#mind still empty of fic ideas so please do help

[peachesofteal]

Dead Disco / Chapter 10

Dead Disco masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 3.1k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ no smut but this fic contains mature themes. Relationship issues, anxiety, self loathing, crying. Angst. Brief mention of asshole ex. Eating related issues. Mention of prescription medication, mental illness and depressive/manic episodes. Pre established throuple. Darling is her/your own tag/warning. Excessive internal monologue. You held onto the hot pan too long, and now you’ve been burnt.

"Look at me." 

"I can't." You keep your eyes clenched tight, so tight it hurts, lungs burning inside your chest. 

"Yes you can, darling. Just open your eyes." Simon's voice is soft, an entreating melody, grit and gravel smoothed out with the gentleness of his words. You get lost in it, the soft murmuring, the easy request, and when you open your eyes, he's still right in front of you, thick palm on the back of your neck, Johnny by his side. "Good girl." 

"I'm sorry." You whisper, and Johnny's brows crease, his fingers brushing along your cheek. 

"Ye dinnae have anything to be sorry for, darling. Ye never do." 

"I didn't-" you gasp for a breath, and Johnny shifts, moving so that you're in front of him, sat between his legs, back against his chest. His hand holds yours, nestling above your breastbone. 

"Breathe with me. Ye can do it." 

"I didn't- I wanted to be better. Be different. I didn't want you to see." You try to explain, try to make sense of it for them. Simon's fingers intertwine with Johnny's, his other hand still firm on the back of your neck, your body cradled between them, in the space that once never existed, a space that now feels like it's been carved out just for you. Johnny pushes closer, holding you tight, and Simon leans forward, forehead touching yours, voice barely a murmur. 

"We've always seen you, darling." 

The floor is a fairly comfortable spot to lay.

It’s comfortable enough, you suppose, as you lay on your back with your eyes fixed on a spot along the ten-foot-high ceiling. Maybe you could paint the ceiling. With clouds. Or a night sky. That might be cool. 

Voices vibrate through the flat, locked door the only thing separating you from them, Johnny’s tone pitching with increasing anxiety, Simon’s cadence soothing, and calm.

He’s calling your name. Calling you darling. Calling you anything to try to get you to come to the door.

You’re overreacting. 

You’re a fool. 

You close your eyes. A night sky might be cool. You could do a lot with the stars, or maybe even the milky way. Get some greens and greys and cobalt in there. Make it look like a long exposure photo. And the moon, you could certainly paint the moon. You’d have to find a ladder tall enough though. And you’d probably need help. You haven’t painted from a ladder in years, not since you did that one mural for- 

“Darling.” It’s Simon. Again. And again, and again, again. Darling, darling, darling. “It’s getting late. Will you open the door?" You keep your eyes closed, but for a minute, your mind fractures, splitting in two, confusing emotions and thoughts bubbling up to the surface.

Don’t think about it. Don’t. 

“No.” You croak out in a whisper. It’s quiet, but he hears it. You know he does.

“Please. I need to know you’re alright, at least.”

You held onto the hot pan too long, and now you’ve been burnt. 

It’s late. The streets are probably mostly empty. You could run down them, if you wanted. You could take a train anywhere. You could take a plane, even, go on a vacation. Go somewhere nice. Go somewhere tropical, maybe get a cute rental, spend some time in the sun or by the oc- 

The thoughts are rapid fire. They spill over, trying to patch up the expanding wound in your heart. They grow and twist, convincing you it’s a good idea, the best idea, to just slip away for a little bit. To go somewhere you don't have feel this, where you don't have to know this as well as you do. 

Don’t think about it. Pack it up. Put it away. 

Johnny’s eyes haven’t left your face. His fingers stroke from the crown of your head and hairline to your temple, your cheek. He’s staring at you like you’re something precious, like you’re a piece of gold, something marvelous he’s never seen before.

“What is it?” You ask, half asleep, drowsy in the bed. You’re still wrapped in a post orgasm haze, cocooned in the soft and sweet of their attention, affection, and Johnny only smiles, leaning forward to press his lips to your forehead. 

“Ye’re so special to us. Ah love ye. Did ye know that?” You shrug, ducking your face away, pressing it into his shoulder to avoid his eyes. 

A wave of longing crashes over you. It swells in your heart until tears prick in your eyes, and you take a deep breath to steady yourself. 

It’s so much. So much more than you ever imagined. So much more than you ever thought you could have. 

“She doesn’t.” Simon says over your shoulder. His hand sits on your waist, the touch firm. Grounding. Like a tether to their world. Their love. You turn, nose pointing up towards the ceiling, looking at him through your peripheral, your fingers intertwined with Johnny’s, holding onto them both. Seeing them both. 

“Tell me again.” 

The TV in the living room is on.

You can hear it’s faint murmur, some movie playing on low volume, the guys undoubtedly sitting stiff on the couch, waiting for you to appear.

You stare at the dark, nearly blackened trees that you’ve painted onto canvas, long, broad brushstrokes taking up too much space, bark texturized to appear burnt, nearly dead, forest scourged by a disease or fire, you’re unsure.

“It starts to chafe us.” Us. Us, he said. Us. Him and Johnny. Right?

“It doesn’t seem fair.”

You’re unsure of everything right now. Unsure about how you should feel. Unsure about what’s happening inside your head.

“-sometimes I worry… about it being the right thing…” The more you think about it, the more you start to lose your grasp. Were those his exact words? Did he mean something else?

For the first time in a long time, you think about one of your ex's. You think about a person who made you feel so small, so much like a burden, a horrible, unwanted responsibility, all the time. You'll never have what regular people have, he said. No one will ever be able to put up with this fucking circus. No one will want this. 

Was he right? 

You should have gotten out. The sentiment replays over and over in between your ears, the awful, miserable doubt and fear and sadness picking away at you until you can feel yourself starting to compartmentalize it all, trying to sort it into neat little bins, trying to keep the weight that is sinking to the bottom of your soul from drowning you, trying to build a wall around your heart.

It’s not conscious. It’s like you’re not even in the driver’s seat anymore, not feeling the full effect of your emotions, not letting it in.

It’s how you felt, when you packed your bags the last time. How you felt when you checked into the hotel, like you were on autopilot. Buried beneath a mountain of feelings but enclosed in a glass cage, segregated from it all.

You should have gotten out. 

“I said I was listening.” 

“But I don’t want ye to listen. I want ye to talk, darling. I want ye to tell us how ye’re feeling. We can’t do this if ye’re not able to communicate.” Johnny’s voice is steady, but there’s a hint of anger behind it, a small flare just starting to light. It makes you angry, that he’s getting angry, and it churns in your stomach until you’re biting out a retort. 

“I communicate just fine!” 

“Do ye?” He snaps, exasperated, your head jolting backwards with wide eyes. “Because from where I’m standin’ it feels like ye’re trying to be stubborn on purpose. Like a child.” 

“A child? You’re calling ME a child?” The air in their apartment is suddenly paper thin, and you hold your breath as Johnny watches you with that same, unchanged, irritated expression. 

“Alright. This is over. We’re taking a break from this conversation.” Simon tells you both, fingers sliding over your shoulder, the touch meant to comfort, reassure, but you jerk away. 

You eye your purse, your keys on the counter. 

“I’m just gonna go home.” 

“No.” He rebukes, and Johnny pales. 

“No, darling. Ye just got here, and we missed ye so, so much. I’m sorry, I dinnae mean-” Johnny pleads, crestfallen, and it makes you feel worse. Like you’re failing him. Like you’re failing at this. Like you’re not good enough for it, for them. “Please?” He adds, and you wilt, silence falling over the three of you again, awkward and wrong. 

“It’s alright.” Simon says. “If you want to go. I’ll take you home.” 

“I can get home on my own.” You try not look at him, finding mundane details in the floor, the sink to stare at instead of their faces, resisting eye contact until Simon steps directly back into your line of sight. 

“I’ll take you.” He steps closer, and like there is a magnet pulling you into his orbit, you respond, tilting your face backwards, letting him see everything. The tears. The anger and sadness. The confusion. He’s intentional with his movements, letting you anticipate everything, the movement of his hand, the bend of his body as his lips come down to press against your forehead. “Tomorrow, alright?” He asks and tells with the words, seeking permission, giving command. Tomorrow, you’ll talk. Tomorrow, you’ll get it sorted. Tomorrow, you and Johnny will apologize. And you’ll try again. Like you always do. 

You nod, because the promise of tomorrow, the assurance that this hasn’t all come crashing down, is the only way any of you will be able to sleep tonight. 

“Tomorrow.”

They both straighten on the couch when the door clicks open.

“Hey.” Johnny says softly, hopefully, and Simon says nothing, just watches you like you’re a wounded animal that might try to flee at any moment. On edge. Vigilant.

Your mind turns, but nothing comes out of your mouth. No response. No acknowledgement. Just empty silence that feels like a thousand pounds, all laying on top of the three of you. Suffocating you. Killing you.

You beeline for the bedroom.

Running away. You’re running away. Are you really going to run away? 

The memory of the hotel haunts you, the awful, empty pit in your stomach that could have swallowed you whole, the dark curtains and dark room enveloping you in a never-ending spiral.

All you wanted was to be found. All you wanted was to be home, with them.

All you wanted was your home, the one you built, made, suffered for, with them. The one that you carved out inside your own bones to hold space for two others, not just one. The home that you completely changed your life for, the love that you believed would see you through it all. 

The love that was always them first. The love that you barged in on, knocked walls down, forced yourself inside of. The love that they held for one another, before they ever held it for you. 

Your head feels like it's underwater. 

Did you make a mistake? Should you have sent them away that time? Should you have fought yourself harder?

The bed calls to you. It begs you to lay down in it, to burrow yourself beneath it's soft sheets, curl up on top of it's ridiculous mattress. Get lost in it. Be found in it. Let your boys curl themselves around you in it, let them kiss you softly and make you promises about how much they love you, or how they understand the way you feel.

If you close your eyes, you can almost see the future. Minutes would pass before Johnny crept inside the door, scoping it out. Doing the recon. Looking for you. His heart would soar when he saw you in the bed, his fears allayed, and he'd hold you so tight you'd think you were suffocating. 

If you were lucky, Simon would come and turn your brain off. Johnny would pass you to him and he'd bring your deepest insecurities, your worries to light, dragging them out to be exorcised and vanquished, by the only men capable of doing so. 

Is that what you want? 

Should you have gotten out? 

“There she is.” Johnny coos above you, warm palm cradling your cheek. You blink, fog encasing your mind struggling to clear, and you push yourself up onto your elbows. 

“What-“

“Happened?” Simon finishes from where he kneels next to the couch, concerned eyes trained on yours, not missing a beat. 

You blink. What did happen? Did- 

“When was the last time ye ate something, darling?” Johnny asks, not unkindly, palm at your back to relieve the pressure from your elbows, moving you into a sitting position so he can take the spot on the couch behind you, effectively wrapping you up in his arms as Simon settles on the other side. 

Shame curdles your stomach, hot embarrassment flaring in your veins. You avoid peering over Simon’s shoulder at the disarray of your kitchen, wincing when you realize he’s sitting on a pile of your dirty clothes. 

“I had breakfast.” You whisper, but Simon shakes his head. 

“When?”

“Yesterday.” You try to adjust, to sit more upright, but the sudden movement has your head spinning, and your palm covers your eyes, little groan in your throat. 

“Easy.” Johnny soothes. Your water bottle is in his hand, and he unscrews the lid for you, lifting it to your lips. “Slow sips, darling. Not too much.” 

It’s easier this way, you realize. Easier to do what’s being asked of you, easier to listen than to think. After a few sips, Johnny pulls the bottle away, and wide fingers stroke your cheek. 

“This is what you were talking about. A few weeks ago.” Simon murmurs, concentrating all his focus, all his attention, on you, fingers still caressing your skin gently. Lovingly. 

“I didn’t mean for it to get so bad this time. I… usually have a better handle on myself.” You try to lie, but Simon cocks his head. 

“Do you?” His fingers hold up the scrap of paper, the one with your note to yourself scrawled across it. 

‘You HAVE to, or you’ll regret it.’ 

You bite your lip, but Simon’s thumb presses into it, rolling it out from beneath your teeth, as Johnny rubs your arm, lips soft against your temple. 

“I’m going to take you home. To ours.” Simon tells you slowly, each word deliberate “Johnny is going to clean up your apartment and pack you a few things for the rest of the week.” When you don’t answer, brain slow to catch up, Johnny murmurs in your hair. 

“You have to agree, darling.” Simon watches, silent for a moment before he answers the unspoken question, still cradling your face with one hand. 

“You can trust us.” 

“Where are ye going?” Johnny asks when you appear from the bedroom, hesitant steps keeping him far enough from your body, desperation written all over his face.

“Out.” Your answer is short, sufficient. It feels like it’s coming from another person. You still think you might be underwater.

“Out? No… we need to talk and-“

“I don’t want to talk. To either of you.”

“Darling. Stop.” Simon tries to cut you off, but you turn sharply, away from them both, backpack swinging on your back.

“Ye canae run away from this, from us.” Johnny pleads. “We need to talk about it. Communicate. Like we promised.”

“Like we promised?” You hiss, sizzle of anger breaking through the ice that’s frozen in your veins. “The promise that we made to always tell each other how we’re feeling, the one that he can’t honor?” You jerk your thumb towards Simon, who tries to take a step towards you, only for you to retreat. “Don’t corner me!” you snap, and against your attempt at control, your voice breaks, sob welling in your chest.

Don’t think about it. 

Don’t think about it. 

“It’s alright.” His hands are palms out, cautious. It’s supposed to make him look like he’s not a threat, make him seem harmless. But he’s not harmless. This gaping hole in your heart says so. “We don’t want you to leave.” He implores. “Please. I- let me explain.”

“There’s no need. Everything is pretty clear.”

“No, it’s not.” Johnny argues. “Just, let Simon at least tell-“

“Tell me what? Tell me how it’s not fair? Does it chafe you too, Johnny? You also thinking what’s the right thing? Because it’s an us thing, right? You and him. It’s an us and me. It’s the us that I suffer for.” Your voice crests, and Johnny flinches.

“I made a mistake.” Simon whispers. “Don’t let my stupidity make you question your place in this relationship. We love you, darling. I love you.” Tears burn at the back of your eyes, and you feel the horror of the truth, the confusion about your love for them, their love for you, searing together into a snarled mess.

“If I left you, the both of you, at the end of the day, you’d still have each other. You’d still be together, and I would have nothing!”

“That’s not true. We canae exist without ye.” Johnny sounds broken, hopeless, but you blow by it, dancing around Simon to pull your prescription bottles from the kitchen cabinet by the sink.

“If I died tomorrow-“

“Do not say that.” Simon cuts you off. “Don’t ever say that.” His knuckles are white at the edge of the countertop, expression stricken, and Johnny looks horrified. They both watch you like they’re afraid of what you might say next, what you might do, and nausea pools saliva on the back of your tongue.

Don’t think about it. 

You close your eyes, and search for that underwater feeling. That untouchable feeling, the boxes being packed away in your mind, and try to cling to it, try to shut up the incessant stream of doubt and loathing and everything going wrong inside your head.

They don’t need you. They have each other. 

You chafe them.

Don’t think about it.

“I need…” You trail off, trying to take a deep breath. Trying to organize your thoughts. Trying to hear yourself through the noise of everything else, through the searing pain that’s ripping through your heart.

“It’s alright, darling.” Simon murmurs, encouraging you. “Tell us what you need. Whatever it is.” Johnny’s face has shifted from despondent to hopeful, eyes wide and locked onto yours, while Simon waits, his normal steadfast and patient demeanor nowhere to be found, instead he’s more anxious, more nervous than you’ve ever seen.

You close your eyes again. Your voice shakes when you finally speak.

“I need a break.”

[wosoamazing]

Too Late To Be Fair

Warnings: death (caused by drunk driver), mentions of emotional abuse (R as a child), mentions of drinking and drunks, implications of self doubt and associated things, wishing someone would die. Please let me know if anything else.

Note: Grace is a fake player, due to previous ideas and maybe future ideas I had to make a player up... she does some things none of the girls would ever do....

A/N: Story inspired by Pray (Jessie Murph) & Mansion (NF) - and other things but I listened to these songs and I was like ooo good story idea. There probs will be a part 2. I hope you like it - also I know I said one of the McFoord fics would be out next but um yeah...

“Y/N We’re sorry to inform you but your Dad was in a car accident he was hit by a drunk driver” you couldn’t help but laugh at the irony, you dad the drunk being hit by a drunk driver. Everyone looked at you in disbelief.

“Y/N that’s not very appropriate,” Grace said, before others death stared her, clearly not knowing your situation, of course you were going to blow, especially at her, the thing you had wished for, for so long, finally happened, yet just after you cut him off, so it didn’t matter, it didn’t mean you could have an easier childhood, it was just another way of the universe punishing you. Waiting until you had moved out, cut your ties and in the spotlight, to finally kill him. Almost exactly a year since you cut him off, won the trial, got the restraining order, the one which he protested, causing the gruelling 3 day trial, to decide whether it was needed or not.

“Oh, sorry we don’t all have perfect little lives with perfect Mummies and Daddies, some of us actually had a shit childhood, faced real world problems, no rich bitch problems, oh Mummy and Daddy told me to pick up some rubbish, oh my life is shit they abuse me” you were dragged out of the locker room and into an empty physio room by Leah, Beth, Katie, Caitlin, and Steph who all sent you a glare when the door had shut, “Oh like she didn’t deserve it,” they all couldn’t but help let out a smile. There was an awkwardness in the room, as the girls all looked between each other not knowing how to approach this.

“You guys can all go, I’ve got this, thank you though,” Leah spoke, breaking the silence, everyone left except Beth, but Leah didn’t mind. You and Beth had a very close relationship, you had been close friends since your grassroots team, Beth helped you through the year of your life you realised you were gay, and then when you crushed on your now girlfriend, your then national Captain. Beth felt bad the year you told her about your Dad, she knew something was off but you never told anyone, barely anyone stills knows the full story, but that day Beth and you promised that you would be there for each other forever, and that was true, she had been there during your trial and so much more, and you were there for her when Dan broke up with her, Beth was really your rock and you were hers. Beth moved to sit in the chair on the opposite side of the room, giving you both space, whilst also being there in case you needed it. 

“Are you okay?” Leah couldn't find the right words, but she knew deep down the wrong words were what you needed her to say, you weren’t going to break, and release it all otherwise.

“Of course I’m not fucking okay Leah,” you looked up at her, she hadn’t even flinch at your words, instead she pulled you in for a hug. Which caused hot angry tears to fall from your eyes “Why now, why couldn’t it have been a year ago, 3 years, hell any time after I was 12. It’s unfair, its fucking unfair,” you paused, and Leah slowly slid her back down against the wall, bringing you down with her, your legs either side of hers as you sat in her lap. Your eyes connected with her soft kind caring blue eyes, and you could see how her lips formed a soft kind reassuring smile. You broke, big fat tears streamed down your face, as you sobbed, Leah gently pulled your body forward, so you were no longer sitting up, but leaning on her, she placed your head into the crock of her neck, before moving her arm to wrap around you lower body, her other hand was placed on your back, her thumb moving up and down, as she whispered reassuring words in your ear. 

“W-why now, when I’ve already lived the hard life, when I’ve been through all that shit. When I’m already screwed up, when I already have trust issues, when I already doubt myself everyday, so much so that I do it unconsciously” you sobbed into her neck.

“I know baby, it's not fair, and it's not right. But I’m here now, and I’ve got you.”

