#they are Good and they do not always spell out 'hey this form of abuse was Bad and Evil' because they don't HAVE to. gotta use ur brain

[mirage-coordinator]

post about how censorship is a dangerous thing, and that throwing out “what if a CHILD saw this?” about things you don’t like is parroting conservative rhetoric (because it’s true, some things are going to be uncomfortable, and will make you uncomfortable, but should not be forbidden on the grounds of that discomfort)

it’s some stupid fuckwit covertly arguing that actually, they shouldn’t have to face any criticism for posting their shitty incest fanfic under the guise of a take that any average person would think is perfectly reasonable (they’re idiots who put that shit out in public and are not immune to people pointing out Hey That’s Weird)

[darkbluekies]

Silas asks #6

Previous one Concept: I've put multiple asks into one post to avoid too much loose posts on my account! This way, you have more to read too<3 Warnings: bruises, unhealthy relationships, mentions of marking silas up

What if I made silas a angry steak with vinegar 😡ok that sounded werid but here's the angry steak recipe 😂vinagear sauce, microwave that steak

He'll make sure all of your meals are cooked in dishwater.

What if after the "basement session" Silas find out that now the little thing has a really strong self harm tendencies? Like she start to bite herself, physical abuse herself and not only that! She start to call herself "dirty" (or smt) and her self esteem start to go down very fast. Is Silas will help s/o with it or he'll like it? Hope not the second option <;;:(

Of course he'll hate it :( he doesn't like when you're hurt, hence why he uses the basement as a punishment and not something physical. He hates to see painful marks on your body. He loves to see you painted in bruises, but not the ones that hurt. He'll make sure to tell you how beautiful and worthy you are so make sure that you know how much you mean to him. He'll dress you up in soft, fluffy clothes until you look like a marshmallow to make sure you won't hurt yourself.

"Come here, little thing, fuck, I love you so much. Please don't think like that. You know I don't want you to be hurt. I'll make sure you get well, I'll even call a doctor if you want ... I'll do anything to make sure you're happy, okay? Tell me what to do."

I was re reading your Valentine’s Day post with and I was wondering if he would be the type of yandere to buy his darling lots of clothes and made her spend hours trying them on in front of him? Ps you’re my favourite blog on this app, your writing is amazing and I’m always excited for your next post

[I did two valentines, but I'm guessing that you mean Silas? Thank you so much, btw that makes me so happy <3]

Of course he's the type to make you into his personal little runway model. He'll sit back in a chair and watch with dark eyes, loving everyhting you put on.

"And spin ... good job. I like that one. We'll get that one. What do you mean 'it's short'? It's supposed to be. I'm the only one who will see it anyway, so why does it matter? Try next one. I'm enjoying this."

Hey how are you? I just came back from school and was watching in the gym and saw some kids practicing taekwondo, so I was wondering how would Silas react to his darling knowing taekwondo and can be his ass? Would he be amused or frustrated I just wanted to know cuz I kept thinking about it for about an hour before saying it now. I hope you had a good day :) -new anon

[I'm doing good, thank you!!]

He'd be both frustrated and amused. He would be able to playfight with you and not have to worry about you hurting yourself, but he'd be worried that you would be able to escape him easier now. If you weren't showing any signs of running away, he'd not think much about it and would enjoy getting lessons from you. If you could teach him how to be as good as you, he'd be able to protect himself and you better.

"Like this? No? Y/N, seriously, teach me. Stop playing around."

How would Silas react to a reader with a bad light sensitivity disorder? Like irlen syndrome? I have it and it realy makes me feel isalated as no one elce i have met has had it in eny form (and i have move a LOT) if u dont want to do that what about an s/o who has dislexia? (As u can probarly gess i have that to. Life is so cruel 🥲)

Whatever problem you might be facing, whether it be physical or mental, he will be there for you. If you feel that it's hard to use your eyes, he will go to every doctor to try to find some kind of glasses to help you and if there are none, he'll be your eyes. The same with spelling and reading. He'll do everything for you. You don't have to lift a pretty finger :)

I would've spent all of babygirl silas money the first day tbh

my eye is twitching at that nicknAME

Hii I just read white bunny and I thought it was so good! It got me thinking about whether Silas would carry on treating the reader gently if they improved mentally or if he would go back to the way he was treating them before they ran away?

He would continue to treat them like he is. He's terrified of hurting you again and since you seem so happy when he treats you like this ... then he'll continue. Whatever you want, he'll do for you, don't worry about it. He's here for you ... always.

Hear. me. out.What if darling (s/o? Still don't know difference) ENJOY being in a basement (I am talking about Silas by the way) I mean, they (sorry i forget if s/o (darling) has a gender) think it's something like a minute just for them. No talking, no these annoying "baby" or "little thing", no forced touching. Just you ...and cold floor.

He'll be so pissed and change his tactics. You're not supposed to like his punishments! So you like the dark and quiet? No more of that. He'll be cuffing you two together and talking to you nonstop about how perfect you are and how he's going to keep you for as long as he wants to, aka really getting into your head.

I kinda want to bite Silas, he seem so chewy and acidic, green sour patch kid, especially his cheek, let me bite Silas, I need to bite Silas-

I mean ... he'd 100% like it so go ahead, leave some marks while you're at it.

[zazima]

im rusty. so rusty. and also extremely late for christmas. i may as well have waited 350 days until the holidays came around again, but im trying to write more this year, so hear you go? eek im nervous. please pardon any grammatical errors or spelling mistakes. enjoy! also tumblr doesn't seem to have line breaks so sorry if any time jumps are confusing.

also a warning for language and mentions of wanting to step in front of a bus as an extreme response to being embarrassed. i swear this is all fluff otherwise.

Harry doesn't know what to get Sirius for Christmas.

Well, to clarify, Harry doesn't know if he can get Sirius anything adequately worth a damn. Because how can a game (magical or not) or piece of art or trinket or any sort of anything say hey Merry Christmas and by the way, thanks for saving me from my horrible abusive household where I lived in a cupboard and for wrangling a fucked up wizarding judicial system so that it both exonerates you from a murder you didn't commit and lets you adopt a kid you only properly met six months ago.

Harry would also like the gift (if he ever manages to find something) to say also thank you for giving me my own bedroom and for making pancakes every Saturday morning and for letting me visit my friends and for playing two-man Quidditch with me and for ruffling my hair and for always letting me pick the film that we watch and for telling me stories about my parents and for always being just enough and for not pushing me when I have nothing to say and for calling me by my name instead of shouting boy angrily-

Harry figures that he should cut himself off there. Any more gratitudes and the gift will literally be impossible to find, lest it be the size of Hogwarts in an effort to cram any and all unspoken messages Harry doesn't have the courage to voice out loud.

So Harry does what he usually does in a sticky situation. He turns to his friends.

No clue mate, Ron writes. I normally get Mum perfume and Dad whatever Muggle trinket he's been obsessing over. So unless Sirius wants a rubber duck, I probably won't be much help. But you could probably give him one and he'd be ecstatic. You're pretty much his favorite person right now.

Ah bloody hell. Do you think I should get Sirius something as a thanks for Pig?

Even though he's sure Ron's right (although Padfoot might enjoy a rubber duck more than Sirius), Harry doesn't have time to add Ron's own gift conundrum to his list of problems, so he turns to Hermione, who ends up being a bit more helpful.

I know you said that Sirius was interested in curse-breaking and how it can be used to help with cleaning up Grimmauld Place, so maybe something pertaining to that? A book or starter kit? Or perhaps something a bit more personal, something he couldn't just buy in a shop. Don't worry too much, Harry. He'll love whatever it is you give him because it's you.

Harry disregards the book suggestion immediately. Sirius does read; over the holiday break the two of them have taken to sitting quietly on opposite sides of the couch in the sitting room, reading books from the Black family library and munching on the latest treat Mrs. Weasley has sent them while flames blaze in the fireplace, only breaking the peaceful quiet occasionally to share whatever interesting passage has just been read. But Harry doesn't want to give a present that reminds Sirius of the exhausting work they do every day trying to make Grimmauld Place a habitable home.

Hermione's other suggestion, however, gets Harry thinking. Something he couldn't just buy in a shop. That obviously eliminates all of the last-resort items Harry had on his mental list, as they were dumb things he had planned to frantically order by mail once he gave up on the idea of finding something good enough for Sirius. But it also opens up a new idea, something that Harry himself had appreciated when he had received it a few years ago.

He begins firing off letters and mail-in order forms with an efficiency Hermione would admire. The owls return in quick fashion, up to three or four a day. Sirius doesn't notice anything at first, but when Hedwig taps on the kitchen window for the second time that day during breakfast, he gets up and lets her in with a raised eyebrow at Harry.

"Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment?" he asks, somewhat incredulously, peering at the label on the package. "Harry, love, you know we can just go to Diagon Alley whenever you'd like. No need to rely on owl post if you're running low on supplies."

Harry flushes and snatches the small, soft package from Hedwig, stuffing it under his armpit and looking determinedly at his porridge. He hopes he doesn't have ACTUALLY IT'S PART OF YOUR CHRISTMAS PRESENT written all over his face.

"It's fine," he shrugs, aiming for casual nonchalance with his tone. "It's just a small thing. No point in going all the way down to Diagon Alley. Besides, the crowds would drive you crazy. They'd probably give you a concussion trying to get a picture."

Sirius grimaces, probably thinking of their last attempt to go for an ice cream at Fortescue's shortly before Harry had left for the fall term. They'd returned to Grimmauld Place ice cream-less and with a giant tear down the front of Harry's robes.

"Nothing a Glamour Charm wouldn't fix," he responds, grabbing his own empty bowl and bringing it to the sink. "Anyway, it's not fair for us to be shut up in this damned house because some people can't behave themselves in public. You just let me know whenever you want to go out, alright? I promise I won't breathe down your neck while you look at potions ingredients and whatnot. Even if they all suspiciously happen to be ingredients for an Enlarging Potion."

He manages to ruffle Harry's hair before the boy squawks out a "Sirius!" and darts out the kitchen, cackling in response to Harry's sputtered "I'm not... I wouldn't... SIRIUS!"

As Christmas approaches, Harry begins to stay up later and later into the night, working frantically to finish Sirius' present. One late night (or early morning, really), he hears a gentle knock on his door. He jumps and shoves the half completed project under his comforter.

"Come in!"

Sirius peeks his head through the cracked open door. "Are you alright? I was getting a glass of water and noticed your light was still on."

Harry nods, trying to convey a casualness he doesn't feel beneath the stress of wanting to have the present ready by Christmas morning. "Yes. Fine. I was just... reading." He reaches for his nightstand and holds up the latest book he's knicked from the Black family library for this exact purpose.

Sirius raises an eyebrow. "You sure? I've read that one before. Couldn't last more than thirty seconds at a time without falling asleep."

Harry glances at the cover. He hasn't even cracked it open yet. "It's actually quite interesting. I've always been fascinated by... the evolution of wizarding legalese from 1500 to 1800." He internally winces as the subject matter is finally made apparent to his sleep-deprived brain.

Sirius pauses, clearly sensing that something's up. He must decide that now's not the time to probe further because he says, "Alright. You're stronger than me, then. Let me know if you need anything though." He begins to retreat and close the bedroom door but stops right before he actually does. "I forgot, " he murmurs, opening the door wide and stepping fully into Harry's bedroom. He approaches Harry where he's sitting on his bed. Harry tries to discretely shove the half-finished present further under the covers. "You had a letter downstairs. We must have missed it earlier. I only saw it when I was getting water." He hands over a rather thick envelope to Harry, who flips it over, notes the name of the sender, and smiles, relieved.

Sirius lets out a small puff of air, and Harry looks up at the sound. Sirius pastes on a rather strained smile. "Do you often write to Mrs. Weasley?"

Harry's brain scrambles for a response. "Erm. Not really."

He doesn't say anything else, unsure how to explain away the situation convincingly. A rather awkward silence settles between them. Sirius looks as if he's summoning the courage to say something.

Sirius takes a deep breath. "I'm here if you ever want to talk, Harry. I know the Weasley's have always been great to you, and I never want to feel like you're getting that taken away. But, I just want you to know that I'm also here, in addition to them. For anything. No questions asked or judgement cast. Alright?"

The letter slips out of Harry's grip, as he frantically waves his hands in front of him, desperate to correct Sirius' perception of the situation. "Oh, no, Sirius, I know! I swear it. We were just... planning Ron's birthday present this year. They wanted to throw him a party." The fib comes easily.

Sirius visibly relaxes. "Oh. Ron's birthday's not until April though."

"Yes," Harry's brain scrambles for an explanation. "But you know how Mrs. Weasley is. Always trying to stay ahead. She's already starting to plan the menu. Fretting between bacon sandwiches or chicken legs for the main course."

Sirius shakes his head, a genuine smile starting to form on his face. "Well you know my vote is always for chicken legs. Assuming I'm invited of course."

"You know you're always invited. Mrs. Weasley always wants an opportunity to make sure you're feeding me properly," Harry rolls his eyes. "And Ron thinks you're pretty cool too. Even though you broke his leg."

Sirius gives him a mock scowl. "Hey now! I wasn't in my right mind that night. And I gave him an owl to make up for it! Even though I was probably doing myself more of a favor than him. That damned owl was driving me mad."

Harry giggles, and Sirius' smile grows wider at the sound. He lets out a dramatic sigh and leans over to ruffle Harry's hair, ignoring the sounds of protest that come in response to the action.

"Alright then, love. I'm off to bed. Shout if you need anything, and I'll be here in faster than you can say chicken legs. You hear me?"

Harry nods. "Yes sir."

Sirius scowls for real this time. "None of that now, remember?"

Harry nods again, this time rather sheepishly. Sirius bends over to kiss his forehead before heading out of the bedroom, shouting a "Good night!" over his shoulder before he closes the door behind him.

Harry sighs in relief, pulls the present out from underneath the comforter, tears open Mrs. Weasley's letter, and gets back to work.

The morning of the 25th is bright and cold.

Harry is a ball of nerves as the breakfast plates get cleared away and the two of them prepare to go to the sitting room to open presents. Padfoot had barged into Harry's room at half past seven, barking loudly and leaping onto the bed, nearly giving Harry a heart attack in the process. He'd only finished Sirius' present in the wee hours of the morning and had barely managed to shove it into his desk drawer before he'd fallen asleep.

Sirius had dragged Harry into the kitchen for special Christmas chocolate chip pancakes and hot chocolate but had only allowed Harry to start eating once he agreed to don a ridiculously oversized Santa hat that matched the one Sirius had on his own head.

"If I'd known you liked Christmas so much, I'd have taken you to the Muggle mall to get a picture with Santa," Harry grumbles only half-heartedly as he watches the milk heat up on the hob. Sirius was adamant about making hot chocolate the old-fashioned way.

Sirius laughs loudly and hooks his arm around Harry's neck, pulling him close and planting a kiss on his forehead with a loud smack. "It's our first Christmas together, kiddo! First of many. You can get past your anti-morning attitude for that, can't you?"

"I gueeeeeeees," Harry mock-whines, drawing out the word as he adds the chopped chocolate to the steaming milk. He's secretly pleased that Sirius seems to somewhat enjoy his company. It shows he's not such a terrible charge.

"Thank you for your sacrifice," Sirius states dramatically. He gives Harry one last squeeze before releasing him. "Now come on, let's get to presents. I call going first!" He darts off to the sitting room where, overnight, a large pile of presents has piled in front of the eight-foot tall tree Sirius had dragged home one afternoon (with lots of swearing).

Harry gulps nervously as he pours hot chocolate into two mugs and tops them both with a handful of marshmallows. His hands are slightly shaking as he brings them both to the sitting room. Sirius is poking around the heap of gifts as he enters the room, and Harry spots the hastily wrapped, lumpy package he completed only a few hours ago.

Please like it, please like it, please like it, he silently begs as he sets the mugs on the coffee table. The sight of the gift is almost nauseating, and he keeps his eyes fixed on the hot chocolate.

Sirius turns at the sound to spot Harry and grins. "Alrighty, kiddo, what do you want to unwrap first? I did go a bit overboard this year, you'll have to forgive me. But there's plenty here from your friends!" He's practically vibrating with excitement.

Harry straightens his back and clears his throat. "Actually, do you mind if you do the opening first?"

Sirius pauses. "Are you sure? I swear mine are quite good."

Harry nods vigorously. "Yes. You can start with mine. It's right on top. The green wrapping." Let's just get this over with, he thinks.

Sirius picks up the package and shakes it gently. It makes no noise, and Harry can't help but let out a chuckle despite the knots in his stomach. Sirius grins at him and begins to carefully unwrap the gift.

Harry's legs suddenly feel like treacle tart filling. He lowers himself onto the couch so he doesn't pass out.

The wrapper paper gently falls to the ground, revealing a mound of knit material. Sirius unravels the pile to reveal a rather lumpy, oversized navy blue sweater with a slightly misshapen black dog woven onto the front.

Sirius doesn't say anything.

Harry's heart drops to his stomach. He opens his mouth, desperate to explain away the situation. "It's uh... it's... erm... it's a sweater? I made it?" As if that wasn't fucking obvious, he internally snarls at himself. He shakes his head, trying to organize his thoughts. "Yes, I, um, I made it. That's uh... that's Padfoot. On the front of it. I knitted it."

Sirius doesn't say anything.

Harry's words start coming out faster and faster, hoping something comes out that remedies this clusterfuck of an event. "Mrs. Weasley helped me. She sent me instructions. And the patterns? That 's why she was sending me so many letters. I didn't know how to do it. They aren't throwing a party for Ron."

Sirius still doesn't say anything.

Oh fuck! Harry thinks wildly. He's probably livid I lied. Oh fuck fuck fuck. "I'm sorry I lied to you! I just wanted it to be a surprise," he manages to get out. "That's why I was ordering so much through owl post. I had to get the yarn and the needles. And I kept having to order more yarn because I kept getting frustrated and messing up a lot. I didn't want you to know. Until now, that is. Obviously."

Sirius. Still. Doesn't. Say. Anything.

Harry wants to crawl into a hole and die. But for some stupid, idiotic reason, he keeps speaking. "I wasn't sure if you'd like the color? I actually realized that I don't know what your favorite color is. But whenever Mrs. Weasley makes one for me or for the Weasley kids, she usually does our favorite color. Or house colors. But I figured you have lots of things in Gryffindor colors? Like your wand holster. And then I noticed that you wear a lot of navy. So I thought that might be nice."

If Sirius doesn't say anything, Harry just might call the Knight Bus so he can step in front of it. He decides to get everything off of his chest before he has to do so.

"Mrs... uh... Mrs. Weasley made me one," he explains softly. "My first year. And every year after that. It means a lot to me. I think it was probably the first gift I ever got. And it kind of made me feel like part of their family? A little bit at least. So... so I wanted to give you one. Not from her, of course. But from me. So you could feel like a part of... our family?" His sentence embarrassingly ends like a question, so he hastily tacks on, "If you want to, of course."

Sirius finally moves, and Harry shuts his mouth. He gently sets the sweater down on the armchair next to him, walks over to where Harry is sitting, and pulls him up into the tightest, fiercest hug Harry has ever experienced.

Neither say anything for a few moments. Until Harry can't deal with not being able to breathe and squeaks out, "Uh? Sirius? I can't really inhale."

Sirius releases him quickly and takes a step back. "Sorry."

Harry feels awkward again. He clears his throat, hoping to fill the silence with something. "I hope you like it. But I know it's not done very well. So I can take it apart if you'd rather that. The shop said they'd take the yarn back as long as it wasn't too worn."

Sirius' head snaps up. "What? Harry, my love, I don't not like it. I love it."

Harry's mouth goes dry. "What?"

Sirius gives him a small smile. His eyes look suspiciously glassy. "Harry. You made this for me. You made this for me! It's my favorite color, and it's got me on it! Of course I love it. Not just because you took the time and the effort to make something for me. Because, my goodness, how do you even start with something like this? It must have taken you ages. But also because, well, you said it yourself. I mean, I already felt like part of the same family with the whole adoption bit and knowing you since you were a baby and whatnot, but it's always nice to know you feel the same. And I'm so honored to be a part of your family. Always will be. You have to know that, alright?" Sirius presses their foreheads together. "Alright?"

Harry nods, feeling a little something catch in his throat. He nods.

"Thank you for my gift," Sirius says softly. "I love it. No talk about talking it apart. I'll be proper mad if you do, you hear me?"

Harry nods again. Sirius releases him. He grabs the sweater from the armchair and pulls it over his head. The hem is uneven and the dog looks more like a cat once the sweater settles on his body, but Sirius only looks down at it and grins.

"Now come on, it's your turn to open presents. I don't think any of mine are as good as a handmade sweater, but I hope you like them anyway. And that's got me thinking, we ought to do a Christmas card no? Especially now that I've got a nice sweater on. Mrs. Weasley might tear up at the sight of a photo of the two us. Come on, come on, pick a present."

Harry rolls his eyes without any real heat behind the action. And he doesn't say anything later when he feels a burst of pride when he sees the photo they take in front of the Christmas tree that afternoon, Sirius wearing the sweater with the biggest, proudest smile Harry has ever seen.

He just bottles the feeling and hopes to remember it forever.

[rfxiii]

Hey, I don't remember if you're taking requests but I'd like to make one 😉. About a few weeks ago you wrote that mind-blowing post with some reasonable questions about the Pre&Post-Ludendorff/North Yankton Era, and they're stuck in my head even since. So I wanna ask you to pick some you're most interested in and guess the answers in the form of headcanons or little fanfics, as you wish. I'm so curious about your theories

Aah tysm! I’m really trying to get better at writing so I’m always taking requests! So feel free to send anything in at any time ✨

I did a few headcanons for some of the questions and then a short little fic at the end if that’s ok!

*TW: slight child abuse mention

[Word Count: 1429]

Was Amanda close with her family?

-Not necessarily family of the year, but I do think they had a decent enough relationship that she and Michael would take the kids to visit them or she’d call them to complain about Michael being gone for long periods time

Did they know about what Michael did?

-yes, to an extent. They knew he made his money illegally, but Mandy never just spelled out the fact that he was a drug smuggling, prostitute ring running bank robber. They didn’t approve of whatever Michael did, but they appreciated that he made enough money that Amanda was finally able to stop stripping and could stay home with the kids.

