#sad that tags didn’t exist for baby yet

[raggedyannrevivaleffort]

who are your favorite characters in any piece of media? if you answered anyone besides baby or teddy, you’re wrong. (/j)

[satoruhour]

LAUNDRY DAY

a/n: I AM ALLIVEEEEEEE 🔥🔥🔥🔥 sorry i had a crazy week! can be read as a standalone piece but based off gojo’s roommate au of here and here / tagging @jabamin @hyomagiri @utahimeow @lov3rbody ☆

wc: 4k

warnings: sub!gojo that turns into dom!gojo, fem!reader, fantasising? gojo is a pervert too, mentions of semi-public sex, implied somnophilia, panty sniffing, pillow / dry humping, m! masturbation, oral (m receiving), deep-throating, praise, pet names, unprotected sex, multiple rounds, creampie / breeding kink, n*sfw under the cut

living with you was hard. brushing his teeth with you was hard. being around you — hard. both figuratively and—

there’s a loud sigh from you.

clearly tired from the day’s activities of ushering in freshman after freshman, you lugged your body into the bathroom. the same rehearsed words have been leaving your mouth as your cheeks hurt more and more by the hour, only to repeat it all over again the next day.

“you look like shit,” it’s muffled by the way the toothbrush is stuffed into his mouth, foam peeking out from the corners of his mouth and you’re trying not to tell your roommate (and boyfriend) to shut up — you didn’t have the energy to do, much less say anything and you certainly didn’t have time for your lover’s clever quips so late in the night.

it didn’t help that you recently had an argument too; well, trivial to him but much more major to you. it was a matter of getting gojo to keep his laundry properly and to clean up after himself once he’s gotten himself comfortable in the relationship. it’s not like he doesn’t want to — he was cleaning up in the first place to impress you — but now since he’s got you, it’s like he simply expects you to act as his little wife when it was a shared space. the exact argument you used against him.

“satoru— this is a shared apartment! you can’t just leave tteokbokki cups lying around with the gochujang sauce still inside! it’s going to attract cockroaches and ants!” you gesture wildly, the sheer amount of trash lying around making you even sicker than you thought possible. getting paid to usher in freshmen and then coming home to this? it felt like every cent of your hard work had gone to waste.

there’s only a grin on his face, “you’re so attractive when you’re mad, baby.”

that was another thing: the lack of seriousness that gojo possessed at times, simply talking to piss you off, simply living to be the bane of your existence. “and you’re fucking unbelievable, gojo satoru. clean up— or don’t,” you made sure to lace that last word with venom, “i don’t care.”

that seemed enough for gojo to snap out of his stupor, “no, no— princess, fuck, i’m s—” his brows furrow when he briefly spots the thickening glaze of your eyes, possibly filling with tears before you’re marching into your room to slam the door and he swears to himself. satoru had never felt embarrassment and shame and sadness like that day; having just taken a shower but his skin was sweaty and uncomfortable and his heart sat right at his feet.

gojo swears he never wants to hear you say his full name ever again.

since then, it’s been a little tense between the two of you. geto had noticed it on movie night, shoko realised you haven’t been looking at your phone as often. hell, even prof. yaga had to tell you that you were distracted way too much lately, and it’s only been two days.

satoru tried to possibly take back what he said with whatever powers he didn’t possess, but he only gets another sigh from you as you squeeze the toothpaste out and start brushing your teeth, not even sparing him one glance in the mirror.

and yet while he was the first one to start his nightly routine, he’s left to be the last again from the way he’s unable to stop staring at you, a recurring trait of his whenever you were in the same room with him. it’s a testament of how attracted he was to you — at how his shirt slips off your shoulder from how big it was because even when you were mad at him, you forgot about that little detail. gojo’s eyes trail from your exposed shoulder to your legs and back up again to your fatigued face. he skims over the shape of your eyes and down to your nose and he thinks he’s the luckiest man to be brushing his teeth beside you now, blessed with seeing such an intimate side of you even if it’s as simple as this.

until gojo’s eyes fall upon your mouth as your toothbrush is doing its job of perfect innocence, cleaning some teeth, scraping off the bacteria on your tongue, except when you’re switching it from side to side all your roommate can think about if it was his dick instead. and the thought leaves him as fast it comes.

all you do is shoot him a weird look through the mirror when gojo exclaims like he was a vampire whose skin burned under the bathroom lighting, and he regains composure with ease.

“i’m fine! fine. doing a-okay.” satoru speaks through the foam and it’s spraying everywhere and you’re too tired to care before you hear another gulp when you move your toothbrush again, “sorry! sorry— continue please.”

gojo is starstruck for an entirely different reason, now, watching the toothbrush making bulges at the side of your mouth as it moves in and out and he’s left to fantasise about the many, many times you’ve gotten him in you and the warmth of everything. he can feel himself get hard under his sweatpants when you start brushing your tongue and you gag and he wants to die standing in this 30 square foot bathroom because the last thing he wants to do is sexualise something perfectly mundane.

gojo isn’t like that (well, most of the time. can’t blame him for finding you smokin’ hot).

“what the fuck is your problem?” you’re speaking through your foamy mouth now, spitting it out and proceeding to clean up with no clue of what you do to him. satoru on the other hand — terribly excited that you’d even open your mouth to talk to him after two days of endless silent treatment. 

“nothing, baby. it’s nothing, i promise.” you can’t lie at the way your heart jumps at the familiarity of it all, of being in such proximity to your lover, doing domestic things like these and the ‘baby’ and yet your pride is holding you back on everything.

you go straight to sleep, too, not wanting to entertain anything related to gojo satoru and you feel just a little bad when he looks at you with those baby blues and a sweet pout on his face. he looked especially pathetic in the bathroom, like a deer caught in headlights at just the presence of you and you want nothing more to apologise. it’s never that easy, though; you needed a promise, you needed the reassurance that he wouldn’t be leaving you to clean up after him again.

all these worries are willed away when you finally fall into slumber in your own room, body craving the warmth of satoru unknowingly. you had stolen a pillow the day before and it’s been the sole source of his scent, the only thing to keep your mind sane.

gojo’s heart drops again upon seeing you already deep in sleep, thinking he had a chance to catch you before you did, but the needines for you never goes down even now. he cannot take his mind off the way you’d run your hands through his hair or tangle your legs with his, satoru’s limbs recall the memory of you playing with his fingers and how you like to curl your arms around his neck. 48 hours is enough for him to go insane, and also maybe at how your leg was propped up on his missing pillow, hugging it so tight to your chest. you hadn’t bothered to wear pants either, so all he can see is the shape of your cunt under.

he stalks into the room and kneels in front of you, finger so tempted to run along your folds and make you wet, staring a whole minute and weighing his options until decides he doesn’t deserve it, turning away and closing your door softly.

“going now, satoru.” it’s soft when you mumble it, not even wanting him to hear before you’re stopped. you’re donning the uni orientation shirt and eyebags, a soggy sandwich from yesterday staining your bag with its smell. “what?”

“made you somethin’,” gojo’s cute like this with a frilly apron and hair band, still managing to tower over you despite the adorable get-up he’s got on, “it’s a bento.”

and you wish you could just melt the pride that runs through your bones and kiss him all over, and you break just a little. a small smile and you walk up to him, grabbing the lunchbox and pecking him softly on the cheek, turning away fast enough to not catch his fangirl moment — because you knew you wouldn’t be able to make it on time if you did.

“we still have to talk later when i come back, okay?” you call out as you put on your shoes and you steal one last glance at him, “and today’s laundry day. you know what t—”

“yes ma’am!” gojo salutes and you roll your eyes with a small smile, locking the door behind you with heat on your cheeks and the pounding of your heart. it was difficult not to break when it came to satoru, when he’s trying so hard to win back your words and love, and so tonight you’ve decided after the tiring week is when you’d finally stop running away over such a small matter.

although, gojo got caught up in something way beyond your expectations even if he had his initial intentions (which involved ordering your favourite takeout and kneeling at the front door in apology). 

your roommate lays around for a bit before grabbing some lunch and heading to the back room, a little extension attached to the kitchen with a tune on his lips. it’s clear he’s a little driven by your little innocent peck, a sign that maybe you weren’t so mad any more. for the next hour, satoru is contently doing the laundry with a smile, until—

the panties you threw in before showering must have fallen to the bottom of the pile, the same one he saw you wear last night and he thinks maybe the low humming buzz he heard last night wasn’t his imagination because when he picks it up he can smell your arousal. there’s a stain from the previous night and another pool of juices from this morning and he now knows that it wasn’t the kettle.

“dirty girl,” he grins, “both yesterday and this morning?” he’s thought about this for the longest time, always holding himself back because you found him weird enough even before you were dating, always letting you do your own separate load for your undergarments. but since you’ve gotten together, you were more comfortable, throwing it into the same laundry basket — the compulsion has never been this strong before.

gojo puts it up to his nose and smells like the pervert he is, among other times: teasing you with a hand down your pants when the two were over at your dorm, fucking you in the kitchen as they focused on the movie, pounding into you with the windows open, and he almost ascends at the scent of your pussy juices. there’s a spark that goes down right to his core and he palms his bulge unconsciously, coming to his senses when the washing machine beeps.

he impatiently puts in the settings and leaves, heading straight for your room and is hit with all reminders of you. the perfume you used this morning and the body wash you share with him, walking almost under a trance to your bed where he moans at the softness of the sheets as he falls face first. it doesn’t take him much to scoot to your pillows, but the need for you is just too much.

gojo grinds his cock into the bed, whining softly as he whiffs up your natural body smell, hips moving on their own accord as he manoeuvres a pillow between his legs. he humps it like a dog, groaning and moaning and the strain on his dick is just too much, balling up the undies in his hand and his body tenses at the friction. 

“baby . . f-fuck—” satoru’s voice is high-pitched and choked, all the thoughts of you culminating into one big ball of desperation for you and he cums in his pants, tainting the fabric a darker colour than before. but he’s not done — his hips still move against the pillow, thrusting into the fluff as he rides out his orgasm, moans muffled by the pillow. “miss you . .”

gojo misses you more than anything, feeling so much distance even within the house that he flips over — by now the sun shines its golden rays a little less. the afternoon is winding down into a cool evening — and pulls at the waistband of his pants. he’s still sensitive, wrapping a hand around his hard cock and pumping and the sound that leaves his mouth is borderline slutty. with another smell of your cunt, he strokes his dick, using his cum as lube.

“oh . . r-right there— mhnng . .” satoru’s hips buck into his hand, squeezing and thumbing at his cock before unbundling your panties and wrapping them around his shaft. the sight drives him insane. sure, it’s one of your more everyday underwear, neutral in both design and colour but he can feel the fabric get wetter and wetter from how much cum he’s pushed out earlier and that’s enough to keep his hand pumping. “s-sweetness, cummin—”

gojo’s head makes a dent in your other pillow from how hard he was pushing it, back arching at how the warmth in his hand will never compare to your mouth or pussy. he can already feel his second orgasm approaching, your room filled with the squelch of his cock and his sounds and he shoots his load with a drawn out moan all over your panties and his stomach. his cum is always so much, dripping down his pelvis and onto his hand and also . . yours?

your boyfriend lets out the girliest scream you’ve ever had the pleasure of hearing, scrambling up to the headboard when he sees you hovering over his body. he accidentally kicks your chest in the process and you have to clutch it with a small “ow”, although a small smile is still present on your face.

“having fun?”

“dude, what the fuck?” 

your smile drops, “dude?”

gojo suddenly has his hands moving frantically, “nonono— no, sorry, i meant baby!”

you sigh, sitting back down on your heels as you take in the sight: his still hard cock and the sweat lining his body. his bangs are wet and your eyes flit down to your soiled underwear.

“uh . . i was just borrowing it,” gojo nervously chuckles, handing the cum-filled panty to you and your brows furrow.

“darling, you can’t just give someone back their clothes with your come on it.”

and your boyfriend pouts again, “i really am sorry. and for everything else, too. for not cleaning up and for being a general bum,” this is why you also (sometimes) favoured his unseriousness when you were talking about difficult things. the amount of times you had succumbed to his touches and kisses when you were mad at him was much better than your pride. gojo brings you onto his lap like his dick wasn’t just out, and you relish in the closeness you’ve missed.

“i need you to show me you mean it, ’toru,” he lights up at the nickname he loves just as you point a finger in his face, “aht! calm down. don’t think we’re all buddy-buddy again.”

“i will try,” gojo is smooth, taking your hand into his while the other brushes the hair away from your eyes. you lean into the touch, “and i will try until you see my efforts.”

you smile at his honesty, “and i’m sorry for ignoring you as well. it was childish of me.”

gojo hums, bringing your face in to plant a kiss to your lips, “i missed you like crazy, princess.”

you laugh, “yeah i can tell, i miss you too.” you gesture to all of him and he whines softly at the joke, squeezing your waist.

“you’re not weirded out?”

his breath hitches when you move down his body and situate yourself between them, finger tracing his tip and teasing him, “why would i be? i’ve literally fucked myself wearing your shirt.”

gojo gulps loudly, “you did w-what?”

“i’m just better at not getting caught.” all words are taken from his lips then, when your mouth engulfs him and the feeling of it is just pure insanity. gojo pants and his thighs tense, a hand gathering your hair into a ponytail to keep it from interfering. his eyes fixate on the way your suck him off, recalling the last time he’s watched you do that was in a damn bathroom. 

“y-your mouth—” satoru swears under his breath when you swirl your tongue around his shaft, the tip of his cock making bulges on the side of your mouth and it only leaves him calling out your name time after time.

“y’know,” you gargle on him, slurping up his cum, “i know what you were thinking starin’ at me last night.”

gojo snaps his fingers and mumbles out a shaky damn, because he can always be read like an open book. he just didn’t know he was that obvious.

“looked cute staring,” you mutter around him, “like a little puppy.”

you slap his thick length on your tongue, moaning when you feel just how heavy it is, “you just wanted this so bad, didn’t you?”

gojo whines at your words, nodding, and you go back to the abuse on his dick, bobbing your head up and down as your hand plays with his balls. the other moves over his torso, at the porcelain skin there and you can feel his stomach heaving at your ministrations.

“are you close, baby?” you ask mindlessly, the lewd sounds of his fat cock in your mouth sending sensations right down to your sex as well. you never really listen to his answer, taking a deep breath and sucking in your cheeks and soon you’re deep throating your lover.

“mh— mmf . .” sounds deep from your throat as your nose buries itself in his pubes, and satoru struggles to hold your tantalising stare. he can feel his tip hit the back of your throat and his moans are quick and high-pitched.

“cumming— ’m cumming,” before you come off and you go back to your pace and gojo’s small moans descend into longer ones at the feeling. his eyes roll back right into his skull as he twitches in your mouth and soon he’s spilling right into your throat and tongue.

“baby—” satoru’s eyes are squeezed tightly shut, “s-shit . .” and the sheer amount of cum always takes you off guard, sputtering over it when you drag your lips off of him. your boyfriend’s eyes are hooded and darkened, looking at how the strings of his semen droop from your mouth and connect right to his weeping tip.

“eugh, eat more veggies, ’toru. you’re bitter as fuck.” you say with a giggle, swallowing nonetheless as you wipe a hand across your mouth, “thanks for the meal.”

his spirit has certainly ascended, chest heaving and legs jelly from that mind-blowing orgasm. even he takes solace on the headboard, looking down at you with tired eyes.

“but i’m not done,” you truly weren’t, driving satoru to the brink after you’ve milked him to his limit, and yet he wouldn’t have it any other way as he thrusts into you, having had a new burst of energy after seeing your confidence wane once you’ve gotten his dick in you.

it was cute — your words breaking up and staggering as you sink down for the first time after two days, reduced merely to whines as you ride him. gojo lets you have your fun for a bit before he properly flips you over, pressing down on your lower back.

“fuck yourself onto me, baby,” he can tell you’ve missed him too by how you squeeze around him, a sly grin on his face when your hips push back onto him. he sees the tight hold you have on the silk sheets and the soft whimpers leaving your mouth. “good girl . . juuust like that.”

you’re jerking forward when he slaps your ass, letting it ripple from the force of both of his hand and your hips. but he takes over soon enough, grabbing both your arms and pulling you gently off that you’re hanging limply. and even while he does that, he’s still focused on the way your lips spread to accommodate him together with a ring of white at the base of his cock.

“that feel good? huh?” gojo mumbles, loving the way you arch your back and your head lols forward, just letting him do whatever he wants to you. you’re too far gone to even quell the ache in your thighs, too distracted by the wetness of your pussy.

“feel s— s’good, satoru—!” you moan out and like always satoru is indecisive in everything, now tugging you up to rest chest to back. “g’na cum!”

your legs spread more and more as your lover keeps you tightly pressed against him, an arm around your neck and the other, waist. wordlessly, he guides your face to the side, meeting your mouth in a sloppy, drooling kiss and his hips stutter at the way you mewl into his mouth.

“that right, princess?” he asks into your lips, relishing in your face contorting in pleasure. eyes reaching heaven and your mouth parted cutely even more when he props a leg up and his cockhead presses against your cervix ever so lightly.

“y—yeah . .” it’s a mix between a whine and a moan before the only rub of your clit from satoru’s hand sends you reeling and you’re trembling in his hold. you can feel your juices coat his length just as he cums as well, too obsessed with the way your cunt feels aeons better than his pathetic hand. he litters your skin with groans of his own, continue to fuck his cum back into you as you milk him dry with ropes and ropes of semen painting your womb white.

“good little girl,” he hums, and you sigh at the feeling of him cumming again, sensing him removing himself with you with an obscene pop! and you want to continue. you’re already moving your hips yet again, begging with small please’s but the happy-go-lucky song of the dryer interrupts the both of you. you scowl.

gojo laughs into your neck, and you’re left grumbling as he sets you down gently, letting you catch your breath before he presses a kiss to your sweaty cheek.

“i’ll handle it, baby,” satoru made a promise to you and he’ll keep it. he hurriedly pulls his sweatpants over his bottom half, “you just rest up.”

it’s not even two minutes later that you already miss him, trotting over to the laundry room in nothing but his shirt and you just watch as he removes the clothes with a certain tranquillity and delicateness that you’d like to see this sight more often and all you can muster in the moment is your arms around his middle.

and the sweetness of the moment is immediately ruined by gojo, “let’s fuck here. whaddya say?” 

your roommate and lover can only grin when you turn him around to smack him (“it’s!” slap “not!” slap “sanitary!” slap “here!” slap), finally happy everything’s back to normal. satoru simply presses a kiss to your temple.

[viennakarma]

Evergreen (he tears me to pieces)

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: Your relationship is ending, despite you fighting for it for a while. Maybe it's time to let go.

Word count: 3.7k

Tags: Female reader, established relationship, heartbreak, neglected relationship, fights, cursing, miscommunication, misunderstandings, break up, sad ending (kinda), open ending, not beta read

Relationships: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Notes: this is a bit sad, not gonna lie, but the ending is kinda hopeful (i guess?)

Find me on Twitter!

You didn’t want to believe your relationship had reached a tipping point, but the details were all there. The lack of interest, distance, coldness.

You knew you and Charles were at a complicated point in your relationship. Losing the championship the year before had taken a huge toll on him, even when he tried to pretend it didn’t matter that much.

You were home in Monaco when you came back from shopping and you found Charles dressing up in the closet. You paused.

“Where are you going?” You asked, placing your shopping bag down.

“I’m going out for dinner with the boys,” he said, fixing his curls in front of the mirror.

“Charlie! We had my work dinner to go tonight! Did you forget about it?”

“Shit, baby!” He muttered, turning to you, “I’m so sorry!”

“Can you reschedule with your friends?” You asked, but he shook his head, spraying his cologne.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’ll make it up to you soon!” He reached for his wallet and car keys, “Don’t wait up for me!”

You sat on the bed, stunned. You thought about what you would say when you showed up at your work dinner that was made for the staff to take their partners to meet their colleagues and the work environment.

Alone at the dinner while everyone introduced their partners, you stayed only enough to not be considered rude and tried to not cry the whole drive back home.

Charles had not arrived yet when you went to bed, and you allowed yourself to shed a couple of tears before forcing yourself to sleep.

-

That was a bad day. Charles had crashed his car during the formation lap and you watched it with a heavy heart as he was out of the race and walking completely lost on his way back to the garage.

You waited for him to finish his press duties and after the race started, you went to meet him in his driver’s room. He was sitting on the sofa, a dreadful look on his face.

“Baby, how are you?” You whispered, kneeling beside him.

“How does it look?” He said, sarcastically.

“I’m sorry, that was stupid.” You frowned at your own silliness.

“Really stupid,” he mumbled. You swallowed, thinking he was just having a bad day.

“Can I do something for you?” You asked again, but he rolled his eyes.

“How about you leave me the fuck alone?!” He didn’t raise his voice too much, but the aggression was in his tone, in his coldness, like he was fed up with your existence.

You only nodded, ignoring the flaring pain in your chest as you silently left his room.

The lump in your throat didn’t bother too much as you sat down in the hospitality and watched what was left of the race. You stayed aimlessly around until way past the race ended, thinking about when it was finally time to go back to the hotel. You knew the debriefing meetings were usually longer after messed up races, so when you went back to the garage to look for Charles, you realized his bags weren’t in his room and the staff was disassembling everything and packing it up to leave.

You walked to the parking lot and noticed Charles’ car wasn’t there anymore. Back at the motorhome, you reached for your phone and tried calling him, but it went straight to voicemail. You were getting nervous every minute you passed alone there.

Like a forgotten clown.

“Hey! Are you ok?” You jumped hearing the voice behind you. It was Carlos, your boyfriend’s teammate and close friend.

“Yeah, um-” you stumbled on the words, because how the fuck would you tell Carlos that your boyfriend had left you behind, “I can’t reach Charles, and he left probably thinking I left earlier today.”

“Come on, I can give you a ride,” Carlos shook his keychain, pointing toward the parking lot.

“Thank you,” you managed to squeeze out.

As Carlos drove in silence, only the radio on softly, you tried not to think, because thinking would make you cry. And you didn’t want to cry in front of Carlos. As a sad song started, a single tear escaped, and you quietly wiped it, wishing Carlos was too focused on driving to notice. But as he stopped in front of the hotel, he offered you a tissue from the glovebox, which made two more tears come down before you could stop yourself.

“Thank you for the ride,” you said, and he just nodded.

“Anytime,” he said softly.

You were grateful he didn’t ask a single thing, nor tried to comfort you.

When you got into the hotel room, Charles was fast asleep, so you just got under the shower and cried with a hand on your mouth to muffle your cries.

-

You were finishing up your makeup when Charles got home on a random Saturday that he didn’t have work, and you two were home.

As you finished gluing eyelashes, Charles stood behind you with both hands on your hips.

“Aren’t you too formal for dinner at my mum’s?” He asked.