“I-I I used to wish he would die, I used to imagine cops showing up at the door when it was later than he used to come home, them telling me and me not being upset. I used to hope he just wouldn't come back from work trips. I used to imagine people asking me why I wasn’t upset when he died. I used to think of the fact that he was an alcoholic so he wouldn't get a kidney or liver transplant, unless it was a directed donation. I had to say yes, how could I say no if I was a match, but how could I say yes. You know how fucked up you feel when you think that stuff, you know how messed up I thought I was, but that was all his doing. It's just unfair.”

___

You had calmed back down and decided to go see all the girls again, the only problem was that no one had realised what song was playing in the locker room, too deep in conversation to be aware of it.

Waking up but wishing that you don’t. It’s something that I pray you’ll never know.

A song that connected with you so deeply sent you back over the edge, and you quickly spun on your feet and speed walked away, Beth followed behind you.

“What the actual fuck were you thinking McCabe” you girlfriend yelled.

“Wha?” the room had gone quiet and attention was drawn to the music, “Oh fuck, shit, sorry, we werent listening to it, its just automatically come on. I promise, I wasn't trying to be funny, I wouldn't do anything like that to Y/N”

Leah just turned around packing your bag and hers, “Tell Jonas we’re going home.”

“Sorry” Katie yelled as Leah went down the hall.

Leah found you sitting in the middle of one of the side hallways. Beth’s arms were wrapped around you and your body was shaking.

“Come on baby, let's go home.” She said as she placed a hand on your back, Beth slowly released her arms around you, which Leah quickly replaced with hers.

_____

“What’s on your mind? I know it's something more than your Dad” your girlfriend said as she sat down on the bed next to you, legs crossed and leaning back against the headboard. You had just arrived home.

“It's stupid.” you sighed, looking away from her eyes.

“I promise you, it's not stupid, it's your feelings, and your feelings are valid” she said, voice unwavering before pulling you into her lap.

“I don't know, I just feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.” “What do you mean baby?” “I don't know, I just feel like something is going to happen, like something is going to happen and you’re going to realise that this was all a mistake and leave. You’re going to get sick of constantly being second guessed for no reason just because I’m messed up, because I don’t believe someone could actually love me this much. You’re going to get sick of me, and all my insecurities, ” she pulled your body into hers, your head finding a place in the crock of her neck, tears started to fall from your eyes, causing her neck to become wet.

“Y/N, baby, I love you so much, and I promise, there is not another shoe that will drop, we have been through so much together, we got through those 9 months together, we got through the trial together, and I promise we will get through whatever life throws at us together, forever, we will go through the highs and lows together. I love you so much, and I wouldn't want to spend my life with anyone else. I will never hurt you, I promise.” 

[bluetooththereptile]

Black Robin

(Yandere Tim drake x twin brother reader x yandere Bruce Wayne)

( English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes in the following text.)

Note: I couldn't resist making this, Tim's personality and also Bruce's possessiveness to his adoptive children and sometimes his cold indifference are ripe for making agnst and a good fic!

Summary: Your stubbornness ends tonight, and Bruce will make sure of that.

Tw: mentions of abuse

"Are you out of your mind?!"  you were taken aback by Tim's shout, your eyes widening behind your mask slightly. The always composed and nervous Tim was now yelling at you, well, this was new. You shifted on your feet in the dark place, sighing as you crossed your arms on your chest, trying to not groan since the bruise on your chest hurt to the touch. "Please just spare these words" you grunted, but your response only made Tim more livid, and he took a hold of your jacket, pulling you closer to him "You will come home with me!" He hissed "And that's final!"

You pushed Tim away with a scoff "Woha...easy right there bro, slow down, I'm not coming back, not after finally finding the place I deserve!" Tim couldn't help but let out a forced bitter chuckle "Deserve? Look at you! You're all bruised and battered, wearing a cheap leather jacket and military pants, and your only gadget is probably comms, you are dragging yourself around without proper care and you call it a deserving place?! Is your hatred for me that strong?"

You rolled your eyes, groaning, dear God how many of these conversations you've had already with him? Probably close to a thousand times. "Look, bro, I'm an adult, I can make my own decisions-" "Don't bro me!" Tim's voice echoed in the dark empty alleyway, after the joint mission of Batman and Midnighter, Tim finally after a whole year of not facing you had dragged you away so you could talk.

"I could understand your frustration and anger, I could have tried to make things right, I knew you were by the fact that you were not chosen as the Robin, I can understand that you didn't get enough attention and you wanted to be a hero yourself, but you couldn't leave just like that!" Pushing Tim away from you, you finally snapped "Wait a damn minute!" You took your mask off so you could talk to him properly. Approaching him you looked deep into his eyes, looking at your reflection in them and Tim winced a little at the hint of smoke on your lips, his brows furrowing as he realized what you had been smoking before the mission. You then sighed and looked away, looking down at the puddle of water on the ground. Damn, you were indeed bruised up, you were still a rookie and the hero responsible for you, Midnighter truthfully didn't have many rules for you to follow, just do the things and get them done by any means necessary, I don't care, which meant you had to do everything yourself, ending up as an official mess. In the past year, you had strained yourself so much that you couldn't recognize yourself in the mirror anymore.

Sure you were Tim's identical twin, you looked nearly the same, minus the eyes of course, but you had changed from that, your body had bulked up under the pressure of constant training under Midnighter's eyes and the diet of protein bars, you didn't have time to eat so you had to resort to those, you had forgotten the taste of normal food, yet you refused to complain. The only reason that Midnighter had taken you in was your stubbornness and willpower, no one wanted to take Batman's boy in when the old bat didn't like the idea of it, you had to prove him you were worth taking in. You had to cut your hair short to cut out the water bills, oh right, he didn't pay for you either, you had to work your ass off to make some money for yourself, you just hated working at fast food joints, sometimes you wanted to serve some Karens some of those knuckle sandwiches Midnighter gave you when you messed up. Around your eyes were still smudged with the smoky eye makeup your new friends had put on you for last night's concert, personal hygiene was sort of out of the window for you, but you still kept pushing. You were a mess, but still an independent mess out of Tim's shadow.

"I chose this path and I'm happy with it! It's none of your business anymore!" You finally spoke, "Oh so all of a sudden when you are 18 you can do whatever the hell you want?" Tim sighed as he crossed his arms "Yeah?" You answered, "We both know Bruce had only let you go just to make you realize your place is with the family!" Tim's response wasn't that farfetched, you knew Bruce was capable enough to drag your sulking ass back to the Manor but he had chosen not to, why? You weren't sure, perhaps it was because he wanted to punish you for being too rebellious, the thought made you shudder.

"Whatever..." you waved your hand in the air "You know that I don't want to go back from this path" Tim scoffed "Oh? Being the "Black Robin" is that good?" He teased you about your name, making you let out a soft groan in irritation. Midnighter was mistaken as Batman and now you, as his sidekick, was the black Robin, another mistaken identity, well you did look like Tim, just larger in muscle mass. "Yes, it's better than being compared to you all the time!" You snapped at your twin, making his lips turn into a frown. You had hit a nerve, well it was progress.

"You were always the one that was better, you were the Robin and then the Red Robin, while I had to train harder and harder, watching you get all the attention while I was just there!" You continued "You know it's not true, Bruce adopted you as well, you are still his son! You were not chosen as Robin because he wanted someone more...smart..." You rolled your eyes at that, you had heard all of those excuses so many times, you wanted something more out of your life, and you had decided to get something out of it one way or another.

When Tim was adopted you had dragged along him, but since Bruce needed help, he examined you both but he found Tim more fitting for the role. At first, you were happy for your brother, but as time progressed on, that feeling turned into resentment, Tim was the nervous smart brother, always getting the attention of others, especially Bruce, while you pushed yourself to your limits, yet since you were more capable than your brother, Bruce thought of you more of a pillar of trust for Tim while he wasn't there, but you wanted more, you wanted his attention, his fucking love, you wanted to feel like a true son, so if he didn't want to pay you attention, you'd rebel, and you did it on your 18th birthday, and your life had become a hellish arena after that, but you still kept pushing, unknowingly digging your own grave.

Your bickering with Tim was interrupted by a loud bang, and before you could react Midnighter had been thrown over two buildings, his landing making a hole into the wall close to you and your twin. Who... who had done that?! Who could do that to the superhuman clad in black? Oh no...The soft thud onto the ground and that familiar presence...oh no no no no...it was the big bat himself.

"Shit," you and Tim said in union "language" Bruce's stern voice made you clamp your lips close, you hadn't seen him like that before, his gaze burying deep into your wide eyes as he approached you with that imposing figure. "Black Robin" your hero's name rolled onto his tongue with a dark tone. "How fitting" he continued before he suddenly reached out and grabbed you by your jaws, making your mouth open.

You were too afraid to talk, you knew he wouldn't listen even if you wanted to talk "Three teeth..." Bruce hummed, before tightening his grip, making you let out a soft groan of pain "Cracked jaw..." he added "Muscle tissue of your left eyelid is hurt, your ear is broken and this is just for the head..." he hissed "I had warned him before to not touch any of my boys..." he let go of you but his hand moved to take a hold of your jacket as he looked down at you.

"Malnourished and still high on drugs, what was he thinking?!" He growled before looking up at you again, he leaned closer as he took a sniff of you, his grip tightening even more "And you've been smoking...it's the same brand as he does..."

"B-bat-" "Silence..." Bruce snapped at you, "Being mistaken for me is one thing I can sort of tolerate, but stealing my boy from me is something I can not overlook...look at you Y/N!..." he pulled you closer to him "You are on the path of self-destruction! You are no superhuman, you are a young one in need of care!" Your throat dried up as he spoke, you knew the consequences of your actions were creeping to get closer to you.

Bruce's heart ached at your sight, he shouldn't have let you go, he had thought no one would take you in and within a month you'd be back into his arms, begging for forgiveness and he'd punish you lightly. You reminded him so much of himself, that was why he didn't want you to get into the world of heroes, yet his worst nightmare had happened and you had plunged into the worst scenario head first like a mad bull.

"You're coming home with us" Bruce's words were final as he took you in "H-hey!" You wanted to pull away but his hold was too strong, he didn't bat an eye at your struggles "You need stitches and a new set of teeth, and when you are ready enough, I'll whip you into the right shape of the Black Robin..." his last words made your shudder in fear, he was angry, but deep down, a small part of you was happy that your dad had finally come for you.

You were strapped into the Batmobile and Tim sat close to you, holding onto your arm tightly, you felt something tug on your heart, that look in his eyes, you knew that too well, you were just minutes older than him but he still looked up at you as his older brother, perhaps you'd reconsider your decision and give in...perhaps...only time could tell. 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

the girl next door 30

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

Steve says your name again. You open your eyes, your ears ringing, your scalp on fire. Your world is over, if it ever really was. You reach up to touch your searing tears and smear them aside with your knuckles. 

"Sweetie, we haven't done anything yet. You can stay here with mom, I can get an annulment tonight. Then we can just see how far you make it." 

"Stop, please," you beg.  

"It's your choice. Are you going to take care of your mom or let her down... again?" 

"You're mean," you quiver.  

"I'm honest, sweetie, and I'm doing you a favor. How many others have tried to help? Not even family, huh?" 

"Please, I can't think," you touch your temples and sob. 

He sucks his teeth and taps the table. He stands and sighs as his hands go to his hips. He looms before he speaks again.  

"Fine, think about it. When you've made up your mind, put your bathing suit on and come enjoy the pool." 

He stares at you before he finally goes. You feel stuck and it's more than the pudding. The front door opens and closes and you languish as you are.  

His last words say it all. You both know your only choice. He knows you have to go along with him. That inevitability cannot make you move. Not right then.  

But you will. You have to. Not just for mom, but for you. To survive. 

You stand without thinking, entirely hollow. Your body moves without conscious effort. You go through the motions of existing. Breath in, breath out.  

You go to the bathroom and undress, vision a blur, the air thick and strangling. You pull on the still damp swimsuit, the bottoms twist and chafe as you shimmy them on, and the top seems even smaller as you knot up the front tightly. You turn without hesitation, head down, feet heavy, watching each step as if they are not your own. 

The sun beams down but you’re frigid. Goosebumps rise across your skin and shade ripples above as you walk around the fence and into Steve’s yard. As you get to the back gate, you’re dizzy. You have to keep going. Just like you always have.  

You can tell yourself it’s for your mom. It’s as much out of your own cowardice. And even if it is helping her, it can only hurt her too. He married her and yet he wants you. None of it makes any sense. 

You come into the backyard, blinking through dry, salty eyes. You waver on your feet as you stop and peer around the empty space. The pool trickles soft as the filter hum and birds cheep as if all is well. You glance at the deck; your mother isn’t there. 

Maybe you imagined it. Maybe you’re delusional. Just like in the hospital when you thought Steve said all that. Or had he? 

You walk stiffly to the edge of the pool and look down at your reflection in the crystalline surface. You inhale the pollen-laced air and for a moment see yourself falling into the water and sinking to the bottom. It would be so easy to never come back up. 

“Sweetie,” Steve’s voice startles you and you turn to face him as he crosses the lawn. “There you are.” 

He smiles and swoops his shirt over his head, “I was just putting your mom to bed. She’s not feeling well.” 

You bend your arm across your middle, rubbing your other self-consciously. He’s shameless as he looks you up and down. He steps out of his sandals and purrs as he comes closer. 

“That suit looks so good on you, baby,” he touches your bare shoulders and you shiver. Baby? “And off.” 

He winks as his eyes fall to your cleavage. You gulp and he traces the movement with his thumb before drawing away. He bites his lip and shifts on his feet, tugging at the top of his shorts. You notice how the fabric twitches. 

You’re disgusted. Not only by him but with yourself. You turn back to the pool and exhale, “can I get in?” 

“Sure, sweetie, do whatever you like,” he purrs as he lowers himself to sit on the edge, “water’s nice.” 

He pushes himself off into the depths and you peer down. You ease down and slip into the water, gasping at the temperature. You hug yourself. Steve moves towards you and you flinch. 

“Sweetie,” he warns as he reaches for you, “isn’t this nice?” He puts his hands around your hips as he wades closer, pulling you to face him, “mmm, you are so beautiful, you know that?” 

You squirm and look away. You should be flattered, you should feel good, he’s calling you beautiful, but you just feel dirty. Your lashes flutter and you make yourself look at him as his fingertips press into your flesh. 

“Thank you,” you breathe. 

“It doesn’t have to be... it can be nice,” he coaxes, “can I kiss you?” 

Your eyes widen and your cheeks turn hot, “I... never...” 

“It’s okay, I’ll be gentle,” he grits. 

You can’t talk. Your chest is all knotted up. You just nod. 

He trails his hand up your hip and along your stomach, brushing the curve of your chest as you tremble. He strokes your throat and grips your chin. He tilts your head up and you close your eyes. Your nose tingles, as if you might cry again. 

He shifts even closer and leans in. His hot breath grazes over you and he presses his lips to yours. His other arm hooks around you and he holds you flush to him. Your chest is crushed to his firm muscles as he curls his fingers into your side. He clings to you, his tongue tracing the crease between your lips. 

He hums and urges his way past your resistance. His tongue invades and you nearly choke. It feels weird; cool within the warmth of your mouth. He squeezes you tighter and turns you. You let him. You’re whatever he wants you to be. 

He pushes you against the pool wall. His hand drifts down your side and over your bottom. He feels along your thigh and urges your leg up, bending it around him. You take his intent and wrap your other one around his waist as he lifts you higher. 

He stays stuck to your mouth, suffocating you against the tile as his hand retreats and tickles along your side. It sends another chill through you as he drinks you in greedily. His touch crawls up between your bodies and he gropes your chest through the suit. You feel your nipple bud against his palm and squeak. 

He circles your rigid nipple with his thumb and purrs into you. His mouth slips across your cheek, smearing saliva along your flesh as the smell of chlorine wafts into your nose. You turn your head, breathless and he tugs at the knot in the bikini. It comes undone and you gasp. 

“Please,” you beg, “slow...” 

“I’m being slow, sweetie, promise,” he mutters against your cheekbone, stretching his hand over your naked tit. You whine as he squeezes, kneading as you begin to wiggle. You feel him prodding you between your legs. You let out another pathetic noise and push on his arm. “You feel so good.” 

“Steve,” you quaver, “please...” 

He hums as he continues to toy with you. You can’t stop him. You brace yourself against the pool wall and hide behind your eyelids. He slides down as your legs fall away from him, your body draining of any strength. He holds your waist as he comes eye level with your chest and buries his face between your tits. 

You whimper as he turns to nib and suck at your flesh, letting out snarls as he makes a path to your nipple. As he puts his mouth around the hard bud, it sends a frightening zing through you. The pluck in your core confuses you. You’re not supposed to like it. 

“Mmmm,” he sucks on you as his hand cups the other side of your chest, squeezing as he rolls your nipple between his teeth.  

His tongue swirls around and another tide courses inside of you. You open your eyes and look down at him. The sight stuns you. It’s intoxicating. Your body doesn’t feel like your own and yet it’s all very intense. 

He pops his mouth off and looks up at you, his face flushed and his eyes cloudy, “you taste so good, sweetie.” 

[megamindsecretlair]

You Understand Me Now

Pairing: Franklin Saint x Black!Bratty!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Smut, PWP, cursing, PIV, fingering (female receiving), size kink, some dirty talk, all consensual. Daddy kink. Toxic smut. Mention of jail, drug use, and drinking. Angst if you squint. Established relationship.

Summary: While Franklin feels mounting pressure from setting up new business, he has to track you down and set you right.

Word Count: 3,673k

A/N: Hello brainrot, my old friend. Who needs sleep when there's smut to be had? I had TOO much fun writing this. It was written in a daze so all mistakes are mine. I just need some act right from Franklin!!! Enjoy if you do too! Thank you for so much love on my Franklin fics! I love yall. Please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers!

Taglist: @planetblaque @notapradagurl7 @miyuhpapayuh @henneseyhoe @mybonafidefeelings @blackerthings

You were shaking your ass like there was no tomorrow. The music was thumping through the floors like a live beast. You felt it in your chest. Alcohol was coursing through your system. It gave everything a hazy, bright glow. It was too loud to think and yet all roads lead to Franklin Saint.

You had been cooped up in an empty house by yourself. What use was all the shit Franklin brought in if he wasn’t there to enjoy it with you? He would leave early in the morning and not return until long after you’d gone to sleep. Your initial reaction was that he was cheating, but you knew that wasn’t the case.

You’d see Franklin dead before he cheated on you. And he’d see hell freeze over before the thought crossed his mind. You knew he loved you. He wasn’t the greatest at showing it and dammit, it hurt. 

Did that mean that you had to suffer? No. No, it did not. You called up your girl and went to her place to get dressed. The hardest part about dating Franklin was all the secrets. All the lies. They sometimes got twisted in the careful web you weaved. Over time, it became easier to not leave the house at all. 

Franklin was turning you into a hermit and you wanted to hate him for it. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a cell in your body that could hate that man. So you took your anger out on him in other ways. It was an insidious need gnawing in the back of your mind.

Sometimes he’d walk in with that tired grin. Too tired to give you a proper hug and a kiss. Like you weren’t worth the effort it took to check in and ask about your day. You knew that he was in the middle of important business dealings. But lately, you were feeling neglected.

Not today.

At your girl’s house, she told you she missed you and your wild days at wild parties, living it up, gone off of the weed, and having real fun. She reminded you that you were still young and you were one of the lucky ones. You didn’t have a baby to look after. 

“You mu’fuckin’ right,” you said. You nodded your head, the idea taking shape the longer you sat with it. Thirty minutes later, you were both dressed like you didn’t have a man. You wore a very short skirt and off the shoulder top. Your coarse hair was pulled into a high ponytail. Your makeup was flawless.

