#so hes like..hyper aware when something is wrong sort of

[malleleothreesome]

Leona who is pining after you...

💛 summary: Cohesive blurbs about things Leona would do and what he would be like if he were pining after you. ༶༶༶ 💛 warnings: gender neutral reader, unedited, pretty much just a stream of my thoughts. There is cursing. Very angsty but also has romance. Mentions of depressive thoughts. A very raw look into Leona's mind. There is smut (wet dream) in the middle, marked with 🔞 if you want to skip to the next bullet. ༶༶༶ 💛 word count: 4.7k because I'm delulu

💛 Leona who is pining after you... tries to gaslight himself and cling to any sort of logical explanation he can come up with to try to convince himself that he definitely does not have feelings for you. It was probably just a one-time thing, and he just needs to find a way to get you out of his head. He's never thought about anyone this way before, so it's definitely just an error in his brain chemistry or something. It was only a coincidence that he happened to be thinking about you at that particular time, and if you had never been on his mind at all, his heart wouldn't be beating so fast every time he interacts with you. He would never allow himself to develop feelings for anyone, especially you, so he must not actually have any. It's really that simple. It couldn't possibly be that he's fallen for some weird, magicless human, right? Right?! There has to be something medically wrong with him! He must be crazy to have these kinds of thoughts about a stranger who just randomly poofed into existence at the beginning of the semester. Why did you invade his dreams? It doesn't matter! What the hell is wrong with him?!

It has to be a mistake, because there is no way he would EVER fall for someone as annoying and boring as you are, even if you do seem to have a better understanding of him than the people who have known him his whole life, and you treat him like he actually matters instead of seeing him as the scumbag you probably should have gotten to know better before giving him your time and attention. It's not like he genuinely cares what you think of him, anyway – he’s just grateful that he doesn't have to deal with another person treating him like a failure or a lazy, worthless piece of shit.

The way you look at him like he could be someone worth loving despite his constant tirade of anger is definitely not a key factor in him caring for you. Your smile and laugh makes his chest feel funny, and the fact that he is suddenly hyper-aware of his body when he's around you is probably just a symptom of mental or physical illness. Maybe he’s finally eaten too much red meat and he’s about to succumb to heart disease at the ripe age of 20. Perhaps he simply hasn't rubbed one out in a while and he’s thinking with his dick and not his head? He's definitely not attracted to you, and he's absolutely not thinking about what it would be like to kiss you right now. That would just be insane, and he can't believe he even let himself entertain the thought! He’d rather die than think about what it would be like to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him as you sit on his lap, looking down at him with that beautiful smile and those cunning eyes of yours, gently stroking his face as you lean down to press your lips against his… oh, god dammit!

💛 Leona who is pining after you… finally lays down in surrender to the fact that, alright, maybe he does have feelings for your dumb ass – against all odds. He convinces himself that he’s only humoring this pathetic little crush because it makes his monotonous, tiresome days a little more riveting. Lions are predators, and the thrill of the hunt is a key part of their nature, after all. Before you, all he had to look forward to was staring at the ceiling in his dark room for most of the day until the stars showed up in the sky, or until he got roped into housewarden drama and became too frustrated to do anything other than restlessly pace around Savanaclaw before eventually confining himself back to the comforting solitude of his room. He tells himself he might as well allow himself the small luxury of thinking about someone who doesn’t entirely annoy the shit out of him, because he could sure as hell use the emotional relief. At least this way, he isn’t actively thinking about how much he hates his life, and how much he hates himself for letting it become this way. Besides, what would be the harm in letting himself entertain the idea that maybe, just maybe – if he was lucky enough – you could be the first person to ever break down the walls he built to keep himself from getting hurt by other people? Plus, if nothing else, you make for such a pretty daydream.

Every moment he spends with you makes him want you to keep sticking around even after everything is said and done. You can actually keep up with his banter, which is probably why he can actually stand being around you in the first place. No one else is capable of keeping up with his quick wit, or of providing him with a good challenge. You aren't scared off by his harsh demeanor, and you're able to stand up to him when he gets a little too overbearing. You don't take his bullshit, but you still care about his well being and treat him with respect. Despite his public struggles, you don’t see him as some sort of charity case. He's never met anyone else who is able to be so firm with him, but gentle at the same time. He didn't know someone could have such a strong presence without even having magic, but you're somehow always able to pull the rug out from under him, showing him that you're much more powerful than he initially gave you credit for. You're a real pain in his ass sometimes, but you're also the only person in years who's made him feel like life might actually be worth living. Maybe these feelings aren't so bad after all…

💛 Leona who is pining after you… starts leaving his room more often and even attending classes again, hoping he'll run into you on campus. If he doesn't see you, that would suck, but he knows if he stays in his room all day, then he'd risk losing the chance to spend the day with you completely. Besides, if there's even the slightest possibility, seeing you could be the highlight of his day and make even his shittiest days seem almost bearable. When you finally show up, he throws a casual greeting and a nonchalant raise of a single brow, pretending like he coincidentally ran into you in the crowd and totally didn't memorize your class schedule. When your face lights up, telling him you were glad to run into him, his pulse races and for a split second, a goofy grin flashes on his face and he desperately starts fighting his tail from swishing eagerly behind him. All he does is mumble in agreement, then shove his hands in his pockets, rolling his eyes like this isn't what he's been waiting for since he woke up. He says he might as well join you in the cafeteria, because he's starving and it's that time anyway, so whatever.

As you enter the lunch line, your face falls in disappointment when you realize your favorite sandwich is sold out. Leona expected something like this would happen, so he asked Ruggie to grab him one of that type of sandwich along with his usual order, on the chance that he would get to spend lunch with you. He looks to his right, glancing at your slumped shoulders as your mood seems to deflate a little as a frown forms on your face. He steps forward and grumbles an off-hand comment that he snagged one earlier for himself, but since you look so pitiful, he'll let you have it, only because he doesn't want to deal with your incessant whining the whole lunch. When you gape up at him, shocked by his thoughtful gesture, his face starts burning red as he quickly turns away, aggressively stuffing a bite of food in his face to make himself look distracted. When he happens to catch your thankful eyes glistening at him, it feels like the air has been punched right out of his lungs, and the small smile and sincere gratitude tugging on the corner of your lips causes his stomach to do backflips. How annoying that his usually stoic demeanor always falls apart in front of you.

💛 Leona who is pining after you... constantly teases you and tries to embarrass you, attempting to make it sound like you're the one pining for him (even if you're not!) just to try to distract you from the truth. He teases you relentlessly, hoping it’ll make it so you won't feel confident calling him out on the little ways he treats you differently than everyone else. He loves seeing you get flustered trying to deny it, but he also uses it as an opportunity to study your reactions, trying to deduce your real feelings for him by the color in your cheeks, the wavering of your voice, how often you avert your eyes, and how quickly you fire back with an argument. The smirk that emerges on his face tells you exactly that he's not convinced, even if you deny everything. He may be subtle about it, but he uses every opportunity he can find to feel you out, to see if there's even the slightest possibility you might feel something for him. He'll never let you know how badly he wants it to be true with every fiber of his being. He’d be absolutely thrilled if you confessed to him, but he’ll never show it, because it's far more comfortable hiding behind sarcasm. His prideful, guarded heart prevents him from expressing genuine positive emotions and potentially opening himself up to any type of mockery.

💛 Leona who is pining after you... slowly becoming more attached to the idea of you falling for him. As the weeks go by and he hears you giggle as you argue with him, his thoughts linger a bit more when they try to calculate why he's not actually feeling burnt out from spending so much time with you. His patience with the rest of the world starts waning, not really bothering to deal with anyone or anything that could distract him from basking in your aura for as long as possible. He even takes a more active role in interacting with you, whether you two are chatting as he sits on a bench in the botanical gardens, or hanging out after-hours in his room, hoping that this could eventually become a common routine. He loves learning about you and the world you come from. When you open up about your background, he enjoys getting a glimpse into your mind. His brain starts rapidly filing away little details about you, creating a catalog of thoughts for each of his favorite things about you, or the little quirks you have that he secretly finds endearing. The memories of conversations where you both held each other's gaze for a fraction of a second longer than normal or the accidental touches that cause his heart to skip a beat come to life with a vibrance never seen in other parts of his memory bank. The time you grabbed his hand because the tree branches kept making “spooky” noises around you and the time you playfully messed up his hair (even daring to cop a feel of his ear in the process!), are some of his favorite memories to revisit.

As you two grow closer and more comfortable with each other, he pretends to be annoyed at you more often, only because he wants to test how well you can read him, and also how far he can push you. He revels in the way he feels a spark in his chest and a faint smile tugs at the corner of his lips whenever your eyes meet. He tries hard to remind himself that the growing heat rising to his face every time you grin at him is all because of the temperature. His playful touches start to become more sensual, his voice dips deeper and more seductive as his hands linger on your skin, his breath fanning against your face and neck with every taunting word spoken. He hates himself for loving the way you bite your lip and blush under his gaze as he continues to run his hand up your arm, causing your eyelids to flutter. He loves the feeling of power your vulnerable, affectionate expression grants him, the rush of endorphins so great he thinks his entire body might collapse. When he pulls his hand back, the stinging absence leaves him in a state of panic, terrified that this might have been the moment you'd realize how he feels about you and finally flee. In an effort to swallow his vulnerability and save face, he'll cover up his aroused desire with aggression. With a bite in his tone, he'll lash out at you, mocking the way you acted so touch-starved and desperate in the heat of the moment, even though the only one truly desperate here is him. He has to force himself to maintain eye contact and an air of dominance with you while he snaps at you, even as he feels his throat tighten, heart slamming against his ribs. He metaphorically shoves you away and leaves before he loses control, before his raw affection for you spills from his lips like a confession.

💛 🔞 Leona who is pining after you... fast asleep as he lies alone in bed, your figure haunting his dreams. Right before he fell asleep, he was having a particularly bad day and he found himself clinging to a fantasy of holding you in his arms, using you as an anchor to help him process the dread of reality. On a typical night, all he has are his regrets and unanswered questions swirling around in his subconscious, but tonight is different – he falls asleep dreaming about being curled up against your warmth, wondering what it would be like for you to stroke his hair, gently reminding him that there's at least one good thing to wake up for, no matter how empty the day may feel.

As he falls deeper into his slumber, his eyelids begin to twitch and his long eyelashes tickle his flushed cheekbones. He finds himself lost within a dreamy state that feels so very real to him as your face fades into focus. You're kneeling beside him in the bed, and his body is covered in the sheets, with your arms wrapped underneath his shoulder. He can barely tell whether or not this is really a dream at this point as you rest your head against his. He can feel his body stirring and his tail twitching, roused by the comforting and blissful affection. The way you smile at him as you run your thumb along the curvature of his sharp jawline stirs a dormant ache in his soul as you lean forward and leave featherlight kisses in the crook of his neck, causing him to whimper under his breath. He buries his nose in the locks of your hair, desperately wrapping his arms around your waist, pushing your face deeper into the space between his neck and shoulder, craving the coziness and comfort of being physically close to the source of his yearning. In his dreams, your lips are able to be as soft and gentle as they are fierce and demanding, as the grip he has on reality grows weaker the longer he lets himself be trapped under the intoxicating spell you cast upon him, rendering him at the mercy of his deepest desires.

His breath becomes more labored and hitched, his temperature rising as a flush spreads across his face. His body starts moving involuntarily and he buries his hips further into his mattress, his aching cock desperate to be touched, throbbing as his precum smears against the sheets. He begins humping the bed, whining from the friction against his bare skin as he pulls you closer in his dream, shamelessly chasing after the erotic thoughts racing through his mind, fueled by the illusion of having you in his possession – ready to be ravished and worshiped by him and him alone. His full lips part as he moans your name. He thrashes around in his bed, a tingling, aching need radiates throughout his groin as his back arches off of the sheets, grinding his cock against the fabric of his blanket. He can almost feel the warmth of your body as he bucks his hips upwards once more, desperate for your heat. His fingers twitch as they clutch tighter onto the fabric, desperately trying to grab onto the illusion of you instead, wishing he could feel the texture of your skin underneath his fingertips. In his hazy state, he bites his lips and runs his fingers down his sculpted abdomen, his hand with a mind of its own, aching to reach lower. With a sigh of pleasure, he teases the tip of his leaking, throbbing erection as the muscles in his legs quiver with anticipation. He pushes his thumb against the slit of his tip, already wet with his excitement. He slowly rubs circles around his cockhead, causing his breath to hitch and his cock jerk at the sensation. In his unconscious mind, it's not his hand gripping his shaft – it's yours.

He wraps his large hand around the length of his dick, letting out a moan of pleasure as he starts to stroke, his pace increasing steadily with each pump, imagining what it would be like to have you kneeling between his spread legs, looking up at him as you jerk him off, begging to be fucked by him. His cock twitches and aches to be inside of you, to see your lewd expression as his dick fills you, his senses overwhelmed by the sight of you under him, sprawled out, sweaty and splayed wide open for the taking, gasping for air in between broken moans. His hips buck into his hand and he lets out a low growl as he feels the pressure building within him, feeling himself getting closer to the edge. He quickens the pace as he squeezes the base of his cock, stroking faster and faster, trying to keep up with the intensity of his dream. He wants to feel your velvety walls squeezing around him, milking every drop of cum from his throbbing cock. He pants heavily as the sensation of ecstasy courses through his body, moaning your name as he orgasms, his back arching off of the bed as he cums all over his hand, shooting thick ropes of hot cum onto his abs. He slows his pace, riding out his orgasm, lazily stroking his cock as it pulsates through his veins, feeling the aftershocks of pleasure tingling down his spine. With a final moan of satisfaction, he collapses on his bed, utterly spent from his activities. The euphoria of his orgasm fades away as he comes back to reality, slowly finding himself coming into consciousness. As he opens his eyes, the first thing he sees is the mess he made. He groans as he rolls out of bed, annoyed that he has to clean up after his wet dream before he can go back to sleep.

💛 Leona who is pining after you... falls into despair when he realizes his stupid feelings for you aren't going away – they're actually getting stronger by the day. You’ve made him feel like the world's not actually so cruel anymore, but he knows that his tiny, fragile castle is sure to crumble at any moment. Nothing good ever stays his way, does it? He's been telling himself that this was all some game. It's not like he actually wanted to be in a relationship with you, right? That would be far too much work. But what if you were actually worth the time? What if he could have someone who knew every aspect of his being and still loved and accepted him? What if he could be the person who's worthy of your beautiful, unrelenting love? Even as he chastises himself for entertaining the possibility of a relationship with anyone – especially a herbivore like you – a desperate, longing ache burrows into his bones, overpowering the cold, empty hollowness within him that had haunted him his whole life. This can't be love that he's feeling, and if it is... he knows now that love is the only strategy game in existence he's terrible at playing. There's no doubt in his mind he'll make the worst decisions imaginable because his entire being is clouded with insecurity. He is painfully aware that if he were to ever open himself up to the possibility of being with you, then his first thought would be of a thousand ways you would hurt him. He tortures himself with worries and fear, letting himself be consumed by anxiety.

The thing that frightens him most is becoming reliant on someone else for his happiness. Having someone whose opinion he actually values not thinking he is good enough for them is his worst nightmare. If there's one thing life has taught him, it's better to not have anyone at all. Besides, he doesn't even deserve you. There isn't a soul in this world who deserves someone like you – someone so selfless, understanding, empathetic, and forgiving. If you were his, you'd suffer. Your light would slowly flicker out from the darkness he would drown you in, just like everything else in his life that ever mattered to him. There is so much beauty to you that would go to waste in his care – why would someone as perfect as you ever settle for someone like him, anyway? There's no way you'd ever return his feelings. And even if you did… could he even be brave enough to allow you in? Does he have the strength to accept a heart freely offered to him? Will the scars and darkness within him allow him to accept such pure and unconditional love? He can't possibly be selfish enough to ask you to take the chance on him. You deserve to be with someone who is strong and complete – someone who can give you their whole being, wholly and unreservedly – not someone who is afraid of showing weakness, for fear of you leaving him broken-hearted. Someone who would actually have the capacity to love you like you should be loved. Not a broken, shattered shell of a Prince that could only ever give you pieces of his heart that are full of cracks.

Why the fuck does his chest hurt just thinking about the fact that you would be better off without him? It feels as if someone were stabbing his heart repeatedly, and no matter what he does, the wounds refuse to close and the blood continues to ooze through the cracks. He stares up at the dark ceiling of his dorm room as a single tear rolls down his cheek for the first time in years as he tries to cope with this excruciating feeling of hopelessness, despondency, and despair. The fear that you will one day be gone from his life grips his soul, his heart pleading with him to simply confess, yet his twisted mind forces him to remind himself of his inadequacy. What a sad, pathetic sight you would see, the once fearsome lion, pitifully pawing at your ankles as his heart poured itself at your feet, praying for the warmth of your love and the validation of your approval.

💛 Leona who is pining after you… hates how obsessed he is with you and your opinion of him. Every day he finds himself trying to be better because you make him want to try harder to make the world a brighter place. Maybe you're right, maybe he doesn't need to be King in order to lead people and do great things. Because of the friendship you two have nourished, he finally feels comfortable opening up to you and talking to you about what he's going through: his past, and how much he truly cares about everyone's safety, success, and overall happiness – a sentiment that's foreign to everyone who's ever known him in the past. Although he still can't bring himself to vocalize his emotions aloud, you now truly understand the message his eyes are always trying to relay, no matter how small the glimpse: even if he was destined for a fate in the shadows, his biggest hope is to someday become the leader he was supposed to be. His newfound vulnerability allows you to slowly chip off the armor that guards his heart and bring him peace, healing his wounded spirit. Because of you, he now understands what it feels like to be valued and treasured by another, and he feels empowered enough to put the effort into doing something to change his future for the better. It scares him how badly he wants to impress you, wanting you to be proud of how he's matured.

Before taking on the daunting task of bettering his Kingdom, he starts with something small – making a positive difference in your life. You actually make him feel useful. He loves the way you look up at him with admiration. He knows now that one of the reasons he fell for you so hard is because you always ask for his advice – knowing damn well he's the smartest person in this godforsaken place – and you actually take it. You listen to him and you value his opinions. Seeing things work out for the better when you take his advice and enact his plans gives him a rush of pride and confidence. It motivates him to keep working hard to have good ideas that benefit the world. He's always enjoyed helping people even though he's bad at putting it into words, or showing his true intentions, instead preferring to keep people guessing while he hides behind his indifference and nonchalant attitude. But now, thanks to you, he finds that the more time he spends caring about helping the people around him, the more understanding and honest he is with himself, the happier he becomes. He's feeling more confident stepping up to the plate, having less fear of letting himself or the other people he cares about down.

He started feeling honored to be the housewarden for Savanaclaw again and he actually takes the responsibility seriously, tackling issues and standing his ground with the students and teachers. He wants to set an example for others, making you proud of his actions by raising his standard. When it comes to issues in the school and within his territory, he's calm and diplomatic as he addresses issues – making sure everyone is heard and everyone walks away satisfied. No longer is he plagued by a lack of enthusiasm to make real, significant changes. He now genuinely enjoys himself, striving to go beyond his expectations to overcome his shortcomings, always pushing himself to think outside of the box. It's like the Leona of his past no longer exists, and he doesn't feel any resentment or shame at the thought, simply believing it's for the better that he finally has the strength to make room for a version of himself he can enjoy instead. Because of your guidance and patience with him, he’s slowly learning to no longer fight his introspective nature, instead choosing to work hard every day to embrace all aspects of himself – whether they be negative or positive. Every day is far from perfect, but he's allowing himself the respite of leaning on your shoulder, even though for now, it’s just as a friend and trusted ally, not as a lover. For the first time, he's happy with where his life is going and the person he is becoming. Through this whole experience of falling for you, he learned that there are still things worth fighting for, regardless of if you one day soon reciprocate his feelings or not. At least, that's what he keeps telling himself.

