#that and the fuckin. the way the text starts moving around the page when shit is going down like up down squash stretch upside down flip it

[birdiesbirdies]

:3c do you have any book refs for the new year???

Do I!!

So there’s this book by Mark Z. Danielewski with a companion album (Haunted) written by his sister (Poe) about an essay written by a weird blind old man (Zampanò) (deceased under mysterious circumstances) on the visual stylings and storytelling techniques of a documentary that doesn’t exist (The Navidson Record)about a fucked up house that was found by the world’s most mentally ill guy (ily Johnny Truant…) and ull never guess what happens to him next…

[holeynightsky]

overthinking albums: midnights pt. 1

welcome back, lovelies! today's Long Rant is brought to you by all the beautiful RWBY art i've been seeing as we get hyped about vol9.

today, we'll be thinking way too hard about the lyrics and general vibe checks of taylor swift's midnights album, and how each song was specifically written with a RWBY character/relationship/arc in mind. this is going to be split into two parts, because i, ahem, hit the character limit for a text block post on tumblr.

(what's that? sorry, i can't hear you, but if you're suggesting the album was not in fact written about a niche animated show, i'm replying with shhhhhhhhh.)

the album can be found here on spotify, if you're interested in listening along.

lavender haze - okay guys we gotta start with a bumbleby song. and this one--whoo boy. are you kidding? hell yeah! you don't really read into / my melancholia.... i just wanna stay in that / lavender haze. i mean come on. can't you just see blake singing about yang? staring into her eyes? the epitome of sapphic love??? also, obsessed with the way adam didn't scare yang off in conjunction with the line they're bringing up my history / but you weren't even listening. i know it's not a one-for-one match but i'm gonna die on that hill.

maroon - bear with me for this pain, but: a jaune-grieving-pyrrha song. the visual of the two of them over time, all those shades of red... the tension just before and during the vytal festival arc (how the hell did we lose sight of us again? / sobbing with your head in your hands / ain't that the way shit always ends).... jaune in the forest during vol4 (and i wake with your memory over me / that's a real fuckin' legacy)... him standing in front of her statue, finally putting his ghosts to rest (the rust that grew between telephones / the lips i used to call home / so scarlet it was maroon)

anti-hero - a hot take, but i feel like this is a song for oz/oscar/ozma. i have this thing where i get older but just never wiser is him struggling under the weight of everything he knows and all the ways he's fucking it up anyway. not to mention this whole thing: i end up in crises / tale as old as time / i wake up screaming from dreaming / one day i'll watch as you're leaving / 'cause you got tired of my scheming / for the last time. i--i don't even think i need to explain this one? are we good to move on?

snow on the beach - a qrow/clover song. you might think this is qrow thinking about clover, because of lines like you wanting me / tonight feels impossible--but ohoho, slow down there my friend. i will die on my headcanon hill that clover was just as traumatized as qrow, just with different coping mechanisms, and that he was absolutely whipped within hours of meeting him. plus, qrow just deserves at least one (1) nice thing--and don't you want to see him getting all flustered and happy when someone else looks at him and thinks of the lines i searched 'aurora borealis green' / i've never seen / someone lit from within / blurring out my periphery? akjsdbfkasjfh and the pause after can this be a real thing, can it? with their hands gently brushing.... hello? my heart?

you're on your own, kid - yang. yang alllllll the way. am i maybe projecting the oldest-female-child-syndrome? yep. but i mean--oh my god how could it not be??? i didn't choose this town / i dream of getting out / there's just one who could make me stay doesn't have to be romantic. that can be her thinking of ruby. my friends from home don't know what to say / i looked around in a blood-soaked gown / and i saw something they can't take away is living at the dorms in vale and leading up to the fall of beacon, 'cause there were pages turned with the bridges burned / everything you lose is a step you take is her recovering her confidence in vols 4 & 5. you're on your own, kid / yeah, you can face this / you're on your own, kid / you always have been is that moment where she steps past raven and ventures into the spring portal alone...... i'm simply not okay.

midnight rain - raven and ty. we were all thinking it, right? i mean. i mean. how could it be anything else? my town was a wasteland / ... / my boy was a montage / a slow-motion, love potion / ... / i broke his heart 'cause he was nice. the way she left but didn't feel guilt that we really see at any point in the show? he wanted it comfortable / i wanted that pain / he wanted a bride / i was making my own name pretty much sums up that dynamic. ty is a himbo and i love him but as soon as we met raven i was like "oh, obviously that wasn't gonna work." also, i peered through a window / a deep portal, time travel / all the love we unravel / and the life i gave away is so perfectly on the nose it's not even funny.

question...? - blake and ilia!! blake! and! ilia! specifically, ilia being bitter as she watches blake move through various relationships with various levels of health, and never once look at her. good girl, sad boy / big city, wrong choices / we had one thing going on / i swear that it was something / 'cause i don't remember who i was before you. or, or!! she was on your mind / with some dickhead guy / ... / it was one drink after a another / fucking politics and gender roles / and you're not sure and i don't know / got swept away in the gray. i simply cannot. i shall pass away before i ever make my peace with this level of pining.

stay tuned for part two, coming soon! <3

[scarlettriot]

Stood Up

You (Y/N) get stood up from a date and Kaminari decides to do something about it.

Pairing: Kaminari/F!Reader

Contains: Fluff, Flirty Denki, Established BakuSquad Friendship

Warnings: 18+ Below the cut, Minors DNI! Swearing, Electro-Stim, Overstimulation, use of pet names (cuddle bug & cutie), oral (F receiving), consensual recording

A/N: Well, here we are with the third in my Stood Up series. There is also Bakugo & Kirishima if you're interested. This one took me way too long and it's also my first time writing Kaminari at length. I hope you all like it :)

Word Count Starting Below: 2,461

You slipped your foot into the silver heels you had picked out. Something a little fancier since this was a first date after all and you wanted to make a lasting impression. Not only that but this was your first first date in a while. Being a Pro Hero made life busy and dating difficult.

Practically the entire day leading up to this very moment revolved around you either getting ready or babbling with excitement to your closest friends.

An alert chimed on your phone with a text from your date, a smile sliding onto your face expecting to read some message about how they were on their way and that they'd see you soon, but that wasn't what you were met with.

Instead, it was a screenshot of your Instagram page, multiple of them actually, all of you and the ridiculous photos you took with your friends but mostly with one Denki Kaminari. The most recent of which was from a tea shop he met you at just earlier that day so you could show him the shoes for your date.

The message below was simple and more than enough to leave a sour taste in your mouth, this isn't what I want to see when I'm supposed to be taking you out tonight. What, one date a day isn't enough? Why are you even dating? Does your blonde boyfriend know?

You giggled at what they were implying, quick to explain how these were all your friends, they had been since high school! They are people you spent what little free time you had with. Especially Denki, your best friend since you were 15!

That joy you felt started dissipating within the next few messages. You hadn't even had a first date and they were already jealous, and that was something you didn't have room for in your life. So, you slipped the heels off your feet and put them directly back in the box to return when you had the time. Tight black jeans and fitted top were exchanged with a hoodie and sweats although your makeup and hair stayed done, you didn't have the energy to undo your hard work.

Instead, you slid back into your computer chair, your headset snuggly back on your ears and before you notified everyone you were back online, you took a moment listening to the chatter of your friends.

"Shitty Hair! Fuckin' pay attention!"

"Yeah, man! We're getting slaughtered over here!"

"Less yelling at Kiri! More shooty shooty!"

"All of you are hopeless..."

Eijiro chuckled out an apology that was accompanied by a lighter giggle also coming from his mic. "Think this is gonna be my last round for a bit, guys."

"You're so fuckin' whipped." Bakugo scoffed, before screaming profanities.

"Is it whipped if I'm the one who's wanting to get her into bed though?"

You clicked your mic back on then. "Hey, remember last week when Kats forgot his push to talk so we all heard him getting head and we party whipped because someone couldn't focus?"

"You better shut the hell up right fucking now!"

Everyone else roared with laughter. "Yeah! At least I have the decency to mute myself!"

"Hey, wait a sec, why are you online, Y/N!" Denki noted, "You should have already left!"

You screenshot your messages to the group chat because it was far easier than just explaining the ordeal.

"Cute shoes." Eijiro and Kyoka commented at the same time.

There was a lull as their game ended and the messages were read.

"Ya don't need 'em if they're gonna have their head so far up their ass like this."

"I agree." Hanta chimed in. "They're not worth your time."

"Still, sorry they turned out to be a shit." You could hear the frown on Kyoka's face, "I know how excited you were."

"Right, you doin' okay, Y/N? I can stick around and we can all shoot some things!"

"Thanks, Kiri but I'll be just fine! Go spend time with your girl!"

One by one, everyone signed off. You pulled up Spotify and Stardew Valley, something of a comfort for you to get lost in for the rest of the night.

Less than an hour later, you noticed your phone lighting up with your best friend's familiar smiling face. "What's up, Denki?"

"Open your door! I have my hands full and don't wanna put everything down to get my key!"

You sprang from your desk and rushed to your door. Sure enough, on the other side was Denki with bags in both hands and his phone tucked between his ear and shoulder. You grabbed it and a bag before he had a chance to drop anything like the klutz he was. "What's with all this?"

"I feel bad."

"Why? You didn't stand me up?"

He fiddled with the edge of a paper bag. "Yeah, but, we both read those messages and no one said anything but they didn't just call our group out, they called us out.

"Denks, it doesn't matter to me-"

"But, it does to me! You were so excited about this and I got in the way, unknowingly but, still! So, I gotta make it up to you now!"

He pulled out take-out boxes from your favorite restaurant. Two bottles of your favorite wine. Your top three favorite movies and video games, and a board game you both had been meaning to try. "I mean, if they think I'm your boyfriend I kinda gotta live up to the hype, right?"

You really wanted to insist that none of this was necessary. That just because some person that neither of you really knew that well, assumed something about your relationship that didn't mean he had to blame himself for it.

But, you had to admit, this was really sweet. It shouldn't have come as a surprise to you that he knew everything you liked but it was nice. Instead of sitting across from a stranger, making awkward small talk, and trying to learn about one another, you were barefoot in your kitchen, laughing with your best friend while he plated dinner and you poured the wine.

Formalities were out the window. Both you and Denki were eating dinner in your living room, laughing and drinking just as you'd done a million times before. You snapped a photo of the delicious food on paper plates, toasting good times with your cheap wine, ready to post them to your Instagram.

"Gonna make them more jealous..."

"I think they made it pretty clear they don't want to see me so why should I care?"

He shrugged. "I just thought they might, you know, come to their senses that they obviously lost."

"I don't really care either way." You wandered back into your kitchen, putting away the leftovers, "They can forget I exist or they can stalk my page like a creep. If someones' gonna try and tell me I can't be friends with my friends or just not listen to me, then I don't want them in my life. No matter how good-looking they are."

Denki watched you from the sofa, a bit of a lopsided grin on his face that had butterflies taking flight in your stomach. "What?" Laughing to hide the bit of a crush you always had on the man. It was unavoidable you told yourself. His personality was infectious and had 15 year old you head over heels.

He pushed back bright blonde hair back off his forehead and just shook his head. "Nothin'. Uh, what's next? Video game, board game, or movie?"

You peaked on the counter at the options. "Well, we probably should have checked this but the board game needs at least four people to play... guess we'll have to save that for our next game night. Is a movie okay?"

Of course, it was.

You brought over the DVD with a refill of wine and he pulled a blanket down off the back of your sofa.

It really didn't take long, just fifteen minutes or so, and you were curled up into Denki's side. You'd make grabby hands for your wine glass and he'd pass it over with that damn grin again.

And not long after that, he'd pulled out his phone, angling it to take a picture of the two of you. "What are you doing?" You could see him on his own Instagram, tagging you, with the caption, Check out my cute cuddle bug.

"I thought you didn't want to make them more jealous."

"I decided I don't care either. You're mine tonight, their loss. And since you're mine tonight, I get bragging rights." He snapped another quick picture of you rolling your eyes at him, and then he kept snapping them.

"Denki! Why!"

"Because you're cute, cuddle bug! I like having all the pictures of you that I can!"

Even as you tackled him back down on the sofa, pinning him below you, he still managed a photo. "Bet if I post this one, they'll really get the wrong idea."

You could have moved. You were the one on top of him and you had his arms above his head. You had the power here and yet you just lingered above him.

"Y/N? Not that I'm one to complain about having a beautiful person such as yourself pinning me down, like, it's kinda hot, but..." Looking down into half-lidded golden eyes, you wondered why you had to become best friends with such a damn flirt! "Are you gonna take advantage of this situation we're in or are we just gonna keep dancing around this for another decade or so?"

You couldn't have heard him right? No... no this was your brain playing tricks on you because he certainly hadn't had that much wine tonight. You sat upright on his lap. "Another decade then, Y/N?"

"You- ha- you should stop that, Denki."

He leaned up, moving his arms around you, "Gimme a good reason to and I will."

You didn't have one. And not just because you've been in love with him for ten years but also because he was your best friend. The only reason to not go through with it was the possibility of losing your friendship if something bad were to happen but, you really didn't think anything would.

Denki might have been a serial flirt but he was surprisingly loyal in all the relationships he'd been in, not that there had been all that many serious ones.

"I'm not hearing anything." He teased, his face getting closer to yours. You could count each and every one of the faint freckles that littered the balls of his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. "But, I promise, if you tell me no, I'll stop, won't push this any further."

This whole thing seemed like a frickin' whirlwind, happening faster than your brain could really process the situation but you didn't want it to stop either. You wanted to take it further, didn't want to say no.

Which was why you coiled your arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. There was that small little buzz of electricity that tickled your lips when he'd kiss your nose or cheeks that was now playing on his lips, on his tongue when you welcomed him in.

He leaned back again, pulling you with him until you were both a pile of needy hands and breathy pleas. Everywhere his hands roamed you felt that faint trail of shock against your skin, making the little hairs on your body stand on end.

Clothes were shed, tossed haphazardly around your living room, both of you pausing to laugh when Denki managed to land your hoodie over a lamp. His attention was drawn back to you quickly though, still perched on top of him but now he had your chest on full display since you'd forgone a bra when your date canceled.

Electrifying tongue twirled around your nipples, sensitive normally, now it felt like you knew what it was like when he fried his damn brain. He was eager, relentless even, pulling and sucking, another hand giving your other breast a similar treatment. He had you so focused that you let out a broken moan when slender fingers found their way into your panties.

"Fuckin' hell, Denki."

The bastard winked up at you, nipple still between his lips and before you could retort, he sent another small jolt through you.

You were blatantly grinding down on his hand, reaching behind you, you found him completely solid, barely being contained in the tight black boxers he wore. You had enough sense to tug them down and wrap your hand around him making his teeth sink into your soft flesh, whining when you stroked him.

"Y/N..." He whimpered, his hand momentarily distracted from his ministrations gave you enough time to shift in his lap to scoot forward putting his cock in front of you. In one swift motion, you had his length between your slick. "Oh fuck, cutie!" Golden eyes were squeezed shut while you moved along him, feeling that pleasant curve he had, you could only imagine what it was gonna be like to have him inside you.

"You're being a little tease, ma-makes me wanna do all sorts of things to y-you."

He was kissing your neck, your chest, shoulders, and arms, anywhere on you that he could reach. His hips bucking up into you, just trying to hit that perfect angle.

Strength and agility were something most overlooked when it came to Denki Kaminari but when the man wanted something bad enough, he found a way to get it.

He had your ass rising up in the air with a harsh thrust of his hips and a small squeak from you, giving him exactly enough time to scoot down on the sofa so you were sat atop his face. If you complained, he didn't hear you. Denki already had your thighs around his head and his tongue devouring you completely.

Little shockwaves rocked you while you cried out his name, hands fisting blonde locks just trying to stay upright.

One orgasm from you apparently wasn't enough, neither was two but on the third, Denki finally relented, allowing your heartrate to come back down and your gasping breaths to come in more steadily.

You slid back down his body, his erection now smack against your ass. His hair was recked, face completely flush but he had the biggest grin on his face that you'd ever seen.

Denki kissed both your cheeks, "You are so amazing, cutie!" Kissed your lips, "You taste better than anything I've ever had!" And one more on the tip of your nose. "Doin' okay?"

You nodded, starting to really gather yourself again, and by this point, you really just wanted one thing.

"I wanna... Denks... can I take care of you now?"

"Sure, cutie! How do you want me?" The wiggling eyebrows had you rolling your eyes and pushing him on his back again.

It took little effort for you to position yourself above his cock, and with how slick you were, his bright pink head slipped right inside. He held your hands while you scrunched up your face, sliding all the way down him until he was completely sheathed within.

The curve was immaculate. Hitting in just the right way that had you moaning with just a couple thrusts from him. Before long, you were eagerly bouncing on his cock. Riding him hard so he filled you up each and every time.

You barely registered him reaching for the coffee table, his phone now in his hands. "What're you doin'?" You practically slurred, slowing only slightly. He tapped the camera lens with a wicked grin. "Seriously?"

"We could make 'em really jealous now..."

Somewhere in your brain, you knew your date wouldn't give two shits, in fact, this probably would have only validated their thoughts about your's and Denki's relationship but with his cock stuffed so deeply into you, kissing your cervix in the most beautiful way, you really didn't give a damn.

You and Denki put on the best possible show you could think of. You were overstimulated, sore, and completely elated! He balanced the phone against the wine bottle so neither of you had to try to hold it.

This way he could play with your breasts or squeeze your thighs while you dug half-moons into his chest. Shocked with the playful zaps he sent right to your core.

Your makeup you'd didn't feel like taking off now ran down your cheeks with tears. Your hair was a mess thanks to him pulling at it.

Denki had you howling through another two orgasms, telling you how perfect you were, how nice you felt squeezing him so tightly, your nails felt so good against his skin.

It was only when you collapsed against his chest did he hoist your hips up so he could ram into you, pulling out just at the last second with a strangled cry of your name.

He wiggled himself free, grabbing a towel from your bathroom and cleaning you both up before stopping the recording.

"You're, hey you're gonna send that to me right?" You asked when he handed back your hoodie off the lamp.

He dropped a kiss on your lips, plopping down beside you on the sofa again and you noticed your email already up and the video uploading. "Obviously, we share all our videos and photos. Why would this be different?"

[helliontherapscallion]

(Y/n) and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week: Tuesday

Monday     Wednesday     Thursday (Part 1)     Thursday (Part 2)     Friday     Saturday     Sunday

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: anxiety, doctor’s offices, taking pain pills (not sure if I need to tag that, but just in case), stalkers, blackmail, swearing, non-consensual taking pics of nudes, slight body dysmorphia, self-loathing, toxic friends

Word count: 5,326

(A/N): another long chapter, my little wlw heart loved writing this chapter! Also holy shit I was not expecting the first part to blow up, thank you to everyone that read it! Gosh, it’s enough to make a grown woman cry :’)

You cracked open your crusty eyes to Wilbur poking his head into your room. “(Y/n), Dad wants you.”

You groaned rubbing at your eyes in an attempt to get the sleep out of them. “I’ll be down in a sec.” Your voice was scratchy and thick with sleep.

He closed the door silently and you heard his socked feet thumping down the hallway. Your pain faded slightly into soreness, but your shoulders and upper back were slightly stiff. After you drug yourself out of bed, you shambled down the stairs to see your family at the table eating breakfast. Your stomach growled loudly, making you blush slightly in embarrassment. 

Your eldest brother snorted. “Hungry (y/n)?”

You slumped into your seat next to him slowly shoveling food into your mouth. “You have no idea.”

“You wouldn’t be that hungry if you ate dinner when you got home like I told you to do last night, young lady. You better eat every single thing on that plate.”

There was no arguing with a stern Dadza, so you reluctantly complied. Meanwhile, Tommy and Tubbo were telling Wilbur about your match animatedly. 

“And the ball was like fwoosh and she- the ball and-and-”

“And she hit it and Haley hit it to the other side! It was so cool!”

Wilbur merely smiled listening to them ramble about how badass you were last night. They made you feel genuinely happy that they admired your volleyball abilities; they were probably your biggest fans and that made your day most of the time. You remembered the first match they came to during your freshman year, they had run up to you right after the end-of-match whistle blew to spew about how good you were on the court. They met the team that day. Your team adored having them at your games, over the years they slowly replaced your school’s mascot. They played a huge part in morale boosts before and during matches. 

He looked over to you, “I didn’t know my little sister could be so badass.”

You felt your cheeks flare up. “It’s nothing I haven’t done before. It really wasn’t anything special.”

“(Y/n),” Philza pursed his lips, “you did all that with a bruised back, I’d consider that something special.”

“Wait (y/n), you’re hurt?” Tommy and Tubbo looked at you with wide concerned eyes.

“Yeah, but it’s not that bad. I can still move and stuff.”

Techno rolled his eyes, “it’s bad if you’re going to the doctor for it.”

“Eh, it doesn’t hurt as bad as it did yesterday, so I’m not worried.” 

“You’re deadass wincing everytime you move your arm,” WIlbur deadpanned, “it clearly still hurts.”

“Well yeah, I didn’t say the pain went away completely. Fuckin’ dumbass.”

“Language,” Philza glared at you two, gesturing to the two fifth graders watching the exchange with interest. 

You and Wilbur resumed eating and murmured out a defeated “sorry Dad.” You both glared at Techno when he huffed in amusement. 

“If you three keep bickering, you’re going to be late to school. Remember, you two have to drop off Tommy and Tubbo today cuz I’m taking your sister to her appointment. Now go get ready, I’ll take care of your dishes.”

Your brothers took off up the stairs, each competing to get to the bathroom first. Occasionally, you would hear shouts and slapping noises. You felt glad you didn’t have to deal with that today. Judging by Techno’s gruff voice laughing and an explosion of loud complaints from the rest, you assumed that he won today. “I swear, they’re gonna put me in an early grave.”

“You and me both Dad, you and me both.”

You went into the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of pain pills from the junk drawer. Various bottles of Motrin and Advil were scattered around the house because when you live with a rambunctious family like this one, people are bound to get hurt and headaches are common. Popping three into your mouth, you washed it down with a glass of water. The sound of the running water faucet and the slight splashing of water filled the silence of the room. 

“How’s your back? Does it feel any better?”

“Kinda, today it just feels more sore than throbbing, my headache went away mostly, and my shoulder doesn’t feel any worse, so that’s better I guess.”

He shut off the water and reached for a towel to dry off his wet hands. He moved over to the freezer and grabbed a frozen package of peas that your family never ate. You all used it whenever one of you would get a bruise. He moved behind you and held it against your back without warning. Flinching forward from the unexpected temperature change, you winced with the wave of pain moving brought you. 

“Shit, sorry.”

“You’re good. Just give me a little warning next time,” you chuckled. He gently placed it back on your back and you sighed from the slight relief that it brought you. You leaned into the peas and closed your eyes. “That feels amazing.”

“I bet. That bruise was pretty bad yesterday, can I look at it again?”

You reluctantly left the sanctuary that was the medical grade frozen peas and leaned forward, moving your hair out of the way for him. “Knock yourself out.”

He made a hissing noise as soon as he moved your shirt out of the way. “Dad, it probably looks worse than it feels.”

“...Have you seriously not looked at this yet? It looks pretty bad, hun.”

“Well, sorry I can’t move to look at my back without being in pain. I’ll try harder next time.” You snarked him.

“Hey, watch the attitude. Here, I’ll take a picture so you can see how bad it is.”

You heard the rustling of fabric as he fished his phone out of his pocket and the obnoxiously loud click of his camera app. You turned around to look at the damage. You squinted at his bright phone screen. Your entire back was swollen in some areas and was covered in ugly reds, blues, blacks, and purples. You made a disgusted noise in the back of your throat and cringed away from the screen. You always got nauseous seeing injuries.

