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moodymisty · 4 months

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Listen I know the wall husbands heads are full of concrete but I'm interested in what you could do with a black templar

Maybe having a cleric darling (Thinking more of a lay person vs someone like a sister of battle) so there can be some delicious religious subtext

But I also know some black templars are very much into seeing when normal baseline humans can overcome the odds and rise above with their own zeal.

Maybe she isn't a combatant but by the God Emperor she will help out however she can even if it is just passing him boltgun magazines.

I got ideas for Black Templars but they're all over the place! Maybe you can make more sense of my ramblings and since it's still on the brain it could be Yandere or not just however you can make a Black Templar with a Darling work

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's Note: So... I went apeshit. I apologize. I just fucking love doing religious subtext and whatnot. Also the frail maiden with her knight. Combining them? Awooga. Like this is my dream prompt. I hope you enjoy.

Summary: His thumb presses against your lips, and your mouth opens. You can taste the metal on your tongue, like bitter iron. His hand despite being so inhumanly large is so dextrious and gentle, and the thoughts that enter your mind are sickening.

Relationships: Unnamed Black Templar/Fem!Reader (there aren't pronouns used but the lady/knight vibe is super intense)

Warnings: A smidge lewd but not NSFW, Vague traditional gender roles-like talk (being gentle/needing to be protected etc), Religious under(over)tones, Forbidden romance undertones, Vague yandere/yandere beginnings, Armor kink if you squint, Brief mentions of blood and murder, General 40kness

Word Count: 2209 oops uwu

Ceramite boots thud against the floor like the thunder overhead, echoing in the high, vaulted ceilings.

He hears a tile crack underneath his right boot as he shifts his weight onto it mid-step.

He was always heavier than his brothers. His armor had to be adjusted three different times to fit him as he outgrew it.

'Leave him, he’s off to go for his prayers, and to stalk the locals.’

His one battle brother had laughed at the other’s comment, as he left them all behind to return to the cathedral. It's far from his first time here, in these sanctified halls. He finds himself returning here after almost every patrol, every outing, every moment alone.

His armor shifts with his movement, and he rolls his left shoulder during his walk. He’s had the armor fixed after a stray round hit him in the shoulder, but it still feels off. Like the motion is ever so slightly delayed in comparison to his other interface ports.

He'll get it looked at again. For now he has a different pursuit.

It’s the dead of the night, moon high in the sky as he walks through the nave past pews filled with nothing but air. At this time of night he knows it will only be you here, keeping candles lit and rolling scrolls. A stray servoskull might flutter past every now and again, but other than that, you remain in complete solitude.

No distractions, no needless fluff. You're always busy, fluttering about, making yourself useful where you can. You aren't able to fight, not this threat, but your obedience in cleaning armor- weapons when an Astartes allows- and other such duties has earned you enough to stay where your fellows have left.

Many of the other human refugees have been shipped off at this point, to become the Militarium's logistical problem. You and a few others however have earned your keep. At least in the eyes of the Black Templars.

You'll be far safer here than in a Militarium camp stuffed in with hundreds to thousands of others; Like animals waiting to be shipped off world.

You'll be far safer here with him.

There you are. He can spot you from across the cathedral, and a part of him wonders why it has such an effect on him. His hearts beat faster and his neck tenses; It feels like how he does whenever he's about to fight, but also distinctly different. It almost makes him feel like he's sick from an illness he can't explain.

The moment you hear him however, knowing the sound of an astartes this late and this far away from his brothers could only be him, your back straightens. You've been leaning over for awhile, and your body makes uncooperative cracks as you stand at his approach.

He stops in front of you, at the bottom of the ambulatory steps that rise up to the main altar. You stand at the top of them, quickly moving aside so he can come closer. When he does, you can feel his gaze through the lens of his helmet. It always feels heavy, even when his helmet isn't tilted you way you swear you can feel whenever his eyes are on you.

With both hands he unseals his helmet with a soft hiss, grasping it by the rim before handing it to you. It’s almost too heavy for your grip, but you manage to hold it close to your chest and avoid dropping it. Meanwhile he takes a knee, elbow on his knee as he drops his head in prayer.

His chainsword shifts on his back, over top of a long, tattered cape that's stained with mud and blood at the bottom hem. Astartes don't leave their armor during war, and so the cloth holds the weeks long stench of iron and rotting flesh. It simply burns however, until a few minutes later and then you can no longer smell. For the best, more than likely.

The cathedral is cast in complete silence, his shoulders shifting underneath plates of ceramite. He always is whenever he prays, unlike his brothers in the few times you've seen them. Perhaps it's just a quirk of his. Or maybe they're the odd ones.

Then again, they aren't the ones visiting an empty cathedral in the dead of night, only to meet a single person. Over and over again.

When he rises, he gently takes his helmet from your hands and latches it onto his belt. You speak up for the first time since he appeared.

"Have you made good progress out there? The weather seems to only be getting worse."

He looks down at you; His short, hastily chopped hair dry and pressed in odd places from the pressure of his helmet. It's mostly dry now, but you can tell it was wet not long ago. He must've taken his helmet off in the rain and was instantly soaked to the bone.

"The Emperor watches over us. We will prevail despite the deluge."

Said deluge batters on the tall glass windows of the cathedral, and thunder cracks not much later. The sound gives you a momentary jolt. This particular storm has been going all day, but the area has been battered with rainstorms for weeks now on and off. It might not slow them down, but you can see dried chunks of mud where they've had to trudge through it to progress. Most of it is washed away on him now, the rain having cleaned his armor significantly.

Your hands grasp each other tightly, no longer having his helmet to act as some sort of grounding.

"I tried to pray like you do, this morning." His eyes noticeably brighten ever the slightest, as your voice echos in the empty cathedral. "I wanted to pray to the Emperor that you stayed safe out there."

You don't know if he finds it amusing; But the corner of his mouth quirks upward ever so slightly anyways.

"Then pray for our victory, not our safety. What matters is that we succeed," He states.

You hear the mechanics in his armor shift as he leans slightly more on his left leg than right. It's like the armor is simply an extension of himself, and you suppose it is.

He is the first astartes you've even seen, so your knowledge is sparse. A small part of you has so many questions you'd wish to ask him, not knowing if he'd even entertain you with an answer.

You're fascinated by him; You wonder if he thinks the same of you. The way he acts lends you to think so, but you don't know how to feel about it.

In the corner of your eye you notice movement, and turn to the right just a bit and see someone walking across the nave. But when they catch sight of you and one of the Black Templars, the scurry out of the main hall like death was on their heels.

It isn't the first time someone has made a conscious effort to avoid you, now that you have an astartes taking such an interest in you. People are keen to spend as little time around them as possible- as despite them being the primary source protecting you all, they have more than displayed their fickle nature. One misspoken word and you could be gone. It's happened before. You know of a few faces that have disappeared with little a word.

You must look away from him for too long, as suddenly his armored hand grasps your jaw, turning your face back to him. The awkward angle due to his height makes your neck ache, and you grasp at the seams of his gauntlet for any sort of support.

"Are you going to try and run like they did?"

He says, watching you like he's looking for something more than a simple answer.

You wonder what he sees. If he notices the way your heart has begun to race in fear and something else, as he overtakes your vision. That something else was only for those rare moments of solitude where your reasoning left you, and your mind wandered to areas it shouldn't. If you'd known any better, you might've thought such things were blasphemous, or something of the sort.

Suddenly, you remember that he's waiting for an answer; You watch as the scars on his face move when he shifts his jaw.

"No."

He takes a step closer and with no more room your back presses against the altar just behind you. You risk nearly bending over it from how close he is, his dominant leg taking root just close enough that your legs have to part to let his knee past.

The shadow of the window mullions decorate the back of his armor, the light making the shadows against his face even harsher. You can even see the shadows of large rain droplets against his pauldrons, sliding down as if they've actually fallen on him. You can hear them hit the glass as the wind whistles outside and rattles the glass.

You watch him wondering; His eyes and face are completely unreadable. Astartes are so stoic, any little emotion is held invisible deep within themselves. Trying to figure out what he's thinking is an impossible task, though it's clear the interest he has in you is no longer just curiosity. That thought makes your heart pound against your chest as if it's trying to escape, your blood hot.

His thumb presses against your lips, and your mouth opens. You can taste the metal on your tongue, like bitter iron. His hand despite being so inhumanly large is so dextrious and gentle, and the thoughts that enter your mind are sickening.

It feels like he's toying with you; Experimenting with something new as he watches the way your soft skin gives under his armor. Your hands and gentle skin have faint crumbles of candle wax and ink on them from your work, as they grasp his armor.

You're terrified. You want more of him. You'll be happy to burn if that's what it requires.

"You'll come with me, when we are finished here."

You whisper his name, telling him yes as if you were foolish enough to think you had a choice in the matter. No one but him is here to hear it.

If someone was you wouldn't be able to see them from the way his massive armored form overtakes almost all of your vision, swallowing you in a sea of shadow and pitch black armor. They would see as he leans down, his thumb leaving your lips. You can feel his hot breath on your skin. The way he almost seems to suffocate you with how much of his body looms over you, just to get close. You can hear your own heartbeat so you just know he can, his eyes dilated and nearly total black.

Your back hurts pressing against the edge of the altar, feeling vulnerable underneath his unreadable stare. The fabric of your clothing bunches in places and rises up on your body, catching on the seams of his leg plates. His armor might be cold, but astartes run hot; Like their blood is boiling, so beneath that metal chill is the heat from the skin visible on his face and neck. You think if the cathedral was any colder, his hot breath would be visible.

His lips hover over yours, brushing as if he's so thoroughly detailing every step of this. Savoring each moment, or perhaps just toying with you. Watching the way a human so much smaller than him writhes under his grip at his mercy. You want to finish it, but the hand clamped around your jaw won't allow you, as much as you want to yearn and beg and plead to k-

'Brother. Return from toying with the refugees, the chaplain has returned with an update.'

Suddenly audible is a deep voice shaken by vox distortion emanating from his helmet; His head turns ever so slightly in it's direction. The bow of his upper lip brushes over yours as he does so. His brow furrows and he seems visibly irritated, interrupted during the worst possible time. You are as well, though it's more of desperation as you try to silence the way the your body aches for just him.

But as quick as it had begun it all ends, as he rises to his full height and removes his hand from your jaw. It complains with the promise of a hefty bruising, as he uses the same gauntlet to one handed slip his helmet back onto his head.

You can feel him stare at you even through the lenses, as he shifts in his armor and walks past where you stand splayed against the altar, clothes a mess. Your legs wobble as if about to give out from underneath you without his support, a weight like a rock in your lower belly.

He walks down the ambulatory in silence and leaves you alone once more, but you know it won't be for long.

#if you want me to name him and design him feel free to say! but for now you can make him the astartes ken doll of your dreams #warhammer 40k x reader #space marine x reader #black templar x reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting

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dreamtinblackandwhite · 3 months

Text

The Blood in the Truth - Part Two

Part One

Series summary: Y/N is the niece of Alfred Pennyworth and childhood friend to Bruce Wayne. Feeling disappointed with her career, she goes out of her way to investigate the cases nobody else wants to.

Chapter summary: Bruce Wayne struggles to combat his feelings for his best friend and the personality of his secret persona while putting a plan in motion to keep Y/N safe after discovering the secret life she was leading. Y/N discovers a need for Batman she hadn't expected, but she was used to using those needs to distract herself from Bruce.

Note: My brain was moving faster than I could write with this one and I have so many more ideas for the next few parts! Stay tuned! All of your support on both parts One & Two would be greatly appreciated!

Warnings: fight descriptions, swearing, little bit of fluff, little bit of angst, little bit of filler

Word count: 7163

Alfred looked at Bruce. “I don’t care what you have to do,” he stepped towards him. “You keep my niece safe, understood?” Bruce gave one nod in agreement. He knew in his bones that he would never rest until he ensured Y/N would be safe.

Y/N spent the next two weeks huddled away in her small apartment while her injuries healed. She wasn’t in any particular mood to hear her uncles’ opinions about her current condition or why she put herself in the position of getting the injuries. She only needed to go into the office for development once a week anyway and it was always easier to write her articles from the comfort of her couch.

She continued to venture to the Iceberg Lounge on Friday nights, collecting as much information as she could when she was there and adding it to her notes. She wasn’t any closer to finding who was behind the drug, but she’d figured out it was a black powder that was inhaled. It caused hallucinations, body temperature changes, dry mouth, but a sense of calmness and security that was highly addictive.

Bruce had visited her building a few times, never getting the courage to actually knock on the door when he’d come. He ended up having more conversations with Y/N’s elderly neighbor than with Y/N herself. He was careful with the information he’d give the man and only allowed for brief details of the situation and the relationship they shared. “Another evening visit, that’s ten days in a row; she’s really gone and fuzzed your brain up, hasn’t she?” The wrinkled man asked knowingly as he began to bend down for the newspaper on his doormat.

Bruce quickly scooped the paper up and handed it off to him. “Is it that obvious?” He replied with a small laugh. The man leaned one of his shoulders against the doorframe, smiling in a way that made Bruce feel more like a grandson than a stranger.

“I won’t pretend to have a hog-posh of life lessons to teach you, son,” his voice was calm and warm. “And, I won’t pretend I know everything of what is happening here. But, I have lived a life; I have lived a very long and happy life. I have also lived a life with regret, and I have learned that you cannot live a life without it. Before you knock on that door, you need to decide where your regret will sleep. Will you regret never knocking? Will you regret knocking and trying to convince her to stop doing the job she loves? Or, will you regret knocking and just being there for her the way she always has been for you?”

Bruce looked down as he listened to these words and tried again to decide what he’d do. The man didn’t realize Bruce had two lives, two choices, two regrets. If a choice didn’t work as Bruce, he could make a different one as Batman. But, that would be putting Y/N into Batman’s life – would that be a regret he needed to live with? Alfred seemed to think it was a risk worth taking, Batman could take care of the drugs faster than the police, and leave no evidence for Y/N to follow.

“When she moved in, she talked about you, you know?” The man continued, seeing the look of troubled uncertainty on Bruce’s face; Bruce looked up now, intrigued. “She came over to get my recipe for French Onion Soup, said it was her best friends favorite and she wanted to make it for him since he’d been crabby all week.” Bruce smiled crookedly again, looking back at his feet. He remembered the time he spoke of, shortly after Y/N moved back to Gotham and just before he’d developed his Batman persona. He didn’t see her come with it, but she’d put it in the fridge and he ate it every meal for more than a week. He didn’t know it was her that made it until Dory asked him to get the recipe from Y/N since he liked it so much.

“Thank you,” Bruce said, glancing at Y/N’s door. The man nodded and started to retreat back into his own apartment, closing the door slow enough to catch the sounds of Bruce’s knuckles rhythmically knock against Y/N’s door.

Y/N opened the door, pausing when she saw Bruce standing in wait. “Bruce?” She asked, biting her lip nervously. Bruce felt a strange sense of relief seeing her, it was a painful reminder of why he would always need to practice distance with their friendship.

“Hi,” he smiled at her, “would you maybe want to get a drink?” He motioned down the hallway anxiously. Y/N cocked her head at him, she worried what conversation may be waiting for her if she agreed to this. “I won’t give you any grief or guilt about the lounge or the case you’re working,” he reassured. “I just miss my friend and I don’t want this to come between us.” He’d decided where his regret would lay its head to rest the moment she looked into his tired eyes with her perfect ones. He figured he could handle her hating the Batman easier than he could handle her hating Bruce; he didn’t want to live in a world where he wouldn’t get to see her face around the manor for the brief moments he allowed himself.

“Would you settle for cheap wine from the clearance section at the grocery store?” She asked, a small smile playing at her lips. An airy chuckle escaped Bruce’s lungs as he nodded and smiled back at her. She turned her body to beckon him into the small apartment, closing the door behind him. “Red or white?” Y/N asked while Bruce took his shoes and coat off.

“Whatever you already have open,” he said nodding towards the glass that sat next to her laptop on the coffee table.

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up and quickly turned away, worried she looked like an idiot. “Red it is, then,” she mused as she poured him a glass. Bruce scanned over the notes that were sprawled out on her coffee table – all about the drug case. Y/N started to pack it all away after handing him his glass.

Bruce cleared his throat, “I probably can only stay for one. It’s getting late.” He looked out the large balcony windows of her apartment and noted just how close the sun was from being swallowed by the horizon.

“Makes sense,” Y/N agreed as the pair settled comfortably onto the small couch so they would face each other.

“Looks like those stitches are healing nicely,” Bruce said, nodding towards her forehead. “Anything else hurting too much still?”

Y/N shook her head as she took a sip of her wine, “no, nothing too terrible. You should see the other guy though, he won’t even look at me in the club now.”

Bruce laughed, “that doesn’t surprise me.” Y/N shot him a playful glare. “What? I know how scary you get when you’re mad; remember when Johnny Bickle beat you in debate club in Middle School? You superglued his hands to his textbooks.”

“Hey!” Y/N whined, “his dad was a judge! It was 100% rigged!”

“And that justifies gluing the poor kid’s hands to his textbooks?” Bruce chortled, “you were suspended for two weeks!”

Y/N buried her face in her hands as she laughed at the memory. “Oh my gosh, I was diabolical back then,” she grumbled as she peaked through her fingers to see Bruce’s smiling face. She took this moment, while he was still laughing to memorize the sound. It’d been so long since they were able to have a 1:1 conversation that had any sort of laughter to it that she’d nearly forgotten what the sound did to her heartrate.

“You still are,” Bruce confirmed, taking a sip from his glass. They fell into a comfortable silence, still grinning at each other.

“I hope Alfred didn’t give you too much grief for me skipping Wednesday dinners these past two weeks,” Y/N apologized, frowning slightly.

Bruce shook his head, brushing her off with a hand wave. “I won’t lie, he was hurt you didn’t come over. You’re lucky, I don’t think he’s told your dad yet.” Y/N laughed and nodded as she ran a hand anxiously through her hair; Bruce found himself mesmerized by the way the lamp light would catch the different shades and tones as she moved. “He’s just worried about you, Y/N. I am too,” he finished after forcing himself to look into his glass instead of at her hair.

“You said you wouldn’t give me grief or guilt,” Y/N pointed out, Bruce chuckled softly.

“It is just facts,” he corrected. “You don’t understand how terrifying it was seeing you like that…” He was nearly whispering now as he recalled the tight feeling in his chest. “I can’t lose you too, Y/N.”

Y/N leaned forward and set a careful hand on his forearm, “you aren’t going to lose me, Bruce.” He looked back at her, slightly shocked at how close her face had gotten from this exchange. They examined each other’s eyes for a moment, both speaking thousands of unsaid words and wishing the other one would hear them.

Bruce cleared his throat and leaned back against the armrest, breaking their contact. “As long as you promise to be safe,” he finally croaked. Y/N blushed heavily and quickly downed the rest of her wine with a nod.

“I swear I am being safe,” she reassured. Bruce finished the rest of his wine in a quick swig before setting it on the coffee table. He stared at her as she nervously looked back, trying to convince himself to stay for another drink. But the sounds of the city distracted him, or at least they distracted Batman. He could hear soft gun shots, police sirens, drunken laughter; from the safety of Y/N’s apartment he had no idea what was happening as the nightlife of Gotham woke up.

“I should…” his voice trailed off as he started to stand up. Y/N followed, looking down to hide her frown. Without looking at each other, they both reached to grab the empty glass on the table. It was very much a movie moment, their finger tips bumping into each other. “Sorry,” Bruce whispered, moving his hand away quickly; he could feel a pressure in his chest as his heart seemed to reach for her.

“No worries,” she forced a smile at him before grabbing the glass and going to the kitchen while Bruce put his shoes and coat back on. “Drive safe, don’t let any drop heads get to you,” she teased, trying to lighten the tension that laid across the room.

Bruce scoffed slightly, hiding his knowing smirk; little did Y/N know just how many drop heads Bruce would interact with tonight. “Of course,” he agreed, turning towards her now. He swallowed his courage, he wasn’t sure when he’d be able to let himself see her like this again. He quickly opened his arms to her and cocked his head with a cheeky smile. Y/N laughed softly before walking into his open embrace.

She leaned her head against his chest, enjoying the thump of his heart in her ear while snaking her arms around his torso. He protectively wrapped his arms around her shoulders, leaning his head down slightly to rest his nose and lips on her hair. He squeezed his eyes shut as her perfume and shampoo invaded his senses, he memorized the scent months ago but welcomed the refresher happily.

Bruce broke away first, telling himself if he didn’t he would never be able to. Y/N felt the coldness wash through her body from the loss of his heat but forced a smile at him as she reached forward to unlock the door. “Tell Alfred that I will come to dinner on Wednesday with French Onion Soup if he promises to not make a huge deal about the lounge,” she requested.

Bruce nodded as he stepped out of the apartment into the dimly lit hallway, “I will see what I can do. Have a good night, Y/N.”

“Have a good night, Bruce,” Y/N echoed before slowly closing the door and leaning back against it with a sigh. She tried to focus on other things for the rest of the night; her work articles, editing her photos, studying the drug case. No matter what she did, her mind always found its way back to Bruce. Bruce’s smile, Bruce’s laugh, Bruce’s arms, the way he cared… it was all so frustratingly perfect to her even after her years of practice with ignoring it.

Bruce was in a similar position; so much so that he moved his plans for introducing Y/N and Batman into action before he even considered the outcomes. He sat in his normal perch on the building across from Y/N’s apartment and tried to think of a way to get her out so Batman could make his introductions. He was considering pulling the fire alarm, or maybe causing a blackout, when Y/N walked out onto her balcony to get some air.

Batman saw his opportunity, she was almost making it too easy. He used his grapple to get from his building to hers before scaling the bricks and landing silently behind her on the balcony. “Y/N Pennyworth,” he again forced his voice lower and deeper. Y/N turned quickly, instinctively punching her right hand towards the face of the unexpected visitor.

Batman was quick to react and blocked her punch with his forearm; Y/N countered with a swift left hook to his jaw. He grunted from the blow before quickly twisting her right arm behind her back, stopping when he was dangerously close to dislocating it all while turning her and pulling her firmly against his chest. He wrapped his free arm securely around her waist so she couldn’t move her torso more than a centimeter.

“Jesus Christ,” she grumbled, if she fought anymore she’d end up with an injured arm. He smirked ever so slightly, it’d been awhile since the pair had fought each other. “How the hell did you find me?” She spat, looking over her shoulder at him now. Thanks to their height difference, he was looking down on her in this position, but she was close enough now to trace her eyes over his sharp jawline and the deep blue eyes the bore into her.

“You are a photo journalist at The Gotham Times, but you work at the Iceberg Lounge under the name Lucy – why?” He continued, ignoring her question. “If you play nice, I will let you go,” he lowered his voice into a whisper as he leaned just slightly closer to her ear. He felt a strange confidence with her like this; it was the mask – it was always the mask. Batman was able to do and say more than Bruce was; he enjoyed that now as he soaked up the feeling of Y/N’s body against his, this embrace was very different than the one they shared not more than an hour ago.

There was a strange tension that struck between the pair, especially as he held her still. Y/N felt her cheeks warm up as his breath hit her neck. For most of her life, she’d only ever fought with Bruce. She didn’t need to bring out these skills very often; even with the men at the lounge, they were always easily subdued with just a few punches if necessary. But now, here she was in a compromising position with a mysterious stranger and she felt that same rush of desire she’d feel when fighting with Bruce.

Maybe her parents were right; she did flirt with danger. With Bruce, it was always flirting with the danger of ruining their friendship. Now, it was flirting with the danger of a literal masked vigilante. She would need to give therapy a try.

Y/N tried again to move but he was holding her so tightly that even her small wiggle hurt. “Do you always sneak up on the people you save?” She grumbled, before swiping her foot back, catching his leg to force him to let go and stumble backwards as he stopped himself from falling. She turned around to look at him, putting her fists up in case he wasn’t done fighting.

Batman smirked at her as he lifted his hands up into the air to indicate his surrender. He should have seen that coming, she always relied on her legs in a fight. “I asked you a question. I assume it’s not for money,” he motioned to the apartment behind her; it was small but technically luxury for the city. “What is it then? Sex?” He didn’t enjoy talking to her like this but he was trying to lead the conversation in the direction he needed.

Y/N scoffed at his assumption, but that is what most people assumed about the girls who worked at the Iceberg Lounge. “Working at the lounge offers an interesting perspective,” she explained, relaxing her muscles. “It helps when you’re doing a little investigating.”

“What are you investigating then?” Batman pushed, she was close to saying what he needed her to. Y/N stared at him for a moment before she decided it wasn’t so crazy for him to have gotten so much information on her; to do what he did you’d have to be good at finding secrets out.