I was nervous to write this because we all know that canon Leona leaves much to be desired when it comes to his story and the complexities of his character. I've spent over a year of loving him, meticulously crafting who I think he is and who I want him to be. Most days, I'm pretty sure Leona Kingscholar is just a character who exists solely inside of my mind, completely separate from the source material. So, if this resonates with you, I am very glad! Thank you for reading. I hope I was able to bring justice to my beloved Leona! If you would like to see this series with another character, please let me know. 💛 Erica Malleleothreesome

[love-quinn]

— REPAYMENTS

summary — carmen accidentally loses his chance with you after you all-but ask him out. luckily for him, you're sitting two tables away from the kitchen he runs.

warnings — swearing, smoking, i think that's it?

pairing — carmen berzatto x fem!reader

pronouns — she/her, reader is explicitly mentioned to be a girl

word count — 2.2k

note — i am still finding my footing writing for carmen so this has just been trial and error, i hope you enjoy this!!! thank you for 100 followers, i appreciate it so much omg <333

It's fairly well-agreed upon that family and business should never be mixed. Whoever said that had probably never met Natalie Berzatto. His sister infuriates him, but if Carmen is being honest that’s usually because she’s just there. She doesn’t pick fights, but she will call him out on his bullshit, even if he doesn’t appreciate it in the moment. Out of all of his relatives to be closely working with, Sugar was probably his best option.

No, it was far more likely that the coiner of that phrase did meet Richie.

Carmen loved Richie deep down. He would do a lot for Richie, and he’s seen firsthand that Richie would do a lot for him. But it’s really hard to remember that when Carmen’s having to leave the kitchen to go and talk to a table because something’s gone wrong.

“‘I’ll handle it,’” he mocks Richie under his breath. “‘Calm the fuck down, Carmen, I’m Richie and I’ll handle it even though I’m fucking incompetent.’” He abandons his station to go out into the dining room, already feeling a headache brewing behind his eyes. “Handle it, my ass.”

It’s a fairly simple problem to sort out, just an old man who was bound to complain about something wanting to talk to the owner about it. Carmen smiles and nods and apologizes and makes a note to comp that part of the meal and go chain smoke about it later. 

It’s not the interaction that causes Carmen’s chest to constrict, it’s what he sees on the way in. 

Usually, Carmen is safely in the back. He stays in his section, he spends each night being hyper aware of everything that goes on in the kitchen, and he doesn’t have to worry about anything outside of the kitchen (it took a second for that last part to be true, but he does trust Richie and Natalie enough to handle things out in the dining room. 

But of course he happens to be out in the dining room on the same night that you’re there.

He almost didn’t recognise you, the room isn’t very well-lit and he only met you once. It was about two weeks ago, but he’s thought about it quite a lot since. It had been two in the morning and he didn’t even remember what he’d needed but he’d ended up at the 24-hour convenience store down the street from his place. 

The fluorescent lights had been flickering and you had been standing right in front of the refrigerator he needed. You had been browsing the fucking chips or something and Carmen was too busy controlling the tapping of his foot so you wouldn’t hear it.

“Sorry, am I in your way?”

His head snapped up, eyes locking with yours. “Yeah.”

You tried not to frown at his bluntness, just raising your eyebrows and moving out of the way. Carmen yanked open the fridge door, rubbing his face to stop his eyes from drooping closed. He’d just left the restaurant and just wanted milk before he went home. His hand dropped and he opened his eyes to look for the milk only to find the slider-shelf thing that contained his usual stuff was completely empty. “Fuck.”

You were a few feet away, still making your way down the aisle, but you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye. The last bottle of yellow-capped milk is currently sitting in the basket dangling from your elbow. You finished up and decided to just make your way to the front, cutting your losses about getting more snacks.

You’re not usually up at 2am, but one of your friends was stopping by in the city for a few days and the two of you had gotten home from a late movie still wanting to spend time together so you’d ducked down to the store for some more snacks. 

You had put a few of your items on the counter for the store clerk to scan by the time he got to the front, and you pretend not to notice him. The clerk looked so exhausted you didn’t even try to make small talk, just flashing him a soft smile while he put your stuff in a plastic bag. While you were paying, the clerk turned his head to the guy behind you to see what he wanted. 

It was the guy from the fridge and he mumbled something about cigarettes. The clerk handed you back your card and your receipt before turning back to the cabinet for the cigarettes.

Carmen didn’t even care they didn’t have the usual type he liked, he just needed a smoke soon or his chest would cave in. He slapped the bills on the counter, grabbed the pack and was out the door before you had turned around. 

He smoked almost directly outside the door to the store, and you had to walk past him to get back to your building. Usually, when guys were dicks out in public to you, you’d ignore it and you’d move on. But this guy looked so defeated that you almost felt bad for him. 

He was sitting on the sidewalk, head buried between his knees. You tried not to make it obvious that you were looking at him but he looked so sad that you felt a begrudging amount of empathy for him. You dug the bottle of milk out of your bag and put it on the sidewalk next to him.

Carmen’s head shot up at the sound, looking back and forth between you and the bottle. “What?”

“You look like you need it more than I do.” If you were being honest, it did make you feel a little smug that he was slightly rude to you earlier and now you were being nice to him, but it was mostly out of concern.

Carmen’s mouth was dry, and he swiped his tongue over his bottom lip, hauling himself to his feet with the bottle in hand. “No, you don’t have to do that. Take your milk.”

“I don’t even want it,” you said. “Seriously, dude.”

Carmen looked down at the bottle of milk in his hand. “Now I feel bad for being an ass.”

You nodded. “You should.”

Carmen gave a tired laugh and you finally noticed how bright his blue eyes were, even in the dark street. “I’m usually not. An asshole, I mean. Well, no, actually. I… am making this worse.”

You watched him, amused, and Carmen felt his throat constrict at the sound of your laugh. “Way to sell yourself. You’re really making a meal out of this, aren’t you?”

“It’s what I do best,” he said absentmindedly. “I’m, uh, Carmen.” He tried to shake your hand but with the cigarette in one and the milk in the other, he couldn’t find a way to do it. Then he had the thought that nobody shakes hands anymore, and felt stupid for the whole thing. 

You weren’t in the habit of giving your name to strangers, especially not men you met outside the convenience store at two in the morning. “Just Carmen?”

Carmen hadn’t expected that to be your response, and he blacked out for a half second where he forgot his own last name, “Berzatto.” 

“Carmen Berzatto.” You nodded, knowing to give the name to your friend later, just for safety. You told him your own name, not bothering to shake his hand. 

You dug around in your purse quickly, grabbing your receipt and hoping you had a pen. You didn’t but you did find an old eyeliner in the bottom that would work. Carmen had taken a stance of leaning against the wall, smoking his cigarette and trying not to fall asleep standing up. If he was honest, he assumed you’d walk away after that, so he was surprised when he felt you press a piece of paper into his hand. “Your receipt. For the milk” Your smile was sweet and he didn’t even process that you’d scrawled your phone number on the back until you’d walked away.

That had been two weeks ago, and he hadn’t seen you since.

He bursts back through the kitchen. You’re sitting at table nine with two other women, and his number one priority is finding Richie. Or Natalie, someone who works out in the dining room and can do what he needs them to. 

Richie, as if he heard Carmen’s mental plea, is right behind him. “I need two more mushroom risotto for table fifteen and for table nine-”

“Cousin,” Carmen interrupts. “The, uh, table nine. They’re not gonna pay.”

Richie took that the wrong way, leaning down to talk right in Carmen’s ear conspiratorially. “They’re dashers? You want me to take ‘em down? I’ll go out there and fuck them up, you give me two seconds and twenty dollars and I’ll-”

“Richie!” Carmen shoved him. “No, they’re…” He’s been so pissed off with Richie lately, more so than usual. He’d gone back to the restaurant the day after meeting you, dumping his jacket in his office, receipt on the desk with every intention to at least text you during his break.

And then Richie had spit his gum into the receipt and thrown it out. 

“Listen. One of the girls, she’s… They’re just eating for free, okay?” Carmen lets himself sound desperate, maybe that will stop Richie from making fun of him.

Richie looks down at him, eyebrows raised. “You… alright, yeah. Good. Don’t make your girl pay. Good. Does she know you run this place?” 

Carmen shakes his head. “No, I kinda messed things up with her. I need everything to go good tonight, okay? Can you do that for me?”

Richie saluted. “You got it, cousin. Food’ll be good she’ll forget what a massive prick you are.”

That’s probably the best he’s gonna get, so he takes it. Then, he gets to work. He gets your order from Richie and the kitchen makes it in record time. Then, when it’s done, Carmen makes sure he’s the one to run the food.

You didn’t know what you’d been expecting when your friends had invited you out to a new restaurant, but it hadn’t been to see the guy you’d met at a convenience store in the middle of the night to be presenting you with your meal.

You’d liked Carmen, but it had been a while and you only met him for a few minutes. Once the sting of rejection had worn off, you’d almost forgotten about the encounter. He puts your dinner in front of you and practically bows. “Carmen,” you muse, mostly just taken aback. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

“I’m the owner,” he says, trying to ignore the way your friends are looking at him. “I saw you and I… I’m not really good at this shit, but I, uh. I meant to call you.” He sounds earnest, and he looks somewhat embarrassed by the amount of eyes on him. “I wanted to, I just lost your number and I didn’t know how else to talk to you but I wanted to call you.”

You watch Carmen as he speaks and the longer you’re silent, the worse he feels about it. He can’t read the expression on your face and he’s really regretting insisting that he walked your meals, he should’ve just sent Richie. But he also knew that it would seem more genuine if he did it in person. 

“So far you’re oh-for-two in terms of not looking like an asshole,” your tone is light and a bright smile is worming its way onto your face. Your lipgloss shines under the light and Carmen can’t stop looking at it. 

Carmen swallows, wiping his hands as inconspicuously on his pants. “Would it make it better if I told you that I already got your meals comped?”

“I mean,” you say, tilting your head up at him. “Yeah, that’ll do it, yeah.”

“I owe it to you,” he points out. “For the milk. Let me just go grab your receipt, enjoy your meals.” He flashes an awkward smile over at the two women you’re with, not noticing the way you’re looking up at him.

He walks away and your eyes follow him back into the kitchen. You had just assumed he didn’t really like you, so the idea that maybe he liked you so much he was willing to give you complimentary meals slightly overwhelmed you. Your friends swarm you the second he’s gone and you relay your very limited history with Carmen.

You almost forgot what it feels like to be in the earliest stages of romance. Slightly awkward flirting, fleeting glances, the butterflies in your stomach when you realize that the other person likes you just as much as you like them.

You don’t know much about Carmen aside from the fact that he’s apparently an insomniac who owns and runs a restaurant, has really pretty eyes and likes you. That was the part that got you. He likes you enough to come out and talk to you.

In fact, he likes you so much that once he goes back in the kitchen he dodges Richie’s attempts at a high five, and prints out your now-free bill. He likes you so much that he digs through his desk for the only working pen to scribble something on the bottom where the tip number would usually be. And, something that makes you positively giddy, he likes you so much that when he hands you the check with his number printed towards the bottom.

[inchidentally]

Why do you think Max f protect Lando like his children? Do you think he does it because he saw how Lando struggled in f1 and couldn't just stand there and watch?? 🤔

oh anon idk how much Lando/Max F lore you know but Max has been Lando's protector from day one. Lando was teeeeeny tiny for his age up until like 19?? so Max was bigger than him up until around then. I'm still learning a lot about them as I go but Max's protective instincts toward Lando run extremely deep. it's why I can't decide if they're more common law husbands, platonic soulmates or each other's weird gamer racing gremlin guardian angels.

I think for me one of the biggest standouts for me about their bond is how much Lando wanted to look after Max when Max left racing for good. because when you read about Max's particular struggles, it's like hearing Lando all over again:

Getting bad results each weekend was just having more of a knock-on effect on my mental health. Normally, I’d say that’s one of my strengths through a championship. That’s how I’ve been able to win titles, I’m able to stay calm under pressure and I don’t let many things get to me but when you have a bad qualifying result and you see guys up there that you know you’re capable of beating, it definitely takes a dig at you inside and it’s been a lot to process throughout the year. -- As soon as more thoughts come into your head, it gets worse, then you start panicking, over-driving, and it all goes wrong. I think a lot of the pressure is in your head, but it does get to a point where it just all piles on you. [source]

it's got to mean the world to have a best mate who can completely and openly identify with exactly what you're feeling - esp since they're each now looking at racing from the inside and the outside.

what I find interesting is that Max was just as much of a hyper competitive kid as everyone who came up through that system and from what I can tell he performed strongly enough to easily assume he could make F1 (but he doesn't seem to have assumed that) so him taking to this tiny kid with all these little quirks who was absolutely dusting boys older than him, idk that's just something special about Max. he comes across as kind of gruff or misanthropic at first but he's extremely emotionally intelligent and self-aware - he's always the one to open up and be vulnerable to Lando and unlike Lando he doesn't squirm or make jokes when things get serious. it sounds like I know the guy super well which obv I don't but idk, it just feels like Max is an easygoing but also extremely loyal guy - especially with Lando.

anyway I'm not enough of an authority on nortrell and if anyone wants to add to this please do <3 but yea

side note I always love how in this video we get a sort of funny confirmation that Max approves of Oscar as temporary guardian of Lando. but then I get a little emotional and serious about that bc Lando has cited precisely Oscar's ability to stay calm and not let things pile on top of him as something he's reminded to do for himself. and that Oscar quickly observed Lando and after only a couple months (or maybe even just a month) as his teammate realized that patience and loyalty are what make Lando feel the most relaxed and comfortable with someone. he's adorable and fun w the friends who make him laugh all the time and swat him down when he gives them attitude. but as a self-described shy kid who's also hyperactive, you can see the difference between Lando alone with Max and Lando with other friends. and well, Oscar spent years before his McLaren contract watching that dynamic so. makes sense he'd get the nod of approval from Lando's closest friend <3

[animeyanderelover]

Hello, hi! This is my second request so I’m sorry if this is too much! If it’s is then please ignore this or the other one or both!

May I please request for Yandere of your choice with a reader who really likes their Yandere behavior? Of course minus the killing and hurting others part.

Thank you! And please take care of yourself.

I’ll do my best to take care of myself!

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, delusions, stalking, clinginess, paranoia, jealousy

S/o likes their Yandere behavior

Sohma Shigure

🐕Behind his light-hearted facade, Shigure is quite hyper-aware of his own obsession but is quite literally feeling nonchalant about it. Because he doesn't like getting hurt though, he's very possessive of his darling and is always somehow involved in their daily life. Also, he loves teasing you at times since it's entertaining if he can push your buttons enough to make you a bit mad, although it's still very much an asshole move. Shigure is even more of an asshole to anyone who is threatening to take the biggest place in your heart. He's a petty man despite his sometimes insightful moments and can feel quite bitter if he notices that you're very close to someone, closer than to him. He always manages to test the limit of such a person too, only that he is far more cruel than he'd be usually. He's just mean and manipulative.

🐕 He's sort of amused that you still like his behavior for the most part even if you do mention to him that you don't appreciate him being mean and trying to break apart precious bonds you have with others. Shigure expected something else but he's satisfied that you still love him. It saves him trouble that might have come his way otherwise. He likes to tease you for being a weirdo though because you actually enjoy his possessive and more clingy attitude although in a more loving way. He can't help his sometimes more shitty attitude though by testing the waters with you. He just wants to know how far he can go until you get mad, with how much he can get away. For the most part he still acts laid-back and silly but he's more genuine with all of his feelings and hides things less from you.

Roy Mustang

🔥 Roy is a charismatic and charming man for his darling but it's all really just a mask so he can hide something he often finds himself deeply ashamed about. His own possessive and obsessive infatuation. He feels so often embarrassed and guilty for his own emotions but also knows from previous tries that it doesn't do his sanity good if he tries to distance himself from you. Roy at least manages to come over as a normal lover for the most part, he has composure. In moments of weakness he cracks though and that partially rules in his trauma regarding the Ishval Civil War and the death of his dear friend. Moments of insecurity where he turns more possessive, jealous and needy. Moments where you feel his hands heating up as his temper flares up.

🔥 He's shocked when he finds out that you actually enjoy it when he gets more possessive and wants you around him when he feels insecure all the time. He expected you to react the exact opposite if you'd ever suspect that he's actually quite obsessed and is unable to come up with something good to say the first few moments. He doesn't even know how he should feel for a while. A rational part of him thinks it's wrong for you to enjoy this all even if you at least say that killing others is still wrong and he shouldn't do it. On the other hand he loathes that another part of him is relieved and even glad. He sort of tiptoes around you, observes you as if not believing you. He refuses to use your willingness yet you find him clinging to you whenever he's hit with his paranoid insecurity and wants reassurance.

Takasugi Shinsuke

❤️‍🩹 Takasugi Shinsuke is a mess when it comes to his feelings. He's driven by his anger and guilt and has set his mind to destroy the world since it took what was most important to him. He's already slightly deranged and knows it but the new feelings blossoming inside his chest worsen that even more. He didn't expect to love someone, never wanted it either since he already had a goal he wanted to achieve. Your appearance confuses him, another wish which should be forbidden for someone like him pollutes his thoughts. The man hates you, you ruin his plan and he wants to reject you but longs for you deep down. He stalks you, watches you, is possessive enough to kill anyone who might be your potential partner even if he himself rejects the idea of a relationship himself.

❤️‍🩹 At one point he nearly loses it though, the chaotic storm of feelings inside of him leading to an abduction. He's quite aloof and cold to you, expects you to hate and fear him and even wants it. Yet apparently he isn't the insane one, you are. He is unable to understand why you like his behavior and him, tries to ignore the way a part of his heart flutters out of happiness. He stares at you with a unreadable face, analyzes you in silent hopes to find out that you lie, that you fear him. You seek him out, he avoids you. He can't love but you make it hard for the irrational emotions of his who just want you. Takasugi, for the lack of knowledge how to handle your genuine affection, resorts to show you the worst and ugliest part of him so you stop tugging at his heartstrings. He can't even make sense of himself right now, torn apart between revenge and new desire.

Integra Hellsing

🚬 Integra has this domineering and intimidating aura around her that demands respect and she knows that this might scare others a bit. Integra herself is lucid about her own feelings but what is as admirable as fearsome about her is that she handles her obsession with her normal controlled ease. She goes about it in the ususal business-like manner but doesn't allow her darling much choices in the end. Alucard likes to tease his master for his obsession but luckily her temper doesn't flare up that easily. As a partner Integra is strict and controlling though and due to her showing rarely any emotional reactions, she comes over as rather detached and cold at times. She's still very protective which is shown with her willingness to punish or even kill anyone who dares to attack and harm you.

🚬 Besides shock Sir Hellsing is genuinely impressed that you actually saw through her. Her servant Alucard is one of very few people who is able to see behind her composed and firm walls so to think that you were able to do the same is a small shock for her. There is a small part of amusement too when she hears how you find her behavior actually some sort of attractive even if you firmly stand against her killing others because of you. She keeps her coolness though and just sits down with you, interested how she gave herself away to you. It's probably sort of mind-blowing for an observer to hear and see how she spends an entire hour discussing and negotiating with you regarding her obsession and what you two will do from now on. Integra keeps her word though as long as you keep yours.