It was practically gone now. Still you danced. Still you partied like there was no tomorrow. You left your pager at home. You didn’t care what Franklin had to say. So you shook and danced and waved off try-too-hard niggas with grabby hands. 

You clasped your friend’s hand and pulled her away from yet another man in your business. Damn, couldn’t you just go out and dance? Let loose?

“I see you havin’ real fun,” you heard above you.

You gasped and straightened out. You hadn’t seen him. Felt him. Or heard as he approached. One minute, your eyes were closed dancing to Flashlight. The next minute, Franklin was staring down at you with his nose slightly flared.

“How’d you find me?” You asked.

You looked around him and noticed Leon standing by the door looking sullen. “I can get to you any time I want,” he said. 

You folded your arms. The night’s festivities were catching up with you. Sweat pasted your shirt to your body. Little frizzes of hair escaped your ponytail. Your feet ached from spending hours on the makeshift dance floor. You were out of breath, staring at Franklin and wondering where his state of mind was at.

“I’m here trying to handle bidness and this is how you act?” 

You sucked your teeth and rolled your eyes. “The hell was I supposed to do?” You had to yell to be heard over the funk music. “Sit at home and wait for yo Black ass to come around?” 

Franklin rolled his neck. He was stressed out. You took a step forward. You longed to wrap your arms around him to hug and kiss him. To make it all better. But fuck that. Your anger was a familiar coat you threw on. 

“Let’s go,” he said. He dismissed your comments altogether. He turned and you faced the wide expanse of his broad back. His black polo shirt highlighted the slope of his shoulders, his sexy walk. The length of his legs were their own turn on. 

You didn’t follow him. He moved behind a dancing couple. He half turned and inclined his head. You turned around yourself. Two can play that game. You headed towards the back of the party. 

You were gaining attention. Those who weren’t smoking weed, were looking at you over the tops of cups. Others were smokin’ that stupid ass crack pipe. Franklin grabbed your hand and stopped you in your tracks. 

“Don’t fuckin’ embarass me. Let’s go,” he said, his whispered baritone fanning across your ear. You took a deep breath to steady yourself. Your body always reacted to him. Right now, your clit was throbbing thinking of what he was planning on doing to you. He hadn’t touched you in a week and it was driving you insane. 

“You can’t tell me what to do, Franklin,” you said.

Franklin stopped looking around and fixed you with a glare so severe, it’d hurt less if he slapped you. “The fuck you just say to me?” 

“You can’t tell me what to fuckin’ do, Franklin.” You emphasized his name, drawing out the syllables. 

“Man, get yo ass in the car,” he said. 

“Fuck you, nigga!” The rage that you cloaked yourself in was comforting in its heat. Spurned on by the alcohol, you poked at his chest. “Fuck you! Fuck you!” You slapped at his chest. 

“I’m only going to say this one more time, get in the fuckin’ car,” he said. He leaned in close to you, that calm demeanor slipping back behind his eyes. He kissed you on the cheek. A quick, dispassionate kiss that only served to piss you off even more. 

You opened your mouth to say something, but Franklin gripped your upper arm. He pushed you forward, around dancing people giving you the stink eye, past Leon with a little smirk on his face, and outside. The brutal LA night was cold and unforgiving against your damp skin. 

“Get off me, nigga!” You yanked your arm out of his grip. He talked about you embarrassing him. But he was the one who dragged you out of the party like some baby. 

Leon snickered. “Damn, you let her talk to you like that?” 

Franklin took a deep breath, looking towards the sky. “For one fuckin’ day, can any of ya’ll act right? I’m sick of this shit.” 

“I know you ain’t talkin’, Leon,” you said. Alcohol emboldened you. You felt invincible. Like you could hang onto a star and fly through the universe. You were ready with a scathing remark. 

Franklin stood in front of you, blocking your view of Leon who had squared up, ready to pop off. Franklin’s nose flared, his mouth stuck in a grimace. “Car, now,” he said.

Oh shit. Maybe you went a little too far. “Sure thing, Franklin,” you said with a sweet smile. 

You heard Franklin blow out a deep breath. “You got a way to get home?” You heard Franklin ask Leon as you walked away. You folded your arms and trudged the short distance to the curb. 

You reached the car, sliding in and putting your head against the headrest. You glared at Franklin as he said goodbye to Leon. Leon was smirking. You bet they were laughing it up at your expense. At your feelings. 

It paled in comparison to the lust you felt for Franklin. He walked towards the car. He was so different after he got out of jail. Tougher. Harder. There were moments where you would catch the Franklin you first fell in love with. The optimistic boy you would follow anywhere. 

Franklin was a man after jail. He picked up an edginess. A shorter temper. You couldn’t tell him what to do and that made him sexier to you. He was never a weak man. But now, he was strength personified. 

He climbed into the car in silence. He turned the car on and peeled out of the projects. “Not gon’ say shit?” You asked. 

Franklin didn’t look at you. He kept his eyes on the road, obeying all of the traffic lights. There was no reason to give LAPD an excuse to pull you over. Not that they always needed one. Driving while Black was practically an invitation to the cops to fuck with you. 

Franklin turned into his garage. You watched and listened as he closed the garage door behind you. He turned the car off and hopped out of the car. He came around to your side and opened the door. 

You hated the silent treatment. It was like he had ice water in his veins. You got out of the car and stood in the open door. Arms folded. Staring across a chasm at Franklin that you couldn’t cross. Couldn’t access. You weren’t welcome.

“Sick of this shit,” you muttered. 

“Get yo ass in the room and I’ll deal with you in a minute,” he said. 

“No, fuck you,” you said. 

That vindictive streak in you wanted to push him. To push him past the point of breaking him. 

“I don’t need this fuckin’ shit! I got enough shit to deal with than hearin’ my girl shakin’ her ass for anyone to see!” His voice rose from a deadly calm to outright yelling. 

“I was just dancin’,” you said with a shrug. 

“Yo ass don’t listen too good, huh?” Franklin grinned cruelly and laughed. He grabbed you by the arm and tugged you inside the house. The house was lit up like a Christmas tree, as if he’d searched every room for you.

You didn’t have a chance to appreciate the sentiment as he tugged you through the house, towards your room. He pushed you onto the bed and watched you flop. 

You pushed up onto your elbows but Franklin grabbed your hips and yanked your body down the bed to the edge. Your ass hung off of it. He used his leg to push yours further apart. 

“Franklin?” You asked. Your voice wobbled but not with fear. You were so turned on, you didn’t trust your voice. 

A sharp slap rung throughout the room. You cried out and clutched at the bed spread. Heat blossomed on your nearly exposed ass. One sharp jerk later, and it was over your hips, pushed up.  

“This what you wanted right? Why yo ass was actin’ up?” He asked. 

He rubbed the area that he slapped and you hissed. You were at an awkward angle. Half hanging off of the bed like you were, your heels were the only thing sort of keeping you upright. You stood on your tiptoes to brace yourself. Franklin standing in between your legs threw your balance off slightly. 

Franklin ran his hands down the crack of your ass, down towards your pussy. He moved your skimpy panties aside and pressed his thumb into your entrance. You cooed and collapsed onto the bed. 

“This pussy right there? Mine,” he said. He slapped your ass with his free hand and you gasped. The dichotomy of him slipping his fingers inside of you and the heat of the slap was too much already. 

“Baby…”

“Naw, don’t baby me. It was Franklin earlier, wasn’t it?” He asked. He removed his thumb and quickly replaced it with his index finger. He grunted and pushed a second finger in. 

“Oh, baby,” you moaned. He widened his fingers, preparing you for him. 

“What happened to all that shit you was talkin’?” He asked. He leaned over over, driving his fingers in deeper. You moaned and clutched the bedspread past the point of your fingers cramping. 

“I’m sorry,” you said. You moved your ass in a circle, in tune with how Franklin pumped his fingers in and out of you. As long as he kept doing that, you’d give him any answer he was looking for. 

“I don’t believe you,” he whispered against your ear. He leaned back and added a third finger. 

“Oh, fuck!” You moaned. Your body jerked and twitched as if you ate a live wire. Your orgasm ripped through you. Each wave hit you harder and faster, dragging you under its sweet release. 

Franklin withdrew his fingers and you heard him licking each one. You huffed. This man was going to be the death of you. 

Franklin massaged your ass, bringing attention back to the lingering pain. “I just missed you, baby,” you said. 

“Mhmm,” he said. He took a few deep breaths. His hands grabbed a handful of your ass. He made quick work of his pants, shedding it in nearly one fell swoop. He rubbed his thick, hardening dick along your slick slit. 

You bit your lip and moaned. “Pleasepleaseplease,” you said and wiggled your ass against him. 

He grabbed your left wrist and pulled it behind your back. It wasn’t comfortable, but it wasn’t uncomfortable either. You twisted your wrist but Franklin didn’t give you much room. He learned forward, his polo shirt rustling against your shirt. 

He brought his lips down to your ear. He licked the shell of it. Placed kisses behind your ear, into that sensitive spot. You shivered. Your desperate pussy clenched around nothing. He wrapped your hair around his fingers and pulled your head to the side for better access. 

You ached. You were so empty, you could cry. Literally, tears gathered behind your closed eyelids. You needed to be filled up by him. Consumed by him. You wanted to end where he began and begin where he ended. 

“The next time you need some dick, you come fuckin’ find me,” he said. He pushed into you slowly, stopping every so often so that you could get acclimated to him. 

“Oh, yes, Daddy,” you whined as he fulfilled your silent request. “Pleaseplease,” you muttered over and over. 

“Do you know my heart stopped comin’ here, callin’ for you like a mu’fuckin’ idiot? I called your pager. Shit was beepin’ by our bed. Anythin’ could’ve happened to you!” 

He seemed to forget his plan because he started to increase his thrusts. Whatever he gave, you took. You bounced back on him, matching his rhythm. He fucked you into the bed, pushing down on your arm behind your back. 

You were shoved ever more onto your tiptoes. Your right hand searched for purchase on the bed. Anything to brace you against his savage thrusts. It felt like he was pouring all of his frustration out into you. You gripped the bed spread and chewed on a piece of it.

There was a low, delicious burn inching up your legs. You shook violently, crying out as he hit that spot that only he could reach. Only he could touch. Only him. 

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” you choked out. He pushed the very air from your lungs. Each thrust knocked a little more loose. You panted against him. 

“Oh fuck, right there,” you whined. Your ass clapped against his hips and the wet slap surprised another orgasm out of you. You stuttered over his name as you came, your pussy contracting and flooding his dick. 

“Look at you, can’t even hold on to that fucked up attitude,” he said. He licked your neck and nibbled at a sensitive bit. You shuddered and tried to curl in on yourself. 

“Naw,” he breathed. 

He slipped out of you and you cried in earnest. Tears slid down your cheeks. You groaned. Words weren’t working right for you. 

Franklin manhandled you. He flipped you onto your back and pulled you by your arms. You sat up and flopped against his body. He gripped your chin and made you look at him. 

“Talk a big game, no follow through, huh?” He asked. Bastard. But you got what you wanted. 

“I’ll do better, Daddy,” you said. You gave him puppy dog eyes.

Franklin grinned and pecked your lips. “I know you will,” he whispered. 

He tugged your shirt off, revealing your bra. Franklin sucked your nipple through the lacy material and you bucked off of the bed. “Shit!” 

The sensation was both there and wasn’t there. You registered a barrier between his mouth and your nipple but you didn’t really feel it. 

Franklin thrusted into you, hard. You gasped, your mouth hanging open. He climbed onto the bed, getting into a better position. He tore off his polo shirt and tossed it onto the floor.

He laid over you, crushing your body to the bed. He used one hand to spread you completely open for him. The other hand, grabbed your right hand and held it above you. Your fingers intertwined with his. He ground his hips into you, his dick disappearing inside of you.

His strokes were deep, brutal, and punishing. He wasn’t done being pissed at you. The thought should scare you. It should drive you right out of his bed. But no one else fucked you so completely. Made you feel so wanted and adored and like he needed to fuck you like a person needed air. 

Every stroke hit that deep spot inside of you. Your knees closed around his hips. Your left hand scratched his back. 

“That attitude shit stops,” he said as he made out with your titties. He pulled your cups down until they were under your breasts, pushing them up and into his eager mouth.

“Yes, Daddy,” you moaned. 

You felt the muscles in his back working as he pushed in and out of you. His dick stretched you right to the edge of pain. That fine line was delicate and he walked it well. Your hand traveled the length of his back, feeling all of the additional muscles and the dip of his back. The top of his ass that you couldn’t reach. 

You closed your eyes as he rolled a nipple around his mouth. 

“The last thing I need to fuckin’ worry about is you,” he said.

“Yes, Daddy. I’m sorry,” your breath was failing you. Hell, you didn’t even know what he was saying at this point. You’d agree to just about anything at the moment. As long as he kept his strokes nice and deep like that. 

You felt him in your chest. He pushed up and you couldn’t barely breathe. He was stuffing you full of him, feeding you his dick. 

“You think this shit is cute and it ain’t! How the fuck it look that I can’t control my girl?”

You contracted against him. Another orgasm was building. His voice was so deep and raspy. And when he yelled, it was like unlocking a switch inside of you. You began to twitch again. Tears streamed down your face.

“I’m sorry! I hate being here without you,” you managed to croak out.

Fuck, you were so damn close. “Please Daddy, I’m so sorry. I’ll do better,” you said. 

Franklin lifted his head from your titty. He stared into your eyes. 

“Don’t you fuckin’ know how much I love you? Why do I have to prove it to you?” He asked, softly. So at odds with his pounding dick. 

“You don’t!” You yelled. Your orgasm was just out of reach. So, so, sososososo close. 

“Then why you like makin’ me mad?” He asked, his voice raised. Your jaw went slack as the orgasm finally tore through you like a tidal wave. You flopped and twitched, unable to hear or see anything as stars danced behind your eyelids. 

Your convulsing pussy triggered Franklin’s orgasm. He pushed into you further, his cum splashing inside of you. You felt his dick twitch and pulse. 

“Fuuuuuck,” he groaned. “You feel what you do to me?” He asked. He placed his head into the crook of your neck and panted.

“Yes, oh fuck yes,” you murmured. 

“You do that to me,” he said. He kissed your jaw, your cheek. Your lips lazily found his and you kissed him with the last remaining breath in you. You felt light headed. You wanted to curl up like a cat at his feet. He rubbed your arms and kissed you as you floated back to your body. 

As he softened, he pulled out of you. His thick cum eased out of you. Franklin rolled over onto his back with a contented sigh. He placed one hand behind his head. You rolled and tucked your body into his. He rubbed your back. You spread your right arm across his chest. A possessiveness taking over you. 

He kissed your temple and looked at you. “Don’t you ever call me by my first name again,” he said. He turned to stare at the ceiling. His fingers never gave up their glide and and down your back. 

You giggled sleepily. “Keep fuckin’ me like that and I won’t have to,” you said. 

Franklin grabbed your right hand and brought it to his lips. “I gotta fuck you to keep you in line, is that it?” He asked.

“Somethin’ like that,” you said with a small giggle. 

You were dragged kicking and screaming to sleep. You wanted to stay up and talk to him. Anything to keep hearing that sexy voice. Anything to keep him here with you longer. You were beyond worried that the moment you opened your eyes, he’d be gone again. Like a puff of smoke you couldn’t hold on to. He’d just slip through your fingers. 

You were so blessedly fucked out, that your head emptied. You fell asleep to the thump of his heart. And you prayed. Prayed that he’d be there when you woke up.

Psst. There's more Franklin Fics! The Secret Franklin Saint Files

[avocado-writing]

Gale Anon returns to Say: Yes absolutely the Mummy fic. I''m requesting more good boy Gale if you happen to have more thoughts on it. Or maybe a dirty talk Gale? Follow your heart. Thanks again for ur time, ur writing, and ur filthy mind.

well this got a lot more kinky than I meant it to oop. Thank you to M for helping me flesh out the idea!

cw: kinda cnc?; mild bimboification; mild puppy play; consent checks; excessive use of the words “good boy”; sub!gale; dom!reader

rating: E minors dni

Poor Gale is having a hell of a time of it.

Between teaching his classes; all the admin that the college has him doing; and his wizarding duties outside of academia, he’s barely had a chance to rest. Every night he stumbles home exhausted, barely able to keep up conversation with you, let alone indulge in any more intimate activities. It makes you so sad to see. You thought that after the Absolute was dealt with he’d have more control over his life - but it seems like the exact opposite has happened.

It’s been ages since the two of you were able to indulge, since you’ve been able to lay him out on your bed and ride him into oblivion. Reduce him to a quivering mess who’s barely able to speak or think. It’s something both of you enjoy, you getting him to let go and be a good boy for you.

That’s the issue, really; he’s been using his brain too much. He needs a break. To let himself go lovely and empty-headed, sweet and pliable under you. Let you decide what he needs.

When the college breaks for its spring holiday, he comes home to you so desperate that you think he might cry. You’re sitting in your reading nook when he appears, collapses to his knees in front of you and l buries his face in your lap.

“Today,” he says, voice thick with exhaustion and emotion, “it needs to be today. Please.”

There’s only one thing he can be talking about.

Sometimes it takes a little while for him to empty his head. After all, if you’re as brilliant as Gale is, your mind is always thrumming with ideas and duties, a veritable beehive of thoughts. Usually you’re able to get him there using your myriad of tricks, but sometimes you’re worried it takes too long for him to fully enjoy the session.

So the two of you have been working on a spell.

It is, at its core, a rework to be a far less powerful scroll of Feeblemind. Designed to put its target into a sweet, thoughtless state for a handful of days, where all they can do is experience pleasure and praise. No room for thinking, just feeling. 

The two of you have been refining it for a while now, and though you’re certain it will work - and is able to be lifted with no adverse effects - you still chew your lip, nervous.

“Gale, love, are you sure? If I cast it, you know you’re probably not going to be able to tap out.”

Gale groans and nuzzles into your further, pressing his face into your leg for comfort.

“I’m aware of that, but gods I need it. I trust you entirely with it, with me. I want you to take complete control over me. I want you to take care of me until I’m too boneless to move. Please, my love. Please.”

When he asks like that, how can you say no?

That night, he sits on your bed in only his smallclothes, cock straining in excitement despite his tiredness. You give him a long, sweet kiss, before pulling away.

“Last chance, darling. Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” he affirms, and you begin to cast the spell.

As you chant, you see Gale begin to go a little vacant. His body relaxes, all the tension immediately flooding out of it, the only thing remaining rigid being his cock. Soon there is only a sweet emptiness on your lover’s face, a dopey smile, eyes soft and aroused as he looks at you.

“Gale, are you with me?” 

He turns his head to the sound of your voice, managing an ‘mmm’ of affirmation but no words along with it. You reach out to cup his face and he immediately presses into you, mouth seeking out the warmth of your palm to kiss at it. You giggle.

“Gale!” you squeal, and he gives you another sincere, saccharine smile. Interesting…

“Aren’t you a good boy?” you hum, and his lips open just enough to let out a little moan. He twitches in his underwear. Despite his current state, he still responds to your praises, and you intend to use that to your advantage. 

“You’re so lovely, Gale. My handsome wizard. You’re so clever, but I love having you like this, just a silly boy who wants to behave for me. To be good for me. Don’t you want to be good for me, Gale?”

He nods, tears of desperation forming in his eyes. He scoots forward on the bed until his length is flush with your thigh and gently starts to rock his hips up into you, so needy for any kind of stimulation like this that he’d fuck your leg. 

“Awww, you want to get off, baby?”

Another moan of confirmation. You card your fingers through his hair and his eyes roll back in pleasure. You continue to pet him through your steady stream of praise. 