Do they still think Michael is dead? Did she cut all contact with them when they left for Los Santos? Or was Dave comfortable enough to let Michael and Amanda tell their families what was happening?

-I don’t think, for any reason, that Trevor would have ever met or known where Amanda’s family lived or how to get in contact with them. Dave’s main goal was to make sure anyone who could cause problems (ie Trevor) thought that Michael was dead. So I feel that Amanda may have vaguely told her parents what was happening before she and her family were moved to Los Santos. And as for Michael, I don’t feel like he’s spoken to any member of his family since he left home and started on his path of crime.

Did Brad have family? A mother or father? A girlfriend? Someone else besides Trevor who would have missed him? Someone who Dave also had to sell the lie, that he was in prison, to? If he did have family, were they ever told he was killed?

-Short answer: no. I feel like Trevor was really all Brad had in the world.

Long answer: while he may have had “girlfriends” (or girls that thought they were his girlfriend) in a lot of the towns they passed through, I don’t think he had anyone who would have noticed he was gone. For some reason I have this headcanon that he grew up in foster care, but not with a good family (more than likely an abusive couple, with more children than they could handle, that they kept solely for the paychecks). Maybe Dave found their info after having Brad buried in “Michael’s” grave, but when he showed up on their doorstep they didn’t even remember who Brad was until Dave showed them a picture. To which they responded that they always knew that’s how he’d end up.

Did Trevor try to call Amanda? Did he finally get away from the cops, have a second to breathe, and make his first order of business calling her house to tell her Michael was “dead”? Did she answer? Did she have to fake grief? Did she blame him? Or did the phone just ring? Did it go to voicemail? And did he have to sit in some shitty motel, grieving alone, and knowing full well Amanda would blame him for this? Or was he too afraid and broken to even try to reach out?

-do I think Trevor tried to call Amanda? Maybe. Michael meant more to Trevor than anything, and while he and Amanda don’t get along the greatest there are little hints in game that they used to be friends too. So, if he thought he could, I feel like maybe Trevor tried to reach out? But that either Dave had moved Amanda and the kids as soon as Michael had left out for the Ludendorff score and she wasn’t there to answer the phone. Or, she knew he’d call and despite knowing that Michael was obviously still alive, the fact that they had to uproot their whole life (something she partially blamed Trevor for) had her so mad that she couldn’t even make herself answer when he called for fear of slipping up and giving everything away.

———

He’s finally stopped running. Maybe an hour ago, maybe two, maybe ten. He’s not sure anymore. But he hasn’t moved an inch since he’d checked into this shitty little motel. He’s sitting on the floor, gun in hand as he faces the door and waits for the police to kick it in. His heart hasn’t stopped pounding and his hands still shake while his throat stings from the cold he’d run through and his eyes burn with unshed tears.

It was all gone. He’s still not sure what exactly had happened or how exactly they’d gotten caught. It didn’t matter though. It was all over now. Brad would be on his way to a federal penitentiary if he survived his wounds. And Michael-.. Michael was gone. It hurts him to even think about it. Michael had meant everything to him for years. But now-.. Now he was gone.

He keeps replaying it in his head. The car crash, taking off on foot, Brad getting shot. Michael had gone to help, while he had ducked for cover. Was he wrong for that? Should he have gone back? Should he have tried harder to watch Michael’s back? It had all happened so fast. If Michael hadn’t been so set on “sticking to the plan”, if he hadn’t stood up like an idiot after going back for Brad, if he hadn’t made himself a fucking target then maybe he wouldn’t be-

He’s crying now, no longer bothering to fight back his sobs and heart broken wails as he mourns his best friend. Michael was dead, and Brad may be too, and Trevor feels it’s all his fault.

The hours pass and no police come pounding on his door. But the relief of escape is far outweighed by his grief. He thinks of jobs they’ll never go on, of nights out drinking that felt like they’d never end, of how fearless and untouchable he’d felt from the moment he and Michael had joined forces. But then he thinks about a future alone, about Michael’s dying words urging him to run, about how cowardly he feels for running instead of dying alongside his friends.

In a moment of clarity, through his own misery, Trevor thinks of Michael’s family. He thinks of how Amanda always cursed at him when he and Michael left on scores- how she always shouted about how Trevor “better watch out for him” and how she’d kill him if anything happened to Michael. He thinks of Tracey and Jimmy, and how they’ll grow up without Michael. And he blames himself for it all.

With legs trembling beneath him from hours of running, Trevor pushes to his feet and stumbles to the motel phone. His hand rests on the nicotine stained plastic while his fingers tremble. Lester’s incessant worrying fills his thoughts- warnings about a landline being traced to his location. But really, he doesn’t care anymore. So what if he gets caught? So what if he dies? What’s he got to live for now anyways?

He dials Michael’s home phone- a number he’d memorized years ago when Michael had finally settled down and bought that used little trailer for him and his family. The line rings and rings. And with every dull trill of the line Trevor feels himself growing sicker. Michael was his best friend. And despite how the already shaky friendship between he and Amanda had soured over the years he owes it to her to let her hear the news from him instead of from police knocking on her door or on the six o’clock news.

But the line continues to ring until the droning buzz of the answering machine meets his ears. He freezes. He’d been terrified to talk to her but the idea of leaving such crushing news as a message on some machine is just something he can’t make himself do. He slams the phone down on the receiver instead. The relief he feels is almost sickening. At least he can say he tried.

He thinks of Brad next. Michael had said he’d be ok. But really, there was nothing to say he’d lived. He considers calling…someone. But really, other than him, Brad had no one. He had “girlfriends” in almost every town they stopped at, and he’d mentioned once or twice the foster family he’d stayed with until he was sixteen- the family he’d run away from after years of abuse. He had no one. No care if he was ok. No one to care if he was alive. And no one to care if he was dead.

And now, neither did Trevor.

[tales-of-cerano]

A few sessions ago in our Dnd game I dropped that throughout childhood I was killed a revivified a couple of times by my family due to training accidents and occasional overpunishment. Turns out that is not how everyone else grew up and they thought my dad was a real freak for that.

The following is a little write up in the perspective of my sister after a bad day of picking a losing fight at school. It shows a bit of insight on the cyclical nature of the abuse in his family and how much they value strength. She would be about 14 at this time and he'd be 11.

This is unedited, raw, and just a fun little thing delve deeper into this character and how easy access to spells like revivify and healing would impact situations like this.

Cw for domestic abuse, child abuse

Those who walked through the corridor of marble were supposed to feel powerful. They were to hear their footsteps echo as they passed portraits of glory. It was a buildup to an esteemed location where they would meet a man of great honor, the hero of the age, the catalyst of north.

Though when Eliza walked down the hall, the clop of her tired footsteps became a slow ticking metronome which regulated her thoughts. The faces of her ancestors peered over their spectacles to judge the fresh bruises forming on her face. The hall became thinner as she swam through until she almost choked from the breath she was holding.

She did not even notice her brother who galloped behind her, trying to keep pace with her long legs. He never could without breaking into an awkward gait between running and walking. On another day, her chapped lips would break into a slight smile. Today they would stay pursed as they held back words forming in her mind.

On another day, she would hold the door open so her little brother could run in first. Today, the heavy doors slowly closed behind her leaving him alone for the portraits to watch over him.

Her father tilted his head up for one moment before looking back down at the journal he wrote in.

"You showed them the strength of our family, correct?" Did you win?

She swallowed. Excuses, explanations, and fear climbed over each other to escape out of her esophagus. "I did not foresee their assistance from House Order." No, they cheated.

"When you decide to march on the enemy, you must take into account their friends. Disappointed but not surprised." The salted words made her open cuts sting. If they weren't there I could have taken him. She shut her eyes and held them tight as embarrassment turned to white hot anger.

She said nothing. Nothing was safe. Nothing developed nothing. Nothing never made anything worse. Silence was an answer she clung to often.

"Train for an extra hour tomorrow with Malthus. Do not bare fangs if you are too weak to use them. You are dismissed."

She turned to leave and would have slammed the wooden door if it's weight was not too great. A light pressure formed behind her eyes.

"Quit staring at me!"

The paintings did not respond. They did not even acknowledge her frustration.

But her brother who has not learned the strategy of saying nothing, did.

"They never listen to me either."

She increased her pace down the hall, as if she could outrun the beat of her heart.

"Valakir if you know what's good for you, you won't fuck with me right now."

"You always say that," he began to sprint to keep up, "Hey! Slow down," he grasped her cloak.

She thought about the consequences of killing her brother in that moment but ruled against it for the paintings were watching. She planted her foot in his chest and sent him back reeling instead.

"Why are you mad at me? I didn't beat you up."

"I'm not mad!"

"Then I'm not 11!"

He eyes felt inflated, the deep pressure behind them rooted into the front of her skull.

"Can you fuck off?" The harder push was resisted this time.

"What? You trying to start another fight you can't win?"

"Take that back!"

"No!"

She closed her eyes to keep them from falling out of her head. The roots dig their way deeper into the center of her head. Did the room always sound so loud?

She grabbed him my the back of the collar and dragged him down the corridor until they reached a stone furnished training room. He kicked and screamed but the paintings never listen.

She threw him into the corner with a rapier that rolled to his curled up legs. She no longer felt the soreness in her arm when she unsheathed her sword for the second time that day.

"A fight I can't win, huh? Get up... Now!"

She directed her intense gaze his way. The pressure crawled down the back of her neck to her shoulder blades.

He stood, gathered himself into his first form, and attempted to control his shaking legs. His eyebrows furlled to the center. He broke into a sweat before he even moved.

"I'll even let you go first."

As soon as he was able to shake off the paralysis he struck. Third form, an attempt to catch her off guard perhaps. But the pressure springloaded her movement. She dodged before he extended his arm and brought her knee to his stomach. As soon as his breath fully left his body she sliced, still managing to cut deep with a dulled blade. It was only going through fabric after all.

She didn't remember what happened next. Only the pressure subsiding, leaving through her arms, and exiting out of her sword as it stabbed into him when he was down.

He learned how to say nothing. His lifeless corpse proved that.

Shoulders now free from the pressure had a dull ache which grew with the newfound weight of what she had done. Tears landed on the scroll she pulled out of the depths of her backpack. One chance. The ripped the diamonds from her necklace. One chance.

Panic rose, pride fell, there was no time for the guilt to consume her. She spoke the words of light and life, careful to pronounce each syllable in the correct tone. What if he chose to stay dead?

And Valakir blinked, and inhaled, gasped for air, grasped for a hand and then pushed it away as soon as he realized who it belonged to. He looked at her with wide eyes, the same eyes she looked at their father with after he had done the same. The eyes of regret.

He crawled before climbing to his feet and sprinting. His legs ran first while his body attempted to keep up. A light pressure formed behind his eyes.

[thsc-stuffs]

Aight so. Brustesington ~through the ages~

Very much see them as a rivals-to-lovers type deal. They have a shit ton of tension between them from day one. They're both spitfires on a hair's trigger and get lumped together in an attempt to get them both to calm down. They fight a lot and slowly over time it becomes more and more affectionate. "Hey! Only I get to call him a bastard!" type deal.

Their relationship sorta fully shifts during Cloudface's leadership. Jaques and Billy G. were both close to Dusty but Billy was there first and as such became Cloudface's caretaker and Right Hand, causing a lot of turmoil for Jaques. This is sorta when Reynaldo realizes that there's a lot more to their little 'rivalry', and Jaques' realization comes not long after. There's so much going on in the clan as a whole with Dusty's passing, then Cloudface's resignition and death, and it's a rough time for everyone.

T.R.N.K's brief stint as leader is when Reynaldo fully realizes that Jaques isn't human, at least not a 'normal' one, but he never really speaks on it. The two get caught in a Government ambush and Jaques temporarily breaks through the containment spell and shifts into his true form to protect Reynaldo. Jaques doesn't remember it at all, but Reynaldo does. There's a small window where he's conflicted about it and withdraws a bit, but he eventually comes to terms with it and accepts that Jaques' apparent inhuman nature isn't something he should fear.

Their relationship during Jaques' relationship is... sharp, for a lack of better wording. They're both pretty intense people, with stress and responsibility and expectations pressing them from all sides. Obviously they both are desperate for outlets for all of it, especially with Jaques' sealing spell beginning to fail (they start having night terrors, showing more signs of magic, displaying more draconic behavior, etc.), and they turn to each other for this. Sometimes wholesome, sometimes pushing it. Honestly, it was a horrible situation for both of them and while they handled it the best they knew how at that moment, it wasn't always the healthiest. Jaques' increased possessiveness, paranoia, and desperation for control paired with Reynaldo's growing unrest with the clan and the urge to run away.... not good.

If they were able to reunite properly post-portrait, they'd practically be the opposite of their leadership days. Their overwhelming fires have burned out and now they're left much softer and quieter. They still love each other, but Jaques' time in the portrait and Reynaldo's abusive relationship that lead to his demise have really impacted their sense of selves and of each other. They have to rebuild their relationship just the same way they have to rebuild themselves. That firey clashing from before is all but gone, and they continue to banter but nothing like back then. Post-portrait is also in a much different time, and they're comfortable being openly affectionate- and BOY do they bring on the PDA. Both of them are quieter and gentler with not only each other, but the world around them. It's no longer a fight to survive; now they're just riding the peaceful waves of having fought and lost, but did they lose if they still have each other?

[cdroloisms]

Dream tried to stop Wil from creating L'Manburg, Phil tried to stop him from blowing it up, BOTH value people over items and builds, Phil has said that they're replaceable but people aren't, Dream traded spirit for his best friends fishes (we kno he's not someone to talk abt feelings:[) BOTH were kind and selfless but used by almost if not everyone, BOTH were ready to be THE VILLAINS if it meant everyone else could live better after. ONE of them always had someone there, ONE didn't. Intentional?

aaaa sorry for the really inconsistent posts ,, im gonna try to post a little more in the next few days. i have a few things written up, so look out for them? maybe? for now, have this *gestures vaguely* thing ,, it’s kinda a mess but *shrug*

phil is such a fun character, anon, especially for all the reasons that you mentioned in the ask!! he’s a really fun character with a lot of complexities that go (sadly) overlooked by a large portion of the fandom, but he’s super cool even tho i havent analyzed him too much. hope you enjoy (and i hope my interpretation of c!phil isnt too ooc lmao) 

tw: mentioned blood, injury, implied torture/abuse, starvation, trauma, mentioned death, prison arc/pandora’s vault

When Techno first brings Dream back from the prison, Phil doesn’t quite know what to think.

“I don’t trust him either,” Techno assures him, but there’s a flickering anger in the backs of his eyes, one that had emerged ever since he came back from the prison with the other man in his arms, and Phil knows his friend well enough to know that the words are empty in the face of the piglin hybrid’s particular brand of to-the-death loyalty. He shakes his head in reply, refusing to voice his thoughts for Techno’s sake, at least, but the look that the other slants at him suggests that he’s caught onto them all the same.

At first, the work is thankfully mindless; even if Phil has reservations on the man that Techno has more or less dumped into his house, he would hardly wish the clear suffering he’s been through on anyone. The first few days pass in a flurry of brewing potions, wrapping and rewrapping dressings, stitching up cuts and setting broken bones straight. The damage is extensive; Phil has to take more than a few breaks to just leave the house and breathe - he’s far from a stranger to blood and carnage, had received the title of ‘Angel of Death’ for a reason, but even he had never been particularly familiar with this form of cruelty. Torture was a level of violence that extended beyond what even he was willing to bestow - his hands may have caused many deaths, and the weight of each one would continue to haunt him for the rest of his life, but even those had the mercy of being a quick end. The wounds and scars that ripple over Dream’s skin, thin and stretched tightly over his bones with little muscle and fat left to cushion them, speak of horrors that were anything but merciful.

“I didn’t know they were capable of all of this,” Techno says, once, as they huddle of Dream, wringing towels in cold water to wipe his feverish skin. Techno’s hand reaches for the ribboning gold-filled scars that remain from the execution - carefully, Phil raises his hand to let his fingertips brush over them as well. “I mean, I knew he was dangerous and all, but-”

“I know, mate,” Phil looks back at Dream’s face, tight even in unconsciousness, at the darkened, hand-shaped bruises that remain around his throat, at the scar that runs over his left eye, clearly meant to mirror the same one that makes its way down the duck hybrid’s own face. “You said that Quackity and Sam were working together?”

“Yeah,” Techno’s expression darkens, eyes focused somewhere on the wall, seemingly very far away. He said that nothing happened to him in the prison, and he seemed relatively unharmed when Phil activated the stasis chamber, but ever since he came back, sometimes he’ll have moments, and Phil can’t help but - wonder. “Quackity does the dirty work, Sam gives him the way in and out, probably also the tools to do it. It’s-” he huffs a short, self-recriminating laugh. “It’s bad, Phil.”

“Mate-”

Techno shoots him a look, and Phil cringes, knowing already that he’d used the wrong tone. Even with the execution, Techno had been adamant to hide all traces of his own terror and fear away from him, masking it all with fury for Phil’s own sake. He knows, just from the way his old friend looks at the ribboning scars that remain sometimes, that he is far from as over the whole ordeal as he acts, but Techno never wants to talk and Phil never knows the right time to ask and they smooth it all behind plans and explosions and hope that the TNT can blow apart the trauma, too. He’s got a sneaking suspicion that the same thing is going to happen, here.

“As soon as we can,” Techno starts again, pointedly shifting his eyes away from Phil’s face, “we’re calling a Syndicate meeting to figure out what we’re going to do about the prison. Like- come on, man, you couldn’t make a more transparent abuse of institutional power if you tried, really-” he looks over, uncharacteristic uncertainty warring over his features. “If you think that’s good, I mean-“

“Of course, mate.” Phil’s voice softens. “Whenever you’re ready.”

‘Whenever he’s ready,’ as it turns out, is easier said than done, becoming even more evident when their charge wakes up from his days long spell of unconsciousness. The worst of his injuries have, under their careful care and the benefit of many potions, healed enough to no longer directly threaten his life, but the vast majority have quite some time to go before being healed completely. Being as the goal was torture and not death, most of his injuries weren’t made to be life-threatening, but rather to cause as much pain as possible - from the grimace that twists Dream’s face when he struggles to force himself awake, they’re doing their jobs.

“Hey, mate, slow down,” Phil murmurs, pressing the man down by his shoulder when Dream weakly tries to push himself up and off the bed, and his struggling only lasts for a few more minutes before he gives up and slumps against his pillow, eyes cracking open and seeming surprisingly lucid.

“Where-“ his voice is wrecked, and Phil reaches for the glass of water at the bedside as Dream coughs. “Where am I?”

“You’re at Techno’s house,” Dream’s eyes widen and then slip closed as he processes the information, a wrinkle forming between his eyebrows as they knit together. “We broke you out, after Techno escaped with a stasis chamber with your book. Do you remember?”

Dream gnaws on his bottom lip. “Um- yeah. I think.” His head turns as his eyes crack open again- “Techno-“

“He’s out, right now. He’ll be back in a bit.”

“Oh.” Dream falls back into the bed, strength seemingly sapped from the short conversation. His breathing stutters, then steadies. “Okay.”

Recovery is slow. Phil doesn’t actually find himself seeing the man very often; now that he doesn’t need around-the-clock care anymore, he’s moved back into his own house, letting Techno do most of the work when it comes to rehabilitating the escaped convict crashing at his house. As he begins to spend more of his time awake and aware, he brings a whole slew of new problems; Phil catches him screaming one day, blurting harsh, angry words as Techno reads, unbothered from the other side of the room, and he stops in his tracks standing awkwardly in the doorway.

“Um-“ he winces when Dream curses, smashes something against the floor, and then curls into himself at the sound. Techno doesn’t even flinch. “Am I interrupting something?”

Dream stomps away, face flushed, arms wrapped around himself. Techno raises an eyebrow.

“You lookin’ for something, Phil?” he asks, and the unpleasant knot in Phil’s chest refuses to unwind.

The episodes, unfortunately, don’t seem to get much better. Though he’s rarely outright violent, Dream looks constantly murderous, usually muttering underneath his breath about something or another while he stalks the grounds of Techno’s house. It’s not too long before Techno sends him out to work around the house instead of just moping within the cottage, which also means that Phil sees him a lot more - tending to a small farm behind the house, feeding the dogs, hacking away at mobs, and usually complaining the entire time. It’s unnerving, even as injured and unarmored as the man is, to see him walking around like this; despite his rather pathetic appearance, swamped in sweaters that dwarf him thoroughly and thin enough to look like the slightest breeze will knock him over, his eyes are flinty and intelligent and bubble with promises of revenge.

“FUCK!” Phil turns to see him slamming a shovel into the snow, stomping away into the woods, and his hands tighten around his cup of tea. Next to him, Techno shrugs.

“Nerd’s got a few issues,” he drawls, and Phil laughs shortly.

“That seems like an understatement.”

“He’ll ease up in time,” Techno sounds surprisingly confident, completely content despite the muffled curses that come from the woods next to them. He’s probably used to it, with Chat and all, but Phil can’t quite seem to find the same calm.

“I just don’t know, mate,” Phil shakes his head. “You sure having him around is the best idea? He doesn’t seem...stable.”

Techno looks up at him over the rim of his cup of coffee. His head tilts, considering, but there’s a small smile on his face that tells Phil that Techno, inexplicably, doesn’t share the same sentiments. There was always a part of him that was, for the lack of a better word, softer than the rest of the server for his self-proclaimed rival, a sort of understanding that Phil could hardly hope (nor would really want to) understand.

“Don’t worry, Phil, if he tries anything I can always just tie him up in the attic or something,” Phil huffs a small laugh, amused, and nods to concede the point. “And- well, call it intuition. You could really try talkin’ to him, you know. He reminds me of you, sometimes.”

The words stick in his head despite his best efforts, rattling in his skull when he tries to sleep, lingering when he catches glimpses of the green-clothed man stalking around their properties. He can’t imagine what would’ve prompted his old friend to make the comparison, can’t think of a single thing (besides their affinity for the color green) that would mark him as similar to the - from what he’s heard - deranged menace with a particular penchant for destruction (not that his rants and fits of anger are doing anything to correct that impression). Even so, Techno had sounded so sure when he’d made the comparison, the words offhand like he’d thought them a million times before, like it was a simple observation that held no more weight than commenting on the color of the sky. Phil watches as Dream lugs a pile of logs behind him, huffing at one of Techno’s dogs that comes to chase and nip at his feet and grumbling loudly before faceplanting into the snow. He just...can’t see it.

