#there's something wrong with the eyes but i can't point out what

[ghoulphile]

janey's dad | c.h./the ghoul | part 01

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 3.7k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; age gap, hair pulling, teasing, making out, mutual pining, lipstick kink, stockings, frottage, porn w/ feelings, porn w/ plot, mild angst w/ happy ending, divorced!coop, babysitter!reader, pre-war/bomb ➥ summary | “We really, uh, shouldn’t - oh fuck, you look --” ➥ notes | i'm so sorry this is later than it should be. i am unfortunately a corporate slave and this fic just did not want to cooperate 🫠 there are a lot more things planned and this fic is turning into a bit of a beast (20+ pages and counting rip lmao) so i've decided to split it into two parts to make it more manageable for myself mostly un-beta'd atm a special thanks to @corinthianism for all her lovely help ❤️!!

feel free to send in thots, questions, requests! | masterlist

Divorce is hard, but being a divorcé is downright hellish.

One of the ugliest things in the world, if Cooper Howard has any say. At least when he was a Marine, they told him where to point his gun, where to aim; nameless threats vanishing with a quick squeeze of the trigger.

Here, these ‘enemies’ aren’t enemies — not really.

It’d be easier if they were.

Worse still, they have names he holds as dearly as his own. There’s Barb, whip smart and always so clever. Then Janey, the light of his life and so sweet his teeth ache.

Once upon a time, life was sweeter than apple pie on Sundays.

Then came the separation.

Afterwards, he finds it hard to look at what’s left of his family without losing breath like a horse kick to the chest. Their absence rips open a hole inside him ten miles wide, its edges jagged and wrong.

And when he can’t take the silence anymore, fingers of malt liquor help dull the ache, though it’ll never be enough to mend what’s broken.

See, war’s something he understands.

But these domestic battlefields where he sits across from his ex-wife while lawyers barter this weekend and that holiday?

How he struggles to meet his daughter’s eye every time she asks if he’s coming home?

When Barb keeps the house and the money while he keeps the scrapbooks and the dog?

He doesn’t — can't — refuses to comprehend.

Because in what world can you reconcile looking down the barrel of a smoking gun only to find the woman you love staring back, finger on the trigger? Left out to hang as Vault-Tec orchestrates his downfall.

The true depth of their involvement is unknown, but it’s no coincidence his bank accounts dried up faster than the Mojave in June. The ink still wet when the media snapped up the story of his failed marriage.

Thus, his reputation (rather what’s left of it) unraveled faster than a spool of thread.

Knocked on his ass and kept there by a boot heel crushing his windpipe. Whose? He hasn’t got a fucking clue.

But whoever they are, they’re making sure he stays a washed up nobody who struggles to land a call back, much less pay his monthly alimony on time.

See what we can do? You were America’s favorite gunslinger - now look at you. Mind your place.

Hell, millions used to scream his name.

Nowadays people whisper it behind their hands like a dirty secret, “Oh, did you hear? Cooper Howard…” as they dissect pieces of his life into bite-sized Before’s and After’s. “Hah! Serves him right. Y’know, I never liked him much.”

While he grits his teeth and swallows his bitterness with a smile, he hates how he can’t protect Janey from snide reporters and nosy strangers. Juggling actor-father-divorcé with fumbling hands.

It’s only been six months; a heartbeat, a lifetime, and already he’s scraped thin like butter over too much bread.

Something’s gotta give.

After all, he’s only one man.

But just when it's bleakest, the clouds part.

A young woman moves in next door, the first bright thing that’s come his way in a long, long while.

At first, he kept his distance.

Exchanged vague hello’s and how-are-you’s. Then Janey took a shine; always so friendly and eager to talk about her latest books.

Any reservations he might’ve had died when he saw how enamored you are with her.

Only made sense that over time small pleasantries turned into playdates. Then those playdates turned into sleepovers.

Before long, you’re watching her when a gig runs late.

Rustling up grub and tucking her into bed more often than not these days. And when he slinks in through the door, knees aching and stripped to the bone, there you are with a shy smile and a warm meal.

So what if he takes himself in hand long after you leave, stroking his cock to the thought of you down on your knees in that pretty little sundress?

Imagines the wide stretch of your ruby lips as you swallow him down, lipstick smeared an awful mess?

Cums hard to the fantasy of your teary eyes and hiccupy breaths as you choke?

What you don’t know can’t hurt you.

After all, he’s a gentleman... he promises to keep his hands to himself.

“All right, Sugar Bomb, it’s bedtime.”

Bundled in navy bedding up to her nose, Janey’s wide brown eyes peer up at you from beneath a riot of frizzy curls. Roosevelt, her ever faithful companion, plasters himself to her side. The tip of his tail swishes once, twice before falling limp.

“Ah, c’mon guys. Don’t look at me like that.” You sigh with a fond shake of the head, hip popping out to rest against the doorframe. “I don’t make the rules, I just follow ‘em.”

A muffled response sounds from the lump of little girl, “Nmfhm.”

Squinting, you dip your head and tap the side of your ear, "Pardon?"

“Mnhfmmmm.”

“Ye—eah… Didn’t catch that, Mumbler.”

Janey tugs down the blanket, her mouth pursed in a moue of displeasure. “I said,” she crosses her arms with a huff, “not until Dad gets home.”

Shit.

“M’sorry, baby. He’s still gonna be a while.” Walking across the room, you stop beside the bed and motion your hand back and forth. “Scooch over.”

Gangly limbs fumble as Janey wiggles into the middle of the mattress, her feet tangling in the blankets. Roosevelt takes a toe to the nose during the transition, but flops across her knees all the same.

Together they settle with a bounce of springs.

In the open space, you slide in.

The bed sinks under your weight, a plume of rich cologne tickling your nose; mint-spiced citrus. Cooper. Your stomach swoops, and your heart trips.

“I didn’t see him at breakfast — or lunch!” A pout tugs at her mouth. “Not even dinner. I gotta go home tomorrow. So when am I gonna see him?”

“Oh, bug.” You sigh, propping yourself up on your elbow. “Your dad’s been real busy at work. And I know that’s been hard for you, but I promise to make sure he’s here for breakfast tomorrow.”

“D’you mean it?” Her cold nose digs into your skin. “Me and Roosevelt miss him so much.”

Cuddled into your chest, Janey tosses an arm around your back. Her fuzzy head rests in the crook of your arm, springy curls tickling your skin.

You squeeze her tight and trace your fingertips over her forehead.

“I can do you one better,” you say, bopping the tip of her nose just to hear her giggle - a soft sound that sits warm and gooey in your chest. “I pinkie-promise.”

Her finger loops around yours, so small and fragile.

“I’ll even make pancakes. How’s that sound for a promise?”

“Oh, yes, please! I think Dad will like that,” a wide yawn cuts her off mid-sentence. “He’s sad, but he always smiles when you make food.”

Janey’s words — unexpected as they are sudden — cut so deep it steals the breath from your lungs. You flounder, your heart a throbbing bruise in your chest.

“... Then pancakes it is.”

As if nothing happened at all, she asks, “Do I have to go to bed now?”

“Afraid so, little miss.” Your responding chuckle sounds stilted even to your own ears. “Just you wait. When you wake up, Dad’ll be home.”

“Fi—ine, but I want extra pancakes.” Janey pauses, considers you with narrow eyes, then adds, “With syrup!”

“Whatever you want,” you say with an indulgent smile. “Now... time to sleep. It’s really past your bedtime.”

She gives you one last squeeze then lets you tuck her in nice and tight, blankets pulled up to her chin. You drop a kiss on her forehead while Roosevelt re-settles on the pillow beside her after a quick scratch behind the ears. 

Everything in order, you turn to go only for a little hand to stop you.

“Yes?” you reply, glancing at her from over your shoulder.

“... can you put on one of Dad's movies?”

The tremble in her voice - like she’s about to get scolded - breaks your heart clean down the middle. Stitching on a soft smile, you nod and walk to the darkened TV set in the room's corner.

After fiddling with the nobs, static flashes to life.

“The Man from Deadhorse okay?”

The holotape sliding into the track swallows the sound of her tiny “Yeah.” Starting up with a whirl of machinery, the second-hand Radiation King flickers to life in black-and-white.

A vast plain and bright sky stretches across the screen.

Then Sugarfoot creeps into frame with the one and only Cooper Howard sitting astride the noble steed. The sheriff’s badge on his chest glints in the sun.

“Thank you,” she mumbles, already half-way to sleep.

“Anything for you, baby. Sleep tight.”

Flicking off the lights, you leave the door cracked. Walk away pretending like hearing her whisper goodnight to the TV doesn’t lance through you like lightning.

The desire to whisk her into your arms and soothe all of her ails is almost impossible to ignore.

Somehow, you distract yourself by wiping up the table, then by fixing a plate of dinner for whenever Cooper rolls in. Though all the while, how brokenhearted Janey sounded sits in the back of your mind like a leaden weight.

When Cooper stumbles into the living room, it’s half past midnight.

You’d gotten up to greet him, curled as you were in an armchair reading, when something about the stern line of his mouth gave you pause.

Where the usual lighthearted greetings lingered, a pensive stillness trembled to life.

Tension crackles through the air; a held breath of agitation. By the faraway gaze and defeated slump of his broad shoulders, it’s plain to see the night didn’t go as intended. And no matter how much you long to soothe, you can’t.

After all, he’s not yours to touch.

Instead, you offer a sympathetic smile and ask, “Rough night, huh?”

Cooper ignores the prompt, squeezing past with a brief touch to your elbow as he makes a beeline for the dry bar. The heat of his body is there and gone in a flash, his cologne teasing your senses. He says, “Thought you’d be asleep by now.”

Your heart flutters in your throat. “Ah,” you lick your lips, “well, I was going to finish my chapter first.”

Humming, he turns his back to you and fiddles with high balls and decanters. The tink of crystal glassware fills the air as he speculates which alcohol goes best with his mood. 

“Thanks again for watching Janey.” He nods in approval and fixes his whiskey neat. “I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble, Mr. Howard.” You shrug. “She’s a sweetheart.”

He shoots you a dry look from over his shoulder, stirring the dark amber of his drink with a forefinger. When he sucks his skin clean with a soft pop - a flash of a pink tongue taunting, teasing - your stomach swoops.

God, I wonder what else his mouth can do.

Flustered, you clear your throat and stare at a spot on the wall.

“How many times do I gotta tell you to call me Coop?” he says, digging through some drawers until he finds what he’s searching for: a lighter. “It must be a million and one by now.”

Flint sparks as flames jump, eating away at the end of a cigarette. Cooper inhales in short little puffs, pulling on the filter. His cheeks hollow, the shadows enhancing the cut of his jaw before the tip catches alight.

“Well,” he exhales, his gaze catching yours through a plume of smoke as he turns, brow raised. “Anything to say for yourself?”

“Old habits die hard, I guess,” you chuckle.

The corner of his mouth lifts in a lopsided smirk. “I’ll drink to that.” He knocks back the last finger of whiskey before refilling with gin.

Springs groan in protest when he drops to the couch, settling in with an outstretched arm and wide spread thighs.

“It’s been a long fucking day,” he rasps.

Gulping, you try to ignore the space at his feet.

The stirrings of desire provoked by the urge to sink to your knees and fill it with your body, to ease tension from those shoulders with your hands, your mouth, your cunt — if he’d let you.

“You heading home?” Nursing the fresh drink, he swallows a mouthful, only to hiss low through his teeth at the chemical burn. His throat bobs, framed by the open collar of his shirt. “Whew! Goddamn, that’s strong.”

“No, I can stay for a while.” A bird on a wire, you perch on the cushion beside him. “Got nothing else planned for tonight, anyhow.”

Cooper snorts. “I doubt that very much. A sweet young thing like you,” he motions towards you with his glass, “I’m sure you’ve got plenty of fellas calling, especially on a Friday night. Don’t waste your time with me.”

“That’s not why I--” you stop yourself short.

Save for the bustling LA avenue right outside the complex, the apartment itself is stone silent for several heartbeats. Words hover on the back of your tongue, catching in the bend of your throat molasses thick.

Meanwhile, Cooper continues to swirl the alcohol in his glass.

Maybe in a different life, you wouldn’t hesitate to express yourself.

But here — with him — you shouldn’t.

Christ sake, he’s a grieving divorcé, you chastise yourself. The last thing he needs is me trying to lay one on him.

When you speak, his name glides off your lips for the first time, clementine sweet, “... Cooper, I’m not wasting my time. I enjoy spending it with Janey - and you.”

“Well,” he husks, hooded eyes dragging down your visage in a slow once-over, “you’re the first one in a long while to feel that way, sweetheart.”

Dripping like honey whiskey from Cooper’s lips, the simple phrase burns its way down-down-down until it blooms like liquid fire in your belly. Warms you all the way to your toes as your heart pounds against your ribcage.

“I mean it.” Your knuckles twist in the pleats of your sundress, bolts of blue fabric bunched around your knees. “Everything I do is because I want to.”

The flash of red nails plucking at the sheer nylon of your stockings snaps up his attention, his gaze snagging - staying as he chases the curve of your exposed leg, hungry.

He wets his lips, and tenses his jaw when he spots how the soft fat of your thigh dimples in because of your garter. “That’s awful sweet of you to say.”