“Yikes.”

“Yikes isn’t the only word I would use, it’s bad (y/n).”

“It looks worse than it feels, I promise. I’m gonna go get ready so we’re not late to my appointment. It sounds like the boys are finally done with the bathroom.”

You hobbled up the stairs slowly and made your way to the bathroom. The door was wide open ready for you to use. Turning on the light, you closed the door in a hurry so that your brothers wouldn’t try to get in again to hog the bathroom like they usually did. You frowned at your appearance. Your hair was sticking up in every direction and you had dark eye bags around your dull looking eyes. A few pimples dotted your skin like constellations in the night sky, but much uglier and more out of place. Turning your body, you scanned your figure. Your eyes watered as you realized that you had gained some weight. Adrian, Sammy, and Annie were right, you looked like garbage all the time.

You ripped your eyes away from yourself in the mirror with disgust etched deep into your features. You were disgusting through and through. Ripping your brush through your hair, you winced at the pain emanating from the back of your head. You deserve the pain for letting yourself go. Once you were slightly more satisfied with your appearance, you stepped out of the bathroom and quickly changed into the clothes you would wear today. You decided on a hoodie and a pair of tights. You didn’t feel like dressing yourself up. 

You once again walked down the stairs and slipped on your shoes to meet your dad in his car. You idly scrolled through your phone while you waited for him, looking at your notifications for the first time that day. You had ten texts from the group chat that you were in with Adrian, Annie, and Sammy.

Sammy <3

(Y/n) where the hell are you?

Adrian <3

Do you guys think she ditched us?

I knew she was ignoring us

Sammy <3

Who ignores their friends?

Annie <3

(Y/n) apparently. 

She has more important things to do ig

Oh my god

Do you guys think she skipped school?

Adrian <3

I wouldn’t put it past her

Maybe she finally gave up

(Y/n)

I’m sorry guys, I just have a doctor’s appointment today

I would never ignore you

Sammy <3

Yk, it’s hard to keep defending you when you keep ditching us..

(Y/n)

I’m not ditching you!

I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys about my appointment

I’ll make it up to you guys

Adrian <3

How?

You’ve already skipped out on us enough already

Annie <3

Oh ik!

She can write our final research paper for us Dri!

I haven’t started it yet lmao

Adrian <3

Saaaame lmaoooo

Sammy <3

Guys, what about me???

Adrian <3

Idk, figure it out yourself

Sammy <3

Rude!

Uhhh

Ur gonna put together my final presentation for us history

(Y/n)

Alright, I can do that for you guys

Sam can you pls send me the rubric? 

Annie <3

Thanks love ;)

(Y/n)

No problem, I like doing things for friends

My dad’s coming, I gotta go

Talk to you guys later

Adrian <3

Byeeee (y/n), ur the best!

(Y/n)

: ) <3

You put your phone down as your dad started up the car and pulled out of the driveway. The drive was quiet as you stared out the window and thought about how much work you now had to do. On top of your own classes, you had two more to write and a presentation to make in a class you hadn’t taken since the first semester in your sophomore year. The research papers had to be at least four full pages long with a minimum of ten sources each due on Friday and you had no idea how big Sammy’s US history presentation has to be or what it’s even about. But that was fine, you’d do anything for your friends. 

“So, who were you texting? Your boyfriend?” He asked jokingly.

“Oh, just Adrian, Sammy, and Annie. I don’t have a boyfriend Dad,” because you were a closeted lesbian, but you wouldn’t tell him that anytime soon. “You know that.”

“I know,” he chuckled, “it’s been a while since I’ve seen them. How have they been?”

“They’re good. Adrian got a job at the diner, he’s a host. Sammy and Annie have been focusing more on raising their grades.”

“Good for them! You should invite them over for dinner sometime.”

“I was actually thinking that I could maybe go hang out with them on Halloween...?”

“(Y/n), the family was going to take Tommy and Tubbo trick-or-treating.”

“I know, but there’s always next year. Plus, we haven’t been able to hang out in so long! We’re always free at different times.”

“I don’t know (y/n), what if they don’t want to trick-or-treat next year? What were you planning on doing with them?”

“We were just gonna hang out at Annie’s house and watch some horror movies,” you lied. He would never let you go if he knew you were going to a party. Especially one where alcohol would be involved and hormonal teenage boys ran rampant actively scouting for an easy lay.

“...I’ll think about it.” The car pulled into the doctor office’s parking lot.

“Thank you Dad! It’s been a while since we’ve all hung out together.”

He chuckled as you both walked into the lobby, checked in, and waited for your name to be called. About ten minutes later, you were summoned by a nurse so you went into the back leaving your dad to wait in the lobby. The nurse recorded your height and weight (much to your dismay, you gained four pounds) and asked you the standard questions about your injury and uncomfortable questions about your overall health. The clacking of her acrylic nails on the plastic keyboard filled the awkward silence.

Once that was done, she left and you had to wait a little bit for the doctor. After slipping into the backless gown the nurse left, you mindlessly scrolled on your phone. Jumping when someone knocked on the door, you looked up to see your family’s doctor smiling at you.

“Hello (y/n), how are we feeling today?”

“I’m alright.”

“I hear that you had quite the fall onto some concrete, is that true?”

“Yes, I landed on my back and the back of my head.”

She reached over and squirted hand sanitizer onto her hands, rubbing it in and looking back at you. “Can you please lay on your stomach so I can take a look at your back?”

You nodded, shifting on the uncomfortable paper covered cushioned table onto your stomach. You felt her cold hands gently graze your bruises before she pulled out her stethoscope. “Can you take a good deep breath in for me?”

You complied and she instructed you to let it out. Doing this multiple times along your back, she put her stethoscope away and continued prodding at your exposed back. 

“There’s definitely some swelling in multiple areas… It doesn’t feel or sound like you cracked or broke any ribs, which is excellent… Do you have any pain deep in your shoulder when you move it?”

“Yes, I landed on it wrong last night at my volleyball match.”

“How would you describe your pain? Stabbing, sore, throbbing…”

“More sore, but a little stabbing pain when I move my arm.”

She moved her fingers to examine your shoulder. “It doesn’t sound like a sprain or fracture, can you move it up and down for me?”

You moved your arm up and down, front and back, and side to side. “You still have a full range of movement, that’s good. Can I have you sit back up again?”

You sat back up and she started testing you for a concussion. After passing her tests, you were cleared of having a concussion. “Alright (y/n), it appears that you only strained your deltoid and teres muscles and you have severe bruising along your back. Make sure you ice your back and, if you have one, wear a shoulder compression sleeve. Anti-inflammatory medications such as Ibuprofen will help with the swelling. Other than that, you have a clean bill of health! You can still participate in volleyball practices, but you need to take it easy. Don’t do anything that will strain the muscles any further.”

“Thank you Dr. Samson,” you smiled at her. 

“You’re welcome. I’ll leave you to change back into your clothes and you’re free to go! You may leave the gown on the table.”

She left the room and you redressed yourself. Walking out to the lobby, Philza’s head perked up when he heard the door opening. He stood up and walked over to you with a slightly worried face. You both walked back out to the car.

“So?”

“Dr. Samson said that I don’t have a concussion, sprains or broken bones. She told me that I just strained my shoulder muscles and I need to keep ice on my back.”

He visibly slumped in relief. “Thank god. What’d she say about volleyball?”

“She said that I could keep playing, but I have to take it easy.”

“Good, wouldn’t want you missing finals on Thursday. Do you know if the team you’re playing is any good?”

“Dad, of course they’re good, we’re the top two teams in the area.”

“I bet their setter is nowhere near as good as you are and I bet the setter and spiker aren’t as synced as you and Haley are. You two make a good pair.” 

“Yeah we do, don’t we?” You looked out the window and smiled a little and felt your ears turn red. The very mention of Haley’s name was enough to make you feel like you were on cloud nine. The car fell silent again as you neared your high school. 

In your AP world history class, the class was looking at the test you had taken yesterday. Surprisingly, you got a 74% on the multiple choice part and a 50% on your essay portion, so that landed you with a just below passing grade. You thought you completely flunked that test yesterday, so that was a pleasant surprise. It took a good portion out of your overall grade in the class, lowering it from a comfortable A- to a slightly alarming B. You supposed it could’ve been a lot worse. Besides reviewing your tests, the class didn’t do much except starting the reading for the next chapter.

Your psychology online class went like it usually did, however your phone blew up with texts about midway through the block. Glancing down, you saw that it was Haley. Shouldn’t she be in class?

Hales : )

(Y/n) meet me in the locker room right after school

I need to talk to you before practice starts

It’s an emergency

(Y/n)

What’s going on?

Hales : )

I’ll explain after school.

Can’t talk about it over text

(Y/n)

Alright, see ya then ig

You felt your gut twinge. Something’s wrong, but you didn’t know what. You were worried about Haley, usually she was really bubbly. You’ve never seen the senior act so strange before. You could only wait the block out until the bell would release you from the confines of the library and into the locker room. After sending a quick text to your brothers that you were going to stay after school for your practice, you stared blankly at your laptop’s clock as you counted down the minutes left in the class period. Ten minutes. Eight minutes. Four minutes. Two minutes. Thirty seconds-

You shot up from your seat as the bell rang. Pushing past some groups of freshmen that congregated in the hallways, you made a beeline for the locker room. In the locker room, you found Haley sitting on the metal bench on the opposite end of the locker room with her back facing the last row of lockers and facing the brick wall. She was clenching her phone in her hand with an iron grip. You hurried to sit next to her.

“Hales, what’s going on? Talk to me.”

“It’s bad (y/n). Like, really bad.”

“What’s bad? You’re worrying me.”

Wordlessly, she unlocked her phone and handed it to you. On the screen was something that you weren’t expecting to see. You scrolled through the contents and felt your stomach drop with each scroll; someone took pictures of you and Haley throughout the match last night. Every picture was a violation to yours and Haley’s dignities, they had gotten zoomed in pictures of your boobs and asses. Deeper, there were even pictures taken of you changing into your volleyball uniform through your open window. You were only in your underwear. Haley had a similar picture that you scrolled past as fast as you could. Scrolling to the bottom of the text message thread, the person that sent Haley the pictures added a caption to the last picture. It was a picture of you and Haley together celebrating your match, her arm slung around your shoulder with your mouth open mid-laugh.

Unknown

I’m sending these out to the entire school unless you stop hanging around her.

If you tell anyone, the pics will be printed off and put in every single locker and bathroom the school has.

You’ll be the sluts of Klinkver High. 

Cut all ties now. You have two days. 

Do not try me.

“Jesus christ Haley. Who the fuck would do this? This is sick.”

She took her phone back and locked it without looking at the screen. “I don’t know (y/n). I wanted to tell you not to openly talk to me for a few days. We don’t know who took these, we don’t know what they’re capable of. I don’t wanna risk angering them.”

“We can find them! If we look close enough, we might find a few clues where they were sitting. Do you remember seeing anything suspicious last night?”

“(Y/n), our best option is to leave it. We just can’t talk in person anymore; we can still text each other.”

“Hales, how are we gonna not talk? I’m your setter.”

She ran a hand through her thick black hair. “I don’t know (y/n). Just-just don’t talk to me anymore, I don’t want your pictures leaked.”

“I don’t care about my pictures. My name’s been drug through so much shit this past year that it won’t affect me. I don’t want your stuff leaked.”

She gave a watery laugh, “you care too much, I love that about you…” Glistening eyes turned to look deep into your own. “I’m so scared (y/n), I don’t know what to do.”

You pulled her into a hug, wincing slightly when she squeezed her arms around your upper back. She buried her face into your shoulder and started shaking with muffled sobs. “Haley, I promise I’ll catch whatever sick bastard is doing this to you. You don’t deserve this.”

She said nothing as you rested your chin on the top of her head and started to rock her back and forth slowly. You two stayed like that even after her sobbing resided, finding comfort in each other’s presence. Glancing at the clock, you realized that you two have been in the locker room for an hour. Practice was set to start in fifteen minutes, people were going to start coming into the locker room soon. 

You reluctantly pulled away from the hug and looked Haley in her bloodshot eyes, “I’m not going to let those pictures of you get leaked. I swear on my-”

The door to the locker room swung open and loud laughter echoed throughout the room. Haley pushed you away and speed walked off to a bathroom stall, slamming the door shut behind her. 

“Damn (y/n), what’d you do? She’s pissed.” 

“It’s none of your business, Zara.” 

“Oh, so it’s a lover’s quarrel then~” She cackled, her hair bouncing slightly with each heave of her shoulders. 

“For the love of… Haley and I aren’t dating, we’re both straight.” She’s straight.

“Mmhm.” She brushed past you to go to her locker. You followed her, your locker was in the grouping next to hers. You shared the area with Haley. You changed as fast as you could so that Haley would have time to change before practice starts. Speed walking into the gym, Zara was hot on your trail wearing a shit eating grin.

“Why are you in such a rush? Giving your girlfriend the silent treatment?”

“Zara. We aren’t dating. For the last time, we’re both heterosexual, not homosexual!” You wildly gestured with your hands to emphasize your point, your voice being amplified by the vast gym. Coach Williams gave you a confused look from across the gym. 

“You just keep telling yourself that.”

“I’m serious.”

“Hi serious,” a soft voice replied from behind you, “I’m Jazzy.”

You groaned at the pun at the same time Zara started cackling, giving the short libero a high five. “Nice!”

“That was so bad, Jaz.” You couldn’t help the smile that found its way onto your face.

Zara poked your cheek with a wide grin. “C’mon, you’re smiling!”

“I am and I hate it.”

Your bickering continued with Jazzy watching you two with a content smile. The remaining members of the team (Haley, Marlene, and Zuri) filed into the gym right as Coach Williams blew her whistle. 

Practice went by slowly without Haley talking to you. Sure, you had the rest of the team, but it didn’t feel the same with you guys ignoring each other. If the team or Coach Williams noticed you two not talking to each other, they didn’t say anything. By time practice was over, you all went to the locker room to change. After slipping into your fuzzy pajama pants, you sat on the bench and texted Wilbur to come pick you up. He was supposed to pick you up after practice today because he and Techno took the car home after school. Five minutes passed and he still didn’t reply. He probably won’t see the text until you got home from walking.

You sighed, resting your chin in your palm as you leaned forward. One by one, the girls left the locker room until it was only you and Haley left. 

“Do you need a ride (y/n)?” She asked gently.

“But what if the person sees us together? I can just walk home, it’s not really a big deal.”

She rolled her eyes at you. “It is a big deal. It’s cold and dark out. You could get kidnapped or something. You don’t even have a coat with you. I’m giving you a ride whether you like it or not.”

You playfully rolled your eyes at her and stood up to walk next to her, “okay, mom.”

“Don’t give me that attitude young lady.”

“You can’t tell me what to do, you’re not my real mom!”

She gasped and lightly smacked the back of your shoulder, “I married your- are you alright? Shit, I didn’t hurt you did I?”

“No, you’re good. It’s just this damned bruise.”

She moved her hands and frantically turned you around to pull the neck of your shirt down. You two stood in front of the school’s main entrance with the nauseatingly bright fluorescent light bouncing off the reflective surface of the tiles. The orange tinted street lights lit up the sidewalk outside.

“(Y/n)-”

“I know what you’re gonna say.”

She scoffed, “oh really? What am I gonna say then, o wise one?”

You turned around to face her, “‘oh, this is bad, yadda yadda yadda.’ Everyone’s been saying that about it. Honestly it looks worse than it feels. Tis but a scratch, m’lady.”

She snorted and covered her mouth, “never call me ‘m’lady’ ever again.”

You started to walk to her car in the empty parking lot. “Or what? What’re ya gonna do?”

“I swear to god, (y/n), I’m gonna leave you here.”

“Do it, pussy. Bet you won’t.”

“You really wanna bet?”

You grinned at her, “hell yeah.”

She broke off into a mad dash to her car, laughing freely into the night sky. You chased after her trying not to move your arms much, your laugh mixing with hers like a perfect symphony composed of the world’s best musicians. The sound of your rubber soles slapping the pavement resonated throughout the parking lot as you quickly gained on her. Reaching out to grab her shirt, she smirked at you and sharply turned to the right into the grass.

You grinned as her pace slowed down slightly. You’d be able to catch her at this pace. You pushed your legs to move faster as she looked at you from over her shoulder and shrieked in surprise at how close you were to her. You cackled at her reaction, reaching out once again, you grabbed her hand. She was stopped dead in her tracks as your shoulder was yanked with the sudden momentum, making you hiss in slight pain. Despite that, you didn’t let go of her soft hand. 

You both stood there under the moonlight and the soft orange street lamps trying to  catch your breath. The slightly damp blades of grass tickled your ankle as you shifted to face her better. Through gasping breaths and a dopey grin, you said “you… lost, pussy.”

She let out a breathy laugh as she pulled you to her car. “Shuddup.”

“Make me~”

She opened the passenger side door for you and got into the driver's seat. Her car smelled like vanilla and citrus. “Oh, you will later when I make you do more sets in weight lifting tomorrow, hurt shoulder be damned.”

She turned on the ignition and the car revved to life, soft indie pop wafted from the speakers. She backed out of the parking space and sped off to the main road. “You wouldn’t…”

“I’m your captain, (y/n). I can make you do whatever I want.” You felt your cheeks heat up a tad. You were happy that she couldn’t see you.

“Naw, you’re too much of a softie for that. Admit it, I’ve got you wrapped around my little finger.”

She chuckled as she pulled into your driveway and put the car in park. “...Alright, maybe you do. Just a bit.”

She turned to look at you. She looked stunning with the shadows accentuating the contours of her face perfectly. You found yourself glancing at her lips and leaning slightly towards you. To your surprise, she started leaning into you as well. Before your lips could finally mesh together, she pulled back with a sigh and ran her hand through her hair. You felt a rush of disappointment and fear course through your veins. She didn’t like you like that, you should’ve known better. You were so stupid. So, so stu-

“I can’t (y/n). I want to kiss you so bad, but we can’t. Not yet at least. Not until we find the pervert that took those pictures of us.”

You sighed, “right.”

The car was filled with awkward silence. Not even the soft music streaming from the speakers could alleviate the awkwardness. God, you really screwed up your friendship, didn’t you? Sammy, Adrian, and Annie were right; you messed up everything you touched.

You coughed, “I think I’m gonna…”

“Yeah…”

You grabbed your bag and walked into your house, the smell of chicken slapping you in the face instantly. Without checking in with your dad, you hurried up the stairs, desperate for the warm comfort of your bed. That, and if you wanted to get Sammy’s presentation and Adrian’s, Annie’s, and your research papers done by Friday, you had to start as soon as you could. You were going to skip dinner for tonight, you’d just grab more breakfast tomorrow morning. 

You plopped on your bed and got started on your research paper. Luckily, you already had all of the sources you were planning on using and the rough outline of each body paragraph, so writing the actual paper wasn’t going to take long. You worked until you heard a knock at your door. 

“(Y/n),” Techno’s monotone voice called out, “dinner’s ready.”

“Tell Dad I’m not hungry. Practice’s got me beat, I’m going to bed soon.”

He grunted, “you know he’s not gonna like that right?”

You felt frustration start to swim circles around your chest, “Techno, just tell him that I’m not hungry right now. Please.”

“Damn, you don’t need to be like that. I’ll tell him.”

You heard his stomping footsteps thumping down the hall. Shit, you pissed him off. You were a terrible person, he was just trying to get you to eat something, Pushing back the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes, you forced the panic that was starting to swirl around your body in laps deep into your being. You didn’t have time to deal with your failures and stupid emotions, you had to get this done. You didn’t have time to think about Haley’s warm breath ghosting across your lips. You didn’t have time to think about how she probably regretted almost kissing you. You didn’t have time to fall into an anxiety spiral, you needed to focus if you wanted Adrian, Annie, and Sammy to forgive you. You ruined yours and Haley’s friendship and did the same to yours and Techno’s. They were the only ones you had left. You needed to be a better friend.

Taglist (comment if you want to be added or if I missed you, it won’t let me tag some tumblrs :((( ):

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[harrystyleseditsx]

If you need me

SUMMARY: A one shot of where y/n experiences something that reminds her of her traumatic past and Harry’s 5000 miles away

based on the song If you need by julia micheals

WARNING: Angst with fluff :) 

pairing: Harry Styles x uni y/n 

wordcount: 2.3k

A/N: Welcome to my first fic, I needed to write something to get in the flow to write my 2000 word story so here it is :)) ily guys <3 (also would you prefer y/n or an oc, please let me know!!)

Y/N was very happy about how her morning had been going.

She had woken up early, worked out and made her favorite breakfast. She had also gotten herself some flowers to celebrate the fact that she had submitted her 10 page essay early. The only thing that would make her morning better would be face timing harry but she knew it was 1 pm here meaning it would be 9 pm in London where Harry was and he had a concert to perform. She threw on one of Harry’s treat people with kindness hoodies over her sundress as she headed to the library that would often get chilly or she was just always cold as harry often teased her. She smiled as she remembered harry telling she would overheat if she continued to wear zip ups and pile blankets on herself even during summers. 

She had by now almost reached the library when she suddenly bumped into someone causing the other person to drop some of their stuff. “Shit, I’m so sorry. I should have paid more attention-” it felt as if the words were stuck in her throat as she glanced at who she bumped into. 

“Oh hi Y/N” Asher taunted, her ex. She hadn’t seen him since the break up when he told her that he needed space and took off to France only to send her the infamous break up text. And, here he was 6 months later, looking the every bit same. She felt a feeling of anxiety creeping up on her as she started playing with her fingers trying to stop when she saw Asher’s eyes drop to her hands. 

“Are you nervous y/n? Always played with your fingers when you were” he said with a hint of smugness, as he reached his hand forward trying to grasp hers. She immediately pulled back, crossing them against her chest as she took a deep breath. 

“What are you doing here Asher? Aren’t you supposed to be in France?” she snapped at him, her nervousness quickly turning into anger. Asher raised an eyebrow as if surprised at her response. 

“Been keeping tabs on me?” he smirked. “Well forgive me if I wanted to know where my boyfriend, sorry, ex-boyfriend ran off too on our 1 year anniversary” she scoffed.

“Finally grew a backbone y/n?” he drawled looking her up and down. Y/N had never felt the urge to pull someone’s eyeballs out more than she did now. She found herself thinking what she ever saw in this piece of shit. She snapped back to reality as she heard him droning about something.

“..you need me, so I’ll take you back-” he was in interrupted as y/n threw her head back laughing. When she looked at him again, he had an annoyed look on his face. “I need you? Well, I’d like to inform you that you’re wrong again. I don’t need you, I don’t need anyone. I managed myself when you left and I’m doing so now too. So, you can see yourself out of my life again” she reiterated. Asher now looked furious, he lunged forward and grabbed her by her wrists as she tried to free herself from his grip.

“Is all this attitude because of her famous singer boyfriend? Yes, I know all about him. Is he telling you that you’re beautiful? or that you’re important? because news flash, you’re not y/n. You’re worthless, stupid, ugly and you’ll be nothing without me. You’re a whore” he growled. Y/N felt herself flinch as she heard his words before she composed herself and kicked him in the balls. His grip on her wrists loosened giving her the perfect opportunity to attack. She grabbed him by the back of his neck and jerked it forward, raising her knee and smashed his face against it and then shoved him backwards. She heard Asher yelp in pain as blood gushed out of his. One of his hands was on his dick while other on his nose. She felt a sense of pride and satisfaction rush through her as she looked at him. 

"You bitch, you broke my nose. You'll pay for this" Asher yelled at her. She decided it was best to kick him one more time for good measure and she did, smiling as he groaned in pain. "No, you listen to me. If you ever come near me again or try to hurt me I will fuck up your life and I'll get my famous singer boyfriend to help too" y/n taunted as she turned out to head back to her apartment, she had never been more glad to have her apartment be a 5 minute walk from campus. The whole incident had taken a huge toll on her.