“There’s a new drug that I think is being distributed to target people,” Y/N finally admitted, “there have been at least 26 deaths connected to it. Each one homeless, a Doe, found in abandon buildings or by the sea wall. They all had blood coming from their eyes, nose, ears and mouth; 3rd degree burns in their mouths; but for all of them the final cause of death was asphyxiation from their throats closing.”

“That doesn’t sound like something working at the lounge would offer much insight on,” Batman mused, stepping slightly closer to her in an attempt to make her feel relaxed. Y/N felt a strange sense of calmness around him the made her feel safe, made her trust him – maybe it was muscle memory of when he had saved her at the pier.

“I’ve gotten some from the off-duty cops that come through, but the majority of the information comes from the underground club,” Y/N explains. Batman straightens up, this new information intriguing him. “There’s a group of high-profile dealers that are there nearly every night, I heard them talking about some deal this past weekend. They seem tense about it, more so than normal.”

“And you think it’s connected to this new drug?” Batman confirmed, Y/N nodded in response. “I will take over from here; do not go to the lounge anymore, it’s too dangerous.”

Y/N scoffed, “just because you parade around in a fancy armored suit doesn’t mean you get to give orders to people.” Batman closed his eyes, hiding his eye roll from her. “I have been watching this for months, you just found out about it tonight.”

A frustrated groan escaped from Batman’s lips. “You don’t have any concrete evidence; just because they have similar symptoms and cause of death doesn’t mean it’s being targeted. Hundreds of the homeless population of Gotham are on different types of drugs; you are making assumptions.”

“Investigative journalists make assumptions every day,” Y/N defended with her own frustrated groan.

“You are just a photo journalist!” Bruce winced at his words as soon as they left his mouth; he couldn’t believe he was talking to her like this but there was no going back now. This was why he decided to leave his regrets with the Batman. Batman could hurt her, Bruce would never. “Leave the investigating to the real journalists.” He tried not to look at her face now, afraid to see what his words did to her. Coward, he thought before forcing himself to look into her eyes. Her soft features contorted from the harshness of his words, pain painted every inch of her expression.

“Real journalists?” Y/N scoffed, feeling tears sting at her eyes. “I think you should leave, Bat-boy,” she hissed before abruptly pushing past him and back into her apartment with a door slam. Bruce didn’t waste time on the balcony, he left as soon as she did and went directly to the tower that housed the Bat Symbol. Lt. James Gordon would see the light and come, just as he always did when Batman needed something.

Within fifteen minutes, Batman heard the metal scraping of the elevator behind him. He didn’t turn to see who it was, he only tossed a side eye over his shoulder to confirm it was Gordon before looking back out at the city. “What can I do you for?” Gordon asks awkwardly as he tentatively approaches the caped man. Even after a year of this partnership they’d developed, he still had no idea how to talk to the man.

“I need information on a new drug,” Batman informed with a coarse voice. Gordon pulled out his small notebook before nodding at him to continue. Batman explained the drug, and the slew of Doe victims that it seemed to be connected to, turning to look at Gordon now as he did.

“Hmm…” Gordon mused with pursed lips. “I haven’t heard of any sort of drug like this, man.”

Bruce felt both anxiety and discouragement ripple through him. If Gordon didn’t know about this already, that meant one of two things: either Y/N really was wrong and the string of deaths weren’t connected at all; or she is right and there is powerful hand digging deep enough to affect the police department. Either way, he still needed to find a way to disconnect her from the case after he got more information. “Just,” he grumbled finally. “Look into it.” After a final nod from Gordon, Batman was off to finally start his grid hours later than he should have.

It was another three days before they saw each other again. Y/N had been so angry after her interaction with Batman that she nearly forgot about her promise to see her uncle for dinner. She gathered her supplies for French onion soup and made her way to the manor by taxi this time.

As she entered through the kitchen, she felt slightly anxious. There was no guarantee that Bruce would have gotten through to Alfred on if he would give her much grief tonight for the lounge and she wasn’t in the mood for another lecture. “Alfie?” She called out as she started to unpack the groceries.

Bruce quickly walked from his room to the top of the staircase to shoot a glare down at Alfred, who grumbled with annoyance as he swatted a hand at the boy. Bruce wouldn’t join dinner tonight; if he was going to keep his courage to be harsh towards her as Batman, he couldn’t allow himself any extra time with Y/N as Bruce.

Alfred walked into the kitchen with a stone look on his face. Y/N sighed seeing him, “if you’re just going to be crabby about everything, I can leave.”

“No,” Alfred quickly countered. What Y/N didn’t know was that Bruce and Alfred had spent all day combing through the case files Gordon had gotten his hands on; she was right. There were obvious inconsistencies, falsified information, and general empty holes in every report. It was enough evidence to distract Alfred from his anger for the time beign. “I won’t berate you on it any longer, I know that it won’t change your mind on things. However, if you end up having any other injuries, I will tell your parents.” Y/N nodded, agreeing mostly only so he wouldn’t talk about it anymore.

They quickly relaxed into their normal conversations as Y/N cooked, Alfred got her a glass of wine to sip while she did. “Where’s Bruce? I’m making his favorite.”

Alfred hid his frown; although Bruce would never admit his feelings to Alfred, he knew. He’d seen the love they share for each other first hand and it pained him that both were so stubborn. “He’ll eat later, he’s working on some things right now.” Y/N nodded, knowing better than to push the subject.

The pair at in the living room, having the news on as background noise as their conversation continued. Bruce finally allowed himself to leave his room, it was like seeing her face was an addiction and he needed a fix. He stared at her as he walked down the stairs until her eyes flicked to him, he quickly looked away without a word or resemblance of a smile.

He wasn’t even planning on stopping until he heard the news report of the Batman’s recent “heroics”. It was Y/N’s scoff as she turned her attention towards it and angrily turned the TV off that had froze him in place. “What is it?” Alfred asked, noting her annoyed expression.

“Gotham just puts too much faith in Batman,” Y/N grumbled in response. “He’s not all that they praise him to be.”

“You know him?” Alfred asked cautiously as he shared a knowing look with Bruce. This would be the test to see if Y/N had any inkling of who the man under the mask was.

“No,” Y/N sighed as she gathered the dirty dishes in front of her for a distraction. “He found out that I work at the lounge. Let’s just say he wasn’t pleased, for some reason…” Her voice trailed off as she started to stand up. Bruce quickly darted towards the kitchen, not wanting her to know he was listening all along. He was scooping himself a bowl of the soup when she walked in. “Finally left your cave then?”

Bruce bit back the smirk that played on his lips, she didn’t know he actually had a cave. He barely glanced at her, just picked up a spoon, grunted a hello, and left the room as quickly as he came in; leaving Y/N behind him with a confused frown on her face.

That Friday, Y/N was getting ready for a date she was dreading. Detective Sam Benson had taken her out a few times over the past month and now had invited her as his plus one to the Gotham City Police Fundraiser. She also had a shift at the Iceberg Lounge afterwards that she wasn’t particularly looking forward to following her conversation with the Batman that had left her insecure about her work.

She had chosen a tight nude dress that had a lace overlay of red and pink florals. It was a deep v-neckline that showed her breasts off perfectly; it clung to her hips and thighs before tapering into a subtle skirted-ruffle at her knee which ended halfway down her shin. She wore her hair in soft waves but kept her face framing pieces slicked back behind her ears. Y/N gave herself one last nod of approval after strapping into her nude heels before tossing a long black coat on and tying off the front of it, affectively hiding her body and dress.

Bruce had decided, against Alfred’s wishes, that he needed to try and get information from Y/N on the case. He had to know what other evidence she already had if he wanted to get this drug off the streets before Y/N put herself in further danger. He showed up at her building as her elderly neighbor was walking up the stairs with two arms full of grocery bags. “Ah, I wondered if I would see you around here again,” he mused as Bruce swiftly took the bags from him so he could rely on his cane to get up the stairs.

Bruce chuckled softly but didn’t say anything in response; he walked slowly with the man as they ascended to the 3rd floor. “How do I know if I made the right choice?” He finally asked quietly as the man fumbled for his keys.

“You won’t,” the man replied, as he pulled the bundle of keys from his pocket. “You won’t until you do. It’s a gamble, it’s always a gamble.” Bruce grimaced at him slightly before freezing as he heard Y/N’s door open.

“Bruce?” She asked, confused as she locked the door behind her. “Chester, is this man bothering you?” She teased with a wink, Bruce looked down – he didn’t realize that he never asked this man his name.

“Not at all!” Chester grinned at her, taking the bags one by one from Bruce and setting it just inside his doorway. “Are you kids off for a fun date night, then?”

“No,” both Bruce and Y/N said simultaneously. Bruce looked at her with a chuckle while she blushed with wide eyes.

“I was coming to see if you wanted to hang out, but…” his voice trailed off, noting the way she’d done her hair and makeup.

“I’m going to the fundraising event for the police department,” Y/N finished for him, sticking her bottom lip with her teeth gently; she would much rather spend her night with Bruce than Sam. As if on cue, her phone pinged in her hand: I am here. Come down, doll.

“And that is my ride,” she sighed, looking back to the men in front of her. “Next time, Bruce?” He nodded at her in agreement. “Don’t wait up, Chester,” she winked before quickly turning to leave towards the stairs.

Bruce looked back at Chester. “Pretty sure I chose wrong,” he grumbled.

Chester chuckled and shook his head, “you won’t know until you know.” He winked before waving goodbye and heading into his own apartment.

Bruce told himself he was doing this to make sure Y/N was safe, because he knew there was something shady happening in the police department, because he promised Alfred he’d keep her safe. But, as he put his nicest suit on and fixed his hair, he could feel himself hoping for more. Maybe he’d turn on his long-dormant Bruce Wayne charm and ask Y/N for a dance… he shook the thought from his head – this is to protect her.

Sam had abandoned Y/N within twenty minutes at the fundraiser, apologizing and saying he needed to greet some people and it wouldn’t be appropriate to introduce her yet. She didn’t take offense to it, she just stood near the edge of the room and sipped the warm champagne that was being trayed around as she people watched. She was used to being on the sidelines at these things after attending so many with Bruce when he took the company over.

She looked at the bar, wishing she hadn’t left her purse with her coat when she checked it with valet so she could have bought her own drink rather than what was free. She couldn’t take her eyes off the back that faced her from the bar, was that? Surely it wasn’t… she scoffed softly to herself.

Y/N walked towards the bar, weaving through the random clusters of people blocking her way. “What are the chances that Bruce Wayne’s first public appearance in months happens to be at the event I told him about not more than an hour ago?” She teased as she sipped her champagne.

Bruce turned to look at her, a sideways smile spreading over his face. He took a moment to draw his eyes over her up close now; the way her dress hugged her, the way her lips appealed to him with that lipstick color, the way her eye color exploded with her careful makeup. He felt his heart thumping in his chest, he’d need to avoid her for weeks after this. He clenched his fists at his side to stop himself for touching her.

“Well, my social calendar is managed by your over-protective uncle… so when I came back earlier than he expected and told him you’d be here…” Bruce lied, forcing a charming smile on his face.

Y/N laughed softly and took another sip of her drink. “I imagine he didn’t give you much of a choice,” she replied. Bruce shrugged in response, swimming in the sound of her honey-like laughter.

“Mr. Wayne,” the bartender said as he set two drinks down in front of them.

“Oh!” Y/N gasped slightly as a blush fluttered on her cheeks. “You’re with someone?”

Bruce nervously chuckled before taking the champagne out of her hand and replacing it with one of the drinks he ordered, a gin and tonic. “No,” he corrected, “but you hate champagne.” Y/N chewed the inside of her cheek at the action and offered him a thankful smile before the pair moved to get out of the way of the bar. “No camera tonight? Did your boss finally see that your talent stems beyond the gossip of Gotham?” Bruce complimented, trying to make up for the words he’d said to her with the mask on. “If you need a quote, I’m happy to break my silence for you.”

“No, but you can’t take that back now. I expect your first quote to the media to come directly to me,” Y/N eyed him with a smirk, he laughed softly and nodded as he gulped his scotch. “I am not here as a reporter tonight, I am actually here with someone.” She tried to keep the smile on her face but found it difficult to be excited about Sam.

Bruce didn’t miss the faulter on the corner of her lips, but he glanced around the room. Who would be stupid enough to leave Y/N standing alone in the corner of the room when she looked like this? His mind ran through the names of each eligible and non-eligible bachelor in Gotham, creating a mental hate list of each one he thought Y/N may go for. “And here he comes,” Y/N’s sigh had the smallest tinge of disappointment.

“Doll! I’ve been looking for you!” Sam exclaimed as he walked over to them, barely glancing at Bruce. “There are some people I want you to me—” confusion covered his face when he looked to Bruce; he quickly clung to Y/N’s hand possessively. “Wayne.”

“Uhm, Bruce, this is Sam Benson,” Y/N introduced awkwardly.

“Detective Sam Benson,” Sam corrected shooting a smile at Y/N who simply nodded an apology in response.

“And Sam, this is Bruce Wayne,” she finished. The two men begrudgingly shook hands, Y/N knew it was only for her benefit. Bruce didn’t offer more than a grunt of a hello. This was who she was dating? “Bruce and I grew up together until my family moved out of Gotham.”

“I see,” Sam hummed, looking back at Y/N. “Well, it was nice to meet you, Wayne. Y/N, I want you to meet some of my buddies from college and their wives…” His voice trailed off as he tugged Y/N forward, she glanced over her shoulder at Bruce and mouthed an apology as she stumbled slightly to follow.

Bruce kept his distance, he didn’t want to intrude on the night Y/N was having and, unfortunately, he did have to play the Bruce Wayne roll since he decided to come out; he chatted with city and state officials, he signed a few autographs, took a few photos, and donated a significantly sized check to the department. But through it all, he made sure that Y/N would always be in his field of vision.

It was just after 10pm when he watched her leave the large ballroom. After he was able to excuse himself from the conversation he had been trapped in, he found her waiting for a taxi by the curb. “Did something happen?” He asked as he walked up behind her, worried that maybe Sam had done something that he missed.

“What?” She asked, turning towards the sound. “Oh- Bruce,” he loved how she sighed his name when she was relieved it was only him. “No, nothing happened, I just need to get home. I’m running late.”

“Running late?” Bruce laughed softly, “it’s barely past 10pm, what could you be late for?” Y/N stuttered slightly, a flustered blush blooming on her cheeks. She didn’t know if she should tell him the truth or not, even though he knew about the lounge she knew he didn’t like it. Bruce took a deep breath as he realized what got her so flustered. “You’re working the lounge tonight?”

“Shh, Bruce,” she hushed, stepping closer and looking at the people around them who could have heard. A taxi pulled up near them and Bruce, reminding himself to let the regret stay with Batman, stepped forward and opened the back door for her.

“Just, be safe?” He urged, she smiled at him and nodded as she stepped towards the vehicle. She placed a gentle kiss to his cheek before she was gone.

Batman made it to the cave, got into his suit, and was idling in the shadows next to the Iceberg Lounge all before Y/N arrived for work. He glanced nervously at the stack of case files on the passenger seat next to him, showing them to Y/N as Bruce was risk enough – this was a gamble. He had no idea how she’d react to seeing him, much less if she’d cooperate and help him with the case.

A taxi pulled up, Batman watched to confirm that it was Y/N before getting out of his Batmobile as she walked unknowingly towards him. “Y/N” he greeted in a low voice as he stepped far enough forward for his masked face to be contoured by the neon signs from the street ahead of them.

Y/N didn’t give it a second thought when she heard his familiar voice. She sent a round of rotating upper-kicks towards his face, forcing him to back away as he blocked them with his forearms. He quickly lunged at her, attempting to get a hold of her again but she shrunk to the ground, expecting it this time. Just as he was expecting her to swipe at his feet to make him lose balance, which he dodged.

She knew her fists would do nothing to his thick-suited chest, so she stuck to her legs. She laid a series of blows to his chest and abdomen, successfully winding him and getting a pained grunt before she set her right fist towards his jaw. He skillfully caught her wrist with his hand before she made contact and pulled her towards him, spinning them around so she was pinned under him with her back pressed against the wet hood of his Batmobile.

Batman stared down into Y/N’s eyes, waiting for her to give up the fight. He’d be lying if he hadn’t imagined this situation a few times through the lonely months down in his cave. It had a different beginning, and a very different ending that what today would be having. But still, the idea of Y/N pinned to the hood of this car had crossed his mind on occasion.

Y/N finally huffed out in defeat as she glared up at him. “Does everything need to be a struggle with you?” His hushed voice was gruff; Y/N felt goosebumps flutter across her skin at the sound combined with the feeling of his hot breath against her cold cheeks. She wiggled under his body again, trying to gain some sort of composure.

“Get off of me, asshole,” she hissed. Batman slowly stood up, letting her go as he did. She didn’t fight after he released her, deciding to just sit on the hood of the vehicle and glare at him with her arms crossed. “Following me again?”

“I have something for you,” Batman sighed, walking around the vehicle and grabbing the stack of files from the passenger seat. He nearly chickened out right there, he was pulling her in closer to the case by giving her this – the opposite effect he was trying to have. He handed them to her, watching a soft ‘v’ form between her eyebrows as she flicked through some of the files.

“Are these all…?” She trailed off, looking at the masked man as she stood up straight now.

He nodded, “this year alone, we’re looking at about 70 deaths. Someone on the inside is hiding it so that nobody else sees the pattern too.” Y/N bit her lip nervously, flipping open the first file and reading the top page of it.

“This is missing multiple steps of required documentation,” she noted in a frustrated tone.

“That’s what I said too,” Batman laughed softly. “Do you recognize any of the cops on file?”

Y/N quickly fingered through the stack again. “A few of them,” she confirmed, “Andy Sadder – he comes to the lounge sometimes, he may even be here tonight. I could see if I could get close to hi—”

“No,” Bruce interrupted, groaning at his own sudden urgency. “I told you, it’s too dangerous.”

“Then why even show me these?” Y/N scoffed, “do you have a different plan on how you will get in there for first hand information?” He stared back at her for a long moment, trying to stop the calculated plan from forming in his mind. This was frustrating; feeling the urge to help and investigate this as Batman but also needing to separate Y/N from it as Bruce.

“Fine,” he finally agreed, “but you’re not going in alone.”

“I think it’ll look suspicious if a 6-foot man dressed in a black leather suit and cape is following me around while I try to get off-duty cops drunk enough to spill their secrets…” Y/N joked slightly, feeling more at ease after hearing him agree with her.

Batman dipped his torso into his vehicle and grabbed a small box that held a spare contact lens and earpiece for if his gets damaged. He handed it off to Y/N, she looked at it confused. “I will be right there with you, seeing and hearing everything that happens,” he explained. He knew Alfred would not be happy about this but it was the only way Bruce would be able to confirm her safety at all times. He had to try.

“Why can’t you just let it go?” Y/N asked with an eyeroll as she begrudgingly added the set to her ear and eye.

“I don’t know,” Bruce mumbled, watching the screens from in his vehicle change point of view to her new lens before cutting out to static. He stepped closer to her and tipped her chin up with his gloved fingertips. Y/N, seeing his eyes clearer now, felt a heat rush through her chest. Their bodies were close enough that she could see the slight stubble on his cheeks and jaw and watched his tongue dart out to wet his chapped lips. “Blink,” he ordered in a whisper. She gulped and pushed the confused thoughts out of her head before rapidly blinking until she felt the contact slip back into place.

She forced herself to step backwards as she cleared her throat before turning and walking through the employee door into the lounge. “I’m right here,” the voice in her ear brought goosebumps across her skin and the heat went from her chest and found its way between her thighs.

Fuck, she thought, I can't want him...

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crypticcowboys · 4 days

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omg hi !!! i just read ur new mike hc and OMG ITS SO CUTHEUERU will cry everyday thinking abt it. but i also saw that ur requests are open for mike and i’ve been DYING FOR SOME MIKE SCHMIDT FICS the rage abt him was too short😔 i was thinking something similar with the hc that you already have but with a little angst? maybe him waking up from a bad dream and just needing his gf? i just wanna see some domesticity with him and abby and just the gf taking care of them just to help him a little THE MAN NEEDS A BREAK PLS idk i think it would be super sweet. i hope ur having a good day!! if u don’t wanna take up this request that is totally a-o-kay🩷

a/n: i am so sorry. i completely forgot about this sizzling in my inbox and it has now been SEVEN MONTHS since this movie's release. but this was such a cute idea, i needed to finish it!! im so sorry and i apologize if youve moved on from this man omg LMAO pairing : mike schmidt x gn!reader warnings : kind of heavy angst w/delving into mike's thought process, mentions of nightmares, otherwise fluff. partly proofread. SPOILERS! (but you guys... probably dont need the warning by now, right?)

mike's nightmares (dreams?) about garrett didn't really... go away after everything that happened at freddy's. sure, it gave him some ounce of comfort knowing that he'd found the man who took his brother-- one of his lifelines, away from him, and also knowing that the same man who took his brother was now dead. but regardless, it didn't take the memories nor the guilt away. mike is, and has always been convinced that everything bad leading up to now must've been his fault. starting with garrett, all the way up to vanessa's coma, no matter how many times you've told him otherwise.

and that lingering guilt seeps into his dreams, too. he's had less dreams about garrett, and he's slowly started to have actual stupid, brief, 'normal' dreams that he can't even remember once he wakes up ever since he stopped taking the ambien; he could now safely fall asleep to the sounds of your breathing, the soothing motions of your hands in his hair, and the crickets outside rather than the repetitive nature sounds on the walkman. but when the dreams about garrett happen, they're... different. they aren't the same sequence that would usually happen in his dreams like before. he can't even remember what happens in them anymore, his memory fading as soon as he wakes up as if he hadn't dreamt anything at all-- but he's always waking up with sweat condensed on his brow, his heart racing out of his chest, and a lingering feeling of dread tugging at his heart, always feeling like somebody was watching him. he'd often wake up with a gasp, or a brief shout. it brought an aching feeling like no ofher— and while he doesn't remember the dreams anymore, the aching feeling is still the same he used to get when he was searching for why, and who kidnapped his brother. and there's another overwhelming feeling of guilt too— how could he ever even think of trading his sister for garrett?

sometimes you wake up from his violent shudders or sobbing, sometimes you don't. and when you do, you're there in a heartbeat-- your body moving faster than your sluggish, tired brain to pull him close and hug him tightly into your chest as he sobs incoherent words, not caring about his cries moving through the thin walls. he'll always apologize no matter how many times you tell him that there's no need to. he woke you up. shouldn't he feel bad about that? he just doesn't want to inconvenience you anymore. but you're pulling him out of his thoughts quickly, comforting him before he even gets a chance to regret waking you up.

it doesn't take him long to calm down whenever you're around to hold him, just like how he needed. the both of you breathing softly, the only sounds audible being your heartbeat and the wind rustling the leaves of the trees outside. quiet, just what mike needed. just like what he craved, with you.

"'m so tired." he'd whisper, blinking slowly as he traced absentminded patterns on the skin of your collarbone, the repetition soothing him. he always liked doing that. and he liked when you did the same thing with him.

"i know." you'd whisper back— and he didn't need to head anything else to feel your overwhelming care for him. it was still so confusing for him to adjust to— the fact that you wanted him even after all of the fucked up shit he went through. no— you didn't just want him, you loved him. held him without a care in the world, and you'd do it in a heartbeat. you learned his body language— knowing exactly what he needed and when. you were his home— you and abby were his home.

one morning, he's waking up alone. not really something that concerned him— you had stuff to do. like work, taking abby to school when you insisted he stay home and rest. he rubs his eyes as he stares up at the ceiling for a bit longer before pushing himself out of bed— there's no use in dwelling on last night, anyways.

mike shuffles out of bed with a yawn, scratching at the skin riding up on his shirt before feeling something wrap around him at torso level. he looks down, and it's abby. he gives her a small smile, bending down slightly to wrap his arms around her, and she giggles. "i'm not supposed to say anything." she whispers, rocking back on her feet slightly. okaaay... secrets right when he woke up, just what he needed. but he smells something good— pancakes? that has him shuffling right into the kitchen, staring at you tending to the stove, the perfect image of domesticity.

as abby's shuffling into the living room to go watch labrynth once more, mike paddles behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, giving a small kiss to your collarbone as he's staring down at your perfect hands, watching you make breakfast. usually he was the one to make breakfast— what was the special occasion? "i'm guessing this is what abby was being secretive about?" he grinned softly, breathing in the warm scent of your hair. soft. you were soft.