You tremble beneath the intensity of his attention.

Greedy.

Little kisses of awareness spark bright along the path his eyes carve like the caress of shy fingertips.

However, before you’re able to confront him about his interest, the heat leaches from his expression, grows mute and cold like a muzzled dog. 

Readjusting the waistband of his slacks with a tug, he says, “I know you got better things to do than keep an old man company.”

Irritation sparks. “Cooper--”

“If this is about paying you for tonight,” his lips quirk into a sheepish smile, “I won’t be able to yet.” He scrubs a hand through the stubble peppered along his jaw. “The gig tonight didn’t… Well, it doesn’t matter.”

“No, that’s not what I --”

He plows on, “Anyway, the one I’ve got tomorrow should be enough. How about I stop by around seven o’clock? I’ll treat you to dinner as an apology.”

Frustration bubbles beneath the surface of your skin, antagonism thrumming through your veins. Your hands shake almost as much as your voice. “Cooper!”

“I… uh, yes?” He blinks.

Your brows furrow. “You don’t get it,” you say. “I mean, you truly don’t know?”

“I’m afraid there’s a lot I don’t get. You’re gonna have to be more particular.”

Maybe not said in so many words (or at all) but actions speak far louder.

Otherwise, why else would you spend most of your time in his apartment, fill every spare moment with Janey, and reserve evenings for his company?

Hell, you even cook and clean!

Almost scream your interest from the rooftops, and it’s obvious to everyone but him, it seems.

Here you are thinking he was preserving your dignity whenever he ignored a passing comment or lingering touch when, in fact, he’d been oblivious to their existence to begin with.

How a man can be so obtuse when you’re throwing yourself at him is beyond you.

If he wasn’t so captivating…

“Are you kidding me,” you ask, mindful of your tone, “how could you not know?” You throw your hands in the air. “I’ve been — for months!”

“Well, I don’t have a goddamn clue what you’re talking about, sweetheart,” he snarks, setting his glass on the table. “Care to enlighten me?”

Fine. If that’s how he wants to play, let’s play.

When he moves to take another drag from his cigarette, you strike, fingers locking around his wrist mid-lift. And although his glassy eyes narrow, he keeps his hand still.

Waiting to see what you'll do.

Tucking your knee under you for balance, you bend forward and watch his face from beneath your lashes. When your lips wrap around the filter, a dark hunger bleeds into his expression, his pulse a steady thud against the pad of your thumb.

Inhaling, the cherry lights up, a flashbang in the dim overhead light.

Cooper’s breath hitches, and then you’re pulling away with a lungful of smoke; the taste of ash heavy on your tongue.

He tracks your movements with greed, gaze flicking for the briefest of moments past your chin before refocusing on the ring of red lipstick staining white paper.

“If you wanted one,” he chokes, gripping the back of the couch with white knuckles, “all you had to do was ask.”

With a coquettish grin, you exhale to the side and stare at him with hooded eyes. “Is that so?” Plucking the cigarette out of his limp hold, you stub it out in the ashtray. “What if I wanted to ask for something else, Mr. Howard?”

The next moment finds you deposited in his lap, his hands shooting out to grab at your waist only to freeze before they make contact.

“Woah! I--”

“Tell me something.”

Your lips caress the shell of his ear, sharing breath - sharing space as you plaster yourself to his front, arms looped over his shoulders. He jolts, body trembling with restraint.

“Would you give me what I wanted if I said please?”

The distance between you snaps taut with anticipation. “C-Coop,” he stutters. “Call me Coop.”

You hum. “Well, Coop, would you?”

“That depends almost entirely on what you’re asking for, sweetheart.”

Red nails skate along the back of his neck, play in the downy soft hair of his nape just to feel him shiver. And then you’re leaning back with your hands braced on his knees, your legs falling open in invitation.

The hem of your dress bunches around your waist, exposing the soft cotton of your underwear, and the darkened patch of slick soaking through.

“I think you know exactly what I want,” you purr. “Because you want it too. Don’t you?”

He bites down on a strangled moan when your hips arch forward, rocking the soft plush of your ass against the heavy weight of his thickening cock. The zipper digs into your skin as he tents the front of his slacks.

Mouth dropping open, his tongue flicks out to wet his lips - a slick circle of temptation that makes you clench. “I, uh, I don’t…”

Reaching between your splayed thighs, you hook a finger beneath your panties and pull the fabric aside. He jerks forward, exhaling hard at the flash of your soaked cunt and twitching clit.

“C’mon, be honest.”

With a sigh, you gather your arousal on the tips of your fingers.

Cooper’s gaze is a heavy weight pinning you in place as you pretend it’s him dragging his knuckles over the top of your mond. Him dragging calloused fingers up along sticky folds to play with your sensitive clit, ripping soft little mewls from your lips.

“Can’t you see what you do to me, Coop?” you say, pulling your hand away to show the webs of slick stretching between your fingers. “I’m so wet. Please, I’ve wanted you for so long…”

His hips rock against your ass in an aborted thrust. “Shit - shit!” Eyes slamming shut, he grits his teeth and digs his fingers into your sides hard enough to bruise. “We really, uh, shouldn’t - oh fuck, you look --”

“Why not?” Your hand brushes over his groin. “I can feel how hard you are.”

“It isn’t right, that’s why.” He stutters, stumbles over his words, “Besides, Janey…”

“I can be quiet,” you say, lips trembling. “I promise.”

“Goddamnit, you can’t say things like that and expect me not to --” Cutting himself off, strong fingers seize your chin and tilt until you’re met with Cooper’s severe expression, his scorching gaze. “You need to tell me now: are you sure this is what you want?”

There’s no hesitation, “Yes.”

In what world would you refuse?

The words barely pass your lips before Cooper’s bowing his dark head, mouth ravenous as it captures yours in a slick glide of bruising lips and hungry tongues.

He steals your breath, licks into your mouth and traces along the sensitive inside of your lip.

Pulse jump starting, your toes curl over the edge of the cushion and your thighs squeeze the barrel of his chest, kneecaps digging into his ribs.

“Oh,” a moan punches itself out of your throat - a breathy little thing swallowed up by his lips. “That’s--”

Anticipation swells, simmers between you like a band before it snaps. A strong forearm locks around your waist, tugging you into the cradle of his chest until you’re plastered from stem to stern.

Too hungry for tenderness as his free hand slips up to cup the back of your head, fingers catching in the briar of your hair and tugging at the roots.

You claw at his shoulders while sparks of pain ricochet down your neck, sufficing into a prickly flush that heats your blood. “Hnn, Cooper,” you gasp.

He murmurs your name through languid flicks of his tongue and sharp little nips of skin that leave your mouth tender and swollen. When he pulls away to survey his handiwork, his eyes are dark. Fathomless.

"I never thought I'd get the chance to kiss you like this," he says, wicking his thumb over the pillow of your bottom lip. "You taste as good as I imagined."

Dragging your nails across his scalp, you plead, “No more teasing - I can't take it.”

"Well," he grunts, fingers twisting up in your dress, “If that’s how you feel, then you better put those hips to good use and work for it, sweetheart."

[jqnehr]

i told my mum about dr ratio and she called him a cad. so i wrote a drabble about it.

“I told my mother about you,” you say, quietly watching Ratio work away at the papers he was marking. You watch as he circles a big, fat ‘0’ in red in the top right hand corner of the paper, before putting it aside. He looked up at you. “And what did she say?”

You pause, dropping your gaze to the table top, unsure of how to go about this. "...She called you a cad."

Silence. No scribbling pen, not even a sound of an inhale or exhale from the man sitting in front of you. The table top is the most interesting thing you've ever laid eyes on right now. Ratio is so still, you'd think he'd have turned into one of those sculptures he made and taunted enemies with.

"...We...I haven't even...met her." For the first time in all the years you've known the man, he's utterly unable to formulate a single coherent sentence. Looking up, you see him staring at you wide-eyed, slack-jawed, and he looks devastated. "What did you say?"

"I—! Nothing! Nothing incriminating! I just told her that your life's purpose is eradicating idiocy and that you..."

Okay, I did kind of tell her that you're massively self-assured and that you walk around with an alabaster mask on all the time. But you don't want to break his heart too much. And that I hated you so much I love you.

His eyes narrow into slits. "Let me guess. You told her I throw chalk at people."

The ceiling fan's patterned movement is suddenly very fascinating.

"Aeons, woman, are you trying to get your mother to break us up?" Ratio drops his pen and stands, his hands on his hips. "I can't believe it! You probably made me sound like some lunatic that impales his students with sticks of chalk when they get a question wrong!"

"You..." kind of do. But pointing that out probably wouldn't be wise. Fumbling for something to say, you come out with, "I just told her that you need to be humbled! And that I'm...in the process of humbling you! Nothing too bad."

He rubs a hand over his face in exasperation. "Darling, please don't tell me you told her I drop a pillar on my opponent when I'm in a battle."

"I..." Yes, I did. You probably should've kept your mouth shut. And then your mother exclaimed, 'so he murders people!' and you had to scramble to explain that he kills aliens and such, not people. She didn't have a bar of it.

"Wonderful! Now she thinks I go around crushing people with columns for fun!" You had a feeling Ratio's reaction wouldn't be good. But not this bad.

"It's okay, maybe you two can meet and you'll put on your best behaviour and won't call her an idiot." You get to your feet and pat his arm comfortingly. "Treat her with respect, and she'll like you."

He actually looks like he's about to cry. "It's hopeless. Your mother probably hates me now. She called me a cad! A cad! All because you told her I hate idiocy."

"You're not going to...leave me for this, right?" Your voice is small, and you're suddenly very afraid that you really took it too far. "I'm sorry..."

"No! I'm leaving you over this. I just...need to think of a way to convince her that I don't run around stabbing people with chalk." The papers he was marking are now forgotten and he begins pacing. "What does she like? Cookies? Macarons? Apple pie?"

"My mother likes wine and cheesecake," you respond, watching him walk back and forth, back and forth, back and forth in quite the tizz. "White wine. Likes champagne, too. Um...and she loves chocolate. She'll force you to marry me if you give her chocolate."

"Perfect! Well, then, ask your mother if she is alright with meeting me, and I'll come along with gifts of champagne, cheesecake and chocolate. How about it?"

Good thing my father wasn't in the room when I smack-talked Ratio to her. It would've been much, much worse. "Uh, yeah, alright. Just beware, though, you're going to have to woo my father, as well."

Ratio gave a long-suffering sigh. "What does he like?"

And suddenly the Doctor of Idiots was running around collecting all these gifts for your parents. Perhaps it did work out for the better, since now you're sure he's desperate to stay with you.

[maraudersmyloves]

hii! i have a request i thought of a few days ago, fem!reader x slytherin boys (mainly mattheo riddle) where they noticed something wrong with her and she lies about it and mattheo says something along the line of “cut the bullshit”

CW: cussing, Angst, insecure reader, screaming, Arguing

You've been hanging out with the Slytherins less and less, not eating with them or hanging out at Blaise's Dorm after class.

That Fact alone wouldn't be unusual. It's exam Season after all and you often spend that time holed up in your Dorm, Studying and Eating what your Roommates bring you up.

The Problem occurs when you stop coming to Sunday Hangouts.

It's not an actual Agreement or anything, but it's become a Routine never broken.

Never.

No matter what's going on, on Sunday at around 9 PM you all meet at the Greenhouse.

Mattheo's always the first there and Tom's the last.

Pansy never figured out a certain time she would arrive while Draco always turns up at exactly 9:06:56

Down to the motherfucking Second

Blaise always brings a Book he doesn't read, Theo always forgets the Snacks he's supposed to bring and brings the sweets only he likes instead, while you always bring a Sketchbook.

It's 9:34 and you're not here.

You weren't there last week but Blaise convinced the others to talk about it Today.

Mattheo was stressing about talking with you and got into an all-time high of fights all week.

Now, you're not here.

Everyone is here

Except for you

It's pissing Mattheo off and at this point, the others are just as peeved

You are in your room crying

You know you should be at the Greenhouse rn, and doing anything else feels weird

The last 3 years you have spent every Sunday at the Greenhouse

For two weeks you haven't

The Slytherins loudly knock on your door and you quickly wipe away the tears, taking a few deep breaths to seem more collected

Mattheo sees your red eyes and is immediately worried although anger quickly overcomes him

Why didn't you tell him something was wrong?

God, why can you never just talk to him??

"Oh, hi guys!"

You force a smile but they see through it

"Wtf, y/n. Where have you been, what's going on???"

"I've just been studying, you know how i get"

"Cut the crap, wtf is actually going on?"

Blaise pulls him back a bit to not make you feel cornered

Theo steps forward, missing the point of Mattheo getting pulled back "We worry!! You can't just cut contact for two weeks. We excused you not coming to hang out last week but two times in a row?!"

"Calm down guys, I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation to all of this, Right?" Pansy says, but the last words have some venom you didn't expect.

Not from her

Your best Friend

Hot tears fall from your eyes and Tom pulls Pansy to the side while Mattheo steps closer, his eyes filled with worry

"Mi Vida? Can I hug you?"

His Voice is soft and his open Arms look so inviting.

