#they did so much Shit refuse to believe otherwise

[sukugo]

i see ur can’t get aroused plantcest and i raise u can’t come plantcest;; can get as wet and as worked up as they fucking want vash can get fucked as much as he (other people lbr) would want but he’s just perpetually not coming not even while masturbating bc his body just does not see the need when there’s no other plant nearby

AYYEEEEE THAT'S HOT, it just builds and builds and builds, and it goes on for years, and every time it's worse, and it's making him crazy and it hurts. but he just. can't. oohhh that's sexy......

BUT BUT ALSO ANON, gonna derail this from naivash a bit bc im stuck on "when there’s no other plant nearby" and linking that to not only nai, but the other plants as well, and what that would mean for vash and the value of his plant healing visits. bc the plant healing would no longer be only to help his dying sisters, but also vash's only opportunities to get some relief.

they are the only moments when he's in the proximity of another plant, the only moments when he can orgasm. when his body will let him.

so he leans his head against the glass and his sister leans into his touch at the other side and, like clockwork, his body is tingling and reacting and fuck, he wishes not to, but he needs to, it's the only relief he can ever get, that he will get in who knows how long. so he succumbs to it, every time.

AND IM THINKING ESP HARD about a younger vash first coming to learn this, the boy going around helping his sisters and noticing that, every time he leans into their tanks, and they come to meet him, there's a thrum in his veins, electricity coursing along his skin. and his markings are glowing. and he's hot. and it's a feeling reminiscent of when he's alone in his rooms and rubs himself, sobbing as his body goes hot and hot and hot, and pleasure builds up and up and up, but never, never culminates

but—it's different.

bc it's been so long since he's felt this, specifically. felt a potential ability to finish. (something he hasn't felt in years, not since—). and he gasps. takes a hand to his crotch, presses. and his dick is throbbing, and his hole is leaking. and he can feel it. he might be able to. he might. he might come. and the thought of that, the prospect of it has his mind spinning and his heart drumming against his chest and his entire body aching in need.

since then, he always asks to be left alone with the plants during his visits.

[rileyslibrary]

Feeling frustrated and in desperate need of support, you run to Ghost to let it all out.

A/N: Platonic fluff & the usual banter.

———————————————————————

“And then guess what he said to me!” you shout, turning to look at Ghost. You’d expect him to sit at the edge of his seat, ready to storm out and confront that jerk. But no. Instead, he is reclining in his office chair, swivelling left and right. He has dismantled a stapler during your rant and laid out each piece on the table, apart from the spring, which he twirls between his fingers.

“Are you even paying attention?” You ask, placing your hands on your hips.

“Sure,” he murmurs, even though his posture says otherwise. He closes one eye and peers through the spring with the other.

“Oh yeah?” You tilt your head. “What was I saying then?”

Ghost rolls his eyes, throws his head back, and sets the spring down among the other parts. He pulls his mask down, then adjusts it on his nose.

“On the day of the tactical training—which, according to you, shouldn’t be so close to the physical training because it makes your back hurt, and you don’t shut up about it—you were teamed up with Sergeant Dickinson,” he says with furrowed brows, “whom you refuse to address by his rank and call him what instead?”

“Shart-geant,” you reply, waving your hand. “But that’s irrelevant.”

“I disagree,” he says. “Wasn’t the surname ‘Dickinson’ enough to mess around with?”

“Nah,” you scoff, flicking your wrist. “Too easy.”

“Fair enough,” he nods and continues. “So, apparently, Sergeant Dickinson was a real asshole towards you, bossing you around and whatnot. At the end of your training, he supposedly said something that justifies you SWATing my office and disturbing my peace.”

He finishes his summary, leaving you staring at him with your hands still on your hips. “That’s correct,” you finally confirm.

He looks proud, almost too smug at your agreement. He picks up the spring again and continues playing with it. “Well, don’t leave me hanging,” he prompts, motioning for you to continue, “what did he say that was so terrible?”

“No!” You protest, pointing a finger at him. “No, you guess what that fucker told me.”

“Are we seriously doing this now?” He asks, amused.

“Yes,” you assert, nodding. “Yes, because, chances are, you won’t believe what he said.”

“Fair enough,” Ghost sighs, fully turning his attention to you. “Did he tell you to eat shit?”

“What?!” you ask, raising an eyebrow. “No!”

“How about calling you a horrible, uncooperative, egotistical teammate?”

“No, Ghost,” you shake your head. “As a matter of fact, I was the perfect teammate.”

“Oh, I know,” he says, pointing a finger. “How about—”

“Never mind,” you cut in, frustrated. “I’ll tell you what he said.”

“You sure?” He asks, his smugness returning. “Because I could keep guessing.”

“No, no, that’s enough.” You reply. “He told me to go fetch him the car.”

“Oh, wow,” he murmurs, leaning back on the chair. “Un-be-fucking-lievable.”

“Well, it’s not as dramatic as your guesses!” You exclaim, throwing your hands in the air. “Eat shit? Horrible teammate? Who says that?”

“Well, clearly not Dickinson,” he mutters.

You shoot him a side-eye, to which he responds by concealing the spring in the palm of his hand. There’s a hint of a smirk behind his balaclava.

“So you were bothered because you were asked to get the car.” He states.

“Fetch the car!” You shout, throwing your hands in the air. “Fetch! Like I’m some dog!”

“Are you a dog?” He asks deadpan.

“What a stupid question!” You shout again. “Of course I’m not!”

“Then why does it bother you that much?”

“Because it’s demeaning, Ghost!” you declare, pacing back and forth in front of his desk. “After everything in that training, all the crap he put me through, that’s how he dismisses me? Like I’m not worth his time?”

Ghost tilts his head, his eyes narrowing. The spring is now forgotten in his hand. “Is that how you feel when I shout at you to ‘shut the fuck up, stop acting like a baby, and bear the pain’ during physical training?”

You stop pacing and meet his gaze. “No,” you admit, shaking your head. “No, that’s differ—.”

“How?” Ghost interrupts sharply. “How is it different?”

“You outrank me,” you whisper, dropping your gaze.

“Dickinson outranks you too.” he points out.

“And he shouldn’t!” you shout, stepping forward and slamming your hands on Ghost’s desk. “I should’ve gotten that promotion! I was the one who deserved it, and you know it!”

“So it’s not about fetching cars,” Ghost says calmly. “It’s an ego thing.”

Your eyes widen. Your mouth opens slightly as you lean on the desk, towering over him. Ghost, on the other hand, remains unbothered.

“Are you gaslighting me, Lt.?” You whisper. “Someone treats me like a dog, then it’s suddenly my fault?”

Ghost avoids your question. He instead turns to look at you with eyes full of empathy. The first time in so long.

“We often ridicule what we secretly desire,” he says. “That’s why you mock his rank and not his name. It’s not Dickinson you have an issue with; it’s the fact that he has become a Sergeant instead of you. That’s what bothers you.”

“Th-that’s not true,” you whisper, turning away to hide your blush. “It’s about respect. About being treated like I matter. I don’t envy Dickinson or his stupid rank.”

There’s a soft chuckle behind you, and you turn to look at him. Ghost is shaking his head, his shoulders moving slightly up and down. He reaches into a drawer of his desk and retrieves an envelope.

“Why the laugh?” You ask, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“You’re not envious, that I agree,” he says, pulling out a letter and pushing it towards you. “You are jealous.”

“I’m not jealous!” You exclaim, eyeing the piece of paper. “What’s this?”

“It’s a letter from your bestie,” Ghost replies, leaning back in his chair. “Just read it.”

You pick up the letter and unfold it. It’s from Dickinson, addressing Ghost. It reads:

Lieutenant Ghost,

I wanted to take a moment to commend Corporal Y/N for her outstanding performance during our recent tactical training exercises. She consistently demonstrated exemplary teamwork skills and a commitment to the success of our missions. Despite our challenges, Corporal Y/N remained composed under pressure and willing to assist her teammates in any way possible.

Her dedication to her duties and her team is commendable, and I believe she has the potential for leadership roles in the future. I have no doubt that she will continue to excel in her career.

Sincerely,

Sergeant Dickinson

You fold the letter back and place it on the desk, still looking at it. You scratch your cheek and run a hand through your hair.

“I received it on the day of the training. Dickinson wanted to ensure it found its way to your file.” Ghost says, his eyebrows shooting up. “What do you think about it?”

“A week hasn’t passed since his promotion, and he’s already signing as Sergeant?” You mock.

“You really are a bundle of joy, aren’t you?” Ghost scoffs, throwing his hands up. “And they say about me.”

“Why didn’t he just tell me this himself?” you ask, your eyes darting back and forth while trying to process everything.

“There are lots of reasons,” Ghost contemplates. “Maybe he has trouble with expressing things.”

“Are you projecting much, Lt.?”

“Maybe I am,” he shrugs, playing with the spring more uncomfortably than bored this time. “But I also think he is a show-off who likes to suck up to his higher-ups—”

“—hence addressing the letter to you,” you murmur, finishing his sentence. “Gosh, I feel like an idiot.”

“Don’t just feel like it,” he jokes. “Embrace it instead.”

You scoff and lean on his desk, messing up the stapler parts he so carefully placed on the table. He playfully swats your hand away and shows you the door.

“Now go, and stop being so whiny all the time,” he orders, holding up the spring and pressing it between his index finger and thumb. “It’s ok to stress, as long as you bounce back stronger, like this.”

———————————————————————

[larcenywrites]

any headcanons about what dating logan/wolverine might be like? 👀

I can try 😮‍💨 just like with sabretooth, I worry I can’t properly capture him… but we can always dabble around with ideas!

Wolverine x Reader

Warnings: definitely has nsfw | one line does refer to reader being AFAB |

🍺 Sigh… the real question is, how are you going to get in a relationship with this man 😒

🍺 Never mind whether he’s still pining after Jean or not, the guy just refuses to commit 🙄 doesn’t matter if you’ve fucked or not.

🍺 But let’s skip that whole dramatic montage and say you did manage to finally tie him down just a little 🤏

🍺 It’s not like Logan doesn’t have fun or smile or know how to love! But when it comes to an actual bona fide relationship… it’s just harder to comfortably do those things. He’s lived a long time, been through nearly every type of trauma, hates himself for what he is half the time, and, while it hides well behind all that attitude, he’s afraid of a lot of things— from himself to the world.

🍺 So it makes it hard for him to love like that. Feelings are kinda hard for him to talk about 😔 at least, at first. Later on it gets easier, and while his tone may still be soft and gruff and he might sound reserved, but he won’t shy away from any sweet pillow talk anymore 🥺 though… any specific topics pertaining to a future… he’s probably a little more eager to switch to something else 😣

🍺 He’ll definitely be all growly if you start playing with his hair 😤 believe it or not, he’s a little particular about his grooming, and still a little funny about being unexpectedly touched at times— even by his partner.

🍺 But perhaps the real show of love here is the fact that he still won’t stop you 🥲

🍺 Usually the free time he has is spent fucking shit up in the danger room or drinking at his favorite spot, but he will actually take you on dates that don’t involve either! (But let’s be honest, it’s kinda hot to watch him tear shit up sometimes 😏)

🍺 It’s canon that Logan enjoys some broadway musicals! And while it’s not its favorite thing to have to do, he can dress up quite nice 😘

🍺 Actually a horndog 😮‍💨 For a guy that’s always going on about controlling his raging animal or whatever, he sure doesn’t have much control when his sexual partner even looks at him the wrong way 🙄 Maybe it’s all the energy he can never quite get out, or maybe it’s because he goes without for a while at a time, but definitely don’t be surprised when, upon finally getting to share his bed, you don’t get very much sleep 😘

🍺 Unfortunately(?) the dude can smell horniness, which will get him going no matter what his current situation is 🤭

🍺 I know this man eats pussy like nobody’s business 🥴 literally pouncing on you 🥴 maybe a rather hard bite to your thigh before just literally diving in, but otherwise probably won’t do much foreplay, especially nothing all loving and sweet.

🍺 Surprisingly a cuddler? But not, like, when you do it :/ a selective cuddler, we’ll call him. He’ll roll over and trap you in a bear hug 🥰 but no matter if you are taller or shorter than him, he’s gonna be face planted in your shoulder blades

🍺 one of those people that will not be little spoon 😒😒😒😒😒 you might get away with it if you catch him already in bed and you just crawl on top of him and wrap around him 🤭

🍺 but he’s definitely a sucker for having you lie on his chest 🥺🥺🥺🥺 he’ll probably sigh as if you’re bothering him, but it’s kinda like that thing dogs do when they get comfy and sigh loudly 🥰

🍺 it’s counterintuitive, but tbh the more you shower him with love the more he low key hates himself… but he still definitely enjoys it! He actually does love to be loved! A little shy about it, though.

🍺 don’t be afraid to kiss his hand right where his claws come out 😘

🍺 not necessarily jealous as much as he is protective…

🍺 well, he does get a little possessive…

🍺 sometimes might be petty af if you try to come into bed smelling like someone who’s pissed him off that day (many people piss him off every day)

🍺 like it’s not your fault you were in the same general area as Cyclops for longer than ten minutes and Wolfie over here can smell that 😒

🍺 When he’s done throwing his pity party, though, you get way-too-tight cuddles though so it’s a win? How else are you supposed to smell like him again?

[cevansbrat0007]

Hello, Duchess

Summary: Your first encounter with Bounty Hunter, Ari Levinson, goes worse than you ever could've imagined. Takes place directly after the events in New in Town.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Bickering, Implied Jealousy, Threats of Violence, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Special thanks to my creative consultant, @curls-and-eyeliner. Part my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

Ari’s P.O.V.

“Can’t believe this town actually has a real live bookstore.” Ari muses as he pulls up in front of the tiny, quaint-looking bookstore. “Fuckin’ wild.” Throwing his truck in park he takes a moment to survey the area, making note of the empty lot.

‘Must not do much business.’ He thinks before climbing out of his vehicle and confidently striding toward the door. Hopefully, the lack of an audience would make things flow a hell of a lot faster. Hell, if you were anything like some of the other women in this town, he’d probably just have to smile and flash his baby blues to convince you to spill your guts.

In fact, he was practically banking on it. Because this wasn’t Ari’s first rodeo – not by a long shot. He’d spent a lot of his life in and out of small towns like Bell’s Creek, which was part of the reason he couldn’t wait to bag his latest bounty and put this place, and its people, in his rearview mirror. Ari reaches for the handle on the door, only to frown when he gets a look at the sign hanging in the window that reads: “sorry, we’re closed”. 

Well, that couldn’t be right. 

He could’ve sworn that when he’d pressed Mrs. Turner, the First Lady of Calvary Baptist Church, about your whereabouts she’d said he’d be able to find you at your shop. Something about your preferring to work instead of resting and rejoicing on the Lord’s day. 

While the bounty hunter supposed he could always try back tomorrow, he was keen to check you off his list. Refusing to admit defeat, he decides to try his luck anyway, only to be surprised when the door opens with a tinkling chime of a bail. 

Confused but also now on high alert, Ari takes a tentative step inside as he looks for any sign of life. “Hello?” He calls out, finally allowing the door to swing shut behind him. Instinct has him reaching for his back pocket, checking to make sure he had brought along his firearm.

Just in case.

“Is anybody here?” He tries again, moving further into the shop. The place is clean and well lit, and boasts rack after rack of books. But what’s most impressive is that there doesn’t appear to be a speck of dust anywhere. “Look, I just came by to–”

“We’re closed!” A disembodied voice sounds from the back of the store. 

“Yeah, I saw the sign, ma’am…” He clears his throat. “But I think you forgot to lock the door, so I –”

“That means get out!”

“So much for southern hospitality.” Ari grumbles under his breath as he continues on his mission to track down the owner of the voice. “Ma’am, I just wanna talk. And maybe–ahh shit!” He curses when his hip accidentally connects with a half-full rolling cart, sending several of the heavier books crashing to the ground. “Sorry!” 

“Did you just break something?!” The voice suddenly screeches. “Don’t make me get my taser.”

“There’s no need for that.” Instead of picking them up, the bounty hunter hastily nudges them aside with his foot. “My name is Ari Levinson, and I’m just here to ask you a couple of questions.”

While this isn’t how the man had expected any of this to go, he’s relieved when he sees a familiar face peek at him from around the corner. A face that happened to be even more beautiful than he initially remembered. Even though it had only been a couple of hours since he’d seen you last. 

Damn! It was as if the image of you in that dress taking up space at the other end of the pew was now permanently imprinted into his brain. He'd have to tread lightly here.

Otherwise things could get complicated. Fast.

Your P.O.V

“Pretty sure this is what law enforcement calls trespassing.” You sniff, craning your head around the corner to stare at the man who was taking up entirely too much space in the narrow hallway. Sure said man was easy on the eyes, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t at least a little concerned about his apparent inability to read. 

“I can assure you that’s not what this is.” The lawman holds up his palms in an effort to placate you. 

And although you try not to stare, it’s impossible to miss just how big they are – how rough they seemed – with just the right amount of callus. You can’t help but wonder what those hands would feel like on your bare flesh. 

“Then what is it?” You ask, struggling to keep your tone short and clipped as you emerge from your hiding place. The last thing you needed was to have this man thinking you were actually attracted to him. 

If anything, you considered yourself to be curious. No harm there, right? 

“As I said, my name is Ari Levinson. I’m a bounty hunter from just outside Rosewell, New Mexico who also occasionally moonlights as a private investigator.” He tells you, jamming his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I just stopped by to ask you a couple of questions. And while I didn’t necessarily mean to intrude, I figured you might appreciate me taking a more delicate approach on account of your relationship with my person of interest.”

Fucking Martin Westbrook. He’d been the bane of your existence ever since you’d first crossed paths back in high school. 

“I know you’re looking for Martin.” Annoyed by the very nature of the conversation, you pick up a box, hefting it onto your hip so that you can carry it out to the sales floor. “But I’m not quite sure how much help I can be.”

You brush past him, inwardly smiling when he scrambles to get out of your way. It was a subtle reminder that this was your shop. And you absolutely refused to be intimidated by him or anyone else. 

“I’m sure whatever you have to say will be plenty helpful.” He’s quick to reassure you as he turns to follow the path you set. “Provided you’re honest, that is.”

“Did you really just waltz into my shop and call me a liar, Mr. Levinson?” 

“I meant no offense.” Ari coughs, scrubbing a weary hand over his bearded jaw. If you were the overly presumptuous type, you might think you’d just managed to fluster the poor man.

Now feeling extra prickly, you drop the box onto the far counter of your cashwrap before turning to face your unwelcome guest. “As you can see, I have a busy day’s work ahead of me. And I was really keen on doing it by myself.” You gesture at the array of other boxes and racks placed around the store. “So if we could get a move on, I would greatly appreciate it.”  

