#literally as soon as anyone starts being like 'oh this is terrorism' i just stop listening it is the most useless word to ever exist

[beepmeepmeepbeep]

the eu is beyond fucking annoying

[kit-williams]

Imagine an Adeptus Custodes though. (Can be yandere or not. Maybe Space Marine Husbandry?) But, not just one, multiple. One for each set of an Adeptus Custodes.

A Shadowkeeper, Aquilan Shield, Dread Host, Solar Watch, and Emissaries Imperatus. Each one taking their turn to guard you for reasons you don’t even understand. They are just there. Came out of the blue.

The Shadowkeeper, seems to stick by the closest. Always patrolling the homes hallway’s, and room’s. Checking out even the smallest of things out within the home. Sometimes, just standing there, by the door’s like a guardian statue for—who knows how long?

The Aquilan Shield, were always following just a couple steps behind. Acting like an assigned knight or bodyguard of sorts. A very much bigger, and enhanced bodyguard. Can’t go sneaking off, and out of their sight now, can you? NEED TO PROTEC.

The Dread Host, is a challenging one. Doesn’t take sh*t from others. (None of them do, honestly.)You can feel their heated, piercing glare from underneath their helmet. Intimidating silence. A silent wrath perhaps? Have yet to see such proclaimed fury.

The Solar Watch, also patrols. Just in a bigger/wider area. Doesn’t keep to the house like the Shadowkeepers, but rather the whole territory/property. Keeping things out like that raccoon that gets in your trash, or even your pesky Ex that just doesn’t know when to stop. You’ll know something up with the area/land, but so would the Solar Watch. Will you be fast enough to see them?

The Emissaries Imperatus, also stays close within the house/area. Learning about you, reading your books. Trying to predict your next move, and keeps you rather close. At least at arm’s length. I suppose they like your presence?

And with all of them together? You’re the most, well protected human of the planet! Perhaps, even the most pampered one too.

If yandere? Well! I guess you’re not going anywhere anytime soon.

You're just really advocating for Yandere Custodes oh god I don't think I would subject a singular darling to 5 god like beings at the same time.

But if they had to do the 5 yanderes at once you better believe it would be a smack down of demi god like proportions. But that's the Yandere thoughts.

Okay we're going back to Yandere thoughts because these are all fine for just Space Marine Husbandry and how each would react.

I would like to think their darling is literally no one important just some Hiver or menial or a lowly imperial guard and then suddenly this demi god shows up to sweep them off their feet. But then you start to learn about their job.

The Aquilian Shield Yandere yeah if their darling is a guardswoman she would be so thankful practically throwing herself at him in joy after the battle's won but then it would be frighteningly lonely as he would scare anyone else off in the name of keeping her safe. A menial darling would be far easier to just pluck away simply just receiving anything from him would make her life so much easier and then his soothing voice offering honied promises and none of them are lies? The little menial doesn't show up to work the next day. She just simply vanishes with the golden godling.

The Dread host would be aggressive to everyone else but not his darling. Another whom a guardswoman would be happy for but would also be the most likely that once she gets close enough and is grabbed she's just gone. He is not above bullying his little darling into listening to him, she has to understand that he knows best he has slain terrors beyond her comprehension and her continuing to be here and not on Terra isn't helping... you do want to go to Terra don't you little one?

The Shadowkeeper... it would be hard but I see him finding a more menial darling who maybe found something she wasn't suppose to. They hoard technology from the Old Night... perhaps she found something pretty in some pile of scrap. Does she run? Does she freeze? It matters not when he comes breathing down her neck. Even if she hands it over he might croon down at her telling her that she has to come with him just to be sure that she wasn't tainted or perhaps she was able to coax some property out they weren't expecting. She's gone like a shadow at midday.

The Solar Watch don't really leave the Sol system but when they do its because someone who could be a threat to the Sol system is coming. A desperate guardswoman on a front and then these golden godlings come to wear down the tip of the spear to make it blunt for people like her to deal with. But no one notices when she is taken just assumed another causality and not having be lured away by honey in his voice coaxing her closer till she is just gone by the time the Custodes return to the Sol system.

The Emissaries Imperatus... his darling might be a young scribe in the imperial palace writing down his words from what he had heard from his meditations or perhaps she was some short lived champion that was told to simply unlock some door or wield some knowledge. Her use done and he knows that he might not hear the voice of his master again for some time... she smiles up at him feeling so very blessed to help out at least in some part... a part that will be forever nameless to time really. Either way whatever his darling is she, like the others, is drawn in and her name will live on beyond being just a short lived obituary or unknown mortal who helped unlocked a vault... she will live on as a name carved upon the heart of a demi god.

Bleeding I hope you are happy with what you've wrought

[onecanonlife]

Tommy’s getting tired of people thinking he’s not real. Tubbo, meanwhile, hopes that this hallucination of his best friend will stay a while longer.

They work it out.

(word count: 1,563)

............................

It only takes about another fifteen minutes for him to snap.

“What the fuck are you doing that for?” he demands, planting his feet and wheeling around and staring Tubbo dead in the face, because Tubbo’s been trailing along behind him like a fucking lost puppy or some shit since he got out, and he’s tired of it, tired of his best friend looking at him like that, with equal amounts of wonder and dread in his eyes, like he’s not fucking real at all.

Or should that be former best friend? He doesn’t fucking know. Apparently, it didn’t take all that long for Tubbo to replace him with Ranboo of all people. And get married. Apparently.

Tubbo blinks at him.

“I don’t think you’re real,” he says, and if Tommy’s anger hadn’t been boiling over before, it is now. He didn’t go to hell and back for people to tell him he’s not real. He didn’t stay in the same cell as Dream for a month for people to tell him he’s not real. He is so, so very real. The shock that shoots through his system, the bolt of all-consuming terror that overtakes his mind whenever anyone so much as bumps into him is proof enough of that. He is real, and who the fuck is anyone else to say that he’s not?

“Well guess what,” he says, “I fucking am, so deal with it or go away.”

He spent so long wishing to be by Tubbo’s side again. He didn’t think he’d get out to find this. Didn’t think he’d come out to be replaced. Didn’t think Tubbo would crouch along after him without saying anything at all, like he’s the one who died.

“You don’t need to be angry about it,” Tubbo replies, as if he’s the one being wronged here. “I’ve got it all figured out. See, I didn’t think you were dead at first, either. Sam told us and my brain went all weird and flat and in denial, because I knew it couldn’t be true, because you couldn’t be dead. But then it was a few days later and you still hadn’t come out, and it was true after all. So I can’t trust my brain, really, so this is probably my brain going into denial again. Wishful thinking.”

“You—” He cuts himself off, rage warring with confusion warring with he-doesn’t-fucking-know-what, because he’s been dead and locked in prison and he’s not even used to the sunlight yet, much less his own emotions. “I literally pinched you. I pinched you, and then you ran away and stood staring at me from that new—that new McDonald’s!”

“Tactile hallucinations aren’t impossible,” Tubbo informs him. “It’s probably because I’ve been thinking about you a lot.”

That draws him up short, just a little bit. “You have?” he asks. “I thought you got married.”

“I did,” Tubbo agrees. “It was a spur-of-the-moment sort of thing, really, so nobody got invited, but I was thinking about maybe having a bigger ceremony once you got out so you could be my best man, or something. I don’t really know how that works. ‘Cause it’s a platonic marriage, right, so I don’t know if you’re supposed to do it differently. But I wanted you to be there, and then it turned out that you wouldn’t ever, ever be.”

Well. Alright, so he wasn’t disregarded entirely, then. But still—

“And then,” Tubbo continues, “and then we adopted Michael, and I wanted you to be his godfather. You were supposed to be his godfather. Michael was going to love you. I thought you were gonna come back out and you were gonna meet Michael and everything was going to be alright. But then you didn’t.”

“Who the fuck is Michael,” he says flatly, even though his head is reeling because adopted—?

“He’s our son!” Tubbo says. “Mine and Ranboo’s! And you were gonna be the godfather. And it was going to be great, and we were gonna be a family, but then you died, and now Michael’s not even going to get to meet you. And you’re just, you’re just dead and I’m following you around because I don’t have anything better to do.”

There is—there is so much to unpack there, he doesn’t even know where to begin. Ranboo is—is the spouse, then, and he supposes he should have guessed that. The Michael issue isn’t too much clearer, since he doesn’t have a frame of reference for this—for this child? That Tubbo has adopted? What the hell? But it’s the last sentence that sends the anger flooding back, because what the fuck does he mean, he doesn’t have anything better to do?

“If that’s how you feel, then why don’t you—” he starts, but Tubbo cuts him off.

“I’m sort of pathetic, I guess,” he says. “‘Cause I’m following around a hallucination. I guess it’s because I know it’s the best I’m ever going to get. And you know, I’d rather have a you that’s not real than not have you at all, because this way, I get to see you and hear you. Even if you’re not here. So I need to enjoy it while I can, because I don’t know how long hallucinations last for, so I don’t know when you’ll go away again. And I don’t want you to go away. I don’t want you to be dead.”

All through this speech, Tubbo’s face remains distant, a little open, a little blank. But his eyes are welling up with tears, and as Tommy watches, they start spilling over his cheeks, uncommented upon.

And Tommy feels the rage drain out of him.

It was hell, where he was, in that terrible darkness, that void, being torn apart and shoved back together again. It was hell, coming back, everything too bright and too loud and too much, his body flinching and his heart racing at any movement, and a single touch is still enough to send him back there, to that moment, his vision fading and pain bursting like fireworks and Dream’s mask leaning over him, grinning.

It’s been hell, seeing how everything’s changed.

But Tubbo missed him. Really, really missed him. And maybe he’s replaced him a bit, and Tommy no longer has any idea how to feel about that, because it seems like Tubbo wasn’t trying to? That Tubbo still wanted him to be there, still intended him to be there? So he’s still a little pissed, maybe, and he still really, really wants people to stop being so weird, to stop reminding him at every juncture that he died, died and came back, but—

But Tubbo is crying.

“Tubbo,” he says, “I’m not a hallucination.”

“You are, though,” Tubbo says. “My mind’s playing tricks. You’re not—you’re not really—” He hiccups, and Tommy comes to a decision.

He extends a hand. It should be fine. It’s just Tubbo, and he’s choosing to do this. It should be fine. It’s going to be fine.

“C’mon, then,” he says. “Hold my hand, I’ll prove it. Maybe you could make up a pinch in your brain, but I bet you couldn’t make up this.”

Tubbo stares at his hand for a very, very long time.

“Don’t make this weird,” he says. “Tubbo, please, for the love of god, don’t make this weird. I really will go away, and you can just stay here and cry.”

Tubbo blinks, hard. And then, slowly, reaches out and takes his hand.

Tommy flinches, every nerve in his body lighting up, screaming at him to get away, and he can’t stop himself from gasping, from letting out a little whimper. But in the next moment, he’s fine, his heart rate already calming, and it’s just Tubbo’s hand in his, his grip loose and warm.

Tubbo’s eyebrows furrow. A minute passes before he speaks.

“This is a long time for a tactile hallucination to last,” he says.

Tommy rolls his eyes as hard as he possibly can, in order to express all of his exasperation.

“I’m not a fucking hallucination, alright?” he says. “Has married life made you an idiot or something?”

Tubbo looks up at him, then. He looks back, and tries to convey with his eyeballs his sheer displeasure at literally all of this.

“I’m holding your hand,” Tubbo says slowly. “You’re not disappearing, and I’m holding your hand.”

He tries to convey with his eyeballs that Tubbo should consider arriving at the point sometime soon.

“Oh my god,” Tubbo says. “You’re real. Tommy, you’re real.”

“Damn fucking right I’m real,” he says. And something like relief washes over him. It’s nice to hear those words, from someone else. And Tubbo just stands there and holds his hand and keeps crying, harder, if that’s even possible, and Tommy thinks that this is a scene that he should possibly put a stop to.

But he doesn’t. He stands there and holds Tubbo’s hand and lets Tubbo cry. Because nothing is alright. Nothing at all is alright. Everything sucks and everything’s different and he needs to kill Dream and the world kept on turning without him. But Tubbo is glad to have him back. Tubbo missed him. Tubbo still wants him.

If his eyes are wet, it’s just the rain. He glances up, and blinks against the sun.

Just the rain.

[robininthelabyrinth]

🍊🍋Wen Chao and/or wen xu is a good guy and actually wants to end wen ruo jan's reign of terror (cloud recesses, lotus pier, xuanwu cave or all are elaborate ruses)

ao3

Untamed

“A-Chao,” Wen Xu said. “I think our father is insane.”

Wen Chao’s eye twitched visibly, his shoulders rising up to his ears. “You can’t say that! That’s treason!”

“I’ve already made sure there’s no one anywhere around us right now, not even people I trust.”

Down went the shoulders.

“Of course he’s insane,” Wen Chao said. “Some of his orders recently…”

He shook his head.

“Not much of an empire to rule if they’re all ghost puppets, is there?” he concluded. “I think the Yin Metal is poisoning his brain.”

“I agree,” Wen Xu said. “Now what do we do about it? He’s just ordered me to raze the Cloud Recesses.”

“…when you say raze –”

“To the ground.”

“What happened to just dominating the rest of the cultivation world?” Wen Chao complained. “I liked that plan. I was going to have a really great life. A palace. Servants. Good food. Even better wine. Enough clothing to keep Jiaojiao from complaining.”

“I…don’t know if that’s possible,” Wen Xu said. “Haven’t you given her three closets’ worth already?”

“I have no idea, and I’m too attached to my balls to ask.”

“Anyway,” Wen Xu said. “What do we do about it?”

“You’re asking me?” Wen Chao said.

“Well I’m certainly not going up against him by myself! He’ll kill me!”

“You think he would hesitate to kill both of us?”

“Ugh. Is there anyone we can ask for help? Anyone we haven’t pissed off?”

They both paused, thinking.

“…no,” Wen Chao said. “But in our defense, we never thought we’d need any of them, did we?”

“I don’t think anyone is going to buy that as an excuse,” Wen Xu said, scowling. “Fuck. Isn’t there anyone?”

“Well,” Wen Chao said. He did not continue.

“No,” Wen Xu said. “No. He literally wants to cut off our heads.”

“So does everyone else in the cultivation world,” Wen Chao said. “At least we know Sect Leader Nie hates Dad more than he hates us, which isn’t something that can be said about the rest of them.”

“Fuck,” Wen Xu said. “What’s our alternative plan?”

“…become ghost puppets?”

“Fuck.”

-

“You do remember that I want to kill you both?” Nie Mingjue said, scowling at them.

“We were betting on you wanting to kill our father more,” Wen Chao said.

“I’m not sure,” Nie Mingjue said. “You’re very obnoxious.”

Wen Chao scowled.

“He has a point, A-Chao,” Wen Xu said.

“Shut up.”

“Respect your elders!”

“If you two are going to start fighting, I’m leaving,” Nie Mingjue said.

They both squinted at him. “Does that mean you might not leave if we stop?” Wen Xu asked.

Nie Mingjue’s scowl got even worse, but eventually he begrudgingly said “…well, I really hate your father.”

They both exhaled in relief.

“What’s your plan?” Nie Mingjue asked.

“This was about as far as it went,” Wen Xu admitted, and Nie Mingjue gaped at him. “What? If we had planning skills, we’d be ruling the world.”

“Jiaojiao wants jewelry now,” Wen Chao agreed. “Lots of it. Keeping a mistress is expensive.”

“I’ll…take your word for that,” Nie Mingjue said, looking mildly uncomfortable.

“You’re always plotting against our father, right?” Wen Xu asked.

“No,” Nie Mingjue said. “If I could plot, your father would already be dead.”

“Good point,” Wen Chao said, but he wasn’t the sort of person to let little details like that discourage him. “But surely you know someone who can?”

“Just keep in mind that I’m on a deadline here,” Wen Xu said. “I have to leave to go raze the Cloud Recesses by the end of the week.”

“You want me to come up with a plan to defeat your father before the end of the week?!”

“Uh, yeah,” Wen Xu said. “That’s what I said, wasn’t it?”

“It was,” Wen Chao agreed.

“I’m going to go get Meng Yao,” Nie Mingjue decided. “And Huaisang, too, why not, somehow he always gets his way no matter what I do. Maybe he can come up with something for this.”

-

“I think we’re going to need expert assistance,” Nie Huaisang declared. “I’m thinking this is Wei Wuxian levels of plotting.”

“He can plot?” Wen Chao said dubiously. “Are you sure? He took nearly a week to fight a mildly ominous bird.”

“…is that so?” Nie Huaisang said, and sighed. “Okay, fine. Meng Yao, guess it’s up to you and me.”

Meng Yao was blinking his eyes very rapidly.

“What?” Wen Chao said. “You have an awful father too, don’t look so shocked about us wanting to get rid of ours.”

“That’s just how his brain works when he’s thinking,” Nie Huaisang assured him. “He’s kicking it like it’s a sleeping donkey that doesn’t want to get to work; give him a minute and he’ll be coming up with all sorts of ideas.”

“Good ideas?”

“All sorts of ideas.”

“…any good ideas? Mediocre ideas, even?”

“Listen, we have until the end of the week,” Nie Mingjue said irritably. “You’ll take whatever ideas we give you and you’ll like it, you hear me?”

“Is it too late to get Wen Zhuliu in on this?” Wen Xu asked Wen Chao.

“He has that weird thing for Dad,” Wen Chao reminded him.

“Fuck,” Wen Xu said. “I’d wiped that from my memory through the application of a great deal of alcohol, but yes, you’re right. Okay. Hit me with your worst plan.”

-

“That’s worse than I thought it was going to be.”

“Shut up and just do it.”

-

“I will now, in the name of the Wen sect, attack –” Wen Xu grimaced. “– this cave.”

“It’s a very important cave, actually,” one of the Lan disciples muttered.

“Be quiet,” Lan Wangji said.

They were all pretending not to notice the main force of Lan sect disciples, led by Lan Xichen, carting their precious books and treasures out of the Cloud Recesses right behind him.  

“I am attacking this very important cave,” Wen Xu clarified. “Of extreme importance to the Lan sect. So important, in fact, that it is clearly the correct target for an invasion.”

They stood around a while longer.

Someone cleared their throat. “Should we fight?”

“I can have my men beat you up if you really want,” Wen Xu said.

“…no thanks.”

“Then be quiet.”

There was a bit more standing around. Eventually Lan Qiren coughed.

“Would you like a chair or something?” Wen Xu asked, then frowned. “Never mind, I probably can’t justify that.”

“Probably not,” Lan Qiren agreed. He looked pained. Probably by the whole situation, but who knew, maybe he just had a bad back and the standing around was getting to him. “You will be taking Wangji hostage after this?”

“Along with most of the heirs of the Great Sects,” Wen Xu said. “As agreed, we’ll keep them out of the way.”

“Sometimes the most dangerous place is the safest place.”

“…yeah, that. Either way, they’ll be kept out of trouble.”

-

“This is not out of trouble!” Wei Wuxian shouted as they ran away from the Xuanwu.

“This stretch of river has never caused anyone any problems!” Wen Chao shouted back. “Ever! You’re the one who found the fucking cave!”

“Shut up and keep running!” Jiang Cheng howled.

-

“I really like your hair,” Wang Lingjiao told Madame Yu. “Also, that dress.”

Wen Chao sighed.

“Expensive tastes?” Wei Wuxian asked, pouring him some wine.

“You have no idea,” Wen Chao said glumly. “My allowance can’t cover it, so I ended up putting her as a line item in the military budget.”

“You did?” Jiang Cheng said. “Did your father, uh, object?”

“He’d have to notice.”

“I wonder how many other things he wouldn’t notice,” Wei Wuxian muttered to himself.

“You’re a young master of Yunmeng Jiang,” Jiang Cheng said, rolling his eyes. “What could you possibly want to fund that we won’t pay for?”

“I don’t know,” Wei Wuxian said. “Mad science experiments?”

-

“Can you pay him to stop?” Wen Xu asked. “I don’t even like flute music.”

“Shut up,” Wen Chao said. “You’ve been decapitated, remember?”

“Oh yeah, ‘decapitated’. And now I’m being force-fed lots of Qinghe barbeque,” Wen Xu said. “My life is really hard.”

“Why you…!”

Wen Xu sniggered. “How’s it going with Wen Zhuliu?”

“Fine, I think?” Wen Chao said. “He hasn’t actually noticed that the ‘demons’ we’re being hunted by aren’t really demons, but that’s because he’s been mostly drinking away his weird crush on our dad. I think Wen Ning is spiking his drink with something.”

They both turned to look at Wen Ning, who shrugged.

“Couldn’t have happened to a nicer person,” Wen Xu decided. “Are they attacking the Nightless City soon?”

“I think so.”

“What happens then?”

“Dunno.”

“Going to be kind of awkward when we ‘come back from the dead’ to take over.”

“I’m going to blame it on Wei Wuxian and his new weirdo cultivation,” Wen Chao decided. “We’re all sentient corpses he’s resurrected and using to puppet the Wen sect. Wen Ning, you in on this?”