You want to step back and say no so badly when you remember the words that caused this, but you can't bring yourself to do so. Silently nodding

He wraps his arms around you in a matter of seconds pulling you as close as he can.

You can hear Blaise's annoyed voice talk the others into leaving you alone

He is the only one smart enough to realize how overwhelmed you are

One after the other they usher out

All with various amounts of Backtalk, while you and Mattheo stay still. Standing in the middle of the now empty room, Papers and Books scattered all around you, Mattheo buries his Head in your Neck.

"Wanna tell me what's wrong, baby?"

Pt. 2 with Backstory and more Angst?

[fruity-fruition]

I NEED more angry Saki content at this point. GENUINELY.

Guys, I love Tsukasa, Shiho, and Honami with all my heart but I desperately need Saki to finally let out all her anguish.

Shiho and Honami were middle schoolers, you can't blame them, but so was Saki. I love how bright she is, how bubbly, but for the love of god you just know she had some sense of betrayal when Ichika was the only one who appeared constantly.

I want Saki to stand before Honami and Shiho, trying her best to act as her usual self, but finally breaking down and telling them how hurt she was when they never replied to her text. When Ichika kept saying "they'll visit soon" because she knows they never will. How she felt so alone in that hospital room, missing two of her best friends and being so far away from home.

I don't want their friendship to wither, but I have her to be angry because she has every right to be. I want her to hold a grudge, and I want her to feel hurt because she cannot move forward without acknowledging how shitty the cards she was dealt were.

Again, I'm not saying it was Honami and Shiho's fault. They were middle schoolers, they were scared. they were children who didn't know how to cope with their friend being so far and so out of reach. But that didn't mean they weren't wrong. Saki has every right to feel abandoned, because in her eyes, she was.

And Tsukasa. This is a different betrayal, because he treats her like glass. Again, it's not his fault, because for a good while, she basically was. She couldn't go out, she couldn't move around, she couldn't do most things. And he saw her through all of it. Of course he'd be scared for her, of course he'd be wary about it.

But Saki's so tired of being treated like this. She wants to move on, to keep going, to feel normal but she can't do that when everywhere she goes, it's a constant reminder. I want her to lash out, not being she's in the right, but because she's a teen who's childhood was torn away from her.

I want to see Saki snap, I don't even want it to be for a right reason. She could be totally in the wrong, yelling at her brother for caring and trying to make sure she's okay, but she's tired of being reminded she isn't a normal teen. So she lashes out, because she's hurt.

Saki's feeling of betrayal towards Tsukasa reaches another part too, with Tsukasa refusing to trust her the way she trusts him. Tsukasa never opened up to her, being so determined to be the reliable older brother. She's not stupid. She sees what he's doing. She knows something is up, that something is wrong. He's hiding something from her, and it pisses her off that she most likely will never know what.

She feels like he doesn't trust her. She feels like her just being younger is burdening him. That he thinks she can't handle it because she'll always be the "younger fragile sister". She is wrong, and he's never seen her as such, but she feels. That's the whole thing here.

I just want my girl to be able to finally feel and not squash everything down. She'll have to accept the consequences of her actions, but she'll grow from it after, that's for certain. Because she's not going anywhere if she keeps ignoring it and just smiles through (Tenma Sibling trait apparently...)

GOD Saki Tenma I LOVE YOU.

[rafesfavgirl]

i just want to know — r. cameron

another sad one bc i apparently don't know when to stop lol

❝ you didn't measure up in any measure of a man and i don't even want you back,  i just want to know ❞

pairing: ex-situationship!rafe x fem!reader

context: on the night of your 21st birthday, you run into rafe cameron—the boy who broke your heart.

words: 1.3k+

warnings: mentions of a toxic situationship, drunk!reader, word vomit, alcohol use, cigarette use, might make you cry, so much ANGST

you tumble out of the bar, your vision getting hazy from the amount of alcohol you'd drank, when two hands reach out to steady you.

"woah there, doll," the familiar drawl of his voice catches your attention, the alcohol haze fading for just a second as your eyes meet his.

rafe cameron.

"those are bad for you, you know," you point at the unlit cigarette hanging from the side of his mouth and he narrows his eyes at you, amused at your drunken state.

"and alcohol's not good for you either, but that didn't stop you, did it?" he kinks an eyebrow and you giggle.

"touché," you nod once and slip out of his arms to walk along the sidewalk, before slipping down against the brick wall of the bar to sit down on the concrete.

"alright, what are you doing?" rafe walks over to you when you begin unstrapping your heels from your feet.

"these shoes have been killing me all night," you complain, letting out a sigh of relief and tossing them off to the side.

"then why do you wear them?" rafe asks, taking a seat beside you.

"because they make my legs look hot," you say, causing him to chuckle.

he couldn't exactly argue. when the two of you used to go out, your legs were one of his favorite things about you—especially the way they looked wrapped around his waist.

"where are your friends, doll?" rafe takes the cigarette out of his mouth and shoves it into his pocket.

"don't know," you shrug. "making out with some guys, maybe?"

"and why aren't you?" he asks. "isn't it your birthday?"

that makes you snap your head towards him. "are you stalking me?"

"i-"

"i'm just kidding," you playfully hit his arm and giggle, causing him to shake his head at you, amused. "and to answer your question, i prefer to be single."

"oh?" his eyebrows raise, his blue irises boring into yours. "and why's that?"

"it keeps me focused," you say, pointing a finger at your forehead.

"focused on what?"

"school, college, my career…" you begin listing things off, and rafe listens intently. "i wanna be a doctor, you know. can't be out and about dating guys and getting my heartbroken."

"just 'cause you meet a guy in a bar doesn't mean you gotta date 'em," he reminds you. "don't you wanna have fun?"

"i tried that already, remember?" you allude to the situation you'd put yourself in with him a year ago, the alcohol clearly clouding your judgment—you'd never bring that up to him sober. "it didn't work out quite how i wanted it to."

a sigh falls from his lips, as he glances down. "y/n…"

"hey, can i ask you something?" you cut him off, and he picks his head up to look at you again.

"are you in the state to ask me something?"

"probably not," you shake your head, a smile on your lips. "but i probably won't get the chance to ask again."

"alright, shoot," he nodded.

you tilt your head to the side, eyes locking with his. "why did you end it?"

by the way his shoulders shift and his posture straightens, it was clear he wasn't expecting that to be the question. he always thought it ended amicably because you both agreed to it—or maybe that's just what he's told himself to prevent himself from feeling bad for breaking your heart.

"i mean, was it me?" you continue when he doesn't answer. "did i do something wrong? was i not experienced enough? did you just feel bad for me? what was it? cause i've driven myself crazy trying to figure it out and i just— i thought we were having fun."

you knew that you'd began to ramble, questions slipping out of your mouth with no filter, the alcohol winning over.

his eyes scan over your face, which looked to be in agony, your eyebrows scrunched and your eyes pleading.

"we were," he nods. "y/n, it never had anything to do with you."

"then why?" you asked, voice cracking.

the alcohol was now making you emotional, and there was no stopping it.

"why did you end it, rafe?" you poke a finger at his chest. "i thought you liked me."

"i did," he said, hand reaching up to push a piece of your back. "oh, pretty girl, i did."

his touch lingers for a second before it's gone again, and your eyes are welling up with tears.

"then why were there always other girls?" you ask, surprising him—he didn't know you knew about them. "if you liked me, why was there always someone else? why were you always with someone else when you weren't with me? why wasn't i enough for you?"

"i— i didn't think you knew about them," he admits.

"i pretended not to," you shrug, sniffling. "thought if i said something, i'd lose you. i mean, it's not like we were dating, y'know? i wasn't your girlfriend— it wasn't my place to tell you not to be with other girls. i just thought that if i'd stuck around long enough you'd realize that—" you stop and shake your head. "you know what, it doesn't even matter. it's not like it's gonna change anything."

well now, he felt like shit. you'd played it off so well when it ended—or maybe he was just too high to notice—but seeing you like this… he'd be lying to himself if he said it didn't break his heart.  "i didn't know you cared that much."

"well, now you do," you tell him, before pushing off the ground to stand up. "and if you'll excuse me, i'm not really in the party mood anymore, so if you see my friends, tell them i left."

"y/n, wait," rafe scrambles to his feet, his hand reaching out to clasp around your wrist to stop you from walking away.

"what?" you turn to look at him, defeated. this wasn't exactly how you expected the night of your 21st birthday to pan out.

"i'm sorry, a'ight?" he drops his hand from your wrist, shoulders shrugging as his sad eyes met yours. "i never wanted to hurt you, i just— i wasn't ready."

"and that was fine," you tell him. "but you should've told me that. not pretended like you were taking me seriously when you weren't. i asked you so many times, rafe. and you lied, every time."

rafe sighs, hand motioning to you. "you were just so pure. perfect. i didn't have it in me to hurt you."

you scoff, head shaking as you eyes averted to the side. "doesn't mean you didn't."

"i know, i know," he closes the distance between you, taking both your hands in his. "and there is not a day that goes by where i don't kick myself for how horribly i treated you."

well, this was definitely news to you. when he called things off with you, claiming that it'd be too hard because you were going off to college and meeting new people, he made it look so easy. the words rolled off his tongue as if he'd said it a thousand times before. while you were falling for him, you were just another girl.

"i am so sorry," he says, eyes zoned in on yours. "the last thing i wanted was for you to feel as if you weren't enough for me. if anything, you were too much. and i mean that in a good way. i was too much of an idiot to see how special you were then."

though you'd waited for him to say those words the last six months, they didn't mean much to you now. you'd already come to terms with the fact that he just wasn't the one—hearing him say this now only provides you the closure you so desperately needed to move on for good.

"god," he brings a hand up to caress your cheek, and for just a second, you let yourself lean into it. "some guy is gonna be lucky as hell to get you one day."

"that guy just isn't you."

a small, sad smile forms on his lips, but he nods. "happy birthday."

y'all i think this one triggered something in me bc why tf am i crying rn 🌝

promise i'll start working on some cuter fics that aren't so heartbreaking!!!

reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated <33

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[lovelytsunoda]

does he take care of you? // george russell

does he take care of you? or could i easily fill his shoes, but you say 'no'. yeah you said 'no'... and i'm not trying to stop you love, if we're gonna do anything we might as well just fuck

summary: they had always been walking a fragile, tender line between friends and lovers. they were bound to cross it at some point.

pairing: george russell x bonnington!reader

warnings: an attempt is made at angst, people can't properly deal with their feelings. minor drug use, insinuations and non detailed sex (but bestie bonnington can’t deal with her feelings properly so she bails when things get serious-) one small little insinuation that someone might jump off a building. loosely inspired by the song 'sex' by the 1975

it was dark outside, nearing ten pm at the track when peter bonnington came to find george. george was in his drivers room, looking over printouts of race data, trying desperately to figure out where he could improve the following weekend.

“I hate to bother you, mate.” peter started, “do you have a moment?”

thankful for the reprieve from straight line speed and throttle graphs, george folded the printouts back into their legal folder and turned to look at the engineer. “what do you need?”

there were lines furrowed on bonnos brow. the man looked stressed, and george had a feeling that it wasn’t due to the cars subpar performance.

“I need you to talk to y/n. she hasn’t been doing well these past few months and I’m starting to get really worried. she won’t talk to me and she won’t talk to her mum. toto tried to ask her about it and she threw her drink in his face. something is wrong with my little girl and she’s shutting me out.”

george frowned (although he had to admit that the mental image of babe bonnington throwing the icy remainder of her pink starbucks refresher onto the great toto wolff made him laugh). “when did all this start?”

“when she came back from wales a few months ago, that big work trip. I think it has something to do with that wanker matthew she was dating, he hasn’t been around the house since before she left.”

“do you know where she is?”

“the roof, I think.”

at the look george gave him, bono sighed, shaking his head. “she’s not gonna jump. she just wants peace and quiet. I think the inside of her head is too loud. besides, the motor home isn’t high enough off the ground for anything serious to happen if she falls.”

“still, why would you let her be on her own right now?”

“she didn’t give me a choice.”

after a bit of floundering (and a trip back down the stairs after he realized he’d forgotten a coat), george found his way to the roof. from here, he couldn’t quite see the track, but he could see the lights and hear the sounds of the paddock, watching the last few stragglers exit their team homes and head for the front gates.

y/n sat at the edge, feet pulled up under her and a halo of smoke around her messy hair. her clothes were baggier than normal, darker than usual. when she turned to face him, the driver could see that her eyeliner was smudged, a single mascara tear running down her cheek. in her hand, she shakily clutched a lit joint, the embers at the end glowing orange in the night.

“I thought you quit that?” george asked, concern evident in his tone as he moved to sit next to her.

“fucking mattys fault.” she grumbled, taking a long drag of the fragrant plant. “he’s set my anxiety issues back about five years, figured it was time to go get my cbd prescription refilled.” she stopped, taking another drag before exhaling the smoke and offering it up to george. “it won’t get you high, but if we share it, it will make this look less sad.”

george frowned, taking the joint from her hand and taking a shaky drag, choking in the smoke as it filed his lungs. “what did he do? did he touch you?”

she laughed sadly, defeat in her eyes as she looked over the paddock. “nope. what he did hurt a whole lot more. when I got back from wales I went over to his apartment to surprise him, since my flight had gotten in a few hours early. he was in bed with another woman. and this wasn’t the first time, either. he’s been seeing her almost as long as he’s been seeing me. apparently she didn’t know I existed, and he was thinking about marrying her. I was fucking humiliated, george.”