“Gladly.” He gives a brief look around. “Is there some place maybe where you and I can sit and chat?”

“I’d say here is about as good a place as any.” You tell him as you step behind the counter. Bending down, you snag a bottle of cleaner, along with a couple of rags. If this man insisted on being here, then he would just have to deal with you taking care of your business. “I’m pretty confident in my ability to multitask.”  

Nodding along, Ari pulls out a small notepad and pen from his back pocket. “When was the last time you saw Mr. Westbrook?”

You let out a sigh as you begin to spray down your countertops with your all-purpose cleaner. While you supposed you could’ve gone with something a little more industrial, you were partial to the way this particular brand’s products always smelled. 

“I don’t know.” You shrug as you bask in the scent of rose and cedar. “Maybe three, four weeks ago.” 

“Do you happen to recall the day and time?”

“No. Not really. If I had to ballpark it, I’d guess sometime around the 5th of last month.” You move to the next flat surface, spraying it down just like the last.

“You sure about that?” You try not to let it irk you when you see him take a seat on a nearby step stool out of the corner of your eye. 

“As much as I can be.” 

“And did Mr. Westbrook happen to give you any indication of where he might be headed?”

“Nope.”

He’d been nervous though. That much you did recall. By the time he’d come to you that night, your old friend had been well beyond spooked. 

“Did he give you his reason for leaving?”

“We didn’t…” You trail off, taking a moment to scrub at a particularly stubborn sticky spot that’s marring the wood. “There wasn’t really much time for talking.” You’re so concerned with scrubbing that you miss the way the county hunter’s eyes narrow as he studies you. “He just stopped over to say goodbye.”

And to borrow all the cash you happened to have on hand – to the tune of $500. Enough for a bus ticket and a couple nights in a dirt cheap motel.

“Right.” Ari scoffs, admittedly with a bit more heat than he intends. “Not a lot of time for talking.” He pauses briefly to drag a hand through his shaggy brown locks. “Not sure why I didn’t wanna believe them.” 

“Am I sensing a problem, Mr. Levinson?” You hum, tossing your rag to the side in favor of focusing on the rugs. 

“I guess I’m just having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that he kept you in the dark about his plans.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “In my experience, most men like Martin tend to have loose lips around the women they’re fuckin’.”

In that moment, it’s almost as if you can feel the air go out of the room. Just who the fuck did this knuckle-dragging, mouth-breather think he was?

“Excuse me?” Those two little words are spoken through clenched teeth. You’re so taken aback by his brazen accusation that you can scarcely breathe, let alone think.    

Ari simply quirks a tawny brow at you, seemingly unaware of the danger he’s just placed himself in. Did he not see how close your hand was to that damned stapler? While it was clear that folks in this town had been running their mouths, they’d apparently neglected to mention that you’d also been the star pitcher for your high school softball team.   

“Apologies if I offended your delicate sensibilities, Duchess. But I’ve never been the type to beat around the bush. Besides…” The smug bastard tucks his pen behind his ear. “You have to know that people in this town like to talk.”

Fire simmers hot in your belly, as you come out from behind the register. It takes less than ten  seconds for you to bridge the distance between yourself and the cocky lawman. While you might’ve been taught never to raise a hand against anyone, this man was sorely testing every last bit of your patience.

“I want to make one thing very, very clear.” You hiss once you’re finally standing toe-to-toe with the handsome interloper who, of course, makes no room to get up himself. “I have never – not even once – slept with Martin Westbrook. He’s a friend, you backwoods jackass. Something you clearly know nothing about.” 

“I get the feeling I struck a nerve.” 

And, judging by the newfound tick in his jaw, so had you. Except you had no way of knowing it was because he’d lost a buddy of his own a little while back. 

“And I think it’s about time you got the hell out of my shop.” His piercing blue eyes fly to yours, letting you know that you’d managed to surprise him with your heated dismissal. 

Good. Because this Ari Levinson fella had officially overstayed his welcome.

“Look, Duchess. I apolo –”

“That’s the second time you’ve called me out of my name, Mr. Levinson. And I’m not sure I appreciate it.” You spit as you take a step backwards with the intention of giving him enough space to stand. “Now, I’ve been nothing but amenable to your rather…invasive questions. But we’re done. So, I’m gonna have to insist that you leave.”

Before you decided he’d make a deserving candidate for death by a thousand paper cuts. 

Your pulse continues to thrum in your ears as you watch him rise to his full height – an impressive 6’4 – so that he now towers over you. Perhaps if you weren’t so angry you’d be a little more tempted to allow your mind to wander a little farther into the realm of fantasy. 

But not now. 

Right now, in this moment, all you wanted was to watch Ari Levinson’s sculpted ass walk right out your front door.  

Nodding, the now quiet bounty hunter begins moving in the direction of the entrance. Neither of you say a word as you make that quick walk. In fact, you don’t speak again until Ari’s hand is on the handle. 

“For what it's worth…” He blows out a weary breath. “This wasn’t how I meant for this to go.” His eyes find yours, as if imploring you to see the truth in them. 

However, instead of responding all you can do is offer up a shrug. Which he, of course, takes as an opportunity to keep going. 

“It’s just…the idea of someone like you getting caught up with a piece of slime like Westbrook…” He pauses long enough to open the door and take a tentative step outside. “I guess it bothered me more than I realized.”

His reluctant admission has your stomach tied up in knots, which prompts you to ask the one question you were almost certain you’d regret later: 

“And just what do you mean by that?” You do your best to seem unruffled as you awkwardly brace yourself against the doorframe.

“All I’m saying is that you’re out of his league.” Feeling even more confused, you watch as Ari’s lips curve in a faint smile. “And if you didn’t know that before, well, now you do.” His head dips politely as he turns to head towards his truck. 

“Guess I’ll see you around, Duchess.” You don’t have to see his face to know that he’s grinning. “Oh, and don’t forget to lock up. Might help with all those unwanted visitors you’ve been havin.”

Ari doesn't need to turn his head to know that you're currently giving him the finger. He can feel it. And all it does it make him smile harder.

END 

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[tgcg]

part 2 of something specific

CG: I’M GOING TO NEED TO WATCH THROUGH IT AGAIN TO REALLY HONE DOWN WHAT I THINK OF IT, BUT FUCK IT, I MIGHT AS WELL SHARE MY THOUGHTS NOW SINCE WE’RE FRESH OFF OF WATCHING IT.

CG: SO, THEY’RE ACTUALLY A REALLY FASCINATING EXAMPLE OF RED ROMANCE. I’D GO SO FAR AS TO SAY VERY SUBVERSIVE OF ALTERNIAN UNDERSTANDINGS OF THE SORT, COMPARED TO WHAT YOU’D USUALLY SEE IN FICTIONAL MEDIA. IT’S LEVELS ABOVE THE TYPE OF DYNAMICS I WOULD TYPICALLY SEE IN MY NOVELS, DISREGARDING THE QUALITY OF VACILLATIONS AND YOUR QUOTE-ENQUOTE “POLYAMORY” PRESENT. BECAUSE SAKURA’S POSITION IN THIS IS PRACTICALLY POINTLESS, BUT I DIGRESS.

CG: ACTUALLY — THAT WAS KIND OF FUCKED UP, BY THE WAY. WHY IS SHE WRITTEN SO POORLY?

TG: remember when i told you about misogyny

CG: I WILL NEVER FUCKING GET THAT. OUR MOST POWERFUL FIGURES WERE GENERALLY GIRLS. HOW THAT TRANSLATED SO FUCKING TERRIBLY IS BEYOND ME!

CG: AND HOW THE SHIT DID THE UNIVERSE *I* HAD A DIRECT HAND IN CREATING END UP BEING SO MIND-BOGGLINGLY BACKWARDS ABOUT ROMANCE?

CG: DID NOT EVEN AN ERRANT TRICKLE OF MY INFLUENTIAL THINKPAN OOZE MAKE IT THROUGH THERE? AT ALL?

TG: not even a droplet my man we decided to be equally anal about other stupid shit i guess

CG: NO KIDDING!

CG: ANYWAYS.

TG: if yall managed to get through that door and reign supreme over the human race for lip smackin eternity you know mens and womens would be macking on each other in various gender arrangements with gleeful wild abandon 

TG: itd be a goddamn utopia

CG: FUCKING EXACTLY! BUT INSTEAD I’M HERE. DOING THIS. WITH A GOD, UNIVERSE PENDING. INSTEAD OF BEING A GOD REIGNING OVER A UNIVERSE MYSELF.

CG: *ANYWAYS*!

CG: THEY START OUT WITH A RIVALRY, SURE, BUT THERE’S ACTUALLY NOTHING BLACK ABOUT IT. THEIR FEELINGS FOR EACH OTHER ARE STRICTLY POSITIVE, IF HIDDEN BEHIND A MORE AGGRESSIVE FACADE. THE VIOLENCE OF THEIR RELATIONSHIP BOTH COMES FROM THE SOCIETY THEY WERE RAISED INTO, AND SOME OF THEIR MAJOR CHARACTER FLAWS AND INSECURITIES. NARUTO IS FIERCELY DEFENSIVE OF ANYONE WHO JOINS HIS CIRCLE BECAUSE HE’S DESPERATE FOR CONNECTIONS, AND REFUSES TO LOSE THEM AT ANY COST EVEN IF THEY LEAVE SUPPOSEDLY OF THEIR OWN ACCORD. SASUKE SEPARATES HIMSELF FROM THE PEOPLE HE LOVES OUT OF FEAR – AND DESIRE FOR REVENGE AGAINST HIS BROTHER CONVINCING HIM THIS IS NECESSARY.

CG: LIKE, EVEN WITHIN THE FIRST MAJOR ARC IN THE LAND OF WAVES YOU CAN SEE THAT THEY CARE ABOUT EACH OTHER SO DEEPLY THAT SASUKE WOULD DIRECTLY SACRIFICE HIMSELF AND HIS POTENTIAL FOR NARUTO’S. AND BELIEVING SASUKE TO BE DEAD IS THE FIRST CATALYST TO NARUTO’S POWERS BEING RELEASED. THAT IS *REALLY* EXTREME. ESPECIALLY BY TROLL STANDARDS, BUT I UNDERSTAND KILLING PEOPLE IS A MUCH FUCKING LARGER DEAL PSYCHOLOGICALLY FOR HUMANS. THAT KIND OF REACTION TO DEATH WOULD ONLY BE RESERVED FOR A CURRENT OR POTENTIAL QUADRANTMATE… AND IS OTHERWISE ONLY EXPRESSED BY TROLLS WITH DISEASES.

TG: oh yeah like the friendship disease right

CG: UGH.

[brummiereader]

PREVIOUS PART

Hopelessly Devoted (PART THREE)

Summary: After the previous day's events relentlessly play out in your head you come to the realisation it's time to move on from any hopes you had of rekindling your relationship with Tommy. But just as you decided to turn the page, Tommy's thoughts begin to be plagued by the past. His attempts at confessing how he really feels short lived when he discovers he has been betrayed on the day his plan to take out Billy Kimber falls apart.

Warnings: Language, angst, mutual pining

Authors note: The song Y/N sings is "Where have all the flowers gone" covered by Olivia Newton-John.

" Shit..." you said as you looked in your bathroom mirror dabbing the cut on your throat with a cotton ball doused in alcohol as you glanced down at your trembling hand, quickly grabbing it with the other to stop the shaking as your frustration with the constant nerves engulfing your every waking breath refused to relent. Walking over to your bed you sat down as tears began to form in the corner of your eyes. How was there even any left? You thought to yourself as you rested your head in your hand, exhausted from another night of almost no sleep. Biting the corner of your mouth you gave up letting the tears fall down your arm as the previous day's events played out in your head, tormenting you over and over again at the bitter pill you had finally forced yourself to swallow. This was it. I'ts over, there was no point in trying to kid yourself into thinking otherwise. Tommy may not have said the words to you himself but Kimber's men had made it clear to you of his feelings when they had a knife pushed up against your neck threatening your life. He was protecting the new barmaid he had known for five minutes by giving your name so freely, putting you in harm's way, the woman he had known his whole life the same woman he once wanted to marry at all cost. You thought to yourself as you glanced at his pocket watch sitting on your bedside table, glaring at it as if he had returned his love back to you, discarding anything he once felt for you like he had with your own feelings for him. Standing up you wiped your tears away as you straightened your body out trying to regain some sort of control over your emotions. Would he even care if you told him what happened when you left the Garrison? What did it even matter, you quickly determined. You had no intentions of telling him, you would not let him think you needed his protection, have him pity you, have him believe you couldn't fend for yourself. You was on your own now that much was clear, his feelings towards you finally understood when he replaced the one thing you never thought he would with such disregard and heartlessness. If Tommy was moving on it was time you did the same. No more tears no more day dreaming of what could have been. From this day forward you promised yourself not to let the heartbreak he had caused you drag you down any further. New me, new start. You mentally hummed to yourself like a mantra as you looked in the mirror hanging on the wall, holding up the burgundy dress you had picked out against your body. "Fuck him" you said as you nodded at your reflection, reassuring yourself on the hardest decision you had ever made. Grace can have him, good luck to her.

" Where is she?" Tommy huffed as he loomed over the large table in the room adjacent to the betting shop as his family looked on shrugging their shoulders. " I dont have fucking time to wait around for her shit" Tommy said as he pulled out his new pocket watch, the weight of it not feeling the same, the shape of it not sitting in his hand how he liked how he had become accustomed to.

" Yes your relentless brooding over her is not obvious at all" Polly uttered quietly under her breath as she licked her finger, turning the page of the newspaper in front of her as Arthur and John sniggered at eachother.

" What's that, hm?" Tommy said as he leaned forward his eyes darting between the three of them as Arthur put his hands up in defence unable to hold back the laugh he had been trying to keep in. You were getting under his skin, and Arthur found it the most comical thing he witnessed all week.

" Sorry brother" Arthur said as he sniffed back his laughs clearing his throat. "But she always has had you by your balls. Not that you'll ever admit it" Arthur snickered as the whole room let out a burst of small laughs whilst Tommy's face twisted in anger. There was nothing more loving than teasing a family member in the Shelby house.

" Right you all done? " he said pointing at everyone as he pulled his pocket watch out to check the time again " Five minutes" he mumbled as he clenched his jaw. " I'll fire every single one of you" Tommy muttered as he sat down in his chair with a huff.

" Alright now that you've had your little temper tantrum can we get to business. And she's ten minutes late not five" Polly said taking a sip of tea, a smile on her lips as she watched the realisation on Tommy's face. His watch for the first time in ten years was on time. Fuck. He had become so used to it being five minutes late he would plan all his meetings around the little habit you had started ten years ago, never bothering to or wanting to turn it to the right time. Except this time you was ten minutes late. Just as Tommy was about to get into another rant about your tardiness the sound of your heels echoing loudly though the betting shop had everyone but Tommy turn their head.

"Fabulous" Polly mouthed to you when you walked into the room, motioning up and down with her hand at your outfit as Tommy's head nearly flew of his neck when he turned to face John and the wolf whistle he had just sent your way.

"There she is" Arthur said, sending you a wink of approval as you strutted through the room with a new air of confidence passing by Tommy as he finally turned his head to you. Looking you up and down Tommy cleared his throat as he shifted in his seat hitching his trousers further up, his eyes widening as he looked you over. Was this for his benefit or everyone else's he wondered as he looked at the way your dress hugged every curve of your body, every curve he could never keep his hands off.

" You're late" he said as his eyes pierced into you, piercing through that fucking dress you had decided to wear to make him jealous, to torment him. He thought to himself as he tried to stay composed, tried to stop himself from saying something he would regret.

" Oh am I?" you replied nonchalantly as you pulled a chair out from the side, scrapping it along the floor to the opposite end of the end of table. " Only five minutes though" you said sitting down, having not once looked at him since you entered the room.

" Ten" Tommy replied as he leaned his elbow on the arm of his chair, his fingers resting in front of his lips as he watched you brush your hair behind your shoulder. Something was different. And since when did you start wearing dresses like that? Tommy thought to himself when he suddenly determined you had a new man. His only evidence being that dress he couldn't keep his eyes off and the small remark you made the other day about your relationship being over, a remark that had been playing on his mind ever since. His eyes still boring into you, Tommy quickly decided he'd find the bastard you was dating and rip his throat out for daring to go near you. Had everyone forgotten the warning he had given?

" Replaced that too I see" you said finally looking up as your eyes locked onto each others, a smirk on you lips as you enjoyed your new founded confidence. Last night's events had finally given you the push you needed, the wake up call you had been longing for.

"Shall we start" Polly said as everyone else who had been watching your interactions finally shifted their eyes away from the palpable tension between you. Nodding his head Tommy lit a cigarette shaking the flame from the match as he continued to watch you in the corner of his eye.

All throughout the meeting you could feel the heat of his glare burning into your cheeks with every minute that passed whilst you constantly fidgeted in your chair, desperately wanting to free yourself from his incessant stare. Your confidence was back but not enough to face his piercing blue eyes that he enjoyed watching you squirm under and the foul mood he had forced you and everyone else to endure. As for Tommy he had no interest in what his family had to stay. Instead he was more concerned as to what had you looking so pleased with yourself so poised, a far cry from how you had been in recent years. His concerns only heightened when John went over dates for an event Tommy had planned for everyone in celebration. A celebration for what, nobody new yet.

"Talked with Aunt Pol, only date free is February the fifteenth, in a month's time for your...whatever it is" John said chewing on the end of his pencil as he squinted at his handwriting on the piece of paper in front of him. " No the sixteenth" he said looking up as Polly rolled her eyes.

" The nineteenth" she said as she shook her head at her nephew whilst John shrugged his shoulders replacing the pencil in his mouth with a toothpick.

" Right yeh, fine" Tommy said as he mentally went through the dates in his head, hoping his plans in a week's time would go the way he wanted to actually have something to celebrate about. "Y/N you gonna write that down?" he said looking to you as he tapped his fingers on the table trying to gain your attention.

" I can't come" you said as you finished writing in your notebook finally looking up to see the irritation growing in Tommy's face.

" It's a company gathering. You don't have a choice. Moving on..." Tommy said as he flicked his ash into the glass dish beside him as he lent back into his chair.

" I'm not obligated. It wasn't in my contract" you said as you crossed your arms.

" You don't have a contract" Tommy scoffed as he rubbed his brow in frustration.

" Well I want one, that way I know exactly where I stand"

"Think you're making it pretty clear were you stand sweetheart" Tommy said as you glared at him. " So what is it that has you so busy you can't come, care to share it with us?"

" I have plans with someone" you lied. In truth, you didn't have any reason to not got to Tommy's event. You just didn't want to, knowing you wouldn't be able to endure another evening watching him with her again.