“Always so good for me, my good boy. Go on, honey, fuck yourself up against me. Let me just pull these down…”

You reach to his underwear and tug at the waistband, allowing his cock to spring upwards. He mewls at the cool bedroom air on his tip, already dribbling with precome, and begins to rut against you with more enthusiasm now that he has your consent. His face is buried into your stomach as his arms wrap around you to hold you close, his hips pressing against you in an erratic pace. When he comes for the first time it’s with a relieved little whine from the back of his throat. He coats your skin with his release, shiny and pearlescent; you feel him collapse into you. 

“Good boy. Good boy, Gale.”

He hums happily. You pet him some more.

“You know what good boys also do? They don’t leave a mess. Why don’t you clean me up, sweetheart? And use your tongue, hmm? Alright?”

Gale looks up into your eyes, soft and sweet and pliable, nodding enthusiastically at your suggestion. He’d do anything to get your pretty words anyway, but like this he is even more open to your kindness. He drops to his knees and begins to lick his spend from your thigh, lips trailing upwards from your knee where it has started to drip down. It is a powerfully erotic image to see him so thoroughly at your beck and call. Your leg is left damp when he is done but he licks his lips to show you that he’s finished and ready for more instructions. 

Oh, you are going to have a wonderful few days. 

In order to keep him near you, you decide to employ the use of a leash. The collar is snug but comfortable around his neck and he’s happy to go wherever you bring him. There’s no point in him wearing any clothes as the tower is always at an ambient temperature, so he spends his days nude by your side. Whenever he’s desperate for attention he searches out your warmth and buries his face into you, and you either run your fingers through his hair if he’s looking for sweetness or use your hand on him if he’s looking for stimulation. Either way he’s left a dizzy mess afterwards who you coddle and praise. 

He’s so relaxed, and it’s an utter pleasure to see. You sit on the sofa, propped up with plush pillows, while he reclines at your feet with his cheek resting on your leg. His proximity to you is a calming presence for him, and often he turns his head to press a kiss into your skin for no reason other than he wants to.

He loves you so completely. In return, your heart is entirely his. 

Occasionally he gets very needy and presses open your thighs, hitching up your robes and nuzzling into your sex.

“Gale, are you sure?” you ask, his glassy eyes shining with surety as he nods. He fucks you with his mouth as if it’s his gods-given duty, ekeing as many orgasms out of you as you’re able to give him. When he’s done and his face is shiny with your come, you see he’s spent on the floor; it is a simple order for him to clean up leaves him moaning in arousal. 

He is thoroughly taken care of. You’re never far from him to offer comfort, constantly checking in that he’s happy. He always nods his affirmation but lets you know if there’s anything the matter; hunger or exhaustion weighing on him. 

You feed him. You don’t need to, he’s capable of doing it himself, but he gets hard as he sits in your lap and you offer him bites of sandwich from your hand, face in a permanent grin of adoration. 

The last night you expect the spell to last is when you finally ride him. The two of you have had so many orgasms over the past few days you’re surprised that there’s anything left in the tank, but you still find it in yourself to fuck him into sweet oblivion. He’s able to clutch onto your hips and moan your name, pleasure his only feeling, your love the only thing he knows.

You fall asleep entwined in an embrace, gorgeous little words dripping from your lips until you drift off. 

The next morning you wake and the bed is empty, but you can smell bacon being fried in the kitchen. You groggily drag yourself along its scent until you find Gale standing at the stovetop, in his purple dressing gown and an apron, humming happily to himself. A couple of sleepy steps forward allow you to embrace him and tuck your face between his shoulderblades.

“The plan was to bring you breakfast in bed, but you seem to have thoroughly waylaid it,” he remarks. You can hear the smile in his voice. He’s verbal again - you’re glad he seems to be back to his usual self. 

“Mmm, I just wanted to see you. How are you, love? Are you alright? I tried to check in with you as much as I could…”

He turns to face you, and you’re immediately struck with how relaxed he looks. His eyes are soft, jaw loose, none of the tension he was carrying apparent any more. 

“My heart, I’m more than alright. I’ve never been so thoroughly taken care of. I’m so glad - blessed, really - to have you to look after me. I love you.”

He kisses you, and it’s long and delicious. 

“So, successful experiment, Professor Dekarios?” you ask, a cheeky grin on your face. He groans at that title, and you feel his cock throb. 

“I think you might have drained me dry over these past days, but I’m more than willing to see if I have one more in me…” he mutters, stepping forward to trap you between his body and the table. 

“It’s for research, after all.”

taglist: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13@trappedinlimbo15@infinitely-kate@dhampling@wereallbrokenangels@tilldeathdonugget@useless-contributions@beardedladyquee

[kookygranger]

Fairytale of Hawkins: Part One

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

A cheesy hallmark Christmas fic inspired by @bettyfrommars's tow truck!Eddie and prompts #1 & #6 from Betty and @allthingsjoeq's Holiday Prompt Party

Summary: You're spending Christmas in your best friend Robin's hometown this year, after spending far too many alone in the city. She can't wait to introduce you to the gang and all the wholesome festive activities they get up to, but you may have already made a not-so-good first (and second) impression on a certain metalhead in the first few days of your visit.

Warnings: mention of car crashing into snowbank (no damage), reader gets drunk (happy holidays!), reader doesn't have family, reader and Eddie are in their late 20s/early 30s, swearing

Word count: 4.4k

Author's note: I've spent far too long agonising over this when it's supposed to be silly and fun and not perfect, so please just have this first part and ignore me screaming into a pillow in the corner.

Part Two

6 Days 'Til Christmas

You really weren’t feeling the holiday spirit this year.

Not that you normally did.

Christmas for you, meant taking advantage of a quiet city, spending the hours alone walking the empty streets and having nothing but smoked salmon and champagne for dinner without feeling guilty. Sometimes (every Christmas), you’d let a corny Hallmark movie play on your TV and cringe and laugh at the predictableness of it all. Maybe, you’d be a bit quieter when the lovesick couple inevitably kissed at the end, maybe you’d pour yourself a little more champagne.

The aesthetic of the holiday season itself, you didn’t mind so much. The pretty twinkling lights, spiced hot drinks, and cookies you could take. But the frenzied crowds, all the talk of “goodwill” and “Christmas cheer”, when all you had to do was spend an hour in a department store to witness the real ugliness of humanity – hard pass. And let’s not forget Christmas day itself, either people would be spending it stuck with family, passive-aggressive comments and secrets coming out after the first few rounds of spiked punch, or they’d be forcefully and painfully reminded of just how lonely they were in this world.

The snow was nice. You secretly enjoyed the quiet and stillness a fresh blanket of snow could bring to the city. But out here in the sticks? Snow was your worst enemy.

Once your heart had settled back to a normal pace, you got out of the car to assess the damage. There was no smoke coming from places it shouldn’t, no visible scratches or dents that you could see – but there was also no way in hell that you were getting this car out of the snowbank you’d crashed into. At least the deer you swerved to avoid was probably off in the trees to your left with its family, living to frolic another day.

“Shit.”

You had no idea where you were. Already lost on the horrible directions your best friend Robin had given you before that damn deer came out of nowhere. The snow was coming down faster than the street plows could keep up with, your hair drenched in a few minutes as another shiver ran through your whole body.

Hawkins was cold. Like, freezing. You always thought winter was winter, but they really took it to another level here in the Midwest.

The day still had a little light left in it, but darkness was fast approaching. You decided the smart thing to do was wait in the car and hope that somebody driving by would be able to help. Or pretend to help before murdering you. Well, you didn’t think walking on a fairly deserted road in the middle of a snowstorm when you had no idea which direction to go would produce better results. So, you waited.

And waited.

Oh god, you were gonna die here all alone. You never should’ve let Robin talk you into coming home with her for Christmas. You could be happily wrapped up in blankets in your climate-controlled apartment with a warm mug of eggnog right now.

Wait! The rum you bought for making eggnog with Robin.

You scramble to reach over the car’s middle console, hands rummaging through the paper bags on the floor in the back until you find the smooth glass neck of a bottle.

The rum burns your throat on the way down with the first swig, but the edge is taken off soon after with a couple more swallows – the familiar warmth settling into your skin once you’ve polished off about a quarter of the bottle. You curl up into your seat, tucking your legs into your coat and holding the bottle of rum close to your chest.

Distracted by the fuzzy feeling seeping into your head and thoughts of which picture of you they’d use to announce your death on the local news, you don’t notice the sound of a truck approaching or its headlights shining across the back of your car.

Maybe Robin will give them a good one of you on vacation together in The Bahamas last year. God, you wish you’d gone somewhere warm instead.

You almost jump out of your skin, letting out an involuntary squeak when someone knocks on your window. Barely making out the shape of a man with wild hair through the condensation that had fogged up the glass.

“You alright in there?”

Please don’t be a murderer, please don’t be a murderer, please don’t be a murderer.

You open the car door and step out on shaky legs, almost stacking it when your feet are swallowed by a much thicker blanket of snow than you were expecting. The man reaches out to steady you, his hands engulfing your forearms as you look up at your rescuer. Or potential downfall. A black beanie covers the top of his head but does little to protect the rest of his wild curls that fall across his shoulders from the still falling snow. You briefly take note of the blue coveralls with a name sewn in red thread across his heart, before you’re sucked in by the worried look in his brown doe eyes.

“Are you alright?”

You nod, stuttering when you try and speak, gesturing to the car behind you and then to the road. “I–the car, there was a–and then, the ice just sort of…”

The stranger straightens up, the warmth from his hands leaving you as he eyes you wearily, “You been drink driving?”

“What? No! God, no…I–I,” you take a deep breath, trying to compose the thoughts that were tumbling too fast out of your mouth. God, he was pretty. “After I realised I wasn’t going anywhere,” you point to the front of the car, barely visible from the snow piled around it, “I may have opened a bottle of rum to keep warm.”

He scoffs a little meanly, “You realise that’s not how it works right? You actually lose heat faster when you’re drunk.”

A tingling warmth crawls up your neck at his scolding and you shrug, “Well, I thought if I was gonna die I might as well do it with a good buzz.”

He squints at you, his stare stony and you can’t tell what you’ve done to warrant this level of offence from a total stranger. Was he helping you or not? “You’re not from around here are you?”

You straighten up reflexively, shoulders going back in defence, “What makes you say that?”

He gestures vaguely to all of you, “Well, apart from the fact that you ooze city girl,” you frown, “it’s a small town. I woulda remembered you if you grew up here.”

He didn’t say it with a smirk or a sly look at your body. You knew it wasn’t meant as a compliment. Not a ‘you’re so pretty I would’ve remembered you’ but a ‘you stand out in all the wrong ways’.

“Okay, um,” you look around and notice his truck parked behind him, disbelief painting your face when you turn back to him and take in the ‘Munson Motors’ patch on the other side of his name. “Would you be able to help me?”

He answers with a frown as if the question itself is offensive. He has a tow truck and you're stranded on the side of the road in below-zero conditions. Of course, he’s going to help you.

Eddie, goes straight to work hooking up your car to the back of his truck, pulling it out of the snowbank and parking off to the side of the road again as you stand out of the way and watch, shivering now that the freezing outside air has begun to sober you up.

When he jumps back out of the truck to check your car is secure, he clears his throat, speaking to you like he's continuing a conversation, “How long you been out here?”

Your breath catches in a cloud of condensation as you exhale. “What’s the time?”

He pulls back the blue fabric of his left sleeve to check his watch, “Quarter past six.”

“Oh, um…a couple of hours I think.” It had been 45 minutes.

He nods as he gives a chain one final tug. “Guess no one’s come past ‘cause it’d be dumb to drive around in these conditions.”

You had to hold back from reflexively rolling your eyes. Here comes the mansplain.

“You know, you really shouldn’t be driving without chains on your tires.”

You huff, “Well, it’s not my car and I was only popping out to the store to get some groceries…an–and I got lost and then a deer just–” You wave your hand across the road stumbling over your words as the stupidly pretty tow truck driver turns to you and raises his eyebrows. “Forget it.” You sighed, “Is the car gonna be alright?”

Eddie licks his bottom lip, his intense gaze starting to heat you up again as he slowly nods. “The car will be fine. I can drop you and it off if you’ve got an address for me in town.”

“Uh, yeah. Thanks.”

***

A sigh leaves you as the warmth of the truck cab engulfs you, the smell of tobacco and the black ice magic tree hanging from the rearview mirror, along with something woodsy surrounding you on the inhale.

“Where to?” Eddie plops himself into the driver’s seat, pulling out onto the road as you give him Robin’s parent's address.

The ride there is mostly quiet, aside from the low hum of a Black Sabbath song coming out of the speakers, and you get the feeling Eddie the tow truck guy doesn’t take well to city girls getting themselves into sticky situations on his roads. You’re starting to feel a little silly yourself as the rum buzz well and truly wears off. This was a little too damsel in distress-y for your liking. You were an independent woman for god sake, the best solution you could come up with was getting drunk before an incredibly well-timed, handsome local had to come to your rescue?

As soon as Eddie pulls up to the curb he’s jumping out of the truck, clearly not wanting to spend another minute in awkward silence. You were never really good at small talk.

It isn’t until the passenger side door slams behind you that you notice the yelling.

“Oh my god! I thought you were for sure dead!”

Robin almost knocks you onto the sidewalk when she slams into you.

“Oh, I was so worried! I kept telling my dad, I think I told her the wrong directions. I told you to turn right on Maple when you should have turned left–“Her arms flail about in the air as she rambles in a panic and you just smile at her.

“Rob, I’m fine. I got to the shops okay in the end, it was getting back that was the problem. Then this deer ran out in front of me and I lost control when I swerved.”

“Oh my god, I can’t believe I almost killed you. You haven’t even been in town a full day!” She squishes your cheeks in between her hands, and you laugh.

Once she’s satisfied that you’re okay, she turns to Eddie as he walks up to the both of you. “Thanks for bringing my girl back alive Munson.” Robin beams and you notice Eddie’s eyes darting between the both of you, things clicking into place before she tackles him with a hug.

“Nice to see ya Buckley.” You hear Eddie mumble something into Robin’s hair and she laughs.

Figures. He was that Eddie. The metalhead with a heart of gold. Fantasy nerd that you were “going to love.” Obviously, your mind hadn’t immediately associated the grumpy tow truck driver Eddie with the one you’d heard hundreds of stories about, the one that was supposed to be warm and quick to welcome outsiders. Maybe it was just you?

“The car’ll be fine. Might just take a little while to warm up next time you go to start it, but if you have any issues just drop it by the shop.” He speaks directly to Robin as if it were her that he’d just rescued from the side of the road.

She thanked him with an affectionate punch to the shoulder and you tried to catch his eye before he turned away.

“Thanks again, for uh–for your help.”

He just nods, eyes briefly making contact with yours before they flit away again and he walks back to his truck.

“Don’t let her get lost again. It’s only gonna get colder over the next week.” He shouts before he slams his door shut behind him.

You turn to Robin who’s cheerily waving him off.

“Cold-er? It gets cold-er?!”

***

5 Days 'Til Christmas

“This is ridiculous.” Condensation forms around your huffs of breath, Jack Frost nipping at the tip of your nose and cheeks as you pull your coat tighter around you, stumbling slightly on the icy ground.

“The only thing ridiculous is your dress sense.” Robin giggles, pausing to let you catch up with her, arm linking with your own as you cross the car park together.

“This is my favourite coat.” You pout.

She shakes her head, “I know it is. And I know how much it cost, but we need to get you something sturdier and some thermals or something.” Her free hand rubs the thin, expensive material on your shoulder.

“Maybe, we should just stop leaving the house.” You grumble, causing Robin to knock her shoulder against yours.

“C’mon! I know we’re meeting everyone in a couple of days, but when Steve told me Jonathan and Nance we’re going to be at the bar tonight as well I thought it’d be the perfect opportunity for you to meet the grown-ups first.”

“Aren’t the kids at college now?”

You’d learnt a lot about Robin’s chosen family over the years. Having met Steve multiple times when he came to visit her in the city and been regaled by countless stories of the trouble they’d all gotten up to in high school.

“Yeah, but they’re not legal drinking age yet and it’ll be much easier meeting everyone else without them around trust me.”

The Hideout definitely wasn’t anything like the bars you frequented in the city, and you couldn’t help thinking about where you were a week ago – an office Christmas party that involved two-hundred-dollar bottles of champagne and coke in the marbled bathrooms – as your weather inappropriate shoes found the sticky floor and your nose wrinkled involuntarily at the smell, eyes wandering over the small crowd of mostly old men hunched over their half-empty drinks.

“Charming,” you murmur, Robin’s arm tightening its hold on you upon seeing her best friend waving at the both of you across the room.

“Hey dingus,” She ruffles Steve’s hair as you approach the group sitting around a small wooden table.

“Hey numbnut.” He was quick to push his hair back, everything but a lonely strand falling back into perfect place. Robin took an empty chair, while Steve captured you in a much-needed embrace, greeting you warmly and without a childish nickname.

He kept an arm around your shoulder as he introduced you to the three other occupants of the table. You shake Nancy and Jonathan’s hand, smiling at the way they held each other, but when you hold out your hand to their friend Argyle he just laughs and gets up to hug you with a “Come here my lil’ city slicker.” The scent of pineapple and pot clinging to you as you take a seat while Steve heads to the bar to get you and Robin a drink.

“Where’s Eddie?”

The pang that jolts you at Robin’s casual mention of her friend’s name is slightly concerning.

“He’s over there with the guys.” You follow Jonathan’s gesture to a group of boys standing next to a makeshift stage at the far end of the bar. A tousle of brown waves in a leather jacket stands with his back to you with three others dressed much the same, all drinking beer and laughing. You couldn’t see his face, but even from here you notice his shoulders look more relaxed than he was during your encounter yesterday.

Maybe you’d get to see the “warm” Eddie now that he wasn’t having to haul your car out of the snow.

Steve returns to your table with drinks and takes the seat next to you, reaching over your shoulders to pinch Robin when she complains about hers not having enough ice before letting his arm relax around you. Steve had seamlessly fit himself into your life when you first met just as he always did in any situation, and you knew that he could sense your nerves about meeting the rest of the group. You just hoped he didn’t pick up on any nerves about the presence of one in particular.

“Nice of you to join us Buckley.”

You tense as Eddie appears at the table and Steve squeezes your shoulder, smirking into his drink.

Never fucking mind.

“Oh my god, you guys I have to tell you all about Eddie’s hero moment yesterday!”

As Robin captures the attention of the group with a dramatic retelling of yesterday’s events, your eyes wander to your reluctant rescuer. He was yet to acknowledge your existence, only rubbing his neck and blushing when praise was thrown his way. His attention is mostly on Robin’s theatrics before it shifts, and you notice his gaze land on something by your shoulder. You look down at Steve’s hand still resting there and when you look back up your eyes catch shining, dark chocolate ones.

You’re the first to break the spell, eyes quickly landing on the table, unable to hold his intense stare.

When Robin finishes her story you excuse yourself to get another drink, having nervously gulped yours down already and you pass Steve on your way back to the table.

“Hey, can you give these to Eddie? He’s just outside. I need to take a leak, thanks.” He walks away quickly, leaving you with a packet of cigarettes in your hand.

***

Eddie stands with his back to you, leaning against the brick of the bar as you exit the swinging door, a blast of arctic air hitting you as you immediately wrap your arms around yourself.

“Hey.”

He spins around at the sound of your voice.

“Uh, Steve said you needed to borrow a smoke?” You hold up the pack.

He stares at you for a second before he lifts an unlit cigarette in between his fingers.

“I’m all good. Bummed one off Gareth.”

You nod and shove the carton in your coat pocket.

“You smoke?”