Kikyo

🏹 Her resurrection has given Kikyo certain freedoms she didn't have during the time when she was the guardian of the Sacred Jewel. She is allowed to hate now, to have negative emotions and that is some sort of relief for her even if she knows that such emotions can lead to terrible actions. Kikyo allows herself to be openly more selfish though and that is strongly shown with her obsession she has with her darling. Apparently with a new life came a new love for her too, far more intense than what she felt for Inuyasha. She stays in the place where you live for a while, you get to know her and she you too, additional stalking helping her even more. There comes the time where she has to leave though and she's selfish enough to force you to tag along. She knows that it's wrong and feels partially guilty yet is too tired to be selfless again.

🏹 She thought that you'd despise her, make things more difficult yet apparently you've gained feelings for her too and are happy to follow her. Your reaction flusters her a bit as she is not prepared for this. Yet Kikyo accepts your own feelings without quarreling with herself much. She feels a great sense of relief and joy that you reciprocate her love despite her somewhat apathetic act at times. She finds her fondness for you only deepening, reassures you that she won't harm people if they haven't done anything wrong. Sure, she still keeps an eye on you for a while to just go the extra mile to be safe but after that she gives you a lot of freedom. You're allowed to explore a bit without her although she insists that you still stay close enough so that you'd be able to hear her if she calls for you since Kikyo is very protective and given her past slightly paranoid.

Zenin Maki

💚 Maki represses her emotions mostly in order to maintain her tough and cold attitude but that doesn't mean that she dislikes you even if it sometimes comes over that way. It's rather that Maki is somewhat in disbelief that she is as romantically obsessed as she is with you. Her life revolves around becoming a strong sorcerer and humiliating her entire clan via that. Maki is almost a bit hyper-aware when around you although you don't catch her fleeting and subtle glances at first. The woman is strict and as tough as usual though with a good hint of a more possessive side at times. She won't be your knight in shining armor and expects you to be able to fend for yourself, even if you're just a normal human. Messing with her darling is never a good idea though because she's serious and won't hold back if someone clearly wrongs you.

💚 You manage to elicit a rather surprised and flabbergasted expression from her when she realizes that not only have you discovered her rather obsessive feelings but also came to like the way it influences her actions. Maki is not stupid, she knows that she's in the wrong with her feelings and struggles at times still with it. She's as straightforward with her words as ever though, deeming it to be useless to deny your words. You're too sure of yourself. She questions you about your weird liking for her obsession, you sense a hint of distrust from her. She still hasn't bought your words completely yet, it's not what she expected to hear from you. She's worried that others might notice too so she tries to cool her behavior down although she eventually relaxes more around you when she believes that you told the truth. She still tells you that you're weird for liking this albeit with a slightly amused grin.

Tomoe

🦊 Tomoe speaks badly about his darling the entire time but it's merely a way to distract himself from his own attraction. He's in utter disbelief and rejects the idea that he, a fox yokai, has fallen in love with a mere human. They're weak and mortal so why? Why does he feel this strong need to protect you? He's big in stalking at the beginning, a silent shadow who watches you. Surely he'd feel disgusted if he'd see how fragile and annoying this human really is. Nothing like that happens though, it only worsens Tomoe's addiction. An abduction is bound to happen since there is a certain paranoia Tomoe feels. Mikage already left him, he doesn't want to let you leave him too. He's very possessive and jealous too, not hesitant to scare or harm anyone who harms you or is too close to you.

🦊 Tomoe can pretend as much as he wants, deep down he longs to be loved and accepted by his darling which is why their confession catches him off guard. He's paranoid though since Mikage left him despite promising to be back soon so he doesn't believe you, experience has taught him so. He might even accuse you angrily of lying to him as a way to use him. Why would you love him despite him having kidnapped you? A part of him wants to believe you but he's too distrusting. You notice him being around you more often, his gaze never leaving you. He observes, searches for any signs that you lie but can't find any. It needs a lot of time and proof from you that you like him though before he slowly opens up and mellows out. He starts doting on you openly when he knows that you're genuine and wants at the same time more affection from your side.

Jacaerys Velaryon

He probably doesn't come over as someone potentially dangerous because Jacaerys is a big sweetheart for his darling. Even a blind person would see that he loves his darling to the moon and back, constantly singing praises about them in front of his family and spoiling them with whatever they wish. Jace isn't thinking rationally, his infatuation sort of keeps him from being completely aware about his own obsession. That doesn't mean that he has those silent moments where he kind of considers if his love can really be seen as completely harmless. Jacaerys experiences darker thoughts at times which sometimes startles him when he catches himself in the middle of it. It's important to keep in mind that he's highly protective and only truly caring to those he loves. Not to mention that he's more possessive than he lets on.

He orientates himself strongly after his darling though so it's a bad thing when he finds out that you adore his behavior. Sure, you're not too fond when he uses his position and influence to scare other potential pursuers away but you know that he loves you just a lot. The moment he knows that is the moment he pretty much abandons any doubt he had in the past about his attitude. He makes you happy with him if he acts that way apparently and that's all Jace wants and needs to know. If he knows that intimidating and threatening others upsets you, he tries to cool that part of him down but he will never stop being more aggressive if someone says or even looks at you the wrong way. His behavior around you intensifies since he knows that you like it though so he dotes on you even more than before.

Rokudo Mukuro

🌫️ This guy is disgustingly possessive over his darling and everything but tame. Mukuro is rather apathetic too which only means that he doesn't really care if he hurts others or even has to kill someone if it ensures that you stay with him. He even threatens and intimidates his own darling if it helps them to stay in line. He's less involved though as he is often away and takes care of something he never tells you about. You're either left under supervision of Chikusa, Ken and Chrome or are completely alone. Chances to run are tempting but that's what he wants to test in such scenarios. If you stay, he praises you for being obedient and smart and if you try to escape, he tracks you down an crushes your hopes by displaying the huge gap in power and skill between you two. Mukuro does care but he doesn't show it very openly.

🌫️ He wouldn't have minded your fear as long as you would have obeyed either but he's pleased to know that you actually like his behavior. He doesn't question why you do though because he knows that the average sane person would despise and fear him. Apparently you are another strange one but he doesn't really mind. It just means that everything will go smooth since you'll obey without throwing a tantrum. Mukuro decides to believe you too since he's confident in his ability to read you so he just sort of knows that you didn't lie to him when answering his question since he noticed. He doesn't exactly let you of the hook easier, still keeps you locked up and more isolated but he lets his more affectionate side show a bit here and there. Terms of endearment or the occasional soft caress of his hands when he isn't away.

Chae Yul

💜 Chae Yul is the complete package, the worst mix of everything. He’s extremely possessive, obsessive, trigger-happy, jealous and terribly clingy and needy. He’s incredibly attached to his darling to an unhealthy degree and relies solely on them for his emotional support. He rejects anyone else, isolates himself since you’re the only one he wants to spend time with. He’s a red flag, toxic enough to guilt-trip his darling whenever he feels like they reject him or is paranoid enough to think that they might plan to leave him. Yul can spend every waking second with you and attempts to do exactly that since he gets anxious when he isn’t with you. He’s the tamest when he is alone with you and isn’t scary to everyone who tries to get in between you two. Worst is that Yul tends to see everyone as villains who wants to separate him from you.

💜 He’s never viewed his excessive infatuation with you as wrong and despite the wrongness of it, you find it almost endearing. You make him aware of it too although you tell him that you don’t want him to threaten everyone who does as much as greeting you, he doesn’t have to act so overly jealous and possessive. Honestly, it’s probably best if his darling likes Yul’s behavior because otherwise he’d be insufferable. He doesn’t attempt to change much though although he tears up when you express your disappointment in him for acting so overly aggressive and frightening to others around you. He hates it, it makes him feel paranoid. So he opts to keep you most of the time in his apartment where he doesn’t have to worry about others. A perfect solution, wouldn’t you agree? Just let him stay like this forever, cuddled up in your arms.

[peterparkouryo]

consuming devotion | ੈ♡˳

prompt: You can't help but love Peter, even if he doesn't reciprocate your feelings

warnings: heavy angst, heartbreak, sweet sweet unrequited love and one sided pining (obv)

word count: 1.5k

"I'm left wondering why the stars align, but your heart doesn't seem to find a place for mine."

a/n: it’s sorta unfinished but not rlly? also who’s excited for rebound four?? ;) (edited: it’s unfinished but there’s like a sort of part 2 that’s connected and i’m working on it)

ੈ♡˳

There's something so beautiful, yet so so painful about being in love. On one hand, you have these intense emotions that are so heartwarming, joyful, happiness and you're content with being around the person you love. On the other hand, your mind is a battleground of emotions. You're plagued by self-doubt, wondering if you're good enough, if you're worthy of their love. You question whether they truly care for you, or if you're just imaging things. You're torn between revealing your feelings, or risking heartbreak.

That's the thing, you have felt every emotion of being in love that there is. The truth is, it sucks.

The distance between you and Peter feels like an insurmountable chasm. Time seems to drag on, and you always, always ache for his presence.

You know there's a mutual understanding that he only sees you as a friend, he has said it on multiple occasions, and thankfully you weren't stupid enough to actually admit to being hopelessly in love with the boy.

You're not entirely sure if he is aware of your affection for him, and you surely doubt that he is, considering its, well, Peter.

What you do know, that you are positively sure of, is that you've probably loved Peter for the better half of your life. There were countless times that proved it too, such as the movie nights, the boy offering to help you with your dreadful homework, walking you home after school, and pretty much anything else that made a vulnerable warmth settle in your heart.

After that realization, you became hyper-aware of every little detail about Peter - his likes, his dislikes hobbies and interests. You hung onto every word he ever said, dissecting his actions for hidden meanings. You started craving his attention and validation, yet you feared the vulnerability the came to revealing your true feelings.

You always had a mix of emotions all at once, sadness, frustration, and sometimes even jealousy. You alway questioned yourself, wondering what could possibly be wrong with you, why you weren't enough for him. It's a battle between your heart and mind, trying to rationalize your while your heart keeps yearning for the unattainable.

Peter's heart was truly pure gold, always thinking of others before himself, helping out whenever he could, he was perfect. And no matter what he did, you still loved him.

Even if he continuously rejected your feelings. 

You both knew he wasn't exactly doing it on purpose, he's told you countless times that he only strictly saw you as a friend and nothing more, but like the stubborn person you were, you ignored those words and lived in this pathetic delusion that you'd actually have a chance with him.

Finding yourself caught in a constant cycle of hope and despair, wavering between moments of elation whenever he showed you kindness or affection, and moments of heart-wrenching despair when he seemed distant or unresponsive, which wasn't an uncommon thing. You always, despite already knowing where the boy stood, tried to decipher he feelings, to find hidden signs that he might just feel the same way, but the uncertainty gnaws at your sanity.

"Party, my place, tonight." A voice interrupts your quiet studying, the girl plopping her lunch tray down on the rectangular table quite harshly, the action gaining your morbid attention.

"I don't know, last time I went to one of your parties, I had to clean up after you." You point out, paying close attention to the way Liz's smiles slowly turns into a frown.

"Well, this party is different, and it's not like I made you do that." She argues, shaking her head with an eye roll.

Liz has been your best friend since you both could ride a bike. She's been your better half for as long as you can remember, knowing everything about you and vice versa. The transition from middle schoolers into high school was tough to say the least, puberty doing its job for her, and you....not so much. So it was not a shocking factor that the girl quickly became popular.

Yet, despite her social status, she always stuck to you like glue, and you couldn't be more thankful for that.

You give her a unsure glance, before turning back to your textbook.

"Peter'll be there."

You swear you thought you were subtle when your head practically snaps up at your friend's sentence, but given the way she snorts at your action, you highly doubt it and you clear your throat before you hurriedly look down at your textbook again.

"Okay." You shrug, picking up your pencil to vigorously erase a problem that was probably right or wrong, but you didn't care, your only goal was trying to pretend to seem nonchalant.

Truth be told, you do try to move on from Peter, but the love you feel is stubborn and persistent. It's a constant ache gnawing at your soul, a wound refusing to heal. 

Liz tilts her head at your nonchalant response, not buying into your tone.

"Okay?" She repeats.

"Okay." You confirm, placing the pencil on the table, out of your anxious grasp.

Liz was well in the know of your one-sided affection for Peter. Always encouraging you to talk to him, entertaining the very thought of you two ever being a couple. Oh, how respectful she was toward you when she knew at one point during your high school years Peter harboured feelings for her. You don't know exactly what made the boy stop liking her, but you were glad in the end.

"Well, alright." The girl says carefully, picking at her food.

"You don't have to come, but it'd be great if you did." She states with a sweet smile, and you don't find it in yourself to retort it and only nod.

Liz mumbles a quiet bye, standing up with her lunch tray in hand, most likely going to hang out with her other more sociable friends, letting you be left alone with your thoughts.

Unfortunately, those thoughts last for a good five seconds.

"Just the girl I was looking for." You recognize the voice almost immediately, straightening your position to look more presentable.

Peter was effortlessly gorgeous, it was unfair, truly. It was almost like he was purposely taunting you with the knowledge of knowing you can't have him because he doesn't want you to.

He sets his belongings in the empty seat next to him, unzipping his backpack, grabbing a small piece of paper with a pencil, zipping the bag back up before sliding over the gathered materials in your reach.

You look in-between him and the objects in confusion.

"I need you to write me a letter." Peter says, quickly noticing your bewilderment.

"For?"

"My birthday."

"Your birthday's not till August?"

"Well, not my birthday, MJ's." Peter corrects with a small chuckle.

You nod slowly, sliding the objects closer to you, avoiding Peter's intent gaze.

"Isn't her birthday in like, June?" You quiz, writing your 'to' and 'from' as Peter shrugs from across you.

"Yeah, but I'm planning a surprise party that'll at least take a month considering its Michelle, and I know how much you love writing letters." The boy explains and your eyes go wide as you look at him, raising an offended eyebrow.

Of course, it was certainly no secret that many of your love confessions were most of the time in the form of letters, those of which he rejected, continuously, and it was a heartbreaking experience every time. But having the boy use the very thing you couldn't help but show your expression with, against you, hurt worse than any rejection (you're lying, obviously).

"You're so funny, I almost laughed." You deadpan, slamming the pencil down on the table, startling Peter slightly as you push the pencil and paper back to him.

You quickly gather your things, turning to leave the lunch room, though it was nowhere near over, ignoring the calls of your name from Peter.

-

One-sided love is a tortuous experience. It's such a devastating thing knowing that your love is nowhere near as close to be reciprocated. Always filled with such despair. A constant battle between your heart and reality, between your dreams and the harsh truth.

After your "storm out", Peter was quick to text you with a million apologies, which to all of those you hesitantly ignored, and it was a no good feeling, probably the hardest thing you ever had to do.

It wasn't like he had never joked about your feelings towards him. You think its better that way, but sometimes he could go a little too far and you never understood why you allowed him to continue with the humour you never found yourself to laugh at. It was almost like a coping mechanism, coming to terms with the whole ordeal in a way that wouldn't be so heartbreaking.

Maybe the reason Peter only did joke about it was to help you get over him because he can only ever see you as a friend, and he wanted you to see it as well.

[catapparently]

~The Glass Ballerina's Reputation~

Chapter 2 : Gorgeous

CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 3

Summary of Ch1: Flashback for poor Avery. She'd always play games with her mom. One day, when her mom was in the hospital, she gave Avery one last game and sent her on a treasure hunt. In the end, Avery only found Libby's phone number. By the time she made it back, her mother had died. Libby moved in with Avery in her little apartment above her mom's old antique shop and helps her co-manage the store. Nash comes in one day to buy a dagger and hits (nicely) on Libby. Avery angry.

Nash had been stopping by the antique shop more and more often lately. It was painfully obvious that he was here to see Libby. Avery didn’t like him in the slightest; to her, it seemed like he pitied their situation. Every time he stopped by, he bought one of the pricier items with his fancy card. She wasn’t a fool; she knew exactly what he was trying to do. He didn’t need to step in. They were doing just fine. After Avery had contacted her two years ago, Libby moved into the apartment above the little shop with her. She fell in love with all the antiques, and so,  she decided to help her out and co-manage while Avery went to school.

The dainty bell on the door rang. It had been her mother’s pride and joy when it was first installed. The shop had always been her biggest dream ever since she’d been a teenager. Having a bell that rang everytime a customer came in made her mother feel like it was ‘a real shop’. Avery looked up from her history textbook to silently judge whoever had entered the shop this time.  

Nash. Again. Of course, but this time he had company. Two boys followed him closely, both taller than him. All three were carrying cardboard boxes. One of them was about an inch shorter than the other one and had pale blonde hair. If her poker face weren’t perfect, she might have laughed at the sight of him in a fancy, stiff suit in the unbearable Texas weather.

She would have if she wasn’t so focused on whatever he was palming in his pocket. The outline of it faintly resembled that of a gun. Her fingers tightened around the edge of the counter.  

She wasn’t used to feeling fear, completely unfamiliar to that sinking feeling in her chest: the way her heart sped up, her thoughts jumbling and all of her senses hyper aware of everything around her.  

She wasn’t stupid. They clearly had money, and she didn’t even need to have seen Nash’s debit card to know it. It was apparent in the way that the three of them dressed and held themselves, looking at everything like they could own it and control it with a snap of their fingers. The gun could only mean one thing; they were criminals of some sort. Gangsters? No, gangsters didn’t have that much money or elegance.  

Her throat went dry as she recalled the headlines in the newspaper the other day: ‘Mafia territory wars in Texas’. She knew her gut had been right about this Nash guy. Not good for Libby.  

Nash grinned at her and set his box on the counter. 

“Hey, kid. We brought you some old, unique stuff that you could definitely sell for a lot.”  

“Libby’s not here,” she said, trying to calm herself down. If Nash- or whoever he reported to- wanted her or her sister dead, he would have killed her earlier.  

Mafia. Not good. But, if not good, why handsome? His brothers looked like younger versions of those Greek mythology figures in movies.  

She shifted uncomfortably. The blonde one was scrutinizing her face intently. She knew she wasn’t model pretty, just average with her ashy brown hair, but did he really need to look at her like something was wrong with her face? His pale grey eyes were honestly breathtaking, but he sure looked scary like this, stoic and unmoving. 

The other brother, brown-haired, elbowed him. “Cut it out, Gray.” 

Great. One evil-gun-brother identified. ‘Gray’.  

Nash cleared his throat. “Oh, yeah, introductions. Sorry, kid. These are my younger brothers, Grayson and Jameson.” 

They set their boxes on the counter too, and Nash started pulling out objects he brought and showing them to her. “ This is a really old typewriter, a limited edition. A Hammond 1, 1885. You could sell it for a lot. Then there’s-” 

He stopped short, and both he and Grayson turned to look at the other brother who had pulled out a glass princess ballerina from his box.  

“Why are you looking at me like that? We don’t have a use for it anymore, and it would cost a lot.” 

Avery felt her blood boil in her veins. Damn Nash and his obvious savior complex. She and Libby did not need saving. They were fine just the way they were. So what if they lived in a shitty little apartment and could barely afford the heating? They were alive and weren’t starving. He didn’t need to pity them and play charity.  

Jameson flashed a wide smile at her, meeting her eyes with his own striking green ones as he handed her the intricate glasswork. “How about you keep it? I think it suits you rather well.” 

Despite her reservations towards them and their intentions, Avery couldn’t help the slight warmth that rose to her cheeks as she took the piece of glass from him. “They’re dangerous, Avery,” she thought. “Bad guys. One of them has a gun.”  

Grayson stepped forward; leaning over the counter to stare right into her soul, as though ready to call her out on any dishonesty. 

“Say, Miss Grambs, have you ever heard of the name Kaylie Rooney, Morticia Rooney, or Hannah Rooney? Anybody with that last name?” He stared at her, and, even with his emotionless, controlled facade, she could tell that he was suspicious of something, that he definitely had an ulterior motive to ask her that.