"You have plans with someone in a month's time? Who?" Tommy asked stubbing out his cigarette getting annoyed with your short response" With who Y/N?"

" What's it got to do with you?"

" Another man, is that it hm? You fuckin..."

" Right think we're done ay" Arthur said standing up as he clapped his hands together cutting Tommy off in attempt to break the tension before a slagging match ensued between you both. Staring eachother down you was the first to get up, briskly walking away with a scowl on your face as Tommy brushed his hand down his face.

" See that fucking attitude I have to deal with?" Tommy said as he stood up turning to Arthur. It wasn't the first spat you had ever had in front of everyone but it had been the first time in a long time that you finally bit back at his words, catching him of guard.

" Wonder where she learnt that?" Arthur said as he placed his hand on Tommy's shoulder before walking off with a smirk on his face.

" I won't stand for this kind of attitude in a work place! Hey, you all listening to me?" Tommy shouted as he turned to everyone in the betting office and their weak attempts to hide the amusement on their faces.

" We hear you baby brother!" Arthur called out as he grabbed his hat walking out the door. Clearly everyone was mad at him, mad at the way he had treated you the previous evening in the Garrison . But Tommy was just as mad at himself for letting the events play out. He felt blindsided by Grace's gift. He needed you to know that, he needed you to know the last thing he wanted was to be parted from it.

It had been a few hours since the meeting when the tension between you and Tommy had almost turned into a full blown argument one that potentially had the chance of you launching anything you could find at him. Thankfully Arthur had intervened, stopping you from embarrassing yourselves in front of the whole betting shop. For the remainder of the day you had stayed out of each others way letting your anger towards one another simmer down. But an hour before closing time Tommy had called you into his office. His plan was to apologise for the previous evening, albeit in a cold uniquely Tommy way. But nonetheless he felt guilty for what had happened last night. Little did he know, he was only going to make things worse. As you entered his office Tommy looked up from the various papers on his desk to the scowl still spread across your face. You was clearly still mad at him, did he really think he could just apologise and his cruel actions would be forgotten?

" Hand me my diary" he asked as he rubbed his forefinger above his top lip watching you as you crossed your arms in frustration. Did he seriously ask you in here to fetch his diary for him ? You thought to yourself as you stormed over to the shelves behind him as he cleared his throat reaching for the pack of cigarettes on his desk. Slamming it on the table in front of him you started to walk off when he grabbed your arm stopping you.

" I need you to write down the dates John gave at the meeting" he said as he looked up at you and the storm of anger building in your face.

" You couldn't have done that yourself?"

" Forgot them" he said as he picked up a pencil handing it to you.

" You never forget anything Thomas Shelby" you snapped back grabbing the pencil from his hand as you started turning the pages, a little huff leaving your throat that Tommy couldn't help but smile at. " What's this?" you asked pointing at a black star one week from today.

" The day I finish my dealings with Kimber. The dates" he said nodding at the book, lighting a cigarette as your hand wavered over the paper at the confirmation from Tommy himself that what Kimber's men had said yesterday when they had you pushed up against the brick wall behind your home was Indeed true. Turning the page a sudden surge of discomfort started to build within you, a discomfort you hadn't felt since he left for France. He was putting his life at risk once again, and the only reaction you had was worry, worry that he wouldn't come back from it. " There" you said quietly, pushing the book towards him as you turned to leave.

" Y/N' wait" Tommy said as he stood up walking over to you." The other day at the Garrison...the pocket watch i didn't want to.."

" Just stop Tommy" you said as put your hand up cutting him off " We've both moved on, why hold onto the past right? " you added as Tommy let out a deep sigh whilst you turned your head away from him avoiding as much eye contact as you possibly could.

" That's the thing, I never mov... What's that?" He said as he moved your hair away from your neck, you body flinching as his thumb rubbed along the small knife mark on your skin. " Y/N who did that to you?" Tommy said, his voice getting lower as a surge of anger started to course through him.

" It's nothing Tommy"

" Nothing? You're lying" he replied with a scoff as he moved your hair away again, ducking his head down to to get a better look when you swatted his hand away. " Looks like someone had a knife to your throat" he said as he let his hand drop to his side, fury rising within him at the mere thought of someone hurting you.

" Don't be ridiculous. I was cutting my hair and nipped my skin. Why do you care anyway?"

"You never was very good at lying Y/N" Tommy said huffing as he watched you bite the corner of you bottom lip whilst you fidgeted in place. " And you really think I stopped caring about you?"

" Yes" you said as the words caught in your throat, tears welling in your eyes as you spun around to the door not wanting him to see you like this. His pity was the last thing you needed to add to you ever growing list of reasons to feel insecure.

" Y/N wait, I need to know what happened " he said as he tried to turn you around but stopped as you shrugged him off you, opening the door then slamming it shut behind you.

" Fuck sake" Tommy muttered under his breath as he watched you return to your desk through the window of his office. There was no way he would let this slide. You was clearly lying to him and he was determined to find out why.

As closing time approached you picked up your belongings when your movements had Tommy who was deep in thought abruptly stand up grabbing his coat and hat. If he was coming out here to bombard you with questions as to what happened he could forget it. You thought to yourself as you hurried to the door hearing him call your name. "Fucking door" you mumbled, pulling at the handle trying to open it as you looked over your shoulder to see Tommy heading your way, luck finally falling upon you when John stopped him putting the book of takings in front of him. Open, open, open! You thought as you rattled the handle pulling it back and forth when the door suddenly opened with ease and Grace walked in.

" Y/N" she said as she looked you over, taking in your reddened face from your efforts, a small chuckle leaving her lips. " Came to surprise Tommy after work" she said as she continued to stand in your way.

" How lovely" you said sarcastically as you tried to push past her when she put her hand on your arm.

" I know about that old pocket watch you gave Tommy all those years ago" she said looking at you. " Best you let go off the past, after all Tommy said it was only a silly little teen fling" she said with a small smile.

" Fling?" You repeated taken aback by what she had just said, what Tommy had said to her.

" Childhood sweethearts never last Y/N, don't be naive" She said in a mocking tone, belittling you without an ounce of shame at her hurtful choice of words. What were you saying, what had she said? Tommy panicked as John continued to bother him with the takings of the day. As your head turned to face him, Tommy swallowed harshly at the sight of a tear falling down your cheek.

" Let her go Tommy" Grace said placing both her hands on his chest as he walked over to where you had been standing, watching you storm out onto the streets of Watery Lane as the door closed behind you.

A fling, a fucking fling. He once asked you to marry him, promised to spend the rest of his life with you, her words couldn't have cut deeper if they tried. Let them have eachother. You thought to yourself as you clutched your coat around you heading for home, back to the four walls where you knew you would ultimately fall apart once again, your new founded confidence short-lived your own promises discarded, dwindling down into a pile of self-doubt and surrender after Graces cruel remarks. Could things get any worse?

One week later..

Today was black star day, the day Tommy planned to take out Billy Kimber and all of his dealings. Sitting in the corner of the Garrison nursing the drink you had ordered over an hour ago you glanced over to see Tommy and Grace standing behind the bar pouring drinks for his men, undoubtedly to numb any nerves that threatened to appear risking the plan Tommy had been preparing meticulously for weeks. Lifting his head from the glass of stout he was pouring Tommy caught your eye. It was the first time in almost a week you had looked each others way, anything you had to say to one another was passed on to anyone in the betting shop that was willing and had the patience to deal with both of your stubbornness. But today was different and Tommy couldn't help but notice the way you was looking at him, the same way you looked at him as you both waited on the platform for the train to arrive and take him and all of the other men saying goodbye to their loved ones off to war. The only difference between them and you was you had barely uttered a word to eachother, his final goodbye before he boarded a quick peck to your cheek.

And as if you had been transported back five years, tears started to form in your eyes as you abruptly stood up leaving the Garrison like you did when Tommy stepped on the train not once looking back, leaving you alone and heartbroken. What you didn't know was, Tommy did look back. He pushed his way past all the other men in the carriage in search of a free window shouting your name as he desperately tried to get a glimpse of you one last time before he left for war.

"Y/N!" Tommy shouted as he grabbed his coat and hat racing out of the Garrison. He wouldn't let what happened on that platform five years ago play out again.

" Tommy wait! What are you doing?" Grace called out after him as she watched the Garrison doors close behind him. " Why does he always go after her? He doesn't even love her anymore" she seethed as she looked to Arthur who raised his brow downing the rest of his drink.

" Doesn't love her? He's a stubborn bastard but he never stopped Grace" Arthur said as he walked away leaving her fuming at Tommy's unrelenting devotion to you.

"Where have all the young men gone,

long time ago?

Where have all the young men gone?

Gone to soldiers, every one..."

You sang, tears streaming your cheeks as you sat by your little brother Georgie's gravestone, his life taken like so many others during an air raid. Wiping your tears you continued to sing as if time had stood still and you was back in 1916 sitting on the grass in the only place you felt peace and calm, waiting for the men you loved so much to return from war.

" Do you still sing that song for me?" Tommy said as he slowly approached you, afraid you'd stop.

" Leave me alone Tommy" you sniffed as you stood up brushing the remaining tears away from your cheeks, looking out at Small Heath in the distance.

" We live in the same town, work in the same place. I can't...I don't want to" He said as he stepped closer wanting to reach out to you, wanting to hold you in his arms like he should have done all those years ago.

" Yes, Tommy Shelby doesn't care what anybody else wants, what anybody else asks does he? you replied misunderstanding the meaning behind his words. " Why did you follow me?" you sighed picking up the dead flowers by Georgie's grave as you turned around making you way down the hill not wanting to even wait for his response when Tommy put his arm out, stopping you from walking any further.

" You were crying" he replied feeling like a teen boy again stuck on what he really wanted to say. " Y/N I.." Tommy sighed as he brought his thumb up, brushing it down your cheek. " I knew you would come up here" he said, his hand dropping from your face as he abandoned the small speech he had prepared as he made his way to the cemetery to find you.

" Crying, I've been crying for five years, only now you notice?!" you scoffed pushing past him.

" Oh I noticed, its not like you try and hide it, do you? " Always pushing it in my face, have you forgotten who's fault this all is, eh?" Tommy said as his stance stiffened, his coldness towards you making a swift return when you didn't respond to his veiled attempts to be tender with you.

" Here I almost forgot. Throw it in the cut like you did everything else when you came back from France, like you did my heart. After all it was just a fling " you said storming back to him as you pulled his pocket watch out of your coat, shoving it into his hands.

" A fling? Y/N!" Tommy called out furrowing his brow as he watched you run down the hill. "You broke my heart first, you fucking broke mine first!" Tommy shouted back taking his cap off as he brushed his hands through his hair. " Fuck!" He yelled throwing his hat onto the grass as Jeremiah and Arthur came running up the hill.

" Tommy!" Arthur shouted as his brother turned around to face them, brushing his eyes with the back of his hand.

" What? What is it?" Tommy sniffed as his eyes darted between them both. "Well?"

"Tell him what you just told me" Arthur said breathlessly as he turned to Jeremiah stood beside him.

" Just heard there's to van's driving up the Stratford Road. An old Corporal of mine said he recognised some of the men..he said it's the Kimber boys"

"Ada wake up! You and the baby get into the ball ring where there's lots of people" Tommy said as he stormed through their house on Watery Lane as Arthur, Jeremiah and his son Isaiah followed behind him.

" What's going on?" Polly said as she took in Tommy's panicked state.

"We've been fucking betrayed" he replied rubbing his forehead. " Someone let slip. Kimber's men are on their way here" Tommy said as he paced the room back and forth.

" Yeh but you can handle them Tommy" Polly said having confidence that her nephew had another plan if something like this was to to happen.

"It's just us. All the Lee's are on their way to Worcester, we're outnumbered" Tommy said as the realisation his plan had fallen apart started to sink in. "Fuck!" he shouted as he slammed his hands down onto the top of a cabinet, the pictures and ornaments rattling from the force of his outburst.

"Who else knew today was the day you was moving on Kimber? You said you kept it a secret who else did you tell? " Polly questioned as Tommy leaned his weight on the mahogany wood, clenching his jaw at what Isaiah had told him before they had all entered the house.

" Isaiah" Tommy said as he turned his head to the young Blinder. " Tell them what you just told me"

" Tom, I don't think she was..." he said as he stepped forward when his boss cut him off.

" Tell them!" Tommy shouted turning around, his patience wearing so thin he was close to loosing any self-control he had left.

" The other day I saw Y/N with Kimber's men in the alley way behind her place. I thought she'd come to you and tell you herself. Tom they look like they roughed her up " he said as Tommy scoffed at his remark.

" Nah I don't believe it. Y/N would never..." Arthur said when Tommy interrupted.

" Betray me? She fucking hates me, you've all seen it " he replied raising his brow as he stepped closer to his older brother. " You've always stuck up for her, but she did this, she threw us under the bus. All of us, even you Arthur" he said pointing his finger in his older brothers face.

" I'd back away if I was you Tommy, because this time I won't let you win baby brother" Arthur said pushing him in the chest away from him. " We've known her since we were bloody kids. Y/N would never betray this family, she's one of us" Arthur concluded as he walked away grabbing the bottle of whisky on the table, pouring himself a full glass before he too lost control of his temper.

" Tommy that girls been devoted to you the moment she met you, you're blinded by your bitterness towards her. Did you not tell anyone else? Polly asked as Tommy shook his head forgetting or ignoring the fact he had, the very same person who had written it in his diary. No, Tommy's sights were set on you, only you could have done this only you could have betrayed him.

NEXT PART

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[absolute-flaming-trash]

Pairing: Yandere!Alastor x Fem!Reader

SFW

Word Count: 1'882

Warnings: Yandere, Abuse, Abusive relationship, Choking, Degradation, Manhandling, Threats, Possessiveness, Alastor is a massive asshole and mean as shit. Dead Dove Do Not Eat

Hindsight was always 20/20.

A bit of an understatement, really. Looking back it was hard to believe just how much one decision could impact your entire afterlife, and you wanted to kick yourself.

Desperation was the excuse you gave yourself whenever you thought about why you made a deal with Alastor.

What he proposed wasn’t something you thought too much of at the time. In exchange for your soul, he offered you security - solidarity in a realm where most were keen on focusing on the weakest among them and tearing them to shreds. Not only would you be protected on a daily basis, but you had, essentially, a guarantee that you would survive extermination day whenever it inevitably rolled around.

Seemed almost too good to be true, but knowing the risks involved in refusing, you had accepted.

He never asked much of you in return, much to your surprise. Nothing that ever seemed too unreasonable, at least. If anything, the things he asked of you felt more like exchanges that would occur between friends - taking on small tasks he’d otherwise find too boring to entertain.

Sometimes you’d even go as far as to call them domestic.

Oh, but you knew better than to assume your relationship fell anywhere close to friendship. Amicable was a better word, not good nor bad, but certainly nothing to be overtly confident about - which made what you intended to ask so much worse.

The very thought of it made a shiver go through your body as you walked through the Hotel hallway. A voice in the back of your mind, your conscience perhaps, whispered that it wasn’t too late to turn back. To do a complete 180 and march right back the way you came.

You didn’t listen.

By the time you came to a stop, the hairs on your arms stood completely on end. The door in front of you looked exactly like the others that lined the hallway, deceptive in its mundane simplicity. It only made the feeling of foreboding that much worse as you held your breath and raised your hand to knock, knuckles barely grazing the polished wood at first but connecting more solidly the second time around.

A part of you prayed there wouldn’t be an answer, nails digging further into your palms as the silence extended onwards.

Please don’t answer, please don’t answer-

All hopes were dashed by the dark wood swinging open to reveal a wall of red.

Alastor bent slightly at the waist when greeting you, bringing his eye level slightly down to yours, “My, my, what a pleasant surprise this is!~”

The smile you could muster in response didn’t even come close to matching his own, and your greeting not nearly as jovial.

“Hi.” You said, pausing briefly between words. “I was wondering if you had a few minutes?”

The signature clicking of his vertebrae accompanied the tilt of his head as he stared down at you intrigued. “Whatever for?~”

You began to pick at your nail beds. “Just to talk.”

Alastor hummed, amusement dancing behind his eyes before he opened the door to his suite a little bit wider.

“Oh, I suppose I could spare a moment or two for somebody like you.~”

The way he said it made you unsure whether such a statement was a compliment or an insult, but regardless you followed him inside.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you…” You began to say, looking around the space. No matter how many times you’d been inside, you’d never get used to it.

“Not at all, sweetheart!~” His arm came around your shoulders, leading you further into his suite and towards the table he had set up in the swampland that seamlessly blended in with the decor.

With a flash of green another chair appeared beside his own, and he gestured towards it with the end of his microphone staff.

“Have a seat.~”

You complied, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you did so. Foolishly, you had hoped to stay standing for this conversation in order to keep it as brief as possible. The cool metal of the chair dug into the skin of your thighs despite your clothing and you found yourself staring at the tabletop rather than at Alastor himself.

“Now,” There was some rustling of paper as Alastor picked a newspaper back up off the table, half paying attention to you when he spoke. “What can I do for you, my dear?”

This was it. No going back, no cutting corners, better to rip the bandaid off than to beat around the bush.

You bit your cheek harder and you could already taste the blood on your tongue before you opened your mouth.

“I want out.”

Alastor barely looked in your direction, but the subtle twitch of his ear was hard to miss once you spoke.

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow but never took his eyes off the paper in his lap as he turned the page. “Care to elaborate?”

“Our deal.” The words felt thick when you spoke them. Heavy. “I want my soul back.”

Alastor’s pause made the atmosphere feel nothing short of dreadful as he turned his head to look at you directly. His ever-present smile widened while his eyes narrowed.

“Now what makes you think you deserve that, sweetheart?~”

“It isn’t about deserving anything.” You stated, trying to keep your voice as even as possible. “It’s… renegotiating.”

Alastor snickered, the sound accompanied by a pre-recorded laugh track.

“Well, aren’t you simply adorable?” He placed the newspaper off to the side and rapped his claws against the table. “Unfortunately for you, that’s not how deals work.”

Your hands curled into fists in your lap as he continued speaking.

“While the deal we made was a fairly simple one, the end result is the same.” He crossed his legs and leaned back in his seat. “I own your soul. There aren’t any take-backsies on the matter.”

Nails bit into your palm at the syrupy condescension in his voice. It made anger brim in your chest, but acting on emotion was not a smart move here.

You took a deep breath. “Our deal has run its course, though.” You did your best to ignore how his eyes narrowed further at that. “Now that I’m at the Hotel… it offers what you originally did, so your part of the bargain is no longer necessary.”