“I’m so sorry.” he didn’t know what to say as he passed the joint back. she took a long drag, refusing to meet his eyes until he had reached over to shake her gently by the shoulder. “you did nothing wrong. you are pretty and funny and smart and most of all worthy of love. if matty couldn’t see that, then he didn’t deserve you in the first place, y/n.”

it happened so suddenly it almost knocked the driver on his backside. they were just talking, sitting comfortably in the marijuana smoke and then suddenly the engineers daughter is kissing him. soft, guava lips pressed to his, pillowy from all the tropical lip balms she can’t seem to put down. her hands are hungry, extinguishing the joint against the metal motor home roof before pawing at george’s broad frame.

they had been friends for years, yn considered him one of her closest. it must have been the part of her that needed reassurance that said ‘it’s okay, cross the line’ because soon enough, he was kissing her back, tongue exploring her mouth with reverence, hands gripping her waist through her mom jeans, then slipping into her back pockets to cop a feel.

“is there anyone left inside?” she panted, resting her forehead against george’s, hand splayed against his clothed chest.

the driver shook his head.

“good. I want you.”

and then they were in his drivers room, everything happening so fast that it felt like a fever dream. and then it happened, her jeans and panties on the floor, stripped down the lacy camisole she’d had on under her sweater, back on the massage table as she wrapped her bare legs around george’s hips, his hands gripping thighs hard enough to leave marks as he pounded into her, sweat dripping off the tips of his brown hair.

“god, fuck, george, please!” none of the words leaving her mouth were coherent. it didn’t matter. this was about avoidance, a mere distraction, if you will.

she needed to be fucked so hard she couldn’t think about all the bullshit matty was putting her through.

when all was said and done, her mind blissfully clear as she lay prone on the massage table, feeling the sweat dry on her flushed skin as she watched george tuck his cock back into his jeans, all she could find it in her to say was “god I needed that.”

and from there, it was all too easy to fall into a dangerous pattern that didn’t help anybody. one that tord a line so fragile it might as well have been made of salt, intended to keep the deeper feelings out.

the night in george’s drivers room turned into a quickie the next morning in the airport bathroom, bent over the vanity in front of a mirror, panties around her ankles and a massive hickey tucked into her turtleneck as they sat across from each other on the private jet, sharing a glance and smiling at the secret they shared,

eventuakly, back on home soil, the driver became her coping mechanism. when she wanted to go out but her friends were busy, george was the first person she called, pulling up to his house in her toyota corolla, synth-heavy music that was popular on tumblr in 2014 shaking the frame of the car. she turned it down as george opened the passenger door, giving her an odd look as the guitar solo played quieter in the background.

“how can you think when it’s that loud?”

“that’s the point. I can’t. it keeps the thoughts at bay.”

that night had ended in the back of an empty parking garage, movie theater popcorn and a takeout box left abandoned on the passenger seat, y/n on her knees with george’s rock hard length in her mouth. hearing him moan her name was its own kind of drug, and hearing him call her ‘good girl’ was enough to have her clenching around air.

or when george would come over, and they would make a new recipe together, criminal minds playing in the background. how many nights did the dinner end up burning while george had y/n's legs spread wide on the dining room table?

and while the act itself brought him nothing but pleasure, it was the aftermath that left him feeling like shit. he knew this was never going to go any further, that y/n was just looking for a rebound. something to take her mind off just how fucked her last relationship had been.

george would never be anything more than a friend, someone she could fuck when she needed it and be platonic with when she didn't.

she deserved better, someone who could take care of her in teh way that her heart ached for.

someone like george william russell, he thought.

but who was he to decide what was best for her? maybe he could show her, treat her right and change her mind somehow. but he wasn’t sure how to do it.

it was a night like any other, over a game of uno and a bottle of white wine, reruns of coronation street playing in the background, the smooth jazz of the intro and outro music only adding to the atmosphere.

and of course, as nights like these do, the cards ended up discarded on george’s living room floor, bodies mushed together in a heap in front of the soft blue glow of the tv. he picked her up bridal style, deftly lifting her weight as if she weighed nothing, carrying her to the master bedroom.

the bedroom. a place so intimate and so forbidden. their relationship had subsisted on having sex anywhere but a bed, for a bed would make it too real. there would be too many feelings involved.

and yet here he was, taking a massive leap into the unknown, uncharted waters as he laid her down against the linens, caging her body in with his as he kissed her.

a kiss so different from all the others that they shared, this one soft and tender. no teeth and no tongue, just the soft caress of a man’s chapped lips, done with reverence, as if her body was a treasure.

he trailed his soft, open mouthed kisses down her neck, no words exchanged between the two as his hands began to slide up her black t-shirt, over her belly-button piercing and then coming to rest over the padding of her bra as his lips traced her collarbone. he was in tune to her every movement, every whine and gasp.

he kissed down her stomach, feeling it rise and fall with her every breath. listening to the way that her breath caught as he popped open the button in her skinny jeans, dragging them down her legs and watching the goosebumps rise in their wake.

“george,” she hummed as he kissed and nibbled at her inner thigh, so close yet so far from what she needed.

“george!” it was a shout this time, paired with her small hands aggressively pushing him away. “I can’t do this. what are we doing here?”

“what?” george was wide eyed an confused “I’m treating you like a decent fucking boyfriend would! I like you yn, and you mean a lot to me. you deserve more than some cheap fuck in the backseat. you deserve to be treated like a treasure.”

she shook her head, standing up from the bed and pulling her jeans back on, refusing to meet georges eyes as she faced the firestorm of thoughts in her head, each one telling her that she had made a horrible mistake.

“we can’t. there was a line, and we crossed it.” her voice was shaky, bottom lip quivering. she was doing the right thing, or so she kept telling herself. putting that boundary back.

because they were friends. nothing more, nothing less.

george laughed. an awful, grating sound in this context. “you weren’t worried about crossing lines when you let me fuck you on my massage table. or when you had my cock down your throat.”

“please don’t take that tone with me!”

“I know matty hurt you. and I know you needed a rebound, but I want all of you, yn. I want your good days and your bad. I want to take care of you.” he was getting desperate. they both knew that there was no such thing as ‘just friends’ after this.

“I can’t be what you need, and I can take care of myself.” she tucked her hair behind her ear before storming last george and back into the living room.

george would always regret letting her leave. somehow, as he watched her grab her purse and her leather jacket and the keys to her fucking toyota, that this would be the last time he saw y/n bonnington.

and he was right.

he didn’t see her start to cry when she got into her car, driving to an empty space of road so she could pull over into the shoulder and let it all out, the radio tuned so loud that she swore it was shaking the frame of the car. and that’s when she decided it was time to reevaluate her life.

george didnt see her again for months. he heard from bonno that she quit her job, moved out to the coast. somewhere on the water. brighton or blackpool or bournemouth. a new group of friends, a new job, a fresh start.

she sold the toyota, bought herself a mini cooper countryman, a car she’d wanted since she was a little girl. she stopped wearing tight, dark clothes and starting seeking out florals, pastels even. flowier clothes that made her feel good.

and she was happy. from time to time, she still thought about that night at george’s. in a way, she was thankful. it had forced her to change, to become a better person. a healthier one. but she hated that she had hurt him. played with his feelings and then stomped on his heart. but deep down, she knew she had done the right thing. she could never have been the girlfriend that george needed. she was too broken.

george saw her again a year later, in the paddock at silverstone. he hardly recognized her: new hair, wide smile. mom jeans and a floral crop top that looked straight out of the seventies. she looked good. happy. healthy.

but there was something else he saw that hit him like a knife to the kidney.

it was the man on her arm. he was conventionally attractive, if you liked surfers. his dark hair flopped around his face the same way hugh grants did in ‘notting hill’ and his sunglasses were hooked into the collar of his striped resort shirt, left open for the top few buttons of course. she looked at him like he’d hung the moon, and he held her like she was the most important thing in his life, always having an arm around her shoulders, tucked into the back pocket of her jeans.

his name was colin. of course his name was fucking colin. like he was a character in fucking love actually, and not the man dating the woman george had so vulnerably bared his heart to.

he’d pulled out his phone, open to her number even though he’d sworn to himself that he’d delete it but he never did.

the text was right there in the message box, waiting to be sent.

does he take care of you?

but when he looked over at them again, his arms around her waist and his head on her shoulder as she was pointing out different things on her dad computer monitor, george knew the answer.

colin took incredible care of her, and he seemed to be exactly what she needed.

and how could george fault the other man for doing exactly what he would if y/n had been his?

he deleted the message without sending it, quietly slipping out of the garage, with the intention of working out until he couldn’t feel the pain any more.

TAGS:

@magnummagnussen @libraryofloveletters @userlando @httpiastri @clemswrld @thatsdemko @diorleclerc @cartierre @lorarri @sidcrosbyspuck

[strawberrymori]

Cloudy days clear nights

summary: When you grow up in a home where your parents are emotionally absent it affects your life, when your mother wasn't prepared to be a mother and throws all the traumas and insecurities she had at you it's not easy, a father who doesn't know how to apologize and lives drunk and has aggressive tendencies isn't easy to deal with, and reader relapses on a bad day that leaves you stuck in thought and she doesn't tell Natash, leaving her worried.

warnings: angst with happy ending , angst to fluff, use of Y/N sometimes, suicidal thoughts, mention of self-harm and scars from self-harm, Be careful if this triggers you, don't read if you know you can't deal with triggers, you are not alone and don't be ashamed to ask for help.

All the ghosts of the past follow me to this day, they all live in my mind and make me tremble like a child, today in particular was a difficult day, one of those reminiscent of school days.

The day had started well but the mission had gone wrong which had resulted in intrusive thoughts questioning whether she was really worthy of being there with the Avengers, then there was the meeting with Tony where he made a point of reminding her of the mistakes she had made.

At lunchtime there was the problem with the rain and the first phone call from her mother, the more the phone rang the more her appetite went away, there was no putting off the call for long.

The unpleasant voice came from the other end of the phone, things like "why are you still working there?" "you've been in newspapers all over the world, do you know how hard it is to have a daughter who doesn't do anything useful?" "did you really try to do something? of course not, you've always been worthless".

the voice yelled and screamed for a few minutes before hanging up, before Y/N could say anything or defend herself her mother's voice didn't stop and when it did it was because she hung up the phone.

To make matters worse, for the rest of the day her girlfriend, Natasha, was stuck at work until later, when Y/N was lying on her bed staring at the ceiling, she spiraled into a spiral of negative thinking.

she saw herself in high school again, being bullied by her classmates, she saw herself at that time taking out all the anger she felt on herself, she saw herself as the useless girl she had felt all day.

Y/N didn't know when she started crying but she felt the tears dripping from her eyes. She went into the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror, her hair messy with tears and her eyes red.

-How could Natasha like someone like me? - she asked herself, she had scars all over her thigh and wrist, she wasn't even that pretty.

-"Maybe I should just disappear... she wouldn't even notice," she muttered to her reflection in the mirror and sat down on the bathroom floor.

When the redhead returned home in the early hours of the morning, she felt a strange air hanging over the apartment. She walked into the kitchen, where the lights were off and a cold plate was on the sink.-Baby? - Natasha called out as she walked to her room. The light in the bathroom at the end of the corridor was on, which made her follow her there.

-"Honey, are you all right? It's me," Natasha said, trying to open the door and failing. "Honey, open the door," she said in a tone where she was almost begging her girlfriend to open the door.

The lack of response worried Natasha, who began to try to force her way into the bathroom. When the door opened, Natasha almost fell into the bathroom. She saw her girlfriend lying in the bathtub crying.

-Bear?- she said, running over to her girlfriend in the bath and kneeling down outside the bath - Look at me, darling, are you all right? What happened? - she says worriedly, putting her hand on Y/N's cheek.

The woman in the bathtub looks at the redhead and tears fall more than before -You shouldn't see me like this - she says as she looks away from her girlfriend.

-"Sweetheart," the redhead says as she steps into the empty bathtub and pulls her girlfriend onto her lap, "talk to me," she says as she strokes her girlfriend's hair. It took a while for Y/N to finally talk, she looked at Natasha and felt like crying even more.

-Today was so stressful...I made a mistake during the mission and Tony wouldn't let me forget it, so my mom called me...and - Y/N stuttered through her tears - I feel so useless, like I don't deserve this life - Y/N's comment made Natasha's heart sink, the redhead continued stroking the woman's hair in her lap and kissed her forehead.

-"Sweetheart, mistakes happen, life isn't easy but we can't let mistakes consume us, you fought to be here and you deserve all of this, I love you so much," she said, wiping away her girlfriend's tears, "come on, let's go to bed, so I can hug you properly," Natasha said, getting up and helping her girlfriend up too, she held her girlfriend close as they walked to the bed.

-Thank you Tasha - Y/N says as she looks at her girlfriend changing to lie down next to her.

-Thanks for what? - the redhead says, looking at the girl sitting on the bed.

-"For taking care of me...not letting me give up." The girl on the bed says looking at her scarred left arm, Natasha walks over to her and sits down next to her, taking her hand and intertwining their fingers.