"i told her she wasn't supposed to say anything." you replied back, giving a soft 'hmph' as you eyed abby from the kitchen with a soft smile on your face, turning the heat off to the stove before turning around to face your boyfriend. the eggs were done cooking, anyways. "just... thought i'd do something nice for you. let you sleep in a little." your voice was soft, held implications of last night's nightmares shaking mike violently awake. he... didn't get much sleep whenever they happened. his eyes fluttered softly at the feeling of your hands carding through his hair again, and he's already about to fall asleep right at the stove.

you're prepared for him to pout, claim that breakfast was his job and that you shouldn't have gotten out of bed so early with the fact that you had so much stuff to do. but instead— he gives you a soft, bashful smile as he grabs your hand gently, kissing your palm. "thank you. y'know I love you, right?" he whispered, giving you a gentle peck on your lips. fuck morning breath.

"i love you." you whispered back, moving to lean in another time before you're hearing a dramatic gag from the living room, coming from abby. you and mike are scoffing with soft grins as the both of you depart from eachother— but still never looking away.

he never really worried about his nightmares after that, anyway.

#still not over the fact that i forgot about this for over 5 months #forgive me #love writing him though #mike schmidt is autistic #mike schmidt x male reader #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x fem!reader #movie!mike schmidt #fnaf movie #mike schmidt x gn!reader #fnaf x reader #fnaf mike #mike schmidt x you

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thedevilsdom · 1 year

Text

dys x reader, dom reader, sub dys, slight voyeurism kink, phone sex

Sometimes you're the most amazing, most helpful person in the world. Sometimes you're pure evil.

Dys was on the receiving end of the latter today.

He'd taken a buggy out into the wilds to do some exploration, the tall, orange and mint green trees rising high into the sky around him. You were at home, tending to your duties as a professor of engineering. Unfortunately, you weren't able to join him this time, but from his assumption, school must have let out for the day.

Why would he assume that?

Probably from the nude you'd just sent him.

Your usually neat and clean teacher's outfit has been unbuttoned, and your pants unzipped, exposing your underwear and chest. Just a small tease, but it was already enough to have his mind racing. No matter how long you've been together, or what you've done with each other, he still had a... Virginal air about him. This was something you loved to take advantage of whenever you could.

He sends you a message while he steps through the forest. "really?"

You respond by slipping your shirt down off your shoulders and taking a better photo of your chest. He's thankful that nobody can see how red his face is all the way out here. He tosses a glance around him, making sure that Utopia is nowhere to be seen, before he ducks behind a thick trunked tree.

"Are you serious?" He sends back. You respond with a simple "of course I am", and a picture of your thumb hooked beneath your underwear and pants.

He can feel his cock getting hard in his pants. It's utterly shameful. He unbuttons the front of them and pulls his zipper down just as you send another photo, this one of your ass in your underwear, raised while you lay on your stomach in bed. You add the caption "I wish you were here to beg for the privilege to touch me❤️"

Dys can't even think, his fingers move on his holopalm faster than his brain can catch up, "Please" and he's humiliated afterwards that he sent that. Then in comes your response that has his cock growing hard and straining in his underwear.

"There's my good boy"

He shoves his hand down into his underwear, goosebumps growing up his arm at the sensation of contact. He can't believe that you're teasing him like this, when he's out in the wilds. He's knowledgeable on the wildlife, but even he doesn't know absolutely everything that roams around out here. He could get caught by something! The adrenaline made him want it even more. With his shaky free hand, he uses his holopalm to take a photo of himself with his hand down his pants and send it to you.

His hand is painfully dry, his leaking pre is helping but it's not enough. He wants your mouth. He wants your anything. His holopalm dings with another message from you. No, not a message. A call. He can't find it in himself to deny the call. Your voice rings resonant in his earpiece.

"HI, baby," You hum from the other side of the call. The only response you receive is a small, choked gasp. "Oh, you poor thing."

He whimpers.

"Did my darling get all needy from my pictures? You really don't have much self control, do you?" You say. Dys has always been a man of few words, one who would focus on one thing and chase that with no regard for anything else until he collapsed. That included you, the only person he could trust, the only one he could give control up to.

"I can't help it..." he whines from the other side of the call.

"It hasn't even been that long since the last time I helped you cum!" You giggle. "What if someone found you? What if Utopia spotted you? Or Sym?"

Dys can't stop the cry that punches out of him. He hurriedly claps a hand over his mouth while his other hand picks up speed against his cock. The idea of Sym finding him in such a state was addicting.

“Do you think he’d like the way I control you? Like my precious little doll?” You muse. Dys finds himself nodding, even though you can’t see him, his hair rubbing against the rough bark of the tree trunk he’s leaning on. “Ooh, do you think he’d want to join in?”

Dys’ legs can’t keep himself up anymore, even with the assistance of the tree behind him. He slides down, sitting ashamed on the forest floor.

“He might want to take the reins and boss you around a bit. He’d probably think of all sorts of creative positions to put you in! Or maybe he could be my pet too. I could order you to play with each other!”

He’s getting close. Shamefully close, all too quick. He’s gonna make an absolute mess in his underwear. He’ll have to drive back with his shorts full of cum. He’ll have to check back into the colony and try to keep himself from giving away how wrecked he just got.

“I’m gonna-!” He gasps out, hips fucking into his hand, chasing his release.

“No.”

With a yelp, he pulls his hand out of his underwear like he was burned. His cock throbs and twitches, desperate to cum.

“Wh-why?” He sobs. His body feels like it’s on fire, he can’t take this!

“Just because,” He can imagine you laying on the bed, kicking your feet. “How fun would it be if I made you walk back into the colony all hard for me?”

“I can’t- I can’t!” He squeaks. That would be too much, you know it would be too much. But it still made his blood rush and heart race all the same. The idea of doing something so humiliating, like he was some teenage boy… He supposes that he doesn’t really care about what the colony thinks of him so…

“Oh my god, are you thinking about it?” You sound incredulous. You know that he gets off on the shame, if you do it right. “You’re so naughty!”

“Sh-shut up!” Dys’ legs and fingers are trembling, he wants to keep jerking off, you’ve gotten him so keyed up and all that energy has nowhere to go.

“I won’t make you do that, baby, not this time at least.”

He breathes a sigh of relief, tinged with just a little bit of disappointment.

“You’ve been good, darling. You can cum for me, but I want you to describe how it feels.”

He slips his hand back down and starts rubbing again. He usually doesn’t have much to say, so it’ll be a struggle, but he doesn’t want you to make him stop again. And he wants to arouse you like how you do to him.

“It’s ah- it feels good,” He whines, “I want your hand though… I wish you were here, I nngh- it feels tight inside me, I wanna cum for you-”

“Yeah? Good boy, I wish I could be giving you little bite marks on your thighs, I know how much that drives you crazy.” You swear you can hear the sound of shifting fabric and skin against skin through your holopalm.

“I’m gonna cum I’mgonnacumpleaseletmecumforyou-”

“You can cum, baby.”

Dys cries out into the forest as his cock throbs in his hand, thighs trembling, he squirts cum into his boxers and watches as it wells up and spills through the fabric. His hips twitch forward again and again with each little spurt, each drop that pushes through his underwear, nothing more than soft moans and babbling leaving his lips. If he hadn’t already slid down onto the floor, he would have collapsed.

You hear his shaky breath through the call, his chest rising and falling.

“That’s my good boy.” He can hear your sultry smile in your voice, “You’re so precious, my darling.”

Dys wants nothing more than to curl up against you. He wants to be with you, he wants to feel safe like how he does when he’s with you. You must have heard his little squeaky sob while he buttoned his pants back up, because your voice filled his earpiece again.

“Come back home to me, baby.”

#iwatex #dys #dys exocolonist #dys x reader #my writing #i was a teenage exocolonist #top reader #dom reader

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blackevermore · 2 months

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x Secrets of The Lake: The Company of Misery and Pain ( Also on A03)

{ Chapter 17 }

Summary: Vladimir Masters’ family tree has always been tainted by secrets swept under the rug. From generation to generation there have been countless reasons the Masters’ family had seemed to keep private from the public. Even to this day, Vladimir was no exception. But what was one to do when a restless spirit from the settlement years finally breaks free from restraints and demands you answer for your ancestor’s crimes? Vladimir doesn’t know. However, Clockworks does.

Notes: We just having fun, rewriting some of the canon, new adventure new characters. I will apologize now for any grammar, spelling, weird sentence structuring in advance. My brain writes faster than my fingers and even when I go back through to reread it I still miss things. Sorry about that!

Word Count: 4.2K

P.s: Chapters will be taking longer to get out which means they will get longer to read as well

The art of fatherhood was different for everyone, some would treat it as a goal that had to be achieved, others would scoff at the idea of ever having a small being having to rely on them, and then there were the golden few who genuinely want the honour of being called someone's dad. Vlad had found himself transforming from the first version to the last in a matter of years and at times it was still too surreal for him. He cheated himself out of having the infant years when he created Dani, in a way he was grateful he didn’t have to do diapers. He refuses to be envious of Jack for that. However, he lacked the time and the patience the infant years gave you when your child turned into a teenager. Danny was his first go around and that was hell on wheels considering Vlad took every chance he got to spite the boy. Over time he had become the fabric of Danny's growth as a young man and had even given a few pointers on how to handle certain situations. In a way he had gotten that fatherly relationship with Danny, maybe not in the best way (or the way he wanted) but it was there.

Here he was fussing over Dani making sure she was packed for the summer. Making sure she had her necessary items that he deemed important: her phone, her laptop, four pairs of shoes, necessary summer clothes, his antighost technology that was oh so better than Jack’s (and worked), her house keys just in case ( not that she actually needs them), and finally the emergency credit card that she would need to text Kate to use. Vlad had no idea why he behaved like this when Dani had spent countless times over at Danny’s family home. It was indeed her second home when Vlad was away on business. He was now becoming overbearing and trying to helicopter her. When Dani finally commented about it Vlad backed off and agreed with a distaste of himself.

The whole time he ran around his Minnesota home trying to make sure Dani was ready, Tayonna watched in the shadows at times laughing at Vlad's antics. He was much different than Vladan. Vlad was cool-headed to an extent that prevented anyone from seeing him when he was in distress. The man could be juggling the world on the tip of his fingers and he would make it look effortless. He carried himself with an eerie confidence that made people move out of his way and he commanded with ease. Vlad had mean eyes that only softened to things he deemed worthy and even then they still demanded respect. Vlad spoke clearly, with overly over-enunciated vowels and sometimes lingered on sounds with a hiss like a snake. Vladan was Vlad's polar opposite who hunched at the idea of unnecessary conflict. Vladan, despite his frown brows and hooded pale wolf eyes, was soft on the inside. All of the possible intimidating nature Vladan could muster was surface level, once you got past that he was simply a man with a big heart. He only showed a sign of authority when faced with an opposing manner. Vlad was a single shade of red while Vladan was shades of blue that fluctuated daily. Vlad held the room by its neck, Vladan lurked in the back, and yet they both equally wanted nothing more than to go home.

Tayonna found herself admiring Vlad outside of the striking resemblance he held with Vladan. It was like she was meeting a stranger who read the same poem but in a different cadence. Within the month and few weeks she was here she would describe him like a cat. White and fluffy but very much untouchable purring around with pompous behaviour in an obnoxious way that was almost laughable. Yet at times when Vlad was being a father to Dani, Tayonna could only imagine Vladan doing the same. Fussing over his daughter, driving manners into their possible son, and complaining about how tired he was after everything.

This world was so much different than when she was alive. The first was that people like her roamed freely with no one to answer to. Next women held more power than just being at home, they worked, they owned, and they were able to do just the same as their male counterparts if not better—lastly, pants. Tayonna was so surprised that women could wear pants, no one cared, and no one yelled or screamed about how evil it was that women and young girls could wear them as well. When Tayonna saw Dani running about in pants she had almost the nerve to say something. But Vlad didn’t have an issue with it so it must have been okay. The few times Tayonna looked out the windows and saw people walking by she damn near felt like she was peeping at naked people. This was so different. So abnormal. She had been in her domain for years on end, with no interaction outside of the red mist, no possible way of knowing what the living world was like. When she haunted Vlad she did in the comfort of what she knew. Now that she was here she was more scared of the moving world than the fact Vlad looked like Vladan.

“Tayonna.” Vlad walked past the doorway into the living room. Tayonna was near the bay window enjoying the sun.

“Yes?” She responded.

“I’m going to leave now and drop Danielle off. When I come back I will begin packing myself and we will be leaving to go to my other house.” Vlad said, rolling up his dress shirt and smoothing out his hair. Tayonna looked him over then gave him a hum of acknowledgement. Vlad told himself to walk away but the sight in front of him was statuesque. Tayonna sat along the window seat with a knee tucked under her chin, her wild curls were held back by a scarf but sprayed around her in a halo of kinks. She was in her human complexion and the sun made her brown skin glow with a honey hue. The contradiction of her dated clothing against modern architecture paved a deeper meaning between life as it was and life now. She looked like an artist's thesis statement that life lingers even in white walls and grey scaling.

‘ She’s always been beautiful ’ Vladan thought.

Indeed, Vlad agreed.

Vlad couldn’t believe he was agreeing with the voice inside his head. Of course, Tayonna was charming to look at with her raw beauty which was much different than women today. But he could not tiptoe around the line of possibly finding her attractive. She was a ghost, an intruder who came into his life like a fist to the face, he could not allow his curiosity to be tainted by someone else's feelings or even his loneliness.

“Do you need something, Sir?” Tayonna brought Vlad out of his thoughts causing him to blush. The way she called him Sir made a funny feeling rattle in his chest and he liked it. Vlad liked the formality in the suggestive nature, it was almost like a game of power and control. He knew she didn’t mean it in such a way but rather to be polite but oh the way his heart skipped at the sound of it. He hoped she would do it more often if she was going to be around. Vlad quickly cleared his throat and tried to calm himself down by turning away from her and raising a hand to dismiss himself.

“Nothing, I shall be back and then we will leave.” Vlad was quickly out of the house towards the car where Dani waited with headphones on and her feet on the dash.

“Make sure you eat!” Vlad yelled out the window.

“Why wouldn’t I eat?” Dani yelled back.

“I don’t know, Jack’s cooking is questionable.”

“Well, mom will likely be the one cooking.”

“You’d be surprised, she’s not much of a cook either.”

“I heard that!” Maddie yelled from the door and Vlad couldn’t help but laugh.

“Am I lying? Or do I need to recall our time in Jack’s dorm where you nearly set the whole building on fire making pasta?” Vlad smirked and Maddie gave him a very motherly disappointed look of ‘Why would you bring that up’ before she rolled her eyes and huffed out a chuckle.

“Alright, be safe, call me later.” Vlad turned his gaze back towards his daughter and Dani nodded eager for him to finally pull off.

“Take care, Madeline, I’ll see you all before Daniel leaves for college.” Vlad waved as he pulled off and busted a U-turn to head back towards his house. He was barely down the road when his phone began to ring through the whole car.

“Masters.” He answered.

“Good morning, Sir. Is now a good time?” Kate sounded airy as if she was outside.

“It’s as good as it gets, you’ve been missing in action for a while.” Vlad was snappy. Kate had been gone for a while, no text, no call, not even an email informing him of any update. Surely the woman remembered she was meant to be on a business trip, not some crazy extended vacation.

“I’m in Germany,” Kate responded simply.

“What in the heavens are you doing in Germany?!” Vlad's brows knotted and he huffed out a fit of air. She was doing this on his time.

“Jackson and I got to Pennsylvania and were able to pull the records, however-”

“However?” Vlad's brow rose.

“However, the records showed that, yes, you had family that dealt in the colonies but business was managed across seas. The name associated is not Vladan; it was under a man named Tillman who was listed as head of state up until Anya-Tillman Mægisters was listed as a successor.”

“Yes! Anya was the father of Vladan.” Vlad became excited as the pieces started to fall into place. Finally some good news!

“Yes, I found that as well but Vladan does not seem to take on the family business after his father’s passing. The business was dissolved due to lack of resources and funds.” Kate paused as if she was flipping through a book.

“The last mention of his existence is one official marriage certificate in the Germanic state to an Odo, and a previous betrothal while in the colonies to a Phoebe Speldercast.”

“Don’t you ever say that name again!” Vlad's voice boomed through the car with a heavy bass that rocked the car’s interior. This made him swerve off to the side of the road and slam on his breaks. His grip on the wheel was tight and his hands began to glow as his powers activated. His chest became tight and his eyes flashed completely red and a fit of rage sideswiped him before sizzling out and bringing him back. Vladan’s mist began to rise from his arms and Vlad had to take a deep breath to gain control of his body. He looked up in the rearview mirror and Vladan stared back like an unhinged man ready to attack. Vlad could feel Vladan tussling within his mind and the man only seemed to get angrier. The phantom closed his eyes and mentally blocked out the angered spirit until he was sure he wouldn’t break loose again.

The car was silent and Vlad knew that Kate was likely just as speechless on the other side of the phone.

“Kate I dearly apologize, I’ll have to call you back.” Vlad didn’t wait for a response and quickly hung up on his assistant. Vlad turned back towards the rearview mirror and saw Vladan was still there with the craziest set of eyes and his face turning red.

“Did that hit a nerve?” Vlad asked sarcastically out loud.

“She’s the devil who took everything away from me.” Vladan was no longer an echo in Vlad's head. His voice was clear and accented.

“Can you possibly tell me anything about her?” If this was the lead Vlad needed then by god was he going to take it.

“She was a witch,” Vladan spat back.

“Was she crucified?” Vlad didn’t want to sit here and pull teeth. This isn't even his problem and yet it seemed he couldn’t get answers to fix it.

“No,” Vladan responded defeated and Vlad sighed. Finally, he could feel his body become his again as he unclasped his hands from the wheel and then grumbled when he saw the leather was scarred.

“Tayonna can’t remember anything that happened, if there is anything you can offer I would gladly appreciate it.” Vlad looked away from the mirror and towards his side mirrors to see if anyone was coming. When he saw it was clear he pulled back onto the road. Vladan had yet to respond and Vlad took a quick glance to look in the mirror. Vladan was gone and Vlad slapped his palm against the wheel in frustration.

~~~

“Sir?” Kate answered the phone hesitantly and Vlad cringed in the reminder of earlier.

“I do apologize for earlier Miss Way, no, I can not explain myself but trust me when I say I have no idea either.” Vlad paused.

“Apology accepted,” Kate responded and Vlad let out a sigh he didn’t know he was holding.

“Wonderful, I have a new name I need you to look into, Phoebe Speldercast, which you had mentioned earlier. My records do not mention her at all and I’m starting to believe it is for a reason.” Vlad huffed about his room putting together a suitcase and snapping his fingers for the ghost maids to appear and handle the rest.

“Why are we doing this again, Sir?” Kate seemed to snap back to her normal personality and Vlad was glad.

“It seems I have more family issues than I’m comfortable discussing.” Vlad let out an ironic chuckle and Kate responded with a ‘hah’ and then told him she would look into it before hanging up. Vlad threw his phone on the bed and then plopped down to sit, he held his head in his hands, ran his fingers through his silver hair and pulled out the ponytail. This was exhausting and he still had the stuff to do before the day was over. He felt like every time he got closer to finding out something both Tayonna and Vladan left him crumbs to work with. He hadn’t heard from Clockwork since Tayonna arrived and that made him feel more abandoned than ever. Then again, he didn’t expect much help from the timekeeper anyway. Clockwork was a very hands-off sort of being that already knew the answers but wanted you to figure it out by yourself. Sure he gave you a clue but said clue would only be good for five seconds before the mystery continued to unravel into turmoil.

This was beginning to feel like the summer was going to drag and the small idea of any vacation Vlad had planned would be thrown away. Vlad sat up straight and peered ahead, he caught sight of himself in his full-length mirror and duly noted his appearance. Still handsome, still him, still had dark circles under his eyes he was sure were permanent, and still had that strip of black hair that came out of nowhere. He touched his jaw and thought how under all the facial hair he grew was a baby face that would give it away he wasn’t actually in his forties. No longer ageing at an appropriate rate was a blessing just as much as it was a curse. That’s why he never shaved more than he should. He felt the pricks of his beard coming in and made a note to sharpen up when he got to Wisconsin. As he continued to make note of his face a red mist left his lips and he looked over his shoulder to see Tayonna standing in the door.

“That name,” Tayonna began. “I don’t like that name.”

Vlad hummed and turned around, “Nor does he.” Vlad felt his hand twitch a few times as Vladan tried to get him to reach out to the woman. Vlad told him to stop and Tayonna tilted her head as she heard him. Vlad noticed she started to walk toward him, she was cautious as she stood beside him and slowly brought her hand up to push back a few loose strands of hair. Vlad stayed still, he didn’t want to scare her with any sudden movement. This was the closest they had been since he removed the collar from her neck. He felt his heart flutter when she moved her hand down to cup his face. His core burned for a moment then settled again when she removed her hand.

“She was a nasty woman, she wanted him all to herself.” Tayonna backed away to put distance between them again. “I don’t remember anything else. I feel like every time I try to think about my life I have nothing. Except him.” Tayonna bit her lip and hung her head.

Vlad shot to his feet and pulled the girl into a tight hug. When they touched their cores vibrated against each other making their owners shiver. Tayonna brought her arms up and wrapped around Vlad in a way only a lover would. Vlad bit down his discomfort from knowing it wasn't for him and just allowed the two souls to interact. He felt left out strangely despite being the owner of the body. Tayonna wasn’t holding him, he told himself, she was feeling Vladan and likely reminiscing on what it once felt like to hold her old lover. He knew that's what Vladan wanted, it was why Vlad was currently holding the girl like his life depended on it. Vlad told himself to be content and to not bring his own emotions into this. Was the situation fucked up, yes, was there anything else he could do, not really.

If he tried to fight Vladan’s impulses then there was no telling what the soul inside him would do next. He didn’t want to imagine it either.

“Go to sleep,” Tayonna whispered into Vlad’s shoulder then placed her hand in the middle of his back. A surge of energy shot through Vlad and right to the middle of his core making it pulse a few times then willow into a slumber. Vlad felt the heat that normally flows through his body come to a chill, making his teeth chatter. Tayonna was the first to pull away but not completely out of the embrace. She looked into Vlad’s eyes and held him there for a moment as if trying to see if Vladan was still around.

“I apologize,” Tayonna shifted on her feet and then settled back into Vlad’s arms.

“It’s alright, I’ll heat back up” Vlad's voice cracked a bit as he settled his core and the unbelievably cold chill coursing through him.

“ Not for that,” Tayonna corrected him.

“Then for what?” Vlad's brow rose.

“You are not held often, you crave it more than he does and he uses that against you. He is smart.” Tayonna finally removed her arms from around Vlad and tugged a bit to break his hold. Vlad awkwardly let her go and that sparked something inside him when he lost her touch. Vlad could have been annoyed knowing that Vladan had triggered something like that inside him. But he was too tired to care, too tired to fight back and honestly just wanted another hug as it was.

“He is a nuisance.” Vlad finally straightened himself and pushed back his hair to put it back into a ponytail. Tayonna reached out a hand and pulled at his forearm to stop him.

“You need to let your hair down. Relax more, as best as you can, that is.” Tayonna nodded then walked out of the room and off somewhere in the house.

Vlad clenched his fist then shook out his hands as he closed his eyes and thought for a moment.

“This is ridiculous,” Vlad grumbled.

“She’s getting comfortable around you.” Vladan's voice came from behind Vlad causing the man to jump a bit and turn around. The spirit was reflected in the mirror on Vlad’s bed with a very tired expression almost as if he was about to pass out. Vlad was silently pleased to know Tayonna’s powers finally zapped the other into calming down and being out of the way.

“I wouldn’t say that when you don’t seem to know when to settle down. Seems like she’s trying to keep you away from her.” Vlad didn’t mean to say the last part, it came out on its own, and he didn’t try to apologize for saying it. Vladan didn’t seem to take offence mostly due to being tired (or not hearing it). Vladan did however manage to bring his face up to stare Vlad deep to his core and it made the phantom stiffen.

“Some of this isn’t me,” Vladan let out a yawn and blinked his eyes a few times. His head lulled to the side and he caught it in his hand. “You have strong emotions buried inside you. They trigger me just as much as they trigger you. You’re lonely.” With that, Vladan vanished and Vlad knew he was utterly alone in the bedroom once again.

Vlad knew he had some emotions buried deep that he chose not to deal with. It was better that way, especially with his newfound path towards not being the villain in everyone’s story. They were emotions that kept him the way he was for years and only recently was he able to shift his focus. His loneliness wasn't completely cured. Where he was able to make it with having his own Frankenstein family he still longed for someone to share it with. He wanted a partner and Vlad wasn’t sure what the hell Vladan was getting at when he said Tayonna could help. Tayonna was Vladan’s ghostly lover who just a few weeks ago was on a rampage and is now being civil. Vlad liked them crazy but not that crazy.