“I have a work gala tonight, Charles,” you said, impatiently, and moving away so his hands just slid off you.

“Why wasn’t I invited?” He pouted.

“You were,” you opened the lipgloss, applying to your lips, “you just forgot. Again.”

You didn’t look at him to see his expression drop. It was always like this, you were the last thing on his list of priorities. When he had work functions, you were always there for him, making do with your own time and commitments, squeezing him in so you’d never leave when he needed you. Unfortunately he never reciprocated you. Your friends didn’t matter, dinner with your family was optional and your work events, he didn’t even bother to go.

“You should’ve reminded me again.”

“I did. Two nights ago on the plane when we were flying back.”

“I can call my mom, reschedule our-” he started but your scoff cut him off.

“Don’t bother,” you shrugged.

“Amour-” He tried but you just shook your head.

“Just don’t, Charles,” you rolled your eyes, grabbing your clutch, “I don’t want to be late for the gala.”

Despite the sour beginning, the night was actually nice, you caught up with most of your colleagues, and sadly your boss announced she was going to retire. The night had a small award ceremony too, to celebrate the success of the year. Which ended up with you getting an award for your achievements during the year, and with a beautiful speech from your soon to be ex-boss, she announced that you were getting the promotion for the position of editor in chief, which was pretty much your dream job.

The night was one of the happiest of the year, and you only got home past two in the morning, after enjoying the company and celebrating your promotion. Charles was asleep as you placed your award, a symbolic trophy, on the living room bookshelf.

Charles never asked about the gala, and you didn’t waste any time trying to tell him, since he clearly didn’t give two fucks about your career.

When you went to the next race week hand in hand with Charles, you met Max Verstappen and Sebastian Vettel, who were chatting. You and Charles greeted the both of them. Sebastian who you knew from his time as Charles’ teammate and Max who you knew ever since you were a teen karting for fun. You knew Max just as long as you knew Charles.

“I heard about your promotion! Congratulations!” Max said with a smile. You accepted his handshake with a tender smile. But at the same time, you felt the sudden hold of Charles on your hip.

“Oh, thank you!”

“Really?! Congratulations, Y/N!” Sebastian added.

“She’s always wanted to be editor in chief!” Max pointed out, “She was always talking about it when we were like fifteen!”

You smiled softly, remembering that when you were a teen, you were obsessed with 13 going on 30, and you were very vocal about your dream of working on a fashion magazine.

“I’m glad you achieved the dream then!” Sebastian said with great kindness to you.

Charles tapped your hip twice, and you knew the signal when you had to go.

“Thank you guys, thanks! Charles and I have to go, but see you around!” You and Charles waved at them and walked off.

Charles took your hand and, in long strides, led you inside only stopping when you were in a meeting room.

“You got a promotion?! Why didn’t you tell me that?” Charles said, suddenly upset.

“I guess it just slipped my mind,” you shrugged.

“This was your greatest dream! When did it happen?” He asked, looking hurt.

“At the gala you missed,” you sounded unbothered by his sudden outburst of hurt.

“And how did they know?!” He pointed a finger outside.

“From my instagram, I guess. I made a post about it,” you dismissed Charles, ignoring the fact that he hadn’t seen your post, going to sit down and sip some coffee, “I don’t understand why you’re using that tone with me.”

“Because you should’ve told me!” He raised his voice.

“I just don’t see why, my career never really mattered to you, why would it matter now?!” You said, and the more calmly you talked, the angrier he got.

“You got to be fucking kidding me, right?” He shouted.

“Look, you need to chill. I don’t know what’s gotten into you today, but I’m going to take a stroll around. See you in a bit. Hopefully you will have calmed down.” You stood up, leaving his room without letting him say anything else.

Despite getting calm between you and Charles, the distance only seemed to grow, and the only thing keeping you hung onto the love you felt for him were the memories of your five year relationship. You had to do something if you wanted to save your relationship with Charles.

Your fifth year anniversary happened in a day Charles was busy, but sent you flowers, and texted you a sweet message in video. It made you invigorated, and you planned to go all out on the weekend, when Charles was going to come home.

So you planned dinner with a cake, and a romantic getaway after checking his schedule and making sure you could make a quick trip to a very romantic and secluded villa in Positano. You also dressed in very sexy lingerie, and got yourself really pretty to wait for him. So you had everything planned. Dinner at 8, maybe a little love making after, and then you’d drive to Nice to get on the plane at midnight and take off to Italy.

You had told him to come home as soon as he got to Monaco, because you had an anniversary surprise for him. You texted him twice during the day to remind him.

But when the clock hit 8 in the night, the time you had told him to come home, a dreadful feeling placed in the pit of your stomach. He wouldn’t stand you up, would he? 8:17 you texted him a couple of times, but he didn’t read the text. 8:42 you removed the lamb from the oven, setting it on the table. 9:58 Joris texted you talking about how Charles had met the boys and they went out for a drink that turned into a few drinks.

Your face was wet with tears as you packed the food and placed it in the fridge, then washed your face of the make up and changed out of the lingerie. You were unpacking the two bags you’d take on the getaway, when you stared at the silly romantic tickets you had made over the week to symbolically gift him the romantic getaway. You stopped unpacking the bags, changing into a comfortable attire then taking only your bag and driving to Nice.

You turned your phone off and went to Positano alone.

The couple of days you spent only with yourself were good, even though you were crying a lot, feeling abandoned, forgotten and lonely in your relationship. You and Charles had been in a relationship for so long during your early adulthood, and you knew each other ever since you were preteens. It was painful watching life taking you and Charles apart even being so close.

It was weird, you thought you had gotten over the toughest years of your relationship. The year you started dating you were living in another country to attend university, and that had been very difficult to your relationship, but still, you managed.

You mourned the loss of that Charles. The Charles that would align both of your schedules so he wouldn’t miss anything important for you. The Charles that would send you random texts with pictures of things that reminded him of you. The Charles that cared, that asked, that communicated. This Charles was different, you two had grown into people with different goals in life. He wasn’t the same, but you also weren’t the same. Your priorities didn’t align anymore, that was a tough pill to swallow.

But you did.

You went back home again two days later, tanned and tranquil, with your mind made up about asking Charles for a break.

But as you entered the apartment, Charles ran into your arms.

“I’m so sorry, my love! So sorry I forgot about our plans! I was so worried about you!” He kissed your cheek, and you smiled politely, “I’ll make it up to you, I promise! I made a reservation at your favorite restaurant tomorrow night!”

“Charles,” you tried to come up with words, you were so tired, “I’ve got work this week.”

“Yeah, but you leave work at five? And our reservation is only at seven!” He asked, “Please, baby? Let me make it up to you.”

You were so tired of trying to hold on to something that was slipping through your fingers for months now, you didn’t feel any spark at his promising invite. But since he wanted to put in the effort, you would try again at least this once. If you couldn’t find the spark again until the end of the night, you’d have to let go.

So that’s how you ended up changing and putting makeup on at work, in your office. You’d meet Charles straight there since you had to catch up with work.

You had a gut feeling when you got to the restaurant, asking about the reservation under Leclerc. When the hostess took you to your table and you saw that Charles wasn’t there, you hoped and prayed he was coming.

Nursing a glass of wine, you just stared at the empty seat across from you. Your heart finally, fully sinking into the dark deep sea of this relationship. You felt like you’d been swimming against the tide, trying so hard to be the old you, with the old Charles. But this mourning of your relationship was happening inside of you for months now.

You had to let go. 

Charles was 47 minutes late when you paid for the wine and got up, grabbed your coat and left.

You were waiting for the valet to bring your car, when Charles finally showed up, quickly talking to the other valet. Your boyfriend was flushed in the face and had very obviously rushed there. It took him a second to notice you standing outside.

“Amour! What are you-” he paused, seeing the quietness in your face and the lit up cigarette between your fingers, “why are you smoking?”

“That’s the first thing you tell me?!” You scoffed. He finally noticed that you were waiting, dressed in your coat.

“Are you leaving?” He asked, confused.

“Yes, my boyfriend stood me up, can you believe that?!” You said, sarcastically.

“But I’m here, amour. Admittedly, a little late but-” he tried to say.

“Nuh-uh,” you shook your head, with a smirk, “my boyfriend was late. My ex-boyfriend is here.”

“Amour, no, please just-”

“Save it, Charles. It’s time to let go,” you said and briefly thanked the valet as he brought your car out, “I’ll go to your flat tomorrow, pick my stuff and leave the keys.”

“Please, don’t do this. Don’t do this to us,” Charles was teary eyed but you were unmoved. You quietly took a drag, then turned your face to puff the smoke to the other side.

“Us is done for a long time, and I’ve been trying to save it for a while but I’m tired now.”

“Can we talk? Tomorrow?”

“You won’t be here tomorrow, Charles. You’ll probably be doing any of the hundred things that are more important than your girlfriend,” you got into the car and drove away. Charles could see you didn’t want to talk, and maybe it was better to let you cool off for a moment.

He couldn’t believe how cold and detached you were being, the nonchalance in your tone, the finality of it all. Yes, he had messed up a few times, but not to the point of losing you. Right?

You ignored his messages and calls as you spent the next 24 hours in a hotel, only leaving to go to work and back. You had told Charles you were going to pick up your stuff, but you decided to do that two days later, when you knew he wouldn’t be there, traveling for his sponsor's commitments.

But when you got there, Charles was there, looking like he had barely slept.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in Italy?” You asked, bringing a couple of cardboard boxes inside.

“I canceled. Was waiting for you.” He said, low.

You felt like the lump in your throat was going to suffocate you any moment, because that’s what you wanted. You wanted him to put you first once, to care for your career a little bit, to make you a priority. But you wanted that earlier.

“You didn’t need to,” you said and swallowed, starting to pick up your books from the bookshelf, placing them in the box.

“You’re what matters the most,” he said, walking up to you.

“Bit late for that, Charles,” you scoffed. You couldn’t help but feel angry and act petty when you had been begging for his attention for almost a year now.

“Please, talk to me, Amour. Tell me.” He begged, taking your hands from the books, pulling you to pay attention to him. You snapped, pulling your hands from his.

“Did you cheat on me?” You asked, suddenly, because the possibility had been roaming your mind for a while now. It would certainly explain his distance, his misplaced priorities.

“What? What kind of question is that?” He looked so offended.

“Yes or no, Charles. It’s a simple question.”

“No, I would never cheat on you!”

You sighed. Old you would’ve believed him. Present you… weren’t sure. But then, it didn’t matter if he did it or not, anyway you broke up already.

“Talk to me!”

“I don’t know what you want me to say!” You shouted, taking a step back.

“What is going on! What you are feeling! Why are you leaving me?!” He was just as loud.

“Our relationship has been ending for a while now, are you fucking blind?! I’m alone in this! I love you alone. I cherish you alone. I fucking try alone! You don’t have the time for us, and you don’t even try to pay attention to me! You forgot me in the paddock a month ago, and you didn’t even know because you never asked! You missed the gala where I got a promotion, my greatest accomplishment! You missed our anniversary celebration! And when you promised to make it up to me, you stood me up! I’m tired, I feel like you’re suffocating us to death with your bare hands!”

“I didn’t realize you we-”

“Of course, you didn’t! You only care about yourself, Charles.”

“I take responsibility for my actions, yes. I’m so sorry I made you go through all that! But I can fix it!” He said, pleading.

“I don’t believe you anymore,” you said, voice soft and sad, “Who says I won’t get my hopes high only to be met with disappointment again later on?”

“I’m saying!”

“You’ve said that before, I’ll make it up to you, It won’t happen again, We’ll reschedule, I’m done with your excuses, Charles.”

“You don’t love me anymore? Is that it?”

“Stop, Charles. You’re being unfair.” 

“Yes or no?” He pressed further.

“I don’t know!” You shouted, exasperated, “I don’t know. My love took many hits over this year.”

“So this is it?” Charles opened his arms, flailing them around, “we’re done?”

“Yes. It’s for the best,” You finally said. Weirdly, you probably made peace with the fact your relationship was ending when you were crying alone in Positano.

It washed you with a surprising sense of relief, like a weight lifted from your shoulders. You probably had been emotionally checking out for a while. His absences and the coldness had been taking such a toll on you and your mental health, that the prospect of not having to deal with it anymore made you feel at peace.

That, or you were still numb after a rollercoaster of emotions.

“No, I don’t want it, I love you. So much.” he shook his head, tears streaming down his face.

A tiny part of you still wanted to comfort him, to hug him and say he’d be fine in the end. But nobody offered you the same kindness. Charles would have friends and family supporting him. You couldn’t do that. Not when he had caused you so much pain, constantly.

“I’ll, um-” you paused, putting the books back, “I’ll go. I can come back another time, when you’re not home. It will be better this way.”

You started walking to the door, but Charles intercepted you, blocking your path. His eyes were red, cheeks wet, and he looked absolutely hopeless.

“Please, let me try! Is there something I can do to change your mind?” He begged.

“No,” you dodged him, going to the door.

You left, without looking back. And despite the pain of ending something that at some point was so beautiful and such a source of happiness, the day was sunny and beautiful, and something in the way it warmed your face told you that you’d be alright.

NOTE: I'm considering writing part 2 with reader moving on, and as I'm feeling petty, I want her to move on to another driver, teehee. Opinions on which driver?

[jiejies-corner-store]

THE AVENTURINE FIC 😭😭 OH GOSH IM CRYING 😭😭

i’m so sorry, anon! here this should make it up 😭😭 the devil knows you're dead

pairing. aventurine x reader

tags/tw: fem!reader, references to a complicated childbirth, mother!reader, father!aventurine, spoilers to aventurine's real name, spoilers in reference to 2.1 trailblaze questline, aventurine’s nihilism and depression, references to death, hurt/comfort, ooc aventurine probably, i make shit up at the end because i want a happy ending—bite me.

sfw

a/n: ouchie. i finished 2.1 and it hurt. it hurt a lot. the ost for the “all the sad tales” is genuinely so beautiful. the trumpet just feels so melancholy yet hopeful it just goes so perfectly with aventurine’s story. but i need something that feels good now. ABSOLUTELY NOT PROOF-READ pt. 1

“As long as you are alive, the blood of the Avgin will never run dry.”

It was cold. Cold and warm. Almost feverish feeling. The type of feeling you’d get when you were freezing but your skin was hot to the touch. There was this frustrating beeping noise somewhere off in the distance that you just couldn’t tune out, finally you opened your eyes to see a sea of darkness, and seemingly at an unreachable horizon, a large circle of white light that looked like a gate.

“You’re not dead, if that’s what you’re wondering,” a voice came from beside you. How you didn’t realize there was a whole person standing next to you, you had no clue.

“Well, that’s not originally what I was going for, but now I’m a bit worried I might be,” you laughed, nervous, but curious all the same. This… person you couldn’t quite make out an exact face, or even a body for that matter, but ther was this distinct feeling that it was in fact a person. Like your instinct knew, but your brain couldn’t quite fill in the details.

“This is a place beyond mortal comprehension, if I tried to explain it to you, you would only be more confused. Walk with me,” the entity said, and without even willing your body to do so, you followed. Ripples emanated from each step as you followed and soon the inky void around you melted into an unfamiliar planet.

The sky was a deep purple, streaked with red that looked like lighting that crackled along the sky. Instead of the fluid, black ground, sand now shifted as you moved foward. Inside a small hut made of rock, you saw a woman cradling a swaddled child.

“Such a lucky child, such a blessed child… Just like your name. A gift from THEM to Avgin… my boy…”

You turned to the figure beside you and hesitantly asked, “Where are we?”

“A land of rock, but not water, lightning, but not rain, blood, but not tears,” the entity responded cryptically, which only caused a crease in your brow. You went closer to the mother in the hut and sat next to her. She whispered a blessing onto her child, but none of the words made sense to your ears. Similar to the entity, it’s like your brain scrambled them from your understanding.

The mother cried. You tried to wrap your arms around her to comfort her but only phased through her like a ghost. The baby too began to cry.

Then, the scene changed again, suddenly it was a cell with iron bars. A blond young man sat next to you. The blond’s gaze was downturned, but you could recognize that voice anywhere.

“—Thirty tanba… that’s all my life is worth.”

“That’s not…” you said, but realized it was all in vain. You tried again to take Kakavasha’s hands into your own. You wantd to take the cuffs off his wrists and cradle where the skin was rubbed raw.

“It's all or nothing…”

“Kakav—agh!”

Your future never existed You█ future never existed You█ future ne█er existed You█ fut███ ne█er existed You█ fut███ ne█er ████ted You█ fut███ █e█er ████ted Yo██ ██████ █e█er ████ted

Your mind felt clouded, a searing headache, followed by an inability to even pin down a coherent thought. The scene shifted once more.

“What’s going on!” you shouted at the figure that stood only silently next to you, crippled on the ground, clutching at your head, fingers pressing in to try to find the spot that would alleviate this awful pressure.

When your senses were no longer blinded by pain, you were back to that inky void you started in, but this time you weren’t alone. Not far away, maybe twenty feet or so, was your Kakavasha, and a woman you didn’t recognize.

“Why are we born into this world if it's just to die?”

You stumbled to your feet to try to run to him, but with each step closer he only got further away. He walked towards that gate of light. In your head, you heart was pounding faster and faster. You failed to catch up to him. He only got further and further away until he disappeared like fireflies dispersing into the night, “Kakavasha! No—!”

Utterly devastated, you sunk back onto your knees. You didn’t know why but you had this distinct feeling of loss. Tears rolled from your eyes freely. He… he wasn’t gone surely? The entity’s presence reappeared next to you.

“Why did you show me all of this,” you asked, not sure if you actually wanted an answer.

“Because you need to go back,” the entity answered and your jaw locked, gritting your teeth so hard they hurt.

You screamed into the void, “You’re the one who brought me here!”

“I never call anyone to me… you mortals believe that it is US that determine when your time to go is… but in truth it is your own doing, whether it is your body or your mind that gives up first,” the entity said, “It is only the strength of your will that will allow you to continue down your destined path… but many give up on that path and someone else must be chosen.”

“What does this have to do with me,” you snapped. “Why are you meddling in my life? What does Kakavasha have to do with this?”

“Kakavasha still has a long road ahead of him. I have supplemented his journey all his life. It was only recently he was able to live on his own will,” said the entity ”Your body is giving up. I do not have the power anymore to keep him alive. That lies with you.”

Your surroundings melted again. You were in a hospital room and on the bed was you. Eyes closed and steadily breathing, but your heartbeat was weak. The annoying beeping from before was louder and more prominent.

“You wanted to help him. During his past, you reached out each time. There is nothing you can do about that now, but the future and the present… you still have a choice.”

Laying a hand on your unmoving body, there was a slight resistance, but with just a bit more pressure you felt as if you could phase through it entirely.

“What do I need to do,” you asked the entity.

“Live.”

You furrowed your brow at that. Of course you wanted to live… right? The entity gestured for your hand, you obliged. Against your palm was an oddly soft feeling. Warm. Like a mother’s touch against your’s. Your palms pressed together, the entity spoke,

“May the goddess Gaiathra close HER eyes three times… Keep your blood eternally pulsing… Let your journey be forever peaceful… …and your schemes forever concealed."

You lifted your head and your “body” began to disappear similar to how Kakavasha disappeared. Just before you disappeared into sparks of golden light, you had the sense about you to ask:

“Who are you?” you felt like you were shouting, but your voice was quiet.

“You could call me Fenge Biyos.”

You opened your eyes with a deep gasp for air. Your surroundings were blurry, and you rubbed at your eyes, only to realize Kakavasha was up, standing next to your hospital bed with an anxious expression, hands already grasping the one that was wiping crust from your eyes.

“You’re awake,” he choked out, holding you as if you would break, “I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry for everything. I’m sorry I did this to you that I—”

“Kakavasha, slow down, what… why are you—no, don’t be sorry,” you finally found your words, sitting foward on the bed to wrap your arms around him. You racked your brain, trying to figure out what was going on. Your mind was still foggy, but finally that haze disappated and you remembered everything leading up to now.

“Kakavasha~” you hummed in a song-like tone, a small wrapped box with a blue and purple bow tied around it. You skipped over to his desk and wrapped your arms around his shoulders where he sat, and placed the gift in front of him, laying your head on his shoulder as your arms tightly hugged him. “I have a surprise.”

He smiled with a small laugh, “Doesn’t this usually work the other way around?” He pecked a kiss onto your check before pulling the bow off and opening the lid of the box, when he froze.

The smile on your face faltered bit when he didn’t say anything after a bit. The corners of it tightened into a more forced position, “Kakavasha? You’re gonna be a papa…”

The joy in his face from earlier had completely vanished. Only replaced by a stony, cold, poker face. He pushed his chair back and you stumbled into the wall behind. He gave you a tight smile and kissed your forehead before heading for the door and grabbing his hat. “I’ll be back later.”

With that, the door slammed shut behind him, leaving you at a loss as you fell into his chair, feeling suddenly so very empty in this large office alone.

He came back after that, apologetic for leaving you, but nothing felt truly right. He continued to reassure you that he did want to have this child, but it was a strenous time. The entire pregnancy was stressful. The doctors warned you that the level of stress you were under put you at risk for a premature birth, but you brushed them off. It was just the hormones, you were sure. Kakavasha still loved you. The ring on your finger should’ve been proof enough of that.

“How about the name Ilyas?” you suggested, laying your head on Kakavasha’s lap, “I was… looking at some databases about Avgin names and I thought that one was nice. What do you think?”

Aventurine hummed, but his mind seemed elsewhere. You let it go.

The next few months continued on in similar fashion.

But it all came to a head.

The two of you were standing in the kitchen. It had started off small. The hormones and the stress were getting to you. It was an off hand comment about him not fixing dinner, and you were tired and hungry from carrying around his child.

From there it had escalated. It turned into you were tired of feeling like you were walking on eggshells when you talked about the pregnancy. About how he was barely around for the appointments, and when he was he seemd emotionally distant… finally he exploded

“I never asked for this!” he shouted. “When did I ever say I wanted to be a father? Did you even ask me? Did you think about what I felt about this whole thing at all?”

You paused, feeling tears well up in your throat as a white-hot fear flashed through your body. You laughed, a hollow sound, “I’m sorry, Aventurine, I thought it took two people to make a baby? And you certainly made no attempt to use protection.”

He didn’t have anything to say about that. Even though the argument seemed over, you felt a nauseous feeling crawling up in your throat. Your tears felt like acid burning through your skin. Then a pain in your stomach. Your knees gave out and the last thing you remember was the scared expression on Kakavasha’s face before it all went dark.

“I was scared…. I was so scared that bringing another Avgin into this world would only bring misfortune onto you… that Gaiathra Triclops would take you from our child, just like my mother was taken from me,” he openly cried into your shoulder. “I took it out on you. I made something that should’ve been a beautiful experience something that was awful, and I understand… if you never forgive me for that but please…. please don’t leave.”