-Thank you for what? - the redhead said looking at the girl sitting on the bed.

-For taking care of me...don't let me give up - The girl on the bed said looking at her scarred left arm, Natasha walked over to her and sat down next to her, taking her hand and intertwining their fingers.

-"Honey, you're my girlfriend and I love you more than anything, I'm not going to let you just fall apart, how many times have you helped me, huh? we're a couple, in good times and bad," Natasha says as she pulls the girl close and kisses the scars on her arm. "Those scars just show how strong you are, baby," Natasha says, looking into the eyes of Y/N, who was almost falling asleep in her arms.

-I love you Natasha.

-I love you too Y/N.

[bougiebutchbinch]

God I'm such a sucker for dom/sub edizzy where Ed enjoys domming because he gets to come up with endless fun 'fuckeries' (or.... scenes), and Izzy enjoys subbing because he's fucking gaga for Ed in all his Whacky Weirdness (affectionate), and god DAMN, this stressed-out little chihuahua-man needs to turn his mind off and just exist.

But it gets stale, eventually.

Ed is the flavour of neurodivergent that needs endless variety, whereas Izzy is the flavour of neurodivergent where everything needs to be the same forever, please, or I will have a nervous breakdown. Plus, neither of them have any idea how to manage each other's emotional needs!

Ed topdrops HARD. He requires a lot more aftercare than Izzy, but Izzy is kinda awkward and embarrassed about giving it, and is definitely awkward and embarrassed about needing it himself.

It's like, the 1700s. Neither of them have read 'the new bottoming/topping book'.

So, obviously, things crumble.

To the point where one time, they're setting up a scene, just going through The Familiar Motions (which to Izzy are such a source of comfort, and to Ed a source of growing torment) when Ed reaches his emotional broiling point. He crumples to the floor in tears, tugging at his hair, tearfully confessing to Izzy that he can't do this, he can't, he can't -

Cue Izzy panicking, tied to the bed, halfway to subspace already, now jolted out of it and adrift in a tidal wave of brain chemicals, his only thought what the fuck did I do wrong? Is it me? Is he tired of me?

(because deep down, he's been afraid of that for some time)

But his captain obviously needs something. And Izzy's gonna try his best to give it.

He's tied up to all four bed posts. He can't move, can't fucking get to Ed to stroke his hair and kiss him and do all that other soft shit he should hate a whole lot more than he does. But he can flop back on the pillows, staring at the ceiling. Coralling his spiralling thoughts.

He has to hold it together, for his captain. Has to do this, for him.

"C'mere, Eddie," he says, but his voice is all broken and scratchy and weak, so he clears his throat, tries again. "Eddie. Here."

And Eddie, snivelling, underlip trembling, comes. All dressed up in his leathers, beard big, shoulders broad, looking the very part of Blackbeard. Except for his tear-filled brown eyes - which are looking at Izzy so fucking warily, like Ed expects him to give him a fucking scolding.

And - yeah, maybe if this had been in the middle of a firefight, Izzy would've. But it's not. it's just the two of them, together, and right now, hurting Eddie is the furthest thing from his mind.

"What d'you need?" he asks, all gruff. Tugging at the ropes, rough hemp chewing on the tender insides of his wrists.

Ed gives a petulant little shrug. Fucker. Izzy's not a mind reader; he can't just intuit...

But... maybe he can. Ed's shoulders are shrunken, his spine stooped. He looks like a wet fucking cat. Pathetic. Useless. All the things the great Blackbeard should never be.

But Blackbeard is a myth. Eddie's a man. And Izzy knows better than most, how men can act as one thing and deep down, be another.

He thinks of the moments when he feels so fucking small and useless and broken. How Ed makes him feel good... And, glancing at the persistent bulge in Eddie's tight leather pants - how neither of them have said the word they agreed on, that'd bring this whole farce to a close - Izzy knows just what to do.

He licks his dry lips. Either this works, or Blackbeard snaps and kills him. Luckily, Izzy's always liked the thought of dying at his captain's hand.

"Wanna be mine tonight, Eddie?" he asks.

Ed's eyes go wide. Then narrow. Whole fucking face journey, mashed into a couple seconds: surprise, anger, fear, relief. Izzy waits patiently for him to settle, gripping the ropes that hold him spread-eagled for his captain's attention. Heart fluttering in his chest like he's staring down an oncoming enemy battalion: outgunned, outmanned, but still hungry for the fight.

"C'mon then," he says, nodding to where, despite it all, he's still half-erect too, bare cock plump against his scarred thigh. "Up here, there's a good b-boy."

His voice almost breaks on the last word, every instinct screaming at him not to demean his captain in the way he likes to be demeaned. Ed's so much better than him, brighter and sharper and fucking brilliant; he's not so weak as to need this. Or at least, he shouldn't be. Right?

But it's hard to focus on that when Ed crawls over him, danger in every movement, sleek and lithe as a jaguar. Fucking beautiful.

Then he ducks his head to bury in Izzy's neck, over his swallow tattoo, and nods.

"Good boy, telling daddy what you want," Izzy whispers into his hair - the same words Ed was supposed to say to him, when all this was over. He feels his captain sigh against his swallow and go deliciously slack.

It ain't what Izzy likes, as a rule, but for Ed... for Ed, he'll do damn near anything.

...Then Izzy gives Ed a healing dommy sloppytoppy, all while still tied to the bed, Ed crying while he rides him into the mattress. They hug after and hold each other, but not for nearly as long as they should. And everything hurts like an infected wound, but they can't stop picking at this thing they call a relationship until it scars.

[hyuuukais]

⋆.˚𖦹°‧✮‧°𖦹˚.⋆ ERROR 404

pairing ~ yang jeongin x fem reader

synopsis ~ y/n starts getting messages from an unknown number after buying a used phone for cheap. as she finds out more about the boy she's talking to, it turns out there's much more to this than a wrong number --- he died, and she's talking to his spirit, yet he has no idea what happened to him. will y/n have what it takes to solve the mystery of his death? or will the boy's spirit remained trapped in his phone?

warnings ~ gen, drinking

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

CH 4 ~ ENERGY (wc: 2.7k, 7 screenshots)

Flipping the open sign to 'closed', you wait for Minho behind the counter. There hasn't been much more communication from him since the last time you talked, only a confirmation of when you're meeting. Changbin made sure to leave before he decides to show up, feeling too uncomfortable facing an old friend. Other than the occasional check-in text from Jeongin, you haven't had much ghostly interaction either, which you think is for the best.

Each interaction so far has taken more and more energy, starting with the man on the bus and then the elderly woman. A headache, then nearly passing out? At this point, you'll end up in the hospital. A chill goes down your spine thinking of that; would it be easier for the ghost to get to you unprotected like that, lying in a hospital bed unconscious and exposed?

The sound of the bell alerts you of Minho's arrival. Adjusting yourself to lean against the counter, you watch him close the door and lock it. When he turns around, he catches your eye and gives you a light nod of acknowledgment. Slowly, he makes his way toward the counter, fingers trailing over an arrangement of pink carnations mixed with greenery. Minho stops, letting a petal fall between his fingers and onto the floor. Shaking his head, he closes the distance between himself and the counter with a couple of strides.

"I don't know if I believe you," Minho says, leaning on the counter; his face is too close to yours. "But I'm willing to try and help. I owe Changbin."

"How so?" You ask, unsure if you'll get a reply when he places his bag on the counter and takes out a sleek laptop.

"Why do you need to know? That's between me and him," Minho doesn't even spare you a glance as he opens the device and starts typing. "What's the kid's name again? Any lead suspects yet?"

"Yang Jeongin and no, not really," You answer with a shrug. "I guess the most notable person is his best friend, Hwang Hyunjin."

"Have you looked into him yet?" Minho's eyes dart up between yours, returning to the screen and starting to type. "Could be something there."

"I don't know-" You're interrupted by a buzz and look down to see a text from Jeongin.

Rolling your eyes, you place your phone face down and focus back on Minho's typing. He's not saying anything, but his eyebrows are knit together in concentration as his fingers fly over the keyboard. Other than the sound of the keys, the flower shop is eerily silent, making you slightly uncomfortable. Ever since this has started up, quiet rooms have you on edge, waiting for the next visit from another spirit.

Minho sighs heavily, stepping away from the screen and pacing in front of the counter. You let him take his time, a hand sitting in his hair showing he must be thinking hard. Hopefully. You'll see in a moment.

"Nothing is showing up," Minho stops in front of his laptop, slamming it shut with the hand not holding his head. "Absolutely nothing, just a warning- error, whatever."

"The same thing happened to me!" You stand up straight, fingertips holding the edge of the counter tightly. "When I found this blog that was talking all about his death, it wouldn't let me read the rest of it and said there was an error! It's like something is stopping us from finding out-"

"Invisible forces?" Minho raises an eyebrow.

"Isn't that the whole thing? Normally, people can't see ghosts. Why do you think probably half the world doesn't believe in them?" You say. "So, yeah, invisible forces."

"Alright, sure," Minho slips his laptop bag into his bag, swinging it over his shoulder. "I'll look into Hyunjin. Goodnight."

"Wait-" As he turns to leave, you call out; he looks back at you over his shoulder. "Would you... could you give me a ride? Being alone right now has me kind of freaked out."

"Won't you be alone at home?"

"Yeah, but it's different," You mumble, looking down at your feet. "It still feels safe there."

Minho hums in response and you don't move.

"Aren't you coming?" He asks after a moment, car keys jingling in his hand.

You lift your head and spot him holding the front door open. Grabbing your bag and jacket, you walk out after Minho and follow him to his car parked down the road. He opens the door for you politely and you step in with a small 'thank you', fiddling with your bag strap as he walks to the other side and lets himself in. The ride to your house is silent, save for the occasional direction from the GPS.

Along the way, you spot a few stragglers out on the streets, one catching your eye when you're stopped at a red light. An uncomfortable feeling washes over you as they keep staring and you shiver, breaking the eye contact and focusing on the road in front of you. When the light turns green, you take one last look and jump. They're right outside your window, the imprint of a hand left on the glass as Minho starts driving again. He gives you a weird look that you miss, too busy trying to learn how to breathe again.

Ten minutes later, you're standing outside your door picking up the keys you just dropped from your hands shaking too much. Minho is stationed outside watching you get in safely, your cheeks flushing from embarrassment when you struggle to get your key in the lock. Switching the light on, you can hear the rumble of Minho driving away and take a deep breath. You're home now, nothing can hurt you here.

Entering your bedroom, you flop face first into your plush bedding and stay like that for a moment. You feel a dip at the end of the bed, but it doesn't freak you out. By now you can tell when it's Jeongin; his presence feels familiar. The bed moves slightly as he adjusts and gets comfortable beside you and you turn your head enough to be able to peek up at him. He's staring straight ahead, hands folded in his lap, and you see he's even kicked his shoes off. Shaggy black hair falls into his eyes and he shakes his head enough to clear his sight, his eyes then falling onto yours- you've been caught.

"Like what you see?" He teases, head rolling to his shoulder to face you completely.

"No," You lie with a grin, propping yourself up on your elbow. "Not at all. Personally, I'm not a fan of having dead people in my bed."

Jeongin laughs at that, crossing his arms over his chest and closing his eyes. You watch him relax, sliding further down into your pillows with a content expression. As much as you want to join him in seemingly falling asleep, you still need to change and wash up. But-

"I gotta go," You say, rolling off the side of your bed.

"What?" Jeongin sits up, hands behind him. "Why?"

"Changbin wants to hang out."

"I thought you were in for the night?" Jeongin's voice goes higher at the end of the sentence.

"Me too! But it's been so long since we've done something fun. Now, which is better? This," You hold a plain black dress up to your body. "-or this?"

You switch the black for a dark red strapless shirt and some black pants and watch his reaction. Although he hesitates, you can already tell he's thinking the second and you toss the dress back toward your closet. After he covers his eyes, you change quickly and do some last touch-ups before leaving the room. Jeongin follows you and you both keep an eye outside for Changbin.

"Be careful, okay?" Jeongin talks low, keeping his eyes on the road when you look over at him. "Lots of energy in those kinds of places, don't need you getting hurt. Especially if you're planning on drinking."

"Are you worried about me?" You tease.

"No, I just don't want you to become one of us before my case is solved."

"Cold."

"Just like my case." This makes you laugh, a light catching the corner of your eye.

Changbin steps out of his vehicle and starts to approach, but you're already waving goodbye to Jeongin and exiting before he can get up the steps to the front door. The night air is crisp, goosebumps forming on your exposed skin, but you're quickly ushered into the warmth of the car. In the window of your house, you can still see Jeongin watching when you drive off. On the way to the bar, you and Changbin sing along to his daily playlist to bring up the mood, and it works incredibly well. By the time you're entering the building, any thoughts of ghosts and death are gone.

Ordering two of the same drink, you and Changbin sit with your backs to the bar and observe the others, making up backstories for each person who passes by you or seems interesting. About four drinks later, Changbin has convinced you to join him on the dance floor. One more drink, and you find yourself surrounded by strangers, distracted by the loud music flowing through your veins. It seeps into your skin and you can feel the beat moving inside you, letting your body take control. In front of you, Changbin shows off his moves and you can hear people cheering, but you know to him it's just the two of you here.