~~~

Tayonna was not okay with going back into the Ghost Zone. The sheer thought of going back made her think that at any moment she might be sucked back into the hidden world she was kept in and imprisoned. She had managed to escape and find Vlad by following his trail of ectoplasm that fell from his wound. She had lost the trail halfway through and saw random ghosts entering and exiting out of a portal and chose to follow it blindly. Lucky for her it was the right way to go, but now she wasn’t too sure she could handle stepping back into the green void she knew had no ending or beginning.

“Tayonna, come along.” Vlad’s black rings crossed over his body turning him into Plasmius. The woman forgot he could change his appearance just like her. Vlad had been human for so long that she flinched a bit when he turned around to look back at her. Vlad looked around to see what made her jump then laughed.

“You copy my powers and forget where you got them from?” He teased and Tayonna huffed and rolled her eyes.

“Come now, it’s only 10 minutes from here and I much rather settle in before mid-afternoon.” Vlad walked over to the computer that was connected to his ghost portal and typed in something that made the machine come to life and the doors slowly open. A mist of fog rolled in as the bitter chill of the Ghost Zone filled the room and then the harsh glow of neon green. The machine’s main clock above the portal began a countdown of thirty seconds. Vlad wasted no time in flying into the portal but when he felt a pull on his core alerting him of Tayonna he turned to look over his shoulder.

She stood on the edge of the portal looking down into the Ghost Zone and then shaking her head and stepping back. Vlad tsked and knew that his portal would close in just a few seconds if she didn’t hurry up. He quickly rushed back, took the girl's hand and pulled her into his body as he floated back up just as the door was closing.

“Forgot how to fly already?” Vlad teased her again, hoping that whatever was making her nervous would subside. Tayonna said nothing as her black rings formed around her waist and transformed her into her ghost form. She pulled away from him but held onto his hand as they floated in place for a bit.

“I don’t like it here, it feels like a prison.” Tayonna squeezed Vlad’s hand and he could tell that she needed the comfort right now. He was a gentleman before anything else and he firmly made sure she knew he wasn’t going to let her go.

“Well, actually the prison is that way. The Ghost Zone, within limitations, is a wonderland of free will.” With that Vlad pulled her along so they could start their travels and Tayonna kept close. A feeling told her that something lurked around them and as much as she thought she could defend herself if need be, Vlad would certainly be of great help. Vlad could sense it too, not from his core but in general, something was watching them and he didn’t have the time to stop and figure it out.

“He was never here.” Tayonna broke the silence after a while of flying and that caught Vlad’s curiosity.

“The Ghost Zone?” He responded. How in the world would someone dead not be in the Ghost Zone? Of course, Vlad had heard of some ghost crossing over but that was only to those that had nothing to be restless over. All the ghosts here had something they refused to let go over. Love, revenge, anger, hell even the children's pride of innocence. All the ghosts that could be accounted for in the zone were people who had something that didn’t allow them to move on. From what Vlad understood from both ghosts that now haunted him, they should have been stuck in here for years.

“I never felt him lingering around. Even when I left the water and found you I could never feel him here.” Tayonna said.

“Wasn’t he just mist?” Vlad asked, he was sure that Vladan’s embodiment of the red floating mist would be enough to trigger a ghost's senses. Then again he never sensed him, despite being in his body he could never tell when Vladan was around, only Tayonna.

“That’s not his ghost,” Tayonna pulled closer to Vlad when they flew past another ghost who paid them no mind. “He has no physical form, that's why he is nothing but air. He is nothing but an imprint.” Tayonna sounded hurt to say that.

‘She took my body’ Vladan spoke in Vlad’s mind. He sounded very drowsy as if he was still fighting the sleep that Tayonna put him in.

‘Who’ Vlad thought back.

‘The witch’ Vladan went silent again and Vlad felt an overbearing feeling of dread tickle his core. Tayonna felt it too and huffed, shaking her head as if she was annoyed by it. Vlad gave her a look and Tayonna silently acknowledged it.

“He feels dread.” Tayonna knew it was pointless to get worked up but the unknown anger she had against Vladan was still there. Even if she couldn’t remember why she was upset with him, that didn’t stop her from expressing it. Vlad's core rocked back and forth between the two emotions and he stopped flying and let go of Tayonna's hand.

“Stop it, both of you, this is still my body and still my mind at times. I would like not to have to feel his emotions and yours reacting at a constant back and forth. It’s draining me.” Vlad felt the both of them become remorseful and he knew it was best to just forgive them so he could get to where he was going. Tayonna didn’t try to take his hand and flew a few paces behind him. Their trip was over when they made it to a giant castle-like door and Vlad tapped on his wrist to unlock it.

He landed and then held out his hand for Tayonna to take, once they were both inside the new house Tayonna looked around amazed at the change of scenery.

“You live in a castle?” Tayonna walked over to study the old bricks along the dungeon-like wall. Despite being turned into a lab for Vlad's ghostly needs he kept the castle like decor. The walls were the old bricks from when the manor was first built, thick pillars lined along the structure that kept the foundation of the house. Vlad even decorated with a few old nick nacks around on the shelves and an old suit of armour near the portal door. It may have been the Dairy King's home once but that didn’t mean he couldn’t fashionably love dairy.

“It’s a bit small for a castle but nonetheless it was built for a sort of king,” Vlad smirked. Tayonna looked around more and then came back to stand beside Vlad with her hands behind her back.

“What are your rules?” Vlad was confused then remembered that while they were at his other home he made clear his do's and don’ts. He thought for a moment then shrugged.

“We are far from the city and my neighbours are a mile away. You are free to do as you please within reason. As we know when you stray too far you get hurt so let's try to avoid that. You are free to do as long as you are in my company.” Tayonna's eyes lit up with excitement and she smiled. The flutter of happiness Vlad felt made him smile as well and he felt his heart skip. Tayonna's smile was indeed something he had never seen before and he hoped to see it again now that she didn’t have boundaries. It was his main reason for buying the manor for himself years ago. It gave him the ability to do his ghostly needs.

His Minnesota house was too close to other people. Anyone could look through his back windows and see him or Dani using their powers no matter how hard he tried to block them out. Hell, at one point Mrs Welmsworth began peeping into his garden when he planted new flowerbeds and almost caught him using his powers in the kitchen. When he came back to Wisconsin he really did let loose and allow his ghostly behaviors to get the best of him. Since he worked from home no one could bother him when he just wanted to be blue. Or maybe his eyes were being funky and were stuck red for a day, or his fangs wouldn’t retract, or simply he just wanted to be Plasmius. At times he was sure Plasmius was his own person just as much as he was an ego.

“Would you like a tour?” Vlad gestured around them and Tayonna shook her head no before turning back into her human form and floating up through the floor. Vlad nodded and went about calling for the ghost maids to make sure they had brought over his stuff. When he left the basement, he was right next to the kitchen and heard the sound of pots and pans moving around. He checked his watch and saw that it was only 3 pm, a bit too early for anyone to be making dinner, let alone be in the kitchen when it was just him and Tayonna there. He strongly hoped it wasn’t the Dairy King, said ghost had a bad habit of forgetting he wasn’t the owner anymore and there wouldn’t be random things of dairy products lying around.

Vlad peeked into the kitchen and watched as Tayonna swirled her hands around flicking open cabinets and drawers and pulling out cooking utensils. Some he didn’t even know he had stored away since he didn’t do much cooking when he was here.

Tayonna felt at home in the large kitchen, there was space for her to float off the ground and quickly move around to snoop through Vlad’s things. The reason she had even started in the kitchen was when she saw the old style stove that looked like it hadn’t been used in years, it brought her back to her years being alive. She didn’t need to eat but the call to be crafty pulled her in and she began her attack on wanting to make something. Vlad was impressed with how natural she seemed in the kitchen.

“Sugar, flour, butter, and if there are berries, bring them here,” Tayonna said, clapping her hands and watching the room come to life as the fridge opened and the butter flew out, the cabinets opened and flour and sugar floated towards her. She pointed to the large island next to her and the items gently placed themselves down. When berries did not appear Tayonna looked around then saw a lonely plant pot tucked behind a few books. She snapped her fingers for the pot to move and once it was in her hands she placed her hands in the dirt and mumbled a few words then watched as a small berry bush sprouted.

Vlad was more than impressed, she could conjure things by simply asking for them aloud, he wished he had that ability, maybe he could ask her how she did it or even better yet, learn to copy her ability to copy others. He wouldn’t mind being lazy and calling for something to come flying towards him. Then again that’s what the ghost maids were for. Vlad leaned against the kitchen archway and watched on as Tayonna set to work making dough with her powers adding in the berries before turning around to turn on the stove.

“Open the window and bring me wood.” Tayonna commanded and the window towards the patio door opened and the snapping of tree branches caught Vlad’s ear. When they floated into the kitchen Tayonna pointed to the small door under the stovetop and it opened for the wood to rest inside. She then stuck out a finger and shot a blast of lighting to start the fire. Vlad knew it would take a while for the stove to heat up but the girl didn’t care and placed her hand on the iron rack in the main part of the stove to heat it. Within a few minutes, Tayonna was starting up something else and the kitchen was once again back to life.

Vlad noticed when Tayonna stopped and became interested in the sound system near the end of the counter. She was like a baby animal picking and poking at the item. He would have to teach her eventually simple technology so she wouldn’t break anything.

Tayonna finally poked enough that she hit the on button and rock music began to blare out the speakers. She jumped back out of fear and gasped, the music seemed like it was coming from all directions and that was terrifying, she covered her ears and stood back. Vlad quickly ran over and turned it off and finally broke the laughter he was holding in. Tayonna's brows knotted and she pointed towards the sound system in disgust.

“It’s a sound system, like a radio, or a music box,” Vlad said, still trying to choke back a chuckle.

“That is not a music box, that is a bunch of noise clashing together.” Tayonna frowned and shook her head.

“That my dear is AC/DC, which may I say is not just a bunch of noise but a rock classic.” Vlad crossed his arms over his chest and leaned on one leg. “And may I ask what you are doing in the kitchen?” He swirled a finger around gesturing to the pots and pans and food lying around.

“You said I could do as I please.” Tayonna retorted.

“And you can, but I’m still the owner of this house and I can still ask you what you are doing.” Vlad smirked and that seemed to ease Tayonna.

“I’m making something-”

“Bunt Berry Cake, you know how much I love it.” Vlad and Tayonna stared at each other as the awkwardness between them grew. Vlad mentally told Vladan to shut the hell up, then coughed apologizing, Tayonna nodded her head and cleaned her hands off on her dress.

“I’m sure you’ll like it just as much as he does.” Tayonna laughed and Vlad’s expression softened at the gentle sound of her voice.

“I hope so or I’m going to be very upset.” Vlad said, slightly flirtatiously.

“I’m rather skilful with cooking so I promise you’ll like it, Sir.” Tayonna smiled.

And there it was again, Sir , Vlad’s weakness that made his lip ends twitch into a smile.

“Then I can’t wait,” Vlad winked at Tayonna which made the girl blush unbeknownst to him as he walked away and out of the kitchen. Around the corner, Vlad was mentally kicking himself and blaming Vladan for his sudden flirty behaviour.

It truly was going to be a long summer.

#📖ghost stories👻#danny phantom #vlad masters #dp fanfic #my writing #oc x canon

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bitegore · 5 months

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new game + 33 and 100 pls?

33: Every Lie by My Darkest Days

This is a really generic breakup song but I like to sort of deliberately side-interpret things that aren't explicitly ruled against, and I was forced to read a biography that was 80% cheesy spy novel bullshit instead of factual yesterday so it's on the mind and I just watched an interesting g1 episode with Mirage, so all of that comes together to mean that I'd like to interpret shit like

Surrounded by every lie that won't come true Now you wanna take the time, now why would you? Think you're gonna make it right, but how could you? So I can't stay, surrounded by (surrounded by) every lie

through the (to-me) more interesting lens of spy shit.

Jazz is kind of the archetypal Bondian spy, and if you tie yourself into knots (read the lyrics closely while ignoring the tone for point and idea, then flip the pronouns from "I" to "you" and use that for tone) a little bit, you can make the case for this being a Bondian "cool epic gigachad coolguy dude gets the secrets and also finds the hottest girl in the building and has sex with her and she turns out to be an enemy spy who falls in love with him and can't do her job right" type story, and just focus in on that last bit.

Making Soundwave the Bond girl is immediately appealing but also really low-hanging and not that interesting. So I'm leaning toward either Rumble and/or Frenzy or Ravage, suddenly discovering their loyalties are under much more strain than they thought they were. And of course Megatron is Mr Evil Genius or whatever and shit.

From there it's all about writing Jazz and Jazz and not Jazz as Mr James Bond In Metal Now, and playing up the contrast between the actual plot (tv drama goofy shit) and his brain ("am i supposed to be believing this? did you get this idea from a tv drama?") for humor

100: A Little Faster by There For Tomorrow

There is literally nowhere I can go with this that doesn't end at Starscream -> Megatron in some way. I think what I'm thinking is. like. Early IDW, so a break from the new normal from me, I suppose, lol - in the very brief era where Starscream was an apparent fanboy of Megatron's work in the gladiatorial ring.

Starscream and Megatron are distant friends and close coworkers. Megatron is a figurehead already, and Starscream is efficient and effective and they work less as Megatron over Starscream so much as Megatron+Starscream - one team, planning things out. In these days Starscream and Megatron are equals.

There's a sequence of this - five or six scenes, maybe, at most a thousand words - detailing Megatron asking Starscream's advice, them slowly getting to know each other, Starscream being turned to before Megatron as the military voice in the room alongside Soundwave. Power clustering where Starscream believes he deserves it, around his fingers.

Then we skip ahead - to the early-mid war period, before Cybertron is uninhabitable but reaching a point for certain. This one is short - Starscream looking out across Cybertron's melting skyline, over the heads of a bunch of other commanders in a meeting, as everyone clamors for Megatron's opinion on some tactic and no one asks him. He's not the only mission commander any more, and he's not the only military mind. He's not irreplaceable, and he's finding that out as he's being replaced.

Then toward later, near the beginning of what happens on Earth with the whole serious-assassination-attempt deal.

Only now do we come to the part that makes this song relevant:

I'm sure it tasted oh so sweet But it was never good enough for me I bit the tongue behind my teeth ... You said you'd always keep your word Show me what you're after I thought you promised me the world Tell me what you're after Go on and take it way too far Cause here we are, waiting once again Show me what you're after Just a little faster, now

See what I mean?

Starscream takes a step to go get what he's been waiting for. Faster didn't come fast enough. Basically an Infiltration retelling from Starscream's point of view, and he is PISSED.

#red replies #korblez #spotify wrapped outline game

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lepoppeta · 1 year

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REVIEWING MAINLINE POKEMON GAMES (Gen3 - Gen9)

I'm bored - let's review my favourite game franchise! I wrote this in a bit of a whirlwind, so please excuse any typos or odd wording! If I find anything I will fix it as time goes on.

I will not be including Legends Arcues or Let's Go! in this line-up.

WARNING: I rag on Gen4 (DPP and HGSS) a fair amount in this review. If you have a lot of love and nostalgia for Gen4, that's great! I'm not attacking you personally! Please don't spend your time writing angry paragraphs in the comments about why I'm wrong! You will not change my mind!

#1. BLACK / WHITE - Unova is probably my favourite region (which hurts to say; I'm a Hoenn girl, born and bred). It has so many of my favourite Pokemon in its 'dex (Chandelure, Krookodile, Volcarona, need I go on?); it has one of my favourite rivals (Bianca); it presents an interesting, open-ended moral dilemma within the Pokemon universe that doesn't really have a good answer; it has great music; it has a ton of memorable characters.

Also - unlimited TMs? Uhh... yes please! Gen5 introduced something that took some of the hoarding anxiety out of Pokemon and I will forever sing its praises for that.

Weird side note, but I loved the UI for BW; that weird monochrome high-tech display with the futuristic computer-like noises whenever you pressed a button or touched the screen really 'scratched my brain good', y'know?

#2. X / Y - If Unova is my favourite region, then Gen6 has to be my favourite generation from a mechanical perspective. I love both Pokemon Amie and the Super Training functions, both for their game-breaking, anime-esque battle mechanics and also because I was able to understand and actually access competitive battling for the first time due to the continuation of Gen5's unlimited TM system and the Super Training App's progress bar.

Mega Evolution will always be my favourite battle mechanic - the idea was so cool when it was first announced and I had a ton of fun with it while playing for the first time. It's so badass. And you know what? I really don't mind the change to the EXP Share. I got used to it very quickly and even when I had it turned out I still found the game to be a bit difficult in some places.

Also... don't hate me... but I kind of like Lysandre as a villain. I know, I know, many people don't, but I have a soft spot for antagonists whose whole mantra seems to be 'good intentions but they went too far'. Team Flare themselves are kind cringe though, I won't lie.

#3. EMERALD - I am so, so thankful Emerald was my first ever Pokemon game. I'm so thankful that I chose Mudkip as my starter; I couldn't have asked for a better partner as I fumbled through the game for the first time at the tender age of 9.

Emerald holds so many dear memories for me. It's soundtrack is, in my humble opinion, the best GameFreak has produced, from the beautiful, waltzing Surf theme to the encroaching terror of Victory Road. Steven was also my very first fictional crush and remains as such (sue me).

I will admit that where Emerald (and Hoenn in general) looses out is that, outside of Steven Stone (and possibly also Norman), none of the boss characters feel particularly memorable. Emerald also simply suffers from the lack of QOL improvements that later generations have. Strangely, I find it much faster to play than any of the Gen4 games.

#4. SWORD / SHIELD - This game used to rank much lower, but I've grown to appreciate it a lot more within the past few months.

I will be honest: I like it less for what it is as a product and more for how creative it's caused me to be when thinking about worldbuilding within the Pokemon universe. The Gym Challenge narrative switch-up was an interesting and refreshing shake-up for the series; the rivals and boss characters were memorable. The Isle of Armor and Crown Tundra DLCs are also great fun.

SWSH introduced the Box Link, which has been the best change the series has made alongside unlimited-use TMs and the Ride Pager in Gen7.

That being said, SWSH also half-removes the unlimited TM mechanic, which was frustrating. I'm also not a big fan of raid-style fights in any video game - I find them to be very stressful and needlessly hard. Gigantamaxing I also found to be a really weak battle mechanic. SWSH also has the weakest starter set for me. Inteleon is my favourite, of course, but it's the best of a bad lot.

#5. OMEGARUBY / ALPHASAPPHIRE - In my opinion this is the best remake that GameFreak has done (outside of two glaring issues). The characters have had a much-needed redesign; dialogue and story beats have been updated; the feel of the original game is still there alongside the QOL improvements from XY and Gen6 as a whole.

The aforementioned 'glaring issues' are as follows: the Battle Frontier is missing, and the fact that the games are based off of Ruby and Sapphire and not Emerald. And no, that isn't just the nostalgia talking; plenty of other people I've noticed have made similar comments about this game and also BDSP (which we'll get to later)

I wouldn't be so bothered by the Battle Frontier being gone (because the original RS didn't have it either) if GameFreak hadn't decided to put that little sign near the Battle Maison that said "Battle Frontier under construction". It felt like a nasty cop-out and it actually put me off of replaying the game for years, right up until I successfully Nuzlocked it.

#6. SCARLET / VIOLET - I have so many mixed feelings about this game that it pretty much ranks exactly in the middle of all of the games I've played. SV is plagued by its countless bugs and poorly executed open world, but its characters and story shine so brightly that it very nearly balances things out (the battle themes also slap). SV was also the first time where I felt like the main game was long enough and had enough resources to where I could truly experiment with my team; I rotated a selection of monsters out pretty much throughout the whole game, and I really appreciate SV for giving me that freedom.

Outside of the bugs, I also find the online raid battles to be stupidly difficult; I nearly drove myself to tears because of the Samurott raid that I'd worked so hard for and got nothing out of. I'm a very casual player for Pokemon, so it really bugged me that one of the few times I actually tried to do something a bit more competitively inclined of my own accord I was shot down repeatedly by an AI that was basically built to cheat.

This game also proved to me that GameFreak can't do a fully-open world properly, and I'm dreading the possibility of the next mainline game also being open world (and before you say anything - no, PLA is not open-world, it's open-pocket, and I wish that was the route that GameFreak went with because it worked so much better). I heard many people get irritated by SWSH heavily railroading you, but the game's environment was rich and beautiful despite its linearity. SV is big in a way that allows for GameFreak to boast about how big their dick game is and then not do anything with it: towns are separated by endless stretches of bland grass and rock; the towns themselves are lifeless props without any buildings to explore or interesting people to talk to; storefronts are reduced to a menu screen instead of having actual interiors.

Another irritation I have is that the game was marketed in a way that made it out to be that the player could do anything in any order they wanted, which ended up being untrue; Gyms and wild Pokemon don't level scale based on the number of Badges you have and one of the Titans (which, might I add, are just re-flavoured Totem Pokemon) is completely blocked off unless you've obtained the Herba Mystica that allows you to surf first.

Also that sandwich game looks atrocious. It's useful, sure, but... eugh.

#7. BLACK2 / WHITE2 - I've heard many people praise the ever-loving snot out of this game for being 'the best underrated Pokemon game ever made', but just like with HGSS... I'll have to disagree, if only from a personal basis. In my opinion, Black and White didn't need a sequel, and although this game isn't bad, it isn't exactly great.

I found B2W2 to be a regression of its predecessor. It turns a thought-provoking moral dilemma into the same-old 'I will wake this legendary Pokemon and unleash havoc upon the world and its idiots for wronging me'; Ghetsis is just a copy-paste of Cyrus to me. Too many times I found myself being railroaded by annoying extra content (Join Avenue, the Film Studio, etc.).

I also found the game to be a complete and total slog. BW is pretty grind-heavy, don't get me wrong, but it saves the majority of its heavy-handed level curves for the post game, where you don't have to feel as pressured by it.

GameFreak also completely got rid of Route 10, which had my favourite route track on it. That's just a personal gripe, though.

#8. PLATINUM - This was my first ever Nintendo DS game and also the first game I ever watched a walkthrough for on YouTube (shout-out to Marriland - you were a huge part of my childhood), so it holds some room in my heart, and it definitely ranks the highest out of all of the Gen4 games on this list. Unfortunately, like Emerald, it suffers from pre-Gen5 syndrome with a lack of QOL improvements (although it was a massive step up from the mess that was DP), and, like all Gen4 games, it's slow as hell.

I also ranked this game pretty low purely because of petty reasons. See, people talk about 'Gen Wunners' being annoying, but since I've never played Gen1-2 or have befriended people that have (I think I'm a little too young), I've never really had that problem. That being said, I think people who had Gen4 be their introduction to Pokemon are just as if not more annoying. I think it's got something to do with the fact that DP and Platinum had a lot of players that weren't Pokemon fans; I remember having friends in school that owned a copy of one of those three games and they'd never touched a Pokemon game before that and they wouldn't end up buying another game after. Platinum I think deserves the praise, but I'm not sure that the other Gen4 games do.

#9. SUN / MOON - Like SV, I have mixed feelings about the entirety of Gen7, but the negatives tend to outweigh the positives more often than not. The game isn't glitchy, but it's bogged down by numerous cutscenes and its inability to render a battle scene that contains more than one monster per side (something that Gen6 also struggles with). The Super Training app was also removed and the game suffers from having too many Alolan monsters be rare or inaccessible until very late in the game - something it shares with Johto.

The Z-move gimmick also feels like it was done it bad faith, especially after GameFreak started writing mega-evolution descriptions depicting the monsters in question to be in intense pain after XY and ORAS introduced the mechanic as something that could only be achieved by having a close bond between monster and trainer.

However, I do like the interesting take on the Gym system in this generation. The Totem monsters were genuinely challenging to fight, as well as other boss trainers.

#10. RUBY / SAPPHIRE - I don't have much to say about this once since it's just a worse Emerald, but there's still something I find about it to be oddly comforting.

#11. FIRERED / LEAFGREEN - I like Kanto's Pokedex quite a lot, but there's just something about it that I don't find particularly memorable and consider to be a bit of a chore (maybe because I've tried to Nuzlocke it too many times...?) I do appreciate it being a lot more interconnected than any other region listed, allowing more freedom concerning which Gyms to face next.

#12. ULTRASUN / ULTRAMOON - While the Ultra games fixed many issues concerning the accessibility of certain monsters and also introduced the Beach Point system, it also added even more cutscenes and, in my opinion, made the story worse; I loved having Lusamine be this batshit loony villainess, and yet that was recinded in favor of her having good intentions but getting too caught up in her goals to notice her declining behavior. Normally I like this sort of villain, but when we got the deliciously unhinged Lusamine as a first pass... I honestly liked that better. This feels like a cop-out.

This game, much like B2W2, is a total slog to get through. It feels immensly slow - it's the DP of the 3DS games.