Now you were crying with him, one hand tangled in his blond locks and the other rubbing his back. Quietly, so quietly that you almost didn’t hear it, he whispered, “I can’t lose you too.”

You thought for a long time. In front of you wasn’t one of the Ten Stonehearts of the IPC. Not a calculating or cunning man, who’s only interest was in things that benefited the IPC’s bank accounts. In front of you was a broken man, who’d had everything stripped away from him when he was only a child. Who was shattered and forced to put his life back together with nothing but fear and anxiety as glue.

Did it excuse what he'd broken?

No.

“I’m here… I won’t leave Kakavasha,”

But maybe with time and effort, you could help re-glue each other with something a little more beautiful.

“Ilyas! Don’t run so far!” you called after a small blond haired child who was already ahead of you by a longshot, you turned exasperatedly to your husband, “Honey, can you go after him please? I don’t want him to get trampled by some idiot who’s not paying attention…”

The man only smiled at you, one hand firmly wrapped around your ever expanding waist, “It’s okay. There’s some of my squad that’s following him incognito. He won’t get out of our sights without them dragging him back. We can let him get his energy out. He’ll be cooped up in a hospital soon.”

You huffed conceded. Already tired from just getting through the theme park’s entrance. You were due in about two weeks, but Kakavasha was insistent that a week before you’d be under hospital supervision until you brought your second child into the world. It had taken about five years before the two of you had healed enough and there were roadbumps along the way… but you were both ready to give Ilyas a little sister.

But for now, the two of you wanted to let Ilyas have one more day as an only child. The reconstructed Penacony was nothing like the Dreamscape of the past. Fear and secrets no longer were trapped in the gilded cage of the former prison planet. With the help of the IPC and the Harmony, New Penacony was entirely real. No more dreams, just reality. They’d kept many of their old franchises and built a true theme park.

“Mama!! Picture! Let’s get a picture here before we go in!” Ilyas screeched, pointing at Clockie statue in front of the Clock Studios main attraction. You set a hand on Kakavasha’s arm, glancing up at him to try to get a read on what he was feeling. He’d let you in on the parts of his past that he’d kept a secret. The scheme behind Penacony, his proposed “death” and his encounter with his Past and Future.

He took a breathe and looked back down at you, giving you a smile that said “I’m okay” and relief flooded your bones. After walking you over in front of the camera, he crouched down and scooped Ilyas into his arms.

“Ready?” the cameraman asked and you nodded. After a brief countdown the camera flashed, and for a moment in that bright light, you saw the hopeful future that lied ahead.

[f1byjessie]

A PICTURE IS WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS ━━ LN4.

sometimes the right words are hard to come across, and sometimes everything you need to say can be captured in an image.

( lando norris x photographer!reader )

━━ part six.

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user AIN’T NO WAY HE FINALLY POSTED HER

user girlies i hate to say it, but maybe this one’s actually serious… 🫢

↳ user i refuse to believe it…

↳ user he’s literally never posted another girl before tho??

user king of aesthetics

user i can’t believe he’s actually dating her

user what does he actually see in her?? like gen what is it cuz i cannot see it from here 😒😒😒

user she’s just using you for your clout garrett DON’T FALL FOR IT 😫 SHE’S NOT THE ONE THERE ARE BETTER FISH IN THE SEA

↳ user she’s fr just using him for the money and fame it’s so sad

↳ user right?? like he’s posting her which means he’s probably serious but i doubt she is and it’s just gonna hurt him in the end 😔

↳ user this is why i hate when celebs or athletes get with ppl who aren’t in the same sphere as them, cuz like if she were another celeb then we would know she has money or if she were actually a football fan then we would know she’s invested in helping him get better but she’s neither 🤷‍♀️

↳ user it hurts to see such an innocent man get used

user wait she’s actually kind of pretty tho 👀👀

↳ user she lowkey is

user can’t wait to see you back on the field soon garrett!!

user mad style bro

user came over from y/n’s account to say that you fans are exhibiting behaviour that is genuinely so immature and disrespectful. it’s sickening. you claim to support this athlete but you don’t support his decision to enter an exclusive relationship with someone? you say it’s bc she doesn’t know football or that she’s controlling or that she’ll ruin his career, but you know nothing about her and i’d bet you all would say the same thing about anyone. she could be a professional footballer herself and you would still say she isn’t fit to be with him. get over yourselves and bffr. none of you had a chance with him to begin with, and you hating on an innocent girl so much that she had to turn her comments off so she wouldn’t keep getting death threats is actually crazy. you all are delusional.

↳ user THIS. i’m so tired of the hatred

↳ user i’m honestly surprised garrett hasn’t said anything to his fans about them leaving her alone yet…

↳ user he probably thought GROWN ADULTS would know it’s inappropriate to act like BABIES but i digress 🙄

↳ user whether he thought they were mature enough or not, the fact that he probably knew it was happening (she’s his gf, there’s no way she didn’t tell him or he didn’t see the comments himself before she turned them off) and still hasn’t said anything is a major red flag imo. he’s posted her/acknowledged that she exists on his acc now, but he STILL hasn’t addressed the hatred his “fans” have been sending her and continue to direct towards her in the comments of his own post.

↳ user i think it’s a out of sight out of mind type situation tbh. if neither of them acknowledge them, then the haters aren’t given the attention they want. they might just be waiting for it to die down.

↳ user i don’t think that’s a good enough reason tho?? if i was a celeb and my significant other was being harassed by jealous and delusional fans, i would absolutely say smth and try to get them to stop, partly bc my s/o doesn’t deserve to be spoken about like that just bc they’re in a relationship with me and partly bc i personally wouldn’t want to see that type of negativity directed towards the person i care about. it’s a matter of respect for your partner.

“I’ll be honest with you, Garrett━ I don’t like you very much.”

The restaurant table you’re both sitting at is tucked away in a corner and gives you enough privacy to feel comfortable having this conversation with Garrett out in public. The restaurant itself is exclusive in its own right, similarly to the first place Garrett took you. It’s not as high class in the sense that you feel underdressed with business casual, but it’s the type of locale that other celebrities or higher class individuals tend to frequent and it makes you feel secure in the fact that the staff are trained to be discreet about anything they might overhear.

“But,” you shrug, “I don’t think you need me to tell you that.”

Garrett takes a slow sip from his coffee and raises an eyebrow at you over the rim of his cup. While he does so, you appraise him. The only other time you’ve seen him in something other than his training attire or some equally comfortable athletic-adjacent wear was the first night you both went out, and you hadn’t really been paying much attention to him then━ too focused on trying not to scream your head off in frustration.

He looks good though, which you’re loath to admit. Garrett, at the very least, has fashion sense if nothing else. If he were even half decent his style might’ve been enough to make up for the rest of the decency he’s missing, but as it stands he’s so far below the bar that his ability to dress nice only serves to get him within jumping distance of your lowest standards.

He lowers his cup back down the table with a faint clink, and then steeples his fingers together on the table.

“Quite frankly, Y/N━” the way your name sounds on his lips makes you shiver, but not at all in the way it’s described in the romance novels you used to read back in school. It’s like the human equivalent of your hackles rising, sensing danger, knowing you need to make yourself bigger to appear like more of a threat, “━I don’t really care what you think of me. This is more of a business transaction than an actual relationship. You don’t need to like me, you just need to pretend you do.”

He ends it with what would be a charming smile on anyone else, but knowing who he is beneath his charismatic facade makes it look sleazy.

You scoff. “For a guy who’s so desperate to fix his reputation, you sure aren’t doing anything to actually try and fix who you are as a person.”

It’s his turn to scoff. “I don’t actually need to be a better person, I just need everyone to think I’m a better person.”

“Fair enough.” You can’t argue with that. “But if I’m going to be spending a prolonged amount of time with you, you’re gonna have to at least pretend to not be a total dick.” You take a sip of your coffee.

He watches you for a moment━ observes your face, your hands, the way you tap your fingers against the table once your cup has been lowered. And you watch him right back. His steepled fingers have intertwined together, and he’s resting his chin atop them in a show of nonchalance, but his eyebrows are furrowed tight and his shoulders are pulled tense.

“What do you even want out of this?” He finally asks after another few seconds of silence broken only by the quiet drone of other restaurant patrons in the background. “What’s so important to you that it matters more than whatever notoriety being with me could give you?”

The Manchester skyline outside the window draws your gaze as you ponder how to go about explaining your answer. The storm-darkened sky casts the city streets below in a heavy shadow, which mimics your own mood as of late. It’s the weekend now, but Lando’s call and the things he’d drunkenly said still looms over you. You’d spent the week in a bad mood that not even your newfound friendship with Jack was capable of easing, and each day with continued radio silence on Lando’s end━ the fact that he can’t even bother to apologize himself━ only sours things more and more.

It had soured even more when McLaren’s PR team manager had reached out to you with the knowledge that you could plan on being back at the Technology Centre in Woking by the end of the month, in just under two weeks. In and of itself this hadn’t been bad news, but it meant seeing Lando again and unless he reaches out first to extend an olive branch, you could almost guarantee you’d be in for an uncomfortably awkward reunion.

But none of that matters right now.

“I’ll admit, I’m taking a page out of your book and being a prick,” you say as you turn back to Garrett. “But, in my case, it’s entirely warranted because he was a prick first.”

“What’d this guy do?”

In an odd turn of events, it feels as though you’re gossiping with Garrett Ward of all people. Without the context of your relationship with him━ the real one, not the one you’re pretending to have━ you imagine you probably look like two friends talking shit, or pretty close to the couple you’re supposed to be. Despite being such a twat normally, Garrett really does just come across as being a normal guy.

You have to remind yourself just what he threatened to do. He’s not a normal guy━ he’s dangerous. But he’s also a crucial part of your plan, and there was certainly some truth when he’d called things between you a business transaction. You don’t have to like him, but you have to trust that he’s got his own best interest in mind and you can certainly capitalize off of that.

“He had some choice words about our ‘relationship,’” you start, fiddling with the handle of your cup. “And even though we aren’t actually together and I probably wouldn’t touch you even if we were the last two people on Earth, it’s the principle behind it all. He has no right to judge me so harshly for my relationship choices, so I’m going to flaunt that I don’t care what he thinks, he’s not my keeper, and I will date whoever I damn well please,” you finish with a huff.

Garrett blinks at you. You’re starting to think he just has a staring problem, but before you can call him out on it he rolls his eyes, crosses his arms, and leans back in his seat━ looking the part of the smug douche he actually is. “You like this guy, and you want to use me to make him jealous because you’re pissed that he hasn’t given any hint at being interested in you but still feels as though as if he can be possessive over you.”

You blink at him. “No. Absolutely not.”

He raises an infuriating eyebrow.

“Fuck you,” you mutter into your cup, taking a sip to avoid having to say anything more.

Garrett heaves a sigh. “I suppose I could help you with that. We’ll be doing the couple shit anyways, might as well kill two birds with one stone and solve your problem and mine.” The way he says it makes it seem as though he’s doing you a favor, and if you weren’t so sure that he’d rescind his willingness to help if you argued with him, you’d call him out on the fact that technically he’s the one who owes you after you agreed to help him with his dilemma in the first place.

“Why not just be honest with him?” He says after another moment.

You snap your eyes back to him. “What?”

“Why not just be honest?” He repeats with a shrug. “Aren’t you worried he’ll lose eventually lose interest if he thinks you’re off the market?”

You scoff, “I’m not off the market. I’m just not available to the public.” You’d sat awake at night not long after things with Garrett began and realized that it really was all just an act. Actors kiss in front of a camera all the time, but at the end of the day they go home to their real partners and that’s the only person that really matters. Things aren’t all that different between you and Garrett. You call yourselves a couple, but side from the agreement that you’ll act like one in public, there’s no obligation or commitment to put one another first. Garrett will always prioritize his career, reputation, and friendships over you, and you’re rather inclined to do the same.

He purses his lips.

“Oh please,” you roll your eyes. “As if you expect me to believe you aren’t still planning to pick up a few birdies at the pub and show them a fun time.”

“My situation is different than yours. I’m the one trying to convince the media I’ve changed, which means I need someone who can be discreet, and a birdie from the pub certainly isn’t that.” He shrugs his shoulders. “Not getting laid for a few months is just a sacrifice I have to make to keep my place at Man City.”

You don’t mention that no matter what he does to try and clean up his act, Manchester City won’t be keeping him around after his contract expires. He wouldn’t believe you anyway, but even if he did you doubt he’d be all that willing to continue with this facade.

“More fun for me then,” you say instead, returning the smug smirk he’d given you earlier.

He glares.

INSTAGRAM.

liked by user, user, and 487,462 others

footballfansofficial UPDATE: Manchester City Forward Garrett Ward once again seen out in public with girlfriend and Formula One photographer Y/N L/N! The couple were caught sharing a romantic evening for the first time on the 5th of January, and have once again been spotted Saturday, the 20th, following Ward and L/N’s public posts on social media platform, Instagram. Ward has reportedly been making progress with his injury recovery, and is speculated to be rejoining the team on the pitch in February if all continues to go well. As the 2024 Formula One season draws nearer, it’s also expected that L/N will be returning to her McLaren roots, after working with Manchester City to photograph their winter training, which leaves fans wondering how their relationship will fare. Check the link in our bio for the full article!

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user i’m starting to warm up to the idea of them as a couple… 👀👀👀

user I WAS SO CONVINCED SHE WAS WITH LANDO NORRIS??? WERE THEY NOT EVER TOGETHER??? 🤯

↳ user i don’t think they were which is super shocking bc she posts him all the time on insta

↳ user i mean?? that’s technically her job?? as a photographer for mclaren she takes and posts pictures of the mclaren drivers. if you scroll across her feed she also has a lot of oscar from 2023, and carlos and daniel from their years with the team. she’s been working with manchester city recently too and has been posting the players as well. it’s just that she’s worked with lando the longest consecutively so ofc her account is gonna have him posted more than the others

↳ user LET ME BE DELUSIONAL I ACTUALLY THOUGHT THEY WERE SO CUTE 😭😭

user i really wish garrett would actually focus on his career instead of dating women bro’s contract ends at the end of the season and he doesn’t even seem bothered

user MAN CITY RE-SIGN GARRETT WARD 2024 🩵🩵🩵

user i hope the long distance makes them break up

↳ user me toooooo that bitch needs to get away from my man

↳ user he’s too good for her

↳ user be so fucking fr, she’s never had a scandal in her entire career but garrett ward has had dozens in just the past few years. if anyone is too good, it’s her 🙄

user MCLAREN WCC 2024 🧡🏁 AND MAN CITY TREBLE WINNERS 2024 🩵⚽️

user don’t hate me but i totally thought garrett ward was gay

↳ user ah, yes, most notorious casanova, known for his many nightly escapades with women, that’s 100% proof that he’s gay

↳ user idk that was just the vibe i got

↳ user be so fucking fr 💀💀

user will city even want to re-sign him after the season is up?? he’s been on loan for the majority of his contract anyway, playing in the championship of all things, and now he’s back but he’s missed a majority of the season cuz of an injury. i personally don’t think garrett ward stands a chance against the current starting forwards, so even when he’s recovered who’s to say he’ll play in any matches?? just seems like a waste for city to keep him around if he isn’t even being used

user if ward is actually cleaning up his act then good for him

↳ user real. all these ppl acting like she's suddenly changing him into a whole new person against his will, but none of them have stopped to think that maybe he WANTS to change.

━━ tags: @maih23 @urfavnoirette @leclercsluv @f1luvur @formulaal @a-disturbing-self-reflection @starlightpierre @chezmardybum @marshmummy @405rry @sideboobrry11 @d3kstar @mcmuppet @happylittlereader @casperlikej @5starl1ght @bellezaycafe @whentheautumnleavesfall @mess-is-my-aesthetic @ssprayberrythings @landosgirlxoxo @lifelessfan @81ja

━━ a/n: i did it! got this part done so much faster AND i didn't wanna rage while i did it 😌 feeling pretty proud of myself for that. anyways! hope you all enjoy!

[kennahjune]

Teen Dad AU

Tag list: @live0rdive @y4r3luv @jonesn4coffee @sofadofax @jackiemonroe5512 @sensationalsunburst @scarlet-malfoy @l393ndjean @asspirin-s @fandomz-brainrot

Tag list is open until I finish this series so feel free to ask to be added!!

.

Steve Harrington had a son.

An actual son.

And his name was Louie.

And little Louie Harrington was Steve’s pride and joy.

But there was a problem. Steve was 17. 17 years old and with a son.

It’s fine.

Martha Timbley was the mothers name. “Was” because after she gave birth and dropped Louie off with an extensive apology, her parents packed everything up and took her to New York.

So Martha Timbley was the mother, until she had to leave.

Then Nancy might’ve been, but she met Louie after they had already broken up. Nancy was content with simply knowing about Louie’s existence. Steve wouldn’t hold it against her, really.

Louie was Steve’s pride and joy, as said before, and he loved to talk about him to people.

Except Steve is 17. And the only friends he has are a bunch of 8th graders and his ex girlfriend and her new boyfriend. 99% of which don’t even know about Louie’s existence.

So Steve didn’t get to talk about Louie as much as he’d like.

Speaking of the baby Harrington, there was a soft cry from Steve’s bedroom. Steve, who had been in the bathroom getting ready for a shower, rushed in to pick up a now crying baby Louie.

“Hey hey hey, it’s alright baby it’s alright. What’s the matter honey? You hungry? I bet you are, huh?”

Steve loved talking to Louie. Which makes him sound pathetic. Louie’s only 6 months old at this point in time. And for him to be Steve’s favorite person to talk to?

That’s just kind of sad.

But the point still stands.

Steve carried Louie carefully downstairs and into the kitchen. Steve never put Louie down while making the bottle, gently bouncing on his feet and rocking back and forth.

The bottle was easy enough to make. Steve took it into the living room and sat on the couch with Louie in his arms. Little Louie drank the bottle right up to the delight of Steve. His big brown eyes stared right at him while his little baby hands curled around his ears. Steve chuckled quietly.

Little Louie had Steve’s eyes, much to his delight. But he had a mix of his and Martha’s hair, curly and mostly brown with blond highlights— like Steve’s— but had a ginger tint to it that reflected Martha’s firey curls.

Louie finished the bottle and Steve burped him gently. It was nearing only 5 PM on that Tuesday in August of 1984, but Steve felt himself growing tired and worn with exhaustion. Louie was a sucker to put to sleep and to keep asleep, often waking in the night with screams and cries and needing to be held in order to fall to sleep.

Which was fine with Steve. Well— the holding part. He didn’t really like the screaming and crying part but that was to be expected with babies of Louie’s age.

Steve liked holding baby Louie during the night. But he often feared that he’d roll over and crush the boy. So, Steve let Louie sleep on the bed with him while surrounded by pillows at all times.

It was around 6 PM now on that fine Tuesday. Steve finally plated up a small dinner for himself of pasta. He let Louie gnaw on a couple of noodles while Steve rocked him gently.

It was nearing 7 when Steve finally out Louie down for the first time in nearly 3 hours. Louie wasn’t asleep, not quite yet. But Steve tucked him in and surrounded him in pillows as if he was.

Steve turned the radio on and turned it down real low. He let the soft tunes of some country song lull little Louie to sleep.

Louie fell asleep clutching a small bear Martha gave him. Steve was upset that she couldn’t be in Louie’s life. Even if there wasn’t anything between the two of them Louie deserved to know his mother cared. Steve sighed.

As much as he wanted to collapse on his side of the bed, he refrained.

Instead, Steve pulled out a duffel bag from under his bed and set to work. His parents would be expected home in two days, and he already knew what the outcome would be.

They’d enjoyed their trip to where-ever-the-fuck for the past 7 months, they’d made sure Steve knew how much they didn’t miss him over the phone when they asked about the house and neighbors more than him.

But that’s fine. It’s whatever. Steve didn’t need their approval. He’d stopped caring about it after sophomore year; when he’d won his first game with the winning shot and they hadn’t bothered to say anything outside of “you should be doing that all the time”.

So really? Fuck them.

But they were currently Steve’s only means of housing.

So he’s kind of fucked.

But he packed the duffle bag nice and tight. He packed the bag with his clothes and a blanket and moved to pull out a suitcase he still had from his first (and last) trip with his parents when he was 9.

Into the suitcase went most of Louie’s stuff; clothes, toys, extra bottles that weren’t going to be needed until Thursday. And then he packed one of the smaller pockets with his important things; birth certificates and the papers showing that his car was in fact his.

He already had a diaper bag with the rest of Louie’s stuff. He kept it packed all the time for when he could convince Nancy to babysit for him. Like tomorrow.

Tomorrow, Steve would have work from 9 in the morning to 5 in the afternoon. Not ideal but he needs the hours. Nancy would be over by 8:30 with a promise of watching Louie.

Steve doesn’t know how Nancy hasn’t clued anyone in on Louie’s existence. But as much as he wanted to question it he didn’t fancy pushing his luck.

With the bags packed he set them aside by his door. He’d put them in the car tomorrow when he left for work. But for now, he all but collapsed on his bed. He had the vague feeling of Louie wrapping his little hands around his finger before he officially passed out.

…

First part is officially out!! I’m working on my s3 steddie part 4 behind the scenes but that should be out soon as well. Expect part 2 of this sometime in the following week.

Second Part:

[avoxrising]

The Feral One • Epilogue

Finnick x Y/N

Series Masterlist Link

Prequel is coming in a few months! I haven’t made a Taglist yet and probably won’t start one till I’m closer to publishing. I’ll make a post tagging this series’ Taglist when I’m starting the next one.

Content Warnings - Mentions of fertility issues/miscarriage; death; the end of this series (don’t worry it’s a good ending imo)

Dear Brielle,

A lot has happened in seventeen years. I’ve now lived half of my life without you, mom, and dad. I’ve been thinking about you a lot so my husband Finnick (yes that Finnick lol) said I should write you a letter of all the things I wanted to tell you but never could.

A little over ten years ago we killed President Snow. The districts rebelled and won. The war was brutal and there were times I nearly died, but Finnick pulled me through.

We got married a year later. We never really did the whole dating thing, our friendship just evolved into a beautiful romance overnight. He was there for me after you left and he has been here ever since.

The years since the war have not been easy. I’ve had bouts of seizures that leave me bedridden and ill for days. The doctors said my condition should be worse so I should be grateful. Countless medications and treatments have made slight improvements to my health but the pain will always be there.

Two years after our wedding we almost hit our breaking point. Finnick and I had been trying to start a family for over a year but nothing was working. It was the most frustrating experience of my life post-war and I do not wish those struggles on anyone.

Three years after our wedding, Mags passed of old age. Although we were sad, we were all glad she got to live out her last few years in a free Panem. Johanna decided to move in with Annie afterwards so she wouldn’t be alone. We are still neighbors to this day.