“…sure,” Wen Ning said. “But only if I get first rights on ‘Ghost General’ as a nickname.”

“Oh, that’s a good one.”

-

“Thanks for the patricide,” Wen Xu said.

“Think nothing of it,” Nie Mingjue said. “Also, say nothing of it. Ever. In fact, let’s never talk again.”

“Can’t do that,” Wen Chao said. “Madame Yu told Jiaojiao that she got that fancy headpiece from Qinghe, so she wants to go there on a shopping trip.”

“Our economy could use the boost, da-ge,” Nie Huaisang said, and Nie Mingjue sighed. “It’s going to be a really big boost. Especially if she convinces Madame Jin from Lanling to come with her.”

“I still can’t believe they made friends,” Wei Wuxian marveled. “It must come from having more money than brains.”

“Brains aren’t exactly what I look for in a partner,” Wen Chao said. “Luckily for you, neither does your boyfriend.”

“Hey, I have brains!”

“You’re certainly intelligent,” Meng Yao – now named Jin Guangyao – told him.

“See?”

“That was an insult,” Nie Mingjue said.

“…hey!”

“When are you coming back to Qinghe?” Nie Huaisang asked Jin Guangyao, who blinked. “I mean, unless you want to spend all your time slaving away for a guy who thought Wen Ruohan was neat.”

“He’s right,” Wen Xu said. “Father or not, don’t do it. It’s not worth it. You’ll end up having to rebel and ask your worst enemies for help and it’s awkward.”

“I appreciate the offer,” Jin Guangyao said. “But I really can’t accept.”

“Why not?” Nie Huaisang asked.

Wen Chao pointed at him. “Seconded.”

Jin Guangyao grimaced at them both. Possibly it was meant to be a smile.

“You don’t have to go to the Unclean Realm, A-Yao,” Lan Xichen said.

“Thank you, er-ge.”

“You can come to the Cloud Recesses instead.”

“Er-ge…”

“Did anyone ever tell the Jin sect that we were working with the Wen heirs?” Nie Mingjue wondered out loud, and everyone frowned. “Because if they don’t know, and Jin Guangshan thinks he’s being subtle with the whole trying to hire Xue Yang thing, things are going to get really awkward.”

“…well, shit,” Jiang Cheng said. “I call not being the one to tell him.”

“Seconded!”

“Cloud Recesses, you said?” Jin Guangyao asked Lan Xichen, who looked pleased.

“I’m leaving,” Wen Xu decided. “I want nothing to do with this disaster. You all have fun now, I’m fucking off back to the Nightless City to live the rest of my life as a very rich man with no life goals.”

“I want to do that,” Nie Huaisang said.

“No,” Nie Mingjue said.

“But –”

“No.”

“Hey,” Wei Wuxian said. “Unrelatedly, anyone have any ideas on what should I do with the whole resentful energy seal thing now?”

“I don’t know,” Wen Chao said. “Play a giant game of keep away with it and then fake your own death?”

[vgilantee]

i'm right here {simon kalivoda}

requested by anon

word count: 1.8k

a/n: a large chunk of this was hand written on various a6 pieces of paper while i was at work, or when i was in the middle of a lecture, i won't lie. (if i miss any warnings please let me know!)

warnings: blood, nightmare/night terror

pronouns: [none used], petnames 'baby' and 'sweetheart' used

You ran until your legs were arching, lungs pinching as you desperately sucked in the frigid night air. With every step, you were physically closer to the building, but it never seemed any nearer. There was a light on in one of the downstairs windows which, especially for the hour, was strange, but you didn’t care. He was behind you, running at the same pace, a game of cat and mouse, one where the cat never drew closer, but never fell behind.

You opened your mouth to let out a scream, hoping to alert the occupants of the house that you were there and needed help. But instead, you let out a garbled cough, spitting up blood as you did. Bringing up a hand to wipe away some of the blood from your mouth, you were met with more. It was darker, some of it dried. The adrenaline thundering through your system had you all but forget about the wound in your side.

You let out a sob, before trying to scream again. The noise that followed was loud and bone-chilling, and for a second you didn’t realise that you had made it.

Another light flicked on in the house, this one upstairs, and you let out a sigh in relief that quickly became a sob.

At the new light, the literal sliver of hope that peeked through the gap in the curtains, you got a second wind, another burst of energy, and you pushed to sprinting harder and faster than you had all night. And finally, the house seemed to draw closer.

But the heavy footsteps behind you didn’t seem to get any further away. In fact they-

A tiny dip in the ground, the smallest of inconsistencies in the dirt, but it was enough to catch you, your ankle rolling out, and with all the momentum that you had built up, you crashed into the ground with a roll. The angle you landed on had to have been bad, because up through the ankle that rolled to the knee, and in the opposite wrist, was a sharp, shooting pain. Another scream, not as loud but just as haunting as the pain seared through.

“No!” Your voice was hoarse and wet with tears and blood. “No, no, no, no, no.” You begged as you tried to scramble to your feet. But your knee couldn’t support your weight, so you crawled. Fingers digging into the rough dirt in hopes for purchase, you dragged yourself forward. Your wrists screamed with every pull, your leg protested with every kick, and you were vaguely aware of the blood dripping from your nose. And through the roaring of blood in your ears, you could only just hear the sounds of the footsteps of your soon-to-be murdering closing in.

A hand wrapped around your injured ankle as you kicked out, and gave you a sturdy tug. Your fingers dug in further to stop the man from pulling you to a halt and you screamed again, ignoring the feeling of your nails struggling to grip.

There was a dull thump noise before another hand dug its fingers into your side and in a fluid motion, rolled you onto your back. In a single, harsh motion, he dropped so his knees hit the hard ground on either side of you, all his weight on your knees and shins, and you screamed at both the weight, and the way your knees bent back to press flush to the grass beneath you, and your already aching leg flared with a new pain. You desperately clawed at his hands, his arms, his face, but he ignored your nails pulling at his flesh. The attempt at defence was weak, not only because the digging and pulling of your nails was ignored, but because even if you did manage to get him off of you, you would still be completely unable to run.

“Please! No!” It was pointless to beg, especially when it was obvious that your pleas were falling on deaf ears. He let out a growl, inhuman and shuddering, and you let yourself cry and sob freely. Between the flailing of your own hands trying to push him away, and his hands grabbing at you, you were finally able to see the man who had been chasing you. His features were vague, looking almost smeared. As if someone dragged a paintbrush through a wet painting. His strong nose was pushed to the side with a blur, and his mouth was only defined by his snarling teeth. But his eyes. His eyes were terrifying. Like the rest of his face, the outlines of his eyes were blurred, undefined, but the eyes themselves were defined, a stark contrast. The whites were crisp and bloodshot, and his pupils were so blown that his already dark irises were almost black. There was nothing behind his eyes, no indication of anything human left, but they glared at you with complete concentration. There was a pause, a split second where you were distracted by how clear his eyes were, and that pause allowed him to grab your wrists in his large and bloodied hands.

“No! Please!”You twisted your wrists, trying to break free, but he had the advantage and pulled your hands under his knees, flattening them and pinning you down. You screamed again as you felt the bones shift and crack under his weight. With your hands crushed under his knees and you completely unable to fight back, he grabbed the axe from where it had been dropped to his side.

“Please!” He moved slowly, readjusting his grip so that the axe was held firmly in both hands. As the axe swung down, another hand met your shoulder, one that was warm and familiar. The hand gave you a firm shake and your eyes flew open as the pressure of the man sitting on your legs and hands disappeared.

You squinted, trying to adjust your eyes to the darkness of the room. You took shallow breaths, as you scrambled to sit up, expecting there to be pain from the various injuries you had collected. Instead, there was nothing. No pain, bar a scratch in your throat.

“Hey.” Beside you, a soft and very concerned voice caught your attention. Simon. He shuffled closer to you, cautiously to avoid further starling you. You whip your head to face him, and only when you tried to make eye contact with your very concerned boyfriend did you realise that your eyes were still very full of tears. You hastily wiped them away, still on edge.

“Simon?” Your mind was still a little fuzzy, in that in-between state when you wake up from a vivid dream. With the little visibility you had in the room from the streetlight outside, you could see him shift closer and raise his hand. All his movements were slow, as to not startle you in your clearly on edge state. Gently, he ran a thumb under each of your eyes, getting rid of the tears that were beginning to dry in their place on your cheeks.

“I’m right here, baby.” You hiccupped before rolling into his chest, fists curling up in front of you. He didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you, rubbing slow circles on your back as you shook. Every time you closed your eyes again to squeeze out any tears that fought to stay, you could see his face again. The cold eyes determined to kill you. The dirty, bloodied hands white-knuckling the axe as it swung down to meet your skull. You jumped slightly at the sudden feeling of Simon resting his lips on the top of your head, but quickly relaxed even further into him.

“I’ve got you. You’re safe.” His words were warm against your head, and he pulled you closer to him. “You don’t have to tell me about it, but just know that I’m here, with you. I’ll keep you safe.” He pressed a kiss to your head between every sentence, and you gave him a small, feather-light kiss to his chest in gratitude.

Eventually, your breathing slowed and you stopped shaking, and Simon would have thought you had fallen asleep if it wasn’t for the occasional kiss you placed on his chest, just above his heart. He pulled back and you looked up at him with bleary eyes. His eyes softened even further and he leaned forward again to kiss you on the forehead.

“Better?” You gave a small nod in reply, rubbing your eyes with the ball of your palm. “Sleep?” You shook your head, nod ready to go back to sleep yet.

“Dunno if I can.” You moved your arms from being curled up in his chest, to wrap around his back.

“That bad?” That was something you cherished about Simon. With a few words, he could communicate with and understand you like nobody else. He could read you like a book and you, him.

“It was the curse.” You nodded slightly as you spoke, eyes watering as the vivid memory of the nightmare resurfaced again.

“Oh, sweetheart.” He gives you a light squeeze, his voice breaking. It had been a couple of years since you had helped Deena break the Shadyside curse, but trauma is trauma, and no matter how long ago it was, those few days were ingrained in you.

“I know, I know.” Your tone was defeated, said like an apology for bothering Simon or waking him up again. He stops you from continuing your thought with a hand placed on your cheek.

“It’s okay, I promise.” It wasn’t like Simon hadn’t woken you up in the middle of the night, thrashing with night terrors and memories that were too dark to talk about with anyone else. But you still had that guilt. You always felt bad when you woke him up with your own screaming and thrashing. It was worse in the beginning. When the memories were fresher and it was still on the news. You could barely sleep a full night, and Simon was the same. So when you started sharing a bed, there wasn’t a night for months where the pair of you got a full nights rest.

The nightmares were less common now, but the guilt of waking him up never left.

“I love you.” You said it softly, whispering them to him as the room began to slowly light up with the sunrise.

“I love you too.” Simon broke out into a goofy smile, still in disbelief that you did really love him. “And I’ll be here, always. Through every nightmare and early morning, I promise.” He pulled you down slightly so that you were laying in bed again, your head resting on his shoulder as his arms pulled you close. You knew you wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep, not when your cruel brain kept showing you the image of the man with an axe. So instead you and Simon talked in hushed voices, as if trying to avoid waking the air, and watched as your room slowly warmed up with the orange tones of the early morning.

[gamergirl929]

The Durmstrang (Hermione Granger x Reader)

After making the decision to transfer from Durmstrang Institute, to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to get a much needed fresh start, you immediately meet The Golden Trio, who completely changes your life for the better, though one of them changes it more so than the others, and that is Hermione Granger.

                                                            1.

Hermione Granger nearly chokes on her punch when the doors to The Great Hall swing open and Igor Karkaroff walks in, but as she comes to learn moments later, he isn’t alone.  

Harry couldn’t help but glance at Hermione when you walk in, wearing the same hat you’d worn the last time you were at Hogwarts, your long coat hanging from your shoulders, covering your red Durmstrang Uniform.  

Everyone watches as you and Karkaroff struts through The Great Hall, the epitome of dominance and strength, your heads held high in confidence.  

Hermione clears her throat, glancing away from you.

She’d never told anyone, though Harry and Ron caught on rather fast, that she’d been interested in you when you came to Hogwarts with the Durmstrangs, the girl surprised to see a woman among them.  

She of course, didn’t have the nerve to tell you, not when you had women falling at your feet left and right.  

Why would you be interested in someone like her?  

You were everything that a Durmstrang should be, tall, broad shouldered and muscular, something Hermione couldn’t help but notice.  

As she said though, she wasn’t the only on who noticed.

Girls clambered after you, all wanting to go to the Yule Ball with you, but you’d instead went alone, denying each and every one of your admirers a dance.  

Though confident, you rarely talked, choosing to remain silent and observe rather than speak.  

She’d seen you in the library multiple times, reading a new book each and every time.  

Few words were shared between Karkaroff and Dumbledore before you turn on your heels and move through The Great Hall, all eyes on you.  

You glance around The Great Hall, stopping only when your eyes settle on Hermione.  

Hermione’s brown orbs widen when you stop beside her, a grin stretching across your face.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” You motion to the empty spot beside her and she blinks rapidly.

The girl remains silent, mouth opening and closing a few times before she decides to nod instead.  

The Great Hall fills with whispers, many of the girls glaring her way as you take a seat beside her.  

“Hermione, right?” You smile kindly, Hermione’s cheeks flushing pink.

“Th-That’s-

Hermione stops midsentence, flustered that you’d even remembered her name.

“You know you have to be sorted before sitting down.” Ron gripes, and Hermione's eyes narrow.

“Ronald.” She growls.

You simply smile, brushing off his annoyed tone.

“I have been.” You say in a thick Bulgarian accent.

“So, you’re a Gryffindor?” Hermione asks and you nod.

“A Gryffindor.”

                                                            ***  

The start of your time at Hogwarts had been going better than you’d expected, all thanks to a certain bright and bushy haired Gryffindor.

Fate had brought the two of you together, well, more like Professor McGonagall did, asking Hermione to help you get settled in and show you around the castle.

Hermione had been instrumental in your adjustment from Durmstrang Institute to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, listening each and every time you complained about the new uniform.

Hermione was surprised to learn that beneath your bulky, muscular exterior, you were incredibly intelligent, and shy, though she should’ve known since you spent so much time in the library, alone in her 4th year.

Considering you spent so much time with Hermione, nearly every girl in then school was jealous, which meant being treated rather unfavorably, more unfavorably than usual.  

Hermione is pulled out of her thoughts when you take a seat beside her in The Great Hall, a small smile stretching across your face.  

“Hermione, I have not yet thanked you.” You grin, the woman’s brows arching.  

“For what exactly?” She asks and you chuckle.  

“You’ve made the transition here smoother than I thought it might be and I am rather grateful.”  

Hermione’s cheeks flush when you take her hand, bringing it to your lips before kissing the back of it.  

You give her hand a squeeze, releasing it with a charming smile.  

Hermione clears her throat, obviously caught off by the gesture.  

“Y-You’re welcome.”  

You nod, turning towards your plate of food, completely unaware that the woman beside you is doing everything she can to bite back a giddy grin.  

                                                          ***

Luckily for you, Quidditch tryouts had yet to take place, meaning you had a chance of joining the team.  

Hermione had come to the pitch to watch Harry, Ron and Ginny, but when she spotted you, a bat in hand she couldn’t help but grin, the butterflies in her stomach fluttering their wings.

The more time she spent with you, the fonder she’d grown, soon she didn’t see spending time with you as being your guide, she saw it as spending time with a friend, a friend she’d felt something more than friendship for.

Hermione’s attention snapped back to the pitch when you rose to your broom, along with the rest of Gryffindor.  

Her brown orbs finding Harry as he flies around the pitch watching the others fly around the pitch, Chaser and Beaters alike.

Hermione grimaced as you flew full force at a Bludger catching it with your bat and smacking it towards an opposing Beater, nearly taking him off his broom, all the while wearing a cocky smirk.  

You were skilled that was obvious, and it was also obvious that Harry zeroed in on that skill.  

By the time practice ended, you were guaranteed a spot on the Gryffindor team.

What made getting on the team that much sweeter though, was when you realized Hermione was among those in the stands watching the try outs.

You make your way off the pitch, smiling when you realize Hermione was waiting, you figured she was waiting on Harry and Ron, but when she approached you, the two of you walking side by side, you smiled shyly.  

“What did you think?” You ask and Hermione grins.  

“You’re obviously incredibly talented and CERTAINLY fit to be a Beater.” She shrugs, your smile widening as your cheeks flush.  

You stop, head cocking to one side.  

“What do you mean?” You ask, confused and Hermione’s eyes widen.  

“I-I meant...” She stops clearing her throat. “I mean you certainly have the b-b-build.”  

Your eyes widen, the two of you staring at one another, embarrassed.  

“Blimey, why’s your face so red?”  

The two of you jump, turning towards Harry and Ron who’d decided to join the two of you, Ron looking utterly confused, whereas Harry looks at the two of you knowingly.  

You rub the back of your neck, the flush on your cheeks disappearing as you stand up straighter, unwilling to allow yourself to look anything but intimidating in front of anyone who wasn’t Hermione.  

“See you at dinner?” You ask with a smile and Hermione nods, hugging the book she was carrying to her chest.  

“Of course.”  

You turn, giving Ron and Harry a nod before you strut off.  

Hermione watches you go, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth and cheeks dusted pink. She gives her head a shake before turning to Ron and Harry, the two boys sharing a glance.  

“Fancy the Durmstrang, do you Hermione?” Harry teases and the woman rolls her eyes, huffing before she marches off.  

Ron glances at Harry.

“You really thing she fancies the Durmstrang?” He whispers and Harry nods.  

“Oh, she does.”  

                                                          ***

Weeks passed and soon, it was time for Gryffindor's first Quidditch match, a match against Slytherin, their most formidable foe.  

Hermione makes her way through The Great Hall, brown orbs darting from face to face in search of you.

“Looking for your girlfriend Mudblood?”

Hermione rolls her eyes at the sound of Malfoy’s voice.

She was about to simply ignore him when thundering footsteps sounded throughout The Great Hall, drawing literally everyone’s attention.

“What did you just say?” Hermione turns around, staring wide eyed at the scene before her.

You were standing over the blonde Slytherin, his eyes wide in terror as you glare down at him, wearing a look Hermione had never seen before.

“I-I-I…” He stutters, unable to look you in the eye.

Hermione gently grabs your arm.

“Y/N, he’s not worth it.”  

You shake your head.

“I will not stand for him calling you that.” You growl angrily, your accent thickening as your anger rises.

“Y/N-

Malfoy tries to swallow the lump in his throat when you start growling at him in Bulgarian, your words rushed and jumbled.  

You’re so angry you don’t even realize that Hermione is leading you away, your Y/E/C orbs locked with Malfoy’s as you spit venomous words at him in your native language.  

You don’t even realize you’re being led to sit down until your bottom hits the seat across from Harry at the Gryffindor table.  

You turn to Hermione, eyes narrowed.  

She shakes her head.  

“Malfoy isn’t worth it.” She whispers and you growl, turning back towards the blonde haired boy, shooting him a fierce glare.  

Malfoy abruptly runs out of The Great Hall, his goons following behind him as he whines about contacting his father.  

Your eyes stay locked firmly on The Great Hall’s entrance, waiting for the blonde to come back, of course he doesn’t.  

You turn around to face Hermione, noticing the massive grin on Harry’s face.  

“That was brilliant!” Ron exclaims with a grin, his mouthful of food.  

Ron had been skeptical of you at the start, considering he wasn’t a fan of one, Victor Krum, but the more he saw how happy you made Hermione, happier than he’d ever seen her, the more he realized you were different than him.  

“Little snake.” You growl, shaking your head.  

“Malfoy is Slytherin through and through.” Ron shakes his head. “His father is a Death Eater after all.”  

Only Hermione notices the slight flicker in your Y/E/C orbs after Ron says that, the look unlike anything she’d seen before.  

You clear your throat.  

“Draco is the Seeker for the Slytherin Team, right?” You ask Harry and the boy nods.  

“He is.”  

“Why?” Hermione asks confused and you smirk.  

“Just curious.”  

                                                          ***

Draco Malfoy nearly falls off his broom when you use your bat to send the Bludger flying his way, intercepting it from smacking into Harry and instead smack it at the Slytherin seeker.

Hermione covers her mouth to hide her giggles, realizing now why you’d asked what Malfoy’s position was.

You’d been making his life a living hell since the whistle blew, using the Bludger to drive him, and other Slytherin players off course, which resulted in Gryffindor scoring a number of times.  

Out of the corner of your eye you spot Harry zooming past you, obviously chasing after the Golden Snitch.  

Malfoy follows your gaze, smirking, before he flies after Harry, the two soon neck and neck.  

In a split-second decision you fly straight towards an approaching Bludger, the Gryffindor's watching you in surprise and shock as you jump to your feet, balancing on your broom as you double-fist your bat.  

“HARRY!” You yell, grabbing the boy’s attention, the seeker slowing down as you slam your bat into the Bludger, sending it flying towards Draco who’s so enthralled with grabbing the Snitch, he doesn’t see it coming.  