She locked her room as soon as she entered it, leaning against the door as she slowly sank to the floor. She took a deep breath before the sobs broke out. Her entire body was shaking as she wrapped her arms around herself trying to feel as if she wasn't alone in the world. Y/N picked up her phone to send a text to harry but she try made her feel even more shitty. What if he realized she wasn't worth it, what if he had enough of her breakdowns. She pressed her nails into her palm, hitting herself to try to stop herself from feeling too much. She had come so far and now all it took was one interaction for everything to come crumbling down.

//

She didn't know how long she had been sitting like that but her phone rang, she looked at the clock to see it flashing 5 pm. Realizing that it must be harry on the phone, she got up and rushed to the bathroom, quickly washing her face, she laid down on the bed so he could only see half of her face and then accepted his call.

Harry appeared on the screen all smiley and sweaty. Her heart fluttered at the sight of him. All she wanted to do was hug him. "Finally picked up, huh? I thought y'were gonna leave me hangin' lovie" he teased her. "I'm sorry, my phone was on silent" she said softly.

Harry realised the change in her demeanor, his smile turning into a frown. "Y'alright honey? Not even showin' me y'pretty face" he said to her. She tried to smile as she moved the camera a bit so he could see more of her face. "I'm just tired H" she whispered. Harry had been moving around, probably trying to find a quieter area. He shut the door behind him as he entered what looked like his dressing room.

"Have y'been cryin' y/n?" he questioned as he saw her red nose and faint traces of year marks on her cheeks. y/n knew there was no point in lying because it was pretty obvious. "Yeah, I didn't do very well in one of the assignments my economics professor had assigned but I'm fine now" she told him adding a smile in the end to make it more believable and maybe Harry would have believed her had he not caught a glimpse of the nasty bruise on wrist as the sleeve of her (his) hoodie slipped down when she was pulled the hood up. Harry was furious and the visible anger on his face made y/n want to curl up.

"What the fuck is that y/n?" he questioned furiously. "What are you talking about? "y/n replied looking genuinely confused. "The fucking bruise on your wrist” harry snapped, by now he had lost all his patience. No one gets to hurt his lovie. 

Y/N was at a loss, she didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want him to worry about her but she couldn’t come up with anything to say. “Asher came back, he cornered me and when I tried to go, he grabbed my wrists” she mumbled, playing with the hem of his sweatshirt. She dare not glance his way, afraid of his reaction. After a minute of silence, Y/N glanced at her phone only to find the screen to be blank. Had he hung up on her? She stared at the blank screen of her phone in disbelief. She felt as if she was having an out of body experience. Opening her gallery, she started scrolling through the numerous photos and videos of her and harry. It was at this time that she was grateful with her obsession of taking pictures and photos. A few tears escaped her eyes as she realized how much she missed him and how he probably didn’t want to talk to her ever. Was he going to break up with her? Y/N’s heart clenched at that thought, she put on harry’s playlist on her spotify and laid there. 

//

She must have fallen asleep because she woke up to the sound of pots clanging. Her heart sped up, no one besides her and harry had the key to her apartment and harry wouldn’t- 

She threw the blanket covering her aside (which had not been there before) and rushed to the kitchen. And sure enough there he was, her boyfriend, with his back facing her. Y/N felt tears well up in her eyes, he came here for her. Harry  turned around to see her standing in the entryway of the kitchen, crying. He reached her in three quick strides, pulling her in a hug. She tightly wrapped her arms around him, fearing he might disappear. Harry pulled back after a few minutes, cupping her face in his hands he gently brushed his thumb over her cheek. 

“Gonna properly tell m’what happened now bubs?” he urged. Unable to say anything at that moment Y/N just nodded. Grabbing her hand, Harry led her to the sofa, grabbing her by the waist and seating her on his lap. He patiently waited her to start talking. For a while Y/n just played with his hair, then she took a deep breath and told him everything that happened. She could feel Harry’s grip tightening on her hips, not to the extent that it was painful, when she told him what Asher had said to her. 

“M’gonna fuckin’ kill him” Harry cursed when she had finished. “I already did some damage” Y/N told him, smirking as she remembered Asher’s face. Harry looked at her questioningly, “I might have kicked him in the balls and broken his nose and added another kick for good measure” she admitted. Harry grinned, “that’s m’girl” he said proudly, pulling her in for a kiss. They sat like that for a while with Harry telling her about tour and she filled him in with other things that she had forgotten when they had their facetime sessions.

Y/N told him that she wanted to report Asher, in case he ever tried to pull shit like this again. Harry not only told her but also showed her how proud he was of her, how brave she’d been and how much he loved her in multiple ways. 

//

The next day they headed to the dean’s office, where Y/N saw two officers sitting outside. Luckily there were several camera’s in the hallway where Asher had cornered Y/N, so by noon, with all the available proof, she’d gotten a restraining order against Asher. If her were to come within a distance of 6ft with her, he’d serve jail time. As they left the dean’s office, Y/N saw Asher standing , she could feel harry tensing up, so when Asher looked Y/N up and down and smirked, Harry lunged forward punching him in his already swollen nose. Asher yelped in pain, he tried to fight Harry back but by now the officers had restrained him, taking him away. 

Back at the apartment, Y/N tended to Harry’s bruised knuckles as she felt a hollowness knowing he’d be leaving soon. By the look on her face, Harry knew what she was thinking about, he took the cotton swab from her hands, placing it on the table before he kissed her. 

“I’ll be back soon, it’s only a matter of two months now and by then you’ll  graduate and I’ll be done with tour and we can  have everyday to ourselves” harry told her, wiggling his eyebrows. She lightly smacked his chest, pressing a small kiss to his lips. “I know, It’s just that sometimes I miss you” she commented. “Only sometimes?” Harry pretended to be offended, “Well a bit more than sometimes” she retorted. “Just a bit more? I miss you so much, it hurts” he admitted. Her shoulders slumped a bit as she pulled him in a hug. “I love you Harry” she whispered and heard him softly whisper I love you too sweetheart. 

That evening Y/n drove him to the airport, they knew they couldn’t outside for long so Harry pulled her in a kiss before he pulled back and rested his forehead against hers. “Promise me you’ll tell me anything that happens, I don’t care if it’s just a paper cut or not. Just don’t hide things from me, If when you need me I'll be there" he blurted. “I promise” she said firmly, showing him she was serious. She didn’t want him to worry but he’d eventually know something was up and it was better to sort things out. He kissed her again before he went in the airport. She stood there until he was no longer in her sight before she sat in her car and started driving off. 

Her phone chimed, picking it up she saw that Harry had sent her a image. It was a very poorly drawn graphic of a guy lying on the floor with a crooked nose and blood around him that she assumed was Asher and a girl stood over him wearing a superhero cape. He had written, ‘my hero’. She smiled fondly before sending him a picture of her reaction as she increased the volume of her radio and driving off. Soon. 

. 

This is my first time writing a harry fic/blurb. Feedback would be greatly appreciated. Also, I’ve turned on the asks (I didn’t know they were off) so you can send in your requests!! Thank you :))

[aliwritesfic]

The Night Shift part 11 (F!Reader x Frankie Morales)

WC: 3.3k

AN: Yall I'm so sorry this took ages to be updated, my laptop screen broke and the repair place had to wait over a week for a new one, I hope the end of this part makes up for it <3 Parts will also be slower to come out as I'm starting my next semester of uni on Monday and that's going to take up a large chunk of my time, but I'm still going to try and put out a new part at least once a week

Spotify

Part 1 Part 12 (coming soon) Masterlist

Friday arrived far too quickly for Frankie’s liking. So quickly he had gotten himself into a routine of being with you, and it felt like it was being ripped away from him. Of course, he knew that it would happen, he hadn’t deluded himself into thinking it wouldn’t, but still . . . still he had grown so used to your presence that when it was finally time to “get your shit from that ugly ass motherfucker” (Will’s words, not his), he felt almost depressed.

You were perched on his couch when he woke up late Friday morning, a cup of steaming coffee clutched in your hand, your gaze fixed absently on a point on the wall. He called your name gently, not wanting to scare you. You blinked a couple times, as if coming out of a trance. He knew the look well.

“Didn’t sleep?” he poured himself a cup and sat down next to you. You shook your head.

“Not great. I think an hour, maybe. But like, really shitty sleep.”

“Not fully asleep but not fully awake?” Frankie suggested, having become very accustomed to the feeling during his military time. You nodded, giving him a tired smile. He understood your exhaustion. You had spent every waking moment stressed about the move, online shopping to replace the things that you were leaving at Kurt’s, and then stressing some more. You had picked up the keys on Wednesday and Frankie had gone with you to check the place out.

It was a bright, airy place, seven floors up with huge windows and a tiny balcony off the living area. Frankie had noticed your eyes shining as you took it all in, almost like you couldn’t believe it was yours. You had wiped away a tear, taking in the view of the lake by the apartment complex.

Frankie had come with his measuring tape and notebook from his mechanic days. He measured each room, each alcove where a piece of furniture would sit, and wrote them down diligently with a messy scrawl on a page labelled with your name.

When you had gotten back to his place, you set to work writing down a list of what was yours and what you needed to replace. At the top of that list was a bed, heavily underlined and circled.

“The bed’s mine, technically,” you explained as you clicked on a display photo of a wrought iron bed frame, “but he can keep it. I want a fresh start, and I think I need a new bed to do that.”

“Makes sense,” Frankie said sitting down beside you, “is that the one you’re going with?”

You had nodded, clicking add to cart. The store had next day delivery, and for a small fee would even build the bed for you. You opted for this, despite Frankie’s protests.

“Please, you’re doing so much already, and putting my whole bed together for me . . . it feels like a very unfair trade,” you told him firmly. Once again, your stubbornness had won over. Frankie, rather grudgingly, had to admit to himself that the delivery people were much quicker than he would’ve been at assembling the bed frame, especially after he had taken a quick look at the instructions.

He wasn’t about to tell you that though.

It was almost midday when a knock sounded on his door, followed by the three men he called brothers piling into his kitchen. You emerged from the bathroom, fully dressed and a shy smile on your face. It struck Frankie that this was the first time you were meeting these guys, truly meeting them without the inclusion of alcohol.

“You’re all really excellent for helping me with this,” you said fiddling with the sleeve of your shirt. You had opted for long sleeves throughout the whole week. “Sorry you have to give up your Friday for this.”

Benny was the first one to make a move. He strode forward and enveloped you in a tight hug. Frankie could see the initial shock on your face before it was replaced by a hesitant kind of happiness.

“You like Taylor Swift?” he asked, and you nodded. Benny craned his neck to look at Frankie. “She’s riding with me, if that’s okay?” he turned back to you and you nodded again. Benny grinned and whispered something in your ear, causing you to snort out a laugh.

Santi stood beside Frankie and pressed an envelope into his hands.

“The photo,” he explained. “Again, remember I have several copies, so if you plan on destroying this one, imagine it like a hydra.” Frankie rolled his eyes and put the envelope in his back pocket. You were too busy chatting with Benny and Will to notice, and he was glad. He wanted to surprise you with the photo when you needed it.

Benny and Will had taken a particular soft spot for you since Frankie gave them the bare-bones rundown of how Kurt had treated you. Frankie noticed it now, in how Will stood like your own personal bodyguard, in how Benny had slung his arm around your shoulders, like you were old friends. Frankie felt the briefest flash of jealousy before he stamped it down. Just because he couldn’t – wouldn’t – touch you, didn’t mean no one else could.

“Quit staring Fish, you look like one of those cartoon characters whose eyes turn to hearts,” Santi muttered, elbowing Frankie in the ribs. Frankie elbowed him back, annoyed.

“Alright, gang! Let’s get this show on the road!” Will clapped his hands together. Benny raised an incredulous brow at his brother.

“What are you, fifty?” He turned to you, linking his arm through yours. “Don’t worry, Fish, I’ll drive extra carefully.”

Frankie felt envious of Benny then, even though he had basically had a week straight with you. But knowing it was coming to an end, that tonight you’d be sleeping at your own place, instead of just down the hall. Well, it made him almost sad. He pushed that aside though and forced himself to be happy for you.

As he drove to your old apartment, everyone else following behind, he focused a little too hard on the radio, just to give his mind something to do. A newsreader was talking about how a quick-thinking pilot had landed a plane in a field after something went horrifically wrong with the engines. Zero casualties, minor injuries. People were already calling for the pilot to be given a medal.

Maybe I should renew my licence, Frankie thought. He didn’t want to be a commercial pilot, or a hero of any kind, although the uniforms were nice. But it couldn’t hurt to have it.

He pulled up outside the building, gripping the steering wheel tightly. This was it.

Will and Santi parked behind him, but Benny’s ridiculously lifted pickup was nowhere to be seen. Frankie squinted towards the end of the street, knowing he couldn’t have gotten lost. He had you with him.

Ten minutes passed with no sign of you. “Where the fuck are they?” Frankie grumbled, now worried that you and Benny had gotten into a car accident. He trusted him, but Benny was the worst driver of all of them. He pulled out his phone to text you but was interrupted.

“That’s his truck,” Will said, pointing to the end of the street, where Benny’s truck had just pulled in. The sound of heavy bass reached them before the truck did. As Benny pulled up outside the apartment, Frankie recognised the song as Gimme More by Britney Spears.

“Sorry we’re late,” you called, clambering out of the truck, a tall plastic cup in your hand. “We stopped for frappes.” Benny sipped innocently at his, giving Frankie a look that said he needed to speak with him.

“Where’s my fuckin’ frappe,” Santi grumbled, looking envious. Benny grinned and handed his over to Santi for a sip.

You stood, looking up at the building, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “Guess we better go up. I sent him a text telling him I was doing this today, but he didn’t reply, so I don’t know if he’ll be here.”

“Want us to jump him if he is?” Benny offered, but you shook your head.

“Not right away,” you said, “but if he starts up maybe slap him around a little.” Frankie knew you were joking, but the look in your eyes was one of fear. He took your hand gently and lowered his head to talk to you.

“You can wait out here if you want,” he murmured, “we’ve got the list of what we need to get.” You squeezed his hand and shook your head. Yours was cold and slightly clammy in his own, but he didn’t mind.

“No, I need to do this.” You said. Frankie nodded, understanding. You didn’t need to explain the nitty gritty of your reasoning, all he needed was for you to know that you had him, in whatever way you needed.

You kept a firm grip on his hand as you lead the way upstairs to your old apartment, only letting go when you stood outside the front door, fumbling in your bag for your keys.

At first, the apartment seemed empty of life. All the lights were off, the curtains closed, and the place was eerily silent. You stepped over the threshold, followed by the rest of the boys, who immediately got to work.

As it turned out, Kurt wasn’t there. He remained gone for a good half hour while the boys carried your heavier shit down to their trucks. You set to work stuffing the rest of your clothes into plastic trash bags you had picked up from the grocery store.

Benny joined Frankie in carrying a loveseat downstairs.

“Fish, I need to tell ya,” Benny started, grunting as they made a turn. “She’s as into you as you are her.” Frankie shook his head.

“Don’t do this, man.”

“I’m being serious. I talked to her in the truck. She didn’t say it outright, but you should’a seen the look on her face when I talked about you.” Benny waggled his eyebrows. “And her friend Sara agrees, she’s ‘smitten’ with you. Whatever the fuck smitten means. If you want my advice-”

“I’m not sure I do.”

“-Go for it. Tonight, once we’re all gone. Shoot your shot my guy. Don’t waste anymore fucking time. Sara said she wasn’t even sad about the breakup, like she’s been checked out mentally for months now.”

“Wait, did Sara tell you about me punching Kurt?”

“All I’m saying is, she likes you a lot, you like her a lot, don’t waste this.” Frankie mulled over what Benny was saying. There had been more than a few moments that week when he had spied you looking at him and wondered . . . but each time he had pushed the thought out his head. Old insecurities, respect for you, held him back.

Historically, Frankie had never been very good at telling when someone was into him. He could be literally balls deep and he’d still be questioning it. Even sometimes with Portia, he’d wonder if she really felt the same way he did. Santi, who knew Frankie as a kid, chalked it up to Frankie having a rough go of puberty, not growing into his features until almost the end of high school. By then, whenever someone had showed even a slight bit of interest, Frankie had dismissed it as a cruel joke. Unfortunately, those insecurities had followed him deep into adulthood.

The mood in the apartment had become relaxed, all the heavier stuff, like your couch, TV, furniture, and fridge had been taken care of, and now all that was left was to gather all the small shit. Frankie found you in the bathroom, unscrewing the shower head. You tossed it into a box filled with other bathroom items, the loud clang making him grimace. He opened his mouth to speak to you when yelling from the front room interrupted him.

Your face fell instantly, going from focused to almost afraid. Your eyes met Frankie’s own, and he reached out to touch your arm. It’s okay the touch said, he can’t do anything to you. Taking a deep breath, you squared your shoulders and walked out with Frankie to the commotion.

Kurt was being held back with a single hand on his chest by a bored looking Will, screaming a string of expletives and struggling to land any kind of hit on Will, Santi stood behind Kurt, ready to jump in if needed. Benny was hunched over, clutching his sides in laughter. Kurt finally caught sight of you, standing a little in front of Frankie.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?” His tone made you wince slightly, but Frankie was proud of the way you didn’t shrink away.

“I told you this was happening today, Kurtis, it was your choice to come back while we were here,” you said calmly.

“You’re taking all my shit!”

“I paid for every single thing I’m taking,” you said. “It’s not my fault you never put anything of monetary value into this place.” You stepped forward, so you were facing Kurt head on, but still behind Will. “You need to calm down, you’re acting like a fucking child.”

“I’M ACTING LIKE A CHILD?”

“Yes. You are. You’ve acted like one almost our entire relationship. So you can either calm down, leave and come back later, or my friends will force you to calm down.”

“Are you threatening me?” Kurt spat.

“Yes. You’ve already been smacked down before, any one of these guys would love to be the one to do it again.”

“I’d like to see them fucking try!” Kurt pivoted and lunged at Benny. Big mistake. With a simple, yet effective, punch to the head, Kurt was out cold on the floor. Benny looked up, almost apologetic. You grinned at him, silent laughter shaking your shoulders.

“I didn’t mean to hit that hard,” Benny said, flexing his fist. “But I also did.”

Santi dragged Kurt’s unconscious body to the now empty living room, carefully posing him so he was curled in the foetal position, sucking on his thumb.

“He actually arrived at the perfect time,” you said to Frankie, standing back beside him. “Cause we’re done here.”

“We’ve got everything?” Santi called, overhearing you. You nodded.

“We’re finally done here.”

~*~

Frankie was glad you had decided to ride with him back to your new place. You were buzzing with a new energy, unable to keep a nervous grin off your face. You didn’t speak on the drive to your new place, but Frankie hoped he wasn’t reading into how much closer you sat, your thighs almost brushing his. Benny had gotten into his head, he knew, and now he couldn’t stop thinking about the conversation.

You were the most beautiful person he had met, both inside and out, and the very idea that you could like him the way he liked you . . . well fuck, it didn’t seem feasible. But then he thought back to the previous week spent with you, and maybe it wasn’t such a ludicrous idea after all.

He pulled up at your new building, parking in the spot designated for you. You turned to him, unlatching your seatbelt as you did.

“Frankie . . .” you started, then leant over and pulled him into a tight hug. Frankie felt like everything you wanted to say was in that hug. You pulled back slightly, so your faces were almost touching. He could’ve done it then, he fucking should have done it. Crossed that miniscule amount of space between you. But then the moment passed, and you pulled away entirely.

You climbed out of the truck, moving to the back to grab some of the garbage bags that held the smaller stuff. Frankie’s phone buzzed in the cupholder, a message from Will in the group chat.

Ironhead: Pussy

Frankie turned and saw Will staring at him. Fuck offhe mouthed. Will flipped him off with a grin. The effort of getting all your stuff up to your new place was considerably easier than it had been the first time around. For one, your new place had an elevator. So even though they had to take turns using it, it was worlds above struggling up seven flights of stairs. The mood was also improved by the fact Will had knocked Kurt out cold. Frankie had begun to wonder if that had become the main highlight of your day.

It was well into the night by the time everything was in its new place. Benny and Will flopped down onto your loveseat, drinking beers that you had kept in an ice chest you had brought in yesterday just for this. You sat on the floor, drinking a fruity vodka thing that Frankie thought looked and smelt like a melted popsicle. The balcony door was open, a breeze that held the promise of summer drifted through.

“Where’s Santi?” You asked looking around.

“He had to get something from the truck,” Will said. As if on cue, which if Frankie knew these boys as well as he did, it was, Santi burst through the door, one arm stretched wide, the other behind his back.

“My dearest,” Santi began, and Frankie groaned inwardly, “over this past day, the gentlemen and I have grown quite fond of you.” What is this, regency England? Frankie rolled his eyes and took a sip of his beer. “And as such, we wanted to present you with a housewarming gift.” With that, he whipped his arm around and held out a vase of sunflowers. Your face softened, then broke into a grin.

“You didn’t have to do this,” you pushed yourself up and pulled Santi into a hug, motioning for Will and Benny to join. You hugged the three men as tight as you could, smiling at Frankie over the tops of their shoulders. Frankie smiled back, raising his beer in a silent toast.

You placed the flowers on the kitchen counter, facing them toward the window. It was just past ten when the three boys left, Benny carrying the ice chest along with the promise to bring it back as soon as he could. It seemed like it was only moments before only you and Frankie remained.

Frankie’s phone buzzed.

Benny: Don’t fuck this up.

Frankie saw you move outside onto the balcony, leaning against the railing, silhouetted by silver moonlight, your face turned towards the breeze that coasted off the lake. Everyone else was gone, and he wondered if he didn’t take this chance, would he ever?

He moved to stand next to you, standing so close your arms were touching. His heart felt like it was caught in his throat. He murmured your name.

“Frankie,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of his beating heart. Before he could stop himself, chicken out like he had before, he closed the distance between you. One hand cupping your warm cheek, the other encircling your waist, he tilted his head down until his lips met yours.

It was everything.

Your lips were soft against his, hesitant at first, but then you were wrapping your arms around his neck, pressing your body against his. You tasted like candy and those sugary drinks you insisted on bringing. Your touch was like tiny jolts of electricity shooting down his spine.

Fuck.

His tongue darted against your bottom lip, and you let him in almost hungrily. Frankie deepened the kiss, wondering just why the everloving fuck he waited this long.

He whispered your name, the word like poetry on his lips. You were poetry, you were art, you were every beautiful thing wrapped up into one person. He was in love with you.

Taglist: @hnt-escape @sharkbait77 @1800-fight-me @annathewitch @darnitdraco @frankiecatfish @punkerthanpascal @nakhudanyx @gracie7209 @quica-quica-quica @pintsizemama @phoenix-of-loki @procrastinationstationnation

[vennilavee]

stormy skies

pairing: levi x reader, and baby kaiya

summary: it’s not the first time you’re home late from work.

word count: ~2260

warnings: a shitty boss, some cursing

a/n: wrote this because i couldnt sleep last night due to the current us election... enjoy

***

Levi peeks his head into Kaiya’s bedroom, and sees her fast asleep in her bed. She’s surrounded by pillows, her lion stuffed animal, as well as her butterfly, shark, and flower pillow. It’s been about an hour since she fell asleep for her afternoon nap. 

He thought he heard a noise on the baby monitor, but it was nothing. Just her shifting in bed.

Her face is squished into the pillow and Levi can’t help the small upturn of his lips at the sight.

Kaiya’s already almost two years old, and neither you nor Levi can quite believe it. Levi claims that she’s the spitting image of you, but you claim the opposite.

You’re both right.