Jameson glared at him. “That was my line to ask.” 

Avery ignored him. “How did you know my last name?” She frowned, crossing her arms.  

“I have my sources. Now answer the question.” Grayson retorted.  

“No, I don’t.” 

“No secret inheritances? Maybe your mother or grandmother? Relatives?” 

She wasn’t going to let this conceited stranger with a gun in his pocket boss her around like this. “My family is hardly any of your concern, and, for the record, my mother- Sarah Grambs- is dead, and I’ve never met any relatives.” 

Nash cleared his throat once more, the sound echoing in the silent room. Avery was considering giving him cough syrup as a fuck-off-and-leave-my-sister-alone gift.  

“Sorry about him, kid. There’s someone very important to us who’s missing, and we thought you might have seen something in this shadier part of the neighborhood. Grayson is, um, particularly emotional about it.” 

Lie. She thought that he’d be a better liar than this. She’d watched so many murdery mystery movies, and the handsome mafia guys always lied flawlessly. 

She felt even more insulted now. Not only was he trying to give her and Libby- though mostly Libby- more money by buying random stuff from the store, but now he was insulting their neighborhood, and, by extension, the fact that they couldn’t afford a place in a nicer one. Or Avery was too sensitive. Who knows? She’d become a lot of things in the two years after her mom’s death.  

Taking the lead, he ushered his brothers towards the door, a hand placed on each of their shoulders. Just as he was leaving, he spun around, remembering something.  

“Oh, but if you ever find out something about someone with the last name Rooney, just ask Libby to give ya my phone number, ‘lright? See ya.” 

With that, he walked out, joining his brothers in a sleek black car. Avery stared at them suspiciously through the windows, trying to ignore the fact that Libby was texting Nash, and that Drake would be furious if he ever found out. Jameson slid his hand into his pocket, feeling around for an object. She couldn’t see much from this far, but her eyes caught a metallic glint. A gun? Another weapon? Whatever it was, she was wary of them.  

Once they were gone, she closed up the shop for lunch. She went to the room behind the counter and sat on the worn-out couch, pulling out her old phone and typing “Hawthorne Texas” into the search bar. Nothing on Wikipedia or anything else. Finally, she found an article that read “Son of the head of Hawthorne Mafia, Tobias Hawthorne II, dead in fire on Hawthorne Island”. So her suspicions had been right. They were mafia. She scrolled through the article, and a picture of said Tobias II came up. She stared at it, an unsettling feeling churning in her heart. He looked painfully familiar, like an itch in the depths of your brain when you forget something, but you can’t remember what. She was very sure she’d never seen him before. Had she?

[usermischief]

I still think that post-season 3, Stiles should’ve gotten all sorts of little leftovers from the Nogitsune and been deeply unsettling, mostly for angsty reasons and also I cannot believe that everyone moved on perfectly fine after seeing their friend’s body crumble to dust in front of them and having their possessed friend as an enemy for a while before, but also because there is potential comedy of a visiting wolf/other supernatural person meeting everyone and then meeting Stiles, deeply unsettling and not quite breathing and still paler than he was pre-Nogitsune, playing a game of Go with Kira in a new interest that makes everyone else nauseous to think of the origins of, and going “what the hell is that?” The Beacon Hills gang, who’ve mostly adjusted to this by now, say that’s Stiles, he’s their friend. So there’s a banshee, a bunch of werewolves who apparently do not feel their skin crawl around their friend, maybe some Chimeras depending on if season 5 has happened, and the creepiest person in town, who is normally not doing anything particularly jarring but still makes people uncomfortable for no reason anyone can see. I think it would be a little funny after a while to watch new people meet Stiles and everyone else has either adjusted to this being their reality, did not know Stiles before everything, or is pretending to deal à la fake it til you make it, so they’re all “bro that’s just Stiles, calm down.” But I think there should also be angst throughout still, where they can remember a time when Stiles didn’t elicit this reaction or they think of when they had this reaction to him (Liam thought Stiles was the weird friend of his lacrosse captain who he vaguely recalls went missing once pre-bite, then had to resist the urge to shudder whenever he saw Stiles after his bite until he adjusted)

Oh, they dropped the ball hard with this one. They should've committed to being part "horror" TV show. Stiles could've had the ultimate uncanny valley effect - and it would've been even better if Stiles were aware of it.

But, you know, he tries to act like his normal self - hyper, loud, talks a lot. But then there are these moments where he forgets or doesn't have the energy, so he just doesn't move and he's just staring at them. Everyone is always super unsettled when that happens. His friends know that, technically, Stiles isn't a danger to him, but they can't help but be creeped out by that. People who don't know Stiles simply go "nope" and decide to turn the other way. Other packs are on high alert when the news spread, a human surviving a nogitsune? That doesn't sound right.

So they kind of want to snoop around. They see Stiles, and he looks like a gust of wind might break him apart, but there is something about him that's just not quite right. Nobody can put a finger on it, and they decide to leave them alone. It's better that way.

And Stiles is fully aware of all of that. Of fucking course, he uses it to his advantage. His intuition has always been spot on when it came to people. I mean, he even noticed that something was wrong with Matt. But like, thanks to the nogitsune it's not just his instincts anymore. Chaos, strife, pain. He gets a whiff of anything shady, and he's just... going full Derek, creeping around in the shadows, not even trying to hide that he's stalking them.

Everyone leaves. Nobody wants to fuck around and find out. Beacon Hills has never been this peaceful.

[spooky-dice]

re:thistlesprings transracial adopteeness, I think a lot of it is played for comedy, but so was Fabian’s whole leviathan arc so “child physically cannot easily traverse the space in which they live” also feels like fair game for serious analysis.

I think the house thing might’ve gotten retconned in later seasons, but judging from the ep 3 scene in s1, Wilma and Digby are very good to emotionally connecting with and supporting their child *when* it’s something they’ve also experienced. So it’s like. They’re very determined to make gorgug not feel different than them, to the degree that they ignore accommodations or different needs that she has, and this results in gorgug feeling like he’s different from them and that there’s something wrong with him.

and then there’s also the fact that they could’ve just. Given baby gorgug to someone else? I think they were very very determined to love her and be good parents just as it’s own goal and that kind of drowned out the logistical issues with it and then there’s always the problem with dnd race, which is that they’re treated as species

yeah, i don’t think it’s a negative that fantasy high doesn’t explore this, it’s just something that comes up time to time and i think is interesting to explore for gorgug’s character, esp when so much of his arc is about not fitting in the boxes he’s expected to.

i always interpreted wilma&digby as a sort of comedy parody of well intentioned liberal parents that are hyper aware and very educated (like how they handle sex ed) but feel overwhelming and sometimes miss what’s beyond the surface. they’ve got whole binders on parenting, but they’ve also got big blindspots, mostly surrounding gorgug’s size, and his rage. one of my fav things about fantasy high is how complex the parents are. i do think there’s a lot of love there, but i also know what it feels like to have a white parent who excels in every other category proceed to blunder on race.

the thing you said abt them wanting him to feel the same, in ways that sometimes exaggerates the differences, is very real. equality≠equity. there ARE things that make gorgug different, and he can’t really talk to them abt it if they can’t acknowledge that.

fhjy gorgug was a highlight of the season for me. it really affirmed him as a multifaceted character who struggles to exist within the system. barbarian vs artificer, gentle vs rageful, born to orcs vs raised by gnomes, and then going on to prove that it’s not about picking sides but just existing with both, as a whole.

using fantasy racism as an allegory for racism is always messy, since the exaggeration of differences in species is so built into the dnd system (and tolkien fantasy overall) so it bleeding into actual plays is pretty inevitable. d20 handles it pretty well imo, it’s just one of those things.

[strangunddurm]

Disillusioned

Warnings: food, eating, alcohol consumption, you have breasts, age gap (unspecified how big though but reader is an adult ofc and has a job), cheating, small angst, unhappy relationship, reader is racially ambiguous.

I've been trying really, really hard to get out of my writer's rut but it's been a challenge. This little re-write has helped me a lot creatively :)

Word count: 6.8k

Summary: Aaron Hotchner cannot stop thinking about you, no matter how wrong it may be.

“I know I am but summer to your heart, and not the full four seasons of the year.” ― Edna St. Vincent Millay

You were the beginning of his end. Oh, so lovely and so sweet that keeping away from you was next to impossible. Infidelity came as a biproduct. He didn’t mean to cheat; does anybody set out with the intention of cheating? Falling for you and all that you were was as easy as breathing, entirely natural. It was inevitable. 

The entire situation wasn’t improved by the fact that you were his wife's niece. Haley didn’t deserve this. It was unfair, Aaron knew that it was, but he couldn’t stop himself. You put him in a trance he did not even attempt to break. It had to be acknowledged that the marriage he had with Haley hadn’t been a marriage in quite some time. They had stayed together because they had always been together, not because they still loved or lusted after one another. They had drifted apart long before you. You were not to blame; you were not the reason for their end. Divorce had been looming at the horizon, but they hadn’t quite reached that stage yet when you came into his life.

He tried not to think about that part… Wife. Niece. But it was hard to ignore… You were after all only ever around if was to visit her, “your favourite aunt in the whole, wide world”. Did it make it better that you weren’t related by blood? …That the title of niece and aunt had been voluntarily applied to each upon birth due to the closeness between Haley and your mother. He hoped it did. He told himself over and over again that it did.

The first time he had met you was imprinted on his mind. He would never forget that day — could never — it was one of the best days of his life. You had stepped out onto the train’s platform like a saving grace, absolutely glowing with delight as you tossed your arms around Haley’s neck. You didn’t like flying, preferring the sights offered by a ticking train as it bustled its way along the train tracks. Aaron had never been able to come with whenever Haley went up north to visit you. He had always been too busy with a case or something else that was urgent and “couldn’t wait”. He would forever immensely regret never coming along earlier.

You were never mad, never angry, or upset. You were so easy to have a conversation with; everything interested you and you were curious about all the world had to offer. Nothing was ever boring with you. You were so different from her. You possessed that uncanny ability to find bliss in even the most bitter moments. Of course, it was easy to think that when he only ever met you briefly as Haley helped you get settled into the city. Washington D.C. was your new home and Aaron was certain that he was being blessed by somebody that must've been watching over. How else could it be that you were presented to him like this? A golden opportunity and it was hard to keep his hands to himself. Quick hugs grew to be more and more lingering, hands travelling lower, becoming more inappropriate as you spent more time at their house; babysitting his son, helping his wife.

He didn’t think you would reciprocate any sort of feelings. But then he started to notice the way you would look up at him and press up just a little closer to him whenever you could. At first, he tried to be rational, reasoning that it was just him that was hyper-aware of everything that you did, and therefore overanalysing every single situation. 

But then you brushed up against his front in that absolutely sinful little dress you had been wearing in the Virginia summer heat, and he was sure that you were just as interested in him as he were you, if not even more.

It had been at that quaint little bar on the corner that he tended to frequent together with a few of Haley’s friends whenever there was a small reason for a celebration. Everyone had been so drunk on the energy that was vibrating through the room that it was impossible for them to notice anything that wasn’t themselves.

He had been so nervous when Haley had said that she had invited you. He didn’t want to spend time with you because the feelings that bubbled within him felt like he was betraying his marriage. But then again, he hadn’t asked Haley to invite you, so it wasn’t devious on his part in any way. He knew that it would be different seeing you there compared to in his own home. It would remove that last remaining obstacle that had kept him in control for the past few months,

Aaron was several glasses in, standing at the bar, getting ready to order the next round. You had come with him, eagerly scooting out of the booth after him as you offered to help him carry everyone’s orders back. You were so kind and he couldn’t refuse your help; he didn't want to give you any reason to think that he was pushing you away, but he was so scared of you to come closer.

It was crowded, yes, but it hadn’t been necessary for you to stand so close to him. And it definitely wasn’t necessary for you to press into him the way that you did as you stood in front of him, leaning over the bar as you talked to the bartender. He thought it was an accident at first, causing him to shuffle awkwardly a few paces to the left. But then you sneakily came shuffling after him pressing into him again and he knew it was intentional that time.

Could you feel what you were doing to him? You had to feel the bulge that was beginning to grow in his pants. Your dress was made of such thin material that it was almost see through, and his dress pants – the same ones he had worn to work and hadn’t had time to change out of- did nothing to hide the feeling of his semi hard cock.

Aaron stayed frozen in the same place, not daring to move a muscle for fear that he would scare you away. His mind didn’t even think about the possibility of anyone seeing the two of you, all he could focus on was the feeling of you and the feelings you caused to rush through him. The small taste he had gotten of the feel of you had already made him addicted.

His breath shuddered slightly before he pressed forward ever so lightly, testing your limits. It was such a small movement that it could easily be explained away as him bumping into you if it was needed; it was a bar that they were in, after all, it was custom that people bumped into one another. 

The feeling that fluttered through him when you didn’t shy away was indescribable. Especially when you, after a few moments, pressed back firmly into him, rubbing against him. There was no denying it then, the intentions behind your actions.

Aaron's breath stuttered as he shakily exhaled. His cock was almost fully hard at this point, over-sensitive to even the lightest whisper of a touch. He yearned for you.

His own needs took over, rutting into you as discreetly as he could, craving the friction. The music was loud but the rumble of voices that penetrated the air was even louder. It drowned out the low grunts of pleasure that Aaron couldn’t help but release under his breath. 

Only one of his hands was placed on the bar in front of the two of you, needing some sort of support for fear that his knees would buckle at any moment. The other was just hanging by his side, unsure what to do next. He wanted to touch you; wanted to feel your skin under his finger tips; wanted to drag up the hem of that dress so that he could just slip into your slickness and take you right then and there. But he didn’t — he couldn’t. Not yet. Not there.

Thankfully, the bartender had served the drinks before he could do anything else. The clink of the glasses as they were placed down in front of you pulled Aaron out of his less than clean thoughts so quickly that he took a step back without thinking about it, bumping into a passing patron. He apologised with raised hands before fumbling as he tried to grab as many glasses as he could. He, Aaron Hotchner, was flustered beyond belief. It was so unlike him but not in a bad way. He enjoyed it.

He didn’t dare meet your eyes, but it was impossible to miss the way you smiled up at him in that mirthful way.

Aaron hadn’t seen you for a while after that. It was probably for the best, perhaps it was the universe trying to give him a chance to stop whatever inner turmoil was brewing within him. But absence makes the heart grow fonder, right? Because right now, he was sure that he had never felt for another person what he felt for you. What he once had thought to be lust had merely been the illusion of it. A delusion made to make him believe that what he had been feeling for Haley was driven by anything other than the need to look complete in the eyes of others. The perfect man had a perfect wife by his side which developed into the perfect American family once Jack came along; but what are the perks of being perfect? Aaron had this irresistible urge to do something irrational, to act up and make irreversible mistakes that he would lay awake thinking about at night for weeks on end.

And here you were, strutting down the halls of the Federal Bureau of Investigation’s headquarters, practically begging him to fall in love with you from the way your hips swung. It was enticing, and unfortunately, he wasn't the only one that was entranced by them. You were turning heads left and right as you passed by his colleagues, and it infuriated him like nothing before.

Aaron shifted uncomfortably in his chair as he watched you get closer and closer to his office with the brightest of smiles on your face. You were so focused on him and only him that you didn't even turn your head as one of the younger, nameless, agents whistled teasingly at you. But Aaron heard, and Aaron saw exactly who had been watching you with as much interest as he, himself, had. And in that moment, Aaron decided that he hated all of them.

"Hi!" Were you ever in a bad mood? Aaron had to reflect over it for a moment, you were like a constant ray of sunshine whenever you were around him, but he knew that that wasn't always the case; Haley had informed him of as much. It appeared as if you too were unable to keep a smile from your face whenever the two of you were together.

"What are you doing here?" Aaron straightened his back slightly, subconsciously puffing out his chest just a tiny bit, and clearing his throat. He waved for you to entre and close the door behind you. It wasn't that he wasn't happy to see you, not at all, it was just that he couldn't help himself from growing hard in his slacks whenever he saw you.

"I brought you lunch, a little birdie told me that you usually skip it." You didn't notice his obvious apprehension as he glanced nervously out the window to his office to see if anyone was watching the two of you, or perhaps you just decided to ignore it.

"You didn't have to do that." Aaron tried not appear over-eager as he attempted to sneak a peak inside the bag you had been lugging over your shoulder, filled with whatever you had cooked up. Haley would always brag about your cooking skills to her girlfriends whenever they were over at the house for dinner. Aaron hadn't had the privilege of tasting your food yet, always being pulled away by a new case whenever plans had been made.

"Oh, don't be silly, I wanted to." You lightly tap his shoulder teasingly, sending him another of those smiles that practically made his heart stop for just a few moments. You had moved around his desk as you presented your offering to him, taking every opportunity to be closer to him. Aaron couldn't stop the shy grin that he sent you in return, even if he had wanted to. "Do you want to eat here?" You continued, glancing around the room for the first time, taking in all the paperwork and all the people that were trying, and failing, to inconspicuously watch the conversation you were having through the glass. 

"Let me just clear some of this stuff up." Aaron stood shakily as he shuffled through the piles of papers, making room for the both of you on his cluttered desk. It wasn't exactly the ideal place to be, he wanted you completely alone, away from all these people, but Aaron knew that he wouldn't be able to control himself, and he couldn't risk that, not yet at least.

It was when Aaron had finally insisted on walking you out after lunch that someone couldn’t stifle their curiosity anymore. Of course, it was Morgan that came waltzing up to the two of them, whistling mischievously as he surveyed you with a glint in his eyes.

"Were you trying to sneak her out of here without introducing us to your friend, Hotch?" A grin wider than the Cheshire Cat's made its way across his face, a smile that had broken many hearts previously. Morgan didn't try to hide the way he dragged his eyes up and down your figure. Could he be blamed? You had this air around you that would draw people in, no matter who they were. It drew one in with a promise of the possibility of exhilarating moments, intimately shared between you, them, and the world. It gave Aaron the impression that if you asked, he would do anything for you.

Aaron got so distracted by it that he didn't pay attention to you making nice and introducing yourself to Morgan and the others. He was so preoccupied with worrying about the possibility of other men's attraction to you that he could barely focus as he glowered around the room, meeting the hungry gazes of some of his fellow agents. What if you found somebody else? Somebody better? Somebody who could give you everything that you deserved. Aaron didn't think about the fact that he had his own wife and child at home; a wife who deserved much more than a man who was lusting after her niece.

"Have you been keeping her from us, Boss Man?"

"Huh?" Aaron blinked a couple of times, trying to make his mind focus on what Morgan was saying but it was close to impossible.

"Oh, he can't be blamed," You had obviously taken notice of his distracted state and placed a hand on his shoulder in comfort, squeezing tightly as you let out an infectious laugh. It offered him more comfort than anything ever before.

You had moved closer to Aaron, pushing your arms together more and more. Aaron didn't know whether it was subconsciously done or not, but he welcomed it, nonetheless. Standing next to you was like standing next to the sun, heat radiating off of you in waves of comfort.

The action would be something that would worry him later. With a room full of profilers, somebody was sure to notice the way you made his heart race and palms sweat.

"She's too nice to be around you guys." Aaron muttered gruffly. Morgan laughed as if it was a joke with JJ chiming in, but Aaron was more than half serious as he said it. He didn't like sharing; never did, never would do.

It was even more impossible for Aaron to stop thinking about you after that. That small act of kindness, of bringing him lunch, replaying over and over in his head. He wasn't used to people taking care of him. He had been as independent as one could be since he turned 18, despite having been married for an odd number of years. Haley had never even mentioned the possibility of her bringing him lunch.

