#but it's not anything I particularly enjoy doing

[onsomenewsht]

Helpless to the bass and faded light

About when she bribes you and you dance with her like a filled stadium isn't looking

》 Leah Williamson x Reader

》 words count: +1k

》 she took my arm / I don't know how it happened / we took the floor and she said

You don’t like football.

It’s quite a boring game if you stop to think about it for a moment. Two dozen and counting people running around a ball trying to kick it into a huge net.

Not something you look forward to sit through for almost two hours.

Despite your father’s best efforts, you being his only kid and his only hope to pass down his passion, the sport never managed to interest you long enough to care.

You even found yourself in the stands of your dad’s favourite club’s home more times than you’re able to remember, going beyond yourself and cheering when the other people around you did.

The things you do to make your parents proud.

How you managed to have the English captain wrapped around your finger, regardless of your well-known dislike for her biggest passion and purpose in life, is still a mystery for your families and friends.

“Pretty please, just this one”

“Oh, shut up!”, you hit her arm and push her off you, both still naked.

You can’t believe your girlfriend is actually trying to bribe you with sex, not even waiting for you to fully recover before asking to go to the game.

“No, you ruined the mood”, you state as the blonde tries to kiss you again.

The huge grin of her beautiful face is quite dangerous, she can win you over so easily and you both know it.

Leah rises off the bed to retrieve a warm cloth from the bathroom and a clean shirt from the closet. You accept her attention, she’s always caring when it comes to you, but you’re pretty sure the extra effort has a not-so-subtle second purpose.

“You can’t buy me so easily, Williamson”

She can.

“It’s a really important game, my love”

“For who?”

“For me?”, she tries as she slots herself under your open arm, a grin hidden between your neck and the pillow.

“I barely bear you playing”

“You love watching me play”

“I love you, period”

Leah knows how much you think the sport is boring, going way out of your comfort zone just to cheer her. She feels immensely supported when she finds your big smile in the stands, wrapped in one of her jerseys.

It’s not that difficult for you to sit and admire your girlfriend in her element, focusing more on her movements and attitude than paying attention to the actual game.

What you find quite annoying is enduring Arsenal’s men’s team.

The defender’s fingers on your side are slowly soothing you in a compromising position, too relaxed and smitten to keep denying her anything. You know she doesn’t need much more to lure you into her trap and, unfortunately for you, she’s perfectly aware too.

When the blonde’s lips find the particularly sensitive spot on the base of your neck, you’re doomed.

~

You’re glad your father is already dead or you’d have killed him as you take your seat in the Emirates Stadium, surrounded by the Gunners’ colours. Your girlfriend’s name on your back could be the final nail.

The things you do to make your lover happy.

“You know I love you, right?”

“You better never forget this”, you quip back.

The English captain has been looking forward to this game for weeks now, you couldn’t have been able to turn her down in spite of it all.

She doesn’t need to know though, that you didn’t accept to spend one of your date nights watching the North West London derby for free.

“Maybe you will enjoy it at the end”

Nice try, you will not.

“You know, my dad was a West Ham supporter”

“Could have been worse”, she smiles at you, reaching for your hand.

Talking about your father is getting easier as time finally moves forward and your grief keeps changing its shape. Compared to the abyssal black hole it felt like the first year and a half, of its progress.

Leah didn’t meet him, crushing in your life a couple of months after his passing, but she managed to find a space in your heart that keeps growing despite all your fears.

They could have hit so well, bonding over their shared passion for the sport and their never-ending determination to make you happy.

You told her some stories about him, mostly memories to make your girlfriend understand how stubborn and passionate he was about the thing he cared about.

The one thing you all have in common.

“Yeah, he used to gift me a West Ham jersey every year on Bobby Moore’s birthday”

Leah’s laugh managed to overcome the buzzing atmosphere of the stadium, making you feel like she was the reason all the people around you were cheering. You sure think so.

“He sounds like an incredible father”

“Football obsession aside, he was good”

When you turn to look at her, the blonde’s eyes are already on you and the smile on her face is enough to warm your heart.

~

The first goal coming within five minutes has you quite engaged in what’s happening on the pitch, you even drag your girlfriend in a kiss as you both rise from your seats to celebrate.

Your commitment declined quite easily after that, more entertained by Leah’s reactions than the actual game. You nod in amusement every time she tries to talk you through one of her analyses, placing a hand on her thigh to stop her from standing up every time the ball is somehow close to the box.

The second half is more eventual, at least that’s what you can understand by the excitement the defender and the people in the stands around you seem to radiate.

You’re not clueless, you’re perfectly aware a five-nil win against Chelsea is quite the result. You care enough to think you can’t wait to go home - Leah is always in the mood for a private celebration when her team triumphs, especially over another London club.

“Can we go now?”, you ask as soon as the referee whistles three times, declaring the end of your and the Blues’ torture.

Leah’s happiness is contagious, so you’re not mad when she drags you in her arms to join her cheers and enthusiastic dance. It takes you less than a second to indulge her, letting the blonde spin you around and matching her excitement.

When she dips you and seals the move with a kiss the laugh that rises out of you is genuine and loud.

At first, neither of you notice the stadium’s camera pointed in your direction, recording your little moment of pure bliss in each other’s arms.

Looking back at it, as all your friends sent you the viral video, you know Leah saw you two on the big screen and went along with her little cocky display of affection and excitement for the victory.

You’re sure your father could be laughing at it too, despite the colors you’re wearing.

fine.

#woso x reader #leah williamson x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso community #lw6 #woso #here we are #short and sweet #i hope you enjoy it

[stellar-skyy]

INSULT TO INJURY — Platonic Arlecchino & reader

i. SUMMARY: What is Arlecchino to do, when her child comes home injured? ii. CWS & NOTES: Injuries, mild descriptions of blood, mentions of violence, nothing particularly graphic. PLATONIC arlecchino & gn!reader. house of the hearth!reader. hurt/comfort. they/them pronouns used. 0.9k words. iii. A/N: HI THIS WAS FINISHED IN MY DRAFTS AND I DID NOT NOTICE... this was a suggestion from @romaritimeharbor!!

Arlecchino was by no means a traditional parent, but she did share common qualities with those who were. She kissed her children’s hair when they were sick, wiping the sweat off their forehead and tucking their sheets extra tight. When they sought comfort, she would hold them close to her chest, even if her affection was rare and only offered away from all other eyes. They appeared in her thoughts constantly, even in the most mundane situations; occasionally she would find herself wondering if Lynette would enjoy a particular brand of tea, or if Freminet’s diving skills had improved in the past months.

Those outside of the House of the Hearth could never imagine a soft side to a cutthroat woman like Arlecchino, not after witnessing her ruthless ways. All they saw was the terrifying Harbinger that cut through hoards with her scythe, taking down each and every one who stands in the way of the Fatui. They would be mistaken to dismiss her as soft-hearted, but even more so to proclaim her heartless. It is simply that her heart beats for the Hearth, and nothing more. 

When she settled into the role of Father, she vowed that even if the Fatui wouldn’t treat her children with love, she would. However strict she appeared, her love for the House of the Hearth was poured through every drop of blood shed in the name of the security of the Fatui. The Fatui were the foundation holding up the orphanage, and so long as it remained strong, so would their home. 

It was one of her most notable traits, and one that many parents held; she would do anything to protect her children. 

So when [Name] turned up at her office, bruises peeking out between the rips in their shirt and bright splatters of blood dotting their arms, she didn’t scold them for walking in without knocking. She stood, moving mechanically over to where they lingered in the doorway. She swept her gaze down their body, taking note of each and every injury. And as they looked up at her, eyes glazed over with unshed tears, she brushed her hand across their face to rid the hair sticking to the blood across their forehead and hissed, “Who did this to you?”

“I–” Whatever rasping words were almost spoken broke off in a fit of coughing. A low cry of pain spilled out, and their hand clutched their side. “Sorry, I’m sorry.”

Arlecchino looked out through the hallway, spotting a child half-hidden behind the corner, unsubtly trying to spy on the situation. They squeaked, as she caught their eye and barked out an order. “You! Go to the medical wing and bring back a first aid kit, and several ice-packs. Now.”

They scurried off, the sound of tiny footsteps growing quieter every second. Once they were inaudible, she looked back at her other child, whose eyes were drifting shut slowly. A quick touch on their shoulder sent them flinching backwards, eyes flying open. 

“What happened?” She asked, ignoring the way they shrunk into themself at the question.

“I failed. I was ambushed, and they–” They shuddered, once again gripping their side. Arlecchino took note of the way they winced each time they moved too sharply; bruised ribs, if not broken. “I’m sorry, I just came to report on what happened.”

“You’re injured, [Name].” Arlecchino stressed.

“I know,” They said quietly. They didn’t even seem to have enough energy to fight the tears that have begun dripping down their cheeks. “It won’t happen again. I’ll be better.”

I don’t want you to be better, her mind screamed. I want you to be okay. Arlecchino bit her tongue hard to stop the words from pouring out. It would be unbecoming of the Director to show such earnestness in front of one of her children, especially one who had clearly suffered a failure. She may love them, as she does all of her orphans, but she was raised in the Fatui as well. She knew the cost of failure all too well.

“You will be.” Arlecchino stood back, letting them lean against the door frame again to stop themself falling over. “I’m sure you understand that there will be consequences to this.”

“I do.” 

“Excellent. You will be dismissed from all missions for the next six weeks.” Six weeks, that was just long enough for injured ribs to heal, if she recalled correctly. “You will be required to remain in the House for that time, and any outings must be approved by me before you leave.”

They stared at her, eyes wide.

“Am I understood?”

“Yes, Father.” They said quickly.

She didn’t ask any more of the person who had left them in such a state, but they did cross her mind as she wrapped bandages around their arms. She could almost see them now, celebrating their victory over the Fatui. How proud they must be, to have sent one of the Knave’s own agents fleeing. 

A barely noticeable grimace tore her attention away, and she forced her hands to loosen the bandages around their arm. In her quiet fury, she had begun to wrap them tighter than a tourniquet, much to their discomfort. 

For that moment, she dismissed the assailant to the back of her mind, and turned all of her attention to her child.

They would come later, and then, they would learn the true meaning of fear. 

reblogs and comments are appreciated! ♡

#✒️ — writing #・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗ #—stellaronhvnters. #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #platonic x reader #platonic genshin x reader #platonic genshin impact x reader #arlecchino x reader #platonic arlecchino x reader #genshin arlecchino x reader #fatui harbingers x reader

[sissylittlefeather]

Hi Sissy! If it’s not too late, could you do a Fic of Elvis based on the song “Help Me Make It Through the Night?” Like Elvis and you know you’re not good for each other, but you can’t stay away. Can develop into smut but if you’d prefer not, that’s okay too! If it’s too late, I completely understand! Thank you! 😊

@peaceloveelvis Hi! Definitely not too late! First of all, this is one of my most favorite songs. I actually have a series planned to go with this song later, so stay tuned. But also, I haven't written anything without smut in a LONG TIME. This one came out this way and I might revisit it to expand on the smut later if there's interest, but I kind of like it without it. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this ficlet!