His eyes flashed, glowing a brighter red and illuminating the space between the two of you for a moment.

“Ah, I see. You think our deal is now void because I’ve been replaced in a sense.” His smile was anything but reassuring or kind. “And therefore you shouldn’t be expected to uphold your end of the bargain, am I correct?~”

You swallowed thickly. “Yes.”

Alastor tutted. “My dear, who are you to get to decide when our deal is void in any way, shape, or form?”

The question was clearly rhetorical, but you answered anyway.

“Because it’s my soul.” The firmness in your voice did little to cover how weak of an answer that truly was. “I should be able to get a say in when we’ve reached the end of our contract-”

A green flash and the cold snap of metal around your neck cut off any further words you had to say. You barely had any time to register your air getting cut off as you were yanked forward harshly into the dirt - leaving you coughing when the chain slackened enough for you to breathe once more.

“It seems to me that you are forgetting a few things, darling,” Alastor said, pulling sharply on the chain once more to force your face back up to his.

Green stitches lined the seams of his clothes and wove at the edges of his smile - antlers growing with each word he spoke, and it took every bit of courage you had to bite back a whimper.

He was pissed.

“Firstly, the Hotel,” He cooed sweetly,” is the sanctuary you rave it to be because I keep it that way.”

Alastor stood from his chair and stalked towards you, wrapping the end of the chain around his microphone as he went.

“Secondly, might I remind you that it was you who approached me.” He hissed, faux kindness mixing with the barely contained anger you could see in his eyes.

“You,” He nudged your chin with the end of his microphone, “ came to me with the proposal of offering yourself in exchange for my services, not the other way around.” His eyes scanned over your form - lingering on the way your chest moved rapidly to accommodate your breaths before returning to your face.

“I've grown... accustomed to you, my dear, and our deal stands until I say so. Since you are seemingly incapable of understanding the subtleties of that, I’ll put it in simple terms so you can understand.”

The cool metal of your collar was soon replaced with the warm, smooth texture of his glove as he kneeled in the dirt and wrapped his hand around your neck. The gesture made you gasp, reflexively drawing in as much air as possible before he could choke you, but Alastor didn’t squeeze. Instead, he let the weight of his hand do the work.

“I own you. Every breath you take, every little thought in that empty head of yours belongs completely and solely to me.”

The black of his gums peeked out as his smile - which felt more akin to a snarl - widened. “Besides, what would you even do if I gave your soul back?”

Another rhetorical question, but the humiliation and inequity of the situation caused you to answer once more despite everything inside screaming at you not to.

“That’s my business.”

The sheer volume of emotion that passed through Alastor’s eyes told you that was the wrong fucking answer to give.

He snickered and leaned closer to the point you could smell the rot of his breath. “See, you might think that, darling, but since you’re mine, it’s my business too. So here’s how this is going to go.”

The hand around your throat began to squeeze.

“My business is to keep you. You’ll keep doing each and every little thing I ask of you, and you certainly won’t voice complaint when doing so.”

You choked and sputtered again when he hauled you to your feet by your throat and pushed you back into your seat - the armrests catching you directly in the funny bone, causing you to yelp. He placed his hands on either side of you and leered over you. It was the smallest you’d ever felt in your life.

“I’m more than willing to speak to you about anything you wish, darling, I truly am.” He said, inhaling deeply before continuing, and you swore his smile dropped the most you’d ever seen it.

“But if you ever try to speak to me about this again, you’ll learn just how easy you have it with me, is that clear?”

You felt yourself nodding before your mind could even register it. “C-crystal.”

A mixture of relief and dread sunk in your stomach when his smile returned to its normal state and he reached his hand up to pat you twice on the head.

“That’s my girl.~”

© absolute-flaming-trash 2024. Do not repost, modify, copy, or claim.

[the-witty-pen-name]

Love is Blind (Part 1)

Eddie Munson x PlusSize!F!Reader

Summary: In a last ditch effort to evade the normal disappointments of dating, a group of misfits desperate to have someone see who they are on the inside volunteer for the most recent brain chemistry study at Hawkins Lab. 

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Reader has low self-esteem and struggles with self love/acceptance, anxiety/trauma related to bullying, tooth rot worthy fluff, Eddie being a major flirt, cursing, mentions of substance use, brief descriptions of masturbation, smut in later parts 

A/N: I got this idea from watching the newest season of Love is Blind and getting genuinely annoyed that the show still doesn’t have a more size inclusive dating pool. I feel like the show  could be so much more. There are many subjects the show could be featuring that it just doesn’t. Anyways, this is incredibly self-indulgent, Eddie Munson loves plus size women and I refuse to accept otherwise. Enjoy!

Please consider reblogging/commenting if you like it!

Day One: 

Eddie’s palms are sweaty, and he nervously wipes his hands on his jeans repeatedly. He bounces his leg, twisting the rings on his fingers. Fuck, what the hell is he even doing here? He’s sitting on a couch, facing a blank wall, and he’s absolutely scared shitless that he’s finally doing this. Hell, if it bombs, he gets some cash for participating. Whatever, it’s not like he actually believes in this shit. 

He’s up and pacing the room when he finally hears a door on the other side of the wall open and close. He literally jumps over from the back of the couch to get back in his seat. He can hear the faint patter of someone walking. Then it stops, he assumes the person on the other side has taken a seat.

“This is so weird,” the voice from the other side of the wall says, and Eddie feels immediately at ease. He chuckles, shaking his head, standing up to walk the pent up energy out. 

“Batshit,” Eddie exclaims in agreement. “I don’t know what I’m even doing here.”

“I’m here for the $200,” the voice jokes. “But that’s just me.”

He’s instantly relaxed, and suddenly, it doesn’t feel like he’s sitting alone in a drafty room on a lumpy couch. He’s intrigued, and ready to play the game. At least, he’s open to this first conversation. He feels a little better knowing that he’s not alone. He sits down finally, rubbing his hands still. 

“I’m here,” he begins, allowing himself to be a little vulnerable, “because I am sick of the way people look at me.”

“Fuck, amen to that,” the voice responds with a clap, and the reaction makes Eddie grin from ear to ear. “Guys are so shallow, no offense.” He laughs.

“I’m not usually this outgoing,” the voice shares, sounding a little more reserved, “There’s something about you not looking at me that's making me a little more brave.” Eddie thinks this girl sounds so incredibly sweet. He’s never been attracted to someone’s voice, but he’s feeling himself being pulled in. It’s gentle, and kind and not deserving of whatever the world did to you to lead you here. 

“Well, I’m used to being the spectacle,” Eddie sighs, leaning back into the couch, slumping down. “I can’t help it,” he exhales, “I mean, people think the worst of me no matter what I do, so like, fuck it. I’m gonna have fun with it.” 

“Is that all of it?” the voice asks, knowingly. Eddie scoffs at the perception. Is he that obvious?

“No,” he cringes, and he hears a giggle from the other side of the wall. It helps him feel more comfortable. “Um honestly,” he continues, a little shy, “Part of me keeps the act up cause if people are watching me, I’m not alone. I’d rather be the laughing stock than have no one acknowledge me at all.” 

“I’m the opposite,” the voice shares, “I’d so much rather be out of sight out of mind.” 

“Doesn’t that get lonely?” he asks softly. 

“In my experience,” the voice continues, “it has always felt like people keep me around so they feel better about themselves. I know that’s not true- I know my friends love me. I just- being by myself is my comfort zone. I don’t need to worry about how I’m like being perceived. Or if, like, I'm being judged.” 

Eddie nods understandingly, until he remembers you can’t see him. 

“I get it,” he says, trying to be comforting. “I, uh, yeah.. People don’t like… they don’t like understand what it feels like when you just feel simultaneously so small and like you take up too much space- and how they’re the ones that make you feel that way.” 

“Wow- I’ve never heard it put into words so well before. That’s just been my life, you know?”

“We’re really getting deep huh?” he jokes, chest swelling with pride when he hears the laugh. 

“I really like your voice,” the voice admits, and Eddie feels his face heat and he’s sure his face is flushed red from the compliment. His ego has been very much stroked at this point, and he takes the opportunity to fully embrace this whole flirting thing. If he can at least leave this experiment making someone feel good, then he won’t consider this a waste of time. 

“Well, I really like your voice,” he quips. “Actually, uh- I’ve been sitting over here, on a really shitty couch. And I was asking myself what the hell was I doing here? I am probably the worst person for this experiment- I don’t think I could take this seriously. Then, I heard your voice- and I instantly felt attracted to you- if you can believe it. Now, I’m over here, your voice bringing out thing I would never fucking say out loud. I’m pacing around, you’ve made a mess of me.” 

It feels like only a short period of time goes by, but in actuality, Eddie and his mystery date get wrapped up in talking for over three hours. He talks to her about music, his favorite books, his Uncle Wayne… sharing more about himself to a total stranger than he’d ever volunteer to even his close friends. You swap childhood stories, commiserate over bullies, and before he knows it, he thinks you might know him better than anyone. 

A timer buzzes and it’s time for Eddie to move on to his next first “date.” As the door opens and one of the technicians is ready to escort him to the next room. He desperately stares at the wall before he moves, hoping to hear the voice one more time. 

“Please, if you’re still there,” he says standing up, “I want to talk with you again tomorrow.” He knocks on the wall, rings tapping. He receives a knock back, and he grins devilishly, 

“It’s a date.” 

The technician taps his shoulder and he nods, letting them lead him out to the next room. He wraps an arm around the mousy guy as he jots down something on his clipboard. “I have a date tomorrow,” Eddie beams, looking back at the blank wall like he’s looking back to get another glance at you. 

Day Two:

You still tug anxiously at your shirt, making sure it’s not clinging to your belly. Even though none of your dates can see you, you can’t shake the self conscious feeling. Yesterday was draining, all of the dates you had fell so short after that first one. Nothing came as easy to you as that first one, and you’re hoping you’ll get to talk to him soon. 

You take a sip of your water, and opt to move from the couch to the floor. You sit criss-crossed and stare at the wall in front of you. You really focus on your breathing and try to let yourself open up. You’re here because you’re hoping to find someone who likes you for you- but no matter what, you’re still incredibly anxious thinking about the big reveal. No matter how well the conversations go, you worry it will be null and void once they see you’re plus size. 

“Please, please, please for the love of God that this is finally you?” you hear a familiar voice whine, and you can’t contain your smile. “Pretty girl, c’mon talk to me.”

“You don’t know what I look like,” you scoff, but still, you feel yourself still melting like putty. 

“Fuck, finally,” mystery boy sighs, and you hear him collapse on the couch. You can only assume his set-up is the same as yours. “Baby, I have been dying to hear your voice again.”

“This experiment not working out for you?” you ask, sympathetically. You find it hard to believe he’s not chatting up everyone else and hitting on them the same way he does with you. It’s the only explanation. You can’t let yourself believe he genuinely feels differently towards you. 

“No this sucks,” he says, and then you hear him blow a raspberry. You can’t help it but laugh in agreement. “I just want to talk to you.” He sounds so vulnerable, and you actually find yourself believing him. 

“Again,” you retort, rolling your eyes, “You don’t really know anything about me.” 

“I want to,” he sounds so sincere, and it makes your heart swell. “You are the least boring person here.” 

“I’m touched,” you reply sarcastically, and you feel good hearing that you made him laugh. 

“I wish I could take you out,” he says and he sounds closer, like he’s sitting up against the wall. “I’ve got like no fucking money,” he laughs. 

“I hate going out,” you reassure him, “I want to just hangout with you.”

“No, no, no,” he says dramatically, “No safe zone. You deserve to go out and be shown off. I am not gonna lock you away from the world, I’m gonna show you off.”

“And how are you gonna do that?” You quip, letting yourself slip into a little bit of a fantasy. You let yourself feel wanted and feel desirable even if it’s contained to this room. 

“Well, not to be like that guy,” he’s suddenly sounding a little shy and you find it very endearing. “But like, I’d want to bring you to one of my band’s shows. Like- don’t get me wrong, we play at like really shitty bars that take way too long to drive to. And we don’t even make back the money the gas costs to get there, but like, I really like it and um, that’s uh when I feel I’m at my best, and I’d want you to see that side of me.” 

“So what does bringing girls to a show look like for you?” you ask nervously, feeling a little twinge of jealousy that he may have done this before with someone else. 

“Sweetheart,” he chuckles, “if I was capable of getting girls out in the wild do you think I would’ve signed up for this?” You laugh a little. “Trust me,” he further explains, “This is not something I never imagined I could do before talking to you.”

“Okay, okay, I take it back,” you reply, and you're sure he can hear your smile through the wall. “Let me rephrase,” you say, taking a deep breath, “What does bringing me to a show look like?”

“Well,” he exhales, “I’d pick you up, in my really nice and not sketchy at all van that doesn’t make any questionable noises. I usually drive the guys too but honestly, fuck them, I want us to have time together. I don’t mind telling them to pound sand. And don’t feel bad for them, they’re also kind of assholes.” 

You can’t help but giggle, noticing he tends to have that effect on you. He makes you nervous in a really good way, and you try hard to fight it, but you worry that it’s no use. As much as you find yourself really enjoying mystery boy’s company, you can’t help but let that fear creep in that all of this will go away if he ever sees you. 

“But anyways,” he continues, “I’ll admit it, I’m a little bit of a show off. And I know if you were there watching me, I’d just like be putting my all into it. I would really try hard to impress you. I’d also want the pricks there to know you’re with me so no one bothers you, so as much as I know you’d hate it, I would point you out and tell the whole place you’re there with me.” 

Your face is so warm, and you can’t hold back the cheesy smile that has expanded across your whole face. You can’t believe a guy would be genuinely that proud to have you there with him. You really do think that he’s being genuine, and it makes your heart soar. 

“I’m really surprised you don’t have girls fawning over you, rockstar,” you smile, wanting to make him feel special too. Even if this crashes and burns, you can tell he’s a sweet guy. You can see that maybe he’ll let you down gently. You don’t know why your insecurities hold you down this much. You, more than anyone, get in the way of your own happiness. You’re determined to not let it affect you this deeply. You resolve to let yourself see how this goes, and to throw yourself into it- willing to get hurt. 

“Trust me,” he scoffs, “I am not what you’re thinking I am. I’m not like that guy, I’m more awkward than anything. I think girls are more interested in the football star guys, the future suits, you know? Guys with a haircut and go to college- They don’t want to waste their time with a going nowhere punk.” 

“I really don’t think that’s true,” you speculate, “There’s no one with a poster of Jack Welch on their wall- but every girl I know has a picture of Eddie VanHalen.” 

“Is there like a peephole in here or something?” He says jokingly, knocking on the wall, like he’s looking for one. “Or are you just a psychic or something?” 

“What are you even talking about?” You chuckle, raising an eyebrow, confused. You shake your head, but before you can’t get clarification, the buzzer sounds, marking the end of your time with him for today. 

“NOOO,” you hear him dramatically exhale. A muffled voice, your assuming is one of the lab techs must be exhausted. 

You press your hand to the wall, as your form of an intimate goodbye as the technician holds the door open for you. You get up from your spot and head out, excited to come back tomorrow for another round of dates. 

Leaving Hawkins Lab, each test subject needs to stagger there exits as to not risk accidentally seeing the other candidates. You are in a small waiting room, doing your daily exit interview with one of the neuroscientists. 

*** 

Under the agreement you signed when you volunteered for the experiment, you are not permitted to go to any locations where people socialize and congregate. You’re not permitted to go anywhere where you may accidentally see or meet one of the other subjects. You are required to only go out on necessary errands such as grocery shopping or appointments. 

On the drive back to your apartment, your mind keeps overplaying the worst case scenarios your anxiety keeps conjuring. You know the whole point of the experiment is to see if love, or whatever trumps physical attraction. If hypothetically, someone does fall in love with you- your appearance shouldn’t be a factor. However, it’s not wrong for you to want your partner to be attracted to you. And you acknowledge physical attraction is a thing and if you aren’t someone’s type that isn’t bad either. Your past experiences and unresolved childhood traumas surrounding your appearance and self-esteem, makes it difficult to allow yourself to see that you are actually desirable. 

Although unknown to you, a lot of people in this experiment feel the exact same way. Not fitting into the box society wants to slot them in has made dating incredibly difficult for many. There’s a comfort knowing everyone there supposedly wants the same thing as you, just to be loved. You weren’t sure going in that you would even make connections with anyone. At first, it felt like low stakes- worst case scenario you walk away no better off than before. But, you didn’t anticipate actually hitting it off with someone like you have, and it’s opened a whole new set of fears. 

***

At his trailer, Eddie just stares up at the vent in the ceiling above his bed. He blows out another puff of smoke and watches as it swirls and wafts up into the air around him. His thoughts are consumed entirely with you. He watches how the smoke from his blunt mixes with the smoke of his burning incense and his mind drifts, just completely fixated on how the minutes on the clock tick by until he can talk to you again. 

He wonders if you’re thinking about him, the same way he’s thinking about you. He wonders if you’re trying to picture what he looks like the same way he’s making guesses about you. He thinks about if you smoke, and he imagines what it’d be like if he was sharing this with you. Thinking about what it would look like, your lips around the joint, blowing out smoke from what he imagines is just a sexy mouth. He can’t help but close his eyes and let a little frustrated groan escape at the thought. 

He can’t picture the entirety of you, but more so he can imagine just your presence in his room. He imagines the feeling of someone laying beside him, smooth skin he can run his hands across, the warmth radiating off of another body in his bed. He has your voice in his head, wishing you were talking to him now. 

With his eyes closed, joint put aside on his ashtray, he imagines it’s your hands tugging down his jeans, and it’s your hand wrapping around his hard cock that’s staining the band of his boxers now. He thinks about your laugh, and that adorable giggle of yours, and how much he can bask in the fact that it’s him who elicits those reactions from you. He thinks about the sweet voice, the flirty fluctuations of your tone when you warmed up to him. He imagines you using that same voice to tease him if you were here, seeing just how much of a mess you’ve made of him. 

He’s never been able to get off without some kind of visual aid, so to speak, before. Now, he’s practically whimpering just thinking about the sound of your voice and thinking about your hands on him. He thinks about the feeling of your hands working his length up and down. He imagines how playful it would be, rolling around on this bed with you as the layers you're both wearing come off. He doesn’t even need to try to think about what you look like to feel aroused by you. He doesn’t even care in the slightest at this moment. 

He’s so needy, twitching as he feels himself get closer, and he thinks about what you would be whispering in his ear to get him to finish. He imagines the praise, and the way you would be begging for his cum. He realizes he doesn’t even know your name, as he’s hit with the urge to call it out. 

“Fuck, pretty girl,” he moans instead, working himself up to his release. He keeps moaning out his little nickname for you until he’s made a mess of his shirt and he’s gasping to catch his breath as his orgasm extracted all the energy from his body. 

