actually became the King of the Pirates but also that two of his crew were in critical life or death condition and he immediately knew who: of course the right hand swordman and his strategist aka s/o.

But he searched for treatments to help her and actually found a very rare flower who's nectar is said to 'give life's and sprinted to the strawhats, but.. by the time they arrive the Thousand Sunny is silent like never before and they tell him s/o is dead and is not just the fact that he didn't even have the chance to express his feelings to her before it was too late it was that he couldn't save a person that never wanted anything in life but to genuinely smile and enjoy her time with her friends.

The only time he was genuinely interested and in love with someone voluntarily..

Sorry if there are any mistake or bad written sentences cuz English is not my first language lmao! I hope you understand the scenario! And Thank you so much if you're willing to write it! 💚

I'll be 🍥 anon in case u have questions?

Have a wonderful day!!

hiiii  ପ(๑•ᴗ•๑)ଓ ♡ it's finally done, i hope there's enough angst in here for you; i took a few liberties, and it got a little more morbid than i anticipated, but i had fun in the end 💕

2.5k words, fem reader, angst angst angst, cw: death, nothing gruesome but it does happen, there's alcohol at a certain point, also a plot twist dun dun dun. law's a coward and a dumbass & y/n needs to stop lying to herself

lying became your profession after you turned three years old; no you didn’t make the neighbor’s child cry on purpose, yes you did push her but it was because she said you were a freak that deserved death, no you don’t want to reflect on your actions, yes you’d do it again. you oscillate between both extremes so much that it becomes difficult to tell the truth from fiction. it suits you just fine, life is much better when you don’t have to think about things like that.

you wear dishonesty like a shawl, draped over your shoulders protectively, as if you can’t bear to walk around without it. it’s your dishonesty that leads you to eat a strangely shaped fruit, propelling your childhood into something twisted and complicated; and it’s your dishonesty that gets ostracized from the other children in your village. you learn to mind your business, you take to playing alone, to talking to yourself, and are more or less quiet until provoked.

people learn fairly quickly not to make you angry.

it’s when you accidentally siphon your cousin’s energy by grabbing her tightly, fingers sinking into her thin arm, your palm warming, a deafening silence filling your ears, making it hard to concentrate on doing the right thing. you don’t understand what’s happening, but you know that you don’t want her to keep messing with you — so you hold onto her. you feel full somehow, like you desperately needed to do this, and now that you have… you can’t stop. 

when her skin pales, when her eyes lose their shine, when her breathing slows, a voice — faint, trembling, sobbing — makes its way through the silence and tells you to stop.

so you do.

your cousin spends weeks in the hospital recovering, and your parents are besides themselves trying to figure out how best to deal with you and your growing powers. after a few more incidents, your family packs up and moves to the countryside; away from most of the populace, in the hopes of keeping you away, as hiding you is their best option. you’ve always wondered if they loved you, and now you have your answer. it’s not love, it’s fear; they tiptoe around you, talk in whispers, lock their bedroom door at night. 

because of this, you develop complex feelings about yourself — and about the world. it also leaves you vulnerable; all of the negative emotions that fester inside of you, like angry dark scribbles, blotting out any feelings of happiness, and you almost lose sight of everything, but another voice — a familiar, one, the one that told you to grab your cousin — reminds you that you’re stronger than you think, that you shouldn’t let the others dictate how you live your life. that you alone should come out on top, while everyone else is left behind in your shadow.

you don’t quite understand; your insomnia worsens over time, so you pour the remainder of your energy into reading, into learning more about the human body — about its limitations, about ethical and unethical medical practices; your parents do just about anything to keep you busy, so if it’s books you want, you get them. no questions asked. you mess around with various fabrics until you find one that’s thick, but breathable, and make a pair of gloves. they fit around your hands snugly, and you test them out, touching your parents’ hands and watching them for any changes.

when it seems like they’re still all in one piece, you’ve found a solution that might help you reintegrate into society. your parents feel it’s a little too soon, but they also know they can’t keep you locked away forever.

as time goes on, you learn to mask your true emotions, filter your personality so that you’re seen as approachable, amiable, safe. when you’re old enough, you work part-time at various medical clinics, before interning at the main hospital. your proclivity for retaining information and your insatiable curiosity works to your benefit, and you become a staff favorite.

 it’s comical, really, almost as if they forgot that you’d been, essentially, chased out of town years prior. 

however, as fate would have it, your body has other plans; you’ve been mindful, you limit your devil fruit use, you don’t get too close to anyone. somehow, you’ve convinced the world around you that it’s absolutely necessary for your arms and legs to be covered as well. even in the heat, you wear long sleeved outfits, hiding yourself more and more from outsiders, much to the chagrin of your parents. they don’t necessarily understand your reasoning and don’t press you for more details. it’s a defense mechanism of sorts that protects you from yourself, really.

it doesn’t prevent the voice from being the proverbial devil on your shoulders, instructing you to eliminate those who get in your way, growing much more rash and ruthless as the months go on. you ignore it as best as possible, chalk it up to not having socialized with other children your age while growing up, or perhaps fatigue, or both. you don’t imagine your delusions have gotten stronger, but sometimes they’re tangible enough to feel real.

and sometimes, on the really, really bad days, it’s almost as if your devil fruit takes flight, commanding your body, playing you beautifully, like the instrument that you are. one days like those, you try to keep away from others, feeling less and less like yourself, like a darkness has settled deep inside of you, ready to come out and suck in everything in its path.

it keeps you up at night, and it’s precisely the reason why you take luffy up on his offer, when he sees your powers in use. he’s the first person you come across that isn’t afraid of you; if anything, he sees it as a nonfactor, wanting you to join specifically because you fit in with his zany crew mates. you feel much more at ease, as if you can be yourself, like you don’t have to hide all the time — even though you’re not entirely honest with them, they don’t pester you over it. instead, they allow you to come to them in your own time.

the alliance with the heart pirates is a fruitful endeavor, as it puts you in law’s path. you find him absolutely fascinating, but his reticent persona makes it hard to get close. you know better than to push, so you leave him be. incidentally, it’s specifically because he cannot figure you out that he refuses to talk to you properly. bepo notices right away that his captain is captivated by you — by your uncanny ability to detect bullshit, by the fierce way you defend your friends, by the way you don’t seem to take life as seriously as you should. 

he always seems to find himself surrounded by those types of people, so this shouldn’t come as a surprise to him, but it does. what he really wants to know, is why you insist on wearing gloves, on covering up your arms and legs; it would be rude of him to ask, but the way you’re careful not to stand too close to people, how you don’t really touch anyone, it makes him think there’s something deeper going on than you’re willing to admit. on one of luffy’s whims, you all throw an elaborate banquet, and it’s when you’re four drinks in that you babble on and on about the incident with your cousin and why you refuse to touch people out of fear of harming them.

there’s more to the story, he knows that; he can see it in the way you pause and consider your words, and in how you look away in order to avoid his scrutinizing gaze. when you leave in the middle of your conversation, law tries to follow after you but is stopped by zoro, who simply reminds law of his place. it’s not a threat, of course, he knows that, but the swordsman makes it abundantly clear that law is not to keep prying, no matter how much he wants to.

not one to be commanded, the pirate captain disregards zoro’s warning, and pursues you anyway. in time, he finds bits and pieces of the truth,  strings together theories, and comes to the conclusion that your recklessness, your reluctance to receive help from others, and your inability to open up is because of your past experiences with your devil fruit.

if anyone can understand the darkness that accompanies that level of trauma, it’s trafalgar law. for that reason, and that reason alone — at least, that’s what he tells himself — he finds himself tethered to you, unable to leave you alone, convincing himself that it must be out of an unexplainable morbid curiosity to understand you better. bepo says otherwise, but he ignores his friend, not wanting to listen and deal with the implications of possibly having romantic feelings.

what you did not tell law — what you haven’t told your friends, too — is that you already feel that you’re losing more of yourself every day. despite having a devil fruit that extracts energy from living creatures, the continuous use puts a strain on your body; and, because of the way your body has been on survival mode most of your life, it feeds on all of your anxious feelings, on the negativity that seems to surround you, and grows stronger. the voice gains a bite, has a vicious way of tempting you into removing your gloves and accidentally touching a stranger, just to do it.

you hate it so much you wish you could pull it out of you forever.

a memory is triggered and law searches through the various books in his library, until he finds one on obscure devil fruits; he finds the entry on yours — a short one at that — and frowns at the words. it barely gives him any clue as to why you’re not adapting to it, although the last line of text does strike him as odd. it makes mention of the user needing to want to use the energy, and since you reject every aspect of the fruit, your body can’t keep up. there’s no way to really neutralize those effects; it’s all mental, you see, but there’s no reason why he shouldn’t try to help you, right? because law is the sort to pour his all into whatever mission or project he works on, his crew indulges his selfish whims and assists him in locating a particularly rare flower, one that may help you.

in the interim, you find his letters comforting, and write back to him as much as you can. you tell him that he doesn’t have to keep searching, that you’ve made your peace with things. and he wants to tell you that it doesn’t have to be this way, that you can still live a long, fulfilling life — but that’s where you disagree. you know yourself; you know your bones, you know your soul, and you know that you’ve fought that voice for much too long to be able to keep living with it. 

and after a year of searching, of experimenting, of diligently working to find a cure, he comes to find you. except, he’s too late. 

the sunny is anchored on the coast of your favorite island; in your last moments, you make mention of wanting to be somewhere sunny, where the trees can provide endless shade, but where the warmth will always make you feel like you’re alive. because nami and robin are so apt at locating islands, they find one close by, and your smile is enough to break their hearts. while their time with you was short, you enjoyed it immensely.

law’s cowardice prevented him from talking to you properly, and when he arrives and he’s burdened with the truth, he’s left confused. you should be alive; you should be laughing as you normally do, you should be getting on his nerves with your outlandish ideas and your incessant talking. there are things he regrets in life, but this is at the top of the list. is it impudent of him to say that you look beautiful lying there, even in death? he doesn’t think so, but he keeps the thought to himself, resigned and ready to go.

but, before he can get off of the ship, he hears several gasps behind him, hears luffy shouting, hears usopp shrieking, which makes him turn around, confusion taking hold of him when he sees you sitting upright, stretching your arms over your head, yawning as if you’ve just woken from a long, long rest.

except, that’s not really true, is it?

he knows you’re dead, you have to be — but he also can’t discredit what he sees. you certainly move around as if you’re alive, although something feels off, raising the hairs on the back of his neck in alarm. everyone is wary, but you tilt your head at them, prying those silly gloves off of your hands slowly, a slow, sly smile growing on your face.

“you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

that’s your voice, he’d know it anywhere. except, it isn’t. blinking several times, law is the one who asks the question that everyone is, surprisingly, too afraid to ask. “who are you?”

swiveling on your heels, hair whipping around your head wildly with your movements, you march up to him, grab onto his face with your bare hand, much to the shouts of the others behind you, and smirk.

“i’m death, don’t you know?”

his eyes narrow sharply, but you don’t let go of him, almost as if you’re proving a point. but what’s most astounding isn’t that you said that, it’s that he feels absolutely fine. your touch hasn’t affected him, and in turn you also seem just fine too.

“how?”

it’s the only other question he thinks to ask, but you just laugh and laugh, pat his cheek in a patronizingly sweet way, and move away from him. “that silly girl didn’t know how to use my power, so i took it from her completely.” before the others can voice their complaints, you hold a hand up, and roll your eyes. “easy, easy, she’s still here somewhere.” not that you care; it’s your turn to have fun. “i know how not to kill people,” you boast proudly, leaning against the railing, admiring the ocean as if it’s the first time you’re actually seeing it. “but, don’t think that you’ll be able to get rid of me easily.”

it’s the haunting look in your eyes that law recognizes, the one that says you’re ready to set the world on fire, to let chaos reign; he knows that look because it’s the same one he has. if he thought he liked you before, you intrigue him even more now. a savage, untameable beauty, one that chills him to the bone. 

the question is, will you let him live, or will you take from him as you’ve already taken from others time and time again?

[maelstrom-of-emotions]

Could you recommend some SasuNaru fics?

SASUNARU FIC RECS

Alright, so here's a collection of some of my favorite, re-read worthy SasuNaru fics of all time. The list is bound to expand, but for now, we have these gems.

i'll let it grow wild in my veins by thunderpoint

Summary:

“That’s good, right?” He feels somewhat out of his mind. It's a rush he's not used to, something he doesn't particularly like, and it leaves him wondering if this is what he should have felt when this whole thing first started. “When your future brother-in-law says shit like that it means that he approves of you, right? Fuck, I’m getting married to Uchiha Itachi’s little brother, Shika. What the fuck-” Shikamaru’s face twists, “Naruto-” The kitchen door bursts open, and Temari steps into the living room, gaping at them both. “Naruto’s getting married?"

Status: Currently Ongoing, 10/?

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Slow Burn.

Thoughts: One of the best arranged marriage fics ever, the writing is amazing and out of this world, and if you haven't read this masterpiece what are you even doing with your life?

(You can also find the author on tumblr @thunder-point.)

2. everybody knows that you cradle the sun by Lyxxie

Summary:

“Y’know—before mom passed—she used to tell me about my dad. She'd tell me the kind of person you wanted to end up with, someone you kept around. She'd tell me about opposites, about calming the other one down and bringing them back up, about how they'd do the same for you. She'd say that you wanted someone who remembered things about you, not just the big stuff. Mundane shit that doesn't need to be remembered, but they do anyway. She'd say 'keep those who chronicle your life because it's theirs, too'." OR: Naruto challenges Sasuke to a game of “who knows the other person better.” Sasuke panics when he realizes that he might be the winner because what in the actual fuck does that mean? He doesn’t know. Naruto tells him.

Status: Completed, 1/1.

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Roomates, College/University. Humor. Domestic. Explicit Sexual Content.

Thoughts: A fic I would sell my soul for. You haven't lived if you haven't read this fic.

3. Waiting for an Answer by KinomiAkai

Summary:

After eight years of struggling, Naruto finally caves and confesses to Sasuke. But it's okay; nothing is going to change between them. Everything will be the same. ...The moment Sasuke stops bringing it up every twenty seconds, it'll be the same.

Status: Completed, 1/1.

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Roomates. Fluff, Humor, Idiots in Love.

Thoughts: Sasuke is an Asshole and I am here for it.

(You can find them on tumblr @kinomiakai)

4. It's All In The Kiss (And Bondage) by Dhampir (Dhampire)

Summary:

Sasuke never looked at Naruto as anything more than an annoyance like all his other peers, but a kiss, and a little bondage, is about to change all that. Reddit Crack Fic Idea: After getting kissed in the academy and then attacked and tied up by Naruto, Sasuke realizes he has followed all the steps of the traditional Uchiha ninja courtship(An old process inspired by the kidnapping of a rival clan kunoichi). Sasuke feels really touched and starts acting like a Yandere, being really nice to Naruto in his withdrawn way and getting really mad whenever someone says something bad about Naruto.

Tags: Accidental Engagements, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff, Humor. Tsundere to Yandere.

Status: Completed, 11/11

Thoughts: Anything by this author is an absolute masterpiece, so do check out their other works! They manage to perfectly balance humor and fluff!

5. you and me, that's my whole world by cloudyheaven

Summary:

“If you wanted me to be your Valentine this bad, you could’ve just said so,” Naruto said. The cheeky grin he was giving him made Sasuke want to kiss him again just to wipe it off his face. However, he wasn’t one to waste a good opportunity. “That’s exactly what I want,” he said, matter-of-factly. The grin fell off Naruto’s face. “Shit, are you serious?” The one where Naruto and Sasuke have been in an unofficial friends-with-benefits arrangement for months, completely unaware of their feelings for each other.

Tags: Alternate Universe - High School, Jealous Uchiha Sasuke, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Valentines Day, Love Confessions.

Status: Completed, 1/1

Thoughts: A perfect fluffy fic for grey days. Always makes me smile whenever I read it.

6. wear my heart on your sleeve by cloudyheaven

Summary:

Sasuke coughed into his hand and simply looked down at his ass. Naruto followed his gaze and found another uchiwa sown on his left buttcheek. “Oh, this is ridiculous,” he said. “Wait, is this why people have been looking at my ass so much lately?!” He turned to look at his boyfriend again. “Is this why you have been staring at it more than normal?!” Sasuke simply avoided his gaze again. “Not like I need an excuse to look at your ass.” Or, how possessive boyfriend Uchiha Sasuke found a way to mark Naruto and make it sociably acceptable.

Tags: Established Relationship, Post-Chapter 699, Fluff and Humor, Fluff Without Plot, Soft Uchiha Sasuke.

Status: Completed, 1/1.

Thoughts: Perfectly balanced fluff and humor fic by the godsend cloudyheaven.

7. all the small wild things by GreatLoversLieInHell

Summary:

Naruto doesn't like to be touched. Sasuke asks him why. (To be loved is to be changed)

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Canonical Child Abuse, Touch-Starved Naruto.

Status: Completed, 1/1

Thoughts: A fic that makes my soul ache. The author is simply amazing.

(You can also find them on Tumblr @greatloverslieinhell)

8. the vines that grow by GreatLoversLieInHell

Summary:

After getting discharged from the hospital, Naruto returns to a home that’s no longer standing. Sasuke, who doesn’t do well in cages, flees the first chance he gets. Unmoored, unsettled, Naruto looks to his motherland for answers. Uzushio calls her son home. The road to Uzushiogakure is long, but Sasuke walks it with him. Sasuke, who looks at him, hungry. Sasuke, who sees him, wherever the light gets in.

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-War, Uzumaki Naruto-Centric, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Angst With Happy Ending, Uzushiogakure | Hidden Eddy Village.

Status: Completed, 14/14.

Thoughts: I shall create a shrine for this fic one day, for the adoration is not nearly enough as it deserves.

(You can also find them on Tumblr @greatloverslieinhell)

9. A Thousand Summers More by bluelikeskies

Summary:

Sasuke has seen a million sunrises, a thousand summers, but he has never seen anything like the way Naruto smiles at him, brighter than all those sunrises and summers combined.

Tags: Pining Sasuke, Soft, Prose, Mythical Beings and Creatures.

Status: Complete, 1/1.

Thoughts: Beautiful. Simply and utterly beautiful.

10. syzygy by glassedplanets

Summary:

In which Sasuke comes home, an errand needs to be run, several people tell him things, and he realizes just what home really is, for him.

Tags: Not Canon Compliant, Reunions, Homecoming, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Happy Ending.

Status: Completed, 6/6.

Thoughts: Ethereal, I adore the writing style of this author.

11. kiss me (under the moonlight glow) by ashmes

Summary:

“You count what happened in the Academy as a kiss?” Naruto’s gaze snaps towards him so quick when he asks, “You don’t?”

Tags: Post-Canon, Post-War, Post Chapter 699, Soft.

Status: Completed, 1/1

Thoughts: I would sacrifice anything for this fanfic. It is utterly amazing.

(You can also find them on tumblr at @sapphicvevo.)

12. Let me help you (this time) by Here_to_procrastinate

Summary:

Sasuke really kind of loves his boyfriend and wishes the idiot would start looking after himself at least a little bit. ~ After the war Naruto can't stop helping everybody and is slowely but surely running himself into the ground. With a bit of help from others Sasuke tries to finally be what Naruto needs.

Tags: Whipped Sasuke, Jealous Sasuke, Everybody Loves Naruto, Fluff, Humor, A Bit of Angst, Post-Fourth Shinobi War, Protective Shikamaru & Sakura.

Status: 1/1, Complete.

Thoughts: Perfect feel good fic.

13. Overcoming Distance by Athqh16

Summary:

It starts with a bento box. Black with a white cover and a red strap to keep it together. There was nothing actually pernicious about it except for the fact that the person who'd suddenly placed it in the middle of Naruto's lonely cafeteria table was his one and only rival, Sasuke motherfucking Uchiha

Status: 7/7, Completed.

Tags: Modern Au, Angst, Love Confessions, Hurt/Comfort, Friends To Lovers.

Thoughts: An absolute classic, I adore this!

(You can also find the author on tumblr @atqh16)

14. homeward by mnee

Summary:

Sasuke returns to Konoha. Or, more accurately, to Naruto.

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-Chapter 699, Soft, Boys in Love.

Status: Completed, 1/1

Thoughts: Utterly divine, it's so soft I want to cry.

15. a public display of affection by fiveandnocents

Summary:

In the three hours since their arrival, Gaara has stumbled across them kissing no less than seven times. Considering that they are all ninja, he is very aware that this is no coincidence. Or, five times Naruto and Sasuke get caught (plus the first time no one was around).

Tags: 5+1 Things, Possessive Sasuke, Kissing, Post-Canon, Not Boruto Canon.

Status: Completed, 1/1.

Thoughts: This story could not be any more perfect.

16. The Way To A Man's Heart by littledust

Summary:

Sasuke has no idea how to woo Naruto.

Tags: Fluff, Humor.

Status: Completed, 1/1

Thoughts: Perfect fic for a pick-me-up. Makes me smile everytime.

17. the time traveler's husband by blind_io

Summary:

Throughout his life, Naruto travels to different moments in Sasuke’s timeline. It changes them both.

Tags: Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Alternate Universe, Inspired by The Time Traveler's Wife.

Status: Completed, 1/1.

Thoughts: Brilliant. Simply and utterly brilliant.

18. The sun is too bright, it hurts by waywardfacegarden

Summary:

The first time Sasuke sees Naruto, they are six years old. Sasuke is not stupid, he learns fast, and there are three basic things about Naruto you can know after being five seconds in the same room as him: first, he’s noisy. Second, he talks a lot. Third, he’s annoying. Years later, Sasuke thinks the same, but Naruto is much more than that to him.

Tags: Childhood Friends, Enemies To Friends To Lovers, Everyone is Alive, Modern AU.

Status: Completed, 1/1.

Thoughts: chefs kiss Magnifique. Deserves all the kudos in the world.

19. i want you to want me (i'd love you to love me) by Aethelar

Summary:

Five times Naruto kissed Sasuke and he left, plus one time Sasuke kissed Naruto and stayed.

Tags: 5+1, Angst with a Happy Ending.

Status: Completed, 1/1.

Thoughts: This fic is something to live for. It is just so beautiful.

20. Red or Blue? by ReleasedFromHisCage

Summary:

Naruto took over his godfather's store so he could retire and creates a safe space for his regulars and one-time customers alike, mostly his regulars though. Sasuke Uchiha is one of these regulars.

Tags: Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Mild Hurt/Comfort.

Status: Completed, 1/1

Thoughts: It's everything I've ever wanted in a fic.

21. don't stay away for too long by kintou

Summary:

With Naruto living there Sasuke's apartement has finally turned into a home. So what he doesn't quite get is that Naruto is here, in his pyjama's, telling him he's going to move out.

Tags: Modern Au, Roomates, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Breakfast.

Status: Completed, 1/1.