Help Me Make It Through the Night

Warnings: none really, cussing, mentions of sex

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

Elvis has been a part of your life since you met him during his Timex special with Frank Sinatra. The only thing you did more than make love relentlessly was fight endlessly. The nights were hot, but the mornings never failed to conclude with both of you yelling and at least one of you crying. There was no end to the way you loved each other or the way you managed to drive each other insane. There was always something to fight about and you left each other every time swearing you'd never be together again. But somehow, you'd end up in the same place and before you knew it you were naked in an elevator or in his backseat or in a bathroom or a hotel bed in some sketchy by-the-hour kind of place. Even after he got married, you didn't stop. Your pattern of fucking and fighting stayed the same.

In 1969, though, you had a particularly spirited tryst that ended with both of you saying things you regretted almost instantly. But you were both too stubborn to admit it, so instead you threw a shoe at him and screamed at him to get out and he called you a name and swore he'd never end up in your bed again. This time, the pain you caused cut so deep that you both insisted you'd never give in again. It was over, for real this time. The hurt was too much to make the good times worth it.

So, you did what any self-respecting woman would do. You married someone else.

When he heard about it, he broke an end table and all the things sitting on it in a fit of rage and jealousy and something else he was afraid to admit.

On your wedding night, you cried yourself to sleep with your new husband snoring quietly next to you in the bed.

Then, in 1971, you find yourself walking down the street and come upon a loud and frantic crowd. Your curiosity gets the better of you and you look to see what all the commotion is about. The crowd parts like ill-meaning clouds and he looks up at just the wrong moment.

His blue eyes pierce you straight through to your soul, even from across the street. Something inside you jumps and your hand goes to your throat. Memories of every time you've ever been together slam into you like a freight train and you're somewhere between ecstasy and wanting to die. By the look on his face, you can tell he's experiencing something similar. Everything inside you is screaming at you to go to him, but you feel the cold little ring on your finger and know that you can't. You turn and walk away as quickly as you can. He fights to get away from the crowd around him, but by the time he does, you're gone.

******

You're pacing the floor of your living room when the phone rings. Even several hours later, you haven't recovered from your encounter. You pick the phone up aggressively, annoyed to be distracted by the call.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Presley would like you to meet him tonight at the Presidential Motel at 11pm." Your blood runs cold.

"Why?" The line clicks with no answer. He's left the ball in your court and you hate it. You won't meet him. You just won't. He's impossible.

But at 10:45pm you're in your car. You've spent the last several hours trying to remind yourself of all the reasons you hate him. You finally decide you're going to see him just to tell him that you don't care what he says; you were serious last time. This is not a thing anymore and it never will be again.

At 11:06pm, you sit in the parking lot of the motel, a battle raging inside you.

"This is stupid." You mutter, finally getting out of the car. At the desk, you ask which room Mr. John Burrows is staying in. The clerk tells you and you stomp towards his room getting more and more angry as you walk. The nerve of him to think he can just summon you like this.

You pound on the door with every ounce of rage your body can contain flowing through you. The door opens slowly and your heart skips. Why does he have to look so good?

"You came."

"What the fuck could you possibly want to say to me?! The last time you saw me you called me a whore and said you'd rather swallow a knife than see me again. So, whatever you have to-"

"I miss you."

"You... what?" He speaks again slowly and deliberately.

"I miss you." It feels like your stomach has fallen to your kneecaps. "I'm lonely, honey."

"Call your wife."

"Will ya just... no. I want you."

"Have you forgotten-"

"No, I haven't. And I'm sorry." He's never apologized to you before. You stand in stunned silence just outside the door.

"You're-"

"Sorry. Yes. Now, will you come in please?" You stand there completely lost. Finally, he grabs your arm and drags you into the room, shutting the door behind you.

"What the hell, Elvis?!" He pulls you close to him and presses his lips to yours. For a second, you melt into him. Then, you remember why you were mad and pull away angrily.

"No, I'm not-" He pulls you in again, wrapping his arms around you and kissing you more deeply this time. You fight to get away, but he holds you tightly. Eventually you're able to escape his grasp and you push him backwards. He goes to grab you again and you slap him across the face. Your hands go to your mouth in shock and he looks at you stunned.

"Oh god, I'm-"

"I guess I deserved that." He walks to the bed and sits down. "You actually hate me, don't you?"

You stand there for a few seconds before sitting down beside him on the bed.

"No. I don't. But we said this was done."

"I know. I'm just... I'm alone, honey. And I miss you so much it hurts worse than being with you." You look at him, but he won't meet your eyes. It comes to you that he must be pretty desperate to put himself in this position.

"You're alone?"

"You know how it gets for me. There's people everywhere, but I just... I miss you."

"Why me?" He rolls his eyes and looks at you finally.

"You gonna make me say it?"

"Yes. If you want me to stay here, then-"

"I love you. I've been in love with you since I met you. You're the only one I want when I feel like this and it's been so long-" You reach out and put your hand on his knee and he looks down at it, setting his on top of yours, gently wrapping his fingers around yours.

You're used to these vulnerable moments from him. They're what has brought you together over and over throughout the years. So when he breaks down and sobs, you pull him into your arms and hold him without thinking. Somehow you end up lying in the bed with him cuddled tightly against you, head on your chest. You stroke his hair and hum quietly. This is a familiar position for the two of you and you've missed it more than you care to admit.

Eventually, his breathing evens out and you realize he's fallen asleep. You kick your shoes off and snuggle in to spend the night. As angry as you were, you can't deny him what he needs because the truth is you love him too and you always have. You kiss his forehead and hold him tightly. You've missed this too.

******

In the morning, you make love and it's sweet and sensual and exactly what you've both been needing. And this time you don't fight. Somewhere in the year you were apart, you grew. The love that you have is more important than anything that might separate you.

And as you lay naked together, the world opens up for you. He talks about leaving his wife and you decide your husband will be better off without you.

Will it happen? Will you finally find a way to be together in a way that works for you both? You don't know.

But you made it through this night together. Something tells you that you can make it through anything now.

******

The end?

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

#elvis presley #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis #elvis presley fic #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis fanfiction #elvis presley x y/n #elvis fluff #elvis fic #elvis x y/n #elvis x you #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley fluff #elvis presley x you

[sloanesallow]

a little less sixteen candles

Something I wrote for Sloane's birthday (April 28th, 1875). I didn't anticipate it being so bittersweet, but that's what happens when your MC's birthday coincides with the end-game events.... (art by puri.dew) SWF | 2.6k words [read on Ao3] | [read on wattpad] | [tumblr masterpost]

It's spring—late April, to be exact. Flowers bloom all over the Scottish Highlands, and students take advantage of the warmer weather to spend their afternoons and evenings outdoors. Most travel to Hogsmeade and the surrounding hamlets, some take to the Quidditch pitch, and others lounge in the courtyards to daydream and watch the clouds pass by.

Instead of enjoying the beauty of nature or spending quality time with his friends, Sebastian is holed up in the Undercroft, scribbling notes on a blackboard with the last nub of chalk. On the table nearby, several textbooks and dusty tombs are spread open, their margins littered with more of his scrawl. He dusts his fingers off, smearing white across his pant leg before grabbing a quill to hunch over the latest pilfering from the Restricted Section.

Curses, Curses, and Even More Curses

It is an encyclopedia of sorts, one Sebastian found tucked away in some dark corner of the library's basement, being used to prop up a wobbly cabinet. The book smells like it has been fermenting in the lake and is icy cold to the touch, but the few pages that remain legible offer more information than he's been able to gleam in recent months. Despite having Salazar Slytherin's spellbook, it has taken considerable effort and time to translate, and even then the ancient writings refer to artifacts and magic Sebastian is just barely starting to comprehend.

He is reading a particularly interesting passage about blood sacrifices when he realizes he is no longer alone. Ominis stands on the other side of the table, eyebrows bunched together and lips pursed in an everlasting state of dissatisfaction. When the bloody hell did he sneak in?

"I won't bother with asking what it is you are doing, as I have no interest in arguing with you this evening."

"Lucky me," Sebastian quips back. Their friendship has been strained ever since Anne's curse, the relationship gradually turning into something far more toxic. But the fear of losing one of his best and only friends is overshadowed by the deep dread that consumes Sebastian every day—he will not let Anne die.

He attempts to refocus his attention to the yellowed pages of the old tome. "It must be a special occasion, if you're letting me off so easily."

"Now that you mention it," Ominis replies, sardonically.

When he doesn't elaborate, Sebastian glances up and finds himself curious for a new reason. His friend is dressed up, or rather, dressed down, in a neat but casual ensemble that is so uncharacteristic it might as well be a prank. Since when did Ominis walk around in anything less than his school uniform?

"Today is a special occasion," Ominis finally clarifies, though his tone makes it obvious he is teasing Sebastian for the gap in knowledge.

"Uh..."

What day is it? He wonders, furrowing his brow in thought. Tuesday? What important event occurs on a Tuesday other than...potions? No, he attended class that morning, even if he cannot recall the details of Professor Sharp's lecture. Crossed Wands? That isn't until Friday. All Sebastian really remembers from the last twelve hours is bartering with the kitchen-elves for leftovers after missing dinner, again. That, and being shooed away from the library by Madam Scribner, again.

The prolonged silence causes Ominis to scoff, more irritated than before. "Seriously, Sebastian?" he snaps, shaking his head. "Do you really not remember? Ugh, why am I even surprised? I only came down here to confirm for myself that you truly are lost."

"I am not—"

"Shut up," Ominis cuts him off with a pointed look that is a tad more menacing than usual. "After all she did to remind us—you—" he sighs, temper simmering. "Siobhan did well to hide her disappointment, but even I could tell by the sound of her voice she was upset by your absence."

"Sloane?" Sebastian blinks several times as the realization dawns on him. Tuesday. The twenty-eighth day of April.

Today is Sloane's birthday.

He drops the book and threads his hands through his hair in exasperation, cursing under his breath, "shit."

"It is remarkable, really, the patience that girl has," Ominis remarks, ignoring the way Sebastian starts to frantically pace. "More than I posses, at least. I do not know the details, nor do I wish to, but it is a small miracle she considers you a friend, for all you have put her through."

Sebastian pauses to glare at his friend, almost daring him to repeat the snide comment. What the hell does he know? But, for what seems like the millionth time in five years, Ominis is right. In his pursuit for a cure, he is slowly alienating the people he cares about. Sloane is a recent addition to his inner circle, though sometimes it feels as if she's been there all along. His feelings for the Hufflepuff are...complicated, to put it mildly. Sebastian knows he likes her, perhaps more than he's ever liked a member of the opposite sex. However, inexperience and denial leave him unwilling to call it love.

He lets out a pitiful groan, palms pressed hard against his eyes.

"I can't believe I forgot!" The memory of Sloane inviting them to a small celebration in Hogsmeade crashes into view, adding to his shame. He's been so wrapped up in research and schoolwork that it slipped his mind. "Merlin's beard—I'm an arse!"

"Yes," Ominis flatly agrees, sarcasm dripping from every word. "Good thing wallowing in self-pity solves everything."

Sebastian frowns, his gut twisting with regret, frustrated by his own preoccupation. The spread of journals and scribbled notes seem to taunt him, his head and heart torn between obligation and desire. He returns to pacing, murmuring incoherently as his brain tries to prioritize what the first step should be. Bathe? No time. He unceremoniously sniffs under his arm and winces—a cleaning charm will have to suffice.

"Is she still in Hogsmeade?" he asks, allowing some hope to flourish when Ominis nods. "Do you think...she'll forgive me?"

"She shouldn't," Ominis says, sighing again. He shakes his head, almost as if he is humored by Sebastian's enthusiasm. "But she will."