It smacks him in the shoulder, sending the boy falling to the ground, though it’s not a long fall considering the Snitch was so low to the pitch.  

You smirk as he rolls cross the field, the Slytherin’s gasping in shock before they glare up at you.  

Professor McGonagall shakes her head when the Gryffindor's cheer at Malfoy’s tumble.  

You catch Hermione’s gaze in the crowd, a charming smile stretch across your face.  

You send her a wink before you fly away, Hermione’s cheeks flushing.  

Soon, the Gryffindor's are cheering for another reason, the whistle blowing loudly as Harry swipes the Snitch from the air, winning the match for the team.  

You throw a fist in the air, letting out a cheer as Harry flies up to you, smacking your gloved had with his.  

“Again, that was brilliant!” Ron says as he joins the two of you, smirking down at Malfoy who’s being carted off the field with the help of his usual goons and Professor Snape.  

“I don’t think he’ll be calling Hermione a Mudblood anytime soon.” Harry smiles and you nod.  

“If he does, I’ll take my bat to him.”  

                                                          ***

The second you step into the Gryffindor Common Room everyone cheers, Sheamus Finnigan patting you on the back, while Dean Thomas gives you a high five.

You almost immediately find Hermione in the crowd, the girl rushing towards you, throwing her arms around your neck, giving you a tight squeeze.  

You stiffen for a moment, though when Hermione is about to pull away you reciprocate, wrapping your arms around her, giving her a gentle squeeze.  

“You did absolutely amazing!”  

Though after the words leave her mouth, she smacks your arm.  

“What was that for!?” You ask, confused and Hermione’s eyes narrow.  

“Are you mad!? Standing on your broom like that! You could’ve been injured!” She cries and your eyes widen.  

Hermione’s eyes narrow when you start to smile.  

“I’m serious! Why are you smiling!?” She smacks your arm again and you grin.  

“I didn’t know you worried about me so much Hermione.” You shrug and she rolls her eyes.

“Well, of course I do! I-

Hermione’s mouth slams shut before she can start rambling, her brown orbs widening.  

You surprise her by taking her hand, much like you had in The Great Hall, and press a kiss to the back of it, though this time your lips linger a bit longer before you pull back.  

“I’m honored that you worry about me, Hermione.” You beam, the muggle born shuffling nervously on her feet.  

“I-

You nod your head towards the cheering Gryffindor's.

“Would you like to accompany me to the celebration?” You ask, holding your arm out and Hermione shakes her head, giggling as she takes your arm.  

“Lead the way.”  

Alright, this is the first in what is going to be around a 13-14 chapter story, all of it apart from the ending has already been written, though I already have the end planned...

I just REALLY want to know what you guys think, I would really REALLY love to hear your opinions on the story so far and if you’d like to read more.

[hyunjilicious]

that night [harry styles]

A best friends to something else type of story. Exactly 7.8k (literally 7800 words which is scary) and you know I can’t write that much without SMUT. This takes place during a sleepover at the end of quarantine! Maybe tell me what you thought? :) (I promise I’ll edit this soon!)

-

“Show me yer phone, love” Harry groaned, sending you the coldest of death stares. The night started off as usual, you two just watching some old documentaries, paying more or less attention to them as you mostly just sat and talked. Things took a turn when your phone started blowing up with messages. Being the kind of person who always replies in an instant, suspicions arose when you decided to completely ignore the texts. Although Harry never violated your privacy and never pushed you for answers you didn’t want to give, when you started laughing and got nervous about whoever it was that kept texting you, he figured it would be worth it to push your buttons.

“I said no” you repeated yourself, standing up from the couch. There were two main reasons you didn’t want to talk about the person texting you, and these 2 reasons were also probably the only two things in the world you wouldn’t want to discuss with him.

“Why no’?” he asked offended, following you into the kitchen, like a small child begging his parents to let him have his way, “What can be tha’ bad? I wouldn’t have asked any questions if yeh hadn’t been so off about it from the start”

You turned and looked at him dead in the eye, contemplating what to say next. He beat you to it.

“Is it a guy? Have you been seein’ someone?” Harry asked as he walked over to you, completely ignoring your personal space. “Is tha’ it? I don’t wanna read yeh texts, just tell me yes or no, and I’ll drop it. Promise”

You took a deep breath. “Yes, it’s a guy” you said calmly, “But we’re not seeing each other”

“Then why does he keep texting yeh like crazy?”

“Crazy…” you sighed, tapping your chin, “Good description”

“Come on, Y/n” Harry whined, tapping your shoulder as he walked past you and towards the refrigerator, “Just tell me, I’m really curious, crazy how?”

“Promise you’re not gonna freak out?” you laughed, grabbing whatever he was pulling out of the fridge and handing to you. You stopped paying attention after three cups of pudding and one bottle of wine.

“When have I ever freaked out?” he joked, mocking himself. He was usually a calm person, more composed than anyone you’ve ever met, and he less than rarely got angry. And from those times when he did lose his temper, 90% of cases were mild and he was still calmer than anyone else in that kind of situation, but that 10% left was pure terror. When his friends told you years ago that nothing’s scarier than Harry when he was truly mad, you didn’t quite believe them. You had to see for yourself to accept it. It only happened a few times in almost 5 years, but you always still did everything you could to keep him from going off again.

“Ok, so” you started speaking as you rummaged around your kitchen for bowls and glasses, “His name is Marcus and we actually met on Tinder-”

“Wait a second” he cut you off, “During the lock down?”

“Oh, no. It happened before all of this madness. Around january, I think”

It was obvious he was already bothered by how this conversation started, but he did his best to control himself so you wouldn’t decide to drop it. “Pretty serious, then, huh?” he said eventually.

“Literally the opposite” you laughed, pouring the pudding into the bowl, “We saw each other once-” and it hurt you to say the following part but you did it nonetheless, “hooked up, and didn’t talk since”

Pure annoyance was readable on his features. “Apparently haven’t talked until now?”

“Yeah, I mean-” you cringed, “He texted me like a week or so ago and we didn’t - vibe, and he got weird, so like I muted the conversation for 7 days because I didn’t want him to bother me anymore but he got so defensive it was funny so I didn’t really wanna block him”

“Yeh muted the guy a week ago and he still keeps trying?” Harry asked, completely taken aback, “Can’t blame him, but still, tha’s a bit much”

“It is” you nodded in agreement, and motioned for him to open the bottle of wine for you.

“He must have liked yeh a lot” he mumbled, twisting the corkscrew into the top of the bottle, “Maybe you two had a really great time, and he-”

“Harry” you stopped him, leaning your head to the side, “I know you’re squeezing information out of me right now, but I honestly don’t think you want to hear more of this”

“Ok” he sighed defeated, “I’m gonna stop pushin’ yeh. Thanks for tellin’ me tho. And sorry if I crossed any lines''

“You haven’t, H” you smiled, giving him a hug from behind. “It’s fine”

After gathering everything you had fixed up to take into the living room, the pudding and the wine, as you passed the threshold of the kitchen, you heard Harry speak up, traces of amusement audible in his voice. “But like… At least was the sex good?”

“You want me to answer that?” you chuckled, plopping down on the couch. “Do you seriously want me to answer that?”

“Yeah” Harry shrugged, smiling innocently.

“It was horrible” you said bluntly and watched his grin wilt away. “Probably the worst sex I’ve ever had. No, no, no.. Definitely the worst sex I have ever had in my entire life”

His mouth fell agape. “Seriously? Why?”

“Well, i got to his house… And you know, up until then everything was fine, like he seemed like a completely normal and fun guy while we texted but like, as soon as i got to his place he became really… I don’t even know how to put it, he was um.. Very clingy and weird and we talked for a bit but then when we went to his room he turned into literally the biggest asshole I met”

“What?” Harry exclaimed, “Tha’s not wha’ I expected”

“Exactly!” you laughed, “Neither did I!”

“Then wha’ happened?”

“I went down on him and he didn’t do the same because apparently he finds that gross? That’s what he told me but I didn’t wanna get into it because I went there to get dick so I was like let’s just fuck, and we did… We made out a bit, got him worked up again, and when we fucked I literally thought something was wrong with me, because he just.. I don’t know. Bumped into me and after he finished I was there like… What just happened?”

“Yeh were right when yeh said I didn’t wanna hear this”

“Told you” you giggled, grabbing your pudding and toying with your teaspoon.

“Jus’ stop using Tinder, please” Harry eventually shook his head.

“A girl has needs, ok?”

He was enraged and completely ignored your words, “And wha’ does he want from yeh now? He really thinks yeh’d see him again? Really?”

“I don’t even know what he’s been saying, honestly” you shrugged.

“Can I see?” 

“Can you like, read from the notification box? I don’t wanna leave him on seen”

Harry nodded in agreement and you gave him your phone. He pressed the lock button, the screen lit up, and it was instantly flooded with texts from him. Since you put the conversation on mute a week ago, you had no idea what he had been saying. It seemed that he didn’t appreciate your lack of interest and that he didn’t bother to hold back.

‘You pathetic whore, u really think ur gonna find someone better than me? U think ur so high and mighty and hot but  ur gonna die alone you bitch. Do u feel better about yourself if u juts ignore my texts???? Well good for fucking u-’ and Harry locked the phone, the screen going black.

“The fuck did I just read?” he questioned, his annoyance from earlier, now morphing into pure anger.

“You said you wanted to read” you shook your head.

“Why does he think he can talk to yeh like that?”

“I don’t honestly care” you sighed, “It’s not like I’ll ever see him again, so he can go and say anything he wants”

“‘S not how that works, darlin’” he said.

"Can we drop this, please" you sighed, unable to quite look in his direction, "I don't like this"

"Well-" Harry erupted and judging by the way his voice instantly died down, you could tell he almost lost control, "I don't fucking like it either, ok? But yeh shouldn't jus' accept tha'!"

"I wouldn't call it acceptance, H" you shook your head, discarding your bowl of pudding and jumping straight to the bottle of wine. "I told him I'm not interested, and I stopped replying. It's not acceptance... he just keeps trying"

"But for some reason yeh're letting him talk t' yeh like tha'"

"Well-" you shrugged, and took a big gulp of red wine, "He talks by himself"

"Y/n…" Harry called, his voice soft and you could tell that there was anger hidden somewhere deep inside, but you still appreciated the fact that he managed to keep it contained. He extended his arm, his fingers brushing against the side of your thigh. It was a soft, delicate touch, that made every hair on your body stand up. He did it to get your attention and boy, did it work. Instantly, your eyes snapped to his, and were met with something you did not see coming. "Can I say something?" he asked cautiously, his eyes shining with genuine worry.

"You're making this into something much more significant than it actually is"

"I'll drop it" he eventually nodded, "If you promise me something"

"What?"

"If anythin' similar to this happens again, tell me"

"And what are you gonna do about it?" you giggled, trying to lighten the mood. As you kept staring into his green eyes, you brought the wine bottle up to your lips, took a long sip, and then handed it to him.

He took the bottle out of your hands, seemingly not giving more than two shits about it. The warmth in his eyes accentuated as his eyebrows gathered into a concerned furrow, "Make sure it doesn't get to yeh"

"It doesn't" you smiled.

"Lemme make sure" 

"Ok, Harry" you laughed, "I promise you that the next time a guy from Tinder gets mad about me not reciprocating the feeling, and he starts sending me that kind of texts, I will tell you"

The sarcasm just flowed out of you, and he was not impressed.

"I meant in general, love"

"Any guy?" you taunted, "Not just from tinder?"

"Fucking put on tha’ movie" he shook his head, "I know yeh too well. Won't get anywhere until you get some wine in tha’ belly"

"That's your plan?" you laughed, "Get me drunk and make me spill all my secrets?"

"I never assumed you had any secrets, but yeah, now I wanna know those too" Harry grinned, throwing his arm around you and pulling you to his chest. Although this kind of intimacy was something you've been somewhat used to, tonight it was just a bit more difficult to bear. And it may all have been due to the way he mentioned he wouldn’t want anything to get to your head, and the way he said he’d make sure of it. Even though you weren’t truly clear how he’d do that and what exactly was going through his head, it was crystal clear how you’d have him do that.

But now was not the time. You glued your eyes to the TV screen, and begged your brain to focus on the movie in front of you and not whatever Harry was thinking about, mere inches away from you.

There had been something in the air that night, because neither of you managed to pay any kind of attention to the movie anymore. You talked, the conversation not going back to the previous topic, you laughed, gossiped like there was no tomorrow, and now it was almost 4am, and you and Harry were 3 bottles of wine in. Deciding to cut the alcohol before it was too late, you settled for water, as Harry went on to finish a weird story he once heard from a hippie touring the states in his van. He was completely smitten, his eyes shone with admiration for the old man. Harry spoke with words of great respect about a life he wished he could once live. It was only a matter of time until it would get to you.

“But,” you sighed, laying down and placing your head into his lap, “You really seem like the kind of guy to pack his bags and just leave. Like get a couple of friends or something, leave a note saying you’ll eventually be back, and just travel around the world”

“I kinda already do tha’ love” Harry laughed, double chin showing as he looked down at you.

“Not what I meant” you shook your head, “And you know it”

“Wha’ did yeh mean, then?”

He looked down at you, his hands finding their way into your hair as you contemplated how to put the words together. “I don’t know… Less social interaction-” you finally said, “Make it less about living the same songs in front of thousands of people, and more about living a completely new experience as you really get to know just a handful of people”

He didn’t look convinced. His dimples were showing, and a chuckle was threatening to escape his lips.

“That didn’t make any sense, did it?” you laughed.

“It did” Harry smiled, “Might have’ta resume this in tha’ morning, but i think i got the idea”

You pointed your finger to him, “Best”

“Me?” he grinned, grabbing your hand, “Oh, stop it!”

“Not you, your idea”

“Nice save, love”

You wanted to object and keep this topic going as the butterflies in your stomach started to riot, but just as you opened your mouth to speak, the sound of your phone receiving another text filled the air. In an instant, your eyes locked with Harry’s and you knew he wasn’t gonna let any of that shit slide. Not wanting to give him the chance to protest, you sprung up and leaned towards the coffee table, your fingers barely managing to brush against the side of your phone before Harry grabbed your waist and yanked you back, pressing you against the cushions of the sofa as he hovered above you.

The intimacy and urgency of this whole charade made your skin crawl, and you couldn’t help but let a few giggles escape, “What are you doing?” you laughed.

“Not lettin’ tha’ asshole ruin your night, love” Harry smirked, tilting your head so that you had to face him. 

“I’ll see the text in the morning and it will ruin my whole day” you played along, but as it turned out, you dug your own grave.

“Oh?” he grinned, “So it does get to you”

“No!” you belted, “That is not what I meant, Jesus harry”

“Come on, hon” 

His head tilted to the side, before he leaned down and nudged the tip of your nose with his. “Jus’ say the word”

That sent burning chills down your spine, and your cheeks couldn’t do anything but to comply and turn an erotic shade of pink.

“I’m not sure what to say” you mumbled, fighting against the urge to jump on him.

“I’m yer best friend, love-” he made a small pause, for dramatic effect, and just stared down at you while your blood boiled, “Lemme show yeh how good yeh can feel”

“I-”

He cut you off, obviously proud of himself, “I obviously wouldn’t have asked twice if I hadn’t felt you squeeze your thighs around me”

“Fuck, Harry-” you said, embarrassment rushing all over you as you threw your hands in the air.

He leaned down, and brushed his lips along your jaw, “Yeh could be screaming tha’ name”

Regaining your composure, you grabbed his chin and forced him to make eye contact once again, “What does this mean to you?”

“It doesn’t have t’ mean anything we don’t want it to” he nodded, “Just friends looking out of one another”

“Mhm..” you choked, “Yep”

“Tell me, and I’ll get off of you”

Your answer came a short second later. “Yeah, get off” you said sternly.

His features barely got a chance to show the disappointment that enveloped him, because as soon as the words left your mouth, you pushed yourself up. Excitement started showing on his face as you pushed yourself up. With a devilish smile on your lips, you grabbed the hem of his shirt; not giving him a chance to secure his balance on his knees before you pulled the material up his body. He clumsily shuffled out of it, his tattoos coming into full view.

“Is that a new one” you asked, pointing to his left shoulder.

To your surprise he took you seriously, and looked down, obviously confused, “Which one, love?”

“This one” you grinned, pushing yourself up and against his chest, this way, giving yourself a chance to press your lips to the base of his neck.

Harry’s whole body shivered under you as he let out a small chuckle. Instantly, his hands found your waist. Once your lips grazed his sensitive skin, the muscles of his neck relaxed as if under a spell and his head fell back. Harry’s fingers dug into your sides as your teeth sunk his flesh, sucking profusely. Having waited for this so many years, it felt all too real and completely unreal at the same time. There was a fire burning inside of you and the soft moans slipping past his lips were no help with taming it.

“Having fun?” Harry laughed, but his confidence and usual air of self control were shaking.

As a response, you bit into his ear lobe and delighted yourself with the whimpers of pleasure he didn’t even try to hide.

Although burning for it, you didn’t have it in you to go for his lips, so when he was the one to do it, all your radars went crazy. The way he grabbed your chin and pulled you closer, it was all you wished for. Years worth of pent up emotions dripped from your lips and onto his.

How ungrateful and inappropriate would it have been for you to beg for more and guide the situation in a different direction? Even if his gentleness made your knees weak, the heat between your legs begged for a less kissing and a lot more biting. 

It was when he pressed you down against him that made you forget about everything that held you back. His erection was rubbing against your thigh as you grinded down on him, and you couldn’t help but break the kiss and sink your teeth into his lower lip.

Harry threw his head back against your touch, and a proud smile lifted up the corners of your mouth.

“Come on” you moaned, kissing your way down to his ear, “Show me how you should treat a girl”

His fingers snuck into your hair and pulled your head back, forcing your eyes to meet his’, “Is it me? Or are yeh a bit more excited for this than you initially let on?”

Your eyes sparkled as you let out the fib, “It’s just you”

Grinning, he shook his head in mock approval, and secured you in his hold, before effortlessly spinning the two of you around. Now, a mess of limbs, you looked up at Harry with what could only be described as pure lust. And it all reflected on his features. His ridiculously messy curls framed his face perfectly, allowing his proud gaze to fuel your engines.

With all your might you wanted to let him take the lead and not show too much enthusiasm, but it felt next to impossible. Before you knew it, your hands were cupping his cheeks again, forcing his body flush against your own. He kissed you back with no hesitation, as if he too waited years for this to finally happen, as if this was his dumb way of confessing to you that he too, was head over heels for you. But that was a scenario that regardless of its likelihood, was sure to ruin your mood. 

So you pushed it aside, forced your mind to fall on standby, and instead, you concentrated on the way his hands explored every single inch of your body. When he broke the kiss, you wanted to protest, your tongue crying from the sudden loss of contact. But his lips traveled lower, kissing all the way over down your neck, along your collarbones, and across your chest. It was all aggravated and hungry, as if he couldn’t get enough. 

“Yeh good?” Harry asked, looking up at you, cheeks all flushed.

“Yep, yeah” you whispered, the weight of the moment turning your voice into a light chuckle. Breathless and innocent, you were on cloud nine, and all your struggles to keep that hidden were in vain.

Delicately, as only he could, Harry pushed your shirt over your head, leaving you exposed, a fact which sent a whole new wave of pleasure down your body. This gesture alone shook your whole world, but he wasn't wasting any time. You barely even got a chance to catch your breath before he lowered himself, and cupped your breasts into his palms. Your back arched in an instant, and when his warm lips connected to your skin, goosebumps propagated all over your whole body. As circled his lips and caught your nipple between his teeth, your mind went crazy, muscles sizzling with anticipation. A suggestive moan slipped from your throat, and you could tell it surely tickled his ego.

“Gettin’ there?” he questioned even if he already knew the answer.

You threw him half a shrug, tilting your head to the side and pressing your cheek to your shoulder.

“So fuckin’ cute, angel” Harry chuckled, shaking his head as he crawled up your body, “Why’re yeh so cute?”

“How would I know?” you blushed, playing along with his overly teasing approach, “You’re the one who sad it”

“Don’t know why I think yeh’re cute?”

You nodded no.

A small but sure fire lit up his features, and he knew it was on. He did maintain the eye contact for a while, but when he finally looked down at your body, nonchalantly staring at your chest, that was when your breath got caught in your throat. The pressure was building up, yet Harry kept pushing your buttons. 

In desperate need to pick up the pace, you nudged his chin with the back of your fingers, and when his eyes caught yours; you raised one eyebrow, motioning for him to continue. “Wha’ do yeh want me t’ tell yeh, love?” Harry grinned, leaning down to kiss your neck.

“Tell me what you like about me” you laughed, linking your fingers in his hair. While you laughed due to the amount of different emotions that coursed through you, Harry made it all the more difficult for you to keep it together. His kisses were light enough for you to feel the ounces of love that dripped from his lips, but carnal enough to keep you on your toes.

“I love everything about yeh” he murmured against your skin, his chain of passionate kisses crossing over to the other side of your neck, “I mean, wha’s there not t’ like?”