#13. BRILLIANTDIAMOND / SHININGPEARL - This game leaves such a sour taste in my mouth. It really feels like GameFreak went: "Here's your Diamond and Pearl remake, are you fucking happy now?". It isn't like ORAS where the characters were revamped and QOL improvements from the rest of Gen8 were implemented; it's more like FRLG where the game is the same and all it received a fresh coat of paint, and even then I felt like FRLG was treated with more love and care than BDSP was.

There were improvements though, such as the ability to outright buy certain TMs from the Department Store and the wonderfully revamped Grand Unerground (I will admit I've had a lot of fun with the wild encounters there), but there's so much of this game that feels like getting spat in the face.

#14. HEARTGOLD / SOULSILVER - The game annoys the shit out of me because so many people seem to love it and I just... can't. Too much wasn't changed for ease of play - the level curve for wild Pokemon is far too low and the level curve from the E4 onwards is far too high. There aren't a lot of Johto Pokemon that are good, although there aren't many Johto Pokemon to begin with. The additions of some Gen4 evolutions helped a little, but some are blocked off until the post game (Honchkrow, Mismagius) and some are straight-up imposible (Magnezone) to acquire, which is very strange to me. Johto in general (and this matches up with BDSP's problem of being a remake but not adding in QOL improvements) is weirdly distributed, with Johto-introduced Pokemon such as Houndoom and Steelix only being available in the post-game, which I feel like defeats their purpose.

While by far the best-looking of the pixelated Pokemon games, it's as cumbersome as the rest of Gen4. And then there's that stupid Voltorb Flip game...

#15. DIAMOND / PEARL - There's not much I can say here, so I'll just sum it up by saying that Platinum is the only version of Sinnoh you really need to worry about. That being said, we wouldn't have Platinum without having DP, so... credit where credit is due?

#pokemon

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nebula-drcams · 8 months

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Damien has a habit of doing a LOT by himself, a lot of planning, be it in general or even for a significant other. He ALWAYS wants to be the one in charge/be the one to handle it. Because of this he gets overwhelmed easily, especially if it’s planning a date. He actually cannot for the life of him go simple unless his partner tells him to keep it simple. He just can’t. He also, if not TOLD he’s doing alright by his significant other, will push even harder for each time to be better than the last until he burns himself out. Why? Because if THEY don’t see it as good enough, that means he has to change something or do it right, this can end very poorly for him because if he’s not careful he could lose his temper eventually and straight up yell ‘WHAT AM I DOING WRONG!?’

Damien had to grow up fast the moment Satan was killed and I will die on this fucking hill. Who else did you think was going to be in charge of Hell when Satan went back to Heaven? Who else other than his SON who is the RIGHTFUL HEIR to the THRONE. And don’t you dare say ‘oh his advisors or other demons’ No. Damien is RIGHTFULLY HEIR and they can NOT overrule him. He could’ve given the throne up, but at that young of an age you know damn well his pride would’ve screamed “No! They don’t deserve it! That throne is YOURS!” and would’ve kept it. He would’ve had to fight through so many demons just to keep his place, to prove his worth, to make sure it wasn’t ripped from him. It also means he had to get more serious, he had to mature faster. He couldn’t get involved in things that angered him { That’s why Damien has Nimue to do it for him, and boy howdy did she give people shit in his place when he didn’t have the energy to do it }.

My brain was reminded to mention Damien’s VC / or the idea I have for his VC and what it might sound like. If you’ve heard of artist Bear Ghost { Check out Necromancin’ Dancin’! }, that’s close to the voice I have for Damien. I do think he can still hit those high pitches he did as a child as well and he absolutely does it for fun. Like if he’s telling a joke/goofing around with his ‘I’M THE PRINCE OF HELL!’ jokes he makes, he’ll use the higher pitch.

He looks back on his younger years and shakes his head because he knows he was a violent and demanding little shit. He wants to grow past that, to be better than what he could’ve been. Sure he still gets a little aggressive but he has more of an “I don’t care about a damn thing” vibe about him and often sits back and observes more than anything.

He only goes to Hell on weekends to do his job, and sometimes he’ll have to vanish for a whole year to put things back in place but the less he has to be there the better. He can’t handle the screams as his ears ring from the tortured screams { Because the demons DO have a job to do, Hell ISN’T a nice place }. The only other time he goes to Hell is if Kenny shows up there after dying { So he can give his friend company in the meantime until he revives }

His pride never goes away, but he keeps ‘neutral’ expressions and responses as he gets older { once he gets tired of the fighting over the throne, so on and so forth } He never really reaches out to many of the kids and only sticks around the Goths for obvious reasons, at some point he just gives up trying to be a hardass and just gives himself a less threatening demeanor by wearing things like hawaiian shirts and green or red tinted shades. But of course, it makes it even scarier when he finally DOES snap because he gives off a vibe where he’s chill and people forget how much of a threat he can actually be. I DO 100% believe that at one point in time Damien HAS threatened to choke Eric Cartman with his own intestines. Just sayin’

For those that don’t know, Damien has a problem with sometimes wording things poorly or saying something he shouldn’t say. It comes with the whole ‘being blunt’ thing, but sometimes he’s a little TOO blunt and will say the first thing that comes to mind He’s uh.. He’s working on it but it’s not easy. Just been a terrible habit of his growing up. So if he ever DOES say something wrong, he’ll begrudgingly accept the fact someone’s mad at him { or if they smack him } and take his lumps so to speak.

#★ ►𝓟𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓗𝓮𝓵𝓵◄ ⌠ Damien Thorn ⌡#★ ► ᴀ ᴍɪʟʟɪᴏɴ ᴅɪꜰꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴛ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ◄ ⌠ Headcanons ⌡

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kamyru · 2 years

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Hellooo!! I read some of your work—mostly Romance MD andd—I saw requests were open and you also wanted some angst. An angst scenario I had in mind is a little different, so what if MC (You) were to be childhood friends with Kasumi and ofc MC (You) has always liked Kasumi. You both studied Med but MC (You) stayed a little bit more overseas, then she comes back but Kasumi is already dating MC (in game). Bonus if Kyogoku actually liked MC (You). Sorry if it sounds so complicated ><|||

Wow! I adore this ask. I know that I have taken my time answering it. But, Anon, you can't imagine how much I do like this idea. You are a genius. I hope that you'll like my fic at least half as much as I like your idea. Enjoy! ❤️

P.S. I am not a fan of using 2nd person. Instead, I'll use MC for the (You) one and the name Emiko for the in game MC. If you wonder why Emiko, that's because it's close in sound to the pronunciation of MC.

Loving the right person (Mainly Sentaro Kyogoku x MC, Toshiki Kasumi x another MC) (Scenario)

Summary: Sentaro Kyogoku had no idea how close to him one of the surgeons he looked up to could get. He also had no idea how it felt to have your heart beat faster due to warm feelings. But he knew that he had enough patience to discover it.

Word counting: 2493

Dr. Kyogoku looked attentively at the screen in front of him. He couldn't believe his luck when the doctor he looked up to answered his email and sent him the entire recording of the operation she had done a few weeks ago. She had to cut it into a few shorter videos because the original one had more than five hours. So, for the entire night, he had been watching it.

When Dr. Kyogoku finally emerged from the on-call room with black bags under his eyes and a big smile, he felt the urge to go right back, wash his face and give himself a few slaps. It couldn't be real, could it? In front of him was the girl he found annoying after three years of knowing her, talking with the Goddess of Pediatric Surgery and Kindness that sent him the videos. He didn't want to slap himself because it looked like a hallucination of a sleep-deprived brain, but because he found himself attributing the title of a Goddess to someone.

Sentaro always knew that Dr. MC was beautiful. However, he wasn't the type to want to interact with her only because of this. Firstly, he was Dr. Kyogoku, and she was Dr. MC. That was why he followed her professional pages on social media sites and didn't even care to find her accounts. And that was why he didn't know beforehand that she was breathtaking.

"So you are just like Dr. Kyogoku? A childhood friend of our lovely Dr. Kasumi?" the cheerful voice of the EICU only girl asked.

That was when MC's eyes met Sentaro's for the first time. The woman smiled at the young surgeon. The experience she had reflected in the creases at the corner of her eyes. MC was four years younger than Dr. Kasumi and three-year Dr. Kyogoku's senior. She was one of the few doctors Sentaro looked up to. He also had a love-hate relationship with her experience, hating how much she had accomplished and comparing himself with her while being thankful that someone so good was in the same field as him.

"I am afraid I have known Dr. Kasumi for longer than Dr. Kyogoku is living," MC answered, deepening her smile.

"He's not as young as he looks," the EICU's headache continued.

MC's eye-catching smile deformed into an awkward one. She wanted to escape this as soon as possible and meet the man she was searching for. MC had no idea in five seconds, a hand on her back would transfer the disbelief from her to the other two in the room.

"I missed you," Toshiki's words echoed in MC's ears. She turned toward him and was a step away from hugging her childhood friend. Yet, his words made her freeze. "I see that you already met my girlfriend. I wanted to tell you about Emiko, but I thought it would be better for you to meet in person. She's not someone you can describe only in words."

No, it wasn't the Toshiki Kasumi MC had known for the longest part of her life. She had never heard him talking about anyone else besides his dead best friend like that. Girlfriend? Toshiki's girlfriend didn't sound right. When someone was shipping her with him, he cringed and tried to escape the teasing. How could this man have a girlfriend? Why her? What did she have in her that made her better than MC?

"It's a pleasure to meet you. I am sure you are a fantastic person to make Toshiki talk so dearly of you."

Sentaro couldn't see the crease at the corner of MC's eyes, even if she smiled.

The next time the young pediatric surgeon had the luck to see MC's genuine smile, he wanted it not to happen. It was after her welcoming party. Of course, being a good childhood friend and boss, Kasumi had to introduce her to everyone else. So, they were at Pen's talking and reminiscing. The last ones to stay were MC, Kasumi, Emiko, and Sentaro. Kasumi and MC were the talkers. Emiko was there to spy on her boyfriend's past. And Sentaro wanted to catch some exclusive information from a senior as talented as her. Suddenly, Dr. Kyogoku found himself alone with Dr. MC. For the first time in his life, he was so caught up in something that he didn't feel his friend's absence.

MC smiled at the empty glass of sake in front of her. Barely visible tears fell down her cheeks like clear crystals. The crescent moons of her eyes became the key to the rivers that wanted to escape her heart. Sentaro saw for the first time how MC's perfectly steady hands were shaking a little. Only a little, because even in a state like this, when her entire world suffered from earthquakes, she remained a surgeon. But it wasn't the only first for Sentaro. He could also feel how the Dr. in front of his and MC's surnames disappeared. She wasn't Dr. MC that he knew from the surgeries and medical conferences. She was MC, Kasumi's childhood friend, who just saw the person she had been loving for so many years, smiling happily at another woman.

"She is better than it can look," the junior surgeon said. "Emiko acts like she doesn't have the luck of owning more than three brain cells. But she is very motivated, hard-working, honest, and true to herself. Kasumi loves her, and I think they make one strange yet perfect couple."

Suddenly, the glass in MC's hands hit the counter. Dr. Kyogoku knew that she calculated her force not to break it to pieces in her hands because as a surgeon, she had to save them. The woman leaned dangerously on the back. She had a good enough equilibrium for a drunk person. The sad smile on her face disappeared.

"Are you, maybe, in love with her too?"

Sentaro felt offended by the words that left his senior's lips. How could she think of such blasphemy?

"No, thank God! But it will hurt you if you keep hoping."

"Sometimes hope is like a bad habit – it's hard to lose it after holding into it for decades."

MC put a bill on the counter and excused herself. Sentaro looked at her going away.

"When does the hope become a bad habit?" he murmured before finishing his alcohol.

For weeks, Dr. Kyogoku was in a dilemma. On the one hand, he was happy that MC became a full-time doctor at the hospital and that he could have such a wonderful surgeon near him. On the other hand, he didn't like how she was hunting for Emiko's mistakes. Sentaro had already told MC that Kasumi's girlfriend was better than it looked. Why did she continue to hurt herself and her relationship with her childhood friend?

When an accident occurred, MC chose to check Emiko's patient instead of concentrating on someone else, so Dr. Kyogoku's patience snapped.

"Are you dumb? Can't you see how many people are waiting for your help? Can't you see nurses nodding in admiration at Emiko's work? Just leave if you can't even prioritize your feelings!"

Dr. Kyogoku's yell earned everyone's attention for a split second. It was also enough to wake up the senior in front of him. MC ran towards the kid that arrived at the hospital and started giving orders.

After dealing with every patient, Dr. Kyogoku sheepishly went to his senior. Moving his weight from one leg to another, he coughed to catch MC's attention.

"I am sorry for yelling at you earlier this day."

"But it worked," MC said in a cold voice.

A shiver ran down Sentaro's spine. It was for the first time from the moment he had found out about MC that he heard her talking like this. Was she mad?

"Why are you sorry?" MC continued. Sentaro felt like he was again five years old and scolded by his parents. "In the operation theater, there's no senior or junior. In there, you are firstly a doctor and secondly a human. So, don't be sorry."

MC left her seat and bowed in front of Dr. Kyogoku. The man had to look the other way to hide the blood that rushed in his cheeks. The person he admired for so long was thankful to him. He was recognized, which meant that Dr. Kyogoku did a good job. When he had enough courage to look back at MC, he found another kind of smile: a youthful and teasing one. MC's hand touched his hair, ruffling it a little. She had to stand on tiptoes to reach him. Having her face so close to him made his heart rush. For a split second, he could admire the rose of her fluffy cheeks, the crescent of her eyes, the white of her teeth.

"Let's go for a coffee once. What do you think?"

His words stopped MC from going down. She froze with her hand in his locks. But Sentaro didn't have enough courage to look at her again.

"You can pay for it as a thank you for helping you today," Sentaro tried to get out of the mess he had created.

Her laugh. For a while, Dr. Kyogoku thought that the thing that attracted him to Dr. MC was her skills. And he was right till he heard her laugh. She laughed in the same rhythm his heart was beating, which made it beat faster and lose the synchronization. MC was smart, beautiful, and so close to him. She wasn't the Goddess he had thought at first. She had feelings, and emotions, and her experience didn't save her from making mistakes. Dr. MC was just like Dr. Kyogoku - a human.

"Okay! Choose the most expensive cafe you know. I will pay for everything," were the words she said before leaving. These words made Sentaro.exe stop working. Yet, it soon started loading only to finish the process in front of MC, in the cafe he had chosen carefully.

Dr. Kyogoku hated and loved Emiko for being the main subject he talked about with his senior. But soon, he found out that it was only an opener. After half an hour of praising Kasumi's girlfriend, both pediatric surgeons discovered new subjects they had in common.

"I pay this time. You will pay the next one," Sentaro said, with his card in hand.

MC smiled at first, then the sudden realization hit her, and she stopped moving. She didn't say anything. Instead, she messed Sentaro's hair. A grunt escaped the man's lips. But he didn't do anything to escape MC's soft touch.

A teasing feeling of jealousy played with the color of his cheeks when Dr. Kyogoku saw Dr. MC messing Emiko's hair the next day. They both returned after an operation made by Emiko in which MC insisted to partake.

"If you continue like this, you'll be the best cardiac surgeon I have ever met," MC said while looking at Toshiki. The older doctor stuck out his tongue. It was for the first time Sentaro saw his friend acting so childish. But seeing him like this made his chest warm.

Emiko became red. She didn't know where to look and what to say. To accept the recognition from such an influential senior or to defend her boyfriend.

"I know you are right," Kasumi finally spoke.

Emiko was caught between a stone and a hard place and became as red as a tomato. But MC's words did more than she was aware. They were the key to Emiko's heart. She felt accepted by her boyfriend's childhood friend. Suddenly, she felt the urge to become as close as possible to MC. The baby jealousy in her heart disappeared. Toshiki had good taste in humans, so meeting his friends was always interesting.

This feeling was what made Emiko run to MC firstly the next day after Toshiki had asked her to marry him. Her words didn't make sense, yet the ring on her left finger told MC all she needed to know. A crease appeared at the corner of her eyes. To make the young doctor shut up and congratulate her, she pulled her into a tight hug. It was enough to hurt Emiko, but the girl was too deep into her world to feel anything earthly. Moreover, it was just a small part of the pain MC had endured. For the last time, MC decided to hurt someone to give her heart the freedom it needed.

After Emiko left to talk the EICU's doctors' ears off, another silhouette appeared out of the dark.

"I can be a better boyfriend than him," Sentaro suddenly found himself saying while gripping MC's sleeve.

MC took a deep breath and turned to face her junior. Her shaking hand found its rest against Sentaro's chest pocket. She would have felt the man's heartbeat if her own hadn't been that loud. Slowly, MC's eyes traveled up to meet Sentaro's. The younger doctor stepped forward, and the older one remained in her place. That made her understand that Dr. Kyogoku's heart was beating faster than hers.

"I bet you can," MC said in the most angelic voice that deafened Sentaro enough not to hear how her voice shook. He leaned a little closer, then closer and closer. MC's touch on his chest became a grip. The moment his lips found their place on MC's forehead, her hand lost its force and fell on the side of her body.

For a while, Sentaro remained glued to MC. He didn't want this sign of love and acceptance to end. But he also didn't want to see MC be the one to finish it. So, he reluctantly put some space between them and turned his back. He had so many things to tell her, to show her. But he wasn't in a rush. MC had waited for so long to find her love. Sentaro could wait for a little bit, couldn't he? She bet he could.

Watching Sentaro leave, MC squeezed her hand, opened it, and looked at her palm. She could feel the blood rushing in her cheeks the same way it returned to her fingers. The spot Sentaro had kissed was burning. Only after the man had disappeared did MC understand that her forehead wasn't the only one to burn. A faint fire was born in her chest. She let it put a shy smile on her face, not a big one, not to scare it away.

Emiko was lucky, but MC was too. What if, just what if, they both could be happy? What if Emiko wasn't as bad as MC thought? Suddenly, MC felt the urge to find Emiko and listen to her rumbles carefully, to let her show her love for that imaginary man that wasn't even half as good as the EICU men.

"Let's go out to celebrate your engagement. What do you think?" Sent.

#romance md: always on call #romance md #toshiki kasumi #sentaro kyogoku #voltage inc #asks

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puckinginsane · 2 years

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Just a little one shot

Is he the one who got away or the one who left? Is there a difference? What we had was great, when he wanted it to be. He was a little moody and a lot stubborn. Ok, most would say he's a lot moody too. I would have spent the rest of my life with him if he wasn't so scared of finality. It hurt. It hurt like nothing hurt before in my life. It kinda came out of nowhere, but kinda didn't. I noticed him being more distant, but I chalked it up to just him being in one of his moods. He'd want to be alone from time to time and that didn't mean he didn't want me to be around, it just meant he needed his space. I respected that. He was honest with me about that when we first started dating. I admired the fact that he didn't always need me around. I've been with needy people before and I hated it. This was different, though, I'd soon come to find out. He was pushing me away not because he needed his space, it was because he didn't want to fall for me any more than he already did. I wanted more and he wanted to stay the same. I wouldn't have pushed if I knew.

He doesn't go out much, but when he does he goes to the same places. He's a creature of habit and has his comfort zones and rarely goes out of his comfort zone. Avoiding him has been easy because of this. It's not because I've been dwelling on our relationship, I really haven't, but whenever I see him or his name comes up I feel my heart breaking all over again. It's been hard to move on in the sense that I haven't been able to allow myself to get that close to someone again. I can't handle putting my time and effort and emotions and love into someone else, only to get tossed aside. I've been successful at avoiding running into him until today. Right now. This moment.

My heart beats faster as soon as I see him. I can't believe that he's here. So many questions flood through my brain. Why is he here? Is he here with a girl? Does he miss me? Does he ever think about me? Has he seen me yet? Why can't I just turn around and walk away instead of staring at him? Why does he have to look so fucking good? Why can't I just let him go?

Even after a year apart he still makes my heart skip a beat. I want to talk to him, but I know that's a bad idea. Any progress of getting over him would fly right out the window. He looks happy, smiling and laughing with his friend Justin. Of course he's here with Justin. I need to turn around and leave so I can continue to move on from him. My body won't let me, though. He still has that magnetic pull on me. It's like I'm hypnotized, I can't turn away. I can't even look away. He used to be my happy place, my safe place, my home.

I breathe the most dramatic sigh when we make eye contact. Fuck. Neither of us look away. Double fuck. He starts to walk towards me. Triple fuck. I take a deep breath. I can handle this. It's gonna be fine. I'm gonna be fine. He's just Jamie. That's a lie. There's no such thing as just Jamie. He was my everything and everything doesn't mean nothing so quickly. Not for me, anyway.

As he walks towards me I can hear him telling me "it's over" in my head. Why does it feel as if he's walking in slow motion? He's only on the other side of the room, but it feels like he's 50 miles away. "It's too much." Each reminder of our last conversation is a dagger in my heart. "I can't do this anymore." I try to shake away the memories but I only hear his voice louder. "This isn't what I want." I stood there with my world crumbling around me, trying to find the right words to say to make him stay and ultimately not being able to say much of anything at all. "I have to focus on my career." Maybe I can't do this. Maybe I am not ready to talk to him. It's too late, though, he's standing right in front of me now. "Goodbye."

"Hi." His voice is just as soft as I remember it. He looks happy to see me, I think, maybe that's just what I'm hoping for. There was a time that I knew him better than I knew myself, now I don't know what to believe anymore.

"Hey." I can't believe I am able to speak. I have to take another deep breath to keep my emotions in check. I don't want him to see that he still can affect me this way, even after all this time apart.

"How are you?" He has his hands in his pockets, fidgeting. I don't even have to look to know he's fidgeting.

"Good." That's not a lie. Things are going pretty well in my life, other than not being able to trust myself to fall in love again. He doesn't need to know that. Maybe he does. I don't know. This isn't the time or place to have that conversation, though. "You?"

"The same as always." He looks down at the floor. "It's nice to see you."

I manage to grit out a tight lipped "you too." I'm not sure I mean it.

"You don't have to lie."

"I'm not." I might be.

"Squish, I know you."

I never was good at hiding my emotions from him. He could always read them all over my face. Hearing the nickname he gave me come out of his mouth again actually stings. It once was endearing, affectionate, special.

"Don't…"

"Sorry."

"It's fine. Just don't call me that. I can't…" handle it, finish this sentence, move on with my fucking life.

"Yeah. I know. I'm sorry. Old habits."

"I should get going."

I start to turn but he reaches out for me and stops me. "No." I look back at him, stunned. He pulls away, realizing that maybe he overstepped a boundary. I'm not his to touch anymore. "I mean, not yet. Please?"

"Jamie, I really can't do this."

"Are you happy?"

I take a beat to think. Am I? I think so. "Most of the time." Just not when it comes to him, or love in general.

"I'm not."

I shake my head. "Please don't do this to me."

"You always wanted me to be honest. I'm being honest. I fucked up."

"And now you have to live with it. Once I'm out of your sight you won't feel that way anymore."

"That's not true. I miss you every day. I kick myself every day for what I did."

"That was you being honest. You don't want me. You're only saying these things because I'm right here in front of you."

He takes his phone out of his pocket. "That's not true. Read my texts with Courts, with Jord. I tell them all of the time." He sticks the phone in my hand, forcing me to hold it. "Read them."

I roll my eyes. "I'm not gonna read them." None of this matters. Too much time has passed. I really need to get out of here.

I go to hand him his phone, but he holds his hands up. "I'm not taking it back."

"Don't be a child."

"I need you to know I'm serious."

"Maybe if you would have said them to me and not them…"

"Would you have believed me?"

I sigh. He's so fucking frustrating. "I don't know." I can't let myself get wrapped up in the hope that we can be together again. I gave up on that hope a long time ago.

"Can we get together and talk?"

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? You breaking my heart again, you fucking asshole.”

“I’m sorry. That was dumb.”

“Yeah. It was. I gotta get going. Thank you so much for coming over here and opening up old wounds. It’s been really great.” I’m sure at this point there is steam coming out of my ears. I am livid. My heart feels like it’s going to beat out of my chest. How dare he?

“I love you.”

“Fuck. You.” It’s a little louder than I wanted it to be. We’re in public. A few people turn their heads to see what’s going on. My face feels like it’s on fire. Before I can escape he grabs my face and kisses me and doesn’t pull away until I feel just how much he means what he’s saying. I hate that I’ve missed the feeling of his lips on mine. I slap him as soon as he pulls away. “I hate you.”

He. Smiles. Which turns me into mush. I could never resist that ear to ear smile that would only come out for me. I can’t help smiling back. I am incredibly mad at myself. It shouldn’t be that easy. I’m mad at him. He’s the worst. I sigh as I look into his eyes, which are pleading with me to tell him I love him back. I can’t. Not yet. He still really hurt me all because he was scared of his feelings. He says it again. “I love you, Squish.”

I shake my head at myself. I can feel my defenses crumbling. I am weak. He makes me weak. “Jerk.”