Sebastian allows himself thirty minutes to get to the Three Broomsticks. It's still early, but Sloane and her friends have already been celebrating in Hogsmeade for most of the afternoon. Better late than never, right? After fixing his appearance as best he can in the nearest washroom, he rushes to the kitchens and haggles with the kitchen-elves for the second time that day, this time for pastries so he doesn't show up completely empty handed. He will need to procure a proper gift when his mind isn't so rattled.

By the time Sebastian exits the great hall, the sun is just setting beyond the horizon. It's warm, and as he speed-walks across the viaduct courtyard, sweat forms on his brow and neck and elsewhere he does not want to think about. Knowing his luck, he'll be a perspiring, smelly mess by the time he makes it to Hogsmeade. How attractive, he mumbles to himself, checking over his clothing again to make sure he's properly buttoned and tucked and—

"Sebastian?"

He freezes mid-step, snapping his gaze up to find Sloane and two of her Hufflepuff roommates—Poppy Sweeting and Lenora Everleigh—standing at the top of the stone steps. Sebastian opens his mouth to speak, but his short-circuiting brain won't allow a coherent sentence to form.

Eventually, he squeaks, "me."

Poppy and Lenora giggle while Sloane's lips curl into a sympathetic smile. All Sebastian can focus on is the pale pink of her dress and the way the curve of her neck and collarbone are exposed, making it that much more difficult to speak. Her cropped hair has a slight curl to the ends, and...is that rouge on her cheeks? He's never seen her look so...

"Wow," he breathes, perfectly aware of how lopsided his grin must look. Sebastian straightens up a little, clutching the small, wrapped box of baked goods in his hands. He lets out a shaky laugh. "I was...just coming to find you, actually."

"You were?" Sloane's eyes widen in surprise—is his presence that startling? He tries not to frown at the gut-wrenching realization that she didn't expect him to show up at all. When her friends don't budge to give them any privacy, he reaches up to tug at the knot of his tie, the suffocating feeling lingering as they stare down at him. Sebastian feels like he might faint, or retch, or both.

"Sloane, I—"

"Oh, this'll be rich," Lenora mutters, rolling her eyes. The dark-haired Hufflepuff is consistently disapproving of his relationship with Sloane, though he can't imagine why. Or maybe he can.

Poppy hushes her and the three return to holding similar, expectant expressions. Sebastian clears his throat.

"I—I'm an absolute git for forgetting your birthday," he starts, hoping he sounds as earnest as he feels. Multiple excuses tickle the tip of his tongue but he knows better in that moment than to offer any. This is his fault, his burden to bear. "I'm so sorry, sorrier than you can imagine."

"That's what he said last time, isn't it?" Lenora mumbles.

If Sebastian isn't trying so desperately to look forlorn, he would glare at her. Now's not the time for a reminder of how he's unintentionally, or perhaps intentionally hurt Sloane. For all the mistakes he's made, she has forgiven him time and time again, and everyone in their circle has noticed. Regardless of how much he wants it, maybe he is undeserving of her grace. Maybe the best gift he can give is to cut himself out of her life for good—one less burden for her to worry about in an already chaotic first—fifth—year.

His heart sinks to the pit of his stomach and his hopeful smile falls into a dejected pout. Before Sebastian can fully spiral into another pity-party of one, he flicks his gaze back to Sloane and decides that surrender simply isn't in his nature.

"Can we talk?" he softly asks. He'll beg if he has to, even at the risk of making an even bigger arse of himself in front of Sloane and her friends. "Please?"

Even though Lenora and Poppy are hesitant to let Sloane go, she waves away their worried whispers and nods. "Okay."

While her friends reluctantly head back towards the castle, Sebastian and Sloane find their way to the boathouse, the long walk accented by their echoing footsteps and sideways glances. More than once he thinks about reaching out to hold her hand but refrains, not wanting to further muddle their already shaky friendship. Sloane surprises him when they reach the pier, balancing herself against the wall so she can discard her heeled loafers and stockings. She perches herself on the dock's edge, bare feet just barely grazing the dark lake waters. Sebastian follows suit, tugging off his boots and socks before sitting down next to her, making sure there's a comfortable distance between them.

Before he can find the courage, Sloane breaks the more than awkward silence, "what do you want to talk about?"

It's an innocent enough question, one that puts control of the conversation in his hands. Sebastian could easily take the cowardly route and skip past an apology, force some laughter and pretend nothing is wrong. Instead, he digs deep and swallows his pride.

"I really am sorry, Sloane," he starts, finding it nearly impossible to look at her directly when it feels like his heart might burst out from his chest. All the regret he's been carrying rises to the surface. "I've had so many chances to make things right between us and I've mucked them up over and over again that I honestly can't fathom why you give me any of your time at all."

"You are..." he trails off in hesitation, remembering that a little bit of vulnerability can go a long way. "You are one of the better aspects of my life. One of the kindest, if not the kindest person I know. And...while we haven't been friends for very long, I'm bloody well terrified of losing you over my own stupidity."

Sloane flashes him a curious look. "Losing me?"

"You know what I mean," he quickly replies, even if he is still figuring it out himself. Or maybe he is too scared to admit the truth. The last thing he wants to do is push his luck when it has already run dry. They are friends—it is selfish to hope for more. The uncomfortable tightness in his throat returns. "Am I...too late?"

For a moment that feels like eternity to a fragile boy like him, Sloane doesn't respond, her gaze focused on the water and the reflection of the moon. Her pensive expression is impossible to read, but he takes it as a good sign that she hasn't run off or shoved him into the lake for the squid to drown. She sighs and slowly turns her head to look at him again.

"You're here now is what matters," she says, lips twitching up into the faintest smile. Sebastian should feel relieved, but the guilt lingers. Perhaps in an effort to change the subject, Sloane gestures to the small box, partially crumpled by his anxious fidgeting. "Is that...?"

"Oh! Right," he hesitantly hands it over, watching as Sloane lifts the lid to reveal several squished lemon tarts. He rubs the back of his neck as he lets out a self-deprecating laugh in an attempt to save face. "They're meant to look like that. It's an after-hours kitchen specialty, I'm told."

Sloane's smile widens slightly as she plucks one from the box, generously handing it to him before taking one for herself. Emboldened, Sebastian quickly conjures a small candle to press into her share and carefully ignites the wick.

"I already made a wish," she explains.

Sebastian isn't discouraged. "Well, now you can make a second one. Happy birthday, Sloane."

He continues to watch her as she momentarily ponders, the flickering flame reflected in her eyes before she softly extinguishes it with a soft breath.

"What did you wish for?"

"The first or second time?" Sloane responds, somewhat cheekily.

Sebastian doesn't push her to offer a real answer and instead allows for a comfortable silence to settle between them as they nibble at the lemony treats. The lake water gently splashes at their hanging feet and for the first time in recent memory, he feels calm. It might be temporary, but he allows himself to sink into the feeling, smiling as Sloane offers him a second tart.

"Sebastian?"

"Hmm?"

He turns his head just in time, barely registering what is happening as Sloane moves closer with her head tilted just so. Her lips meet his and Sebastian is stunned, taking several rapid heartbeats to react, fluttering his eyes shut as he leans into the kiss. If he knew that her lips would be this soft and warm, he would've kissed her ages ago. As greedy as he is to taste more, he allows the kiss to remain chaste, inching his hand across the short distance to cover hers.

Sloane eventually pulls away and when he peeks open his eyes she is smiling, cheeks dusted with a blush he yearns to brighten. Sebastian is still too flabbergasted to utter a response, nervously laughing when she reaches up to brush away a crumb from his cheek. He catches her hand before she can pull away, squeezing her fingers in his own. The momentary calm of his heart explodes into a burning inferno he struggles to contain. This time, he is sure he knows the answer, but still asks.

"Your wish?"

"It already came true."

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow x f!mc #sebastian sallow x mc #fanfic #sebastian sallow fanfic #hufflepuff oc

[kitorin]

misalignment (n).

/ˌmɪsəˈlʌɪnm(ə)nt/

the incorrect arrangement or position of something in relation to something else. "in which, mikage reo finds himself both asphyxiated and confined within the unfortunate circumstances of his first love."

contents. mikage reo x gn!reader, unrequited feelings, no happy ending, right person wrong time (i think), reader and reo borderline drunk / wasted, unproofread misery, tiny implication at gaslighting but nothing like that happens, never written unrequited love nor experienced it (can't get rejected if i never confess !!)

Despite the intelligence and academic prowess he had maintained throughout his entire lifetime, Mikage Reo is fundamentally a fool; one who unwisely but desperately deludes himself as a means to remain blind to the truth.

The 'wanna hang out tonight?' text was the flame to his moth, effortlessly attracting him whilst having the full capability to incinerate his very existence, to destroy every part of him.

If years of friendship accompanied by unreciprocated feelings could teach him anything, it was that, to spend time with you, lining up was a prerequisite for Reo.

Free time for you was defined by work's leniency (which seldom seems to happen, but at least you enjoyed it), and the occasional period where you weren't obsessing over a drama or book series.

After that section of the queue, was quite literally everyone else. An invitation from you meant that Yukimiya was too preoccupied with modelling, Rin's overseas, Nagi was too lazy to respond and left you on read, Isagi's busy training, Kunigami's at the gym, and Hiori didn't have the time to travel that far.

Finally there was Reo, back up plan Reo, the friend that you could go to when no one was available; the friend you liked enough to spend time with but not enough to prioritise.

He steals a glance at you as you keenly sip from your glass. Self-hatred chews at his conscience, but the livid, and tired part of him shoos it away.

It's not a very nice thing to accuse one of thinking of another so lowly, especially a close friend, however the explicit signs of him holding little significance in comparison to others seemed to validate it. You and he have been drinking for a while now, without much word other than the 'hello's and quiet greetings when you first saw each other.

It's normal, the silence. It's just how things worked between you and Reo. Neither of you were particularly social, words weren't necessary to enjoy time together, that was one of Reo's favourite things about you.

He's always tired of speaking, having to maintain flawless image, that included appearing as someone sociable and eager to speak with others.

But with you, that expectation was nowhere to be seen.

You're now adults, but this is nothing different from the quiet walks to the bus stop back in high school. The ones where he'd do his best to steal a glance of how you look, soaked within the sunlight while smiling.

Chatter permeates the bar's atmosphere gently a few clinks of glasses can be heard which followed hearty laughter and the occasional cheer.

You're first to talk. "How's university been?"

"Good." Was the workload horrendous? Yes, and so was adulthood in general. Reo knows he has it easy; he can afford it easily and could still live comfortably without working a day in his life. But he still yearns for the same feeling high school had. "Hakuho was fun though."

You place your drink down, swallowing. "I know right? Never thought I'd say this, but I miss high school. It sucked most of the time. But you and the others made it so much better.”

Reo nods, as he gulps down more alcohol. “I miss it too. How has studying been for you?”

You huff. “It’s a lot. I feel like I spend more time studying than doing anything else. But it’s good. I don’t mind since I’m actually studying something I’m passionate about, you know?”

“I’m glad, then.” Reo stares at his whisky, swirling the amber in his glass. “Proud of you. I really am. You’ve come so far, and I just know you’re going to do well.”

Growing from a clueless high schooler to a driven, impassioned, medical student. A lot has changed, years pass yet he remains unloved by you.

God there he goes again, lamenting on his paltriness. It must be a relative of masochism; he could be safe and secure at home with a good book and cup of tea, yet he’s here drinking with the source of his pain, while tethering on the border of being intoxicated with alcohol instead of heartbreak.