Tomorrow, he resolves, he needs to learn your name. 

PART TWO

[gay-dorito-dust]

can you make HSR male character with a dead reader (I LOVE ANGST, I LIVE FOR ANGST).

for the characters, it's up to you, but if possible, please include Blade and Jing Yuan (if this topic makes you uncomfortable, don't do it)

Sorry for getting to this after so long and if it was shit.

Jing yuan:

It had been a while since your passing and everyone had seemingly forgotten your name and the fact that you had once lived amongst them.

However Jing Yuan didn’t, he refused to let himself forget the hold you once had over on his heart, mind and soul, or how your actions touching him in ways that he didn’t think were possible.

Life had lost its colour and appeal the moment you died and Jing Yuan had no need to feel excitement for things that he did before with you by his side.

The stars looked dull as though they were mourning you alongside him, the flowers you once given him didn’t smell as fragrant nor looked as healthy as they should’ve. Even the street food stalls didn’t seem at all appetising when you weren’t here to practically salivate over, and or give him the biggest pair of pleading puppy eyes over that never failed to elicit a chuckle out of him.

He stayed inside more often than not as everything outside might as well have been casted in black and white to Jing Yuan, with the only remnants being at your grave of which he often found himself sat in front of.

‘You once asks me what my biggest regret would be and I told you that I don’t live life with regrets, which was a lie and you knew it but didn’t speak up about it, whether it was out of respect or otherwise I’ll never know…not now at least.’ He says with a forced smile, the pain within his chest growing ever greater the more he relived your loss. ‘I am burdened with many regrets. Many of which that have threatened to squash with their weight, but loosing you will be my ultimate regret as with you I was starting to believe in forever in this life once more…only for forever to die with you.’ He concludes as he presses his forehead to your headstone and closed his eyes in hopes of feeling your warmth once more.

But all he felt was the cold, unforgiving and hard surface of your headstone as a tear fell from his eye at the reality that all aspects of you were truly gone forever…

Blade:

Your death was a tragedy Blade couldn’t forget.

It was engraved into every corner of his mind where it was made impossible for him to forget.

Even in his torturous dreams he was forced to watch you die in front of his eyes constantly and in the most horrific ways possible, all the while he remained helpless to stop any of it from happening.

Any remnant of you was clutched tightly in his hand under it bled from his nails digging into his skin, but he couldn’t feel it for he had grown numb. He’d even tie a piece of cloth from your clothes to the hilt of his sword or his finger in order to feel you with him wherever he went.

Just like you always wanted.

Blade couldn’t fully dedicate himself to being your partner but he was more than selfish with your attention and affection. He wanted it all. No, he needed it all for himself and gave you nothing much in exchange other than letting you hold onto him and kiss his scars.

He did love you in his own way and was building himself up to actually be your partner properly, only for you to die selflessly in his arms, whispering that’d you loved him before passing on from your wounds.

Blade thought he should’ve been use to death by now but your death hit him in a way that left him desiring death more than normal, in hopes that he could reunite with you and correct his wrong doings when you were alive.

Now and then in moments where Blade was faced with death, he could feel a presence next to him that felt soft, warm and felt very much like the you he was forced to remember…

[warblogs17282]

Stolas and his accidental racism problems that is still an issue in apology tour, plus how this affects Stolitz coming back together.

Go to bottom for a tldr

Yea the arrangement did not start off well, considering the situation Blitz was in when he got that phone call, I wouldn't be surprised if Blitz saw it as already starting it off as a thing where Blitz is basically serving the royal by having sex with him once a month, that being the only thing Blitz is useful for. Sure Blitz put the idea of the sex thing first into Stolas' head when they met again after 25 years since Blitz used that to his advantage to get the grimoire initially as seen in s2 e1, but it doesn't really change my point much. It still 100% rubs Blitz the wrong way into what his role in the arrangement is.

Then we get into the pet names and shit Stolas mostly used in season 1, in e2 Stolas refused to take the hint, constantly flirting with Blitz the entire way through, ignoring Octavia and sometimes doing it right in front of her, much to Octavia's dismay, as we know and is proven later on, Blitz took these pet names and stuff pretty hard. He gets pretty racist in the harvest moon festival as well, now using those pet names and stuff in front of a huge crowd of people, even after Blitz tells Stolas to stop, putting down Blitz's race of people in front of basically everyone, also making this kinda thing pretty racist of Stolas? He did not do this with the intention to be racist, he's just a horny weirdo who's trying to match Blitz's levels. Like just look at the imps faces while he says this. This specific comment however, is probably just something engrained into Stolas' subconscious, most likely from Paimon as we can see evidence of in s2 e1.

Then we get to the full moon episode, with the two major comments here being 'you were serious?' and 'Treat me like one of your little Butler imps'. The first statement being proof that Stolas gave Blitz enough reason to believe that this was only about sex and nothing else, with evidence to support this being that Stolas didn't even bother to tell Blitz about the change in the planned events, causing Blitz to believe that Stolas was only ever in it for the sex, and now he's getting tired of Blitz, leading directly into the second statement, telling Stolas that he thinks that Stolas thinks so low of Blitz as a person, and because of a later statement and behaviour before this, leading Blitz into thinking that Stolas is being racist towards imps again when that is not Stolas' intention at all.

And then it gets entirely addressed in a better setting, Blitz still thinks it's a sex thing even after the argument in the full moon episode, and this statement proves it, Blitz thinks that Stolas has a fetish for imps and such, all perpetuated by Stolas' pet names and such in the past, his general incompetence at times when discussing heavy topics, and finally, his lack of self-awareness. The last one is the major selling point for Blitz, as much as Stolas tries to get Blitz to understand this isn't all about sex, they both fail miserably at doing so, with Stolas not bringing up the butler imp comment, in 'When I see him' we see the servant imp be fed up because Stolas has just emptied the fridge, leaving him to clean it all up, and in seeing stars where Stolas nearly kills the imps by squeezing him so hard, leaving accidental racism towards imps unaddressed for Blitz, so Blitz will continue to believe that Stolas is still racist towards imps, even if that's not Stolas' intentions, it's still in Stolas' subconscious, something Stolas needs to fix asap otherwise this will be a reason of the many reasons Stolitz has fallen entirely apart right now.

Not to mention for the most part, Stolas has only seen imps in positions such as servants and other jobs like that, with Blitz being well, the only person to break that status quo for him. Sure we have the imps in the harvest moon festival but that basically amounts to nothing for Stolas right now because of the reasons mentioned in that section of this post.

Description reads 'Stolas still not quite being self aware enough at times'

So Stolas believes he's not looking down on Blitz, but he does and just doesn't realise it, leading Blitz to have reason to believe Stolas does in fact look down upon him. Stolas does not seem to understand WHY what he did in the past hurts Blitz so much, proving that Stolas is not being self-aware at all at the moment.

tldr: The fact that Stolas has still yet to address his unintentional racism towards imps at multiple points during this show is a roadblock that Stolas needs to fix otherwise Stolitz cannot get back together.

[sil-te-plait-tue-moi]

Got shocked.

Quick summary: Before he knows why, Rust is fixating on you.

Warnings: Not much except it does get literally sick here kind of; sexism and really gross remarks; kind of workplace harassment; Rust being unsettling.

Word count: 3.6K

A/N: Erm this is not the second part to the Idler Wheel but I just thought I’d write this because whyyy not! It was kind of written quickly so if there are weird grammar mistakes just ignore them lmao 😭😭 might come back and edit when it’s not past midnight if you know what im saying. Anyhoo it’s September now?

***

The brain-rotting contents of his colleagues’ pass-time conversations was an unfortunate byproduct of Rust’s refusal to pay mind to his own thoughts. He needed it, he thought sometimes, though he’d rather not have had need for anything: it served as a focal point for his attentions, which, otherwise, might be directed inward at himself for too long.

He didn’t pay much attention to the exacts of it all. Bar last night, dick jokes, some wild sexual exploit from their twenties: once Rust had heard it once, he did not need to hear it again. Even before they spoke, Rust had had most of them figured out. He only had to watch them, his first day at the office. Still, initially, he let them tell their shit to him and believe like maybe they could be friends, like, maybe, Rust was one of them, too, that he was entertained by their boring fucking carousel of stories. Fucking arrogant. Plagued by the crack and froth of some dry ash-type taste, Rust would swallow it down. Just the first time, though. Not the second, and not any time after that.

No, he did not care for the details. More like, it was the tone of their voices that he could plaster his resentment on. Proud, girthy, spread over too much ground, self-important. For the most part, if he had to talk to one of them, more dogs than anything else, his throat would feel too full—his mouth, too. It was what it was: force-feeding. Why anyone in their right mind would pretend to enjoy it, Rust had no idea. Everything down here displeased him, but no less so than it had in other places. Everywhere he went, Rust came with himself, though he’d tried to sever that unwelcome tie a long time ago. If he was lucky enough, some floating sensation would find him, and Rust would get to leave the conversation for some worthy train of thought. Finally, he would get to pry apart a crime scene - in his head, he did not have to use gloves: he could play it like a tape, a thousand times, a thousand different ways.

Hear them now. Rust’s lip begged to curl, which was odd. It was then, coming to terms with the sensation of his instinct, its physical demands, that he understood that something was strange about this conversation.

Slow, crawling, his eyes made their way to Marty, who had scooted his chair over to Rust’s desk. With steely eyes, he took note of how his partner’s elbow was flopped over his paperwork, how his body was sprawled open wide so unnecessarily.

Rust removed a pen wedged under Marty’s forearm. He didn’t even shift.

With the aim of cleansing his mouth of that bitter swell, he took a mouthful of cold coffee, and another, and another. When he was alone, Rust took one sugar, but, here, it wasn’t enough. Shit, it was never enough to neutralise that foul taste. Sometimes, it grew so strong that Rust would take a little longer on his smoke breaks, making his way through one, two, maybe three cigarettes. Yeah, that usually quenched it. But it was no use inside - no, he needed an open sky above him, to let all the fumes out, like smoke from a smouldering kitchen. Something about four walls and a ceiling: how many men like them had sat there, sweat there, jawed there, pissed there, before them? It just made him sick, made his head spin.

There was no need to turn to know how the rest of them were arranged. So predictable. So deeply interwoven into their psyches: the strong belief that they deserved the space that they took up, and, shit, they took up a lot. Fighting for dominance of the conversation, pushing, shoving, overlapping, each trying to mark out a platform for themselves. He wouldn’t, and it unsettled them, just as they could never comprehend anything else that wasn’t like them.

Gradual-like, Rust let his mind melt back to the specifics of the conversation, the messy, brutal abstraction of their voices condensing into words and phrases, like ink-blots soaking back up into the brushes from which they were dispelled. It didn’t take long listening for him to understand that you had drawn the interest of the hoard.

Johansson would’ve said something—if he were here. The more Rust listened—to them inching closer to what they really wanted to say, hopping around the hot topic of women and their ways on them—the fatter his tongue felt, sitting big and swollen in his mouth like it shouldn’t have been there, like he ought to have cut it out by now.

With his spectre hands, he reached into his pocket, slipped a cigarette between his lips, lit it with one flick of his lighter. That click was enough to make his mouth water, most days, although not now. Breath scraped painfully through his throat, like sandpaper.

You were distinct from them - that was a fact. When he’d been thrown into the department, he found it odd that more remarks weren’t made to your face about most things: your capability, your temperament, your looks. More often, it’d be behind your back, huddled over in the office kitchen, passed around like a note in a fuckin’ middle school classroom. He figured it was because you were smarter than them, and they knew it. At least you were only a woman, they told themselves. They couldn’t beat you up, but they could do whatever they wanted to you in their heads. They could talk about how they’d pin you down if they ever got the chance.

That last comment only happened once. At least, only once when Rust was around. He’d ended up in the captain’s office, his fingers still twitching with the way that that pulse had begged and struggled for release.

His body ached with the effort to keep himself from shaking - the tremor in his fingers would not be eased by the deep, punishing drag of smoke into his lungs, nor would the dirt clouding his brain be cleansed and sanitised by the sting, the burn of the breath he held close to him, until it hurt his chest. No, he needed the sky—but he didn’t want to leave you either.

Rust’s head swung under a bout of nausea, which hit him like the impact of falling in a dream. Briefly, he closed his eyes, taking another drag, swallowing down the husk of it. It only made it all worse.

Punch him, he thought desperately, like maybe you could be telepathic, like maybe he was as well. Who?—he didn’t know. Any of them, all of them. It was all the same.

When Marty let out a bellow of a laugh, full and selfish and fucking stupid, Rust had to look at the photograph of the dead girl in front of him again to steady himself.

Delusion did not seduce Rust. Relying on what he knew to be true, he figured that you must’ve known what you were doing. You had worn your hair down today, not in a bun as was your usual - it hadn’t taken long for Bishop, this morning, to tug on a strand of your hair, like it was just waiting to be done, like bait on a hook. If he hadn’t done it, someone else would’ve. He was inclined to simply because you dared to exist in his presence. Even then, Rust’s throat had tightened, like this. So, even though his back was defiantly turned to the hoard, Rust knew—he knew—that, when you grunted softly, it was because it had happened again. Rust closed his eyes and willed that you would hit whoever did that.

People already knew the decision they were going to make, always, in some part of their minds, so Rust didn’t see the point in attempting to console or consult anyone about anything. If it was detrimental to a case, then he would explain this to Marty, calmly point out or even correct his mistake, but, on the most part, that was the extent of his reasoning. If his partner was in a bar, flushed and loose, and flirting with the twenty-one year-old bar-keep, he wouldn’t intervene. He hadn’t. Marty dug his own grave, and Rust let him. To do otherwise would be to overestimate the sensibilities of the other and to inconvenience himself. Fuck that. People didn’t want to be changed and Rust certainly had no interest in trying to. It was a losing game, a dumb one at that. Waste of time, waste of space. Rust knew better than to take up space - he would keep what he could close to his chest; otherwise, it was dead weight that needed losing sooner rather than later.

Everyone was begging to tell, to be fucking heard. It was a naïve, selfish way to look at the world: to assume that every other human put on Earth was someone to unload onto, to purify yourself with. Rust stared hard at the twenty-four year-old woman in the photo, sprawled over her bed, that long gash down her belly, like gutting a pig. He thought of how satisfied that the killer must’ve felt, to be able to finally share his urges with someone, to get to sit, placated, with their shoulders finally light.

He looked over the coroner’s report again, despite already knowing every statement on there, trying to fill your silence—which scratched over his eyes, the front of his brain, like claws—with the lull, the truth, of the case.

They were talking to you, now.

“Let’s get you down to the bar, buck,” somebody said to you, and he was pretty sure it was Geraci, oily, slick, fat. The skin over the back of Rust’s neck, thin, had crawled.

The boys liked to call you that—buck—like you hadn’t run the same track as them, jumped the same hurdles as them. You’d transferred from Brooklyn. Same shitshow, different department. They could tell, some of them said. City girl, high up on her horse. Not really, though. Your nature threw some people off at first, he speculated - you were not cold or brash, which he sort of thought maybe you ought to be, but, somehow, decidedly kind. Not gentle. There was a difference.

You were smart, and this was why you were not choking Geraci out right now. Did you want to? Rust could not get it out of his mind. He wanted to turn and look at you—not now, just some time—and figure it out. He had an outline, like the edge pieces of a puzzle all joined up. That was always a good start. Still, he didn’t appreciate it: the effort. It made you interesting, which was inconvenient. The people who worked here were not difficult to understand - their innermost desires were eager to be released, Pandora’s box, bursting at the very seams of their mouths, and, shit, Rust let it happen. It played out that way most times with the monsters he sat across from in the box: he would listen unflinchingly, and that was attractive to a lot of people, apparently. Someone who would not shy away. Maybe that was where Rust was misstepping with you. It wasn’t like him to be glad for things, but he was when it came to the orientation of your desks: your back was to his, and he did not have to look at you, and he was glad for it. He could not pin down why.

His knuckles were glowing, he was sure of it: if he looked down at them, Rust could’ve seen that illumination, his violence emanating from within, daring to break the skin like splitting, old leather. He could smell the embers already. Maybe that was you, though, or something else.

The heat bubbled up through his nausea. No, it was him - he would be up in flames soon, some sight to behold. His eyes pulsed against the thin skin of his eyelids, so he ruled out the option of closing them.

He flexed his hands slowly, passing feeling all along his weary tendons, before he continued typing, though the letters spun and jumped out at him like bugs in long-grass. Crickets in his ears, deafening. Was almost like he could understand them, some language he knew to respond to as a child, now long left behind. He was not alone, as much as he wanted to be.

When you spoke, Rust’s shoulders tensed, like a cramp. “I got business tonight,” you drawled, ever-polite, even sweet. That raw, thick, sugary taste oozed over his tongue, clogged his throat - Rust almost gagged.

Bishop’s voice emerged from the clatter: “What business you got on a Friday night? You got better plans?”

Fuck if you did, fuck if you didn’t.

A shrill whine speared through Rust’s head then, like a fissure in the Earth’s crust, his brain a liquid, churning beneath. He fought the urge to touch his own face, make sure everything was in its right place. He knew it would be, so he didn’t move. Sensation did not indicate reality. If it did, then Rust would have had to have discovered a whole other world a long time ago. He sat still, a statue, for several heartbeats. Then, he resumed his typing. A suspect’s alibi. He did not kill her.

“You don’t gotta spend a dime with us. We’ll take care of ye,” Howard added, and the hoard hummed and chuckled their agreement, a sick tilt to all of it. Rust wished his desk were anywhere else - he rarely wished for anything.

Conviction was not an area in which you lacked. You were a quiet, formidable force. Nobody at the precinct admired the way you worked the way it ought to have been. Not enough people gave enough fucks when you conducted interviews. Once, he had seen it. He had wanted to find Marty, and Marty was with Johansson, and Johansson had been on one side of the mirror, the other side behind which you were smiling warmly at a woman who had not long ago eaten about two thirds of her boyfriend, holding her hand. She had been twice your age at least, but you were the two-headed mother there, walking that fine line. For a moment, Rust had thought to himself that you would’ve worked him, wrung him out, if he was the one across from you. Not just a thought: a realisation. It unsettled him whenever he thought about it too long. What had confused him was your distinct lack of calculation. At least, he perceived it that way. Was it instinct that let you master that certain slope of your shoulders? No amount of practice could let him fabricate it to the same standard. Or maybe you had really felt it: sympathy.

But no. Once it was done, you’d exited, and your attention was searing. Rust had left before you had time to notice him.

Stoicism: you had mastered it, and Rust itched to know you, to understand how. How was the vein in your neck not throbbing like it would burst? How were your hands not fists, white-knuckled?