“Can we get together and talk?”

“Fine.”

#puckingwrites #jamie benn #fan fiction #one shot #hockey fan fiction #nhl fan fiction #jamie benn fan fiction

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earlosharpauthor · 9 months

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A Recovering Existentialist (07/06/23)

As a child, I struggled with the fear that I would die in my sleep. I would intentionally keep myself awake, feeling every heartbeat ricochet off my ribs and resonate through the rest of my body. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. The more I thought about it, the faster it got, until it exploded into a cacophony of unintelligible thoughts and feelings. I couldn’t control it. In fact, at one point I was hospitalized for it. Anxiety. At least, that’s what the papers always said.

As I grew older the fear of dying in my sleep slowly subsided. I realized that hey, if I can make it 10 times out of the 10 I remembered, I was probably fine. But that doesn’t mean my thoughts never drifted. “What exactly am I? What’s my place in the grand scheme of things? Why do I exist?”

These types of thoughts are hard to shake. The proposition of it all really digs its heels into your psyche, questioning the very brain itself as to what its purpose truly is. They’re hard questions to provide answers for. It’s not like some great being is going to reach its giant hand down to you and guide you towards true enlightenment. For some, maybe, but for me, religion or the thought of a higher power never really comforted me. So, I was left to fend for myself, searching amongst a sea of memories for some kind of answer.

Then, from a point not shy of as far back as I can remember, therapy started.

According to my mother I was 7 when I started, but any recollection of that is vague at best. I remember the face of a woman in a neatly-kept office, with lots of fun educational toys and craft supplies. She and I never used them, but I remember seeing them there. I remember looking into her eyes every once in a while, nothing more than a fleeting glance. Eye contact. That was something else I struggled with.

The term “Anxiety” has always been thrown around a lot within my medical files. While I’ve never seen my official diagnostic sheet, I can only imagine “GENERALIZED ANXIETY DISORDER” is printed in large bold letters somewhere on the list. But, what exactly does that mean? What exactly am I generally anxious about? Does that mean everything?

For me, there was at one point where I really could pinpoint the majority of the anxious thinking:

“Who am I? What am I? What does it all mean?”

As a young adult, after a period of a few years without medical intervention, I started seeing a therapist again. I remember standing on the porch of my now ex-boyfriend’s parents’ home, praying with every ring that they would not pick up. But they did. I very shyly asked how hard it would be to get in with a therapist. They asked me the standard, run-of-the-mill questions, none of which I can remember with specific accuracy. Eventually, they gave me a time and date to come in and fill out paperwork, as well as meet my new therapist. John. That was his name, hopefully I could remember it.

I don’t remember the first appointment itself, but as each appointment came and went, I remember discussing the concept of Existentialism. According to Oxford Languages, Existentialism can be defined as “a philosophical theory or approach which emphasizes the existence of the individual person as a free and responsible agent determining their own development through acts of the will.” In other words, it’s the concept that you are exactly what you think you are. But, what if you don’t know? What if you have absolutely no idea where to start?

We talked through these questions quite extensively, often over the course of several sessions. Other than the day-to-day drama of being a young adult, it was the primary focus of discussion. It truly was a concept that was hard for me to shake from my mind. Throughout the day, I would catch myself staring off into space, (which I later learned would eventually lead to full-blown dissociation for me,) unable to shake the feeling that I didn’t know what my purpose was or why I existed. I told John this, and once in a fleeting moment I felt like I could read his mind. This is a normal thing for an 18-year-old to be thinking, but to hyperfixate it on this much? Now, I don’t know if that’s actually what he was thinking, but in those seconds of watching his normally calm, pleasant face slowly morph into an expression of genuine concern and care, that’s how it felt.

So, we talked. And we talked. And we talked some more. He would ask me questions, and I would answer them. But from the standpoint of medical practice, it was much more than that. These questions would in turn make me myself think about the answers I was providing. For once, the questions I was being asked would produce something substantial, more than an “I don’t know.” These questions made me parse through the same bank of neurons that I was used to parsing, but now, instead of being guided by a single flame of a lighter, someone turned the overhead lights on in the warehouse.

This practice is a part of what is known as Cognitive Behavioural Therapy, or CBT. This practice is designed to rewire the neural pathways in your brain away from unhelpful ways of thinking, in favor of more positive, efficient ways of thinking. For me, this manifested in realizing that my answer to the question of “Why do I exist?” being “I don’t know” was largely unhelpful, at least to me. For some people, not knowing really is a case of “Ignorance is bliss,” and not knowing what exactly we’re all doing here is not a cause for concern. But for me, that wouldn’t cut it. I really, really needed answers, as I often did with other things as well.

Over time, I found myself gently guided in the direction of three main points: To live, to love, to experience. To live is to, quite literally, function. Breathe, eat, sleep, go to the bathroom at 3AM. All of the monotonous things that we don’t really think about most of the time. It’s all just business as usual. To love is to find passion in people, experiences, things. For me, my love has always been writing. It is a direct link to my thoughts, and in turn, helps me process them in a way that makes sense to me. “People'' are where I struggled, but that’s a topic for a different day. Finally, to experience. To experience life is to use the senses you are gifted with to perceive the world around you. Imagine for the moment the feeling you get when you look at a tree. What does it make you think about? Usually your first subconscious thought will be something like, “Yup, that’s a tree.” But then maybe you’ll notice that the trunk is brown, and that the leaves are green. You’ll notice the sound of those leaves rustling in the wind. You’ll notice the smell of the air that you just heard rustling. And it’ll go on, and on, and on, until you arrive at the final resting thought of “Wow, nature sure is nice.” That, my friends, is to experience.

“So what are you supposed to do with this information?” I asked. To live, to love, to experience. Sure, that makes sense, but why? Why do any of that?

And the answer John gave me was one I didn’t want to hear.

“Because.”

… Because what? Because why?

I can remember him smiling.

“Because, it’s what we, as humans, do.”

I could feel a small anger boiling up in me at that point. Why would he present me with such a vague answer and expect me to be satisfied? At that point I probably asked to talk about something else, largely to avoid confrontation.

But after that point, outside of therapy, I would find myself thinking of his response. “It’s what we, as humans, do.” Those three key points really are the essence of the human experience. It’s the constant that can be traced just as far back as we ourselves can be traced. If it worked for early humans, it should work for us too.

So, what is the takeaway from all of this? As an adult a few years past the teen years, I can tell you this much: You really do stop thinking about it all the time. Being alive becomes natural to you; you run through a day’s tasks without a second thought, and go to bed feeling accomplished about the things that you’ve done that are, in the grand scheme of the universe, inconsequential. But this inconsequentiality can be comforting, in a strange way. Every single decision that you make in your lifetime is not going to affect the fact that long after you’re gone, the sun will die and our solar system will collapse. The fact that you had a piece of cheesecake with your lunch on Thursday will not at all stop the inevitable progression of time long after we can even think about it progressing. Life goes on, and so do we.

So, stop asking what or why, and start asking yourself how. How can I make my life the most enjoyable it can be? How can I streamline my thoughts into the most positive and efficient little trails of neurons as possible?

And lastly, how can I listen to my own heartbeat, and think about how wonderful the miracle of human consciousness really is?

// E Arlo Sharp

#writing #creative writing #mental health #personal writing #existentialism #therapy #anxiety #generalized anxiety disorder #e arlo sharp #earlosharp

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hyuk4sbf · 3 years

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BREEDING !!

+ discussions of breeding kinks 😵‍💫

tbz x afab!reader (sangyeon, jacob, juyeon, changmin, haknyeon)

*no gendered terms are actually used but reader is explicitly afab and the word c*nt is used once!!

content: nsfw!! breeding kink, degradation, dumbification(?), unsafe sex .. please wear condoms…

minors dni w my content thanks

SANGYEON

obsessed with the idea of knocking you up, this man WANTS to put a baby in you. hips sloppy but incessant and hands bruising, he’s panting against your slick skin. the noises he makes are so pretty, so desperate because he’s so, so close as he curls over you.

whines in a way that has you whimpering right back, and asks you to let him cum inside, begging for it despite knowing you will let him.

“please, let me give it to you, baby,” he’ll grunt right into your ear before he nips at it. part of him just wants to hear you say it, wants you to say you want his cum, want his baby, want him.

JACOB

it’s your suggestion— your command, if anything really, that makes him realise quickly how into it he is. he’s close, that’s obvious from the way he starts getting more vocal, getting faster and mumbling a “gonna cum,” against your ear. it sends a thrill up your spine, your legs locking together behind his back to keep him in place.

“inside, please inside.” is what you tell him, and the reaction is almost immediate. his hips stutter against yours, his breath hitching in a hiccup. it’s evident he’s taken off guard but he quickly recovers, the dark chuckle against your neck tells you this much.

“yeah? want me to fill you up? gonna take it all like my pretty little slut?”

JUYEON

god he doesn’t even realise how into it he is until it’s already happened.

it’s purely an accident at first, forgetting protection, forgetting to pull out because he’s just a big, dumb baby. it doesn’t panic either of you nearly as much as it probably should, or maybe the idea of repercussions just hasn’t set in. either way, you’re both panting to try and catch your breath. then you’re saying something about a kid, albeit jokingly, and juyeon feels his brain leak out his ears again.

he’s back on top of you within seconds, licking into your mouth and desperately rutting his cum back into you. both breaking into moan-ish giggles, he’s mumbling into your mouth about wanting to give you a baby— his baby.

CHANGMIN

more into the cum play sides of things rather than the actual idea of breeding you but he’ll easily indulge you when he finds out you like it.

does get off knowing it turns you on to be claimed as his, that the idea of having a family with him excites you so much. absolutely will tease you about it too— his words are kind but his tone is anything but. he’s patronising, treating you as if you’re dumb, and maybe you are. maybe you’ve finally been fucked completely dumb.

“hmmm?” he hums, breath jittery as it fans over your neck, and it’s easy to tell he’s close because of it. he coos mockingly at the way you whine in response, pouting at you in fake sympathy.

“mmm… want my cum, pretty baby? need me to breed you hm? yeah?”

HAKNYEON

so mean when you tell him you want it inside :(

condescending, asks you why he should be so nice as to give you his cum and what you’ve done to deserve it. makes fun of you for being so desperate for him, laughs at how your back arches when he mentions knocking you up with his baby. he’ll give it to you anyways, he always does. he’s just so kind and giving, is what he tells you. (won’t admit it’s because the idea of getting you pregnant and claiming you as his turns him on immensely.)

“gonna breed this stupid little cunt,” he breathes, slick skin sliding against yours and hips bruising as he cums inside you with the prettiest moan hitching his breath, teeth sinking into your skin hard enough that it has you teetering and tipping the edge with him.

#the boyz smut #tbz smut #the boyz x reader #tbz x reader #jacob x reader #jacob bae smut #sangyeon smut #sangyeon x reader #juyeon smut #juyeon x reader #smut #changmin smut #changmin x reader #haknyeon smut #haknyeon x reader #the boyz imagines

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watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

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Hey Angel - Harry Styles

a/n: since i had so much time on my hand at work lately (not anymore unfortunately) i used it wisely and cooked up this PA themed fic bc i absolutely love this trope. it’s lengthy and kinda emotional? kinda, lol. hope you’ll like it and as always, feedback is much appreciated!!

warning: sexual content

word count: 11.5k

masterlist

Harry likes to pretend he is tall enough to comfortably rest his chin on the top of your head when he stands behind you, but that’s not true. He has to push himself a little to his tippy toes and push you down at the same time to fit his chin above you, his arms weighing down on your shoulders. You stopped arguing him that you need to push your hips forward when he does this so you don’t carry his whole weight.

“Tha’s rude, you do not have to do tha’!” he defended himself every time you brought up, so you just stopped.

Now as you watch the game of air hockey unfold in front of you, a half empty pint in your hand, you don’t even budge when you feel a chiseled chin resting on the top of your head, you push your hips forward without a second thought to shorten your height. You catch a glimpse of a tattooed forearm on your shoulder, Harry’s chest presses against your back gently.

He doesn’t stay in this position too long, it’s making it hard to drink so soon enough, he wraps his left arm around your shoulders, coming to stand next to you, sipping on his tequila on the rocks.

“Hey you,” you smile at him as he gives you a side look, a boyish smirk tugging on his pink lips. “Everything alright?”

“Everything is fine.”

“You need something? How much have you had to drink?” you ask furrowing your eyebrows, looking down at his glass that was certainly full when you last saw him about ten minutes ago.

“Shush, stop pretending like you’re working,” he waves at your face, his words melting together, definitely thanks to the alcohol he has consumed tonight.

“I know I’m not working, I’m just tryna’ be your friend and look out for you.” Bringing your own drink up to your lips, you give him a look, but he just smirks at you playfully.

“Uh-huh, whatever. Don’t worry about me.”

“I always worry about you, H,” you sigh dramatically and it makes him laugh with his head falling back.

“Is this the part where you tell me I’m some spoiled brat celebrity you ‘ave to babysit for your living? And that I always do ridiculous shit so you ‘ave to keep an eye on me at all times?”

You can’t push your smile down at how far this statement is from reality. You just like to tease him about being a typical, asshole rockstar when he is literally your favorite person in the world without a doubt.

“Oh Angel, you can’t fool me,” he cackles, squeezing you to his side before taking another sip from his drink.

“Wouldn’t even try to,” you mumble with an amused smile. “Havin’ fun, birthday boy?” you ask, leaning into his side. You would never admit, but you love how touchy Harry can get sometimes, not really caring about physical boundaries, especially when he drinks. The hugs, the squeezes, the touches, they always make your heart flutter even after knowing him for years.

“I’m havin’ a blast. What about you?”

“What about me? It’s not my birthday,” you chuckle shortly.

“So what? I can’t make sure you’re enjoying your night?” he frowns at you dramatically that just makes you laugh.

“I’m having a great night. It’s just that my boss keeps coming after me even though I’m supposed to be off the clock.”

You peek up at him to see the grin on his face at your teasing. The dynamic between the two of you has been like this since day one. The constant bickering and teasing is what really brought the two of you close, you are so similar, it’s like you can see a male version of yourself when you look at him.

“Tell the dude to fuck off,” he mumbles into his drink and you bump your hip against him, but he just holds you tight to his side as an answer.

Soon enough, Harry joins the game and you watch him play from the side, obviously cheering on his opponent to annoy him, earning some pretty dirty looks from him whenever they score against him and you let out a “woho!” in victory.

“Y’know, it’s not too nice to cheer against the birthday boy, is it?” he calls you out when the table is taken by someone else and he joins you at the side again.

“Am I not allowed to choose who I want to cheer to?” you ask with a faked puzzled look and he presses his lips into a thin line, glaring down at you intently.

“Don’t test me, Angel,” he grumbles into your ear before walking off to join his friends who came out to celebrate with him today.

It’s a pretty lowkey celebration, since he is still in the middle of filming Don’t Worry Darling, so he couldn’t really travel far from the set, but some of his dearest friends were able to come here and celebrate with him and his cast members.

You stand at the bar and your eyes find him every time you scan the place, not able to keep your gaze away from him for too long, he just demands the attention. Or at least yours.

You’ve never met anyone like him. When you got the chance to be his personal assistant four years ago at the very beginning of his solo career, you never thought how he’ll move right into your heart and never leave it. Whether you look at him as your boss or your friend, you can’t deny that he changed your life and you’ve learned so much from him, you can only hope he thinks of you somewhat the same. However you always tell yourself: what could you possibly give for The Harry Styles? He has everything in the whole wide world.

Harry catches you staring and he arches a brow at you, abandoning the conversation he has been in for the past minutes, mouthing you “what’s up, Angel”, his accent thick even without hearing his voice.

He’s been calling you Angel for longer than you can remember. When you asked him why the nickname, he said it’s because One Direction’s song Hey Angel was written about you. It was a fat lie, you haven’t met him when the song was written, but his words still tightened your chest, playing with the thought of Harry writing a song about you.

As cheesy and cliché as it is, you fell for him faster than you’d like to admit. You tried to fight it for a while, convince yourself it’s just a silly crush, but you soon had to realize you outgrew that after the first few weeks working with him. How could you not fall for him? He is everything any woman could wish for and he has you wrapped around his fingers, just like he has half the female population, probably.

You shake your head in his way, not sure how to tell him you just got lost in your thoughts about him. In fact, he occupies your mind pretty much all the time, but he doesn’t have to know about that.

He excuses himself from the table and walks up to you, a slow breath leaving your nose as you watch him approach you.

“Tired?” he asks, stopping in front of you, placing his empty glass to the counter.

“Kinda,” you nod.

“Want to head home soon?”

“Don’t worry about me. I can just call a taxi and go home, you don’t have to come.”

“Don’t be silly, we go to the same place, obviously we’re gonna go home together.”

Since filming has started, Harry and you’ve been sharing a nice apartment near the set. It was his idea to rent a place for the two of you, rather than to stay at a hotel. At first you didn’t think it would be a good idea, but of course, he convinced you to live with him for the months while the movie is being filmed. So now you basically live with Harry, share pretty much all your living space with him, except your bedroom.

“But it’s your birthday, stay as long as you want,” you tell him, not wanting to snatch him away from his friends on his big day.

“We’re filming in the afternoon tomorrow, can’t drag the night too long either way,” he shrugs, trying to make you believe it’s really nothing.

No matter how badly you try to convince him to stay, he doesn’t bulge and starts saying goodbye within an hour, calling the two of you a car to take you home. He is clearly tipsy, but not drunk. Once you’re in the car, Harry’s hand finds yours and he pulls you closer in the backseat until your thighs are pressed together. He curls an arm around your shoulders, holding you tight to his side, sinking down in the seat. You let your head rest on his shoulder, enjoying the closeness of his body, pressing down any worrying thought that usually makes its way to your mind every time Harry gets a little cozier than the usual.

The rational side of your brain knows you should be keeping some distance from him for the sake of your own sanity and emotional health, but you just can’t. Denying these little moments from yourself would be like pure torture and your heart can’t take that for sure.

“What are you thinkin’ about?” he murmurs, his nose nuzzling into your hair and you just shrug your shoulders.

“Nothing,” you mumble your lie.

“Liar, I can hear the gears turning in that pretty head of yours,” he grins down at you as your eyes lock for a moment. Thank God for the darkness in the car, because you can feel your cheeks heating up. The last thing you need is for Harry to see how nervous he can make you feel with just a simple compliment.

“Stop being nosy, you don’t have to know everything all the time.” You poke his side with your elbow, it makes him jump a little before he snuggles back to your side.

“That’s not true, you know I’m entitled to hold every knowledge in the world.” He tries to hide his smirk, but he fails miserably and you just laugh at him with your head falling back to his shoulder.

“Harry Styles, you are something else,” you sigh shaking your head at him.

Arriving home Harry keeps an arm around you as you walk up to the front door, fishing your keys out of your bag since you’d bet Harry didn’t bring his. There’s a chance he hasn’t even used his copy since you’ve been here, he knows you always have yours and you haven’t really left without each other so far, always staying around the other.

“Want to shower first?” he hums, walking inside, his arm leaving your shoulders and though you feel lighter without the extra weight, you wish it was still there.

“Go for it, I’m gonna clean up the mess I made when I got ready earlier,” you tell him, heading into your bedroom where the floor is littered with half your wardrobe from earlier, when you were trying to figure out what to wear for the little outing.

Harry disappears in the shared bathroom and a moment later you hear the water running. You go around your room, picking up the dresses you voted against, placing them back into the wardrobe and then you put away your makeup you left on your bed in your hurry.

“Bathroom is yours!” Harry calls out just when you finish, you hear his bedroom door open and close so you grab a clean oversized t-shirt and a pair of cotton shorts before occupying the bathroom.

The warm shower feels nice, it’s been a long day since you started on set, Harry had a few scenes to film before you could leave in the afternoon. You wash away the day, scrub your makeup off and then take off the rest with your wipes once you’re out. You brush your hair and use some lotion for your dry skin before getting dressed and leaving the steamy bathroom.

Padding down the short hallway you hear nothing coming from Harry’s bedroom and you wonder if he’s already asleep, but once you step inside your room you see that he is cozied up on your bed, your covers pulled up to his naked chest, a pillow tucked under his head as he scrolls through his phone so shamelessly, as if it was his own room.

“Did you take the wrong turn in the hallway?” you ask with an arched eyebrow as you throw your dirty clothes to your temporary hamper, which is basically your emptied out suitcase.

“Nope,” he grins smugly, you have to roll your eyes at him. He locks his phone, dropping it to the side table, watching you move around, getting ready for bed and his eyes on your figure feel like they’re burning down on your skin.

“You know, it’s rude to stare,” you comment not even looking at him, but you just know he is still staring at you. Grabbing a hairtie from the little dresses in the corner of your room you reach back to loosely braid your hair, but his voice stops you.

“Wait,” he pleads and you furrow your eyebrows at him. “Can I do it?”

You give him a confused look as he pushes himself up into a sitting position, his green eyes are glimmering from the tiredness and the alcohol he has consumed tonight.

“You want to braid my hair?”

“Yeah,” he nods. You hesitate for a moment but join him on the bed at last, turning your back against him, giving him full control over your hair.

A shiver runs down your spine when you feel his fingers raking through your strands. He is so gentle and careful as you feel him section your hair off to three parts.

“Didn’t know you can braid,” you tell him, eyes fixated on the sheets in front of you.

“Gemma taught me, but I’m not the best at it.”

“So I’ll look atrocious?” you tease him smiling to yourself. He pokes the back of your neck with his fingers before continuing his work.

“You could never look atrocious, even if you tried.”

“And you are such a flirt,” you sigh. Over the years you’ve gotten used to his flirty act, it’s just who he is and though in the beginning your breath always got caught in your throat when he said something cheesy, now you just brush it off, only thinking about his words when you are alone in the night, struggling to fall asleep because you’re once again, thinking about him.

“M’telling the truth. Have I told you how beautiful you looked tonight?”

“Mmm,” you hum. He has told you that you looked pretty when the two of you left and he saw you walk out of your room in your black skinny jeans and flowy sheer top on, your hair loosely curled, but you didn’t really know what to say, so you just smiled at him and it’s the same now. You’re not the best at taking compliments.

“You really did. You always are.”

“And once again, you are such a flirt.”

“Complimenting a pretty woman is being a flirt?” he asks pretending to be offended as he carefully works on your hair and you wish you could see his focused face as he is trying to keep track of the sections between his fingers. At a lack of a witty comeback, you just shrug your shoulders, fumbling with your fingers on your lap.

You both fall silent as he concentrates on your hair and you manage to stop thinking, just focus on how his fingers keep brushing against your back every time he crosses two sections over each other.

“Hairtie, please,” he asks, his hand appearing next to you with his palm upwards. You place it in his hand and he finishes up his masterpiece. “There, it didn’t turn out as bad as I thought,” he comments once he is done. Reaching back you run your fingers over the braid and it feels good, he did a great job.

“Thanks,” you smile at him shyly, turning around. He leans back, making himself comfortable once again and you arch an eyebrow at him. “Need me to walk you back to your room, sir?”

“No, I’m perfectly fine here,” he grins smugly, tugging his arm behind his head as he takes up the right side of the bed.

“You’re planning to sleep here?”

“Please, don’t make me sleep alone on my birthday!” he pouts, giving you those damned puppy eyes. How could you ever say no to him?

“You better not push me off the bed in your sleep,” you mumble before getting under the covers.

You turn off the bedside lamp and the two of you start moving around, finding a comfortable pose to sleep in and you end up facing each other on your sides, Harry’s face squished into the pillow as his eyes are roaming over the hand you have laid between your faces.

His fingers start to inch towards yours until he hooks his pinky with yours, the touch sending a warm feeling down your spine.

“I hate sleeping alone,” he mumbles into the semi-darkness.

“Why?”

“Don’t you like it when there’s someone next to you? When you wake up and you’re not alone?”

“I like it, but I don’t hate sleeping alone either,” you tell him as your eyes fall to your linked pinky fingers. “Why do you hate it? You have the bed all to yourself, and there’s no chance of waking up to someone snoring or talking in their sleep.”

He huffs out a laugh as he buries his head deeper into the pillow.

“It makes me feel lonely. Which is ridiculous, because I’m never alone.”

“But lonely and alone are not the same, so it’s not ridiculous. You can feel lonely when you’re not alone.”

“I know,” he nods, his eyes watching your linked fingers intently, before he moves his hand so it’s now covering yours, his warm palm wrapping around your much smaller hand. “I’m never lonely with you, though.”

“So… you are only lonely when you’re sleeping or in the bathroom, because we basically spend every moment of the day together.” You smirk at him and see his dimple form in his cheek as he smiles at you nodding.

“That’s right. We are like glued together.”

“How aren’t we sick of each other already?”

“That’s never gonna happen.”