“Word” you giggled, your sarcasm coming in perfect contrast to the weakness his question brought to your knees.

“Fuckin’ love every inch” Harry said, having completely ignored your joke, “Every single part of yeh, yer body and god, yer mind”

His hands cupped the sides of your rib cage, as his lips traveled down your sternum. He seemed lost, completely absorbed. Every time he looked up at you, it was impossible not to notice how out of this world his eyes seemed. Glossy and dark, extravagant green looking to explore more of you. And those were only the times you managed to catch him staring. The pleasure this man provided surpassed the moaning level, he got you working hard not to scream in ecstasy, as his tongue ran laps around your nipples, and the way his lips sucked with that specific amount of pressure. It looked as if he already knew where all your buttons were, he acted as if he knew your body better than you did. And for you, that was a new experience, which would’ve already been too much, even without Harry involved. But seeing your fingers get lost in his absolutely perfect in a messy kind of way locks, as he treated your skin with such refined skill, you found yourself way too close to the edge.

In the high of the moment, probably following an unidentifiable stimulus, you found yourself concentrated on the way his palms felt against your skin. He held you in his arms as if you were the most precious thing he ever laid eyes on. And for some reason, that feeling alone had you skyrocketing.

It was when you moaned out loud, for the first time not holding back, that he finally decided to give you what he promised. 

“Yeh sure this is ok, angel, yeah?” he murmured, looking up at you. 

His light stubble tickled the lower side of your abdomen as his breath barely managed to reach your skin. 

“Yeah” you clumsily nodded, your words coated in fervid enthusiasm.

Something happened. Something clicked inside of him. You saw it in the way his eyes warmed up. For a second he didn’t move, instead he just took in everything that was happening. When he eventually pushed himself up, you expected him to help you or motion for you to undress, but he didn’t. Harry lowered himself on top of you, pressing his chest against your own.

His fingers locked themselves against your chin, “I really wanna fucking do this right for yeh”

His confession took you aback. The seriousness in this tone was not something you anticipated. At first, he was the one who made it all seem like a meaningless game, yet right now, it seemed as though he fell into his own trap. 

All you could do was nod. Nod in approval, nod as a sign for him to keep going. As a promise that it was all ok. This attitude of his was not something you signed up for. Even if it looked like the beginning of what you always wanted, it also felt a little bit too sudden.

“Come here” you cooed, cupping his cheeks in a loving manner.

In an instant, he leaned into your touch, his skin burning against your damp palms. For the x-th time that evening, his lips melted onto yours, but something felt different. But you kept going, allowed the moment to carry you further without giving yourself the burden of dictating a direction. 

And seconds passed, and with each one, his touch became more and more aggravated. You could feel his need, and you have loved to think that what you were feeling from him was love, but it was just too big of a step to take right now. Not too shortly after, the situation escalated towards the point you left off earlier. You let him take the lead, and he soon returned to his usual self.

Harry made his way down your body through a chain of lingering kisses, each one of them awakening yet another side of you. This time, you were given no time to prepare. His experienced hands grabbed your thighs, groping their way up to your hips. Although it was fairly fast, it felt like an eternity. You breathing picked up when his fingers hooked themselves into the waistband of your leggings, and without even thinking about it, you pushed yourself up, allowing him to take them off. 

Now, you hadn’t seen this coming, because if you had, you probably would have chosen to wear something less embarrassing than your Superman underwear. Your cheek heated up as if it was the first time a man had seen you naked, and all your insecurities washed over you. None of those thoughts crossed Harry’s mind though. 

He just smiled - a gesture whose roots you’d never know. 

Harry positioned himself between your legs, his fingers gingerly tracing up and down your outer thighs. “Really fucken gorgeous, yeh know tha’?”

His compliments have never been this hard to receive, “Shut up” you chuckled, rolling your eyes as you couldn't help but squirm under his stare.

“Wha’?” Harry grinned, leaning his head to the side as he let his teasing side take over, 

“Tha’ tinder fuckface never told yeh just how perfect yeh look?”

“This is still about him, huh?”

“It’s about yeh, love” Harry rolled his eyes, letting his nails graze your skin, “Always been about yeh, always will be”

With each word that let his mouth, he leaned down, lower and lower, until every inch of his body was pressing against your own. He dominated the moment, and you love it.

When he engulfed your lips into a kiss, his right hand traveled between your legs. That alone made your core vibrate, and knowing there was no way to hide your enthusiasm, made you smile.

You felt the back of his fingers trace up and down your opening, and his words confirmed your suspicions. He pulled away from your lips just enough so he could speak, but he was still too close for you to properly see his features - he was just a few literal inches away, “I can’t wait to taste yeh, doll”

The grin on his lips and the pride of his tone, had a visible effect on you. The hairs on your body stood up in anticipation, and you couldn’t help but arch your back and close your legs around him. You kissed him back, and this time, it was on.

As his tongue pushed past your lips, Harry’s hands lewdly traveled down your sides, caressing every inch of exposed skin they found in their way. You didn’t see the eagerness coming, but when he reached between your legs, the flimsy material of your underwear didn’t even begin to come in his way. He shoved his hand under your panties, his fingers instantly coming in contact with your opening.

It was solely the emotional value of the moment that made you nearly gasp. Harry took his sweet damn time, as if you needed any more foreplay. The pads of his fingers gingerly traced up and down your opening a few times, before coming back up again to rest against your clit. It was soft and easy at the beginning, but the feather light touch of his fingers started gaining more and more pressure as subtle circular movements started to form.

When you looked up at him, you were met with the mess of curls that had fallen onto his forehead as he had his head hanging low, with his eyes trained between your bodies. With a gentle nudge against his chin, you prompted him to look up. At first he seemed a bit disoriented, but a wicked grin shortly appeared on his lips. It made you smile.

He was the one to resume the kiss, making it gentle this time - in perfect contrast with the action of his fingers, as he slowly made his way past your folds. When the first finger went in, you curled the corners of your mouth in anticipation. It felt fine, but it was just the tip of the iceberg and you knew it. Eager for more, you allowed your teeth to lewdly sink into his lower lip, willing to show him you wanted more. 

With a grunt, Harry shuffled a bit, his knees bucking into your hips. The deep breath he released tickled your skin, but you weren’t going to let this go. As you forced your teeth just a bit deeper into his plush skin, Harry let his forehead fall against yours. 

His tongue neatly traced along your upper lip, and you thought it was in response to your actions. And this erroneous thought kept you from anticipating his next move. When Harry pushed one more finger in, your senses went mad, and the simple fact that he didn't give you too much time to adjust before he pushed a third finger in, rocked you completely. 

You moaned in return and arched your back.

"I got yeh, baby girl" he whispered softly, "Look at me, I got yeh, ok?"

After receiving an enthusiastic nod from you, Harry made his way down your body. This time, he swiftly shuffled to the side, pulling your legs together and riding you of the unnecessary piece of underwear you still had on.

Not waiting for him to take control, you spread your legs, and feasted on the carnal look he had in his eyes as he looked down at your body. He didn’t waste any time before finding the perfect spot between your legs. Your whole body shivered as he leaned his head to the side, his light stubble tickling its way down the inside of your thighs. 

And following the rough feeling of the still shy beard you didn’t think he was able to grow, when his soft lips brushed against your skin, you involuntarily clenched. You bucked your hips and your legs tried, but to no avail, to close the distance between one another. You wanted more - needed more. And he noticed it.

Looking down along your body, you could only see the top of his head. And his fingers, pressing into the skin of your legs. And the tip of his nose as he proceeded to tease you into oblivion with millions of kisses, each of them nothing less than heavenly, but still, nothing compared to what you knew was coming next. The only warning he gave you as a hurried grin, and it was nowhere near enough.

It was on. Elegantly, but with traces of dominance in his touch, and with two fingers, Harry spread your pussy wide open, his tongue lewdly slipping right inside you. The contact and the buildup made you gasp. Had you not been so over the moon and distracted already, you’d have heard him snicker in response to the sound you just made. But you were too caught up. You felt him on every inch of your body, and the signals your core were sending you, were not what you wanted.

You wanted this to last. To have him go at it, lapping at your core for hours. To feel his tongue wag until your senses went numb.It might have been the dry spell that was forced upon you as the pandemic overtook your life, or the timeless, painful crush you’ve had on him for years, but you were already on the edge.

Trying hard to make the moment last, you curled your pointer finger and shoved it into your mouth, biting down hard. Your back arched dangerously as your head flew back, but it all just worked in his favour. Your pleasure was building up, and the careful, experienced movement of Harry’s tongue against your clit was only gaining momentum.

“Yeh taste like fucking heaven but I think yeh already knew tha’” he said, for a second pulling away from your core and giving you a chance to catch your breath.

All you managed was a pathetic excuse of a nod, along with a shy roll of your eyes.

“None of tha’” Harry laughed, licking his lips, “Don’t care how close yeh are, ‘m not gonna stop until yeh moan my name, love”

“Jesus christ, Harry!” you panted, shaking your head.

He responded in a similar manner, and again, with no warning whatsoever, he went back in. This short break allowed you to regain your composure, even if it was just a tiny bit. Your excitement, although still there and just as consuming, was easier to control now. You felt his touch all throughout your body, his tongue tickling all your senses.

What brought you closer into the moment was the feeling of his hands, as he grabbed your thighs and pushed your legs up onto his shoulders. For whatever reason, this felt even more intimate, and as his fingers sank into your flesh, you felt your engines start up again.

The delicate flicks of his tongue were getting more and more aggravated by the second, and now it was close to impossible to keep calm. Sweaty palms gripping tirelessly into the cushions under you, your back under constant strain, your eyes squeezed shut - he had you entirely.

And as if that wasn’t enough, he went further. Harry pushed one finger inside of you, moving his lips up to fully concentrate on your clit. His tongue prepared you, got you all ready and wanting, and then, he wrapped his lips around your bundle of nerves and sucked - gently and with a minimal amount of pressure, but god-

“Fuck, Harry-” you called out. It was more of a cry, choked back in the depths of your throat, all breathy and muffled.

“Come on, angel” Harry whispered.

As you looked down, past your heaving chest, your eyes landed conveniently on the top of his head. Complete chaos - his unruly curls tickled the inside of your thighs, as his fingers dug into your flesh. The two rings he never takes off were sure to leave proud indents on your skin.

Harry sucked at your bundle of nerves, the eager touch of his tongue awakening absolutely every need inside your being. Add the experienced pumps of his fingers and the fact that this was Harry Styles and none other, and you were done.

With each passing second you started to lose more and more of the control you had on your body. Sweating nervously out of every pore of your body, you squirmed under his weight hoping you’d make the moment last.

“‘S good, love, isn’t it?” Harry smirked for just about a second, “I can see yeh, yeh’re a mess fo’ me”

“Fuck” you whined, covering your face with your right palm as your head tilted backwards, “Shut up”

“Oh!” Harry faked surprise, “Gettin’ cocky?”

As he spoke, Harry curled his fingers inside your pussy; maybe intentionally - maybe by chance, hitting all the right spots and making you moan out loud.

“I’ll take tha’ as an apology”

You scoffed.

Harry shook his head. When you looked down at him again, you caught him licking his lips. It was obvious he waited for you to catch him doing that.

Already at the edge of your self control, you curled your fingers into his hair, motioning for him to resume his work. He followed your lead without any complaints, and when his bottom teeth grazed your clit, even if it was light as a feather you lost it.

Your mind became numb, drunk on the pleasure he provided. Your eyes rolled back as you enjoyed every second of your high. Harry kept you spiraling, continuing to lap at your core as the muscles of your legs tensed uncontrollably around his frame.

“Holy fuck-” you breathed out, voice shaky and wounded.

He made sure to milk every ounce of pleasure out of your being, leaving you a heaving mess under his stare.

Harry pushed himself up, nonchalantly wiping his chin, his eyes not allowing yours to look away.

As you gathered yourself and worked on bringing your breathing back to normal, there was only one thought going on inside your head - that it would only be fair if you reciprocate the gesture. Thinking about it was enough to make your core buzz again, but you didn’t have it in you to bring it up, and instead hoped he’d show he wished things didn’t stop either.

But he didn’t.

However, you got to kiss him again. And no matter how badly you wanted to keep the atmosphere on fire, he had other plans. 

“Did I take good care of yeh?” Harry asked as he leaned down beside you. His hand found your cheek, keeping you in place for another longing kiss, “Did I do yeh right?”

You nodded against his lips, not willing to actually word the answer.

His chuckle made it clear that the point got through. And for a second it seemed as if the night wasn’t done. None of you was willing to pull away, and allowed the minutes to go by without a care in the world, lost in each other’s arms.

“Freakin’ love yeh, angel” Harry said.

It wasn’t the first time you’d hear this coming out of his mouth, but you couldn’t help but smile thinking this time it was meant in a different manner. You answered him by cuddling deeper into his chest, and that was a moment you wouldn’t have traded for the world.

And you fell asleep like that. No matter how big and luxurious your couch was, you still spent the night glued to one another. Harry felt every calm breath of yours on his skin and everytime he moved a bit to adjust his position, his hold tightened around you to make sure he wasn’t pushing you away.

After what was probably the best sleep you’d gotten in the whole year of 2020, morning came around. Actually it was lunch time, if we’re being generous. The sun was high up, proudly making its way into your living room, past the curtains to forgot to draw the other night.

When you awoke, Harry wasn’t there anymore. However, panic didn’t have the time to settle in as you heard movement coming from the kitchen, and the strong smell of coffee reached your nose in no time.

You got up from the couch, with herds of butterflies in your stomach. Harry’s words from last night still echoed in your head, and even now, with no alcohol in your system, they managed to bring goosebumps all over your skin.

“When did you get up?”

That was how you made your presence known.

Harry turned around with a smile on his face. He had a bag of avocados tucked under his arm, as he typed away on his phone. His undone pants were hanging onto his thighs for dear life, and the only other piece of fabric on his body was a thin, brown hair tie around his wrist. There were a few purple marks along his collar bones and his hair looked rougher than usual, things which deep down, shook you up a bit.

 “Wanted to take yeh out fo’ breakfast, but I gotta leave in like an hour, so I figured this should do”

“Yeah, yeah sure” you agreed, “It’s perfect”

“Would’ve done mo’, but Y/n, yeh have no food in this house”

You laughed, walking over to slump down into one of the chairs, “Didn’t get a chance to get any perishables”

“You got some” Harry chuckled, “You got weeks’ worth of everything you need to make guacamole and pancakes”

“I have no idea how that happened, those will spoil” you shook your head, “You can take some of them actually”

“Or I could just come over”

“Even better”

The food was ready in no time. Harry had everything done and set while you washed up a bit, and after that, you both sat down to eat. Minimal and light, but still, there was a weight in the pit of your stomach.

“About last night-” Harry began to say, but you tried to stop him.

“You don’t have to-”

“We kinda do, love” he smiled, “I need to apologise, angel”

You squinted your eyes, “For?”

“I don’t really have t’ apologise fo’ what I said because I meant every word” Harry slowly said, as if he has a hard time putting his thoughts together, “I jus’ wish I hadn’t said it like tha’ though”

“Like what?” you questioned, a bit lost.

“Like I had the right to say that kind of crap” he laughed. It was nervous laughter, like he was afraid of what was coming next, “I do fucking love yeh, but I shouldn’t have assumed you wanted to hear that”

“What are you talking about, I don’t understand” you groaned, growing a bit tired of the impatience he brought upon you.

“You’re my best friend, ok?” he sighed, “That’s all we are, Y/n, and that was not supposed to happen”

The food got lodged in your throat, and you felt like if you didn’t stand up, you’d no longer be able to breathe. “It was your idea” you scoffed.

Harry’s eyes followed your frame, but he remained seated, “I know”

“So what changed? If anything even changed. I don’t understand what the problem is. You regret we did what we did-”

“I don’t regret anything” Harry butted it.

“You said it was not supposed to happen!” you exclaimed, rolling your eyes as you walked over to the sink, just to make yourself useful and to stop just standing in front of him.

“The things I said to you-” he said sternly, pushing his chair back and throwing his hands into the air, “I shouldn’t have said those, ok? It doesn’t matter who meant what, I told you things that-”

“What did you tell me that’s bothering you so much?” you almost yelled, annoyance dripping out of your pores. You walked over to him, and he closed the distance by standing up.

“I-” Harry stuttered, playing with his hair to buy himself some more time. “All the-”

“What?” you pushed, “That you like everything about me? That’s what you regret saying? And what else?”

“God” he groaned, “I don’t regret saying tha’, it’s just tha’ it wasn’t my place to say it”

You fell silent.

“If I were you... I’d want to hear those things from someone that is more than just a friend to me” he confessed.

“And you can’t be that to me? More than a friend?”

After a few seconds of painful silence, realization hit him, “Y/n…”

He did reach out. He took a step towards you but you stepped back. The remorse in his tone was too painful to ignore. So you moved away from him and slowly made your way out of the kitchen.

“Y/n!” Harry called, following you.

“Just go”

“Please...”

“Please what?” you shook your head, but he didn’t have the words you needed to hear.

“I’m sorry”

“It’s fucking fine” you sighed, walking backwards towards your room, “Just show yourself out”

[lizzy-williams]

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐏𝐭. 𝟐

🐺Warnings: Mentions of smut, mature themes, alpha/omega dynamic

🐺Masterlist

🐺Summary: It’s been a few months since the coffee shop events, and you and Tom are going steady. When you decide to go out to dinner as celebration for a work promotion, the waiter begins to flirt with you. When you two get home, he shows you who you truly belong to. Not to mention... it’s a full moon.

🐺Theme: (dream), Salvia Palth

🐺 A/N: Bruh one of the pics got cut off-

Thomas Stanley Holland was angry. No, he was livid. 

Tonight was supposed to be a proper date with his mate, a calming way to spend an evening, not getting worried about anything and everything else. By now, his bite mark had been healed, a delicate scar decorating her neck. 

That, coupled with her black evening dress, made her look so stunning, it made Tom’s chest swell with pride. That was his. She was his. 

But now, he was just pissed off, trying his hardest not to let his glowing gold eyes catch anyone’s attention. But there was only one person who noticed it, and thankfully it was the only person that understood. 

[y/n] was an understanding girl, especially when it came to territorial instincts that came with having a claimed mate. So when the waiter that was serving your table was getting a little too comfortable in your presence, you knew Tom would be agitated. 

She did your best to distance yourself from the flirty staff member, but it was hard when he was going to be serving you the rest of the night, and they hadn’t even ordered their entries yet. 

All Tom wanted to do was take her right on that table, showing that snobby waiter and the rest of the fucking restaurant who [y/n] truly belonged to. He wanted to rail into her as she let out the most perfect noises as he sucked hickeys on her neck, and made her cum so hard she cried, showing true dominance and-

“Tom,” [y/n] moved her chair closer to him at the table, putting a hand on his shoulder. 

His eyes snapped up, but softened as he looked at her reassuring smile and comforting expression as she leaned over and placed her head on his shoulder. 

“You know I’m yours,” she whispered in a tone only he could hear. 

Tom could already feel the tension roll off of his shoulders, knowing that even if there was an overly cocky waiter, [y/n] was faithful. He trusted her, their strong bond was not going to be broken by some douche with a bow-tie. 

“I’m sorry, tonight’s about you,” Tom looked over at her, gently kissing her nose, “We’re here to celebrate your promotion, darling,”

[y/n] gave a grateful smile, muttering a small ‘thank you’ before focusing on your expensive cocktail and appetizers. 

At first, everything was fine, and it was comfortable, [y/n] and Tom getting into conversation, talking about what was going on in their jobs, or how the rest of the Holland family was doing. 

But when the waiter came back, Tom tensed up slightly. 

“You ready to order?” he asked, whipping out his notepad and waiting for at least one of them to speak.

Tom was the first to order, hesitantly adding a tense ‘please’ at the end of his request. After all, he knew that [y/n] valued manners. He did it all for her. 

“And for you, beautiful?”

That motherfucker.

[y/n] cleared her throat, “Ma’am will be just fine with me thanks,” her voice was clipped in annoyance, not daring to look over at Tom, knowing that all the comfort she just gave him meant close to nothing now, Tom surely back to square one, like a child’s building blocks knocked down after building them up to satisfactory. 

After she gave her order, the waiter walked away, muttering ‘prude’ as he made his exit. 

The time to get their food was silent, partly because she didn’t want to disturb him, simply putting her arm around his waist, her free hand holding his as he held it back. 

Thankfully, a different waiter came to deliver their meals, which released tension that was being held within Tom like a caged animal. Almost literally. 

Finally, after he seemed to calm down a little, [y/n] tried to resume conversation and banter, and Tom reluctantly went along with it, soon restoring his hope of a pleasant night with his mate. 

Tom was grateful for her, really. She would do anything for him, and he knew it, and all that time she was looking out for him, comforting when he needed comforting. And he couldn’t help but silently gush as she went on about a subject that she was truly passionate about. 