And you spoke through a smile, of all things: “That’s nice, but I can’t.”

“C’mon, buck, what kinda business you got that’s so important?”

Once again, Rust scoured over the coroner’s report, flit between the list of observable marks and wounds, correlating them with the visual aid of the photograph of the entire corpse. Total ten lacerations, eight of which had been on her stomach. Other two, on her face: slicing into each of her cheeks, those soft parts.

If he did this, Rust did not have to read into your answer, which was what his mind immediately raced towards, a bullet train, blindly searching in the darkness for some semblance of you. “My own,” you replied, and it did not mean anything to him because he was doing this.

Rust body itched to leap up and lay someone out, right then and there. His fist yearned for it, for the contact. For however often Rust felt like his body was not his, he had rarely considered the possibility that it might be in charge. People did what they would with him - his job was merely to take it. There was a strange sort of peace in that type of compartmentalisation, the kind where he could simply leave what apparently made up his person. If he was away from himself, he wouldn’t have to face whatever he was doing. An education in the dissociative state, an underutilised tool. He’d even had a course on it, he was sure. It was part of the reason he could keep his pulse so low, retreating so far into this meat shell that not even his blood flowed too close to the surface. But he felt it now, thrumming in his neck, a riptide. Taking his pulse now would do nothing to save it. The muscles there were stiff, flexing oddly under the strain of choking back on the natural instinct that, it appeared, was his. It tasted like vomit. Maybe that was real, though.

You were not some lamb that needed a shepherd. Fuck, he could never be one, not any version of him: he’d only be leading a thing to rot and ruin, and the parasite would get them, too. No, Rust wasn’t the shepherd. Never the shepherd. Rust was critical and cold. He might’ve been the wolf.

Ten lacerations. Raped.

The laughter of the hoard circled his head again, again, again. Someone must’ve picked at your hair - you grunted.

Abruptly, Rust stood up, like he got shocked because the room was on two different circuits. His spine like some iron rod, so unnaturally straight, his body so unnaturally tense, so unlike himself, he momentarily drew the attention of the other detectives all clustered together in the bullpen. If he didn’t know better, he’d have thought they knew, that he was fighting for the wheel, that he was battling back the grey that had begun to vignette his vision. Why was he suddenly so tall? Not even that. Alive. He could hear it: life rushing, roaring, in his ears, crackling like a wildfire. Rust’s body, that strange entity, was momentarily reborn as something else, whose neck was never bowed, whose shoulders never rounded, who conducted itself like it was powerful. Maybe it was.

Marty eyed him like he had grown another fuckin’ head.

Despite the dissipating attention, murmurs to the side, you were still looking at him, too, with your eyes so hard, almost black, like two cherry pits. Rust was piloting, and he would not look away. No. He would look on, as he always did. No matter the electricity burn of your attention, which he preferred to avoid - the energy was coursing through him, bright, his veins fried and blackening. Beneath the surface, his being spasmed and seized. But he knew that you were no different than anything, so he looked.

If he didn’t, he would hit someone. That could be taken the wrong way.

Geraci’s hand was braced on your desk, just next to you, his fat, greasy palm covering some paragraph that you had no doubt been trying to read. Rust’s hands twitched, but he had managed to bring himself inward, had relaxed most of his body thus far, and he would not fuck himself over by letting fists form now.

So, Rust stared at you, cool, unrelenting.

He was surprised by the distance of his own voice when he asked you if you could come over to the files room just a minute and give your opinion on something for him. It was like his own mouth was at the end of a long, stretching tunnel, his words far away from him. He crushed his cigarette into the closest ashtray, annihilating it.

He tasted pennies there, in his mouth. Perhaps he had been biting his tongue. Perhaps it was just the look on your face.

Okay, you said, quiet-like, before you rose, prying yourself away from your desk. As you stepped past him, Rust let himself look at Geraci. People dug their own graves, but that did not cancel out Rust’s thirst to kill. That kind of justice lies in the bones.

Most likely, he just needed to sleep. It was coming up on four days, nearly, without, which did not aid in the dizziness that threatened the stability of Rust’s every step as he slowly turned to follow behind you.

In the files room, you were waiting for him, staring up at the flickering halogen bulb that illuminated this section, the chain still swinging from when you had just pulled it.

Rust stared at your back, far away from himself, almost stumbling back when he closed the door, sealing the two of you off from the real world. His anger flung about like a whirlpool behind his eyes, thrashing and throbbing. If he had mind to say something to you—which he did not—he wouldn’t have been able to anyways. Saliva pooled in his mouth, pushing under his tongue. He cleared his throat, delaying a gag.

When you began to turn to look at him, Rust almost begged out loud that you wouldn’t, his heartbeat thrumming in his throat, almost daring him to start panting for air like a dog. The assault of the light from the halogen bulb was invisible to you, so it could not be real. No, you were looking at him now. With his hand still gripping the handle like it could save him, like he could escape it, you, he almost closed his eyes, cringed away. But what was he?—some child? He could not. Sensation was not necessarily reality, and he was not sick, and you were not of concern to him. Still, he turned slightly, his body angled toward the door at which he still stood, refusing to step any closer. He couldn’t close his eyes—you could get the wrong idea—so, instead, he opted for the linoleum floor, careful to avoid your feet.

Fuck, he could feel your relief washing over him like a warm wave. It almost knocked him clear off his feet, and it left his knees weak, threatening to buckle. Once, he had gone out west, to the coast, with Sophia and Claire. Nothing like where he grew up: out there, in that endless cold, his pa used to warn against any and all large bodies of water, ice. Even when you thought the surface beneath you was safe, it could give out, and you’d fall through into waters you didn’t know could be so deep.

Rust had reason enough to believe that this might’ve been worse.

There was salt spray in his mouth, now. Your ebb and flow churned in his stomach like the beat of a drum, reverberating through his flesh, which he was suddenly very aware of.

You’d figured it out: he didn’t need your help. He didn’t need to be in here either.

Something tangible rolled around on his tongue as your eyes scanned over him, a meticulous, slow rake. It grit between his teeth, like a grain of sand or a seed or something. Rust swallowed it and then fought a proceeding dry heave, smothered by a bright feeling in his throat that only flared up when he heard your breath hitch, too.

You were polite to spare him, to stare at your hands. Wordless, you left him to go busy yourself with nothing in the back of the files room, melting into the shadows, concealing yourself behind a shelving unit.

Even though he couldn’t see you, though, your sweetness still flooded Rust’s mouth, inescapable. He knew you were there, thinking, maybe about him.

He almost wished he had done nothing.

[ahgasegotarmy116]

He Doesn't Deserve You | A Jeon Jungkook Series | Chapter Three

Summary: You feel guilty about having a night out and hope to cover up your tracks as best you can Pairing: Noona reader x Jeon Jungkook (She's 28 and he's 22) Word Count: 2.1k~ Warnings: Yändere, smut, explicit language pretty much it lol a/n: I hope you guys like it! I'm literally horrible at writing smut but I wanted to show another side to how things can be with him sometimes (I'm saying him because I'm not gonna spoil it when you can just read it lol) regardless hope this doesn't disappoint 🫢 Requested by @kkusadmirer 💜

"Girl who was that?" Rae asks, when she walk over to my side of the bar after Jungkook left. 

"His name is Jungkook and honestly I don't really know much about him. He caught me off guard and was asking me a bunch of questions that I didn't really think to ask him any" I say, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. "You think he's cute don't you?" she asks taking note of my shyer demeanor while thinking about him. 

"He is attractive and dreamy but I'm married" I say flashing the ring at her in a similar fashion as I had done with Jungkook. "Dreamy? Really?" she teases, snorting at my description. "I'm sorry okay he's the first nice guy I've actually talked to in a while since my husband and I got married" I say, resting my elbows on the bar and throwing my face in my hands. 

"From what I heard, doesn't really sound like he's all that good of a husband" she says, not bothering to spare my feelings. "He's not that bad" I mumble, scarcely believing my words with every effort I put in to defend him.

"If you've gotta say it like that after only two people have said otherwise I don't really think you've got much going for you" she says setting a glass of water in front of me, already seeing signs of a need to stop drinking for the night.

"I mean, he's all I've ever known. He was my first serious boyfriend, my first everything if I'm being honest. We met in college and really hit it off and everything just felt right. After we graduated he asked me to marry him and it felt like a fairy tale ending you know?" I say, swirling around the ice in my cup in an effort to avoid her gaze.

"Sounds like it didn't turn out the way you thought it was going to though" she says, clearly feeling sorry for me. 

"Things between us are fine" I say sitting back up and clearing my throat before taking a drink of water to hopefully help me swallow down this lump in my throat. Getting a reality check from two perfect strangers with them only knowing the tip of the iceberg of my marriage has been hard to accept to say the least. 

"What's his name anyways? I might've seen him before if he likes to go out sometimes" she asks, coming back over with a pitcher to fill up my water, encouraging me to drink more. 

"Taehyung, well Tae for short" I say, hoping and praying that the name won't ring a bell. "Got a picture of him?" she asks, leaning in closer when I pull out my phone. "Shit" she says under her breath as soon as she sees him. 

"What?" I ask pulling it back as though her words had stung me. "He's come here a few times with some friends of his. They're one of the rowdier groups that comes by so we've had to kick them out on occasion" she says clearing her throat at the end, almost as if she's trying to hold something back. 

"If you know anything else about him please tell me" I implore, refusing to be in the dark about this if she knows. "He's gone 'home' with a few girls here" she says putting home in quotes since he's obviously never brought them back to our place. "Do you know how many?" I ask, knowing that I really don't want to know the answer. 

"I've lost track..." she answers, hating that she had to be the one to reveal this to me. "Did you know?" she asks with her brows pinched together. "That he's been sleeping around? Yeah, I know" I say taking a big gulp of my water as if it were the solution to this fucked up life I'm living. 

"Why haven't you left?" she asks, genuinely concerned. "He's my husband" I say with glossy eyes but then clear my throat again to hopefully curb these emotions. "And? He's a dick" she says, continuing with her efforts to never pull punches. "You don't know him like I do" I say, standing up and grabbing my purse to go. 