With each drink, a wave of euphoria swallows him up, licking up his misery as if it were sand on the shore. Rationality and emotion bicker like seagulls quarrelling over food.

You laugh at his sweet words. “You drunk? Thanks though.”

“Drunk or not, I mean it. Seriously.” Reo knows his limits, but doesn’t bother correcting you. His face feels hot, not because of the soju, but because of you.

You’ve always been pretty, to a ridiculous extent. But absurd how a few years changes you so much. Reo can’t even identify the changes, he just knows you’ve gotten prettier; that his heart races faster whenever he sees you.

“Seriously.” You echo, and nod, and smile. “I miss seeing you every day. School was so much fun with you around.”

Another hasty gulp of soju. Reo can’t stand hearing those words.

I hate you.

Is it directed to you, or himself? Not even Reo’s quite sure. He does his best to ignore your kindness, if it were true then he would’ve been addressed you with a smile in the same way you’d speak to anyone else; he would know how his name sounds off your tongue. He would mean more than a last option, and all those texts wouldn’t be left on read, viewed out of genuine care rather than basic manners.

Even though he can go on about unfair this feels, it’s ultimately his fault for still spending so much time with you. You’re supposed to cut off the people who don’t value you. You’re supposed to only care for the ones who’d do the same for you. Reo should’ve cut ties with you long ago, yet he clings onto your relationship as if it meant more than anything else.

I miss seeing you at school everyday. Your words echo, and he does his best not to choke on his drink.

Formalities, not affection. It's not love, it's your way of manners. If you truly did care you'd be spewing those sorts of words out constantly, like when you're with Chigiri, or Anri.

"Reo? You good?"

"Yeah. 'm fine." It's a reflex, he barely had time to register the words leaving his mouth. "Are you?"

"Yah. I'm not the drunk one here am I?" You chuckle to yourself, bringing the glass back to your lips, averting your gaze elsewhere. "Were you always a lightweight? Your face is so red."

"And yours is so pretty."

There he goes, ruining your night with something stupid.

"Yup. Definitely drunk. You're saying weird things now."

And with that, Reo commands, requests, pleads himself not to cry.

"You know." Another shot of soju is swallowed down by you, punctuated with a refreshed gasp. "The me a couple of years ago would've been overjoyed to hear that."

It feels as though every interaction with you accentuates his one-sided love and it stings; time with you is mere salt to the wound.

Neither of you say anything for a bit.

Reo can recall your confession, an awkward text sent after a couple of months the two of you actually spoke. There's an unspoken boundary between you two, to not being up the topic of each other's crushes or of your confession.

A fair rule, but it's harboured questions. Reo hasn't got a clue on your love life and crushes. He knows of your obsession with romantic dramas, always binging whatever's trending, screaming on social media about having to wait a full seven days for the next episode.

If only the two of you were a part of one. But even fiction would probably destine him for solitude woven of heartbreak.

"I think you're the drunk one. Why bring that up now?"

You've finally halted on drinking. "Dunno. That was my first confession."

And you're my first love—he wants to say it, it's at the tip of his tongue yet he can't muster it to say it aloud to himself or even to Nagi; let alone you.

"Well, it was an honour."

It wasn't. Because the thought always intrudes into his mind. What if you had confessed a couple of years later, or even at least two?

Or what if Reo hadn't taken his sweet time to fall in love with you, if he had told you he wanted to get to know you first instead of a simple rejection, would you be in his arms?

"Shut up. I was a stupid kid back then. I promise you, I have absolutely no feelings for you. Not anymore."

Reo scoffs, he can't even fantasise of the potential between you two. You liked Mikage you'd see in the hallways; rich and top of the school; not clingy old Reo who feels ever so slightly too much for everyone he cares for.

Whereas Reo couldn't care less about l/n that just transferred to his class, but would die for the y/n he discovered throughout the years.

"Yeah yeah, I know. Never thought you did." He knew you didn't.

It wouldn't've saved him from his doom of unrequited love, but the timing was terrible. The heavens should've made your infatuation and his adoration align, at the very least. Even if it meant Reo remaining unloved.

A hiccup follows a breathless giggle. "Who did you like in highschool? There had to be someone. Why didn't you ever tell me though? You had so many fans, you must've liked one of them."

Because it's you. "Because you never asked." Reo shrugs, almost impressed at his own feigned composure.

"Now I ammm." Now your words are beginning to slur. "Whooo?"

It's you. And still you. Reo could say it right here and now. You're essentially wasted and probably won't remember it. And if you did, he wouldn't mind crossing an ethical line and fibbing if it meant concealing his pathetic vulnerabilities.

Perhaps one day he'll tell you, if the uninterrupted storm ends, and the skies clear, if Mikage Reo's heart will one day stop aching for you.

"I'll tell ya some day. When I feel like it."

"What?! You're not allowed to add that much suspense—and not tell me in the end."

And perhaps in another universe, he and you can be of the same constellation, instead of being galaxies apart.

taglist (send ask to be added) : @yuzurins , @pokkomi , @chigirizzz

© kitorin : do not repost, plagiarize, change, or translate

#hi i wrote this impulsively bc i'm sad #also needed a break from the 8k fic anyways #unproofread this is just i'm sad let me project #mikage reo #blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #bllk #angst #bllk angst #reo x reader #one shot #mikage #reo #reo mikage #reo x you #mikage reo x you #mikage reo x reader #mikage reo x y/n #bluelock #fanfic #bllk fanfic

[loveyouanyway]

i'll kiss your scars

buck x eddie | 900 words | teen rating

prompt: trans buck for @steadfastsaturnsrings 🥰 💖

“But y-you like men.” “Yes I do. Particularly the amazing and gorgeous man in front of me.” Buck stumbles across his words, all flustered. “But Eddie, I’m not— like I don’t have a you know.” He glances down there. “That doesn’t make you any less of a man, Buck." or Buck tells Eddie that he's trans and things change between them, but for the better.

read on ao3 or below :)

Buck, Eddie and Christopher are enjoying their dinner together in comfortable silence.

Christopher finishes his plate of spaghetti and meatballs first and now that he’s not eating, the silence feels weird so he speaks up.

“I’m not the only Christopher in my class anymore.”

Eddie hums. “Oh new student?”

“Nope. His name used to be Chloe but now it’s Christopher.”

Eddie and Buck look to each other in understanding.

“So he’s…”

“Trans. Yeah, it’s not a big deal, Dad. Now people just call me Chris and him Christopher.”

“How did people react?” Buck asks curiously.

“Everyone was cool about it. Some people had questions though so Christopher answered them. Then Mr. Nolan told everyone that he will not tolerate any transphobia or homophobia but he’s happy to tell us more about it. And if we ever have to talk to him about it, we can.”

Buck blinks back tears thinking how happy he is that in school, kids can come out and people will be supportive or at least respectful enough that they won’t say anything negative. He thinks about how bad it would be if he came out in middle school. He’s so glad Christopher has a teacher like Mr. Nolan.

He should probably tell Eddie that he’s trans. It’s been over a year since they’ve been friends. He knows Eddie will be accepting and everything but it’s still difficult. He doesn’t want anything to change between them.

“Buck?” Eddie and nudges his foot with his own under the table.

“You okay?” he asks.

Buck quickly nods. “Yeah no I’m good.”

Eddie thankfully doesn’t push and instead asks what movie they should watch tonight.

—

They watch Spiderman: Into the Spider-Verse and Buck suggests they watch the second one next movie night which Christopher enthusiastically agrees to.

Christopher gets ready for bed reluctantly and Buck reads him a chapter of Percy Jackson. Eddie watches them with a sickening fond smile.

Once the chapter’s done, he and Eddie both hug Christopher and tell him “good night” and Buck yearns for him to have this every night.

They walk into the living room and Buck plops onto the couch with a sigh.

Eddie sits down next to Buck and faces him.

“Hey, you know that you can tell me anything, right?” he says earnestly with his stupidly pretty eyes looking him in the eye.

Buck breaks eye contact and nods. “Yeah of course, uh thanks.”

Eddie doesn’t reply as if he’s hoping Buck will say more.

“Just give me a moment.” he adds and to that Eddie hums and rests his hand on Buck’s thigh. Oh god. This isn’t helping his nerves.

Buck takes a deep breath. “I’m trans.”

A second passes.

“Thanks for telling me.” Eddie smiles, trying to act like he didn’t know this but Buck sees past it.

“You already knew. How?”

“I saw your testosterone gel thing in the bathroom once. I guess you forgot to put it away like you usually do,” Eddie answers softly.

“You’re not mad I didn’t tell you?”

“Of course not, Buck. You don’t owe me anything regarding that.”

“We’ve been best friends for months.”

“Yeah well did I come out to you as cis? No. Besides gender is fucking stupid. Am I even a man?”

Buck sighs. He supposes Eddie has a valid point.

“Uh, while we’re talking about more serious topics, I have something to tell you,” Eddie admits.

Buck doesn’t have enough time to panic before Eddie calmly says “I’m in love with you.”

Is this a fucking dream? Buck doesn’t know what to say. “I- What do you mean?”

Eddie continues, “Yeah that was one of the factors in the whole me discovering my sexuality process. Hen called me out so many times about my gay panic for you.”

“But y-you like men.”

“Yes I do. Particularly the amazing and gorgeous man in front of me.”

Buck stumbles across his words, all flustered. “But Eddie, I’m not— like I don’t have a you know.” He glances down there.

“That doesn’t make you any less of a man, Buck. I know how I feel about you. I love you beyond your body but I mean, I really love your body and I hope I can make you feel safe and comfortable with it.”

Yeah this is a fucking dream come true.

Eddie lifts up the bottom of his shirt. “Can I…”

Buck has no idea what he’s about to do but he’ll let Eddie do anything to him. That probably should be concerning but he doesn’t care.

“Yeah,” he says with a shaky breath.

Eddie gently takes Buck’s shirt (which actually belonged to Eddie originally) and looks at him with such adoration, it makes Buck want to cry.

He lowers his head and brings his lips to Buck’s top surgery scars. He softly kisses along the two lines, whispering “I love you” after each kiss.

Now Buck is crying. He is just so overwhelmed with love—both his love for Eddie and feeling so loved by Eddie. He manages to say, “I love you” back before the tears make unable to speak coherently

Of course Eddie understands and doesn’t tell him “No it’s okay don’t cry,” instead he embraces him into a hug that makes Buck feel all warm and fuzzy — like all hugs from Eddie do.

They stay there, holding each other and Buck realizes things have changed between them but in the best way possible.

#also yeah at first i just put mr nolan and then i was gonna change it but i couldn't come up with anything so i am christopher's teacher 😌 #nolan writes #my fics #buddie fic #911 fic #911 abc #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #trans buck #buck and eddie #buck x eddie

[ghoularaki]

w3lc0me t0 th3 fr3aksh0w <3 | 2

↠  summary: Your ex-boyfriend not satisfied with how the relationship ended comes back to teach you a lesson its best to keep your mouth shut. Some secrets are best left unspoken.

↠  word count: 5,926

↠ pairing: todoroki touya x reader, takami keigo x reader, geten x reader

↠ genre/warnings: angst, smut, college/dark web au, DARK CONTENT, yandere! dabi, bullying, stalking, blood, mention of drugging, noncon touching, breaking and entering

series masterlist

“Do we really have to be here?” You grumbled to your blonde companion.