And soon enough, the food was finally finished, the platers almost literally licked clean, everything cleared, and the couple knew that the dishwasher hidden in the back of the kitchen would be secretly grateful, their work getting cut down by half. 

Shit. He was back. 

And back he was, the flirty waiter returning with the check. Tom desperately tried to stay calm, tired of feeling like he wanted to rip the young man’s throat out. 

But what he was about to say pushed him passed the point of redemption. 

“I wrote my number on the check, darling,” he started, “you know, once you get tired of dealing with this man-child,”

Oh that was fuckin’ it. 

Tom didn’t care anymore, blinded by anger, he looked at the waiter with his vicious glowing yellow eyes, his jaw clenched. That coupled with his clenched fist made him look absolutely terrifying.

But before the waiter could flee in terror, Tom grabbed [y/n]’s jaw tightly before jerking her forward as she let out a whimper, forcing her mouth open. To assert dominance, he spit directly in her mouth before turning back to the bastard that really pushed him over the edge. 

He turned around, walking to the back of the restaurant, and if he had a tail, it would most certainly been between his legs. Tom couldn’t care less about the rest of the people around then, gawking at the two, shocked by the display of such a lewd act in the middle of a high-end Italian joint. 

Tom dug into his wallet, tossing two Benjamins on the table before grabbing her hand, guiding her out to the car, opening the door for her. Even if he was blinded by rage, he always found a way to still be a gentleman. 

The car ride home was dead silent, the sexual tension polluting the car, so thick it seemed as if one could cut it like butter. It took Tom everything not to swerve the the car to the side of the road, taking her right in the back seat, the smell of her arousal making him painfully hard. 

Oh, he was going to wreck her. 

As soon as they got back to the flat complex, he picked her up, carrying her to the elevator, not feeling like dragging her along like a wagon. Besides, he knew if he held her hand, he would probably break it. 

His keys violently jingled in his hand as he unlocked the door to his abode, and as soon as he heard a click, he waisted no time, going to his bedroom at almost an inhuman speed, throwing her on the bed, making her giggle, Tom letting out a growl in response, stripping so quickly he almost ripped his shirt. 

It thrilled [y/n] to think about all the ways he could ravage her, taking her anyway he pleased, knowing there was nothing in this world that could stop him from making her feel nothing but ecstasy. 

“You have no idea how much I wanted to take you right there on that table, love,” he started, undressing her with vigor, his body language wreaking of impatience, “You would like that, wouldn’t you? To have everyone watch as I took you on top of your pasta that cost me a shit-ton of money, huh?”

He teared her underwear off of her, unclasping the omega’s bra as she let out a whimper. Normally, she would have cared that her favorite pair of panties were now nothing but a scrap of cloth on the floor. But at the moment, she couldn’t care less, lust glaring her senses.

He paused, taking in the form of his mate’s nude body. No matter how many times he saw her like this, it was always like seeing her for the first time. God, she was fucking perfect. He didn’t hesitate to wrap his hand around his cock, giving a few jerks before returning to an unholy position on top of her. 

“Spitting in your mouth was the closest thing to heaven, darling,” he hovered over her, sucking and biting at all her sweet spots on her throat, growling and muttering dark and sinful nothings in her ear. 

“I’m not going to lie to you, bunny, I’m not really in the mood for much foreplay,” he admitted, “I can’t wait to watch my seed drip out of you,”

Before [y/n] could even respond, he had already lined himself up, sliding in, millimeter my millimeter, making sure she felt every vein and ridge of his aching cock that was caused by her and her alone. She made him like this, so it was only fair. 

As soon as he bottomed out, he stayed there, peppering soft kisses across her face, a stark contrast to his mood only seconds before, basically cockwarming as he waited patiently for her to adjust. No matter how many times he was inside her, it always felt as if he was tearing her in half like an axe does wood. 

Soon her small, nimble fingers made their way to his chestnut hair, tugging slightly as her fingernails lightly and gently grazed his scalp, signaling that she was ready for what was to come. 

Tom slowly pulled out, only to slide right back in, hanging onto every whimper and whine she made, noises that he was ready to hear for the rest of his life. It was a strong bond that they had, and even though he was getting ready to plow into her, he couldn’t help but place a soft kiss and muttering a soft ‘are you okay?’

To this, she gave a nod, “Please Tom, ruin me... show me who I belong to,” 

She most certainly didn’t need to repeat herself, Tom’s eyes returning to a dark lustful gold as he began to go harder without warning, which was exactly what his mate wanted. 

“This what you wanted?” he grunted, his pace progressing into swift and quick thrusts, “For your alpha to wreck you? Fuck you until you cried?”

“Y-Yes! Please Tommy, I-” she stuttered between moans, his pace never faltering. 

Suddenly, he yanked her to the edge of the bed, placing her legs over his shoulder as he stood, still inside her, soon resuming his pace, both of the pleasure they were feeling ten times more intense. 

Then, Tom made the mistake of looking down. He could see her stomach bulge with the outline of his cock, almost reaching her fucking guts. He almost came right then and there. 

“Can you feel me, darling? So fucking deep, you like that don’t you? When I rearrange your guts?” 

His words made [y/n] let out a loud whine, just thinking about the fact that he was buried inside her, she could feel him everywhere. It was just him. 

Him. Him. Him. 

Her coil tightened as she reached down, rubbing soft circles around her clit before Tom snatched her hand away, growling. 

“No touching what’s mine.” he slammed into her harder, “This cunt? It’s fucking mine, understand?”

“Y--Yes, Tom,” she muttered out, just barely loud enough for him to hear. 

“Who’s cunt is this?”

“Yours, T-Tommy,”

“Sorry, darling, couldn’t quite understand you,” he taunted, driving in at an inhuman pace, his supernatural abilities making his stamina and strength almost limitless, “Who’s cunt is this?”

“Yours Tommy!!” she cried out, not stuttering once as the coil in her core was tighter than ever, “Please, please Tommy, touch your cunt! Please, I’m so close!”

“Tell me I’m yours. Tell me I’m the only one,” he desperately pleaded, the need for validation the only thing that was holding him back from his release.

“Tommy, y-your mine, you’re the only one --oh god yes, you’re the only one”

And that was enough to get his fingers to rub on the small of her clit, making her cry out, the pleasure unmeasurable as she felt every part of him. 

“D-Don’t stop!” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,”

Finally, the coil inside her snapped like a whip, making her release the most pornographic moan she had ever let out, the neighbors most definitely wishing the complex had thicker walls. 

Feeling her tighten so harshly was what tipped Tom over, her mound squeezing him tightly, his seed spilling inside of her, the warm liquid coating her walls like paint as they road out each other’s highs, the both of them feeling as if they were floating. 

When Tom felt as if he could move again, he pulled out, stepping back to admire his masterpiece, watching as his seed spilled out of his perfect girl’s core like a waterfall, dripping onto the sheets, making him groan. It was almost enough to make him harden again.

He then helped [y/n] move vertically on the bed, plopping down right beside her as he did his best to catch his breath, the both of them basking in their love for each other. It was a beautiful, really.

“I want you to move in with me,” he finally said between pants, [y/n] stopping dead, looking over at her alpha. 

“Wh-what?” she stuttered, her cloudy post-orgasmic haze making her question whether or not she heard him right. She turned her body slowly, facing him as he continued. 

“I want you to live here. With me. I wanna be able to be with you, protect you. I love you so much, and I can’t think of anyone else I would want to live with. Besides, I wouldn’t mind this becoming a part of a nightly routine,” he wiggled his eyebrows playfully. 

“Yes. I would love to,” [y/n] finally replied after a dramatic pause. 

Tom smiled and pulled her in close, the two of them fitting together like puzzle pieces. He held her tightly, his hands rubbing up and down her back. 

“Mine,” he muttered into the crown of her head, breathing in her scent. 

“Yours.”

[zodiyack]

In Regards Of My Apology

Pairing: Niklaus Mikaelson x Female!Reader

Warnings: Angst?

Words: 1,174

Summary: Y/n misses her husband so much that it affects her visibly. Rebekah allows her to rant about it then schemes with Elijah. Before Klaus knows it, his older brother and younger sister are before him with an important message.

Note: I’ve decided I’m gonna do three parts, which. on that topic, part three will be released soon! 

Taglist: @matth1w​, @redspaceace-writes​, @fandom-puff​, @darling-i-read-it​, @simonsbluee​, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow​, @dpaccione​, @jenepleurepasbaby​

Masterlist | The Originals Masterlist

Part One. Part Two. Part Three.

His castle, really the Mikaelson home, was deserted apart from himself. Every day, the weight of his guilt daunted him. Too stubborn to straight away admit his foolishness, even to his wife, he sat in the lonely home of the Mikaelsons. It wasn’t like he didn’t wish he could reverse what he’d done, nor did he believe he wasn’t in the wrong. Klaus was just...Klaus.

On the other hand, Y/n was surrounded by the people she loved, minus her husband. Elijah and Rebekah were constantly checking on her and rarely did they speak of Klaus. The one time Davina tried to bring him up, all three older women stared her down and shook their heads urgently. It was like he was a forbidden topic, a man who’s name was no longer something allowed to be mentioned if you so much as valued your life.

However, it was quite the opposite with Y/n. Whilst she appreciated their caring company and loving gestures, she had no problem talking of her husband. In fact, she wanted to talk about him. Y/n desperately wanted to figure out the whole situation so she could be resting beside him in their shared bed every night again rather than the uncomfortable one provided by Marcel. She was grateful, but she yearned for the love of her life.

Each time she tried to talk about him, someone was quick to interject. Eventually she gave up, but when she hadn’t heard from him for a few months, she began to grow ill with worry. She couldn’t literally get ill as a member of the undead but it did affect her drastically. It wasn’t long before the others started to notice.

“Y/n, dear, are you alright?” Rebekah paused in place, concern lacing her knitted eyebrows as she set down the teacup she was about to pour the hot water in.

“Hm? Oh, yes, I suppose I’m fine.” Her lie wasn’t nearly as convincing as Klaus deemed Aurora’s to be, which was saying a lot.

Rebekah new better than to listen to her sister-in-law at this time. “What’s bothering you, love?”

But then, that was the problem. If Y/n were to tell anyone who was watching over her while she tried so hard to get back on her feet and recover from her fight with her husband that he was what was on her mind incessantly, they were surely to shut her down instantaneously. She hadn’t tried her luck in some time, over being interrupted again and again.

“It’s nothing...”

“No, no, no. Unless ‘nothing’ is making you look like utterly useless trash, no offense, then it is something.” She crossed her arms and leaned her hip into the counter with a sigh. “So, tell me what the ‘something’ is.”

Although Y/n doubted Rebekah would let her bring up Klaus, even for a second, she decided it was worth a try. “Well...if you really want to know-”

“I do.”

“Then,” she inhaled deeply, exhaling slowly as she prepared to voice the source of her troubled thoughts, “it’s about Nik.” Y/n waited, watching Rebekah intensely, waiting for her to interfere and change the topic. But she never did.

The Blond looked around for a second, then back to Y/n, “Are you going to continue or are you just going to leave me in the dark?”

“You’re...not going to stop me?”

“No. If he has you this distressed, we might as well solve the problem instead of letting you dwell in it.” Rebekah moved forward, pulling out a chair and sitting across from Y/n. “Now. Do continue.”

“Uh- Alright.” And so Y/n explained to her sister-in-law, as though she were her personal therapist, the distress she felt, the weight of their first large and unsolved fight a burden on her shoulders like Atlas and the world. In truth, she had taken up the role and become rather serious about it. 

“Well, what do you think we ought to do about it?”

“I- We?”

“Did I stutter? Or did vampirism not amplify your hearing the way it should’ve?” Despite her sarcasm, she waited for an answer, but when one did not come, she chuckled a bit. “It’s the same as the last time. I have your back. We all have your back, so, if you’re going to do something about it, so am I.”

Both Rebekah and Elijah were the first to enter the forgotten Mikaelson palace in the time since the king and queen parted ways. Klaus reigned terror more than before, threatening people because he felt like it, doing things to quell his anger even though he knew full well that the satisfaction it gave him was only temporary until he had his queen back. Klaus was just as broken as Y/n and it was only when he was in the darkest place of months without her, did he fully take in Hayley’s words and actually give an effort to see the truth.

It was true, Y/n was loyal to a fault, and yet, he believed the woman turned out to be just as evil as her brother and Lucien in plotting against the Originals. He was vengeful when he found it out, putting an end to their plan and their existences with the help of his family and some friends. That was the last time he’d seen them since then.

“Thank you, Elijah.” His voice quivered.

Elijah pulled at his cuffs slightly, then looked at his brother with dead emotion. “This is the last time I will be by your side until you realize your wrong doings and do the thing you know you must. Until then, brother.”

As Elijah walked past him, he bumped Klaus’ shoulder harshly. He couldn’t help but freeze, tears filling his eyes as his gaze remained glued to the ground.

Snapping out of the memory, Klaus wiped his tears away.

“Alas, he finally returns to reality.”

His head snapped around, eyes wide and still watery. “You came back-”

“But not for you.” Elijah was quick to put an end to any hope of his siblings trust Klaus had left. “Niklaus, do tell me, have you any remorse for what burdens you have placed upon your wife?”

“Oh...” Klaus realized the true meaning of his siblings’ arrival, the guilt swimming around his gut only intensifying.

“Oh indeed, Nik. She’s ready to forgive whenever you’re ready to apologize.”

“Are you here to help me?”

Rebekah laughed, “No, I’m afraid you’re the one who made the mess, so you’re the one who must clean the mess. We’re simply the messengers, dear brother.” She smiled with false sweetness, then turned and paced out of the room.

Elijah, once again left alone with his younger brother, uttered his wise words of advice before he too left for the second time. “I do wish you take Hayley’s words to mind, Niklaus. It would do not only you, but your wife some good.” By the door was where he stopped one final time. “Mind you, if you truly love her,” he paused, “you’d do what is right.”

[uwuwriting]

Nightmares w/ Fushiguro, Itadori and Gojo

Request: Since you write for JJK now could I req Megumi, Yuuji and Satoru where reader has a nightmare and they have a sleepover? - anonymous

Heehehehehehehehehehe the first ever JJK post on here and oh boyyyyyy. I love all of them so much but Yuuji and Megumi just hit different. Ah the flavor. This may not be the song post I had promised yall earlier today but I couldn’t help myself after reading a bunch of thirst posts from @jujutsucurses​  and I just felt the need to contribute to this fandom.  Love ya.💖💖

masterlist II rules

warnings: nightmares, some tears but mainly fluff. 

Fushiguro Megumi

-Ahhhh I love this man so much fiohwohfo.

-He gets why you have nightmares. 

-Your latest mission had gone south leaving you the sole survivor of the whole ordeal. 

-He could see the fear in your eyes the moment you stepped into the school but since he didn’t want to expose you in front of the others he had just grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers before giving a firm squeeze. 

-It was a simple reminder that he was here with you. 

-That you were alright and nothing could hurt you now. 

-So when he heard the soft knock on his door that night he knew immediately who it was. 

-He already had your favorite hoodie of his splayed on his bed and a fluffy blanket so you could cuddle before bed maybe vent to him if you wanted. 

-Opening the door he came face to face with a teary eyed you clutching the ends of your sleeves in a vice grip while your voice trembled as you spoke. 

- “C-can I sleep h-here tonight?” 

-He wasted no time in pulling you into a hug and leading you to his bed, motioning to the hoodie as an invitation. 

-He turned around while you changed, walking out of his room for a moment to grab you a glass of water only to be stopped by a small whine. 

- “I’ll be right back angel.” 

-In two minutes you were cuddled up under the fluffy blanket, your ear pressed over Megumi’s beating heart as you balled his shirt in your fists, wanting him as close as possible. 

-He couldn’t do much. 

-You hadn’t spoken since you came in and no matter how much he hugged and rubbed your back he couldn’t stop your trembles. 

-Raising his knees, he caged your form closer to his body peppering kisses on your hairline as he continued to rub small circles on your back. 

- “Wanna try to sleep?” 

-You looked up at him before burying your face in his neck, giving him a small nod before hooking your arms under his. 

-Without moving a lot, he laid down kissing you again before closing his eyes. 

- “I don’t know what happened and you don’t have to tell me. But I can see how much it hurts you and I can’t just let that go on, so what do you say you stay here for the next few days?”

-You could only nod in agreement as you nuzzled more into his chest.

- “I love you.” 

-It was a restful week. 

-Although you did have Gojo teasing you and warning about unplanned pregnancies. 

-Nobara couldn’t understand what you saw in Megumi *um girl is you blind?* and kept sneaking into his room. 

-Yuuji….didn’t really care, he gave you guys a wave every morning when you got out for breakfast and that was really it. 

-Makki cannot wait to tell Todo that Megumi has a girlfriend who stays in his room every night. 

Itadori Yuuji

-Baby boiii.

-He is so cute omg. 

-I cannot begin to describe how much I love him and his stupid fluffy pink hair. 

-Anyways back to the point. 

-He knew that his ‘death’ had shaken you up. 

-It had been weeks until his classmates found out that he was indeed alive and well. 

-That Sukuna had resurrected him and that everything was fine. 

-In those weeks he also knew that you mourned him and that you most likely blamed yourself for what happened to him. 

-You were there, you saw Sukuna rip his heart out from his chest *literally*. 

-He remembers seeing the terror behind your eyes as he watched the scene unfold while under Sukuna’s control. 

-He remembers how you scrambled out of the car despite your bleeding injuries only to get to him. 

-It haunted him as well at times. 

-He couldn’t get your face at that moment out of his mind. 

-But despite your fear for him not being next to you in the morning during breakfast, you had never bothered him before. 

-Nobara had to calm you down more than once but you had made her promise to not outer a word to anyone if she valued her bag collection.  

-Tonight though you had an aching feeling that you wouldn’t find him in his dorm. 

-That you had lost him again and that caused you to rush to his dorm at 3 am, frantic knocking almost waking up Megumi next door. 

- “Babe?” 

-He was right there in front of you, hand raised to rub his eye the other one underneath his hoodie scratching at his stomach. 

-He is alright, he is not dead, he is alive, he is okay- 

- “Hey hey why are you crying? Y/N baby what’s wrong?” 

-He pulled you inside quickly wrapping his arms around your waist and bringing you flush to his chest, his worry sky rocketing when you started full on sobbing while clasping his shirt. 

- “Y-you’re o-okay.” 

-And with that he knew immediately what this was all about. 

-He never expected you to have a breakdown. 

-Your rage the moment you found out he was alive and then the lecture he got from you were the only reactions he had gotten about that incident. 

-But here you were, crying your eyes out because you thought that he was gone again. 

- “P-please don’t l-leave me a-again. P-please Yuuji.”

-Scooping you up in his arms, he let you wrap your legs lightly around him as he took you with him to the kitchen to grab a glass of water in hopes of calming you down. 

-Unlike Megumi he wasn’t about to leave you alone in his room not even for a second. 

-When It’s time to finally go back to sleep he won’t pull you off of him he’ll just lay you on his chest with your head over his heart. 

- “I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. I’m alright. We’re alright.” 

Gojo Satoru

-In all of his years as a sorcerer he had never seen you so defeated before. 

-It was a rare sight and one he never wants to see again.

-Being a teacher in the same school as him made keeping an eye on your idiot of a boyfriend easy. 

-Or so you thought. 

-You were with him on the car ride to meet principal Yaga when he said to leave him on the side of the street. 

- “I’ll find you at Yaga’s darling.” 

- “Sato what-”

-He had simply kissed you before closing the door mouthing an ‘I love you’. 

-He had worried you out of your mind.

-You had sensed the presence of immense amounts of cursed energy at some point while you waited which only made the matters worse. 

-He will be fine, he is the best for a reason. 

-No matter how logical those thoughts sounded you couldn’t fully convince yourself.  

-He came later than other times and you could see he was a little disheveled. 

-Not much because he is Gojo Satoru after all but you were able to notice.

-Later that night he told you what had happened and you got into a small argument about his recklessness and how he shouldn’t keep you out of things like this. 

- “We are a team Sato, we always have been. No matter what you don’t just tell me to leave.”

-You had both gone to sleep with slight frowns on your faces, the bitter taste of your argument still present on your tongues. 

-Despite it all he still clung to you, his arms wrapped securely around your middle as you nestled back into him. 

-He woke up at an ungodly hours because you were fidgeting next to him. 

-Trembles and soft sobs racked through your body, your eyes still closed but your brows had furrowed, a grimace present on your features as you turned this way and that. 

-Your hand was clutching his oh so tightly, small whimpers leaving your lips as sweat rolled down your forehead. 

- “Darling? Wake up.”

-You shrunk away as he went to nudge your shoulder with his other hand and that’s when he realized that he wasn’t going to wake you up so easily. 

-When you had nightmares it could only go one of two ways. 

- A) you woke up before Satoru even realized you were having a nightmare or 

- B) you couldn’t wake up at all unless Satoru splashed you with water or maybe an earthquake happened. 

-Apparently this particular night you wouldn't be able to wake up. 

-Bringing you into his lap with his fingers still intertwined with yours, he swayed back and forth as more trembles shook through you. 