“God no, I value my lungs. These are Steve’s.” You shake your head and Eddie raises his eyebrows, pausing in his motion to light the cigarette now pursed between his lips, the yellow flame from his scuffed bic lighter flickering in the chilled breeze.

He releases his thumb from the lighter, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and frowning at it.

“So uh, I didn’t expect you and Buckley to show up tonight.”

You grip your coat tighter around you, it’s far too cold to be out here but you’re pleasantly surprised that he’s initiating conversation with you. “Oh yeah, Robin dragged me out of the house to come see some lame band. Personally, I think it’s too cold to do anything other than drink tea under a pile of blankets but–“

“Robin said they were lame?”

“What?”

“The band playing here tonight, she said they were lame?”

“No, she just mentioned that they’re here every Tuesday,” you look up at the neon signage hanging above the door, missing a ‘d’ with a barely flickering ‘o’ and shrug, “I figured–“

“Hey, Ed!” One of the boys Eddie had been standing with earlier pops his head out of the bar door, giving you a curt nod when you turn around. “You ready? We’re on in two.”

“Yeah, just give us a sec.”

The boy disappears back behind the door and you screw your eyes shut. Of course it was his band.

“Shit, Eddie I’m sor–“

“You always just say things without thinking?” His arms are crossed, eyes squinting at you in that offended disbelief that seemed to be reserved just for you and your big mouth.

You sigh, “Only around you apparently.”

You swear you see the corner of his mouth twitch. “Why’s that city girl?”

The nickname could almost pass as a term of endearment, the way it comes out of him in a drawl if it wasn’t for your terrible first and second impressions preceding you.

You shake your head, “Never mind. I’m gonna–“ You point your thumb behind your shoulder, “Yeah,” and walk back inside before you manage to say anything else idiotic, Eddie grinning after your retreating form.

***

You watch Eddie thrash about on stage under the haze of a couple of shots, needing a little liquid courage before you could throw yourself back into socialising – at least you seemed to be getting along with the rest of the group.

His skin was glowing with sweat under the cheap yellow stage lights, leather jacket abandoned so you could now see the tattoos peaking out from under his tattered old band shirt. One that hugged his biceps as they flexed with the ferocity of his guitar playing. Holy shit.

When he jumps off stage and approaches his friends, you can’t take your eyes off the damp hair that sticks to his neck and forehead.

“You guys were amazing.”

He bows his head at your compliment. The two of you now slightly off to the side of the rest of the group as they figure out whose round it is. “Not lame then?”

“No,” you shake your head, “no, I shouldn’t have–that was shitty of me to judge without hearing you. To judge, full stop. I’m not like that normally. I know you think I’m just some city girl who’s completely out of touch but I’m just–I got a bit nervous about meeting you all and making a good impression for Robin. I’m sorry.”

He rubs the back of his neck, “S’nothin’ to apologise for. Not like we’re playing The Garden or anything.”

“That doesn’t matter.” You frown, “You’re great–I mean the band are great–I can tell that you all love playing up there no matter the audience. That’s what’s important.”

“Thanks.” His soft tone and doe eyes threaten to swallow you whole. You look away, burning up under his attention again.

“You’re welcome.”

“We’re playing pool now, I need you on my team c’mon.” Robin wraps her arms around you and drags you away before Eddie gets the chance to keep you talking.

***

“Wait, Steve! You’re not driving?” You cringe at Robin’s slurred volume as she shouts across the small car park, thankful this isn’t a residential area.

“Pfft no! I’ve had way too many. I’m going in Nance’s car.” She glares at her best friend as he follows Jonathan and Argyle, waving her off.

“How are we getting home?!” She raises her arms in exasperation and turns to you as if you’d be able to offer a solution, the creaking of the bar door opening behind you grabbing both of your attention as Eddie steps out. He stops short, car keys coming to a halt mid-swing when he notices eyes on him.

“Eddieeee.” Robin sing-songs, wrapping her arm around your shoulder. His eyebrow quirks up. “Fancy dropping off two gorgeous young girls and making sure they get home safe?” She leans her head into yours and you giggle.

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Yeah whatever, get in.”

Robin turns away abruptly to head towards his van, leaving you to stumble without the support, Eddie’s warm hands brace your arms before you even have time to think.

“You good?”

You nod, “Had a lot to drink.”

He huffs a laugh as you sway, breath stuttering when you look up at him, “Yeah, you did.”

The snow that falls around you two lands softly on your face, melting in your hair and on your eyelashes as you crinkle your nose.

“It’s so cold.”

He licks his bottom lip, “Right, right let’s get you home yeah?”

***

Despite Robin’s clumsy nature she always manages to stay light on her feet when she’s drunk. So, by the time Eddie pulls up to the Buckley residence she’s shooting out of the van, cackling at her own joke while you’re still trying to undo your seatbelt. Eddie tells you to stay still before he jogs to the passenger side and unhooks you, holding onto your arm as you step down onto the ground on wobbly legs.

“Where’s Robin?” You look around, the front yard frosted in snow that’s warmed by yellow fairy lights hanging around the edges of the house, but noticeably void of your charmingly sassy friend.

“She’s already inside. Here, let me get you to the door.”

His hands help steady you, guiding you to safety up the icy path, one stretching over your lower back the other holding your elbow. You hadn’t noticed his rings before now, silver glinting under the lights now directly above you as you walk up to the front porch. These hands adorned in skulls seemed to keep coming to your rescue. But you don’t need some hot tow truck, sexy guitarist guy coming to your rescue. You’re a capable, independent woman.

You feel Eddie’s breath on the back of your neck when he laughs softly.

“You think I’m sexy huh?”

You frown as you stop at the front door, shaking your head “What, why would you think that?”

“’Cause you just said it.”

“Out loud?!”

He snickers as you bury your face in your hands, “I have to stop drinking around you.”

Eddie bites his lip as you slip through the front door mumbling a good night and close it behind you without another glance at his smug face. He’s still smiling as he turns the ignition, the radio on low as Fairytale of New York fills his van with warmth. He takes a deep breath and shakes his head before pulling away from the curb, this fuzzy feeling in his chest not something that’s familiar to him.

“Fuck.”

[milfsloverblog]

Life Eternal (part 1)

Can you hear me say your name forever?

Larissa Weems x former student fem!reader

A/N: Sapphic Yearning at its finest. Don’t fall for your teachers, kids, it will ruin ya! Might be inspired by real events…Title from one of my favourite Ghost song, which you should really listen to if you want to get the full experience. Thinking of turning this into a multiple chapter fic, let me know! <3

ps: really want to insist on the fact that Larissa and reader’s relationship was platonic. Larissa was nothing more than a mentor to reader.

You had been staring at the letter on your lap for the past twenty minutes. Reading it again and again, as if you had not read it a hundred times since receiving it nearly two weeks ago.

“Dear Miss…” You sighed loudly and pushed the letter away, your eyes falling on the signature at the bottom of the page “Sincerely yours, Larissa Weems.”

You emptied the glass of wine you’d poured yourself hoping to find some courage in it. Of course, you were expecting the invite to arrive at some point, it always arrived around the end of May. At least it had for the past five years.

Class reunions. You hated the mere thought of it. Surely the ones that used to be popular loved those reunions, but you…No, you couldn’t bare the thought of seeing her, not after leaving the way you had.

Would she recognise you, you wondered as you threw your jacket on and took a last look in the mirror. You hadn’t changed much in five years and it seemed like she hadn’t forgotten about you. And you definitely hadn’t forgotten about her.

You didn’t even know what made you change your mind after five years of not attending. Perhaps it was the fact that the letter had been handwritten this time instead of typed, or maybe you had been hypnotised by the scent of her perfume that lingered in your room after you’d opened the envelope.

Now that you thought about it, moving out of Jericho had been both a blessing and a curse. You hadn’t moved very far, only a twenty minutes ride, but it was enough to ensure you wouldn’t accidentally stumble on her while doing your grocery shopping.

It was silly, that need you’d felt to run away from Larissa. You knew it was silly and yet you couldn’t help yourself. You couldn’t have kept acting like she meant nothing more to you than a mentor.

———

“Mom, please…” You had pleaded with your mother, refusing to get out of bed. “I’m telling you I can’t go. I feel too sick.”

It wasn’t a complete lie. You did feel sick, but not physically. Your illness was way more insidious than a simple stomachache or a common cold.

“Principal Weems will be so disappointed not to see you.” Your mother had said, standing with her hands on her hips. “I’m sure the poor woman has been impatiently waiting to see you graduate. And now you will let a little sickness take that away from her?”

She always found a way to rub salt into your wounds, even unknowingly. She had no idea. She had no idea that Larissa was the reason why you were refusing to get out of bed that morning.

“Please.” You had said again “Just go and get my diploma. Tell her I will visit whenever I can.”

Now that was a lie. You knew you would never visit Larissa again. You’d made up your mind a while ago already.

Your mother had eventually given up and attended your graduation ceremony alone. Principal Weems had been nothing but professional, your mom had told you, although she’d noticed that Larissa’s smile had seemed a bit forced when she had explained that you were sick and couldn’t be there to receive your diploma.

—————————

You were snapped out of your memory by a car loudly honking behind you, signaling that the light had been green for a few seconds now. How long had you been zoning out for? You hadn’t been to Nevermore in five years and yet it seemed like your brain still remembered the road as if you had left yesterday.

The car park was already nearly full when you arrived and there was no doubt you would be one of the last invitees to show up.

A shiver ran down your spine when you walked through the gate under the Nevermore sign and entered the yard. You couldn’t help but feel like you’d just walked into the lion’s den, that the trap was closing in on you.

Looking around at the people you recognised a few familiar faces, werewolves, sirens, and gorgons catching up together instead of segregating themselves like they used to.

Someone calling your name made you turn around, your eyes falling on a face you’d recognise anywhere.

“Enid!” Your lips immediately spread into a smile. She hadn’t changed at all, still that bubbly young woman dressed all in pink.

She pulled you in a tight hug and you grimaced a little, locking eyes with Wednesday who gave you a knowing look.

“So, you two…” You asked when Enid eventually let you go.

“Yes!” Enid answered excitedly as she wrapped her arm around Wednesday’s waist, a small blush creeping on the Addams’ cheeks.

And it made sense, you thought, that the gloomy girl would fall for the bubbly one. Isn’t that what had happened to you too, after all?

Enid excused herself, saying she was going to get some drinks for the three of you. A silence fell between Wednesday and you but it didn’t feel uncomfortable.

“I knew you would come someday. Enid kept saying we would never see you at a class reunion, but I knew you’d eventually come.” The Addams girl said. “We can’t run from our feelings forever, can we?”

Wednesday smirked devilishly when you looked at her with wide eyes. If she knew, if she had been able to realise, who else had?

Enid reappeared before you could say anything, handing you a cup of what looked like white wine.

“The handwritten invitation was a nice touch.” You said after taking a sip and letting out a small chuckle. “I do wonder where she found the time to handwrite so many invitations though.”

Enid frowned and looked at her girlfriend before looking back at you.

“You received a handwritten invitation?” She asked. “Because we only got the good old computer typed one…Why would she send you a hand-“ Wednesday gently put her hand on the blonde’s mouth and whispered something in her ear, which had Enid nodding and keeping quiet.

The crowd suddenly fell silent, and all eyes turned towards the entrance door from which Principal Weems had just walked out to step onto the podium.

She didn’t need a podium, she was already towering over everyone there but that’s simply how Larissa was. She wasn’t ashamed of who she was or how she looked, something she had desperately tried to teach you when the two of you were close.

“All your life there will be people trying to push you down.” You remembered her telling you, her fingers holding onto your chin to make sure you were looking at her. “And yes, it will hurt. You may cry if you need to, but you can never give up. And don’t you ever be ashamed of who you are. You are incredible, my darling, don’t you forget that.”

Larissa’s voice resonated through the yard, commanding everyone’s attention. With unwavering poise, she delivered her speech, thanking everyone for coming that day. Every eye in the crowd was fixated on her, hanging onto her words.

The principal’s smile widened a little when she noticed Enid and Wednesday, only to falter for a second when her blue eyes eventually locked with yours.

It felt like time had stopped. Like it was just the two of you and the others had ceased existing. It always felt that way with her. She would look into your eyes and make you feel like you were the most important person in the room.

There was a short pause in Larissa’s speech, so short in fact that you weren’t sure anyone else had even noticed. It only took a split second for the woman to pull herself back together and finish her speech, her eyes falling on you a few more times.

Larissa ended her speech by telling everyone to help themselves with the food and drinks and reminding them that Nevermore would always welcome them if needed.

You were out of the yard as soon as Larissa stepped down from the podium. You needed to get out of there before she decided to come and find you, because you knew she would.

Coming here today hadn’t been a good idea. You should have stayed at home and buried that damn invitation in the drawer of your desk as you had done with the past four ones.

You heard the familiar sound of heels approaching the alcove where you were hiding and barely looked up when the sound stopped right next to you.

“I knew I would find you here.” Larissa spoke softly.

Of course she did. You always used to hide here whenever you needed to be away from everything.

“Your mother said you would visit whenever you’d feel better…I’m glad you finally do” The tall woman added.

It didn’t sound like she was reproaching you, and when you looked up at her face and your eyes met her gentle ones, you knew she wasn’t. Larissa was simply stating a fact. You were here, and she was glad that you were.

She hadn’t changed at all, you thought as you quietly observed her face. You noticed that the lines at the corner of her eyes and around her lips had deepened. She was as beautiful as ever.

“It’s very good to see you, Principal Weems. Thank you for the invitation.” You wished you had the courage to use her name, to call her Larissa like she had allowed you to do when in private. But time had passed and you weren’t sure if you were still allowed to.

“Of course, I’m glad you joined us today. Will you follow me to my office? There’s something I’d like to show you.” The older woman said, not waiting for your answer before spinning around on her heels and walking away.

Stepping into the office felt stranger than you thought it would. You were almost immediately hit with a wave of memories. Sitting down on the sofa by the fireplace, reading a book while Larissa furiously typed some emails on her keyboard. Spending whole evenings debating on the most absurd subject either of you could think of.

You’d fallen asleep there one time when Larissa hadn’t noticed how late it was. You’d woken up the next day still on the sofa but with a blanket covering you and a pillow comfortably tucked under your head. God, you loved her.

“There it is!” Larissa said, pulling you out of your reverie.

She handed you a small rectangular red box tied with a ribbon. You read the tag that was hanging to the bow and felt your stomach drop. Congratulations, darling! You make me so proud. She had bought you a graduation gift and you hadn’t shown up. You didn’t deserve her.

“I kept it all those years. I was hoping that you would visit during the summer after your graduation.” Larissa explained “And when you didn’t…I suppose I kept hoping that you would someday.”

You couldn’t help but wonder if it had been as hard for her as it had been for you. Had she missed you like you had missed her?

You pulled on the ribbon and watched as the bow fell apart, your hands slightly shaking when you lifted the lid to reveal a pair of black leather gloves.

“You always said you loved mine, remember? The beige ones?” Larissa asked.

If you remembered? You couldn’t count how many times you’d watched Larissa put her gloves on, admiring the way her fingers flexed in the leather. You had dreamt of helping her take them off only to kiss her knuckles.

“Do you like them?” The woman whispered, unsure what your silence meant.

“I love them.” You answered almost immediately. I love you, you thought. “Thank you so much, Miss Weems, this means more than you could ever imagine.”

Larissa’s smile widened and her body slightly moved forward, panic rising in your chest when her arms moved from her sides and you realised she was about to embrace you.

Don’t, please don’t. Because if you do I will fall right back in love with you, and I’m not sure I will ever be able to let go again.

But you didn’t say anything. You let her wrap her arms around you and pull you close against her. And it felt so right. You hadn’t felt this alive in years, yet it killed you to know that this meant nothing more to her than a hug between two old friends.

“I’m sorry I didn’t visit you sooner.” You whispered as you embraced her. She still felt the same in your arms. She still smelled the same. She was still her.

“I know.” Larissa whispered back, her body gently swaying from side to side as she held you close.

You felt like you were eighteen again, sobbing in her arms after a particularly rough day. She had never let you down, not once had she refused to help you and you had run away without an explanation.

“Larissa…” You whispered, wanting to explain yourself furthermore, needing to tell her how stupid you had been.

“I know.” She repeated and your ear that was pressed against her chest caught her heart beating faster.

You weren’t sure what she knew exactly, but it didn’t matter. Not now. Not while she was holding you close and shielding you from the world. There would be plenty of time for explanations. But for now, it was just you and her, tightly embracing each other.

[jinkicake]

i’m so sorry for adding onto the never ending requests for arranged marriage fics but could you please do one with kaeya? thank you so much :D

Forced / Arranged Marriage Trope 

(pt. ??) Kaeya Alberich x Reader

A/N: thank you for requesting kaeya </3333333 this is a lot longer than the others because kaeya is my fav </3 i wrote this and other different ideas so many times and it's still not what i want but i will always post anything kaeya related!!! </333

fem!reader bc I like the use of ‘wife’