Levi’s career allows for him to work from home for most days. You and Levi had spent the better part of two weeks setting up his office, back when you had first moved into your new home. Before Kaiya was born. He has two monitors on his mahogany desk, a sleek keyboard and an even sleeker mouse with his laptop plugged into the dock.

A photo of you and a photo of Kaiya sits next to the monitor on the left, and a photo of the three of you next to the monitor on the right. The baby monitor is in front of him, just in case Kaiya wakes up before she is supposed to.

He’s eager for Kaiya to wake up and for you to come home, and he puts his glasses on to get to work and hopefully end his day early.

***

Levi shoves a hand in his hair, expelling a deep sigh as he logs out of work. He stretches his arms and his legs, only to be alerted by a slight vibration from his phone.

It’s a text from you:

angel: gonna be late today… levi: again? angel: yes :(

Levi sighs to himself, waiting a few seconds before replying.

levi: ok, be safe 

It’s the third time this week, and he’s lost count of how many times you’ve come home late over the last few weeks. At first, it hadn’t bothered him. But then it became a habit. And then Kaiya was asking for you during dinner.

That was the first of a few fights. They usually ended with you promising that you’d be better about it and draw the boundaries you needed to draw.

And yet… 

Levi hears Kaiya waking up on the baby monitor, her soft coos and calls of ‘daddy’ and ‘mommy’ nearly echoing in the silent room. He turns the monitor off and walks upstairs to her bedroom, where he finds her sitting up. Her smile is sleepy and she makes grabby hands for him with her stuffed lion tucked under her arm.

“Daddy,” She beams at him.

“Slept well, Kai?” Levi asks and she doesn’t reply, instead tucking her face into his neck. Levi brushes his lips over her forehead as he carries her downstairs. She’s still warm from her nap, grey eyes blinking sleepily. 

Levi gets started on dinner with Kaiya on his hip and feeds her spoonfuls of sauce and bits of meat here and there, which she accepts eagerly. She smiles widely with her nose scrunched when she likes it. You’d claim that her smile is identical to Levi’s, but he disagrees.

He’d tell you that everything good about Kaiya comes from you.

Levi gets lost in his thoughts of you, wondering if you’re on your way home. He’s having trouble remembering the last time you both had gone to bed together without the melancholy of your work schedule hanging over your head.

He sighs. Kaiya hears him and looks up curiously.

“Daddy?” Kaiya says, patting his cheek, “Mama?”

“Mama’s comin’ home late, kid,” Levi says, “Again. Do you miss her?”

Kaiya lets out a sigh suspiciously similar to his.

“Yeah. Me too, kid.”

***

By the time you come home, it’s well past dinnertime. Levi had left out a plate for you, but by now, it’s cold. You kick your heels off and place them in the closet neatly, grimacing at the covered plate on the dinner table and your empty living room.

You can almost taste Levi’s disappointment. But you just want to see Kaiya, you know she’ll be able to cheer you up.

What a shitty day. Shitty week. Shitty month. With every day that goes by, you’re getting closer and closer to telling your boss to shove his foot up his ass. 

You immediately head into Kaiya’s bedroom, where you’re certain Levi is telling her a bedtime story. You’re not even sure what time it is- is she asleep? Are you too late?

You hate bringing the smell of work home, preferring to change into comfy clothes before greeting Kaiya and Levi with a kiss. But you can’t wait, not tonight. Not when you know that Levi is upset with you and when you miss Kaiya so much that you ache.

“Kaiya?” You whisper, “Kaiya, baby?”

“Mama!” Kaiya squeals, looking up from the book that Levi’s reading to her, “Hi, mama!”

You kneel next to her bed and open your arms for a hug. She jumps into your arms happily and you kiss her cheeks and her forehead as she giggles wildly.

“I missed you, baby,” You mumble, holding her close, “So much.”

You pull away and cup her cheeks tenderly, rubbing with your thumb. Kaiya only looks at you with the same disarming silver eyes that belong to Levi. Her eyes are soft when she looks at you, her grin bright and toothy.

“Daddy, story,” Kaiya says, pointing to Levi.

“Can mama join?” You ask quietly, looking at Levi.

“Don’t be stupid. Of course mama can join,” Levi murmurs, patting the spot next to him.

You don’t even admonish him for saying ‘stupid’ in front of your daughter and he says nothing about you wearing your work clothes in his daughter’s bed.

You kiss the corner of Levi’s mouth, taking his hand in his as he continues to read to Kaiya. He squeezes your hand every so often, listening to the way Kaiya gasps and giggles at the story. Levi doesn’t tell the story with much fanfare or gusto- he tells it just the way Kaiya likes. With the always present dry intonation of his voice.

You think it’s Kaiya’s favorite sound in the world.

Kaiya points at the picture in the book and giggles, looking up at you for confirmation that you can see what she’s pointing at. You hold her hand and laugh with her too, melting at the way her smile holds your world in it.

After a few more pages and a few more laughs, Kaiya begins to grow tired. She rests her head against your arm, stifling a yawn. You rub her back to lull her into sleep but she tries to stay awake.

“Are you sleepy, Kaiya baby?” You coo, kissing her forehead.

She doesn’t reply, instead closing her eyes. It only takes a few more forehead kisses and back rubs for her to fall into deep sleep. You smile at Kaiya and look at Levi, offering him a small smile as well.

“Did you eat?” Levi asks, nudging your shoulder and gesturing for you to get up.

“No, I put it in the fridge. Not really hungry. Just want to be with you and Kaiya,” You murmur.

Levi gives you a long stare and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Don’t be stupid. Go eat. I know you probably haven’t eaten since noon. Because of your shitty boss,” Levi says pointedly.

You sigh, heading into your bedroom to change out of your work clothes and wash up before heading downstairs.

He doesn’t join you.

You eat quickly, somewhere halfway between enjoying and savoring all of the flavors and barely chewing so that you can go upstairs to talk to Levi. You wash the dishes in the sink quickly before double checking the locks and heading to your bedroom.

Levi’s in bed, reading a book and casts a look of acknowledgement to you. It feels odd, devoid of his usual affections. You know why. Because he’s upset with you.

You curl next to him, cupping his cheek to get him to look at you. Levi sighs heavily and casts his book on the nightstand.

“Your job is fuckin’ shitty,” Levi says without missing a beat, “Kaiya misses you. A lot.”

I miss you. A lot. The words hang in the air.

“I know, I’m sorry. I hate it,” You whisper, crumbling under his scorching gaze, “I didn’t want-”

“So? What are you gonna do about it?” Levi asks flatly, voice full of ice, “It’s your dream job, right?”

It unnerves you.

“Levi,” You say hollowly, “Don’t be like that-”

“Not bein’ like anything,” Levi says easily, “Your daughter fuckin’ misses her mama. This is the first time you’ve tucked her into bed properly in who knows how long- she asks for you all the time, always asking for her mama. And where is her mama? At work-”

“Levi,” You beg quietly, “Levi, stop-”

“How many times are we going to have this conversation?” Levi says hotly. You raise your eyebrows when you hear the emotion in his voice. He’s clearly been thinking this for quite some time.

“I’m sorry,” You plead, taking his hands in yours.

He pulls them away from you and your lips part in a surprised ‘o’. You’re quickly confronted with how much you’ve been hurting him.

“Levi, I’m gonna fix it. I swear- I’m gonna fix it, I’ve already talked to my boss a-and told him I can’t do this anymore-” You blubber, tears forming in your eyes.

“Can’t do what anymore?”

“The late nights-”

“Yeah, they’ll stop for what? A week? Then start back up again,” Levi scoffs coldly, “You promised you’d fix this. So fix this.”

“Levi- stop,” You mumble, “You’re being mean-”

You can’t help it- you start to cry harder, fat tears pool in your dark eyes and roll down your cheeks, as your bottom lip trembles. You let out a loud sob and turn away from him, not able to meet his eyes. Levi blinks at you, almost nervously. 

“Shit,” Levi says under his breath, “Shit-”

He wipes your tears from your cheeks and pulls you into his chest, his chin over your head. His arms are tight around you, heartbeat lulling you into calm. Neither of you say anything for a few minutes, despite the apology on the tip of his tongue.

Levi hates seeing you cry, especially when he is the cause of your tears. But he knows, even if his words were cruel, the problem still exists.

It takes a few minutes for you to breathe and for your sobs to reduce to sniffles. 

“I’m trying, baby,” You mumble, “I told him I need to scale back. But- he’s just so, fucking-“

And then you start to cry again. Levi wonders if there’s more to it than you’ve been saying. He wonders if there’s more of a problem than just late nights. Levi rubs your cheek with his thumb, giving you a few more minutes to gather your thoughts.

“Is something else going on?” Levi asks, most of the heat gone from his voice.

You’re quiet again, looking up at him. Trying to figure out how to allow the words to bubble up and leave your throat.

“What is it, angel?” He asks, cupping your chin for you to meet his eyes.

“He’s just so,” You sigh, “He’s so… mean. He talks down to me sometimes when we have group meetings- and I don’t even realize until the meeting’s been said and done. God, I hate what a boys club it is there. 

Oh, and his favorite is that one guy who always steals credit for the work that I do- and he said he’d dock my bonus if I didn’t start picking up the slack, but I am, I’m picking up everyone’s fuckin’ slack and all I’m good at doing is hurting you and hurting Kaiya- and I n-never wanted to be like that. 

I never wanted to be the person who put their career in front of their family. I should be able to have both, but not- not like this.” Your rant ends with a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over.

“Angel,” Levi breathes, kissing your forehead, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I thought I could handle it,” You mutter honestly, “But I can’t. I need to get out, Levi.”

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” Levi says, pressing his forehead to yours.

“You didn’t. It’s okay, I get it. I get it.”

“I should’ve helped you. Not yelled at you.”

“How could you know? I didn’t say anything,” You scoff, slipping your hand under his shirt to rub his chest. You missed him, and this.

“Thought we said no secrets,” Levi says lightly, “No more. We’ll figure it out.”

“‘M not working for most of next week. I need a break,” You say, pressing yourself closer to Levi.

“Good. We’ll figure it out, alright?” Levi says and squeezes your hand. He dips his head for a kiss, and you can taste the sweetness of his unsaid apology.

“You, me and Kaiya?” You ask with a small smile.

Levi nods, quelling your fears with a series of featherlight kisses that deepen quickly. His hands wander your ribcage, holding you close and warming you up from within. Silver eyes melt into your brown, and you’re reassured by his steady strength.

You’ll be okay. You, him and Kaiya. You’ll be okay.

tags: @simpingmaize

[thatdeaniegirlsworld]

Sexual Tension-Roman Reigns

It was supposed to be a casual night out with friends, until he showed up.

He catches your eyes from across the room, smirking at you as he cockily walked over to you. "Did that boyfriend of yours finally let you out for the night?" Roman asks you, and you roll your eyes.

"He's not my boyfriend." You tell him, and the bartender hands him a drink.

"Is that why he's staring?" He asks, and you turn your head to see that he was in fact, staring.

"He's just a friend." You tell Roman, who chuckles lightly. "What?"

"If that's what it takes to be friends with you, maybe you should upgrade." He says, and you roll your eyes at him again.

"Is that so?" You ask him, and he scoots closer to you.

"Don't tempt me, baby girl. You have no idea what I'm capable of." He tells you before venturing off.

"You two are something else." Carmella tells you when you walk back over to your table.

"He's an ass." You tell her, and she shakes her head at you. "What?"

"Oh come on, you can cut the sexual tension with a knife." She says as yall sit down at the table.

"Who has sexual tension?" Corey asks. "Roman, and Y/N?"

Carmella laughs, nodding her head. "Will you two stop? There's nothing there."

"Y/N, I love you sweetheart, but that tension is so fucking thick." Nia says, and you roll your eyes looking over at Roman who was looking at you.

"If she says there isn't any tension, then there isn't any. So stop pestering her." Baron says, and you roll your eyes again. He was so in love with you, it was insane.

"How about you all shut up about it, and we take some shots?" You ask, and they all start cheering.

***

The following week, Roman had somehow got your number and wouldn't stop texting you about the dumbest little things.

You were currently at a local coffee shop, working on your article when he walked in. He approaches your table, and sits down across from you. "Busy here, Reigns." You tell him, and look up.

"Oh come on, just five minutes?" He asks, and you sigh, setting down your pen. He smirks when he sees he has won momentarily. "So, how's your day?"

"Fine." You tell him, shrugging your shoulders.

"Just fine?" He asks, and you nod your head. "Anything I can do to make it better?"

"Very cliche, but no. I have a deadline, and really need to get this done." You say, breathing out in frustration.

"What is it you're working on?" He asks, walking around to slide into the booth next to you.

"Oh, it's nothing, really." You tell him, but he's already looking over the pages.

"Wow, this is really good." He says, sounding surprised. "Your writing style is unique."

"Really? You think so?" You ask him, and he turns to look at you, nodding his head. "Well, thanks."

"You really are just full of surprises, aren't you?" He asks, and you look into his eyes, shrugging your shoulders.

He places one hand on your right thigh, patting it before sliding it up, and down. When he notices that you don't move his hand, he leans in closer to you. "What else are you hiding?" He whispers, his lips inches from yours.

"Hey, there you are!" Baron yells, making Roman squeeze his eyes shut, and pull away from you. "Sorry, did I interrupt?"

Roman stares a hole through him before grabbing his keys, and saying nothing as he walks out of the coffee shop.

***

You were back at the club again, sitting at a table with your friends, looking to see if Roman would show. "Looking for Roman, huh?" Alexa asks you, and you laugh knowing you got caught.

"Uh, yeah actually." You tell her, and she goes to say something else when he walks in at that moment. He quickly scans the room before meeting your eyes, and he smirks at you.

"Go talk to him." Alexa says, and you shake your head. "Come on, what's the harm?"

"I'm actually going to use the bathroom, I'll be back." You tell her, and make your way there when Baron stops you as you're about to go in.

"Y/N. Listen, there's something I need to tell you. I've liked you for a while, and I wanted to see if you'd like to go out sometime?"

"I appreciate the gesture, but I'm just not looking for anything at the moment. You're a good friend." You tell him, and disappointment flashes over his face.

"It's Roman, isn't it? The dude doesn't know personal space, Y/N." He scoffs.

"First of all, it doesn't matter who I'm spending my time with. That is MY decision, and I will not have you or any man tell me what's best for me."

"Fine, be a dumb bitch then. Because once he fucks you, he'll never call you again. Especially with someone of your weight." He says, and your jaw drops.

"What the fuck did you just say to her?" Roman appears out of the dark room. Baron looks like he just shit himself. "Are you seriously that insecure that you're targeting her weight, which by the way, is not a problem, to try and win here?"

"Fuck off, Roman. Everyone knows how you are. You'll fuck her, then leave her crying for weeks because you don't show any affection towards her. She's stupid for even being affected by you."

"And now you want to name call?" Roman asks him, and grabs him by the collar. "You have exactly thirty seconds to get the fuck out of here before I do something I'll regret." He let's go of Baron, who walks off.

"Thank you. I didn't need you to do all of that, but thank you." You tell him, and he steps closer to you. "He's right though, I mean I could lose him few pounds."

"No, don't do that. Don't let him in that brilliant head or yours. He's just insecure. He was upset that you turned him down." He says, and takes your hand, pulling you into a private bathroom. "Let's get you cleaned up."

He sits you down on the counter, and you hand him some wipes from your purse to fix up your face. "You dont have to do all this, Roman. Go back to your boys." You tell him, and he throws the wipes away.

"If I didn't want to he here, I wouldn't be." He says, and steps closer to you. His thumb brushing over your cheek, and he leans in, brushing his nose against yours before closing the distance.

His lips were soft against yours, and you grab the back of his neck. He wraps your legs around his waist as he pulls you closer to him.

He pulls away, slowly, resting his forehead against yours. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that." He says.

"Really?" You ask him, and he nods. "Then do it again." He looks at you before connecting your lips again. You tug at the roots of his hair, and he groans into your mouth before pulling away again.

"If I keep going then I won't he able to stop." He tells you, and you pull him closer to you.

"What if I don't want you to stop?" You ask him, and he stares at you.

"I'm not sure you're aware of what you're asking for, baby girl." He says with a chuckle.

"Please?" You ask him, and he pulls you from the counter.

"My place or yours?" He asks as you reach his car.

"Yours." You tell him, and he smirks before pulling out of the parking lot.

***

"Holy fuck your place is huge." You tell him as you pull in his driveway. He shakes his head at you before leading you inside.

"Follow me." He says as he makes his way upstairs, and into his bedroom, which is filled with books.

"Wow." You gasp, as you take a look around. "You have so many."

"Mhm." He says, his hands on your waist. "What's your favorite?"

"Book? I have a lot of favorite books." You tell him, and reach out to grab one.

"Tell me about one or your favorite books." He whispers before placing his lips on your neck. You stumble over words as you try to talk to him while his lips were all over your neck. His hand trails up your inner thigh before rubbing you over your lace panties.

Your head falls back onto his shoulder, and he continues to tease you. "What do you want, baby girl?" He whispers in your ear.

"You. I need you to touch me, please." You bed, and his fingers move your panties to the side.

"You're so wet for me." He says as he finds your clit, rubbing it in circles. You gasp at the contact, and he bites down onto your neck. "Feel good baby?"

"So good." You tell him, and your knees start to grow weak as he held your body to his. He slides his fingers down to your hole, inserting two fingers inside. "Fuck."

"You're so tight." He groans, his thumb finding your clit again. "You're already squeezing my fingers. Need to cum already?"

"Please." You beg. "It's been so long."

"You want my tongue?" He asks, and you nod your head. "Words, baby."

"Yes." You tell him, and he removes his fingers from you, picking you up, and taking you to the bed.

He bunches your dress up, removing your panties before pressing his tongue to your clit. You moan loudly, and he slides his two fingers inside of you. "Fuck, Roman."

"That's it baby, scream my name." He says, and your back begins to arch.

"I'm not going to last long." You pant, and look down at him. The sight, knocking you over the edge as you grab onto his hair, and ride his tongue as you ride out your high. "Fuck."

He pulls you to stand, pulling your dress over your head, and he starts to unbutton his shirt, peeling it off his body. He had a massive tribal tattoo. "Samoan." He answers the question you were asking mentally.

You sit up on your knees, tracing over it, and you see his goosebumps rise from the effect. "I'd like to learn about it one day." You tell him, and he nods at you.

He throws his belt to the ground before pulling off his pants, and you look at the bulge in his pants. "Not going to run off now, are you?" He asks, and you shake your head. "Good."

He grabs the back of your neck, pulling you in for another kiss, and you dip your hand into his boxers, grabbing his length. He pulls his boxers all the way down, and you begin to pump him. "You going to wrap those pretty lips around me, baby girl?" He asks you.

You lay down on your stomach while he was on his knees, and you lick up the base of his cock. You swirl your tongue around the head before taking him all the way in your mouth. He tenses, and grabs onto your hair as you begin to bob your head up, and down. "Fuckin perfect." He groans, and you moan onto his cock, making him grip your hair even tighter.

You reach down to cup his balls in your hand while you take him as far as you can get, choking on him. "Such a good girl." He groans, and you pull off for air. He grabs you by your chin, pulling you up so that he can kiss you again before pushing you back onto the mattress.

"Fuck, I think I'm out of condoms." He curses.

"It's okay, I'm on the pill." You tell him, and be nods before bending down to kiss you again.

"You want me to fill you up with my cum, don't you baby?" He asks, and you nod at him. He sits up, dragging his cock up, and down your folds before pushing in. You gasp at the size, and he pushes all the way in.

"Hoky fuck." You groan, and look at his biceps that were on either side of your head. Jesus.

"You are so fucking tight baby girl." He groans, bending down to kiss you again.

"Move, daddy." You tell him, and watch as his eyes flick to almost a solid black. You bite your lip when he pulls out, and slams into you.

"Oh no you don't. Let daddy hear you, baby." He says, pulling your lip from your teeth.

"Go faster then." You taunt him, and he raises his eyebrows at you. He sits back, grabbing your hips, pulling out, and slamming back into you over and over.

"This what you wanted? Hmm?" He asks, his thrusts picking up speed. "Daddy's little slut is just greedy, isn't she?"

You reach for his hand, wrapping it around your throat, and he realizes this, laughing. "Dirty fucking girl."

"You mad about it?" You ask him, and surprise him by pulling him toward you to flip the two of you over. You sink down onto him, and ride his cock.

"Fuck, who are you?" He gasps, his hand still wrapped around your throat. "That's it, ride daddy's cock baby."

"You like that?" You ask him, bending down to kiss him. His hand comes down hard on your ass, and you moan against his lips.

"You really think you're in control right now, don't you?" He asks, and you shrug your shoulders. He quickly flips you over, throwing one of your legs over his shoulders, going deeper. You moan loudly, and he smirks down at you. "That's what I fucking thought."

"Roman." You whine, he moves to bite down on your neck. "Fuck. You feel so good."

He moves up to suck on your earlobe, driving you insane. "My girl. Aren't you baby?"

"Yes." You breathe out, and he kisses down your neck again until he takes one of your nipples in his mouth.

"Now, look at daddy while you cum all over his cock." He tells you, and you whimper at the words. "Be a good girl for me, and cum."

"I'm go-" you can't finish, as your orgasm rips through you, and he rests his forehead against yours.

"That's it. Good girl." He groans as he fucks you through your high.

"Fill me daddy." You tell him, and he thrusts into you fast, his head in the crook of your head, and shoulder.

"Fuck, Y/N." He groans, and you feel him cum inside you. "God damn." He pulls his head back to look at you before kissing you softly. "You are something else."

"I hope that's a good thing." You tell him, giggling.

"Trust me, it's a good thing. How am I supposed to stay away from you now?" He asks, and you kiss him again.

"You don't." You tell him, and by the look in his eyes, you can tell that he won't.

Tags: @omg-im-such-a-masochist

@galens-mistress

@drewmcintyrekoccsrocbwdgfan

@wickedsunfire

[carolmaximoffs]

teacher’s pet

summary: ransom gets a tutor per his parents meddling, lest his family pull all financial support. 

pairings: college! ransom drysdale x virgin! reader

warnings: cussing, dirty talk, sort-of public sex (fingering... in a library...i’m sorry), reference to drinking, brief brief mention of hookup! (not w reader), loss of virginity, oral (f! receiving) uhh it’s filth alright it’s innocent reader and ransom drysdale what did you expect

UNPROTECTED SEX BUT THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION SO PLEASE WRAP IT UP

a/n: per request by someone who’s no longer on tumblr, but i wanted to finish SOMETHING in my drafts. (i started this in...gosh, august? it’s way overdue)

You’ve got to be kidding me, is the first thought to bounce across Ransom’s brain when he walks into the library that evening in January. It’s practically deserted, except for one occupant of a back table. You’re huddled over laptop, doesn’t even notice him walk in. He studies you from the doorway for a moment.

His second thought is, she’s kind of cute. He pushes that far, far away and all but stomps over to the table. You look up with a start when he clears his throat, sliding out the chair across from you and dropping his bag unceremoniously onto the table.

“Lets get this straight,” Ransom declares, folding his hands together into one fist and tucking them under his chin. It’s a move his mother had pulled in many ‘I’m-not-trying-to-control-your-life-but’ conversations. She usually paired it with an exasperated and slightly pouty look meant to guilt him into seeing things her way. He pairs it with a glower. “I don’t need a tutor, I don’t want a tutor, and quite frankly, I don’t even want to be taking this fuckin’ course. However slash comma, I need this course, so I can get the degree, build some shit from the ground up like everybody else, blah, blah, blah. So. Let’s get started.”

The girl across from him just blinks for a second. Maybe he did come off a little harsh, but he didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. You blink for a little longer, like you’re confused. Ransom is just about to ask if you’re deaf when you speak up. “O-okay. Right. So, I spoke to your mother-“

“Fucking fantastic.” You glare.