Thoughts: And they were roommates. Oh my god they were roommates. I am a puddle on the floor. This is simply too precious. It's not good for my heart.

(You can also find them on Tumblr @soft-fics)

22. Killing it by dawnstruck

Summary:

A year after Jiraiya's death, a new Icha Icha volume gets published. Self-declared Number One Fan, Hatake Kakashi, grows suspicious, but keeps buying them anyway.

Tags: Humor, Mid Crack, Mind Angst, Kakashi POV.

Status: Completed, 1/1.

Thoughts: From the summary to the last line this fic had me hooked. Witty and charming and just the best.

23. The Color Of Your Heart by RedRemember

Summary:

The Uchiha were blessed ninjas who possessed demon-like abilities and demon blood. Their race had been wiped out almost to extinction, but a survivor sat in Kakashi’s midst. Kakashi felt apprehensive about training such a child, not wanting to train a bloodthirsty creature how to be a better hunter. & “You’re experiencing your first heat.”, and “You’re an omega.” These were phrases his caretaker kept saying to him. Naruto felt extremely weak, but he understood one thing, and that was he would never be an alpha like Sasuke.

Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Naruto, Alpha Sasuke, Personal Growth, Blood and Violence, Mating Bond.

Status: Ongoing, 7/12

Thoughts: When I tell you I hit that subscribe button so fast. Simply perfect. All my hopes wrapped into a beautiful fic.

24. Bouquet of hate by FoolishFortuna

Summary:

Sasuke confesses his feelings with an unusual bunch of flowers. Humorous fluff!

Tags: Fluff, Flowers, Humor, Getting Together, Confessions, First Kiss, Sasuke's a Dick but he's adorable.

Status: Completed, 1/1.

Thoughts: Hilarious, sweet and amazing - a perfect fic to cheer you up on bad days, sad days or just any day in general.

25. Bare by KinomiAkai

Summary:

He's too bare. Too awake. Too used to the night and too desperate to leave it. Naruto's hand is a lifeline.

Tags: Sasuke POV, Love, Poetic, Romance, Ficlet.

Status: Completed, 1/1.

Thoughts: Simply gorgeous, ethereal, beautiful. Short and Sweet. It's perfection to the very T.

26. Just kiss me, you idiot. by yes_iamafrog

Summary:

Ino decided to have the annual New Year's Eve party at her house. Or: Naruto and Sasuke kiss at midnight on January 1st.

Tags: Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Pining, Idiots in Love, Domestic Fluff, New Year's Kiss.

Status: Completed, 1/1

Thoughts: The sweetest way I have ever been destroyed.

27. i love chaos, i love toxic by minttens

Summary:

Sasuke cannot handle the gossip that Naruto is in love with someone, and he makes it his mission to find out who.

Tags: Angst, Fluff, Post-War, Jealous Sasuke.

Status: Completed, 1/1

Thoughts: I'm gonna be honest, I cried. This fic is absolute perfection, someone please build a temple in it's name.

(Also, you need an AO3 account to read this fic!)

28. unforgivable by eloquentstars

Summary:

Lesson one in Dating Uzumaki Naruto 101 is: Never get between a man and his food.

Tags: Fluff Without Plot, Modern Au, Cute, Tooth-Rotting Fluff.

Status: Completed, 1/1.

Thoughts: Sobbing for the tragic ending of Naruto/Pizza, but Sasuke/Naruto are too cute for me to mourn too long.

29. Blue Oceans and Summer Suns by orphan_account

Summary:

“Stop fucking lying to me.” He knows he isn’t, but it’s difficult for him to accept that it’s Naruto’s genuine feelings. “It isn’t a lie,” Naruto insists, leaning in once more to peck his lips as if to prove a point. He’s half on top of Sasuke now, who lays flat on his back staring up at him. “You should see yourself right now. You look as if you’re looking at something worth more than your own life.”

Tags: Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, Sleepy Cuddles, Smitten Sasuke.

Status: Completed, 1/1.

Thoughts: I’m, like, one hundred percent super duper unbelievably in love with this fic.

30. Inevitablity by Sanauria_Maldhun

Summary:

Naruto's stressed and pining after a man who views him only as a friend. Deciding to get married to Ino isn't the best decision he's made (ever), given that they had been absolutely drunk while making such a declaration, but it's... a decision. Besides, what does he have to lose?

Tags: Background Sakura/Ino, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Mutual Pining, Angst, Jealous Sasuke, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending.

Status: Completed, 4/4.

Thoughts: It's like a cup of coffee/tea that perfectly hits the spot. I love this fic, I've re-read this so many times and it always make me feel. I love Ino & Naruto's friendship.

31. Armistice by surveycorpsjean

Summary:

Sasuke is still here. Or maybe; love hasn't passed them yet.

Tags: Fix-It, Getting Together, Pining, Takes Place Three Years After The Boruto Movie, Where Naruto Gets Divorced and Sasuke never gets married.

Status: Completed, 1/1

Thoughts: Best of the best. Like, the best.

32. speak now or forever hold your peace by frogsterz

Summary:

Will the ceremony be over by the time Sasuke makes it back? Is the news even accurate? Maybe Naruto’s not getting married, he’s getting…carried, somewhere. On a palanquin. Or he’s getting buried. No, that’s worse. (Sasuke is convinced by a passing rumour that the love of his life, Uzumaki Naruto, is about to throw the biggest and most extravagant wedding ceremony in Konoha's history...but he's not the groom. How could such a disaster have happened to him?)

Tags: Misunderstandings, Idiots in Love, Sasuke Has The Emotional Intelligence of a Wet Loaf of Bread, Post-Canon, Idiots in Love, Happy Ending.

Status: Completed, 1/1.

Thoughts: These idiots, I love 'em to death.

33. symbol of the uchiha by humdrum_hummingbird

Summary:

Sasuke can't sleep, which, even after the war, is pretty typical. Instead, he stays up and watches Naruto sleep, and tonight, like most nights, Naruto is wearing a shirt with the Uchiha fan emblazoned on the back. You can't really blame Sasuke for being a little possessive after everything they've been through.

Tags: Sasuke Returns To Konoha, Possessive Sasuke, Naruto is a Ray of Sunshine, Comfort No Hurt, Soft Fluff, Boys in Love.

Status: Completed, 1/1.

Thoughts: This is so soft and gentle and tender I'm crying.

34. Final Destination by chaosxxx

Summary:

“The future is never set in stone. Even the smallest decision can alter its course. One action, be it accidental or intentional, can result in you meeting the love of your life! Or it can leave you alone and miserable… or dead. What I have here in front of you are the cards that show what lies at the end of each broad road.” There's a festival in Konoha, and Sasuke and Sakura visit a fortune telling booth. They just wanted a bad palm reading, not this disturbingly accurate nonsense! (SasuNaru fic. Pre-timeskip. Happy Ending)

Tags: Fortune Telling, Humor, Romance, Happy Ending, Confused Naruto, Pining Sasuke, Flirting, Cute.

Status: Completed, 1/1

Thoughts: Everyone needs this fortune teller. Where can I meet her? Simply amazing and precious. Confused Naruto is just so adorable.

35. You Taste Like Coffee by itadakimasu

Summary:

All Sasuke really wanted was his nightly caffeine fix. How did it turn into this?

Tags: Coffee AU, Barista!Naruto, Confident!Sasuke, Oneshot, Sexual Content, Cute, Fluff.

Status: Completed, 1/1.

Thoughts: Perfect, like a good cup of coffee. Kicking my feet giggling throughout the entire thing.

36. Curiosity killed a cat by LydiaClairvoyanne

Summary:

Naruto realizes Sasuke behaves like a cat, and in his last attempt to make friends with the Uchiha, he tries to treat him like he would a scared, lone, traumatized, stray kitten. (I wonder what can go wrong with a plan like this.) (Nothing, the answer is. Nothing, because the plan works.)

Tags: Sasuke Behaves Like A Cat, Naruto Notices This And Treats Him Like One, Fluff and Smut, Fluff and Angst, Sleepy Cuddles, Traumatized Boys, Soft Boys.

Status: Completed, 13/13

Thoughts: One of the best fics, it manages to give such a good character study without even trying. I love this fic, I would like to marry it.

37. in his arms by loverofgaydragons

Summary:

Naruto was there the night Sasuke left Konoha.

Tags: Angst, No Happy Ending, Hurt No Comfort.

Status: Completed, 1/1

Thoughts: I sobbed so hard while reading this. It's just so beautiful, it's so beautifully written, it make me choke on sobs, I had to clean my glasses due to the tears, it's amazing. A heartbreak that hurts so good I will let it continue.

38. Time to Smile by hinata22

Summary:

Sasuke is on the verge of leaving the village forever. Naruto has other ideas.

Tags: Boys Kissing, Confession, Happy Ending.

Status: Complete, 1/1/

Thoughts: If you thought the last one was sad, here's a happier version. I read this fic back when I didn't have an AO3 account and would desperately keep the tab open as to not lose it. This fic is heartbreaking in it's beauty and lifting in it's sweet moments. A blessing, this fic is a true blessing.

39. The Master Plan of An Uchiha Husband-To-Be by Watermelonsmellinfellon

Summary:

Uchiha Sasuke is determined to marry his new best friend Naruto so he can share his family with the blond boy. He'll be the best husband ever and Naruto won't want for anything ever again!

Tags: Humor, First Crush, Pre-Relationship, No Uchiha Massacre, Fluff.

Status: Complete, 2/2.

Thoughts: Simply adorable, from start to finish.

40. Unrequited: sometimes it is, and sometimes it isn't by KizuKatana

Summary:

Naruto hates to hurt people's feelings. So when Hinata puts him on the spot about dating her, he doesn't want to come straight out and tell her he doesn't like her that way. Instead, he comes up with a poorly thought out idea to tell her he is dating someone already. All he needs to do to convince her is to show her a photo of the guy. He just needs to get a picture of someone so ridiculously hot she will know it's hopeless. He actually has someone in mind, a guy he'd had a one-sided thing for from his gym. Although, the guy is sort of an ass and probably wouldn't agree to posing for a picture. Naruto decides to ask him anyway. What's he got to lose?

Tags: Fluff, Unrequited Love Or Is It?, Humor, Cute.

Status: Completed, 1/1

Thoughts: Absolute blast, had a lot of fun reading this!

Aight, that's it for now.

[leighsartworks216]

Biological Malfunctions

Data x AFAB!reader

I rewrote this and then did not proofread it so have fun!!

Warnings: THIS IS A PERIOD FIC. THERE IS TALK ABOUT MENSTRUATION. PLEASE DON'T READ IF THAT MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE. Reader is described as having a uterus, but no other explicit descriptions of their gender is made. Can be read as platonic or romantic (like, the beginnings of a crush)

Word Count: 2003

Masterlist

Tag List Form

Data entered his room as he had over a thousand times before. He stepped in, making sure Spot was not by the door waiting to rush out and scamper down the hallways, and- He stopped in the middle of the room, hardly two steps in the door. Something was different. The lights were dimmed.

Data only changed the light setting in his room during Alpha shift, a ship-wide nighttime when he was usually put in charge of the Bridge, as he did not require sleep like the others. By doing so, he simulated a day/night cycle for his beloved feline friend. However, Alpha shift would not start until approximately 2 hours, 37 minutes, and 15 seconds. Also unusual, the lights were dimmed to 20%, a setting he himself never used.

Now the question was why?

Truth be told, he was momentarily titillated by this mystery. He considered, briefly, donning his Sherlock Holmes outfit to investigate. Alas, the mystery did not last long enough for a costume change.

“Data?” a voice called from the bed-area of his quarters. “Are you back?”

The android followed the voice, as did Spot, to a figure curled under his Starfleet regulation blankets. The fabric shifted, and a face peeked out from the edge, squinting up at him. He recognized the voice, but seeing the face it belonged to absolutely confirmed it.

“Lieutenant Y/N, I did not expect to find you in my quarters.”

“Sorry,” you yawned. The blankets were warm, and clean from lack of use. They drew you in deeper, coaxing you into curling further within the cascades of fabric, warm and safe. Spot climbed on top of you and began lovingly making biscuits into your side. Data was briefly fascinated by the strange exhibition of behavior. “I needed to see Spot,” you admitted. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. Your presence was unexpected, but you are always welcome here.” He met your tired little smile with a sort of grin of his own. “May I ask why you needed to see Spot? Has she done something wrong?”

You chuckled airily at the question. “No, she’s a good kitty.”

Data nodded, agreeing without hesitation, as the cat in question snuggled into a ball atop you and began purring contently.

In a softer, less comfortable tone than before, you murmured, “I needed the comfort.”

“Comfort?”

“Mhm. I’m…” A deep-rooted tree of shame ached in your chest at the thought of confessing your problems. You couldn’t help it, really. All your life since middle school, the biological issues - whether physical, mental, or emotional - you faced were heavily enforced as your problems. Even further, the most enforced rule of all was to never disclose them to men.

You would think, in the 24th century, these silly little laws of society would die.

When you did not respond after a moment (approximately 37 seconds), he understood that you may not wish to tell him. A prolonged silence in humans often reflected a sense of unease or discomfort, especially relating to conversation topics they were uncomfortable with. Your voice stopped him before he could retreat back to his computer.

The branch squeezing around your heart, pumping guilt through every channel of your body, won out over all.

“I’m going through some, uh, biological malfunctions.”

Data’s eyebrows raised, surprised by this new information. He kneeled down, positioning himself in a better position to speak with you face-to-face. “If you are feeling unwell, I suggest going to sickbay for an examination. Doctor Crusher is well-suited to a wide variety of biological issues. If you would prefer, I could ask her to visit you here.”

You nearly startled at the suggestion, speaking in a rush. “No, no, no, no. Really, Data, I’m okay. I just have to wait it out. I’ll be fine by the time you go back on shift, and then I’ll be out of your hair, promise.”

Confusion replaced his surprise. You seemed to panic at the subject of Doctor Crusher, yet you have shown no previous signs of anxiety relating to anything medical. Not to mention your strange phrase. “Lieutenant, you are not in my hair.” You found yourself relaxing once again as he rambled on about the logistics of being in his hair, a small smile finding your face once more. “A single hair is roughly 80,000 to 100,000 nanometers wide, while the average adult male is approximately 2 billion nanometers tall. To fit in my hair, you would need to shrink down to 25 times the size you are now. Alternatively, you would need to increase the size of a hair by 25 times in order to fit inside it at the height you currently stand.”

His sweet naivety reminded you of how you so easily fell into a friendship with the android. You could discuss niche topics in varying detail for hours on end and never get tired. He helped you feel like you belonged when you were just an ensign, fresh from the Academy and unsure in every step. Even now, without even trying, he grounded you and gently pushed away all of your anxieties.

Only once he was finished did you speak. “It’s an expression, Data. It just means that I won’t be in your space, or causing you any problems.”

His head tilted, cataloging the new phrase within an ever-growing list of human figures of speech. “Ah, I see. You are not ‘in my hair’, Lieutenant. If you would like, you are welcome to stay once I leave for Alpha shift. I do not mind.”

“I appreciate it.” You breathed in deeply, closing your eyes to revel in the dim light, surrounded by your best friend and his cat. The quiet sound of machinery beeping and Spot purring made it feel like home. This was not your room. “But I really should get back.”

“Would you like me to escort you to your quarters?”

You hummed, considering. “Maybe.” Data’s bed was unused, soft, and clean. It was much nicer than yours, which had a pronounced divot in the mattress after sleeping in it so long. But, you reminded yourself, you had barged into his room and made yourself comfortable in his bed, without any form of permission to be had. You were trespassing, despite Data’s all-too-welcoming attitude. Still… He was giving you a chance to stay for a bit longer. “I don’t want to take advantage of your hospitality,” you opened your eyes to study his pale face, “but I don’t really want to leave right now.”

“No advantage taken. I even find your presence quite…” he paused to ensure he had the right word, “enjoyable.”

You smiled gratefully at the android. Now, more at ease than ever, your eyes slid shut and you welcomed the exhaustion that tickled the back of your mind. You pulled the blankets slightly to tuck them snugly under your chin, and even curled the blanket around your feet, effectively trapping in the warm air and sealing out the colder air beyond your cocoon.

Data watched your actions with interest. He wasn’t exactly privy to how humans slept, nor did he find the topic as fascinating as sneezing or hiccuping. The act of sleeping itself, that it. Dreams were another topic entirely. Now, though, as he watched you curl into a fetal ball, nuzzling your nose into his pillow, he wondered why he had not been interested before. For a brief moment, you curled in tighter, holding your breath. A grimace twisted your features. And then you breathed out slowly, uncurling a little.

“Lieutenant,” he pried, continuing even when you did not look at him, “your actions suggest you are in some form of discomfort. If you tell me what your symptoms are, I can look up methods to ease them.”

The branch of guilt and shame coiled like a snack around your heart once more. It was illogical to be ashamed, especially when you were talking to Data who would never be offended by anything as natural as bodily functions. The years and years of having your femininity shamed only brought you anxiety and a vague feeling of nausea. He wouldn’t care. He wouldn’t be disgusted.

“I’m menstruating.” For such a small admission, you wanted to crawl within yourself and die surrounded by your shame. You kept your eyes firmly shut, pressing your face into the pillow, in hopes that, perhaps, this was all just a dream. “I’m just having really bad cramps right now.”

His head tilted, though you refused to open your eyes and see it. “Am I correct in thinking that you are uncomfortable with this topic?”

You huffed a strained laugh. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Menstruation is a natural occurrence among biologically female humans. I do not understand your discomfort.”

“It’s just… not really something humans are comfortable talking about, especially in mixed company.” Before he could ask your meaning, you added, “With males. Biological functions make people uncomfortable.”

His eyes lit up. “Fascinating.” He opened his mouth, ready to ask more questions about why, but stopped himself as you curled up tight once more. Right, he said he would help with your symptoms.

“There are a wide variety of methods said to reduce menstrual cramping. Methods include holding a heat compress to your lower abdomen, taking a hot bath, eating anti-inflammatory foods such as berries, tomatoes, pineapple, almonds, walnuts and salmon, or holistic treatments such as acupuncture or acupressure. Other methods such as exercise or abdominal massages are also said to relieve discomfort.”

You huffed out a frustrated breath, body curling in on itself as a second wave of pain ripped through your body. You curled in as tight as you possibly could, and yet the pain stayed. Your constant movement disturbed Spot, who finally had enough of laying on top of you, and jumped down. Data followed her movements as she found another, solitary, surface to sleep on.

As the wave ebbed away, it left behind aggravation and irritated tears that pricked at the corners of your eyes. You didn’t want food, you didn’t want to move, and you definitely didn’t want to get poked or prodded. You just wanted the pain to end. Spot had been acting as a sort of heated compress before, one that purred and had soft fur. Now, though, you had nothing to help.

Unless…

“Are you doing anything important right now?”

Data was confused by the odd question. It was entirely subjective. “I am kneeling here, talking to you. Is that not important?”

You may have been touched by the simple sweetness of his words, in the naivety he carried to find something as simple as talking to you important in the over-simplified, highly-literal way he saw the world, if you weren’t busy scrubbing the wetness from your eyes and gathering every ounce of dignity you had left. “Will you cuddle with me?”

“Inquiry: ‘cuddle’?”

“Just… lay with me and hold me?”

Data, confused but willing, nodded. As he got up from the floor, you scooted to make more room for him on the bed, while at the same time opening up your cocoon for him. In smooth, albeit unsure, motions, he joined you in the bed. Laying on his back, you threw the covers over him and helped to guide him in a rough lesson to cuddling. With no resistance, you were able to pick up his arm and wrap it around you as you settled down into the nook it created. He watched as you pressed yourself against his side and rested your cheek on his chest. You were close enough to hear the soft whirring of his inner mechanisms.

“Is this cuddling?”

Your cheek shifted against his uniform as you nodded. You appeared more at ease now. He… enjoyed seeing you like this.

“Yes, Data, this is cuddling.” After a brief moment of hesitation, you found his hand resting loosely behind you and guided it to rest over your waist. And as everything stilled, you were finally at peace.

[sashi-ya]

𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 [+18] 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐥𝐚𝐰 𝐱 𝐟! 𝐩𝐫𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐬𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 [final chapter]

ʚ masterlist: part 1; part 2; part 3 ; part 4; part 5 ʚ tw: finally, some good smut! love making. fingering. oral. vag. love love love confession! this is the last part of this story, but... is it really? 😏 wait and you will see...

𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫: 𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐚𝐬

“Nevermind…” you sigh, going back inside. The night is too beautiful to be enjoyed on your own, and you should be finishing some last details on your cosplay. “Back to sewing…”

As your fingers work with the last part of the hem of Sora’s wife’s cape your eyelids feel heavy. And even if your mind won’t stop thinking about Law and his “surgery”, soon the sound of the waves outside lull you to sleep.

Her hand on his inked one, their bodies sweating on a tiny hospital office. A woman so refined, so pretty, and desirable, lets her white coat fall back as he pins her against the desk.

“Dr. Trafalgar… do you think this is proper?” she asks, giggling so devilishly as his kisses attack her neck.

“Even if it’s not proper, I can’t wait no more… Nico-ya…” Law sighs, loudly, opening the blouse to reveal the turgor of her breasts. He is desperate, in need of sex and release. And the tanned skin of his colleague seemed to be the right place to dig in.

Her deep blue eyes scan with lust the way Law opens his ripped jeans and lifts the yellow shirt up. He tucks it under his chin, while the white coat still remains on.

Dr. Nico Robin’s tight black skirt ends up looking like a belt around her waist as Law comes closer and lifts it up to gain a better access to her core.

“Let me fuck you now, Nico-ya” he grunts, pumping his hardness closer to a dampened fine lace panty of hers.

“Fufufu- fuck me now, Dr. Trafalgar… this surgery can take as long as this night lasts for ~”

Tears sprout from closed eyes, a painful image to look at. Your head over the table of your kitchen, and a ray of light hitting your eyes making you wake up.

In between sobbing you notice it doesn’t seem to be the sun but artificial light. The little led of your sewing machine reminds you that you had fallen asleep while working on a costume.

“Fuck…” you swear. “It was just a dream. That’s it… just a dream…” you try to calm yourself down as you check the time on your phone. Four hours have passed since you started working, enough time to finish if you hadn’t fallen asleep.

Dragging your feet to the refrigerator, you search for a trusty energy drink. The sweet and sour flavour of chemicals will do to keep you awake. However, you are sure that it won’t be the only thing…

You take a look through the window; the noctilucas are on full display over the coast and the blueish gloom tinting the beach looks like a perfect magical place. Maybe the doors to a different universe in which pirates rule the world and people have powers like being made out of gum.

“I wish you were here Law…” you sigh, painfully remembering the dream you just had. Imagining Law being with another woman breaks your heart…  but seeing him unleash sexual desires over her; that’s even worse.

You decide to check your phone; the last time Law used his was the exact moment he bid you goodbye. You are not very sure if he is indeed operating, or he simply turned off his phone so that you wouldn't bother him while being with another girl.  In any case there is no point on keep worrying about it. So, you sit down again at the table and start sewing the last part of your cosplay.