“You sure about that?” You raise your eyebrows at him with an amused smile, he is too sure about that answer.

“One hundred percent. You’re my favorite person.”

“Is that what you tell everyone?”

He gives you a look, but you just chuckle, sinking further into your pillow. His fingers start playing with your hand as he draws a deep breath.

“I only tell this to m’ mum and Gemma. No one else.”

Your heart starts racing at the thought of him seeing you on the same level as his closest family. You know how much his mum and sister mean to him, but you never thought you are anywhere near them in his eyes.

“You’re my favorite person too,” you whisper as your eyes meet over your joined hands. He smiles at you warmly, his floppy curls falling into his forehead and you want to run your fingers through them, feel how soft they are under your touch. Harry scoots closer, your faces only a few inches away from each other as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

For a moment you just watch him, thinking how good it feels to have him in your bed. How amazing it is to end the day with him so close to you. You wish all days would end like this, you wouldn’t have another bad day with him next to you.

Lying there and watching him slowly fall asleep, his hand still on yours, the bitter thought eats itself into your mind that he is only here because he feels lonely and wanted to be close to someone, not you particularly. And though you’re glad it’s you he ended up next to, you try not to get too accustomed to the feeling, because you’re just a temporary fix to his loneliness.

The door to Harry’s trailer opens and he walks in wearing his blue dress pants and crispy white dress shirt, fumbling with the top buttons to undo them. You glance up at him from your laptop where you’ve been working on his schedule for the upcoming weeks while he was filming.

“Hey, how did it go?” you ask as he places his water bottle to the vanity and then sits in the chair he spends his mornings in while his hair is being styled and tattoos are covered.

“Good. Messed up only a few times. Whacha’ working on?”

“Just your schedule, I’ll email it to you when I’m done, though you never check it.”

“Hey, I do check it! I like your color coding. I just suck at using it and you’re always here to remind me of the important stuff.”

You roll your eyes, continuing to type away on your keyboard as he moves around, having a snack and texting back people.

“Florence is coming over for a little after we’re done. We can order something,” he speaks up grabbing your attention again.

“Cool,” you nod with a small smile. “Is she staying the night?”

“No, we just thought it would be nice to hang out a little without dressed like this,” he chuckles looking down at himself.

“What’s wrong with Jack’s clothes? You look neat.”

“Do I?” he cocks an eyebrow cheekily, placing his hands to his hips as he looks down at you.

“Yeah. It’s a nice change after all the grandpa clothes,” you tease him and he gasps pretending to be offended at your words, though you both know you have nothing against his style. In fact, you love how he just wears whatever he wants, not caring what others would think.

“Watch your mouth or you can’t wear my bode jacket again,” he warns you holding up his pointing finger, shaking it at you, but you just chuckle at him, finishing up what you’ve been working on before shutting the laptop down.

“How long until you’re done?”

“Just a few more scenes. I think we can leave in about two hours.”

“Alright.”

“You done working?”

“Mhm, for now.”

“Come and watch the filming. You’re always so hidden in here.”

“Because I always have work to do,” you point out, putting the laptop to the side from your lap.

“Yeah, but you’re done now, so come out and watch me be the next Leonardo DiCaprio,” he smugly tells you, and it makes you roll your eyes at him.

“You’re so humble, H. Is something that comes with the age?” you tease him standing up from the small sofa, grabbing your phone from the table.

“You’ll find out in a year,” he smirks back as you follow him out of the trailer, back to the set.

Later that day you, Florence and Harry are chilling back at your apartment, munching on the pizza you ordered, watching some documentary on Netflix, just enjoying a lazy evening. You’ve become quite close with Florence, her personality is a lot like yours so you got along well from the beginning, the three of you often do things together outside of set.

You and Harry are sharing the couch while Florence is curled up on the loveseat. The temperature at the apartment is always nice, but you often catch yourself feeling a little cold in the evening, but it has more to do with the tiredness rather than with the heating of the place. When you pull your legs underneath you to warm your feet, Harry notices the action and knows right away that you’re starting to feel cold as always. Reaching down he grabs a blanket from the basket next to the couch and he wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer to him.

“Come ‘ere,” he mumbles, draping the blanket over the two of you. You shuffle closer to him, making yourself comfortable at his side as he makes sure you’re fully tugged in. Then he leaves an arm around you, his fingers gently grazing your shoulder as he turns his attention back at the movie.

Glancing over at Florence you see the puzzled look on her, but you ignore it biting into your bottom lip, turning back to watch the movie though you’re having a hard time focusing. All you can think about is Harry’s touch on you.

It’s almost midnight when Florence calls herself a taxi. Harry picks up the glasses you used and volunteers to wash them, leaving you and Florence alone in the living room.

“So, what’s up with you and Harry?” she questions right away without beating around the bush.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you two has always been close, but now… it seems all too… couple-like.” She narrows her eyes at you, hands on her hips, looking like a mother questioning her daughter.

“Don’t be silly.”

“I’m not,” she scoffs. Then you pretend to be busy with folding the blanket, but you can feel her intent stare on you before she speaks up again. “You like him, don’t you?”

“What?” you huff with a not too Oscar-worthy expression on your face that was supposed to hide the panic in you. “Well of course I like him, he is my friend and boss.”

“But not just like that. You like like him.”

“Florence,” you sigh, just when Harry walks out of the kitchen, oblivious to the conversation that he just interrupted.

“You sure you don’t want to spend the night?” he politely asks her, but she just shakes her head.

“I’m not really up for spending the night on the couch.”

“You wouldn’t have to, you can sleep in my bed,” he simply offers and something is telling you he shouldn’t open his mouth again.

“You’re not taking the couch because of me.”

“I wouldn’t, I usually sleep at Y/N’s,” he states as if it was nothing, but you instantly freeze.

Yes, ever since his birthday he has spent way more nights in your bed than in his own, always raving to you how well he can sleep when you’re next to him and you couldn’t bear the thought of him feeling lonely, so you’ve been letting him occupy half of your bed through the nights. He usually holds your hand falling asleep and then you wake up tangled together, sometimes he is cuddling you from behind, other times you’re the one curled up to his side. He treats it so casually, like it really is nothing, he just always goes on his day when you wake up so you decided to not make it into a big deal either.

Florence gives you a wide eyed look that you try hard to ignore, while Harry is so oblivious to what he just caused with his statement.

“I uhh—thanks but I’m fine going home. Besides, I think my car is already here. See you guys on set tomorrow. Y/N?” she calls out walking towards the front door.

“Hm?”

“We’ll talk later,” she tells you and it’s a strong message that she won’t just leave it at that.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” you nod awkwardly, waving her goodbye.

You and Harry clean up together and as always, he is the first one to use the bathroom and by the time you’re done, he is in your bed, waiting for you to join him. You don’t comment on his presence anymore, part of you afraid he would stop spending the night in your bed and you definitely don’t want that. Not much is left from filming, meaning that soon you are forced to go home where you and Harry do not live at the same place so you’re gonna have to sleep alone, like you did before. Only now you are way too hooked on the feeling of having him in your bed, even if it’s not in the way you truly want, it’s better than nothing.

The moment you get under the sheets, Harry reaches out and pulls you to his side. He hasn’t done this often when you went to sleep, only sneaking some small touches, but you don’t mind him being a little extra clingy.

“Filming is almost over,” you mumble into his chest, your hand lazily resting where his ribcage ends in his chest.

“Mhm.” There’s a short silence before he speaks up again. “What about it, Angel?”

“It’s just that it’s going to be weird going home. I got used to living here.” It’s your way saying that you’re gonna miss having him around all the time, but you’re not sure if he understands the hint. It doesn’t really matter anyway.

“You like cramped together with me?” he chuckles lowly.

“Was kinda nice,” you smile.

“Remember how you threatened me to throw my shit out if I leave my dirty clothes on the floor?”

“I do,” you smirk, thinking back to the conversation where you agreed to live with him while he is filming. “Didn’t find any clothes on the floor, so you get an A for that.”

“Wow, was this… a compliment?”

“Shut up, I always compliment you!” you laugh smacking his chest gently.

“Oh, no. You don’t compliment, you just tell me when I managed not to fuck something up,” he corrects you and your cheeks are heating up about how well he knows you.

“Those are compliments in my book, don’t be greedy.”

“M’not. I love how grounded you keep me with treating me like this.”

“Like what?” you ask furrowing your eyebrows.

“Like a normal person. With you, I don’t have to be afraid that I earn something because of who I am. You give no shit about my name, you always keep me in check and I appreciate that.”

“Can’t let you have a too big of a head,” you smirk, closing your eyes. He laughs with you, squeezing you a little before you both fall into silence, drifting off to sleep in each other’s arms.

You’ve managed to avoid Florence in the past few days. Her burning look has been making you way too nervous, you know she wants to know more about what’s going on between you and Harry, but truth to be told, you have no idea what to tell her.

Yeah, I’m definitely in love with him and we’ve been sharing a bed for a few weeks because he feels lonely alone at night, so he uses me to ease the feeling while I just let him because as I said, I’m in love with the man.

No, you can’t tell her that.

Now there’s only two days left from filming, meaning that only two more nights to spend with Harry and it’s making you a nervous wreck to think about sleeping alone in your bedroom.

You round the corner in the maze of the trailers after a phone call you had with Jeff when you run out of luck and bump right into Florence.

“I’ve been looking for you, Y/N. Come have lunch with me in my trailer,” she smiles sweetly, grabbing you by your hand so you can’t escape her this time.

“Oh I wanted to call—“

“Do it later,” she simply cuts you off.

Soon, you find yourself in her trailer as she eats her burger while she eyes you with suspicion.

“So, you and Harry sleep together?”

“Well, not like that. We really just sleep in the same bed.”

“Oh, makes perfect sense, sleeping in the same bed as your boss. Very casual.”

“Don’t make it sound so weird,” you frown at her words. You definitely don’t see Harry as your boss. You do work for him, but it never felt like he stands anywhere above you, the two of you have always been equal even before you became close friends.

“You gotta admit it’s pretty unusual,” she points out and you just look away from her. “So let’s talk about how you’re in love with him.”

“What? I never said that!” you protest, but she just gives you a look that says ‘cut the crap, girl’ and you know there’s no use to try to trick her, she sees right through you. “Don’t fucking look at me like that, I have enough shit on my plate without your judgment.”

“Oh, I’m not judging you. I’m just wondering why you two are not together already.”

You practically snort at her statement, finding it quite absurd and ridiculous.

“What? You two are perfect for each other and I’m pretty sure Harry loves you too.”

“Yeah, as a friend.”

“That’s not how friends act, Y/N. He wouldn’t beg himself into your bed every night if he was just your friend.”

“He is just lonely. He doesn’t need me, just someone to be with him.”

“That’s bullshit,” she scoffs. “You two are just being idiots.” Just as you are about to answer, your phone starts ringing. Harry’s smiley face appears on the screen, making you extremely nervous because of the conversation you are having with Florence.

“Hey,” you breathe out answering the call.

“Hey, where are you?”

“Just, talking with Florence. What’s up?”

“I got an email from Jeff and I have some questions.”

“I’ll be there in a sec.”

“Thank you Angel,” he hums before ending the call.

“I gotta go. Please don’t… bring any of this up for Harry,” you ask Florence, heading to the exit.

“You’ve gotta sort your shit out. This is not ideal, Y/N.”

“I know it,” you growl under your breath, leaving the trailer. You chew on your bottom lip nervously as you march back to Harry’s trailer. You feel so confused and anxious about this whole situation and the worst thing is that you have no idea what to do about it. Telling him how you feel seems like a stupid idea, but mostly because you’re terrified of rejection. What if it all meant nothing to him? If you were right and he is just lonely and uses you to help himself, it has nothing to do with you. You wouldn’t survive the heartbreak it would give you if he told you he doesn’t see you more than just a friend.

As you walk into his trailer he is sitting on the sofa with his phone in his hands. He glances up at you, a warm smile tugging on his lips as you take a deep breath, feeling very much out of place suddenly. Unfortunately, he immediately senses your discomfort.

“Everything alright, Angel?”

Angel. This nickname could make your knees go weak in a heartbeat and you hate how much effect it has on you. Especially in this state of mind you’re currently in.

“I just…” You shake your head shutting your eyes. “Why do you keep calling me that?” you ask, sounding way more desperate than you intended to. Harry puts his phone aside, looking a little puzzled at your sudden weird act, but he seems more worried for you.

“I, uhh—“

“And don’t tell me it’s because Hey Angel is about me. We didn’t know each other back then.”

You have no idea where this is coming from or why you even questioned him about it all of a sudden, but Florence just totally threw you off with what she just said. Harry stares back at you, probably vigorously looking for the reason why you are acting up now, but luckily, he doesn’t try to turn it into a joke as always.

“I call you Angel, because you remind me of the song. It wasn’t written about you, but the lyrics match up with… you.”

“What?” you ask in confusion.

“I wish I could be more like you, do you wish you could be more like me?” he quotes the song, not singing the words, simply just talking them as he stares back at you. “I see you at the bar, at the edge of my bed, backseat of my car, in the back of my head,” he continues and you feel your throat doing dry just from the way he softly speaks, standing only a few feet away from you. “I come alive when I hear your voice, it’s a beautiful sound, it’s a beautiful noise.”

You never really gave it another thought, but now that he has told you this, it hit you hard in the chest. You weren’t expecting, especially because those lines are rather meaningful, to you at least.

“I thought of it once not long after we first met and thought calling you Angel would suit you. Do you mind it? I can just… stop calling you that if you don’t like it.”

You shake your head. You never want him to stop calling you that even if it’s not that meaningful for him. If it’s just some game. It’s great to know that something reminded him of you.

“No, it’s… it’s alright.” Your voice is small, barely more than just a whisper. It’s a little too much at once. Florence’s words are still stuck in your head, and what he just said has felt like he just gripped your heart even if he doesn’t know.

You take a shaky breath, forcing yourself to come back from this hazy state of mind.

“So, what about that email?”

“You alright?” Reaching forward he takes your hand and you try not to flinch at his touch, just smile at him nodding.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” He squeezes your hand before dropping it and he luckily doesn’t ask any more questions.

You stay oddly quiet for the rest of the day and Harry surely knows something is wrong, but he respects you enough not to bug you about it any longer. He just stays close to you as much as he can, trying his best to take your mind off of whatever keeps you occupied.

On the way home you and Harry drop by a supermarket, buy some quick dinner, not wanting to stack the fridge when you’re leaving so soon. Then you sit in the living room, eating and watching some random movie that’s on TV. You snuggle to his side on the couch naturally, he doesn’t even have to pull you close this time. The thought of having left only one more night in the apartment makes you want to sue every little moment you have left in this bubble.

Harry makes you have a shower first tonight and when you come out from the bathroom, your bed is already nicely made, inviting you warmly. He is quick to finish with his shower and joins you in bed barely five minutes later. You move towards each other instantly, his arms curling around your form soothingly as you make yourself comfortable, melted into his embrace. You feel his lips pressing against your forehead and you almost start crying at the small action.

“Angel, I don’t know what has upset you, but I’m here for you, alright? You’re not alone,” he murmurs softly.

“I know,” you whisper. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me. I would do anything for you, just like you do so much for me. You’ve got me.”

I wish, you think to yourself. You have him, but not the way you’ve been desiring. His hand moves to cup your face as he lifts your head so you are looking into his eyes in the darkened room, but there’s enough light coming through the window that you see his features. He runs his thumb across your cheek, gently caressing your skin and everywhere he touches you, it feels like your body is in flames. This something has been building up inside you and now you’re not sure how long you’ll be able to control yourself. And just as you think about how you really should put some distance between the two of you so you won’t regret it later, the unexpected happens.

Harry pulls you up just enough so when he moves his head he is able to place his lips on yours, kissing you out of the blue. His lips feel so soft, so fitting on your mouth, you let out a whimper when he goes further than just a gentle kiss, taking your bottom lip between his properly. It’s an out of world experience, you’ve imagined it so many times, but you never thought it would actually happen and now that it is very much happening, your whole mind goes blank and for a split second… everything feels right. You kiss him back with fever and with each passing moment the kiss grows more passionate and way hungrier than how it started. Harry’s arm tightens around you, almost pulling you on top of him and you can’t make yourself stop, not that you want to.

With a little force, Harry pushes the two of you around so now you’re lying on the mattress and he holds himself up above you, his lips never disconnecting from yours. He licks into your mouth, pulling and tugging on your lips, making your whole body go weak just for him.

But then, as if reality hit you in the head, you realize what’s happening.

“Harry,” you gasp pulling back, gasping for air. “This—We…”

“Angel, let me take care of you. Please,” he begs out of breath.

“What…”

“I want to make you feel good. I want to take care of you, please let me.” He sounds so desperate, like he would do anything for this and you are not strong enough to deny it from him.

It’s just his pity. He’s been using you for his needs, now he wants to give some back, it’s nothing more, you think to yourself. It can’t be more.

You lack the willpower to make a rational decision, so as you stare up into his eyes that appear so dark due to the lack of proper lighting, you just nod before he leans down and kisses you again.

He holds himself up on one arm while his free hand wanders down your body, touching you at places you have never felt him before. He palms your left breast, squeezing it gently and it makes you moan into his mouth before his hand moves down the curve of your waist until it reaches your sleeping shorts. Your body is burning for him and you can’t stop it from reacting to everything he does. You buckle your hips up when you feel his fingers gently graze along your pubic bone, even though you’re still fully clothed.

“What do you want me to do, Angel? I’ll do anything you want me to,” he pants between kisses as his hand moves to cup your heated core, making you moan again from the sensation of his touch there.

“I need you,” is all you manage to get out.

“I’m right here. You got me. What do you want me to do? Please, tell me, Angel,” he whines, forehead pressed against yours and his hips fall, pressing against your thigh, making you realize how excited he has gotten. His erection is hard under the fabric of his boxers, almost aching to be freed. There’s no way you can take any teasing or a long foreplay. You need him inside you now before you burst.

“Harry, I need you inside me. Please,” you whimper, almost cry, before he kisses you again, hard and demanding as he simply pushes your shorts down, revealing your naked sex since you don’t wear any underwear to bed. You grab the waistband of his boxers too and push it down until he can wiggle his legs out of them, leaving him completely naked in your bed while you still have a top covering your upper body, however he is quick to change that. He grabs the hem and starts pulling it off, your hands helping him so a few moments later you’re completely naked underneath him.

“Fuck, Angel,” he breathes out, his perfect, pink lips attacking the side of your throat, kissing and nibbling on the skin, going down to your breasts, giving the same amount of attention to both while you turn into jelly under his touch. lacing your fingers through his hair you cry out his name as you can feel him leaving a mark on your left breast, his tongue swirling against the spot he just completely destroyed before he brings himself back up so he can kiss you again and again with so much hunger, it’s hard to tell where you end and where he starts. Everything melts together and you’re such a mess in every possible way.

His hand gently reaches down between your legs and parts your shaking thighs before he cups you drenched pussy, his middle finger sliding between your folds, a shameless moan slipping from your mouth, right into his as your lips are still attached.

“So wet, I can’t wait to make you feel good, baby. Let me make you feel good.”

“Harry, just… please,” you pant, surely feeling yourself lose the last bits of your nerves.

“D’you have a condom?” he asks, head lifting up a bit so he can look into your eyes.

“I-In my, um, the makeup bag,” you try to explain gesturing towards your dresser where your makeup bag sits on top, two condoms somewhere inside it. Harry pecks your lips before pulling away from you, the lack of his weight on top of you making you shiver.

He digs into the bag until he finds what he’s been looking for, tearing the packaging open with his teeth and he rolls it on while he walks back, not wasting another moment. You cling onto him like a koala bear once he is back in bed, his massive body covering you again.

“Just tell me how you like it, I’ll do anything,” he mumbles against your shivering lips as he pushes the head in first, stopping for a second before the rest of his cock buries inside you, completely taking your breath away. He is bigger than anyone you’ve ever been with, filling up every inch of you, your walls stretching around him as he stills once he is all the way inside you.

This is it. This is the moment you’ve imagined oh so many times, feeling him the closest possible, his cock buried inside you, his cheek pressed against yours as he holds himself up on top of you. Years of yearning and endless nights when you imagined your hand was his… and now it’s your reality. And though you know it’s gonna change everything, you can’t tell yourself to stop.

Harry lifts his head, pecking your lips gently, calling you Angel over and over again as he starts moving, the friction between your legs growing with each thrust. He fits inside you so well, you won’t be able to enjoy sex with anyone else now that you’ve experienced it with Harry. All of a sudden, he has become the epitome of your whole life.

“Tell me what you want, Angel. Do you want me to go slow or fast? Tell me how to make you feel good.” His lips brush against yours with each word while you’re just trying to catch your breath, fingers digging into his back, the euphoria building up inside you gradually.

“A little faster,” you breathe out, speaking feels like a hard task at the moment. Harry picks his pace up, finding just the right rhythm that makes you wrap your legs around his waist so he can go even deeper with each thrust he makes.

“Look at me, Angel. Let me see your eyes,” he begs, his hand cupping your cheek. He runs his thumb along the line of your lower lip before he takes it between his lips, tugging on it gently, kissing you like you’re his last breath on Earth. He is devouring you, body melts together with yours, all your senses are strictly focused on him. He is all you see, hear, feel and taste.

Your gaze meets his and the way he looks at you, like you’re his whole entire world, it makes your eyes tear up. You want it to be true, you want it to be reality, you want it to be more than just about needs and satisfaction, but it’s not and your consciousness is not letting you believe otherwise.

“Oh Angel,” he softly hums, wiping away a tear that escaped the corner of your eye and ran down the side of your face. Keeping up his rhythm he kisses along your jawline, your cheek, your lips, the side of your face, the bridge of your nose, everywhere he can before returning to your lips with a hungry, passion filled kiss.

“Harry…” you whimper, holding your thighs tighter around his waist as you feel yourself nearing the edge.

“Let it go for me, Angel. I wanna see you feel good, cum for me,” he tells you, eyes never leaving yours as you are ready to burst underneath him.

“Harry, I-I need you!” The words fall from your lips as a desperate beg, arms wrapping around his torso tight, as if he could disappear from your embrace any moment.

“I’m right here, Angel. Right here,” he soothes you, kissing your lips sweetly as proof that he is not just a trick your mind is playing on you. “Are you close, baby? Are you gonna cum for me?”

“Yes! Yes!” you pant, losing control over your body and all your senses. It’s gonna be intense, you can tell and it hasn’t even started yet, you just know it’ll shake you to the core.

“Good girl. Let me make you feel good.” “So good,” you breathe out before Harry occupies your lips with his once again.

It doesn’t take long. He keeps thrusting in the perfect angle and it throws you right over the edge. Harry demands you look him in the eyes when your orgasm wash you over and the intensity of it all almost makes you cry again. You burst, lose yourself under him, screaming his name as if you were praying to all higher forces. In a way, you are, because for a moment you really think you completely vanish from this world.

Harry follows you just a few more thrusts later, falling out of his rhythm as he grunts and moans your name, face buried into the crook of your neck while you tug on his hair, the feeling of his soft locks between your fingers is like pure heaven.

He stills, but stays inside you as he looks up, his eyes filled with satisfaction and contentment as he cups your face again, kissing you long, taking his time with you.

As you come off your high and the clouds of euphoria clears off, reality sets in more painfully than ever. Your limbs are paralyzed and you feel like you are outside your own body, just watching everything happen as if you were a third person in the room. Harry rolls to the side, chest heaving wildly as he is trying to regulate himself. Once he is able to breathe without panting, he pecks your shoulder gently and makes a quick round to the bathroom. You hear water running and then his feet padding on the floor, but you can’t bring yourself to move, you just lie there, completely drained out. It doesn’t change even when Harry gently cleans you off with a damp washing cloth, throwing it to the side to take care of it in the morning. He pulls the covers over the two of you and scoops you into his arms. You manage to bring your arm up to his chest as your head rests on his shoulder. His fingers are dancing up and down your arm, his steady breathing keeping your overcrowded head grounded. And then… he starts singing so softly, it’s almost just a whisper.

“Hey Angel, oh, I wish I could be more like you. Do you wish you could be more like me?”

Your eyes shut close, the damn tears flooding again, but you keep your sobs drowned in your throat. Instead you force yourself to sleep and hope you live to see the morning, because you feel like your heart is about to give up on you.

When you wake up, you genuinely feel like you’ve drunk through last night and now have the worst hangover. It’s like you’ve been hit on the head with a chair. You slowly come to your senses and realize that you’re completely naked in bed and there’s a body curled to your side, equally naked.

The shock sets in first because you realize, once again, that what happened last night wasn’t just a fever dream, it actually happened. And then you basically jump out of bed when you look at the small digital clock on the bedside and see that the two of you have ten minutes to leave if you don’t want to be late to the last day of filming.