Days later, Wilbur comes to visit, a grin on his lips as he dramatically recounts his newest exploit: a nation by Las Nevadas, a supposed safe haven away from the glitter and glory of Quackity’s city; it sounds brilliant, it sounds lovely, and more than anything it sounds stupid, and Phil tells him as such immediately.

“You’re being reckless,” he rants at his son, wings flaring outwards and only barely noticing Dream watching from the corner of his eye, “What are you doing- picking fights with Quackity? Starting another nation- didn’t you see what happened to the first two you made? You’re going to get yourself killed, Wil!”

“Well, I’ve already seen what’s on the other side of death, and it’s really not that bad-“

“You’re my son!” The words are angrier than Phil would’ve liked, and he knows that he looks ridiculous and overbearing, criticizing the actions of his fully grown son, but all he can see is Wilbur’s face, slack with pain and grief, stained with ash and soot as his eyes flutter to half-mast in the midst of the rubble of a country he loved and destroyed and destroyed him in turn. “I can’t lose you again, Wil!”

Wilbur doesn’t quite storm out, but it’s a near thing, leaving with a clipped goodbye and leaving Phil seething on his doorstep. He spends the rest of the night pacing around the house in a sort of mad frenzy, wings stretching and folding over and over. Not for the first time, he longs for the sky, to feel the air through his wings and let the world fall into pinpricks below him; it’s this that leads him to the roof of his house, staring stubbornly at the clouds as the sun sinks down to the horizon.

“Hey.”

Phil startles; there, down below him, is Dream. He rocks back on his heels, seeming awkward, before clambering up the wall (Phil rolls his eyes at the ease with which he scales it, the feeling in his chest almost fond) and settling himself on the shingles at Phil’s side.

“Hey, mate,” Phil shakes his head. The fondness leaves, and the irritation that had risen at Wilbur’s words, earlier, comes back full-force. “Sorry- Wil came to visit, we talked. I just needed some time to think.”

Dream hums in acknowledgement, and they fall into a comfortable silence, watching as the sun dipping down past the mountains in the distance.

“You know,” Dream starts, sudden, “I told him the same thing.” He looks up at Phil, eyes faraway with old memories. “Wilbur, I mean. When he made L’manburg- I told him he was being reckless.” He shrugs. “I guess he never listened.”

Phil pauses, Techno’s words ringing in his ears. He reminds me of you, sometimes.

Dream looks surprisingly normal up close - face no longer reddened with fever or pale from blood loss, even the scars fail to really take from the boyishness of his face. He bites his lips, eyes falling away at Phil’s scrutiny, golden blond hair flopping over his forehead, newly trimmed to be something a little closer to his old length, at least in the front, the back pulled into a small ponytail. He’s young, and shockingly awkward, teeth worrying his lip, hands fiddling with each other, shifting his weight from one foot to the other several times a minute. He looks like a kid.

“He never does,” Phil lets himself smile, watches as Dream smiles back, almost like they’re sharing a joke. He wonders how well he really knows the man behind the mask. “Want to come in for some tea?”

Dream smiles wider, and something old and worn in Phils chest, knocked loose ever since he felt his son fall limp in his arms with his own sword shoved between his ribs, falls back into place.

“That would be great,” Dream replies, the words almost hopeful, and they go inside.

[thejustmaiden]

So out of nowhere I was tagged and quoted by a SR shipper for a blog of mine posted in August of last year. Talk about throwback but, hey, gotta appreciate that level of snooping. 😉

Back in the day I actually used to encourage discourse amongst Inuyasha fans- both shippers and antis alike- but I've since realized that it's a lost cause. But for you, @feministmetalgreymon , I'll grant this exception. Just 'cause it's been a while so why the hell not. haha

I want to assure you, however, that nothing you say will ever convince me that Sesshomaru and Rin are meant to be together romantically or that the story intended it so. Nor will you find any validation here. You can ship them for all I care, but please for all that is good and holy while I have your attention try- I mean really try- to understand why it is so many of us Inuyasha fans are so against this pairing in the first place (newsflash: it's not about ship wars), and why we believe a romance between the two of them is completely and utterly out of character.

For those of you interested in reading this, the blog of mine in question that the above shipper mentions in their counter-argument is here for reference. It's titled "Jaken = Rin's Dad?" I'm going to try and keep this short, but I'm also making no such promises. After all, I'm not exactly known for my brevity. haha Now let's get crackin'!

Like you, feministmetalgreymon, did for your recent blog here where you took screenshots of mine to address certain parts, I will be doing the same and dissecting yours accordingly.

[Snippet 1]

I worked with kids for many years as a teacher, and many people in my family have too or still do. Two of them happen to be just over 5 feet which is quite short for the average adult woman living here. I've also worked alongside many a women of short stature, and never did I hear any of them complaining of issues with their students having difficulty differentiating them from their own peers just because they were short as well. I'm sorry but that's just ridiculous. Kids are quite smart and pick up on a lot more than you seem to give them credit for. Height is not the only characteristic they look at to determine who's an adult and who's not, and it's foolish to suggest otherwise. So unless you're a babysitter who's still in their teens and/or who has very childlike features or behavior then I'm afraid what you're getting at is total hogwash. This is just another example of how you shippers offer nothing of real substance to your reasoning, it's only ever cherry-picking or strawmanning from you guys. Stop deflecting from the real issues please, because this certainly isn't one and only winds up being a complete waste of time for all parties involved.

[Snippet 2]

Okay, calm down now. I wasn't insinuating that relationships between parents and children can't change over time in terms of how they get along. Of course that's possible, as all families experience their fair share of estrangement and abuse. What I was speaking about was in reference to the overall dynamic between the two. Because a bad mother or father can still be viewed as a parental figure to their child even if say they're not in said child's life anymore. Since Sesshomaru and Rin share a healthy bond- and just a friendly reminder that in my blog I even said that he doesn't have to necessarily be labeled her father but that a romantic relationship later would still be inappropriate- I didn't deem it necessary to address what you brought up. Plus, it kinda, umm, misses the point?? Please, let's stay on topic. And it's not captured in the screenshot, but stop acting like there isn't a small part of them that idolizes their parents at some point during childhood. Just like you mention later on how it's normal for kids to have innocent crushes on adults that they eventually grow out of? Well, guess what, the same concept applies here. Kids eventually learn that their parents are far from perfect and make mistakes too. Rin is so damn young in the OG series though that we never even get to see her reach that maturity level.

[Snippet 3]

LOL! Alright, okay, so the "unbreakable bond" bit you're mentioning was actually me quoting you sessrinners. Did you not catch that? I literally spelled it out. *sigh* The whole point I was making is that shippers like yourself make hypocritical and contradictory statements all.the.goddamn.time. One moment you guys claim that Sesshomaru and Rin were essentially strangers and meant very little to each other, only to say in the same breath a few seconds later that they were destined to be together and their bond is like no other. I agree, their bond is special, but why must that mean they're going to fall in love?

That is the root of the matter here. Too many animes/mangas have romanticized this older adult man & young girl growing up falling in love trope that it's become way too normalized and widely accepted across the world- and yes, in some cultures more than others. Sadly, you lack the awareness to recognize how this all works. You know how we know that? When we see that you shippers are so desensitized to sexualized images of girls in the media that you share posts like this one below which *subtly* imply a future romance although one half of that pairing is still just a child in the pic and then try and pass it off as cute. That's like super fucking problematic and it scares me that you can't see that (or deny you do). 🤢

After all that's said and done, Sesshomaru leaving Rin in the village with Kaede is to me the strongest indicator more than pretty much anything else he's done for Rin that proves he is her adoptive father. It's so funny to me how you somehow see the exact opposite though. 🤔 What I think is happening is that you got yourself on some squeaky clean ass shipper goggles fresh out of your little echo chamber. Because I hate to tell you, but what you're fantasizing is what you want to see and not what's actually there on screen or was written into the story. I'm strictly talking about Inuyasha and the manga of course. [For the TL; DR version skip to the last paragraph.]

Parents looking after their kids is what parents are supposed to do. A good parent will do anything to keep their child safe and ensure they are cared for, so what he did for her by leaving her there was in her best interests clearly. Besides, as a babysitter, you more than most people should understand that parents aren't always able to be there for their kids so sometimes others gotta step in to help. Haven't you heard of the saying, "it takes a village to raise a child?" Which in Rin's case is literally true! 😂 Sometimes kids are even sent off to stay with grandparents and that's who raises them instead. Or maybe they have to temporarily live with an aunt or uncle because their single parent's job requires they work out of town 4-5 days of the week so they're hardly home. But that doesn't mean that the parents care or love their kids any less, and it's foolish to assume that Sesshomaru must have thought very little of Rin simply due to the fact that he made the decision to leave her in the village. Come on, y'all are acting like he abandoned her there!!

It's just given the circumstances Sesshomaru finally came to learn that Rin traveling with him was no longer safe. I also like to think it's because he wished for her to live a more normal life and to learn how to fully trust humans again. Plus, continuing to travel with him as young as she was would have proven dangerous and unwise. Now for you to know all this and still manage to turn his past actions towards her while she was just a child into a romantic gesture is what boggles my mind. Regardless of how you look at it, from my perspective or your own, Sesshomaru is in the wrong. Either he's a father figure who impregnates his daughter at the young age of approximately 14. OR he's this man she used to travel with who maybe isn't a father to her but who nonetheless basically rapes her since kids her age can't consent to sex with an adult. Idk about you but it sounds to me like nobody here wins with either scenario we're given. In other words, you should be just as mad as we are. If only one side didn't choose to forsake their morals they know we both have in common for the sake of a ship. Welp. 🤷‍♀️

I agree, incest is disgusting but that's not the only problem we have with this pairing. A romantic bond forming between Sesshomaru and Rin would also constitute as grooming.

You realize that over the years he visited her in the village that he brought her gifts too and essentially watched her grow up right before his very eyes, right? I mean, I know you do, but I really shouldn't have to explain further why pursuing a romantic/sexual relationship with each other is plain and simple wrong. And before you say it's not because he didn't have any malintent, please understand that considering their history and power dynamic up to then that yes this is still considered grooming even if Rin supposedly "wanted it" or "made the first move." Whether you consider him her father or not, as the adult who took on a role resembling that of a caretaker in her early life- a critical developmental time for a child- Sesshomaru is obligated to turn down any advances by Rin and most definitely should not initiate any himself. As the first close adult figure she's had in her life since her parents died, it's unfathomable to imagine how Sesshomaru could go through with taking advantage of this young girl who was under his care and supervision since they met. To think he could be capable of betraying that trust sickens me to the core.

This. Now THIS is how a parent/guardian or a similar adult caretaker (babysitter, teacher, etc.) talks to a child. And, in turn, this is how some young children talk to adults. You'd be insane and delusional to deny it! We see it in our everyday lives, do we not? From where else do you think our stories draw most of their inspiration? Yes, obviously these fictional universes have aspects of fantasy that don't exist in the real world, but so how then do you suppose we're able to relate to them? The reason for that being is because these stories are written by people for people, so naturally there are going to be real life aspects embedded throughout. Sure, a little escapism doesn't hurt as we don't need to take everything so seriously, but ultimately we all need to recognize that the messages in the stories we tell matter. Most stories possess a combination of both light and dark themes, but when it specifically comes to the latter we gotta be careful with how we tackle this in children's media since kids are far more impressionable.

So if at the center of a story we have two of the main protagonists whose mom is basically their same age and to top it off she knew their dad when she was just a girl and who just so happened to help raise her, wouldn't you say that's beyond fucked up or at the very least so fucking weird? Like why would we think it's even remotely okay for our children to watch this garbage?? Really think about it. Try and be objective for once and think about how it would sound explaining this storyline to an outsider who's never watched IY or HNY. Well, antis have tried this before many times and we always get the same reaction: Ewww!

Like I said earlier, if you wanna ship it then fine, but 1) please stop seeking our approval or trying to change our minds - your ship wish came true didn't it, so why do you need us to validate it? 2) even though it's not canon, respect that we don't support this sequel portraying pedophilia in a positive light. It's harmful af to not only allow but glorify the continuation of sexualized images of young girls everywhere. And I shouldn't have to say this, but just because this trope is popular as you say does not make it right. Lolicon themes in the media have been an issue forever and it needs to stop. Yes, even some people in Japan or "the East" would agree. Shocker!

We're pissed off and rightfully so because Yashahime's TV rating is 14, not to mention it airs at the prime time kids in Japan watch TV after getting home from school. That's Towa and Setsuna's age, true, but if Rin being the mom when she's like only a year older than them (please don't argue w/ me about the math- antis have so far been right every time with it) is straight-up disgusting and not something we should be supporting or endorsing. Rin's a whole ass child!! Please don't start with the "but times were different then so her having kids at 15 is acceptable" argument either, because we've already debunked that and every other single excuse you guys throw at us. Besides, how or why would you expect young viewers to know these historical "facts" anyway, especially if as you suggest fiction doesn't affect reality so what does it matter? Yet here we are, arguing over a fictional show in real life almost a year and a half into the "Sesshomaru fucks?" sequel being announced. My ass, your ass, hell all our asses fiction doesn't affect reality!

Look, I do apologize if the tone of this blog came off as snippy or condescending at times. I do not wish you any ill will, it's just I'm not really sure what you expected to get out of all this besides maybe getting on my nerves perhaps. haha A lot of you shippers have been desperately scrambling to interact with us, lurking in our tags, jumping onto our posts screaming canon and getting so defensive even though you sought us out first. We've been sticking to our tags, so how about you stay in your lane too. By the way since we're on the topic, have you seen Twitter or Reddit?! SR shippers there are the actual worst and many Inuyasha fans (not just antis) have complained of not feeling welcomed to engage in fandom spaces anymore. Shippers swarm them and scare them off simply because fans don't like your ship and refuse to accept it. It's pathetic, really. No one should ever be bullied or harassed just because they don't like something you might. We're all fans of Inuyasha, aren't we? So let's act like it. Yashahime on the other hand, you guys are welcome to that pungent heap of trash. Fans have a right to criticize it too, but if you like it then good for you, so keep on liking it and don't mind us.

I'm almost done, but real quick back to Jaken! Let's not forget about how the official Yashahime website- which came out after my blog, mind you- described Jaken. This translation isn't the best one available but it's the only version a fellow anti friend could track down. They do recall a better one done by a native Japanese speaker who was also an anti, and that member confirmed that Jaken is indeed called Rin's babysitter. So you see, I was right in my interpretation. In the original post I did compare Jaken to a brother, but after talking to others (some comments can be found under said post) I did acknowledge that he's more of a reluctant babysitter who's not related. And if he's not at least a brother to Rin, then he's definitely not her father.

At the end of the day, the creator Rumiko Takahashi has the final word. Which is guess what? Hogosha. 💖 Probably should've just started out with that and saved us all the trouble, huh? Good day/night to you.

Papamaru bids you adieu now. 🤞

[yee-fxcking-haw]

Hey, I saw you asking for request in the Yandere Dabi tag? So, how about Hawks gifting Dabi y/n for Christmas? There is perfect image for that too. I will add the blog where it is in the post.

Y'all have the most brilliant brains I swear.

•Regifting•

Warnings: Yandere Hawks, hinting of kidnapping, grooming themes, mild dubcon, major sexual tension, Daddy Keigo, Sub Dabi, Sub reader.

Pairing: Hawks x Reader x Dabi (brief Dabi x Hawks)

A/N: LMAO my brain took OFF with this shit. There's gonna be a part two. Lemme know if you want tagged.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Oh angel, you look perfect." Keigo coos down at you as you kneel between his legs. His lean body is clad in all black, well tailored slacks and a handsome button up.

He's reclined on the couch, knees spread apart as he watches you present yourself in the outfit he laid out for you.

It's very simple, very sweet. All skimpy and silky, hugging your curves and perking your tits.

"He's going to love you." His eyes light up as he shifts upright, wings spreading wide behind him.

His words make you squirm, desperate to please, to impress.

Keigo had spent so much time taming you, working his ass off to get you so compliant. You were a rotten little thing we he first brought you home. Always fighting, always running away, always crying.

It took time, patience, and so much punishment, but he finally broke you. It was a beautiful process too, watching you crumble, watching you buckle and submit.

Now you're perfect, so sweet and willing and obedient. A wonderful gift, a sufficient offering.

Your shaking hands hold out some ribbons and a bow, a curious look on your face as you blink up at him.

"I didn't know what to do with these, I'm sorry..." Your voice is quiet, timid, weary of offending Keigo. He could be so _mean _ when you disappoint him.

"I'll help you, don't worry sweetheart." His voice is soft as he takes the material from your hands, it makes your shoulder relax, thankful for his unending patience with you.

Slowly, he winds the soft fabric around your body, tying it around your waist in a large bow. He leans back and admires you for a moment, rubbing his hand over his jaw as he contemplates his work.

"D-do I look ok?" You ask with a timid voice.

He sighs before using his knuckles to tilt your chin upwards.

"I told you, you look perfect, pay attention." His voice is firm, but not enough to set you on edge.

You fold your hands in your lap and nod quickly.

"I'm sorry, Sir." You mutter as your eyes flicker down.

He relaxes into the couch again, and you see him pat his thigh out of your peripheral vision. You quickly hop to your feet so you can crawl into his lap. You let him sling your legs over his strong thighs so he can cradle you against him, one arm looped around your waist while the other brushes some hair from your face.

"Listen to me, little bird." Now his voice is the tone that sets you on edge.

You perk up and look him in the eyes, waiting attentively for his next words.

"I have a very special friend coming over, I'm going to share you with him, as a Christmas present, ok?" He raises his fluffy blonde eyebrows, waiting for your reaction.

"Daddy... What does that mean?" Your hands wander up to the collar of his shirt.

"It means he's going to play with you the way I do, and you're going to be a good girl for him like you are for me." His words cast a spell on you, filling you to the brim with curiosity.

"Will I call him Daddy too?" You wonder, a little displeased with the idea of calling anyone but Keigo by that name.

"No, you'll call him 'Sir', I'm your Daddy, nobody else. Do you understand?" He reaches down to squeeze your thigh, a warning.

"Yes Daddy, I was just making sure, I'm sorry."

How could he be mad when you apologise so sweetly, so honestly?

He hums at you, proud of the sweet little darling you've become, all because of his hard work. He brings his hand up to his face, tapping his cheek with his pointer and middle finger.

You lean up and press a small kiss on the spot, batting your lashes at him when he smiles at your well trained response.

"He's going to be mean to you. Much meaner than me, but it's going to be ok. I'll be here after."

Ice settles in your gut, you want to ask him what will happen, you want to ask if it will hurt. Then there's a knock at the door and Keigo stiffens under you.

He grabs your jaw, eyes burning into you.

"Wait on your knees by the tree." His voice is so low, so serious.

You scramble off of his lap and scamper over to the Christmas tree, settling to your knees with your hands on top of your thighs. Just like he likes.

You want to tug at your clothes, fuss with your hair and adjust your legs, but you know better. He told you to wait, which means be still.

Keigo walks over to the door, casting one quick glance back at you to make sure you're situated as he directed. When he sees that you're in order, he nods once before opening the door.

The man standing on the other side is nothing short of terrifying. He's a mess of scars, staples, and wild black hair. Vibrant, blue eyes lock on your form immediately as Keigo welcomes him in.

He's got a few inches on Keigo height wise, but he's much thinner. He strides into your home lazily and silently, hands in the pockets of his billowy coat. You remember quickly how rude it is to stare, and direct your gaze to your lap as he draws closer.

"Well, you sure as hell weren't lyin' about her being pretty." His voice is like fine gravel, rolling out of his mouth in a low, menacing tone.

You watch their feet as they walk towards you until they stand on either side of you. His boots are thick and dirty, made of abused leather. They're a harsh contrast next to Keigo's shiney, clean dress shoes.

"Eyes up here." Keigo's voice washes over you, you obey immediately, looking up at him.

"Oh she listens." The friend sighs, shifting on his feet a little.

Keigo crosses his arms before speaking, you don't break eye contact with him for even a second, waiting for permission.

"Hey there, doll, name's Dabi." He sounds nice, playful even.

"Say hello to our guest, dove." With Keigo's consent, you turn to Dabi and offer him a sweet smile.

You whisper a soft "hi" to Dabi, captured in his turquoise eyes.

"So fucking sweet." He says, mostly to himself.

"Have a seat." Keigo says, almost shortly. You know he's not talking to you.

Dabi chuckles before waltzing over to the seat himself on the couch.

"So serious tonight, Birdie." He sighs as he reclines, his hungry eyes stay locked on your kneeling form.

Keigo walks around to the back of the couch, bracing his arms on the edge directly behind Dabi. Your chest clenches under the pressure of both of their greedy eyes, thumbs worrying at each other in your lap.

Dabi pats his lap just like Keigo did a few moments ago, a sick smile spreads across his marred face. You immediately look to Keigo, who nods shortly towards Dabi's lap.

"Come sit." He commands.

"Yes Daddy." You lift yourself to your feet and pad over to the stranger, timidly settling down onto his lap. He feels so _different, _so harsh and rough, nothing like the soft warmth of Keigo. He thumbs at the bow around your waist, snickering to himself when you jump as his hand skims over your skin.

"'Yes Daddy?' Do I get one of those?" Dabi asks as you situate yourself. He smells like smoke and alcohol, and something you can't quite identify, it's something strong and sharp, stinging your nostrils.

You shake your head when you hear Keigo breathe in sharply.

"Daddy said I can call you 'Sir'." You say quietly.

Your eyes wander over his scared hands, fixating on the staples that appear to hold the warped, purple flesh to the pale, healthy skin.

"Oh Keigo, you've out done yourself." Dabi's hand runs up the inside of your thigh, stopping when he feels you squeeze them together.

"Don't be nervous, doll, I'm gonna make you feel real good." His voice makes your insides ache, and not in the good way that Keigo's does.

You blink up at him, noticing how closely he's holding his wings to his body, how tense his shoulders are, how narrow his pupils have become.