-He hated it when you had nightmares. 

-He felt so useless. 

-He couldn’t protect you from them, he couldn’t stop them and he couldn’t fight them. 

-He could only try to calm you down by making his presence clear while you battled them alone. 

-You were right, you two have always been a team and will always be one.

-That will never change no matter what. 

- “I’m here, darling, I’m here.”

TAG TEAM AY:

@the-arcana-fan-fic​ @angelwritings​ @axerrri​ @reinyrei​ @dnarez​ @storage11037​ @wolfkid22​ @letscheereachotheron​ @ezoyscorner​ @luluwiie​ @threeamwriting​ @dark-thoughts-and-red-roses

[kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay]

What is wrong?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Warnings: Anxiety attacks, unhealthy image of self, hurt/comfort, all the angst, depression

Word count: 1.1k (drabble)

Author’s note: This is literally just a piece self-soothing writing. I was having a bad morning and writing this was the only thing that helped. This is obviously based off my own experiences, so I am sorry if it doesn’t work for everyone out there. Reader is written in first person persepctive and is gender neutral. Not proofread.

“Come on, you gotta eat,” Steve says, gently pulling at the blanket I cocooned myself into. When I don't react, he pulls a little firmer and I grunt in displeasure, a scowl pinching my already frowning face.

“No. I'm not hungry,” I grumble out and pull my hand out of my blanket cocoon to yank the corner of the fabric he has in his grip back and stuff if under my curled up body.

“Doll, please,” Steve pleads, concern seeping into his voice. I can feel the mattress dip as he settles carefully behind me, perching himself on the edge. He's probably staring at my back with that concerned and hurt puppy dog look. I can see it without having to turn around to check.

His concern and prodding agitates me. Unrightfully so. He is just being nice, concerned for my health and well-being. Whereas I am being an ass for no reason in particular, it seems.

“I said, I am not hungry,” I spit angrily, further curling up underneath the blankets, my fists clenching the material between my fingers.

I can hear Steve sigh, a defeated sound that I know is accompanied by the sag of his broad shoulders and sad eyes. He gets up, the dip in the mattress disappearing as he lifts his weight from it and quietly pads across the carpeted floor.

“I'm in the living room if you need anything,” he says and then pushes down the doorhandle, nudging the door open and stepping out of the room to let me stew alone in my misery.

I listen to the soft 'click' of the door falling shut. As soon as it's closed, some of the defensive tension bleeds from my rigid frame. Fists relaxing a little, I let out a defeated sigh of my own, burrowing deeper into the thick blankets I'm hiding under.

It's always like this. 

I'll be excited for the weekend to come as I work hard during the week, coming home tired and burnt out to an equally exhausted Steve. But when those two blessed days finally arrive, it is as if I am paralysed. All the optimistic and giddy plans I made over the course of the week simply evaporate as I lay curled up in bed, rendered useless by an oppressive weight crushing my chest.

Unable to focus on anything other than staring at the ceiling, I lie in bed and stew in the negative emotions. The overwhelming heavy feeling that pulls down the corners of my mouth as I begin to wonder what might be wrong with me.

With that comes the sadness and frustration of not getting anything done, not doing something I enjoy to unwind from the long week. And the guilt of pushing Steve away, who works just as hard but seems to be able to pull himself together for the little free time he has and actually does things he enjoys.

And I am ruining that for him. With my sour mood and unresponsiveness. I worry him, bringing down his mood and wasting what little time he usually has with me.

My lip starts to wobble and I squeeze my eyes shut.

“What is wrong with me?” I whisper to myself, a broken question tumbling from a heavy tongue. Tears form in my eyes and I suck in a desperate breath of air as they begin to fall, squeezing past my tightly shut eyes and wetting my scrunched up face.

“Why... Why can't I just enjoy myself like anyone else,” I cry quietly, chin tilting towards my chest as I pull my head deeper into the cocoon of blankets protecting me. My body starts rocking back and forth softly, sobs and broken whimpers falling from my lips as I lay there pitifully.

I am so immersed in my own sorrow, I don't hear the soft whisper of the door being pushed open, neither the almost soundless taps of Steve's bare feet on the plush carpet in the bedroom I am hiding away in. Only when the mattress dips behind me once more, do I notice his presence.

My sobs stutter to a halt, similar to my breathing as I lay motionless for a moment, a feeling of icy terror spreading through my veins at having been caught in such a state.

“Oh sweetheart,” Steve mumbles quietly, shifting behind me until I feel his hands carefully peeling away my fortress of blankets and pillows to reveal my puffy face and red eyes.

He is gentle when he catches my face, keeping it from turning away in embarrassment and once more hide under the blankets. Moving his warm, steady hand to the back of my neck, his other arm snakes beneath the covers and wraps around my back. Holding me like that, he lifts me from the pile of blankets and settles me on his lap. His hands move, arms wrapping around me fully as he cradles me to his warm chest.

Sitting there, sideways on his lap with my ear pressed to his chest, the tears start flowing again. With them, apologies spill forth, one after the other. Words get jumbled up and sentences messy as I try to vocalise how sorry I am for being miserable, that I don't mean to be a drag and ruin his precious time off.

Steve doesn't say anything, just holding me tightly and softly rocking us. He's shushing me when the sobs make my breath hitch and I can't breathe right, helping me to calm with his own measured breathing.

After what feels like an eternity passes, but couldn't have been more than twenty minutes, I am relatively calm. The shaking sobs stopped, only soft sniffling audible every now and then. My eyes are swollen and heavy when I finally look at Steve for the first time this day.

“There you are,” he coos softly, dipping his head to press a kiss to my forehead. I melt into his embrace, face hiding against his chest as I breathe in the warm, homely scent of him.

“I made french toast. Stole some of that jam from Bucky's kitchen. The raspberry mix you like so much,” he says quietly, squeezing my body once before continuing, “How about we get up and cosy up on the couch with our breakfast? Does that sound alright to you?”

My heart thumps heavily in my chest as tears once more brim in my eyes. But this time, they are tears of adoration and gratefulness. Sniffling once more, I give a tiny nod against his chest, the hum I utter muffled by his shirt.

“Thank you, sweetheart. Now, do you want to walk yourself or am I allowed to carry you?” Steve asks, a teasing undertone in his voice. He knows exactly I don't like it when he carries me.

A weak, rusty sounding chuckle breaks loose in my chest and spills from my lips. I swat his arm weakly and lift my heavy head from his chest.

“I'll walk, thank you,” I say dryly and the smallest of smiles curves my lips when I see Steve smiling down at me, eyes sparkling with amusement and affection.

[circlique]

The Book of Forbidden Bending Styles: Part 3

A few sessions ago, Kelsang found a book of forbidden bending techniques in the airbenders’ library. Since the whole island was facing imminent destruction and he couldn’t afford to be encumbered with a bunch of books, he ripped pages out of the book to carry with him. Our DM, Z, actually went to the trouble to type these pages out.

This chapter covers bloodbending. Whoever wrote this was especially unhinged, I think. Aren’t we lucky that Klo has mostly been exploring bloodbending for healing purposes?

Part 1 / Part 2 / Avatar DND Masterpost

Chapter 7: Bloodbending

For ages, my family has been ostracized for our legendary power. I used to think it was because they feared us. But now I think it’s jealousy. Whereas Mindbending with it’s “elegant” subtly can “control” people, Bloodbenders can literally control another being’s body. No fancy manipulation or intel gathering. People are envious that at any moment, I could make the Village Chief jump off the roof of a building, and no amount of willpower can overcome that urge. They should be thankful I can demonstrate as much restraint as I have, that I allow them to live. But all of that will come to an end soon. We will rewrite society to how it should be. And you can help by mastering this incredible art. Unlike Mindbending, ANY Waterbender can learn how. Sure, you have to be a powerful bender, but anyone can grow strong with practice and the correct guidance, and there’s no one more suited to the task than me.

Let’s start with theory. Bloodbending works by manipulating the water in a person’s body. Blood is the easiest part of a human to manipulate because it is 92% water. But the less-imaginative Bloodbenders stop at controlling movement. There are many properties of water than can be manipulated and they all have different effects. We will divide this into two parts: Ways to incapacitate enemies and ways to help yourself with Bloodbending.

Waterbenders can control the temperature of water. Ever had your blood boil? Believe me, I’ve met many a sailor who found it a joyously unpleasant experience. Same thing with freezing. If you want to kill someone instantly, freeze their blood. Literally, that’s all it takes. Even if you immediately melt that water, the expansion of the ice would cause hemorrhaging in the brain and would destroy most cells in the blood, destroying your victim’s ability to transfer oxygen around the body. But of course, what’s the fun in just straight up killing people? If someone is pissing you off, just lower their body temperature a little, or increase it to make them sweat. The way they squirm is absolutely worth any verbal abuse you tolerate from them. Oh, need to capture someone? Redirect blood flow so that less makes it to the brain. They’ll faint in seconds. Or cause blood to collect somewhere such that the area swells to the point that it explodes. It’s incredibly funny when it’s someone’s head. That one usually kills them. You can also give them a heart attack by stopping the flow of blood all-together. Man, you can kill people a lot of ways.

Let’s see . . . non-lethal techniques . . . Giving you their treasure chest isn’t usually lethal, but that’s boring. Ooo, if you make their tear ducts boil, you can induce blindness. That doesn’t kill them usually. In combat, you can Bloodbend their attacks slightly so they miss. If you’re subtle about it, you can make them think that they just suck or you are just that good. If you’re really good, you can make a shield out of human corpses. Like make them float around you as you so they take the brunt of all attacks. My nanny was so good at Bloodbending. Once I saw her control 12 corpses at once. Made them walk and everything. She had them go around terrorizing this town and we looted all their houses. It was LEGENDARY!!! Oh, if someone is being annoying, you can Waterbend the water off the back of their throat so they lose their voice. Great way to shut someone up. I guess that’s not really blood bending. I think my favorite kill was when this guy was trying to cause a mutiny. So, I found a rusty nail and slashed his arm. Dude started laughing all tough at that weak attack. That was until I exsanguinated him. You ever dried a grape in the sun for a few days? Imagine that happening to a body in seconds. For fun, I made it rain with his blood. And just like that, no more mutinies!

Ok, that’s fun and all, but Bloodbending is really useful when you use it for yourself. Let’s say another Waterbender stabs you with an ice knife and you are bleeding out and you don’t have enough time to heal. You can blood bend your OWN blood. Not just that, you can reduce swelling on injuries, increase blood flow to injuries that need healing, keep yourself warm in a blizzard. Oh, want to slap someone really hard? Use Bloodbending on your own arm to swing it faster than your muscles can flex. That’s a good way to assert dominance. Also, let’s say you are fighting in a place that has limited water. You can make a small cut on your hand and use some of your own blood to Waterbend in defense. Also, animals are made of blood. So if you’re riding an ostrich horse and it’s trying to buck you, just Bloodbend it to stop. Animals respect strength . . . or at least they don’t stand up to the alpha. This can be super helpful if you want to get somewhere fast. Just blood bend like 5 lionhawks to carry you wherever you need to go.

Oh, I didn’t say how to Bloodbend exactly. So the form is a little complicated and I suck at drawing, but basically you need to swing your arms up from your waist to you shoulders and let you hands dangle like a puppeteer. All movements should keep arms extended and high up, with changes in direction left and right for movements.

Oh, one thing to be careful about. Don’t try to bring someone back to life with Bloodbending. The act of drawing their soul back from the Spirit World brings a malicious spirit with them. I know it’s dumb, but unlike laws of society, you can’t break laws of the universe. I did meet someone who severed ties with the spirit. She (end of page)

[wastelandlovingscenarios]

Romanced!companions react to their precious fem!sole survivor getting slapped or strikes by an npc right in front of them? Can we categorize this; who would be the violent/threatening/just angry group? >:^0

omg, i’m pretty sure none of them would be remotely calm if that happened... but damn imagine the outcome of that poor npc. they lived a good life. this was a short request while i work on like 7 other ones, LOL.

thank you for requesting and please enjoy!

the next request i’m posting is gonna be a react that turned out a little longer than i expected so buckle up. 🤠

-

Danse:

violent/threatening

danse would for sure fall under the violent criteria of this situation. he already has one foot in the door once someone dares to go too close to sole, but hit her? that’s a totally different story for another day. that person better be praying to some god out there to give them mercy cause danse knows he won’t. the minute he hears that slap on soles face, it will trigger him to attack without a word. and to answer the question; does danse need a gun to do the job? absolutely not. those muscles are not just for show after all. no matter how many people hold him back, he will always fight his way through the crowd of people and beat the living fuck out of the person, even if they’re begging for him to stop. he won’t even realize the damage he’s done until after and won’t regret it either way, knowing that it was well deserved on their case. now if it was a situation where it was shoving or showing signs of starting a fight with his beloved, he’d step right in front of them and stare them down angrily with the biggest scowl ever. in some cases, that’s more than enough to scare most people off towards the other direction but in a few, he’s forced to threaten them. “i advise you step away unless you desire for this situation to escalate into something that involves solely you and i.” no one will ever be a threat to sole on his watch and he will make sure that nothing will stop him from protecting her.

Deacon:

threatening mixed with violence (depending the intensity of the situation)

deacons nice. he’s really laid back in most situations and is more than willing to let things go if he feels like it’s not worth the trouble. following that, deacons nice to a certain point and if you cross that point? consider yourself on his hitlist for the rest of your life. the intensity of the situation will determine how he’ll react towards it. if the person were to do as simple as shove sole, he’d keep an eye on them and say something within the lines of, “woah, woah, take it easy.” now if it was something like a slap or a punch, he wouldn’t even let it happen, not while he’s around. deacon would have fast enough reflexes to catch their wrist and he’d grip it enough to leave a mark, a displeased expression on his face. he’d even go as far as making jokes with an evil smile, such as, “oops my hand slipped,” or “oh you dropped this,” and proceed to deck the person as hard as he can with his free hand, not caring whether or not he knocks them unconscious. after that incident, he’d constantly terrorize the poor individual, often pulling pranks on them without any breaks. sometimes, he’d even go near them and speak in a happy tone while patting their back in a manner where it seemed a little too friendly.

Maccready:

threatening

mac is aware he’s not muscular nor is he made for fighting, which is why he sticks with guns during most situations. hes a lanky man and gets intimidated a little easier than most people, knowing that many of them could take him down with something as simple as a punch. it’s easier to say he’s more confident with a gun in his hand in these instances. despite his weaknesses, he would not hesitate to step up, knowing that hes unable to control his anger. he’d immediately point the gun at the persons temple and cock it just for intimidation purposes, but knows that he’s more than willing to pull the trigger if he needs to. it benefits him and the commonwealth more than damages it, seeing that this world needs one less asshole living it in, so who is he to care if this person dies or not? he’d slowly press it harder against the persons head, angrily speaking, “back away now.” if the person does so, he’ll gladly let them walk away without an injury and instead tend to sole. he wouldn’t let them go without some snarky comment like, “yeah keep walking and please let the door hit you on the way out.” if they refuse to move away from sole though, he’d gladly take the butt of his gun and smack it against their temple within seconds, completely ignoring the persons body knocked out on the floor. mac would get sole up and out of there as soon as he can, complaining under his breath about how much of that guy was an asshole and how he shouldve shot him.

Hancock:

violent group

consider one thing; that this person who fucked over his lover is beyond dead in his eyes. no one touches his sunshine, and if they dared to? theyll be wishing they hadn’t. hancock can quickly become someone’s friend, but the same can be said if it were an enemy. if he’s willing to stab someone for getting even a little too chummy and touchy with sole, imagine what he’d do if they dared to inflict pain on them. depending on where they are, like a bar for instance, he’d grab a glass bottle and crack it on the guys head, pushing him down on the floor without another word. using his shotgun, he’d make sure he’d put a few bullets through his body before he decides he’s completely satisfied with the new makeover he’s given them. now if he was in a more violent mood and was definitely not having it, he’d want to have their blood on his hands and wouldn’t care if it stained his clothes or not. he wants to send the message to everyone watching that if anyone dares to fucking cross his line, they’re gonna learn it the hard way and he will make it very known how the outcome of the situation will be. for example, he has a knife and what better way to use it than to stab the fuck out of someone for pissing him off? in some cases (depending on the severity of the situation), he’ll shank them in a place where he knows it’ll hurt the most and leave them there to suffer so they’ll get the idea that if they fuck with the people he treasures, they have another thing coming.

Nick Valentine:

mix of threatening and just angry.

honestly, nick is very civil about most cases and he won’t get violent unless absolutely necessary. he will definitely be beyond angry and give the person so much fucking shit for their actions. nick almost never yells but in this case, he’d yell so loud, it would fill up the silence of the room. nick also uses a lot of profanities when doing so, unable to maintain his professional attitude and his usual cool. “now what the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” he’d even go as far as shoving them back, keeping a distance between sole and the person who deemed themselves as a threat to her presence. he’d try to minimize the possibility of violence arising, knowing that both him and sole are not as replaceable as they seem. he’d sneer at the person who striked sole, talking in the most irritated tone possible, “if i wasn’t here controlling her anger, you would’ve been dead on the pavement just a few minutes back, pal. consider yourself lucky that you were spared.” regardless if the person continued talking or not, nick would casually take soles hand and pull her away from the scene as he let out a remark loud enough for them to hear; “we don’t have time for the likes of you anyway, so take your trouble elsewhere.” nick has like zero shame when it comes to back talking or insulting someone he’s not fond of, so you best believe he won’t shut up until you both are out of sight.

Preston:

honestly, just angry.

preston will avoid violence at all costs, considering he doesn’t favor the idea and as much as he hates seeing sole get hurt, he doesn’t want to risk starting another issue. sole has a reputation amongst the commonwealth and the last thing he wants is to taint it or fuck it up, so he lets sole decide whether or not violence should be pursued. also considering that she has more than enough on her plate, he doesn’t want to add on to the list of problems she already has. so unless this guy is literally on the verge of gravely injuring his other half, he won’t do much besides step in front of sole to protect her from any further hits. he’d rather take the hits than to let someone as important as her take them firsthand. he wouldn’t forgive himself if such a thing happened. even if sole did most of the work in the end, he’d still send them the dirtiest look he’s ever given anyone and his hand would already be on the trigger of his laser musket, ready to fire at the guy anytime just in case. before officially leaving the person to do their own thing and bidding them goodbye, he’d get a little up close and personal, talking in the most threatening tone possible (even if he’s not the greatest at it); “once you mess with the general, you mess with the minutemen. i’d suggest you choose your battles a little better next time around.”

Sturges:

just angry

we all know by now sturges is a huge pacifist and will refuse to resort to violence unless he has no absolute choice but to do so. sturges is a very kind man and just like deacon, he’s willing to let most cases go but he respects sole too much to let violent situations like this slide. even if he’s very afraid to get into a violent situation head on, he’ll try to keep it as calm as possible, not wanting to escalate the situation more. being the considerate lover he is, he will ask sole to stay back and keep away from the person as much as possible as he tries to handle the situation himself. even if sturges doesn’t show it, he does get very angry in these instances and will not allow it to happen regardless of the reason. he’ll probably talk to the person with a firm tone and an irate expression but do nothing further than that unless the individual wants blood spilled, which in this case, sole is brought back into the situation. knowing sturges, he’d probably tell the person something like, “hey buddy, i really don’t appreciate what ya just did to my girl. ya need to quit it cause it ain’t right.” or, “if we got a problem, you can always just come to me instead of strikin’ that beautiful lady of mine. i’m willin’ to fix it with ya and if not, then i’m willin’ to take the hit.. though i’m sure my girl wouldn’ appreciate such a motive.” he knew she really wouldn’t. sole would shoot them down before he could let out a soft, “told ya so.”

Gage:

the ceo of violent

even if the raider life consists of injuries, blood, dirty work, and violence, he will never allow sole to get hurt under his watch. even if he tells her to toughen up and get used to it, he truly wants to protect her from the world and anything that could run as a potential hazard. that being said, he doesn’t care who the fuck strikes sole- it could be a man, woman, the highest and most royal person in the planet and it’d still have the same result in the end. gage wouldn’t even give them a chance to explain themselves and would simply let out a small, “oh fuck no, you ain’t.” and shoot them down himself before sole could give him an order. he would take the situation into his own hands with or without soles persmission, knowing that they crossed gages line of comfort. if he’s not satisfied with that or feels as if that’s too much of an easy way out, he’ll shoot their leg and come closer to them to step on their chest to block any chance of escaping. “wanna act tough, huh? show me how tough ya are, why dontcha? be my guest and apologize to the overboss. i’ll let her decide if it’s good enough to let ya go.” if sole were to deny every apology, he’d continue to shoot them limb by limb until he decides to put them down completely. now if sole decides their apology is more than enough, he’ll willfully let them go but let her decide their fate on whether they should be put down or not. in the end, if he had his way with that bastard, they wouldn’t be seeing the light for a long while.