"Just, be careful okay?" she implores, placing her hand on top of mine before I get too far. "I will" I say and give her a sad smile before walking out and waiting for the cab I called a few moments ago. 

~~~~~~

Walking into the house I'm relieved to see that Taehyung is no where to be found, the lights still having been turned off from when I had locked up. 

Taking off my shoes, I quickly put them in the closet in an effort to quickly cover my tracks and I run into the bedroom soon after that. I take off my clothes and throw them into the washer to again avoid any suspicions because I don't want him even remotely knowing that I managed to leave the house on my own again.

Walking into the bathroom to take a shower as well I see that somehow some of the makeup I had applied rubbed off and I was unknowingly sporting one of the hickeys Taehyung had left. I look at it in the mirror a bit closer, starting to wonder how long it's been showing. 'Did Jungkook see it?' I question,  really hoping the answer is no even though he knows I'm married, it's not something I want to show off.

It could've been worse though, he could've seen the other bruises I have that clearly show evidence of much more than just rough sex. 'How would he have reacted? Would he have said something?' I continue, asking myself question after question, soon starting to regret my decisions of going out tonight. 

Did I have a good time? Sure. But it doesn't make up for the amount of fear and guilt I'm going to feel if Taehyung finds out. Will he do something? Will he get angry? Will he leave? Knowing him he would accuse me of cheating on him even though I'm the one who confirmed my suspicions. 

He, like Rae is someone that doesn't pull punches literally and figuratively. It's something that I've leaned to live with, but that doesn't make it hurt any less.

"Hey" I hear him say softly while opening the bathroom door, scaring me and not even realizing how lost in thought I had been. To the point of not even realizing that he had gotten home. 

"Hi" I say timidly, not knowing what his next move might be. 

"Aren't you going to invite me in?" he questions in a mischievous tone, already taking his shirt off. I open the glass door as a way to invite him in and I hold out my hand waiting for him, knowing I really have no choice in the matter. 

"Hi beautiful" he says after getting in, placing his hands on my hips and leaning down to kiss me softly on the lips. I sigh into the kiss, thankful he's back home again and showing his softer side to me again, clearly trying to make up for how we had left things the last time we saw each other. 

"I missed you" he says in a husky voice leaning down further to place a few open mouthed kisses on my neck marking me again, no doubt to make up for the ones that had started to fade. "Missed you" I say through a breathy tone then my breath hitches moments later when he bites down on my shoulder.

"You smell so sweet baby" he says running his nose along the length of my neck before making his way back up to kissing me. "It's my" *kiss* "new" *kiss* "body wash" I say, trying my best to answer but he purposefully works against me, loving the struggle I put up.

"I like it. Buy it again for me when you run out okay? I want my pretty wife smelling like this all the time" he says before flipping me around and pressing my chest agains the wall.

"You gonna be good and let me take you in here?" he asks grinding his dick against my ass making my breath pick up, not expecting this drastic change in behavior. I nod my head with my cheek against the tiles. He presses his chest flush up against my back, pushing me up against the wall even harder, making my chest feel sore as my nipples rub up against the cool surface, making me whine from the sensation.

"Aw look at you, so needy and ready to be full" he say, leaning back a bit and running his finger along my slit, feeling how I'm already clenching around nothing and dripping with arousal as the water falls on my back in a steady stream. "Fuck you look so hot right now" he says looking at my face and dragging his eyes down my figure before spreading my legs a bit and making moves to put it in. 

"Wait" I whimper. "Don't worry, you can take it" he says, placing a kiss on my shoulder before sliding the tip in and making me take in a sharp breath at the intrusion, him continuing to push himself further and further inside until he's bottomed out. 

He enjoys the feeling of my walls spasming around him as I feel the burn from trying to get used to him again. It isn't like this often, he usually loves to take his time prepping and teasing me until I'm begging for more but he had an almost urgency to be inside me this time. 

"Fuck" he says as he starts to move in and out of me, watching the way my ass moves with every thrust and is addicted to the moans that come from me naturally, being caught off guard by all of this and not expecting this to happen tonight. 

"Feels s-so good" I say, clawing at the walls for something to hold onto, knowing there's nothing there for me. He takes notice and he places his hands on top of mine, thrusting in and out with only his own hips supporting mine as he growls in my ear. 

"Been dying to fuck this pretty little cunt all day. Then I come home and you're in the shower making it so easy for me to just slip it in, practically begging for my cock" he says as he slows down his thrust but puts more force behind each one. 

"Isn't that right? You just want to be good for me and take it, let me have my way with you" he says pulling out and flipping me around, enjoying the dick drunk look on my face. He lifts one of my legs up and wraps it around his waist, pounding into me harder making me grab onto his neck and pull him in for a kiss, silencing my moans, making him swallow them as he coaxes more and more out of me. 

"S-shit" he stutters and tells me to jump, wrapping my other leg around his waist as well so he can thrust into me harder. I clench around him when he wraps his mouth around one of my sensitive buds, hard and begging for stimulating. 

"Fuck, more" I whine, desperately needing release. "You wanna cum?" he taunts, letting go of my throbbing bud with a pop. "Tae please" I moan digging my nails into his shoulders. He groans at the feeling and grips onto my waist digging his fingers into them, no doubt leaving bruises.

Giving me a few more thrusts he has my eyes rolling back and my toes curling as my orgasm hits me like a ton of bricks with him still fucking into me, helping me ride it out before he cums a couple minutes later. 

Slipping out and sliding me down the wall and back on my feet he leans up against me while our breathing mixes with the sound of the water still falling all around us. He places a few soft kisses on my shoulder before pushing off the wall and placing both of his hands on my cheek, kissing me softly, helping me slowly come back down and leaving my my mind foggy and drunk on him. 

"I love you" he says when he breaks apart from my lips. "I love you too" I smile, humming in contentment and feeling so good, loving that despite everything he loves me no matter what. 

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[darklinaforever]

People who still use the scene where Daemon strangles Rhaenyra as an argument to justify all the bullshit that happens in HOTD with Daemyra's characters should be banned from speaking out after a while.

The choking scene was stupid and OCC. Daemon was never violent towards Rhaenyra in F&B.

And don't let anyone tell me that we can't be sure just because it's written as a historical text. GRRM never hesitates to expose this kind of thing. If he wanted us to understand that from Daemon he would have suggested it one way or another, except that's not the case so no, Daemon being physically violent with Rhaenyra never happened. It's that simple.

With this kind of argument you could definitely say that Daemon fuck Otto. It's stupid.

Rhaenyra also did not have a physical relationship with Mysaria. Both of these HOTD events are stupid. That's all.

To say that under the pretext that Daemon choked Rhaenyra in episode 10 that she can cheat on him shows to what extent these people have 0 understanding of what they are watching.

Basically as long as Daemon is demonized they are happy. And if we can also prove that Rhaenyra also likes women, that's even better !

And even better if this woman with whom Rhaenyra is cheating is precisely Daemon's ex, that way it gives the impression of a scenario where two female victims take revenge on their attacker in a karmic way ! (Yes, some idiots really think that...)

My god, HOTD is freaking stupid.

And tons of people really think this show is super well run and written ?! But wake up !

In addition, those who, under the pretext that the supposed deception is committed by Rhaenyra and between women against Daemon, suddenly no longer see any harm in it, disgust me.

Cheating is bad, no matter what.

At what point are those who are against this scenario equal to refusing to allow women to have hobbies ? Is that cheating is for you? A hobby ?

I was against Daemon cheating on Rhaenyra, an unproven F&B scenario no matter how much the antis claim otherwise, and I'm against the idea of ​​Rhaenyra cheating on Daemon, even more so with Mysaria.

First of all, Rhaenyra was never bisexual, that's bullshit. As much for F&B (because sorry, but no Rhaenyra was not in love with Laena and did not have a relationship with her), and as HOTD.

But at this point, if they really wanted to do that it would have actually been more coherent made between her and Laena, with whom she had a very close and close friendship, rather than queerbaiting with the character of Alicent and a supposed kiss (which I don't believe in until I saw it) with the Daemon's former mistress.

Anyway, I don't watch this show anymore. I'm just keeping up to date with the amount of shit that's going on.

[apprenticestanheight]

Post Bathroom trap! Adam Stanheight x gn! reader headcanons

allllll right!! An anon came into my inbox and got me thinking about Adam as a vet as he mentioned wanting to be one the original saw script, and now this exists! Thank you to that anon for spurring on this idea (though you had no idea you did, and I have no idea if you're reading this) this was fun to write!

this fic was ALSO an excuse to imagine adam in this style of glasses (I can admit that I am entirely biased as a glasses wearer myself but I thought about it for two seconds and then was like "this will never cease to be my favorite thing ever." so now we're here)

Fic type- fluff

Warnings- mentions of PTSD related avoidance (adam refuses to go back to the part of the city where the trap was located), mentions of nightmares/anxiety and ptsd being tripped up by something unspecified, mentions of dehydration and starvation after Adam was rescued. Also, this set of headcanons was longer than I had meant for it to be so oops.

Okay, so!!

Adam is found by the police with Lawrences help (also john kramers--a guilt ridden Lawrence Gordon would BEG for Adams life to be saved and for the spare key to the cuff on Adams ankle and you cannot ever convince me otherwise) and insistence from you (who had filed a missing persons report after a day of missed calls, texts that never delivered, and the stray cat Adam occasionally looked after was found mewing at his door, begging to be allowed entrance to his apartment) after four days. He's starving and dehydrated as all fucking hell, but he dimly registers being lifted onto a gurney and the sound of your voice as you tell him you love him and that he's alive, that he's okay.

He goes through surgery (y'know, bullet wounds and all) and wakes up to be told that, due to the spot in his shoulder where the bullet wound up, he's probably going to deal with consistent pain there the rest of his life.

He's just grateful to be out, really. Grateful that Lawrence kept his word, grateful that you harassed the police, in essence, because you cared so much about him.

He's rehydrated with fluids and eats until he's not hungry anymore, still finding the time within exhaustion and it's interruptions with food and your company to fret about seeing Lawrence in the hospital.

I mean--Lawrence does come to see him, but only when he's asleep because stressing Adam out is not a good idea when he's been out of the trap for two days and is going to be in the hospital for another five at minimum.

Lawrence writes Adam a letter of apology, though, and Adam reads it while you've gone home to shower and to feed the stray that comes by his apartment. He doesn't want to accept Lawrences apology to his face, but he decides that some part of him understands why Lawrence did it as he did, and internally accepts Lawrences apology, deciding to let himself move on from it as best he can.

Adam gets discharged from the hospital after a week, at which point he's like "okay. to start, I need to stop doing freelance. That shit almost got me killed."

He's also traumatized and VERY anxious about going to the part of Jersey where the trap is located. Being freelance might mean he has to go to that area, which plays a bigger part than he's willing to admit.

He's sitting in your apartment one day, having been too anxious to go back to his even after he'd been assured that Jigsaw believed how grateful he'd managed to become and would not test him again unless he did something that Jigsaw deemed worthy of such a test.

He starts thinking about life while sitting at your kitchen table, open and closing his fist while doing that "powpowpowpowpow!!" sound that you do when you're messing with kittens as the stray you'd taken in after finding her covered in oil on the side of the road had found herself on your kitchen table.

He looks at you, having just ordered your favorite takeout, and goes "Remember high school?"

You nod at this, anxious but excited to see where, exactly, he plans to take the conversation.

"We started dating in October of sophomore year," you said. "You dropped out March of junior year, Adam. I remember it."

Adam remembers it, too, watching you walk across the stage as a high school graduate where he'd dropped out because he was flunking. He remembers feeling proud of you, supporting you with forehead kisses and promises to order your favorite food if you studied, helping you work your way through your college degree.

"What's got you thinking about it?" you'd ask as Adam lifted the stray orange tabby kitten into his arms, tucking her under his chin.

"I was thinking... remember how I wanted to be a vet?"

You look at him, head tilted, mouth slightly agape. Of course you'd remembered, but those dreams were ones you thought he'd given up on.

"Yeah," you nod. "Yeah. I remember. Why?"

"I was looking into it and I think I'm going to get my GED," Adam says. "Might also look into taking the SATs, I heard that a decent score will help me get a bachelors degree. Once I get my bachelors, I'll go to vet school."

"Adam," you whisper, a little stunned. "Oh my God. Are you serious?"

Adam grins, gaze meeting yours as he nods.

You have a like,, like,, you're just...

you're SO HAPPY because you have loved that man for a literal DECADE by the time he's like "okay yeah. I'm going to get my life together."

You stand up and head to the kitchen, delighting in the sound of Adams laughter as you go.

"Grabbing the good whiskey?" He calls.

"The best stuff in our cabinets!" you call back.

So the cycle starts.

Adam gets himself enrolled in the GED program your old high school offers, and many nights are spent with Adam, glasses on his face and cat dubbed Spice sitting on the couch cushion behind him, studying to make sure he gets the materials right.

You help him take practice tests and kiss him senseless the first time he gets a near perfect score, and from then it only seems like things get better.

Adam aces the GED test and gets the diploma, lets himself smoke a cigarette for the first time since the trap to celebrate the victory because, even if he didn't get the diploma until eight years after he should've graduated and gotten it, he still got it.

Then, you help him study for the SATs and Spice the cat bats at his notes and the textbooks he studies from whenever one of their corners is hanging off the coffee table.

You get VERY USED to the sight of Adam in his glasses because,, studying and wearing CONTACTS?? no. that sounds like a nightmare.

he gets a good score on the SATs and then applies to a decent college in the city to do a bachelors in science with a focus on zoology.

GUESS WHAT?? He's in college doing his bachelors and working part time as a secretary at the local vets office so that he can sort of get a feel for the environment he'll be expecting post vet school.

You're at his side throughout the entirety of it, and when Adam starts going to therapy (lets be honest--he busies himself with first his GED, then the SATS, then applying and getting into the college he wants for his bachelors and also working part time at the vets offices to avoid thinking about his experience in the bathroom trap) you're supportive of him throughout every step because he supported you through high school, and college, and the long nights spent making sure your career went how you wanted it to go.

He and Lawrence develop a friendship after some time as well, which is nice, and eventually, without realizing it, Adam has developed his own little support system.

Granted, by the time he's hitting 30 and graduating with his bachelors, it's 2008 and his support system is made up of his partner, a doctor with whom he was trapped by the oh-so infamous Jigsaw, and an orange tabby cat who you lovingly washed free of oil and ticks with dawn dish soap when she was two weeks old, but it counts.

He gets into vet school and you hug-tackle him when he tells you the news.

You knock his glasses onto the floor and the two of you end up kissing, breathless on the couch of the apartment you'd moved into together, both because your old one was heading steadfastly into disrepair and remaining unfixed by the landlord, and to celebrate that he'd finished the bachelors degree at which he had worked tirelessly.

The two of you watch Spice the cat bat his glasses around, breathless but completely and utterly elated.

Adam goes to a vet school in the state and it's more studying, more forehead kisses and a lot of restless nights consumed by kissing whenever he correctly guesses the answer from one of his study flashcards, making jokes and laughing just a bit at one anothers expenses, crying into Spice the cats fur whenever it all gets too overwhelming.

he graduates the vet school in 2012, and at that point he has an 'oh shit' moment where he's like

"okay wait. so. I am thirty four. I have been dating Y/N since we were sixteen. we've been dating for eighteen years and haven't gotten married?? what??"

SO HE'S LIKE: 'okay. vets make decent money. I am going to buy them a ring and it's gonna be amazing.'

realistically, he's thirty four and realizing at that point (when the two of you are financially stable enough to be looking at fucking HOUSES in the early 2010s) that the two of you have been together for more than half of your lives and he's making good enough money that money and making the rent isn't a concern anymore and it's a genuine shock.

John Kramer died (which was a story that broke national news) and Adam has had the time to heal, which he finds even odder but it's--it's a nice kind of odd.

So, he starts working as a vet at the office where he used to be a secretary and with his first paycheck, he BUYS YOU A RING. SWEET SWEET MAN.

He proposes in February of 2013 (not on valentines day, but on the 26th because that's your nineteen year anniversary) at the place where you had your first date

the place?? a bookstore that sold used cameras at a discount. Adam proposed to you with a book of memories and photographs he'd taken chronicling those memories. At the end it has the words 'will you marry me?' and a photo of Spice the cat asleep on a sign that says 'look up' so then you do

AND BOOM. HE'S ON HIS KNEE. A BOX IS OPEN IN HIS HAND. A RING IS IN THAT BOX.

You laugh a little and pull a ring out of your pocket, offering it to him as you try to fend off the urge to comment about how unserious it seems despite how serious it is.

ADAM IS AS SHOCKED AS YOU WERE WHEN HE BROUGHT UP GETTING HIS GED.

He's like "a ring? why would they--OH SHIT. THEY HAD THE SAME IDEA."

The two of you just...silently laugh in the bookstore while you nod and slip the rings you bought onto the others finger, kissing and hugging because what even was that day. what.

You get married on that day in 2014, when the two of you have been together for a literal whole entire TWENTY FUCKING YEARS because you're just that cool.

It's also a little weird for Adam--he's 36 at this point, the anniversary of his escaping the trap will come around in late November.

Its good weird, though. He's still privy to weed on occasion--particularly nights where the nightmares come back and he can't sleep, or when he sees something that trips him up and sends him back to that bathroom, cuffed by the ankle to a pipe, the key having gone skittering down the drain--but he doesn't smoke nearly as often as he did during his mid-twenties.

man rakes in 125,000 american dollars, has a fucking MORTGAGE AND CAR INSURANCE BILL and on the day of the wedding you two are looking back at 2004 and are just like "woah. A lot has changed in the last decade"

Adam has gotten to become the person that the guy who was cuffed by the ankle never thought he'd be, though, so he's super proud of himself and his accomplishments.

you're proud of him, too--you have a cat, a mortgage, a car insurance bill and aren't worried about the paying of any of those bills in the slightest. Marrying him is one of your greatest accomplishments because?? hello?? marrying the love of your life who turned his life around in less than six thousand days?? he is. he is amazing. and you just. you just love him wholeheartedly

all in all, it's a good existence and I have to believe Adam would've done good for himself after surviving the trap because if I don't then I can't sleep at night lolz

[iridescentdove]

Akutagawa, Mori, Kouyo & Higuchi x Elysia! Reader

Elysia is the Herrscher of Human Ego in Honkai Impact. She is a girl as beautiful as dancing petals, and holds the power which is comparable to a God itself.

Her personality is cheerful and sweet-loving, Elysia cares about her friends and everyone else dearly. She's elegant, unique, and is a person who enjoys everything.

Soukoku, Atsushi & Ranpo Ver. ♡ Decay Of Angels Ver.

AKUTAGAWA RYUNOSUKE:

He'd be a curious lad, although not seeking much of his own personal interest because ... Dazai.

Then again, it's not unexpected you'd find a way to make even this guy fall for you. It takes time, but Akutagawa sees and uncovers the truth later on.

Honestly, surprised. A God? Really? But how? He's finally peaked some interest to see it for himself.

Wait holy shit you're so pretty i'm not ready for this–

He's gaping. Your aura is imperturbable, so omnipotent and strong. Yet, it found a hint of peace and tranquility as he felt safe and not ... terrified.

You're nicer than he thought. Given as the God of Humanity, maybe he shouldn't have been so on guard.

From there, you guys kicked it on. Albeit, slowly.

Akutagawa of course finds you beautiful. He's stole a few glances often, but refuses to admit it himself. Wouldn't say it out loud. At least not yet.

In the fight with Atsushi against Fitzgerald, you had come right on time.

And that man was no match for you. Akutagawa couldn't even believe his own eyes. You were the embodiment of power and grace.

You fought and destroyed without an ounce of anger.

Just purely going along. And he found himself just falling the moment you came down.

He's staring, with a certain look in his eyes no one has seen on him before. Was it...admiration? Softness?

You two had an actual convo. And his overflowing joy as you praised him so much, with words he always wished to hear from Dazai himself. But now, did he care?

Akutagawa loves you.

And he won't take shit from others who say otherwise. Let's just say Mori had no choice but to approve.

Privately is where he shows affection. You'd be in your God Form that he's in awe of, and just sits there quietly with you with a hand caressing your hair and outfit.

"Dazai is proud of you~" You said one day, both of you sitting at the foot of the bed. And he knew that. But...

Akutagawa simply shook his head. "He acknowledges me. However, it's no longer him I seek acceptance of." His heart beats fondly at the warm image of you.

"...It's you. Only you."

Sometimes regrets dating you seeing you dancing to WAP at 3am with Higuchi and Gin

OUGAI MORI:

Man you know this guy only likes children 12 years and below that.

But who says you couldn't adopt Elise by force

He was most likely against it at first, but well, you're...Elysia. That's all i need to say. Mori did warm up to the idea but found the thought of you in the mafia weird.

You're too kind. Too sweet. Too...colorful. But you assure you were only there to take care of Elise LMAO

He appreciates you playing with the blonde girl whenever he gets too busy, so he won't have to worry. Plus, Elise seems to really like you! Then maybe he should, as well.

Silently watches whenever you do your makeup, or look around for an outfit you find really cute.

Finds you endearing overtime.

He'd definitely try and ask you to be Elise's mom, and the fact you know he's a pedophile so you decline lmfao. BUT HE WON'T GIVE UP AHAHAHA

Dude would just smirk and go along with his day. But not without asking again later on, probably.

Though you're not from the Port Mafia, you know enough that many get hurt or even die due to the missions being given. As such, especially if it's Mori giving out orders.

So you've decided to become support! Yay!

If taken out on dangerous missions, you'd come with them and interfere if you must. You can heal as well.

...Without half killing them–

Mori's seen your God Form, definitely. It was during that one time their precious Yokohama nearly bombed down to a crisp ._.

He's lost it for the very first time, the strong, head-on facade teared down at the last moment.

There's not a day this man stops thinking about you.

Elise is always coddling your time, laughing at your jokes and playing dress up. He's learned to be used to your presence, and hopes that you'll accept him one day.

Funny enough, you did. He's happy about it. Now, you can spend your time as a happy and chaotic family <3

Tried to take you on a dangerous mission but you came out with Akutagawa and Higuchi without a single scratch.

Mori, just give up. That's a God.

OZAKI KOUYOU:

You were the first to approach. Seeing as if there had been nothing else to do, you decided to talk to her.

She was pretty! And also found you rather cute too.

Both of you just ended up liking each other overtime and started gushing about Kyouka, but anyways. It seems that it didn't take too long for her to warm up.