Four years after our wedding, I got pregnant, only to lose the baby a few months in due to a bad seizure. This was Finnick and I’s lowest point to date.

It’s now been a bit over 9 years since I married the love of my life and the father of my child. We were finally blessed with a baby boy, Neptune, 4 years ago today. He is everything I could have asked for in a child; rambunctious, kind, and adventurous. He looks just like his father but acts like his mother.

Two years ago, Neptune’s best friend arrived in District 4. Annie and Johanna adopted a little girl, Jodie, from District 7. Neptune and her do EVERYTHING together. Finnick keeps joking that we should build a tunnel between our two houses so the kids can hang out all the time.

All in all, it’s been a very painful 34 years of existence. Part of me is glad you didn’t have to witness what happened. The other part of me still hopes you’re out there, even though I know you aren’t. I hope that wherever you are, you’re at peace.

Love, your dear sister,

Y/N

Taglist:

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*if the tag didn’t work please check your settings to make sure other blogs can tag you

[rafecameronsslxt]

HOOKED

Warnings: Implied smut, angst, toxicity

Synopsis: All travesties must reach an end, before a new one starts.

Rafe Cameron x OC

MINORS DNI

Part SEVEN of series. (Can be read as stand alone)

Masterlist

Part ONE- Part TWO- Part THREE- Part FOUR- Part FIVE- Part SIX

I think we've all seen this ending before just a different destiny. (My account is going through an actual drought right now) I want to make a Sarah fan fiction so badly but have no ideas!

Had to repost bc this wasn't showing up in tags!!!!

Words: 5,014

HERE I stood with my best friend's honouring my dead friends Sarah and John B. The gravestone was only for John B as we kept Sarah in our hearts while craving a heart out on the giant tree. 2003 to 2020. John B Routledge, P4L. 

   All we could do was stare at it, nothing more, as we grieved the loss of our friends. “I have to go.” I clear my throat, and my voice comes out in a whisper, holding back tears. They all nod and walk with me. I wave to my friends who have heartache. They wave back, tears silently descending our red puffy faces.

   I had to make it in time for Peterkin's funeral to be there for Rafe. It’s not like he’d be crying or sad, but to keep him somewhat sane. While driving, I tried wiping my tears, but they wouldn’t stop sinking into my lap. John B, I hope you’re alive, not dead like we think you are. 

   My stomach had gotten more prominent over the past months. Over time with this child destroying my insides, I’d become displeased with having a baby. I was throwing my life away. No more adventures with the pogues, and I couldn’t help them when I could barely get up the dramatically long stairs, but I am trying.

   Three deaths in a year and a human inside me had gotten me depressed. An inconsolable feeling that no one will be able to fix. 

   I pull into the cemetery, seeing everyone in horizontal lines. I quickly run to the Cameron's in plain black heels, making me feel wobbly. Wheezie lets me cut in between her and Rafe. 

   I grab Rafe’s hand tightly, but he doesn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he stares ahead, expressionless at the burial of Sheriff Peterkin. They carefully place the American flag on her polished wood casket, and guys in uniform shoot their rifles into the air. I can’t help but feel multiple people stare past me. I turn my head to see Ward staring at the side of Rafe’s face. I quickly avert my eyes to the entombment, anxiety taking me over like a tide dragging me in. 

   The trajectory of Rafe’s life had been getting worse. He was leading a path of the worst boyfriend that ceased to exist and drugs. Had he been unhinged before the death of Peterkin, he was undoubtedly deranged now, yet here I was. 

   Rafe’s face was well-maintained clean shaven, and perfectly slicked back hair besides a strand falling to his forehead. His black and white suit was freshly dry-cleaned, and his hands were positioned by his sides as one of my hands held his; they were clammy. 

   If I hadn’t known that he killed Susan Peterkin, I would’ve kissed his cheek, laid my head on his shoulder, and maybe had pathetic sex, but it didn’t turn out like that. 

   “Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. We shall remember to uphold the ideas which she stood for.” The minister spoke aloud to the humid air, and Susan then put in the depths of the ground dying at the hands of a kid—a kid I still, unfortunately, loved.

   The burial had finally ended as we paid our respects. Rafe and I walked hand in hand to my car. “I’ll meet you at your house?” I asked quietly, looking into his eyes. “Can I, um, come with you?” Rafe stuttered, and I nodded my head reluctantly. 

   I could see him sniffing and wiping his nose out of the corner of my eye. “Four more months.” I remind Rafe. I’d started to push myself instead of staying home all day. I wanted to do things, not sleep. So I looked up if running while in the second trimester was okay, and Google said it was safe, so I took it up. 

   Rafe had been distant, but I have too. Our relationship consisted of arguing and hurt, maybe some enjoyable moments. “Rafe!” I raised my voice. He seemed to dissociate more each day. I wish he would tell me what's wrong because we could work it out together instead of what we’re doing now. “I heard you, baby.” He stared aimlessly ahead. Rafe’s hand finds a place on my thigh and grips the flesh. Rafe not asking me about John B and how I feel made me want to cry. He could’ve at least had that much decency. 

   “You have that look. What do you want me to say?” Rafe’s voice is hoarse as he speaks. “I shouldn’t have to tell you, Rafe. My best friends are supposedly dead, and you couldn’t even fucking ask me how I’m doing, boyfriend reward goes to you, babe.” I say sarcastically and throw his hand off of my upper thigh.

   The atmosphere in the jeep turned tense, and the vehicle's heat enervated both of us. Rafe loosens his tie. “Do you want me to fuck you until you stop hating me? Because you obviously want that if you’re trying to start shit.” He spits out as boundless irritation radiates from the both of us. Rafe turns to me, but I don’t look at him. I grip the black steering wheel. I roll my eyes and scoff. “You know I don’t hate you, Rafe, so don’t try that, and it’s always sex with you. I want to talk like a normal fucking couple.” 

   Inhale and exhale. 

   For him to have any thoughts about me hating him is so angering, yet heartbreaking. “I think instead of the birth being a surprise; we should just ask her. It makes me too anxious. The next appointment is in two weeks.” Rafe and I had decided it be a surprise, but I just wanted to know the gender of our baby as the days passed.

   Rafe doesn’t say anything for a minute. Then he gradually nods while his fingers rub his neck, and his gold ring shines. Rafe’s leg is going up and down quickly. He appears nervous and on edge and probably should be. I didn’t want to blame Rafe for everything, but our relationship wouldn’t be in this predicament if he didn’t pull the trigger. Neither would JB nor Sarah be out there in the calm waters. 

   I allowed the silence to seep in as we pulled into the driveway, already seeing the Ward's Range Rover sitting dead. Our buckles let go simultaneously as the arid conditions hit my make-up-covered skin. 

   My black heels click loudly against the black and white tiles, echoing throughout the estate. Rafe trails closely behind me as we walk up the glossy wooden steps, and I feel his hands pull up my dress and grab my ass, his hands and eyes enthralled by my fat. I pause, and Rafe’s body bumps into mine. “Your sister or parents could see you, and I’m not in the mood.” I smile sweetly at him as I make myself unambiguous. Rafe throws his hands up, surrendering as my flowy black dress drops.

   “I’m going to take a shower.” His voice was husky and trying to hint me to come. However, Rafe’s arms snake around my stomach and lock together as he lays his head in the crook of my neck. His red lips painted invisible marks and featherweight kisses to my skin. “I might need to come in there to get my make-up off and, um… unzip my dress.” Somehow Rafe never fails to make me nervous, even after knowing him for nine years. 

   He moved his lips to my jaw, kissing the outline whilst unhurried hands drew down my zipper. The black dress finally pools to the ground. I wasn’t caving into his touch, not this time. Whenever I tried to talk, he gave me light touches, soft kisses, and a heart-melting smile like he is now. Rafe’s airy smile could make any girl fall to their knees as his shiny white teeth started nipping at my jaw. “Go take a shower.” I let out a throaty laugh, pushing him away lightly. Rafe throws his shirt off. “You’re missing all of this, baby.” He opens the bathroom door with a seductive smile, and the door closes, leaving me alone in his bedroom. 

   I smile to myself at his actions and miss the feeling of his body close to mine. I’d felt secure briefly—his warmth coasts along my body, his kisses still holding their place on my neck and jaw.

   I looked through Rafe’s closet, which consisted of my clothes too, and all I could find was a white button-up that I’m using as a jacket of sorts and white stretchy shorts that can go over my stomach, but I couldn’t see a solid top to wear. So that means I have to walk myself into Sarah’s room. Unfortunately, the room she hadn’t been in for a while, and I never got to say goodbye. 

   I cleared my throat and wrapped my hand around the knob; my fingers turned stiff to open the door. “I got this. Just a room.” I encouraged myself quietly. I push the door open and walk to her closet. My eyes fell to her bed, which contained many sleepovers this past summer, but then I left her. Don’t cry. I can do this.

   So many of her shirts hung up on satin-padded hangers waiting to be worn by Sarah, collecting dust as we speak. I quickly pick a tan ribbed crop tank top and jog out of her room after shutting the door. I throw my clothes on and start to open the bathroom door.

   Rafe’s muffled moans came from the other side, along the lines of my name following a curse. I slid my body quietly past the door, and the steam covered the glass door to the shower, but I could see Rafe’s body outline. I’m guessing he didn’t notice me, either. 

   His dick wrapped around his hand as he laid his body against the tiled wall. I could faintly see his hair covering his pretty face. I lay my knuckles on the glass and tap three times. “What’re you doing, baby.” My voice sounds cracked because I want to start laughing, and I cover my mouth. Rafe quickly pushes his body off the white tiles and returns under the shower head, and his long fingers drag through his wet hair. “Just getting out.” The water turns off, and the glass opens. 

   I hand him his towel as a deep shade of red crosses his cheeks. Rafe notices my grin that I failed to hide. “If you would’ve just come in, it wouldn’t be this embarrassing.” Rafe’s voice is raspy as he mumbles. His body is on full display while he dries his messy hair. My eyes can’t help but course over his body while water trickles from his abs to his still-hard dick, red, and veins protruding; it looks distressing. Rafe wraps his towel around his hips, flawlessly showing his profound v-line. 

   Rafe’s fingers find their way under my chin, forcing me to look into his alluring sea eyes. “Up here, baby.” His husky voice goes through my body, and chills reach my spine. Rafe kisses me lightly and walks into his bedroom, leaving me stranded, wishing for more, but I’m not succumbing to his temptation, which takes all self-control. 

   I could faintly hear Kiara’s voice screaming since the balcony door was open and Rafe was out there. I was lying comfortably on the silk sheets until Rafe came in, scaring me. He’s pacing back and forth, rapidly becoming angry by the second. I can tell he wants to start throwing things. 

   “You know I’m not a murderer, right Adriana!” His voice was exasperated, and his fist balled to his sides, waiting for me to say something wrong to have an excuse. “Rafe, baby, stop. Just calm down. I love you. Come on.” I say softly, and grab his wrist, trying to bring him down on the silky sheets with me. But, instead, he jerks his hand away. “I have to talk to my dad.” I raise an eyebrow at the sudden change of mood, walking out with him, guessing this was my time to leave. 

   Finally, Rafe’s boyfriend alert rings to kiss me before I go, but it wasn’t what I expected. His rough lips press against my delicate ones, quick and short. I take this as he wants me out of his way for whatever he’s telling his dad. A frown forms on my face, looking up at him. Rafe’s face is determined and ready to criticize me for wanting to cry. He was never good with sadness or emotions in general.

   He gives me the look of ‘Don’t start or it’ll be worse for the both of us’ expression. Rafe speed walks outside, with me following behind, giving Ward a small smile before pulling out of the driveway. The outside wall is vandalized with the saying ‘murderer.’ 

   Kiara, definitely Kie.

   Speaking of the provocateur pogue, I get a text from her to come to the docks.

   At the docks, we discussed a plan to get John B cleared from the charges. “We kidnap Rafe. We kidnap Rafe and stick the gun in his mouth,” He pauses and looks at my face. “No offense, Ad, and just wait till he starts squawking.” He shrugs his shoulder with a questioning expression. We all give JJ then we’ll end up in jail look. “That’s a felony,” Pope states matter-of-factly, and we all share our opinions of JJ’s grandest plan of kidnapping my boyfriend. “We fly espionage,” Pope says to end our conversation. We all laugh and smile as Pope and JJ do a weird handshake. 

   We all hop into Kie’s car, and JJ pulls out his gun cocking it back way too playfully. “JJ, why do you have a gun!?” My eyes widen at JJ waving the gun around. We fight with JJ, as per usual, about his gun and keeping it hidden from everyone. Finally, the brain of our group Pope comes up with a plan to wiretap the guys' car. Pope runs off, leaving me with JJ and Kie. JJ decides this is the time to ask questions about Kie’s relationship with Pope. I sat with my head down, getting secondhand embarrassment. JJ had been painfully obvious he likes Kie, and I don’t think she was picking it up.

   “Do you hear him,” Kie says, her face completely covered with confusion over this topic, and her lip arched. “Yep, Kie, just leave me out of this.” I shake my head, covering my face to look outside. Kie throws her hand up in the air. I can’t help but laugh. Kiara needs to start picking up on things, but I haven’t exactly had girl talk time with her, but these circumstances mean I HAVE to.

   “We could sit in silence,” Kie says, looking out the window, her smile tight-lipped. 

   Since the sun had started setting as a group settled, we should wait until night fell. I was nervous. It’s been a while since going out the pogues on a risky venture.

   Kiara calls Gavin, and though her voice wasn’t scary, we had leverage to scare him out, hopefully. “JJ, move over,” I whisper-yell quietly and push him with my hip, finally moving over. He propels his shoulder with mine, and I sigh, bothered. “He’s talking about negotiating something,” Pope says vaguely. “Gavin has the gun Rafe used,” Pope says quickly, and I’m palpitating as anxiety floods my body. Of course, my friends wanted Rafe to be locked away, and Rafe should be, not John B and Sarah out on the forefront (I have faith they’re alive) to make up for Rafe's mistakes. But, as Rafe’s girlfriend and best friend, I didn’t want him to exist behind a cell, and I’d have to talk to him through the glass while holding a grimy black phone to my ear.

   I’ll always feel guilty for playing both sides, but it wasn’t like I was telling Rafe anything. I don’t think I’ve ever revealed any plans the pogues made, and I could efficiently get information out of Rafe, but then he’ll stop trusting me. The arm was consistently tugging me to pick a team. The brevity of not having Rafe in my life would feel drawn out.

   Gavin pulls his car off to the side, and we go past and start getting anxious. “Guys, we can’t wait here,” I say impatiently, and Pope is already running off to the grass. I’m the second to jump over the fence into Sean's backyard with three other kooks. “Hey, Adriana.” Sean waves to me, smiling as if this was an everyday occurrence. I wave back weirdly and start playing catch-up with Pope. 

   “He’s meeting ward right now. We gotta go.” We all start dashing back quickly. 

   This was elusive and had lots of running, but this was what I wanted. I wanted my old life back—the chaotic pogue-kook life of contumacious and vigilante. 

   We all overlooked the fence at the construction site, which was creepy as alone, but rain straining on us and thunder exhaling to the water falling hard on us didn’t make it any better. “Lord of the dorks,” Kie said, shaking her head at the 90s-looking camera Pope chose to bring, which was way too big. Pope loses Ward and Gavin on the camera, and JJ whistles to us, finding a ladder to climb up. This. Is. Not. Safe. I want to say but bite it back, ascending up the slippery red and peeling ladder.

   Pope finally gets the perfect view of the two, and we get to be an audience of whatever will happen. Pope narrates to us what is happening. 

   Ward hands Gavin a duffle bag, concluding that this was a payoff of the gun, his silence, or both. “Guy, I think this is a payoff,” JJ states, looking at Pope and then at me. I nod, turning my head back. Pope says Gavin looks mad at Ward, yelling about something. “Why?” Kie asks, confused. “I don’t know.” Pope looks back to the scene unfolding. “Shit,” Pope said, moving around uncomfortably. “What?” All three of us say in unison at his reaction to what is happening. “I don’t- don’t know they’re fighting over something.” Pope looked at all of us and swivelled his head back. I started to become frightened. 

   I look at JJ, and he grabs my hand reassuringly. I have a gut feeling this won’t be such a poise exchange of goods. “Holy shit, Wards got a gun.” His eyes stay focused on videotaping what's unravelling. “I bet that’s the murder weapon!” Kie says with conviction in her tone.

   A shot rings throughout the air as it did on the tarmac. We all put our backs to the wall, gasping at the murder committed. 

   All I think of is Susan and how I stood there, doing nothing. Sarah’s eyes fall to mine, the hurt and betrayed blank stare gazing into mine. Rafe’s hand is slightly shaking. The blood was coming from her shoulder quickly, flowing like a river in the Bahamas. 

   JJ’s hand tugs on mine, bringing me to the rainy twilight once again to leave the flashback for later. “Oh my god, please tell me that didn’t happen.” Kiara’s worried voice rang as I covered my mouth to stop any sound. Ward will always be nefarious; anything he touches breaks and dies. 

   Ward looks out from the construction building, and Pope yells for us to get down, and we listen. Our hearts are racing with fear. “I think we should go right now,” JJ suggests quickly, all of us agreeing to circumvent this god-forsaken situation. Ward comes running, looking on the paved road for the weapon, but it falls into the broken drain. 

   Kie gets up, pushing herself over the little wall. “What is wrong with you? Murderer!” We all cover her mouth, pulling her down. We all start pacing down the ladder. Kie steps on my hand, leading to JJ and Pope falling to the grass, and I land on JJ. “Sorry.” Kie jumps onto the grass. We get up, leaping over the large wooden fence. We return to her car, panting and out of breath from the horrific incident. Kie calls the cops, and JJ starts to yell, but she’s already dialled them. 

   We pleaded with Shoupe to believe us, even me, but he gave me the ‘later I’ll talk to you’ look and said that this whole argument was stupid. The boy who cried wolf was not us.

   Kiara starts blaming JJ for it all. “You stepped on my hand.” I threw my hands up into the air. “You guys kept telling me to go faster.” She sighs angrily at JJ and me. 

   By the time we head home, the sun barely rises, but orange still peaks, and the light blue sky is coming through. I’m drenched and cold and tired. This chase for independence isn’t good for the baby, and at the moment, it felt good to forget despite the trauma we all endured. 

   After going home for an hour, I had to travel back to the construction site and the ocean so Kie, Pope, JJ, and I could find the gun Rafe used, and we’d turn him in, but I didn’t want to be with them. I couldn’t handle the shame of helping the pogues lock my boyfriend up. 

   Rafe and I are star-crossed lovers. The little balls of fire shone luminously in the deep blue sky full of love and hurt, and it felt like they were against us, calculating every move for us to make every wrong turn, but I didn’t believe in fate. That someone in the sky or universe had been planning for me to love him. Fate was always an excuse to blame your problems on something other than you. You are supposed to make it happen, not the idyllic stars or sky that are a romanticization of our life. You make your experience, which will fall on your pristine or impure hands.

   “We can all agree I’m not going in there.” I point to the disgusting sewer filled with rats, mud, and maybe rabies floating around somehow. Our eyes land on Kie after JJ tells some story about a worm that can get in– never mind, Kiara just proceeds into the drain. Pope looks into her brown eyes, telling her to be careful, but Kie being Kie, gives him the cold shoulder. “Kiara, did you find anything yet?” Pope asks, and the drain echos loudly. Kie says a simple nothing. I get on my hands and knees, pushing my body halfway in, calling Kie’s name sporadically to confirm she’s safe. Then JJ and Pope start talking about Pope and Kie’s relationship, which makes me feel bad. Pope sounds almost lovesick to the fact Kiara just doesn’t desire him like Pope wants Kie.

   Kiara starts shouting, causing us to call out until she says it was rats. “What if Ward put Gavin sewers? That would make so much sense!” JJ says as if that statement makes sense. “She would've seen the body.” I look back at him in bewilderment at JJ’s thought process and roll my eyes. Then, Kie starts screaming that the water is rising. “Kie! Kiara!” We all yell, and it bounces off the cement. My eyes widen. 

   The water bursts out, and I fall into JJ’s body, which grabs my wrist and holds me by my waist. The three of us get to the grass running to the lid of the sewers. 

   We start trying to lift the heavy metal, and the water becomes deathly close. Kiara is underwater when we throw the grate off, and she gasps for air. I wipe the hair out of my face with slippery fingers. We watch as Kiara gets up from the pavement, battered and coughing water, pulling the gun out from her back.

   The gun. The gun, the gun, full of bad memories and Rafe’s fingers press down on the trigger and then boom.

   Kie smiles at us, and we laugh while JJ wraps the gun in a bandana. I have to force a smile and laugh. Finally, I tell them I ought to leave, and they all grin at me, feeling relief. 

   My house is quiet. My parents aren’t home again for the past week. They’ve been on a trip, but they told me they’d be back yesterday, yet here we are, the house settles as the wind whistles loud from the outside. I walk through the house, leaving wet footprints and water dripping from my body to the floor. I open my bedroom door with a sigh.

   “Hey, baby.” Rafe waves carefully at me, his tone too sweet, almost bitter. I don’t get scared this time. “Where were you?” Instead, Rafe’s voice wants to initiate an argument accusing me while his eyes wander over my body. I throw my white ribbed tank top to the white hardwood floor, leaving me in a bikini top. “At the pool. Topper threw me in.” I lied through my teeth dryly, Rafe knew, and I knew it. Rafe stands up from my bed, and his body becomes too close, seizing up my oxygen. He leans his head down to my ear. “I don’t think our child would like a liar, right?” Rafe’s trying to get in my head, his breathing fanning my ear, and his manipulative tactics make my eyes reach red.

   A smile dares to make an appearance on his face. “Just tell me, baby. You usually can’t handle a day without me. What changed?” Rafe positioned his hand on my cheek, but I moved away, trying to back up, he grabbed my lower back, restricting any movement, and his fingers trailed over my breasts and stomach. “I was at the sewers- playing around.” God, I sounded stupid. “Playing- Adriana fucking tell me, or I start breaking shit.” Rafe finally gives out on his act, and anger covers his face. Red splotches blanketed his pale skin. I stir under his intense stare.

   Kook academy had been fun for most of us. By ninth grade, we couldn’t keep our eyes off each other. Glances while walking to class. Rafe’s pretty smile worked like a charm, never failing for me to smile back or pout as we trekked the halls past each other, and I’d bump into someone. A chuckle would fall from his red lips, turning his head. Then it became walking me to class, stealing kisses before anyone would pour from the classrooms, the happiness of our relationship, not this. 

   The elegiacs to mourn every time something shatters to pieces, the threats, to learn not to push him, or me crying every single time. It was a cycle of precipitation raining down on us that we had to stop.