The music slows and so does your body, adrenaline leaving as you brush some hair out of your face. Changbin's expression is all scrunched up in a pout and you laugh at the way he appears to be going in slow motion; it's funny, that is until you notice how everyone around you is following his lead. Panic starts to settle heavy in your chest, turning every direction to try and spot what's causing this.

You sway on your feet as you see the first spirit weaving through the bodies toward you. There's a hole in the center of his head, dried blood crusted down his nose and chin. Moving back to the bar, you stop when you almost hit the chest of someone else; her eyes are dark as she towers over you and you step away. You let your body guide you away, walking turning into a frantic dance to avoid the mass amount of spirits that seem to be mixed with the crowd. The exit isn't too far now, but you seem to be getting sluggish purely from being near this many spirits. You can hear your breathing turn to wheezing as you stumble forward with a hand out, your fingers barely brushing the red handle before someone is wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you away. There's no fight left in you, your eyelids heavy and your body falling limp. Someone is calling your name as you're torn away from whoever is holding you, blurry visions of colourful figures above you being the last thing you see before your eyes flutter shut.

-

When your eyes open, you don't recognize the room you're in. Dust falls from the ceiling, visible in the moonlight coming through a window above you, white curtains pulled to the side. The bed you're in is much too small for your body, pale blue sheets twisted under your legs. Rubbing sleep out of your eyes, you sit up slowly, a wave of dizziness rocking you. Once it's over, you take in the rest of the room.

It appears to be a child's bedroom, string lights pinned corner to corner emitting a dim gold on the walls. Tucked in the corner is a small desk with art supplies messily organized in compartments, one cup of paintbrushes knocked over with dried paint water soaked into a drawing. You stand and pick up the drawing; there's two boys standing by water, but one has been smudged by the spillage. They seem to be watching something out there, but the drawing is unfinished.

Directly next to the desk is an open door leading into a short hallway. Stairs lead downward with candles melting over the railing, wax dripping onto the wooden steps. As you walk toward the stairs, you can't help but look at all the photos covering the walls. Most are artsy, decorative shots, but one in particular catches your eye. There's a family of four, but the photo is torn at the parent's middle, leaving only the children to be seen holding hands and smiling wide. It's almost unsettling.

Following the pathway, it ends at the doorway to what looks like a living room, but all the furniture is covered in white sheets. You cover your mouth to suppress a noise when you spot a man standing by a fireplace. The sound of your hand slapping over your mouth must have alerted him, his head whipping around to look at you.

"What are you...?" He's turning fully now, head tilted to the side and eyes squinting. You have to hold in another gasp when you realize it's Hyunjin you're looking at.

"I don't know," you reply quietly, bringing your hand back to your side. "I've never been here before. I don't know where I am."

"You shouldn't be able to get in here. You-" He stalks toward you and grabs your wrists, bringing you into the room with him.

You watch his eyes widen as the moonlight hits you, eyebrows knitting together and mouth falling open slightly. The grip on your wrists is bruising, and he gives no sign of letting go. There's a shift in the air and he looks away from you and past your head, eyes narrowing at something in the space behind you.

"Back off," He warns, and you're almost too scared to know what he's seeing. "Stay right there."

His voice wavers, hands finally loosening and you're able to pull away completely. This, however, is a mistake. Hyunjin is reaching for you again with a shout of your name as hands grab you from behind, tearing you away from the room, the house, this whole place.

With a gasp, you sit up in a hospital bed, lights blinding you. Someone is touching you, trying to calm you, but you fight them off; you've had enough of peoples skin on yours. Head in your hands, you take deep breathes and notice just how badly you're shaking. You hadn't even realized you were crying until now.

"Y/n! It's just me-" Changbin's voice is clear beside you now that you're a bit more adjusted. "Hey, it's just me. You passed out."

"What?" You finally let him settle you back against the stiff pillow. "I did?"

"Yeah, and I think it's ghost related, but I don't know," Changbin shifts in his chair uncomfortably. "Jeongin's been blowing up your phone."

He hands you the small device and you unlock it to see he's right, Jeongin has been blowing up your phone.

Jeongin replaces Changbin, sitting in the chair with his legs crossed at the ankles. Neither of you talk, but he does stare at you with concern visible on his face. You lay down on your side, keeping your eyes on him as you get comfortable, or at least as much as you can be. There's a moment when he opens his mouth, but a nurse comes into the room to check on you before he can say anything. She explains you'll be able to go home soon, just rest for now.

When she leaves, you sigh. "I wish I never left my bed."

"Me too," Jeongin admits quietly, a faint blush of red creeping up his neck and you giggle.

The energy with him is so different than other spirits and you can't understand why. With him, it's warm, easy; It's not draining or unwelcoming in the slightest. Being with him feels nice, like a dream you don't want to leave.

Jeongin follows you out of the hospital, into the cab they provide, and back into your home. He waits outside of your bedroom as you change, opening the door to let him back in. Crawling into bed, you catch a glimpse of Jeongin next to you. This is the first time you've seen him look so unguarded since you've met, so peaceful, and you drift into sleep thinking of him.

~

notes ~ this is unedited bc it's 2:30 am and i'm tired so pls ignore any mistakes lol

taglist ~ @chaeryred @toplinelix @channie-143 @bloomingstay @sona1800

@dollschan @defnotfertilizedtoesw @thisisnotjacinta @kayleigh-28 @kayleefriedchicken

@lailac13 @linocvp1d @ilov3jeong1n @mooseung @kkamismom12

reply or send an ask to be added (18+)^^^ green means i can't tag you

[mammonsrockstargf]

Hey, i was wondering if you took angsty fluff requests. If so, i was wondering if you could do obey me lucifer with a teen reader who got diagnosed with degenerative arthritis in the back. I recently got diagnosed with it and wanted to request something while im stuck in bed for the next couple days lol. Its oke if you cant tho.

Hi, love, hope you're doing alright <3 Here's some soft Lucy for you.  Obviously, I do not know what it's like for you but I did some research and I hope you like it! :D

It's evening when you knock on Lucifer's door. "Come in," he says and you gingerly do, looking at him from the door. 

"My back hurts and I can't sleep," you say and Lucifer beckons you closer. "I have some painkillers somewhere around here," he says, shuffling around in his desk drawer. "Why do you have painkillers?" you mumble, sitting down at the edge of his desk. "For you, of course," he says as you get comfortable, your feet no longer touching the ground. He says a small "aha" as he finds what he's looking for and hands you the painkillers. Before you can even ask, he hands you a water bottle and watches as you swallow the pills. "Better?" he asks and you nod. "Yeah, thanks," you say while fiddling with your hands in your lap.

"What's wrong?" he asks and you sigh. "Nothing," you say and Lucifer frowns. You look up and purse your lips, crossing your arms. "Fineeee," you say. "I'm just scared I'll be like this forever," you say. "What if I never get better?" you murmur. Lucifer takes your hand in his own and gives it a soft squeeze. 

"You're going through something very tough right now," he says softly. "It will not be easy, but you will get through it all right? You are not alone in this. Lean on me, lean on my brothers," he says and you sniffle. He stands up from his chair and pulls you into a hug, pressing a soft kiss into your hair. "We'll take it one day at a time, yeah?" 

—

You stop when you drop your pen, looking down at it. "You gonna pick that up?" Lucifer asks standing next to you, looking at the pen as well. You nod slowly, unable to tear your eyes from the pen. "Yeah, I'll pick it up right in a second or two," you say, but you wince when you feel a sharp sting in your back. "Or maybe I'll just leave it there, who needs a pen anyways," you say and laugh bitterly. Lucifer scoffs and picks up the pen for you, handing it to you. "Don't be silly, you can't just leave a perfectly good pen behind," he jokes and you give him a pointed look, taking the pen. "Thanks," you say and he smiles at you, before heading out of the room. 

The next time you open your pencil case in class, there are at least twenty pencils in there, that you're certain come from Lucifer. You're definitely not running out of pens at this rate. 

—

You whine when your blanket is pulled at and cling to it like a cat. "Leave me alone!" you say and Lucifer grumbles, letting go of your precious blanket. He says your name in a sharp tone and you open your eyes, glaring at him. 

"You have school,"

"I. don't. care." 

You have a staring contest for a while, which you essentially lose because demons barely blink. 

"Why won't you go?" Lucifer finally asks but his tone is stern and mean. You frown at him some more, for good measure. "Everything hurts, I hate it here," you say and turn to your side, before immediately making a noise of pain and turning back. "If I could I would turn my back to you, but this is the only comfortable position for me to lay in," you say and the corners of Lucifer's lips turn slightly upwards. 

"What can I do for you?" he asks and you roll your eyes. "Well, for starters you can let me skip school," you say. 

"Okay," 

"And some painkillers would be nice,"

"Got it,"

"Also a heating pad," 

"I can get that for you,"

"..."

You look at Lucifer. He looks back. 

"And some chocolate," 

"Deal."

—

"Everything hurts, Lucy, I can't walk," you complain, stopping in the middle of the street and crossing your arms. Lucifer stops and his eyes narrow at you. "You were walking perfectly fine a few minutes ago," he states and you roll your eyes. "Yes and now I'm telling you, my joints hurt," you say and a deep sigh leaves Lucifer. He pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes for a few seconds before opening them again. 

"All right," he says. "I guess it can't be helped." 

Lucifer kneels in front of you, with his back turned towards you. You stare at the back of his head for a while, before he turns to look at you over his shoulder, his hands motioning for you to come near. 

"Don't make me wait, get on," he says and your mouth opens then closes again. You're completely speechless. The avatar of pride is literally kneeling in front of you. "O-okay, yeah, whatever," you eventually say, getting on Lucifer's back. You wrap your arms around his neck and his hands hook under your knees, keeping you in place. "There we go," he says and stands up, beginning to walk down the path to The House of Lamentation. 

You walk in silence for a while, (or well, Lucifer walks) as you rest your head on his shoulder. "Thank you," you murmur and you catch the corner of Lucifer's lips turning slightly upwards. "Gotta keep my little human comfortable, right?" 

[howlingday]

I just found this gem. It's crazy and bizarre, and I think someone can describe it as "radiating crackhead energy".

https://youtu.be/_8kaMEUkX70?si=8UwBQ5op-iR4Nqeq

I think Nora would not just like it, but jam to it. However, what do RWBY and JNPR think of it?

Link

We begin our story like any other. With a hot, young, sexy lady with an ass that just won't quit. I mean, as she was skipping down the lane with her cheeks clapping, you'd swear it'd start raining with how much thunder was rumbling. I mean, there's bubble booties, and then there's thunder-packed super buns~!

Unfortunately, such magnanimous mounds of meaty... butt... muscles could not be resisted from being slapped. And so they were. And by unfortunately, I mean unfortunately for the guy who slapped the butt, because that butt was attached to the body of a dynamite babe with an ass that won't quit.

An ass... and a hammer.

Nora swung her hammer round, knocking the pervert into the nearest distant wall. As he tried to recover, she then launched volley after volley of grenades from her grenade launcher at the lecherous butt-slapper. Smoke and pink mist surrounded and engulfed the rude dude. He stumbled through, finding his chin meeting the huge hammer head of her hefty helper in all things hurtful.

Nora then flew into the air and smashed her hammer down, catching and slamming the handsy creep into the ground, headfirst, leaving the dumb stupid idiot unresponsive on the ground.

She then skipped off into the sunset of the casino, her bouncy and bubbly butt cheeks clapping with every skip.

--------------------------------------------------

"Sooo.... What did you guys think~?"

"It's... an improvement." Jaune sheepishly shrugged. "But, uh... Did you really need to talk about your ass like that?"

"What's wrong with a girl being proud of what she's got?"

"Nothing, nothing!" Jaune waved his hands defensively. "It's just... kinda..."

"Off-putting?" Pyrrha suggested.

"Vulgar?" Weiss added.

"Kinda overrated?" Yang rolled her eyes.

"Oh, you're just jealous of my donk, and you know it~!" Nora stuck her tongue out. "What about you, Ruby? What'd you think?"

"I, uh... I'm kinda lost." The red-hooded girl admitted. "Was the guy really strong or were the grenades like flashbangs? Mixed with smoke grenades?"

"They're regular grenades." Nora answered. "The guy was just kinda strong."

"Kinda strong? I don't think anyone can survive normal grenades like that."

"Oh, sure they can! I did last week!"

"...Okay, normal people can't survive grenade explosions."

"Jaune can!" Nora pointed.

"Yeah, because I have a shield."

"And also aura." Pyrrha added.

"What about you, Blake? Did you like it?"

"It's a decent story, though I think the premise is a little self-indulgent. It really felt like you were writing this story more for yourself than for an audience. Also, the fact that you just waved off murdering someone in an incredibly graphic way is somehow justified by his sexual harassment on his part. This really felt more like a revenge fic written to blow off steam, something better kept to yourself than shared with others."

"...Wow! That's a lot of words for 'It's perfect, Nora!' What about you, Renny? Did you like my-" She turned to see an empty seat where Ren was previously seated, which was noted by the chains left ringed on the cushion. "Ah. I see you've already escaped at some point."