"What's wrong, Angel?" Keigo asks reaching around his guest to grab your jaw.

"He's sc-scaring me a little." You squeak out.

This makes Dabi laugh low and dangerous, Keigo let's go of your jaw in favor of grabbing his friend by the hair on top of his head. He cranks Dabi's head back, earning a choked sound from the him. The hand on your thigh squeezes you firmly as he sneers up at Keigo.

"He's nothing to be scared of, sweet thing, he has to listen to me as much as you do. Ain't that right?" He leans down to Dabi, a challenging look flashing in his amber eyes.

"Of course, Birdie." Dabi relents with a venomous tone.

"Your Daddy would kill me if I hurt you, you've got nothin' to be scared of." Dabi flashes you a cheshire smile one Keigo releases his hair. It puts you at ease, watching Keigo exercise so much control over his intimidating friend.

"I'm sure he warned you that I can be a little mean, you'll like it though, I promise."

Before Dabi can speak again, Keigo's hand is around his throat, the action making you and Dabi freeze immediately.

"No marks on her, Dabi." His words are final, dripping with authority and power.

"Aw, come on, just one bite?" Dabi teases, licking his teeth like an animal.

Your blood freezes when you watch Keigo's grip tighten around Dabi's throat, astounded at his bravery. Dabi's smile fades, suddenly crumbling under Keigo's harsh gaze.

"You haven't even thanked me for your present, and you're already mouthing off. Sounds like somebody doesn't want to get their dick wet." Keigo says, biting off his words as he leans closer to Dabi's face.

"Thank you, Daddy, I'm sorry." Dabi chokes out.

You're utterly shocked, nearly trembling as you watch Keigo work his magic, subduing even this monster of a man.

"Good boy." Keigo leans down and presses his lips to Dabi's, making your jaw drop.

It should make you jealous, it should make you insecure. But they're both so greedy with each other, so wreckless. It makes your skin run hot and your core ache. Your hips wiggle against Dabi's leg involuntarily, capturing his attention immediately.

He breaks from the kiss so he can look at you, florescent eyes raking down your body.

"This desperate little thing wants to have some fun, should we play with her some?" Dabi asks, looking up at Keigo expectantly.

Keigo looks at you with ravenous eyes, body poised as his wings flutter slightly.

"As long as you both listen, you can have all the fun you want." Keigo says calmly, standing up before rolling his shoulders back as he walks around the couch to stand before the both of you.

"Will you be good for me?" He asks.

"Yes Daddy." You and Dabi say it in unison, bodies tensing. You feel something twitch under your thighs, causing a heated blush to spread across your cheeks.

Keigo smiles, wide and brilliant. He cracks his knuckles slowly before reaching up to begin the process of unbuttoning his shirt.

"I love it when you're good for me." He says it to both of you, emitting all the confidence in the world as he strolls closer to your feverish bodies.

You're in for it and you know it, but you're buzzing with anticipation. Ready and willing to be the perfect little gift for your new friend.

[sgtjbbhasmyheart]

Drunk Texting Is(n’t) Bad for Your Health- Chapter Seven

Series Summary: Talk about your unconventional meet-cute! Bucky receives a text by mistake requesting he prove he’s not Reader’s sister. The easy dialogue between Reader and Bucky sparks a natural friendship, but could it lead to more? Bucky still deems himself unworthy of any form of affection or love. Reader is hellbent to prove him wrong. With the help of some (meddling) friends along the way, Bucky may get his happily-ever-after after all.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2684

Warnings: ANGST, bad language words

A/N: Thank you, thank you, thank you for all your love and support for this series! Everyone who has liked or reblogged this week after week means the world to me!

A/N 2: I split their date into 2 parts because I wanted to give perspective from both sides. Enjoy Bucky’s POV first!

DO NOT copy or replicate without my permission.

An anxiousness bubbled up inside Bucky as he and (Y/N) stepped out of her office building and onto the crowded Manhattan sidewalk. It was five o’clock, meaning every other yuppie in New York was trying to get somewhere as well. Walking shoulder to shoulder with her felt like a feat in itself. Everyone around them seemed to be heading in the opposite direction, and they were fighting against the current like a pair of spawning salmon swimming upstream.

With his size and stature, most passers-by gave Bucky a wide berth. But with (Y/N), they didn’t. They jostled her like a small boat caught at sea during a storm; they gave her no mind in their rudeness. She fought to stay astride him as businessmen shouldered past her like a runningback fighting to make it to the endzone.

A feeling of protectiveness washed over him. Longing to whisk (Y/N) away from her place on the dirty cement increased with every step. The defensive surge fizzing right below the surface wanted him to tuck her into his side and glower at anyone who dreamed of coming close.

Bucky couldn’t, of course. He had to play it as if they’d only met a few days ago, no matter how much he wanted to. Instead, he grasped her empty hand and led her through the swarm of fellow New Yorkers.

(Y/N)’s hand was warm inside his, and the very thought of him touching her made his pulse quicken. The reaction wasn’t unpleasant. Though, it fuzzily reminded him of his teenage years. He was nearly one hundred years old! He shouldn’t be acting like a lovesick fool.

But here he was- swooning over a girl like he was fifteen again.

Bucky felt a yanking on his arm as (Y/N) pulled him from the stream of rushing bodies. Unmoving, at the edge of the rush, he found it was easier to breathe again. The fretfulness bled away once they were standing still.

He peered around, questioning why they’d stopped. Wedged between two high-rise buildings was a squat cafe. The shop’s window front beamed onto the footpath like the mecca it was, calling bystanders in from the street. Above the green striped awning over the entrance spelled out Deja Brew in colorful, blocky letters. Bucky chuckled at the play on words.

Towing the door open, (Y/N) tugged him in further.

Stepping inside the brightly lit coffee shop, Bucky was blanketed by the overpowering scent of fresh coffee grounds. It was potent, hanging thick in the air. Taking a deep breath in, he was transported back to a rickety kitchen and a second-hand table, where he and Steve would take their morning coffee and breakfast. The smell reminded him of simpler times. Times before all the trouble Hydra had caused. He let go of a nostalgic sigh.

“Right?” (Y/N) asked, standing at his side. He’d nearly forgotten she was there. “I love it here. It always feels like coming home.”

Bucky grinned down at (Y/N), understanding how she felt. The exposed brick walls, the tidy, destressed floors, and the primary colors being strewn about the space gave him a sense of sentimentality.

“I come in here several times a week,” she explained. “Not just because it’s convenient, but it reminds me of growing up.”

Bucky nodded in agreement, taking in the warm atmosphere of the quaint shop. “I get that.”

The pair strolled up to the counter and, presumably, the barista taking orders. Without looking in their direction, the young man in an apron spoke in a monotone, “Welcome to Deja Brew. What can I get started for you?”

A smile slowly crawled across (Y/N)’s lips. “Hey, Bryson. Didn’t know you were working tonight?”

Bryson’s head whipped up so fast; Bucky thought it might detach from his shoulders. His cheeks dimpled, and the corners of his striking green eyes crinkled into a bright smile. “Hey, beautiful!” Bryson beamed. “I’m doing a double--covering for Kari. I wasn’t expecting you tonight.”

“You know me,” (Y/N) said with a tinkling laugh. “Just can’t stay away.” Bryson replied with his own laughter.

A flare of jealousy twisted unexpectedly in Bucky’s gut. Was (Y/N) flirting?

Bucky supposed he could consider Bryson classically handsome. He was taller than Bucky with short, sandy brown hair and broad shoulders. His muscular frame filled out the black polo shirt he wore, but he wasn’t overly bulky- like he played baseball in college. There was a smattering of light freckles over his high cheekbones and straight nose. And eyelashes to rival Steve’s.

Was this his competition?

Bucky grumbled to himself and gritted his teeth as he watched the two giggle over some inside joke. There was an envious gnawing behind his ribcage as Bryson leaned onto his elbows over the countertop, inching closer to (Y/N). That was his girl!

Without warning, like a shaken soda bottle, his voice exploded from his mouth, dripping annoyance, “I’ll take a medium Americano, a chocolate croissant, and whatever the lady is having.”

Shocked back into the present by Bucky’s gruff words, Bryson shot upright. His startled green eyes shifted from (Y/N) to Bucky and back again. Bucky could barely contain his eye-roll as the other man feigned busyness after being caught slacking. It was apparent Bryson only had eyes for (Y/N), or he would have noticed she wasn’t alone, despite Bucky standing mere centimeters away from her.

Possessiveness tingled at Bucky’s fingertips, and the compulsion to wrap his arm around (Y/N)’s waist was strong. He wanted so badly to reach out and pull her close. Show this punk who she belonged to.

Regardless of his feelings, though, Bucky had no claim over (Y/N). He’d known her as Bucky for a scant three days. He imagined she’d known Bryson a lot longer. He couldn’t profess his desire to be hers in such a short time, no matter the urgency. It would come off as weird and controlling.

So, he resolved to bite the inside of his cheek and grin and bear it. He could bide his time, right? He’d waited seventy years. What’s another seventy more?

Bucky cringed internally at the thought of waiting.

“(Y/N), you know this guy?” Bryson inquired, acting as if he’d finally grown a pair, with a bite to his words.

Bucky’s pulse fluttered as (Y/N) turned to face him, a smile on her lips and something sparkling in her eyes. “I do,” she said. “He’s my date.” She grinned bigger with a cute scrunch to her nose as she said date.

Bryson’s eyes widened in alarm, then quickly narrowed in suspicion as he observed the flowers (Y/N) held. Bucky wondered, momentarily, if he was the first guy (Y/N) had ever brought into the shop. Was Bryson just as jealous as he was?

It wasn’t until he saw the almost imperceivable head tilt to get (Y/N) to step away from Bucky’s side did he realize what Bryson’s genuine concern was about.

(Y/N)’s brow furrowed in confusion as she took a stride to her right.

In a hushed whisper, Bryson asked, “You know who he is, right?” Bucky’s super-hearing picked up every word.

(Y/N) unsuccessfully tried to blink away her uncertainty, causing her eyebrows to pinch together further. “Who exactly is he, Bryson?” (Y/N) pondered, an edge of irritation leaking into her speech. She crossed her arms over her chest, drawing her sweater tighter around her body.

Bucky could hear it in her voice. (Y/N) knew precisely what Bryson had meant and was trying to draw it out of him.

“You know,” Bryson said, not even trying to whisper anymore. “He’s that guy.”

(Y/N) cocked her head to the side a fraction. “You mean the guy who the US government exonerated for any and all crimes he may have committed as The Winter Soldier? You mean that guy?” (Y/N) deadpanned, uncrossing her arms. Bryson stared at her blankly.

“What about the guy who got drafted into a war unwillingly?” (Y/N) continued. “Or the one captured by the enemy and experimented on against his will?” Her hands curled into fists as the tension in her body rose. Bryson’s eye contact suddenly became very jumpy, unable to focus on her now and for a good reason.

“How about the guy who fell from a train- survived- and had his arm barbarically amputated?”

Bucky watched (Y/N)’s hands tighten further, blanching her knuckles of any color. He shuffled forward, ready to jump in if need be. Although, she was doing a good job holding her own.

“Don’t forget about that one guy who was tortured and abused, brainwashed, and forced to commit unspeakable atrocities for over seventy years, all in the name of a cult,” (Y/N) stated, pressing her palms flat against the countertop and ducking her head, trying to catch Bryson’s eye. His face flushed visibly in embarrassment.

“In case you aren’t caught up on your current events, Bryson, that guy’s name is Bucky Barnes,” (Y/N) spit sardonically.

Bryson raised his eyes at this, and the look on his face darkened. “Regardless of whether he was brainwashed or not, he’s an Avenger,” Bryson sneered, his gaze sliding to Bucky. “And that makes him dangerous.”

What the hell was this guy’s problem? Bucky wondered, wanting to wipe the smirk off his smug face.

(Y/N) let out a humorless huff of a laugh. Her lips spread into a thin line. “No more dangerous than the possibility of being struck by lightning or getting hit by a subway train.”

Bucky chuckled inwardly as Bryson flexed his jaw in frustration. (Y/N) was really getting to him.

Bryson’s expression morphed into something more sinister. “I mean, are you really going to take the word of some ‘expert’ from a third-world country that he won’t turn into a murder-bot again?” The air-quotes in his tone punctuated the contempt he undeniably felt.

Anger blossomed in Bucky’s chest at the degrading mention of the Princess of Wakanda. He owed everything to Shuri. If it weren’t for her, he definitely wouldn’t be in New York right now but on the run again. Shuri saved his life.

Bucky took a step toward the counter, intending to do something, anything to shut this jackass up. Instead, (Y/N) placed a calming hand to his sternum, stopping him from doing anything rash. The look of disdain on Bryson’s face amplified the longer (Y/N)’s touch lingered on his body, and that was equally as satisfying as causing this prick bodily harm.

“While your concern is unwarranted,” (Y/N) assured, “it’s also unwanted. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

She gazed up into Bucky’s blue eyes fondly; a charming smile curled at her lips. “Besides, I don’t think he’d hurt a fly now.”

“It’s your funeral,” Bryson mumbled under his breath. (Y/N) didn’t catch it, or she paid it no mind.

The affection Bucky felt for (Y/N) at that moment swelled exponentially. He was in love with her, he realized. It was no longer just a crush.

No one, other than Steve, had ever championed for him as openly or as forcefully as she had just then. The adoration accumulating in his heart felt like it would erupt at any minute. She made him want to believe in love again. She made him think he might be worthy of that love someday.

He’d have to find a way to earn it, somehow.

Staring into her beautiful face and seeing compassion and empathy made him want to press his lips to hers. He still couldn’t believe she’d found him on accident. It was all so serendipitous.

There was one crucial roadblock obstructing his path to happiness, though. One he couldn’t possibly ignore for much longer without consequences— figuring out how to tell (Y/N) he and James were the same. But how?

Until then, he’d enjoy the ride.

“Hey, Bryson,” (Y/N) vocalized, her timbre a saccharine sweet. “I’ll take a medium iced mocha with extra whip and a white chocolate raspberry scone as well.” She winked at Bucky.

A scoff came from low in the pastry case causing Bucky and (Y/N) to titter in laughter.

“Wow. That was-” Bucky started, trying to find the words to explain how her coming to his defense made him feel.

(Y/N)’s pupils dilated, the gravity of the situation sinking in. “Oh, my God!” she said in a near panic. “I’m so sorry!”

Bucky smiled at her warmly. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.” He brushed a stray hair from her cheek delicately, his fingers dallying along the soft skin. The palm of his hand settled just below her ear, on the side of her neck. His thumb bobbed up and down with every clench and unclenching of her jaw.

“You must be so sick of hearing the same argument over and over again. People deciding your guilt or innocence based on first glances,” (Y/N) murmured, finally dropping her hand from his chest.

Bucky wondered if she could feel the pounding of his heart through all the layers of clothes he was wearing. “It’s nice to have a cheerleader, for once,” he answered honestly.

The corner of (Y/N)’s mouth quirked up. “I’ll always be in your corner, Bucky.”

His stomach dipped at her words’ implications. He whole-heartedly believed she would. “Thank you.”

(Y/N) shrugged in response. Over her bouncing shoulder, Bucky caught a glimpse of Bryson scowling at the two of them from his spot at the espresso machine. Bile churned in his belly. Bryson was turning into a nuisance, like a mosquito at a summer barbeque.

Bucky brought the hand at (Y/N)’s neck down to her upper arm and rubbed it gently. “Why don’t you find us a seat. I’ll finish up here,” he said, giving her a lopsided grin. She returned the gesture and nodded her head in acquiescence, sweeping past him.

Bucky followed her movements through the coffeehouse as she picked a cushioned bistro set positioned near the front windows. The waning light of the day cascaded through the clear glass, highlighting her delicate, feminine features. She was breathtaking.

Turning to face the dreadful barista, the grin on Bucky’s lips faded into a frown.

Bryson set their order down roughly on the register counter and proceeded to punch in the items on the touchscreen. He remained silent, mulishly waiting for payment. The death glare he wore seemed to be permanently etched into his features now.

Bucky could tell he was seething; the vein in his forehead throbbed with every beat of his pulse. Instead of engaging, though, Bucky smirked and slid a twenty-dollar bill toward the other man.

Bryson angrily scooped up the money. He bent his head closer to Bucky, gnashing his teeth. “If you hurt a single hair on her head, I will burn you to the ground,” he taunted, reaching into the till for change and tossing it on the counter.

Bucky’s expression never faltered. His exterior remained composed, cool as a cucumber. Inside, he raged like a bull seeing the color red. He wanted nothing more than to mop the floor with this asshole’s face. Alternatively, he gathered the littered change and dumped it all into the tip jar sitting beside the register. He stared Bryson dead in the face, a ghost of a smile still clinging to his mouth. “And if I ever hear of you treating (Y/N) with the blatant disrespect you showed her today…” Bucky paused, his voice calm and controlled. He leaned forward, pushing in closer to Bryson’s ear. “They’ll never find your body.”

The joy he felt coursing through his body as Bryson’s eyes stretched to the size of saucers and his Adam’s apple wobbled as he gulped in fear was indescribable.

Bucky gathered their drinks and pastries, pivoting towards the table where (Y/N) sat. He shouted over his shoulder as he walked away, “Have a good day, Bryson!”

Chapter Six (Part 2) | Chapter Eight

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[akitokihojo]

Stay

Woah, two posts in one day? Yeah... yeeeeeeah. I don't usually post so late, but as I sat here staring at this document, I realized that if I don't post it now, I never will.

Okay, look, this story is extremely personal for me and I want to give a warning about that. If you know me or have been following me for a while, you may have noticed I tend to keep to myself, I'm quiet, and I'm private. But, as most humans, I have things I battle, too. I've been through things, too.

My coping mechanisms are humor and "add to cart." My therapy is writing. I decided to give this a shot. I've gotten personal with older fics before, but it's vague and I sort of lightly mix it in there like food seasonings. "Everything's Okay" and "A Moment" are examples of which. This story is largely based off something real. The emotion behind it is real. Very real.

Now, I will admit, the comfort added isn't. It's something I've realized over the past couple of years that I both crave and deserve. It's something that would help me incredibly, and maybe it's unrealistic, but that doesn't take away from the fact that I want it. So bad. So, I wrote. I made it happen.

I decided to project everything into my comfort otp, so if either Kagome or Inuyasha seem out of character, it's because they are. Sorry about that. It was difficult to keep their characteristics in tact. Particularly, Inuyasha. He's unbelievably soft here.

This is sloppy. I did my best to edit, but like I said, the longer I sat on it, the less likely it was bound to be posted. Just consider it unfiltered emotions if it seems messy, because that's what it's supposed to be.

Some disclaimers that I'll open up about: Yes, all of those negative things have been said to me by a past ex. What Kagome tells Inuyasha is very real for me. Also, replace "abusive father" with "abusive mother" and you've got it. :) I just didn't feel comfortable disrespecting mama higurashi with such slander, so since Kagome's father isn't in the picture, it was simpler.

Okay, I'm done. Thank you. If you read this, thank you. Again.

---

“Come on, Kagome. Show me.” Inuyasha encouraged supportively.

Kagome sighed, adjusting the shorts a bit better around her waist as she stared at herself in the mirror on the inside of the door. She’d comfortably tucked herself away in the walk-in closet of her boyfriend’s bedroom, preferring the space she had and the length of the mirror as opposed to the bathroom that only showed her up to her hips unless she bounced to her tippy toes.

“Houston, we have a problem.” She spoke.

“Define ‘problem.’” Inuyasha proposed. “Because, I realized a long time ago that you and I have two totally different definitions of the word.”

No, this was a definite problem. Unfortunately, it seemed she’d purchased clothing from one of the retailers that didn’t quite grasp that some woman had thicker asses and thighs. The shorts fit, but they hugged her in places she needed a little more room in. God forbid, she sit down. Then, they’d fit her like underwear.

The band was comfortable along her hips, but felt a little better if she pulled it up a smidge toward her waist. But then the underside of her booty cheeks popped out, and that for sure wasn’t something she could sport in public. Or, she could. She just wouldn’t be comfortable doing so. It wasn’t her style. She preferred a hint of more modesty. Not to mention, the shorts were very tight against her lady bits, and that was definitely something she didn’t want her clothing riding up on.

“Babe.”

“Curse these thighs.”

“Oh, see what I mean?” He chimed from the other side of the door. “That’s the exact opposite of a problem.”

“It’s a problem if the shorts don’t fit, Inuyasha.”

“Show me.”

“They don’t fit.”

“Okay, we’ll return them. But, show me first.”

“Why do you want to see them if they don’t fit?” She laughed lightly.

“Why wouldn’t I? Do I have to spell this out to you every time?” Inuyasha asked, making it obvious that he was feigning irritation.

“It doesn’t hurt.”

“Alright, first of all, I know you’re ridiculously critical of yourself. I have a more objective point of view, and therefore that makes my opinion the only valid one here.”

“Hey -“

“I’m not finished. Second, I love seeing you in tight clothing. That’s a given. You don’t have to keep it, and you should always wear things you’re comfortable in, but at least do the right thing and let me see first. I think I deserve that much. Third, and most importantly, ass and thighs. Your ass and thighs.” Inuyasha made a chef’s kiss motion even though she couldn’t see, losing himself in the thought of some of his favorite assets of hers. “You know damn well how much I love them. So, please - please - come out and show me, Kagome.”

Behind the door, she fought her smile, losing so quickly it was as if she hardly stood a chance against it. It wasn’t that she didn’t like her body, but he was right. There were some imperfections that had her self-conscious at times, and he knew without saying when they started dating over five months ago that her thighs were one of them. And, she could tell the half demon she called hers genuinely adored everything she deemed unworthy.

Giving a minor adjustment to make sure the area between her thighs had enough room to breathe, she sighed out any apprehension and opened the door. Inuyasha sat on the edge of the bed waiting, golden eyes instantly on her. He skimmed over the way she’d tucked her shirt into the underside of her bra to keep it out of the way, gazed at her tummy for a small moment, then drifted his sights down to the shorts hugging her snuggly.

He barely blinked, his expression practically blanking, and Kagome’s cheeks went red hot.

“Inuyasha?”

“Shh. I’m concentrating.”

Kagome laughed, turning away from him bashfully.