WC - 2.3K

~~~

“Diluc, you don’t understand. He’s never home, never listens, and he never spends any time with me!” Complaint after complaint, your long list of issues seemingly comes to an end. The bar owner nearly sighs. “I can’t understand why Crepus wanted this arrangement. A last wish for marriage makes no sense,” You all but fall forward onto the bar of Angel’s Share and Diluc could not be any more annoyed. He braces a neutral expression as he tries to keep his irritation at bay, but the truth is, he has no interest in your or his brother’s marital issues. 

“Give me another drink, please,” You raise your empty glass and the owner is quick to fill it up before roughly pushing it back toward you. He nods to one of his men by the door, a gesture that demands Kaeya needs to be found soon. “what do I do, Diluc?” Despite your whining and how tired the poor owner is, he was raised to be a gentleman. He will listen to your worries and consult you when possible because that is what a gentleman would do. “Kaeya doesn’t like me at all and it’s been eight months since we got married!”

You truly must be pushing him now, this is a test of his character. Diluc tries not to show the way his face sours at this awful interaction but, he feels his eye twitch. He wants to grab you by the shoulders and demand that you just try speaking with your husband because, to him and everyone else, Kaeya's care for you is borderline nauseating. However, he remains quiet and waits to hear the familiar ding of the front entrance. 

The cavalry captain should be showing up soon, any time now. It’s nearly eight in the evening and Kaeya always finds himself in the stool beside yours at a quarter to seven but, you’re usually not with him. You’re not the daily drinker like your husband. 

“I really want him to like me but he just doesn’t, is there something wrong with me?” Your eyes have grown glassy now and Diluc anxiously looks over your head as he wipes a glass dry for the fifth time. Now, now, now. 

Finally, the familiar ding of the door and a set of dark blue hair comes. 

Too bad you’re drunk out of your mind to notice. 

“Kaeya doesn’t love me!” The sight of you bursting into tears finally breaks Diluc’s stone expression. He raises his brows high as he glances at his brother. Much like his vision, the younger man has an expression that is cold as ice. The hard look on Kaeya’s face freaks him out even more than your outburst. Quickly, the owner removes himself from the situation as he places the cup down and walks to the backroom. 

Privacy is what you and your husband need. Diluc needs a break from failing to play counselor. Distancing himself does both of those things. 

Kaeya remains quiet, simultaneously calm and collected. 

Your husband is a very professional man, one who always manages to keep his cool. Even now, he ignores any lingering stares from employees rushing upstairs as he places his coat over your shoulders and dips his head beside your own. 

“Let’s go home, dear,” His encouraging hands gently squeeze your shoulders before helping you out of the chair and stabilizing your movements as you begin to stumble. You glare at him with watery eyes and a fierce frown. Drunk or not, you recognize his touch anywhere. After shrugging him off, you continue to move forward and leave the bar with him in tow. 

The walk back to your shared apartment is quiet, peaceful, even if you don’t count the lingering tension that suffocates the two of you. Kaeya remains a pace behind you with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He watches you with a protective eye and follows your natural sway as you bobble all the way back home. 

Irritation pricks him entirely the wrong way, do you truly think he doesn’t care about you? Aside from your difficult schedules, the captain has always made it a point to make sure you are cared for. His duty as a husband is important to him and something he takes great pride in. Kaeya bites the inside of his cheek as his dull fingernails dig into the palm of his hand. While he may not outwardly show it, his affection for you could never be measured so easily by ‘like’ and ‘love'. His feelings exude adoration but, perhaps he is not as vocal about it as he thought. He thinks about this further as you head up the stairs and his hands automatically go to hover over your waist. Even if he is not touching you, the captain has a firm belief that doing this will keep you upright. 

Kaeya watches as you struggle to take your key out and how you flinch away when he gently covers his hand over your own. Again, he frowns. He’s never given you a reason to act so timidly. His frown only deepens as you attempt to brush past him immediately after he opens the apartment. 

“Hold on now, wait a moment,” Your husband grabs your wrist and keeps you from making a b-line straight to your individual bedroom. He locks the front door before directing you toward the bathroom. “let’s wash up.”

Your irritated expression doesn’t scare Kaeya but, your silence makes him a little bit anxious. Still, he follows closely behind as you walk into the bathroom and then attempt to slam the door in his face. 

“Easy now, honey,” Kaeya coos as he reaches for a cleanser and soft towelette. “don’t hurt me too badly.” It’s as if your lips are glued shut by the way you’re now ignoring him, refusing to talk to him. Your husband doesn’t mind, he’s always been able to make enough conversation for the two of you. 

You visibly soften and relax at Kaeya’s touch as he begins to lightly dot the towel over your face. Not once does he tug or harshly pull on your skin, he allows the dirt and grim to melt off with nothing but patience. You continue to sit there on the rim of the bathtub while observing him closely. 

“Beautiful,” Kaeya smiles when he finally pulls the towel away. He offers a warm expression, one that is genuine and kind. His affection makes you feel anxious, even if it’s one of the things you desperately yearn for. You look away the second you can bring yourself to do it. Your husband continues to gently tap a few more products into your skin before helping you put your hair up for the night. When he is finished, he quietly puts your products away. Kaeya keeps his eyes trained on the tiny bottles as he lines them up in their designated positions and then attempts to pour his heart out. “I hope you know that I do care for you. I really do, wife.”

He wills himself to glance over his shoulder to look at you and the sight that greets him nearly makes him breathless. You’re staring again, eyes blown wide at his short confession. All you can do is blink at him in surprise and the sight roots Kaeya in his spot. 

Had it not been for the slight curl of your lips and the gentle smile subtly resting on your face, Kaeya would have been afraid that he said too much. 

He quietly watches as you stand up and wobble over to him, now standing in front of him with exhaustion weighing on your shoulders. 

“Let’s get you to bed,” Kaeya murmurs before guiding you using a soft hand resting between your shoulders. He brings you to your bedroom and easily pulls out one of his shirts from your drawers before handing it to you. Despite the slight strain in your relationship, there have been many nights when you both enjoyed each other’s company. The clothing and slight blend of your lifestyles littered throughout the apartment is proof of that. It’s proof of your sacred bond, unknowingly special to the two of you. He then hands you a pair of his boxers over his shoulders and puts his faith in your drunk ability to balance because he refuses to watch you change like this. 

It’s only when he hears the creeks of your mattress that Kaeya knows it is safe to turn around. Safe for his eyes but not his heart because this new position is dangerously enticing. It takes everything in the grown man not to fall to his knees and pray to you. 

On your stomach, leg perched high where it is bent on the mattress, you look up at him from over your shoulder. The slight pout in your lip and furrow of your eyebrows makes Kaeya quiet, stunned speechless as his talented tongue grows heavy in his mouth. He looks at you in a way you once would have dreamed of. You briefly look away from his intense gaze and opt to play with the pillow instead. 

“Can you stay with me?” 

Oh, he would be a fool not to. Kaeya eagerly nods and he can’t help how his cool composure is slipping between his fingertips. This is you asking for him, he would freeze the entire world over twice if you asked. Never did he expect you to ask for this, his company.

Your husband slowly gets undressed and waits for you to change your mind, he still thinks you may kick him out but, you don’t. You patiently wait for him to get under the covers himself even if it is in nothing but his boxers. 

He’s almost resting on the edge of the mattress now to keep a respectable amount of distance between the two of you. Kaeya doesn’t want to push you any further, he would hate it but, you seem to have no issue with it. 

You scoot closer to him, subtly shimming until both of you are on the edge of the bed. There are mere centimeters between the two of you and Kaeya watches breathlessly as you lift your hand to reach out for his own. He meets you halfway almost too eagerly, the feeling of your fingertips explodes light inside of him that he never knew he had. You then smile at him and Kaeya can’t think of a sight that could rival it. 

“You don’t know how much I love you.” Kaeya finds himself confessing as the words melt off of his tongue. He watches as your expression softens and you intertwine your fingers together. Through the bearing of his soul, Kaeya scoots closer and presses his lips to your forehead. “For all the times you have been lonely, I am sorry.”

“Please forgive me,” Kaeya stops at your lack of response and almost freezes entirely, did he say too much? He’s afraid he said something wrong that would turn you off forever but, in truth, you fell fast asleep. Your cheek is pressed up against his chest, breathing deeply as you rest somewhere in a deep slumber. Kaeya lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding in. “I should just keep my mouth shut.” He softly traces your cheek with one of his fingers while subtly moving both of your bodies to the middle of your bed. Oh, you always had the more comfortable mattress and he desperately missed it almost as much as he missed you. 

In the times of your silence and weeks filled with tension, the captain held back from reaching out. The blend of two dated lives molding together in forced proximity seemed so much easier in his head but, it was anything but that in reality. Kaeya wanted to give you time and space, but now all he can think about is greedily having those things of yours to himself. Regret fills him at the thought of missing out on anything that has to do with you. 

“If you ever need me, let me know.” Kaeya sighs as he places his chin on top of your head and wraps his arms around your waist. Tonight, he can only hope that sleep comes easily. 

It does.

The knight wakes up to gentle rays illuminating the room and your warm fingertips pressing against his ribs. He cracks an eye open, flinching when he notices you already staring at him. There’s a pout on your lips as your brows furrow in concentration, if your husband had to guess, he would say you look timid and hesitant. 

“Was it all true?” Your voice croaks and Kaeya has half a mind to get up and grab you a glass of water. Sleep still fogs his mind which makes for a pathetic attempt as he tries to grasp the situation. “What you said last night?” Seconds go by as he scrambles for an answer. 

Oh. Your husband did not expect you to remember all of that. The words are not any less true now, they won’t be any less true a handful of years in the future but, he feels a bit shy about his confessions. You’re sober now and looking at him with such determined features, almost as if his answer will break your entire world. Kaeya knows he needs to choose things carefully. 

“You love me?” Your question, laced with genuine curiosity, makes his words tumble out without a second thought. 

“So much,” His cool palm spreads across your jaw as he moves to cup your face. All Kaeya wants to do is kiss the frown off of your face but, he settles for watching you instead. With each press of his thumb against your cheek, you shuffle closer and closer to him until the space between your bodies is nonexistent. You’re looking up at him now and all Kaeya wants to do is erase any lingering doubt in your body. “allow me to prove it.”

If his words do not satisfy you now then perhaps his touch will be more than enough. 

[peakyltd]

Hi Daisy, I've come to request a John fic with the fluff prompt ❛ do you think the moon is jealous of how pretty you are? ❜( If you feel inspired, of course!) It seems like a line he would use!

Thank you for your request Lee! 🥰 This line really is something John would say, I already saw that cheeky little grin in my mind.

A/N: I wrote it pretty quickly but then I had some trouble with the flow of the story. I feel like it might not completely live up to what I wrote before. So if that's the case, I'm sorry. Anyway I hope you still like and enjoy it. I certainly did have a lot of fun writing John, it reminded me how much I love his character!

Warnings: Swearing. A few rude comments on Linda? Nothing serious. Other than that it's just pure fluff.

Word count: 2002

Family Dinner

"Please remind me that if you ever want to have a family dinner at our house again, that I'll say no." John mumbles in her ear as he wraps his arms around her waist. "Why?" (Y/N) giggles, looking up at him.

They’re both standing in the kitchen as (Y/N) is finishing up the home made dinner. It was her idea to invite his family but it took her some time to convince John.

"It's pure chaos and Linda is pissing me off with her nagging." He answers her, chewing on this toothpick. "John, you can't say that." She chided, eyeing his family who were sat at the table. The distant was big enough for them not to hear John complaining.

"Oh c'mon (Y/N), don't act like you don't think the same thing." He says as he takes her chin gently between his fingers, turning her face back to him.

As their eyes meet, she can't help but laugh. "See? This is exactly what I mean." John laughs. "I really hope Arthur will grow his balls b-" (Y/N) cuts John off by putting her hand on his mouth, shushing him. "Ssh!" She whispers as she lowers her hand.

"Can I help you with the food (Y/N)?" Linda asks as she approaches the kitchen. "Oh no you don't have to Linda, I'm almost finished. It will come right up"

"It's really no bother." She smiles. "Thank you but it's all set, John will be our waiter tonight." (Y/N) jokes, earning a chuckle from Linda. John, on the other hand, rolls his eyes as he turns to the counter. He takes the toothpick out of his mouth and cuts off some of the meat (Y/N) made.

"If you change your mind, I'll be right there." Linda points at the empty chair next to Arthur. (Y/N) smiles at her. "I appreciate it, Linda." She answers. Watching the woman return to her seat.

(Y/N) hears a deep sigh coming from behind her. "It's no bother" He imitates her. "To me it is." John adds while eating some meat. She pushes playfully against his shoulder. "John."

"I'm right there." He imitates her again. "As if she just came walking in, she's already sitting there for hours."

"John please." (Y/N) chuckles. "She means well. What has she done to you?"

John leans against the counter. "She has to fucking comment on everything someone says or does. As of right now yeah, Arthur just had a drink or two too many. He’s not even pissed yet but she keeps asking him if it's really a good idea to take more whiskey." He sighs frustratedly. "I know I need more whiskey if I need to listen to her any longer."

(Y/N) places her hands on his cheeks and pulls him closer to her. "Try to let it go for tonight, okay? They're both adults and if Arthur has had enough of it, he'll let her know." "He won't." He defends.

"Lets just enjoy the night." She adds as she kisses him softly. "Okay?" "Hm 'kay" John mumbles against her lips as he puts his hands on her waist, pulling her in for another kiss.

The dinner went well, the Shelby's enjoyed the fresh made food and the drinks were flowing. John had visibly relaxed and was slumped back in his seat, laughing at the conversation he was having with his brothers and cousin.

The kids were running in and out of the house, hopefully getting rid of their last energy of the day before going to bed. Ada was talking to Linda and Polly watched the family, a pleased smile on her face.

(Y/N) went back into the kitchen to get her selfmade pudding. She was excited about the dessert ever since the day she knew his family came over for dinner. It was her favorite and she loved to make it. She added some strawberries on top before taking it back to the table.

Before she could even reach the table, the kids came running in, chasing each other. A shout of John could be heard but it was too late, a few of them bumped into (Y/N). The sudden impact caused her to drop the pudding.

A loud gasp comes from her mouth. “Oh no…” She watches it splash apart, leaving it all over the floor. Disappointment filling her features.

“What have I said about no fucking running around the kitchen! Look what you've done!" John bellows as he stands up, the children immediately apologize. "Sorry mom." "Yes sorry aunt (Y/N)."

She sighs. "It's okay. Don't worry about it. Be careful next time, yeah?" They nod. "Now go back outside." John adds strictly, glaring at the kids. He made sure they were out of sight before he made his way to the kitchen.

"I'm so sorry." She apologizes to his family. "Don't be sorry, love. We've had already more than enough." Polly smiles at her. "We'll come back for pudding another time."

(Y/N) nods, wiping the remains of her dress. "Here let me help you." A voice came from behind her. John got a few towels for her to clean her dress and helped her to tidy the mess on the floor.

Once they were finished she sat back down in her chair. Feeling better after John’s attempts to cheer her up.

Rumbling was heard from the kitchen as John appeared with two bottles of whiskey in his hands. He lifted them above his head, a big grin on his lips. “I got a new dessert!” He cheered. A sigh coming from (Y/N)’s lips. “Oh god…”

As their evening came to an end, (Y/N) and John said their goodbyes to his family. Their exit was as chaotic as their entrance. Arthur was too drunk and had to be helped into the car by Tommy and Finn. Which resulted in John having tears rolling down his cheeks from laughter and a very annoyed Linda.

When Tommy told John to "shut his fucking mouth or he would help to do so" it caused Arthur to have his own fit of uncontrollable giggles. A lot of shouting and more laughter had followed until Polly and Ada finally managed to get everyone in their cars. As soon as the cars drove out of the drive way, peace had returned.

John wiped the tears off his face. "Did you see his face? Bloody idiot." He started laughing again. "I don’t want to know how they will get him out of the car." (Y/N) giggles. "I would leave him there. He can get out by himself in the morning." He chuckles.

As his laughter calmed down he took a deep breath. "I have to admit that I enjoyed this night more than I thought I would." "I'm glad you did." She beams at him as she pulls him in for a hug, leaning her head against his chest.

John strokes her hair and kisses the top of her head. While he is looking at the garden, an idea pops up in his head.

"Shall I light the fire pit? The weather is still lovely and I wouldn’t mind to spend some time alone with you." He offers. (Y/N) looks up at him. "Oh yes, I would love that. I'll quickly check on the children, I hope they didn't wake up from all the noise."

"Alright." He gives her a quick kiss, leaving her smiling. He collects some branches and makes his way to the fire place.

Once upstairs (Y/N) checks the bedrooms of their children. She finds them sound asleep, as if nothing happened. All of them too tired from their eventful night.

As (Y/N) arrives back outside, John was already sat in front of the fire. A whiskey in his hand and a new toothpick in his mouth. “They’re still sleeping.” She tells him. "I’m glad." He says as he gets up.

"Do I need to get your coat?" "No I'm fine, it's still warm enough." She assures him. "I did get you a blanket." He points at the chair next to his, a blanket hanging on the back of the chair.

She smiles at his gesture. "Thank you, John." She says, sitting down. The fire warms her skin immediately. "I got your wine." John sits next to her, showing her the bottle and filling her glass. "You're such a gentleman, John Shelby."

He chuckles as he hands her the glass. "Of course I am." He answers, putting the bottle down next to him. (Y/N) takes a sip of her drink, leaning back against the chair. The blanket had already warmed up by the fire, making her feel at ease. She takes a deep breath as she looks over the meadow next to their house.

John mimics her and watches the fire. The reflection of the flames dancing on his face. "Aren't we lucky?" She asks, looking at him. "I know I am, I have the most beautiful woman in the world." He grins at her. She blushes lightly at his comment. "Are you flirting with me?" She chuckles.

"Maybe." He smirks at her. "Is it working?" "It already worked a while ago." She jokes. (Y/N) grabs his hand, she softly strokes it with her thumb. John squeezes hers gently. "But yes, it is working." She admits.

A peaceful silence fell over them as they're both sipping on their drinks. As the flames become smaller, John put extra woodblocks and branches in the fire pit. He catches (Y/N) staring at the sky. He looks up as well, gazing at the moon and many stars that were visible this night.

"Do you think the moon is jealous of how pretty you are?" He asks (Y/N) as he looks at her, a cheeky grin on his face. She shifts her gaze to him. "My god John." She giggles, hiding her face in her hands. John laughs as he grabs her hands and pulls her up from her chair.

"Don't hide that pretty face of yours." He chuckles. He sneaks his arms around her and pulls her closer. (Y/N) wraps her arms around his neck, brushing her fingers over the short hair on the back of his head.

"I do think the moon is jealous of how pretty you are." John confesses to her as he looks into her eyes. "Nothing compares to you. Not even the moon."

(Y/N) blushes, admiring John’s face. "I love you so much." "I love you too, darling." He tells her as he moves his face closer to hers.

"Before you kiss me, please let me do this." She whispers, earning a confused look from John. (Y/N) takes the toothpick out of his mouth and throws it into the fire.

"Oh." He chuckles. "I don't think it would add much good." She smiles. "You never know, maybe you're into it." He jokes. (Y/N) can't help but giggle at his stupid joke.

“You make me the happiest, John.” She tells him, her voice soft. “Imagine how you make me feel.” John grins at her.

He moves his face closer to hers again. His breath fanning her face. (Y/N) feels the butterflies in her stomach, they're giving her a giddy feeling. She gently pulls him closer until their lips connect.

The kiss starts off soft but steadily becomes heated as they're exploring each others mouth. One of John's hand slowly lowers until he stops on her butt, gently grabbing ahold of it. He grins as she let out a soft moan. Her fingers are tangled in his hair as her other hand rests on his neck, wanting more.

John slowly breaks this kiss, breathing heavily. "I can't get enough of you." He breathes out as he strokes her cheek with his thumb. (Y/N) smiles at him, catching her own breath. "We don't have to stop yet." She teases him. "I wasn't planning on doing so." He smirks as he pulls her in for another passionate kiss.

One of many they would share that night.

[lilibethwrites]

Growing Pains

Aemond Targaryen and Y/N ‘Velaryon’ grew up together. They played and stumbled and fell in the halls and empty chambers of Red Keep, retreated to study tomes under the God’s Tree in the courtyard, and took turns distracting the cooks as their pockets pulled at the seams with the stolen lemon cakes. As Y/N and Aemond’s mothers drifted apart, the young prince and princess grew closer—much closer than either of them thought was possible.

 This is a slow-burn, multi-chapter fic that will be (heavily) canon divergent at times. Both Aemond and Y/N are 18+.

Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 (Finale)