Aaron and Haley’s marriage had been on the rocks for a while now; in fact, Aaron could argue that it had been that way since the start. Affection wasn't exactly an active part of their relationship, and they were both more interested in other people than each other. But still, Aaron had never cheated on Haley. He hadn't ever felt the need to, he had always been perfectly contempt in the arrangement that they'd had. He didn't know if Haley had showed him the same respect, it wouldn't surprise him if she hadn't. She was far more unhappy with him and the life that they shared.

He knew that he should've divorced her a long time ago. It had been the right thing to do. He had been meaning to for a while, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. But you... you were brining feelings to the surface which he had ignored for so long, and he didn't know if he could go on doing that for much longer.

You brought along a shift in his marriage to Haley. A shift which he had been too blind to see in the beginning, but which was beginning to become clearer and clearer to him now. The rows which he and Haley would have started becoming more and more heated, more and more frequent. Constant arguing over the smallest of things were a regularity in their daily life and there was barely a cool-down period between each one by now. Before, it had been Haley berating him for all the wrongs he did her as he was loyal to his job. Now, he pushed back as he saw the promise of something happier glittering in the distance.

Maybe that's why he did what he did; why he invited you in when you came knocking on the door the night Haley was out with her sister and Jack had been put to bed. Of course, you weren't there for him, it was her you were seeking on your way home from a late shift at work. But he couldn't resist having a moment alone with you; a moment completely by yourselves without spectators and auditors.

"Haley is out with friends." Aaron wouldn’t be the Unit Chief of the BAU if he had missed the pleased look that flashed across your face as you took in the news whilst you stepped into the house.

"Oh, that's too bad." Was it really? He'd like to think of it as a blessing.

"Can I get you anything?" Aaron scratched the back of his head awkwardly as he fumbled over his words from nerves. It was becoming an automatic reaction, palms becoming clammy and heart roaring in his ears whenever he would see you. You made him feel far younger than his years. 

"I brought a bottle of wine we could share?"

"Wine?"

"I bought it on the way home... work has really been riding me this week so I need it." Riding you. Did you do it on purpose? Say these things to rile him up and make him want to take you that much more? You had to be. You were an absolute minx, fuelling the fruitless fantasies of a dirty old man. But you were a bad girl, weren't you? A bad girl that needed to be punished and he wouldn't mind volunteering himself for the job. Yes, Aaron could imagine it happening in quite a few ways.

You pulled out the bottle of red from the convenience store bag that had 'thank you, thank you, thank you' displayed in red across the front and was tightly grasped in your hand. You wiggled the bottle slightly, trying to tempt him even more, but Aaron didn't need much convincing. In fact, he needed none at all. You had to know that.

The two of you settled into peaceful conversation after Aaron had gotten the bottle opener from the kitchen along with two wine glasses. How is it that you can fall into such easy-going conversations with a person you barely know? It had been that way from the start. Aaron had never felt the pressure and stress that could often accompany conversations with others. He was a confident person, yes, but he, like all others, had often had  to wrack his brain for a topic that was only minutely interesting in an attempt to avoid awkward silence. With you everything was so different, fresh, and new. It made Aaron realise that he had perhaps always settled before; or perhaps saying always was unfair, but a majority of the time, at least. Settled when it came to friends, settled when it came to his job, settled when it came to his wife.

Was it love that he felt for you? Perhaps. After all, you had made Aaron question everything and that included what he had interpreted as love before. How could he possibly ever know what love was again? Did he love you? No, he knew that much, or at least he wasn't in love with you and that was an important distinction. But he loved you for the way that you made him feel, for the way you made him realise that happiness was within his reach. It would be easy for it to develop into even more if only he let go of all his inhibitions. 

Was it him that had moved closer to you? Aaron didn't know, but all of a sudden he realised that your thigh was pressed up against his own and it took everything within him not to reach out and touch you again. He wanted to feel what your supple skin felt like underneath his fingers and what a moan that slipped past your lips would sound like. Aaron needed to know how you would feel with your walls wrapped around his cock as he pumped into you. He needed it like he needed air to breathe; so, was it really his fault when he finally let his arm fall over your shoulders mid-laugh?

You didn't shy away from his touch. Far from it, you welcomed it whole-heartedly, pressing into his side and slinging your outer leg over his lap. There was a brief pause of silence as he surveyed you, breath shakily exhaling as he though his options through. He could either push you away and make up some sort of excuse as to why you would have to leave, or he could pull you even closer and deal with the consequences afterwards.

Planting his hand on your thigh and encouraging you to straddle his lap was the obvious choice for Aaron. It might not have been the right choice, the chivalrous choice, but he would never find himself regretting the decision. Not ever.

You let out a giggle as you got settled, hips pressed flush against one another, hands coming to rest on the backrest of the couch on either side of his head, caging him in as his own rested securely on your hips. He felt like the vulnerable prey under you gaze; you were the predator, watching him in trepidation, ready to pounce and claim what you deemed yours at a moment's notice.

Aaron had to crane his head back to be able to meet your gaze. There was a dangerous and hungry glint in it, hiding behind feigned innocence that could fool anybody, even him. You weren't a complete innocent party; you knew what you wanted, and what you wanted you would get as the final victor in it all.

"You're so pretty." It was a reflection that Aaron had meant to keep to himself, but he feared that he would regret not saying the words now just in case he never got the privilege to say them again.

"You think so?" The grin that weaved its way across your face was far less than bashful, it was full of pride as you knew just what you did to him.

Aaron hummed lowly in reply, continuing to admire you. He wasn't shy as he let his eyes wander to your cleavage that was practically calling his attention as it paraded in front of him.

His hand came up to finger at the neckline, pulling at it to reveal even more of your skin to him. A groan caught in the back of Aaron's throat as he saw the lace of the bra you were wearing; the flesh of your breasts almost spilling out of it as it fought its confinement.

There wasn't even a hint of hesitancy as you brought the garment over your head, flinging it away to an unimportant corner of the room before retaking your position on top of him.

You were glorious; the most beautiful creature he had ever had the pleasure of seeing.

"And what do you think of this?" You asked cheekily, tongue running along the inside of your lips as you tried to not grin too widely.

"Beautiful."

Aaron couldn't hold himself back any longer. He had to know what every inch of you tasted like, even if it was the last thing he ever did.

His left hand, the hand that had been toying with your shirt, travelled even further north to wrap around your neck, finding a home there and pulling you forward gently so that he could finally press his lips roughly against your own.

You tasted just like he had dreamed, soft and sweet and subtle under the traces of wine. There was no stopping him after that; he craved more and more with every low moan of pleasure that escaped you.

Your hips had begun to grind down against his in small waves, seeking any sort of friction to alleviate the throbbing that had been steadily growing between your legs throughout the night.

Aaron rutted his own hips upwards and the sharp jolt caused you to disconnect your lips from his for a brief moment to let out a wanton moan.

"You like that?"

"I love it."

Aaron wanted to make you moan. He wanted to hear you scream and weep and laugh as he made you cum over and over again. He wanted to bury his face between your legs and feast until he was no longer hungry. He wanted to thrust into you without abandonment until he had coaxed a thousand orgasms out of you. He wanted to fill you up and watch as his creamy, white spent leaked out of you and then he wanted to do it all over again and again and again. Aaron was prepared to offer everything he had and more just so that he could see your face furrow as an orgasm caused your body to convulse and chest to heave.

"We shouldn't." Aaron tried to be the mature one in the situation but it was if neither you nor himself had heard him as you both continued grinding down and up against each other, chasing whatever relief that was offered.

You know those moments when you know that you should be doing anything other than what you were doing at that instant but then you cannot possibly even consider doing anything else but? This was one of those moments.

Aaron's lips devoured your own in a frenzy. It was like he could never get enough of you, biting and pulling at your lips, trying to sate the need he had for you in any way that he could. His tongue explored your mouth with a delighted moan, and you grew wetter with every nibble.

Aaron's hands clumsily made quick work on your bra, pulling it from your body eagerly. The swell of your breasts was glorious and he didn't hesitate to disconnect his lips from yours so that he could wrap them around your nipple, giving it the same treatment as he caressed and tugged and nibbled at it.

His actions caused shockwaves of pleasure to run through your body, straight to your core as you pulled on his dark hair as you tried to not lose yourself to the overwhelming pleasure of it all too soon.

Each of you moved as rapidly as the other, pulling at your clothes to undress as rapidly as you could. As you were finally rid of your clothes, Aaron wondered for an instance if he could keep you like this, gloriously nude and practically drunk from the thought of him.

"I’m gonna fuck you right here on the couch, do you want that, sweet girl?" Aaron cooed at you in only his boxers, shirt having been discarded and pants being pushed down to his ankles. His hand caressed your cheek briefly before trailing all the way down to your clit, giving it a quick rub and flick, eliciting another soft whine from you.

"Right in plain view of the door so that if Haley comes home early, she will see exactly what a bad fucking girl you are as you take my cock." You couldn’t help the moan that slipped out, and a grin grew on Aaron’s face as he heard it.

‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You fucking slut.’ Aaron wanted Haley to come home now. He wanted her to watch as he pushed his cock into you whilst he fucked you with a passion that was completely unknown to her. He wanted you to ride him, walls engulfing his thick shaft, his fingers circling your clit as she sat in the chair across from the two of you, mesmerised by the sight of true ecstasy.

“Get up.” Aaron demanded impatiently, tapping your side lightly with a finger. He lifted his hips just high enough so that he could slide his boxers down to join his pants, cock slapping against his stomach as it was exposed to the cold air.

You fell to your knees at the sight of him, hands resting on his thick thighs as you lurched forward, needing to taste him but Aaron stopped you with a hand before you could. He loved seeing you like this, on your knees for him. He fisted his length, spreading the small bead of pre-cum over his tip with a thumb as he came to the top. He was painfully hard, head angrily red, weeping for your mouth.

"There's no need to rush, sweet girl." Aaron chuckled as you pouted. He felt exactly like you did, but he didn't want it all to be over far too quickly. However, he could just take you again after this so what was the point of going slowly?

"Open your mouth."

Of course, you were compliant, eagerly opening your mouth to take him in. He took the thumb that was smeared with pre-cum and brought it to your lips, letting you wrap your lips around it and sucking it into your mouth. He groaned at the sight of you, eyes wide and glossy. Your mouth was hot around him, tongue lapping him clean, and it was impossible to hold out longer after that.

He was quick to grip his hand on the back of your head, guiding you as you took him in your mouth. The pace he set was merciless. He made it clear that he was the one in control as he forced your head down the length of his shaft, making you gag around him as he hit the back of your throat. You were incredible, taking it all in stride as his hips rutted upwards needing to feel you taking him even further. His head fell back against the couch for a brief moment, eyes almost going cross as you hollowed out your cheeks.

"Fuck!" He groaned out. You were watching him from under hooded eyelids, eyes practically glowing with lust and his gaze was intense as he stared back. “I knew you’d love sucking my cock, you dirty girl” He smirked as he praised you.

You moaned around him, a small dollop of drool trailing down your chin. One of your hands moved from his thigh to gently play with his balls and he moaned before giving a final thrust into your mouth and then pushing you back by your shoulder to withdraw himself from you.

There were tears of pleasure trickling down your cheeks and Aaron couldn’t help but smile in satisfaction as you wiped your mouth clean with the back of your hand.

"Come here." Aaron was pumping his fist around his shaft as he watched you stand, legs coming onto either side of him before sitting down. Your breasts were pressed up against his, his cock wedged in between your bodies and pulsing angrily as he felt you rub against him, leaving a wet trail in wake, practically dripping onto him. He planted another kiss on your lips, this one was softer than all the others but still portrayed the rabid need he had for you.

He was admiring you. Taking his sweet time. There was an incredible yearning for you inside of Aaron. It was as if his entire body was buzzing from how horny he was and the pressure in his cock was beginning to become too much for him to take. He needed to be inside of you, to feel your pulsing walls wrapped around him.

You didn't appear to be enjoying his pause of admiration as much as he was. It was obvious that you needed to be touch by the way you had slid your fingers closer to your core, ready to plunge them into yourself to get some sort of relief. But Aaron stopped you with a swat to your ass and a tut. You yelped in the surprise at the stinging feeling.

"I didn’t say that you could touch yourself." Aaron reprimanded. He palmed your ass, kneading your cheeks firmly with both hands.

"You’re so gorgeous." He breathed out shakily, completely enamoured at the sight of you above him. "I’m gonna keep you like this, fucking you and filling you up until you're swollen with me.”

Another whine slipped out of you as you jerked even closer to him, clit rubbing against his shaft in long, slow movements.

"Do you want me?"

"Of course." Aaron had never felt more satisfied than he did in that moment, hearing your reply.

Aaron helped you balance on a foot and knee, coming up higher and spreading wide so that you line the head of his cock up with your entrance. His hand on your hip stopped you from sinking down completely, instead he used his other to gently and slowly drag the thick head of his cock through your folds, coating it in your slickness. Aaron enjoyed torturing you and seeing the twisted look of annoyance that took over your face, it was adorable. There was an obvious look of need that crossed over your face as you bucked your hips, trying to get him to slide into you.

"I don’t know if you deserve this," Aaron mused, sounding far too calm and unaffected by the situation "you’ve been such a bad girl." He started withdrawing himself from you, hands leaving your flesh, but you reacted quickly, grabbing a hold of his wrist and tugging it back to your hip.

"No, no, no, please, Aaron. I’ll be good, I’ll be so good, please just-" It was beautiful the way you pleaded for him. He wouldn't have stopped either way, but Aaron loved seeing you beg, to know that you wanted him as much as he wanted you. It was so painfully obvious that you were ready to do just about anything for his cock.

It was easy to relent, to let you finally sink down onto his massive shaft and let him bury his thick cock to the hilt inside of you. The moan that you let out as you felt him inside of you bounced across the walls until it was cut off by has large palm covering your mouth.

“Jesus Christ, you take me so fucking well, sweetheart, but you have to keep it down” Aaron felt like he was almost in disbelief, elated from the sight of his throbbing cock disappearing into the sweetness that was you, buried deep inside your slick warmth. You felt so good, so perfect, walls tightly gripping every inch of him as they pulsed. You let out a shuddering gasp as he bottomed out.

Aaron didn’t let you adjust, not really, he only allowed you to stop for a few moments, basking in the feeling of your fluttering walls clenching around him before he urged you to pull up and sink back down onto him roughly, bouncing up and down rapidly.

"Feels so- good." You breathed out shakily between urgent thrusts and grinding of hips.

"Yeah?" Aaron cooed as he watched you pull back up, only keeping the very tip of him in before sinking back down. "You like my cock? I’m gonna make you feel so much fucking better."

He planted his feet firmly on the ground and delivered a sharp and precise thrust upwards the next time you came back down.

"Aaron!" You cried out, falling forward as pleasure mixed with the slightest hint of pain bloomed through you. You braised yourself, holding yourself up by the back of the couch as Aaron slid down to get better leverage and began drilling into you at an unrelenting and frenzied pace. His grip on your hips was so incredibly hard as he used it to slam you back against him, but you didn’t care, too lost in the waves that were overtaking you. You had to bury your face in the crook of his neck in an attempt to keep quiet.

All mercy had left Aaron as he forced you down onto him over and over again, small praises escaping his lips every now and then as he met each movement with one of his own. You moaned and whined helplessly, clawing at the fabric of the couch underneath your hands, needing something to hold on to through his ruthless thrusts.

"You feel so good around my cock, sweetheart." He praised in a murmur. "So fucking tight." Aaron grabbed a hold of your arms, pulling you off him and down, pressing your face deeply into the couch and pulling your ass high up in the air before entering you again swiftly and continuing pumping into your sweet cunt. He had you pressed down firmly by the back of your neck, your back arching as the sound of skin slapping and the wet squelches of your sopping wet pussy echoed around the room. It made you even more drenched; the mixture of your pleasure pooling around the base of his cock, running down the inside of your thighs.

One of Aaron’s hands shifted to palm at your ass while the other travelled downward to roll and lightly pinch at your clit while rolling his hips and you writhed against him.

"You’re gonna be a good girl and cum around me." He instructed lowly followed by a sharp slap to your right ass cheek. “Can you do that for me?"

Aaron pushed you down even further into the couch for just a short moment and a deep thrust before you could heed his command, unsheathing himself from you.

He didn’t even have to begin to miss the feeling of you clenched around him before he had wrestled you into the next position he wanted you in with legs bent as far as they would go over your chest and back to the couch so that he could easily drill into you in deep and sharp strokes, but he didn't enter you just yet. He leaned back, admiring you as his hands spread you wide, baring you to him. You had the prettiest pussy he had ever seen, and he was compelled to kiss it. A sweet kiss and a short suckle on your clit that had you crying out from oversensitivity before he sank slowly into you again.

Aaron felt himself slowly losing whatever composure he had left as your muscles began to tighten around him over the coiling tension that was begging to snap. Your walls gripped him tighter and tighter until finally, Aaron watched as your eyes rolled back when reached your peak, walls spasming and drawing him deeper and deeper in. You were seeing stars as your legs shook uncontrollably from the overwhelming feeling.

Aaron couldn’t stop or slow down as he continued pumping into you throughout your convulsing climax. His breaths were coming out in short pants as he praised you, telling you how good you were and how beautiful you looked in that moment.

You reached up, treading your fingers through his hair to pull him down slightly to connect your lips in a kiss. It was soft; a lot softer than any kiss you had shared previously.

"You're so pretty when you cum for me." He murmured after he let you come down for your high for a few moments whilst leaving kisses on your neck. Aaron picked up the pace of his hips once again, balls swinging as they slapped against you every time he pressed himself into you.

He was deliberately rubbing his pelvis flushed against your clit to drive you toward the edge again. He needed to see you fall apart for him again, he craved it. It was easy for Aaron to tell that you were close to the edge once more. Your eyes had began glazing over again, becoming hazy with lust as your legs started to tremble.

"Think you can come again?" He didn't expect a reply from you, Aaron didn't actually think that you were coherent enough at that moment to even begin to form a word with your lips. Instead, you were babbling like a brook with an arm over your mouth to muffle your sounds. Your back arched, jutting out your chest as your second orgasm was steadily building up inside of you.

"Fuck. You look so good fucking gorgeous like this.’ He praised with a wet and sloppy kiss to your lips.

Aaron was so close to coming, but he wasn't finished just yet, surprising you as he flipped you over one last time, planting you on all fours before pushing your front over the arm rest. He didn't care if it wasn't the most comfortable position as he drilled into you, and neither did you, judging by your breathless moans. He needed to be deeper in you. 

"I'm so close." He groaned out, hips starting to stutter, unable to keep up the tempo he had previously kept so easily.

Aaron’s orgasm washed over him with a deep jerk forward, spilling into you with a groan. He continued thrusting into you, albeit at a much more languid pace, milking himself completely dry as he twitched slightly. He didn't want to withdraw from you, but when he finally did, he couldn't help but admire the way he leaked out of you. Now that he knew what you felt like, he would never be able to let you go.

[theghostwife]

Silence (A Sirius Black Character Study)

Pairing: None

Summary: Sirius Black has never been known as a quiet person. However, he wasn't abnormally loud either.

Word Count: 611

Author's Note: So I had this idea about silence being power or rather those that are silent hold the most power and how I could use that for a darker Sirius Black.

Anywho, this was the result.

Warnings: None

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sirius Black has never been known as a quiet person. However, he wasn't abnormally loud either.

He was remembered as a boy whose laugh bounced around the room, whose voice carried whenever he spoke, and whose footsteps echoed down the hallway whenever he walked. It was believed he did that on purpose.

He did.

Sirius Black had a sound to him. One that buzzed under his skin and mingled with his magic, creating a sort of…energy around him. One that people were naturally attuned to. He operated on a frequency that made others hyper-aware of him.