A sudden knock in the middle of the silence of the night, creeps you out. “Who could it be at this hours?”

Carefully you stand up and walk towards the door. By taking a swift look through the peephole you discover that nobody’s standing there. A shiver runs through your spine, and you wonder if you are again in danger or not…

Immediately, the memories of what happened six months ago hit you;  however, this time there isn't any hero around you called Law. This time there is no officer Roronoa, nor Penguin, Bepo or Shachi.

You silently grab the keys, squeezing the white fluffy ball that Law gave you. You take them from the door trying to make the least sound possible and walk backwards. Grabbing your cell phone, you check on your security camera app discovering that by the porch off the door there is a package with a bow that looks like a gift.

A million thoughts run through your mind; you are sure that this is something similar to a scene you saw on a Halloween movie. You feel like you're sweating, but it is cold. You ponder if you should call 911 or not… after all if there is nobody there, and it’s just a package they will probably call you crazy.

You take a deep breath. You ponder all of the possibilities.

“All right this is probably someone trying to kill me. And if I open the door to grab the damn package, for sure someone will come in and try to kill me. YES! that's it! What if it’s a fucking murderer clown? Or a guy wearing a coat with pink feathers and glasses that wants to kill me with strings around my neck??!”

You think of the stupidest things, even if today they do not sound that stupid… And frankly, when you grab your phone, you realise that you shouldn't be calling the person that you're calling… But you can’t help it…

The ringing tone seems eternal. Law isn't answering his phone. Of course he is. And if he's either operating or not, he is busy… he won't pick up the phone.

“This is Doctor Trafalgar Law speaking. I am not available in the moment to answer but please, leave a message after the tone. Thank you.” His voice resonates in your head like echoes of losing hope.         And as you curl up into a ball, by some corner of your kitchen in total darkness, you speak to him.

“I don't know why I'm calling you… but I'm scared, and I know you can’t do anything because you're on the other side of the country. But I really think you are my safe place… so, if something happens to me tonight, I need you to tell you something… I’m madly in love with you Law. Goodbye.”

Which theory eyes the next you hear is a new knocking on the door. This time it isn’t suspicious, this time is desperate.

“(Name)-ya! (Name)-ya! It’s me!!! Open me please!”

“LAW???” you stand up, sniffling. At this point you are sure you are hallucinating.

“(Name)-ya, please open! It's me, Law! I didn't mean to scare you; I was hoping that you will find this a pleasant surprise!” the desperate voice of your lover sounds in your eardrums like a balsam.

You wipe your tears with the back of your hand and run to the door. Unlocking the latch, you let the summer breeze hit your heated cheeks.

His image, standing right by the door, feels like a dream… what is Law doing there? He was supposed to be on a surgery, or… or with Dr. Robin.

“L-Law?” your lips tremble, giving your beloved doctor a sweet look of helplessness. Like a scared little girl to his father, you stretch your arms to him.

Law sighs; he is so relieved to see you safe and sound. He immediately hugs you, lifting you up and pressing your body against his.

“I’m here. Don’t panic…” he murmurs, nuzzling on your temple while you do the same on the crook of his neck.

The scent of his skin, something you wonder you had forgotten, still is as delicious as you remember. Once again the feeling of safeness with his arms around your frame. Once again him, nobody but him.

“Wha- what are you doing here, Law…?” you whisper, both unable to move nor break the hug. The need for one accumulated all throughout six long months.

“I- I wanted to come and see you…I am aware that this wasn’t very well planned, but I…” he whispers back, inhaling, after, the perfume of your hair.

You giggle. He shouldn’t be apologizing; it was you who ruined his surprise.

He puts you down, carefully, and softly.

“Law… I…” you lift your eyes to look at him. You wanna say something, but the sudden memory of your love confession strikes you. Did he hear you through the door? Has he already listened to the voice memo?

However, none of that matters anymore because without warning, neither mercy, desperate lips crash with yours in a scorching kiss.

Law’s mouth feels like paradise. A heaven you never knew it existed and to where you wish to be taken. The taste of his tongue on yours, so deliciously intrusive… for how many nights you imagined this?

When the first kiss finally breaks - because your lungs were rioting for at least a molecule of oxygen- he fixes his needy orbs into yours. “I owed you this since the airport” he pants.

You blink slowly, still unable to process what has just happened. He still feels the salty taste of your tears, while you drown into a pit of butterflies attacking your stomach.

“And… I’ve been waiting for it since that day…” you murmur, biting your lower lip too sexily for the surgeon’s imagination.

He moves that mysterious box that was still resting on your porch, inside. He didn’t even lift it up, he just kicked it in, with care.

Closing the door behind you, he lifts you up again, this time by your legs. You, quickly, surround his waist with them trapping his body for it to be only yours.

He walks towards your kitchen, kissing you so desperately with grunts and growls that sprout so easily from his throat. Law moves inside as if he knew your home, as if it was his own.

Of course, had other type of stuff be over your table he would have pushed them away, but he didn’t want to ruin your progress. So, Law keep walking through the little glass door that you kept open in your kitchen. Such door leads to a little deck that offers you the most beautiful views of the beach right across the street.

He deposits you over the little railing of your deck, amazed by the breath-taking scenery ahead of you. However, Law still believes that there is nothing more beautiful than you. That nothing, not even the Noctilucas, shine as bright as you.

His tattooed hand lands on your cheek; soft blessed fingers, trained to save lives, killing you slowly with a loving caress.

You enjoy the way his caramel skin shines bright by the blueish phosphorescence of the Noctilucas on the coast. Under a dark sky, a dot of brilliance beats like two hearts finally able to join after so long.

It is impossible for you not to get emotional. Eyes once again getting humid, this time because of pure joy.

He gets lost in the view of the coast; and the beating sounds of your hearts that match the waves crashing against the sand create a beautiful melody of love.  

“I missed you so much…” he murmurs once he looks back at you. “I missed you too, Law… I… I…” you need to tell him how much you love him; even if he really knows. Of course, he does.

Law’s lips get closer to yours, barely touching them. His hand slides from your cheek to your shoulder, a finger tangling on the strap of your lose dress. And it falls, uncovering your body, showing the man of your dreams a skin so ready to be loved. So ready to be adored.

“Don’t say it just yet…” he utters, as he begins to kiss your shoulders with loving pecks that will remain carved in your flesh for the first time and for the rest of your life.

You nod, because you understand completely why he wants you to wait. And you really don’t mind about the rest of the world, even if your bare back is on full display towards the coast during a lonely Friday night.

As Law goes down with his kisses, leaving a trail of lust, you play with the soft yet messy hair of his. Combing through it, with your nails, you watch him approach your breasts.

He discovers, with love and praise, how perfect your anatomy is… this time for real, because you both are willing to offer one to the other. Cupping your right breast, he gets your protruding nipple in between his lips.

Sucking, ever so softly, you feel like exploding. The sleepiness has eased away, and now there is just love and need. Desire and lust.

Your throw your head back, with your mouth wide open, letting a low moan to scape your chest. The way he pulls, and nibbles so delicately, is like the delicious starter for a full curse banquet.

And a banquet, a feast is what Law wants from you. To do with you. He finds your skin taste to be delightful, and he can’t wait to check that indeed your core is as ambrosial as he imagined it to be.

He kneels in between your legs, spreading them from your inner thighs. A place where he firstly squeeze, and then kiss. Diving underneath the flowy skirt of your pleaded yellow dress.

Your belly spasms in anticipation; Law’s hardness seems too painful for those blue jeans. The wet spots on your panties are everything the surgeon desires to enjoy, and little by little the tip of his nose reach for them.

You try to close your legs as in an unvoluntary muscle reaction, with knuckles turning white as you grab yourself from the railing not to fall.

“Keep… them open, (Name)-ya” he orders, sending a sting of pleasure with a simple command that sounded so dominant.

“Y-yes…” you barely mouth, knowing that you must try your best to spread your legs so that he can rejoice with your sex.

You can sense what he is doing right under your skirt, with playful finger that graze the dampened fabrics that cover your sex. Law uses his thumb, rubbing it up and down, painfully slowly over your covered slit. And taking all of his sweet time, he finally moves away your lacey coverings.

“Heh” you hear him scoff, followed by the warm sensation of his breath getting closer to your labia. You squirm, passing your nails through his nape, or at least the little part you can reach as you don’t want to lose your balance.

First, the tip of his tongue. Then all of it, eating your whole, drinking your elixir drop by drop. The technique, so immaculate. Sucking, touching, licking the right parts, showing you exactly how much of an expert he is in terms of knowing the human body.

And when your legs begin to shiver, to quiver instead of spasming, and your moans become louder… Law knows it’s time to enjoy the beautiful expression of raptured pleasure your face must be holding.

He stands up, cleaning the brilliance off his lips but never taking two fingers out of you. Those two fingers that keep you at bay, won’t let you finish but won’t let you lose the heat either.

“Can I make love to you, right now?” he asks, with his lips grazing yours, in a sexy and raspy voice.

You swallow. He said “make love…” not “fuck”…

“Ye-yes, please… make love to me, Law ~”

The surgeon smiles sweetly. Even if lust would lead you both, there is also something deeper. There is love with no words, pure adoration.

“Where is your bedroom?” he asks, taking his fingers out of you and holding you back in arms.

You point at the glass door next to the kitchen one. Your cheeks on fire, your insides too. Your heart combusting, with sparks flying from such burning.

He slides open the door with a swift motion, grunting to discover you didn’t lock it. “You should close this…” he scolds you and you simply giggle.

When he gets to the foot of the bed, he kneels with you still in arms. You sit on his lap, with noses grazing, both breathing desire, with your sex over the bulge forming underneath his jeans.

“Are you sure?” he asks, again. “Yes, because I…” you wanna say you love him, but his inked index stops you from doing so. Not just yet.

Law slowly takes his finger from your lips and kisses your forehead.

Your breasts pressed against his chest are dying to feel his skin against them. Thus, you surely begin to pull up from his shirt.

Caramel skin, yet again barely bathed by the blueish light filtering from the coast through the glass door. The black lines, tracing a heart pattern forever carved on his flesh like the memories of that man who saved his life… the man he told you about during endless texting before bed nights.

Planting sweet kisses on his neck and collar bones, you enjoy with no hurries every inch of skin. But it isn’t enough, he is hurting. The jeans jail’s been too much already, and he needs relief. He. And you, too.

Surely and quickly, you stand up just enough for him to take his jeans off. And Law delivers almost instantly. You discover clean legs, this time with no tattoos like the rest of his body and wonder if there is something he is waiting for to get them permanently drawn with.

Your fingernails trap the hem of his boxers, and pulling them down, you finally give his shaft a so needed freedom.

It is hard, it is perfectly sized and healthy too. The way its tip is covered in shiny essence, pushes you to gloat before such tempting imagery.

But he can’t wait no more. Law needs to feel the warmth of your insides surrounding him, like a wet hot hug of clenching shelter.

His nails bury into your hip sides, guiding you towards his dripping masculinity. As drippy as your core that drizzle with connecting strings of wetness, his purplish tip.

Looking up, with pleading eyes, Law awaits. You put an end to the torturing inches that separate both bodies, sitting so perfectly on his lap, letting his sex slide inside you, feeling the way it opens its way towards your centre.

As you finally reach the deepest point, Law’s arm surround your lower waist, pressing you so hard against him. Both take a moment to enjoy the connection, looking into each other’s eyes before he starts ramming in and out of you with merciless hips thrusts.

Your body on its own coordinates its motions to match Law’s, going back and forth, around, and up and down. Lips grazing, sloppy wet kisses, grunts, and whines…

It is time now, right? When the body, the soul and the heart reaches its climax…

“(Name)-ya, I’m madly in love with you ~” “Law, I loved you since the very beginning…”

You want an epilogue?! Yes! And it’s coming soon :3

[bliphany]

It’s not A confession and refusal scene. It’s a DOUBLE confession and refusal scene…

(A rough analysis of the final scene of Good Omens season 2 finale)

I think Aziraphale in character is such a rule-follower that he always needs a “cover” to “allow” himself to choose Crowley. (So far… at least)

We’ve seen that many times in season 1, where Aziraphale often relied on Crowley to “make this okay for me to say yes” like many people have mentioned in fandom. He chose to go back to Earth at the end and asked questions about the ineffable plan due to the same reasoning. And it made him happy because at that moment he found a rule that he could follow which also allowed him to stand with Crowley. The forever conflict was temporarily resolved. After that, since heaven and hell temporarily left them alone, he happily ignored that for a short while.

But at the very end of season 2, what Matatron offered sounded like exactly that. The perfect, magical solution once and for all. There could be rules that Aziraphale could made and followed which also allowed him to be together with Crowley. And they didn’t have to worry about the next big war against humanity once he and Crowley worked together. That’s why he clung onto it desperately in confrontation with Crowley at the confession scene. “I don’t think you understand what I’m offering you here.”

When he said “you can come back… to heaven, to…* to everything. Like the old times, only even nicer.”

I’d like to think that, he didn’t mean it as “like the old time when we worked together on earth but nicer because you’ll be an angel” but “like the old time when we were both angels in heaven but nicer because now we have this 6000 years of connection between us can’t wait to see what we can create together as beautiful as nebulas”

*also, was I the only one who thought Aziraphale stopped himself from saying come back to me here? He really hadn’t had the ability to choose something just because he wanted them, had he… there had to always be some “cover” for it. The greater good. The right thing to do. To save earth and humanity. Never himself.

I remember in one Dimension 20 episode or adventuring party, ppl were talking about Lawful Good characters might be the most difficult ones to made interesting. And Emily proposed that, maybe they found an older or alternate set of rules and they decided that were better… I’ve always thought it was a clever take.

And that’s what Aziraphale didn’t have. Or rather, he now was given the opportunity to make them. On the other hand, Crowley was totally vulnerable in that scene, he dropped every cover every mask he’d used to convince Aziraphale in the past. In Crowley’s confession there were You-and-Mes, no cover, no mask. And I love him for it. The tragic thing was, that also unintentionally cut the “communication channel” they’d been dancing in the past 6000 years. (Interesting that they also developed their own dance for apologies…)

It was not just a confession scene, it was a double confession (and double refusal… sadly) scene. How many of you also thought that Aziraphale was trying to confess and asked Crowley to be together with him with that “great news”? And, in his pov, he got a “tell me you say no” and that could be as painful as the refusal he gave to Crowley. That’s why he turned passive aggressive in the coming confrontation (which was still not nice but I understand) and that’s also why he interrupted Crowley in the first place. Imagine in fics where they proposed at the same time… but make it go painfully wrong…

After Crowley’s confession, Aziraphale said “come with me, we can make a difference” to me it was his confession too.

And remember when he put his hand on Crowley’s shoulder seeing Gabriel and Beelzebub being together??? He was thinking about himself and Crowley and remember why heaven seemed to have to allow it??? Because MATATRON SAID SO.

People have amazing interpretations such as: “Aziraphale choosing between Crowley and Heaven” or “Aziraphale choosing between Crowley and Angel!Crowley”

Now I propose:

There’s a conflict between two equally heartfelt and the most-vulnerable-they-could-get confessions, both being rejected by the other.

I’m not saying I don’t agree with one a bit more than the other, but I’d like to point out that, it wasn’t just like Crowley was only the confess-er and Aziraphale the reject-er. They were both at the same time.

Then, Crowley said “you can’t leave you bookshop” and Aziraphale replied “nothing last forever”

I think, in this exchange of words, Crowley was desperately trying to find an excuse for Aziraphale to stay on earth. We’re back to where Crowley always finds a way to make it okay for Aziraphale to agree with him again. And Aziraphale replied: “Oh, Crowley, nothing last forever” which MADE CROWLEY PUT BACK HIS SUNGLASSES AND THEN LEAVING.

What Aziraphale trying to say, I’d like to believe, was “we being together as angels in heaven is so worth it that the bookshop is nothing compared” which explained his emotion-charged way of saying this sentence and his shock seeing Crowley leaving after that. If Crowley was back to their 6000 dance by mentioning bookshop as a cover/desperate attempt, Aziraphale only now slipped into his vulnerable self without excuses and covers (except Matatron’s offer of course) saying he didn’t need this bookshop if he could be together with Crowley both in heaven (remember this was Aziraphale, who loved everything human created and accumulated them, speaking) and what he got after that act? Crowley put back his sunglasses and left after saying “good luck”

On the other end, Crowley probably and rightfully interpreted “nothing last forever” as all his memories and experiences on earth were disposable compared to the power he could get in heaven.

One is “nothing last forever (except you and me) the other “nothing last forever (including you)”

Really, who wrote a scene where both characters confessed and still broke up? It was an unique kind of painful that I think yeah okay… only this two can hurt me like this.

[mackenyus-photo-dump]

Image credit: amalapatt

ZORO CAUGHT HANAHAKI

Part 1: Confession

Does anyone know Hanahaki disease? It's basically a fictional disease people catch when their love is unrequited. The symptoms include coughing out red petals, once severe, the sufferer would cough up blood.

[This fanfiction took place right after this scene]

Recalling his promise to Sanji to kill him once he was back from whatever hell he went to, Zoro got up. "Oh right, I need to fulfill my promise," he said, taking another sip of Sake. The Sake in Wano is especially decadent, but why did it taste sweet and fragrant that day? Zoro stood up, ready to draw his sword to execute his nakama, but he felt a sudden tingle in his throat. He tried to ignore the itch, but the more he did so, the more it bothered him. Once he could no longer take it, Zoro coughed, and 2 petals of a red rose flew out of his mouth. "Petals?" he hummed to himself. Now the itch was gone, he smirked back at Sanji, trying to continue what he meant to do, but the itch came back, and it was way worse than before. Sanji's eyes widened. He never saw Zoro in such a state. Zoro sat back down, with his fingers on his chin, he was thinking. "Chopper, did you feed me any seeds or flowers while I passed out?" he yelled at Chopper who was playing with the 2 orphans on the other side of the room. Chopper rushed to his side and shook his head. Chopper was taken aback once he saw the petals on Zoro's palm. Could this be? the doctor mumbled to himself.

"I will get Tra-guy to have a second opinion!" Chopper ran outside to find the best doctor he could find on the land. Law was not difficult to find, since he was always glued to his mink comrade who stood out from the crowd. After explaining what he just discovered, Chopper led Law to the palace, where Zoro had been resting for a few days. "So he is alive, after all," Law exclaimed. It was difficult to know whether he was glad or burdened by it since Law had always been such a tsundere. The 2 petals Chopper saw earlier had multiplied by many, it seemed like his feelings towards this mysterious person were quite strong. "Good, you're back," Zoro said, grabbing as many petals as he could to fit into his hands. "It's getting worse," he added, followed by a cough. "Good grief, I thought this disease was a myth," Law said, fixing his cap. He squatted so he could examine the scene better. "You know if you confess your love, and they reciprocate the feelings, this will all go away," the doctor suggested. Zoro scoffed. "I don't know what you're talking about," he truly had not grasped the situation. No one told him the name and cause of this disease he caught. "If you say so... room!"

The surgery went accordingly. Law was able to successfully remove the flowers from both of Zoro's lungs and thank heavens he did, the flowers were growing rapidly, if they waited for another second, the thorns would have pierced through Zoro's lungs already. "Now I'm feeling better," he cracked his neck and gulped down an entire bottle of Sake. "Thank you," he told Law. As Zoro was enjoying his copious amount of booze, he heard a Shamisen being played. The same one that he heard during his most recent battle. Enticed by the mellifluous melody, Zoro intended to find out the player of the said song. His pace followed the sound of the beautiful notes and it led him to a room. He slid open the shoji to find Hiyori. Her delicate fingers were carefully plucking each string of the Shamisen. The princess stopped and looked up at the man who towered before her. Blushing, Hiyori looked away. "Go on," Zoro said, taking a seat right in front of her, his muscular hand was still holding a bottle of Sake. Hiyori nodded and resumed the paused song. A moment later, Zoro felt another tingle in his throat. He groaned in frustration, then coughed out the petals. Hiyori's blue eyes widened, she stopped playing entirely and threw the shamisen onto the ground. "I take it the surgery did not go well?" she placed one hand on his shoulder and another on his muscly chest. "It went great, I just have to confess my love to someone," he confessed.

[A picture break]

Zoro hated this unfamiliar feeling of love. How could he be sure he was in love if he never knew it before? He pondered for quite some time before drawing out the potential candidates, it could always be Tashigi, he has a deep respect for the swordswoman as she constantly reminds him of his childhood crush and best friend, Kuina. Being around Tashigi felt familiar too. She is a good person, a warrior, just like him, and he assumed that was what he was looking for in a romantic partner. Zoro quickly brushed off the thoughts as he realized he never thought of her as more than a friend. He could never imagine a future with her, let alone a life with her.

Perona on the other hand, took care of him during his lowest. Having lived under the same roof for 2 years, they grew really close. Still, he only ever saw her as his older sister who was as annoying as a younger one. She was innocent, yet strong. Hell, even Zoro could not defeat her in a battle. Realizing Perona was never the object of his adult fantasies. This led him straight to another candidate. The last one in his book.

Zoro turned to face the distressed princess. She was praying to Buddha to help him recover soon. He scoffed, there was no way he could be in love with this idiot of a girl, right? Sure, she was the most beautiful girl he had ever encountered, but she believes in God for fuck's sake! They were basically the polar opposite. Hiyori and Zoro recently met under an ill circumstance, she was fleeing for her life as she was trying to save an orphan, while Zoro was trying to rob back his katana from a mysterious bandit. This stupid princess was trying to save someone else's life while her life was on the line. To him, she was nothing but a burden, but why did he feel the need to save her life over and over again and refuse to let anyone else do it? He even pushed Sanji out of the way so he, himself could save her and be her hero? It felt somewhat out of character, but he tried to make excuses like how he had to make that decision impulsively. Then comes the lewd dreams he had of her during his days in the comatose state. There was no denying it. Although his brain had warned him not to, his heart could not easily dismiss her kind nature, unsullied pale skin, and stunning face. "What a pain," he whispered so faintly, that nobody else could hear it.

"Oi, Hiyori," he called the princess to snap her out of her thoughts since she seemed like she zoned out. "I think I'm in love with you."

This will be a 3 part fan fiction, the next parts are going to be smuts. Please stop reading here if you are under 18!

[phrackingineffable]

4x08 thoughts part 2

Love how they all said “body swap” in unison, like sure, this is what we do now.

Love Tunji getting to use his own accent. (I’m sure it’s not his actual accent but hey, closer than the American one!)

Bess is banned from the historical society but “Nick” is not. Nickbody Bess couldn’t have just run in and grabbed them?

Nancy as Ace is way more chill than actual Nancy

Can’t wait to be a fly on the wall next time she speaks ASL with Thom and he’s like wtf happened

The face Kennedy makes right after Thom asks to speak to Ace alone is her single best Ace mannerism of the whole episode.