“Shit, no! I wasn’t ready for that!” He cried, pressing the heels of his hands into his temples as if he were in a panic. Her ass. It looked phenomenal. He wasn’t mentally prepared to see just how plump it looked in those bottoms, and it sent his mind reeling.

“What!?” She gasped, her hands instinctually falling to cover her butt as she spun back to face the way she’d originally been.

“Oh my god.” Inuyasha mewled. “Are you kidding me, Kagome!? Where’s the problem!? Where’s the mother fucking problem!? Because, I don’t see it!”

It was thought to be impossible, but she felt her face flush even hotter. So hot, she wanted to hide it, knowing full and well her embarrassment was visible and prominent. She kind of tucked her head down slightly, hoping the dim lighting in his room would be her ally and shade her blush while she presented her issues with the garment of clothing.

“Well, it’s tight on my thighs. See, when I do this -“ She explained as she lifted her leg slightly as if she was going to take a step forward. The bottom hem of her shorts tightened against her quad, squeezing around the plush before riding up an inch. “It’s not very comfortable. I like a bit of a looser fit. And, then my butt. It’s suffocating. I’m scared one wrong move will make these shorts rip.”

“God forbid.”

“Inuyasha, seriously.” She deadpanned.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m listening. Anything else?” He apologized with a grin, conceding.

“Yes. I can’t sit in these.”

“Why not?”

“Too tight.”

“So, you literally can’t sit?”

“No, I mean I’m sure I can. It’s just not a good idea.”

“Because, they’ll rip?”

“That. Or, they’ll turn into chonies.”

“What?”

“Underwear.”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware you got such versatile clothing. I could have sworn we were nowhere near the lingerie section.”

Kagome laughed through her groan, tossing her head back in minor exasperation due to her boyfriend’s sarcasm. It was going to be hard to describe, and she was sure if she attempted such he’d only throw more jokes her way, so she shut her mouth and decidedly took to demonstrating her vexation. She crossed the floor, hoped for the best, and plopped into a seat right next to Inuyasha. Her thighs fluffed out and her shorts effectively rode all the way up, giving her legs the attention they apparently demanded.

Inuyasha’s eyes were glued to her thighs and the way her clothing wrinkled along her anatomy. He’d had to press his lips into a tight line to prevent their proud and joyful crinkle, but it was so desperately difficult to fend off. Kagome was quick to notice and her brows pinched together, a small pout forming.

“You tricked me.” She murmured. “You wanted me to sit down, didn’t you?”

“I’ll admit, it was a lot easier than I expected it would be.” He said, gently stroking the pads of his fingers over the softness of her legs. “Again, I find it important to remind you that you and I clearly have very different definitions of what a problem is. This… this is not a problem. Not at all.”

“Well, see, I sort of wanted to be able to wear these outside of your apartment.” Kagome giggled, inadvertently melting into his touch. It was so light, it almost tickled, but she felt his warmth radiating from his hand, she felt his attraction, she felt his good-natured and honest feelings toward her body, and it was nothing short of what she both wanted and needed right now.

“I know, I know. We’ll return them and get a larger pair. Still, not a problem.” He grinned, planting his whole palm on her thigh and sliding it inward, shoving it to sit in the heat between. He leaned over and kissed her temple.

“Don’t even think about it.” Kagome hummed, leaning into his tender touch.

“Hm?”

“You’re about to lay down on my thighs, aren’t you?”

“What? I can’t?” The half demon pouted with legitimate shock on his brow.

“The moment you’re down, you’re down. You know damn well you’re not getting up if I let you, and I want to get out of these shorts.”

“But, Kagome -“

“Boy, if you knew exactly how these are constricting certain areas, you’d understand.” She laughed, playfully shoving his hand off of her as she stood. Before walking toward the closet where she’d left her skirt, she turned to face her boyfriend, bending at the waist and pushing his bangs from his forehead to plant a kiss against his skin. “I should get going soon, anyway. It’s getting late.”

“Don’t go, then.” He said, tone gruff as his amber eyes met hers. “Stay with me.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d asked her to stay the night, impromptu. Far from it. Every time, though, caused something in her chest to stir, something in her stomach to flutter, something in her bloodstream to effervesce in both a wonderful and unsettling way - the unsettling part deriding from a different emotion she’d recently noticed planting its roots somewhere inside of her. Inuyasha grabbed her hand, running his thumb over the tops of her fingers while his expression shifted to one of seriousness. No jokes, no funny business, no sarcasm was present any longer.

“I don’t feel like I got all the time I wanted with you. Since we were out and about most of the day, I feel like I had to share parts of you with the world, so now that it’s just you and I, I’m not quite ready to let you go. Will you stay?”

Internally, Kagome was telling herself to keep it together. It was such a small gesture, such a tiny request, but it was always the little things he said to her, like this, the mannerisms he displayed when he was sincere, the way his amber eyes met hers when he waited for her answer that had her feeling unstable. Like, she could cry. Like, she was more afraid than she was thirty seconds ago, or an hour ago, or when she saw his smile earlier this afternoon when they met up, or last night, or when she crashed and burned upon realizing what, exactly, it was she felt for Inuyasha a month ago. She swallowed, forcing herself to show none of that as she made a small smile appear on her face.

“Can I borrow a shirt to sleep in?”

A grin sprouted on Inuyasha’s lips as he kissed the hand he held, standing to cross over to his dresser.

“You want your favorite, or a different one?” He asked, ignoring the twitch his own sensitive ear gave as the wood scraped open.

“Whichever. Can I take a shower?”

“Of course.” He said in a manner that suggested she knew she didn’t have to ask by now. He was well-acquainted with her routine and how she preferred showers before bed as opposed to first thing in the morning. That, and they’d recently gotten her some extra toiletries to store in his bathroom for times she stayed over. He was equipped for her company, and sooner or later, Kagome was bound to learn that she was more than welcome to treat his place as her own. Her scent, her voice, her contagious laughter were all he needed, and if his apartment was filled with it, Inuyasha couldn’t think of anything that would make him happier.

Kagome took the large band tee the hanyou offered with a grateful smile and snagged some boxers from the top drawer he’d just opened with a playful, little scrunch of her nose before ambling over to the closet to pick up her skirt and reach for a towel on the shelf.

Why? Why was her heart thumping uncontrollably? She was so happy. So, so, so content. But, yet a crippling sensation was crawling its way up her esophagus to make home in her throat; to grow large, and dense, and sit there to make it impossible to swallow any longer. Ever since that night a month ago, when she’d hung up the phone after a goodnight call with Inuyasha - who was traveling at the time for work, was beyond tired, spoke to her in that husky tone she was utterly weak for, and who’d called out of mere courtesy to let her know he’d made it to his destination safely - she hadn’t been feeling secure. Not because of him. He hadn’t done anything wrong. In fact, despite their little, bickering spats and his tendency to get a bit jealous over guys she spoke to, he was doing everything right. He wasn’t the one giving her reason to fear. It was her.

It was what she’d been through.

It was something she was so terrified he would turn around and say to her, that it practically debilitated her rational mind.

But, still, the feeling it stemmed from grew and expanded, the tree roots burying themselves in the soil of her heart, and Kagome was positive by now, after thirty days had passed with no decrease but, instead, the exact opposite, that there was no convincing herself that it wasn’t there. Because, every time she saw him smile, every time he held her hand, every time he expressed himself to her, it banged on her walls like an innocent prisoner demanding freedom.

When she was sure her emotions weren’t superficial, when she was positive there was no changing anything on her end, Kagome had to really look within herself to figure out how to maneuver about things. Did she openly tell him? Was there a right time to say these things? She even debated never saying anything at all, and for a good while, she was settled on that option. It wasn’t the right thing to do, though. It was like she was allowing her past, her previous broken heart, to dictate how she expressed affection toward others, and the potential ‘others’ who hadn’t done her wrong didn’t deserve that. Kagome had always been the type to wear her rather large and vulnerable heart on her sleeve. The cage she held it in now, it wasn’t locked. She wanted to put it back where it belonged, but she was so scared, it made her nauseous. The cage door was opened, held cracked from the inside, the weary organ protecting itself behind a barrier that just needed some encouragement to come out from.

Again, she’d wondered to herself countless times: was there a right moment to say something like this? Was there a procedure she needed to follow? She’d said it first last time, and nothing ended in her favor, so maybe she shouldn’t be the one to initiate this topic? Maybe it applied too much pressure? Should she just keep it to herself behind lock and key? Was he going to be receptive? Was it going to scare him away? Please, don’t scare him away. Please, please don’t leave.

And, countless times, she ended up in tears from the crushing weight of it. Kagome knew the truth. She didn’t have to consult anyone to know what the right thing to do was. It didn’t matter how many nights she stared at the ceiling obsessing over right and wrong, this or that, pros and cons, yes and no’s, because in the back of her mind, the answer was right there in big, bold letters. She was just trying to dance around it. It was so stressful. Something that was depicted as a happy and liberating occurrence was reduced to horrifying and anxiety-inducing for her.

The fact of the matter was, no one should have the power to change her heart. More so, Kagome shouldn’t give anyone that power. The way she felt so deeply was, in fact, a good thing. It was. It was. It was a fight just to get herself to understand that again, feeling like she was convincing herself of something she no longer believed, but she knew the only way she would, once more, feel that freedom was to open up. Stop hiding.

The thought was heavy. It didn’t sit comfortably with her. There were certain things Kagome was okay talking about, and there were certain things Kagome would rather eat up, swallow, and take to the grave. But, that was vulnerability, and she understood that if anyone deserved that part of you, it was your partner. Inuyasha was her partner. He was patient. He listened to her about things that made her uneasy, he took into account how she could be both a social butterfly sometimes and introverted during others, how when she was overwhelmed she had a tendency to shut down, how physical touch was her love language, and he even went so far as to ask her how she would prefer he respond to certain predicaments if she were to ever get overstimulated with him around.

Inuyasha had proved time and time again that he not only wanted to experience every side of her, but that he deserved it. He deserved it.

It jostled her to the core as she considered telling him now, her stomach churning, her heart pounding erratically, her bottom lip quivering as she’d learned to expect rejection. It was why she struggled initiating anything. It was why she had trouble saying the words to anyone but herself, “I want.” It was a learned reaction to her past trauma, but Inuyasha, the half dog demon she called hers, the silver-haired man who always did everything he could to make her feel safe while with him, the person who treated her as special as he’d insisted she was, wasn’t the one who’d hurt her. So, she’d decided over a week ago, she was going to do it. She was going to do it and let him know. Best case scenario, it was always nice to hear you’re loved and he may end up appreciating her confession. Worst case, things were going to get awkward and tense and it may end their relationship for good.

Kagome wanted to be Kagome again. Not the person she was before she’d met her ex. Not exactly, at least. She still wanted the lessons she’d learned with him to be applied to who she was. They were valuable, and not everything she learned had her closing off. As an open-minded thinker, she realized that not every wound left a scar, so not everything that happened made her a victim. Some things are just incidents that taught her lessons to take into tomorrow. So, she wanted to return to Kagome, the bright girl who faced her fears, who wore her precious heart on her sleeve, her loved with everything she had no matter what, but who was just a few experiences wiser. But, no one could do that for her. No one could give her that push she needed. It all came from within.

Of course, so did fear. So did nausea. So did that anxious part of her brain that said, “Let’s do it tomorrow, instead. Or, the day after that.”

Kagome took a deep breath, trembling as it may have been, and looked over to her boyfriend. He’d just removed his shirt from over his head, his short, tousled, silver strands appearing slightly messier than before once he was free, and he glanced over his shoulder her way, most likely feeling her eyes on him.

“Inuyasha,” She tried to come off as stable as possible, but there was an obvious waver in her tone that gave her trepidation away.

“Hm?” He hummed, the corners of his lips twitching downward before he dropped his shirt on the floor and faced her better.

“Can I - um…” It was impossible to hold her eyes steady on him, her deep, brown gaze falling to the floor every time she picked them up to look at him. “I need to talk to you about something.”

“Okay. I’m all yours.”

Kagome took another breath, willing her body to stop fidgeting. It was Inuyasha. It was just Inuyasha. As soon as she realized there was no stilling her fingers beneath the clothes and towel she held, or the way she bit hard into the inside of her bottom lip, she felt the best course of action was to simply carry on; wavering eye contact, trembling fingers, quivering lips, and all.

“Let me first preface this with: please don’t say anything. Just let me get it out there. I don’t expect anything from you in return, there’s no pressure whatsoever, and I would rather you not say anything at all. Like, at all. Okay?”

Truthfully, Inuyasha was freaked out. Had something happened? Was she about to admit to something bad? Kagome looked about ready to breakdown and cry, and the fact that she was asking for him to remain completely silent only told him she was afraid of judgement. Never had she asked him to stay quiet before. And, he hated how apprehensive his girlfriend looked right now. His instinct was to solve the problem, so what was he supposed to do here but agree to her terms?

“What’s going on, Kagome?”

“Please?”

“Alright. I won’t talk. Now, spill.”

She pinched the back of her wrist to stay grounded, to keep from crying. God, she was so pathetically nervous, and three times now, she’d almost convinced herself to back out and pretend it was a joke. That wouldn’t be right, though. She wanted to cry so bad and she hadn’t even said anything yet, so she pinched herself harder, her nails incidentally digging in. As soon as she felt a degree of control fall back into her grasps, Kagome leveled her gaze at him.

The words sat on her tongue, weighted with the shackles she’d placed there herself. A lump had formed and solidified in her throat, clinging for dear life and making everything so much harder than it needed to be. God, she was really shaking. Her breathing was becoming unsteady as if she’d already started crying and she could feel her expression crinkling into something terribly sad. She knew that was how she appeared only from the way Inuyasha’s lips parted, how his brows curved in worry, how he wanted to reach for her but seemed so confused that he could only stand there and wait.

Like a bandaid. Once the words were out, it wouldn’t be so bad anymore. She just had to get through it.

“Um - I - I - I am -“ The stammering was relentless, and out of sheer obstinance, Kagome shied away for one moment, took a short breath, huffed it out, then faced him again. “I’m in love with you.”

There was a slight arch to his brow, and his chin inched to the side minutely. Very slowly, Inuyasha’s lips sealed and his gaze hardened, falling to the ground. Hastily, Kagome followed her confession with disclaimers, irrevocably panicking.

“A-and, I don’t expect you to say it back! You don’t have to say a word about it! There’s no pressure at all, Inuyasha! I swear!” With each statement, he seemed to be growing more and more tense, and Kagome was terrified she was only making matters worse, but she blinked profusely so her tears didn’t have the chance to breach the brim of her lids. “I just wanted you to know. So, yeah. Now you know.” Her voice had fallen to a hitch just above a whisper at that point, admonished.

Inuyasha kept his promise. He didn’t speak. Kagome was stiff in her spot, not quite knowing what move to make next. She hadn’t thought this far ahead. It was hard to think beyond her admittance in the first place. It was too quiet, and she could hear the clock in the living room loudly ticking seconds by.

“Just nod or shake your head; do you still want me to stay?” She asked sheepishly.

Finally, Inuyasha’s glowing stare rose to hers again, and it frighteningly seemed to grow harder, more tense. She saw the rigid muscles of his jaw clench, and his chest rose with the very slow inhale he took through his nose. Steadily, the hanyou responded with a firm nod. In the next moment, he gestured for her to head down the hall to the bathroom with a notch of his chin, which she wasted no time in complying to. Kagome bit her lip, hard, shakily turned on her heel, and left Inuyasha alone in the room.

The second he heard the bathroom door lock and the shower turn on, Inuyasha dropped his seat on the bed, crumbling forward as he braced his forehead in his hands, elbows jabbing into his thighs. His chest was physically aching, his throat tight, and Inuyasha felt thoroughly crushed. He could literally see the fear in her eyes, the anxiety holding her by the neck. Why? Had he given her some reason to worry? Had he made it seem like that was a taboo topic?

It didn’t take long to rationalize. Logically, he knew it wasn’t him. It wasn’t personal. And, he knew that because he knew exactly how it felt to be afraid of unadulterated vulnerability. It felt like you were naked, exposed to the world, trusting someone with something so valuable and important when you weren’t even sure if you could trust yourself with something like that. It was hard. It was nerve wracking.

But, there was something deeper to it.

Why else would she insist he didn’t respond? It was clear as day. He knew that feeling. He’d been hurt before, too. They’d been together for almost half a year, he knew a good portion of her story, and she knew just as much about his. It was impossible to know it all quite yet, though. Five, six months may seem like a long time to some, but it’s honestly nothing in retrospect. They’re just scratching the surface. He knew the general aspects about her abusive father, he knew she had an emo phase in high school, he knew the superficial shit like her favorite colors, foods, drinks, what medications she needed to take and how often, he knew how she tasted, her tickle spots, where the heating pads were stashed in her apartment - because she had multiple for easy accessibility depending on what room she was in while she was down for the count on her period, and he knew she’d had her heart broken before. But, he didn’t know every little detail about certain things yet.

Inuyasha had had his heart broken before, as well. He knew that feeling. He knew how gruesome and tedious it was to start over, how awful the idea of opening up all over again was, how awkward and weary it felt to tiptoe around specific subjects until you felt comfortable enough describing them, so on and so forth. He knew. Just, apparently, not as well as Kagome did. He was willing to guess that her heart wasn’t just broken. It was trampled on.

His most recent relationship was up and down. He and his ex were never on the same page. He fell quickly but his feelings were unrequited. Then, later on, she began to show more affection, but he’d become closed off by the time that came. Nevertheless, neither of them spoke those words. They never truly opened up about what they felt, how they felt, or why they felt anything, especially romantically. Up until now, Inuyasha had never heard the words, “I’m in love with you.”

Up until recently, Inuyasha had never felt the urge to say, “I’m in love with you.”

No.

That’s wrong.

Sure, recent was a broad term, but it happened several months ago. Several months too soon, he’d deemed. Kagome was playing with his niece, teaching the six year-old how to use a toy compass she’d brought home from class, and congratulating her excitedly whenever Rin got something right. His niece wasn’t shy by any means. She was talkative, playful, bubbly, and bright. But, she had this thing about being touched. She didn’t like it. Only certain somebodies could hold her, hugs were off the table unless you were one of four people, high fives were a maybe, and yet he watched the little girl ask Kagome to watch a movie with her when she was done with the compass, cuddle up next to her on the couch, and fall asleep on her lap without persuasion.

That was it. Kagome respected Rin’s autonomy and boundaries, and Rin let her in by the third time they’d met.

And, Inuyasha fell. Hard.

Again, too soon. So, not saying it was easy. No big deal. After a while, it sort of began spilling out in his idiosyncrasies, in the way he touched her, worshipped her, in the way he craved the knowledge on how to properly care for her. In his terms, he was being painfully obvious. It was almost humiliating how obvious he was being.

It just looks like it wasn’t obvious enough. How could he have expected her to understand? It’s not like she was fluent in his body language or habits. At this point, if she needed it spelled out to her, he’d happily do so.

Because, despite her overwhelming and damn near crippling fear she’d just waded through, Kagome still told him the truth. Kagome courageously stood there, attempted to look him in the eyes, and told him she loved him, no matter how scared or nervous she appeared. If he needed to say it back in order for her to understand, he could return the gesture without hesitation.

First, though, he needed to comprehend what was going through that head of hers. He wasn’t going to jump to conclusions. This wasn’t the time to do so. What she was feeling, that look in her eyes, it stemmed from something deep, something that wasn’t quite healed. He needed, desperately needed, to know what happened. He’d promised to keep his mouth shut earlier, but he hadn’t promised how long he’d hold that. She may have meant about that topic entirely, but that was something he couldn’t and wouldn’t agree to. There was no way in hell he was going to let this slide. Eventually, they were going to have to discuss this.

Now was that time.

Inuyasha suddenly stood, filled with a rage that had surfaced as soon as she shakily asked him if he still wanted her to stay, feeling so irate that he could only clench his fists and pace the floor. There was a good fucking chance this originated with her ex. Maybe her father, but his gut told him otherwise. The things he knew about that relationship were vague. Kagome didn’t like to fixate on it, which was reasonable for anyone who’d moved on, and they never really found a good time to open up about nitty gritty details pertaining to failed relationships; they were more focused on one another and their individual lives. He was fuming. What the fuck had that motherfucker done?

He knew they broke up over two years ago. He knew he’d dumped her just before their anniversary. He knew their relationship wasn’t entirely horrible, but much like he and his own ex-girlfriend, they were rarely on the same page. That’s about it, though. He’d heard a thing or two about how she’d realized way after they’d broken up just how toxic their relationship actually was - one of those late night, shower-thought epiphanies - but she never much elaborated. Hell, she talked about it all so rarely, Inuyasha had even forgotten the fucker’s name. He was her ex-boyfriend so that naturally deemed him irrelevant, because Inuyasha was her current boyfriend and that was all that fucking mattered. But, now he wished he remembered because it would make it at least a little easier to track the bitch ass down and punch his lights out.

She’d opened the door, and he needed to know what was on the other side of it. Inuyasha not only craved, but found it a foundational necessity to understand what had her so anxious to tell him how she felt. First, he recognized he needed to calm down. He couldn’t approach this with heightened emotion because it would cause Kagome to feel insecure and unsafe, which he would never allow her to feel around him.

That was hard for him to do, though. To swallow his frustration, push it aside. He felt things passionately, much like Kagome did. For her, for the light he always looked to for a sense of peace and felicity, for the woman he respected and cherished, he would do it. He could do it.

It took a moment, but Inuyasha left his room and headed to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water to sip on and an extra one for his girlfriend. The shower had stopped running moments ago, and the hairdryer was now blowing. She was biding time. Kagome, more often than not, let her hair air dry. This was killing him. The fact that she was so afraid, so nervous, the fact that she felt anything but contentment in the face of pure and unbridled emotion. Inuyasha just wanted to burst through the bathroom door and tell her to stop, demand she look him in the eyes and say it again and watch how he would never turn away from her. What could he have possibly said that had her more content with silence?

Content wasn’t what she’d felt at all though, was it? Even after he’d kept his mouth shut, Kagome was still trembling, still incredibly uncomfortable.

He was going to the bottom of this.

But, something in his heart wrenched. Overall, he just hoped with everything he had that she didn’t regret telling him.