[onboardsorasora]

Something something Lewis and Daniel have been on and off fuck buddies. They don't talk about feelings but it's clear to anyone with eyes that some exist.

Daniel is a little more considerate to Lewis and his moods than he is with other people. Lewis always seems Daniel out first when he has good news or updates. As far as everyone is concerned- they're dating.

Anyway Lewis has been feeling like maybe he should say something, maybe make things a little more serious. Because he thinks maybe it's time to stop lying to himself.

But Daniel feels something serious happening, felt the shift. Has been seeing Lewis staring at him with weight in his eyes. Been noticing that Lewis has been spending a lot of time talking to other people.

He doesn't know what meaning is in the depths of Lewis' chocolate stare but Daniel is sure it can't be anything good. Lewis for sure is about to end things- because why wouldn't he? What reason does he have to keep this up, keep their whatever this is going? All Daniel does is have sex with him, make sure he has the brand of oat milk he likes in his fridge and that Roscoe's extra bed and bowls are accessible when they stay over.

So when Lewis puts his cup down on the table one morning while Daniel was eating his morning cereal, he didn't bother to try and tell himself that it felt serious. Final.

"you know I was thinking that we've been doing this a long time and maybe--" Lewis starts and Daniel stands up to go to the sink. Cuts him off.

"yeah it's probably like run it's course I guess?" Daniel said into the deep metal. His bowl sat silently in the bottom.

"what?" Lewis asked, stunned. But Daniel didn't try to parse it. He hadn't expected his chest to feel so tight.

"yeah like, isn't that what you're going to say? I mean it's probably best we cut it. We probably wouldn't be a good fit or something. I think we'd be terrible together or whatever." His hands weren't shaking where they clutched the sink.

"is that what you want? For us to..break up?" Lewis asked slowly, staring at the tense line of Daniel's back. He'd been thinking about how happy he'd been recently and it was George who pointed out that Daniel might have been the source. They've been doing this dance for so long that it was easy to forget that they weren't together.

Lewis wanted to change that to the positive. But he hadn't anticipated that maybe Daniel didn't feel the same.

"isnt that what you want?" Daniel turned on the faucet- aggressively flicking the handle upwards. The rush of water pressure was harsh.

"why won't you look at me?" Lewis looked down at his cooling cup. Flinching at the loud ting of the metal spoon falling into the bowl.

"just-- say what you're saying." Daniel exhaled turning off the faucet and wiping his hands in the terry cloth towel hanging from the stove.

"well if you want to end things so badly then sure." Lewis couldn't believe he'd gotten everything so wrong. He frowned, sad and disappointed that everything turned this way.

"yeah. Ok." Daniel cleared his throat when his voice cracked. He didn't acknowledge the thickness in his throat or the burning in his eyes. He just nodded to the sink and turned to leave the room.

"that's it?" Lewis' voice stopped him and Daniel whirled to glare red rimmed honey eyes at him. "Daniel?"

"it's what you wanted right?" Daniel snapped.

"what I wanted?" Lewis' eyes widened.

"yes! You think I haven't noticed the staring and the extra time apart. The calls taken in other rooms. It's fine- id been wondering-" Daniel snapped his mouth shut.

"I haven't been with someone else if that's what you're suggesting!" Lewis stood from his chair.

"I never said that?!" Daniel scraped at his wet eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie. He was just trying to get out of this with some dignity in tact. "But you're done with me-"

"who said that?" Lewis looked taken aback.

"you did!" Lewis walked over to where he still stood stiffly and Daniel watched him warily.

"that's not what I was saying." Lewis whispered. He grabbed Daniel's hand to find it shaking. "I love you."

Daniel inhaled sharply.

"I love you and I was thinking that we should make this official."

Daniel's breath shuddered out of his chest. "Why didn't you lead with that?!" He chastised.

"I didn't think you'd immediately like divert to breaking up!" Lewis defended.

"fuck!" Daniel sagged and rested his face into Lewis' neck. "I love you too." He mumbled.

"next time I'll lead with that." Lewis promised, squeezing his arms around Daniel's broad shoulders.

"yes please."

[assistant-of-drama]

What if Owen angrily called out Alejandro?

"Owen," Chris chimed. "It's time to go pal."

"What?" Owen gasped, turning to the rest of the contestants.

Most of them don't bother looking at Owen, either out of shame or apathy.

Except for Alejandro, who was squinting and smiling cruelly at Owen.

"But I don't understand." Owen said. "I thought I was getting along great with everyone. Why would you guys vote me off? What did I do wrong?"

"Do the reasons honestly matter?" Alejandro asked smugly. "Just accept your defeat with dignity like Noah did, mi amigo."

"Yeah, the reasons actually do matter, Al." Owen said, with surprising firmness. "I would get it, if I had gotten voted off for eating something I'm not supposed, like back at Germany with the sausage. But I managed to control myself from eating the cake! I didn't do anything wrong this time! So, I think I deserve to know why I'm being eliminated!"

Sierra couldn't take the guilt anymore and awkwardly raised her hand. "Uhh, Alejandro said that he would bless my marriage with Cody, if I voted for you... I'm sorry, Owen."

"Yeah, the guy told me to vote for you too." Duncan said, while pointing at the charming man.

"Me three." said Courtney calmly.

Owen's jaw dropped. "Wait a minute... Al... You... You want to get rid of me?... But I thought we were friends..."

"Yeah, I had to make you think that, so you'd listen to me." Alejandro scoffed and then chuckled. "I mean, did you really think that I would EVER want to be friends with someone as childish as you?"

"I can't believe you just said that!" Owen gasped again in disbelief. "But you said I was your amigo... You mean, every terrible thing that you did to me, was done on purpose?... The glares, hitting me with a baby carriage, leaving me to get eaten by caterpillars..."

"Don't forget when he hypnotized you into giving yourself a wedgie and dance a jig." Duncan pointed out with a small smirk.

"Oh my god! I thought I dreamt that! You seriously did that, Al?!" Owen yelled with a glare. "What the hell is wrong with you?!?"

Alejandro blinked at the larger and softer man's surprising fierceness, but the charming yet cruel man keeps his cool. "Well, that's what you get for being childish and incompetent... My only regret was not getting you eliminated sooner... Even Noah and Tyler would've been much more useful to me than you."

Heather gazes at Alejandro in pure shock. "Wow, that's cold even by my standards."

Owen's glare hardens. "You know Al, when Noah first told me about your true colors, I didn't want to believe him at first. Not even when he pointed out all the messed-up stuff you did to people, including me. I kept telling myself that those things you did were accidents or that you were misunderstood, like how Noah, Izzy and Eva often are. But boy, was I wrong! Heather was right about you all along! Behind that charming face you're nothing but a mean, nasty, selfish, heartless, cheap con artist! And you're also a big, fat, dumb-"

Everyone's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates at what Owen said next. Alejandro's jaw goes slack as his left eye twitches a bit. The only ones who weren't in shock were an amused Chris and Chef as well as a strangely proud looking Heather.

"-in all of Kalamazoo!" Owen finished with ragged breathes. "Wow, I feel better already! No wonder other people curse!"

Owen grabs his parachute and looks back at the others with a calm, accepting smile. "Bye, guys."

The contestants awkwardly said their goodbyes, still trying to get over their shock at Owen's previous rage.

Then the big guy looks straight at a certain girl with a bright grin. "Bye Heather, kick Al's butt for me!"

"Trust me Owen, I will." Heather responded with a bold smirk.

"Oh, and Al?" Owen called for Alejandro's attention. "One last thing..."

Owen had a suringly evil smile on his lips, as he says his next words. "See you later, Alligator!~"

Owen jumps through the open plane door with a loud cackle, already long gone before the slippery Charmer could do anything.

Owen's cackles were quickly replaced by the laughter of Heather, Duncan, Cody, Sierra and Blaineley.

Even Courtney was trying to hide her own smile.

"Oh, the audience is gonna love that!" Blaineley piped up.

All Alejandro could do was wait until he could angrily curse at the confessional camera, again.

Noah is going to be so proud of Owen.

[privatehousesanatomy]

HOUSE MD 2024 ONE SHOT BASED ON THIS SCREENSHOT - in collaboration with @zethd

"hey wilson, i need to borrow some money," house announced as he swung the door open to his best friend's office. the brunette oncologist rolled his eyes and let out a groan, though he was more than used to the request of money.

"what do you need it for?"

"does it matter?"

"yes," wilson huffed. "i'm not funding any of your stupid schemes anymore."

"i'm getting a service animal. i figure it's about time i finally accept that in my old age, my leg can't keep up with me anymore," house replied, the sarcasm dripping in his tone. wilson was slightly surprised, and he took a minute to consider.

"how much money do you need?"

"about $10k," house answered. wilson blinked, almost as if he couldn't believe he'd heard that correctly.

"why so much?"

"i'm high maintenence," house shrugged. "the dog needs to be able to keep up. dogs aren't cheap and the training isn't cheap either."

"don't those dogs come trained?"

"well, yeah, but i still have to compensate the trainers for working with the dog," house scoffed, as if it was obvious. wilson sighed, pulling out his cheque-book and opening it, but he paused for a moment.

"you swear this is going towards a service animal?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. house rolled his eyes, nodding his head.

"when have i ever lied to you?"

ONE WEEK LATER

"house, what the hell is that?" wilson groaned, watching as house limped into his office with a robotic dog trailing behind him.

"this is rover," house replied, pointing at the dog.

"rover? and where exactly did rover come from?"

"he's my new service animal," house scoffed. "god wilson, keep up."

"you got a robotic dog as a service animal? that's why you needed $10k?" wilson groaned, leaning his head in his hands and shaking it. he should have known better than to trust house.

"what else would i have gotten?"

"a real dog."

"yeah, like i want something that sheds all over the place. the hookers leave enough of their hair behind for me to find later," house said.

"house, this isn't funny. how is a robotic dog supposed to help you?"

"he's a robot, moron. he's programmed to be smarter than humans. besides, he knows some cool tricks."

"tricks? like what?" wilson raised an eyebrow. what the hell kind of tricks could a robotic dog do?

"we have to go outside. i don't think cuddy will be too happy if rover did his tricks inside. she's such a buzzkill," house rolled his eyes. wilson sighed, knowing he shouldn't be putting this much trust into house, but he followed him outside regardless. they made it outside to the parking lot, coincidentally right near cuddy's car. well, wilson thought it was coincidentally, anyway.

"i have a bad feeling about this," wilson admitted, seeing the look on house's face.

"oh shut up and watch. it'll be cool. come on rover, do your thing," house instructed, pushing a little button on a remote control he'd pulled from his jacket pocket, and within seconds, rover was shooting a flame out of a piece of metal attached to his back. wilson stepped back immediately, though cuddy's poor car took the brunt of it.

"house!" wilson gasped, and house simply made a face.

"whoops. he wasn't supposed to do that...i think i pushed the wrong button."

"what the hell was he supposed to do then?"

"oh, he was supposed to shoot flames but not like that. i didn't even know he could do that. cool."

"no, not cool! you just torched cuddy's car!"

"honestly, i was doing her a favour," house shrugged. but speak of the devil, because out came cuddy when she realized that it had been her car that had been torched.

"what the hell did you do to my car?!" she exclaimed as she stormed over.

"rover had an accident," house replied, pointing at the robotic dog at his feet.

"rover? this is what you meant by a service animal?" she huffed, realizing that she too had been fooled into thinking that he had pure intentions when he came to her to put in the paperwork for a service animal.

"isn't he cute?" house asked, obviously trying to distract from the car that was currently in flames in front of them.

"you're really going to play dumb right now?"

"like i told wilson, i was doing you a favour. no wonder you can't get laid, driving that thing around," house scoffed.

"that's it. rover is gone," cuddy said.

"you're really going to separate a boy and his dog?" house pretended to pout, looking down at his "pet".

"oh, i'm going to do more than separate a boy and his dog. i'm going to kill the boy and his dog," she said, and even house took a step back.

"uh oh. i think she's mad."

"you think?" wilson scoffed. it was obvious he was mad too, and house could tell.

"oh come, not you too," he groaned.

"i funded this! you told me you were getting a dog, not a flame-throwing robot!"

"this was cooler, and a lot less maintenance than an actual dog."

"he destroyed my car!" cuddy argued.

"look on the brightside - now you can upgrade."

"and you can pay for it."

"what? how? i had to borrow the money for rover from wilson. you think i can afford to get you a new car?" house scoffed.

"you're going return rover and get a refund, and you're going to give me that money so i can get a new car."

"you can't make me give up rover," house protested.

"i have a baseball bat in my office. you can watch me smash rover to bits if you'd prefer," cuddy shrugged, and house cringed.

"fine. i'll return rover. just know how heartbroken he is though."

"i'm sure he'll be just fine."

[jimraisedmeup]

TICK // 11.1 - against all odds

Rating: mature (angst, language)

Word Count: 1500

☾

How can I just let you walk away? Just let you leave without a trace When I stand here taking every breath, with you You're the only one who really knew me at all

☾

February 14, 1984 - junior year

"Your room smells nice."

"Did you expect it to smell bad? Jesus."

Eddie stared at you, standing in his bedroom. You were looking around, your piercing gaze taking in every little detail, which suddenly made Eddie self-conscious.