So when this boy was quiet, it was a cause for concern because when Sirius Black went silent, the energy disappeared. The silence that permeated wherever he was became oppressive.

In those moments, anyone who was around him was left unnerved by his lack of sound. Not even his magic reacted, choosing at that moment to become eerily calm.

He always spoke in a deceptively soft voice afterward, and unlike any other time, those around had to strain to hear his words.

Everyone had a different reaction to his silence, but only one truly mattered.

Remus hated the silence. He always found an excuse to leave. He never wanted to believe his friend was a monster, but in those moments, rare as they were, he could not see a difference between his wolf on a full moon and a silent Sirius Black. It unnerved his wolf; it made him believe his friend to be a predator. Something to be eliminated.

Peter hated confrontation of any kind and yet reveled in the drama and excitement. He was torn between anticipation and fear. He latched onto Sirius because Peter always seemed to know who was powerful. He smelled it and sought it out like a rat to cheese, and Sirius Black was powerful. He believed that the silence was greater than the sound; he believed he truly understood where Sirius's power was, and he eagerly waited until he could get the tiniest bit of taste.

When Sirius Black's sound returned, a collective sigh of relief was released. However, the moment it did, people felt a tingle on their skin, their hair stood on end, and shivers went down their spines. It felt as if they were in a horror movie, and yet…it was wrong. The danger had passed. The sound was back; their hyperawareness was back, along with that slight buzz in the air. Everything should have been back to normal, and yet…it took days until that sense of normalcy returned.

James, however, knew Sirius like the back of his hand and believed Sirius to be his twin flame. In those moments of utter quiet, he would simply stand behind his friend, an impassive expression plastered on his face. He knew what was to come—the evisceration and annihilation of whoever earned Sirius's silence. Briefly, very, very briefly, he felt a sliver of pity before he squashed it. Whoever caused his friend to revert had it coming.

Because you see, Sirius Black was born silent. When he was still in the womb, he hardly moved or kicked. If not for his heartbeat, everyone would have thought he died in the womb. While other babies screamed and cried the moment they could, Sirius did not. He made a sound when he wanted to be acknowledged, when he was hungry, or when he needed to be changed. He simply saw no reason to make a sound otherwise until he learned how to utilize it.

James Potter, unlike everyone else at Hogwarts, knew the truth.

It was his sound that was dangerous, not the lack of it.

[mouthfulloftoothpasterry]

You Are The One That I Want

Summary: after cheating on her fiancé with her co-star Y/n has a big decision to make just before opening night. this picks up right where part 1 leaves off so please read it first!

Warnings: swearing, smut, toxic relationships, cheating. If any of those are triggering to you please don’t read! Your mental health comes first and I’ve got plenty of other fics you can read :) Not proof read so lmk if there are typos!!!! Tumblr hates me so the very end line might not be there 😤

WC: 3.5k

“Hi Roman” Y/n fakes a smile while pulling up the strap of her bra up her shoulder while she carefully buttons her thin shirt up and uneasily sits back to have a conversation with her fiancé. “Where are you? I thought you were at the theater.” Y/n glances back at Harry who was sitting with a slight smirk on his face while staying quiet so he could listen in to the conversation. She slaps his thigh, mouthing over at him to stop. She was already nervous enough to talk to her fiancé after she did what she did but Harry’s silent teasing is only making her more nervous. 

“I went out to dinner with some of the cast.” She makes up a quick lie- which wasn’t a complete lie… she is just sugar coating it so she didn’t seem so guilty. She knows what she did is bad- trust her, she really really knows it is bad… but it feels good, it is fun being with someone new, feeling someone new, doing new things. Y/n also knows that she hasn’t  been the best to Roman recently. They haven’t been getting along and she hasn’t said the kindest words, but he hasn’t been the best either, he’s said some harsh words. “You went to dinner?” 

“Yeah, just a few members of the cast. Nothing big, we just wanted to celebrate since opening night is soon.” Suddenly lying came easy to her. With her costar sitting next to her, hyper aware of every sound he makes while he tries to steady his breathing and buttons his pants back up. “I’m at the theater right now.” 

“It’s just some crew and my co-star. Nothing big! I’m dropping off a few crew members and then I’ll be there to meet you.” They say their goodbyes before she clicks the big red button to end the call and slaps her phone on the leather seats. “Never again.” 

There is something in her eyes that tells Harry this won’t be the last time it happens. And he is well aware that he isn’t a good man for seducing a woman soon to be married, but it takes two to tango and he wanted to dance again. 

✰⋆｡:��･*☽:ﾟ･⋆｡✰⋆｡:ﾟ･*☽:ﾟ･⋆｡✰⋆｡:ﾟ☽

Days have passed since the dinner. Y/n can’t help but walk on eggshells around Roman, her job is putting on an act but she slips in real situations. She’s never been a good liar, if she’s confronted with something she has to own up to it, acting was only an on stage occurrence for her and she couldn’t risk it with Roman. 

He was easy to pick up on her odd moods and was rather sensitive to put the blame on himself when she wasn’t anything but happy- it wasn’t because he felt he wasn’t a good partner though, it’s because he wanted a reason to make her feel wrong for experiencing any emotion but happiness. He was a narcissist of some sorts. 

Their relationship was never a healthy one. Sure, Y/n seems like a dick but Roman had a way of manipulating her without even using words. And now she’s resenting Roman for not just the childlike fits and toxic ways, but for not being Harry. Harry was the type she said she hated when growing up. She never wanted an arrogant man who had too much confidence, she thought she wanted a gentle man, the underdog, but she craved the winner, the man who teases her fiancé, and forgot about him the second he got any ounce of success. 

But as quickly as they were together the eggshells she’s been walking on begin to crack. 

Any noise Roman made irritated y/n, any song he sang, any noise he made, anything and everything annoyed her. 

“Just one fucking second, Roman! I literally need one second without your voice and I’d be okay!” y/n yells toward her fiancé while slamming the door behind her. She needed a getaway but it wasn’t like she could skip town when she was constantly rehearsing for the biggest break of her career. “Why don’t you just go to the theater?! Since you’re so happy to leave me everyday.” She sarcastically laughs at him, if only he knew why she was so happy. 

Y/n wanted to feel more guilty about cheating than she really did. She wanted to say she felt like such a horrible fiance, cried over the mistakes she's made, beat herself up over how selfish and stupid she's been, but she hasn't. The only crying she's been doing is the sobs that come out of her mouth when Harry bends her over his vanity in his tiny dressing room after rehearsals, her leather pants still on while he's sweating off the black eyeliner, pushing Danny's preppy look off that he has to wear for the ending scene. 

Harry made her feel better than Roman ever could. She had to tell Roman anytime she wanted the smallest touch, pull dirty talk out of him, but Harry knows everything. He knows how to touch her, how to make her feel good, how to get her dripping with just one look, how to make her thighs shake with only five words. 

With that she grabs her bag and calls a cab before running off to the theater. Hopefully Harry would be there, pacing the floor and whispering his lines like he usually does every time she has a late night theater run. Other than fucking her until her knees give out hes also been great at listening to her rant about Roman, and tonight she was fine with either. 

She opens the heavy, metal door, sighing and walking to her dressing room to drop her bag, grabbing her paper script that has gotten messed up after weeks and weeks of sweaty palms gripping it. Y/n steps out onto the black stage, studying all the marks that cover the floor from years of performing. 

“Hey.” Y/n looks up, met with Harry's piercing green eyes. 

Sighing, She gives him a lazy response. “Hi.” 

He pats the edge of the stage next to him, he sits with his legs dangling off, facing all the chairs that would soon be filled on opening night. “What's wrong?” Y/n plops next to him and starts to debate on telling him about all of her relationship problems, as if she hasn't told him enough already. “Me and Roman are still fighting.” Harry nods while giving her a sympathetic smile, as much as he hated that she wasn't doing well, he always got a little excited when she started ranting to him because he knew in a matter of time he would be deep inside of her. 

“I’m sorry.” He leans closer to her his lips moving closer to her before he kisses her. He shoves his tongue in her mouth, already sighing out in satisfaction before he feels her pull away. Her lips hover his while her features round,her chin starting to quiver. “I- i can't do this.” 

“Why not? I thought you wanted me?” Harry gently pecks her lips, trying to draw her back in, forgetting her problems and letting her engulf herself in him. “I want you but… but-” 

“But you need him.” 

She softly sobs, letting him kiss her lips. “I need to want him, Harry. He's my fiance.” 

Harry sighs, rubbing his dry eyes before leaning back on his hands. “I know. I know more than you, it seems. But every time you get a glimpse of my cock you forget all about him. So what is this?” he gestures between them before slapping his hand back down. “You’re just using me as a fuck because your husband doesnt know how?” She shakes her head, scrambling to her feet while Harry jumps up and walks backstage toward the dressing rooms. “No, Harry.” 

“Then what?! Because every night we see each other you go back and forth. I'm not willing to even be civil with you if you want to play these mind games, Y/n. It’s not fair to me.”

“I’m- I’m not trying to play mind games! I'm just confused. I've only been with Roman and I'm just so confused! He's my safety net, he’s easy, I'm already with him, our parents expect us to get married in a few months, I can't back out now because of this!” Harry shakes his head, gathering his bag together, throwing his stuff in before he slams his dressing room door closed behind him. 

“It’s that outlandish to be with me?! He's your safety net but you come cry about him to me every night?! I can't do this. You've made your choice with those words and it's obviously not me, Y/n” he spits her name out like it was the most poisonous venom coating his tongue. 

She frantically runs after him, swinging the door open and running over to him where he shoves his bag in the car, closing the back door before opening the driver's seat door, ready to climb in. “stop! No. I choose you, okay? I just need time! I need time, Harry. This has all happened so fast. Before I met you I thought I settled for Roman but now everything is completely different and I feel like my life has been flipped upside down!” She cradles his jaw in her hands. “I just need time but I choose you.” 

“You're willing to really leave him?” 

“Yes. Once the show is over I’ll be done with him, for good. I chose you.” 

“Really?” Y/n nods once again, desperate to make him see that he is the one she wants. “Really. I promise. Me and him are over. After the show I’m calling the engagement mom, I’ll tell our family, we will go our separate ways. I promise, Harry. I’m serious. I want you.” His head bows, his jaw going soft in her hands. “I know I come off as an asshole but I do have feelings. I really do want this. I really like you. And honestly, it kinda of fucking hurts my feelings that you chose that douche bag over me. Especially after you told me what he did when he found out you got the part but he didn’t… what a fucking asshole.” Harry shakes his head, letting out a sigh but it’s cut off with Y/n pressing her lips to his, her hand falling to his neck, softly cupping the sensitive skin. 

“So we’re going to do this?” Harry asks, brushing her hair back while pressing another kiss to her lips. “Yeah,” 

“After the show?” 

“After the show.” 

✰⋆｡:ﾟ･*☽:ﾟ･⋆｡✰⋆｡:ﾟ･*☽:ﾟ･⋆｡✰⋆｡:ﾟ☽

It was opening night. 

The crowd was growing and growing and would continue until every seat was eventually packed and no one else was welcomed to watch the show. There were people outside waiting for the end of the show to get a glimpse of the cast and maybe an autograph or a photo. 

“Holy shit. I don’t know if I can do this.” Y/n softly laughs, peeking at the full crowd moment before her and Harry are set to step on stage. “No, you’ve got this. It’s a fucking rush so try to remember what you can.” He grabs her face, pressing his lips only hers before getting in position and waiting for the curtain to rise. 

✰⋆｡:ﾟ･*☽:ﾟ･⋆｡✰⋆｡:ﾟ･*☽:ﾟ･⋆｡✰⋆｡:ﾟ☽

“That was fucking amazing!” Y/n cheers while stripping out of her sandy costume, lazily peeling the shiny black bodysuit off of herself, kicking the heels off while Harry pushes his jock danny costume down, slipping his pink cock out of his baggy pants while plants rushed kisses over y/n shoulder while leaning her over the vanity. He pushes her legs apart with his knee and slips his cock inside of her. “We’ve got to be quick” Harry softly laughs, growing a smirk on his Devilishly handsome face. 

He slides in and out of her tight pussy as quick as his hips allow, breathlessly trying to get them to cum. “You did so good tonight, love. I’ve been hard since the drive-in scene. I hope no one noticed.” He breathlessly chuckles into her ear, his breath splaying over the sensitive skin of her neck, it washes over her like a heat flash but leaves sooner than she would ever want. 

Harry pushes into her so deep the mirror balancing on top of the vanity starts to rattle. He pulls his hand from Y/n's hip, placing it onto the vanity covered in open make up powders and lipstick stains. They both start laughing, but once the banging noise stops their laughs die down. 

Their worried glances catch each other in the mirror, making eye contact while the banging from the other side of the door continues. 

Y/n's voice shakily calls, “what is it?” 

“It's Roman. Let me in.” 

The pair's eyes grow wide but Harry's hips never still or slow, his cock still drilling into her plushy walls, hitting stops that make them feel all warm and fuzzy. “Uh- I’m trying to get all of this m-make up off.” she tries to sound nonchalant, as if her co-star isnt fucking her inches away from her fiance.

Harry’s hand comes to slap around her mouth the second he feels her cunt spasm around his thick cock, knowing soon she's going to be whimpering and falling apart around him. “Can I come in?” Her eyes roll back into her head and she tries her best not to make any noise. “Hello?” Roman says again, growing impatient for an answer. Harry’s eyes grow heavy with lust, his hips snapping uncontrollably while he cums. 

“No! I'm almost out!” 

Harry grows a large smirk, pulling out of her. “You better get dressed and make it quick.” He steps out of the dressing room, but not without shooting her a wink, then greeting Roman and disappearing off to his own dressing room to change into his clothes so he can leave the theater. 

✰⋆｡:ﾟ･*☽:ﾟ･⋆｡✰⋆｡:ﾟ･*☽:ﾟ･⋆｡✰⋆｡:ﾟ☽

Y/n thought Roman would at least bring a flower, congratulate her on finally accomplishing what she has dreamt since she was a little girl, but he was hot on her tail the moment he saw Harry exit her dressing room. She started scrubbing her face with makeup wipes (that were sure to irritate her skin later), fixing her hair, and pulling her panties back up before Roman had a second to burst into the tiny room. 

Y/n tries to talk to fans, sharing the excitement with them while she snaps selfies and signs the playbills they shove out at her, Harry just a few feet ahead of her doing the same, except he doesn't have Roman in his ear lecturing him. 

“Why was he in your room while you were changing, Y/n?” 

“We had to get our makeup and wigs off! They do that for us so they just shoved us both in my dressing room.” she grumbles out her made up excuse, then apologizes to the young girl behind the metal barricade and snaps a photo with her. “He still had his makeup on.” She huffs, shooting him a warning look. “Roman, stop. I just finished opening night and I'm trying to sign playbills. Dont ruin this for me by starting a fight.” Roman softly laughs. “I'm not the one starting a fight. Now why was he in your dressing room?” 

The anger bubbles up inside of her until she can't control it. Her hands angrily push over her hair. She knows in times like this it's best to take a deep breath, and be mindful of your emotions, but after years and years of putting up with all of his mind games and manipulating she can't control it. Y/n is finally happy in a relationship (even if it is behind her fiance's back) and she's not going to let Roman ruin the start of it for her. 

“Because we're fucking! Maybe if you waited ten seconds longer to start banging on the door you wouldn't have seen him leave my dressing room and this whole fight wouldn't have started!” She yells at him over the screaming fans, catching Harry's attention who is only a foot away, in the middle of autographing a hoodie for a fan.  

✰⋆｡:ﾟ･*☽:ﾟ･⋆｡✰⋆｡:ﾟ･*☽:ﾟ･⋆｡✰⋆｡:ﾟ☽

After Y/n’s outburst on opening night she's been staying with Harry. She had a feeling nothing good would come out of going back to the apartment her and roman share. The fight would be blown out of purporting and would get taken way too far. 

“C’mon, love. We've got to get to the theater.” Harry mumbles on Y/n's lips while she plants kisses on his, her arms wrapped around his neck while his arm holding her waist tight to him. “We can be a little late, they might be focused on the rest of the cast.” Harry laughs at her lame attempt of getting him to stay back with her. “Were the stars, baby honey. We have to look the best.” She sighs, pulling away from him and throwing her bag over her shoulder. “Whatever, I guess let's leave.” Harry laughs once more, pulling her into his side and pressing a light kiss on the side of her head. 

“We’ve got to get pretty so we can perform on broadway.” He hums while opening the door to his penthouse, closing the door behind them and beginning their walk to the theater. “Well, you've got to get pretty, anyway. I was just born this gorgeous.” Harry softly jokes and Y/n scrunches her nose at his teasing, flipping him off. 

“Oh, I'm just joking, baby honey. You're too beautiful for this world. He presses another sloppy kiss on her cheek and they are off.” 

✰⋆｡:ﾟ･*☽:ﾟ･⋆｡✰⋆｡:ﾟ･*☽:ﾟ･⋆｡✰⋆｡:ﾟ☽

Y/n and Harry were pretty nervous for the rest of the cast and crews reaction to her and Harry's affair. They didnt know how her relationship was behind the scene and definitely had no place to judge since she knows the industry secrets, girls sleep with directors and guys sleep with married women with three kids just for a mediocre part on a tv series only to end up having three lines the whole season, her case was completely different. She wasn't gaining anything by being with Harry, in fact she was losing a lot. Losing roman wasn't anything she was necessarily upset about in any way. She was happy she got to end that chapter in her life and start a chapter she was happy writing, spending it with someone she loves and someone who loves her exactly the same. But she knew her family would be disappointed with her, she would lose touch with everyone in Roman’s family that she did have a good relationship with. She's also losing a high school sweetheart, which he wasn't good to her and after years of it she wasn't good to him either, but she's losing the dream of marrying a high school sweetheart, but it was worth it to live a happy life that she's wanted. 

It seems like everything is falling into place. She finally got her dream role on broadway, working along with people she would have great friendships with for the rest of her life, along with her lover, she's making memories she will never forget, and she's getting her big start to what seems to be a wonderful acting career since the critic reviews are in for her opening night performance as Sandy Olsson and they have all been nothing short of positive. 

“Do you think they are going to hate us? They probably think i fucked you for the role.” Harry rolls his eyes, “They can fuck off,” he flicks his cigarette onto the concrete behind the building before stomping it out. “Because after all you got the part and everyone loves you as sandy.” She gives him a soft smile, stepping into the door that leads backstage while Harry holds it open. “You're right. Thank you, H.” 

They step into Harry’s dressing room, sitting in the director chairs so they can start the process of getting their hair and makeup done. 

✰⋆｡:ﾟ･*☽:ﾟ･⋆｡✰⋆｡:ﾟ･*☽:ﾟ･⋆｡✰⋆｡:ﾟ☽

“What a fucking rush. Another sold out night on broadway!” Y/n cheers while flopping on Harry's bed, her hair a mess from being pushed under so many different wigs and her skin red from so many different products. He smiles, kissing the top of her head. “You did so good, baby honey. I loved watching you from backstage.”

“You did so good, H! You didn't miss a beat! You got a standing ovation!” Harry cracks a smile, shaking his head. “Oh, so did you. And I couldn't have done this without you, you're the only thing getting me through this. No one talks about how stressful it is.” Y/n leans in for a kiss, her hand pushing into his hair while her tongue slips past his strawberry lips. Harry's hand come up to hold hers, tangling their fingers together

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“Why is your engagement ring on?”

Hiiii! Please like, reblog, and leave feedback :) no taglist bc tumblr hates me and keeps glitching and won’t add the last line so I hope it’s fixed now!