[phantaloon-books]

Alright I got a couple comments asking for a continuation so here's part 2 of neil finding out the feds were onto smth when they recommended witness protection program

part 1

(Also thank you so much, I genuinely didn't expect such a good reception, everything I write is purely self indulgent)

Andrew is gonna fucking lose it. It's been over three weeks and not a single word from Neil fucking Josten. He's never hated him more, and this time he means it when he says hate. Actually he's not sure he hates himself or Neil more, but he feels hatred and rage and that's what matters. But of course the rabbit just left. Once a rabbit, always a rabbit.

He wanted so desperately to believe that, that Neil chose to run, that he chose to leave him them and keep running because that's what he knows best. Even if believing Neil chose to leave hurts him more than he'll ever admit, it's the best thing to believe. It's best to believe that Neil left than to believe something happened. It's best to believe Neil grew tired and bored of him them than to listen to the worry and dread Andrew's been feeling for months. It's best to believe Neil didn't want him than to let himself think of worst case scenarios.

But he can't make himself think that Neil left willingly and because he wanted to (and not it's not because he wants to believe that Neil wouldn't leave him). Neil would never run without his things, not without his stupid binder and money and contacts, not without clothes or any resources. If he ran away he would do it properly. He wouldn't leave with running clothes and his stupid flip phone. And most importantly Andrew knows that Neil has been restless lately. He's seen the way Neil checks every corner or every place, observes the people, looks for threats. He'd left those habits behind, so something has to have happened. Neil didn't just leave him.

The best thing is the other foxes aren't convinced Neil would run either. He had no one to run from, and he had a family now. And even if he was feeling overwhelmed or anxious, he would have come back. He wouldn't have taken three weeks. So they know, they know, Neil didn't leave because he wanted or needed to. And they're all anxious as hell about that bc if he didn't leave where is he?

They narrow it down eventually, and conclude that he got in a fight and is dead in a ditch somewhere, he had an accident in a coma in a hospital somewhere, he somehow got lost and/or lost his memory, someone killed him accidentally or not and his body is buried somewhere far away, or he's been taken. And Andrew cannot take the stress that he doesn't know where the fuck Neil is any longer.

He almost killed Kevin and several federal agents when Neil went missing for a few hours. This time, he hasn't tried to kill anyone yet but that hasn't stopped him from tearing every dorm apart and the stadium and the police station and the hospital and getting in fights with the FBI. He's desperate enough that he called Browning, hell, he's desperate enough that he contacted the Moriyamas, which wasn't a pleasant experience, but Ichirou had promised Neil protection and this definitely called for mafia intervention. So far neither the FBI or the Moriyamas had helped - yes they had, they informed him regularly that they were looking for Neil, but they had nothing, no clues no trails, and Andrew couldn't believe their incompetence, like for fucks sake the Moriyamas were yakuza, they ought to know what could have happened to one of their most valuable assets. And anyway if he ran, and wasn't taken, they for sure would be behind him, looking to kill him of course, but they still couldn't find him.

Andrew hasn't tried to kill anyone yet but he will soon if he doesn't find Neil, and he's sure he will start with himself. He can't remember the last time he slept or ate well, or went to exy practice, but he doesn't care. He can't care until he knows something. The lack of knowledge is driving him crazy. At this point knowing that Neil is dead and has been rotting in the countryside of Poland would be better than not knowing anything.

He hates this so much. He hates Neil for disappearing. He hates whoever went and got him. He hates the Moriyamas for not being able to find him and not keeping him safe in the first place. He hates himself for becoming so attached. He should have known better. He knew better. He knew it was a bad idea to feel all the things he feels for Neil, especially because it's Neil, the unpredictable rabbit. But he fell for the fake hope that they would make it, that he wouldn't be hurt again, that Neil would stay. He knew letting someone in again could kill him. He knows that if they don't find him, it will. He can't keep going like this. He was stupid enough to feel hopeful, but he won't be able to live once the hope dies.

He's laying in Neil's bed. He knows it's pathetic, but frankly he doesn't care. Everyday is worse than the last one. He's slipping and when he falls it's game over, he's going to make sure of that. If Neil genuinely cared, he'd be pissed at Andrew for even thinking about this. No he'd be upset, but not pissed, about the fact that he's considering taking his life over this. But he opened the door to feelings, and he won't be able to cope with them and he won't be able to close that door again. He's giving up.

Faint buzzing interrumps his thoughts. Someone's calling him. He couldn't stomach the runaway song that matched with Neil's but he couldn't stomach changing it either, so he leaves in on vibrate now. He looks at his screen. It's an unknown number. Most likely the FBI or the Moriyamas or a random police station ready to take him out of his misery and just tell him they found Neil's body. The code says it's from Minnesota. He considers not answering, but he might as well get over it.

He flips the phone open, "I only care about this if you are from the FBI or the literal mafia, so if you aren't from either, feel free to hang up." The other line stays silent for a few seconds, but when he looks at his phone, it's still going. The person didn't hang up. He doesn't have the patience for this. "I'm just gonna hang up then-"

"Andrew, wait." It's barely a hesitant whisper. The voice is absolutely shattered, rough and hoarse and very painful-sounding. There's wheezing too and labored breaths. But god. No matter how wrecked he sounds, he'd recognize that voice anywhere. In half a second he's up and falling from the bed in his haste, alert at last. He can't believe it. He wants to but he doesn't want to believe the call is real.

"Neil? Neil is that you?" He hates how vulnerable he sounds, but the thought dies quickly. There's no way, no way this is real. A sob breaks through the line, and oh it sounds so full of pain and fear.

"Andrew, I-I need you to stay safe. I don't know if they're coming for you, for the foxes. I need you to find a place where you're safe. Call Browning or Ich- the little Lord and make sure they can protect you guys for a while."

Okay that's definitely Neil even if he didn't answer the question. And Andrew's heart is going a thousand miles an hour, he doesn't feel his body anymore.

"Neil where are you? I'm coming to get you, I'll call Browning but where are you?"

"'Drew," another sob, and this one manages to break Andrew's walls more than than the whispered 'Drew', "promise me you'll stay safe, don't come looking for me, you can't take them down, please don't come looking for me."

The exhaustion and terror in his voice doesn't sit well with Andrew. The Neil he knows is not this. "For fucks sake Neil just tell me where in Minnesota you are, I'm coming to get you."

"No- no you're not, I'm not calling you because I want you to come. I just need you to promise you'll be safe."

"Neil who took you? Where are you? I can send the FBI or the japanese shits over, I swear to god I can send them to come get you if you just tell me where you are and who took you. I'll - I'll try my best to keep the others safe, but who took you?"

"I'm sorry, Andrew, I- I didn't mean to, please believe I didn't mean to leave, they- some of the Butcher's pals found me, I'm so sorry- I put all of you in danger again."

"Okay, that's something we can work with, now where are you Neil?"

"Andrew-" his breath hitches, he gasps and whimpers, "I'm so sorry, I have to go, I need to leave Andrew. Please stay safe. Look I- I love you okay? I'm sorry I didn't say it earlier."

"Neil wait don't hang up-"

And the line goes dead.

The world is falling apart, collapsing all around Andrew. He's numb but he feels encompassing terror. He can't feel a thing, he can't think. He was so close. It feels like Neil just slipped past his fingers, like he just let go of Neil and let him fall to the darkness. He thinks he may be falling too. He needs to call Browning. He does it instinctively, he doesn't register he has his phone to his ear until the FBI agents voice is calling to him. He also goes with what he's gonna say with the same instinct he pulled in Baltimore, knowing he can't mention certain mafia.

"Neil just called me, I have no idea from where, I have no idea how he got a hold of me, he didn't say a thing, he refused to say a thing other than we're in danger, the foxes, and that whoever took him will come for us- oh and apparently it's someone involved with the Butcher."

How he managed to be as apathetic and unattached to everything he said is beyond him. But whatever he says and whatever Browning says, FBI agents are now guarding them in the locker room of the Foxhole Court, with mattresses and mats laid down on the floor. and he doesn't know how they got here and he's cuffed all over again, but this time to Renee even if he doesn't remember being violent. Even the stupid rookies are here, looking extremely panicked and terrified despite most of them not giving a fuck that Neil was gone just hours ago. The other foxes - Neil's family - are pressing Andrew for answers, but he can't deal with anything at the moment.

He needs to call Ichirou too. That's the call that matters, because that's the call that can bring Neil home because he can't do that himself while cuffed to Renee and being guarded by the fucking FBI. He somehow convinces the agent to let him make a call, to his therapist he says, to grant him privacy even if that's utter bullshit. He's dragging Renee into the eye of the storm but oh well, why did they cuff him to her in the first place, it's not his fault. He calls the Moriyama representative he's been dealing with and thank Renee's god the woman answers.

"I need to talk to- to Lord Ichirou, it's about Neil Josten's whereabouts, I got important information about him." He can feel both the condescension from the other end of the line and poorly veiled shock from Renee. "I know where he is, I know about who's got him, I need to talk to Lord Moriyama."

He isn't sure how he managed it. He doesn't know how he convinced them to let them talk to their mafia boss, or how he's able to keep his cool for long enough to actually talk to the man himself. He thinks having Renee there, who asks no questions and keeps her hand on top of Andrew's with no hesitation, is part of the solution but he's not admitting that. Either or, he talks to Ichirou (he can't deny he's not terrified of messing up with the man who keeps Neil alive, but he's not admitting that either), reminds him of how Neil is important to the Moriyamas, both as an exy player and as a Wesninski, and how Neil, Kevin and Jean are loyal to the Moriyamas, hints at how Ichirou promised protection. He has perfect memory, but he will never remember how he convinced Ichirou Moriyama to send people to Minnesota and look for him all over the state and surrounding states, all he knows is that Ichirou stuck to his promise, all is good, he didn't fuck up.

Weeks pass again, nothing happens. There's no news from the Moriyamas, the FBI keeps telling him they're doing what they can. Andrew is done. No one came looking for them at least, which is nice bc they didn't die but it doesn't feel worth it when Neil wasn't back. He feels stupid for hoping he would come back safe and alive. The Moriyamas might as well have killed him for being such an inconvenience. Things are going to hell. Andrew was an idiot for falling so hard for Neil Josten. It was a mistake. He should have known better.

His anger is gone, and numbness has settled. It was becoming a habit for him to remain lying down most of the day. It was also becoming a habit for the foxes to take care of him when he did this. He can't even bother to shower if someone doesn't remind him every day, or eat, or drink water for that matter. He's a mess and he would be incredibly embarrassed if he cared a little, but he's slipping and he doesn't mind falling. Nothing is fine. Until it is.

It comes in the form of a text one morning, while he's lying on the couch in the living room. An unknown number again, New York code, and it only reads, "Threat has been dealt with - I". And what the fuck does that mean. It tells him absolutely nothing. If Ichirou bothered to text him he could at least be clear as to what the fuck that meant. Was Neil even alive? There is a soft knock at the door. Of course, someone bothers him when no other fox is at the dorm. They couldn't ditch every class to make sure Andrew didn't combust spontaneously.

He truly doesn't want to get up. He doesn't want to go answer the door. It's too much a bother. If it's someone important they'll either knock again aor shout for him to open up. He curls up in bed. He honestly wants to disappear. There's another knock, a little harder than the first. But there's no voice, no demand, no nothing. Maybe it's a Moriyama. Maybe he'll feel so disrespected or whatever he's gonna barge in and end his misery. Whatever. "Fuck off", he shouts from the couch, hoping for the best. There's another knock, for fuck's sake, can they just walk in already? Another, and he's up. Pissed and going for the door.

"Fucking hell, what do you want?" His anger is back with a passion, and he's practically stomping to the door, throwing it wide open, "Just barge through the fucking door, and get it over with-"

He has to stop exploding when people don't answer to him right away. Maybe he should work on his patience. Because frankly it has been working against him at the worst times. No it's not his fault. It's the idiot's fault for appearing at out nowhere and stealing his breath away. Everything is Neil Josten's fault.

"Hey Drew," said idiot's voice is impossibly more hoarse than when he called him before. Andrew can't tell if his heart is beating too fast or not at all. He thought he was a mess, but Neil looks like he's been through hell and back. Well, he's been through hell and back too many times before, but he's never looked this bad, and he was a mess after Evermore. His face is beaten so badly, so swollen, if he didn't know him and those stupidly blue eyes so well. Even his eyes are different, there's no spark, they're dull and hazy. He's wearing a large hoodie and sweatpants, so Andrew can't see the damage beyon his face, but at least his hands remain okay, there's no new damage. "Looks like I still have it in me to leave you speechless, huh."

Andrew takes a deep breath and he sighs. And his heart breaks. Neil. Neil. Neil is here. Andrew wants to craddle him and hold him and never let him go again. He doesn't care if it's soft, Neil is here. He raises his hands, frames Neil's face like he has before. He presses a hand to Neil's neck, looking for a pulse, and he finds it. He's alive.

"Neil," he breathes, and he feels. He feels. "You're alive, I thought, you-"

They're both silent. Andrew doesn't notice when Neil raises his hands, framing his own face. They've been here before.

"I'm not leaving you, I promised right? You're not getting rid of me that easily. "

He hates feeling this much, "You've got some explaining to do, but- it can wait."

"That's good yeah, because I'm not sure how much longer I can remain conscious and the Moriyamas weren't the best at patching everything up, so I'd really appreciate it if you call Abby."

He doesn't trust himself to open his mouth, so he guides Neil inside, holding on to his hand like a tether. Neil deflates, he grimaces as Andrew helps him to the couch. He's obviously hiding something below the clothes. Andrew stands to call Abby, but Neil grips his hand tightly. When Andrew looks up, he sees the fear and exhaustion he heard on the call weeks ago. Neil isn't able to keep up the act of being okay for long.

"Stay, pl- just," he looks away, and Andrew doesn't know how to feel about the pause, he didn't say the word, "can you stay?"

And he does. Things aren't fine. Neil is a mess. So is Andrew. They have to work through stuff. Andrew clearly has to work on the apparent dependancy issues. But they'll have time now. Neil is safe. He's alive and safe. He lost consciousness not long after he sat down, but Abby, Wymack and the foxes are on their way. They're not fine. But Neil is lying next to him, and he isn't gonna let him go again. They'll be fine.

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Stay With Me (Pt. 08 of 09)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon X Reader

Word count: 3 K

Summary: Daryl found you surrounded by the dead, stuck in the backseat of a car. You were wishing for death to take you away for quite a while now, but, as you slid back and forth into consciousness, there was only one thing keeping you alive. Him, the man with blue, worried eyes and kind voice. Your beaten up body was ready to give up, too wounded and broken to keep going. But this man, who went out of his way to save your life is the only thing in the world holding you up. And, because of him, you feel something you haven't felt in a very long time: hope. Wherever he's taking you, you want to get there, and not only to be buried. For what it feels like the very first time, you want to live. He takes you back to Alexandria, but even there, the nightmares and the terror from all the torture and pain you've been through keeps creeping closer, and Daryl, your hero, is the only one who can keep that all away.

Warnings: Mentions and description (not graphic) of past abuse; post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD); some violence at the end of the story (a little bit graphic, but not so much); blood.

<- Previous part (07)

Next part (09)->

{The Walking Dead Masterlist}

I want to thank my awesome friend @jodiereedus22, who helped me (and still does) a lot to get this story done. She's also a writer and she's amazing so please go check her work!!

×

Nightmare

It's amazing to know you're excited about the party. Luke is two months old, and since you had a welcome party in-store, you turned it into a birthday party. It'll happen later tonight, by nightfall, and you're enjoying the last moments before you have to leave the bedroom and start organizing things.

After brushing your teeth and hair, you leave the bathroom, smiling to see Daryl still lied in bed. He seems peaceful, eyes closed, so handsome in the morning light. You've been wanting to tell him something, it's been a while... But you never get the right time. Or maybe you're just a little scared...

But looking at him now, it just fades away. You and Daryl have been in a solid relationship, and despite the short time, things have been amazing. Perfect. Carol is even talking about moving out, so you and Daryl can have your own space, but you don't want to push her to it. In the privacy of your bedroom, you're fine. And living with Carol is nice.

“Hey, D.” You say in a soft voice, going to the bed and climbing on top of him. Daryl grunts something, his eyes opening, hands coming to your hips and waist. “Are you awake?”

“I am now that a kitten came to lie down on me.” He mumbles as you move up until your face is at the same level as his. You place your legs around his hips, hands sustaining your weight on each side of his head.

“Sorry.” You mutter, moving to stand up. But Daryl's grip gets tighter, and you let yourself fall, collapsing against his chest, giggling. “Alright, alright. But listen up now...”

“What is it?” He brings a hand to your face, fingers caressing your chin.

“Uhm...” Blushing a little, you clear your throat. “I... I think... No, I do.”

Daryl raises an eyebrow, and you can tell he's trying to figure it out on his own. “Ya wanna break apart?” He bursts out suddenly. “ ‘Cause if that's what ya want, I–”

“Oh, yeah. Definitely.” You say in a sarcastic tone, rolling your eyes. “I'm literally on top of you, Daryl Dixon. How can you possibly think I want to end things?” Moving to sit up, straddling his hips, you cross your arms. “What do you have in this pretty head of yours? Only hunting skills?”

“Yer very funny.” In a sudden motion, Daryl pulls you down again, switching positions so he's on top of you instead. “What is it then?” He asks, his face way too close.

“Can I kiss you first?”

“Nah. Ya got me curious.”

“Alright...” Taking a deep breath, you gather up some courage to push the words out. “I want a baby.” Shrugging your shoulders, you giggle at Daryl's funny face. “What?”

“Don't ya have one already?”

“Yeah...” Mumbling, you wrap your arms around his neck. “Daryl?”

“Huh?”

“I want another baby.” Smirking, you place a kiss on his lips. He's fast to kiss you back, a hand cupping your cheek. “So. What do you think?” You ask when you pull away.

“How are ya plannin’ to get one?”

You're not sure if his intention was to make you blush, but you're blushing anyway. “Uhm... First I need to get married.”

“Get married? People don't care about these things anymore.” He answers quickly, and you wonder if you went too far. Maybe it's way too early, and these thoughts should be kept inside your heart for a while longer.

“I know but... That's exactly why I care.” Sighing, you avoid his eyes. “I'm sorry, we haven't talked about this and I don't even know if–”

“Hey, calm down.” With his thumb and index finger on your chin, he makes you look at him again. You always appreciates Daryl's touch, it doesn't matter how small it is. It took a while for him to get comfortable enough to do this so easily, and you never take it for granted. He's always gentle as if you're a porcelain doll. He's never rough, never violent, not with you. Loving Daryl happened fast and strong, and it's a feeling that only grows, every passing day. “Ya wanna talk about it we'll talk about it.”

“It's just that... I-I love you. With all my heart and... It does feel like we already have this family thing going on and...” Daryl has fallen into this father role, and he's absolutely amazing with Luke. He can make him fall asleep in minutes, and you love to watch as he rocks the baby to sleep. And those moments always get your mind racing. He's already being such a good father so maybe he'd like a baby of his own... And you'd like to give him that. “...It got me thinking.”

“I love ya too, babygirl. But marriage... It would bound you with me on a whole different level.” Daryl sits up, and you follow his movement, your arms still around his neck, keeping him close. “I wanna make sure ya have the choice ta’ walk away when ya want to.”

“I won't walk away, Dixon. I love you.” He needs to be reassured of that from time to time, but you don't mind. You want to spend the rest of your life making sure Daryl knows he's loved. That he's desired and wanted. “I want to be with you for the rest of my life and if that's what you want too... You know, I'm a girlish girl, I'd like to get married someday, and honestly, if not with you then I won't marry anyone else.” Shrugging your shoulders, you look down, a shiver rolling down your spine, feeling his fingers caressing your bare thigh.

“Ya sure ya want this? With me? Are ya sure about what yer talking about?”

“I am.” You mutter in a low voice, blushing. “I am.” Repeating in a low voice, you kiss him, slowly at first, but soon enough his taste overcomes everything, and you think he feels the same since he deepens the kiss. Pulling him down again, you smile when his hand touches a ticklish spot on your side.

“Hey, you two!” Carol calls, knocking on the door. “Wake up. There's a lot to do today.”

Daryl grunts in response, not pulling away from the kiss.

But Carol is right. It'll be a long day and both you and Daryl have stuff to get ready for the party.

The day passes by quickly since you're helping everyone a little. The only thing you can't do is lift heavy stuff. Daryl forbade it, with Denise backing him up, you have no idea for how long. The party will happen at Rick's house since the living room is the biggest, and you spend hours there decorating everything. You try not to think too much about all the people who will be here tonight. You know them, you befriended them, they won't hurt you.

When it's finally time to go, you're impressed by how you feel. Happy, not scared, and actually excited. You never thought stuff like this would ever happen again. It's silly, but it keeps people sane, said Deanna. The sun is making its way to the horizon when you're getting dressed. You chose to wear a dress Daryl brought you from one of his runs. It's a light shade of blue, with thin straps and a nice cleavage in the back, reaching a few inches below the mid of your thighs. You never wear anything that will show the scar on your leg, you don't like it. Nor what it represents. You're putting on your flats when Daryl comes out of the bathroom, hair still damp, but completely dressed. He's wearing what he usually wears, always dark colors, but you don't mind. You really like it.