There was careful deliberation on where he should wait for her. He’d debated standing outside the bathroom door to guide her back with him, but that would apply a lot of pressure straight from a safe zone. There was always the option to sit on the couch until she emerged, but still, he was worried she’d feel like she was under a spotlight. No matter what, Inuyasha was going to be taking her back into his bedroom. It was cozy and comfortable, and he just wanted to fucking hold her. The best course of action was to let Kagome come to him. When she was ready. No matter how much patience wasn’t his virtue. So, he ambled back through the doorway with both water bottles in hand, placing them on the nightstand as he got himself into more comfortable clothing. He’d never finished changing after dropping his shirt on the floor. He grabbed his grey sweats off the end of the bed and shoved his legs into them after removing his jeans, then fished a black tank top out of his dresser, easily and quickly pulling it over his head.

It wasn’t a bad thing that she’d told him. Kagome should be proud of herself. Over and over again, she’d repeated that in her head, but she couldn’t stop herself from feeling like she’d done something wrong. Maybe she’d put him on the spot and made him uncomfortable. She should have at least given him the space to tell her he wasn’t ready to say it back if that was how he felt. That she would have completely and wholeheartedly understood without fault.

Now she was stuck in an unknown area, her head was foggy, her fingers kept trembling, and her eyes were puffy from crying like a baby in the shower. The goal was to tell him how she felt. It was a step in the right direction. A step toward who she truly was behind the protective walls. From this point on, depending on how Inuyasha was feeling, it might be best to pretend nothing happened. Sweep it under the rug.

Everything was so conflicting, so turbulent, and Kagome could bring herself to do nothing but stare at the bathroom doorknob. Her hair was dry, she was dressed in her borrowed outfit, smelling purely of Inuyasha, and even though he still wanted her to stay, she couldn’t believe anything other than the possibility that she’d ruined everything.

What would happen once she exited the bathroom? Would things be uncomfortable? Would he be laying down in bed, facing the wall away from her, silent? Would he ignore her? Would he say something she was terrified to hear right now? Or, was she trapped in her unhealthy thoughts? Was she preparing a response to something that wasn’t waiting for her outside that door? Was she not giving Inuyasha the opportunity to respond in his own, organic way, expecting all the responses she was trained to anticipate before?

With a deep breath, Kagome reached for the knob, twisting it to exit. The apartment was as quiet as it was when she locked herself inside, the clock in the living room ticking loudly as she slowly sauntered through. Lights were dim, but the bedroom, through the opened door, was inhabited. The lamps shaded the white walls in warm hues, and as she got closer she noticed a very soft hum of music playing through the bluetooth speakers he had set up in there, quiet but still melodic and comforting.

Though her heart was pounding and a jittery sensation within her chest was causing her to tread cautiously, she followed the path into his bedroom, spotting Inuyasha sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands. He was quick to notice her presence, sitting up and glancing at her, and even though she faked a smile with a curious notch of her head, it was clear he saw right through her. How wouldn’t he? If he already didn’t know her so well, it was obvious she wouldn’t go from cripplingly apprehensive before her shower to sweet and happy immediately after.

Inuyasha noticed the pink in her cheeks, the stupidly cute but feigned upturn of her plush lips, the way her deep eyes bounced away from him before coming right back only to repeat the same motions. His Kagome. His sweet, hurting, beautiful Kagome.

With an arch of his brow, the hanyou wagged his finger at her, ushering her over to sit on his lap. She was hesitant at first. She knew what was coming, but still, despite her slight discomfort, he released a small, breathy chuckle so she knew he wasn’t upset with her.

“C’mere.” He requested softly, patting his thighs.

“What?” Kagome returned, unsure.

“I want you. C’mere.”

Slowly, she crossed the floor, accepting her boyfriend’s support as she straddled his lap and got comfortable. An uncontrollable pout formed on her face when he looked into her eyes, she felt it, and humiliation washed over her, causing her to hide her expression between his shoulder and neck.

Inuyasha was patient, making sure she was secure in her seat before his hands traveled over her. At first, he couldn’t help but hug her tight. In this moment, Kagome seemed so fragile and he could already feel her body shaking against him. She knew he was going to talk whether she liked it or not.

Still, he gave her a little more time, relaxing against him, her chest melting on his, her arms wrapped around his shoulders but accepting his full support as his hands rubbed over her back soothingly.

“You want to tell me what happened back there?” He asked, opening back up the topic.

“Did I do it wrong?” Kagome spoke, her voice small.

“I’m not worried about right and wrong here, baby. Can you look at me for a second?”

Carefully, Kagome leaned back, giving him the attention he requested. His large, warm hands cradled her jaw, his thumbs caressing her cheeks, his eye contact firm.

“I never want you to be afraid to tell me something, okay? Especially, how you feel.”

Immediately, Kagome began to crumble. Her cheeks grew hot and her lips twitched downward sadly. Tears too quickly threatened her eyes, and Kagome was hasty to hide her face in his shoulder again.

“I need you to talk to me, Kagome. What’s going on?” He asked, returning to rubbing her back. In the silence as he waited, he picked up the back hem of the large shirt she wore, pushing his hands beneath so he could gently massage her skin. The heat from her, the softness, he craved it right now. “Was it something I did?”

Kagome fervently shook her head against him.

“I’m never going to understand unless you tell me, baby. That wasn’t the normal amount of nervousness you’d expect when saying something like that. So, what’s going on?”

“I just didn’t want you to feel obligated to say it back if you weren’t ready.” Kagome sniffled, hugging him tighter.

“Okay, I get that. And, what else?”

“That’s all.”

“You can’t lie to me.”

“Can we just pretend nothing happened and go back to our happy date night?” She whined playfully.

“Unfortunately, no.” Inuyasha chuckled, catching her small attempt at laughing off her problems. “I can’t do that while you’re crying on me, Kagome.”

“I’m not crying.” She sniffled again.

“Oh? You’re not?”

“Nope. These are just allergies.”

“And, what are you suddenly allergic to?”

“Feelings.” Kagome giggled, though she began crying harder, only because her boyfriend was being sweet and obviously getting through to her. She both hated and loved it at the same time.

Inuyasha kissed her shoulder, holding her a little tighter as his hand slipped higher up her bare back. The curve from her little slouch against him had her spine popping out slightly, and ever so softly, Inuyasha traced his fingers over the bones.

“What were you so afraid of me saying?” He all but whispered.

Mustering up some courage, Kagome leaned back, using one hand to meagerly clear her messy face of tears. She took a few unsteady breaths before speaking, her eyes falling to the hem of the collar of his black top, and she allowed her fingers to distractingly drag along it.

“I didn’t want you to tell me you loved me if you weren’t ready or felt pressured, because I don’t want you to take it back later on.”

The hanyou’s brows furrowed inquisitively and he was unable to bite back the reaction of his head cocking to the side in bemusement.

“What?” He almost hissed. “Why would I do that?”

Kagome didn’t answer, continuing to play with the shirt he wore.

“Kagome, why are you afraid of that happening? Don’t tell me -“ Inuyasha had to tense his breath in his lungs to refrain from letting his upset get the better of him. “Did your ex…?”

She responded with the littlest nod, worrying her bottom lip incessantly. “Multiple times.”

“Multiple times?” He echoed on an exhale, his expression widening. His hands were holding her hips, squeezing as comfortingly as possible, but Inuyasha was struck cold. Not only had someone shattered her, but someone managed to look at this woman on top of him and take back their love on more than one occasion? This girl? How? He’d only had her for half a year and he was scared shitless of losing her, so it didn’t make any fucking sense that someone would just toss her aside like that as if she meant nothing.

Slowly, Kagome curled forward, tucking herself against his shoulder. It was like a safety net. Inuyasha was so warm, he held her perfectly every time she felt emotional and vulnerable. As much as she didn’t want to talk about this, she knew this topic would come up eventually. It was a staple of her by now, something she was clearly conditioned to expect after years of receiving it, and even before she fell in love with the man stroking her back beneath her shirt, she knew this issue would arise. It wasn’t going to be easy or quick to work through, that was a given, and she knew he was ultimately going to need to know some of the toxic occurrences of her previous relationship; things that were done to her and things she’d done, as well. She’d considered it was going to be something he’d want clarity on as soon as she admitted her feelings. It was fair. Being on the other end of things, he deserved to know what she’d been through and why she inadvertently responded the way she had.

It was just hard. It was hard to think about and hard to talk about.

But, if she could power through her fear of admitting her feelings, then she could give him everything else, too. It was another step in the right direction, no matter how unsteady the pathway seemed.

“I told him I loved him first, and he responded by telling me I shouldn’t. He was my first love, so I didn’t really know how to react or what to say to that. It’s not like I could just take it back or agree or something.”

“Right.” Inuyasha almost hummed, listening intently to her explanation as he kissed her shoulder here and there.

“Almost a year later, he told me he was falling in love with me. A few months after that, he took it back and said he wasn’t so sure anymore since we’d been arguing.”

The half demon couldn’t control his reaction to hold Kagome a little tighter. It was like an attempt to protect her from things he knew he couldn’t begin to protect her from. If he could control it, no one would ever speak to her like that. No one would ever hurt her this way. No one would ever be able to apply that pressure to her shoulders, because how could she not feel obligated to be perfect and compliant in order to feel valued and cherished?

“Then, I don’t know how long later, he told me he loved me again. It stayed consistent for a while. He’d tell me periodically, particularly when I did nice things for him or if I said it first. Then, again, he ended up taking it back. I had felt it that time and asked him if he still loved me. He said, ‘I don’t know.’ Followed by,” Kagome’s fingers clutched Inuyasha’s shirt, exhaling tremblingly, though she had been doing so well at keeping it together. “‘Maybe soon I’ll love you again, though.’ So, I idiotically stayed. I held onto that hope. I waited and waited until we got into this stupid fight and he broke up with me the next day. He made sure to emphasize that he didn’t love me. But, said he might in the future, we’d just need to stay friends. ‘You never know what the future stores.’”

God, Inuyasha wanted to kill him.

“There was one night after we finally found separate places, we were packing, getting ready to move out of our shared apartment, and we were talking about old things. He told me he never loved me. And, I just never understood why things went on for so long just because he wasn’t sure. Why would you say it if you didn’t? Why couldn’t he have let me go sooner? What good was I if he didn’t even want me there? I wasn’t strong enough to leave, but he was because he literally hung that over my head for most of the time we were together, threatening me with leaving if I didn’t do something right. I have so many things to work through because of him, so many trauma responses to correct, trust issues that I’m projecting unto you, and he walked away like nothing ever happened.” Kagome cried, once again shaking against Inuyasha.

All he could do was kiss her, hush her soothingly, hold her tight, rub the hot flesh of her back. Let her cry. He understood now. He got it. It was why she struggled to take compliments the first time around. It was why she second-guessed sweet gestures. It was why she assumed everything was sarcastic and insincere. It was why she thought her love for him was problematic. She didn’t want him to say anything because she was scared of the words, “I love you.” They meant nothing to some people, they were used as tools, and so easily, they could be erased. Sad thing was, Inuyasha was sure that even if he said the words right here and now, she wouldn’t even believe him.

“Of course, he’s obviously not the sole reason for why I am the way that I am. Can’t give him credit for everything.” Kagome gave a wet giggle, again laughing through her problems. Her coping mechanisms were all over the place, but it was still cute.

Inuyasha sighed defeatedly, laughing lightly as he rested his head on her shoulder.

“So,” He breathed. “You didn’t want me to say anything because you figured nothing was better than something I could hurt you with.”

Her silence was as good as confirmation.

Inuyasha pulled her in firmer, an arm supporting her low back as he picked her up, rotated their bodies, crawled a little further on the bed, and laid her beneath him on the mattress. He had a knee between her legs, but rested on her side, an elbow propping him up while he used his free hand to gently swipe her tears away.

“It was more because I didn’t want you to feel pressured.” Kagome finally spoke after moments of peaceful silence, taking the opportunity he provided to calm down before continuing. “But, then I started to panic. I felt like this is supposed to be a good thing, right? Not everyone is going to respond the way he does, right? I just wanted to tell you so bad. It’s supposed to be a good thing, but I got trapped in my head thinking history would only repeat itself.”

“Baby, are you sure you were ready to tell me?” Inuyasha inquired, dragging his finger along her temple to clean the tears that followed gravity.

She nodded, her bottom lip quivering. “It’s bad enough that I’m afraid of love. I didn’t want to allow myself to sink and be afraid to love, too. That’s not me. I feel like I’d only be letting him stick around in my mind if I did that, but I just want to love you. I do.” Kagome cried, eyes falling away from him. “I wanted you to know, and I’ve been holding onto it long enough.”

Inuyasha leaned his head down, kissing her shoulder. It wasn’t enough for him. He needed to feel her skin beneath his lips so he pulled the baggy collar away so he could leave a tender and invisible mark on her clavicle.

“How long?” The hanyou breathed.

“A month or so.” She matched his soft tone, trying to steady her lungs and bring herself back to a calm. “The night you went on your business trip.”

“Europe?”

“Mhm.”

“Not too bad. It was the groggy voice, huh?”

Though her eyes were still wet and the hair at the sides of her temples were soaked, her cheeks flushed, Kagome glanced back over to him with a hint of surprise. “How’d you know?”

“Because, I knew I’d get a response from you. Always do.” He smirked, planting sweet kisses against her cheek, and moving up to kiss tears away.

“You know I like that?”

“It’s my job to read you like a book, baby. I take my work very seriously. You’re subtle, but I see things I do that you like. You’ve got little mannerisms that give you away.”

“Like what?”

He hummed a decline. “I’m not giving that secret to you. Let me have this. You know what I will tell you?”

“Hm?”

“Do you promise to hear me out? No interrupting, okay? Just listen to me.”

There was an increase in the tension that climbed through her muscles, and her pout turned weary. Inuyasha took a moment to continue kissing her temple, her cheekbone, his palm finding its way beneath her shirt to softly stroke her tummy. When she relaxed a little, he leaned back to look at her.

“Remember that day Rin took a nap with you? I stayed up that night. Couldn’t sleep. I had you here next to me, and I just couldn’t stop listening to the sound of your breathing. I was scared shitless, but the crazy fucking part was, even though you weren’t awake, having you right here helped keep me calm. It was counterintuitive. I was both scared of you and at peace with you. I wanted you to wake up and do that thing where you tickle the small of my back with your fingers because, god, nothing feels better than that. It was like you held all of me in the palm of your hands, and you could easily drop it in the trash at any given moment. But, it’s you. I knew you wouldn’t. That was my night, though. That was the moment I realized I was in love with you.”

Kagome hardened slightly, and he could literally hear how hard her heart was thumping within her chest. She didn’t smile, didn’t frown, didn’t make much of any expression really, aside from her brows giving a minor, inward twitch.

“That was quite a few months ago. Nothing’s changed. If anything, it’s gotten deeper. I’m so worried one day you’ll walk out those doors and never come back. I don’t want to lose you just as badly as you don’t want to lose me.” He was the one to hide his face this time, tucking it within her neck as he threaded his arms around her back, holding her close. He hadn’t expected her to clutch him in return, but she did. Immediately. Kagome supported him through his own moment of vulnerability, but more importantly, he felt it was a way to communicate her reception. “I don’t care how many times I have to say it until you begin to believe me. I don’t care what I have to do to make you feel secure in our relationship. I’ll do it all. You know I don’t say shit unless I mean it.”

“I believe you.” Kagome whispered, a small hiccup at the tale end that jostled her chest. “That’s the scary part.”

He nodded again, pulling away to gently press his forehead to hers for a moment.

“I get it.” Inuyasha breathed before leaning back to look her in the eyes. “But, one of these days you’ll understand that no matter what happens, I won’t take a damn thing back. You’ll see that I don’t want it back. I feel like my heart’s safer with you, anyway.”

“Stop it.” She pouted, but he knew that was her way of conceding. Even as she cried a little harder and tucked herself into his chest so he couldn’t see it. “You’re being too sweet. Be mean to me again.”

Inuyasha chuckled, raising his hand, “As you wish.” He said, smacking it down against her butt.

The little yelp she released was so sad but adorable as she flinched away from the sting, but it inadvertently brought her to cuddle closer to him. The hanyou laughed, brushing his fingers through her hair and massaging her scalp.

“Can you do something for me?” He asked.

“Hm?” She grumbled into his chest.

“Tell me again. This time look right at me. Don’t look away, don’t fidget, just trust me. That was my first time hearing it. I gotta hear it straight.”

She hadn’t realized Inuyasha hadn’t heard the words before. She didn’t know that. This was big for him too, if not bigger. Was she his first love? Was she the first person he’d ever said that to? Kagome felt a warmth course through her, and even though she was slightly nervous, she didn’t feel unsteady. Not while he held her. Not while his amber eyes were above her, watching her with an emotion she’d never before seen. She came out of hiding with a level of ease she hadn’t felt a moment ago, secure, one of his hands lightly trailing her side beneath her borrowed shirt.

Her fingers had a mind of their own, reaching for his cheek as she softly caressed it, her thumb tenderly rubbing over his bottom lip. “I love you, Inuyasha.”

It was like a sigh of relief left his lungs, and the corners of his mouth inched upward. His eyes were hooded with affection, and he leaned down to kiss her, lingering on her soft lips.

“Your turn.” Kagome whispered as he pulled away, her brown eyes shifting from his eyes to his lips.

It felt incredible that she wanted to hear it now. And, though he knew everything was going to take time until she felt comfortable with the idea that he wouldn’t take a damn thing back, he knew it would take time to work through her trust issues little-by-little, he didn’t mind. Because, she was his and he was hers, and he was all too happy to hold her hand and walk by her side while they figured everything out. He couldn’t fix this for her. He hated that he couldn’t take her pain away. That’s not how it worked, though. He knew this. She knew this. Inuyasha was her partner through everything, and he’d be the best fucking partner he could be.

He grinned with their foreheads pressed together, his hand on her waist gripping tighter as he couldn’t help but chuckle from sheer bliss. “God, I’m so fucking in love with you.”

Kagome smiled, pushing Inuyasha over to roll on top, once more straddling his hips as she gazed down at him. She wanted to burn this image of him in her mind. She never wanted to forget that soft look in his eyes, or the way he reached up and tenderly wiped away any remaining tears that stained her face. He meant it. She believed him. And, she hoped with everything inside of her that he never took it away from her.

She curled down, cuddling into her chest and Inuyasha immediately turned his head to kiss her forehead. He held her close, gently stroking her hair back and basking in her incredibly comforting heat. He loved her. He loved her so goddamn much. His Kagome.

“What do you need right now, baby?”

“Nothing.” She hummed.

“What do you want, then.”

He knew she struggled with that one, but whenever he asked, she did her best to communicate properly. “Touch my butt again.”

Inuyasha laughed huskily, his hands gliding down her back to take a firm and wonderful hold on her ass.

“And, pizza.”

“Oh, see, I’m a step ahead of you on that one. Ordered a couple before you got out of the shower.”

Kagome gave a short half whine - half squeal of happiness as she cuddled in closer and kissed his neck. “Thank you.”

[alexisqueen-137]

How could I (D.M x Reader)

Hey guys, so this is my first fic that I am posting, I really hope you enjoy this, also, requests open! feedback appreciated whether good or bad, and i apologize if some bit’s in the story are a wee bit cringy... and btw the angst will be much more in the next parts! (btw I don’t write smut AT ALL)

warnings: angst, reader almost get’s raped, mentions of self-harm, mentions of abuse

Word count: 1k+

summary: Pansy uses the unforgivable torture curse on y/n, and after that y/n changes turning into a total badass, catching draco’s eye even more than before...fluff if u squint

The leaves on the withering grass indicated that finally, most finally, Autumn had come once more on the beautiful castle.

Students rushed from classes to see the wonderful sight awaiting them at the meadow. The biting breeze didn’t change their stubborn minds, infact, it most probably encouraged them to sit around the black lake, watching the giant squid with far-away looks in their eyes and pumpkin juice in their hands. 

However, probably the only soul still inside of the towering castle walls was Y/N L/N. The crumpling, aching feeling inside of your chest was only growing and though you wished to let it all out, you weren't able to. Your burning tears were held inside of you too  scared to fall and be for once free. 

Staggering to the dungeons, y/n couldn’t breathe normally or walk properly because of the pain that wracked her body even until now.

And finally have you reached your dorm, you shut the door and made sure no one was there, only to fall on your knees and let all the tears you had been holding slip, slip onto your forest green carpet and dampen it.

It was a habit, a habit of yours to cry as silently as possible, because you were still haunted by your memories as a child being beaten up by your drunken father.

All the walls that you had built inside of you were now by this point fragile; cracking; falling apart...

y/n was not a foolish sensitive girl, oh you were much more. You were so strong to have gone through all of the trials and mishaps that would have destroyed most people. Even though, it still broke you...You were a human being too, in the end. These things you went through were the reason you made those thin scars on your arms and thighs with the silver knife you inherited...it soothes you, this act. It reminds you that you are a normal person who can still feel pain.

However, what happened to you this time must be the end of it all.

It all started when you entered your potions class which the Slytherins (such as yourself) shared with the Gryffindors. You were a bit late, which was unusual since you were one of the best students in your year. Always after Hermione Granger and before Draco Malfoy. Oh how you loathed him. He made your life hell and well...you didn’t need much of a reason to hate him.

you walked over to your seat next to Blaise Zabini, who was your best friend, since he was one of the only who didn’t mind you were a half-blood Slytherin. Harry Potter and Ron Weasley glared at you because they hate all Slytherins, albeit you never did anything to them...

you ignored them, half annoyed, half overlooking the whole situation. Professor Slughorn started explaining the properties of a well-made draught of living death as you took notes. Then Slughorn said something that caught everyone’s complete attention; he was giving away a small vial of liquid luck to whoever made the best living death potion.

Everyone started working, and you started working too, extra hard, because you reallyyyyyy needed that liquid luck. For a reason you would never admit to anyone but yourself. you wanted to give it to- yes, believe it or not- Malfoy. Not because you  liked him or something, no you hated him, it was just that he kept bragging to the Slytherins how the Dark Lord gave him a job and he was chosen for blah blah blah...And you couldn’t really let him kill himself, right?