“I talked to your mother and she-“

“Wait a sec,” Ransom interjects for a second time. Your eyes get wide, like you’re about to lunge across the table and strangle him. “What’s your name, sugar-tits?”

You pull a face at him, somewhere between murderous and disgusted. “Y/N. Can you please stop interrupting me?”

Ransom only smiles, and you continue. His mother had emailed you in depth, evidently. Told you all about how he failed last semester, desperately needs the credit, et cetera, et cetera. Great. It sounds almost rehearsed, though, not as nervous nor hesitant as everything you say after. He gets the feeling you don’t quite know what to make of him, yet, and he intends to keep it that way.

—————————

Be-beep. Be-beep. Be-beep.

Ransom sweeps his arm out wildly; he hears the thunk of his water bottle and the rattle of the aspirin bottle he’d preemptively put out as they hit the floor.

Be-beep. Be-beep. Be-beep.

Finally, he manages to grasp his phone, the source of the wretched noise. Christ, his head is pounding, but he swipes to answer the call without even looking. He blinks through his migraine in the gold evening light as he croaks out a hello.

“Where the fuck are you, Hugh?”

He looks at the clock - right, right. Ransom forces a laugh through his dry throat. You’re pissed, and rightfully so. “Ransom, please, princess-“

“Don’t ‘princess’ me, prick. This is the third time this week. I’ve been at the library for thirty fucking minutes!” You hate him, hate him, hate him, but it’s been a handful of weeks now, and you know he’s positively beaming on the other end of the line. “I talked to Marcus-“

“Sweetheart,” He tries again, reaching for his water,  “Marcus? C’mon, what’d I say about talking to my friends-“

“And what did I say about getting drunk off your ass the night before we’re ‘sposed to meet up? Ransom,” And you’re so angry your voice shakes and blurs with it, with the disappointment, and oh, that shouldn’t make him stir. “Seriously. Get your ass down here. I’m not letting Linda fucking Drysdale down.”

Ah yes, Little Miss Perfect, Future Miss CEO who idolizes his mother. There’s a little click as you hang up, and Ransom chuckles to himself as he takes a swig of water. He’s really considering meeting you, too; he’s just about to slither out of bed, throw on some clothes, grab his textbook. Then his latest conquest sits up beside him and stretches tanned arms, shaking long curls from her shoulders.

“Hope that wasn’t your girlfriend. I was really hoping for a round 3.”

And hell, who is he to deny a lady? (An asshole, and a liar, and an unreliable piece of expletive along with a few other colorful insults, according to the myriad of texts from Y/N. He puts his phone on silent.)

—————————

“I’m not shocked you failed this chapter twice in a row,” Your murmur as you trace your finger under the header “Strategic Differentiation is Key: Listening to and Working with Others”. It’s late spring, the library a little more crowded as more students brave the trek across campus. He sits beside you, instead of across from you, now, thigh to thigh. “You only talk to people if it benefits you. Actually, strategic differentiation is beneficial, so I guess I am a little shocked.”

“I never wanted to be a businessman,” Ransom shrugs, leaning his chair back on two legs. Your brows furrow, and you set your pen down hesitantly, like you know they’re broaching a tedious moment. The sort of thing that doesn’t occur often - Hugh Ransom Drysdale, being vulnerable. You’re quiet, though, and he finds himself continuing.

“I wanted to be a writer like my grandpa,” He admits softly, and he doesn’t know what’s made him say it - did he hit his head in his sleep last night? - but it’s out there. It hangs between them heavily. Your fingers curl around the edges of the textbook they’re sharing.

“I...That’s really sweet, Ransom,” You murmur finally in that stupid, adorable, fucking annoyingly soft way of yours. “Really sweet.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Ransom scoffs. He shrugs it off, like everything else, shifting and slinging an arm over the back of your chair. “Tell me something you’ve never told anyone.”

“I-What?”

“You heard me. I told you something, you tell me something. Call it leveling the playing field. An eye for an eye.”

“‘An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind’,” You mutter uncertainly. You remain silent for a beat too long afterwards. Ransom leans his weight on his forearms on the table, ducking his head to speak in your ear.

“C’mon, what are you? A virgin?” He laughs at his own clever jab, but when he sits up, you still aren’t answering, face mortified. Ransom gasps exaggeratedly, grinning wickedly at his own fortune. “You are. Holy fuck. You’re a goddamn virgin.”

“Not so loud!” You hiss, slapping at his arm. You want to puke right into his stupid lap. Not that there was anything wrong with being a virgin, but hearing him say it like that... Damn him, you think, and then you huff, “Damn you.”

“Aw it’s okay, princess,” Ransom coos, and he’s mocking you, you know he’s mocking you, but something sparks in your stomach. He pinches your cheek in the way old ladies do to small children. “Nothing to be ashamed about. Not like you’re a junior in college and perfectly pretty enough to find yourself a hookup. What’s the hold-up, sugar?”

She presses her thighs together. Ransom pretends not to notice, still intent on an answer. Consumed with a combination of embarrassment and need (though mostly the former), she shrugs. “Just...waiting for the right guy, I guess.”

Ransom snorts, as if to tell her “that’s a waste of time”, or maybe because they both know it’s bullshit. But he utters nothing more on the subject, and instead picks up his pen. 

“So, I think this is what tripped me up here...” 

She can’t focus on his question. His free hand is tracing funny little patterns on her knee. 

—————————

“Ransom....” 

“Shhh,” He huddles closer to her, hushing her wary pleas. They’re at a different table, today, further in the back. He’s got a hand slipping up beneath her skirt. “Just trust me, princess. Keep on teaching me, while I teach you.”

And she does; her voice trembles, be it with nerves or need, as he dips his fingers beneath her panties. Ransom traces over her clit, teasingly, just to hear her stumble over the sentence she’s trying to explain to him. Fuck Management Skills - he was managing just fine, if he did say so himself. He prods at her entrance, gathering her slick on his finger tips, before sliding one slick digit in to the hilt. She makes a sound somewhere between gasping and choking. Ransom grins uncontrollably, ducking his head into her neck.

“So wet for me already, princess,” He whispers, a second finger joining the first. She bites her lip as he teases a third, so soon. “Come on. Focus.”

“Ransom, I can’t,” She half-whines, pages crinkling as she grips the textbook desperately. She squirms, but he’s unrelenting. “Please, we’re gonna get caught...”

“Not if you stay quiet,” Ransom replies gruffly. He experiments, just a little; they’d been making out before, after, during their sessions for a couple of weeks now. Each time, he grew bolder. Ransom hooks his fingers one instance - pumps them rapidly the next. When she’s come apart all over his hand, receiving a pinch to her oversensitive clit just to see her flinch, your lip is bleeding from biting so hard.

Ransom hasn’t learned shit about delegation, but he knows now how to make her cum.

_______________________

You’ve never been to Ransom’s before; of course, he’d swung a small apartment just on the edge of campus. Your skin trembles even as you try to steel yourself. You know Ransom hadn’t asked to relocate your tutoring session because he was tired. The two of you had practically finished the course, anyway, and he really was grasping it without your guidance at this point. You weren’t naïve; he wanted privacy.

Your suspicions are proved right as soon as you step inside. The moment you’ve toed off your shoes, he’s sweeping you into a heavy kiss, fingers twisting into the hair at the nape of your neck. His thumb presses into your throat; just pressure, nothing serious, but you still squeak. Ransom all but growls, free arm hooking about your hips.

“Jump, honey,” He says into your mouth, and you do, legs tight about his waist. He carries you through the apartment without a hitch; you knew there was some beef hiding beneath all those damn sweaters. You’re dropped a little carelessly onto what is unmistakably his bed; of course the bastard’s got silk sheets. Ransom tosses his shirt somewhere behind him, sliding cold fingers beneath your shirt. “This alright?”

And you half think it’s sweet of him to ask, but you also know his mother, and would frankly be surprised if he didn’t ask. Embarrassment and, honestly  dignity out the window, you arch into his touch. “Please.” 

Ransom makes quick work of your pants and undergarments; he’s still clad in sweatpants that probably cost more than you want to imagine as you lay naked before him. He looks more like a predator than ever, expression absolutely ravenous as he levels his face with your dripping center.

“Oh, I’ve never-” You stutter, face burning as he looks up at you as if bored with your voice. When Ransom speaks next, his breath has goosebumps crackling down your thighs.

“I know, baby. Just let me take care of you, hmm?” And all you’re capable of is a rigid nod before you’re throwing your head back as his tongue traces figure eights on your clit. 

“Fuck!” You cry, and he hums something akin to a laugh into your core. His thumbs spread you open further as his tongue laps at your impossibly wet entrance; when he sucks at your clit, you almost scream. Ransom, still teaching himself your ins and outs, reaches up to tweak a nipple, and you thrash. That’s when he sits up.

“Was so...close...” You pant, bringing your chin to your chest with more effort than should be necessary. His weight has left the bed; he’d stood to rid himself of his pants, unsurprisingly having gone commando. You’re gifted with the glorious sight of his impossibly thick thighs as Ransom smirks, pumping his thick, leaking member lazily.

“When you cum today, baby, it’ll be on my cock,” The blond promises darkly as he clambers back onto the bed. His bulbous tip slides up and down between your glistening folds, and he groans, basking and unashamed in his own arousal. “And only...gah, fuck....only on my cock.”

You whimper in response as he pushes right in to the hilt. He wiggles his hips, swivels a bit; you’re unsure of whether it’s to fuck with you or make sure he’s snug within your throbbing heat, but you moan none the less. Ransom takes this as the okay to begin thrusting, and any discomfort quickly dissipates as he thumbs at your clit in tight circles. For the first time since you’d met him, there’s not an ounce of snark or irritation; he swings a knee over one arm, managing to angle up against your sweet spot each time, and your hands scrabble for purchase on his shoulders. 

“Ransom...fuck, Ransom, please, I-” You whine as he pushes your knee toward your chest, pounding you ever harder in juxtaposition with his soft shushing.

“I know, princess, I got you,” Ransom grunts, forehead sweat-slick as he presses his face into your neck. He nips, just barely, breath coming hard and heavy. “Just let go, baby, right there with you, c’mon...” 

With a cry that has Ransom clapping a hand over your lips, you cum, legs practically vibrating as you thrash with the force of it. Ransom’s hand doesn’t leave your clit until you’re nearly sobbing from the overstimulation; just like he’d promised, moments after your own orgasm, he slips out of your channel. You can’t truly identify the feeling swirling in your gut as he spills his seed across your torso, nor as he trails two fingers through it and brings it to your lips.

“Hey,” Ransom heaves after a heavy silence, the both of you still naked with his fingers still being laved by your tongue. “Did I ever tell you about my A in Management? Grade went up like, two weeks ago. I told you that, right?”

You bite down on his fingers in reply.

[elocinnicole]

Butterflies – Part Three

Pairing: Collin Hoskins x Black!Reader

Rating: M for Language and Death

Tagging: @ohsoverykeri

Part One Part Two Part Three

You spent most of the day in your room not wanting to be around Collin. This isn’t the first time you and Collin got into a fight. The last time you could recall, was when he first went to jail and he was complaining about his mom not coming to see him.

A Year Ago

You played with your fingers waiting to see Collin, he’s been locked up for almost a month and the people who came to see him regularly were Miles and yourself. Of course, Val didn’t come but the past couple of times you came to see Collin you would ask his Mom to come along. At first, she would agree but then when it came to the day of she would cancel.

“You got one hour.” You heard the gruff voice of the CO. Collin was escorted to your table, you offered him a small smile which he returned, having been his friend for almost twenty years you knew something was troubling him.

“How you been, Y/N?” Collin pulled you in for a hug, you smiled into the embrace, Even though you saw him last week, it was hard visiting your friend in prison.

“I’ve been good, Collin.”

“That’s enough!” A booming voice barked, Collin rolled eyes and the two of you pulled away. Collin saw the bags of chips on the table and his eyes lit up

“You got some for little old me?” He teased

“Shut up, I only did it because your Mom asked me to.”

“You talked to my Mom?” He asked, you looked at him with sad eyes. The last time you came to visit him, Ms. Nancy had told Collin that she would come to visit with you

“Yeah, uh I know she said she was gonna come with me today, but she wasn’t feeling good this morning…” Collin slowly nodded his head

“Collin—”

“Y/N, I don’t know how she can’t come and see me. I’m her son, Y/N! I’ve been in here for a month and she still hasn’t come to see me. Don’t she miss me?” Collin asked his voice growing loud

“Of course she does, she said she misses you all the time.

“Oh yeah?”

“She said it’s too hard for her.”

“It’s too hard for her?!”

“Hey! Keep it down Hoskins!”

“How do you think I feel? I’m the one that’s locked up!” Collin asked in a loud whisper

“Yeah, over some dumb shit.”

“Oh really? So you been talkin’ to Val?”

“Collin, don’t go there!” You were hoping that this would be a good visit but as time went on you were getting increasingly irritated with your friend.

“How do you think I feel when my Mom won’t come to see me?”

“How do you think she feels? Who do you think called her when you got your ass arrested? Did you know she put a second mortgage on the house to try and bail you out? When I told her that you got arrested the first thing she asked me was did they shoot you? Collin every time I see her or call her on the phone, she cries, the entire time, for you. So, before you get mad think about why she may not want to see her son in handcuffs.”

“Alright, visiting time’s over.” Collin’s CO said and before you knew it they were escorting Collin away from you…again.

You were finishing up a wig for a client when your phone ringed and you saw a text message from Trevon,

You went back to your wig when another text came through, this time from Janelle

The sound of your door creaking open made you look up, you saw Collin slowly entering your room holding a plate of nachos. You tried hard not to smile, nachos were your favorite food to eat. You and Colin would eat them all the time when you were in high school. “Figured you were hungry,” Collin said sitting on the edge of your bed.

“I am, thanks.” You said grabbing the plate of nachos and placing them on your nightstand and joining Collin on your bed. As much as you wanted to discuss your argument from earlier there was an even bigger elephant in the room.

“We need to talk, Collin,” You started

“I’m sorry for not asking about Val, that shit’s foul and it’s your place—”

“I don’t wanna talk about that.” Collin frowned in confusion

“We got gotta talk about the other night, because you can’t be getting mad at me when I go out on a date but I have to ‘understand’ your booty calls with Val.”

“They not booty calls,”

“Oh so what are they?”

“I’m trying to work things out with Val trying to see if we have something,” you rolled your eyes and sighed heavily

“Why do you act like you owe her something?”

“Because I do!”

“Collin, when was the last time you heard from Val other than her wanting some dick?” Collin turned his face away

“Exactly!”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You bringing all types of niggas in here!”

“First of all, no the fuck I don’t, two, it’s my house. If I wanna bring a nigga all up and through my house I can do that. Besides, it’s not niggas, I’m actually talking to someone and he’s been here once, try again.”

“I’m doing the same thing!”

“No, you’re not, you getting your dick wet just because some bitch says ‘jump’.”

“Don’t be like that Y/N, we didn’t really end things. I just want to see if there’s anything still there.”

“How many times, does Val have to tell you she don’t wanna be with you? Did she come visit you, put money on your books, did she even call your ass?”

“You don’t gotta give me a history lesson, I know all that shit,”

“Did you know she was gonna let your ass rot in that jail cell? She didn’t even want to attempt bail you out.”

“Y/N—”

“Collin, she’s not good for you. I just don’t want to see you hurt again.”

“What makes you think she not good for me?” You were done talking in circles with Collin, at this point, all you wanted to do was be alone.

“You know what Collin, Imma drop it because you gonna do whatever the fuck—-”

“Nah, air out, tell me why you think Val’s not good for me,”

“I’m not about to do this with you, Collin.”

“Y/N, as my friend, shit, one of my best friends, you gotta air out,”

“Janelle sent me a text—” Your phone ringing interrupted you, you almost ignored it but you saw that it was your Mom calling.

“We’re not done with this conversation,” You said before answering your phone.

“Hey, Mom—wait, wait, slow down. What’s going on?” Collin saw your face drop and instantly grew worried

“Okay, okay I’m on my way.” You ended the call, still trying to process the conversation you just had.

“What’s going on?”

“Um, I gotta get to the hospital, my dad just had a heart attack.”

You stared out the window while Collin drove the two of you to your parents house. By the time you got the hospital your mom told you that your dad was gone. Various memories of you and your Dad flashed through your mind. From learning how to ride a bike to when you graduated from cosmetology school and how your Dad treated it like it was a college graduation. That was your Dad though, he went above and beyond for every event for you and you brother no matter how small it was. Being the oldest, you were always a Daddy’s girl. Life without your Dad never really ran across your mind, of course you knew that he wouldn’t be here forever but you didn’t think that time would be now.

You laid on the twin size bed in your old teenage room, staring at the ceiling your eyes focused on the Nelly poster. If you looked at anything else in your room you would’ve broke. You’ve been doing a great job, so far, at managing your emotions, you didn’t have time to fall apart. You have to be there for your Mom, your brother, and your nephews. The bed sunk letting you know that Collin had got in the bed with you. You insisted that he sleep in your brother’s room. Even though it was still the same size bed in his room as well, you know that he would have more space rather than sharing with you. Collin could sense you were barely hanging on, he turned his body toward you, waiting for you to look at him.

“Y/N,” You ignored him, “Y/N, look at me.”

“Collin, I’m fine. We have to get some rest, we gotta get my brother and his kids from the airport early tomorrow.”

“Y/N, can you look at me? Please,”

“Collin, I’m fine. Goodnight.” You turned off the lamp and rolled to your side, hoping Collin would drop it.

The next day Collin, tried to get you to slow down but if you sensed he was trying to talk to you about your Dad you would change the subject or busy yourself with something else. Your mom made a Instagram post so you were getting calls and text messages all day, it was becoming over whelming. Luckily for you, Collin had to work that evening so you didn’t have to deal with him following your every move making sure you were okay. Your brother, Cameron, and you were now attempting to draft your Dad’s obituary.

“I don’t know why we can’t put that in there.” Cameron mumbled under his breath.

“Because, it’s not important! He only spent one semester there,”

“And? That’s where he met Mom!”

“Cam, we only have one page for this obituary, it’s not an autobiography. We can say when they met and got married, period!”

“So you just gonna cut out an important part of Dad’s life?”

“Cam, I’m not—you know what, I can’t do this. Ever since I picked you up from the airport, you’ve been fighting me with every decision. I’m going back to my place,” You huffed quickly getting your bags together.

“So you just gonna leave?”

“Yes, the hell I am.” You left your childhood home, slamming the door shut, once you were halfway down the block you realized that, you didn’t have your car. You let Collin drive it to work. The walk to your place wasn’t long but it was late, your pride hindered you from walking back to your Mom’s and facing your brother again,

“Damnit,” You pulled out your phone and called the first person you could think of. “Hey, can you give me a ride?”

“Thanks, Miles, for picking me up. I know you and Ash are busy with Shauna—”

“You fam, it’s no problem and I’m sorry about your Dad, he was like the only guy I looked up to.”

“Thanks, Miles. You remember that time he caught you skipping school?” Miles chuckled at the memory

“Yeah, I ain’t know he was following me and shit. He hopped out the car like he the muh fuckin police. Then he had my ass running back home while he drove behind me.” You laughed while Miles reminisced until he got a text from Ashely.

“Miles, go home before Ashley beats your ass.”

“Well, shit I’m waitin’ on your ass to get out my car.” You jokingly shoved your friend before getting out

“Bye, Miles!”

“Ay, when you gonna come braid my hair like Ash’s?”

“Bye, Miles!” You shook your head as Miles sped off. Once you got inside you realized that you hadn’t eaten all day. You honestly didn’t feel like cooking so decided to order something from UberEats. Nothing looked appetizing to you so you decided against it. Sitting on your sofa, glass of wine in hand, you finally had time to yourself, no one asking how you were feeling, no one calling to offer condolences, family members and friends you haven’t heard from in years were reaching out, it was too much. Finally having a moment to yourself, you felt the tears coming

“Y/N?” Collin called out, you quickly wiped your tears, not wanting him to see you cry.

“In the living room.” You called out, Collin walked with takeout boxes in hand.

“Figured you’d be hungry,” you gave him a small smile in return.

“Thanks, Collin, but I’m not hungry.”

“You need to eat something—“

“I told you I’m fine, I’ve been telling everyone I’m fine all day! Damn!” You snapped

“Aight, I was just checking on you!”

“I don’t neeed anyone to check on me, I only want one person to check on me and he’s not here!” For the first time today, you finally cried. Collin sat eside you and pulled you close to him

“No amount of food, texts, or phone calls can bring him back.” You cried into Collin’s chest as he held you. You pulled away and Collin cradled your face in his hands, you leaned into the embrace. He gently grabbed your chin and before you knew it, you were kissing Collin. You were the first to pull away and Collin frowned

“What about you and Val—”

“Fuck Val,” Collin said pulling you in for another kiss.

Please let me know, if you would like to be tagged in this series.

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

#WifeMeUp

@bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher has blessed me with the permission to turn this post into a drabble and istg yall this just wrote itself. I went a different route with the whole ‘foreign exchange student’ part, I hope you don’ mind 😘

Pairing: Geraskier

Warnings: talk of shitty classes, mentions of ISIS, talk of triggering materials in classes, so much cursing I am worse than the old men i used to bar-tend for

__________

“This class was fuckin weird. Who the ever loving fuck puts “Middle Eastern History and English 203 Combined” on the roster then does a miserable current events class with a heavy, and frankly depressing, background on ISIS? Like? Cool, I get it, teach what you’re interested in, but give us some warning?! Maybe write in the description that it’s predominantly covering some fucked up shit? Not way-back-when like one assumes?!” Jaskier had launched into the rant he was planning all day when his coworker asked how the first day of the semester was going. 

Essie just nodded at the appropriate times, raising her eyebrows when necessary as she ran cleaning tablets through the espresso machine. 

“My day is already weird enough working here. Plus! Where’s the trigger warning?! Some kids have trauma! How the fuck are they gonna know the first day is a slideshow full of horrific images?! Fucking irresponsible.”

Essie started tamping down some coffee to test the shots, “So are you gonna try to switch into something else?”

Jaskier grinned, his eyes lighting up, “Not a chance.”

She sighed, rolling her eyes and tinkering with the settings on the machine, “Tell me about him.”

“Oh Ess, he’s gorgeous. He’s definitely not from the states, but I only caught a few words from him so I can’t place his accent-”

“Ah, yes. The accents always get you.”

“They do.” He sighed like a middle schooler in the school play as a car pulled up to their little stand, “There’s more, I promise.”

“Oh I’m sure.” Essie sighed.

Jaskier handed the customer the card reader as he started pulling the shots on the other machine, “He’s so pretty. Holy shit Ess. All jawbone and eyebrows. And his hair. I wanna know who does it because it is pure white and it still looks healthy? He’s probly my height but he looks like he could break a linebacker in half. Oof. He’s one whole lotta man, and you know me, I’m a sucker for a good set of shoulders. He doesn’t strike me as the athletic type though, ripped jeans, wallet chain, Soundgarden t shirt, flannel in his belt. Mm. Tall grunge drink of water.” he paused to hand off the customer’s beverage and take the card reader back, “And his eyes are fucking gold, I shit you not.”

Essie gave him a skeptical look, “Gold? You mean light brown?”

He shook his head aggressively, “I. Mean. Gold. Straight up sunflower eyes.”

She still didn’t look like she believed him, “He must actually be hot if you’re this excited.”

It was Jaskier’s turn to roll his eyes, “I’m not that much of a ho.”

“Not a ho, you never follow through.” She teases.

_

Before they head out to their classes, Jaskier makes them each the most ridiculously caffeinated and sugar loaded drink he can think of, as is tradition. 