“Are you ready?” You ask, turning on your heels to face him. Daryl doesn't answer, eyes locked on you, lingering for so long it makes you blush. “D? Cat got your tongue?”

“Nah, it just...” He looks down at his feet before making his way over you. “Ya look beautiful, that's all.”

“Thanks.” Smiling shyly, you tiptoe to kiss him. “But I'll need a coat for when the night falls... Mind if I get one of yours?”

“Won't ya ever stop stealin’ my clothes?” Daryl fakes an annoyed tone, but it takes two seconds for his lips to break into a smile.

“Well, you stole my heart, Dixon. I'm just looking for revenge.” Winking at him, you search on the wardrobe for one of his jackets. “Now let's get going. Maggie and I baked this brownies and I'm dying for one.” Grabbing the jacket, you take his hand and leave the bedroom.

Carol is already there, so you just have to take little Luke and head out. He wants Daryl this time, so he's the one carrying him to Rick's place. As you walk there, the wind messes with your hair, and you try to keep it from your face.

“Who are the new residents, by the way?” You just remembered them. If the day wasn't so hectic, you'd ask Daryl to introduce you to them, just so you could know their faces before having to meet them at the party.

“Two men. Aaron found them starving to death a hundred miles Northwest. They're alright I guess. Since Deanna allowed them to stay.” Daryl reassures you, his free hand taking yours. “Ya ok?”

“Yeah... I'm excited, actually.” As you climb the few steps to the porch, Luke giggles, you're not sure why. “Right, little one?” Stopping by the front door, you step closer to the baby in Daryl's arm. “Are you excited too? For your party? Two months old already, you're growing up so fast.” You're still baby-talking when the door is opened, a smiley Carl gesturing for you to get in.

“C'mon, let's get ya those brownies,” Daryl says as you step inside.

It takes no time for people to come to talk to Luke, him becoming the center of attention. He throws himself on Maggie's arms, who happily welcomes him.

“(Y/N),” Rick says and you turn on your heels to talk to him. Daryl remains close, and you know why. But you feel fine, comfortable around these people. “Judith said a funny word this morning. I wonder where she learned it.” He has his hands on his hips, and you innocently shrug your shoulders.

“What word?”

“Damn it,” Daryl answers, not a hint of doubt in his voice. Rick nods, raising his eyebrow.

“Oh my gosh. Where could she have heard such a thing?” She learned it from you because that's what you exclaim almost a hundred times a day and that's not really a secret anymore. “I'm sure she said something like ‘dang it’ so I don't see how that's my fault. ‘Dang it’ it's not that bad is it?”

“Well, I think–”

“(Y/N). Daryl.” Deanna calls, and you give Rick a smirk, meaning you're happy to be saved from this conversation. Turning around, you focus on Deanna. “Come, you're the only ones who haven't met Michael and Daniel yet.”

“Ok.” You can't help but feel a little anxious to meet new people, so you grab Daryl's arm as you follow Deanna through the living room.

“Over here.” She gestures, a kind smile on her lips. “This is Daniel, and Michael, they were found–”

Her words fade when both men turn to look at you. Their faces are unmistakable, and you feel yourself sinking, skin burning, head spinning as it all comes back.

Their voices, touches, and threats. You're suddenly back there, in the darkness, starving, freezing, waiting, wishing for death to come before they did. You're in the basement where your screams used to echo. All of your wounds start hurting, pulsing, as if they were reopened, all over again.

You never got the names, but you'll never forget the faces. One of them, the you thought looked like Rick, has a smile on his lips. The same sick, wicked smile, the same he had every time he went to see you, never failing to draw some blood.

“Hi, (Y/N).” He says, in the same tone he used to. Low, dark, more animal than human.

What happens next is a blur. There's yelling, and Daryl suddenly isn't by your side anymore. He's a blur, moving towards both men, drawing punches. You're pulled back by someone, you don't know where, but you know it isn't Daryl. You know his touch by heart, and it's the only touch you want.

“Let go of me!” You yell, pushing whoever that was, sinking, falling backward until you hit a wall. You want to disappear again, to vanish from existence. With both hands covering your ears, you push yourself into the wall, hoping it'll absorb you, hide you.

“Take them. Now.”

“The trial happens tomorrow.”

“Lock those assholes up.”

“Enjoy your last night on Earth.”

The words have no meaning, they just keep echoing. The low chattering, the many footsteps... Why are you still here? Why can't you be strong for once and just run? Run where? If they're here... Where else could you go?

“Babygirl,” his low, calming voice is like a beacon, lighting up the darkness, bringing you back, pulling you into consciousness again. Into life.

Moving just a little, hands off your ears and muscles relaxing, you look at him, immediately running to his arms. “They're here. They're here, they... They found me.”

“Alright, calm down now.” He holds you tight, a hand rubbing your back. “Let's get ya outta here.”

Nodding, you offer no resistance when he picks you up. You keep your eyes closed, face hidden on the crook of his neck as you float away. It feels like the first time, when he was carrying you from the infirmary into what's now your house.

You flinch a little when you're pulled down, suddenly recognizing your bed and curling up, pulling the blankets over your head.

“How is she?”

“I don't know.” Daryl sounds angry, furious. “I'll kill them right now.”

“No, Daryl. The trial will be tomorrow. You know they'll die for what they did”

“I don't care!”

“You need to stay with her now.”

You know it's Carol, but still, you want her to go. You need everyone to go away now, you just need Daryl. You need to... Go away. Alexandria isn't safe anymore. You rather face the dead.

Silently, moved by fear, you get up, taking the dress off, and struggling with the first pair of jeans you find.

“(Y/N),” Daryl calls, but you ignore him, sight blurred by the tears as you put a shirt on. “Hey, (Y/N).” You don't know what to take... You just need to leave. These walls won't keep you safe anymore. If you stay... You know they'll find you again.

“I'm leaving.” You mumble, looking around and finding the white sneakers you left by the edge of the bed and putting them on.

“What–”

“I'm leaving! I can't stay here. If I stay here it'll happen all over again.” You're yelling, sitting on the bed, sobbing. “They're here, they'll take me again, they-they–”

“Shh, yer ok.” Daryl pulls you up, into his arms, and you melt. The sobs are muffled by this jacket, and your tears are certainly soaking the fabric. “Look at me, babygirl. Look at me.” Slowly, you raise your head, his blue eyes acting immediately, like a medicine made only for you. “There's a place I can take ya for the night. But ya need to be here tomorrow. To officialize their crime so I can kill those–”

“Take me away, please.” You beg, holding onto him as if he's the only thing keeping you sane. Alive. Because he is. “Please, if I stay here I'll–”

“Alright, alright.” He nods, a hand caressing your cheek. “Let's go then. C'mon.”

Everything happens in the background, you feel. Carol stays by your side in the porch, guiding you to the car Daryl took to drive you away. You barely feel your body now, out on the street, feeling their eyes on you... Their eyes, evil and disgusting, as they lust over you. You know they're not here, but still, you feel them. Wanting you to cave in, to agree to fulfill their needs in the most vile, degrading ways. You're hyperventilating when the gate opens, the woods before you suddenly looking far safer than these walls.

When Daryl crosses the gate, you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, lungs burning. The sun is coming down, so there are a some shadows creeping in... But it's better out here. The wall will keep them inside, you hope.

“Babygirl,” Daryl says, getting your attention. “We're almost there, alright?”

“Ok.” You mumble, and Daryl puts a hand on your knee.

“Nothin’ will hurt ya. Never again. M’ gonna keep that promise.”

Holding his hand, your eyes meet his when he gives you a glance.

Around ten minutes later, Daryl stops the car. You haven't noticed before, but he parked in front of a small, wooden house. It looks like it was some kind of cabin in the woods since there are no other constructions around it. “C'mon.” He says when he opens the passenger door for you. Your legs feel a little weak, but you manage to stand up, immediately looking around. “There's nobody here, I promise ya.”

Nodding, you let him guide you inside, a flashlight on his hand. Daryl unlocks the door, and you wonder why he has the key to this thing. When you step in, the light coming from in between the planks on the windows helps you see the interior. There is a cough and a coffee table, you recognize it despite the dark plastic covering both things. Walking further in, you peak at the kitchen. Everything is clean and has a plastic placed over them. It kinda looks live someone used to live here not too long ago.

“I found this place a while ago.” Daryl starts, placing his backpack on the floor. “Was fixin’ it, cleanin’... So I could bring ya here every once in a while.” He gestures at the whole place in general, and you take another look around. He did say he'd try to find a place he could take you outside Alexandria, but you never thought it would be this good. “Still has a lot to do. Gonna put electricity, runnin’ water will be more complicated but I'll do it.”

“You're doing all that for me?” You whisper, hoping the dim light will hide your blushing cheeks.

“Yeah... Wanted to bring ya here under different circumstances but...” He takes the bag again, gesturing at the hall. “First door to the right it's our bedroom.”

Following his direction, you open the door to a small bedroom with a double bed, also covered with black plastic. The windows have wooden planks on it too, but there's enough space in between them so let some light come in.

“Here, lemme’–” Daryl drops the bag, walking over the bed and removing the plastic. Underneath, the light green sheets seem comfortable and you get it now why everything is covered up. To keep it clean. “Ya can lie down it ya want to. Brought some blankets.” As you move to the bed, Daryl searches in the bag, picking up two blankets and fixing them on the bed. “Ya hungry? Or thirsty? I brought–”

“I just need you, Daryl.” You whisper, drying off some tears that are still rolling down. “Can you come here?”

“Of course, babygirl.” Quickly, he leaves the bag behind and joins you in bed. Daryl pulls you close, you head on his chest as his arms hold you tightly, keeping you safe.

“I hope this is just a nightmare... That I'll wake up tomorrow and it'll all be gone.” Mumbling, you push yourself even closer to him, if that's even possible.

“I'll kill them myself, I swear.” There's a fire in his voice, hate. You've never heard him talking like that, his chest vibrating powerfully. “I'll wipe them off the face of Earth.”

Involuntary, your hand finds its way to your leg, to the scar. The pain is a vivid memory today, and for a moment you feel like you should lie down, as motionless as you can so it won't hurt. So the stitches won't rip again.

How is it possible that all the horrible memories came back all at once? On one second? “I-if I didn't have you, I... I'd die today, I know I would.”

“Nah, ya wouldn't.” Moving, he brings his index finger to your chin, making you look at him. “Yer stronger than ya give yourself credit for. Ya don't see it, but I do.” Then, he places a soft, sweet kiss on your lips, which is sadly, too brief. “But I will protect ya. Always, until my days are over.”

“Daryl, I–”

“I wanna marry ya.” He bursts out, his low voice burning through your head as you wonder if you heard him right. “When this is over and those monsters are dead... I wanna marry ya.”

Despite the terror, creeping through your skin, the darkness threatening to swallow you again, you smile. Everything fades away, and a different kind of happiness washes over you. A type of bliss you didn't even know existed. Unable to control yourself, you climb over him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I love you,” you mutter, not giving him the chance to answer, connecting your lips on his in a loving, passionate kiss.

×

@funeral-7 @heyyy-hey-babyyy @twdeadfanfic @soraitmnt @winchester-angel @bvbwestfall @shawtygonemad @cameronsails @pulplorrd @browneyes528 @btsiguess-kpop @a-dlv @bibibeauelle @lightning-butterfly @yttricuz

[emersonfreepress]

ok ok in the spirit of community, how would the ros fair in a paintball war?

(referring to this ask! like the zombie au post this ended up making me think a lot 😅)

ohh... interesting, interesting... p sure the only paintball wars i’ve really seen were the ones featured in The League, Peep Show, and Community... but let me wrack my lil head...

ok, i ended up coming at this from multiple angles like the zombie au post 😅 always so much to consider in battle environments! and in the spirit of community, I'll stick with the individual player elimination style paintball match. in the woods with other e prep seniors. last one standing wins bragging rights

Gabe

Shooting skill | 6/10 - Experience with shooting and practice with Kile ofc

Stealthiness | 8/10 - He's done a fair amount of sneaking around during his after school activities, is super observant (or just paranoid lol), and naturally light on his feet. Good luck ambushing him.

Strategy | 8/10 - Strike deals. Do favors. Form alliances. Shoot 'em in the back once they’ve outlived their usefulness. ...What? It’s just paintball.

How does he win? | Graciously. Gabe likes winning, and especially via strategic manipulation, so it puts a smile on his face. And he's in a good mood so he treats a bunch of you to ice cream or smth 👀

How does he lose? | Slumps in frustration at being outwitted or taken off-guard, sulks about it for a little while. He's not that sore of a loser but needs time to lick his wounds and stop thinking of the different choices he could have made.

Kile

Shooting | 9 - The most accurate shooter of the cast and easily one of the best shots at E Prep. Lots of practice + talent

Stealth | 10 - They're stupid good at climbing trees and 100% consider that a valid method of ambushing their classmates. People start having flashbacks to 3rd and 4th grade recess and P.E. Scanning the trees. They just start taking people out with such efficiency it quickly starts ruining the game 😂

Strategy | 0? 10?? - “...Strategy? You just stay out of sight and kill 'em all, right?” (immediately scolded by Gabe for word choice 🙄) They really do mainly stay out of sight and pick people off with max stealth, like 😆 they'd be such a terror, people would need to take them out early for anyone else to stand a chance! They spend a lot of the game staking out the most frequented paths in the area and taking out groups quickly, all at once. Then they'll get around to stalking and picking people off one by one. The real fun...

Winner type | Stoic. Likes winning combat but the stakes were non-existent, so... the win is meaningless! this just infuriates the losers more 😅 such disrespect

Loser type | Sucks their teeth and tosses their paintball gun to the ground. "Y'all suck." (they're over it five mins later tho lol)

Jack

Shooting | 3 - This is nothing like shooting light guns... ☹️

Stealth | 5 - Not just due to his size making him an easier target, but homeboy is liable to get distracted by a cute squirrel or some pretty flowers 😂 He's not great at keeping his voice down either so good conversation would make him easy to seek out. He's just out here enjoying a beautiful day 😅

Strategy | 7 - All that movie-watching (and DMing) make him a valuable creative mind for problem-solving, but he needs a cooperative team to be effective. Rescued and recruited by Rupan/Rohan early on in the game ^ ^

Winner type | Disbelief! And everyone’s content and satisfied with him winning. Except Vivian/Vincent, that jealous fool

Loser type | Doesn't mind losing at all! He just hopes he was a good teammate and was glad to have fun ☺️

Jessie

Shooting | 7 - Comes from a family of hunters, girly knows how to shoot.

Stealth | 6 - Familiar enough with woods and stalking prey to be capable of sneaking around. Having too much fun to not giggle and get overly invested in the developing plot of the game. Even more easily distracted by critters and flora than Jack 😅

Strategy | 5 - Oh, she's just here to have fun. She'll go with whatever the person she's teaming up with decides, but can adapt easily enough.

Winner type | Surprised... then elated! Bouncing and happy and it's completely contagious. No hard feelings about a single thing. Convinces Heidi to invite people to the Emerson Estate—it's a hot day and they have a nice pool

Loser type | Same as Jack! Congratulates the winner with a hug because she's sweet like that 🧁

Rain

Shooting | 2 - This... thing is so cumbersome. And ugly. At least it shoots pretty colors.

Stealth | 7 - Small and used to sneaking around different environments and seeking out hiding spots. Their height and frame makes them harder to spot too.

Strategy | 4 - Hide!!! They’re not getting assaulted with paint and pellets!! Especially not after managing to make this ugly jumpsuit look cute?? Waiting it out is perfectly legitimate. Might share snacks if you decide to join them in hiding 😆

Winner type | Falls asleep in an unexpectedly cozy hiding spot and emerges as everyone thought they’d declared the winner. I imagine R and others yelling at them to get their gun while the original winner scrambles to get theirs, just for Rain to win by pure luck of the draw. Won’t stop them bragging about it, though! (I want this spurned runner-up to be Vi bc ofc)

Loser type | "So I can stop holding this thing?" Yawn. "I'm so hungry and bored, we've been at this for hours..."

Rupan/Rohan

Shooting | 4 - Ah, shit. These don't shoot anything like light guns.

Stealth | 7 - They sneak out and around town a lot 😂 They just force themself to be careful about how loud grass and bushes are.

Strategy | 7 - They’re treating this shit like an action movie and banding together a ragtag team of misfits to take down the strongest alliances and players. Savvy enough to reject Gabe’s and Curt’s offers to join, not opposed to strategic backstabs. They're very clearly just as focused on having fun as they are on winning—and playing Predator, which honestly works with Kile runnin around. They even brought war paint and borrowed a tactical vest. Is it mostly packed with snacks and weed? Maybe. Does it prove useful for negotiations? Hell yeah.

Winner type | Raucous celebration, just pure joy and adrenaline ☺️ Celebrates with their team, brags a bit, rubs it into Vi's face, makes fun of Curt, the usual. Then invites allies out to get pizza because it's the obvious next step

Loser type | Mostly disappointed they can't keep playing. They're a little sore about being left out of the action, but soon just start chatting with other marked players about how the game went for them. Plenty entertaining on its own, they want all the details

Vivian/Vincent

Shooting | 5 - They've got a little bit of shooting experience.

Stealth | 4 - They're overly sensitive and hate being in nature. Their skin is sticky, they keep feeling bugs everywhere, they've gotten dirt all over their pants, it's so hot, they keep WALKING into SPIDERWEBS, [flails about, screaming furiously]

Strategy | 8 - They have good ideas, they're just difficult to execute alone, especially since they're getting sunburnt and getting crankier and can't stop swatting at insects 😅 they're one of the first people to figure out that someone's taking out groups from the trees, so they stay solo and try to find a single person to team up with. Really what they need is someone who's a better shot but easy to boss around. They can probably just owe them for an in-school favor...

Winner type | Barely suppressed gloating. Vi somehow finds a way to be an obnoxious winner almost entirely by the look on their face. Once they're in a smaller group, they're passionately discussing the details of the game and happily boasting about their triumphs (while glossing over all of the whining and and slip-ups lol)

Loser type | Booo, such a sore loser. (Especially in the scenario where Rain wins 🤣) If they're outsmarted or outgunned in a clear, transparent way they'll growl and stomp off, then quietly glower and sulk for way too long. If they're double-crossed or beaten in an underhanded way oh lord —they're fighting it to the end. R can't help but get involved either way, reminding them it was a damn game with literally no prize. "C'mon, Vi, chill. You want ice cream? Let's get you ice cream."

Heidi

Shooting | 6 - Some shooting experience.

Stealth | 8 - She's very aware of her surroundings and her body. Perceptive yet quiet. Tactical. All residual traits picked up from her many activities over the years.

Strategy | 9 - Most likely to outsmart everyone. The first one to figure out groups are being targeted from the trees. Goes it alone and only open to trading (unless she sees Curt with Jess in which case she puts a quick pin in her plans to rescue her 😂). She also immediately figures out it's Kile, because ofc it is. Keeps close tabs on what groups are doing, knowing that eventually Kile will come down to ground level to pick off individuals and couples. Predator becomes prey 👀

Winner type | Proud but not boasting. She doesn't need to be. Victory looks good on her, natural and fitting. Thanks everyone for a good game then takes the girls for a long ride in the Cadillac 😎 top down on a bright day, baby

Loser type | Damn. She should have won this. Maybe if she'd... She probably could have... Then she snaps out of it, roped in by the celebratory mood of congratulating the winner. She's over any feelings of frustration or regret after getting to discuss the match with the person that took her out/the winner and there's no hard feelings. If anything this was fun as hell, it should be an annual thing. ☺️

Curt

Shooting | 8 - Some shooting experience and a natural knack for it. Good reflexes.

Stealth | 8 - Curt likes to say he gets along with the woods around these parts. Sneaking around is second nature to him. Really good hearing too. He's an easy target if you manage to seduce him though, having no issue leaving himself vulnerable if it means that kind of fun 😂

Strategy | 7 - Honestly, he's most interested in seeing how long he can get away with using charm and seduction for both protection and double-crossing 😂 Eventually becomes persona non grata and gets all of his ammo stolen by a vengeful mark, barely getting away in the process. Since that jig is up, he finally starts thinking a win might be nice... and so he teams up with the only competent player who would never betray him and also inspires the least vitriol in others: Jessie. What? Is his back-up plan using her as a human shield? No! 😚 Of course not! 👉👈

Winner type | Insufferable and gloating. Rubs it in a lot of people's faces, specifically Heidi, Rupan/Rohan, and any participants who genuinely don't like him. Brags to Gabe (who is completely disinterested in gassing him up 😂), then promises he'll make things up to Jessie (who didn't mind and had fun lol). Then celebrates by asking whoever he's flirting with these days for a quick date—and a ride in the Ferrari. Makes a scene pulling out of the parking lot. Ass.

Loser type | Doesn't care one bit as long as he had fun! And he always finds a way to have fun, it's why he's so carefree 😅