"Do you have, like, multiple personalities or something, Buckley? I'm getting whiplash from your mood swings," he muttered, dropping the keys to his van on the dresser.

You scoffed, removing your jacket and scarf before laying them out on his bed. You sat on your jacket like it was some kind of protective barrier between yourself and his bedsheets. 

The strange action made Eddie roll his eyes.

Taking time to look at you, Eddie was sure now that you were going through some shit. Your hair was still pristine as always, but the bags under your eyes made you look like a goddamn ghoul.

"Hot chocolate?" you reminded him, running your hands over the tops of your thighs.

Eddie shifted awkwardly. "Uh, yeah, about that. I don't have any hot chocolate, I just said that to lure you in here."

"Again with the homicidal implications, huh, Munson?"

"I do love implications, sunshine," he snapped back with a quick wink. "Woah, woah!"

Standing up suddenly, you grabbed your jacket and made for the door. On your way out, you stopped in front of Eddie.

"Stop calling me sunshine. I don’t like pet names. I’m not your pet," you spat.

Ignoring the jab at his bruised heart, Eddie sneered at you, second-guessing why he even bothered to bring you there to talk. 

"At this point, I think the only thing I know about you is that you're a total asshole."

You paused in the hallway outside of his bedroom. You seemed defeated, like a car that ran out of gas, like a bird giving up after trying to fly with a broken wing.

"Look, I can tell you're not having a great time lately. Obviously," he said, gesturing towards you as a whole, "you're a little off your rocker."

When you didn't respond, Eddie continued. "Let me help you get back on your rocker. Talk to me, tell me things, anything. Tell me about your shitty parents, tell me about your dirty dreams. I care, you know. I'm not about to judge you."

He worried that his pleading would chase you out the door faster, which honestly could be the last straw for Eddie. There was a fine line between trying to help the girl who was hell bent on pushing everyone away and maintaining his own self-respect.

And then you nearly crumpled to the floor, rubbing your eyes with your fingertips.

"I'm sorry, Eddie. I'm sorry about ghosting you again, for leaving after what happened on New Years."

He hadn't expected an apology from you. Sure, he wanted one - but he sure as hell didn’t expect one. 

And then the very last thing he expected from you was the amount of emotion on your face. A mixture of confusion, exhaustion, just a sprinkle of anger.

Unsure of what to say, Eddie scooted towards you, taking a knee on the floor near where you leaned against the dingy wall.

"It's… it's okay. I can't be mad at you. We're both going through our own shit."

"That's no excuse for me to abandon you. Twice."

Eddie chuckled grimly. "Huh, yeah. You did ditch me twice, didn't you?"

"I'm so sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me."

"You mean, besides being a typical teenage girl?" He tried to joke, but immediately felt bad. "Is it about your parents?"

And finally, after months of wondering what the hell you were hiding, the wall you were desperately holding up… fell down.

☾

How can you just walk away from me? When all I can do is watch you leave 'Cos we've shared the laughter and the pain and even shared the tears You're the only one who really knew me at all

☾

You told him about your family. You told him about your religion, or ex-religion at this point, and how much it affected the dynamic of you and your parent's relationship.

You had been so used to maintaining your stoic appearance even before you changed your mind about religion. Since you were a small girl, your parents scolded you for crying. If you even laughed too loudly in public, your mother would pinch your arm. You're embarrassing yourself, child.

Your parent's recent divorce was the talk of housewives all over Hawkins, but not necessarily as big as Eddie's father's arrest. More like the hottest gossip amongst adults since back when Hopper went off the rails and banged nearly every woman in town.

You felt responsible for the entire thing. You told Robin about your father's affair, who in turn told your mother. The whole situation was a complete cluster fuck, ending up with your mother moving to Indianapolis and now the Buckley sisters only had your shitty dad. Not that either of you really needed him, though.

Confiding in Eddie about Robin's sexuality and your parent's ridicule was the hardest part, a lone tear crawling down your cheek for the first time in years. You had never said the words out loud before, even to Robin herself. It had always been an unspoken thing between you two.

You were a girl with a lot of feelings built up inside of you, anger bubbling at the surface of your impassive image. 

After growing up in a vicious, judgemental household, Eddie could see exactly why you were so distrusting of others.

Especially new, unpredictable people. Like himself.

And Eddie sat in silence, sitting across the narrow hallway from you. He absorbed every word you spoke. He felt like he was receiving a precious gift, a priceless artifact, deserving of being protected inside of his heart forever. 

In your close proximity, the Munson boy wrapped his outstretched legs loosely around your own legs. You didn't seem to mind.

"Thank you for telling me. Thank you for telling me about your life, Buckley," he mumbled, after a long stretch of silence between them. 

"Are you okay?"

"What?" he questioned, puzzled. 

"About your dad…"

Your eyes lifted to meet his, and Eddie felt like he saw a new clarity there. Your fixed stare was lucid, like a dirty window that was cleaned after years of neglect. And hell, Eddie would cut off one of his limbs to become the worn out rag that cleaned that window forever.

It seemed like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders. He admired you, not only for overcoming obstacles in life, but as a physical being. Sour conversation aside, Eddie wanted to hold you. He was still afraid you would run away, disappear for a third time.

"Eddie?"

He coughed, distracted, looking down the hallway. "Oh, um, well… my dad got locked up for dealing drugs. Now I live here. Not much to say about that."

"But are you okay?"

Thinking for a moment, he tapped his boot against your hip. "I'll be okay. I was planning to move here anyways, remember? No more drunken screaming fights, no more locking me out of the house on a weekly basis. No more broken guitars, either," he laughed. "I've actually been keeping my favorite guitar here at my uncle's for years because of that old angry bastard."

"Really?"

"Unfortunately, Buckley, you aren't the only one with dysfunctional parents. Hate to break it to you." He had one more question for you. "But, on a more personal note. Did I do something wrong?"

You fidgeted in your seat on the floor. "What do you mean, exactly?"

"I guess I know better by now than to take these last few months too personally. We're human, life has its ups and downs. But are we still friends? Why did our friendship, or whatever the hell it was, become collateral damage in all of this?"

No answer from you.

"Are you going to stick around this time? I'm developing abandonment issues over here," he smirked.

His grin grew wider as you actually smiled back at him. Your eyes seemed to glow at him from across the hallway.

"I don't know, you tell me. Can I stay?"

"I'll keep you forever if you let me."

The blush on your cheeks was displayed to him in an almost shameless way, like an offering. And then your next question would have knocked him off his feet if he hadn't already been seated on the floor.

"No, I mean can I stay here tonight?"

☾

Take a good look at me now, 'cos I'll still be standin' here And you coming back to me is against all odds It's the chance I've gotta take

☾

(song lyrics credit: "Against All Odds (Take a Look at Me Now)" by Phil Collins)

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[importantchaosgiver]

Where Loyalties Lie:

To The King

Summary: (Y/N) can't stay hidden for long. And when she is taken to the king, she gets an unexpected turn of events...

Warnings: Canon typical swearing, mentions of nudity

******

Two days. Baelon, Aemon and the guards hadn't found (Y/N) for two days. They had asked and most did say they've seen a girl of her description, but most didn't know about her or just saw her in passing. This girl was smart and quick. Aemon admired the child for her skill at such a young age. Being able to hide from a king's order wasn't something most people could do, especially when in the heart of the city. Baelon then went to a fruit stall. "Have you seen a young girl around this tall with (h/c) hair by any chance?" Baelon asked for the umpteenth time that day. He was quickly growing tired of searching, but Jaehaerys did ask of it. "Oh, yes. I do, my prince. She's the young lass who helps us set up from time to time," the man said. "Yes, she a lovely little girl," the woman added. Baelon perked up as Aemon walked over. "What's her name?" Aemon queried, finally glad they were getting somewhere. "Oh, I am sorry, my prince. That isn't something we know. But you can find her mother on the Street of Silk. The woman you'll need to look for is (M/N)," the woman explained. "She's a whore's daughter?" Baelon muttered to Aemon as they gave thanks to the vendors and began walking. "And a bastard no doubt. This girl gets more and more intriguing," Aemon said quietly in return.

When they came to the Street of Silk and to the brothels, it was noticeably more quiet during the day than how it was at night. So, they went from building to building, having to endure the working ladies in skimpy dresses or nothing at all. Until, finally, they got somewhere. "If you're looking for (M/N) go to the farthest room down that corridor," a woman explained, giving the two princes sultry looks, only wearing a mesh skirt. They nodded and began walking in the given direction, avoiding the people enjoying their time. When they got to said door, it was noticeably more isolated as they entered without knocking. The woman quickly stood up, looking at them as she realised she was in the presence of Targaryen royalty. "(M/N)?" Aemon asked. "Yeah. How can I help you?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest, wearing a sheer shift. "We're not looking for some time. We are looking for whom we've been told is your daughter," Aemon said. That got (M/N)'s attention quickly. "What's she done?" she whispered. "Nothing wrong. Although, the king is asking she be brought forth," Baelon said, eyeing her up and down. "Since when did whores care about their children?" he asked. (M/N) quickly put on some more modest clothing. "She's a child. She doesn't deserve to know my occupation. All she knows is that she's a bastard. But she doesn't let that stop her," she said firmly. "Aye," Baelon muttered. When they left, a couple of guards followed as (M/N) lead them out of the Street of Silk.

When they came to a small house, they went inside. There was (Y/N) holding a book with an elderly man pointing at words. They stopped and looked up. (Y/N) gulped upon seeing the princes. She had been found. "(Y/N), the princes would like to talk to you," (M/N) said gently. "Please, don't run. I would not like to repeat the other day," Aemon said calmly, seeing her stand up. "The king would like to see you, lass," Baelon said, bending down to her height. "I honestly meant no harm," (Y/N) whispered meekly. "I know. Now, come along, child," he said, the guards stepping forward. Her mother watched in worry as (Y/N) was lead from her home, two guards either side of her, a hand each on her shoulder just in case she decided to run.

She felt her stomach churn in anxiety, her throat tighten as it became difficult to swallow. She wrung her hands nervously as she was walked to the gates and into the Red Keep. It was even bigger closer up. She was lead through many confusing twists and turns until she was lead to two large doors. They opened and (Y/N) felt like her legs were about to give way. The entire court was there. The princes went in as the guards gently walked her inside. The men and women of court whispered and muttered. This girl saved Prince Viserys? This bastard, grubby common girl? When the guards stopped, she stopped and lifted her gaze. Her eyes found King Jaehaerys on the famed Iron Throne. It looked even more intimidating now that she stood before it. It's many blades forged by dragonfire and the blades of Aegon the Conqueror's enemies. She had seen paintings of the throne, but it didn't prepare her to be stood before it.

Jaehaerys recognised (Y/N) from the brief time he saw her in the Dragonpit. He stood up from the throne and walked down to stand in front of her. The guards let go of her shoulders and stepped back. (Y/N) gave a curtsy in respect of the king who gazed down at her with kindness. "You saved my grandson, little one. I thank you," he said gently. "I-I... there is no need to thank me. I only did what I thought was right. I only meant to help and protect," she whispered. Almost so quiet, no one heard it. It made Jaehaerys chuckle softly as her bent down to her height. "You are a shy one. But, I saw a pure courage in your eyes. Courage and bravery I have not seen in years, little one. What's your name?" Jaehaerys asked softly. "(Y/N) Waters, your grace," she muttered. "Born out of wedlock," he whispered. Baelon muttered into his ear about her mother too. Jaehaerys nodded in understanding. Then, he gently took (Y/N)'s hand. She lifted her head in shock and Jaehaerys managed to see her eyes and see into her soul. And he could tell, her heart was pure. Despite the scrutiny she would face as a bastard child, her heart was true and pure, untainted. He saw the truth in her eyes of (e/c) and knew she was something rare. He then thought back to a dream he had as a young man.

He dreamt of a woman with (h/c) hair wearing a white cloak, bearing the sigil of House Targaryen, holding a sword of Valyrian steel. The woman he dreamt of had been stood on the walls to the city, her sword soaked in blood, a cut along her face. He remembered how the sun shone behind her as if the gods wanted it. Jaehaerys called this dream, the White Saviour. Because his dream predicted that a warrior would protect the realm. And the courage, truth and purity he saw in the eyes of the woman in his dream was the same as what he saw in this child.

Jaehaerys straightened up and looked at the court. "I have decided that (Y/N) Waters shall be honoured for saving my grandson. It is my wish, my will and my order that she is to be trained in the ways of a knight," he announced. Everyone gasped. Even (Y/N) was stunned. She becoming a knight?! Trained as one?! But, she was a girl! All around the court, people had different reactions. Baelon and Aemon was surprised, but actually thought it made some form of sense, Viserys was shocked, Daemon found it hilarious that a girl would become a knight and -ultimately- fail, Jocelyn and Rhaenys felt pride that a girl could have the opportunity to prove the norm wrong and somewhere, in the corner of the throne room, Otto Hightower narrowed his eyes at the girl. This wasn't coincidental. Jaehaerys knew something they all didn't. It was clear in the Old King's eyes. That twinkle... something he knew would affect the realm for all eternity...

******

Okay, I'll admit, I've been sitting on this idea for a while. So I don't know how many regular updates there will be, but I'm really enjoying writing this. I hope you enjoy it too.