Awww, Ryan, she DOES need Dad #2!!

I really really hope Nick was just being an ass and doesn’t think that the dessert is actually called a tort.

Ok some of Kennedy’s sulky glares are pretty damn good too. She did a better job than I gave her credit for the first time through.

Law school dude may be many things but he sure as hell isn’t 21 and frankly conventionally attractive is pushing it.

Never gonna get over Alex’s Nancy run.

There is no way Nancy would let that little strand of hair remain in Ace’s face. You know she’d be running her hands through it every three seconds.

No yacht club admin has ever been that rude to a yacht club guest and kept her job.

I love wingman Nick, and George actually smiling!

Where did all these waitresses come from and why did they have to open late if they have them?

Love Ryan’s “oh shit” face

Ok, so it’s great that the black door makes you forget what you did and all, and lucky you for eliminating the guilt, but it doesn’t get rid of the evidence does it? What did the dude that got arrested at the yacht club think would happen? The cops would just go away after he forgot?

The head of the evil angel figurehead looks like an old mannequin that lost its wig.

I love that when the door glows red is when she realizes “the black door!” No sweetie that’s a stripey door.

I know others have pointed this out but it never stops being funny that they tried to stay apart for ONE SINGLE DAY before giving it up as a lost cause.

I have questions about the depths of that ocean.

What, no gratuitous wet tshirts? He got soaked! It even made sense!

Yes, of course the happier memories hurt more. You don’t miss the sad ones.

I mean, banishing with kitchen supplies is sort of your brand, Bess.

“Satellite facility” two blocks away from the original location in a building with a public youth center that we’re all sort of ignoring. 🤣 Also I know Maine’s cost of living isn’t super duper high, but he’s gonna run out of money eventually right? Right? The Claw is not bringing it in.

Ok, you’re literally Dad #2, how is that not family?

Where is Ryan living these days?

I want Costco cake now.

Still mad Ace missed the cake fight.

Love that body swap day is a “normal” day. (Autocorrect says body wasp day. I do not need that episode. Doctor Who was bad enough thank you.)

I remembered the thing I forgot last night!! Those poor set dressers who had to clean up the cake fight! I hope someone saved some for them to eat (unless they never wanted to see cake ever again).

Ok, if cake fights were a regular thing you know Kate bought some tarps. Put down the tarp before you throw the cake!!

Love that choked back confession before “good night”.

[thatpunkmaximoff]

[Book One of...]

Story: 5 out of 5 Smut: 2 out of 5

Oh my goodness! This was such a fun, fluffy read that includes great body and sex positivity! Seriously, more authors need to include plus-size women.

Beatrix/Trixie is such a great character. I loved the idea of the hot football player/best friend falling in love with the girl whose body is not what everyone approves of. I loved watching her be comfortable in her own skin, even if she spent years finding that peace, and then facing down high school bullies before watching their own lives unravel. Ugh. So fun!

Chris is such a horndog for Trixie, but he’s a respectful horndog. You’re gonna love him. Trust me. And don’t even get me started on Chris’s family! They were all such great additions, and I can’t wait to for the next Kingman to fall in love.

* Luke Skycocker 😂 That’s a great name for a rooster.

* I love that this football player is pining after the plus-size girl. This is gonna be so cute!

* The mom sends her sex toys. What even.. 😂

* Awww. Does everyone know about Chris’s crush? lol.

* Lmao. Even the dad ships them! He wants Trixie as a daughter-in-law, for sure.

* Ugh. I hate mean girls. It’s been ten years! Grow the fuck up.

* Oohhhh. She said he was her boyfriend. Let the fake dating begin 🤗

* God. Chris is so fucking corny lol. These innuendos are hilarious.

* Ugh. Creepy Karter. Someone kick his ass, please.

* Her fucking mom telling her to use lots of line because she’s sure Chris is large. Oh my god 😂 and that she’ll be sending them something fun. I can’t wait to see what it is.

* The kiss cam! I can’t stop smiling. Oh my god. He needs to confess his feelings asap!

* Cowgirl 👀

* He told her about his feelings! Oh my god, yes!

* Luke Skycocker tried being a little cockblock lmao. Chris was not having it.

* A tentacle vibrator? Trixie’s mom sends the most interesting toys 😂 and oh my god, Chris finding the stash is hilarious.

* GOYKATTDLAGG - I’m ashamed to say I immediately knew what that was 😅

* Holy shit… Chris and all his suppressed horndog feelings really let go, huh. Damn.

* Ugh. Why do I get the feeling the press is gonna find out about Trixie’s mom’s pornstar past? 😒

* Rachel is a cunt. What does she have planned 😬

* Goddamn. In the locker room, Chris? Now I’m all hot and bothered 🥵

* “We spent the last two and half days dressing up, probably acting like our lives are better than they are, because we want our high school classmates to think we’re cool. Hell, I even asked my best friend if he would be my fake date just to show you I wasn’t just a sad, nerdy chicken lady. But if I hadn’t, I would never have found out that I loved him.” // “Or that I loved her. I have for a long time. Since high school, in fact.”

* wtf did Anthony do?! Did they record Chris and Trixie having sex?! You can’t cut to a week later like that and not let me know!!!

* I fucking knew it! Ugh. Please handle it appropriately and make those responsible pay!!

* I love the Kingman family so, so much!

* She asked him to marry her!!! And he already had a ring!!!

* They’re all so happy and Rachel got what she deserved. Dumb bitch lol.

[mrpenguinpants]

Razor:  Jealous HCs

Hey anon!! As much frustration I hold for crippling oblivious couples, I also love the trope so much. Plus I adore Razor. Even though I try to not call Razor a dog, I still google “jealous dog traits”. Also, I found out both Hanniejji and I secretly HCs Bennet is friends with Razor and Fischl. If genshin won’t give me character interactions then I’ll write it myself.

---

Semi Part 1: General HCs

Semi Part 2: Pre-Relationship HCs

Semi Part 3: Cuddle HCs

[Masterlist]

---

[taglist]  <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

 @mikeysbike @unionwitch @musekala @sunnshiii @stanzastic @akaasea @xoneaboveallx @adoring-ghost @asheseiler @childelover @dilucsz @dai-tsukki-desu @thicmitten @nonniechan @htnicayh @genshins1mpact @morthecreator @ aanne2601 @hanniejji​

Razor:  Jealous HCs

Bennet and Fischl are both foaming at the mouth at how deeply in love you BOTH are and yet you’re both equally blind. Fischl wants to grab you by the shoulders and yell at you that Razor returns your feelings and you need to stop doing whatever it is you’re doing. A sad Razor looks like a kicked puppy and even she can’t handle it. But Razor absolutely refuses for anyone to confess for him because he believes that you might just genuinely be uninterested in him. Plus, it wouldn’t feel right if he couldn’t confess himself. It’s his first love, this is important to him.

Bennet thinks it’s really sweet that his friend is in love. Even if he does get a bit pouty that whenever he get’s hurt, Razor will ask if he’s alright and leave it at that. But if you accidently trip Razor is already at your side and fussing over you. Bennet uses this as physical proof that yes, your feelings are returned and this man is in love with you, but you always brush it off as Razor’s nature to be caring. He’s smiling patiently on the outside but on the inside he has his hands in his hair and he’s screaming.

God forbid anything upsets you. Razor hasn’t been around other humans long enough to pick up on most social cues but he does have a good sense of smell. If you’re happy then the wind smells like sweet flowers. If you’re upset then it smells like mint. While Razor usually keeps himself in check and is somewhat indifferent, the second he catches any signs of distress from you he’s on high alert. Until you tell him what’s been bothering you - a group of hilichurls stole your bag of snapdragon flowers - he’s going to be on guard and stressed out. He’s already throwing his claymore over his shoulder to go and fight the monsters that tried to upset you. Wow, what a good friend you say to Fischl. Fischl is ready to punt you off a cliff.  

Razor tries his best to show that he likes you by bringing the things you need and looking like such a proud pup. He looks at you with such hopeful eyes that it takes you a second to register what he’s asking before you feel your own heart rate speed up and pound into your ears. You flush pink before you move to embrace him and ruffle his hair as praise as he nuzzles into your shoulder affectionally. You assume his affectious actions are apart of his wolf nature and how they act so you try not to read too deep into things. Even if Razor seems a bit too happy to be hugging you and receiving pets. Or the fact he doesn’t let anyone else pet him...

Bennet tries his best to help his friend out by giving Razor some advice but considering Bennet himself hasn’t been in a relationship yet, it’s all practical. Telling Razor that he’s seen couples bring each other flowers as a sign of affection, maybe Razor could find some plants to bring you? It ends horribly when he offers you a wolfhook and you just stare at him. He says that these are his feelings towards you but you’re just...so confused?? Wolfhooks have thorns so does that mean he thinks you’re clingy? Isn’t that a bad thing? Are you annoying to him?? But wolfhooks also symbolize wolves so is he saying you’re like family to him??? You’re internally screaming while debating if you just got family-zoned or if Razor is trying to subtly tell you that he doesn’t like you.

Just because Razor is, somehow, unsure if you actually like him or not. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t get incredibly jealous and possessive at any unknown presence. He’s still a bit wary of the City due to all the conflicting smells and noises but he can’t help but look so sad when you have to run errands and you can’t visit him. But when you mention that a really nice knight gifted you a flower does Razor see red. He gave you a flower?? Shouldn’t you be happy with his? Why do you need another one when you have his? Is his gift not good enough? Is this your way of saying you’re interested in someone else? This poor boy is on the verge of either running off to go sulk or find the man that gave you this flower, which up until his knowledge - courtesy of Bennet - is a sign of courting, and absolutely destroy him to prove he’s the better partner.

He tries to keep it under wraps since he's been told that while in the City, he needs to exercise restrain and understand that if he enters. He's expected to at least respect the laws and people. But this poor wolf is so feral over this new development and this new smell that's been clinging onto you that whatever worries and isolation issues Razor felt about the city flies out the window as his protective instincts kick into overdrive. He sees other people and even pets as a rival for your attention and love. He just wants to scoop you up and growl at everything as a message to say “this is mine, go get your own”.

Even when the both of you are far away from the city, Razor’s continued mood seems to hang heavy over both your heads. You’re not sure what exactly caused Razor to be on high alert. He’s snapping and growling at everything little thing that comes close, even a butterfly!

You abruptly stop walking to Razor’s surprise as you whip around and frown at him. He can feel a chill run up his spine as he stands perfectly straight as you study him before you hold your palm out and looked at him expectantly. He looks at your hand with a small spark of perked attention before his nose twitches and he goes back to sulking. You’re still waiting for him as he shuffles a bit, his hair that resembled a wolf ear is twitching, before he whines and trots over and places his chin on your palm. He’s looking up at you with the most kicked puppy expression and you don’t even know what you did but you feel like the worse person in all of Teyvat.

“Razor...what’s gotten into you?” you ask gently as you rub circles into his cheek as he nuzzles into your palm. He seems really conflicted as his eyes dart away from your face and he almost looks guilty. He just whines and turns and buries his face into your warm palm. You’ve never really seen him like that before as you awkwardly try and comfort him. Until the same flower slips out of your pocket and you hear something primal growl out of Razor. His teeth are pulled back and he snarls at the flower as his pupils dilate. You quickly get between him and the poor flower before Razor tries to do anything.

“Seriously Razor, what’s gotten into you?” you asked concerned. He quickly shifts his attention to you as he pounces and knocks you over. You left off a soft noise as the wind get’s knocked out of you but you peep when his hands cage you from above. Razor’s red eyes bore into yours and you’re suddenly thinking the air is getting too hot. 

“Do you like Razor?” he asks, tilting his head in a cute pout. It makes you internally coo before you quickly snap out of it. Stay focused! 

“Of course I do! Remember we talked about this?” you say as you remember back to your previous interactions but this only seems to frustrate Razor more.

“No. Not that like. More...” Razor struggles with his words as he tries to piece together the right string of sounds to try and convey what he’s feeling. He seems so conflicted that it breaks your heart a bit. So you reach up and gently rub behind his ear as he closes his eyes and relaxes. He breathes in deeply as his eyes open and his pupils return to normal, but vastly determined.

“Together. Always. Just...us,” Razor says softly as he looks at you hopefully. There’s a small pink dust to his cheeks as his fang digs into his lip in nervousness. You’re not sure why but your heart absolutely sky rockets at it and you can feel your face flush pink.

“Um, yes?” you nod along, you think you’re understanding what he’s trying to say. Maybe he was just upset you were spending so much time in the City and away from him that he felt your friendship was neglected? That would make you really upset. But the way he phrases his words makes you believe that perhaps...

Before you can think more on it. Razor’s face breaks into a grin that nearly blinds you from the pure affection that sprouts from it. He’s already hugging you harder as he starts rubbing his nose and cheek against your neck. Making soft and happy sounds as he nuzzles you. He’s never done that before but you assume he’s just so happy. You breath a sigh of relief that it appears that your message to him was clear enough.

Yeah of course, friends always, you think

Lupical. Partner. Mate, Razor thinks.

---

whistling as I pretend I don’t see your stares. Yeah ik but it’s ok. This is a sorta semi series. We’ll build upon it. But Xiao content is next lol. I’m taking inspiration from this. I mean, when I don’t feel like shit 😷

I’ve been listening to [  Softy - Dear Moon ]. This isn’t the usual kind of music I listen to but it came on shuffle and this is now my mental breakdown song.

Quick edit: Turns out this is an ost from “My Mister”. I’ve never been into kdramas (I think I’ve only seen goblin, she was pretty, and Hwarang) but the cover picture looks so upsetting? My friend is really into tgcf and I believe that had a live action as well. 

[desi-lgbt-fest]

THE PROBLEM WITH BADHAI DO

1. Poor marketing of movie and songs

2. Weird editing

3. The fact that the story structure would work better as 6 episode miniseries than a movie.

Movie spoilers and detailed analysis below:

Disclaimer, I'm not a film student. Most of what I'm saying I'm pulling from my ass. But it makes sense to me and if any actual film student would like to help me out here, I'd appreciate.

The strength of Badhai Do comes from it's novel story idea AND great characters. It's truly a good story with amazing acting. But what stops it from becoming the best is the medium of story.

The story as it is, is very one thing happens after another, with each part having it's mini beginning middle and end. Films require one or maybe two peaks in narrative to leave a solid impact on viewer. In general. It's obviously not a rule.

Badhai Do feels like it was written to be a 30-35 minutes episode in 6 episode series. Not only would it work better but it would also allow for some more character development that we missed out on in film. (This is totally not me just projecting my need to see more Shardul and Guru... At least not completely)

The first episode could be introduction of Sumi and Shardul, their families. Sumi's NotTinder Creep date and maybe a little info on Kabir. The episode could end on Shardul revealing he knows Sumi's gay.

The second episode could be the wedding, the Goa trip. Instead of just wrapping it up in two songs, it would give space for initial awkwardness, more family shenanigans, more Goa shenanigans. They come back to the first flat and it could end with them moving to Police colony.

The third could be Sumi and Rimjhim <333333 Their whole story, more flashback of maybe Sumi's first crush. Kabir's breakup could be in this episode too. It would end with them going to Haldwani for Diwali.

The fourth could be the Haldwani stay with Pregnancy thing and Baby aunty coming to live with them. I love baby aunty, did I tell you guys how much i love baby aunty?

The fifth, Guru!!! I want more of him. Rest of baby aunty stay. Sumi making false results for Shardul. Baby aunty's cutest fucking attempts to be Sumi's mother in law. Them being ready to adopt, going to that adoption place. Some more interaction with Sumi's family maybe. The episode would obviously end with the Big Reveal. (That was a good scene, a definitely really good scene)

And the last episode would the whole fallout. The confrontations. The confessions. The reconciliation. The pride parade. The divorce-but wait-the baby. The Pooja one year later omg!!!

The badhai do that lives in my head >>> the badhai do film.

All that being said, I'm going to all this effort because i genuinely do like the movie and i wanted it to be better, more perfect.

[kiatheinsomniac]

1. I LOVE your writing! You're amazing! 2. If it's not too much trouble, could I request something where Ezio's wife is feeling quite insecure because she feels like she isn't as good as some of the other women Ezio has "been" with like Caterina and Ezio is trying to assure her that she shouldn't feel like that

Of course!! Sorry that it's taken me so long to get round to this, I've hardly been active on Tumblr at all in quite a while but I miss it here :(

She glanced over to where the Contessa was being checked over by a doctor while Ezio worriedly looked over her. Deep down, she knew that he was only concerned because she was a powerful ally to the brotherhood and her arrest at the hands of the Borgia had put her contribution to that alliance in jeopardy. But she couldn't help but fear that he was worried because they had a history together.

Claudia had told (Y/n) enough of what her husband was like in his youth - romancing every attractive woman he laid eyes on. On good days, this made her feel special - she were the one he married, after all - but on worse ones, it made her worry that he felt he could do better and go back to some of these women. Ezio was a faithful man, especially when it came to family, but this didn't stop her from worrying that she may not quite reach what he's been treated to by other women in his past.

She must have been glaring a little too hard though, because soon enough, Claudia was by her side, her arms folded.

"The woman is fine, I have a meeting to attend and he’s holding it up to fuss over her.” She snapped in disdain, her voice lowered as to not carry across the stone walls of Isola Tiberina’s Assassin hideout. 

“I don’t like it.” (Y/n) confessed, her eyes shooting daggers at the Contessa of Forli. Claudia raised a brow at the acid in her tone, finding it so unlike her sister-in-law to be so bitter. Glancing over at Claudia’s expression of surprise, she stepped her way out of the conversation to go and fetch Ezio. He had duties as Mentor of the Brotherhood and she had the claws of jealousy tying knots at her like a marionette. Emotions were something personal to (Y/n) and she wouldn’t watch herself become a wreck over some half-disgraced woman who had lost hold of her city. 

She could remember Ezio telling her how impressed he was to see a woman running a city all on her lonesome once... 

She cleared her throat, dismissing the thought as she did.

“Ezio, our contacts are waiting for you.” She spoke up, her face and voice the mask of business to hide her feelings. 

“Sì, I just-” 

“Bartolomeo has barracks to attend to, Volpe has a tavern to maintain and Claudia has a brothel to run.” She cut him off, watching as he turned his head quickly to face her, his expression a lock of shock and offence, “While they wait for you, their factions wait for them. You keep our entire Brotherhood on hold in a most dire hour to fuss over the Contessa who I’m sure if capable enough of getting her own health in order with the medico.” Ezio had stood now from Caterina’s side, bewildered at his wife’s ill temper. 

“Amore-“

“You have a job to do so go do it!” She snapped, “I have recruits to attend to and correspondence to deal with.” And with that said, she stormed off to the study in order to deal with the letters sent from the Brotherhood’s contacts across Italia. 

She set the few recruits that she had gathered in Roma some training assignments and filed through all the available contracts in the Mediterranean, even going as far as to reorganise all the books of the study’s library. All of this was done to avoid going to bed, knowing that Ezio would be there and knowing that he wold ask her about her attitude from earlier. 

It was when she was obsessively trying to get the paperweights in position that the door opened. In stepped the last man that she was willing to face in that moment: her poor husband who had suffered the brunt of her lashing out in jealousy. 

“Gioia,” He began, his tone soft yet cautious, “come to bed.” 

“But I need to sort these out…”

“I’m sure that the papers won’t grow wings and start flying any time soon.” He walked behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder and inhaling deeply as he pressed his face to her neck, “Come, I want to hold you and talk.” 

“I just need...” She obsessively tried to get the weight to fit between the lines of the letter perfectly, some part of her mind telling her that everything would be alright if all these little things were exactly where they needed to be, that she wouldn’t have to talk about her feelings if she just got these other things sorted out first. 

“You need to lay down with your husband,” One of his palms splayed across her stomach, tenderly rubbing up and down as his other hand caressed her waist, “and let him hold you in his arms,” A soft kiss pressed to the nape of her neck, “and tell him all about what has you so stressed. Doesn’t that sound good?”

“Yeah, except the talking about my feelings bit.” She mumbled as the weight refused to quite fit between the lines, tears pricking her eyes, even if she tried to laugh a little. Ezio hummed knowingly. 

“Come on…”

“Ok...” She surrendered, letting him lead her upstairs with one arm around her waist while his free hand held her own, smaller, hand in his. 

He lead her up to their room where he began to strip her of her clothes that day, leaving her in a chemise. He frowned in sadness at her apathy, the way she didn’t melt into his touches as she usually would, and worry set into his veins. 

He pulled her to the bed where he lay beside her, propped up on one elbow while she laid on her back, her bottom lip trembling, eyes glassy and jaw held tight in determination to keep a cool composure. 

“What has upset you?”

“It’s stupid.” She replied simply, “I’m sorry if I’ve upset you or worried you, you don’t deserve that.” She took in a quick breath and covered her face with her hands, a small sob escaping her lips, each one that followed like a pair of scissors to his heartstrings. 

“If it’s making you feel this way, it can’t be stupid.” He rested a hand on her arm and she turned away from him, her hand gripping the case of the pillow under her head impossibly tightly. 

“It’s the Contessa.” She mumbled into the plush pillow, her cheeks already heating up in humiliation, “The way you risked your life to save her today and then you were fussing over her health and...” 

“Amore, you know that I would do all the same and more for you.” He spoke, almost in disbelief that this is what she was so upset about. There was a long silence as she wrapped her arms around her torso, hoping that somehow she could physically hold herself together with her arms. 

“Why did you marry me?” Fresh tears wet her cheeks and she muffled the sound of her crying in the sheets. He drew closer to her and held her in his arms, feeling her frame jolt with each sob. 

“Because I’m in love with you.” He replied simply, “I’m in love with the way you see the world and people, I’m in love with your passion and humour and intelligence.” He squeezed her tightly. 

“But you could have had any woman you pleased, any woman you’ve been with before. The countess of Forli: the only woman strong enough to run her own city and even fend off Borgia armies.” She hesitated but now that she had bottled up such strong emotions all day, the glass had cracked and no one could hold in its contents lest they slice their hands on the glass. “And don’t think I didn’t overhear that night back in Monteriggioni when I was still just the decipherer Leonardo had sent for the codex pages.” 

Once upon a time, this would have been a time for Ezio to be boastful, but now that he was a married man, he only felt rather embarrassed instead. Looking away for a moment, his eyes came back to land upon his wife. 

“You worry that you don’t live up to the women I’ve had before then?” He asked cautiously, knowing that this question may well only make things far worse if he were wrong. 

“She’s a fucking countess who runs her own city and has her own armies, not to mention the fact that she’s also very clearly good in bed. Who am I? The goddamn babysitter of all the recruits.” She threw her hands up in the air before rolling onto her back and turning her head to face him, at last, with teary eyes. 