In front of you, a house party bellowed through the streets with trashy music. The booming bass almost blew out your eardrums and you weren’t even inside, yet. Standing on the sideway right before the entrance, you were reluctant to walk further into the home.

A few stragglers sat on the lawn, sipping out of disposable cups, obviously filled to the brim with cheap alcohol. What everyone really wanted was inside. Which only filled you with dread. A party filled with coked out college students only meant one thing: Dabi and Keigo were inside. Though Toga promised you, this party wasn’t like that.

Speaking of the girl, she threaded her arm through yours and tugged you closer to her chest. “Yes, we do! I’m so sick of you rotting away in your dorm. Ayame is complaining about you.”

“Of course, she is,” You rolled your eyes at Toga’s lame attempt to convince you.

Sensing you were about to run away, she squeezed you tighter—she sure was strong for such a small girl, “It’s too late to change your mind, now. Let’s go, it will be fun!”

She’s right, you would have to just grit your teeth and try to enjoy yourself as much as possible. You could only hope neither of those men were there, but you knew not to hold your breath. A party meant profit as if Dabi and Keigo didn’t already have the money.

With you in tow, Toga speed-walked into the front door. You grimaced when you heard one of the men wolf-whistle at you two as you passed them on the lawn. Before you could make a biting remark, Toga shoved into the door. You coughed and waved your hand in front of your face. Smoke permeated around the house, a strong mix of weed and tobacco.

The room’s illuminated with low-lights and a few multi-colored disco balls. You hated frat boys with a burning passion. Crossing through a hallway, you were already met with couples making out against the wall. The further you went, you into a kitchen where people were trying to make drinks or pigging out on snacks. Before you could reach for something to drink—you were going to need it if you were going to stay long—Toga pulled you into the living room.

There sat on the couches was the old friend group, or at least to you. Toga still hung out with them, but you were very much outcasted after the break-up. If they only knew what really happened.

From what you could see Mirko and Shigaraki sitting next to each other, no one else from the group. That made you sag at least a little bit. You could deal with Mirko if Shigaraki and Toga were with you. While Toga wholeheartedly defended you, Shigaraki neutral, the rest of the group—Mirko, Keigo and Bubaigawara—didn’t particularly like you anymore.

“Hey, guys!” Toga greet with a wide smile, her sharp canines on display.

“Yo,” Mirko replied back with a lazy grin. It slightly dropped when seeing you but she didn’t say anything.

Shigaraki merely nodded his head, but otherwise kept to himself, sipping from his own cup.

Skipping over, Toga brought you with her and almost sat on the spot next to Shigaraki, but he tugged you down onto the empty spot next to him. Pouting, Toga sat on the arm of the couch instead.

“Meany,” She grumbled to the older man.

“Don’t act like you don’t like it.”

At that she fake retched multiple times while you giggled. Shigaraki pinched you in retaliation.

You slapped his hand away, “Ouch! I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re being annoying like her. I made you sit here so I didn’t have to deal with her-”

“Hey!”

He glared at her and continued, “But I forgot you guys were two peas in a pod.”

Toga slung an arm around your shoulder and leaned down so her cheek pressed against yours, “And don’t you forget it!”

“So we are all buddy-buddy with the snitch now?” Mirko asked with a raised brow, peering over from Shigaraki’s form.

Toga’s happy expression quickly fell to a deepset scowl, “If you want to join the Y/n hate club, go hang out with Dabi and Hawks.”

“I was trying to, but you guys had to come over here. Why don’t you take the hint?”

Mirko usually wasn’t such a bitch. If anything she would do anything to stand up for a fellow girl, but you got between her and her precious molly by ratting out Dabi. So anything she said, you took with a grain of salt. She’s definitely at the bottom of your list of people to worry about.

Though, none of that mattered when her words confirmed your worst fear. You were too naive to believe none of them would be here. Panicking, you looked through the crowd of people for a spec of either man. Lately, where one was the other soon followed.

“Don’t be a bitch,” Shigaraki snarked, “Thanks to Daddy’s money Dabi isn’t in jail anymore so you can be coked up as much as you want again.”

“Excuse you, I take molly not coke.”

“Oh yeah like that makes you so much more morally superior,” He sniped.

Huffing, Mirko crossed her arms, “As if you aren’t high off your ass right now.”

“I gotta be to deal with your ass.”

“I need a fucking drink,” You said, having enough of their bickering.

It’s good to know they both never changed. Mirko really only hung out with the group because of Keigo so she frequently got on Shigaraki’s nerves. Though, his constant snark didn’t really help him in the making friends department.

The group really started with Dabi and Keigo’s friendship. Those two had been thick as thieves since middle school. Mutual benefit really does form a strong bond.

Then came Shigaraki, Toga and Jin. Shigaraki met Dabi towards the end of high school, and since he was acquainted with Toga, she followed along. And where Toga went, Jin soon followed. The two of them bonded over being abandoned by the system so when Jin turned eighteen, he took in eleven year old Toga.

Mirko didn’t come in until she met Keigo during her second year of college. You were the last to join. About two years later you joined when you met everyone through Dabi. At first you were known as his girl, but when Toga found out you two were the same age, she welcomed you in. In no time you found a small family with all its dysfunctions. Only for it to quickly burn to ashes a year later.

Shaking the thoughts from your head, you got off your seat much to Toga’s protests.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Her voice tittered on concern.

You waved her off, “I’ve got it. I’ll get you a drink too.”

“Get me one, too!” Mirko yelled to you but you flipped her off over your shoulder.

You didn’t care to listen to how she laughed as you walked further into the crowd. As the night grew darker, the party picked up. Around the nicely furnished kitchen, people surrounded the counter stack with bottles of alcohol and juice. Skipping over the fruity drinks, you looked for any cans of beer or preferably something that didn’t taste like piss. A can was easier to cover with your hand than a cup. Less likely to get roofied. You didn’t trust frat boys as far as you could throw them.

Standing on your tip-toes to see over the heads hoarding the counter, your heart dropped. Leaning on the wall across from you stood Dabi. He seemed deep in conversation with a pretty girl, a sleazy smile twisted on his face.

You could only hope he finally moved on, but no, you spotted the tiny baggy filled with white powder dangling between his fingers. Taking the time to admire him, he didn’t look any different from the past couple weeks you had avoided him. His hair still a deep black, tattoos covering most of his skin. The snake bites caught in the low light, winking at you.

Falling back on your heels, Dabi noticed you amongst the crowd. The smile on his face slipped into something darker, like a wolf catching a rabbit, teeth all bared.

“Fuck,” You seethed to yourself.

Stumbling backwards, you watched Dabi tell the girl something. Her disappointed expression spoke volumes. Whipping around, you stumbled through the thickened gaggle of party-goers. Instantly, you looked to the couch to get help from Toga and Shigaraki, but instead of them, a new couple were cuddling close.

Redirecting yourself, you raced through a hallway and raced through the stairwell. More people crowded the stairs, but you pushed past them. Angry shouts followed you, but you didn’t care. There’s a banister, you raced over, catching the eye of Keigo still on the first floor.

You went down a more secluded hallway and ripped open the door closest to you. The door revealed an empty bathroom. Slamming it closed, you shoved your body against the door. Gripping the knob, you sagged against the slab of wood.

A shriek pierced through the still air. Your eyes snapped to make eye contact with yourself through the mirror. Another bang had you yelp again.

“That’s where you been, doll. Hiding from me, hmm?” Dabi’s muffled voice came from the other side.

Scrambling to the knob, your hand frantically felt for a button. You were out of luck. There’s no lock.

When you don’t respond to him, he banged against the door harder. The knob twisted in your own grasp, and you reached both hands over to stop him from opening the door.

“Don’t fucking make me break in there, you’re already in deep shit, princess. Let's do this the nice way.” He breathed into the door. Dabi didn’t shout as he uttered those words, but you heard him well enough.

“Fuck you!”

You screamed again when he hit the door right where your head was. He tried more frantically to twist the knob open.

“Fine! Be a bitch.”

The jiggling of metal filled the small room. Another yelp left you when he opened the door a crack. Slamming your shoulder against the wood, you didn’t let him open another inch. Slipping down, you fell on your ass. Planting your feet against the sink cabinets in front of you, you slouched down to be a human door wedge.

You stifled a shriek as the door shook from him throwing his shoulder against it. He repeatedly threw his body weight against the wood. The hinges creaked with the force.

“Stop being a brat, and open the door for daddy, baby. I swear we can put this behind us,” He cooed through labored breaths.

“You’re insane!” You screeched back, turning your head so he heard you better.

He upped his banging at your insult. Your body thumped with each pound and kick.

You knew you could only hold him off for so long, so your eyes bounced around the room for anything to defend yourself with. Your legs already vibrated from strain.

“What’s going on here?” Another voice joined you two.

Dabi finally took a break to address Keigo. Through the door, you listened closely, thoroughly screwed.

“She locked me out.”

“You do know the door doesn’t lock, right?” You can taste the snark dripping off his tongue.

“No shit,” Dabi seethed, “She jammed the door closed.”

Keigo gave an impressed whistle, “The little snitch really doesn’t want to be near you, huh? Must be the ugly mug.”

“Are you done?”

His boyish laugh sent a shudder through your body, “Don’t be so pissy. I’ll help you.”

On top of the counter sat a hair dryer forgotten and not plugged in. You didn’t stop staring at it as both Keigo and Dabi slammed against the door. From the force, you were pushed forward, the door opening a crack. You tried to push back, but an arm got in the way.

Knowing you were done for, you scrambled onto your feet, and pushed your back against the counter edge. You hid the dryer behind you, slipping it down so he couldn’t see it through the mirror, hand ready to grab the handle.

The door swung open so hard, it smacked against the wall before swinging back around. Keigo caught it with his hand, the slap causing you to jump. Dabi stood off to the side, letting Keigo take the reins to bring you back to him.

“Where have you been hiding, we missed you, Y/n,” Keigo smiled wide. That same douchey grin he used to get his way.

He sauntered further into the room, ready to corner you, leaving you nowhere to run. As he went to grab your arm, you pulled the dryer from behind you and aimed.

Crack!

“Fuck!” Keigo growled as he grabbed his nose. Blood flowed out like a waterfall. Red staining his lower face, hands and the floor it dripped onto.

Wasting no time, you dropped the dryer and raced out the room. Not letting Dabi be able to catch a stray arm, you booked it back into the party. Your hands shook as you refused to turn behind you, being weaker than Orpheus.

Dabi watched on as you flew by him and away from his view. Keigo came out of the room, still clutching his bruising and bleeding nose. The dirty blond went to follow you, but Dabi grabbed him by his arm.

“What the fuck, man?” Keigo questioned him, blinking through his teary eyes. Getting hit in the face hurt like a motherfucker.

A smirk danced on Dabi’s face as if he’s amused, but his crazed, blown out pupils told Keigo otherwise.

“She knows how to dig her hole deeper. Don’t worry, birdbrain, we’ll get her back for that in due time.”

Humming to yourself with your hands in your pockets, you tried to give off an air of aloofness. Tucked in your palm, a knife ready to be used. You knew these streets well, frequenting the shadier parts of town for over a year now. The streets themself were safe, but since the party you refused to walk around unarmed.

Dabi lurked in every corner, shrouded in shadow, waiting to get the jump on you. Or at least that’s what your paranoid brain told you. Plus Keigo being in on Dabi’s warpath to get his vengeance didn’t comfort you at all.