He takes a picture of his latte art and posts it straight to twitter with the caption “Quad caramel, toffee, burnt marshmallow, and hazelnut breve (with a penis heart) #wifemeup” then tops the drink with as much whipped cream as possible.

His first class is statistics, and honestly fuck stats. He struggles through it, remembers nearly nothing, then moves on to the combo class of his nightmares. 

This boy better be gay or bi or pan or something other than straight. 

He sat roughly in the middle of the amphitheater-like classroom and kept an eye on the door by holding his phone up with his elbows resting on the desk and slouching like a child. True to his nature, he got lost in his phone and failed to notice when Hot Babe walked in and plopped into the seat to his left.

Jaskier squeaked, clutching his pearls and immediately trying to suppress his giggles, “Holy shit.”

“Sorry, you alright?”

Jaskier stared up at him, dumbstruck for a moment.

Oooooo, English.

“Yeah! Yeah, good.Hi!”

Hot Brit grinned, setting up his laptop, “Hi.” 

Jaskier took another deep breath to calm his heart, but he couldn’t decide if the jump scare or Hot Brit’s collar bones were making it beat like this. 

“You don’t have a heart condition do you?” Hot Brit was smirking now, only looking at him out of the corner of his eye as he pulled up his notes from last class. 

Jaskier tilted his head, oh shit, he’s clever too, “No, thank fuck.” he laughed.

Hot Brit gave him an amused huff as the prof walked in and started shouting housekeeping announcements to the hall.

As the man was droning on about things that truly didn't matter, Hot Brit leaned over, eyes still on the prof, and whispered, “Oh yeah, I meant to ask you, will you marry me?”

Jaskier’s eyes bulged out of his head, frozen focusing on the whiteboard, “Uh, yo- what?” He whips his head around to look at Hot Brit, still looking forward, but openly smiling now. He set his phone on Jaskier’s desk, open to his tweet from this morning.

“I’m not stalking you, honest. You were on my Suggested page.”

Jaskier let the breath he was holding go, “Ooooohhh. Oh! Oh’ho’ho. Cute.” he chuckled. 

Goddamn he’s funny and smooth?

Hot Brit just wiggled his eyebrows, looking at Jaskier with an almost perfect mask of confidence.

Jaskier took the phone and entered his number in the messenger app, “How about dinner?”

Hot Brit nodded, a hint of relief in his eyes, “I’m Geralt, by the way.”

Jaskier texted himself before handing the phone back, “Geralt. Sounds very knightly.”

Geralt snorted, earning a couple glares, as the lecture had started, “Hardly.”

Jaskier settled in with his laptop, clicking the ‘audio to text’ button, “I guessed. With all the flannel and holes.”

The two grinned at each other before Geralt focused back on their lecture. Jaskier bit his lip to keep from smiling like the Cheshire Cat. 

Essie is gonna shit herself.

[feralphoenix]

HOWMST BELL THE CAT? - A treatise on one aspect of how the Pale King sealed the Radiance

sup hollow knight fandom, i’m back with the picante takes again after having Noticed A Thing.

as with my previous essays i’ll put this guy up on dreamwidth later for accessibility purposes, since my layout text may be too small for high-res pc users. i will attach that in a reblog at a later point.

CONTENT WARNINGS FOR TONIGHT’S PROGRAM: This essay discusses canon-typical body horror and bodily boundary violations, with some side mentions of colonialism.

all game screencaps are mine. the screencap of the wiki is from the “developer notes” (style guide) section of the “cut content” page.

ALSO: if youre from a christian cultural upbringing (whether currently practicing, agnostic/secular, or atheist now), understand that some of what i’m discussing here may challenge you. if thinking thru the implications of this particular part of hollow knight worldbuilding/lore is distressing for you, PLEASE only approach this essay when youre in a safe mindset & open to listening, and ask the help of a therapist or anti-racism teacher/mentor to help you process your thoughts & feelings. just like keep in mind that youre listening to an ethnoreligiously marginalized person and please be respectful here or wherever else youre discussing this dang essay, ty

HOWMST BELL THE CAT? - A treatise on one aspect of how the Pale King sealed the Radiance

We understand more or less how the Pale King’s plan was supposed to work. Stuff Radiance into a no-thoughts-head-empty and silent Pure Vessel to trap, isolate, and silence her, both putting an end to the Infection and killing her for good. Stick that vessel in the Black Egg, which harnesses Void BS to both keep the vessel alive indefinitely and to cover Hallownest (and its neighbors) in a time-defying stasis so that the Pale King could successfully hoard his favorite shiny FOREVER, threatened by nothing. Then put a seal on the Black Egg to prevent anyone from getting inside and harming said vessel while it’s strung up and helpless. And THEN, put protective seals on the anchors (the Dreamers) to the Black Egg seal to protect them from any external harm: The stasis means the Dreamers won't die of old age or starvation.

All in all, a pretty foolproof plan!

...except that the Dreamers are still vulnerable to having their minds breached with the moths’ magic... and the Pale King failed to take into account that his Pure Vessel was a person actually and the amount of toxic stress his training/upbringing put on them made them REALLY POORLY SUITED FOR THEIR JOB... and also that killing 99% of his million children and turning the Abyss into a landfill for baby corpses would take enough of an emotional toll on his wife and #1 enabler the White Lady that she would walk out on him, ensuring he’d only ever have one shot at this whole deal...

Basically it’s the sort of plan that an emotionally constipated, low-empathy sort of guy who pours all his points into INT and has a big fat zero for WIS might think is foolproof. It has big holes in it that the Pale King did not consider to be big holes until he got owned by the various consequences of his actions and fell down said big holes, making the shocked pikachu face all the while. Rip in die, my guy.

Anyway, there’s a lot of incidental information scattered about the game that gives us more insight into the stages of TPK’s plan. Looking at Monomon’s notes in the Archive suggests that she was probably involved in designing the Black Egg; the hidden room in the Weavers’ den points to their being the ones to blueprint the Dreamer seal; the White Palace’s hidden rooms reveal both TPK’s morbid fascination with the Void and his mea culpa wrt his motives and the Path of Pain is certainly suggestive of a lot of things. The White Lady tells us straight out that she walked out on the Pale King because she wanted no part in a second vessel batch, but how TPK didn’t handle that is only revealed via map design and some incidental dialogue from the Old Stag.

This stuff presents us with, if not a full picture, then at least a decent connect-the-dots of certain aspects of crater politics and Pale Court drama at the time, and how exactly TPK’s plan came together.

But there is still one glaring question that these cookie crumbs do not provide us an answer to:

Who shall bell the cat?

How did TPK et al manage to stuff Radiance into Hollow in the first place?

This is the subject of a lot of memes and jokes within the fandom because it's so absurd. Radiance fuckin hates that dude! She’s probably gonna be pretty wary of him considering how he stole her people in the first place! And considering the anti-colonialism slant of the writing - beyond the general sympathetic view Team Cherry gives of each indigenous bug society, Seer makes it very clear that Radiance has very good reason to take violent action against Hallownest - the answer is probably not something like “she’s just that stupid” or “she rolled a crit fail”.

Well... I have an idea of how TPK managed to get Radiance in there. It raises about as many questions as it answers, mind, but it may be someplace to start.

[desc: the hollow knight's entry in the hunter’s journal. top text/ghost’s comment reads: “Fully grown Vessel, carrying the plague’s heart within its body.” bottom text/hunter’s comment says: “The old King of Hallownest... he must have been desperate to save his crumbling little world. The sacrifices he imposed on others... all for nothing.”]

Here we have Hollow’s bestiary entry. Most of what we’re concerned with here is the top text, which says the seal has literally trapped Radiance inside their body. (First of all, ew, TPK.)

We already knew Radiance is literally actually inside Hollow, though: The Infection is leaking out of their body, and to get to fight Radiance, Ghost has to go traipsing into their sibling’s mind. So what’s significant about that here?

[desc: screencap of the outside of the black egg temple, post-infected crossroads. there are large infection blobs in the foreground and background, connected to each other by veins that come from inside the temple.]

The infection blobs are weird and get weirder if you kill enough Lightseeds for the Hunter to tell you their origin story, i.e. that the literal actual sun has been having a very long bad day and cried a lot, and some of the liquid coalesced into living flesh, and some of that living flesh took on a mind of its own to become Lightseeds. (Hollow Knight is a WILD place.)

Lightseeds are Radiance’s accidental children and share a lot of her traits: They are harmless creatures that try to avoid conflict if possible but if pushed will get creative and find ways to fight regardless of their physical limitations. (For the Lightseeds this involves hiding inside Broken Vessel’s corpse and puppeting it around to try to stab you.) They even have her same distinctive yell. And according to the Hunter, they’re born from the infection blobs. These enemies only ever appear in the Ancient Basin, which both Radiance and the Void have ransacked, and in the Infected Crossroads.

The infection blobs are connected to and sort of a weird extension of Radiance because the Infection itself is sort of a weird extension of Radiance. In the game’s internal style guide Team Cherry explains that the Infection started as an accident, not her original intention but what happened when Hallownest tried to block her out.

[desc: screencap from the wiki of style notes attached to seer that describe a sketch of radiance’s finalized backstory. text reads: “The moth tribe were (perhaps) descended from Radiance. However, the King convinced them somehow to seal Radiance away. I guess so he could rule Hallownest with his singular vision, as a god/monarch with no other gods. The moths sealed Radiance away by forgetting about her. Hallownest was born and flourished. However, the memory of Radiance lingered (eg [sic] the statue at hallownest’s crown) and soon she began to reappear in dreams and starting [sic] exerting influence. The King and the bugs of Hallownest resisted this memory/power and it started to manifest as the Infection. Thus the first attempt to seal Radiance failed, and the King had to try another method - the Vessel.” emphasis mine.]

Some fans have posited the blobs as deposits of pupa juice, but given Team Cherry's description of the Infection’s origins I don’t know how likely that is. Since the Void also sticks its squamous tentacles into things via veiny looking things and the Nightmare’s Heart has similar veiny nonsense in the Nightmare Realm, I wonder if it isn’t just a Meddly God Shit thing in general.

Whatever the case, the blobs are very much connected to/a part of Radiance.

And when you’re hanging around them, you will notice two things: They pulse like they’re part of a circulatory system, and you can hear Radiance's heartbeat emanating from them.

[desc: screencap of the game’s title screen with the infected menu theme in use: a glowing orange ball at the center of a lot of black tendony webbing.]

Let’s also think of the Infected menu theme, which you unlock after getting either of the endings where Ghost takes over from Hollow and absorbs Radiance out of them. Ghost is infected and then sealed inside the Black Egg in Hollow's place. It’s suggested by the animation’s staging that Radiance briefly struggles to get out of Ghost after absorbed but is ultimately stuck in them, at which point the seal is reestablished.

If you haven’t used the Infected menu theme yourself, the... interesting thing about it is that it moves organically. The light ball expands and contracts - y’know, sort of like a living organ - and so does the black webby stuff around it.

Also, Radiance’s heartbeat is included in the theme's ambiance.

[desc: hollow’s bestiary entry again]

To cut to the chase, this part of Hollow’s bestiary entry that says “the plague’s heart”? I don’t think that’s just Ghost/Team Cherry being poetic. I think there’s a good chance it’s LITERAL.

I think TPK is the sort of person who could cram a native woman’s literal living beating heart inside his own child’s body so they can use it as... say, a focus to absorb and trap her mind/spirit inside their body, too. Mr. No Cost Too Great is capable of a lot in the name of keeping other people’s claws off his Big Shiny kingdom. This is kind of his whole brand.

But also, like, yuck.

This fits the worldbuilding too; generally speaking Hollow Knight is Body Horror City. Also there’s the case of Grimm: While he and Radiance are loose counterparts at best with WILDLY disparate outlooks and ethoses, his existence serves as precedent that a Higher Being’s heart specifically can be separate from the rest of them.

As I said before, though, this DOES raise as many questions as it answers. If this is another piece in the puzzle of how TPK belled the cat, we’re now left wondering how he got Radiance’s heart to use as Hollow's focus to begin with.

We know he has access to the Dream Realm because that’s ultimately where he hid when Hollow’s seal failed, but who did he send to do the stealing and how did they get away with it? (TPK certainly wouldn’t have gone; his own life’s the one cost too great for him to willingly pay.) Was Radiance’s heart separate from her like the Nightmare’s Heart, or was it a part of her body? (I think the latter is more likely just from her personality; Grimm’s hidden heart makes sense because of how he keeps even his own servants at arm’s length emotionally, whereas Radiance is all heart all the time. I think this makes more sense with their equal opposites schtick too. But this would make for a WAY riskier mission.)

I can imagine all kinds of possibilities. None of them are definitive, but the thing they have in common is that they are all Awful... and how on-brand that is for Hollow Knight as a whole is, maybe, the most persuasive argument for It’s Literally Actually Her Real Physical Heart there could be.

[carry-the-sky]

you were a kindness when i was a stranger

summary

“Sleep on it,” Karen tells him. “If you’re still not feeling it by tomorrow, just shoot me a text and let me know.” She cracks a grin. “Don’t worry, there’s a pile of headline-making material sitting on my desk if this falls through.”

Curtis takes her advice and really thinks it over. Ultimately, it comes down to fear—his. And he refuses to let it drag him down. If he can’t practice what he’s preaching, he shouldn’t be running a group at all.

He texts her first thing in the morning: Hi Karen, it’s Curtis. I’m in.

chapter one | chapter two

Curtis got a concussion once as a kid—went headfirst over his bike’s handlebars after taking a corner too fast. Got his bell rung pretty good, even with a helmet. He remembers feeling more dazed than anything, like someone had stuffed his skull with packing peanuts.

Frank Castle showing up out of the blue for the first time in six months has a similar effect.

Curtis got a concussion once as a kid—went headfirst over his bike’s handlebars after taking a corner too fast. Got his bell rung pretty good, even with a helmet. He remembers feeling more dazed than anything, like someone had stuffed his skull with packing peanuts.

Frank Castle showing up out of the blue for the first time in months has a similar effect.

Curtis knows he should probably say something, but his head is empty, nothing but static. The words just aren’t there.

Frank pushes to his feet. He looks a hell of a lot calmer than Curtis feels, but then Curtis sees his trigger finger tap-tap-tapping away at his side, and he can’t help but feel a small pinch of satisfaction. Let the bastard sweat a bit—Curtis is the furthest thing from inclined to make this any easier on him.

“How’s it goin’?” Frank says, like they’re just casually catching up over lunch, and Curtis almost laughs aloud. This whole thing is surreal; Frank, here, in one piece. His voice even sounds normal again.

That’s not the only thing that’s different. Curtis can tell that Frank’s face is a little fuller, free of those purple-blue shadows that seem to permanently lurk under his eyes. He’s gone full Pete-beard again, and he’s traded in the black hoodie for a flannel and jeans. He looks—ordinary. If Curtis didn’t know him, he wouldn’t look twice if he passed Frank on the street.

Curtis breathes deep, lets it out nice and slow. “What the hell are you doing here, Frank?”

“Wanted to say hello,” the other man answers, hiking his shoulders slightly. “Figured you wouldn’t shoot me in a church.”

Curtis does laugh at that, clipped and hollow. “Wouldn’t be so sure about that, man. You’re definitely testing my resolve.”

“I know I’m a jackass showin’ up here, Curt—”

“Got that right,” Curtis mutters.

“Hey,” Frank says, voice going a little rough. “Five minutes, yeah? Give me five minutes, and if you wanna throw my ass out after that, you be my guest.”

Curtis shakes his head. “As much as I’d enjoy that, your timing is shit, Frank. I got a reporter from the Bulletin who’s gonna be here any second—”

Frank’s eyes sharpen. “Reporter?”

“Yeah, so if you don’t want your face plastered all over the front page, I suggest you get the hell out of here.”

“Who—”

“Hey, Curtis, sorry I’m a little late. Traffic was terrible—”

Curtis’ eyes snap up. Karen stands in the doorway, frozen as a statue. She’s staring straight at Frank.

Shit. She might recognize him. The beard and flannel are a flimsy smokescreen at best; Frank’s face has graced the front page of that paper of hers more than once. Curtis can almost feel the wheels spinning as his brain kicks into high gear, already working out how to get Frank out of this, how to explain away the fuckin’ Punisher standing here talking to him in the middle of the afternoon. Karen’s a good person, decent, but she’s also good at her job. There’s no way she turns a blind eye to this. He has to think of something—

“Frank,” she breathes.

Curtis’ thoughts grind to a halt.

Because—she clearly does know him, but not in the way Curtis was expecting. The way she says his name, soft with disbelief—

For the second time today, Curtis feels like he’s walked into a fever dream.

He glances at Frank, and the man’s got a busted up expression on his face, like one of those abstract paintings that looks like something and nothing all at once.

“Karen,” he says, voice grating over the word, and shit, he sounds more torn up than he looks. He makes a noise in the back of his throat, choke-off like the words are stuck there—then his jaw locks and his gaze ricochets to the ground, the wall, the ground again. Curtis can see his hands shaking from here.

Whatever the hell this is, it’s way above his pay grade. Curtis shakes his head again and starts unstacking chairs from where they hang against the wall. “You should leave before everyone gets here,” he says, glancing over his shoulder at Karen. She looks like she’s seen a ghost.

He knows the fuckin’ feeling.

“Hey,” Curtis says, and her head snaps in his direction. “We still good?” 

Her gaze wobbles, darts to Frank and then back. “Yeah, of course. We’re good.” Slowly, she moves from the doorway, brushing past Frank like he’s not even there.

“Jesus christ,” Frank curses under his breath. He reaches for her. “Karen, this isn’t—”

But whatever he was going to say is lost as voices filter in from the hallway, growing steadily louder. Curtis swallows the bubble of hysterical laughter that’s rising in his throat. This day has already gone sideways; might as well let go and let God, as his pop always used to say.

No one notices Frank, at first. A couple people—Lydia included—greet Karen enthusiastically as they enter the room; the rest settle into the regular routine of milling about at the coffee table.

Rahul is the one who finally spots him. “Pete?” he gapes. “Shit, man, it’s good to see you! Where you been?”

That gets everyone’s attention. Within the span of a few seconds, Frank has about half a dozen people crowding around him, clapping him on the back and peppering him with questions about how he’s doing, what he’s been up to. Frank pastes on a shaky smile and gives the small talk a good effort, but his eyes keep skittering to where Karen’s arranging the chairs in a wide circle. Curtis can’t remember the last time he saw Frank look so uncomfortable; he’s wound tense as a coil, all potential energy with nowhere to go.

Curtis almost feels bad for him. Almost.

“You’re staying for group, right?” someone asks, and this time Frank locks eyes with Curtis.

Curtis shrugs as if to say your call. It’s not like he can throw him out in front of everyone. Beyond that—honestly, he’s relieved. Beneath the layers of hurt and anger is the one thing Curtis has shied away from acknowledging: his fear that maybe this time, Frank stayed dead.

Thankfully, the man seems to have nine lives. And right now, he looks like he’d like nothing more than to sink into the floor and disappear.

Against his better judgment, Curtis throws him a bone.

“Pete just dropped by to say hello. You were on your way out, right?” he asks, fixing Frank with a look that he hopes conveys what he’s thinking: take the hint, man.

There’s a ripple of disappointment, but everyone seems to buy it. Frank threads his way over the Curtis, and his relief is almost palpable.

“Thanks, Curt,” he says.

“You’re running up a hell of a tab, Frank.” Curtis pinches the bridge of his nose, already regretting what he’s about to say. “You remember that bar over on 12th? After group—I’ll give you one hour. And you’re buying.”

Frank smirks. “Fair enough.” 

His eyes flick across the room; Karen’s been carefully avoiding looking over here, but it’s like she can feel the weight of his gaze. Curtis sees it, the moment their eyes meet.

Frank’s face opens up like a book, eyes wide and bright. Curtis has never seen him look this vulnerable; even as long as they’ve been friends, he’s always kept the softest parts of himself tucked away. It makes Curtis feel like he’s intruding on something intimate.

Then someone’s saying Karen’s name, and the moment splinters. Frank ducks his head, already sliding the mask back on, and slips out the door.

.

Group passes uneventfully. The conversation picks up from where they left things last week, and aside from injecting a few questions here and there, Curtis is mostly an observer. If he’s being honest, he really enjoys the weeks he can just sit back and let the group carry itself. Makes him feel like it’s bigger than any one person, like it can go on without him being in the driver’s seat.

Karen is quiet through most of the meeting, definitely more reserved than last week. When the hour is up, she tells Curtis she’ll be in touch, thanks him again for having her, and then manages to duck out before anyone notices she’s gone. 

Curtis knows it’s none of his business, but he can’t help wondering who she is to Frank. She’s more than an acquaintance, that much is for damn sure. And Frank clearly cares for her. Curtis lets his curiosity simmer, carrying him all the way from the church to Sal’s dive bar.

Frank’s already there when he arrives. True to his word, he’s ordered the first round; he raises his beer up in greeting as Curtis slides onto the bar stool next to him.

“Got you somethin’ a bit stronger,” Frank says, nodding at Curtis’ glass.

Curtis takes a swig and tastes jack and coke. He glances down at his watch. “You’re on the clock, Frank. One hour.”

Frank huffs out a laugh. “Shit, where do I start?”

“How about Karen?” Curtis says. “What was that back at the church?”

Even in the dim bar light, Frank’s eyes flint over. “Long story.”

“Give me the spark notes version.”

Frank taps his thumb against his beer, pointedly avoiding Curtis’ eyes. Then he pushes back in his seat slightly. “Alright, you win. You remember my trial? Karen was on my legal team. She was the one who started digging into what happened to Maria and the kids. All the shit that’s gone down since then—she got caught up in some of it.”

Curtis takes another drink, processing. “And let me guess, you”—he holds his fingers up as air quotes—“pushed her away to keep her safe.”

Frank tips his beer back, hiding a grin. “Guess I deserved that, huh?”

“You’re one predictable son of a bitch, Frank.” He glances sidelong at his friend. “You gonna apologize to her for whatever it is you did?”

The way Frank’s face falls is answer enough. Curtis knows that expression well; whatever happened between the two of them is eating him up inside.

“I’m tired, Curt,” he finally says, each word ragged. “I’m so goddamn tired. All the blood and bullshit—” Frank’s throat bobs as he swallows. “Woke up one morning just sick of all of it. Started thinking about the kids, about Maria—if they could see me, Curt—”

“Don’t do that to yourself, man,” Curtis cuts in. He knows how fiercely Frank loved his family; hearing him tear himself up wondering what they’d think of him now sits a little funny in his gut.

Frank meets his gaze head on. “I’m sorry, Curtis. I know that might not mean shit anymore, not coming from me, but there it is. All the shit I put you through—I never meant for it to go as far as it did. You gotta know that.”

It’s Curtis’ turn to laugh. “I don’t know that. Hell, sometimes—sometimes it seems like you like it when shit hits the fan. You like being backed into a corner, fighting your way out.”

“Yeah, you might be right about that. Still sorry I dragged you into it.”

They drink in silence for a few minutes. It’s a weeknight, so the bar is mostly quiet, just the low thrum of conversation and a thin crackle of music leaking from the radio behind the bar. Curtis can almost pretend that they’re just two friends catching up over a drink, talking about trivial shit like work and the weather and who’s going to the playoffs.

The thing is, Curtis isn’t quite ready to forgive Frank. It’s gonna take more than one night at Sal’s to mend the rift between them. But maybe Frank’s not looking for forgiveness; maybe what he needs tonight is a friend, a brother. Someone who loves him even when they’re pissed as hell at him.

Curtis thinks he can do that.

“So,” he says, eyeing Frank knowingly. “When’re you gonna call her?”

Frank flicks his eyes over, mouth pinching into a line. “Not too sure Karen wants to hear from me, especially after today.”

Curtis shakes his head. “Thought your wallowing asshole days were behind you, man. It’s time to gather your rosebuds.”