   Rafe’s right-hand stops at my neck, squeezing it tight, but let’s go quickly—a sadistic smile forms. Everything is being thrown to the ground, pens, pictures of friends or family, our photographs, notebooks, the fuzzy white blankets covering my bed fall to the ground, clothes of mine and his pulled from the hangers. I yell at him many times, but he doesn’t stop until his breathing is wretched and beads of sweat form on his forehead. My room is in shambles, the hardwood floor coated with my items.

   Uncontrollable salty tears tumble down my cheeks as I look around. My parents would’ve been furious if they had seen it like this. “I’m sorry, baby. I- I didn’t mean to. I promise I didn’t mean for it to turn out like this.” Rafe is crying along with me, his voice shaky as he mumbles into the flesh of my neck. “Rafe- why would you do this to me? Why!?” I want to push him off me, but my fingers can’t help and follow through his hair, wet and strands effortlessly out of place. 

   Rafe pushes our bodies to the blanketless bed. We lay down, his hands placed on my stomach. “Please don’t leave me. I can’t lose you, baby. You know I love you. I didn’t mean to put you through all this stress, especially with the baby.” His voice is genuine, and he leans over the bed to grab the fuzzy blankets to cover us. “I’m not. I’m not leaving you.” I turn my body his, tears sapping to the pillows and Rafe’s hand under my cheek; my nose is clogged, meaning I have to breathe through my mouth. “But, do you see what you did? Ra- Rafe, I need a break from this. No from us. I don’t want to break up; I just need to be alone for a while without you-” Before I turn into a broken record, he cuts me off, begging me. “Adriana, I have to be here for the baby. For you.” His cracked voice, rain falling on my face while he kisses me. Soft and light kisses, I accept. “Rafe, I ask for a week’s break, ok, baby. I love you but cannot deal with this right now.” I wipe my eyes and kiss him deeply with my heart until I feel heart sick. My hands held his slippery face.

   His body moves on top of mine. Rafe’s too cherry-red lips press to my dry pink ones. 

   I couldn’t explain the heartbreak and the darkness that has fallen over us as individuals and as a duo, an affinity. Our relationship has disintegrated into tattered glass, sharp and pointy pieces, ready to stab as Rafe and I’s bodies move against each other, savoring one another.

   Sometimes love was rough, too rough for two broken people. 

   When love became an overbearing harshness like the wood to a pier, it had to be revised, looked over to make sure no one could get cut, but at moments it’d slash people, let the crimson spill because someone hadn’t mended it correctly.

That was us.

We would never be mended correctly until we determined to step back from the pier. I just didn’t have faith he would.

@rafecameronzwhore

[guardian-rocket]

@askpeter-quill cont. from [x]

First time Rocket visited the memorial after it was completed, he had been with Tony and Nebula, before Tony had passed away.  Tony’s wife had picked out the flowers for the memorial and as they paid their respects Tony explained that there was symbology behind different kinds of flowers at a Grave and that there were often other ways of honoring them too.  The original flowers had been poppies, sunflowers babies breath and carnations, not that Rocket really remembered anything but the sunflowers.  He wondered if she’d had liked them.  He remembered being sad knowing now he’d never know.  Even if another version of her existed, she wasn’t the Gamora he knew, who had mellowed out and been open to new things.

He knew the point of laying flowers down was more for them, than her.  It made them feel closer to her for a moment, feeling like they were letting her know she was in their thoughts.  “Well let’s just go to the shop and you pick what you think is pretty.  We can double check with the clerk to make sure we’re not sending her rude messages from beyond the grave.”

“Oh yeah, I know what you mean, Rocket.  When I was on house arrest I read a book about flowers and it had one chapter that went on about all the different things flowers can mean.  Really put in perspective why my grandma got mad when I gave her Yellow Roses for mother’s day,” Scott chimed in, looking a little lost in thought like he was recalling the moment.  

“You read a book on flowers?” Rocket asked, but before Scott could explain why, Bruce chimed in, as he had been trailing behind them as they were making their way to Scott’s X-Con van.

“I’ll let you guys go, I got a meeting coming up, but you two take care.  Scott, I’ll see you later,” Bruce said, as he excused himself.  He knew he wouldn’t fit in the van easily and it was really his place to tag along about a memorial for someone he didn’t even know from anything other than Rocket’s stories.

Scott unlocked the doors with a key fob, and the doors swung slid open on both sides so everyone could get in.  “Yeah, sorry, I run a security business with some of my friends,” he said, “so sorry about the mess.”

There was a lot of fast food wrappers and cups on the floor, receipts and even some equipment for a future deal they were working on.

Rocket clambered in, almost losing footing as he hoisted himself up into the vehicle. “Don’t worry, we’ve seen way worse.  You wanna see a mess, shoulda seen our ship when Groot was going through his growth spurt, right Quill?” Rocket said, knowing that Scott hadn’t yet met Groot formally.  He also didn’t think Peter would care about a little bit of trash recalling how he once bragged that his ship would look like a Jackson Pollak painting under a black light.

[pulchrasilva]

1, 2, 5, 6, and 50! Feel free to answer any or all of them!

1. What fic of yours would you recommend to someone who had never read any of your work? (In other words, what do you think is the best introduction to your fics?)

Probably i know a place where the pain doesn't reach. I think it's the fic that best captured the exact Essence™️ of what I was going for and a lot of my best fics feature a similar kind of soft reconciliation hurt/comfort i think

2. Go to your AO3 “Works” page, to the sidebar with all the filters, and click the drop-down arrow for “Additional Tags.” What are your top 3-5 most used tags? Do you think they accurately represent your writing habits?

In order: Angst, Fluff, Polyamory, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Compliant

Yep that's extremely accurate. I feel a little called out actually lol. Just realising that all the fics I've written featuring a romantic relationship have been polyships wow

5. What do you wish someone would ask you about [insert fic]? Answer it now!

I think about this is where i leave you, I'd like someone to ask what actually happened to Romulus after his split himself. It's something that Janus wonders about in the first chapter. I'd like to think that his consciousness still exists somewhere in Thomas's mind, he just doesn't have the role of creativity anymore. He's like a kind of ghost, he has no body, floating around and watching over Janus and the twins. Grieving when they fight, grieving when Janus grieves him. He'd be really happy that Janus managed to make up with the twins I think.

6. What’s one fact about the universe of [insert fic] that you didn’t get a chance to mention in the fic itself?

Something Irrevocable never actually says what happened to Rowan (an oc)'s baby cousin. I mentioned that he made a lopsided little teddy bear for his cousin and then after the apocalypse happened we see a purple teddy bear on the side of the road and it's missing an arm. Tbh i don't really have an answer to this but I made myself so sad with that detail so I wanted to do something with it. He's definitely not dead, that would make me too sad. I have an idea for a hypothetical spin-off about Carlton Drake (who was the main villain in the movie but basically irrelevant and kinda pathetic in the fic) which was gonna use his affection for kids as a somewhat-redeeming quality, and I was gonna put Rowan's cousin in there.

50. Answer any question of your choice, or talk about anything you want to talk about!

Gonna choose 49: What are you currently working on? Share a few lines if you’re up for it!

You mayy or may not have heard a little about this fic, but I'm currently working on a fic for roleslaying week with the working title "flaredrum mft ftm solidarity fic". It's from Djembe's pov but it's about Youngblood's time at the Bard College pre-canon, her relationship with Noise and her gender. I wouldn't say it explores Djembe, but it does also explore who I like to imagine Djembe is (tbf we don't know much about him yet!) Oh and it's also about how the Bard College is a fucked up toxic environment in sooo many ways.

Here's an extract from the most recent scene I wrote:

You know," Viola said after a few minutes of silence, pointing a chip in his direction. "Sharpe's not wrong." "About what?" "Connections are just another thing to manipulate. People don't really have friends here." Djembe laughed. "So what are you and I then? "Are you kidding?" Viola said, not a trace of a smile on her face. "You're top of the class, all the teachers love you." His smile dropped. "So?" She shrugged. "I need to keep my grades up if I want to become a captain." Djembe felt something shatter.

Made myself real sad with this whole scene tbh

[warrenwilkinson]

Someone to stay

TIME: March 18th, 2023 PLACE: Warren & Maya’s place / Seattle BETWEEN: Maya ( @msmayaparker ) & Warren NOTES: Written on Discord. NSFW. Several TW (see tags) Title from here

It had been a mistake doing this. Or no, it hadn't been a mistake. Maya knew that at some point she needed to start wearing dresses again. The only way forward was, indeed, forward. She had waited until day two of Warren's business trip. It had gone about as terribly as she had expected. A full blown panic attack had seized her the moment she'd caught sight of herself in the mirror. Now, she lay curled up in their shared bed, tears drying on her cheeks. Hermes had curled up next to her. He woofed softly, trying to comfort her.

Not so long ago, Maya would've taken this feeling and gone out to find someone, anyone to want her or gone to fight club. Certainly, she would be halfway to drunk. Now though, she picked up the phone to ring Warren. It was still early. With any luck, he would still be at work. She just wanted to hear his voice. She didn't want him to know she was struggling. It would just make him feel bad, just add another strike against whatever invisible scorecard existed in people's minds about her. "Hi," she said when he answered the phone, "Are you busy?"

Warren wasn’t so happy about this trip. He wasn’t fond of leaving Maya after just a few weeks after she had recovered her memories. He probably had developed certain dependency and maybe in another time of his life he’s notice how bad it was for him but now, he didn’t care. His love for her overpassed anything else.

They texted and talked almost every day and he was never too busy for her. Even on meetings he would answer the texts no matter what. That’s exactly why as soon as his prone started vibrating with a call, he raised a finger to stop one of the managers from keep talking and picked the call, “Hey, sugar, never too busy for you. Just give me a minute,” he smiled and pulled the phone away enough to dismiss everyone, “We’ll continue after lunch ok? Please order something nice and charge it to the company,” he said with an apologetic smile as their employees nodded and left the conference room, “I’m all yours now, baby girl, how are you doing?” he asked still unable to notice something was off.

"Wait, you don't have to..." Maya started to say. She worried her bottom lip as Warren spoke to whoever was in his meeting. She wanted to be important to him, of course she did. But sometimes it felt like she was too important to him, like he was setting aside the rest of his life for her. "I'm safe," she said, which was not a lie, "I missed you. But if you're in a meeting, you can get back to it." After all, she was being silly. A dress couldn't hurt her. The man who has hurt her was dead, thanks to the man she was currently on the phone with. There was nothing to be afraid of and yet here she was falling apart anyway. Maya curled tighter into Warren's side of the bed, feeling safer surrounded by his scent.

He heard her but he was already dismissing his team, “It’s ok, Maya, we hadn’t eaten so I’ sure they’re thankful for the break. Besides, they’re gonna be eating something nice,” he reassured her so she wouldn’t worry about it. The way she answered was enough for him to sit straighter and frown, “you’re safe but not ok,” he pointed slowly, “I miss you too, baby girl,” he added, “No, no, I’m all yours and I wanna know what happened. You sound sad,” he started to loosen his tie as he listened.

Maybe she should've gone to fight club. This was just making things worse. There wasn't much he could do for her and now she was getting in the way of his business. Maya swallowed when he picked up on the fact she had said that she was safe as opposed to good or even fine. "No, it’s okay," she insisted, "You shouldn't mess up your business on my account. You already took all those days off because of me. Everyone's okay here."

He sighed as she spoke, sad to hear her hold back again, “Are you gonna lie to me?” he asked in a sad tone, “my business is years old, I could take a decade off and it’d be fine,” he assured, “I love you and I want to know what happened and why you sound so sad. I really want to know,” he insisted. He had never told her how he actually didn’t even need to work. His fortune was big enough for him to live the rest of eternity without worries but he knew that might be too much for Maya to feel comfortable with it.

"I'm not lying," she said, voice immediately sharp. She didn't lie. She wasn't a liar, no matter what people had said about her. She didn't always tell the full truth, but that was not the same thing. "It doesn't matter, it’s stupid," she said. Old habits were easy to slip into when she felt like this, and her defensiveness was returning. This was a mistake. She shouldn't have called. She shouldn't have tried to put the stupid dress on. She shouldn't have done any of this. It was stupid; she was stupid.

“But there’s something you’re not telling me, I can tell,” he said still sounding sad, “it’s not stupid if it made you feel bad and I need to know tht you’re really ok. I’ll cancel the rest of the trip and go back right now to make sure if you don’t tell me,” maybe it was a low blow but he wanted to make sure everything was really fine. He knew about her nightmares and her insecurities, but he wanted to figure out what had hurt her while he was away.

Maya could hear the sadness in his voice and it only intensified the dark spiral in her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut tight. Her face turned further into his pillow. Knowing that she was fucking up didn't manage to stop her from continuing. "I'll be fine," she argued, "You don't need to ruin your trip because of me. You can't threaten me into talking." With that, Maya hung up. She knew that she sounded like the petulant teenage she felt like.

Turning fully into the pillow, she started to cry. She was so stupid and weak. There was a reason she had waited until Warren was gone. She needed to figure this out on her own without bothering him with it.

He didn’t have the chance to say anything when she snapped and hung up on him. He swallowed hard cause he had pushed too far. He should have listened and let her tell him on her own. He was torn about calling her back or just drop everything and take a flight back home. Either way she’d be mad at him, and he deserved it cause he should have stopped when she said she was ok. He dialed her number and waiting, hoping she would pick up and even if she did, he would flight back home that same night no matter what.

Even with her face buried in Warren's pillow, she could hear her phone buzz. She let it ring. Her crying wouldn't allow her to speak anyway, but at the moment she didn't know how to apologize. It had been wrong of her to snap at him. Warren had just been trying to help.

Hermes laid his head on her side, trying his best to help as well. She curled away from the gentleness. She didn't deserve gentleness. Eventually, Maya quieted. But she stayed there and pulled the covers over her head. The sequined silver dress she had bought lay abandoned on the floor, slightly torn from where she had ripped it off. A few sequins glinted in the bedroom light.

His heart sunk when she didn’t answer the phone and he didn’t insist. Instead, he called his assistant and arranged a flight back home. He could finish that meeting through skype and his team would probably be happy to go back home sooner so after his arrangements he joined the team on the room where they were eating and let them know they all could go back home and take a few days off fully paid. They all seemed relieved of not having to spend two more days in eternal meetings with him.

The flight back felt longer than ever, and he was glad there was a car waiting for him at the airport to drive him home. He hated he couldn’t just appear at will like other of his siblings cause it’d be a lot easier. The house was silent and dark when he was dropped off and he sighed knowing whatever had happened was bad and he only hoped she was home and not out alone. He entered the house and moved to the bedroom right away to find Maya on their bed, more specifically on his side. When he turned on the lights he found out what had happened when he noticed the dress on the floor, “I’m home baby girl,” he said softly as he sat on the edge of the mattress.

Time passed, Maya wasn't sure how much. Hermes wiggled into her embrace and eventually she started to pet him. It helped a little. After some time, she willed herself to get up. She couldn't backslide. She wouldn't let herself. But her thoughts were a tangled snarl of self-doubt and fear. The Bernese Rottie followed her closely. In the kitchen, she managed to make herself a sandwich and get a glass of water. It was something, she reminded herself, even when back in the bedroom she only convinced herself to eat a few bites of it.

She fell asleep, dreams a stormy sea of fraught emotions. It wasn't long before she woke up again, still curled up on Warren's side of the bed. Maya laid there, staring at the ceiling, trying to think her way out of how she felt. It didn't help. In fact, it made it worse. After some time, Hermes leapt from the bed, barking happily. Warren must be home. Covering herself with the comforter, she curled further into the bed. After a minute or two, Maya heard the door open a little more as Hermes returned to the room, no doubt with Warren. The bed dipped twice as the two of them joined her in her little corner. "I'm sorry," she mumbled, "You didn't have to cut your trip short."

He reached to place his hand over what he thought was Maya’s back, “don’t be. There’s nothing to be sorry for,” he assured but still didn’t try to peel away the cover from her, “I know I didn’t have to but I wanted to. I could feel something was off and I wasn’t gonna be able to focus and trust me, you might as well be my marketing team favorite person right now cause they didn’t have to spend more days with me,” he tried to joke, “can I get a hug and a kiss?” he asked hoping that might be incentive enough for her to come out from under the covers.

 Deep down he knew in a way he had been responsible for whatever Maya had pushed herself to because he had been the one bringing up the dresses subject without knowing at first why it was such a big issue for Maya. Now that he did, he really regretted to have ever sent a dress to her. Now he felt like she thought she needed to force herself to cross that bridge and it was clear she wasn’t ready for it and he had no rush either. He didn’t care if she never wore a dress at all but he also knew she was not gonna accept that as a definitive answer on the subject.

Maya considered staying curled under the covers. It felt like the safer option. After a moment though, she emerged to crawl into his lap and curl herself against him instead. It was warm and comfortable there. Warm and comfortable was good. Hermes too curled up next to them. She hadn't managed to get dressed yet, instead wearing just a black bra and boy shorts with little stars on them. The warmth of Warren's body meant she didn't feel the cold.

She knew she had to stand on her own two feet, eventually and metaphorically. She felt guilty that Warren might feel like she would backslide without his support. "I can't be your whole life," Maya said softly, "You shouldn't feel like you have to drop everything just because I'm sad." She sighed, "I'm sad kind of a lot."

He was glad that Maya came out from her hiding spot and moved to her rightful place on his lap. Warren wrapped his arms around her and pressed his cheek against the top of her head, "is it bad that you are?" He asked with a frown cause little did Maya know that she had truly became his life, "it had been a very, very long time since I had a real reason to live and then I found you," he admitted.

"But that's what you do when you love someone right? You're there for them no matter what," he kissed her hair, "I hope I can help to make you less sad for longer."

"That's a lot of pressure," she replied. She understood that her own estimation of her worth was below the truth. But she was still only one person. There was another important factor. "Plus, I have to die eventually. Not for a long time, but someday." He didn't like to hear it, she knew, but that didn't make it any less true. He was always going to outlive her by generations.

"Maybe," she replied. She sighed. "I think I have to be sad though," she continued, "Not forever, but the only way to heal from what happened to me back then is to feel it. And it was sad. I think it’s okay for me to be sad about it."

Warren hummed considering her words, “It shouldn’t be… I chose that because I love you and I care and it doesn’t mean you have to do anything to keep that status or do anything for my sake,” he added not wanting her to feel pressured in any way. His expression got more serious when she talked about her imminent death, “I try very hard not to think about that, baby girl, it makes me feel like I can’t breathe when I do,” he confessed swallowing hard to keep himself from telling her that he didn’t plan to outlive her for long.

She was right and he knew it, He didn’t like it but he understood why she needed to cross that bridge even if It hurt, “yeah but that doesn’t mean you have to endure it alone… I’ll always be here to help in any way I can,” he promised pressing his lips against her forehead, “is there any particular reason why you tried to test yourself today?” he asked curiously.

She swallowed. It felt like a pedestal, like a place she could fall from. More importantly though, it didn't sound like a full life. She wanted him to have a full, happy life. Maya licked her lips, not sure how to express her concern properly. "I just want you to be happy," was all she settled on saying.  As far as the fact she would die, she swallowed again. She knew that he didn't like to talk about it, that it made him upset. But she had lived a life where ignoring things that made one upset just meant one was unprepared for them. For her, it didn't seem soon, but time probably worked differently when you lived forever. "Doesn't change that it’s going to happen," she said, voice half muffled into his neck, "And I want to know you'll be taken care of after."

It felt like something that maybe she should go through alone. It was her problem, her brokenness. She should be the one to fix it. Maybe that was her old way of thinking though. Yes, she needed to stand on her own two, metaphorical, feet, but that didn't mean she couldn't lean on someone. Maya turned her face further into the safety of his embrace. It took her a moment to answer his actual question. "You were gone," she admitted, "Sebastian asked me to be his best man and I thought maybe if I started now, I could have my shit together by their actual wedding. And then..." She trailed off, shaking her head. It was silly. Sure, she had thought maybe, if they ever got married, possibly, she would like to wear a dress that day without worrying about it. But that was a passing fancy, an imaginary thing she didn't really expect.

He smiled a little top her words, “You make me happy, Maya. Happier than I’ve ever been and you don’t even have to try,” he assured caressing her back. When she insisted his expression turned a little darker than he’d like. He didn’t want her to know but he was not gonna lie either, “I refuse to live in a world without you, sugar and by the time that happens, I’ve had already lived all that I need to,” he said simply cause he knew in this trip it would be just them. No family left behind cause he could never give her that and she might not even want it.

Warren hummed for her to continue, and it suddenly clicked. It hadn’t been an idea that came solely from her desire to conquer that fear. It was somehow the pressure she felt not to disappoint someone who was important to her, “the hunter is marrying the wolf,” he pointed with a small smile, “I can’t say it surprises me or that he chose you to be his best man but I’m very sure he won’t judge you if you decide to rock suit pants instead of a dress,” he said softly before kissing her forehead, “can we make a deal?” he asked waiting for her to look at him, “whenever you want to try to face those fears and demons, let me know. I won’t be there if you don’t want me to, but I’ll be near enough if you need me…. But most importantly, how about you do it for your own benefit?” he asked with a sad expression, “not to please me or anyone else. I don’t care if you never wear a dress and I’m sure Sebastian doesn’t care either. We just want you to feel comfortable and happy. To be yourself.”

"I'm not the only thing that makes you happy though," she replied, "Like the ducks." A frown creased her brow as his next words. It took her a moment to think through them, to ensure she wasn't reading something into them that wasn't there. Pulling back to look at him properly, Maya shook her head. "No," she said, "It doesn't work like that, no." She shook her head again, "Unless you became mortal somehow, that would be..." Now it was getting hard for her breathe. "No," she said again.

She settled back into the comfort of his embrace. Her death, she knows believed, was a long way off. More pressing was her current predicament. "I know," she said, a little emphatically. Maya didn't want to give the impression Sebastian had done anything to pressure her. It had seemed like a good goal, a thing to work towards. Looking at him, she shook her head. "That's the thing. It is for me. If I'm going to be part of these big celebrations, I don't want to have this be part of it anymore. I don't want him to have any power over me when I'm celebrating. Maybe I'll end up in a suit, but I want the choice. I don't want to be afraid anymore."

Warren chuckled when she mentioned the ducks even if his smile turned sad when he remembered his sibling. Gilmore had been the closest to a best friend and he missed every day, but he understood the reasons of their departure and Maya probably didn’t know how much he could see himself on Gilmore. How he would turn exactly like death if he lost her the way Gil had lost Uriel. Life had always been meaningless for them. They were create like that and suddenly Uriel, Barachiel and Maya came along to change it all. What does someone without purpose do when they find it and lose it again? Living doesn’t seem appealing anymore and he imagined Maya wouldn’t see it like that, “Shhhh. Let’s not go there, ok? I promise to look for ways for me to turn mortal if it soothes your mind,” he promised trying to smile even if he had tried it before when he and Barachiel had tried to bear a child. He knew it was impossible, but she didn’t need to know.