You side glanced at Potter to see how he was doing, only to see that instead of cutting up his Sopophorous bean, he was crushing it, getting much more juice than you, you followed his lead and crushed your bean with the back of your silver knife watching the liquid ooze out of it’s shiny shell...

*after class*

 you put the golden liquid in your pocket feeling quite happy with yourself, you and Potter had made equivalently perfect draughts, earning the both of you felix felicis. 

Just as you were heading to your next class, you bumped into (rather unfortunately), no other than Pansy Parkinson, the pug-faced slut. Apperently, she made it her all time mission to annoy the fuck out of Y/N.

“Watch where your going, Bitch” She retorted. You huffed. She continued, “I don’t think you can though, not with that ugly hair covering your filthy face!”

She cackled like the whole thing was so funny. You rolled your eyes, and then cleared your throught; “Bugger off, Parkinson, I don’t need you all in my face like spot cream or something, not that you would know of it, looks like you’ve never used it your entire life!” you smirked, not caring about the consequences this would bring.

Pansy’s eyes flared with anger, she said: “Think we’re so smart, don’t we? Forgot that your superiors (she said that while gesturing at herself) could handle you without much looking at your hideous face! You are sooo unbearable! First, you steal my Dracey from me (at these words you frowned, not knowing what she meant), and now you’re acting all snotty in my face, I think, it’s time for me to TEACH.YOU.A.LESSON! (she practically screeched those words) ughhhhhh I hate you so much, L/N, I DON’T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT YOU, YOU KNOW SO, crucio!”  You gasped and before you could react an invisible force squeezed your bones and burned your skin, tugged on your flesh and stabbed you dozens of times at once; until you were screaming and wailing on the ground, writhing in agony, unable to do anything to that horrible skank, all until your vision went black and yout hit the floor, unconscious…

 *after you woke up*

 Unsure for how long you were out, you staggered up, and grimaced form the pain. All you knew that miss ruthless Pansy left you alone in the dark, cold empty hallway. All you knew was that the tears you were holding would burst soon if you don’t hurry to your dorm.

 *present*

 And now, after you had cried your heart out, you realized you didn’t just cry because of the physical pain, but from the mere thought of not being able to stand up to yourself and shoot back at the motherfucking bitch- Oh, how you promised yourself you would change that day. How you would be a new woman with a much bigger attitude, how you would take care of yourself.

 And that’s just what you did.

 *Two months later*

 You had died your hair black from the top, and silver from the bottom, keeping it long, and you always made sure your hair was always wavy, you kept worn down all the time, and it framed your face perfectly.

  Instead of the pants you used to wear, now you always wore a skirt underneath your robes, with black tights and short heels, not forgetting to add a dash of makeup. Not only have you changed your looks, but your attitude aswell. Anyone disrespects you, oh they will pay for it. Admittedly, you had to thank Parkinson for changing you like this, but you thought better than to.

You were top of your year and you helped people whenever they want. You were kind, but one hell of a badass.

However, you still thought about the day Parkinson cursed you, what had she said, I had stolen Draco from her? You didn’t understand that. You and Draco had no romantic relationship. Albeit, when you started to change, he found it better for him to be your friend. (Blaise couldn’t shut up about it, he was so relieved that both his best friends weren’t enemies anymore) After getting to know him better, you came to the conclusion that Draco wasn’t as bad as he seemed…not at all.

Yet, you still hadn’t given him the vial of liquid luck, afraid he might reject it from you.

*one day*

You took a bite from your green apple as you made your way to class, you would be 10 minutes early if you went now, but, since you had nothing else to do, you made your way into the empty hallway leading to the transfiguration classroom. you had this weird feeling that someone was watching you though...

As you were walking someone called “Hi honey”, you didn’t turn around, he was probably calling for someone else. “L/N, sweetie!” you froze. You turned around and looked at the boy behind you. “what did you just call me?” “You know what I said y/n. The boy got dangerously closer and you realized it was Theodore Nott, Slytherin. 

He came forward even closer, pushing you into a broom closet. your heart pace was by now going so fast you were sure it was about to jump out of your chest. “I know you check me out when you see me, darling. Why don’t I give you what you’ve been wanting for a long time?” “g-get off of me” was all you managed. He came closer and trailed kisses on your neck, and you yelped. And maybe, just maybe, if you hadn’t screamed, and then who knows what would have happened.

From outside, someone yelled “WHOEVER IS IN THAT CLOSET LEAVE Y/N RIGHT NOW BEFORE I HEX YOU INTO OBLIVION!” You recognized the voice as Draco’s. you couldn’t help but sigh in relief when Nott let go of you in a hurry and you watched as he scrambled out. After he went and got hit with a couple of good spells,  Draco rushed to you and got you out of the closet. Once he touched you you felt all the stress leave you, and you thanked god he came to save you.

“Are you okay? did anything happen to you? did that motherfucker hurt you? answer me, y/n!” without realizing, you’ve been holding a shaky breath. and at his questions, you covered your face with your hands and burst into tears. “H-he almost r-raped m-me..” 

“It’s okay, don’t worry, I’m here for you” he cooed. And gently ever so gently, he pulled you into his grasp, tightly wrapping his hands around you. You stiffened, but then relaxed saying: “It’s been so long since someone hugged me...I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be held...”

(part 2 coming soon!)

[ffangirlingsince2001]

The Great Upheaval of Percy Weasley: Black Lingerie

Percy Weasley x OC

Summary: Accidental insults lead to study sessions and answered questions

Warnings: angst, some public making out (still a bit tame, but don’t you worry ;) )

MASTERLIST

black lingerie -n- you said you matched it to the color of your heart but as I undressed your soul I knew you had lied

***

“We’re going to get right into it,” Lupin announced as he passed back the pop quizzes from his first class. Percy glanced down at the paper, almost perfect marks. More surprising, was at the top of his paper, beside his name was Wilton. He looked around in panic.

Had he written that?

Was he already blowing their cover?

“Some of you may have already noticed, but there is a name beside your own. That individual scored the closest to you on the pop quiz, and consequently will be your dueling partner for the rest of the year. Now there will be no need to change seats,” he added as students began groaning about their partners. He wanted to look back and see Elle’s reaction, but he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know.

He had always been a little hesitant of the girl. She had ‘bad news’ written across her forehead in the same thick liner he had never seen her without. And there were of course the rumors he tried not to put much stock in. Somehow, now that he knew her, she was more intimidating than before, and smarter, and more of an enigma.

Funny how that works out, isn’t it? He knew that while she looked like Halloween, she tasted like May Day. He knew what her skirt felt like in his hands, and he knew that the space between her thighs were warmer than any sweater. He knew how she kissed, and yet he didn’t really know anything about her.

“Hey, head boy,” she said, startling him out of his thoughts. He turned to find her standing behind him, arms crossed with an amused expression, “Are we going to practice or are you going to keep staring at your test.”

“Practice?”

“Nonverbal spells. Weren’t you paying attention?”

“I guess not,” he muttered, and she rolled her eyes before beckoning him to their corner. “I didn’t know you were second in the class, congratulations,” he offered as he followed her. He didn’t know why he had said anything about the grade, it was without tact, but he certainly hadn’t expected her to laugh coldly. A shiver ran down his spine while he placed himself the correct number of paces away, pulling himself together as he tried to shake out the distraction. By the time he was ready, she was already pointing her white, slender wand in his direction. She looked nonchalant and unprepared, but he could tell from the tightness in her wrist she would begin as soon as he did.

He flicked his wand, aiming to disarm her, but she blocked it with ease. He went again, determined to keep her on the defense. They were entirely silent as she gracefully defended every attack he had to offer.

Then he switched from simple disarming to jinxes.

She didn’t miss a beat. Her defensive charms grew stronger until not only were they protecting her but pushing him backwards. They stepped into another group’s area, but it didn’t really matter, their silent lightshow had already captured the rest of the class’s attention. Percy even caught sight of Lupin watching them from where he had been helping another group. His back hit a desk as she advanced, something dangerous in her eyes. Using his wand, he whisked it towards her in a desperate attempt to slow her, but she hopped onto the desks surface. She stared down at him, looking like pure power. She threw her first jinx, and then another, and another, almost quicker than he was able to throw up shield charms.

Sweat dripped down his forehead, stinging his eyes, but she didn’t look like she was tired at all. She looked like she had just entered the ring and was prepared to destroy whoever tried to face her.

That just so happened to be Percy.

He could feel the spells getting more dangerous, pushing against every counter curse and defense with no remorse. He stumbled over a chair and hit the ground. Quiet, cool, calculation turned to a smile as she hopped down from the desk, wand still raised. His wand had fallen out of his hand and whatever spell she decided to cast was going to be the end of the duel. She raised it and he scrambled for his wand in a last-ditch effort to keep it going, but a shield formed between them before either could make a move.

“That class, was an excellent demonstration of dueling,” Lupin said, clapping as he stepped forward. He spoke quietly to Elle, but from where Percy lay, he couldn’t hear, he could only see the angry look Elle’s face soften before seizing up again. She opened her mouth the argue, but Lupin must have said something to keep her quiet, because she instantly shoved past him and around the shield charm.

Lupin was chuckling as he helped Percy from the ground, offering him a ‘good job’ before dismissing the class. Percy turned to look for Elle, but she was already there, shoving a piece of parchment into his chest.

“I’m number fucking one,” she snapped before marching away, Dinah doing her best to keep her stride. Percy pulled the parchment from his chest and glanced at her test, a perfect score. His stomach dropped at the sudden explanation. He had become the pompous ass she knew him for by simply assuming she was beneath him. She had certainly proven him wrong, and now he was going to be lucky if she bothered to ever look at him again. As he packed away the books that had been strewn across the floor during their duel, promising himself he would apologize the moment he got a chance.

Which he hoped would be Transfigurations.

He slid into his seat at the front of the classroom and watched as Elle and Dinah whispered in the back of the classroom, the poor lad who had taken Elle’s seat dripping with boredom.

“Ms. Wilton, take your seat,” Professor McGonagall called as she entered the classroom. The girls laughed for a few moments, before Elle slid off the desk and practically swanned to her seat.

“Elle,” he whispered but she ignored him, not that he blamed her. She took her notes and ignored every possible thing he did to capture her attention. When class ended, she jumped up as quickly as she could manage. All he could do was run after her.

“Elle, Elle,” he called down the corridor after the pair. Suddenly, Dinah whirled around while Elle continued to look away.

“Are you looking to get your ass kicked again, because I promise I won’t be as nice as my friend,” Dinah snapped, drawing her wand. The hallway around them seemed to freeze, almost every pair of eyes seemed to stare at the badge shining brightly on his chest. Even Dinah seemed to flicker as she remembered who she was speaking to, but it only lasted a moment before she inched closer, sticking the tip of her wand against the gold.

“I’m sorry, Elle,” he announced, doing his best to ignore Dinah’s glare, “It was a stupid arrogant thing to say, and I’m sorry.” Much to his relief, she turned around, lowering Dinah’s arm as she did so.

“I’ll meet you in Herbology.”

“Elle-.”

“Do you not think I can handle a Weasley?” she snapped. Had it been any other time, Percy would have felt indignant, but he was going to take every sort of verbal abuse she had to offer if it meant she was going to forgive him. Dinah glared at him one more time before turning on her five-inch heels and marching away. “And the rest of you, get to class before the Head boy has to take house points.”

No one moved, points and orders meant almost nothing when a fight was about to break out.

“Go,” he yelled into the silent corridor. A few beats passed before begrudging feet shuffled away, leaving them alone in the corridor. “I’m sorry-.”

“I heard.” He shifted nervously, desperately thinking back to everything he knew about her. He had never groveled before, and before that moment he was sure he never would.

“I want you to study for our N.E.W.Ts with me. I only want to study with the best, and that’s clearly you.” He took a small step back as she narrowed her eyes, waiting for the jinx that was sitting on her tongue to lash out.

“Alright, library at six?” He blinked, and then again. He couldn’t believe it; he was still alive, and she had agreed. She waved her hand in front of his face, “Earth to Percy?”

“Yeah, six.”

“Don’t be late,” she ordered before offering him the smallest little grin. It disappeared as quickly as it came, and she whirled away, hurrying off to her next class. He watched the two braids down her back wave him goodbye. Frankly, they were the only thing that stopped him from watching her hips instead.

He shook the image of skirt swishing back and forth, coughing, and checking to make sure that no one had noticed his moment of weakness. When he was satisfied there was no one hiding behind corners, he briskly made his way to the common room. If he was going to keep up with her, he needed to be a little ahead.

The trip, that should have been quick and without interruption, was hijacked by none other than Fred and George. They were rushing around a corner excitedly, but when they saw him their excitement quickly dropped.

“We heard you were getting beat up,” George announced.

“But you seem free of bruises,” Fred finished, both approaching him skeptically, searching for the nonexistent contusions.

“I don’t know who told you that, but I am not getting beat up.”

“So, Dinah Baker didn’t pull her wand on you after Transfiguration?”

“And Elle Wilton didn’t send everyone away so she could absolutely pummel you into the ground?”

“She didn’t send everyone away to pummel me,” Percy snapped and both boys sagged in disappointment.

“That’s too bad. It probably would’ve been the most action you ever got.”

“Yeah, probably the first and last time a girl ever put her hands on you.”

“I’d let Wilton pummel me, she’s a right babe.”

“Very true, Fred, very true.”

“And that rack of hers.”

“I heard Davies ran into her during the rain once, claims he could see right through her shirt.”

“Black lingerie?”

“Black lingerie.”

Percy was fuming. He wanted to interrupt, to punch one of them, but he remained still, doing his best to keep his breathing even. Attacking his brother was not how a head boy should behave, and there was nothing more suspicious than defending a girl he barely talked to in public.

It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that they had piqued his curiosity about the under-workings of Elle Wilton’s wardrobe.

“Last year she patched me up after Quidditch practice, and I swear she was all over me.”

“Are you sure that wasn’t all the painkillers?”

“Hey!”

“Are you two done?” Percy asked as casually as he could manage. They both turned to look at him. It seemed they had forgotten he was even there. “I have things to attend to, and if I catch either of you sneaking into the girl’s dormitory, I will not hesitate to take fifteen points from you both.” The twins rolled their eyes before pushing past him.

He took a deep breath and promised himself not to think about black lingerie.

And it worked too, until six when she arrived in the library, not wearing her uniform. It wasn’t ridiculous, but it certainly wasn’t what he was used to. He should have called her over, raised his hand, anything, but he couldn’t stop staring long enough to control his motor skills.

The flared plaid had been traded for a solid black skirt that was much tighter… and much shorter. The combat boots and fishnets were still present, but they seemed more dangerous than before. The neckline of her top was high, and the sleeves were long, but the red fabric was so tight it didn’t really leave much to the imagination. He shifted beneath the desk as he rose a hand, hoping to catch her attention without drawing too much to himself. Her eyes landed on his and she grinned, pushing towards the table he had chosen.

She sat down, pulling out her books as she went. He tried not to stare, he really did, but could anyone really blame him, when she looked like that, and when he knew that if he asked she was going to let him touch… that.

“You changed,” he blurted, and then prepared himself a Draught of Living Death right there. His big mouth had already gotten him in trouble once today, and here he was blurting out whatever came to mind. She looked up from her bag and smirked.

“It is technically the weekend; you’re not going to take points from me, are you?”

“What? No, I just noticed.”

“Thank you for noticing then.” Somehow, he had survived. “Also, I want to apologize for what happened in Lupin’s class, my temper got ahead of me.”

“It was my fault, I shouldn’t have assumed, and trust me, I won’t underestimate you again. That was excellent magic, I wasn’t kidding when I said I want to learn from the best.”

“Oh,” was all she said, and for a moment he thought she might be blushing, “I hope I live up to your expectations.”

“I’m sure you will.” She was definitely blushing now. “Shall we get into it?” he asked, doing his best to save her and she quickly nodded, burying herself into her charms essay.

They both worked for hours, only speaking to ask questions about something that had been mentioned in class, or an odd concept discussed in the book; and it was enjoyable. Percy had never once considered that one day he would enjoy sitting across a table from Elle Wilton as they studied. He wasn’t even convinced she studied before today, but now she was sitting across from him, a stain on her lip from where she held her quill as she slunk deeper into thought.

Suddenly, she slammed her book shut and stood.

“Want to come to the restricted section?”

“You need a note?”

“I have a permanent note, plus we’re in advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts, that’s automatic admittance.” She slid past Madam Pince, offering her a smug smile to which she responded with a glare. It was clear they were not one another’s biggest fans. She pushed through the gate and began perusing the shelves, clearly looking for something.

“What are you looking for?”

“Unforgivable Curses.” That did not exactly answer his question.

“Any book in particular?”

“No, anything that focuses on their creation will be perfect.”

“What for?”

“Lupin’s essay.”

“What’s your topic?”

“Why Defense Charms are useless against Unforgivable Curses. It has something to do with how they were created, but our book isn’t specific in what manner, so I’m hoping that…” she explained, trailing off as something caught her eye. She took a step back and pressed up on her toes. “Yes, that’s got to be it.” The book she was pointing at was silver, the words “Unforgivable Curses” emblazoned into the side with dark black ink.

It was a few shelves higher than she could reach, but that didn’t stop her from trying, or her skirt from rising up her thighs as she stretched for the desired book. Percy reprimanded his wandering eyes and reached for it over her head. He barely brushed the bottom of the spine but managed to pull it down without too much effort. She turned around, taking the book from his hands, staring up at him as she leaned against the shelf, smirking all the while.

He wasn’t quite sure what she was smirking about until he realized what it would look like if someone turned the corner. His arm was stretched above her, gripping the shelf as he leaned over her, a leg situated between hers. He jumped back and she had the audacity to laugh.

“Don’t act as if we’ve never been in that position before,” she teased as he sputtered with indignation.

“We’re in the library.”

“Yeah, not a church.”

“Anyone could see.”

“It’s the Restricted Section, how many people come in here on a busy day, let alone a Friday?” She was smirking at him again, always smirking when she knew she was about to win. Though, in this case he wasn’t inclined to stop her. She crooked a finger forward and he obeyed, hovering over her once more, leaning down to capture her lips in his. She responded wholeheartedly, wrapping her arms around his neck. His hand slipped to her skirt and he might have let it wander beneath it if Fred and George’s voices didn’t fill his head with the conversation from earlier.

‘Black Lingerie,’ they seemed to repeat, until suddenly he was sure their voices weren’t just in his head. He pulled away, and sure enough just outside the Restricted Section were his two very loud brothers.

“Those idiots again. I already had to fight them off once today. They were convinced I beat you up earlier,” she groaned as she pushed Percy away, fixing her skirt as she marched towards the entrance. He followed her, but she pressed a hand to his chest, stopping him in his tracks. “Just wait here, they’ll be gone before you know it.” He hid in the shadows as she pushed her way back into the main portion of the library.

“Where’s Percy?” one of them, who he could only presume was Fred, yelled over Madam Pince’s insistent hushing. “You’ve killed him, haven’t you?”

“He’s looking for a book, which often happens in a library. Not that either of you would know anything about that.” A beat of silence passed before his brothers burst into laughter.

“And you do? C’mon Wilton we know you’re only here to beat him up in private.” Percy could practically hear Elle’s eyeroll.

“If I go get him, and prove that he’s not dead will you leave?”

“Only if you kiss me too.” Percy was ready to charge out after her now, but from the way the library grew decibels quieter, he had a good feeling that she was going to take care of it. Another beat of silence passed before her voice filled the air. It was low and dangerous, and even Percy was a little worried for his younger brother.

“If you ever insinuate anything like that ever again, I will make sure the next morning you wake up in Timbuktu thinking you’re a French salesman who recently donated his prick to a local charity, do you understand me?” A beat of silence passed. “I can’t hear you.”

“Yes,” his brother whispered and then the atmosphere returned to normal.

“Excellent, now do you still want to see Percy or are you feeling ready to retire for the night?” Scampering footsteps followed her question and before he knew it, she returned to where he had been listening. He blinked at her and she smiled, dragging him further into the dark aisles of the restricted section.

“Where have you been all my life?” he stuttered, and she laughed before pushing him against a shelf and pulling him down to meet her lips.

“Wait, wait,” he gasped pushing her away.

“If you’re really the uncomfortable about the library we can go.”

“No, no that’s not it.”

“Then what is it?” Percy swallowed nervously, but he was sure if he didn’t ask, he was going to keep hearing their voices.

“Do you wear black lingerie?” Thankfully, she didn’t seem at all put out by the question, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to end up as a French salesman.

“Not today, but sometimes, why do you ask?” she laughed.

“No reason,” he replied, swooping down, and kissing her before she had time to ask any more questions. She responded with zealous, and he smirked against her lips. He was sure he had just found another surprise about the enigma he was holding in his arms, a surprise he was excited to witness all on his own.

Taglist: @andromedasstarship​ @danadeacon​

[ginger-and-mint]

Hey, I'm wondering if you have any advice on writing kink stuff? Basically, it feels like I'm writing the same story repeatedly. Coming up with stuffing scenarios that both make sense, and aren't just retreads, is really hard. It probably doesn't help that a) I don't have much writing experience, b) my interests are really narrow, and c) I have no imagination, lol. How do you keep stuff fun and interesting? (Jsyk, I sent this to Tiny as well, I love both your blogs 😊)

Hey, anon! Thank you so much, I’m so glad you enjoy my and Tiny’s content and I’m flattered to be asked for advice! ♡ I have a lot of thoughts about this, so I’ll do my best to boil them down into something useful.
 ^^

Since you mentioned being pretty new to writing, I broke up my advice into a few different “stages,” starting with things that are easy to implement and moving to things that might feel more manageable as you get more comfortable with writing. Under a cut because Real Heckin Long.


Stage One — Don’t Sweat It

This might sound corny and unhelpful, but I genuinely think that especially when you’re first starting out, it’s best not to put pressure on yourself to write the world’s most original stories. Write to please your inner fiend and nobody else! If repeated versions of the same story continue to light your fire, there’s no shame in embracing that.

Doing this will honestly help you with originality in the long-term anyway, because you’re giving yourself the freedom to learn more about what specifics you really enjoy in kink writing. Later on, you can use that knowledge to put new twists on those specifics and invent new scenarios.