Frank snorts. “Quoting old English poetry at me now, huh?”

“You bet your ass. I live for all that carpe diem shit. You say you hung up the vest, right? You’re done with that? Then prove it. You got one life, Frank, so go live it.”

Frank dips his head to the floor. When he looks up again, his eyes are a little wet. “I’m scared, Curt.”

“Shit, Frank, that’s all anyone is. We’re all scared. The hardest thing to do in this world is live in it.” Curtis reaches over and clasps Frank’s shoulder. “But you don’t have to do it alone.”

Frank bobs his head, but Curtis can tell he still can’t quite see it. The man’s been punishing himself for so long; it’s all he thinks he deserves. Curtis has seen enough war and trauma to know that sometimes there’s no coming back from that ledge. Frank has to make that choice himself. He might not be ready yet, but he’s here in this bar instead of out on the streets, and that’s not nothing.

Frank blinks, then tilts his head to squint at Curt’s watch. “Hour’s almost up. Deal’s a deal, yeah?” He slaps a few bills down on the bar and starts to stand.

Curtis holds his almost-empty glass up. “I could go for one more round.”

“Yeah?” Frank asks, and the word cracks a bit.

Curtis feels something loosen up in his chest. “Yeah, man.”

Frank sits back down, and it feels like a step forward.

.

The article runs a few days later. Karen calls to give him a heads up, but the anticipation still jolts down his spine as he thumbs through the paper to find it. Curtis reads it through once, his throat going a little tight as he reads quotes from the vets about how group feels like a family, how it’s helped them find their way back to normal after coming home. Karen’s writing is the backbone of the whole thing, capturing the group’s essence without bleeding into the melodramatic.

He reads it again, then gives her a call.

“Anything interesting in the paper today?” she says when she answers.

Curtis huffs. “Funny.”

“What did you think?”

“I’m a little overwhelmed,” Curtis admits. “But mostly thrilled that it’s out there. These guys deserve it.”

“Agreed,” Karen says. “And so do you.”

Curtis doesn’t know what to say to that. Group always felt like something he needed to do, a way to reclaim his trauma instead of succumbing to it. He’s never needed or wanted any recognition for it.

“Thanks, Karen,” he finally manages. “And hey, if you ever need something to do on Thursdays, you know where to find us.”

“Even after last week?” She says it lightly enough, but even over the phone Curtis hears the slight strain in her voice. “I felt awful for leaving so quickly.”

“Hey, I get it. Bit of an exciting day.”

She laughs dryly. “You could say that.” A pause, and then— “Do you and Frank keep in touch, or—” she cuts off, and for a second Curtis wonders if the call dropped. “Shit, I’m sorry. That was completely unprofessional. Forget I said anything.”

Curtis knows he should leave it at that, but the tinge of resignation in her words is all too familiar. He remembers what he told Frank all those months ago, hoping this time it might sink in. Disappointed but unsurprised when it didn’t.

People are gonna care about you whether you want them to or not, Frank.

Karen’s one of the good ones. He knows that Frank knows it, too—and maybe that’s what pushes him to say something now, his better judgment be damned.

“Look, Karen, if I’m overstepping, you tell me to shove it, but—until last week, I hadn’t seen or heard from Frank in months. I know what it’s like to worry about the guy—hell, I wanted him to come back so I could kick his ass myself.”

That pulls a small laugh from the other end of the phone. “Get in line.”

“Yeah, so you get it,” Curtis says through a grin. “I love Frank like a brother, but the man drives me batshit more often than not.”

Karen sighs softly. “I want more for him, you know? More than—whatever the hell he thinks he’s doing out there.”

“I think, deep down, below all the bullshit—I think he wants that, too.”

Silence stretches over the line. “You’re a good friend,” Karen finally says. “It’s nice to know that Frank has one of those.”

“Hey, likewise,” Curtis replies, and he means it. He’s not sure he’ll ever forgive Frank if he lets this woman slip through his grasp.

“I’ll see you around?”

“Absolutely. I’m serious about group—don’t be a stranger.”

Curtis hangs up feeling lighter than he has in weeks. He’s still tempering his expectations for Frank—they’ve been down this road before—but maybe there’s a way out of the woods. Maybe they can both get back to the business of living.

He doesn’t put much stock in new-age bullshit like manifestation or destiny, but it does feel a little prophetic when Frank texts him later that afternoon: Nice article.

Yeah, I thought so, Curtis types back, followed up with a rose emoji just to see if Frank will take the bait.

He doesn’t have to wait long. His phone buzzes after a few seconds, and Curtis laughs when he reads Frank’s response, knowing the hit landed.

Shut up, Curt.

.

“—telling you, man, it’s a classic.”

“Yeah, maybe if you’re a middle-aged white lady.”

“Excuse me?” Lydia counters, spreading her arms. “Do I look middle-aged or white to you?” 

Rahul just shrugs and leans back in his seat. The conversation tonight had started simply enough before quickly devolving into an argument about books, of all things. Lydia had offered up a few that resonate with her, one of them being Pride and Prejudice. Rahul had looked at her like she was an alien, and now here they are.

“If it helps, I’ve read it too,” Curt cuts in. “I’ll admit it’s a little dense at first, but it’s a classic for a reason. Ultimately, it’s about acceptance. Not judging someone before you’ve gotten a chance to know them. That’s something all of us in this room can relate to, right?”

There are some begrudging nods, but Rahul shakes his head. “Nah, man. No way some English lady who lived, like, a hundred years ago knows anything about my life.”

Lydia scowls, but Curtis holds up a hand. “That’s a valid opinion. But I bet if you gave it a chance, you’d be surprised.”

“You talking about Jane Austen again, Curt?”

Heads swivel toward the source of the sound, and Curtis looks up to see Frank walking through the door. He pulls a chair off the rack and slides between Rahul and Lydia. “Sorry I’m late. And uh, for the record—her novels are the good shit.”

“Not you too, man,” Rahul groans. 

“Got me through one of my first tours,” Frank replies. He gestures at Curtis. “This guy wouldn’t stop talking my ear off about it, so I finally took the damn thing just to shut him up. Stayed up half the night reading it. Curtis knows his shit.”

Curtis feels himself smiling. “Good to have you back, Pete.”

It is. It really is.

Frank makes the rounds after group, catching up with all the vets he knew from before and even chatting with some of the newer members. Curtis catches Lydia fist-bumping him, and he almost shakes his head in disbelief. If someone had told him two weeks ago that Frank would be here, in this room, smiling and making small talk, he would’ve laughed right in their face.  

“Hey, man,” Rahul says, walking up to him. His face goes a little sheepish. “So, uh, if you have that book on you—”   

Curtis blinks. “You’re really gonna give it a shot?”

Rahul shrugs. “Yeah, I mean—you and Pete both think it’s, like, God’s gift to literature, or whatever, so how bad can it be?” He glances over his shoulder surreptitiously. “Just don’t tell Lydia, yeah?”

Curt claps him on the back. “Deal. I’ll bring it next week.” 

Rahul nods, then jerks his head in the direction of the door. “Hey, did you see who’s here?” 

Curtis frowns, peering over Rahul’s head in that direction—

Karen is standing beside Frank, her head thrown back in laughter at something that Lydia has said. She’s in her work clothes, but her hair looks a little glossier, and she’s definitely wearing lipstick. Curtis watches as Frank brings his hand to the small of her back in a gesture that’s effortless, like this isn’t the first time he’s done it.

Gather your rosebuds, Frank.

The bastard really did it. Curtis hadn’t realized how badly he wanted this for him—something to live for after the war was over. Now it’s happening right in front of him, unfolding in real time. It makes his chest ache a little. 

Karen catches Curtis’ eye and gently peels herself away. “Long time no see,” she says, coming up to him. “I would’ve been here tonight, but Ellison’s got us working overtime on this city councilman thing.”

Curtis nods. He’s heard a few things through the grapevine—embezzlement in the councilman’s office, real original—and he wondered if Karen would be following it. “Back to making headlines?” he quips. 

“Maybe just one more,” Karen laughs. 

Curtis tips his head in Frank’s direction. “So, guess he finally pulled his head out of his ass.”

Karen follows his gaze. The look on her face is in direct contrast to the one Frank was wearing last week, love and hope and so much warmth. It’s all the answer Curtis needs.

“About damn time,” he says.

Karen’s mouth curves into a soft smile. “No argument there. Hey, we were going to grab dinner at that new Thai place on 7th—you’re welcome to come with, if you’re not busy.”

Curtis considers it for a second, but the last thing he wants to be for either of them is a third wheel. They deserve some time for themselves. He has all the time in the world to give Frank shit about this; he’ll let him have one night of peace.

“Let me take a raincheck,” he says. “Next week sometime?”

“Next week is perfect,” Karen replies. “See you then.”

The other vets are trickling out now, waving and calling out goodbyes over their shoulder. Karen makes her way back over to Frank, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. She leans in to say something in his ear, and he casts a glance back at Curtis. 

Curtis bobs his head once, and Frank returns the gesture, mouth creasing into a smile; then he turns and follows Karen out the door.

Curtis watches him leave, thinking he’s never been more happy to do so.

[221castiel]

Schooled

Destiel Teen AU // read on Ao3 here!

“I would like for you all to read chapter three over the weekend,” the teacher, Rowena calls as she hands out the marked assignments. “And do read over the notes I've left on your essays-” 

Dean looks up as she pauses next to him, her gaze staying locked on his own as she places his essay face down onto his desk. Her expression sat somewhere between annoyed and concerned, with her lips pressed in a tight line but eyes wide.

Frankly Dean wasn’t sure which he would prefer. 

“Are you able to talk after class Dear?” She asks softly, Dean only managing to give a small nod of his head before she walks off again. “And have a good weekend everyone,” Rowena calls just as the bell rings.

As the rest of the class begins getting up, collecting their bags, and sorting through papers Dean doesn't move his gaze instead resting on the paper. Slowly he flips the page over, his heart seeming to stop as his eyes land on the 8.5/20 written in the top corner; a circle had been drawn around it as if the bright red wasn’t enough to get his attention. The text that covered the page had been marked with corrections, pointing out various grammar mistakes, and other errors. 

Fuck. 

That’s all Dean can think as Rowena walks back to his side and crouches next to his desk.

“Dean,” she begins softly, her tone gentle, too gentle. Why couldn't she just yell at him, it'd be easier. It wouldn’t bring the weight to his stomach, or the burning to the tip of his nose. “I asked you to write a five paragraph essay on how war affects humanity using the texts we’ve been reading over the past month.” She pauses, “you gave me a paragraph.” 

He clenches his jaw, forcing a small nod, “you chose three texts, each of those should have had their own paragraph where you explained why you chose them. We talked about this together, do you remember?” 

Another nod of his head. His lips part, a shaken breath filling his lungs, then exiting, staying that way until he’s sure he won’t cry. “I didn’t have enough time,” Dean whispers 

“I gave you an extra week to finish this.” 

Finally he looks up away from his essay and to his teacher's wide eyed gaze. “I think you need to begin focusing more in class and less on your friends.” 

Dean doesn’t reply, he doesn’t think he can. 

“There’s only so much I can help you with. You need to start trying yourself.”

“I am trying.”

“Have you been meeting with your tutor? writing the notes? Reading the practise I give you?” He looks back to his essay, the paper shaking slightly in his hands. “Dean, I know you struggle with english but unless you put the effort in it isn’t going to be easier.” Rowena pauses. “You aren’t even showing up half the time.”

Why would he? 

So he could feel stupid?

So he could sit numb in his spot pretending to understand the blur of words in front of him. Be asked questions he didn’t know the words to, and get yelled at for interrupting again. Every ticking second burning against his skin, the boredom dragging on, mixed with the drowning feeling of not understanding. 

Why the fuck would he come. 

“Dean-”

“I need to go.”

“Can we please finish talking, we need to find a solution.”

Dean doesn't listen, instead grabbing his backpack from the floor, throwing it over his shoulder as he stomps out of the classroom. He makes his way through the school and to the parking lot, pulling open the driver door of Baby and practically falling in. 

Fuckin’ english. 

He throws his backpack to the back seats before crumbling his essay into a tight ball and throwing it onto the ground of the passenger seat. “Fuck!” He screams burying his face into his hands, palms of his hands bruising into his skin causing a dull pain across his face. 

Fuck.

Fuck.

The thought continues to spiral as he sits with his hands covering his face, staying that way until the passenger door is pulled open.

Immediately his hands jolt away, head darting up to meet Cas as the other gets in. “My apologies,” Cas says, pulling the passenger door closed. He turns his head just in time for Dean to plaster a grin across his face, one that Cas returns with a small smile. “Meg had needed help with cleaning up her art project.” 

“It’s all good,” Dean hums. He keeps the smile across his face as with shaking hands he pulls out the car keys and starts the engine. He glances over his shoulders, eyes meeting Cas’s for a moment before he turns back to the road, and begins driving out of the mostly empty parking lot. 

From his right he can hear Cas shifting through his binder, papers flipping slowly, then the soft scratching of a pencil. It’s the only sound that fills the car, Dean’s own mind spinning too much to talk, stomach heavy at the very thought of his essay.

With his left hand still around the wheel Dean reaches his right out, eyes darting to the side just long enough to allow him to lace his finger through Cas’s. The other’s hand’s warm in his own, soft, though not giving the comfort he’d wanted. 

Dean clears his throat his. “Did ya get your chem test back?” 

A small hum comes from his right. “It went well, I got ninety seven percent.”

“Well?” Dean asks, forcing his voice to sound lighter, more teasing then pained. Not wanting the other know the way his heart tugs at the disappointment Cas has for anything less than perfect. “Angel that’s fuckin’ awesome.”

“It would have been better but the teacher had decided the indicator would have become a redy orange, not red.”

Dean clenches his jaw, trying hard to avoid the annoyance that was clear in Cas’s voice. Cas didn’t take ninety sevens, he didn’t nineties, and definitely didn’t take forty twos. He didn’t take less than perfect.

Dean’s less than perfect. 

The small sound of pencil against paper continues as Cas works on whatever homework he has. The small scratching barely audible over his hammering heart, mixed with his spinning thoughts. 

His essay.

Cas.

The math test he has on monday.

Cas.

The science test he’d had the day before.

Cas.

Work

Cas.

Failing. 

Cas. 

Cas. 

“I think we should break up,” Dean suddenly says, the words coming without a second thought. 

“Pardon?”

Before he can stop himself Dean glances to his right, getting a glimpse of Cas’s wide eyed expression, lips pressed in a tight line. His dark hair ruffled and adorable. “I think we should break up,” Dean forces himself to repeat, looking back to the road that spreads out in front of them. 

A sharp inhale comes from his right, causing Dean’s grip around the steering wheel to only tighten, his other hand pulling away from Cas’s and going back to his side. “You think we should break up?” Cas finally says, sounding ust as breathless as Dean feels. “Why?”

Dean’s lips part. Why? Because Dean’s stupid, becasue he takes the easiest math class their school offered and still barely manges to get a high C, because he’s stupid. Because he can barely understand the words he reads. Because he’s stupid. 

Because Cas’s absolutely brilliant, and athletic and perfect.

And because Dean’ss stupid.

“Because,” Dean finally whispers, taking a slow breath. Despite that the air barely fills his lungs, when did it become so hard to breathe? 

“Because- you know,” Dean glances at the other, the words stuck in his throat as his gaze darts across Cas’s face then down his body, before looking back to the road.

He takes the turn out of town and in the direction of Cas’s house, his heart hammering in his chest, grip tight around the steering wheel. “You wear button ups,” Dean finally says, “and I wear t-shirts.”

From the corner of his eye Dean can see Cas’s hurt expression drop, his head tilting to the side as a crease forms between his eyebrows. “You’re breaking up with me because we wear different shirts?”

Dean hesitates before nodding.

“Dean,” Cas says, “are you alright?” 

“Yah.”

“Dean-”

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t se-”

“I said i’m fuckin fine,” Dean snaps no longer carring to keep his voice steady, he just needs to scream, to cry, for Cas to leave “I just don’t think things a fuckin workin’ anymore! Don’t you get it, I-” Before he can continue his angered rant, a low groan comes from Baby's engines as the car begins slowing down. 

Shit.

Dean steers the car to the side of the road, jaw clenched as Baby comes to a stop. His foot is pressed to the gas, teeth grinding as that doesn't work, the keys are then twisted off and on, twice without any success. The whole time Cas’s stare burns against the side of Dean’s head only making the fire in his chest hotter.

“Fuck,” Dean screams, slaming his fists against the steering wheel.

“Should I call a mechanic?” Cas suggests softly. 

Dean gives a harsh shake of his head and pushes his door open. “It’s fine,” he mumbles, “I can fix it.”

Much to Dean’s relief Cas doesn’t follow him out of the car and let’s him walk to the impalas hood alone. They were only a few miles out of town yet it was quiet, the only sign of life being a distant house that stood a few yards away, and even that, with its lights flicked off, seemed empty. The sky above a dull grey leaving a chill in the air. 

He can still feel the spiral of emotion coursing through him as he opens the hood and begins working on the engine. A feeling Dean no longer would call anger, he didn’t so much as burn from the inside out, but felt as if he was being torn apart, dull pain piercing every inch of him. Stabbing at his heart and tearing the air from his lungs as his thoughts continue to spiral. 

He doesn’t make an attempt to wipe his eyes as his vision becomes blurry -he doesn’t think it would do any good- and instead keeps his head down. Even as the passenger door opened and closed, and crunching of Cas’s shoes followed. 

“Dean,”Cas whispers, stopping at Dean’s side. Dean clenches his jaw, gaze staying down, he doesn’t think he can look up without crying, he can barely breathe without crying, each breath coming out more shaken, more forced than the last. 

“Dean,” Cas repeats, though Dean doesn’t look up. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d gotten your essay back?”

“Does it matter?” Dean mumbles. He tightens his grip around a piece of the engine, the metal causing a dull pain across the palm of his hand. It doesn’t help, and Dean has to let go to wipe away forming tears. “Not like it’s anything to fuckin celebrate over.”

Cas steps closer and takes Dean’s hand in his own causing Dean to look up, his eyes meeting Cas’s. “You’re still able to tell me,” Cas insists.

“Why?” Dean laughs bitterly, “so you can fuckin’ laugh at me?’.

“Why would I laugh?” A bubble of emotion burns in Dean’s chest as Cas’s gaze darts over his face. He wants to cry, so bad. His failed essay. Driving Sam to soccer practise. The new book they were beginning. His two jobs. His science test on monday. It was all spiralling, crumbling no matter how much he tried to keep it together. 

“Because I’m fuckin’ stupid,” Dean snaps, voice shaking as he speaks, “I’m stupid Cas, I can’t even get a fuckin fifty precent on an essay.”

“I’m- i’m-” Dean gasps, the first tear falls and he doesn’t have the energy to stop the next, a third soon following until his whole body’s shaking with each sob. The pain stabbing through him, burning with each gasped breath. “Cas.”

Cas let’s go of Dean’s hand and instead pulls him into a tight hug, his warmth bringing no comfort as the tears continue to roll down Dean’s face no matter how much he wishes they'd stop. “Cas,” Dean sobs, the pounding of his heart almost louder than his own voice, “I’m try- i’m- I’m trying. I swear.”

He tries to speak more but the words won’t come as sobs rake his throat, tears and snot staining his face. He can barely feel Cas’s arms around him, his own grip around Cas tight as if he was the only thing keeping Dean standing, and maybe he was. 

“I’m trying,” Dean whispers once he has no tears left to cry. “I really am.”

“this is why you wanted us to break up?” Dean doesn’t reply, he doesn’t need to, Cas already knows the answer and the way Cas’s arms tighten around him only further confirms that. “Dean you are absolutely brilliant” Cas says, “one essay doesn’t change that.”

“You know it’s more than one.”

Dean takes a slow breath, an action that seems more forced than it should have. His throat is raw and his eyes feel itchy and dry, yet the pain persists, just as consuming and raw as before. He doesn’t even want to cry anymore, he doesn’t want to scream or throw something, he just wants the pain to end. 

“I am also aware that most mechanics require schooling to know at least half of what you do,” Cas whispers as Dean rests his chin against Cas’s shoulder. Squeezing his eyes shut he takes another forced breath, his hand clenching the fabric of Cas’s trench coat. “Or that no one is as charismatic as you, or kind, or selfless.”

“None of that,” Dean whispers, his voice raw and throat burning as he speaks, “means jack shit.” 

Cas pulls away, letting their eyes meet. Cas’s eyes are wide, the concern in them clear rimmed with the faintest shade of pink that twists Dean's stomach, under Cas’s intense gaze breathing’s hard, standing’s hard, being alive’s hard.

“Dean,” Cas says, he raises a hand and rests it gently against the side of Dean’s jaw, the touch barely ghosting his skin. “You are raising your brother,” he hates himself, “you’re working two jobs,” he hates Cas’s gentle tone, “you can’t blame yourself for your struggles with school,” he hates himself.

He hates himself. 

He hates himself. 

Dean steps away, avoiding Cas’s gaze as he slams the impalas hood shut, “can we just get goin’” Dean says, walking back to the driver’s door. He can feel Cas’s gaze following him, though Dean refuses to meet it, he doesn’t think he could keep breathing if he did. “I’ve gotta get to work.”

Cas doesn’t make an argument much to Dean’s relief and instead takes his seat on the passenger's side without another word. Letting the silence hang, Dean starts the car. He keeps his hands on the wheel, even when all he wants is to reach out for Cas, the pain teetering on the edge of unmanageable. He keeps his eyes on the road even when he gets a glimpse of Cas leaning to the back seat, and he keeps his mouth shut when Cas sits properly in his seat, a book now in hand. 

“Your class started reading this yesterday, correct?”

Dean glances to his side, eyeing the book Cas held out for him to see. Frankenstein, he’d barely made it past the first paragraph before giving up. The story, being written in the 1800’s, was long with a blur of unnessaccary descriptions and words Dean could barely pronounce, never mind understand. Even if he could read it, he doubt it was interesting enough to keep his attention. 

“Yah,” Dean replies looking back to the road. 

The sound of flipping pages comes, then Cas clearing his throat. “To Mrs. Saville, England. St. Petersburgh, December eleventh,” Cas begins, voice steady filling the car as he reads the first line. “You will rejoice to hear that no disaster has accompanied the commencement of an enterprise which you have regarded with such evil forebodings.”

Dean doesn’t stop Cas as the other continues reading through the first chapter, only pausing after each paragraph to explain what was happening or add his own opinions. Once or twice Dean manages to choke out a few words, thoughts -analysis as Rowena would call them- about the story that has a smile tugging at Cas’s lips. They continue that way until Dean pulls up to Cas’s house, his hand finally letting go of the steering wheel to put the car in park. 

He looks to his right, unable to stop a smile as he watches Cas finish reading, the sunlight that fell through the window warming his tanned skin. Beautiful. Add that to the list of Cas’s perfections. Kind. Thoughtful How did Dean get so lucky?

“I am required not only to raise the spirits of others, but sometimes to sustain my own, when theirs are failing,” Cas finishes reading as he folds the corner of the page then slowly closes the book. He doesn’t look up, his expression sat in a way that causes Dean’s stomach to drop. He doesn’t think he can handle another conversation, he’s tired from crying, and the pain had only just become manageable. 

Despite what Dean wants, Cas begins talking. “Dean you are brilliant, and I’m aware that me saying that doesn’t make you believe it,” Cas pauses and takes a slow breath. “But please don’t let that determine your worth, or at least determine whether you are good enough for me or not. You are more than good enough.”

“Cas-”

“Dean, I am capable of making my own decisions and I choose you and I would choose you everyday of my life,” Cas says. “If you can’t realize your own brilliance at least let me.”