“You, amore mio,” He began, reaching a hand up to cup her cheek, turning his body even more so in her direction, “are the woman who stole my heart so quickly, that I simply couldn’t wait to marry you.” It was true, they had only been seeing each other for just over 18 months when he asked her to marry him. “You’re an Assassin who is fighting for everyone in Roma and then all of Italia behind her borders.” A conviction began to grow within his voice as he took up her left hand in his, holding it up so that she could see her wedding and engagement rings. “You are the only woman in this world that I want to spend the rest of my life with.” He brought her hand up to place a kiss upon her knuckles. “I have had histories with women before, we both know this… But they are the past and you,” He leaned down to place a soft kiss upon her lips, lingering and tender, “are my future.” 

A small smile quivered upon her lips as fresh tears welled in her eyes, tears of an overwhelming sentiment of love. 

“I love you with all my heart, Ezio.”

[shroudcore]

Speak now, or forever hold your peace. (III)

Summary: You successfully convinced Eliza to stop the wedding. Unfortunately (or is it really), Eliza has come to a solution that she thinks would be best for everybody and it’s happening no matter what. 

Idia x GN!reader. Reader is MC, or takes the role of MC in this story.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

Warnings: none

As if by some miracle, he was still standing—even after you failed to convince Eliza how unnecessary a wedding would be. Now face-to-face with you on the altar, he still couldn’t believe how things turned out. This wasn’t  supposed to happen in real-life. Things like these were the stuff of movies. Or anime. Or dating sims. 

Ace, Epel, Rook, and Riddle were freed at your request. They, along with Ortho, were now arranging the paralyzed students into chairs, since Eliza refused to let them move for disrespecting the “couple”. When you ran out of excuses, some heavily opposed the impromptu wedding. Idia knew why: he wasn���t the only one in NRC who liked you like that. He’d been aware of some schoolmates’ attempts to romance you for a while now. Really, all you had to do was pick a route. 

How did he know, you might ask? It’s not like he secretly researched and listed down his competition so he could keep an eye on them. 

Alright… maybe he did. Heat crawled up to his neck at the thought of anyone finding out. 

“So… we’re getting married,” you said, pulling him out of his thoughts. You spoke slowly, as if testing the words in your mouth. Like him, you couldn’t quite wrap your head around the fake wedding just yet. You fidgeted more than usual—barely looking at his face or talking to him since you joined him at the altar. 

Were you thinking of the same thing? The inevitable kiss after you say your vows?

A weak hum was all he could manage. A smile appeared on your face, showing that you understood. You didn’t tell him to speak up; you never told him to. Somehow, the sight of that smile put him at ease like a recovery potion after a Despair battle ailment. It felt like another day in his room, the two of you hanging out and eating candy. 

“Nice suit, by the way.” 

“Th...anks?” Idia turned his head to the side. If he looked at you any longer, he might combust. Not that he didn’t already. Which was embarrassing btw.

You inched closer, making him gasp and jump back as multiple alarms went off in his head. Really… mind the Personal Space Bubble! Oh wait… that’s right. He’d stopped telling you off for getting too close long ago. 

Your face flashed a look of surprise, which quickly faded into concern as you observed him. When you whispered, your breath grazed his neck and ear. Hopefully his shudder escaped your notice. 

“You okay?” Immediately, you backtrack. “Wait, that was stupid. I know you’re not.”

“So many people watching...” he mumbled. His eyes quickly scanned the hall. “I can’t do this.” And he ended it there. You didn’t need to know how he felt about marrying you.

Again, you understood. Your smile faded and Idia found himself missing it immediately as it went. 

“Sorry, I...” you look down, fiddling with your fingers again. “I really should’ve tried harder to stop this.” 

Idia silently wished for dialogue options, because he didn’t quite know what to say to that. However, it looked like he didn’t need to. You took his hand and squeezed it, a determined fire flickering behind your eyes. 

“This’ll be over soon. Just hold on,” you said, squeezing his hand. “It’s just another quest, player 1.”

At the familiar nickname, he smiled in spite of his thumping heartbeat and everything that had happened. “Let’s do it, player 2.”

“Let us proceed with the ceremony!” Eliza, who had been watching the two of you closely, was eager for the wedding to commence. She clasped her hands in anticipation, looking no different from a normie watching a Rom-com. At her command, the wedding music played again—the same one as before. You gave Idia a look and shrugged. 

“Can’t believe we’re getting married to this music...”

“Sounds like doom, doesn’t it?” 

“Isn’t that what marriage is? Doom?” 

“Haha! E-exactly…” Normally, he would’ve agreed wholeheartedly. This time, he couldn’t help but wonder if that’s how you felt marrying him. 

The ghost officiant returned to the makeshift altar (maintaining a good distance from you). Each NRC student who had the misfortune of attempting a proposal sat in a chair, watching the event. You smiled reassuringly, eyes sparkling like embers. 

“We are gathered here today to unite these two lovers in the bonds of matrimony,” the officiant begins. The darkness of the hall gave him quite a sight: the flickering flames of his hair illuminating your face in blue light. Seeing it, when in the safety and darkness of his room, made him feel this warm, fuzzy feeling he thought was reserved for 2D characters. 

“Do you, Idia Shroud, take … as your lawful spouse, to have and to hold from this day forward—for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, keeping yourself solely unto them for as long as you both shall live? If so, answer " I do". 

This’ll never happen in real life. “I do.” I don’t have a chance, do I?

Confessing would only ruin the bond he had with you. If it meant never losing your friendship, then this fake wedding would be enough. 

He looked at you, standing in front of him as you were about to say your own vows and silently implored Mnemosyne to burn this scene into his memory forever. 

“Do you take Idia Shroud as your lawful husband, to have and to hold from this day forward—for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, keeping yourself solely unto him for as long as you both shall live? If so, answer "I do."”

It seemed that you were doing the same. Idia faltered under the intensity of your gaze. “I do.”

“I now pronounce you as spouses. You may now kiss!”

Here it comes. CODE RED! CODE RED!

The way Idia’s face burned rivaled that of his hair. He was becoming hyper-aware of the snickers coming from his schoolmates. Seeing you made him worse—the corners of your mouth twitched and your shoulders shook as you fought back a laugh. 

“Hey! We’re about to kiss and you’re laughing?!” he cried, covering his face. “Kill me now.”

Just like that, your quiet and tender moment was gone. You couldn’t hold it in anymore. Covering your face like he did, you erupted in giggles. Peeking out from the gaps of his fingers, Idia thought about #3 from the Signs of Attraction list he found on the Internet: 

“Another unconscious sign of attraction is mirroring, or matching another person's movements. When people are interested in one another, researchers have found that they tend to mimic each other's movements and gestures.”

Nah. Can’t be. He would have thought it was cute, if you weren’t laughing at his expense. 

“S-sorry! Your hair’s just—” another round of giggles interrupted you. “...burning really brightly!” 

“I can’t help it, okay?” he said, face red from annoyance and of course, the thought of what you were about to do. “Stop!” 

You tried to stop, but just the sight of his red face and hair sent you into another round of wheezing laughter. So hard you laughed, that an inhuman sound came out of you. Immediately, you stopped and looked at him, eyes wide. 

But it was Idia’s turn to lose it. 

“You… sound like… a Minecube pig!” he said, each word punctuated by uncontrollable peals of laughter. The wedding attendees had no choice but to watch on as you and your groom wheezed at the altar instead of kissing. 

“Baaya, what is wrong with them?” a confused Eliza asks. 

“I do not know, but it is apparent that they were made for each other.”

It wasn’t until the annoyed officiant cleared his throat that you and Idia stopped. You straightened up, wiping tears from your eyes as you tried to catch your breath. It was only then that your expression turned serious, but not without a few traces of your mirth from a few seconds ago. 

“Idia, we don’t have to—I’m really, really sorry about this, okay?” you whisper to him. “I know how much you value your firsts…”

“It’s fi—”

“...not that I’m assuming you haven’t had your first uh, kiss yet but—oh god, I uh… ” 

No dating sim—nothing could have prepared him for this situation. But strangely, laughing his ass off with you gave him a spark of courage that he rarely ever felt. In a moment, he would be kissing you. He hopes that courage lasts. 

“Let’s get this over with,” Idia surprised even himself with how steady his voice sounded.

“Oh…” 

You were still, staring at him open-mouthed for what seemed like a few minutes. He stared back, until you were forced to avert your gaze to the ground. Something told him that he was doing something right. A lone voice from the audience chanting “Kiss!” pulled the two of you back to reality. Someone was making an obnoxious kissing sound. Neither of you dared to look and see who it was. 

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” the ghosts joined in on the chant. 

Shyly, you lifted your head back up. “O-okay. Here goes nothing!”

He tried recounting how first kisses were described by people on the Internet, from his manga, and the countless dating sims he played. Some said there were fireworks. Some said it felt electric. Some described the feeling as the rest of the world falling away. One swore it made them feel like the ground disappearing beneath their feet and before they knew it, they were floating. 

Should he close his eyes? Which side should he tilt his head? Where does he put his hands? How exactly do you kiss? Questions, panicky thoughts, and movie kissing scenes ran through his head like a computer reading code. When you leaned in, someone pressed ‘mute’ on the sounds in the hall and all that was left was him and you. 

When you held his face in your gloved hands, it was Error 404. He let his eyes flutter closed. When everything went dark, all he felt was the shy, feather-light brush of lips against the corner of his mouth. Not quite on his lips, just dangerously close. 

Purer than a first kiss, but more than just a friendly peck. The students of NRC witnessed Idia’s hair at its most fiery just the same. 

~~

To be continued. 

AAAAAAAAAAAAAA Characterization hard

Hehe, hope you liked this. Part 4, the finale, coming soon. 

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

[punemy-spotted]

The Price You Pay Chapter 3: Counteroffer

Pairing: Mob!Steve Rogers x Reader, Senator!Andy Barber x Reader

Warnings: Rape/Non-Con elements, Dub-Con, Dark!Fic, Abuse of Legal System, Murder, Character Death (minor, possibly major), Love Triangle, Political AU, Mafia AU, Workplace Sexual Harassment, Abuse Mentions, Possessive/Obsessive Characters, Other Chapter-Specific Warnings May Apply, Possible Dead Dove: Would Not Eat

Chapter Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Elements Continue; Dub-Con; Angst; Politics; Possessive/Manipulative Behavior; Spanking; Choking; Crying; The Dove is Probably Dead: Do Not Eat

Chapter Summary: The return of an old friend brings back the ghosts of old memories.

Chapter 1; Chapter 2

Notes: Shorter chapters my ass, these outlines are getting unreal. Andy Barber has arrived, Steve Rogers does not approve, the Reader bears the consequences. Things are going to be angstier from here on out and I can feel it in my bones. Please don’t yell at me — or do, your feedback is well-loved and appreciated even if it’s yelly.

Not beta-read, these sins belong to me and me alone.

You met Andy Barber fresh from the ashes of his divorce, escaping the gossip and scandal and pain of his past life only to dive into the gossip and scandal and pain of politics. Senatorial campaign, in need of an aide and a law student desperate to do more for the people than hours in clinics and mock trials. Hungry for something grassroots, angling for the impossible.

A match. Whether made in Heaven or Hell feels irrelevant now, long ago as it was.

It was then. This… is now.

Hey Sunshine, didn’t think you’d be able to make it.

He looks the same. Keeps the same beard. Same hair. It’s uncanny and familiar and safe all at once and you slide into the booth with your purse by your side and feel genuinely smiley for the first time in a long time.

It’s been a while since I heard that name.

Yeah? It’s been a while since I got to use it.

The silence is heavy, unwelcome, unwieldy, a reminder of the space between what was and what is.

How’re you doing? Last I heard you were making a name for yourself taking down the…

He trails off, eyes fixed on the slide of your gaze, the sudden interest in a drink menu you wouldn’t normally touch, the tremor of your lips. A man doesn’t serve as Assistant District Attorney for the many years he has without picking up tells.

Sunshine.

Andy…

It’s a warning, a plea, a… confession, all at once, and all the dogged determination in the world can’t hold against the break in your voice, in your control. You’ve cried more in the past few weeks than you can recall and now here he is, soulful eyes and a worried expression and he’s never hugged you really, but suddenly you might want it just that much more.

Don’t be an idiot.

It’s dangerous, your stress, and you know it.

Dangerous enough to send you into the arms of the next safe thing — this is why you don’t do this, isn’t it, this reaching out bit, but no advocacy group on the planet is going to save you from yourself today.

I saw… I saw you win that case. Pretty brutal, standing up to the Syndicate, and getting what you did. He steamrolls past the way you wince, his thumb on that metaphorical bruise and pressing, the Prosecutor’s dogged determination demanding answers, I have a friend in the office, he was convinced you’d be climbing the ranks.

Every word is a twist of the knife, couched in quiet concern, gentle admonition, a warm hug in a smoky tenor and you want to tell him everything, you want to break down in his arms and tell him every word, every buried piece of you he never learned, everything that’s led you to this.

You don’t.

You know better than to trust him too. No one’s going to take care of you but you so instead you shake your head and wave it off and Decided going into the private sector was the better option — one big win doesn’t really make up for the stress, you know.

Private sector. That’s what you’re calling the SHIELD Syndicate now? C’mon, Sunshine…

Look. It’s the Syndicate’s New York, when he made the offer it was… safer than saying no. It’s a cushy position anyway, and I didn’t want anyth—

He doesn’t believe you. He doesn’t believe you and you’re digging a hole trying to explain your way out of it so you just… shut up, shaking your head, It’s not important. I’m fine. I’m more curious about you — what year is it now, your fourth? What are you doing in New York?

The deflection works, but the look on his face is obvious — you’re not getting out of this so easily. He gives in for now, just for now, for you.

Almost fifth, gearing up for re-election. Had a meeting up here… about the organized crime situation for both states, and I remembered you were in the area.

Oh. You… it’s been a while since we talked, you remembered?

You expect me to forget you, Sunshine?

That stops you in your tracks, or whatever road your mind had been racing on, thoroughly not enjoying the defensive you’ve been on since you met with Steve, constantly under watch and waiting for yet one more shoe to fall on you.

That’s fear, sweetness.

Andy…?

You were the best campaign aide I had — I told you then too, I would have made you Chief of Staff if you’d let me.

It’s a good save. A clever save, and you want to believe it more than anything, want to believe it was all business and no pleasure because the alternative makes your nails bite into the table and want to turn tail before he can say another word and he… sees that panic flicker over your face so keenly it’s almost embarrassing.

You’re not used to this.

You’re not used to the warmth of his eyes when he searches your face for the answers you can’t give voice to. You’re not used to the way he reaches for your hand and rests it over your fingers, curling around your palm like he might actually keep you close and keep you safe and keep you free of the demons you made a part of yourself too.

Sunshine, why does his voice have to be so soft, why does it have to sound like molten honey on your senses, why does he have to say your name like it’s the very definition of the word hope, If you’re not safe…

No. No you’re not, tell him tell him the truth, tell him you’re atoning for the girl you could not protect tell him you aren’t worth it tell him this is your penance tell him you signed a death warrant tell him tell him tell him.

Andy, really. I’m fine. It’s a good job.

It’s a shit lie.

He drops it. Drops it just long enough for a waiter to finally come by, for his hand to leave yours while he talks through the wine menu. Drops it long enough for you to check your phone, realizing with horror that you must have silenced it absentmindedly sometime on your way here.

Ten missed calls.

All from Steve.

And one text, stamped from just five minutes ago.

[SMS] Either you pick up your phone or I pick you up, Counsel.

The next one comes right before your eyes, a picture of a map and a GPS pin. Your location.

You glance up at Andy, still talking to the waiter about the small plates options, feign a smile and Go ahead and choose, you have better taste than me, and return to staring at the picture and the three dots at the bottom of your screen, waiting to see his next message.

[SMS] Make your choice.

The haptic feedback of your keyboard feels like an electric shock with every letter, hurried fingers until you manage to tap out something that won’t immediately put the man in front of you in the crosshairs of the most dangerous organization in New York.

You can’t do that to him. You can’t.

[SMS] I’m at a dinner with a friend.

[SMS] And since I know there’s no emergencies pressing, I’d like my time, thank you.

You have the good sense to set it next to you this time, watching your screen light up with whatever furious response he sends next, glancing over only occasionally every time another one comes through. Don’t let him control you. Don’t let him think you’re at his beck and call.

You’re not.

You’re free, you’re free and you’re going to prove it.

Sunshine? What’s going on?

His voice cuts through the haze of panic like a knife and you swear you don’t mean to jump but you do and there’s no denying what he notices, eyes narrow and lips turned down in a sharp scowl, Sunshine…?

You are not that girl. You cannot be that girl, never again.

Steel. Steel yourself, flash him a smile, take a sip of the ice water left in front of you while you’d been checking your phone, reset yourself. Steady. Steady on.

Don’t let them know.

Nothing, nothing, just the boss — let him know I was busy.

Why is he texting you after hours? The Syndicate can’t be that busy.

He’s too watchful for your own good. Probably just making sure I’m staying out of trouble.

Are you?

Are you calling yourself trouble, Senator?

You like this. You can handle this, the trading of jokes, the crooked way he smiles. His eyes are a little more distant than you remember but you can still see them sparkle softly when he suppresses a laugh, lighting up properly when the joy reflects in them.

Briefly, you wonder when the last time he really laughed was.

By the time dinner is over, his hand, warm and steady, is back on yours as you talk — and for a moment you almost enjoy the way he runs his thumb over your knuckles absently, like he’s making careful appraisal of each one. Could use your skills for the re-election campaign, you know.

Really? You’ve got a gorgeous approval rating, what are you afraid of?

Not having my good luck charm on the staff.

Andy…

I’m dead serious, Sunshine, you ran that ship. You were what, a 2L? Rising 3? You had canvassing down to a science. We need that energy down on the Hill.

The curve of his fingers is a little tighter now, squeezing yours, like proof of his earnestness and oh, you want to keep believing him. You need to keep believing him.

There’s so much in New York I have to get done first. And besides, you know me. I want a life on the bench.

Justice Sunshine, and it sounds absurd when he uses your nickname and it sounds so real when he uses your nickname and in the warm smoke of his voice those contradictions can live together all at once.

That’s the one. Closest you’ll see me to Washington is when I’m appointed to the Supreme Court. It’s a dumb, arrogant, silly joke but it’s the same one you used to make with him over drinks, teasing him about his political goals and making him promise to “go easy on you” at your eventual Senate confirmation hearing.

It’s the one that makes him crack that too-beautiful crooked smile while he takes a sip of his drink — hiding the curve of his lips behind the rim of a heavy glass.

Well. If you ever decide to ditch—

Ever decide to ditch what?

The world moves in slow motion: hearing the low growl from behind you; Andy Barber looking up and rising to his feet, his hand slipping from yours with just the ghost of his comfortable touch to assure you; Steve Rogers coming into view as you turn, flanked by the not-entirely-unfamiliar faces of two of his enforcers — it looked like Wilson and Banner had been selected this evening — and the sudden pressure of knowing you’ve done something terribly, terribly wrong.

You stood me up, Counsel. Steve’s voice is a threat, a half-drawl as you stand up and face him, Andy right behind you, Something wrong with taking my phone calls?

She was busy, the sound of Andy’s voice is a balm to your soul and fuel to Steve’s fire, the muscle in his jaw jumping as he grits his teeth and resists the temptation to throw the first punch — you can see the fingers of his right hand curling into a fist, can’t you? The slow curve, the watching, wondering if you’ll make the right choice now that someone has chosen to try to lead you astray.

And who the fuck are you? If he can’t get you to respond, he’ll get something from the man talking for you, eyes trained on him like he’s debating whether his own frustration will make this interloper turn to nothingness and return you to his arms where you rightfullybelong.

Do you? Rightfully belong?

Senator Andy Barber. The title practically knocks the wind out of Steve’s sails and you can see it — he may be the Captain here, King of New York, ruler of his domain but he’s not stupid enough to openly attack a man with connections beyond the Syndicate’s web of influence. It’s a comfort and it’s not, all at once.

The room is still, vibrating with tension, the two men staring daggers at one another and you caught in the middle. I worked on Senator Barber’s campaign when he first ran for election, you manage out in some vain hope it might explain and mollify, only to be thoroughly disappointed — and judging by the way Banner winces, only to dig your grave further.

We’re talking about this later, Counsel. You’re coming home.

And what gives you the right to give her orders? You really are going to have to look back at Andy and beg him to not make this worse. You really are going to have to let him see your face, see that you’re afraid, sweetness. He’s not going to let you go easy and this should not terrify you as much as it does.

Senator Barber. It’s fine. Something must have come up,turning to face his burning eyes, until his face softens like he’s seeing you for the first time. And is he? Is he seeing how you just need him to let it go, let you go, drop the protectiveness and step back?

He has to, because he does, nodding before he grabs his coat and glances to the host station. If you say so, Sunshine. Take care of yourself. He doesn’t press, not knowing when he’s beat but knowing when you don’t want him to. When you’re not safe.

And Steve Rogers offers you his hand to walk you out.

And just what the hell did you think you were doing!?

Oh, and you control my time off the clock now too?

He dragged you back home.

No. Not to your apartment, that sanctuary away from all this you’d been allowed to keep as part of the “deal.” His home, the bedroom where you signed yourself away, the space he unraveled you and left you tangled in your new life.

He dragged you back home, in the grim silence of the backseat of his car and you waited. Waited for the inevitable explosion, the one prefaced by Wilson’s nervous looks and Banner’s cautious stare.

This explosion, where he rounds in on you, where livid is still too tame a term.

Meeting with a Senator? Ignoring my calls? I told you, you were mine tonight.

And I told you I had plans.

After I told you that you were mine, Counsel.

Okay. That’s true, even if you’re loathe to admit it.

Plans adjust. Andy wanted to—

Oh, Andy now? I thought it was Senator Barber? You’re really familiar with him, aren’t you, Counsel?

Just what the fuck are you implying?

Maybe you need a reminder of who you belong to.

He loves to do this. Wrap his big hand around your throat, remind you just how easily he can impose his power onto you, watch your protests die behind your eyes when you realize how useless words are in the face of his violence.

The furious look in your eyes is something to behold, the way you embed your nails into his wrist to try and drag him off you, all soft snarls and indignant huffs, You fucking asshole…

You’re mine, Counsel, and don’t you forget it. You gave yourself to me, remember?

Like I… like I had much of a choice, breathy, furious, and clawing at him.

Doesn’t matter. You’re mine, and clearly I need to make sure you know it…

Steve—!

Captain, sweetness, Captain, and don’t you forget it.

There’s a moment, when anger becomes transcendental, when it turns into something cold and calculating and prepared, when a plan forms behind his eyes and you watch as he looks down at you, so full of fury and fear all at once and you watch as he leans in so close and you feel his hand slide until he has you by the back of the neck, until his thumb is the thing pressing under your chin to keep your eyes on him, until the heel of his hand is the thing keeping you from shouting at him further. Such a stubborn little bitch…

You can almost see the words forming in his mind, the ones his mouth won’t say, I could be so good to you, but he doesn’t say them, sliding his lips over yours instead and it is… soft. A capturing of your mouth with his, not caring that you protest, only insistent on leaving you breathless and hazy-eyed from each tug of his lips on yours and there stokes the warmth of more than your rage, a different fire rising in your core, unbidden and unwelcome but yours to own and his to play with.