It took a moment for him to understand until she explained why she was doing it for her and no one else. Fear was something he had experienced just a handful of times and it had never been for himself so it was still a little foreign for him but he did understood that she wanted to have the options, that she wanted to have the control to decide without a ghost haunting her, “ok, is there anything I can do to help?” he asked feeling lost on how he could make this whole traumatic experience better for her, desperate to know how to help her cross that bridge.

Maya could admit she didn't hate the idea of growing old with Warren. It wasn't possible, of course, at least not to her knowledge. "You don't have to do that," she replied, "It's just..." She sighed and shook her head. She didn't like the idea of him being that unhappy, of being the cause of so much pain. But that was the bitch of it. They were always going to be separated, eventually. Her whole life though had been defined by living in the after. She had to keep on living after the death of her parents. There wasn't anything for it, but to do your best to keep living. After a moment, she added, "I love you."

She didn't like the silence that followed. There were things about her past she knew weren't easy to understand, not unless you had been through it too. And luckily, Warren hadn't been through it. As far as help though, she shrugged at his question. It was nice to have him here, but she didn't think she could always have him around. "Don't be mad," she offered. She swallowed, remembering not how he had treated her, but how she had been treated before. "I know it makes me difficult and bad at taking care of myself, but I'm trying. I promise, I'm trying," she said.

He offered her a smile, a real one this time, “Maya, do you really think, after all this time together that I do things, I don’t want to do?” he asked before pressing his lips to hers in a very soft kiss. A reassuring one. The smile got bigger and brighter at her words, “And I love you. Very, very much,” he added for good measure.

“I could never be mad at you,” he frowned a bit when he realized that maybe she thought he had gotten mad and that was the reason why he came back earlier, “I’m not mad at you, sugar. I worry because you’re very important to me and I just want to…” he trailed off unsure how to explain it without her feeling pressured like before, “I know I can be a little overprotective and that’s only because I love you and sometimes I don’t know what to do with that,” he shrugged, “It just comes in a package I guess, the loving caring and getting worried about the one you love,” he explained lamely. He shook his head, “you’re not difficult and trust me, I know you’re trying cause I can see it… when you lost your memories you reminded me how things were before we got together, and it made me realized how much you’ve changed in so little time. Love does that. And friends, and happiness so when I got you back I promised myself to keep making you happy so you could keep on turning into a happier you.”

She didn't think he did things he didn't want to do. But he always said yes to her. There was no way he wanted to do everything she asked. Was there? Maya let him kiss her softly and did her best to smile back. She tried to draw the line between her past and her present. People in her past were not Warren and Warren was not one of the people from her past. She couldn't use that to go on.

Her eyes watched him as he spoke. That he could never be mad at her she didn't believe. There had to be something. But she could believe he wasn't angry with her now. "I am sorry though," she said after he had finished, "I shouldn't have snapped at you and hung up. I just..." She licked her lips. "I don't lie. I'm not a liar," she insisted. It was an old wound, one that felt especially tender at the moment. She was difficult. Maya knew that, even if he claimed she wasn't. Her past had left scars on her that still affected her and their relationship. "I sounded like I was 15 again, I could hear it."

“I’m sorry too… I pushed too far,” he said with regret cause he knew he should have stopped, “I know you’re not a liar. I didn’t mean that you were a liar. I just knew you were keeping something form me and it scared me,” he admitted, “I should have listened and waited until you were ready to tell me how you were feeling,” he was aware of his mistake. “Is that how you sounded when you were that age?” he asked trying to change the direction to wanting to know more about her young self than about the call that had made her think he might be upset with her, “sometimes I wonder what it would have been like if I had found you sooner… I have the feeling that you wouldn’t have liked me very much,” he tried to joke.

"I didn't want to keep it from you. I just felt stupid, being so upset over a piece of fabric. He can't hurt me anymore," she confessed. She shouldn't have called, she had settled on. If she had just kept this to herself, it wouldn't have hurt anyone.

At his question, Maya laughed and shook her head. "Worse," she replied, "I probably would've told you to go fuck yourself." As far as whether or not she would've liked him back then, she shrugged. "I didn't like much of anyone back then," she said. Well, she had liked people, she was just so afraid of getting hurt that she had pushed them away. "I probably would've tried to hit on you. I spent a lot of time in dive bars back then, letting men who were too old for me have whatever they wanted from me," she said. As she spoke, she settled against his chest again. She should probably get dressed or maybe try to finish the sandwich. But mostly she felt sad as she remembered who she had been at fifteen.

“It’s not stupid… but you know what? I am glad you called cause that’s a step in the right direction of what we have. You called instead of just keep it from me and torture yourself on your own,” and it might not have gone in the best direction but every single time Maya reached out to him when she needed him was a good sign of her trust in him.

Warren hummed and wrapped his arms tighter around her, “yeah and I would’ve laughed until that,” he sighed, “you would’ve hated me for rejecting your advances and for punching whoever wanted to take advantage of you,” he said a bit more serious, “I’m ashamed to admit that I was not always like that. I did things I regret deeply. I once took advantage of innocence and it pains me that I had to experience it myself to understand… or at least experience the intentions of someone trying to take advantage of me because they had no idea what I was… after that I never let anyone hurt someone like that again when I was around,” it was something he hadn’t told her about yet. How he was guilty of the same crimes those monsters she ran from. He had changed but he knew others wouldn’t and some would never change.

"I knew hearing your voice would make me feel better," she said.

Maya laughed, the sound hollow and a little bitter. "Just for the second part. It wasn't like I never got rejected back then, just less than I should've," she said. She sighed, "I would've argued I wasn't being taken advantage of, not when I was giving it away. I did make that argument a couple of times." She wasn't proud of it. But it was part of who she was. She understood now that she had only wanted someone to want her, that she was seeking the only validation she had been successful in finding.

When he talked about his past, she listened. It wasn't something he had talked much about, and she wouldn't call it pleasant to hear. She couldn't blame him though. The world had been different then. "When you were a woman?" she asked. When he had experienced it himself, he had changed. Wasn't that all she could ask?

"And yet I fucked up and made you feel worse," his expression fell when he realized he had failed to comfort her as he should've.

Warren wasn't surprised of how Maya used to think about herself and what she did back then, "you were young and hurting, it makes sense you didn't think it through but they should have," he said trying not to get upset about something he couldn't change.

He nodded, "it was actually a little before that. It started when I saw her. She was a body slave, but she never really gave up. I decided I was gonna make her strong and make them pay for what they did to her," he shared something he had never told anyone. "The first night I took upon her, the guards came to the chamber. They thought it was gonna be easy because they had done it before," his eyes flashed that orange light for just a second. "She was still there. I was just adjusting so I could feel her fear and disgust, but she was fierce and wasn't about to back down. Everyone in that villa died. Everyone but all the slaves and that's how I started my army being the first woman ruling and conquering." Those details weren't in any book in history, but Warren remembered all too well.

"It wasn't your fault. You were just trying to help," she replied.

Maya's smile didn't quite reach her eyes when he told her that it made sense she had acted as she had. "It wasn't all bad, you know? I mean, if you had wanted to start throwing punches Officer Baer would've helped. He got into a few bar fights because of me," a more genuine smile curled her lips. "He's who found me the night my parents died," she explained, "I was so mean to him back then. He was just trying to keep me safe, as much as he could."

It wasn't often that Warren shared about his past. Now Maya soaked in every detail. "I like her already," she said when he described his former vessel. It should upset her, maybe, to hear that he had killed a whole villa. But she knew that for some people violence was the only language they understood. Although she had denied herself revenge for many years, she'd never been afraid to fight on behalf of people who needed her help. "How long was she your vessel?" she asked.

Warren didn't argue when she said he just wanted to help cause it was true. He did wanted to make it better but it all backfired.

"You mentioned him before. Did you ever reach out again? I think I like him," he smiled making a mental note to find that man and find a way to repay what he had done to protect Maya in her younger years.

Warren smiled a bit, "She was formidable before I took upon her. I wanted a better future for her," he sighed sadly, "I only had her for 13 years... during that time I met Barachiel, and I lowered my guard. She's the vessel I lost when they took my ring and tried to kill me," he swallowed hard.

Maya shook her head. "At first I couldn't think about any of it for long. Then I felt so ashamed for how I was turning out. And now...?" She sighed. "I mean how could I apologize for turning my back on him? He probably hates me." She truly believes her words. While Spencer Baer might understand why she had done what she had, she didn't expect him to forgive her for how she had treated him.

She nodded. The part about Barachiel she remembered. "Are you afraid of that happening again?" she asked, "Of someone trying to kill this vessel?"

Warren nodded because it sounded like something Maya had been dealing with all her life. The guilt of pushing people away was something she had been dealing with for a long time, "You don't know that, sugar. Some people might surprise you," he smiled trying to encourage her, "would you ever want to know how he's doing?" He asked curiously.

It took him a moment to answer because he wasn't sure, "I've become smarter after that. Never letting anyone get too close but it's different with you. Loving you doesn't make me feel weak," he admitted.

She curled against him tighter, making herself smaller. Maybe people could surprise her. But after her grandparents, she was afraid. A rush of air escaped her. "Of course," she said, "Of course I want to know how he is, but...I mean, it's been so long, and I was so mean."

She smiled against his neck. "Good, I don't want to make you feel weak," Maya said. For a moment, she was quiet, thinking and digesting all they had talked about. "How many vessels have you had?" she asked.

He kept his arms around her as she shrunk against him, "I can do some research and find out how he's doing and get you a way to contact him when you feel ready," he offered because he knew deep down, one day, Maya would want to thank him for what he did for her.

"You don't. It's different with you. You make me feel less of a monster. Like I deserve a chance for happiness," he smiled. He hummed before answering, "only four. Nike was the one I had before this one. I've had this one ever since," he smiled remembering how different his vessel looked when he first chose him, "he had dreadlocks when I picked him," he grinned.

Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip. Sometimes, she would read her hometown newspaper to see what he was up to, but so far it had yet to be successful. Once she had tried to Google him. He'd never been one for social media. Maya wanted to know if he was okay. And just because she could contact him didn't mean she had to. After a long moment, she nodded, "Yeah, yeah that'd be nice." She swallowed, "I'm just...I'm scared, you know? I was so shit when I met my grandparents."

She sighed, the tightness in her chest relaxing. She was glad that she made him feel worthy. "You do the same for me," she said. Although, today might not suggest that. Maya nodded as he told her more about his past. Four seemed like a low number, but she knew that was hard to kill. It was a fact she took comfort in on darker nights. Her nose scrunched though when Warren revealed that his current vessel used to have dreadlocks. "It was a good call to get rid of them," she said, "I like you like this."

Warren definitively understood that, "well I know one thing tho, he cared about you and he wanted to help. Your grandparents didn't. They were selfish and didn't deserve having you in their lives. This official wanted the best for you, and I have a good feeling that he'll be happy to see you're happy now," maybe one day when she felt ready they could visit him.

"I guess that's why we work. We're good for each other," he smiled truly believing it. He laughed at his reaction, "it was customary for his people. He was from the East of the Rhine. Now Germany. All warriors there used dreadlocks and he was a gladiator, so I kept them for a while," he smiled, "I do like my hair like this better and it makes me happy that you do too."

"Yeah, maybe..." she swallowed, face heating up with embarrassment. She did her best to bury her face more into his chest. "Maybe you could ask though. If you find him, you could ask if he wants to see me again," she said, "Or if I hurt him too bad."

She smiled back, coming out from hiding a bit more. She liked that. He was good for her. Maya knew that for certain. But she worried at times that she wasn't good for him, especially times like now where he had to skip out on business because of her. As for his dreadlocks, she sat up a little straighter, trying to imagine him with dreadlocks. Her nose stayed scrunched. "There's no accounting for fashion I guess," she said. Running her fingers through his hair, she sighed. "I should probably get dressed," she said, "Maybe try to eat again." She wasn't hungry, but she knew that she should eat, and she was unlikely to feel hungry for a while.

Warren rubbed her back when she hid her face further against his chest, “I can definitively do that, yes,” he agreed knowing it was something he could arrange. He’d feel a lot better to contact him now that Maya had asked him to, “I’ll reach out and let him know you’re ok and that you’d like to talk to him if he’s ok with it,” Warren was sure he’d say yes.

Her comment made him laugh again, “I was wearing a subligaculum, a manicae, dreadlocks and the blood of my enemies so I don’t think fashion was a thing back then,” he smiled a bit… it’s a shame there are no pictures but I have an old painting, I’ll show it to you one day,” he wondered what Maya would think of how he looked back then. He nodded, “I can make you something while you put on something warmer,” he offered, “I probably should change too,” he smiled, “wanna help me get rid of these boring clothes?” he asked in a teasing tone cause he actually loved wearing suits.

"Thank you," she said softly. She wasn't so sure that Officer Baer would want to see her. After all, she had turned her back on everyone from her hometown. In her anger and her hurt, she had been cruel to him in a way she knew even then that he didn't deserve.

"You know I don't know what half of those mean," she replied. She smiled at the prospect of seeing even an old painting of him. "I'd like that," she said.

As far as his offer, Maya glanced over at her sandwich. "I'd made myself something. I was trying to be good," she said. Whatever Warren made would be better though, she knew that. She made a face at his second request. She teased, "That seems like a dangerous proposition. I'm liable to get distracted." Even as she said it, she sat up properly in order to untie his tie. It was a graceful, practiced motion. By now, she had taken off his tie so many times. It was almost comforting in its familiarity.

He smiled to her and pecked her lips, “You’re very welcome, sugar,” he relaxed when she seemed a bit less stressed.

She had a point and he chuckled when she said it like that, “ok uhm a subligaculum is just some kind of clothe I used to cover my junk and the manicae was some kind of protection for my arm made of metal… I didn0t have a full armor at first, that’s why I got that scar on my chest,” he explained, “I looked hot,” he joked.

“I noticed and I’m glad but if you’re tired, I love cooking for you so I could take upon the kitchen for tonight,” he offered again, “we could also order something in case you want me undivided attention,” he smirked. “I’ll keep you focused,” he promised sighing when her fingers undid his tie expectedly, “I like it when you help me undress,” he admitted.

Her fingers brushed over his scar at its mention. Her heart couldn't help but clench at the idea of him so under protected. Of course, she had seen him fight at fight club with less. But no one was armed at fight club. "You always look hot," she replied.

"I'm not hungry," she admitted. She then added, "But I know I should eat. It’s been awhile." She had eaten before she had tried on the dress and Maya wasn't entirely sure how long ago that had been. Once it was untied, her slender and calloused fingers played with the smooth silk of his tie. While she felt a bit better, those old ways of thinking and behaving lurked just below the surface. "Do you want to have sex?" she asked, "We can have sex if you want."  She was straddling him now, the position more comfortable for helping him undress. Her green eyes darted up to meet his and there was a flash of hesitancy in them.

“Thanks, though I think you’re a little biased,” he chuckled, “but I like it that you think so,” he winked.

He was glad she was aware that she needed to eat even if she wasn’t hungry, “I don’t think I’ve ever asked about what kind of comfort food you prefer,” he said with a small frown, trying to remember if she had ever mentioned it. That was a tricky question because he knew she relied on sex to feel better, but he didn’t want her to feel used. He never wanted to make her feel like that. “You know I always want you, I can’t deny that, but now, I think it’s better if we get comfortable and you let me hold you for a little while,” he cupped her face with both hands and looked at her in the eyes, “sex is not everything when I’m with you,” he assured.

Maya considered for a moment. She didn't really have a comfort food. Whenever she was having a hard time, she tended not to eat or to eat something simple like cereal. Once she lived in Boston, she didn't let anyone take care of her enough to have a comfort food. Before that she had tried to hide when she was upset. "I don't really have one," she replied eventually.

She let him tilt her face up to look at him. Her green eyes were soft and unsure. When he confirmed that he always wanted her, she gave a small nod. Something in her shoulders relaxed when he said that he just wanted to hold her. There was something tugging at the back of her mind, an instinct from years long past. Maya tried not to examine it too closely. "Okay," she said, nodding, "Okay." She unbuttoned his shirt before standing. Her eyes fell to the dress on the floor. She swallowed. The tension returned to her shoulders.

Warren waited for her to mention anything that might bring her some comfort. He was even tempted to ask about what she liked to eat when her parents spoiled her, but he kept himself from it and when she answered saying she didn’t have any comfort food, he smiled a bit trying not to show any negative feelings towards it, “then that only means we have a chance to explore options util you find one,” he offered.

He relaxed when she did and helped her back on her feet when she climbed off his lap and helped him take off his shirt. It didn’t go unnoticed how she tense again when she spotted the dress on the floor, “do you wanna wait for me downstairs?” he asked moving to stand between her and the offending garment, “I’ll just put on something more comfortable and join you,” he reached to tilt her face up to look at him, “you can steal another hoodie if you get cold,” he smiled cause they both knew he didn’t wear them more and the only reason why he had bought a few lately was for her.

She nodded. It still felt like she should have something, like it was a gap in her life she should fill. After licking her lips, she added, "My parents used to make me pancakes sometimes. I don't know if I was sad, but..." She licked her lips again, "It was nice."

Her eyes flicked briefly up to meet his. "Okay," she said before nodding. It felt almost like she was on autopilot. A not insignificant part of her mind was still fixated on keeping the darker thoughts from pulling her under. After another moment of staring at the dress, Maya turned away. She pulled on one of his black hoodies. It was one of the ones that actually smelled like him. She disappeared downstairs, Hermes followed closely behind her. She sat down in the kitchen, eyes darting around as if searching for some sign that the life she was living was only a dream.

Warren smiled a bit, "I could make some pancakes if you're in the mood for those," he offered unsure if she would accept or if she'd like to keep that as something she did with her parents.

It was hard to see her struggling with herself. There was something in her eyes that clearly said she wasn't ok, but he gave her some space, letting her put on his hoodie and going downstairs. He finished undressing and only put on some loose sweats and a sleeveless shirt before joining her, "coffee?" He asked softly as he moved around the kitchen.

Maya nodded. Pancakes sounded nice. On some level, she couldn't stop the thought that it didn't matter what they ate. She just needed to eat something. It was practical. She always tended towards the practical when it came to her survival mode. There hadn't been much room for anything else in her past. Things were different now though. She could let Warren take care of her. Pancakes might be a good start.

Sitting in the kitchen, she pulled her knees up to her chest as much as she could. It felt safer to make herself small. Hermes curled up on the floor beside her, unwilling to stray far from his human. Her gaze jumped to Warren as he entered the kitchen. Recognizing him immediately. she relaxed a little. "Yeah, okay," she replied, "Thanks." She swallowed, watching him move around the kitchen. It felt like she was doing the wrong thing. She shouldn't be letting him cook. It was her job. "I can cook," Maya offered, "I'm sorry, I..."

It was an old instinct, something instilled in her rather than native to her. She tried to explain, "It feels like I'm supposed to cook. It was always my job. Especially after I had a tantrum." That was how it would've been described, a tantrum. She was the problem, how she felt was the problem.

Warren smiled and easily moved in the kitchen. He knew where everything was and even tho he wasn't as great as she was when it came to cooking, he wasn't that bad either. He shook his head at her offer, "no, it's ok, I wanna do it," he assured in a soft tone as he put on the coffee machine and gathered the ingredients for the pancakes.

"You're not supposed to do anything you don't want to, sugar," he said still in a soft tone. The worse he could do right now would be sounding upset because she was probably in that mindset that she had done something wrong. He stopped what he was doing and moved close to her, his hands reaching for hers, "that wasn't a tantrum and cooking is not your job, sugar. I'm very much ok with you doing the cooking here because you enjoy it but it's not your job and right now I wanna do something nice for you. Is that ok?" He looked at her in the eyes and gave her hands a small squeeze

Her teeth bit into the inside of her bottom lip. She nodded. He didn't do things that he didn't want to she reminded herself as he started the coffee machine. As he moved closer, her eyes gauged his approached, careful and guarded. She swallowed. The idea that she wasn't supposed to do anything she didn't want to wasn't entirely foreign to her. "I'm not supposed to want things," she said. When she had moved out of her hometown, Maya had tried to only do the things she wanted. But the problem was twofold. She didn't know what she wanted, and it didn't feel like she had the right to ask for the things she knew she wanted. She had claimed it though. Even as a kid, she always said she only did what she wanted. Letting him take her hands, she rested her chin on her knee. She felt all wrong or at least mixed up. Her expectations, her reactions, they were all wrong.

While it was difficult to trust herself at the moment, she knew that she could trust Warren. She nodded. "Yeah, yeah it's okay," she said. It was okay. She was safe, she reminded herself, she was okay.

"Yes you are, Maya," he frowned this time, "you're supposed to want things and to have those things. You deserve them and that's only because you do. It doesn't matter what others had ever said. You're here to live and be happy. That's what humans were created for... at some points some found a way to use that to manipulate other making them believe they have to earn things like happiness," he sighed because he had seen it a lot. Hell! He had even used it on his advantage during wars, but it hurt now to see how deep that stupid thought was rooted into Maya's mind.

He swallowed hard, unsure of what to do to help Maya now. It didn't seem like his useless attempts were doing any good. It actually seemed the opposite. "Please look at me," he said still holding her hands, "what do you need, baby girl? What can I do?" He didn't want to make it worse for her, but he felt a little lost because she seemed stuck right then.

She blinked, eyes filling with tears. It was what she had needed someone to tell her then. She didn't have to earn happiness. Or safety. She nodded. As much as she could, she tried to internalize it. It was getting easier, in her better moments she even really believed it. She didn't know if she should say more, if she should talk about the things that had happened to her. It would hurt Warren, she knew. He was likely to blame himself for some part of it. Maya didn't say anything. She needed to get out of this mindset, be the happier version of herself she had been when he'd left for his business trip. She should be better than this.

Lifting her gaze, she felt her heart cracking at the look of concern and confusion on her face. She was hurting him. This was why she had waiting until he left. Throwing her arms around his neck, she burrowed her face in the crook of his shoulder. "I don't know. I'm sorry. I don't know," she said, voice broken, "I know the things I used to do to feel better are bad. But I don't know how else to fix it. I don't know."

Warren let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding when she threw herself into his arms, “It’s ok,” he cooed not wanting her to get more mortified, “we’ll figure it out, we’ll do it together,” he kept his arms wrapped around her. He wished he knew what to do to make it better for her. He felt useless sometimes when it was about those kind of things. He wished he knew more of how to comfort someone, but he was feeling lost and sad for her.