Warm hued lights danced across your face as the sun slipped down the purpling sky. The blaring street signs illuminated the darkening alleyways. People were sporadically spaced among the different shops, cigarettes clinging to their lips. Mainly older men with tattoos crowded the stores. Despite the implications of who they were, you didn’t feel scared.

Gangsters were the least of your worries.

Turning left, you entered a dead end alley with a shop tucked into the corner. Soft light poured in from the window onto the shiny pavement. No sign indicated who or what occupied this tiny corner.

Opening the creaky sliding door, a bell rang into the cramped space. The desk to the left of the door sat empty of the man running the place. At the sound of the door shutting closed, you heard some clattering somewhere in one of the back rooms. You raised your eyebrow when a different voice than you were expecting called out for you to wait.

Instead of a man with a head of fully grey hair, circle sunglasses and a sleazy smile, out came one of the last people you wanted to see.

“Where’s Giran?”

“Why the fuck are you here?”

Both of you said at the same time.

Neither of you laughed as you stared at each other. You didn’t hold a lot of resentment for the man, but most of it had to do with how close he’s to Toga. It stung what side he picked after everything.

“Where’s Giran, Bubaigawara?” You repeated yourself.

The older man crossed his arms, obviously uncomfortable. “He’s somewhere around here. He’s doing a deal!” The truth slipped out while his conflicting voices argued with each other.

Mimicking his stance, you hugged your arms to you. “Well do you know when he’ll be back? I was supposed to get tatted by him.”

“I can do it. Well, that’s too bad, bitch!”

Ignoring the second part, you asked, “Are you sure?”

“Fuck off! Yeah, let's go.” He beckons you over his shoulder.

Following the man into one of the rooms through the door. He closed it silently and starting look around for cleaning supplies. You watched him wipe down the chair.

“Where have you been? Who cares!” Bubaigawara asked.

Absent-mindedly, you answered him, “Just at school. Still stuck in the dorms, trying to save up to get an apartment. Same old bullshit.”

Standing in the middle of the room, you glanced around. You hadn’t been here in months and nothing changed.

The room was tiled with a dark, cheap material and the wallpaper peeling from the corners. Hung on the wall were different frames of Buddha, Jesus and various sizes of crosses. Giran surely wasn’t a religious man, but he liked the irony.

Under the frames sat the desk that looked more like a tool box than anything else. The dark metal drawers lined with various tattoo guns, ink and needles.

Not too long ago Dabi had been the one to show you the shop. Three months into the relationship you had let him tattoo you. It wasn’t that good as he wasn’t a tattoo artist, but you still loved the tiny skull he imprinted into your inner wrist. Or you once did. Anytime you look at it now, a concoction of emotions swirl in your stomach. You debated getting it covered up, but you let it serve as a reminder. Though you knew the real reason, you're scared of what he would do if you got rid of it.

Bubaigawara cleared his throat to pull you from your thoughts. He had everything set up and you climbed onto the reclining, black chair. Sitting in his stool, it creaked under his weight.

“So what did you want?”

You pulled your phone from your pocket and flipped it open. A new message from an unknown number greeted you.

you done ignoring me? answer me or else you won’t like what i’ll do

from: unknown

sent 6:56 PM

Rapidly deleting the message, you pull up the image you saved. Bubaigawara leaned in closer and squinted at the piece you wanted.

“Where do you want it?”

You bring your right leg up and tug your thigh high down to show the space above your knee.

He nodded in understanding and got to work. Slumping into the cushions, you closed your eyes and sank into the buzzing of the gun. You barely flinched when the needle pierced the fragile skin.

Your phone vibrating pulled you from your stupor. Flipping it back open, the number texted you again.

i can’t wait to break you y/n

from: unknown

sent 7:11 PM

Furrowing your brow, you stared at the text harder. Dabi rarely called you by your first name unless he’s being serious. Staring intensely at the numbers, you scoffed at the realization. You thought you blocked him ages ago.

dabi wouldn’t be happy knowing ur texting me keigo

from: snitch

sent 7:12 PM

not as unhappy he will be when you answered me instead of him

from: unknown

sent 7:12 PM

get bent

from: snitch

sent 7:13 PM

talk big game when it’s over a screen. don’t worry you’ll learn soon can’t wait to see you sweetheart

from: unknown

sent 7:13 PM

Uneasy, you swiftly blocked his number as well and placed your phone down. Staring up at the ceiling, you followed the water damage lining the yellowing plaster.

“What’s that face for? I don’t care!”

Turning your head, you looked at the man in front of you. His thick arms bulged as he shaded his work. Face serene, while he tattooed was the only time Bubaigawara’s raging mind stayed silent.

“It’s nothing.” You waved him off. He wouldn’t get it.

“Tell me.” His tone serious. He rarely showed his age, always very childish in his mannerisms, but times like these, you remember he did take care of Toga at some point.

Gulping, you chose your words carefully. “Dabi’s back.”

He paused for a moment before continuing, “Yeah.”

“You know?”

“Where do you think he’s staying?”

This made you jolt up and rip your thigh away from him. “Is he here? I-I thought he went back home. Like his dad put him on house arrest.”

“You know for a fact he would rather go to jail again than ever go back there.” He grabbed your thigh and went back to finishing the piece.

“Jin, you didn’t answer me. Is he here?” Your lip wobbled.

At you calling him by his first name, he looked up at you. “No. Yes!”

“Okay,” You sagged into the chair once more and clutched your hands to your chest. Staring at the door, you watched in apprehension of your ex walking in at any moment.

Bubaigawara continued his work, dipping back into the ink every once in a while. His warm palm on your skin burned. You didn’t want him or anyone to touch you. You were stupid to come back here. Of course Dabi would stay in the shop, he didn’t have anywhere else to go. Though, now you know to avoid this area.

The silence didn’t last long when he spoke up again. “So is Dabi texting you? He’s real upset, ya know?”

“Mind your business,” You snapped, fear overriding your system.

“You hurt my friend.”

You shook your head at his ignorance. “No, he hurt me. You don’t even know a quarter of what happened. Instead of you guys blaming me for Dabi’s actions, open your fucking eyes.”

“You put him in jail, why? Because you guys got into a spat?”

A laugh broke from your chest, “So that’s what he’s telling everyone what happened. Cool, good to know. Are we done?”

He took the gun from your skin and wiped off the excess ink and plasma. He properly wrapped it as your other leg bobbed up and down.

“Yeah, we’re done.”

“Thanks.” You roughly shoved your thigh high back over your thigh and stomped out of the room.

Slamming the sliding door open and shutting it closed just as aggressively, you flipped up your phone. Dialing Geten, he answered after one ring.

“Come get me, please?”

Bubaigawara watched you stomp out, confused. He didn’t get you or the situation at all. Dabi told him you were being overdramatic and lied to the cops to get him in trouble. Yet, you seemed terrified knowing Dabi could be in the shop. He dismissed it as you not wanting to confront the fact you lied and snitched on your boyfriend, and everyone else in the group.

He finished cleaning and breaking everything down and went back to the front. Moonlight streamed in from the windows. Glancing at the clock, it had been nearing midnight. The time had passed a lot faster than he thought.

After tattooing you, he’d been in his own head for too long. Unanswered questions swirling in his head. He would have to talk to Toga later. Afterall she had sided with you despite everyone else being pissed, saved for Shigaraki who didn’t care.

Reaching for the binder to calculate earnings and funds, the door had opened with a bang. In came Dabi with a sour look on his face. Ripping off his jacket, he half-hazardly threw it on a stray chair.

“I’m going to kill her,” Dabi muttered under his breath.

“Are you talking about Y/n? What crawled up your ass!”

Dabi glowered at him, suspicious, “What about it?”

“You’re so pissy! She seems to be why you have been in a bad mood since you came back,” Bubaigawara shrugged.

“No fucking shit she has been. The bitch has been avoiding me. I just want to talk, but she acts like I’m going to hurt her or something.”

The older man thought for a moment, “Well she was just here and told me she’s still at the dorms. Maybe you can talk to her there. Or stop bitching about her!”

A grin broke out on his visage, the burn scar on his cheek dimpling. He leaned over the counter and condescendingly patted Bubaigawara’s face. “You not being all there really works wonders. Thanks for the info.”

Dabi walked back out of the shop, waving over his shoulder.

Bubaigawara blinked, a foreboding feeling that he did in fact do something stupid clung to him.

Curled up on your bed, your finger traced over the healing tattoo through the saran wrap and your thigh high. The sun hung high in the sky, but the muted light barely penetrated the blanket thrown over your head. After Geten had picked you up from the parlor your anxiety had only skyrocketed.

You had stayed the night, but you decided to come back to the dorms afterwards. Lying through your teeth, you told Geten you didn’t want to be late for any more classes. You both knew you were fibbing. You didn’t show up to your classes today. Going straight to your room, you ignored Ayame’s snark and launched yourself on your bed. It’s been hours and you still haven't moved.

Sleep couldn’t even claim you. The paranoia that Dabi would find you shot your system. From outside your cotton cocoon, your phone buzzed multiple times. You couldn’t muster up the courage to read the messages. They were most likely Geten and Toga checking up on you, but deep down you knew Dabi wouldn’t be easily curved with being blocked.

Your phone started to ring with a bubbly tone. Groaning, your hand shot out from the blanket and felt around the sheets until you grabbed the tiny device. Dragging it under with you, you flinched from the screen piercing your eyes. You saw Geten was calling.

“Hi,” You meekly answered.

“How’s my girl doing?”

You shrugged while mumbling a quick, “I don’t know.”

Geten’s silent for a second before responding, “I’m going to come pick you up. I don’t like leaving you alone especially since you won’t tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just a lot right now and I don’t even know where to start.”

“Maybe from the beginning?” His tone dripped with sarcasm.

You rolled your eyes with a smile, “Thanks asshole, why didn’t I think of that.”

“Anytime. I’ll be there in 10 minutes.”

The call ended with a click.

With an enormous sigh, you dropped your phone and curled further upon yourself. Working up the courage to pick yourself up from your tiny pity party, you hear the door knob turn.

Your face pinched in confusion. Ten minutes surely haven’t passed. The door opened and closed with an extra click. Whoever came in, locked the door.

A concoction of fear and perplexion overtook your system.

Peeling the blanket off, you called out, “Geten?”

A scream pierced through your chest at the sight of black instead of white hair. Dabi does nothing to stop your screech and stands by the door with crossed arms.

Crawling further up the bed, you clutched onto your blanket like a pathetic child.

“How did you get in here?” Your breathing hitched and your shoulders bounced with every inhale.

“Passed your roommate in the hallway,” He shrugged. “What a bitch, right? Didn’t even question who was asking.”

He unfortunately took the words right out of your mouth. But you couldn’t really blame her. How was she supposed to know your crazy ex’s actively stalking you.

“Get out, Dabi,” You tried to sound firm but even you could hear how your voice wobbled.

He started walking closer until his knee leaned on the side of the bed. Pulling the blanket to the side, he grabbed your calf and dragged you further down the bed. Screeching, you tried to kick him away, but he pressed further into the muscle.

Propping his body over yours with a hand by your head, he engulfed his form with yours. With your free hands, you pushed and hit his chest.

“Get off! Get off me!” You screamed and thrashed your head side to side.

With clenched eyes, the world around you blended into that damp alleyway. Smoke from both the gun and fire stuff their way into your airways until all you can taste is ash.