He can sense it, practically feel it, that mad serum racing through his veins and making his nostrils flare as he pulls back and watches you, lets the scent of your perfume fill his senses like a drug he can’t get enough of and, I should hate you too, for this, whispered low and hushed and you barely catch it, don’t you? Barely, but enough, enough to remember it was said just before he pulls you down with him into the depths of his own lust.

And into his lap, it seems, as he drags you down, sitting on the bed with you draped over his lap, an effortless shift in his skillful hands. You can protest, and you do, even daring to try to pull away with a kick of your legs and an indignant, What the hell do you think you’re doing?But you know it’s all futile, useless as he places one heavy hand on your back and lets the other slide over the smooth chiffon of your blouse, tracing a line along your spine with careful, practiced ease.

Would have preferred this with a little more… circumstance, sweetness, but you need to learn a lesson now and drastic times call for drastic measures.

You can turn your head slightly, to look at him, that wild-eyed fury so sweet on your face and you are still a wild creature he needs to tame but he is patient and he can do this for as long as it takes.

But you’re a sight like this, draped over his lap in a pencil skirt and blouse, so put together and proper and now so prone to him, helpless under the appraisal of his hands and the way he takes no time in hiking your skirt up around your waist. Captain! Your protest is met with a low chuckle, especially as he lets his palm curve around the round swell of your ass, before leaving a light swat on the soft flesh, to draw a yelp from your furious mouth.

If that’s all it takes to get you shouting, sweetness, you’re going to hate what comes next, smug and cruel, as you try to hold yourself up enough to look at him, met with his smirk and the simmering fury still bubbling in his eyes. To say you’re in danger still is an understatement, no doubt, and you know it.

I won’t make you count this time, but piss me off again, sweetness, and we’ll just see how much you can take, you hear me?

Oh you loathe him, really and truly loathe him, hissing with anger and embarrassment, so close to twisting in his arms and clawing at him but remembering his size and just how much worse it could get — but then there lies the undercurrent.

The one you loathe too, more than you hated him, that warmth. Seeping into your core, a low heat kindled by the sly softness of his lips on yours and the sure tenor of his voice, low and soothing even as he promised damnation. The one that — just like now — leaves you flushed and writhing while he purrs threats to you, massaging the soft skin and sliding the lace of your panties down to remove all barriers to the sex he owns so surely.

You open your mouth to argue with him but as you do, you feel his hand lift from your flesh and then the resounding SMACK of palm on skin, turning words into nothing but a sharp cry of pain, surprise, and lust. The heat rises just as your body tenses, reacting to the sudden attack on your delicate form, cheeks flushed. Even as your eyes well with tears your sex strives to betray you and — Oh do you like that, sweetness? — damn him for noticing.

Let me go, Captain, the threat is shaky, your voice wavering with something like want and panic all at once, and all it does is draw another laugh as he soothes the stinging mark left on your cheek, gentle as a lover and four times as cruel.

Do you know what I think, sweetness? And another raise of his palm, to strike you once more, listening to the way that cry of pain and surprise turns into a soft, involuntary moan the moment he begins to soothe the ache, I think you need this. Always so uptight, trying to be the head bitch in charge, aren’t you? Just looking for someone to take over, take control, remind you where your place is.

His fingers slip further, more interested in exploring the soft slickness of your sex, listening to your protests die in your throat with every press of his fingers into your plush folds. That’s why I’m here, to keep you in my lap, all fucked and soft, sweetness. Don’t you worry, I’m going to take care of you. Even if I have to teach you just like this.

You should hate the way he talks, hates how he finds your center with effortless ease, like he’s known your body for years. Holding you down in his lap still as he draws mewling moans from you with every curl of his fingers, finding the proof of his accusations in the slick need coating your thighs, soaking his fingers, You’re making such a mess of me, sweetness. Are you going to be good?

Hiss at him. Snarl at him, buck your hips and twist in his arms, push him away. Do something more than what you are now, with red-rimmed eyes and tears staining your face, do more than listen to him talk, feel his cock pressing against you as you lay in his lap, I’m going to ask it one more time, sweetness. Are. You. Going. To. Be. Good?

He punctuates each word of his question with a harsh smackagainst your ass, leaving little time for you to do more than cry out, until the last spank draws something like a moan from your perfect lips and therein lies your surrender for tonight, that soft mewl of pleasure born of pain and he soothes you again with soft shushes and gentle touches, back to inspecting the renewed slickness of your cunt, back to enjoying that plump tightness wrapped around his fingers and back to trying to control the shift of his own hips and you can feel him, hard against you, needing you as much as he is compelling your body to need him.

Captain… a low, desperate sort of mewl, the squirm of your body less to escape and more to enticeand he notices. Notices the way your fingers try to cling to him, notices how you look so very sweet when you’re so very desperate and in some way this is your own game of control, a push and pull and the curl of his fingers is suddenly so much angrier, driving you to the precipice of the fall and you are tumbling, tumbling down into a darkness of want you may never recover from.

Say it again. Tell me you need me, sweetness, tell me you need me and I’ll give you everything, and there’s an edge to the way he says everything, like he might meanit, like he might give you the world if you just gave in and you hate him, sweetness, you hate him but you need the things you hate once in a while and you can’t keep bearing his fury on your body and so you sob out your surrender and whine—

I need you, Captain, please…

And that is enough.

Let him believe you.

[sunflowerryvol6]

Cheat Day Part 2

I don't know what made me write this, but I hope this makes some sense. Dedicated to the sweetest @hstyleswomen @harrysficreblog

Masterist

Warnings: Angst

WC: 2800

Six years later.

The first few years of the split were brutal. You both couldn't spend a moment in the room with each other without crying or fighting. There seemed to be no end to your suffering, it seemed. But like all wounds, time heals most. You just needed some time to get your head in the game. Luna was your priority, after all.

Harry and you had found a rhythm in co-parenting. He would have her on weekdays for half the month, and rest you would have her. You both would alternate on weekends. As years have gone by, you both have learned to spend more time together, for Moonie's sake. Last year, you went on a vacation too. You, Moonie, Harry and his girlfriend Lisa. You and Lisa didn't have a great start, but both of you decided to hash it out for the sake of your little girl. She loved Moonie as her own, and you couldn't be more grateful. Lisa and Moonie had a beautiful relationship; she was a friend you little moon needed. Whenever Harry and you had arguments, Lisa would take Moonie and excuse herself out of the crossfire. Spending time with Lisa has made Moonie realise that it's possible to have more than one parental figure, and you can love them all the same. You couldn't be happier. You had finally got the opportunity to dive back into work fully and have a support system. That's what Lisa and Harry had become to you. Your support system.

Lisa and Harry met two years after the split. She had always been very kind to you, but it took you some getting used to the idea of your ex-husband with somebody else. So, of course, there was friction at first, but over time once you got to know her a little bit, you both got on very well. It definitely has something to do with the way she treated your daughter.

Lisa was a widow. Her husband and the little boy died in a freak accident. She never told you the details of how it happened, but it was something she was dealing with on her own. Harry had supported her through her grieving process, and that's what brought them together. It can seem odd to people how they got together, but those who know them know they're great for each other. Harry had changed too, since meeting her. He had a newfound appreciation for his daughter and his ex-wife and the relationship they had. That's what pushed him to work through the differences he had with you. He had to find a way to make things work and still be in your daughter's life. It took a lot of fights and compromise. But in the end, you two decided to put your past behind and march on ahead as a family. Even though it's not what you had signed up for in this relationship, but that doesn't mean you're not grateful for it.

It was Friday night, and Harry and Lisa would be coming in with Moons anytime now. It was a tradition you three had started for your little girl. Anne was coming over too. She wasn't happy with what happened, but she made peace with the situation like her son. You had taken the home you and Harry had bought, and he'd moved into another house close by. You both decided you needed to be closer to Luna. Even though it had led to multiple fights, in the end, you knew it was the best decision to stay close by. A few years ago, when Luna's appendix burst, he was close by to drive you both to the hospital and took care of at the hospital. When you have to go on work trips, he is there to take her in. It's an unconventional set-up, but it works.

Harry walks into your house with a very smiley Lisa on his arm. "Why are you smiling so much?" You ask her. She shows you her hand coyly. "Harry proposed to me this afternoon." Anne looks up from her phone, surprised. She smiles wide and the couple "Oh honey! I'm so happy for you both!" She rushes to hug the couple. Luna runs up to Lisa and Harry to embrace them. "I'm so happy for Pa! and you too, Lise!" Harry reaches down to her level and kisses her on the cheek. You were just standing and watching this exchange, kind of stunned. You knew they were serious, but you didn't think he was going to propose. You quickly recover and walk over to Lisa, "I'm so happy for you, Lisa! Congratulations!" You hug her, and over her shoulder, you can see Harry looking at you, and you wipe your eyes quickly and pull away from the hug.

The night goes better than you'd expected. You all celebrated with a nice bottle of wine and stories of how they met, and she told stories of her first few times interacting with Moons. Overall it was a beautiful night of reminiscing. Too bad you disagreed. You'd had a little too much to drink and caught Harry looking over to you every time you refilled your glass. You knew better than to call him out on it. So you just sat in a corner and wished you'd disappear.

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

You wake by the incessant ringing coming from your phone. It's Harry. It's pretty late for him to be calling you, so you answer. "Harry, what's wrong?" You ask.

"Open your door; I'm outside." He speaks. You look at the time on your phone and get back on call. "What are you doing here? Why'd you call?" You ask again. "Just come out. I'll explain." You get out of bed and wear your robe and walk downstairs to your main door.

"Harry. What are you doing here? Are you drunk?" You look at him, confused.

He walks in. "I shouldn't have done it. I shouldn't have asked Lisa to marry me. I knew it when I broke the news to you today. I knew it was a bad call. I thought you wanted me to move on, but looking at your face today, I couldn't believe I had done that to you." He breathes out.

You look at him wide-eyed at his confession. "What the fuck? Did you just walk in here thinking you were going to make this stupid fucking argument and I was going to fall for it?" You say to him.

"Y/N, I know you love me."

"Of course, I love you, you bloody moron. I do, and I have for the last 15 years. But you cheated on me, remember? And you brought Lisa into our lives, whom I love very dearly, by the way. So what do you think was going to happen?"

"I can't stand being away from you. Living so close, yet you won't let me come near you. It's been killing me slowly each day." His lip was trembling as tears well in his eyes.

"Harry, you made this choice 4 years ago. You asked her to marry you. Why would you do this to me now?"

"I just need to kiss you once, please. Harry pleads.

"Think about Luna. Think about what you're ruining for her. We have already broken up our family. You can't break it anymore and cause her pain, please. I love you, I do. Very very much, and I can't stand here and watch you ruin yet another relationship, Harry."

"Please listen to what I'm saying. I love you, goddamnit! I need you to recognise that. I need you to tell me it will be okay, and we will be okay."

"We are okay, H. As okay as we can be. Please go back home to your fiancé, and don't bring this up again ever. For the sake of our daughter. Please." You're pleading with him now with tears streaming freely.

You turn around and walk back to your room. You laid back on your bed and cried quietly into your pillow.

You knew what you were going to do.

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

You stand outside the door of your ex's mother. You have no idea how you will tell her what you have done to her daughter-in-law to be. But you had no one to turn to. So, you ring the doorbell and wait for her to open the door.

"Hello, darling! What a wonderful surprise!" She beams at you. You give her a small smile and walk into the house. You get comfortable on the couch in the living area while she closes the door and comes up to where you're sitting. "Moonie didn't want to come along?" She asks as she goes back to folding the laundry you had caught her in the midst of. "No, it's just me today." You spoke. "Let me put on some tea, and we'll have a good ol' mother-daughter chat. What d'ya say?" She smiles. "Yes. That sounds like a great plan." You smiled.

You both sat at the kitchen island, sipping on peppermint tea and mindlessly talking about things and catching up. You had yet to tell her. "Darling, let's stop beating around the bush, shall we?" Anne says to you. You freeze. She couldn't have known, but she definitely knows what's up.

"Harry came to talk to me the night he proposed." You looked down at your cup shamefully. Anne reached out to place her palm on yours, "I know. He told me." She smiles sadly.

"Yeah, and I can't live here anymore knowing how he feels." You whisper. "Are you going to tell him?" Anne seems calm like she understands how this must feel. "No." You look up at her with tears welling up in your eyes.

She gets up from across the table and comes around to where you are seated. She reaches out to you, and you lean into her and hold her waist, silently crying.

"Everything will fall in place, my child."

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

You travelled a lot the following month, so it was easier to avoid Harry after that conversation you had. You had spent countless nights crying into your pillow. You knew you had to go back to therapy. You couldn't slip now. You had been doing so well.

Moonie was supposed to stay with you tonight. Harry would be dropping her off from ballet any moment now. You had been avoiding him ever since the incident between you too. You couldn't bear to look at him or Lisa. You just made up excuses most Fridays, some of which you were travelling, so it wasn't that big a deal. You were home to spend time with your girl and back to the office. Today, you'd just have to suck it up and face him. You didn't know what you'd say, but you couldn't avoid him forever. The thought alone had your stomach-churning. Suddenly the tacos you had for lunch didn't seem to be such a great idea. You walked into the kitchen and poured yourself a glass of cold water. You took an icepack from the fridge and carried both the items, and sat back on the couch with your head leaned back. You checked your phone for the time, and just in time, the bell rang. You got up from the sofa and walked up to the door. Opened the door to find Moonie, Harry and Lisa, all standing in front of you. You could see her ring glistening even in the porch light outside your home.

Suddenly you felt lightheaded and reached for the doorframe to steady yourself. Before you could think, you sunk down. But Harry was quick to catch you. Harry knelt beside you and laid your head on his lap, "It's okay, you're okay." He said softly. "Lisa! could you bring her some water, please". That's the last thing you heard before you passed out.

He was still standing behind you. "Are you feeling ill?" You rolled your eyes at him, you tried to sit up, and he helps you. "No, I think it's just the travelling." His eyes softened at your comment, "I've been calling you; you know? Why didn't you answer any of my calls?" He asks.

What were you supposed to say to that? I'm sorry that you want to leave your fiancé for me? Instead, you just shrugged. "I've been busy, Harry. Actually, I don't feel so good right now, so could we maybe talk about this later?" You turned to look at him. He moved backwards and out of your way to give you some room. "Yeah, sure. Can I get you something? I can stay with you for a few hours." He asked. "No. That won't be necessary, Harry. Please go home."

You walk into the living room and find Lisa making a cup of tea. "Hey, you feeling any better?" She smiles at you. She pours the tea into a cup and brings it over to you, "It always helped me, so I figured why not?" You thank her and take the cup from her.

"Yeah, I think it's just the stress from travelling so much. I'll be okay in a few days. I think I'm going to turn in." You asked. "Of course, darling. You just feel better, okay?" She smiles at you. "Honey, Let's head home and give this one some time to rest." She walks up to Harry and puts her arm around him, and sweetly pecks his cheek. He smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah, I'll just go say goodbye to her", And he walks towards your daughter's room.

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

Harry : I need to see you, please.

You: Come over after dinner today.

Harry: See you x

"Are we going to talk about what happened?" He raises an eyebrow at you. "I think we're past the stage of talking at this point." You sigh. "What do you mean?" He asks. He's furrowing his brows at you like he does when he's concerned about something.

"I'm leaving, Harry."

"What."

"Yeah, I have been planning it for 2 months now. I don't know how long I'll be gone."

"I came to tell you that I ended things with Lisa, and I wanted to give us a real shot. Give Moonie an actual shot at a family."

"I don't need to tell you anything, really. We can figure out the details of how we're going to manage custody later over text or call."

"So you're just going to leave your daughter go to god knows where?" He asks you.

"I can't be here anymore, Harry. This opportunity will bring countless more opportunities for Moonie and me. And I need to do this for myself. Now, if you will please." You show him the door.

That was the last time you'd see Harry for a long time. But that's something he didn't need to know.

You didn't know if you'd be able to go through with it. But it had to be done. If Harry were to leave Lisa or not, it had to be on his terms, not because he was in love with you.

A few months later

When you told Anne about your plan, she wasn't exactly on board. But she understood, and she loved you. So, of course, she brought you to her farmhouse for you to stay. You and Luna made an agreement that she wouldn't tell her Pa that you're camping out here. Anne would bring her down on weekends. You'd found a strange confidante in your daughter. Not that you'd go into the details of your relationship with Harry, but she understood many things that you didn't give her credit for. That's how you spent the past few months. Getting to know your daughter, who hadn't been a stranger to your problems with Harry, even though that's how you wanted it to be.

You were sipping your morning coffee as you check your emails for anything you had lined up for the day. The date was looming over you, and you just needed to be as distracted as to not think about the wedding happening right now. You need to occupy yourself with work. So, you open the email folder and find an email from Lisa. She has tried to reach out to your multiple times on call and via text, but you always make an excuse about work or being sick. With time she stopped reaching out so often, and you felt less guilty for moving away.

Dear Leyla,

I can't say I haven't missed you these past few months. Hope you're well. I'm getting married today, and you're not here. In a way, I get why you left. But I just wanted to let you know that I wanted you here, just as much Moonie and Harry. Especially him. But you already knew that, didn't you?

With time, I hope he loves me just as much you love him.

Love,

Lisa.

You couldn't stop crying now. You knew that she knew.

[wiypt-writes]

Murder, He Wrote

Part 1

Co-written with @southerngracela​

Summary: You’re sent by your asshole boss to do a review of a Celebrity Host Haunted Mansion, hosted by none-other than the arrogant, wild-eye browed actor Lucas Lee, but you’re worried you’ve missed the boat…that is, until at the last minute, an email arrives to say they can let you in on the last admission that night, which just happens to be Halloween… When you arrive, you’re actually kind of excited and intrigued…but it isn’t long until that excitement and intrigue give way to fear when you find yourself in a helpless situation.

Warnings: A creepy house, bad language words. MATURE (NSFW 18+) NON-CON situation, kidnap, violence. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE TRIGGER… READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N:  So this is a collaboration between myself and the wonderful @southerngracela​ for @jtargaryen18 ‘s  Haunted House 2020 challenge…and will be a mini-series, with an as of yet undefined number of chapters.

Once again READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK Series… don’t @ us if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18…get off my blog.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and by writing it does NOT mean I agree with or condone the acts contained within. This fiction is classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar reader and any other OCs that may or may not be mentioned. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Murder, He Wrote Masterlist // Main Masterlist.

"Y/L/N," your dick editor poked his head into your office rather gruffly. "I'm gonna need that celebrity haunted mansion review on my desk by tomorrow morning. I want to run it ASAP.”

"I can't even get in, not even with a press pass, I've been trying for two weeks, Mick!” you looked at him, your mouth slightly open. You’d told him this countless times at morning briefings. You hadn't even heard back from the organizers about sneaking around the press pass issue and offering an exclusive on the joint, a small fact you kept Mick in the dark about.

"Make it happen." He said simply, before he turned and left.

You glared at his retreating form. What the fuck did he not understand about the situation? Mind you, what did he understand about anything? There was a reason everyone working for him called him Mick The Prick.

There was also a reason he was being extra prickish to you. Earlier in the spring time of the year you’d run an article on Ransom Drysdale- the stuck up, trust fund asshole who had literally gotten away with murder. He’d confessed to murdering his grandfather’s house keeper, attempting to murder his grandfather and then, in a violent showdown with 2 police officers and a private detective present, he’d attempted to murder his grandfather’s nurse, Marta. And he would have succeeded, except the knife he’d used had been a stage prop. It was like some fucked up Murder, She Wrote plot, and when you’d interviewed the real life Jessica Fletcher (in this case the rather charming PI named Benoit Blanc who’d been a character to say the least) it got even more confusing. Ransom had hired Blanc in some elaborate scheme to frame Marta for Harlan’s death to do her out of the inheritance via the Slayer Rule. That had back fired spectacularly when she had unwittingly switched back the vials of medication Drysdale had tampered with, meaning Harlan had truly committed suicide. 

The article was supposed to be done showing his side of the story, a way for him to set the record straight, but the more you’d dug and spoken to people surrounding the case, the more you were absolutely convinced of his guilt, not least because he’d been acquitted on the murder and attempted murder charges on technical grounds due to his confession being, allegedly, obtained under duress and without a brief being present. The only thing they’d managed to pin on him was the arson which had burnt the Chief Medical Examiner’s office to the ground, and when his brief had successfully argued mitigating circumstances- he wasn’t of sound mind given the shock surrounding him being cut from his grandfather’s will- he’d basically ended up being released on license.

It was a joke, and that was basically what your article had said. You’d written a scathing attack on how money could basically render you untouchable by the law, highlighting the failures of the Criminal Justice System. At the time, Mick the Prick had been delighted with it, publishing it under your suggested head line “Murder, He Wrote”- ha, go figure, and copies had flown off the shelves, the article online going viral.

And then money had talked once more, and the Drysdale’s had threatened to sue for defamation. That in itself was a joke, as you knew full well his mother, Linda, was only doing it to salvage her own reputation, the same reason she’d worked so hard to find a lawyer to get him off the charges despite the fact she knew full well he was guilty as sin. Mick The Prick had attempted to throw you under the bus spectacularly when the board had come looking for blood, but as editor the buck stopped with him, and he was given a formal warning whilst you were forced to publish a retraction and offer a written apology much to your utter chagrin.

Which was why he was now making your life as hard as possible, and your Investigative Journalism skills, that you’d honed over the last decade; from high school paper, college tribune and now your current employer, over the last 10 years or so since graduation were now being focussed on covering stories about housewives who found Jesus’ face in a slice of toast, or in this case a fucking Celebrity Host Halloween Haunted House review. Whereas you had dominated the first 2 pages once upon a time, you were now lucky if you made it further up than page 11.

With a groan you banged your head on your desk. Why had you not listened to your dad and become a damned teacher instead of a journalist. Dealing with snotty nosed brats would be easier than this.

By the end of your day, you were burning what felt like the midnight oil however it wasn't very late at all. Dark had settled in but it wasn't late by time. Just before you were to log off and leave for the night, a TV dinner and pint of mint chip waiting for you in your freezer (and probably a job search too seeing as you would no doubt be fired tomorrow morning for failing on your deadline) your email pinged on your desktop. You frowned at it, wondering who could possibly be emailing you this late but then you recognized the sender.