“Y/n?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Why is your engagement ring back on?”

taglist:

@harrysddtittys @hopeyoustaythenight @harrysdimple05 @damnasstyles @waitingroomharry

@swiftmendeshoran @harrysfolklore @msolbesg @thismaydestroyme @stallrry @ayeshathestyles @michellekstyles @lhharrylilpumpkin @kissmyaxe140 @buckymydarlingangel @cherrycolas-things @luvonstyles @puckshitbitch

[itssotragic]

Rhea/Dom/Damian/JD + “you don’t need to earn my affection, not now and not ever.”

pleassseeee 🥹

Rated: T Tags: Insecurity, love confession (sort of), slight allusion to OCD, polyamory, some sweary words.

Prompt List

JD sat alone in the locker room, his hoodie and sweatpants were thrown on over his gear to ward off the chill of the cavernous backstage halls, his fingers tracing carefully over a silver bracelet. It had become a habit over the past few days. Whenever he felt like he was spiraling into another pit of doubt and uncertainty, he'd fish it out of his bag and slip it on, the metal biting briefly into his skin before clipping into place. However small it was, it sat heavy with the weight of meaning—a reminder that, for the first time in a long time, he wasn't doing this alone. And maybe that was what made it feel so daunting.

He'd never been good at gestures. Words came easily enough, most of the time, but when it came to more tangible efforts, he felt like he was trying to decipher a riddle in a language that had been dead for a thousand years. But for something so big that meant so much to all of them, he couldn't help but feel like he needed to do something in return.

But nothing he could think of felt like enough.

Which was why he was hiding in a dimly lit side room while Rhea finished up with press. Usually, he'd be lurking a few feet away, next to Dom, but tonight he'd hung back under the guise of having a headache. It wasn't an outright lie, but he was fairly certain the pain at the back of his skull was less from his head bouncing off the mat earlier and more from the thin shard of stress that had buried itself there. Now, he could hear the rumble of equipment trolleys loading onto trucks and the faint buzz of conversation and laughter shifting through the halls, fading off into the distance, and whatever time he'd been afforded to settle his mind had already elapsed.

He hefted his bag off the bench beside him and yanked the tie out of his hair, stuffing it absent-mindedly into his pocket as he lurched into the hallway. His footsteps echoed faintly off the cement and cinder block, growing slightly more muffled as he rounded into the staging area and towards where the others had gathered, giving a brief nod of acknowledgment as Dom glanced over his shoulder.

There was something in the way Dom smiled at him—the effortless, bright, beaming smile—that made him forget a little bit of that stress. But Dom was easy; it was the other two that left him feeling apprehensive sometimes. Not that they had ever done anything to cause that worry, but he was hyper-aware of the fact that he was a brand new variable being introduced into a situation that had existed, so finely balanced, for over a year. It was going to take time to rid himself of the fear that one wrong move would send him plummeting off the metaphorical scaffolding onto the ground below. Most of the time, he was fine. It didn't sit with him constantly. But once in a while, that shard, that splinter of thought, dug right into the center of his brain and refused to budge, no matter how much logic and reason he tried to apply to force it out.

He slumped against Dom's side, catching the tail end of their conversation. Damian said something in Spanish he only caught half of, and Dom chuckled, wrapping an arm around his waist like it was the most natural thing in the world for him to do.

"We good?" Damian asked, turning his attention to JD. There was something in his expression that was a little softer than usual—a quiet sort of concern he knew not to question. He had an uncanny ability to read people, and it made him wonder if he hadn't already noticed that something was off, or if he might still be able to play it off with the same excuse he'd been using most of the night.

"More or less," he shrugged. "I'm not concussed if that's what you're worried about."

"You checked out?" Damian folded his arms across his chest, attention flitting away for half a second as Rhea grabbed her sweatshirt off the top of her bag and yanked it on over her head.

"Yeah, I stopped by medical after my match. They said I'm fine."

Damian nodded, satisfied enough for now, though it wasn't like they were going to have a conversation about anything more involved than that in the middle of everything. "Alright," he said, "let's roll, then. You guys want to grab something to eat on the way?"

"Always," Dom answered, giving JD one more squeeze before he pulled away, falling in line next to Rhea with a playful bump of his shoulder against hers and the same wide, adoring grin he always had for her.

They made their way out through the arena towards the parking garage, with Damian leading the pack, Rhea and Dom next to each other, and JD trailing just behind. A few people were still milling around, but most had either left already or were on their way out. There were a few nods and waves exchanged on the way—brief passing conversations that faded into an echo and then into nothingness. Then the sharp, hollow beep from the rental van's key fob cut through the relative quiet, lights blinking, and the click of the doors unlocking carried across the nearly empty lot.

"Why don't you sit up front?" Damian said, thumping JD on the shoulder with one hand as he threw his duffel bag on top of everyone else's and slammed the hatch closed.

His eyebrows raised slightly, and he shrugged. "You sure?"

"Yeah. Make the kids sit in the back."

Normally he was one of the kids, but with Finn still on holiday, he assumed he was technically the next in line. No one seemed to mind, or at least not enough to argue about it, so JD slid into the passenger's seat and dragged the seatbelt over his shoulder, clicking it into place before Damian even got the door closed on the other side. He kept his hands pinned between his knees, palms together, watching Damian plug his phone into the aux cord and tick the volume down a few levels. The heat whirred on, and a few clicks later, the seats and steering wheel were warming up as well.

Damian tipped his head back against the headrest, glancing into the rearview mirror. "You want to find somewhere to eat, and I'll punch it into the GPS before we take off?"

Rhea murmured a quick "Yep" and slung herself across the back seat, draped over Dom's lap so he could look at her phone with her while she scrolled through all the restaurants and drive-thrus between here and their hotel. It was a process. Checking hours, checking menus, checking to see how far off their route it was going to take them to get there, and whether there were carry-out options or if they felt up to crowding into a booth. Then, inevitably, they repeated the cycle three or four more times until they found something that had everything they wanted.

But at least the van was warm.

JD settled back in his seat and stretched his legs out, shoving his toes to the end of his sneakers and hooking them under the dashboard to soak up heat from the base vents. Damian thrummed his fingers against the steering wheel, mostly in tempo with the song humming out of the speakers, but there was a stutter to it—something thoughtful, half a beat behind the rest. When, after a few long seconds, he finally dredged up the courage to look over, he found Damian staring straight through him. Disconcertingly precise and deliberate.

"What?" he frowned, holding Damian's gaze even as a flush crept into his cheeks.

Damian shifted, angled himself towards JD, and rested his elbow against the door, his hand still draped over the spoke of the steering wheel. "I'm still wondering what's up with you tonight."

He heaved a sigh and reached up to shove his hair out of his face. "Nothing, really—"

"Bullshit."

"—it's just…" Another sigh, this time more frustrated. He could feel the impulse to answer honestly, but he didn't know why he was fighting it as hard as he was, or why he kept looking for an excuse to cast the truth into the abyss again. He dragged his lower lip through his teeth and thumped his head back against the headrest, eyes closed, that shard shifting a little deeper.

"Look, I don't..." he started again. "I don't know how to do this shit, alright? I'm bad at it; I'm genuinely bad at it." He gestured vaguely with both hands, trying to summon something more than just panic and insecurity from thin air. "The only person I've ever felt right with was Finn, and he's always been here, so we just sort of figured it out together. But now there's you three, and I feel—I'm starting to feel—the same way, and I don't know how to... show that, how to break even. I don't know what I'm doing, and I don't want to be the piece that makes this all fall apart."

It was a hell of a lot more than he'd planned on saying, but once he started, he couldn't stop the words from pouring out of him. By the time he'd caught his breath and lowered his hand from where it was clutching the neckline of his hoodie, Rhea had leaned forward into the space between the seats, her hand resting on his upper arm. Damian reached out too, fingers encircling JD's wrist as his thumb brushed softly over the face of the bracelet—a gesture that carried more than enough intent for him to understand.

"Maybe part of your problem is feeling like you have to break even in the first place," Damian said, his voice softer and gentler now, though it still rang with a tone that suggested this should have been obvious. "It's not about keeping score; you don't have to do anything to earn our affection—not now, not ever. It's there; you've got it." He tapped the bracelet with his thumb, then slid his hand around to trace JD's wrist with his fingertips. "And we're all still figuring it out. Trust me, it was bumpy in a few places when this all started; it still is sometimes. But that's just how things are. If you want it badly enough, you work through it."

JD hesitated for a moment, then slowly turned his hand over, palm-up, watching with a spark of amazement as Damian laced their fingers together and squeezed. It was such a simple gesture—so small, so ordinary—but it carried a weight of its own. It was the first time they'd ever done that, and yet it felt familiar already—the weight of his palm, the calluses on his fingertips. He drew in a slow breath and nodded, then turned his gaze back up towards Damian's face.

He wasn't sure what it was that Damian saw there, but he almost immediately pulled back, flipped the center console up, and reached out to place his hand on the back of JD's neck, dragging him forward with a soft "Goddammit, c'mere, kid." It was awkward; the seatbelt bit into the side of his neck, but he didn't care. His arms slid around Damian's torso, hands clutched in the back of his jacket, and his face buried against his shoulder. His breath shuddered softly, muffled by leather and solid flesh.

"If you need a place to start," Damian said, almost in a whisper, though he was sure both Rhea and Dom could hear it from the back, "start by telling us what you need, when you need it. Don't let it get this bad. We've all got you, and we've all got each other. That's how it works."

"Okay," JD murmured.

Damian pulled back, his hand at JD's jaw, and his head tipped down just enough to look him in the eyes under the veil of errant curls. "Familia, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"And," Rhea added, thrumming her fingers softly against his shoulder, "if you ever feel like you're getting in your own way, come talk to one of us."

"Or all of us," Dom said.

"Or all of us," Rhea agreed.

He nodded and scrubbed hastily at his cheek with the cuff of his sleeve as he sank back in his seat. Anything he might have said was caught behind a lump in his throat, but that sharp prickle of anxiety had vanished from the back of his mind, leaving behind little more than a faint buzz of residual nerves and a warmth he was fairly certain had nothing to do with the heating vents. Damian twisted back into his seat, and Rhea gave his shoulder a quick squeeze before she fell back against Dom, who wrapped his arm around her waist and peered over her shoulder at her phone again.

There was a lull, a trickle of silence. JD sniffed. Damian cleared his throat.

"So are we getting food, or what?" Damian asked.

"If you two would shut the fuck up for ten seconds, I'd have told you that we found a place." Rhea rolled her eyes, overdramatic, but handed her phone over, so Damian could enter the address into the on-screen navigation.

He passed the phone back over his shoulder to her when he was done, shifted the van into gear, and started the winding journey out of the garage. The glitter of streetlamps was a lot more pleasant than the waxy yellow lights and dingy cement, and JD let himself relax a little against the window, keeping the three of them in his peripheral. It wasn't until they stopped at a red light that he felt Damian's hand slide over the armrest, fingers splayed and his palm resting upward. He looked up, meeting Damian's gaze with a smile as he tangled their fingers together again.

[bringthekaos]

MH Viktor being 100× more sensitive because he barely takes his armor off + Jayce being 100× more touch-starved since their fallout to the point that he can't spend a second without at least an inch of his body doing contact with his lover = peak fiction.

Assfadagdaaff I agreeeee. And TBH if/when I write a PotM sequel, this is probably gunna play a huge part.

—not NSFW per se, but suggestive as hell—

For Viktor, he has spent the last 6+ years focusing on his Glorious Evolution™ with little to no time/effort spared on connection or intimacy. And any sort of sexual dalliances he entertained were purely casual. In fact I can see him, on his more bitter days, actively shying away from anything of a romantic nature—if his hookups dared to get too close, he would lance them from his life without a second thought. But this of course has some unintended side effects—namely his sensitivity. He doesn’t have a whole lot of flesh left, but what remains has become hyper-reactive; after all, he’s weaned himself off of gentle touches, of soft caresses. His hookups were only ever rough. And he’s doing his best not to cringe and pull away from Jayce, now that they’re kinda sorta rekindling things, but it’s difficult—he reacts to it like a sudden bee sting. And it’s not because he doesn’t like it, of course he does, especially from Jayce, it’s just that he had associated gentleness, intimacy with that feeling of betrayal. Rewiring his brain is going to take time, and he has to tell Jayce as much, because the first time Viktor cringed and pulled away, Jayce looked at him like he’d ran him through. But Jayce understands, so he does make an effort to go slow, to be careful and intentional with his touches, even though he’s clearly hungry for so much more. And every once in a while, when Jayce is able to coax him into accepting more—a long massage, perhaps—he becomes like putty in Jayce’s hands. His walls just melt away, and Jayce can have him shivering in minutes; he knows all the right places, all the right touches that can make Viktor blue screen. It’s vulnerable, and Viktor isn’t always prepared to be vulnerable, but when he is… Jayce could spend days just soaking up Viktor’s trust (and his moans of pleasure 😈).

And Jayce… Jayce is suffering a bit of separation anxiety. He knows he has to build back up to this, that he can’t just throw himself at Viktor… but just being around him is painful. He can hardly stand it, sharing Viktor’s space without touching him. He has to catch himself, because it’s second nature—resting a hand on Viktor’s shoulder, wrapping an arm around his waist and just holding him close. And he doesn’t want to put the cart before the horse, test Viktor’s boundaries before they’ve even been reestablished. Especially when Viktor reacts like a spooked deer half the time. But they’re both working on it. They’re walking a bit of a tightrope, as things stand, a hazy twilight sort of phase—it’s all so delicate, and they could both stand to be hurt if it all goes wrong. So they’re taking baby steps, even though it’s agonizing a lot of the time. But occasionally, when their respective anxieties can be quelled and they can meet in the middle… it’s paradise. Jayce can cozy up to Viktor, ease him into it, and have him melting in Jayce’s hands in no time. He can have those vents steaming, the metal quaking. And it’s like taking a hit off something strong, for Jayce—touching and being touched by Viktor is a drug to him now, after such a long stint of separation. And yes, sometimes his separation anxiety gets worse after, because he’s had a taste, a hit. He’s working on that too.

They both have a lot to work on, but neither of them has ever shied away from hard work. And they’re both painfully aware that it can never be like it was. There’s too much history, too much pain. But maybe, just maybe, they can forge something new.

[dyk3medown]

hii, if ur comfortable with it, could you write a fic of eddie x fem!reader with any plot but to include

- sadism & masochism

- pain kink

- degradation & praise

- exhibitionism

so sorry if this is a burden to you i just rlly love ur work lol ❤️

danger zone

eddie munson x reader

summary: eddie’s knife against your throat should scare you, but your reaction couldn't be further from fear

warnings: fem reader, smut, slightly dark!eddie, dom/sub dynamics, some degradation + praise, knife play, choking, very bad bdsm etiquette, sort of autassassinophilia but to a very minor extent

a/n: this has been almost finished in my drafts for months, I'm so sorry it took so fucking long lol. unfortunately i didn't fit the exhibitionism in but i hope you enjoy anyways!!

smut under the cut <3

Eddie Munson is not a murderer.

Your mind races as you sit in Steve's car on the way to Reefer Rick's house, Eddie's supposed hideout.

He can't be… right?

You and Eddie knew each other reasonably well, though to call you friends would be a bit of a stretch. Your interactions were mostly composed of short conversations and a quick smile here and there when you passed by in the halls.

You found yourself oddly fascinated with him, and it didn't help that he made you weak in the knees every time you saw him, embarrassingly attracted to every little detail. The first time he had given you a tour of his tattoos, you had almost passed out, the sight of him pulling up his shirt enough to make you light-headed.

Contrary to his reputation, he was really a sweet guy, and you couldn't imagine him hurting someone, let alone killing them.

The car pulls up to a rather run-down house next to the lake, and you take a deep breath before climbing out of the vehicle, following your friends as they search for Eddie.

"Eddie! It's Dustin!" Dustin calls out as you enter a boathouse that's clearly seen better days. "Look, we just wanna talk, okay? No cops, I swear. We just wanna help."

You look around, but much like the main house you checked first, it seems empty. "I guess he's not here, guys."

You hear a slight sound of movement, and then Eddie has you up against the wall before you can even think about reacting, the jagged edge of a broken bottle pressing against your throat as his leg slots between yours. He pins your arms above your head, both wrists held in the hand not holding the makeshift weapon.

You gasp, a noise that's only partially from surprise and sounds more like a moan. With their view of you blocked by his body, your friends are unable to see how you arch unconsciously toward Eddie, pressing forward against him.

As soon as you realize what you're doing, you slam back against the wall, praying that Eddie somehow missed what happened.

Something flickers in Eddie's gaze as you lock eyes, a look of lust that's gone so quickly you're not sure if you imagined it.

You're distantly aware of your friends shouting for Eddie to stop, but the only sounds you can focus on are his ragged breathing and your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.

Eddie's eyebrows raise almost imperceptibly as he moves even closer, the glass digging into your throat as his thigh presses between yours.

You whimper at the feeling, desperately hoping that the others think it's a sound of fear. Trying to keep your breathing shallow, you are keenly aware that with one wrong move, the bottle could draw blood.

Any doubts Eddie might have had about how you were feeling are pushed away as he takes in your reaction, a hint of a smirk on his lips.

"Steve, put down the oar."

Eddie's head turns to look at Dustin, who is trying his best to talk Eddie down, while Steve slowly lowers the oar he had approached you two with.

After a few long moments, Eddie pulls the bottle back, still aimed at your throat but no longer touching your skin. You're hyper-aware of Eddie's thigh still positioned between your legs, shifting slightly underneath you as he talks with the group. Much to your shame, you can feel yourself getting wet, growing increasingly paranoid that Eddie will somehow be able to tell. You inhale sharply as he pushes against you at just the right angle, your hips bucking involuntarily.

You know you shouldn't be so turned on by a threat to your life, but your body seems unaware of that.

Eddie's attention snaps back to you, giving you a knowing look before dropping your wrists and stepping back. You just barely manage not to collapse when he moves away, your knees buckling as Robin rushes up to you. You lean on her for support, your heart still racing as you find somewhere to sit.

You zone out for most of the conversation, listening to Eddie's account of the night of Chrissy's death and then bits and pieces of the explanation of the upside down. You can't help but stare at Eddie, glancing back at him almost immediately every time you force yourself to look elsewhere. Eddie can't seem to keep his eyes off you either, gaze wandering over to you every so often.

You're fully aware of how fucked up it is that your focus is on him during a conversation about a girl's death, but you can't help the less-than-innocent thoughts that keep rising to the surface.

Eventually, after some more conversation, the others agree to go on a supply run, but Dustin insists that someone stay with Eddie just in case.

"I can stay!" You volunteer, internally cringing at how enthusiastic you sound.

"Are you sure? He was a little stabby with you," Robin mimes stabbing someone with a knife.

"It's fine," you assure her, looking over at Eddie.

"I'll be on my best behavior, scout's honor." Eddie holds up three fingers, a wry grin on his face.

"Yeah, alright, fine." Steve rolls his eyes and turns to leave, the rest of the group following behind him.

As you hear the car driving away, you're able to stop pretending like you're focusing on anything but Eddie.

"So uh," you stammer nervously as you stand, trying to think of something to say.

"So uh," Eddie mimics mockingly. "What was all that?"

Your eyes widen. "What do you mean?"

"Don't think I didn't notice the way you were acting earlier." Eddie says, a smirk growing on his face.

You feign nonchalance, pretending to examine your nails. "I don't know what you're taking about."

"Don't play dumb, princess," Eddie's voice lowers, taking on a dark tone that makes you shiver. "Did it turn you on when I pinned you up against the wall? Huh? Did I make you wet when I held that bottle to your pretty little throat?"

Your heart jumps in your throat at his words, and you can't deny the way they're affecting you, a wave of heat going through your body.