“We don’t have to fix it,” he kissed her forehead, “sometimes we need to feel sad and a little raw to go through things but the catch is that you don’t have to do it alone. Not anymore,” he smiled, “we can order Chinese and watch crappy tv and just feel miserable together on the couch. I know I might be pressing you to feel better but the truth is that if you need to feel shitty and pass through it to get better, I’ll hold your hand through it and I’ll be there when you feel better and whenever you don’t, I’ll still be there,” he smiled a bit, “I want you to remember that there’s nothing that’s gonna keep me from loving you,” he promised, “We’re both broken in different ways but we work because we understand… you don’t want to change me and I don’t want to change you… we just want to make each other happy.”

She held him tightly, trying desperately not to cry. She tried too not to think about all the times she had felt like this and the reception hadn't been this gentle. Or there had been no reception at all. More often than not the no reception at all had been her own self-imposed hurt, a reaction to the times when the reception hadn't been kind. "Okay," she said, agreeing with him even if she didn't know what figuring it out together meant. Of course, everything else so far, they had figured out together.

Pulling away enough to look at him, she kept her arms around his neck. A few stray tears had escaped the corners of her eyes. "I wish you had been there," she confessed before she could think better of it. Now that she had it, she realized just how desperately she needed someone to stay with her when it got hard. Officer Baer had tried, but work and his other commitments had gotten in the way. And there were times when she had pushed hard enough that he stayed away for a while. Never forever, but for a while. She added, "I don't want you to be miserable too though."

Warren was glad she had agreed and didn't argue saying that she had to do it on her own. She used to do that a lot before but maybe now she was seeing they were a package deal now.

"I know," he said sadly, "but I'm here now and I'll be here whenever you need me," he assured. "Well but it works like that when you love someone. If you're sad, I'm sad for you and I have the feeling that it works the other way around too... when it's me dealing with something you worry and feel bad too. Love includes the good and bad days," he reached to wipe away her tears.

Maya nodded again. She felt like she had nodded a lot since he came home. That was probably good, better than fighting every second at least. "I love you," she said as he wiped her tears, "I love you so much. And there wouldn't be a hope of trying this if you weren't with me." Maya had never seriously considered it before Hollow's Creek. She moved to stand. "Couch?" She asked.

Once there she settled comfortably in his embrace. It was safe and warm there. She made a mental list of all the things that hadn't gone wrong. She wasn't drunk, she wasn't fucking a stranger who couldn't care less about her, and she wasn't in a bar fight. That was something. As messy as this was, it was better. Finally, she said, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I know it makes you upset when I'm upset and I didn't know how much easier it would make it having you here.

Warren's expression softened at her words, "I love you too, Maya," he smiled and pressed a kiss on her forehead, "yes, couch," he agreed and tangled their fingers together to move to the couch, whistling to Hermes so he would join them.

"It's ok. I understand why you didn't and why you wanted to try it on your own," he smiled a bit, "it's part of a whole, sugar, we get to share everything together, even the not so nice parts," she had been there for him when he almost lost himself so this was the least he could do just by being there for her. "If you ever feel like trying with me around, you know I'll be here."

Maya nodded against his chest. It felt, to her, like usually the not so nice parts were her fault. She was the one falling apart. Closing her eyes briefly, she reminded herself that it wasn't a competition, no one was keeping score. She tucked he feet underneath herself. Hermes joined them, laying his head in Warren's lap. She wouldn't exactly say she was happy. However, Maya didn't feel quite so sad. She didn't really pay attention to whatever they were watching. When food arrived, she ate a little. She tried to eat, knowing that she needed to do it and it would probably help. But she still didn't feel especially hungry. Eventually, she fell asleep, chest rising and falling slowly.

Warren never imagined his life could be like this. Having Maya in his arms after that small burst out and horrible reminder of her past gave him the best feeling cause he could see now how much she really trusted him now. He immediately noticed the moment she had fallen asleep, and he couldn’t help to smile. Moments like this were the ones that reinforced how much he loved Maya and how he couldn’t imagine his life without her. He picked her up effortlessly to take her back to their bed and settled in it with her, wrapping his arms around her middle and even if he wasn’t tired at all, he fell asleep with a smile on his face cause today had proved that they could get over their past and just be happy together.

[squirrelno2]

Writing Like Ourselves Tag Game

Tagged by @mwolf0epsilon, thanks! (also ooh boy this one is A Lot huh. getting some serious Backstory up in here)

1. what's your Shire? as in: what's a place you remember fondly and love? (or: some place you hated, some place vivid to you, etc.)

The dance studio I grew up going to - most specifically the studio we moved to after my first year or so there; I went from one or two nights a week to being there almost every day of the week, sometimes for five or six hours straight, and most of the people I’ve loved in my life are people who taught or took class there. Dance studio culture can vary wildly, but mine was generally really good at building community and supporting its dancers, and the people I took class with genuinely felt like family. As an autistic kid with a lot of trauma from the regular school system, going to the studio every night where I was allowed to be my own kind of weird and we could all create our unique communication style so we didn’t have to worry about it was probably the only thing standing between me and a much more fucked up brain. It’s the place I first started teaching, too, so it was there every step of my “coming of age” story.

2. what is your Hobbit culture? as in: values were you brought up in, culture you grew up with, etc.

this one is so hard to distinguish honestly - growing up a white kid in the US, the culture I was raised in is one that tries very hard to pretend it’s not a culture at all but rather some kind of “natural” state of being. Like, it’s the individualism and the Christianity that hasn’t really gone anywhere even though your parents were atheists and it’s the obsession with capitalism. even knowing these things, though, it’s hard to articulate - and that’s not even touching the fact that it’s a culture I don’t particularly connect to because most of the things I can articulate about it values-wise are things I don’t agree with.

On a more local level, my family’s culture was one of kindness and laughter - if you fuck up you laugh about it and you try again, if you’re weird that’s good because the world hasn’t beaten you down yet, and you should really stop trying to fight your bullies but we’ll go to bat for you the next time it happens because what the hell. I was always encouraged to make my own choices even as a young child, and to speak up when someone had hurt me. We were very isolated even though my mom has a large family, but within that isolation there was a lot of love and honesty.

3. who is your Tom Bombadil? as in: a character you loved as a child, in existence or from your imagination, a figure that took place in a lot of your play, etc.

this is about to get really sad and fucked up probably but. My brother? He died a long time before I was born, being a premature baby, but growing up I always had him as an imaginary friend. He’s haunted me my whole life, mostly benevolently; I still can’t help but think sometimes about who he’d be and who we’d be to each other. He’s kind of the first story I ever told myself.

4. what are your elves and dwarves? as in: something you studied or know a lot about, something you can geek out about, etc.

dance!!! also that’s creeping into the body in general, like workouts and injury prevention and that kind of thing. I love anatomy and physiology and how knowing about the science of your muscles and bones can help you convey specific emotions better. I literally will talk to my students about how to create emotional body language, like “hold your rhomboids together a little more and lift your chin, you’ll look proud” or “if you have just a little tension in your arms it will do this, but make sure your neck is relaxed” and then it gets super in depth if I’m not careful. help.

also I love cats and writing. I will infodump about either of these at the drop of a hat, though it’s been longer since I was actively studying cats and I think I’ve forgotten things (I’m so sorry, cats)

5. what are your middle earth languages? as in: something you have expertise in due to a career, a hobby, something you love, etc.

oh wait. uh. dance and the human body again? also writing craft. and the flute! I have varied and sundry interests and I treat them all like they might blossom into a huge all-encompassing career at any moment. if I know anything, I probably have put my whole soul into trying to make it something I’m an expert in. I believe in committing to the bit

6. what are your themes? as in: something you've grown up knowing, like loss, something you know intimately, something you know because of your area/history/ time/era, etc.

loss/grief is probably one. I’ve been losing people since I was a kid, to death and to life. It doesn’t stop hurting but you learn how to face it?

maybe communication? it’s something that haunts me, where I try so hard to be good at it and also have spent so much of my life affected by myself or someone else failing at it

7. what is your moral of the story? as in: a guiding value, a life motto, faith/spirituality, etc.

You don’t know a person’s mind. You don’t know everything feeding into their actions. They might be justified by your standards, or they might be a shithead, but no matter what everyone has an internal logic. It can be as simple as “I wanted to” but there is always a reason. You don’t need to know the reason to respect someone else’s humanity, but if you’re having trouble with someone the first step to fixing it may very well be seeking out the reason so you can understand what they need a little better.

This one gets personal so I definitely get if you don’t wanna do it but I’m making myself tag people now like a proper tumblr citizen so @writhingcreature @what-point-is-there @blackandblue13 if any of you want to?

[maoam]

WHY HINATA IS NOT A GOOD CHARACTER

INTRODUCTION

I wanted to take a deeper look at Hinata’s character, considering there are a lot of claims about her out there, that she’s strong, that she’s kind, that she’s complex and relatable, that she’s the perfect woman and that she’s at least better than Sakura. I don’t really think so, and I’ll explain why. I’ll be focusing on canon, so no fillers or novels will be included in this post. I’ll say this as a warning, if you’re a fan of her character this probably won’t be something you’ll like. This will be tagged with the anti tags and put under read more so please do not complain if tumblr somehow puts this in the normal tags, it is not intentional. Also Sakura stans please don’t write lengthy comments about Sakura under this, I’m not a fan of her either and I’ll write about her later. Make your own post instead.

”HINATA IS STRONG AND THE BEST KUNOICHI”

Hinata is generally really bad as a shinobi and I’m not sure where the claims that she is strong come from. Hinata's entire character revolves around her being weak. This could have been fine if she actually developed, or if she found some other area for herself, yet she's mediocre at best and a waste of panels at worst, because she never becomes good or strong at anything. She’s not only physically weak from start to finish, but she’s also the equivalent of a damsel in distress. Everytime Hinata attempts to do something, she ends up failing, getting beaten up and having to be saved. She lost to her sister who is five years younger than her, which is what marked her as a failure in her clan. She tried to fight Neji in the chunin exams and ended up coughing up blood and losing her consciousness, and Naruto had to beat Neji for her. After Kabuto heals her fully, she spends the rest of part 1 either sleeping or missing in action. Very underwhelming.

If this had been only the beginning, it would have maybe been fine, but it’s a reoccuring pattern with her character. She throws herself in front of Pain, managing to do nothing but get one-paneled and almost killed. Even at the start of the war she had to be saved by Naruto. She tried to run to Naruto and tripped over a rock. Actually, she’s so weak she got Neji killed, when he had to jump in front of her so she wouldn’t get impaled. Why is she even in the front lines when she can’t fight? Even in Naruto the Last movie she had to be saved multiple times. In Boruto the movie she is still useless and reckless, leaving her daughter’s side to help Naruto, ending up defeated and having to be healed by Sakura once again.

I can’t say she’s mentally strong either. She has the personality of someone who hates conflict and tries to avoid it as best as they can, to the point of agreeing with others on everything, as Neji pointed out. Even without him saying it out loud, most of Hinata’s moments that aren’t her thinking about Naruto are her doing exactly this. This is not the personality of someone who is strong mentally. It’s the personality of someone who is too weak to have their own mind, someone who will go with the flow and is easily led and convinced. It can be dangerous the more you think about it. Hinata is also the bystander who never stands up for Naruto despite liking and admiring him. If she’s a compassionate girl, why isn’t she showing this by reaching out to Naruto and befriending him? Why doesn’t she show he’s not alone? Why is she only drawing inspiration from him? I don’t normally watch fillers, but there was one filler scene unrelated to Hinata where this girl says if you only look at the loser and do nothing, you aren’t much better than the oppressors, which probably wasn’t meant to be a call out for Hinata, but ended up being so anyway. Another thing that’s annoying is how she is berating herself often, yet doing nothing, it comes off as self-pity. Even in the Last movie, she is talking about how she must be a bad sister for knitting a scarf when her sister is in danger. Then why are you doing it and not stopping? Of course everytime this happens Naruto must cheer her up because she just can’t stop moping around and doing something herself.

Aside from all this, from the very beginning Hinata’s honor needed to be defended by Naruto because she couldn’t stand up for herself. Of course, after Naruto’s words she did stood up for a moment, and that was good, but it should have been a wake up call which altered her course. Instead, she kept doing the same she always did. If we take the Last movie into consideration, she’s still not strong enough to do anything even about her crush on Naruto. She needs genjutsu and Sakura to do the work for her. So even when it comes to the only thing she cares about 90 % of the time, which is Naruto-kun, she can’t do anything about it. That’s really sad.

”HINATA IS KIND AND SELFLESS”

There’s one mistake I see people make often, and that’s assuming characters that are quiet and shy are automatically kind. I wouldn’t say Hinata is as kind as the fandom makes her out to be. She simply comes off that way because you don’t really see her have her own opinions or disagree with the other characters. Hinata’s shyness on the other hand is most of the time a fetishized quirk to appeal to certain subset of fans. Her shyness doesn’t stop her from taking exams or hanging around Shino and Kiba, or talking to characters other than Naruto. She also has enough attitude to rub Neji’s status as a house slave in his face during their match, but because she stutters Naruto-kun every five minutes she’s supposedly kind. Kindness is shown through actions, not through standing around and stuttering. For comparison, we see Ino befriend an unpopular kid like Sakura, and give her confidence. That’s an act of kindness. Did Hinata ever cared about helping the branch members in any way? No.

She's supposedly "kind" but like I mentioned before she never shows this kindness by standing up for Naruto, or reaching out to him. She simply stares at him behind a tree and draws inspiration from his suffering. The only time she can actually stand up is to selfishly confess her love and die. She even said she felt like being selfish, and like I said she knew there was nothing she could do, she was told she’d only be in the way. She came there only to confess and commit suicide. This actually reminds me of another anime where this female character, after being unable to receive a male character’s love killed herself in front of him and said ”now you’ll never forget me”.

In the end, she cares about nothing but her own hormonal urges. Hinata tried to help Naruto cheat to pass an exam at the risk of disqualifying her whole team. This is the first individual action we see her character take. Did she consider Shino and Kiba during that moment? No, she didn’t even have an inner conflict on whether she should do this, whether it’s right towards her teammates. Even Naruto considers he might get Hinata, Sasuke and Sakura all in trouble if he accepts Hinata’s offer, which is why he doesn’t do it. Then when Hinata wonders if she can cheer for Naruto during his and Kiba’s match, she thinks Kiba might get mad. It’s more about how Kiba views her rather than whether she should cheer for Kiba because they are in the same team and should support each other. During the Pain attack, she left an injured shinobi, who couldn’t move, to go to Naruto, even when said shinobi told her she would only be in Naruto’s way. She didn’t try to save people, she simply wanted to confess and act in front of Naruto. This is about a threat to the entire village, which includes her comrades and her sister and she’s thinking only about her romantic feelings towards a guy she had maybe two conversations with and who barely remembers she exists. How is she better than Sakura? War arc really was the icing on the cake that Hinata’s character is only about Naruto. We should not forget the infamous ”Naruto-kun’s hand is so big… so manly...” is that really the right time to be thirsty? When Neji just died? Shikamaru mentions that he could help out Naruto as a right-hand man and then Hinata thinks “I-I want to be by Naruto-kun’s side too.” Then there’s of course the scene where she starts running to Naruto, leaving her post and teammates, even when Naruto is a mile away and already in the hands of medical ninjas, and even that ends up her pathetically tripping over a rock. Kiba has to remind her to use her byakugan because she is too busy gushing about Naruto. Eventually her only last line is “Naruto-kun”, when everyone is put into IT. It’s like a parody by this point. She doesn’t have any concern for her sister, her father, her teammates, Kurenai or her baby. It’s just “Naruto-kun” like it always is. Even in the Last movie, she is knitting a scarf for Naruto during the mission where they’re supposed to save her sister. Who brings a scarf on a mission? Why is she thinking about her romantic gift to Naruto so much she has to take it with her on a mission which focus is saving her sister? She even looks more devastated when Toneri tores the scarf apart than she ever does for Hanabi’s sake. It’s just silly and selfish.

”HINATA IS A COMPLEX CHARACTER”

Is she complex though? Her development goes from standing behind a tree looking at her crush she never talks to, to committing suicide for feelings that could never be reciprocated, to… waiting that a genjutsu and Sakura guilt trip Naruto enough for him to be with her? Like I already mentioned her character revolves entirely around Naruto, she has no hobbies or interests we know of aside from him. She has no motivations aside from being by Naruto’s side. She once had an interesting goal and backstory, but that was never fully explored, and it turned into her wanting Naruto’s attention and thinking about him. Her clan plot was irrelevant, she showed no interest in wanting to be a leader or even wanting to make things better for the branch members. It’s funny because immediately after the ending, no one cared about the Hyuuga branch and how the storyline was dropped and had no resolution. It was only when Hinata was being attacked for not showing to care did her fans start to over-analyze all the panels looking for the tiniest little clue that might hint at some changes.

It’s possible to be both shy, anxious and quiet and also to be strong, motivated and have interests and dreams. Hinata is never strong for herself, she’s only strong to be with Naruto, to die for Naruto, to motivate Naruto, to have Naruto look at her even for a moment. All the while Naruto doesn’t pay much attention to her unless she’s literally dying in front of him or she slapped him. Even when a big climax is happening, what’s on her mind is always her romantic feelings and her crush. I saw someone say if she were a male character, and she pulled this pointless sacrifice and theatrical confession in the final fight of an arc, she would’ve been universally mocked. Actually, I think even if it was Sakura who did this instead of Hinata the former would have been mocked, because their stans are unable to see the same flaws in their own fave as they see in the other girl. Naruto is a battle manga, characters are supposed to contribute to the defeat of the villain in some material way. The only reason people praise Hinata for what she did in the Pain arc is because they either pity her or because they’re men who think women killing themselves for a man is great because it boosts their ego.

I also notice many Hinata fans don’t notice the vanity in their own fandom. They call Hinata “princess”, ”heiress”, ”Konoha’s first lady” and draw fanart glorifying these concepts and how it makes Hinata good, because they like the superficial status, what they don’t care is the titles are unearned. I thought Hinata’s appeal was that she’s the underdog and a loser? Or maybe her real appeal is the idea of getting everything you want without doing much in order to get it?  Another claim is that Hinata is the perfect woman, which you might see from men. This is what I might dislike the most. Men judge Hinata’s worth and whether she’s a good character based on what kind of woman they want and think is the right kind of woman. Hinata has big breasts, she’s submissive, she has no other interests than the man she likes, and she’s the only girl in her class who didn’t go for the popular guy. Many men hate Sakura, Ino and Karin for being fangirls but praise Hinata for being a fangirl. Basically to them if a character is a fangirl of the wrong guy, she’s a stupid slut. If she fangirls their self insert, she’s wife material and the ideal woman. If Sakura has to be saved, she’s useless. If Hinata tries to kill herself for Naruto, she’s ”so kind”. Rin is a one-dimensional character, but Hinata saying Naruto-kun for the 50th time is depth. Hinata is also claimed to be better than the other girls because she had more kids and thus is more ”fertile”. It’s like feminism never happened and we are back to the 16th century. Why are we judging women’s worth on how many kids they have and how much they can please a man?

I could also talk about how Studio Pierrot turned Hinata into a hentai bait for otakus, which also plays a part in her popularity, but I don’t think it’s necessary, so I will just offer this picture which speaks for itself.

END NOTE

Hinata is simply just a sexist stereotype, a shadow of a real woman, with not much depth, and who is certainly not better than Sakura either. Both of them are fangirls whose characters revolve around men. It’s wild to me how there are women who genuinely act like one must be a misogynist if they reject Hinata’s superficial, one-dimensional and boy crazy character. Her character itself is misogynist for crying out loud. And honestly, what does it say when even the creator himself assumes that Hinata is someone’s favorite character because he must like big boobs?

[silverdelirium]

hi! can you do one where draco and the reader are married (don’t make them old please make them like the married rich pretty milf and dilf couple), and they have a daughter. anyway, draco is out because of work/something else (it’s up to u) and the reader is with their daughter and they get into a small fight and the daughter says something really bad/hurtful to the reader (her mother) and the reader like gets sad (make it bad so it can be dramatic😏) and when draco gets home he finds the reader like crying (smoking too bc a milf smoking is hot but if you don’t want to add it it’s fine) and yeah basically the rest is up to you :)) ily hope ur well and fine. <3

CIGARETTES & INSECURITIES | D.M

thank you hoe @selenesheart for helping me with the title ily

warnings: anxiety, lowkey panic attack, insecurities of being a bad mother, mean child, smoking, angst w a happy ending

———

draco’s hurried steps were heard echoing across the hallway as he rapidly made his way downstairs, cussing his boss out under his breath for calling him on a fucking Sunday. the same sunday he was about to spend basking in the love of his wife and child, all expectations now turned to mush.

“i’m sorry i have to go, my love. call me if you need anything, okay?” spoke draco, tone soft as he held your face in his hands, giving you one last sad smile before pressing a sweet kiss on your lips.

you gave him a feeble nod in response with a reassuring smile, watching him storm off in long strides, still swearing in hushed whispers and with a flick of his wand, he was gone.

you instantly took notice of how intense the atmosphere got around the manor- almost scary. deadly quiet with your four-year-old toddler still asleep and big curtains blocking any sunlight from coming in.

it almost caused goosebumps to rise on your arms as if the universe was already warning you of the day you were gonna have to deal with today.

maybe the first bad thing to happen today was being woken up by draco’s phone going off like crazy with calls of his boss and endless text messages of his colleagues.

it didn’t matter though, you had other things to worry about. your toddler was already walking down the stairs with a sleepy stare as she made her way to you, immediately taking notice of how there was no trace of draco, and looking around for any signs of her father.

“hi there” you greeted, giving her a sympathetic smile when she asked for draco, her small body already wrapped around your torso. a small sigh with a brief explanation of a work emergency was given to her. her sour mood amplifying a tenfold for every word that left your mouth.

she stayed quiet for a moment, and just as you started beaming at the thought of calming a daddy’s girl- she sobbed heavily in your ear, clinging hard to you but still screaming for draco.

a grimace found its way to your face along with a sorrowful expression as you shushed her down, tracing your fingers down her spine; a small trick you always did to relax her in days like this.

her sobs quieted down but she still cried silently in your shoulder, hot tears rolling down her face that had you questioning whether you should call your husband or not, the thought accompanying the insecurity of being a terrible mother who can barely keep her child tranquil.

after a few minutes of letting her pour all her emotions out, you made a path to the kitchen and sat her down on the barstool, wiping her tears away as she huffed in what seemed to be an angry expression.

“would you like some breakfast, baby?” you spoke, tone soft and slow as to not aggravate the situation.