It was the reply you'd been waiting on from the organizers from the Celebrity Host Haunted House. Clicking the email open, your eyes scanned the message. The organizer was setting you up with a private tour, TONIGHT. "9 pm," you finished reading aloud, relief flooding your entire body. It meant a long assed, sleepless night whilst you wrote your article, but it was better than the looming threat of unemployment. Plus, on the upside, as it was a charity gig the organizer had pulled out the big guns and the blurb on the email told you that it was to feature none other than Lucas Lee, a once-upon-a-time famous A-List Movie star, who was possibly just as arrogant as Hugh Ransom Drysdale, but you had to give it to him, in the films you’d seen he was actually damned good, and also pretty hot so…every cloud.

Glancing at your clock, you had just enough time to clock out and grab a quick bite at a drive thru on your way. The location was nearly an hour outside the city so you needed to get gone and fast. A quick reply telling the organizer you were on your way was sent out and you grabbed your coat, pulling it on over your sweater dress and were gone. 

It took a good hour like you'd estimated and that was with stopping for a quick meal, to reach the address your GPS brought you to. It was creepy even at its first glance so you could only hope this payed off. With a quick swig of your watered down and flat fountain drink, you grabbed your bag and phone, exiting your vehicle and locking it shut. The cool night air bit at your exposed cheeks and you were glad you'd worn your coat and tights.

As you stood, gazing at the dilapidated house you shivered, as though, ice had replaced you spine. The walkway leading up to house was cracked, blood red roses grew wildly in thick batches by the gate and the moonlight cast a ghoulish glow on the house. Vines formed a twisted maze upon the side of the of the house's walls which showed the black decay of neglect, in between which splotches of original paint hinted at the house’s former prosperity. Cobwebs covered the corners of the doors, tiny black spiders threading towards their prey and you gave another shudder, as far as first impressions went, yeah, it was fitting for a Halloween Haunted House tour.  

Pulling out your phone, noticing you had no reception (of course you wouldn’t, wasn’t that the cliché?) you took a few photos to use in the article and then gave a little squeak as the door creaked open on its own. Arching your eyebrow slightly, in a manner very much like the man you were here to meet, you strode forward and into the house. Immediately a musty, dank odour crept into your nose. The house was deadly silent except for the intermittent creaks and moans typically associated with a property that age. Black and brown mold dotted the ceiling of the tall hallway you stood in and the windows that framed the door on either side were covered with grime and dirt meaning the calm moonlight struggled to penetrate the darkness in thin thread rays, the main source of light being the open doorway. Sharp shadows roamed around the room and as your eyes adjusted to the dim light you noticed that there was a bright white envelope almost perched on the wooden table to the side of the hall. It was the newest thing in the room, so was obviously there for you.

You crossed over, the heels of your suede boots clicking loudly out in the silence of the hallway, and gently reached out for the envelope. A single word- Start- was written on the front in cursive, looping scrawl, very fitting for a spooky note. Another detail you committed to memory for your write up. You slid your finger into the crook of the envelope and slid it open. Inside was a small, white card, containing a message written in the same writing.

To ensure that you don’t become tomorrow’s big news, In this envelope you’ll find the first of 6 clues Of your super sleuth skills you should be proud, So make sure that you read your answers out loud. As one by one they lead to your ultimate demise. Which may or may not be a scary surprise…

Okay, now you were interested. This wasn’t just a walk through some scary assed, supposedly haunted house where Lucas Lee was no doubt set to jump out at you in some ridiculous disguise. This was a scavenger hunt, and your natural inquisitiveness was piqued. 'This could be fun', you thought as you reached for the next card that was in the envelope, reading the first clue. 

I’m tall when I’m young, and I’m short when I’m old. I also give heat but, not enough to prevent cold

You pondered for a second, heat was leading you to think of a fire, and they certainly grew shorter with time, well eventually when they burnt out…but then again, the longer they went the hotter they got, and they certainly prevented the cold. Scanning the hallway for anything that might fit the description, your eyes flicked up to the ceiling which held an elaborate, but tarnished candelabra style chandelier. And then it hit you. Tall when young, short when old.

“Candle…” you spoke “The answer is Candle…”

At that the door leading to the outside slammed shut behind you, and you gave an involuntary scream as the dominant source of light was sealed off. You spun round to look at it, and then your scream turned in to a laugh as you shook your head, for an Investigative Reporter you prided yourselves on steely nerves but so far that was twice this adventure had caught you off guard.

Turning back round, you then spotted that the door at the end of the hall was open, and you could clearly make out a Jack-o-Lantern looking at you, the candle inside flickering. Its face was creepy, really creepy. The nose and eyes were harsh triangles and the grotesque, twisted smile it sported was constructed of sharp, jagged teeth. You reached into your pocket and pulled out your phone. You may have had no service, but the flashlight was working. Keeping the light held in front of you so you could watch your step on the cracked tiles of the hall, you made your way towards the lantern and found yourself in a large, run down kitchen. The lantern and your flash-light provided the only light in the room as the windows were all overshadowed by gnarly trees, their branches every so often scratching the glass as they swayed slightly in the wind outside. The only other sound to be heard was the drip, drip of the faucet in the porcelain Belfast sink. 

A closer look revealed the discoloration of the water, a brownish concoction as it swirled down the plug. There was an envelope on the side of the counter by the lantern and as you crossed towards it, a movement in your peripheral made you spin round only to see a lone mouse scuttling away across the dirty wooden floor. You placed your phone down, flash-light up causing it to light up an area of the Artex plaster ceiling, and picked up the envelope, tearing it open to find your next clue

Mr Jack-o-Lantern lights the night His eerie face is shining bright The ????? that shaped him lies around And holds your next clue safe and sound 

“Oh come on…” you muttered, “That’ ones obvious. Knife, the answer is knife…” You picked up your phone and shone it around the various surfaces of the kitchen and your eyes honed in on a wooden knife block containing a solitary knife. You crossed the room towards it and as you closed in on it, you noticed that the handle of the knife was an ornate silver filigree. It was no ordinary kitchen knife and as you pulled it form the block you realised it was in fact a dagger, antique by the looks of things. The blade was curved slightly, reaching a sharp point, the silver tarnished. But the more you looked at it, the more you suddenly became horribly aware that it wasn’t merely a dullness of colour at all. It was blood. 

“Dramatic…” you mumbled, and with a sigh you then realised there was no clue attached to it. Was this a distraction? A decoy? You were just about to stat ransacking drawers to find the actual knife you needed, when you glanced back at the block the dagger had been held in and noticed a flash of white peeking from underneath. Picking it up and moving it aside you smiled as you saw the same cursive writing, spelling out the word three. Seeing as you might as well play along, you used the dagger to slit the envelope open, tossing it back down on the counter as you read the next clue.

Many a Child on me they may play Any time be it night or day. My surface is hard, on it you can knock I have many keys, but can’t open a single lock…

“What has keys but doesn't open a lock?" You pondered aloud. Adjusting your cross-body strap, you sigh. Then the answer came to you, "a piano."

You fell silent, your mind racing to how the hell you were going to find a piano in this decrepit and yet enormous house. Then, your ears heard it. The subtle note from deep inside the house. It was a single key. But now that wasn't your concern, no, it wasn't the mice or the bugs or even the brown water. Your heart raced at the notion that someone was in fact in the house with you. 

"Alright, Lee, you were always one for a flare of the dramatics, let's see what you've got."

Step by step you followed the note that chimed every few steps and you found yourself beginning to wonder if it was a recording or if someone were really playing it, timing their play with the sound of your boots over the rotting floor. You wound your way through the narrow hall, ancient wall paper peeling from its tack, mastick and plaster falling away to reveal studs in places. 

Finally, to your left you heard the key loud and clear. It was in that room. Steeling yourself for a possible encounter, you carefully pushed the sliding door away from its hinge. Your booted feet traipsed across the brittle carpet, dust swirling in the air in front of your face. Cobwebs adorned many of the surfaces and there were dirty white sheets covering the various pieces of furniture in the room. Apart from, that is, the large ornate grand piano that sat in the middle of the room.

The stool in front of it suddenly jolted back and tilted toward you, making you scream at the  gracious invitation by an as of yet invisible host. 

“Get a grip Y/N” you mumbled to yourself. You were surprised to find just how much this place was starting to set your nerves on edge. You took a deep breath, the pounding of blood in your ears began to quiet and you took a look around the room. There was no one in there with you, you were alone.

With slow, deliberate steps you moved towards the piano, your eyes sweeping over the mahogany surface, searching for an envelope with the next clue, but there was none to be found. The surface of the piano was thick with dust and grime, but as you scanned over it you suddenly stopped. On one of the white keys the dust was disturbed, as if it had been wiped away and you instantly realised that had to be the key that your so far elusive host must have been playing. You paused, biting at the nail on your thumb of you right hand, before you reached out with your left and tapped the key. The melodic note rang around the room, clearly, echoing in the silence and for some reason you were taken back to a part of the article you had been thinking about earlier that day, and how Detective Blanc had told you that he had ‘played a key’ during the various family interviews ‘to make my point without interruption’. It didn’t pass you by how fitting that actually was at that moment but you didn’t have much time to reflect on it, as you heard a creak and a grinding noise and you spun to your left to see a panel in the wall sliding open. It made you jump slightly, but this time you didn’t scream. 

Not for the first time, you had to admire the effort Lucas was going to here. It was clear he had a flare for the dramatic, anyone could see that from his films and interviews but this was pretty damned good. It was making you wonder how he was doing it. Was he somewhere watching, pressing buttons to enact the various parts of his show? Instinctively you glanced up, looking for a camera or something you were being monitored by but you found no evidence of anything. 

“Well, in for a penny…” you muttered, crossing towards the small hatch. It was just wide enough for you to get your hand into, but you really didn’t want to. You grabbed your torch and shone it into the hole, finding nothing but the envelope so deciding it was safe you reached in and pulled it out.

Sometimes coloured, sometimes plain sometimes frosted, sometimes stain Be you short or thin, or fat or tall, this simple invention, lets you look right through a wall

You pondered for a moment, before the answer came to you. Fairly quickly you might add. Feeling a little smug you smiled and cleared your throat.

“Window. It’s a window.”

Usually, at that point, something happened to point your attention to the place you should be looking but this time, there was nothing. Instinctively you looked out of the one on the wall by the piano, but as you stared at nothing but the darkness outside you realised that was too obvious. Just then your ears picked up a sound you couldn’t quite figure out, but it was familiar all the same. And then it came to you, it was the familiar click and clack of a skateboard, the wheels gliding over the brittle old floor and you span round in the direction it was coming from to see a window you hadn’t noticed before, this one was an ornate, stained glass window which bore some kind of flower design that faced directly out into the hall. 

He passed by slower than a flash but just enough to allow you to catch only a glimpse. You audibly gasped, your breath coming in a sharp intake of fright, because until then you had been alone on this chase. But it appeared you dramatic host had finally come out to play. He was merely a shadow, bulky in frame, tall and dressed all in black as he moved past but it was enough to puzzle you. You didn’t remember Lucas being that broad, or tall. With a frown you ran into the hall to catch him but saw nothing, and heard nothing, the only thing to indicate he had been there was a faint smell of the cedar and amber of what you assumed to be cologne. 

You paced quickly down the hall in the direction the figure had gone but as you passed the stairwell the light flickered on, instantly attracting your attention. You’d only briefly noticed the ornate staircase before, but with the lack of light you certainly hadn’t noticed the writing on the wall, dripping in fresh paint. Swallowing, as you mouth suddenly felt dry with fear you stepped onto the first stair, and as soon as you did you were plunged into almost complete black. Letting out a shriek as, once again, he’d managed to get the drop on you, you shook your head and reached for your phone, taking another few steps up so you were level with the next clue which you read aloud.

“Tonight is not all fright and fear, a trick or treat is waiting near, the bedroom holds a sweet surprise, there solve the clue to claim your prize.” You bit your lip and looked up at the top of the stairs, wondering when someone was going to jump out at you. Taking a deep breath, you made your way up, cringing at each creak your feet caused on the old warped wood, but it didn’t sway your determination to make it to your destination. 

Halfway up, a shadow flickered at the corner of your vision at the top on the landing and you froze, your mouth going dry once more. As you stood there, shining your light into the dark you caught the same scent from moments ago lingering in the air only this time it was stronger, far more powerful and you were able to denote even more of the notes within. Alongside the amber and cedar your heightened senses picked up deep, earthy, sandalwood notes with a hint of citrus in the background.  And it was familiar for reasons beyond the fact you’d smelt it down stairs. But, as you’d surmised earlier, it was a cologne. Probably one worn by a few people you knew.

Yes that was it.

“Jesus Christ Y/N what has gotten into you?” You rolled your eyes and continued up the stairs, clearly your ‘Celebrity Host’ was once more nearby. 

You cautiously got to the top of the stairs and glanced around. Nothing. So turning to your left you entered the first room you found on the hall. It was empty bar a creepy looking doll that had been separated from its head which lay about a foot to the right. As you looked around the room, the wind intensified outside, the rustling of the leaves and branches became louder, as did the creaking of the house…and then you gulped, as you realised it wasn’t just the house that was creaking. In the corner of the room, the little chair had begun to rock, slowly. Blowing out a breath and shaking your head, you looked around at the thin strips of wallpaper which showed little trucks. Crayon markings scrambled upon the wall where wallpaper used to stick but other than that there was nothing in there bar some pretty good theatrics. You had to hand it to Lee, the creepy feel was fantastic and you were going to give him one hell of a write up for this. You took a while longer to take in the detail, smiling to yourself before you closed the door and headed to the one over the hallway. 

This room was a little lighter thanks to a lamp which stood on a nightstand. It wasn’t bright, by any means, but it was enough so that you could clearly see the bed in the middle of the room. And there, placed by the pillows was a thin box. On unsteady legs, you shuffled slowly towards the bed, the box before you making you quiver, your insides churning. A shaky hand tilted the lid open slowly, afraid something would pounce in a sneak attack. You shut your eyes ready to protect them in case a bat or bugs flew at you and when nothing happened, you opened them slowly and inspected the boxes contents. There was no envelope this time, just copy of a newspaper. Your newspaper. And you felt your blood run cold as you recognise the bold headline across the top. Murder, He Wrote: A twisted tale of Inheritance, Crime and Exoneration "Drysdale," you whispered in realization. But now, while you were well aware of what the article meant and who it was referring to, your brain shut down processing how on earth Lucas Lee and Ransom could possibly be connected. Your breathing deepened and you moved to pick up the article, but then the lid to the box caught your eye and you froze, for on the inside of the lid was another clue, only this one was a straight forward question which was spelled out using cut-out letters from the newspaper in question.

I’m light as a feather, yet the strongest person can’t hold me for five minutes. What am I?

You froze, for the answer was simple. Breath. And that was it, you needed to get out. You started to back away from the bed, but before you had so much as made it 3 steps you collided with something hard. A forceful arm across your front pinned you to a firm and broad chest that engulfed your frame while a cloth with a distinct smell and cool moisture covered your airways.

"Surprise" The voice in your ear, calm, deep and known, was all you heard before nothing consumed you.  

*****

When Y/N went limp in his arms, Ransom laid her across the bed only leaving the room to hurriedly cover his tracks, blowing out candles and removing any trace of her that had been in the house. His time as his grandfather's research assistant gave him far more experience than it should have. When he returned to the bedroom she was still out cold but light as a feather as he carried her downstairs and out the back door to the awaiting SUV, smug that his plan had gone so well.

But then, didn’t everything for him? He was Ransom Drysdale, and he was fucking untouchable.

He drove away from the scene of his new crime towards the city, driving through the dead of night, on the beltway, and continued twenty minutes outside downtown Boston before pulling into the garage of a large red cedar and quartzite home. He killed the engine and closed the garage door, pulling Y/N from the seat she was slumped in when it was clear to do so.

He couldn't be seen, he wouldn't be seen. He carried her inside the spacious home, his boots tapping heavily against the dark marble floor of the kitchen and finally the lush carpeted staircase that wound down into the basement.

This is where he laid her, in the basement, on a bed, but not just any bed, the one that would now become hers. He adjusted the lighting in the space, low enough not to disturb her, but bright enough to give the room a glow so he could finish what he'd set out to do. In the shock of the struggle in the bedroom, she’d dropped her phone and he’d made sure to smash it long before he left the haunted house, making sure there'd be no device to track her. He'd already disposed of her car while she was playing his little game, every loose end as far as he could see was tied up.

And now she was all his. 

He brushed the hair away from Y/N’s face where it had fallen over her eyes.  With gloved hands he manoeuvred her undone, black woollen coat off her body, leaving her in the bottle green turtle neck sweater dress and thick tights she was wearing before he tossed it over the chair in the corner of the room and then undid the zips on her brown suede knee high boots. He dropped them to the floor, kicking them towards the same corner with the equal carelessness he’d shown her coat. With a final meticulous movement he rearranged her on the bed, so he’d appear more comfortable and just before he left the room, he wrapped the cool, metallic cuff around the ankle. It locked in place with a clink and with a final glance at her still unconscious form, he turned and exited the room, the door latching shut and with the snap of the deadbolt he locked her in.

*****

Your head pounded, your nose burned and your mouth felt dry with the faintest taste of something foul lingering as you swallowed. The light was low but still your eyes ached. You tried to decipher exactly what the hell had happened to you while you got your bearings. You tried to sit up but your body felt heavy, the soft bed you now realized you were lying on was not your own. Your breathing rapidly increased as you started to move in fear but a clink caused a screech to escape your throat. You felt the weight of the cuff around your ankle and a full panic set it.

Your night flashed quickly through your glutamate and adrenaline flooded brain

You remembered getting the email from the Haunted Mansion supposedly hosted by Lucas Lee. You had arrived and were sent on what you thought was a fun and exhilarating maze littered with clues and riddles and then you remembered the last piece of the puzzle. You gasped as you remembered how his breath felt hot on your skin and how his voice registered in your mind.

"Drysdale," you repeated the last word you had spoken in a shaky, frightful voice. "No."

Rage and fear collided in your chest as you screamed out the only thing you could think of, "HELP!" A strangled sound left your chest followed by another cry out for help, "Please, someone, HELP!" 

The door to your room, now coming into focus around you, flew open and there he stood, smug smirk, raging ocean blue eyes, hair neatly in place, dismantling frame clothed in a black sweater and dark denim, heavy footfalls sounding against the thick carpet under his feet. 

"Nice to see someone's awake," Ransom deadpanned.

You stared for a brief moment and screamed for help again, louder, and louder, and louder until you felt your voice crack and strain, your cords burning as the sound shattered away. 

"Are you done?" He cocked his head to the side and folded his arms across his chest as he stood firm and tall in front of the bed.

"What the hell are you doing? Why am I here?" It hurt to speak but you had to ask. 

“Because I want you here, Sweetheart.”

"I...I'm not, don't call me that," you spat defiantly as he moved closer, taking you in, his predatory eyes moving over your body. This was it, you were going to die all because some trust fund prick was a hurt baby about an article (that you forcibly apologized for) revealing the sick and sadistic truth about him, his family, money and the justice system. 

"Are you gonna kill me?” You watched him carefully as he crossed the room towards you, trying to keep your voice calm so as not to betray the utter fear that was coursing through your veins at the fact you were trapped, fuck knows where, shackled to a bed with a murderer being your captor. “That's what this is about, right? My apology wasn't enough?"

"Your apology was forced bullshit.” He responded, his voice carried a hint of amusement, because of course, this was all a game to him. “You smeared my name, dragged my reputation though the mud and you expected an apology like that, half assed and full of more crap than your original hatchet piece, to be enough?" He was standing damn near over you now, a hand moving up your leg that was held by the cuff, your body frozen in a confused silent argument of fight or flight.

"You... Killed... Him." You grit out through clenched teeth, and his hand was on your throat before you finished your breath, squeezing just enough to make a point.

"No. I. Didn't." He lied and you had to hand it to him, a lesser person might have bought the garbage he was talking, because he was good at it. Lying must have been enough of a second nature for him that he actually believed everything he said himself. But then again, it wasn't actually a lie was it? Sure, he'd planned on indirectly killing Harlan and that plan had backfired and Harlan had actually slit his own throat. So at most he was indirectly responsible for his death, but none of that had stuck with the prosecution and so now here he was, a free man.

A struggled chuckle came from your tightened throat, "Jesus Christ, you actually believe your own bull shit don't you?"

"You've got a fucking mouth on you," he breathed as his body loomed ominously over the bed and your frame, tiny in comparison to his.

You swallowed, feeling the hard lump strain to pass his grip, "Not really, you just don't like hearing the truth."

His eyes bored into yours and you struggled for breath as his hand constricted around your neck whilst he squeezed a little harder "Oh shut up Y/N."

"Or what, Hugh?" You croaked. 

A little flash of anger tore through his ocean blue eyes like lightning in a storm. His eyes bored into yours as you fought to swallow. 

"Or I'll shut you up myself."

"Try me, you son of a...." You didn't expect his lips to cover yours but they did. Unexpectedly warm and soft, despite the painfully harsh kiss. You managed to pull away but his hand still gripped at your throat and you felt the fear constricting your chest. But you were damned if you were going to show him a shred of weakness.

“You’re an asshole, Hugh…” It was all you had, the only thing you could use in your arsenal given your situation. You still had your voice. And you’d noticed that for whatever reason he appeared to hate that name.

“Don’t... fucking call me that!” his voice rose to a loud, angry instruction, apoplectic rage seeping from him to you, and it was almost stifling.

“Or what? You'll kill me?” your voice rose in both volume and pitch as your desperation began to show. “We both know you're gonna do that once you've fulfilled whatever sick, twisted little fantasy this is. What are you waiting for, Hugh? Huh?”

Ransom scoffed, "Kill you, no, see I'm gonna teach you a lesson. One about how money and status get you anything you want.”

You frowned, as you looked into his icy blue eyes, utterly confused “Anything you want? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You'll see Princess” was the sole explanation you got as he knelt between your legs.

You stayed stock still as large and surprisingly gentle hands trailed your curves up the outside of your thighs to your hips. As he reached the hem of your sweater dress he paused as you wrapped your hands around his wrists.

"Don't" you squeezed, attempting to stop his wrists and close your legs.

“This will be much easier if you just play-along, sweetheart” he muttered as he pressed his lips to your neck. You let go of his wrists and raised your hands, laying them over the wool of his cable knit, palms flat against the plain of muscle as you attempted to push him off.

“I said no.” you tried to keep your voice stern, despite the fact you were fighting back the fear and sadness at the realization of his task was now at hand. His large hands smoothed over your dress, cupping your breasts and he let out a moan as you bit back the bile in your throat that was threatening to spill from your mouth. You pushed harder trying to force him off of you but it was of no use, his broad frame caged you in, engulfing you under him.

“I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to.” He ground out, his lips inches from your ear as he nipped at your skin. He was impressively strong and balanced, his weight even through his body as he kept his knees between your legs, a hand against your breast and the other stroking your sides and up your thigh. All the while, his lips sucked at your neck, teeth grazing your pulse point as you turned your head away, tears filling your eyes

"Please, stop," you managed. "Hugh, stop!"