“Harry! Harry get up!” you smack him, kicking the covers off and grabbing your top and shorts from the floor, quickly putting them on. The man in talk growls, just rolling to his back without even opening his eyes. “Harry damn it! We have ten minutes or you’ll be late!” you snap at him and it somewhat wakes him up. With furrowed eyebrows at puckered lips, he lifts his head up and looks around.

Those lips were kissing you last night.

“What?” he mumbles in confusion.

“We overslept, get up. We have… eight minutes left.”

“Shit,” he mumbles under his breath, finally getting out of bed, reaching for his boxers.

It’s a shitshow as the two of you try to get ready on time and though you are running just a few minutes late, the driver of the taxi manages to speed down the streets fast enough that you arrive to set just in time.

During the whole ride, you feel Harry’s burning eyes on you, but thank God, you get a call from Jeffrey the moment you get into the car and it lasts the whole ride so you don’t have to talk with him about what happened last night.

“Y/N,” he tries when you’re still on the phone and he is already done with hair and makeup, heading to set to start filming.

“What?” you mouth at him.

“Can we talk later?”

“I’m busy. Go, I’m sure they are waiting for you,” you whisper to him and he looks so disappointed, but he nods and walks away. Your heart breaks as you lower the phone. You have been out of the call for some time, just didn’t want to talk to him.

Quite frankly, you’re not ready to talk to him about what happened last night. You don’t want to hear him say that he was just trying to help you out last night, that it wasn’t anything serious, just some messing around. It was just two people trying not to feel lonely.

Walking back into his trailer you can feel your chest tightening, a sharp pain shooting right into your heart the more you think about him. It was a mistake, you shouldn’t have done it because you are the one with the feelings and now you are the one struggling with the consequences of your little get together.

The more you think about it, the worse it gets and you feel like you’re about to suffocate. You need to get out of here, there’s no way you can face him now.

It all happens so fast. Before you can even second guess your decision, you’re on your way back to the apartment to pack all your stuff and get on the first flight back home. You need to put distance between you and him, spending one more night in the same apartment would make you go nuts. So while Harry is filming, completely oblivious to what you’re doing, you pack up your room as fast as possible and head to the airport to hop on the plane that leaves at four pm.

With a racing heart you check all your baggage in and make it through security when Harry first calls you. At first, you want to ignore it, but then you find yourself swiping your thumb across the screen.

“Hey,” you shortly greet him.

“Hey, where are you? Have been looking for you everywhere.” “I um… I’m at the airport,” you answer and the silence on the other end is deafening for a moment.

“You are at the what?” he then snaps.

“I had a, um, kind of emergency, so I’m heading back home now. Sorry, I would have called you, but didn’t know when you’d be off set.”

“You fucking packed and left already? You’re really at the airport?” He is fuming, Raging. You can tell he is pacing in the trailer, vigorously running his fingers through his hair, ruining it without a care. You almost feel guilty, but then again, you just know facing him now would break you. You’ll get back to him when you’ve pulled your shit together.

“I am, calm down, alright? Not a big deal.” “You just left on our last day here without a fucking word! And when am I seeing you again?”

“I, uhh—I need to be home for a while, but you’ll be fine. I’ll stay in touch with you in email and text.”

“Fucking text? Email?” he is barking now. Good thing you are not there because it would be a disaster. “Y/N, you can’t be serious. We-we were supposed to talk. You can’t just fucking disappear like this.”

“We’ll talk, alright?”

“When?”

“Later,” you simply tell him at a loss for a better answer. Hopefully, never, you think to yourself, but don’t say it out loud.

“Okay, you’re not doing this. Don’t you dare get on a plane, I’m going to the airport right now. You’re not leaving.”

“Well, I am and you’re not coming here,” you clap back, but you can already hear him moving around, probably gathering his stuff so he can leave right away.

“Swear to God if you get on that plane, I’m—“ He cuts himself off, no idea what to really say and you just sigh, closing your eyes. People rush by you and as you glance at the big screen you see that your plane is boarding.

“Harry, just… it’ll be better like this, alright? You’ll be fine, I’ll see you… when I see you. Have fun on your last day on set.”

You end the call before he could get another word out and put it on airplane mode right away as you grab your backpack and head to your gate.

Using your time on the plane wisely, you put together a very detailed schedule for Harry so he knows everything about his next few weeks and you can minimize your contact with him. You even set up a bunch of reminders in his calendar so he won’t miss his appointments.

When you set feet on the ground again, you expect the distance between you and Harry to feel comforting and freeing, but it’s the opposite. An ache in your chest is getting heavier as you get yourself a taxi and head home, feeling more alone than ever in your life.

Your home doesn’t feel like a home. Not without that one person who could make any place your home, but you can’t see him right now, not until you learn how to exist around him without the urge to faint.

Going to bed alone is pure torture. Every moment you are waiting to hear Harry shuffling around in the apartment, you miss his little snorts when he is watching the TV, his singing coming from the shower, but most importantly, you miss having him so close to you in bed. Now that you’re lying on your own, your bed feels so cold, it brings you tears as reality sets in. You miss him. You miss him more than anything and you can’t imagine a time when it won’t hurt anymore.

The crying pushes you into a shallow slumber sometime in the middle of the night, however, you’re rudely shaken back to consciousness when you hear someone banging on your door like crazy, pushing the doorbell constantly.

“Jesus fuck,” you mumble with a grimace, pulling a hoodie on as you make your way to the door hazily, probably still half asleep because you open the door without checking who it is through the peephole and you end up staring up at none other than Harry. “What the—What are you doing here?” you breathe out, panic sets in fast and your hands start shaking at the sight of him.

Harry steps inside without invitation and closes the door behind him, a stern expression on his handsome face.

“Y/N, what the fuck were you thinking when you left like that?”

“I-I told you, it was an emergency.”

“What kind of emergency? Because I called your mom and sisters, they all said nothing happened in the family, so what could possibly happen that needed you here immediately?”

“I don’t have to explain shit to you.” Shaking your head you try to step back to put some distance between the two of you, but he doesn’t let you, taking a step forward at the same time.

“Well I think we have a lot to talk about after last night, don’t you think?”

“I don’t want to talk,” you shake your head biting into your bottom lip. This wasn’t supposed to happen, why couldn’t he just stay where he was? “How did you even get here so fast?”

“Left as soon as we wrapped.”

“Where are all your stuff?”

“Left everything there, I’ll just go back and pack it up, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that for a girl who genuinely hates any form of working out, you ran pretty fast from you today.”

Any other day you would have laughed at his comparison, but not today. You just stand there, chewing on the inside of your cheeks as you try to figure out what to do or say. You were not ready to face him so soon.

“What do you want me to say?” you ask desperately, throwing your hands into the air.

“Tell me what it meant for you,” he calmly answers and you want to shake him. How is he so peaceful?

“No,” you shake your head. “I’m not doing this to myself, okay? I need time, Harry.”

“For what?”

“So I can get myself over this, alright? I need time, I—fuck this,” you growl, feeling the tears flooding your eyes again. Damn it!

“Why the fuck do you want to get yourself over it?”

“Because it obviously didn’t mean the same thing to me as it meant to you!” you snap at him and he raises his eyebrows at you in a way that tells you “you’re stupid”.

“What do you think it meant to me?”

“Probably nothing,” you scoff rolling your eyes, but the anger that bursts from him quickly washes your attitude away.

“Fucking nothing? You think I would get on a fucking plane first thing after filming for ten hours straight just to come after you? You think I spent all my nights with you these past weeks because you mean nothing to me? You know, for a smart girl, you can be pretty dumb sometimes.”

You blink at him in utter confusion, his words knocked you off your feet. He exhales sharply, long fingers running through his messy curls as he tries his best to calm himself down. When he is finally breathing somewhat normally his wildly vibrant green eyes meet your widened stare.

“Y/N, I thought we were on the same page. What did you think it was all about?” he softly asks, seeing how shook you still are.

“I, uhh—I thought this was all just some kind of distraction. You said you were feeling lonely, I thought you were just… kind of using me. And then last night was you returning the favor.”

“Hell no,” he breathes out shaking his head as he steps closer and this time you don’t back away from him. You let his hands run down your arms until they find your hands. “I thought this was clear, but I’m gonna say it then. I’m in love with you, Y/N, have been for a long time, I was just being a pussy and didn’t know how you’d take it. But then, when you didn’t kick me out of your bed the first night we slept together, it got me hoping and it was all heading just the right direction. Then last night happened and I was so damn sure this would be our turning point but then…” He breathes out shakily again, as if the thought still upsets him. “When I called you and you said you were at the airport… I love you, Angel, but I was ready to murder you.”

You let out a faint chuckle, feeling the tears bubbling in your eyes.

“Why did you run away instead of talking to me? Did you not trust me?” he asks softly, a hand coming up to cup your jaw gently.

“I didn’t trust myself,” you admit weakly.

“Oh Angel…” Leaning down he kisses your forehead tenderly, his lips feel like soft feathers against your hot skin. “Do you need me to tell you again how in love I am with you or are you gonna believe me? You’re not planning to run away again, are you?” he teases you making you chuckle as you shake your head.

“I’m not gonna run away, but I would love to hear you say you love me again.”

“I love you. I love you so fucking much, Angel, don’t you ever think otherwise for a moment, okay?”

You nod, lips curling into your mouth as your teary eyes meet his green orbs.

“I love you too, Harry.”

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that,” he chuckles breathing out in relief and it makes you smile. “I would never just use you. Love you way too much for that, Angel. You are everything to me.”

“Wish I knew that earlier,” you mumble with a bitter chuckle. It would have saved you a lot of tears.

“I will never stop saying it to you.” His forehead rests against yours, noses touching as his arms curl around your frame, pulling you close to him until you’re pressed up against his hard chest. “Just out of curiosity, what were you thinking when I told you, you reminded me of Hey Angel? Because I think it pretty much gave me away, but apparently, I was wrong,” he chuckles lowly, pulling back a little so he can look you in the eyes.

“I honestly have no idea,” you admit with an awkward chuckle. “I just had a conversation with Florence before that where she called me out about my feelings for you and I was still kind of in shock. Probably took it as just your usual flirty behavior.”

“I’ll admit I do flirt some, but haven’t you realized it’s different with you?”

“I guess not.” “Angel, you are… something else,” he chuckles in disbelief before leaning down he finally presses his lips against yours. You giggle into his lips, arms wrapping around his neck as he lifts you up from the ground, twirling you around, a squeal slipping from your mouth.

“So, now you have to go back to pack your stuff?” you question, still wrapped into his arms completely and you don’t want to exist any other way. This is where you belong.

“Yeah. Had to chase down this Angel who thought she could run away from me.”

“So how are you planning to get to New York by four tomorrow when you’re still here and have to go back to pack? Have you checked the schedule I sent you? You’re not gonna make it.” You cock your head to the side with an arched brow.

“Did you just go back to full assistant mode right after we confessed our love for each other?”

“Someone has to be responsible and we both know it’s always me.”

“I’ll just hire someone to do it for me, I’ll leave to New York from here. Happy?” he grins at you as you nod.

“Very. Because this means you can stay the night here.”

“Seeing the fact that I literally have nowhere else to go, because even my house keys are in the suitcase I left back… I very much need to stay here for the night,” he points out.

“Good. Come on, my bed felt empty without you,” you giggle, pulling him towards your bedroom and he follows you eagerly.

“I can definitely help that.”

Thank you for reading! Please like/reblog if you enjoyed!

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heloisedaphnebrightmore · 3 years

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Possibilities [Tom Hiddleston x Reader]

Title: Possibilities Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Female!Reader Word count: 3k Published: 6 July 2021 Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore Warnings: Mention of food and alcohol Summary: Tom and you have been friends for a long time and because of that same reason you value your friendship more than to ruin it with some silly feelings. But the event you attend together offers you some surprises that might change your relationship forever.

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Events, galas, award ceremonies. You weren't a popular actress nor a famous singer, or social media influencer. You had a simple 9-5 job that would hardly ever get you into these events. But regardless of your status in society, you were known and not because of any talent you possessed that could have made you famous, but because your best friend was none-other than Tom Hiddleston.

You have been friends for years, you adored everything about the man. He was sweet and kind, always polite, but just as playful. It was a friendship you felt lucky to be in, a friendship that you held so close to your heart, it would have broken every little piece of you if it ever ended. Often, you found yourself staring at him with a little smile in the corner of your lips, watching his every move, the way he joked around with his co-stars on set, the way he exercised in the gym for a role, the way he winked at you with a mischievous smile as he caught your eyes on him.

"Do you need my autograph?" he asked with a wide grin as he opened the door of the luxurious car he booked for the event. Once again you have forgotten your eyes on him— his dashing looks, the perfectly fitted suit, the playful twinkle in his eyes. He never stopped teasing you about it.

"Shove off, Tom," you nudged him as he got out of the car and held out a hand for you, waiting for you to accept his help. So, you did. Wrapping your fingers around his hand, you let him help you out of the vehicle as you rearranged your stunning dress and ran your hand down its length to remove any creasing. Cameras were flashing, reporters' loud voices filled the pathway to the entrance, a long red carpet leading your way inside the building towering over you like a modern castle.

"If I didn't know better, I would think your interest in me goes beyond friendship," he chuckled as he held his arm out to you, waiting for yours to be placed over his, his eyes following every little movement of yours. A sudden rush of heat travelled up to your cheeks, your breathing slightly laboured as you tried to calm your heavily beating heart. He was not wrong after all. It's been years since you have been harbouring these feelings, but you hadn't had the heart to confess them. Tom was more important to you than to ruin it over some silly feelings.

Sometimes, when you caught Tom's eyes on you, watching you intently, a soft smile spread across his face, it made you think if maybe, just maybe he was harbouring similar feelings towards you. But the idea was quickly swept away by your doubts, the thought of such an amazing man falling for you seeming impossible. You knew your worth, you didn't write yourself down, but Tom has always been perfect in your eyes, and you couldn't imagine him wanting you even if at times a certain silly part of your brain whispered otherwise.

"I love your healthy self-confidence," you finally gathered your ability to be able to reply, earning a comical huff from him. You have been trying hard, to deny your romantic interest in him, but rumours about the two of you have become a reoccurring news and it didn't help your case to shove your feelings in the back of your mind.

"Ready?" He asked as his gaze turned towards the red carpet. Heaving a heavy sigh, you nodded and murmured a 'yes' as a response.

As soon as the cameras started flashing, hundreds of photos of Tom and you being taken, you conjured a sweet little smile that the tabloids loved. You were always nervous when it came to these events. It was Tom's job to answer some of the questions journalists asked of him, which meant they were to ask about your relationship. It was becoming repetitive, making you feel uncomfortable. The questions themselves didn't bother you but repeating over and over again that the man you have fallen for is merely a friend, felt like a stab in your heart, each time you responded.

"Tom! Tom!" One of the reporters shouted his name and he led you to the side of the red carpet, halting right beside the metal cordons. Questions were flying around, photos had been taken, but you didn't concentrate. Your senses were heightened as Tom pulled you in his side, his arm now wrapped around your waist, gently, but firmly holding onto you. Looking up at him, you studied his face, his ice-blue eyes focusing on the reporter, an excited smile across his face. He seemed so relaxed, so collected, meanwhile even events after events you were still nervous. As though he could feel it, he turned to you with a soft, reassuring smile, giving you a nod, silently asking if you were alright. For others, the movement could have easily been missed, but to you, it was like an earthquake, shaking your heart, making you fall even deeper for him. In a reply, you nodded and offered him a smile as you squeezed his hand that rested on your waist.

"So, Tom, this might be a bit more personal, but everyone has been talking about the two of you," he started, and your eyes immediately darted towards the man. You knew the question, heard it a thousand times already, so you prepared your heart to give the same reply as always. 'We are just friends,' you repeated time after time, hoping they would finally understand and let you be, but they didn't seem to budge. "You have been friends for a long time, and your fans have been talking about how close the two of you have become. Do you think, maybe in the future, there's a possibility for romance to blossom?" He asked with an expectant expression, a sly smile in the corner of his lips.

"As we have said before," you spoke up, ready to reply as you always did, "we—"

"You never know what the future holds for you, there are many possibilities" Tom cut in with a mischievous smile, your eyes growing wide as you looked up at him. Tom chuckled at your expression as he leaned down and kissed the top of your head. "Tell me I'm wrong," he arched a brow questioningly, his words starting your heart off at a faster pace, your cheeks feeling warmer under his intent gaze, those blue eyes you often found yourself lost in.

"Well—, I mean I can't argue with that statement," you replied, feeling slightly awkward. A confused smile started growing wider on your face as Tom led you away. "Why did you do that?" You asked as you finally stepped inside the building, his arm still resting around your waist as you headed towards a large room filled with all sorts of foods and drinks, people dancing in the middle, the dim lightning offering a rather intimate mood. "You just created even more gossip," you scolded him, but seemingly he didn't mind. He led you to a table where his name was printed on a nametag and pulled the chair out for you before he took his seat beside you.

"I didn't say anything," he smiled at you as innocently as he could manage, the corner of his eyes crinkling.

"You did. Exactly because you were so secretive, people will want to read between the lines. They will think there's more to us than friendship," you huffed as you hid your face in your palm and heaved a heavy sigh.

"And is that so bad?" He frowned, earning the same expression from you.

"What?" A silent scoff left your lungs. "What are you trying to say?"

"Is that such a big problem if people think we are together?" He asked, his confident tone stunning you.

"Of course, not. I don't care what rumours are being spread about me, but I don't want them to gossip about you," you reached for his hand on the table and wrapped your fingers around it, giving it a gentle squeeze. His expression stayed emotionless; you couldn't read him entirely, but you knew he seemed off.

"I will go grab us a drink," he said as he stood up, leaving you frowning. You weren't sure what you said that made him upset, and regardless of trying to put on a straight face, you knew he wasn't happy with your response.

You watched as he walked over to a small table filled with the most delicious looking cakes and a couple of bottles of champagne, ready for the guests before they brought out the main course. Tom grabbed a battle of champagne and two glasses, filling up both halfway, before he placed the battle back into an ice bucket.

"What is it?" You asked as he returned and gave you one of the glasses.

"What do you mean?" He asked, taking a seat beside you.

"We've known each other for quite a long time. I can read you like an open book. What's bothering you?" Trying to get him to open up, you shuffled closer to him, your chair scraping the floor, turning heads in your direction. "Oops," you scratched the back of your neck awkwardly, earning a chuckle from Tom.

"Very subtle," he mocked you.

"Don't change the subject Mr. Hiddleston," you raised a questioning brow, a tiny smile hidden in the corner of your lips.

"Nothing is bothering me," he added, but your suspicious gaze didn't falter. "I'm being honest, darling," the sly little fox knew his nickname for you would make you soften up and he used every opportunity to say it when he felt cornered.

"Fine," you squinted. "But we aren't done! I'm not blind, I can see something is on your mind."

"Yes, ma'am, I can't wait for this conversation to come back around," he mocked you once again, making you huff as you gently punched his shoulder.

Throughout the night, said conversation was forgotten, the alcohol consumption rose, the amount of people dancing around the room grew, meanwhile others sat at their tables, trying to digest the previously served delicious meals. You couldn't deny that you had a good laugh with Tom and his co-stars from all sorts of movies he had been in. It felt like a little family, people coming together to just have a joyous time.

The way Tom smiled at his friends, praising each other, before turning to mock one another forced your eyes to rest on his excited features. He looked so alive, so happy and the feeling of the man you loved being in his element meant everything to you. Tom was radiating enthusiasm and you couldn't look away as you watched his ever-growing smile, his nose scrunched up at an unexpected subject, his head falling back as a loud laughter erupted from his lungs. He was always handsome, but when he was happy, it filled you up with a certain warmth that you couldn't explain. Like you always wanted to make him happy just to be able to see that cheerful smile spread across his face.

He turned to you, catching your gaze on him once again. His arm sneaked behind you, pulling you closer and leaning down to your ear. "You are staring at me again," you couldn't see it, but you could feel his smile spreading wider.

"I like to see you happy," you shrugged with a soft smile as you leaned back to be able to meet his gaze. His smile faltered, but his eyes softened.

"Dance with me," he said as he offered his palm to you, and you placed your hand in it.

"I take no responsibility for broken toes," you said with a silent chuckle as you followed him to the dancefloor.

"Don't worry, darling, it's worth the injury," he mirrored your expression as you stopped in the middle of the dance floor. A slow, romantic song started playing in the background, his arms finding their perfect position around your waist as yours sneaked around his neck.

It was a slow and peaceful dance, not requiring much knowledge and talent. You just enjoyed each other's presence, gazes meeting, smiles forming, swaying to the slow rhythm of the music. You didn't speak a word, but the silence wasn't uncomfortable. It never was with Tom. A soft smile, a quick glance, a simple gesture meant more than thousands of words when you were with him.

You laid your head against his chest, listening to his fast heartbeat, taking on a quicker pace just like yours did. "I miss you when you are not with me," he spoke for the first time as he leaned down and kissed the top of your head. You didn't move away; his embrace was too comfortable, and you couldn't care about people watching you.

"I always miss you. You are the one travelling all the time after all," you chuckled lightly, not wanting to ruin the moment.

"I could be only a mile away and I would still miss you," he replied as you pulled back a bit to meet his soft gaze, but there was no smile present across his handsome face. As the song finished, you found yourself standing in front of him, slightly confused about the conversation. "Do you want to go to the balcony? Have some fresh air?" He asked, taking on a more cheerful expression, but you knew him more than to believe it was genuine. In a response you nodded and linked your arm with his.

Following him through the sea of people, you finally arrived at the balcony, looking down to a smaller version of a park, a water fountain standing tall in its centre. You leaned against the rail as you watched the trees battling the silent wind, fallen leaves being blown across the walking path. Tom joined beside you, his eyes following the same direction as you did before they halted on your face. "You are being strange tonight," you spoke up, feeling his gaze resting on you before you turned to him, meeting his eyes.

"I'm just thinking," he added with a half-hearted smile.

"About?" You asked as you reached for his hand resting on the rail and placed yours on top of his. He turned his palm upside down and lifted your hand, hinting a small kiss on your knuckles as he heaved a heavy sigh. "Tom talk to me," you squeezed his fingers reassuringly, his eyes watching you, not leaving your gaze for a moment. "You have been rather quiet around me," you added.

His whole body turned to you, as though he was focusing his complete attention on you. Reaching towards you, he brushed your hair to the side, gently tucking it behind your ear. You leaned into the touch involuntarily, only realising your actions when he caressed your cheek with his thumb, before moving down and running it across your lips. The feeling burnt you, starting your mind off in a very dangerous territory, one that you have been avoiding. 'He is your friend' you tried to remind yourself. But once the tip of his thumb brushed along your lips once again, you couldn't stop yourself. Stepping forward, you placed your hands on his chest, steading yourself and rose on your tiptoes, pressing your lips against his.

Your own bravery surprised you, but Tom didn't seem affected. As soon as your lips met, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer. He didn't hesitate, he wasn't surprised. He just held you, gently running his lips along yours, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. But as much as you wanted to enjoy the moment, realisation hit you. You were kissing your best friend. You gently pushed him away, stumbling back from the force, covering your mouth with your palm. "I'm so sorry," you breathed, panic rising in your chest. "I have no idea what happened, I don't know why I did that, I'm so sorry," your words were rushed, your heartbeat loudly pulsing in your ears.

But Tom's gaze twinkled. A soft, warm smile grew wider across his face as he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you. "I'm not," he said as he pressed his forehead against yours. "I've been wanting to kiss you," he breathed as he closed his eyes momentarily, slightly shaking his head. "I've been wanting to tell you how much I love you; I've been trying to gain the courage to say it out loud," he scoffed. "I'm a fool for dragging it out for so long, but I love you," his voice shook as he said the words, but his arms tightened around you, safely holding you against his chest. It took you a second to understand what he meant, that your feelings weren't unrequited, that he has been harbouring the same feelings you have.

A heavy sigh left your lungs, as though a weight fell off your chest. Your lips curved into a smile as you placed your hands on his cheeks, running the tip of your thumbs across his jawline. He mirrored your expression whilst leaning into your touch, planting a small kiss on your palm. "I love you too," you replied finally," the words rolling off the tip of your tongue easier than you expected. "I love you so much," you giggled, wanting to repeat the words over and over again, until you finally understood that it was real, that you weren't dreaming. "You never know what the future holds for you, huh?" You asked, repeating his words from earlier in the evening, earning a loud chuckle from him. "So, is this one of those many possibilities?" you raised a single brow.

"Could be. I have a couple more ideas," he said, his soft smile turning into a confident grin.

"You are terrible," you gently hit his chest as you grabbed his suit-jacket and pulled him down to you, meeting his lips halfway, smiling into the intimate moment you have been craving for so long.

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