“i want daddy”

“he’s- he’s not here right now” you tried to reason, watching as she took a deep breath but said nothing.

you turned around to head for the stove. but your ears caught a small murmur of “you’re the worst” coming from none other than your daughter.

a thunder-struck look adorned your face, blinking back the tears that found their way to your waterline.

ever since you found out you were pregnant, the anxiousness of being a not good enough mom had filled you in seconds, thinking of the worst scenarios possible throughout the pregnancy. draco was always there to ease your nerves a bit, yet, never quite pushing them away completely.

and jesus- did that simple three-word sentence stung painfully at your heart.

you stayed frozen in place for a few moments before taking a deep breath and quickly collecting yourself, continuing your errands around the kitchen as you made an effort to ignore the way your hands became clammy and heartstrings were pulled harshly in your chest.

the rest of the day went painfully slow, your daughter completely ignoring you and just curling up on the couch or playing in her room, always slamming the door in your face whenever you attempted to talk to her. your back also aching from having to do all house chores by yourself. every once in a while getting a text message from draco, rushed typos of “i love you” and “i’m gonna be there soon”.

——

the clock read 6:07 P.M and you held the cigarette to your lips with shaky fingers, tears blurring your vision as all the frustration from today came crashing down at once.

sobs rocked through your body as you inhaled the smoke and blew it out past your nostrils. warm, thick tears not coming to a halt even once.

your cries muffled every sound around you. not taking notice of draco who was now frantically searching for you, already finding your daughter safe and asleep on the couch. yet you were nowhere to be found.

it took one look at the cigarette package on the dining table for draco to locate you. he knew about your anxiety and how bad it got when triggered.

his heart ached and fists clenched at his side as he turned to his baby girl, snuggling her deeper into the thick fluffy blanket before making his way to the porch where you sat with a hand to your sternum, big clouds of smoke fogging the air around you.

“oh, baby” he sympathized, not giving you time to react as he enveloped you in a big hug, feeling the way your curled your fists on his shirt and sobbed quietly, taking ragged breaths every once in a while.

after a few minutes of taking shallow breaths, you pulled your head back from his chest, just enough to stare at his face, his bright grey eyes running down every feature you had, almost like he was studying it.

“what happened today?” he whispered, closing his eyes and connecting his forehead with yours.

you released a breath through your nose and lit off the cigarette on the small table next to you before explaining every small detail from today to draco, a few tears escaping at some points.

once you were done, draco removed his head from yours, pulling back and displaying both of his palms on your cheeks, observing your tear-stained face made him ache with sorrow.

“my love” he started “you are the world’s greatest mother to ever exist, a bad day with your child does not define your abilities as a mom. she loves you, we all do. you don’t know how fuzzy she gets when you’re not here.”

his words made a small smile crack through your lips, buzzing nerves slowly weighing down after every syllable he spoke.

“we would all be doomed if it wasn’t for you. every parent has a bad day, do not beat yourself up for it, it happens to the best of us.” he finalized, chest swelling with pride once he saw how you were full-on beaming, puckering your lips like a silent sign for a kiss which he gladly provided.

“i love you” you mumbled against his mouth.

“i love you more” he responded.

———

🏷: @spencervera @methblinds @marrymetheonott @adrianscumslut @wh0re4blaise @turn-to-page-394-please @fredshufflepuff @malfoysbiitch @saggyb1lls @selenesheart @metaraxia @dracoslittlesluttyprincess @dracomalfoys-wh0re @dlmmdl @fleursbabe @riddleswh0r3crux @lolooo22 @darlingmalfoy @littlemissnoname13 @i-love-scott-mccall @underappreciated-spoon-321 @steveharringtonswhore @dracosafety @dracoscum @riddleswh0rekrux @laceycallisto @slytherinbabess @lostaurorax @alexavolturisblog @s1ater @marauderswh0re1 @starless-starkov @black-rose-29 @tattooedkermit @purpleskymalfoy @emma67 @mypainistemporary @mauvea @teenwolfbitches28 @lissa-duh @paniicing @rav3nclawwhore @yagamigf

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[theneondemonx]

HOUDINI | JJK

One Shot

▽ summary: jungkook was your first and only. When he got arrested, you felt like an idiot for always believing his every word and after a few years you decided to date again. But the word somehow got to his ears in jail and he couldn’t let you be anyone else’s but his.

▽ genre: porn with some plot, criminal au, established relationship

▽ pairings: escaped convict!jk x fem!reader

▽ words: 3464

▽ warnings: mention of abusive relationship, mention of alcohol abuse, mention of underage sex, criminal activities, implied murder, possessive behavior, mention of female masturbation, spanking, fingering, female ejaculation, overstimulation, oral sex (m receiving, deep throating), unprotected sex, lots of cum, dirty talk

( ➜ Drabble 1: first meeting ) [⏵playlist]

He hit me and it felt like a kiss He hit me and I knew he loved me If he didn't care for me I could have never made him mad But he hit me and I was glad

You were still very young when you learned that love was nothing like the cheesy romances you’d see on the big screen. Well, you didn’t actually have the money to go to the movies, but sometimes you found the way to sneak in and watch whatever was there to watch. You had a fascination for those stories, for those dancing images on the screen. They were made of pure light. Literally. While everyone was caught in the enchantment of the movie, you were the one to look behind your back and follow the light beam up until its source, looking straight at the small window from which the projector created the whole illusion of life before your eyes.

Most people want to escape from reality. They want to feel like their life has meaning, like it is just one plot twist away from being interesting. I didn’t. Maybe I should have, since mine was pretty shit. But I guess this was the whole reason why I was looking for the disenchantment. It’s like watching a magician. I’ve always been the type to be more observant, to look for the trick. Cause if there wasn’t any, then it would have meant that mine was the only pointless existence.

No one in your block had a penny to their names. Everyone dreamed of going away, of starting a new life and do something meaningful. But you knew that most of them would never make it. They were trapped.

We think of the key, each in his prison. Thinking of the key, each confirms a prison.

Those weren’t your words. They were Jungkook’s. Well, not his own words, actually. He had read them somewhere. He was the type to read, although he didn’t look like it at all. And you know how people who read are: they are good with words. They can shape reality with just a flick of their tongue. And damn if he got a way with words! That’s why you fell for him.

It wasn’t just the fact that he got the looks of an angel. He also talked like one. He could talk his way in and out of everything and you were pretty sure he could lie his way into heaven if he wanted to. He was an exceptional liar, a pathological one too. But you loved him anyway.

You believed him when he told you that he was going to turn your life upside down. Why wouldn’t you? He had already done it more times than you could count. He had done it since the day you first met in that dark movie theatre. You had always believed him and everything he said. He was the only man you ever loved, the first and the last you had sex with, and eventually the one you married.

He reminded you of your father. They had the same dangerous charm. Their eyes gleamed with the same light: that of a man who was willing to con the whole world and make it his own. Your father didn’t make it, though. He became a drunk mess and ended up in prison for attempted murder.

Only a pathetic fuck goes to jail for attempted murder. Either you go down for murder, or you don’t go down at all. That’s how much of a failure he was.

But you didn’t care about him. He used to beat your mother whenever he felt like it. Jungkook, on the other hand, never did that.

So, when he told you those words – “the less you know, the better” – you didn’t question him. You just believed him. And when he came home with a bag full of money and his hands covered in blood, you still didn’t question him. You just did as he asked and bent over the kitchen table to let him fuck you senseless.

You really didn’t care about what he did. Everyone in your block was somehow entangled with criminal activities. That’s just how it is when you can’t afford an honest life. What if he robbed a bank? What if he killed someone to get that money? So what? You’d love him anyway. You’d love him no matter what.

You still loved him when you heard the sirens wailing through the block and stop outside your shared house. You didn’t care about the fact that he just ripped your marriage into pieces. You always knew he was an Icarus.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll be home for dinner.” He told you with a cocky smirk, while being pushed inside the police car.

And again, you believed him.

He was the only magician who ever managed to deceive you into thinking that his was actual magic and not just a trick. But when the jury found him guilty of aggravated robbery and murder, you felt like the lights had gone off and the curtain closed on his magic show. It was over. And now you were left standing in a sad empty circus, with just the distant music of the carousel to remind you of the fact that it was all a rouse. A convincing one for sure, but still a rouse.

When you saw him being taken away from the trial, you thought about those words he told you years before.

We think of the key, each in his prison. Thinking of the key, each confirms a prison.

And you smiled to yourself. Somehow, even though your whole life had just gone to pieces, you found them ironic. Who would have thought, back then, that he would end up in an actual prison? Not you for sure.

The years had passed and although you never really moved on from Jungkook, you decided it was time for you to build a life for yourself. You were still young and pretty, so it wasn’t hard for you to fool some stupid rich boy from the city. Kim Seokjin was no Jeon Jungkook, but he had money and a steady job – one that could actually pay for rent, food and vices without raising any question from the authorities.

He didn’t know you were broke as fuck, and you did your best to hide it with the means you had and the cunning that your lowlife background had teach you. You would buy fancy dresses and hide the tag when you wore them, so that you could return them the day after. You would also tell Seokjin to come pick you up at work in Gangnam. You never worked there, of course, but he was dumb enough to believe you. It didn’t really matter: you planned on sleeping with him soon enough and let him knock you up. Men always get way too excited when you tell them that they can fuck you without putting on a condom.

What you didn’t plan, however, was to find yourself with a tattooed hand covering your mouth when one night you came back home from a date with Seokjin. At first you tried to scream and free yourself from the strong grip of the mysterious man that somehow got into your house, but you froze as soon as he spoke.

“Shh be quiet, baby. You want to be the one to rat me out?”

You’d recognize that voice among millions. It was Jungkook.

How did he get out? His sentence is not over yet. He still has to serve twenty more years.

You thought that by being quiet and staying still, he would loosen the grip on you, but he didn’t.

“Fancy dress you got here, honey.” He hissed, pressing his lips against your ear and making you shiver from his touch. His hand trailed along the side of your body, caressing the expensive fabric of the white dress.

“Was your new boyfriend, the one who bought it for you?”

Your eyes widened at that question and you again tried to free yourself without success.

“Yeah.. I know. I was surprised too when Yoongi came to visit me and told me you were seeing some fancy city boy with his head up his tuxedo-covered ass.”

You knew that no matter how soft his voice could sound, he was mad. He was always calm when he was really mad.. until he wasn’t calm anymore.

“I told him: no, Yoongi, there’s no way that’s true. My sweet Y/N would never do something like that. She is a faithful wife, not some dirty whore who’s ready to sell her cunt to the first Richie Rich who comes around.”

He chuckled darkly.

“But he brought me the photos. So I guess I was wrong.”

He abruptly turned you around, pushing your back against the wall. It was then, that you saw him. His hair got longer and he somehow got some tattoos on his right arm. His dark eyes were gleaming in the dark with a mischievous light that you had never seen on him – not when he was looking at you, at least.

His fingers tightened around your jaw, forcing you to look at him straight in the eyes.

“Did you let him touch you?”

“N-no.” You muttered, with your heartbeat racing fast and your eyes wide open like those of an innocent doe who was just caught by a cold-blooded hunter.

He pressed his body on yours, breathing heavily against your lips without breaking eye contact.

“If you are lying to me.. I’ll know, Y/N.” He hissed. And you knew that those words were a clear warning.

“I expect your cunt to be tighter than it was when I left. If it isn’t..” he chuckled, slightly tilting his head to the side and licking his lips while caressing gently your reddened cheek. “..well, I guess I’ll stretch your holes so wide that there won’t be any doubt about whose little whore you are.”

He didn’t give you any time to breathe, let alone answer. He pressed his lips on yours with such passion that he sucked the air out of your lungs. And you melted.

You still loved him, after all. You still craved for his touch, which you missed every single night that you’ve spent in your empty bed. Every time you touched yourself, you always closed your eyes and think of him: his hands, his lips, his toned body, his cock, his breath, his smell.. everything. No man could turn you on like he did.

You could tell he had changed. He got more violent, more possessive. But for some reason, that didn’t bother you. Somehow, in a fucked up way, you enjoyed it. It was like you just had the proof that he truly loved you. That you were sill his.

You run your fingers through his hair, tightening your grip while kissing him deeply. A muffled sigh escaped from your lips when his tongue entered your mouth, exploring every corner of it like that was the last kiss he was ever gonna give you.

“Touch me.” You murmured, like it was a prayer sent straight to God.

The first one that was actually answered, since Jungkook’s hands quickly slipped under your dress while you kicked off your shoes. He turned you around again, face against the wall, and removed your underwear.

You gasped at his touch on your wet entrance, arching your back so that he could see your pussy in its full glory.

“Fuck, I missed you so much.” He murmured, starting to run his palm on your pussy.

You moaned, grinding against his hand in search of his touch while he steadied your hips with the strong grip of his free hand.

“Already purring like a kitten, baby?”

Another moan escaped from your lips, this time loudly, when he inserted his middle finger in your throbbing core, feeling it clench around his touch.

“Such a good girl. You didn’t lie to me.” He commented in a hiss, inserting another finger to test your tightness and starting to pump his digits on your most sensitive spot.

“So tight. Will you be able to take my cock, baby?”

“Y-yes. Yes I will.” You answered in between your heavy breaths and moans, chasing the pleasure that his movements gave you.

You suddenly let out a sharp cry when you felt his hand slapping your ass cheek without notice. But the lingering pain had the only effect of heightening the pleasure and getting you even more wet.

Hu chuckled, spanking you one more time.

“Fuck! Jungkook!”

He had always loved it when you said his name during sex, and he still did apparently, since he started pumping his digits harder inside you. The lewd sounds of your pussy soon filled the silence of the night.

When his other hand reached your clit and started drawing quick circles around it, your legs started shivering and your eyes rolled back from the pleasure. If it wasn’t for the wall, you’d probably fall on your knees when the orgasm hit you. You moaned so loud that you almost sounded like a dying animal.

“That’s it baby. Cum for me.”

His words only made it worse and you couldn’t help but feel like a fire ball hit you right in the belly. Your walls clenched around his pumping digits and soon your climax reached an unprecedented high, making you ejaculate on his hand while waves of pleasure went through your body like an electric shock.

“Oh my God!” Was is reaction to the mess you just made.

He let out a satisfied laugh, retracting his fingers from your overstimulated core just to smear your arousal on your own lips.

“Open your mouth, baby. I want you to taste yourself – the way I make you feel.”

You obeyed, and even if you were still panting and barely able to function, you took his fingers in you mouth, rotating your tongue around them and sucking every drop of your own arousal before letting them out with a pop.

“Good girl.” He praised you softly, caressing your hair. “Now get on your knees for me.”

Again, you obeyed without hesitation while he unzipped his pants and pumped himself a few times in front of your face.

You looked up at him, licking your lips. You could still taste your slick on them, but you wanted something different. You wanted his taste. And you were so eager to get it, that you didn’t waste any time.

You soon wrapped your mouth around his hard cock, sucking it like it was your last meal. But letting you have it your way was not Jungkook’s plan. He grabbed a fistful of your hair, tying them up in a ponytail that was only held by his own hand, and started thrusting inside your mouth until tears were gathering at the corner of your eyes.

A deep growl escaped from his lips at the sight of your mouth stuffed with his cock and your messed up make up smeared all over your face.

“My little whore. Always so good for me.” He said through his panting, face fucking you like there was no tomorrow.

And probably there wasn’t gonna be one. For all you knew, the police could come at any moment and take him back to his cell – this time, forever. But, if anything, the thrill just added something extra to the whole situation, making it even more exciting.

The rhythm of his deep thrusts against your throat soon made you gag. And that was it. That was what he wanted, what he was looking for.

“Oh shit! Fuck, I’m coming, baby.”

His cum shot straight down your throat, filling you with his warm liquid. You loved his taste. You always had since the first time he sucked his cock. You were only fifteen back then, and you had no idea how to do it. But he was older than you and he guided your every movement, teaching you what he liked and what he wanted. You thought you’d spit him out, but you always swallowed. You liked it. You liked the taste of his orgasm and you liked to know that you were the one to make him cum like that.

“Take off your dress and bra.”

Your jaw was still feeling numb and your legs weak when he ordered you to undress, but you still obeyed, in a daze.

“Now bend over the couch.”

Again, you didn’t raise any question. You just crawled towards the couch and rested your chest on the pillows, closing your eyes while you tried to catch your breath. You could feel your heart beating strong, muffled by the padded fabric of the couch. The only other sound was that of his steps, getting closer and closer to you until he dropped heavily on his knees, resting his large hands on your ass cheeks and parting them.

He let out a pleased moan and you could feel his gaze devouring the most intimate part of your body. You didn’t even need to look or feel him to know that he was getting hard again. And you felt proud. You arched your back and spread your legs a big wider, offering him the whole show. You loved to know that he wanted you so bad. Just the thought of his desire aroused you more than anything else.

He chuckled, spanking you again and making you gasp at the sharp feel of his palm against your sensitive skin.

“God, you’ve always loved being a slut for me. Am I right?”

You thought the question was rhetoric, so you didn’t respond. But when he gave you another spank and bent over you, pulling your hair to get your ear closer to his lips, you knew he wanted to hear your voice.

“Answer me. Whose little slut are you?”

“Y-yours, Jungkook. I’m your little slut.”

He chuckled darkly, letting go of your hair while caressing your reddened ass cheek and pressing his lips on your ear.

“Good girl.” He praised you, slowly starting to align the tip of his cock with your wet entrance.

You whimpered at the feel, arching your back even more to look for more friction. Seeing you like that, so eager to have him inside of you, was all it took for him to sink deep inside your core, filling you with all his length and stretching your walls.

“Fuck! You got so tight, baby.”

You did. While he was away, you didn’t have sex with anybody and you only started thinking about that when you met Seokjin. Not because you really wanted to, but because you felt like it was a necessary step to get what you wanted. Sure, Jin was handsome, but he was no Jungkook. Your husband, your first love, your first everything – he was the only one who could make you wet just by staring at you. He had that power – the power to make your head spin like you had too many drinks.

Jungkook hold your hips in place and started pounding you hard, making you moan at every thrust until you were just a hot wet mess at his mercy.

“Jungkook..” That was all you could say, breathless, while feeling your walls clench around his cock like they were holding to dear life.

He went balls deep inside of you, fucking you for all the times he didn’t in the past three years. It was intoxicating, and you knew you could never get enough of that feeling – of him.

“Jungkook.. cum inside me, please.” You whimpered, pleading him with a mere whisper when you felt his thrusts getting sloppier and more imprecise. Your orgasm was close too, but you wanted to make sure he didn’t pull out. You wanted to feel every drop of him.

“Y/N.. fuck!” Was all he said while he sank deep inside your core, filling you up with his cum and pumping it in to get you closer to your climax.

You came with his name on your lips and the lewd sounds of your sex filling your ears like the sweetest music you’d ever heard. Your hands grabbed the fabric of the couch and you could feel your saliva dripping down the side of your lips, parted by the intense sensation of your orgasm.

He dropped with his chest pressing on your back. You could feel his heavy breath against your skin and his heartbeat trying to get a calmer pace while the high of the climax was slowly fading away.

“We are leaving tonight, baby.” He whispered in your ear after a few moments of silence. “I’m not going back to jail. I’m not gonna let them tear us apart again.”

And again, even after everything that had happened, you believed him.

I guess this is my prison. You are. But I don’t want to escape.

“I love you, Jungkook.”

“I love you too, baby.”

[writer-akihiko]

hi !! i saw that your asks are opened so im wondering if u could do chevalier, kenshin, and vlad with a demon mc? theyre all my homicidal babies so i was wondering how they would react to this :)

Demon!MC: Vlad, Kenshin + Chevalier

Thank you for this interesting request! It's a bit sensual, especially Kenshin's, so please be aware. Besides that, I explored a bit about the 'demon' part, because I really liked mixing the different aspects of demon especially with the backgrounds of the characters.

If you are under 18, do not read. This work contain sexual themes. Please also consider blocking the [#slightly not family friendly] tag on my blog because I still will be posting that kind of content.

Vlad

On nights he went out to kill, he found it strange that you wanted a hug before he went

The hug was a lengthy one too, neither was it sexual in any way

On certain nights, you'd ask for time alone. He was suspicious, so he had the others in the castle keep watch

In his mind, he feared you were finding a way to escape him. It ached whenever he thought about it

It was not long before he caught you, as you spent the time in your true form, with horns and wings out, tired of keeping up your appearance

Of course, you were terrified of your lover finding you in such a way. You didn't want to attack him, so you ended up curled in your wings, shying away from him

He said nothing, only walking over to you and carrying you in his arms, wings and all

He simply said that you were late to dinner, and it was history afterwards. Vlad explained that he knew you were one, but he didn't know what extent of a demon you were

Vlad never changed his attitude around you, although he'd be sad whenever you tried to hide your appearance

If anyone dared to say anything about you, they most likely won't have a voice to say their opinion afterwards…

Does he try to convince you to help him with his plans? Yes he does, everyday in fact

You refuse him, but for his entertainment you'd cast a few spells of magic here and there

Kenshin Uesugi

It was a very steamy night with your lover Kenshin. He'd been away from you far too long, so he had to spend time in your arms

The hours of the night went long, but your lover's lust was not quenched. You were well pleased with his actions

High after high brought you to a sense of overstimulation, and with each thrust you felt your control of your appearance fade away…

Kenshin had his fill of you, wanting to swaddle you in his love instead. He was about to reach out for his kimono, but his hands brushed against your horns…

He was afraid you were sick, but the moment he mentioned your markings, you pulled the blanket to your chest, scared of what he might do to you

Kenshin thought you were sick, and almost called one of the maids but you used your own powers to pause the moment between you two

It was new to Kenshin, finding out that you were a powerful Oni. He didn't think they existed, but one was right here, as his lover

Of course he's protecting you from the others. He knows some extremist would be out there to kill you, that is, until he kills them first

Around him, he told you to use your true form. He didn't mind, he wanted to see his YN all for himself

If you fed off of his lust, then he has plenty to give, especially lust towards you. Occasionally, the overwhelming sensations do have to be release through your magic…

He hasn't tried an invasion with your powers yet, since it is your powers and your choice. He'd be lying if he wasn't tempted to

Chevalier Michel

You were not the most adept at your powers, only an expert at concealing yourself

It just so happens that your emotions are well-connected to your being, so all it takes is just one trigger

That trigger just so happen to be Clavis, who pulled such a horrid prank, frightening both you and Luke. Being the one to scream, your cry caused a burst of flames at your feet

Clavis' coat caught on fire, but Luke had enough instinct to carry you away from the flames… and of course the oldest of the faction, your lover appeared in the nick of time…

Chevalier wondered why there was so much fire around the office, and particularly… why his lover was sprouting horns, a tail and wings…

Luke was quick to unhand the Princess Consort, and no one said a thing about the way Chevalier whisked you to his bedroom

He was straightforward, but not hateful. Despite your tears and fear of being killed, he had the same stone expression

One phrase from him stopped your crying. "But you're still Princess Consort YN, no?"

Chevalier's care for you doesn't change, but his curiosity does, especially with your abilities

It'd be a casual talk of books, but it'd then shift to the possibility of you dis-wording the books around you

Chevalier's eyes were in simple awe of you, and in awe of your magic

If Rholodite was to have a Bloody Tiger King such as himself, it was no surprise that they would be granted a Demon Queen like YN by his side