Dabi gripped your cheeks and shook your head with vigor. Blinking through the tears, you see his indignant expression above you. Toggling onto his baggy shirt, you both wanted to pull him close and as far away as you could.

“What the fuck is up with you?”

“G-get,” You gulped to suck in more air, “get away from me.”

He dug his fingers further into your mandible, “You’re not getting rid of me that easily. You owe me an explanation.”

“I think putting your ass in jail is enough of an explanation. What do you want from me?”

“I want to know why my girlfriend-”

“I’m not your girlfriend!”

The hand on your jaw trailed down to wrap around your neck instead. No pressure was put, but the threat very much apparent.

“I forgot about your new favorite pass time, that fucking albino loser.” Malice dripped from his tongue, “You lie to him too?”

Guilt strewn across your face at the jab. “Dabi, look, you know I’m so-”

“You don’t get to be sorry after the bullshit you have pulled.” The veins on his hand bulged as it absentmindedly tightened around your throat further.

“Geten is going to be here soon, so you better leave,” You grasped for anything to get him off you.

Dabi laughed with a deep husky tone, “You think that prick scares me? I would be more worried about yourself if he finds you in such a compromising position with your ex.”

Kicking up a fuss again, you tried to kick him but he placed his hand under your thigh and brought your knee to your chest. The skirt you were wearing hiked up to show your black and pink skull panties.

Crawling further upon you, he straddled your free leg so your whole body besides your hands were trapped under him. Nudging his knee closer to your exposed core, he dug into your slit but didn’t move. You fought the urge to squirm as you would only grind on his leg, falling right into the palm of his hand.

Completely frozen, Dabi took advantage of your petrified state and tucked a finger under your right thigh high and pulled it down. His warm fingers dragged down your slowly exposed skin until the sock sat at your ankle. Leg in tHE air, he nosed at your calf until he hit a particular spot. There, sat on the middle of your calf a scar the size of a quarter. Barely noticeable unless you were looking for it.

Chills ran down your spine when Dabi kissed the old wound. The skin long since healed over and discolored. The chunk of skin and muscle gone from your calf bound you together better than any chain or rope could.

“There’s no one in this world that will love you like I do. This,” He dug his thumb into the scar, “Right here is proof of my love.”

What a load of bullshit, you wanted to say but kept your mouth shut. What he did wasn’t love, it was misdirected anger and obsession. Anything he did was never for you, but himself.

A knock on the door had both you and Dabi snap your attention towards the person behind it. You held your breath, praying it wasn’t Geten.

“Y/n, I forgot my keys!” Ayame called out.

Your ex turned back towards you as you opened your mouth to scream. The hand on your neck, shoved two fingers down your throat. A wet, ugly gag echoed in the space between you two.

“Scream and I’ll beat your ass bloody,” He sneered, nose to nose.

Tears bubbling over, you nodded in agreement and clutched onto his wrists. Dabi kept his focus on your mouth, not caring Ayame kept pounding on the door. Dragging his fingers an inch back, he thrusted them back in but more gentle. This time you didn’t gag but your throat did tighten.

“Fuck, there’s my good girl,” He sighed into you.

With firm strokes, he fucked his fingers in and out of you. Drool dripped down from his fingers and your lips, caking your chin. Your eyes went hazy as you were swallowed by bright blues, him never breaking eye contact.

The buzzing of your phone broke you from your trance. Dabi pulled his fingers from your mouth and brought them to his own. Sticking his pierced tongue out, he licked and sucked your saliva off his fingers.

Whipping the excess wetness on his pants, he grabbed for your phone before you could protest.

“Looks like your boyfriend is here.”

He dangled your phone in front of your face to see the message. You reached out to swipe the phone but he pulled the phone back and far above you.

“Dabi, please!”

“He can wait.”

“No, he’ll get suspicious and come up here and-”

He flung your phone onto the floor and got back into your face, “Why do you care what that reject thinks, you’re mine.”

“No I’m not! When will you get that through your thick fucking skull.”

“And when will you get it through yours that you belong to me! You put me away to serve time and I still came back. You’re gonna have to kill me to get rid of me for good.”

His nostrils flared while he stared down at you with such contempt. Every word he said, he meant. Like a cockroach he would survive and crawl his way back to you.

“I need to go,” You tried to reason.

“Fine, have it your way.”

Forcing you back onto the bed, he dropped your leg to grip your shoulders. Pinning your hips down with his. With one hand, he pulled your shirt to the side. Licking the exposed skin of your neck, he nibbled and sucked at the skin.

“Stop, you’ll leave a mark,” You whined as you kicked your legs out.

The flesh tingled as his teeth scraped against it. His lips did not leave anything untouched.

Nosing up to your ear, he said, “That’s the point.”

With more fervor you bucked your hips to throw him over, but he stayed steady. Likened to a rabid animal, Dabi bit into your neck hard to tame your thrashing. Your breath left you with piercing pain. Luckily he didn’t break skin.

Satisfied, he pulled away and examined his artwork. There was no hiding the bruises littering the side of your neck. Getting up and off you, Dabi blatantly adjusted the hard-on in his pants.

Pulling yourself up, you watched him flick open the lock. Looking over his shoulder, a wide smirk stretched over his burnt skin at your pathetic form. He pointed to the side of his neck.

“Have fun explaining that to your little boyfriend.”

You slapped a hand over your neck and flinched at the raw skin. Cackling, he slammed the door closed, leaving you in your shame. 

#yandere dabi #yandere x reader #yandere touya #yandere bnha #yandere dabi x reader #yandere hawks #dabi x reader #yandere #yandere male #bnha smut #hawks smut #dabi smut

[manicpixiefelix]

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 22.

Summary: After mostly resolving your issues regarding Oliver and Venetia, it's much easier to enjoy the time leading up to the dinner with the Henrys. Still, Oliver seems more than a little nervous to be around you and Felix, much to Felix's ongoing chagrin. He wonders how long it will take for Oliver to take the hint.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

A/N: 3044 words. oh yeah, its all coming together. :) i know the last few updates have been kind of spaced out, so i'd love to get some feedback from you lovely folks about how you think it's coming along now that we're in the back half.

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

One day - probably one day soon - you'd have to tell Felix the truth about Oliver and Venetia. By that time, you reasoned, you'd have come up with a way to say it that would make him see why you hadn't called Oliver out for lying, and why you'd kept it from him. His gut reaction, like your own, was to immediately jump to the worst possible, malevolent conclusion. Based on past events, it was a sound conclusion to jump to. But Oliver's not Eddie. It was a moment of weakness, and Oliver really does love Felix. Somehow you'd find a way to make this painless, perhaps even a way to show how much Oliver cared, because that's what you'd seen, that's the why behind your own deception.

Except Felix wasn't even ready to admit out loud to himself, let alone you, or god forbid Oliver, that he genuinely felt that way about him. Even if he definitely, clearly did. But again, past heartbreak makes some of his trepidation far more excusable.

At least you have a distraction for the afternoon - not Oliver, no, he would never be so bold in direct sunlight as to do anything more than make out with you on the pool lounge. No, this distraction wasn't a particularly good one.

The NDA from your parents, sitting in your study.

Part of you knows you should probably have a lawyer look over this, but there was something about the idea of involving yet another person in your parents ongoing attempts to abandoned you that left a sour taste in your mouth. So that left you to look over it all on your own. The sticky-hot afternoon in the study wears thin on your nerves, but irritation was all that ever came of it, not upset or disappointment. Reconciling with Oliver probably had quite a bit to do with it.

Dinner is a welcome reprieve. When Oliver smiles at you across the table, there's a weight that's lifted from your shoulders are you smile back. Felix too is in notably high spirits, though he's decidedly not talking to Venetia; his parents don't seem to mind, however, as long as he's happier than when he'd started the day.

"Is there anything planned for after dinner?" Oliver asked, eyes wide and earnest as he looks around the table, all present sharing an equally confused look as if one of them may have planned something all the others had forgotten.

"Not as far as I'm aware," Sir James offers after a moment.

"Tomorrow will be quite the busy night," Elspeth elaborates with ease, "I'm sure we'd all like to conserve our energy."

"Last chance to cancel dinner with the Henrys," Felix says, already knowing it's not a real option, even after Elspeth chides him for the suggestion, that they'd already had all the food brought and extra help hired.

"Has the seating chart been organised yet?" You asked hopefully, to which Elspeth smiled when her gaze landed upon you, assuring you she'd finalised it that afternoon, turning only to remind Duncan to have it delivered to your study that evening.

"You'll be seated next to Henry of Suffolk, dear," she also tells you, and immediately you're filing that information away in the back of your mind. Henry of Suffolk, partner at Richmond & Suffolk Legal; his late wife was named Clarice, he had a daughter and son a few years younger than you... their names escaped you at that moment.

Beside you, Felix is shamelessly admiring you.

"What?" You ducked your head to try and hide your embarrassed grin.

"Just watching your mind work," he teased with a laugh which had you rolling your eyes with fond exasperation.

"So you can see the cogs too then?" Venetia giggles across the table, though Farleigh chimes in before Felix has the chance to give his sister a look.

"Surprised there's not steam coming out of their ears."

"I'm not a robot," you insisted, flustered by the attention and their combined teasing.

"Just your beautiful brain then," Oliver adds fondly, and out of sheer surprise you look up to meet his endeared gaze as he looks back at you. When had he been let in on that particular joke, you wondered? Something in the back of your mind is sure that it was Venetia, after all, she was the one who most often referred to your 'robot brain' as such, but you don't have it in you to be upset. You never do at these jokes, even though you may occasionally protest about them, they're always intended as a compliment.

And there's no way you could be mad with Oliver looking at you like that.

Dinner continues on with very little fuss after that, and you return to your study feeling much lighter than you had before. Felix joins you, complaining about how you'd spent all afternoon in here, and he couldn't bare to think of you spend all evening alone in here too. Of course he knows that Oliver will more than likely join you when it gets late enough, but he's brought a book, and has quietly claimed the sofa beneath the window for himself. These nights have never been uncommon, but this Summer has seemed especially busy at Saltburn, so you more than welcome his quiet company as the day's heat slowly burns away.

It's not long before there's someone approaching your door.

"It's Duncan," you say, mostly for Felix's benefit, before the butler himself knocks and you invite him in.

"The seating arrangements for tomorrow night's event, Captain," Duncan says graciously, giving you the faintest smile as he hands the document over and turns swiftly on his heel, practically evaporating into the darkness of the house silently.

"Still have no idea how you do that," Felix sounds rather impressed from where he's draped himself over the sofa.

"Do what?" You asked distractedly, examining the seating chart in the golden glow of the lamp.

"How you know exactly who's coming and going without even seeing them."

"Duncan was just being courteous for me," you mutter off-handily, "if I'd heard nothing before he'd knocked, I'd still know it was him."

"You know that's even more impressive, right?" Felix laughs, and finally you turn to him, only to see him watching you like he can't quite believe what you're saying. Sometimes you find yourself surprised by the Cattons, and how little they seem to understand or appreciate about the Estate on which they live.

"No, what's impressive is that I can tell what kind of mood your in half the time just by the sound of your footsteps," you tells him with a grin.

"Now you're lying," Felix snorts, shaking his head. But you continue.

"No, seriously Fi, it's not always entirely accurate, but it's pretty close; I'm not quite there with the rest of your family, but I think I know you well enough."