“I told you not to call me that.” He growled against your skin and pulled back, his eyes blazing as they locked on to yours. In sheer desperation, you managed to wrench a free hand from between you and gave him a slap, nails biting at his skin. Instantly you knew you’d pissed him off. His nostrils flared, his jaw set and as his eyes filled with fire and rage.

And you knew then, you were in for it.

“Bitch…” he snarled as he raised his left hand to his face where you had struck him, and then both his hands grabbed yours, yanking your arms up, pinning them above your head. You bucked upwards, violently in an attempt to shake him off, but it was futile. He was far too strong. His grip on your wrists grew tighter and despite yourself you let out a small whimper of fear.

In one hand he had the ability to cuff both of your wrists and he did so while his other grabbed at your dress, shoving it further up your body, fingers curling over the waist of your tights and panties, a handful of the material fisted in his palm. They wouldn't slide down quick enough and you felt your body lift away from the mattress slightly as he ripped away the material, the snap burning your skin. You fought, boy did you fight. You had no control of your hands or arms as he had them easily pinned, but your legs and the rest of your body gave as good as they could. You thrashed from side to side all the time screaming your objections. You drew your knees up to your chest in an attempt to buck him off. You screamed protests, threw every insult you had at him, but it was no use. He was simply too strong.

He didn't even bother with his belt or button, he just unzipped the flies on his jeans, pulled his solid cock free and slid in. You were wetter than you expected to be, but it still burned with friction and ached from the thick stretch against your tight walls. It hurt, definitely hurt.

"You know you want this. I know you want this." He rasped as he pulled out before thrusting back in, his face twisted in a look that was halfway between being smug and satisfied. Just looking at him made you feel sick but for some reason you were unable to look away as he continued his slow assault, before he picked up the pace slightly, his groans of satisfaction filling the room as he bottomed out, balls deep and it was at that point you closed your eyes and tried to block out what he was doing to you. But try as you might to remain mentally detached from the situation, your body was anything but. And the more he moved in and out of you, the more you could feel your physical reactions. You were powerless to stop them and the heat between your legs and in between your belly was spiking with each thrust into you.

It felt good. And you knew it shouldn’t. So you fought it, but eventually, you couldn't fight it anymore, not with  the way his thick cock filled you, velvety smooth skin sliding in and out of your defiant core. You didn't want to cum, but your body told your brain it was going to and Ransom nearly puffed his chest as he fucked you into your body's submission. 

"You're gonna fucking cum, aren't you, Sweetheart? I can feel it," he ground out, chasing his own release. You remained silent, breathing heavily as your insides coiled and tightened. "Fucking tight ass pussy," he gritted. You refused to cry out, not wanting to give him anything you were able not to, and it took everything you had to remain silent. In desperation, to quell the cry that was rising from your throat, you bit your tongue, tasting the coppery taste of blood in your mouth as you came hard around his cock.

“Fuck, yeah…see…” Ransom’s hips began to move faster, and then with a sudden movement he pulled out of you, making you wince involuntarily at the sting. He shot his load all over your thighs, a growl bubbling from his throat, the warmth of his release trickling down your leg made you feel even more dirty than you already did. 

“Not so fucking smart are we now, huh, miss Investigative Reporter…” his snap was snide, and childish, but you knew he couldn’t help himself. Your head remained defiantly in its position on the pillow, turned to the right, eyes focussed on a spot on the wall. “Look at me, bitch.”

When you didn’t do as he asked, he grabbed your chin bruisingly, making you wince as he pulled your face round so he could see you. You knew he would be able to see the tears on your face, and you hated that. Hated that he would see how much he’d hurt you, scared you even, 

His hand let go of your face and you stared at him, swallowing, trying to gather your voice in your painfully dry throat.

"That's all you got? You're a fucking child, Drysdale. It's why you’re doing this." You said, your voice trembling and croaking from the fear and exertion of what he had just put you through and you shook your head. “You’re a fucking man child with mommy and daddy issues. A spoilt, little whiney brat who can’t bear to be told no.”

That struck a nerve, you could tell, as his jaw clenched tight and his fists clenched around the sheets by your side to the point they were shaking. He grabbed your chin once more with his right hand and pinned your face still, forcing your eyes to look back at his 

“You'll be begging me to accept your apology.” He snarled, his face contorted in rage “You'll see who the whiney child is soon enough. I promise Princess, it's not me”

As you looked at him, you felt your anger starting to simmer. This fucking ass hole had just raped you, and he had the gall to be saying you were going to tell him that you were sorry. No chance in hell. You knew you were screwed, literally and figuratively. Whilst he had you captive behind a bolted door, shackled to a bed you had nowhere to go, he knew that you knew that too and you could see it in his face as a smug smirk flickered on his lips. Well fuck this, if you were going down it was with a fight. With a sudden movement, that caught him off guard you moved your head slightly as much as you could in his painful grip, and spat right in his face.

Ransom blinked, his anger morphing to shock, then back to fury once more as he released your face and with a flash of his hand he back handed you straight across the face. The blow to your right cheek snapped your head to the left, sucking the breath from your lungs and leaving you a little dazed.

“Fuck you.” He sneered as he rose to his feet, wiping his face. Silently he rearranged his pants, tucking his now soft cock back inside them, and swept from the room, locking the door behind him.

***** Ransom stormed up the steps to the kitchen of the house, slamming the top door behind him and bolting that one shut too. He was furious that little bitch had scratched him and no doubt marked his face. He strode over the marble tiles of the room and walked into the large hallway and across into the den. He made his way straight to the bar, poured himself a healthy measure of good scotch, slopping a little on the dark wooden counter, before he glanced up at the large mirrored surface of the bar behind the shelves.

He could make out three vivid red lines down his left cheek where she’d dug her nails into his flesh and his jaw clenched. His hair was out of place, his cheeks flushed and his normally cold eyes were blazing with anger. But as he stood there staring at his dishevelled reflection, he knew it wasn’t the fact she’d scratched or spat at him that was pissing him off so much. It was the fact she had persistently voiced a name he despised, one that was used to control those lower than him in his every-day life. One reserved for The Help, for outsiders. It reminded him of his family, of his mother and father, the two people in his life who should have loved him unconditionally but instead had him out of ‘duty’ and had taken every opportunity to pass him off into the care of others they could. It reminded him of Walt persistently telling him he was a no-one, that he would amount to nothing over than a trust-fund baby. 

It reminded him of Harlan. The one person in that entire fucked up patriarchy that had shown him an ounce of care. But who had screwed him over in the end. 

The anger that had been simmering inside him boiled over, the blood pumped into his ear and with an angry yell and an almost involuntary action Ransom hurled the glass tumbler straight at the wall where it smashed against the tasteful silver and white wallpaper, the 25 year old single malt trickling down the wall…just like the tears and trickled down Y/N’s cheeks as he’d forced her to look at him whilst he took what was his. 

As she’d glared up at him he’d noticed a fierceness in her eyes that he was surprised to find had unnerved him a little, because she clearly wasn’t going to be as easy to break as he thought. 

“Fuck it.” He mumbled to himself, grabbing the bottle from the bar before he turned and left the room, taking a large swig as he went, the burn in his throat going someway to settling his nerves.

This would work out, because he was Ransom fucking Drysdale, a man who always got what he wanted in the end, and she was going to be no exception.

**** Part 2

[zafirosreverie]

I already had it all (Carla x reader)

For @midnight-lestrange i hope you like it!

a/n: i didn't put the smut scene here because this was already too long. But let me know if you want me to write it!

a/n 2: I...I really didn't watch Ty's scenes. I just skipped them so, I'm sorry if this was OOC for him. But I won't apologise for anything else bc we all know Carla deserved a girlfriend.

#GiveCarlaAGirlfrendChallenge

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

You rolled your eyes and sighed when Carla came into the house crying. You didn't even ask, you already knew the story.

Isis looked at her daughter, then at you and subtly took her grandson's arm to leave you two alone. Jackson didn't even bother to look at his mom as he got up. They said goodbye to you before disappearing into their rooms. You didn't turn to the woman until you saw Jackson close his door.

Carla looked at you for a moment, feeling like a stranger in her own home.

"What did he do now?" you said.

Usually, you'd run to her side, hug her, and let her cry for a while while she sobbed and told you whatever it was that made her fight with Ty at the time. God, how you hated that man.

Not only did he have an amazing woman like Carla at his feet, but he also had the door open for a beautiful (if a bit messy) family. And the only thing that seemed to matter to him was how good was his girlfriend in bed.

Hell, the guy hadn't even bothered to properly introduce himself to the son of the woman he was fucking!! Isis had told you how he had shown up at Christmas, making out with Carla while Jackson just waved from the table.

It made you want to throw up.

Although, the woman was not helping either. Carla was your best friend, she had been for years! She was the first to welcome you to the spa, the one who made you laugh at your worst and made you do stupid things when she took you to the bar.

You loved spending time with her.

But Ty...he had changed her. You didn't want to be unfair to him, but since he hadn't bothered to introduce himself to you either, you'd still hate him. Well...you would hate him even if he turned out to be a nice guy, because he had what you couldn't.

You weren't sure exactly when you started falling in love with your best friend, but you did. For months you had become aware of how much you loved her, how much you wanted to be with her at every possible moment, how butterflies flooded your stomach when you heard her laugh, how your cheeks would blush when you were too close to her. You loved everything about her.

And everything that came with the woman. You got along wonderfully with Isis, who was seriously trying to be a better mother to her daughter. And you couldn't even begin to describe the love you felt for Jackson. That boy was a treasure! And it broke your heart that most seemed to prefer to ignore him.

"Y/N, are you even listening to me?" Carla's voice brought you back to the present.

"No" you admitted, looking straight at her "Not really"

Carla looked at you as if you had grown another head. She didn't expect you to say that. The woman didn’t know what was happening with you lately, you were usually tender, kind and supported her in everything. But in the last few weeks, you have become more distant and cold.

Although only with her. It seemed that the further you got away from Carla, the closer you got to Isis. She didn't want to admit it, but she felt a pang of jealousy and fear that her mother was stealing her...her best friend. It didn't make a lot of sense, but...

"Break up with him" you said suddenly

"What?" she blinked

"Break up with Ty" you repeated "Carla, he's not good for you. He's hurting you."

"That is not true"

"Then why did you come crying?" you crossed your arms

"You would know if you had listened to me" she told you, crossing her arms too

"I'm not talking about just now and we both know it" you said "This has been going on for weeks Carla!"

"It's not true" she insisted

"It's a routine at this point. You go out with him, disappear for hours, Jackson calls me to go get him, I stay here until you come back with tears in your eyes, I listen to you, you ‘break’ with him for a few days and then he smiles and you fall again. We all know the routine Carla! Isis doesn't even risk burning the kitchen anymore! She just waits until I get home to make dinner"

"Mom dines with you?" she asked, feeling that terror and jealousy build up inside her.

"And with Jackson" you reminded her.

"Since when?"

"Since you started ditching them for Ty, but that's not the point!" you frowned "The point is that you are no longer you, Carla, and it's his fault"

"That is not true!" she growled "I'm as me as ever"

"No" you said to her "The Carla I knew loved herself, wanted to rebuild a relationship with her mother and loved her son above everything else. The Carla I knew made jokes about Jackson, but it was to prevent others from doing it. My Carla would never have let a man make her cry. "

The woman froze a bit when you called her "My Carla." The heat in her chest returned, like every time you said something nice about her.

"Y/N-"

"No" you interrupted her "You're going to listen to me Dunkler! Because I'm sick of seeing you arrive like this! I'm sick of that idiot using you for your body and you letting him. Maybe I'm wrong, maybe he really feels something for you, but until he does a better job proving it, I won't change my mind. I'm also sick of seeing him take you away from your family. You said you wanted a better relationship with your mother, but Isis hasn't seen you properly in days. Ty hasn't even tried to get closer to Jackson, the SON of the woman he supposedly loves, to get to know him better! "

Carla looked at you in surprise. This was a whole new side. You have never lost your cool this way. And she hated herself for finding it a little hot.

"He's the only one who has really stayed with me for more than one night, Y/N" she said weakly. She knew it was a terrible reason, but it was the truth.

"So you will just let him do what he wants because you're afraid of being alone?!" you asked incredulous

"No! I-I really like him!" she said but it felt like a huge lie and that...that surprised her

"It's not fair Carla" you continued "It is not fair that you offer him all this! It is not fair that he has at his disposal a child as wonderful as Jackson and a mother-in-law as great as Isis. It is not fair that he has such a wonderful woman like you, a beautiful, hardworking and brave woman. He doesn't deserve you "

"You keep saying that because you don't know what it's like to be alone for so long! You don't know what it's like to feel like you're not enough for anyone!"

"I DO!" you yelled

"No you don't!" she yelled back at you "You are so perfect and cute and you have everyone at your feet! You can have whoever you want! So no, you don't know what it's like not to be enough for someone!"

"I do it because I've never been enough for you!" you growled "Because you've never seen me as anything more than a friend! And I hate you for that! I hate you because you come and flirt with me and then you go with him! I hate you because you gave him everything I've ever wanted! I hate him because he has what I can't have! AND I HATE YOU BECAUSE I CAN'T REALLY HATE YOU!! I HATE YOU BECAUSE I DON'T KNOW HOW TO DO ANYTHING OTHER THAN LOVE YOU AND YOU DON'T EVEN NOTICE IT!!!"

Carla froze in her place, staring at you. Her mind had gone blank. It took you a few moments to realize what you had said and you gasped as the realization hit you. You had confessed your feelings to her in the worst possible way. Shit.

"...I'd better go" you said hastily

You took your bag and took advantage of the fact that the woman still looked surprised to quickly pass her, almost running out of the house and to your car.

Carla just watched you go, not knowing what to do or what to think. What the fuck had just happened?

_________________

You cried all the way home. You cursed yourself a thousand times for being such an idiot. How could you do that? You had promised to always be there for her and now you had ruined everything! There was no way in the world that Carla could forgive you for this.

_________________

"Still here?" Isis asked, making her daughter jump "You've been staring at the wall for the last hour."

Carla frowned and turned her gaze away.

"Come on, get your fucking ass up and do something!" Isis insisted

"About what?"

"Oh don't play dumb with me. Jackson and I heard everything."

"What? Did you spy on us?" Carla asked a little angry

"Of course not! Your screams were heard throughout the house. I'm sure the neighbors heard too"

Carla blushed and looked at the ground before taking another gulp of her beer. Isis rolled her eyes and snatched it away.

"Ey!"

"Get out of here!"

Carla sighed "What do you want me to do? All that doesn't change anything"

"You're a terrible liar" the older woman scoffed "You've been drowning in your own misery since before I came back. You settled for that idiot just to not be left alone and now that you have a chance to have someone better, you will stay here getting drunk? I'm disappointed "

"Disappointed? It's something you would do yourself" Carla scoffed

"It's not true" Isis said, not bothered by her daughter's words "I would at least fuck her first"

"Mom!"

"What? She's pretty, she has a good body and-"

"Stop it! I don't need to hear my mother talk about how sexy my best friend is"

"Then pick up your sorry butt and go get her" she said, smiling at her daughter's jealous tone "You have the key to her house, use it"

"Mom-"

"I'll keep talking about her body if you don't. Did you know that she has a couple of moles near her right boobie? I loaned her a blouse once and-"

"And I'm leaving" Carla jumped up, taking her keychain

"I'm staying with Jackson, don't come back later" Isis winked

_____________________

You frowned when you heard the front door open. You were sure you had locked it. Your heart raced and you felt fear wash over you as you came out of the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around your body.

You grabbed a baseball bat that was near your bedroom door (thank goodness you were training with Jackson) and walked slowly down the hall to the living room.

"Y/N?"

You froze before frowning.

"Carla? What are you doing here?"

The woman looked you up and down and you blushed when her eyes stopped for a moment on your chest. She cleared her throat before speaking again.

"I wanted to talk to you but maybe I should wait until you don't have a bat in your hand" she teased lightly

You noticed that you were still holding the wooden stick tightly in your hand. Blushing even more, you leaned it against the wall. When you turned around again, you saw that your friend had approached and she was a few inches from you. You swallowed audibly.

All the way here, Carla had thought and gone over the words she would say to you, she had planned a whole speech for you, and god knows she hated speeches. But she had got her entire cassette erased by seeing you like this.

It was the first time she had admitted to herself that she really found you attractive. A part of her began to wonder if the whole Ty thing hadn't also been in part not to acknowledge her feelings for you.

"Carla?" you mumbled after a while 

"Sorry" she jumped a little "I-"

"No, no. I'm sorry" you said "You didn't have to come here to tell me to stay away. You could have sent a message-"

"Why would I tell you to stay away?" she asked with a frown.

You blinked. An hour and she had already forgotten what you had said? You should be grateful, but it honestly hurt you.

"What I said at your house, I...I shouldn't have done it" you sighed

"So it wasn't true?" she asked carefully "Was everything you said a lie?"

"No!" You almost screamed "I just...it wasn't the way and I- I didn't mean to-"

Carla smiled slightly as she watched you babble in front of her. God, how had she not realized how adorable you were? Your lower lip was even trembling.

But she knew you. She knew that once you got flustered and started babbling, there was no stopping you. And she didn't have the time for that, no matter how beautiful you looked doing it. So she only had one option.

You gasped when your friend pounced on you, pressing you against the wall and kissing you deeply. Her hands immediately went to your hips and you moaned against your will when she pressed her chest against yours.

It took you a few moments to recover, but you wrapped your arms around her neck when you did, returning the affection. You didn't know what would happen when you’d ran out of air and had to talk, but to hell with that. You would enjoy the fact that she was kissing you, as you had wanted for so long.

If there was one thing Carla hated more than people themselves, it was having to talk about her feelings, especially this kind. So when you broke the kiss, her mouth immediately traveled to your neck.

You moaned a little when you felt her tongue on your skin. You wanted to continue, you needed to feel her, let her take you right there, but there was still a hideously rational part of you. So you pushed her gently, making her look at you.

"I love you" you whispered "...but I can't be another one of your one night stands"

The woman's heart broke a little when she looked into your eyes. She saw the fear you were feeling, but she also saw love. Love directed at her. No one had ever looked at her like that, not her ex husband, not Ty, no one.

"You aren’t" she promised

"Carla-"

"I swear you are not" she interrupted you. Suddenly, her brain seemed to wake up and the words she had practiced in the car fell out of her mouth "I'm sorry it took me so long, I'm sorry I was so stupid. I was so afraid of being alone, of not deserving of anyone, that I ended up accepting the first thing I could. But now I know that I love you "

"You're lying" you whispered "You...don't feel that way about me"

"I do" she promised

"And why didn't you say anything before?"

"I was scared. I took you for granted, because you were always there for me, no matter what. I ignored my heart, the butterflies in my stomach, the jealousy when I saw you too close to my mother. I didn't want to admit how I felt about you. And I didn't realize that I already had everything I ever wanted in front of me. I'm sorry. "

You looked into her eyes, searching for any trace of lies or mockery. But you didn't find it. She was telling the truth, she reciprocated your feelings.

You smiled at her and pulled her to you for another deep kiss. This time it was she who moaned against your mouth. The two of you poured all your feelings into that kiss, all the tension that you didn't even know had built up between you two.

Carla pulled away and felt a twinge of pride when she saw your swollen lips and the blush that ran from your cheeks to your neck. God you were beautiful.

"Carla I-"

"Shhh, no" she shut you up "you know I suck at this and that I hate romanticism. I already used up what little self-control I had"

You laughed a bit and she wiped away the tears you didn't even know had started to fall down your cheeks. She kissed you again and her hands lifted the towel a little over your thighs.

"Carla-"

"My mother has unsettlingly clear ideas about your body" she said abruptly "Something about lending you a blouse?"

"Oh...that" you laughed nervously "Yeah.. maybe I tried it on in front of her" you admitted

"Well, thank you very much, now I have to live with the knowledge that my mother has seen more of my girlfriend's body than I have."

"Girlfriend?" you smirked

Carla froze. Her cheeks quickly turned red and her eyes couldn't meet your face.

"I-I, w-well, I mean, m-maybe I should have waited a little longer, I-I just thought that-"

You cut her adorable and nervous babbling with a deep kiss that she happily returned.

"Take me to bed, then we discuss the status of our relationship" you said

"Deal"

_________________________

Isis smirked behind her beer when Carla groaned as you and Jackson yelled at her to run. She had no idea how you had managed to convince her to play with you, but here you were.

She suspected that it had little to do with being a "good mother to her son" and more to do with the shorts you were wearing. Either way, Isis was happy that her daughter found what she had been searching for so long.

You laughed when your girlfriend came back to your side with the ball in her hand. Her face was red from exhaustion and she was already sweating. She grunted a little but you pecked her lips to calm her down.

"I really hate this game" she muttered

"It doesn't matter, your girlfriend and your son love it. You'll get used to it" you joked.

You were about to kiss her again when you saw a figure walking towards you. You frowned and your grip tightened on the bat. Carla looked at you confused before following your gaze. She froze when she saw Ty walking towards you two with a bouquet of roses.

"I guess we got to the part where you forgive him" you whispered.

She looked at you and frowned. She intertwined her fingers with yours and kissed you on the cheek.

"Never again" she promised you.

You smiled at her and the two of you waited for Ty to be in front of you. The man looked at Carla, then at your hands and then back at Carla, completely ignoring you.

"We can talk?" He asked her

"No" she answered firmly

"Listen Carla, I made a mistake-"

"Me too" she cut him off "I made the mistake of being with you. To forgive you several times when I knew you would fail me again. No more. Get out of here"

"But-"

"You listened to the lady, buddy. Get out!" You grunted.

"Uh...and you are?" he asked, finally looking at you.

You felt his eyes run up and down your body, stopping a little on your legs. It made you want to throw up and by the way Carla squeezed your hand, you knew she hadn't liked it either. Not one bit.

"My girlfriend" she told him

"Girlfriend?" he scoffed "I thought you didn't want to see more vagi-"

You pointed the bat at his face before he could finish the sentence.

"Unlike you, I know how to use this" you growled "Get out of here before I use your head as a ball"

"You wouldn't" he smiled at you "Hey, there's no need to fight, you two are beautiful and I'm fabulous. Why don't we just put this in bed and be happy?"

You were about to insult him when Carla took the bat from you and used it to hit him hard in the balls. The man doubled over in pain before falling to the ground. You didn't know whether to laugh or feel bad for him.

"This butt is mine" Carla growled, releasing your hand and grabbing one of your buttocks to draw you closer to her "And nobody else's. If you get close to me or my family again, I'm going to hit a home run with your balls"

You held back your laughter and let her drag you out of there, leaving the poor man lying on the ground.

Carla yelled something about going for ice cream, causing Jackson to run to the car. Isis, unlike you, laughed the whole way. You smiled and took one last look at the roses that were now on the ground.

“That was hot” you whispered to her. Carla smiled and pecked your lips.

Her hand never left your ass until you got in the car.

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

KH’s tags: @midnight-lestrange​ @emilyprentissslut @mochiadria