After all, it's a big sister's duty. You both often went to taste some good tea and sweets around Yokohama.

You knew of Kouyou's past - that strength of yours coming as a legitimate God, but then again, you don't bring it up and prefer to help in her healing process.

She's thankful for you, and probably had prayed to you when Kyouka had disappeared. She's that trustful.

But then again, you're not like them. Why shouldn't she?

You're extremely beautiful, perfectly strong. The times she'd seen you fight so elegantly was a sight to behold. It would never get old no matter how many times.

Honestly everyone is double shocked because you just obliterated everything without moving a single leg ._.

And yet again, Kouyou is fascinated and overwhelmed by your God Form. She'll never get sick of seeing it.

The way you transform into it is so stunning too.

You'll often spoil her with outfits and expensive tea just because you want to, your roles reversed. No matter what, you'd always be taking care of her.

She appreciates it. Having you around makes her heart flutter a certain way.

You're there, showing her so much kindness and being so gentle it nearly hurt. A holy being as you deserved much more than her.

But again, you're assuring her no one else is as amazing and perfect as she was in your eyes. You loved her.

Kouyou could only smile so genuinely. So bright. So this is the light? It sure has been a while.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, after all.

ICHIYOU HIGUCHI:

Akutagawa who? I only serve under (Y/N)

She and you are honestly the cutest couple ever. Where are the Higuchi stans? Damn this is unfair.

Higuchi first met you when you invited yourself into the base with a...is thAT AKUTAGAWA?! DEATHLY INJURED? She found no words to say at that moment.

You had taken him towards the nurse clinic, but not before staying to check if he was alright.

Higuchi alone found that strange. You weren't in the mafia.

Then how the hell did you manage to get past security, get all the way up without getting ambushed, and somehow get to Mori's office in one piece?

She saw you talking to Mori. You were carefree, sweet, and even gave him boxes of sweets claiming it's for everyone.

...Yes, she approached you herself. SLAY BESTIE

Although she planned it to be a simple interaction. It was anything about that. Because of that day, she learned so many things about you she never would have thought of.

You're a GOD?? OF HUMANITY?? YOU KNOW LITERALLY EVERYONE'S NAMES, FACES AND LOVE THEM ALL?

The fact you also claim to love her, Higuchi just stops responding and goes red.

But by the time she realizes her emotions...well...

That happened.

Congratulations, you've earned a 100% faithful follower. Higuchi thinking 'mommy' everytime she sees you in your God Form is now canon

She doesn't even need to worry. You're strong in every way, and have the entire world on your side.

Higuchi has thrown Akutagawa away <3 bye bye Sanemi

All in all, she's literally become your number one fan beside the rat ass Fyodor. She's there for you, and you're there for her. The sweetest couple ever.

She loves complimentng you, while both of you sit on the couch watching TV late at night.

And don't forget cuddles and sneaking kisses. Top Higuchi

Man i love her sm, i got carried away. Higuchi believes that you were meant to be together forever, and that she would protect your life on earth no matter the cost.

[beautifuldisaster88]

A Match Made In Hell

Pairings: Dark!Rafe x Female!Reader (She comes off sweet and innocent but is actually a psychopath)

Summary: Rafe Cameron fell in love with the OBX's sweet and innocent kook princess, but what was it about her that drew him in? When she turns out to be just as psychotic (if not more than Rafe) as him, what will happen? Will the once peaceful and quiet Kildare Island be turned upside down? Will anyone find out the truth about her? Or will her sweet and innocent persona be enough to fool an entire island?

Warnings: Dark themes, mentions of torture and murder, murder, mentions of weapons, weapon use, details of torture and murder, unprotected sex P in V, knife play, mention of branding, drug use, to sum it all up they're both psychopaths! Read at your own risk.

A/N: I used the name Sky/Skylar, but you can picture reader however you want. Other than describing how she dresses and acts, there isn't much physical description of her. Fair warning this is longer than I originally planned for it to be . Guess you could say I went overboard with this shit. However, I did try to shorten it more, deciding to end it where I did, otherwise it probably would have turned into a full blown story.

×××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××

!!!!MDNI!!! 18+

With Rafe Cameron, what you see is what you get. The eldest of the three Cameron siblings, Rafe was unhinged, a psychopath. From trying to drown his sister, Sarah, to murdering Sheriff Peterkin, beating those dirty Pogues to a pulp any time he had the chance, pulling a gun on his dad, to actually shooting Sarah. The list of crimes that the Cameron male had committed only continued to pile up. The good thing about being a Cameron? It meant that Rafe got away with murder, literally. He was a true psychopath and everyone knew it.

Then you have Skylar Rose, Outer Banks sweetheart, the kook princess. The Rose family held just as much power on the island as the Cameron family, if not more. Skylar or Sky as everyone called her was the complete opposite of Rafe. She was the definition of innocent, wearing white flowy summer dresses, nails always perfectly manicured, flowers usually adorned in her wavy beach wave hair, makeup always perfectly done and perfectly applied glossy lips. The Rose girl always had a smile on her face that was brighter than the sun, greeting everyone that she passed on the island, both Kooks and Pogues. If someone needed help, Sky was the first to lend a hand, no questions asked. She loved babies, animals, stuffed animals, anything that was pink and sparkly. She was the Outer Banks angel, untouched by any guy. That was until Rafe Cameron made her his own.

You see, under all those innocent layers laid something dark and twisted. While others only saw her as innocent, Rafe knew that there was more to Skylar Rose, and he made it his mission to bring out her true nature, which took less persuasion than he expected.

The couple was trouble together, feeding each other their psychotic desires behind closed doors. So, what happens when people start going missing on the small island and bodies start turning up? Normally, the Cameron men, Rafe and his father Ward would be the first that the people of Kildare County would blame, but with Sky now in the picture, it left the residents of the island puzzled. They truly believed that Sky had Rafe under control. Oh, how wrong they were.

×××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××

It was a typical Friday night on Figure Eight. Rafe had convinced Topper to throw a party at his place, bitching that Ward refused to let the Cameron male throw anymore of his parties at Tannyhill, at least when Ward was home. With Sky giving the Thornton male her sweetest and most innocent smile and pleading eyes, Topper folded within seconds. Both Rafe and Sky knew that she had everyone on the island wrapped around her dainty perfectly manicured finger.

The Thornton house was crowded with kook party goers, music blaring throughout every room. The liquor was overflowing and the drugs at anyone's disposal. It was your typical kook party. Sweaty and dancing bodies everywhere, people hooking up wherever the fuck they pleased.

Sky was currently perched on Rafe's lap, curled up against her boyfriend as he made his usual drug deals, white powdery lines scattered across the glass table in front of them. She was dressed in her usual attire, wearing a white babydoll dress that Rafe bought her that morning, adorned with thigh high stockings with pink bows at the top, knowing how much her boyfriend loved when she wore those damn stockings. Her hair was worn down that night, small pink and white glittery flowers throughout. It was no secret that Sky was the hottest girl at the party. Hell, she was the hottest girl on the island, but everyone knew she belonged to Rafe, meaning she was off limits.

"I'm telling you man, this yayo is top of the line shit. Best you'll ever have. We just got a new shipment, cut straight from Columbia. You won't find this shit anywhere else on the island, yeah?" The Cameron male said to the group of kooks surrounding them, each one reaching for their wads of cash.

Rafe possessively squeezed her bowtie stocking clad thigh, not liking the way that Chad was eying his girl. His jaw tightened, eyes immediately darkening. The squeeze he had on Sky's thigh was so tight that it was sure to leave bruises.

"Yo, man. Ain't you afraid of corrupting little miss innocent with this shit, Rafe? I mean, has she even seen this shit in person before?" Asked Chad, your typical frat kook.

Chad might have been too stupid to realize but Rafe couldn't stand the asshole, his eyes always on Sky. The Cameron boy wanted nothing more than to slam Chad's head through the glass table, but this was business, so Rafe tried his damnedest to remain professional, not wanting to lose out on a deal.

"You do realize who the fuck she belongs to, yeah? Baby Girl here might be innocent, but that don't mean she's fucking stupid. How 'bout you worry 'bout your fuckin' self and let me worry about my girl, yeah? Yeah."

Sky felt her boyfriend tense up, knowing that he had one thing on his mind. Murder.... and Chad was tonight's victim.

"Not yet, Rafey. His time will come later." Sky purred in his ear, making the blonde nod. No one had ever been able to keep Rafe under control, except his Skylar.

Getting back into business mode, Rafe let out a dark laugh, playfully smacking his girlfriend's thigh as he looked from her to Chad.

"Shit, she might be innocent but you best believe my girl here knows all the ends and outs of this shit. Who the fuck you think packages everything and cuts the shit up so perfectly? You're looking at my business partner, man. I taught her everything she knows.Y'gonna buy some or just eye fuck my angel, huh?"

Chad's eyes immediately widened and he nervously rubbed the back of his neck, quickly peeling his eyes away from Sky as she giggled into Rafe's neck. He might not be the brightest crayon in the box, but he knew not to piss off Rafe Cameron, especially when it came to his girl, no matter how badly Chad wished he could fuck Sky.

"Uh, yeah... Yeah, give me 3 G's worth, man. I-I wasn't eye fucking your girl, Rafe, I wouldn't do that. Everyone knows that Skylar belongs to you. I... I wouldn't do that, man."

Rafe snorted, knowing damn well he knew what he saw. Still, he reached for a stack of little baggies that were filled with the white substance. Before he handed the merchandise to Chad, Sky held out a dainty hand, motioning for Chad to place the money in it. He hesitantly looked from her to Rafe, earning a nod of approval from the Cameron male. Once the cash was in her hand, Skylar quickly counted it.

"It's all there, Rafey. Give Chad his goodies so that he can be on his way. Even though I know Chaddy here could have at least bought 5 G's Worth, but he chose the cheap route this time. Oh well." Skylar hummed, shrugging her shoulders as she placed the wad of cash in her little pink bunny shaped backpack that Rafe had bought for her. While Rafe handled dealing the cocaine, she handled the money. The pair being the perfect business partners.

Rafe threw the stack of baggies tied around a pink rubberband (Skylar's doing, of course) at Chad, giving him a death stare.

Rafe then turned his attention to his girlfriend, trailing kisses from under her earlobe and down her neck as he whispered. "Daddy needs his fix, angel. Gon' let me do some lines off those perfect tits, yeah?"

"Here's your shit. Now fucking scram." Rafe spat, shooing Chad away with his hand.

It was almost like a scene from a comedy movie, the way that Chad hurriedly stood, practically tripping over his own two feet, mumbling about how sorry he was and how he didn't mean to disrespect Rafe or his girl. It took everything in the Rose girl to not burst out in giggles.

Her giggles filled the air, Rafe barely able to hear them over the booming music, but not even the music could drown out Rafe hearing those angelic giggles. She bit down on her bottom lip, whimpering at how his mouth felt against her soft skin. Being the possessive man that he was, Rafe made sure to leave marks along her neck, marking what belonged to him.

"Whatever Daddy wants, Daddy gets."

"Atta girl. S'good for Daddy. Gon' have to reward you later, hmm?" He whispered, his hand trailing further up her thigh, earning a small moan from her.

Sky reached into Rafe's pocket, pulling out a small baggie filled with white powder. Leaning back against the arm of the overly expensive couch, she began to sprinkle lines of the white substance on her cleavage, involuntarily squeezing her thighs together when Rafe let out a low groan. He leaned his face in closer, lining his nostrils up perfectly with the two white lines before snorting one, followed by the second. He then ran his tongue slowly over each breast, cleaning off whatever remained of the white powder. Of course, he had to give those perfect a few nips.

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Hours later as the party began to die down, the couple decided it was time to put their plan in motion. Both of them coked out of their minds, not to mention the mixture of alcohol and other substances. They had their ways of making sure nobody ever saw Sky snort white lines up her nostrils. She had a reputation to uphold being innocent after all. Thank God that Sky knew how to fool everyone, making them think that she was just tipsy from the half empty bottle of beer that Rafe handed her, not knowing that it was actually a mixture of different types of alcohol.

She made her way through the house, drink in hand as she searched for their victim, humming along to the music as she flashed her million dollar smile at everyone. When she spotted Chad, she put on her innocent act, strolling over to him as her tits bounced, barely contained by the thin material of her dress, ass peaking out from under. Before even approaching Chad, she knew that he was putty in her hand.

"Chad! There you are. I've been looking all over for you. I wanted you to try this new drink mixture I made and tell me what you think. Also my way of apologizing for Rafey's behavior. He tends to get a tad bit overprotective of me." Her voice came out sweet, so innocent sounding. Little did poor Chad know, the drink in her hand had a few extra ingredients, courtesy of Barry.

"Oh, uh, hey Sky. Where's, uh... Where's Rafe. He know you were coming to talk to me?" Chad asked nervously, looking around for any signs of Rafe. When he didn't see the Cameron male, he instantly smirked, not even trying to hide the fact that he was checking her out.

She giggled sweetly, adding on the charm as she flashed her million dollar smile once again, perfectly straight pearly whites on display along with her deep dimples. She twirled a strand of hair around her dainty finger.

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"Relax, Chaddy. I told Rafey that I was going to look for you. He's busy finishing up his last deals for the night. I just want you to try my new mix, not like I'm asking you to take me upstairs to an empty bedroom."

"Yeah, yeah of course I'll try it, sweetheart."

Got him, Sky thought to herself. This was just too damn easy.

"Fuck, Chad here is a lot heavier than I expected, baby. I swear, if he makes me break a nail or even chip my nail polish, 'm gonna go after his whole fucking family." Sky huffed as her and Rafe dragged Chad's unconscious body out of the bed of Rafe's truck.

"Baby Girl, Daddy already told you that you don't have to do any of the heavy lifting. That's what y'got me for, yeah?"

She immediately scrunched up her face, shaking her head from side to side with a strained huff.

"m'not letting.. you do all the.. heavy lifting yourself, Daddy. Whatcha take me for, some sort of weak bitch? Huh? Is that it? Cause 'm not weak, Rafey."

Rafe let out a dark chuckle, shaking his head as he smirked. She was a fiery one and he loved it.

"Shh, shh. Not what I'm saying at all, Baby Girl. I know that you're strong. Y'just got your nails done this morning and Daddy just doesn't want you fuckin' 'em up... 'specially 'fore you get the chance to wrap them 'round my cock. That's all." Rafe reassured her. "This should be good. Drop him here, angel."

Skylar didn't need to be told twice, she dropped Chad's unconscious body, shrugging as she heard a loud thud from his body hitting the concrete floor of the abandoned building. She immediately began inspecting her nails, making sure there were no chips. When she found no damage done to her nails, she looked up at Rafe with a huge grin, holding up both hands for him to see.

"Look, Daddy. No damage done." She beamed, before her face scrunched up in a cute little pout. "Too bad they'll be covered in blood soon. Oh well." She shrugged. "Least I know how to get 'em clean."

Rafe chuckled, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her flush against his toned and muscular body, running his hands down her back and cupping her ass. He leaned his face in to kiss along her jaw, before capturing her lips.

"Yeah, well, just know I plan on fucking you before we get cleaned up. You know what Y'do to Daddy when you're covered in blood." He purred in her ear, making her whimper.

"Daddy! Now 'm wet." Sky whined, making the Cameron boy chuckle.

"What's new, Baby Girl? You get wet just think' 'bout me. Don't worry your pretty little self, Daddy will take good care of you... After we're done with Chad."

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Straddling Chad's lap, Skylar ran the cold blade across his jawline, pouting that he still wasn't awake. Reaching back her other hand, she slapped Chad hard in the face, the sound bouncing off the empty walls of the abandoned building.

"Chad, time to wake up. I wanna play. Won't you play with me?" She whined, grinning like a maniac as the male groaned.

Chad's eyes slowly fluttered open, his head pounding as he tried to regain his focus. Not recognizing his surroundings, his eyes widened when he saw Skylar in his lap, knife pressed against his throat. Sure enough, Rafe was standing a few feet behind her, looking like a true psychopath.

"W-what the fuck did you put in my drink you crazy bitch!? Get the fuck off me! You're both fucking psychopaths!"

"You know, Chad... You should never call a psychopath a psychopath... Makes them angry. I don't think you want to make us angry, now do you!?" Skylar pressed the sharp end of the blade deeper against his neck, breaking the skin. She grinned as she watched the crimson liquid trickle down his throat.

"Look, I didn't do shit. Just let me go. I-I promise I won't tell anyone. I swear, man. Just let me go."

Rafe clicked his tongue, stalking over closer to where Chad was tied to the chair.

"Can't do that, man. You crossed a line tonight. Eying my girl like a pussy starved virgin. Ya pussy starved, Chad, huh? That it? Well guess what?" Rafe asked, reaching a hand out to cup Skylar's pussy under her flowy white dress. "This pussy, yeah, this pussy belongs to me. Even has MY name carved into her thigh. You fucked up, man, and now Y'gotta pay the price. Them's the rules, yeah?"

"Rafe, you got it all wrong, man.. I... I was-"

Chad was immediately cut off by Skylar slicing open his throat, pouting as the crimson liquid squirted all over her white dress.

"He talked too much. Made me bored." She shrugged. "Great!" She plunged the knife into his chest, ignoring his gurgled cries and pleas as he choked on his own blood. "You!" STAB. "Ruined!" STAB. "My!" STAB. "Favorite!" STAB. "Fucking" STAB. "Dress!" With one last stab to Chad's abdomen, she trailed the embedded blade down his stomach, ripping him open in two as his insides pooled out of him.

Rafe's cock was painfully hard, pressing against his jeans as he watched his girlfriend take Chad's life. It wasn't how they planned it, but he always let his Baby Girl do as she pleased. As much as Rafe wanted to be the one to kill that fucking douchebag, he couldn't deny how fucking hot his girl looked.

"You can stop now, angel. Chad's no longer with us. Pity that there wasn't much torture. M'proud of you though. You did so good, Baby Girl. Get that sweet ass over here and let Daddy reward you."

"M'kay, Daddy." Sky hummed, climbing off Chad's lifeless lap. Her once white dress now drenched in the frat boy's blood.

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Rafe teased Skylar, running his red tip over her slick folds, his precum mixing with her slickness. He groaned at the sight of her pretty glistening pussy, the most perfect pussy that he'd ever seen. The blonde was obsessed, willingly admitting to her that he was pussy whipped.

"Rafey, stop teasing!" She whimpered, already writhing beneath him just from his tip gliding along her slick folds.

"Gotta admire the view before I destroy that pretty pussy, yeah? So soaked f'me already, Baby Girl and I've barely touched you. Sucha fucking slut for Daddy's cock, yeah? Yeah, you are. Got you practically coming undone and I haven't even fucked you yet."

"Rafe, I swear if you don't fuck me right no-"

"You'll what? Hmm? You ain't gonna do shit, Baby Girl. I fucking own this pussy and if I want to take my time, I will, yeah? But, since you did so good tonight I won't make you beg."

With that, he slammed his cock deep inside her, not even giving her time to adjust to his size before his hips thrust roughly, slamming in and out of her tight hole. He practically came at the loud moans that rolled off her tongue.

Sky gasped when she felt a cold metal against her abdomen as Rafe slammed his cock deep inside her sopping cunt. She grinned knowing that the cold metal was her knife. It wasn't the first time that the couple did knife play, or even gun play at that. When it came to sexual situations, there wasn't much that was off limits for the pair.

Rafe snaked an arm around to grab her by the throat, squeezing hard as he yanked her head back, wanting to see her face as she came undone. Her once bright doe eyes were as dark as his.

"Hold still for me, Baby Girl, yeah?" Rafe groaned, eyes rolling back from how perfectly her pussy wrapped around his big cock. "Wouldn' want to nick that flawless skin."

Rafe took the blade in his hand, running it along her inner thigh. He felt her walls tighten around him, practically milking him. She obeyed him, trying to stay as still as possible, even though it was almost impossible the way Rafe was roughly thrusting in and out of her.

"Fuck, you gonna cum already? Sucha fucking dirty whore, gettin' off on my cock and having a fucking knife against your skin. Cum for Daddy, wan' you to soak my cock, Baby Girl."

"Mhm, 'm gonna cum daddy." Sky whimpered, feeling the familiar tightness in her stomach.

She threw her head back against Rafe's bare and sweaty chest, mumbling a few curse words as she came undone. Rafe supported her body with one strong hand, pounding into her soaked pussy harder, each thrust more sloppy than the last, letting her know that he was also close.

"Fuck!... Rafe!"

Sky screamed out his name in the most pleasurable way as she came, soaking Rafe's cock. Rafe was right behind her, moaning her name as he emptied his load deep inside her pussy, painting her walls white.

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It had been well over two weeks since the couple brutally murdered Chad. Missing posters were posted all over the island with Chad's picture. Sky and Rafe had even joined the search party for the frat boy, knowing damn well nobody would find him. After chopping his body up, the couple fed him to the gators. Still, they had to make sure they came off just as concerned as the rest of the island.

The couple were sat at a table at The Wreck, eating their lunch when a breaking news alert appeared on the TV. Both their heads snapped to the screen, listening closely to the news report.

"Residents of Kildare County, we come to you with breaking news. What you're about to hear and see might not be suitable for everyone. Kildare County Sheriff's department was called out this morning when a hiker in the woods came across a severed hand. After further investigation it was discovered that the hand belonged to missing teenager, Chad Smith. We take you now to a special report from Sheriff Shoupe."

"The Sheriff's department received a call this morning from a caller who wishes to remain anonymous. After arriving on scene, Deputy Plumb and myself took the severed hand to evidence. After running the hand for prints it was discovered that it belonged to Chad Smith. Deputies searched the area in hopes of finding a body, but came up empty handed. Without knowing how long Chad's body was out there, we're assuming that the gators got to him before we did. As of now we don't have any suspects and don't expect foul play to be at hand. According to our reports, Chad was last seen leaving a house party and was heavily under the influence of drugs and alcohol. Our best guess is that he passed out and maybe hit his head. If anyone has any information, we ask that you please contact the Sheriff's department. We'll update you with any new information we come across. As of now, we're ruling out homicide. Our thoughts and prayers go out to Chad's family and friends. A vigil will be held this Friday evening on the beach. Thank you."

Rafe and Sky peeled their eyes off the screen, immediately looking at each other with proud grins. Little did everyone know, the couple planted the hand, knowing that someone would soon come across it. There was no way that Chad's murder could be pinned on either of them, the pair too smart to leave behind any evidence.

Sky gave Rafe a faux pout, sticking out her bottom lip.

"Poor Chad. Who would do a thing like that? It's so, so sad." She hummed, running a finger down her cheek as a faux tear.

Rafe grinned as he let out a low chuckle, reaching over the table to take Sky's hand in his, absentmindedly drawing shapes on the back of her hand with his thumb.

"Mhm, real sad. Eat your food, Baby Girl. Gon' need your strength for tonight. Got something special planned."

Sky perked up, looking at her boyfriend with a bright smile, but only Rafe knew the darkness behind that innocent smile. Leaning across the table, she whispered.

"Please tell me that it's finally Sophia's turn. Can't stand seeing her check you out anymore, Daddy. You're mine."

Rafe chuckled, nodding his head as he brought their hands to his lips, peppering the back of hers with kisses.

"Mhm. Daddy's gon' let you play with that bitch tonight. Let her know who the fuck I belong to."

"Yay! Thank you, Daddy. I love you, Rafey."

"I love you too, Baby Girl. More than anything."