 Warnings: None for this chapter

Word count: 2180

A.N: This was in the works for a while, but only as a vague idea. Aemond being a total diva and enamouring everyone pulled it out of the drafts and put it together at lightning speed.  

“Mother, please. This is not necessary,” Y/N stood still in front of a polished mirror as her soft protest fell on deaf ears. Behind her, Rhaenyra Targaryen held a brush gilded with delicate, gold dragons, and the soft bristles glided through silky white hair.

 Rhaenyra would never admit it to anyone but herself in the safe retreat of her mind that half the tears she had wept the night Y/N was born were because she was blessed with a head full of white hair like a true Targaryen and Velaryon. Rhaenyra was relieved. She was relieved that at least one of her children would be spared the cruel jabs and accusations wherever she went. True, their words couldn’t be called accusations if they had truth to them, and what set Y/N apart from her older brothers was not blood, for they shared the same father, but a bit of luck or perhaps an intervention from the old Gods or the new. But the specifics eluded Rhaenyra, and no one needed to know any further.

 Y/N had servants doting her from the moment she took her first breath—and not only because they had to, but because she was, not unlike her mother, a delight to be around—and yet for the ten and eight years she’s been alive, her hair was gently brushed and braided by her mother. Despite the fact that Y/N loved nothing more than to run around and come back to her chambers come afternoon with scrapes and dirt across her face and her hair a dishevelled disaster, Rhaenyra carefully brushed and braided her hair unceasingly, morning after morning.

So, a dismissive—loving, but dismissive nevertheless—hum was all Y/N got out of Rhaenyra.

 “Two or one? Perhaps one over, and one under?”

“Only one, please. Leave the rest as is, I’m to take Tessarion out of the pit soon.”

 Rhaenyra, in curiosity, cocked her head to the side to catch Y/N’s gaze in the reflection of the mirror. Meanwhile, her deft fingers dove in and out of strands of white hair, creating a tight, single braid that would soon twirl into a simple bun with a few pins.

 “Have I not told you? Apologies. She hasn’t flown in days, and the weather seems well. It would do her good to—”

“Flying alone, are you?”

“No,” Y/N’s voice came out weak. A stronger “no” soon followed. “Vhagar is coming, too.”

“You mean Aemond,” Rhaenyra’s shapely brows furrowed into a disapproving frown.

 It didn’t take a Sister of the Faith or the Spymaster of the court to know that Rhaenyra and Queen Alicent weren’t what they once were. A collateral of their bitter falling out was her somewhat sudden disapproval of how much time Y/N had spent with Aemond. “That boy’s nothing but bad influence,”  she’d complain over dinner. Daemon would hum in agreement, though the agreement, Y/N knew, did not come from his heart. Y/N always had her suspicion that Daemon and Aemond had mutual respect, and perhaps a slight hint of admiration for one another. Though both were too proud to ever be anything other than reverential to one another whenever they crossed paths. Even so, Daemon saw Y/N with Aemond several times, and reassured Rhaenyra that she only spent time with the servant girls, helping them fold heavy tapestries all day long.

 Y/N however, felt differently. Despite her childish cruelty towards Aemond before he’d claimed Vhagar for himself, he was nothing but sweet and kind to her. She was in on cruel pranks played on him, parading around a much smaller Tessarion whilst asking him why did he not have a dragon, and could he perhaps be a bastard himself since his egg hadn’t hatched.

 “You know, Tessarion was a goddess in old Valyria. Mother helped me choose a name for my dragon. From the tomes of our Maester. When will you get a dragon? You’re older than me. Besides, everyone else has one. Except for you,” Y/N once pressed Aemond as a child, instigated and encouraged by her brothers and Aemond’s.

“Perhaps never,” Aemond responded quietly, unbeknownst to both himself and Y/N that things would change quite soon.

 And change they did. Aemond claimed the biggest dragon in the known realm. He changed, too. He hopped off from his first flight as a man: colder, calmer, more distant and cruel. Yet he always reserved a warmer, softer place in his frozen heart for Y/N.

Aemond never regarded himself handsome, and he was too smart to fool himself with Alicent’s excuses as to why young ladies around Red Keep avoided her. But not Y/N. Never Y/N. She beamed up whenever they sat across from each other at the breakfast tables and dinner feasts. Though their games changed, the time they spent together never lessened. She seemed almost *happy* to see him, but Aemond took great care to remind himself it was a kind, friendly gesture from a well-behaved lady. Though he couldn’t dare say it out loud unless he risked a playful slap to his broad shoulder with a feigned-stern warning that Y/N was not a lady.

 “By the Gods! I’m NOT a lady. I’ll wear an armour, like you. Don’t laugh. You will see. I will never get married. I won’t fall in love. It’s absurd. Mother says she said the same thing once, but she ended up fighting in the same battlefield all women do,” Y/N stomped her feet to the pit just last week with Aemond following behind with a lopsided smile.

“And what battlefield is that, my not-a-lady?”

“The birthing bed, of course! It’s absurd. Truly. It’s a horror! I’m never falling in love.”

Aemond only hummed, nodding as Y/N trailed off, nearing the end of another one of her rants about the perils of ladyhood. Though that time, his face fell. There was a stinging ache inside him, as if Ser Criston finally got him in one of their training sessions. Why did it matter if Y/N disavowed love? So what if she was sworn off marriage? Didn’t he do the very same as he stared at the grotesque scar that ran across his face? Besides, if she were to fall in love, it would be with a handsome and flirty Lannister, or a ravishing Velaryon who would whisper promises in her ear that he’d sail her across the whole realm, showing her palaces and gardens from the comfort of her own ship. Y/N grew into an attractive lady, and while Aemond himself grew taller and muscular, he was not fortunate enough to grow another eye in place of the one he lost. Though the trade was far from fair, sometimes a certain thought snuck into his mind, especially when he was with Y/N: he would trade Vhagar back for his eye, and then, perhaps Y/N would see him differently. It was a silly thought, and he chased it off as soon as it came, but by the Gods it was persistent.

 “Good morning,” Y/N squinted an eye to stare up at the man with his back to her. She needn’t see his face to know her dragon-riding partner. Not because almost all her waking thoughts were plagued, in one way or the other, with him—it was indecent and quite frankly went against what she’d promised herself—Gods, no! But, well, he was tall and stood a certain way and shifted his weight from one foot to the other a certain way and his hair blew in the tender morning breeze a certain way and that breeze carried a certain scent that Y/N could distinguish from a feast hall full of smells—only because they grew up together. Perhaps Maester was right and reading too many romances was indeed perilous for a fresh mind like hers.

“Morning? Is it not past noon?”

“No. Perhaps you have suffered a blow to your head.”

Aemond smiled first. He always let Y/N win their playful bickering.

 A gentle tap on his arm signalled him to follow along, though with his long legs he could’ve easily caught up with no warnings. His arms were folded behind him. Perhaps it was a feeble attempt at ensuring that his hands didn’t defy his mind and reach for Y/N’s, or perhaps, they were just comfortable like that.

 “Are you excited?” Y/N broke the silence, stepping closer to Aemond, who always had to arch his back or crane his neck to meet her height. It amused him how petite she was in comparison. It reminded him of the times he carried her behind his back, with her legs locked around his waist and her arms almost suffocating him with how tight she’d clutched his neck from behind.

 “What for?”

“The wedding, of course. Gods, you behave as if Aemon is not your brother sometimes!”

“Can you blame me?”

“No…” Y/N trailed off. She found that she couldn’t blame him for much, but perhaps for coming into her mind and filling her ears each time a suitor introduced himself to her, or when the Maester bored her to death with another history lesson.

 “Well, are you?”

“No. I suppose not. Frankly, I’m not certain why I even asked,” Y/N chuckled. She could be herself the most and speak with no reservations or designations when she was around Aemond. The idea that he would soon follow after Aegon and marry a woman infuriated her. They could no longer spend as much time together as they could now, and they couldn’t be as close as they were either. The grass-green dragon of jealousy got the better of her. Oh, how she wished he’d let his arms idle by his side as he usually did. She would take his arm and tell him if she absolutely had to marry someone, she’d choose him, and she wouldn’t hate the notion of giving him a baby or two who would look exactly half like him and half like her. And despite telling herself this exact tale almost every day, she never quite gathered enough confidence and courage to do such a thing.

 So instead Y/N flew alongside Aemond as usual. He showed off and she admired whenever she thought he didn’t look. High up above the clouds, Y/N thought about never landing down again. She fantasized about taking off with Aemond. She had once read in a tome about how the old Valyrians got married, and the words turned into pictures in her mind as she watched Vhagar glide through a flock of birds. The blood was first drawn from a palm she thought about pressing against hers whenever sleep eluded her. Then, the sharp Dragonglass cut hers, and the flow of their blood united in a mysterious Valyrian magic. Then—then, Aemond pulled Y/N out of her sweet fantasy and back to the clouds they were flying above.

 “It’s getting late. Your mother might worry.”

“Or perhaps you’ve had enough of my company? Would you rather be elsewhere?”

The smile faded from Y/N’s face as the silence went on. It was a “yes”, then? Aemond did want to be elsewhere, perhaps with someone else, and she would find out through a silly tease.

“No. But I would rather you were not in trouble on my account.”

The delayed, stoic answer didn’t do much to comfort Y/N. So, that’s what he would come up with as an excuse to cut our time short? Might as well admit that you would rather be anywhere but here, why won’t you, Aemond?

“Actually, yes. We should land. I forgot I have a suitor coming all the way from the Eyrie.” That was a lie, and an immature one at that, but Aemond didn’t need to know.

He looked back over his shoulder. The hiss laced with disappointment and fury was swallowed up by the wind raised by Vhagar’s wings.

 Back at the Pit, Aemond was courteous as always, hopping off Vhagar first to hold his hand out to Y/N, helping her off her dragon. Though this time, his hand didn’t reach for her waist to aid her in her small jump, and the lack of his touch through his gloves and her heavy brocade riding coat burned her flesh from the inside out like scorching iron. His face was turned to the side, his hands idle with the saddle on Vhagar as Y/N idled, praying to all the Gods she knew to pry a word of assurance out of Aemond’s mouth. A sweet, warm confirmation that they are still—well, friends.  Yet it never came. A quiet, almost distant “Be well, princess,” was all that she got and a sharp piece of Dragonglass cut her open from neck to the heart. Far more painful and deadlier than an open palm, and no matching cut to bind their lives together, either. Perhaps the idea of marrying the very next lord that asked for her hand and getting away from King’s Landing—a place that once held much hope and happiness but now nothing but anguish—once and for all wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

[aziraphales-library]

Lost Fic #178

1. Hi! I'm new to asks so I'm sorry for any awkwardness!! I think I lost a fic, I read it ages ago but it still sits in the back of my mind. It follows the 90's movie script canon with a dick-ish crowley who then regretted it after losing aziraphale who either turned human or just lost his memory and he moved to a small town (tadfield?). I remember vividly that their big emotional kiss scene was after aziraphale had tearfully explained to crowley about how heaven messed up his memory. I tried to find it in the 1992 Good Omens Movie Script tag but came up empty :(( I fear it may have been deleted but I might have just missed it. Thank you in advance!! This blog is honestly so cool <3 - anon

2. Hello, do you happen to remember by any chance a pre-season 2 fic where Aziraphale is remodeling his upstairs flat, and Crowley is Very Confused until he realizes that Aziraphale has been remodeling the flat for the both of them? I could swear there was a balcony with two chairs, and Crowley was surprised to see how much of the flat was decorated with his thoughts in mind. Thank you! - @loracarol

3. Thank you for running this blog! I remember back in 2019 I read a fic where Crowley thought he was pregnant but turns out he’s just lactose intolerant. I can’t for the love of humanity find this fic on ao3 now. Can you offer some insight? - @wuskywalker

4. oh hi! help plsssssss I can't find this fic and I'm dying to read it. I think god is tired of cowley and azi's dance and slows/stops time for everyone else and I don't know what else, just that this is in the summary. any ideas of what fic it might be? thank you! - anon

5. Hi there! I'm looking for a specific fic. It's rated E on AO3, and I remember that it's after the body switch in season 1. Crowley is left with some side effects where he is overwhelmed because Aziraphale's love gets mixed up with Crowley's lust. I hope that makes sense. I think they go to the Ritz in that story. Sorry I don't have more. - anon

If you know any of these fics please include the number in your reply! Thank you :)

- Mod D

[bby-blu-swirll]

" i know that you got daddy issues, and i do too " - todoroki x reader

it's not a song fic i just have a really messed up relationship with my dad lol - i don't have a lot of direction for this, it's just a little lazy & venty,, we'll see where it goes ♡

it was one of those nights where 1-a was all tired from the long school week, but not enough to fall asleep. they happened every once in a while, and always resulted in the majority of the class hanging out together in the common area doing whatever together until they all crashed for the evening.

the open downstairs was filled with the sound of idle conversation and super smash bros, but most of everyone's attention on the ladder. it started with just the bakusquad, but once katsuki ran undefeated, almost everyone else in the class took it upon themselves to try and overthrow the king. so far, nobody was successful. ururaka came close, but to no avail. she took the defeat like a champ, though.

while most everyone huddled around the tv, yelling things like "KICK HIS ASS" and "SHUT UP YOU BASTARD I'M TRYING TO FOCUS" (yeah), there were a few who had strayed from the pack. tokoyami and shoji were over by the dining tables playing a game of chess, and kouda was reading a book on a couch off to the side, using his classmates as white noise.

and then there was you.

you were settled on top of the kitchen island, legs crossed, with one earbud in. it wasn't that you didn't want to be around your friends, you had grown slightly overstimulated and needed a moment to recollect your thoughts.

you rolled a lollipop of your favorite flavor around in your mouth, absentmindedly scrolling through pinterest. your mind was on anything but aesthetically pleasing pictures, brows furrowed as your thoughts wandered back to your family. you sighed and squeezed your phone for a moment before turning it off and setting it down next to you. you just needed to distract yourself. something more.

in that moment, one of your classmates strolled into the kitchen. you looked up at todoroki, who was holding an empty mug.

"hey," he smiled at you softly as he made his way over to the stove. "what are you still doing in here?"

"ah, iida hasn't noticed me sitting on the countertop yet." you chuckled at your own joke, feeling the smallest butterflies when he grinned back at you. "what about you?"

"just getting a refill." he said, picking up the kettle of tea momo had put on earlier (omg.) and filling his mug. "and checking on you."

"oh-" you looked up at him in surprise, cocking your head to the side slightly. "really? for why?"

"you didn't look like you were doing too well earlier." he said bluntly, leaning against the counter facing you and taking a sip of his drink.

"ah... yeah," you looked away and laughed awkwardly, playing with your rings.

"are you?"

"am i what?"

when you turned to look back at him, his expression had changed. less neutral, more... worried. compassionate.

"are you not doing well?"

you opened your mouth to say something. "i'm fine, thank you though!" was was you had always answered with. you were tired, or you were just zoning out, anything but not okay. yet the way he looked at you made you hesitate. saying you were doing just fine was so second nature, but it was almost hard to lie to him.

before you could actually answer, your phone started to buzz softly. you both turned your attention to it, reading the name in the caller id line.

"dad"

you bit your lip and furrowed your brow. it continued to vibrate in your hand a few more times, before you declined the call. you quickly set your phone down and looked straight ahead. you have no idea why, but your eyes began to water. you took a shaky deep breath, and made an attempt to spell out your thoughts, something you learned earlier in life to help keep from crying.

"y/n..." todoroki set down his mug and took a step towards you, carefully.

"hmm?" your voice was tight as you avoided eye contact, trying to keep from blinking, afraid it would push a tear out.

you took on last deep breath and spelled out one last phrase, before you felt your eyes finally dry. you sighed and put your lollipop back in your mouth, facing him with a smile like nothing had happened.

"i see."

you cocked your head to the side in confusion, watching as he pulled himself up onto the counter and sitting across from you. you pulled your knees to your chest and rested your chin atop them. he noted your look of curiosity and held out a hand to you. you hesitated for a moment before carefully placing your fingers to his palm. he shifted until he was sitting close, holding your hand in his, tracing over your bones and knuckles softly, fiddling with your rings.

"i understand, i mean. i think." his voice was low and soft. anyone standing further than a few feet away would have a hard time hearing him. "whatever your reason for ignoring that call, whyever you did it... i've got dozens of calls from my old man i never bothered to pick up."

when you looked up at him, you saw his eyes glues to your fingers tangled with his. he touched your hands so delicately, as if you were made of glass. he was so full of care. his touch, the way he looked at you, all of it. it was all so full of the most tender affection.

"you don't need to talk about it, if you don't want to. God knows it took me forever to open up to midoriya," he smiled a bit. "i just wanted you to know the offer is out there, if you need it."

you bit down on your lollipop to try and hide how big that'd made you smile. the second you opened your mouth to say something, you heard iida begin to raise his voice, something about curfew and going to bed.

both you and todoroki turned to see him coming into the kitchen, stiffening when he notices you.

"both of you should get off the counter right now! this is living space, for goodness sake! and still school property."

you chuckled and waved a hand at him, already climbing off. "alright, class rep, don't get your panties in a twist. we're going." you tossed your sucker in the bin as todoroki stepped onto the floor, too.

"good. now get some good rest tonight, we've all had a long week and you've earned it. sleep well, both of you."

"you too, iida."

you and todoroki offered him tired smiles as you made your way past him to the elevator. when you got inside, you practically collapsed against the wall with an exasperated sigh. todoroki went ahead and pushed the button for his floor, but not yours. you didn't question it, maybe he'd forgotten. so instead, you pushed yourself off the wall and moved towards the panel. your outstretched hand halted to a stop when you felt arms wrap around your torso. before you could turn, you felt todoroki's nose nuzzle into your neck. he took a deep breath that made you shiver.

"come over, to my room. we can talk. or not. i can distract you, do whatever you want. i'm not tired yet."

feeling his breath on your skin practically made your heart leap into your throat. you stood, frozen for a moment, gasping softly when his grip on you tightened ever so slightly. you wondered if he could feel your heart beating, with how close he was to your main pulse points. his lips, so close...

you leaned back into him and put your hands over his, wrapped around your waist. "yeah... me neither."

you could practically feel him smile as another small exhale of his grazed your neck, making you shiver. "i'll play with your hair if you want, play with your fingers... just hold you."

as if his words hadn't already done it, you practically melted in his hands when his lips pressed against your neck for a long second. you hummed in response, blushing furiously.

"just relax pretty girl, i promise i'll be there for you however you need me."

idk man its wtv !

i'm officially out of ideas right now, requests are open to anybody, feel free to be as specific or detailed or even vague as you like and please please please don't be shy <33

i love you sm okay bye !!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Endurance 1

Warnings: this fic will include obsessive behaviour, possible non/ducbon, bullying, and other elements which may not be specifically triggered. Please be cautious in continuing on to the story.

Character: Walter Marshall

Summary: A fellow gym go makes your workouts even more taxing.

Please reblog and leave some feedback, preferably in a reblog but you can always drop by my asks. I always love working in y'alls ideas with these AUs so I am so excited to hear from you.

As always, take care of yourself <3 be kind and be patient. Love you.

No tag lists. Please review my pinned and bio for guidelines.

You come out of the changing room and peek at the wall mirror as you pass. You admire your new bubblegum pink leggings and polka dot top. It’s a bit out there but you’ve seen neons in this place that make your retinas burn. Besides, you’ve never been shy when it comes to fashion. It’s not just your passion, it’s your job. 

It’s late enough that the bodies there are far and few between. You prefer the nights when the gym feels like a ghost town. The air is quiet but not stagnant.  

Your water bottle swings on its handle from your hand as your bouncy steps keep in time with the boppy music thrumming in your earbuds. Your workout mix is a nice blend of retro and contemporary bass hits. You catch yourself humming and stamp it down. Sometimes, you forget other people can perceive you, not that there’s many around to so.  

You find an empty mat. They all are. You put your bottle down and start your stretches. Your late night sessions help clear your mind though it never really stops. In your mind, you’re seeing pleats, seams, and ruffles. 

Your body moves without thinking. It’s all muscle memory. You’re no gym rat, you don’t go that hard, just enough to loosen up your muscles. Your note overly swoll as the young ones call it. You’re fit enough for a light jog and the stairs don’t leave you winded like they used to. 

After your stretches, you slurp loudly from the straw of your water bottle, walking with it still between your lips as you head for an elliptical. You can just let the repetitive motion take over. You pop your lips off the tub and slip the bottle into the little plastic holder on the side of the machine. 