Stage Two — Stuffing Scenario Cheat Sheet

I completely agree that believable stuffing scenarios are really difficult to invent. What’s realistic is a matter of opinion of course, but for me, this is a quick breakdown of logical reasons for a character to overeat. If you’re getting tired of using the same justification in your fics, try picking something new from this list:

Accidental stuffing:

Character is distracted by something during the meal

Character eats so fast they don’t realize when they’re full

Character has been hungry for awhile and overdoes it when they finally get to eat

Reluctant intentional stuffing (motivated by external circumstances):

Character feels social pressure to keep eating **

The food will go to waste otherwise **

Eating contests / challenges **

The character is trying to bulk up

Enthusiastic intentional stuffing (because the character wants to):

Character just enjoys the feeling of being full

Character and/or their partner(s) have a stuffing kink

Character has temporary access to good food and is indulging while they can

Fantasy Shenanigans:

Side effects of being a magical creature (e.g. a werewolf eating too much for their human form to handle, a vampire needing to feed all at once, etc.)

Magic that causes a character to overeat (e.g. enchanted food, curses, potions, etc.)

Magic that requires a full stomach and/or extra energy to work (e.g. my di-mage spell mechanics, the antidote in this fic of Tiny’s, etc.)

[free space because fantasy lets you set the boundaries of what’s realistic, so your imagination is really the limit!]

** If you’re aiming for realism, I would be careful of these scenarios. In my opinion, they can be done believably, but often are not. Some things I would look out for:

Most foods can easily be stored for later, so if you want to use the “avoiding waste” trope, make sure that you’re either in a setting without access to refrigeration or that the food is something that genuinely wouldn’t keep until the next day (or at least would be way less tasty after a night in the fridge.)

Social pressure works best in scenarios with people that the to-be-stuffed character 1) doesn’t know very well and 2) wants to impress or keep face around (e.g. formal events, business dinners, first dates that involve food, meeting their partner’s family, etc.)

Loving friends, family, and partners don’t pressure or guilt people into overeating! Characters stuffing themselves because their loved ones are really insistent that they have to taste-test everything or act so disappointed because they went to all this work on some extravagant feast always ring at best false and at worst abusive to me. What kind of loving relationship is it if you don’t feel safe to say “no thanks, I’m full?” That’s not to say social pressure with loved ones can’t be done well, but it usually indicates some kind of character flaw (i.e. an inability to say no and/or a steamroller-y personality) that in my opinion, has to be acknowledged by the fic’s end if you want the tone to stay light and fluffy.

Again, this may just be my opinion, but eating contests only come across as realistic with certain character personalities and in certain contexts. Like yeah, I can believe that a himbo with YouTuber Energy would take on a hot wing eating challenge in front of all his bros, but not so much that an otherwise self-respecting character would drop everything to eat themselves sick because a friend randomly challenged them.

Stage Three — Change Up Other Elements When Using Similar Tropes


Especially if you have narrow interests, it’s probably inevitable you’ll write same basic story structure over and over. I know I sure do! However, I would say that changing other elements of the narrative can give your writing an entirely different feel, turning it into a whole new story that will not feel like a simple retread to a reader.

One thing you can change up is setting. A lot of times kink writers will just plonk characters in the comfort of their own homes, which is valid — but setting hugely influences the atmosphere of a story, so the same Kink Plot will read really differently if it happens, say, at a campground or on a boat. Providing a rich setting can even become a feature of the kink itself. For example, setting your story at a lavish buffet could introduce an element of indulgence that hits you and/or readers differently than a story that involves casual takeout in the living room, even if the rest of the story is similar. Try bold settings! They’re fun!

Another element to vary is context. For example, the basic trope of “stress eating” would play out really differently if a character is about to go on an important mission vs. if they’re recovering from an emotionally difficult day; a story about about a character intentionally stuffing themselves will have a completely different flavor if they’ve been going hungry for awhile vs. they’ve been overeating all week; and so on.


Finally, consider changing up the focus. An easy way to do this is to switch up whether you’re writing from the POV of the stuffed character or a caretaker. You can also focus on different details of the stuffing — for example, lingering on how delicious the food looks and tastes vs. how the character feels as their stomach fills vs. physical details like whether they’re getting bloated or grumbly.

Stage Four — Connect to Character or Plot

The most surefire way to make kink stories distinct is to give the story an additional purpose besides just being kinky. This doesn’t have to be some big, extravagant plot (although it certainly can be) — it can be a simple as writing a kink story the way you usually would, and just finding something within it that you can use to reveal an aspect of your character.

Start with an ordinary kink scenario and try to dive a little deeper. For example:

Say you want to write a story about stress eating. Okay — what is the character stressed about?

Maybe you come up with something relatively simple and generic, like school. Okay, what about this character makes them so likely to be stressed out by school? Are they a perfectionist? Are they facing a lot of pressure from their family? Do they have a goal that requires excellent grades? Have they struggled with this subject in the past?

Let’s say you decide to go with perfectionism. Now, what scenes can you use to show this struggle? And optionally, can you give the character some kind of resolution by the story’s end?

And there you go! Your fic now not only has kink, but also shows how your character reacts in a certain situation.

Character especially is a treasure trove of uniqueness, in my opinion, because well-developed characters react differently to the same scenario. Stories feel more original because even if a reader has read this exact same plot before, they will not have seen how this particular person handles it. So one of the best ways to make fics distinct is to spend time developing your characters!

If the goal is to simply write solid distinct kinky stories, trying to create detailed plot is more work with lower return than investing in your characters, if you ask me. You have to enjoy the process of creating plots itself for it to be worth it. If that’s something you’re interested in, I have a whole load more thoughts about that -- but since this is already incredibly long, I’ll save that for a separate ramble if anyone is specifically interested.

---

I hope something in this huge infodump is helpful to you! Some of it may sound intimidating if you’re just starting out with kink writing, but it’s absolutely all something that can be worked up to. Please feel free to ask any follow-up questions if stuff I’ve written doesn’t make sense. Good luck with your writing, anon, and thanks for giving me an excuse to just go off. ^^’ ♡

[reallivegeekgirl]

StanQuest

Something clicked on in my brain a couple months ago and suddenly Sebastian Stan became the hottest man alive. So I decided to watch everything he’s ever been in. A friend and I called it StanQuest.

Here are my spoiler-free reviews for anyone considering something similar (in inverse chronological order starting with latest works and going back in time. The stars are an overall rating of the work, not of Sebastian’s performance.

This only lists things I could find streaming for free or a price I was willing to pay. It does not count after credits scenes, music videos, or works in which he was uncredited.

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (2021) - TV show - ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ - This started it all. I very much enjoyed it. Good balance of humor and action, heart and heroics. I’ve watched it four times already, and will watch it again. Bucky Barnes is my favorite character of his and this is my favorite story of Bucky's so far. I can’t wait to see what he does next. (And I have a lot to say about how they treat his trauma in this show. I’ve definitely written about it before and may again.)

Monday (2020) - Movie - ⭐⭐⭐ - This is the one where he gets naked. If that’s all you’re looking for, enjoy. It was a very realistic portrayal of a relationship between two deeply flawed people. It can get depressing. But hey, penis.

The Devil All the Time (2020) - Movie - ⭐⭐⭐⭐ - If you think Monday is depressing, this movie says “hold my beer”. But something about it is just captivating. It’s really disturbing, and if you’ve ever been screwed over by American Evangelical Christianity it might be more disturbing. Still, I’ve watched it twice. And as much of a bastard as Lee Bodecker is, he also looks really cuddly. He’s just barely in it.

The Last Full Measure (2019) - Movie - ⭐⭐⭐⭐ - You will cry. A lot. It’s based on a true story. Sebastian plays a man who cares more about his career than this weird quest dumped on his desk by his boss, but changes his mind and his heart as he investigates why a war hero was denied a medal of honor 34 years before. Definitely recommend.

Endings, Beginnings (2019) - Movie - ⭐⭐⭐⭐ - One of two love interests in the complicated life of Shailene Woodley’s Daphne, Sebastian is an adorable mess. The editing is interesting and fresh feeling. Watch it and you’ll see what I mean. Fair amount of sex in this movie, and you see his butt. It’s a very nice butt. I’ve watched this one a few times so far.

Avengers: Endgame (2019) - Movie - ⭐⭐ - There is no reason to watch this movie if you’re not familiar with at least most of the rest of the MCU. It plays merry hob with the rules of time travel, and only makes sense if you don’t really think about it. In my opinion, the ending is really freaking stupid comsidering his character’s history, but at least it sets up TFatWS, which was amazing.

We Have Always Lived in the Castle (2018) - Movie - ⭐ - If you’re into movies that are creepy but also almost nothing happens for most of the movie, this is the one for you. Sebastian is handsome as hell, but also a complete asshole. As fine as he is, I’m not gonna watch this again. I fucking hated it.

Destroyer (2018) - Movie - ⭐⭐- I had a hard time paying attention to the plot because it seemed like they made this movie just to get Nicole Kidman an Oscar nomination for wearing ugly makeup and playing a complete mess of a person. It’s a fine movie, and all of the performances are good. Sebastian looks surprisingly good with the short hair and goatee. Ultimately, the plot is depressing and the whole movie seems kind of pointless.

Avengers: Infinity War (2018) - Movie - ⭐⭐- Again, no reason to watch this if you aren’t already familiar with all the movies leading up to it. It’s long and the villain looks like Grimace and a California Raisin had an evil baby. The ending made me scream with frustration that I had to wait until the next one came out. Now I just watch them back-to-back if I watch them at all. It’s not a good movie, but it is part of a long-form story that I enjoy in general.

I’m Not Here (2017) - Movie - ⭐⭐- Another depressing one. Told over the course of one man’s terrible life, it’s a sad account of how much your parents can fuck you up. Sebastian portrays the middle part of the man’s life. J.K. Simmons plays the current day part and unreliable narrator.. Do not watch unless you are fully prepared to be sad for a really long time after.

I, Tonya (2017) - Movie - ⭐⭐⭐- This movie is hilarious. I mean, the true story is insane and really stupid. The spousal abuse is hard to watch, and Sebastian’s mustache in this is a war crime. But the acting is great and it’s a very engaging movie. The parts that aren’t horrifying are pretty funny.

Logan Lucky (2017) - Movie - ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ - Watch. This. Movie. Sebastian Stan is only in it a little, but it’s a really fun, clever caper/heist movie and everyone in it is fantastic. I don’t want to say anything else about it if you’re going in fresh. I’ll be rewatching this one a lot

Captain America: Civil War (2016) - Movie - ⭐⭐⭐⭐ - If you ignore how kind of silly the conflict over the Sokovia Accords is, this is a good Marvel movie. Sebastian gets a lot of screen time because Bucky is the more pressing concern/urgent point of contention than the Accords. Bucky is my favorite character of his partly because of this movie.

The Martian (2015) - Movie - ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ - I’m watching it(again) as I’m typing this. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve watched it. Sebastian Stan isn’t in it very much, but he’s very cute and so is his little story arc. Mostly I watch it because Ridley Scott made a fantastic movie. If you can get your hands on the Blu-Ray, it comes with a ton of extras. They made a very complete story that isn’t all seen in the movie. A lot of it is stuff about Mars, but there are also extra “crew” interviews, so there’s another chance to see more of Sebastian’s character.

Ricki and the Flash (2015) - Movie - ⭐⭐⭐⭐ - He’s not in this very much, but he’s very cute when he does appear. It’s all about the relationship between Ricki and her daughter. Definitely rewatchable. Meryl Streep is fantastic, because she’s Meryl Streep.

The Bronze (2015) - Movie - ⭐ - This is not a good movie. It’s about Olympic gymnastics, so it might be slightly more interesting right now while the Olympics are happening. Sebastian isn’t in it a lot, but his performance is certainly… memorable. Weirdest sex scene I’ve ever seen. Worth watching just for that.

Captain America: The Winter Soldier (2014) - Movie - ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ - This is the one I can watch over and over. I bought a Winter Soldier face mask for when I need to feel like a badass. Bucky’s story is really sad, but he’s also extremely sexy with the metal arm and determined walk.

Once Upon a Time (2012-2013) - TV Show - ⭐⭐⭐ - This show is so stupid, but it’s also fun. If you haven’t seen it, the premise is that fairy tale characters are real and live in another land. Snow White’s Evil Queen casts a spell to transport a bunch of them to a town she creates in Maine called Storybrooke, and gives them all fake memories so she can be mayor and watch them all not remember who they are. Sebastian plays Jefferson, a.k.a. The Mad Hatter. He’s in a few episodes in season 1 and 2, and doesn’t get a ton of screen time, but he’s really cute and tragic as Jefferson. It probably helps to watch the whole first season just to understand his episodes, but that’s up to your tolerance for weird shit. Note: IMDB says he’s in an episode uncredited, but I’ve watched it and didn’t see him anywhere in that one.

Labyrinth (2012) - TV Mini-Series - ⭐⭐⭐ - Two episodes that tell a complete story. Sebastian isn’t in this one a whole lot, but he is adorable. It’s a strange story about religious stuff and a sort of Holy Grail that’s three books. It’s hard to describe. It’s on Amazon Prime right now, but they’re taking it down August 8, 2021, so watch it while you can.

The Apparition (2012) - Movie - ⭐ - If you like horror movies, you might like this. I did not. From what I understand, it’s not a very good horror movie. Watch with caution and expect it to suck.

Political Animals (2012) - TV Mini-Series - ⭐⭐⭐⭐ - I had to buy this through Apple and watch it on a Mac, but it was worth it. Sebastian plays TJ Hammond, the out gay son of a former American president who is clearly based on Bill Clinton. Sigorney Weaver plays the former first lady and current secretary of state. TJ struggles with addiction and relationship problems. His performance is heart-wrenching. The whole show is pretty great. I wish there was more of it.

Gone (2012) - Movie - ⭐⭐⭐ - More of a psychological thriller than a horror movie. Sebastian has a small amount of screen time as the worried boyfriend. Amanda Seyfried is good. She carries the film well on her own.

Captain America: The First Avenger (2011) - Movie - ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ - If you haven’t seen this yet, I’d like to know what it’s like under your rock. This is a movie I can rewatch a lot, and have. I 100% cried in the theater. Sebastian looks fantastic in uniform as Bucky Barnes. This is his introduction and the start of his ultimately tragic story (before he’s saved by his best friend, again).

Black Swan (2010) - Movie - ⭐⭐⭐⭐ - Sebastian is barely in this. He’s basically just in one scene in a dance club. But I watched it to try to complete StanQuest, and I had seen it before. It’s a good movie, but might induce some nightmares, depending on what scares you. If Natalie Portman didn’t at least get a nomination for an award she was robbed.

Gossip Girl (2007-2010) - TV Show - ⭐⭐ - Carter Baizen is a little shit. The episodes with Sebastian in them might have made more sense if I watched the show from the beginning, but I didn’t want to. His character is an asshole, but a very cute one.

Hot Tub Time Machine (2010) - Movie - ⭐⭐⭐- The people who made this movie are bad at math, and their rules of time travel are sketchy at best, but it is funny and entertaining. Sebastian plays a ski patrol bro who’s paranoid about the Russians, which is hilarious irony to me. Worth watching if you want to laugh at something dumb.

Kings (2009) - TV Show - ⭐⭐⭐- Sebastian plays Jack Benjamin, the closeted gay son of the king of a fictional place. It’s loosely based on the David and Goliath story from the Bible. Sebastian is so sad and so gay. His family makes his life a living hell. Ian McShane is a force of nature in this. It’s only one season. I’ve watched it twice. I will watch it again.

Spread (2009) - Movie - no stars - This movie was practically unwatchable. It stars Ashton Kutcher and Anne Heche as a romantic couple, I guess? I ended up just skipping to Sebastian’s scenes and only watching those. Still painful.

The Covenant (2006) - Movie - ⭐⭐⭐ - This movie is so fuckig stupid, and I will watch it a ridiculous number of times. It’s about magic and teenagers, like The Craft for boys. Nothing about it makes sense. It’s terrible, almost irredeemable, but an evil Sebastian with magic powers is a siren song that will make me steer my boat right into the rocks.

And there you have it. There are a bunch of earlier things on IMDB that I just can’t find or don’t want to pay to rent. Maybe some day I’ll watch them and add them to this list.

[scary-lasagna]

A Different Kind of Fear || Toby Rogers

[TW: Depressive themes, social anxiety, family death]

The scratchy pillow agitated Toby’s skin as tears rubbed into the fabric. The sickly feeling of sticky tears and a hot, puffy face caused the teen to hide away in his new corner of the manor and curl up under the standard white quilt. The bland feeling of the fabric did nothing to comfort his loneliness. All it did was torment him of sadness from the previous nights with a reminder of tearstains blotching the cloth.

It was barely his first week at the manor, and adjusting has not gone well. Everyone seemed to have little to no interest in his presence; And if they did, it was always negative attention. Slender tried to assure this this was all part of a “initiation process” that the boys did, but Toby begged to differ after he received a crude error message on his phone from the blonde sitting across from him. 

Any and all conversations have lead to him either being ignored or belittled by his new peers. They’ve asked crudely about his stutter and all of his tics that he accidentally brought to the table in a fit of anxious nerves. Their amused chuckles reminded him all too well of the shadowing laughs of foul-play in high school. His tics were shameful, he was ugly, and no one cared about him anymore. The only person he’s sure who loves him is Lyra. And she’s dead.

And just the way Jeff grimaced at him for mentioning his interests muted Toby for the rest of the day entirely. It caused a silent but deadly rejection that spiraled until he couldn’t take it. Something as simple as being looked at the wrong way triggered him into a sense of worthlessness and indescribable shame. All he required now was to hide his face from the world and pretend he didn’t exist.

They’ve finally shut him off, and he’s preparing to hoard food and spend the next few days in his room to isolate himself from any social contact and reboot. That’s all he needed for now. A safe space, and somewhere to hide away from the scary, judgmental world outside of his room.

“Hey! Dinner’s ready, kid.” A harsh thump on the wooden door jolted Toby’s anxiety, and he nearly started another crying spell again. He was late for dinner, what would they think? That he’s a lazy piece of shit that sleeps all day? Or he finally caved in and realized his hatred for the kind people and creatures who took him under their wing when he needed it most? Slender would be disappointed in him and-

“Hey kid, didya’ hear me?” Tim rattled the door again with his fist. Toby waited for the shuffle of fading footsteps that would descend the nearby flight of stairs. But they never surfaced over the deafening silence. The brunette buried his quivering lip into the pillow that was due for a much needed heap of laundry softener. “Tobias?” 

The oppressing guilt finally got to him, and a choked sob slipped his puffy lips. Toby couldn’t believe how much of a pain he was being to everyone. Now Tim has to ruin his day and his precious time to drag him out of a depression cocoon. He’s being such a fucking a child; Why not just suck it up and go to dinner? 

The brass doorknob jostled and clicked. A memory of Slender mentioned there’s a spare key on the archway of the door flickered through his vision. God! How could he forget? The boy clawed into the pillow with a frustrated whine, praying to any god that he’d do something right for once in his miserable life. Failure, rejection, and being a dumbass seemed to be his constant specialty.

“Are you okay?” Even if Toby hadn’t heard his voice, he knew the unique sound of Tim’s rustling cargo jacket. When Toby stayed silent, Tim didn’t falter, and he stared at the brunette’s lame form under the covers while Toby swallowed his pride. He refused to answer, and held his breath in hopes Tim would think he’s peacefully asleep.

“Even if you were asleep, I hope you know I’m an asshole and would wake you up for fun.” 

No response. 

Tim coughed and shuffled, “I hope you’re alive, at least?” A large hand grasped his shoulder, and Toby couldn’t stop the reaction of sitting up with an inward hiss from the unwanted touch.

Toby couldn’t bare to meet his eyes. After all he’s been through? He’s crying at bullshit like this?

“Did someone hurt you?” Tim’s gruff voice lowered, and he invited himself on Toby’s bed. The boy silently shook his head, and pulled the top of his hood over his eyebrows. Tim paused in thought before speaking, “Did...someone say something mean?” We’re they actually being mean? Or did he just perceive it that way from overreacting like he’s always done? Toby shrugged, for he didn’t know. 

“Do you wanna know a secret?” Tim scooted closer, and the warmth on his leg radiated through Toby’s sweatpants onto his cold skin. Or at least that’s what he thought it was. Temperature has always been strange to him. “They’re doing this bull on purpose so they can make you depend on them when the week’s up. They do it to everyone and it’s really fucked.”

“W-What?” Toby turned his head slightly, not enough to meet Tim’s eyes, but just enough to get a glimpse of his dark locks. 

“Don’t beat yourself up.” His breath hitched and all of his muscled cramped at once as Tim removed the hood from his eyes. “It seems a lot worse than it really is, trust me.” A thick, cigarette smelling finger wiped away a hot tear traveling the length of Toby’s cheek. “There’s more people around here than you think that are willing to help you, Tob.” 

Toby finally met his eyes. There was no upturned pity eyebrows, but instead Tim held a welcoming smile.

“I-I’m sorry. Just...t-th-there’s a lot of fail-failure shit that I’ve been putting up with my whole life. I-I-I feel fucking wor-worthless at times and-and-”

“Alright, I hope ya don’t mind but I’m stopping you there. First, don’t ever let me catch you fucking apologizing for feeling emotions. Crying is good, you gotta get that shit you, y’know?” Tim’s hand moved to pull Toby’s shoulder towards his friendly warmth. “Second of all, if you were a complete failure you’d probably be dead by now. I mean, you escape a car cash, an abusive asshole, people who wanna kill you, and first-degree arson. I’d say you’re pretty fucking accomplished for a 17 year old. ”

Toby merely shrugged, and locked his gaze on a nail sticking out from a floorboard. 

“Tobias. You’re worth a lot more than you think you are. I have no clue who you are but I can still see a hell of a lot of potential in you. All you need is confidence and a little help finding it. I’m proud that you made it this far. And I believe in you, kid.” The rough pat on his shoulder reminded him of a loving fatherly touch he’s never received. It eased his nerves, and his emotions finally started to soften.

Someone believed in him. He hasn’t heard those words in at least a year since his sister departed. It was a bittersweet, familiar feeling to hear that from someone else. Toby stole a shaky breath and vented with a sigh of relief. “I guess we should go eat now.”