"Stop it." Your voice wavers as he stalks towards you. You stumble backward, finding yourself once again with your back against the dark wood of the boathouse.

"Why so shy?" The smirk on Eddie's face turns into a feral grin. "You were so eager before, fucking rutting against my thigh in front of all your friends."

Your chest tightens with a mix of panic and excitement as he invades your space, only a few inches separating you now.

You turn your head to the side to avoid his piercing gaze, squeezing your eyes tightly shut.

"Look at me."

You keep your eyes closed, breath coming in short pants.

"I said, look at me." Eddie grabs your jaw and forces you to face him, your eyes flying open in surprise at the spark of pain that comes with his tight grip.

He takes his hand back and pulls something out of his pocket, flicking it open. He holds it up for you to see, and your breath hitches as a switchblade glints in the light, lips parting in a surprised little oh.

"I think you deserve better than some broken glass, baby," Eddie says as he lifts it to your neck, just barely brushing your skin.

"Eddie," you whimper, "please."

You're not sure if you're asking him to stop or keep going, but Eddie takes it as the latter.

"Don't worry, princess, I'll give you what you need."

Eddie tilts your chin up with the blade's tip, barely brushing his lips against yours.

Throwing all caution to the wind, you grip onto his shirt and pull him into a bruising kiss. He remains still for a moment, clearly surprised by your sudden movement, but quickly begins to kiss you back. There's little finesse in the way his lips move against yours, all technique forgotten in favor of the way he's devouring you.

You whimper as Eddie bites your lip hard enough to draw blood. He swipes his tongue over the wound and groans, grinding his hips forward against you. You can feel how hard he is in his jeans, clearly enjoying this just as much as you.

The knife travels down to the neckline of your shirt, and you gasp as Eddie slices it open, leaving it hanging loosely from your shoulders.

He takes advantage of the newly exposed skin, grabbing onto your chest roughly. Before you can protest, he cuts through your bra as well, stepping back enough to tug the remnants of your clothing down your arms.

Eddie's hands cup your breasts softly as he looks at you almost reverently, a brief moment of gentleness that's quickly gone as the hunger overtakes his gaze.

"God, who knew you'd have such pretty fucking tits?" Eddie tweaks a nipple harshly, chuckling when you cry out. "You like it when I'm rough with you, don't you?"

"Uh huh," you manage to get out, so overwhelmed by what's happening that you're struggling to speak.

One of Eddie's hands trails down to the waistband of your pants, unbuttoning them and unceremoniously shoving his way inside.

"Eddie!" Your back arches as he roughly plunges two fingers inside of you. It's too much all at once, and there's a sharp sting of pain with the pleasure despite how wet you've gotten.

"Fuck, you're dripping baby." Eddie's thumb rolls over your clit, and you spasm around his fingers. "You tried to act all innocent but I knew, god I knew you were just gagging for it."

You reach down and push your remaining clothing down your hips, leaving you completely naked. Hand now unrestricted, Eddie takes full advantage of the new range of motion, fingers thrusting deeper until you can feel the cool metal of his rings trying to push into you.

Eddie suddenly pulls away, leaving you gasping for air. "Get on the table."

You look to see a dusty old table sitting in the corner of the room. "I-"

Eddie cuts you off. "That wasn't a request, (Y/N)."

The look in his eyes leaves no room for protest, and you scramble over to the table. You feel like you should be embarrassed that you're letting him order you around so easily, but the only thing that goes through your mind with every command is yes. Eddie is close behind you and pushes you down the second you reach it, bending you in half over the dusty surface.

"Don't move."

You follow Eddie's instruction, keeping your arms and chest still against the table. You can hear the sound of him unbuckling his belt and a zipper being pulled down, your breath hitching in anticipation.

Eddie wrenches both of your arms behind your back and wraps the belt around your wrists, the soft, worn leather biting with how tightly he binds them. Your shoulders are already starting to ache from the position, and you struggle slightly, trying to get more comfortable. A harsh slap to your ass makes you freeze and cry out.

"I thought I told you not to move," He mocks. "You aren't very good at following instructions, are you, sweetheart?"

"Eddie, please," you whine as you fight to keep yourself still.

"Be a good girl for me," Eddie lines himself up and just barely presses the head of his cock into you, "and beg for it."

Desperation taking over, you have no trouble swallowing your pride and giving him what he wants. "Please, Eddie, please fuck me!"

You muffle a scream as Eddie slams into you in one harsh thrust, wasting no time in setting a brutal pace. With no real prep, the way he's stretching you out is borderline painful, but somehow that makes it even better. You can feel every inch of him so intensely as he fucks into you, splitting you open on his cock.

He grabs your bound wrists and uses them to pull you up, causing you to arch off of the table. The switchblade is in his hand again, and he brings it to rest gently against the base of your throat as he thrusts into you roughly.

"Stay just like that, princess, wouldn't want you to hurt yourself."

He presses the blade just a little harder into your skin, and you whimper as you clench around him, unable to control your reaction.

"God, you're fucking filthy," Eddie moans. "Getting off to me holding a knife to your throat."

You want to hate it, to mentally distance yourself from the depraved acts you're committing, but the ever-present danger of the situation is making you wetter than you've ever been before. Eddie is clearly just as into it as you are, a constant string of moans and curses coming from behind you.

He pulls out suddenly and lets you drop back onto the table as he takes a moment to free your hands, leaving you confused and wanting him back inside you immediately. "Eddie?"

You start to push yourself up with shaking arms, but before you can fully stand, Eddie manhandles you over onto your back, lining himself up again before pushing into you with the same force as before.

"Oh, fuck." You practically sob as he angles his hips up slightly to hit the perfect spot, a new wave of pleasure making you spasm around him.

Eddie leans down, and your eyes flutter shut as he kisses you sloppily, cracking open again when you feel his hand wrap around your throat.

"Eddie!" Your eyes roll back as he slowly increases the pressure, limiting your air supply and suppressing your voice.

"Knew you'd like that. You just want to be good for me, don't you, princess? You'll do whatever I want."

You don't even try to deny it, nodding your head the best you can with your neck restrained. Eddie groans as you put your hand on top of his, encouraging him to push down harder, hips stuttering for a moment before falling back into rhythm.

"So fucking perfect for me." With how tight his grip is, you're quickly growing light-headed, and you're sure there'll be bruises left as remnants of his touch when you're done. "Take it so well."

Eddie's free hand snakes down your body to rub at your clit as his hips snap into yours even harder. At this point, you're sure you'll be walking funny for days, remembering the savage way he took you every time you sit down.

The knot in your stomach tightens as you feel yourself getting close, eyes fluttering closed as the feelings threaten to completely overwhelm you.

"You gonna cum?" Eddie looks down at you, the ever-present hunger gleaming in his eyes. "C'mon baby, wanna feel you cum on my cock."

"Eddie!" His name is the only thing you can say as your back arches, vision going white for a moment as the most intense pleasure you've ever experienced wracks your body.

Eddie's thrusts turn frantic as he desperately chases his release, pounding into you with no consideration for your comfort. You can only lay there and take it, blissed-out and practically boneless as you come down from your high.

Hips stuttering, Eddie comes with a choked-out groan of your name, and you moan softly as he spills inside of you. Eddie leans down to kiss you softly, almost tenderly, a stark contrast to the rough treatment that already has you aching in the best way. He pulls away, and you suppress a whimper as he slips out of you, oversensitivity making you wince. He tucks himself back into his pants, and you suddenly feel very exposed, completely naked, while Eddie is now fully clothed. You sit up, crossing your arms over your chest and hunching over slightly.

"Here." Eddie strips off his shirt and hands it to you. 

"Thanks." You take it gratefully, slipping it over your head. 

Neither of you speaks for a moment, just looking at each other in the fading light streaming through the windows.

"Eddie, I-" You're cut off by the door creaking open, your head snapping towards the sound to watch in horror as your friends make their way in, momentarily unaware of the situation in front of them. 

Steve stops in his tracks as he looks around, gaze flickering from Eddie's shirtless body, to his shirt on your body, to your clothes strewn across the floor. 

"What the fuck?"

taglist:

@greengarsstuff @3ternalreal1ty @eichenhouseproperty @lizzieaurum @themonsterisapineapple @mayvinnie @nobody-stop-me @rues-deaddreams @matildavol6 @lov3ly-3m @ladybird2094 @sunnybunbrainrot @goth-cowgir1 @littletroublegirl444 @throatacid @eddieussy @m1vfs @jacktheotter @misaamaneswifey @netushanaidu @halbrooke @multi-fandomgirlie @livslifeonline @isabel2you @eddiemunsonbby @straycatarang @crawlingbackwardcrawlingforward @meaganjm @hopebaker @fckyou4ever @sambucky8 @annoyednblax @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark @rlvslouis @paola-carter @daisysliv @mrvelscaptains @nonamedauthor @Jenna-jd @plutoneu @ladybug0095 @sunshinevs3 @loversrockband @steddieslut @o1zysreads @chu1in @aurumbelis @molllybc @witchybarb @macimcnaron @Canaryidkkk @simpforevery1 @xelaaa-xo @ihyperfixatetoomuch @calllmeifugetlost @solarrexplosion @asbisexualasitgets @strawberrypuffy @Tottalynotdestiny @mayeddieandstevegf @cursedpixie @theonlyprimrose @asiahalwaysslays @girlwiththerubyslippers @alwayssnivellus @sapphisticxted @SmuttyStrangerFics @dessmxsworld @reggiessexdoll @h-ness1944 @doyoumindifislytherin-1 @multifandomlover10 @ironwhoore @metalchickwhogotthattracc @victoriacourone @muns-trosity

[cibeeorsomeshit]

Trigger Warning 🔞

: gun sex (ao3)

Blitzø thought he heard it wrong. Stolas’ fancy talk and/or horny talk was unintelligible at the best of times, but those were all simple words Blitzø understood but couldn’t comprehend. 

“Shit, you got some suicidal tendencies you haven’t told me?” Blitzø forced himself to stay put and not be backed into a literal corner. “Because then you need a therapist and not a fuck buddy. Shit. Fuck.” Blitzø was still reeling. 

Stolas’ slender talons played with Blitzø’s flintlock pistol, stroking and caressing in the way Blitzø was so familiar with, though usually it was directed at something benign: a pen, the rim of a wine glass, Blitzø’s back. The closest thing to a weapon those hands stroked was Blitzø’ dick and no matter how good he thought he was, his dick wasn’t powerful enough to blow a hole in Stolas’ stomach. 

“How is this different from the bear trap?” Stolas asked, not at all ashamed or embarrassed. Not at all like the times Blitzø sussed out some sort of buried kink Stolas had, usually by doing something unexpected during sex and felt Stolas’ wet hole or mouth clenched tight around him. Like when Blitzø slapped Stolas in the face with his tail for being a brat and Stolas’ whole inside convulsed around his dick and soaked it until Blitzø thought his dick was going to be puffy and wrinkled like he was in the shower for too long (later Stolas told him what was not how dick skin worked so whatever.)

“Because a bear trap is just a glorified bite, you asshole.” A bite that broke his fucking arm, but Stolas, the freak that he was, hadn’t allowed Blitzø to stop and pleaded to keep being fucked while his blood soaked through the mattress. 

“You know it won’t kill me, right, Blitzy?” 

So what? Blitzø wanted to scream at him. With where Stolas was planning on shoving the pistol, if it did go off Stolas wouldn’t be able to walk it off like he did after most of their session. 

Stolas brought the pistol up to his face, pressed his mouth to it, kissed up the length and swirled his tongue around the opening, gunpowder residue sticking to the pink flesh. “I know you like this weapon, darling, and anything you like I cannot help find interesting.”

“You’re gonna shove a horse up your hole next?” 

Stolas smiled, cheek pressed against the wet metal of the gun. “Well, you do have lots of horses to put inside of me.”

“Your pussy will probably break them.”

“Awww…” Stolas cooed like Blitzø just paid him a compliment (which, okay, it kind of was.) “One idea at a time, darling. Are you amenable to mine?”

“Why now?” Blitzø snatched the pistol back, and Stolas let him easily enough. “You could have found someone to shove all sorts of stuff  into you, including firearms.”

Stolas looked genuinely surprised at Blitzø’s inquiry. “Why would I ask anyone else?” he replied. “I trust you.” 

Blitzø put the pistol down. 

“What?”

“Of course I would not force you to participate if you do not wish to.” Stolas sunk back into the numerous plush pillows on his bed, waist so small it drove Blitzø fucking crazy when its all stretched out like this. “But I would not go look for someone else for this particular fantasy.”

“Because,” because Blitzø just had to confirm. “You trust me?” 

“...yes?” Stolas was looking more confused by the second. “Are…you alright, Blitzø? We really don’t have to —”

The golden pistol, already half-cocked, pressed against Stolas’ chin, forcing a surprised exhale out of him. 

“You’ll only let me do this, huh, Stolas?” Blitzø whispered, low enough that it would have been inaudible to anyone else, but Stolas’ hearing picked it up perfectly. 

“Yes,” Stolas said, holding Blitzø’s gaze. He was hyper aware of the muzzle, first firmly at his jaw, then slowly moving down to his neck, his chest, paused there, right over his heart. 

Sex between them was usually loud enough to drive away most of Stolas’ staff in the entire wing. Stolas loved to scream and Blitzø loved making him scream. Even when they were not actively fucking, they were loud —  laughing or swearing or talking. Quiet was not part of their conscious routine.

Everything was quiet now. Even their breathing. Even — “Your heartbeat,” Blitzø said. 

“Hm?” Stolas spread his legs and caged Blitzø between them.

“It’s slow.” Blitzø clarified.

“Nothing to be nervous about.”

The pistol moved further down, teasing Stolas’ opening, playing with the folds there. Stolas widened his legs and sighed. 

“Fuck,” Blitzø said. 

“Preferably,” Stolas replied. 

Blitzø dipped the tip of the pistol inside of Stolas, glancing up to check on him. But Stolas had his eyes closed, mouth opened slightly, finally breathing a little harder. Blitzø’s free hand pressed against Stolas’ chest, feeling the rhythm there. Still frighteningly calm. 

“Is the gun fully cocked?” Stolas asked.

“Fuck,” Blitzø repeated, and did as he was told. He moved slowly, all the way until it could no longer fit, with the frizzen blocking the way. 

He fucked Stolas slowly. The pistol glistened with slick and cum and Blitzø was pretty sure the gunpowder was now all wet and useless anyway. Stolas hummed happily, like this was a half-asleep lovemaking where being close was more important than pleasure. Blitzø trembled from how hard he was controlling the weapon he normally paid no mind to where the bullet would end up. He carefully moved his finger. Stolas must have felt it.

“Is your finger on the trigger?” 

“Yeah,” Blitzø said roughly.

“Yesssss…” Stolas hissed, yet all of him unfurled, melting into a puddle. His orgasm was as quiet as everything else, leaking onto Blitzø’s gun, his hand, his thighs. 

Still laying flat on the bed, Stolas curled around Blitzø so they were a snug little ball in the middle of the mattress. “Sorry for ruining your gun,” Stolas said. 

“Yeah.” Blitzø was so speechless. He didn’t even cum, but there was fire licking every part of him, so different from arousal, and nothing like the surge of power from taking a life. Blitzø was boneless from it, and couldn’t tell Stolas that this had just become his favorite gun. 

[lykaios2]

how aboutttt hcs of mikey comforting reader who is usually super positive n hyper and never really has bad days?? :,)

or any sort of mikey comfort <3 OHH AND towards the end when reader cheers up, make sure they give mikey lots of affection and gratitude <3<3<3 please :)

uhhh

so I said screw hcs and did a full blown fanfic

also this can be taken as platonic or romantic!

hope you enjoy! ❤️

Not Like Yourself

mikey x reader, hurt(?)/comfort

You and Mikey were like peas in a pod. The day you met, you immediately hit it off. Your energies matched. You two seemed to bounce off of each other. Always side by side, the best of companions. You were crazy energetic, insanely creative, and always had a positive attitude. Always going on crazy adventures, doing whatever insane thing you guys could think up.

So one day when he was not greeted by you with a hug that would gave nearly toppled him, he was a little confused. Of course, he still ran over and gave you a hug. As he did, he lifted you up into the air a little.

"Hey, y/n!"

He was so cheerful. And normally so were you. But what happened? You just...weren't feeling it today. The spark that normally filled you to the brim with energy was gone. You put on a smile so Mikey wouldn't be worried, and returned his greeting.

"Hi, Mikey. How's it going?"

"I'm doing great, now that you're here!"

He set you down, and took your arm to lead you to the kitchen. As you sat down, he started pulling things out of the cupboards and the refrigerator. He whipped together a quick snack for himself and you, and slid you over your plate.

"Eat up! We've got a big day today. I found a new place for us to explore, and it's a big one. I'll pack us some more snacks while you eat."

You slowly ate your food, all the while staring off into space. It wasn't that you were bored. In fact, your interest had been piqued when Mikey mentioned a new spot to explore, but it wasn’t showing on your face. Your mind was other places. Why were you so...out of it? It was a weird feeling, one that was unfamiliar, almost uncomfortable.

"Here's your snacks. You ready to go?...y/n?"

"Oh, sorry...thank you."

Mikey was about to start walking out, but he looked at your with concern on his face. He'd already noticed your lack of energy, which wasn't too unusual for you. It had happened a few times in the past, and by itself it didn't mean anything was wrong. But now he took note of you spacing out. Of course, being emotionally aware as he was, he knew something was up.

He sat back down. You had gone back to staring off into who knows where. He grabbed your hand from across the table and gave it a little squeeze. You looked back at him and smiled again, but noticed his worried demeanor.

"You okay?"

"Mhm...but I'm worried about you. You seem a little...out of it."

"Yeah...I guess you could say that."

You both sat in silence for a little while longer. You didn't know what to say, yet Mikey was still waiting for you to speak. He put his head in his free hand while he waited, but before long he spoke up again.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

You sighed before responding.

"I don't know what to say...I just don't have energy today. Something’s got me down. I dont know what happened, but my mood isn't the best today. I don't like it."

"Yeah, I get that. And that's okay. Sometimes it happens. It's just part of life."

He smiled at you. It was infectious now, as you felt a smile of your own come across your face.

"Tell you what...we can take a little relax day today. We don't have to go anywhere or do anything crazy. Just...have a calm day, until you feel better. Does that sound good?"

You nodded, much to his enjoyment. He scooped you up in another big hug before apologizing, reminding himself that it was a calm day today. You laughed and told him it was okay.

"Come on, let's go make some tea, why don't we?"

After he made some tea for the both of you, he brought lots of blankets and pillows into the living room. He grabbed all of his arts and crafts supplies, and all of his movies, and and all of his comics. Every indoor activity he could think of, he brought into the living room. You two spent hours together, just like you usually did, but only this time it was in the safety of one's home.

It was getting late. The two of you were still in the living room, alone. The TV was on, playing your favorite movie. You had finished all the snacks and done lots of things, and it was now time to wind down. You and Mikey were sitting next to each other, enjoying the movie.

"Hey...Mikey?"

"Yeah? What's up?"

"Thank you...for today. I don't know what was wrong earlier, but it's not so bad now. I feel a lot better."

Mikey smiled and said it was no problem. He was just glad to see you happy. As he turned back to the movie, he felt your head rest on his shoulder. He appeared to take take no note of it at first, but then he lifted his arm and wrapped it around you, pulling you closer and resting his head on yours.

As you watched the movie, you could slowly feel yourself falling into unconscious. Mikey could feel it too, as your body grew limp as you leaned against him. He grabbed a pillow and laid it in his lap, instructing you to lay there instead. As you moved your head, you held his arm close to you, not wanting to let go as you finally fell asleep.