As you climb up, you see another figure across the floor. The man sits on the end of a weight bench. For a moment, it looks, even feels, like he’s watching you. From there, you can’t see very well. You don’t wear your glasses in the gym since you lost a pair to a hungry leg press. 

You can make out dark hair and his burly form. Hazy but wide enough to clock. Most people around here are stacked. You’re too casual for all that. And you like a piece of tiramisu with your Friday lattes. 

You pick your speed and start to climb. You cling to the machine and rock your head to the music. Once more, your throat vibrates and you have to remind yourself to stop. You can’t help it, you love Destiny’s child. Does that date you? For someone working in fashion, you can’t ever risk that. 

You zone out, vision blurring as you let your body do the work. The sweat speckles and slicks across your skin. Damn, you might just be bootylicious after this work out. 

Your fitbit rumbles and you look down. You’re in the zone. You keep going until you hit thirty minutes and slow down. You cool off for ten minutes and swipe up your bottle, sucking on it greedily as you head back to the mats. 

You swing out your arms and stretch your legs in slowly lunges. You bend forward, touching each toe with opposite hand, lingering with your ass up as you brace your hips. A sudden clang has you standing straight so fast you nearly topple onto your butt. 

You throw out your arms to catch your balance as you let out a pathetic, ‘woah-oh-oh'. You look over at the man as begins reps with the heavy dumbbells. You’ve never gotten above the tens. His blue eyes flash in your direction and you give a sheepish smile. 

You don’t want to seem weird so you return to your stretches. Arms up, lean to one side, then the other. You hear a strange rumble, like thunder, and look over at the man as he continues to work his traps, staring at you. You could even call it a glare. 

You tap your ear bud as you face him, “sorry?” 

“Do you have to make that noise?” He snarls. 

Your brows pop up. We’re you humming again? Oops. 

“Sorry, I didn’t realise I was,” you smile and before you can tap play, he scoffs.  

“Typical,” he grumbles as alternates to biceps. 

He’s built. He’s arms are bigger than your head. Probably. You don’t think he’d let you compare for scale. You drop your hand without tapping. 

You get down and extend your legs in front of you. His breaths underline your movement as you bend one leg over the other and push your straight arm against it as you twist. As you do the other side, facing him, his gaze flicks over again. 

“You put more time into choosing that outfit than you do working out,” he shakes his head. 

You blanch. Oh wow. You must have been really out of tune if he’s that grumpy. You give a tight-lipped smile and keep going. He’s not the first grouch you’ve dealt with. Your editor is a chronic miser. 

You straight arms and legs and bend to touch your toes. You then pull your arms back and plant your hands. You lift your pelvis and torso and lean your head back, raising yourself in a straight line as you hang your head back. 

“Form is off,” he mutters. 

You lower back down and look at him again. 

“Oh, uh, do you have any tips?” You ask curiously. He grimaces. You push your shoulders up and tilt your head, “well, if you think of any, I'd be happy to work on it. I’d hate to hurt myself.” 

You get to your knees and groan as you push yourself to your feet. He tuts as gets down to plank, still gripping the weights. He lifts the left and puts it back down, then the right. You watch him for a minute, impressed by his strength. Your wary of lifting too much, you don’t trust yourself. 

“You think your cute,” he sneers under his breath. 

“Um, sometimes,” you hover across from him, “I just thought you might know more than me--” 

“Of course I do,” he puffs between lifts. 

“Mm, okay, well, I’d love to learn--” 

“They got trainers for that,” he snips as he finishes his reps and puts his knees down. 

“Right, um, sorry to bother then. I was only... asking,” you turn and grab your bottle. 

You flip the top up again and slurp. You get to the bottom, sucking air loudly up before giving up. He huffs and stands with the weights, slamming them back on the rack. 

“Do you have to make so much goddamn noise?” He stands straight and turns to you, crossing his thick arms. You stop short and part your lips. 

“It’s empty, I didn’t--” 

“It’s not the only thing’s that empty,” he taps his skull, “go back to the mall, girl.” 

You scrunch your nose, “you don’t have to be rude, mister.” 

“Honesty is a gift,” he snorts. 

You pull your chin back. You didn’t mean to annoy him and you apologised already. You’re a nice person but you don’t appreciate his tone. 

“Well, if I’m being honest,” you put your hands on your hips, “you’re not very nice.” 

He chortles as a crease forms in his forehead, “and you’re not as cute as you think.” 

“What does it matter what I think I am?” You challenge, “I didn’t ask you.” 

“No, you just float around like some airhead and disturb everyone else,” he accuses. 

You peer around, “there’s no one here.” 

He drops his arms and lifts his chin. He steps forward and you waver, just a bit, put off by his size.  

“I’m here,” he says. 

You blink. What does that mean? 

He takes another step and you stare at him, necks and cheek burning. His words strike an epiphany. It’s just you and him. He’s a lot stronger than you. 

Another step and you put your hands up, “mister, you better not come any closer.” 

He scoffs again, “or what? Are you going to cry?” 

You pout and shake your head, “no, but I... I could scream. Or bite.” 

He shakes his head, “what do you think I’m gonna do, girl? That’s what you do, isn’t it? Make yourself the victim. You need the attention to make you feel special.” 

He’s getting closer. 

“I said stay away,” you project your voice as best you can, “I’m not afraid of you, mister.” 

He chuckles and tilts his head. He stops, just a step away from you, “aren’t you?’ 

Your eyes meet his and you stand trapped in the snare of his glower. His blue eyes are deep and fiery, his chiseled face is framed by dark curls and a thick beard, and his chin is cleft handsomely. He’s fearsome, a bear in man’s flesh. You’re no more than helpless hare. 

You back away and his mouth slants in triumph. He’s won. You turn and gulp, gripping tight your bottle as your sneaker squeaks loudly. You scurry away, buzzing with adrenaline. 

“That’s right, you run away, girl, run as fast as you can,” he calls after you, “not very, I’m sure.” 

You keep a brisk walk as you hurry towards the locker room and push inside. Your heart is hammering and your breathless as you reach your locker. You put the bottle on the bench and clutch the sides of your head. You’re dizzy as you try to get a rein on your frazzled nerves. 

You thought you left the bullies behind in high school, over a decade ago. In that second, you’re right back in your teenage years. Your eyes sting with tears and your stomach churns with humiliation. That glimmer of insecurity creeps back into you. 

No, no. You’re an adult. You’re a grown woman. You have a job and a life you love. You’re nothing they said you were. You proved them all wrong and you will prove that butthead wrong too. 

[loveandmurders]

A new killer is born (Sinclair daughter!reader)

Hello @lupinlovr!! I know it has been almost a year since you commented one of my fic saying:

"what if reader brings her bf home and her parents actually love him (they are still very protective, especially Bo) and the bf finds out what they do, but supports it and wants to help out?",

But today is the day I finally post for it (the proof even miracles can happen)!!

Hope you'll enjoy <3

Warnings: no proof reading, killing, blood, very morally grey boyfriend and reader, slight angst, fluff

Your boyfriend had always been very eager to meet your parents, because he strongly believed in family and he didn’t have any.

You had explained to him that your parents were quite intense, and you weren’t too sure it was a good idea, especially because they were very protective of you.

But because you also thought he might be the love of your life, and that he might be able to understand the family business, you wanted to give it a shot. 

You were at at family dinner.

“So” you started and your dads instantly looked up at you “I’m currently with someone” you said and you saw Bo’s jaw clenching. “And he'd really like to meet y’all” you finished. 

“Why that?” Bo asked

“He’s a family man” you replied, knowing it would please your father “But he doesn’t have any relatives, so he’d like to be one of us”

“Ya’re plannin’ on gettin’ married then?” Bo asked again

“Well... why not. I really love him and he really loves me” you replied

“I’ll be the judge of that” Bo hummed, but he noted you weren’t against the idea of getting married, which was new

“So ya’d be ok with him comin’ here?” you asked and Bo shrugged

“We’ll have to be careful for him to not notice anythin’. What do ya think Vince?” he asked his brother

Are you sure it’s a good idea? Vincent questioned you. Is it only what your boyfriend wants or do you also want him here?

“Well ’m always a bit nervous to introduce people to ya because ya're intense…” you started

“We’re not intense, we just want the best for our daughter” Bo cut you and you rolled your eyes at him

“Yes, father, I know that. But I really think… I mean ’m gonna be the head of the Sinclair family one day, but I can’t be the head if there’s no one else in the family, can I? He knows how to use a gun and he doesn’t mind violence that much… He’s obeyin’ me well too. He definitely has potential to be one of us” you explained and the brothers exchanged a look.

“So ya’d like to have kids with him too?” Lester asked because so far you had never talked about family that way

“Why not” you replied again and the twins arched an eyebrow at you.

“That’s new” Bo commented “Well, bring him here, but..."

“But if ya ain't findin' him suitable, ya kill him?” you asked and the three men nodded at you. You sighed “Alright then”

Your boyfriend was very excited when you told him your parents were eager to meet him as well.

As you drove to Ambrose, you noticed your boyfriend looking around, and he seemed a little bit surprised to realise how empty things were.

You finally arrived in town and you parked in front of Bo’s garage, like you often did.

Bo exited his garage to meet the two of you. He smiled at you and you gave him a hug. You then turned around to introduce your boyfriend.

Your father inspected the boy in front of him before shaking his hand.

“Welcome to Ambrose, I guess” Bo hummed and you rolled your eyes

The fact Bo didn’t kill your boyfriend right away was actually a good sign though.

“It’s really an honour to be here. Your daughter always talks about you and Ambrose with so much love and passion” your boyfriend said. Bo smiled and kissed your temple

“Yeah, she’s a good girl to her family” Bo commented and you smiled back at him. “Hope ya’re good to her too” Bo hummed, his blue eyes piercing through his soul.

“Of course!” your boyfriend exclaimed and he sent you a look for your confirmation

“Of course, or he wouldn't be here” you replied and you smiled reassuringly to both of them. 

You were about to add something when you saw Lester’s truck coming in. He parked close by and exited his truck, going right to you. He gave you a bear hug and you giggled at the attention. 

You also introduced your boyfriend to Lester and as you had planned it, Lester was nicer.

He shook his hand and asked him how the travel was and did all the small talk that helped put your boyfriend at ease. You were grateful for that.

The four of you kept talking, even if Bo was more observing than participating. You leaned against his side and he wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

“He’s not half bad” he whispered into your ear and you smiled, “Don’t believe I won’t kill him if he displeased me though” he quickly added and you nodded.

“How ‘bout ya prepare us some lemonade, girl?” Bo finally said, knowing that his twin also wanted to have a closer look at the young man you brought home.

You quickly nodded and left Bo’s side. You grabbed your boyfriend’s hand and guided him towards the house as Lester and Bo stayed at the garage to exchange their first impressions on your boyfriend.

You entered the house and you gently asked your boyfriend to stay in the kitchen. You reminded him he was about to meet the masked twin and that he really needed to not stare at Vincent or it would upset him.

And no one wanted Vincent to be upset.

Your boyfriend nodded, without knowing how close to death he was going to be.

He stayed in the kitchen as you knocked at the basement door before going downstairs. Vincent was in the middle of some project but he put his tools down when he saw you. You smiled at him and removed enough of his mask to kiss his cheek. You told him your boyfriend was upstairs, even if Vincent already knew that.

You felt he was really reluctant so you tried to reassure him. What did the trick was that you told him it was okay if he needed to kill your boyfriend. You really loved him, but between him and your family, you would always choose the last one.

You were a Sinclair before anything else.

Your boyfriend actually handled pretty well the first interaction with Vincent and things went smoothly. You even had a family dinner all together. Vincent removed his mask to eat, which was a big proof your boyfriend had done pretty good so far.

You all had a good time and the four men around you relaxed a lot, and you did too.

Bo even let your boyfriend sleep in your room!

(Vincent checked on the two of you in the middle of the night, and you were cutely sleeping, all cuddled up into each other's arms).

But the next day, things seemed to go downhill. A group of tourists came and you weren’t too sure what to do to prevent your boyfriend from noticing anything or from asking questions.

And you couldn’t do much when you heard gunshots.

You wanted to stop your boyfriend, but he was quick and ready to protect his people. He found a knife in the kitchen and you grabbed one too.

You saw your father fighting with a man and you started to run towards him.

Your boyfriend was quicker and he grabbed the man and stabbed him without a second of hesitation. Both you and Bo watched him in pure surprise.

“More fuckers ran away. Vince must be takin’ care of them. But better check out and help” Bo said and your boyfriend nodded.

The three of you started to look through the whole town and you got rid of the last tourists.

Once the job was done, you found your boyfriend in the House of Wax, with Vincent. Their knives were covered in blood and they both were pulling dead bodies behind them.

“Hey, babe, I can explain” you started as you walked to them.

Your boyfriend shook his head “No, no need to explain anything, love. If you kill people here, then I'll start killing too. What do we do with the dead bodies though?” he asked with a tilt of the head.

“This” you replied and you gestured towards the wax statues surrounding the three of you.

“Oh” he hummed “This is smart” your boyfriend continued “I’m eager to help in any way” he said

Vincent signed something for you to translate to your boyfriend. You brightly smiled.

“Welcome to the family” you translated as you leaned to passionately kiss your future husband (Bo was going to make sure of it).

--

Taglist : @kawaistrawberry21

[fieldofdaisiies]

Azriel x Reader | Demons in Your Mind

type: drabble warning(s): talk about bad mental health word count: 1.5k words request: the original request was: If you are taking requests, can I please ask for an angsty fic that ends in fluff with Azriel? About Azriel not noticing that y/n is struggling mentally and not eating, harming herself? but I decided to change it a little, make a small drabble of how Azriel would comfort you after a mental break down/ an anxiety attack.

- all rights reserved -

“Don‘t apologise. You know I would never judge you.“ The shadowsinger’s voice is a low rumble, soothing and comforting. He holds you firmly to his chest, his finger tips poking into your skin, to keep you as close as possible.

Azriel keeps your head pressed against his, while he is shifting a little on the bed. His chin and lower lip are quavering, his heart racing in his chest, skipping sad beats that ache in his whole chest. The temperature in the room is cool, making icy cold spread through your entire body. You haven’t eaten the whole day which made your head feel light headed. Azriel noticed that something was off with you, felt it through the bond. He quickly gathered you in his arms and left the family gathering with you, returning back to your shared place where the damn finally broke. Everything had gotten too much for you that day, everything was too overwhelming, and the consequence was now that your brain and thoughts would once again not shut up and tell you the worst things possible. That started during the family gathering, you felt like you were being suffocated and you needed to get out. You had no idea that you were projecting and that Azriel could read you so well. The moment he gathered you in his arms to leave the meeting, you were reminded again that you truly had the best mate in the world. 

That feeling and that thought is still prominent now that you are at home — he really is the best. You lean more into Azriel, reveling in his warmth — his sheer presence. He is there for you, he keeps you safe. You have him. Other than before when your panic attack started and the anxiety flooded your system, you have him now. He is here. This thought calms you, calms your heart a little and brings you comfort. Azriel is warm and solid next to you, helping you increase your body temperature a little. It has dropped a lot due to the anxiety attack, the flood of unwelcome emotions and thoughts. Once again you had felt like you were not enough, like all you did was alright but never good enough. Like there was so much more you could do. This feeling hasn’t vanished — it is still here and you still feel so weak, so undeserving of the life you have. Sometimes there is this endless tunnel of darkness and with no way out, no escape you can think of. It seems like your whole life will stay dark forever and even though the shadowsinger somehow manages to brighten every day of your life, the darkness returns the moment he leaves. You know that this is your problem to deal with, you cannot make it Azriel’s problem as well.  

A loud sob parts your lips and you shudder against Azriel, your body feeling so sore and drained of energy. There is no ounce of happiness or peace inside of you. You don’t even feel sad - you feel nothing. You feel empty, robbed of life. And you feel tired. You want to sleep and that is all you want to do. Today, tomorrow, forever. There is just no energy left to go about your day like everything is fine. 

It pains Azriel seeing you like this. He knows exactly what this endless darkness feels like, has been in this place many times in his life already. He knows the darkness so well. A crack appears in his heart and it only intensifies when you sob again, your whole body shuddering against him. “Why am I so weak?”

The shadowy male presses you to him, holding you so tightly hardly any air gets into your lungs. “Don’t ever say that again!” he cautions. “You are one of the strongest people I know, so brave. You are everything but weak.”

Your pants are a little ragged when you wiggle your head and try to glimpse up at him through a blurry vision. Many tears still brim your eyes, some have already dried on your cheeks, some are burning behind your eyes. For a moment you just look at him and feel the corners of your mouth lift into a barely there smile. You are so lucky to have him. Azriel gathered a little bit of food for you when you arrived, having noticed that you haven’t eaten the whole day. He knows it is always easier for you when he eats with you and so he slowly reaches for the plate with fruits that he placed on the bedside table. You eat together, Azriel feeding you some berries and small pieces of fruit while he tells you a little about his day. You love listening to him, and you love to hear about what he has done and so you find some comfort in this moment, in his voice. Your heart no longer so frantically beats in your chest, it is calming down. Once you have finished eating you will feel better — you are proud that you ate and also your belly no longer feels so hollow. It is a warm feeling that seeps into your heart and warms your chest from the inside out. It feels good and sigh loudly, finally leaning back against Azriel, your head buried in the crook of his neck. 

“I wish I could protect you from those demons in your mind.” Azriel kisses the top of your head. You shift a little, fitting perfectly against his chest. “Azriel, you—“ “I know. But I don’t want you to feel like this Y/N. I know what it feels like and I wish I could just help you out of it.”

You sigh again, fisting his shirt. “You are already helping me so much. With everything you do and say.” It is then that you lean back and smile up at him. Azriel is already looking at you and he offers you to talk about what has happened today, what triggers were in involved and what caused your panic attack. Azriel always gives you time to open up, never pressures you, never rushes you. It is always up to you when and if you want to open up. And that only makes you love him more. 

As usual opening up always takes a little bit of time, but it is alright now and and so you do. You talk about your mental health, carefully and slowly, putting all the cards on the table, getting everything of your chest. You and Azriel will both shed some tears, but that is fine, you it is alright in the environment you provide for each other — you can be vulnerable with each and that since the very first moment you have met. You fully open up to Azriel, pour all your emotions out while he listens to every word you say, strokes your back with his hand, holds your hand in his other and whispers words of comfort and understanding. He is there for you all the time, holding you, supporting you, encouraging you and when the evening has fully arrived, Azriel will help you wash. You are a person who loves skin and body care and Azriel knows that in times like this you often lack the energy to do this kind of things. Azriel and you are bath together, he sits behind you in the warm water filled with essential oils and rose leaves. Azriel washes your hair, softly and carefully massaging your head and the shampoo into your hair. He worships you and your skin, pampering your back and shoulders with soft kisses while whispering sweet nothings to you. Azriel does not miss one moment of telling you how beautiful you are, how much he loves you.

“You are so stunning, my beautiful mate,” Azriel breathes against your ear, kisses the pointed tip and pulls you flush to his chest. “The most beautiful mate that there is in this world.”

Using your magic, you are warming the water from time to time, until your skin is all crinkly and you finally decide to go back to bed. You have to chuckle a tiny, little bit when you notice your skin. “We look like old people, Az.” You smile up at him, his hands on your shoulders. He smiles at you, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “I cannot wait to grow old with you, my wonderful mate. Azriel then helps you dry off, softly tending to your skin and then you don your most comfortable pyjamas and the shadowsinger carries you to the bedroom where he wraps you into his strong arms, letting you sleep on his chest, his arms tightly wrapped around your body.

~~~~~~~~~

tags (crossed-out I couldn't tag) : @juulle987 @marimorena06 @danikasthings @younxii @nightcourtwritings @mrofontaine @lunalilyf @whor-3-crux @tired-all-the-time @anni-was-here @ummmmmwat @azbracadabra @j-pendragonx @hollyismentallyillhelp @famousbasementpainter @bsenpai @lena-davina @red-highlady @thesugatoyourtae @azrielsbabyg @aroseinvelaris @moony-thoughts @wrensical003 @cherryjain17 @moonfawnx @crushedcloudsx @devilsfoodcake22  @valeridarkness @azrielscertifiedslut @mulansaucey @cynicalpotato95 @hanasakr @high-bi-andreadytocry @eerievixen @feyretopia @moonlightazriel @randomness-it-is @brekkershadowsinger @eliieee23 @girasoli-e-sorrisi @illyrianvalkyriecarynthian  @kennedy-brooke @highladyofillyria @theworthlessqueen @marina468 @topaz125 @illyrian-dreamer @azriels-mate123 @eos-princess @a-frog-with-a-laptop