Dean opens his mouth, trying to find some argument, some sarcastic comment that would lighten the mood, but nothing comes and instead he’s left to stare, Cas’s eyes locked on his own. Emotion bubbling through his chest. A warmth that makes him want to cry all over again. He can feel the electricity like fire through his veins and for once he welcomes the spiral of emotion.

“Thank you,” Dean manages to whisper, though that doesn’t even begin to cover everything he wants to say, how much he loves the other. How he can barely breathe. How he feels as if he’s melting under Cas’s gentle look. “I love you.”

A smile spreads across Cas’s face and he slowly leans in allowing Dean to meet him halfway for a soft kiss and when they pull away, lips barely grazing, Cas replies; “I love you too.”

[everybodyscupoftea]

this is the life

ole miss rafe x reader

you and your boyfriend deal with your ~futures~

literally no one asked for this lol, i’m sorry

(warnings: cursing)

Your animal and dairy sciences seminar had a report due that you’d stayed up very late making last minute edits to because you were stressed it was really bad. The next morning was brutal. Not only was in an 8 a.m. lecture, but your coffee machine was out and you overslept, barely giving yourself enough time to get to class before the professor checked attendance.

You slid into your seat, out of breath, just as started scanning the seating chart for attendance. The boy who sits next to you turned to ask, “Library was backed up this morning?”

“What?” you asked, halfway paying attention, still scrambling to get your notebook out.

“Since you’re running late, I’m assuming it’s because the library was busy when you went to print your report.”

Your stomach dropped and you swore, “Fuck. I forgot to print it. Fucking fuck. I submitted it online but I forgot we needed to hand him a physical copy too. Oh god I can’t afford to fail this class.” You were getting worked up and the boy was starting to look more and more like he regretted talking to you in the first place.

“I mean he’s pretty chill, so I’m sure if you explain he’ll let you bring it by his office later.”

The boy had a point, but you were already too far gone. For the rest of the class, you were unfocused, and if someone asked you what he lectured on, you’d have no clue, so preoccupied with rehearsing how you were going to beg him for an extension. You only had one other class, and you’d definitely be able to print it out and run it to him between them, but that was depending on if he let you.

Just as class was ending, your phone vibrated in your hoodie pocket, and you checked it, immediately calmed at seeing a text from your boyfriend. Rafe sent Can’t wait to see you this weekend and whatever had a grip on your chest loosened enough for you to take a full breath for the first time since waking up.

After speaking to your professor and his reassurance that you didn’t really need to worry much about the written report, that it was just to ensure everyone had it turned in prior to class, you left, much happier, but the exhaustion hitting you straight in the gut.

Thankfully, all you had left that day was a communication elective and then to drive to Rafe’s apartment in Oxford. He’d convinced you to make the trip because he wanted to show you around the place he’d called home for four years after leaving behind his “hometown trauma.” His words.

Your class flew by, people were giving speeches and you’d given yours Wednesday, so you sat there mindlessly, half asleep, until she dismissed the class for the weekend. Stopping back by your apartment to pick up your overnight bag, you decided to last minute check your PO Box, it had been a while. To your shock, you actually had mail, and when you saw the return address, the sick feeling returned to your stomach.

There was about a two-hour drive to Rafe’s apartment from Starkville, and you had the option of opening the letter containing either the best news or the worst news of your life before the drive or at Rafe’s apartment. Part of you wanted to know then, but a stronger part of you wanted to be with Rafe so he could comfort you if necessary.

Instead of making a decision, you felt your tired brain could not, you called Rafe. He answered before the second ring and you couldn’t help yourself.

“I see that receptionist job taught you some useful skills.”

“What?” he asked, sounding confused.

“Answering my calls fast, that’s good because my time is money.”

Rafe sighed, “Can I help you?”

“Someone’s mad. But, yes, should I open the letter from the vet school now or wait until I get to Oxford.”

You heard some shuffling around before he answered, “You think you can wait? I actually have something to tell you too.”

“Yeah, um, sure,” you were a little worried, “Is everything okay?”

“I think so. We just need to talk.”

“Right, talk, are you sure everything’s good?”

“Yeah, stop worrying. Just drive on over.”

You had been excited to go visit, but after that phone call you wanted to go back to bed. With a deep sigh, you rubbed your eyes with the heels of your hands and slumped backward. Blinking away the spots, you buckled up, pit in your stomach, and drove to your favorite coffee shop in Starkville. If shit was going to go down in Oxford you were going to have your comfort drink.

StrangeBrew’s drive-thru was packed and you tapped your fingers anxiously on the steering wheel as you waited to order your blueberry cobbler cold brew with soy milk. Right as the barista handed you the to-go cup, your phone vibrated and Rafe had sent drive safe!! <3. The fuck did that mean in the context of your earlier phone conversation?!

The drive to Oxford was boring as hell. You’d made it before, a band you liked had played there one night, and you and some friends had made the reluctant trip to see them. Turning on your podcast, you focused on nothing but the drive, pushing aside relationship doubts and the growing anxiety about the letter sitting in your passenger seat.

You called Rafe when you got close, and he was waiting outside his building when you finally found a visitor’s spot. He jogged over to grab your overnight bag and bent down to give you a quick kiss, before greeting you with, “Hey, baby, how was the drive?”

“Boring as fuck, nothing new.”

“Went smoothly?”

“About as smooth as possible. I’ve had to pee for the last like 40 minutes though, so it’d be great if I could do that now.”

He laughed and turned to walk to his building, motioning for you to follow him. You did, scampering a little to keep up with his long strides, and he unlocked a door on the first floor, holding it open for you, “Bathroom’s down the hall to the left.”

Rafe was sitting on the couch when you made it back out to the living room, and you finally took a good look at him. His laptop was on the coffee table and he was wearing a pair of Ole Miss sweats, a worn-out t-shirt, and a pair of glasses you were unaware he needed.

“Take a picture,” he interrupted your train of thought and you rolled your eyes.

“Shut up, Cameron. Now, tell me what you want to talk about so I can open my letter.”

“No, open your letter first and then we’ll talk.”

You weren’t sure why he was so insistent or why your heart rate tripled, but you were pretty sure it wasn’t the coffee. With shaking hands, you held up the letter from the MSU Vet School. All of your undergrad work came down to that letter, whether you’d have to take a gap year and try to find work to apply again or whether you could move forward in your career path.

Rafe watched on eagerly as you carefully tore it open and started reading. Eyes jumping across the page, unable to focus, you barely made out, Congratulations and We welcome you and We look forward to seeing you next fall.

With a gasp, you launched yourself at an unprepared Rafe and latched on, arms wrapped around his neck. He ran his hand up and down your back soothingly and asked, gently, “Good news?”

“I’m going to Vet School,” you whispered, voice cracking in the middle of your sentence.

“Fucking right you are, my little Rockstar.”

Your face heated up and you buried it in the crook of his neck, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. Only to come crashing back down a few seconds later as you remembered Rafe wanted to talk. Pulling back slowly, you asked, “So, what was it you wanted to talk about?”

His face lit up and he leaned forward, hanging on to you so he didn’t accidentally dump you onto the floor, and grabbed his laptop. Clicking to his email, he showed you the message he had pulled up from Mississippi State University Department of History Admissions.

“So, you know I’ve been interested in teaching,” he started, “and I’m debating whether I’d like to teach college or not.”

“Yeah, last we talked, you were leaning toward college professor, right?”

“Right. Well, I applied to a few schools that had a PhD program I was interested in, and I heard back from my top choice.”

Your mind was racing, still not connecting the dots, until he motioned at his laptop. Looking back down, you skimmed the email, telling him that he’d been accepted into MSU’s PhD in European History program and gasped, turning back to him in excitement, “No way?!”

“Way,” he told you, wide grin on his face.

Jaw dropped, your mind raced to put together a coherent thought, “How long have you been planning this?”

“The program is good, this isn’t a new thought, but MSU obviously jumped up my preference list to the top after we got together.”

“Fuckin whipped,” you teased and he tilted your chin down to kiss you.

Pulling away he brushed some of your hair back, “Only for you.”

As he leaned in again, you were the one to pull back, “Wait, we have to celebrate!”

Rafe groaned, “No, let me kiss you.”

“No! I want food, I spent the entire ride thinking I was going to get dumped when I got here.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, “What?”

“We need to talk,” you quoted, “that’s one scary fucking sentence, Cameron.”

He smiled sheepishly, “Sorry, sweetheart, I just wanted to keep it a surprise.”

“Well you did.”

Rafe leaned in to kiss you again and pulled back to add, “You really think I’d make you drive all the way here, just to break up with you. I’m wounded you think that lowly of me.”

“You are an asshole.”

Rolling his eyes, he pinched your cheek gently, “Be nice to me, I’m sacrificing my dignity and lowering myself to Mississippi State’s standards.”

Blinking a few times in surprise at his sudden switch, you told him back, “Fuck off, I’m sure you were last choice as soon as they saw where you got your undergrad degree.”

Without saying anything else, he kissed you again, gripping behind your knees and shifting so your back was on the couch. As he lowered himself down on top of you, you decided that food could wait. You had your future to celebrate.

[chokefriends]

Anatomy model Eustass Kid

By @godims0tired ♡ for my fic Life Drawing

Rating: E

Warnings: None

Characters & ships: Eustass Kid / Trafalgar Law

Word count: 2978

Summary: Law practices his anatomical drawing with Kidd as his subject. With his devil fruit abilities he can see right inside him.

Kidd finds this insanely romantic.

~~~

Read on Ao3 or below the cut. I know it's an older fic by now but I havent posted it here before so here!

~~~

Kidd jerked into full awareness as he lay sprawled in his bed. He checked around himself without moving and sensed a second heartbeat in the room, near enough that the dim echoes of its electrical impulses lapped at his skin like waves. Slow and calm. Just watching then; not yet poised to attack…

There were eyes on him.

It took him a moment to remember that the other heartbeat was supposed to be there. He wasn't used to having bedmates stay overnight.

Red eyes slid open and found keen grey ones fixed on him.

“The fuck you staring at.”

“You, idiot.”

The big redheaded sprawl snorted crassly at that and flopped over, returning the stare with sleepy menace.

Law smirked. He was wedged sideways in one of the heavy carved armchairs in Kidd's quarters, loosely wrapped in a sheet and busily scritch scritching in a large book. His gaze flicked from page to Kidd and back.

Kidd prodded him, “See something you want, Trafalgar? Come over here and take it.”

His limbs were still all loose and languid from when they'd fucked a couple hours before, but Kidd could stand to go another round. Especially with the sharp, evaluating looks Law was throwing him right now.

“Come on, c'mere.”

“Later. Go back to sleep, Eustass-ya.” The pen bobbed.

“Don’ wanna. What are you doing still up?”

“Just passing the time until my brain decides to let me fall asleep.” Law's insomniac woes again.

“A good fuck will do that for you. Lemme do the ligature thing and you'll be out like bam .” Kidd offered generously.

“Heheh. Thanks but oxygen deprivation is not the kind of sleep aid I need.”

“Your loss.”

Kidd burrowed into his cluster of satiny pillows with a sigh. For an infamously brutal pirate captain he sure liked his little extravagances. The whole room was draped with horribly clashing bits of luxurious fabrics and furs, and the odd shiny sharp thing. The manic magpie whims of past raids.

“Nah, that's no good,” Law recrossed long legs over the chair’s arm, well cushioned with some spotted pelt. “Go back to where you were a second ago.”

“Are you…? What, taking notes on me? Writing an ode to the sinful curve of my flawless ass?”

“Something like that. I'm adding my own anatomical diagrams to this medical text. It’s my favourite for reference material but the illustrations are scanty and kinda shit -- it's like they've never dissected anyone before.”

“Nice. Add a diagram of these.” Kidd kicked up a leg.

“Hah. I'm nowhere near the section on genital abnormalities, but I'll look you up when I get there. Turn on your side again, I was doing upper body musculature.”

“Ooo. I got lots of that, yeah.” Kidd complied.

The lamplight was flickering low behind Law. Kidd could see him and his book backlit dimly, the small hairs on his leanly muscled shoulders aglow like a nimbus. Tinged subtly blue.

Wait, blue?

“Do you have a Room up?”

“Yeah, so I can scan down and see the actual anatomical stuff.”

“Huh. That's handy. You don't even have to dissect anyone.”

“Yeah but it’s easier to see everything if you physically open someone up. You can isolate the individual structures that way.” Law peeked overtop of the book. “And it's more fun to do it the old-fashioned way, heh…”

Kidd gave a low laugh. Law wasn't even joking, he knew. He imagined waking up one night like this, to find some part of him delicately splayed open and the dark haired doctor sketching away with the same expression. If Law used his devil fruit power he could do it painlessly and bloodlessly, without even waking him. Kidd had seen him sever heads away from bodies completely within that blue sphere, both pieces still functioning as one. He’d never been the subject of that eerie power himself, though.

He didn’t think so, anyway.

Law untangled himself from chair and sheet, and finally came over to join him on the bed. Kidd was gifted briefly with a full view of the lithe figure. His recent handiwork was beginning to show in the mottling that ran up either thigh and the bites framing his chest tattoos.

The long limbs refolded next to him. “Stay there, I wanna do the neck muscles now.”

“Lemme see that first.”

“Don't be grabby,” Law complained, but gave up the book.

“Holy fuck.” Kidd flipped through studies of his back, shoulders, hands. “So that's how I look without skin, huh.”

He had been expecting more… yeah. Skin.

“I did say I was drawing the muscles.”

“And my bones and everything.”

“Yeah. Good skeletal structure too. Several odd calluses where breaks didn't quite set right, though.”

“You can see all of that?”

“Yeah, of course. Like I said, I can scan down to any level. Though it helps if I know already the shape of what I'm looking for.”

Something about the drawings was just so Law. The lines so precise, so sharp, somehow impatient. A little obsessive and overworked on certain details, like the hollow between his collar bones and the knobbly crook of his index finger, broken at least twice. Many practice studies on loose sheets of paper showed that Law had been trying to get these parts just right.

It occurred to Kidd that these weren't just anatomical studies using him as a model -- these were him.

Jotted notes crowded around the practice studies, but Law grabbed the book back before Kidd could read them properly.

“Trafalgar. Does that seriously say I have 8.2 litres of blood in me.”

“Nevermind that. Just an interesting fact. You have a lot of blood.”

Kidd stole another peek as Law held him off. “And that I have a grip strength of 68 kilograms in my right hand?”

“At least. That’s not something I can see; that's from uh, experience.”

Kidd leaned back with his hands laced behind his head to look at Law. “One might misinterpret this as a target profile of some kind.” Because that's exactly what it was -- a detailed map of Kidd’s strongest, and weakest points.

“Whoa, your blood pressure’s spiking.” Law grinned with more teeth than usual and leaned in to hover over him.

“Now you're just showing off,” Kidd complained.

“Does this disturb you?”

That wasn't exactly the feeling that was spreading through him, no. Or not entirely, anyway. Kidd just cracked his neck, stretching it out for Law's benefit, and raised an eyebrow.

“So you wanted some neck action? It's all yours.”

Law seemed to like the sound of that. He angled Kidd’s head away and up with a gentle press of fingers, so the ear and neck were exposed to him.

Kidd watched his shadow flicker on the opposite wall and listened to the pen scratch across paper. The undulating magnetic field of Law’s heart was so close now, washing over him. His own blood thudded in his ears, senses all on high alert from holding himself in this vulnerable position.

He could be fuckin patient. Sometimes. Well… when he had all of Law’s attention focused on him like this, he’d stay still forever. He could feel the sharp eyes on him like a touch. His own eyes started to wander back over…

He jumped a little when Law did touch him, nudging him back into place. And then trailing fingers over the mound behind his ear.

“Sternocleidomastoid,” Law mouthed to himself. “Levator scapulae…” The hand travelled down to his collarbone and rested there lightly, his thumb tracing little circles.

It was so calm. And strange. Rare for the reserved doctor to be so casually intimate. Even while they were fucking, touch was more like a struggle, hands straining against and into each other. Kidd was rough without even trying, but it was Law who seemed to flinch from any contact not resembling combat. Or medical care. Such structured things. He’d objected -- vehemently -- to being “pawed at” and “pet like a lap dog” often enough. As though anything less than bruising force would hurt more.

He was so guarded. It made Kidd greedy.

“You're hard, you know,” Law breathed onto his neck.

“Yeah I'm aware.”

“Heh.”

Tattooed fingers ran along Kidd’s side, over the tight bands hugging the ribs (“Serratus anterior…”), and pinpricks rose in their wake. Kidd found himself arching up against the hand desperately.

“Ah, fuck, Trafalgar…”

“Mhm,” Law responded, distracted. Or pretending to be. He followed a particular cord of muscle down Kidd’s powerful thigh with his thumb. “Sartorius. Gracilis.”

“Dick.”

“No that's not a muscle, Eustass-ya.”

“Oh for the love of GOD.”

Law made a sound that was probably a muffled laugh. “Hold still. I'm doing anatomical studies.”

“Oh is that what we're doing.”

“Obviously.”

“Where's the book.”

“It's…” Law looked around for a minute. “On the floor.”

Kidd covered his face with his hands and just laughed. Law sighed dramatically.

“Well. Guess I gotta start from the top again.”

 

---

Law could be a pushy bastard when he topped. But he kept up the slow, focused treatment this time and it was driving Kidd fucking insane.

“I'm gonna flip this the fuck around and pound you inside out if it takes any longer.” Kidd growled from under his arm, slung across his face.

This was as close as he could get to actually asking for it. Here he was laid out, so open and ready, core clenching and unclenching. Needing to be fucked, to have hands on him, in him, whatever. All of it.

“Nah you're not.” Law countered smugly.

“F-uck,” was all Kidd could come up with when a third finger twisted into his slicked up hole. His body tensed and spasmed before yielding itself open.

By the time Law was actually fucking him, Kidd had nearly popped a fucking vein.

Law pushed in slowly, slowly. Until they were pressed together as tight as they could go, breath hot on each other's faces.

“Shit, Tr--ahh…”

“Eustass-ya…”

He was done with all the slow shit. Kidd was a shifting mass of need under him and honestly, he was even more worked up. He dragged almost all the way out only to grind back in hard, and the tight body jolted.

“Aw fuck, yeah…”

Law braced his weight on his arms, pressing Kidd’s hips into the bed. He watched the muscles bunch beneath him with each impact, Kidd straining to meet him. Watched through skin so pale it was translucent, glowing and rippling.

Kidd still wasn't entirely sure what to make of that gaze. All hunger and splitting seams, open lips and ragged breath.

He quirked up one corner of a mocking mouth.

“The fuck’re you-- ah --staring at?”

Law didn't answer for a moment. Under Kidd's skin it was like… layers of red ribbons, wrapping him up. The ribbons all pulling and straining against each other when Kidd moved (when Law moved in him), like something inside was trying to burst out. Under them, ribs curving -- jealous fingers. Wetly clinging membranes. Then under that…

“Your heart. It's…”

Their bodies collided, beaded with sweat. Harder. More. Law could see, hear Kidd's heart beating faster as he picked up his pace. God, he could feel it in his palms. In his dick. Beating so strong it echoed in his ears, drowning out his own.

“Fucking perfect. It's perfect.”

Kidd laughed breathlessly. His heart. What the hell. “...You wanna get your hands on that too?”

Law did.

He wanted to grip it, feel it flutter, make it burst …

… What if I could? he thought. He slowed, thinking, and spread a hand over Kidd’s breastbone. Not just to incapacitate through dismemberment, but to cut a piece from the whole, one vital piece…

Kidd watched the pensive eyes flicker and gave him a swift jab of encouragement with his heel.

“You'll just have to get hold of it the old fashioned way. Hahahaaa…”

“Hah.” Law shook himself from his distracted state. He picked up a pace that was slower than before, though not less jarring. “Like… I should court you or like I should cut you open?”

“Whichever ...ah ... But you should fuckin get me off first.” Kidd guided the tattooed hand down from his chest to his dripping cock, and Law obliged, finally.

They fucked with foreheads pressed together and grips slipping on sweat slick skin. Kidd thought of Law digging his hands right into his chest and came in jerking starts like it was being beaten out of him, legs clamped tight around him. Skin thrumming with the echoes of hands and heartbeat.

 

---

Kidd flipped through the last few drawings with some undefinable flutter in his gut.

“That's some shit you won't see in any other textbook.”

“Mhm.” Law allowed himself to press against Kidd just slightly as they lay sprawled out, sweat drying in the cool air. He was in a fuckin good mood, kinda dazed.

“I do look damn good without skin, I'll say that much.”

“Heh. And with. You can see the suprasternal notch really clearly even under the skin, it's nice. I fuckin love all of that. That area.”

Kidd choked a little but Law didn't seem to realize what he'd said. And that's not even what he meant anyway, Kidd told himself.

But the whole thing kinda was the same as a confession, at least as far as Law went. The drawings, as vaguely threatening as they were, betrayed an intimate preoccupation with Kidd's finer points. Maybe even admiration. Definitely possessiveness. Need.

“I wanna do you too.”

Law grinned, “Already?”

“Not that, idiot. Draw you.”

“I didn’t know you could draw.”

“Well, draft. I can draft things -- just basic. For engineering stuff on the ship, mostly.”

“Oh, nice!” Law bounced up to get fresh paper from the floor by the chair. “How does one usually draft stuff? Don’t you need a triangle thing? Compasses, etcetera?”

“Maybe. I’ll just make an outline for now.”

Law seemed right into this whole idea. “Draw me like one of your machines, Eustass-ya.” He draped himself dramatically across the bed and Kidd shoved him with a grin.

“How do you want me, though.”

Kidd appreciated that question for a moment.

“Doesn’t matter,” he shrugged. “I don’t know how to draw from life -- like perspective or anything. So it’s gonna be pretty diagrammatic. I just need a few details and some numbers.”

“Like specifications? How to build a Trafalgar?”

“Yeah, so I can make another if this one breaks.”

That made him laugh.

“Okay lie out flat and lemme measure you.”

“With what measuring tools?”

“I'll just eyeball it,” Kidd insisted.

This turned out to mean that he was going to get his hands all over him, which Law supposed was fair. He tensed and shied but stayed mostly still, letting Kidd explore his dimensions and proportions. Pages filled up with ratios and vectors of movement. Things got off track again around when Kidd was testing the rotation arc of his arms and quickly became vicious rutting. Light, skimming hands could become crushing ones so quickly.

Anyway, turned out that Law could get off while his arms were being hyperextended behind his back. Pretty effectively, in fact.

After, when they were laid out next to each other once again, and Law’s breaths were finally lengthening into sleep, Kidd dared to try another light touch. Without their thin pretense of functionality this time -- just want. He smoothed a hand over all the tattoos he'd taken such careful note of earlier. A large heart on his chest with a grinning skull similar to his Jolly Roger. Hearts on his shoulders. Kidd’s fingerprints blooming dark purple on his upper arms.

Sixty-eight kilograms of pressure and Law hadn't made a sound, but a feather touch over the marks and a quiet ah pushed past his lips.

“Whose emblem is that tattoo?”

Law mumbled with his eyes closed, “Someone who died. Long time ago.”

“Someone…” Kidd repeated to himself, but didn't probe. “You going to get any more?”

“Nah.” His breath stuttered slightly when Kidd trailed knuckles down his jaw. “I just like… your marks…”

He fell asleep with Kidd's lips against the shell of his ear.

 

---

A roll of broadsheet tied with string arrived by carrier gull when Law was back on his sub some days later. He stole away to his cluttered quarters and spread the roll out on the bed.

Inside the broadsheet was a large-format technical drawing.

There were three flat outlines of Law: front, back, side. All heavily marked out in blunt pencil, all surrounded by arcs and lines, dotted and solid, indicating measurements and angles of motion. The insides of the outlines were empty except for perfectly to scale renderings of his tattoos.