"That's like, stalker levels of dedication," but his smile is bright in the light of the moon, and his tone turns teasing, "do you have a thing for me or something?"

"I wouldn't go that far," you huffed a laugh, playing along with the bit.

"Shame," he sighed dramatically, "I was really hoping you did, 'cos I kind of have a thing for you."

"I wouldn't if I were you," finally standing, you sauntered over to him, smirking as he beamed up at you, thoroughly pleased by this silly little bit, "that sounds like a scandal waiting to happen."

"Call the tabloids then," Felix laughed softly as he welcomed you into his arms.

"Any stalker-like tendencies of yours I should be worried about?" You asked, settling against him, leaning into him.

"Yeah, I've got a bunch of your things in my room," Felix murmurs right before you kiss him, grinning as you do so. Things devolve from there to the two of you making out in the moonlight, giggling together, teasing nonsense passed back and forth as the moon rose higher in the sky.

"Ollie's at the door," you see fit to finally tell Felix, who looks down at you with wide, surprised eyes. Sheepishly you admit, "he's been there for like five minutes." It's getting terribly late, but you really don't want to go bed right now, or go anywhere that isn't here, in this moment. Felix snorts a laugh, face scrunching up with something close to embarrassment; he knows letting Oliver get away with this kind of thing is part of the game you're all playing, but it still catches him off guard with just how aware you were of the whole situation.

"Ollie," Felix called out, and you both heard a him start behind the study door, "Christ, mate, don't linger," he insists, righting both him and yourself to something more respectable on the sofa, but still insisting on holding you close, "come in already." You're practically in his lap.

Like a deer in the headlights, looking absolutely mortified at being caught out, Oliver pushes the door open and faintly apologises, telling you both he didn't want to interrupt.

"Interrupt what?" Felix says far too easily, smile wide and a bit coy, "nothing to interrupt," though you can hear it for what it is; nothing you, Oliver, could ever interrupt if you simply asked to join. How long would it take Oliver to realise this, you wondered; Felix is getting less subtle by the day.

"I was going to ask -" Oliver pauses, focus stolen by the way Felix presses a kiss to your shoulder, before his gaze returns to your face, your expectant smile. Felix knows exactly what he's doing, "um, was going to ask about the seats for the dinner tomorrow?" Oliver manages, "I don't... know the Henrys?"

As you stand, Felix lets out a loud, disappointed sigh, but lets you go, returning to his book. Every movement, every sound Felix makes captivates Oliver in this moment, and both you and Felix are more than aware of this. Still, you swan over to your desk, looking over the seating chart before you usher Oliver over.

"They've got you next to Ven and Lady Daphne," you show him, pointing out his place along the table, "she's Henry's wife," you add wryly, and hear Felix bark a laugh behind you. Oliver, for a moment, seems confused, gaze flicking between you both.

"Aren't all the -?"

"That's the joke, Ollie," you tell him, but he still seems too nervous to properly see the humour in it, just making a faint noise of understanding in the back of his throat. "Did you want to hang out for a bit?" You offered, "this contract's doing my head in," you flicked at the thick contract on your desk dismissively, "so I'm probably going to get stuck into something lighter, but you know we always love your company."

"Thanks, but, uh," Oliver hesitated, looking to Felix again, "I think I'm gonna turn in for the night."

"Okay," you say sunnily, leaning over to give him a quick peck on the lips, which seems to startle him, "hope you sleep well, Ollie."

"Yeah," Oliver still seems to be reeling from the brief show of affection, "you too."

"Good night, mate," Felix offers with a cheery wave.

"You going to kiss me good night too?" Oliver sounds almost dazed, and suddenly looks mortified once more, like he can't quite believe he'd said that. Felix, unphased, stands and makes his way over to you both.

"Sure," he seems to take the suggestion in stride, kissing the top of Oliver's head before he bends to quickly kiss him on the lips. For a moment after Felix has pulled back, Oliver's look at him like he's staring at the sun, and Felix is wearing a sharp, knowing smile, "'night, Ollie," he says, quieter this time.

"G'night, Felix," Oliver murmurs, making his way to the door as Felix nonchalantly reaches to take the seating chart from your hand to look it over for himself. You, however, watch Oliver go, feeling both helpless and amused all at once.

"You think if I fuck him he'll take the hint?" Felix asks quietly once the door was shut, and you'd both heard Oliver's door squeak closed for the night.

"Do you think if you fuck him you'll take the hint," you asked disbelievingly, "that man is so into you, Fi," you hissed, almost furiously wide-eyed as you looked up at him. As always, Felix responds dismissively.

"Told you I'm not saying anything until he does," Felix puts the document down, choosing instead to drape his arms over your shoulders, "we can fuck around all Summer for all I care, but you know I'm not going to hold my breath for things to get more serious unless he tells me."

"He just asked you to kiss him, Felix!"

"I wasn't in love with you when we first kissed."

"Bad example; yes you were."

"Okay, bad example, yes I was," Felix admits with a faint flush, "but for the record, I didn't think I was at the time; we were twelve," he regains his composure quickly, "but it's not like you're in love with Farleigh or my sister; yeah, I know you love them, but you're not in love with them."

"That's different, Fi, we've been fucking around since forever," you sighed, resting your head against him for a moment.

"It's not different," Felix insists, "I just-" but he paused, and when you chance a look up at him, his face is scrunched up, like he's on the verge of admitting something he really doesn't want to, "I don't want to be getting my hopes up if it's just fucking around with Ollie, you know?" It comes out far more frustrated than you'd anticipated, and though you pat his back comfortingly, you can't help but add -

"He drank your bathwater."

"He fucking watched me get myself off and didn't even do anything about it until after it happened! And not even with me!" Felix points out, sounding almost like a petulant child, "I left the fucking door open and everything!" He's pouting now, actually pouting.

"He probably thinks that if he's too forward he'll scare you off, or your parents will kick him out or something," you tried to reason with him, to which Felix groaned.

"But they won't! You saw how much they loved Eddie, fucking hell," he huffed, stepping back, now wearing a scowl. Where had this night turned to something unfortunate? "Mum would throw a fucking parade if I got a boyfriend who wasn't a cheating dickhead."

"You should tell Oliver that," you pointed out frankly, "or at the very least tell him the truth about things with Eddie, so he knows that you do more than just fuck around with pretty boys."

Everything suddenly goes very still.

"What?" There's no frown, no anger anywhere on Felix's face, just pure surprise, "do you think he thinks that?" You watch Felix re-evaluate the entire situation, giving him space to sort out his feelings, "I made it clear I'm into guys too- do you think he thinks -"

"I think," slowly, carefully, you step up to Felix, voice firm but kind, "that despite how much he's seen you fuck around with other people on campus, the only person you are actually in love with is me," Felix is quiet, looking down at you with this crestfallen look like he's disappointed in himself, "and he, like most people I'll remind you, probably assumes that if he wants you to look at him like you look at me, it'll be a competition."

"Of course it's not, that's so stupid," Felix muttered reflexively.

"I've tried to tell Ollie that," you sighed, wrapping an arm around him. Felix presses his face into your hair for a very long moment.

"What if he doesn't, though?" Comes through muffled and forlorn. You're not quite sure what he means, and thankfully Felix continues, not that he moves his face at all, "what if it is just fucking around and we've misread all of this; I can't tell him I actually love him too, I'd look like an absolute freak."

"Tell him about Eddie," you advised softly, "at least he'll get the hint that you're capable of falling in love with someone who isn't me." The reminder of Eddie would always probably ache, you're starting to come to realise. For now, however, you ignore it.

Felix hugs you tightly, and mumbles that you're probably right. Something eases in your chest at that.

Curled up together in bed not ten minutes later, neither your pyjamas or duvet are as comfortable or warm as Felix's arm around you. He's still deep in thought about the night that had just passed; when he muses that at least it was a better talk than the night before, he sounds like he's still making his mind up about that. Settling into sleep, however, you're contented knowing it was true.

The following morning feels comparatively serene, chattering away to the rest of the family about the night's coming festivities. Both you and Felix drop a quick kiss to the top of Oliver's head in passing on your way to collect breakfast - Farleigh's the only one who notices, and he rolls his eyes at you both. Venetia asks you what you'll be wearing to the event and lights up when you tell her it's the jumpsuit she'd bought you from Yves Saint Laurent for your last birthday, while Elspeth coos that you'll look just darling in it.

After yesterday morning's tenseness, getting to work in your garden, planting the flowers that had arrived for you, music playing cheerily through your little speaker, it feels like a dream. The sun is warm against your back, and for some weird reason you think you see Oliver skulking around in one of the gardens by the wall of the house. Lurking again. Probably habit more than anything else, you figured. Considering the games you've been playing with him, you don't see the need to discourage that kind of behaviour. He's by the window of one of the little libraries; you wonder what must be going on in there to have caught his attention.

Oh well, you'll ask later if you remember.

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #felix catton x reader #saltburn x reader #saltburn imagine #felix catton imagine #oliver quick x reader #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #oliver quick imagine #oliver quick smut #oliver quick x y/n #oliver quick x you #head heart hand fic #manic writer

[agathaandbrienneslesbian]

Heart of Gold - Part 2

Miranda Hilmarson x Mounted!Police!Fem!Reader

HELLO EVERYONE <3 I finally managed to finish Part 2 of my Miranda Hilmarson Fic. I'm sorry it took so long but it's finally here. I hope you enjoy this little addition to the first part. I'm not yet sure if I should make a 3rd part but if you guys want one, I'll look into it <3

Huge thanks to @weemssapphic for proofreading this part <3

Disclaimer: English is not my first language!

Warnings: Talk of bullying, talk of death and dying, descriptions of blood, death and being shot (I'm sorry... this is an angsty one)

Authors Note: Hurt/Comfort with a shit ton of Angst. I hope you guys enjoy <3

Words: 2'400+

AO3 Link

Taglist

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“Why do you care so much about me?”

You look at her, unable to answer the question. Should you tell her? Should you take the risk and risk the friendship you’ve built? Miranda looked at you intensely, chest heaving from being dragged around. You tried to collect your thoughts but just as you were about to answer, Miranda dropped her head, looking down at her feet. A sigh of defeat left her lips.

“It’s a joke to you as well isn’t it?” she asked through clenched teeth, tears threatened to spill from her eyes any second. You looked at her in shock.

“No! No Mir that's not the case!!! That's not the case at all-”

“Save it!” Miranda looked up at you, eyes red, tears wetting her face as she furiously wiped the back of her hand over her cheeks. 

“I should have known… you’re like everyone else… I- I should have never trusted you…” and with that, Miranda stormed out before you could say anything else. 

The defeat on her face, the betrayal, the way she looked so full of hope only for it to be replaced by pain, a pain you felt right in this moment with her. How could you have fucked up this bad… you should have just told her… you should have just SHOWN her. You had to catch up to her. Without further hesitation your feet carried you through the stables towards the parking lot only to see her drive off in a hurry.

“Shit… SHIT'' Defeated, you return to the stables to gather your things and leave. You’d see her tomorrow! You’d get your chance to talk to her again… hopefully.

—

However, luck wasn’t on your side. Miranda had started avoiding you, leaving the room when you entered, walking the other direction when you walked towards her. And this had been going on for a few weeks now.

It hurt. 

You knew better than to follow her but… it hurt. After a particularly busy day, you went to get some drinks with your colleagues, wishing you were with Miranda. A heavy sigh left your lips as you absentmindedly picked at the label of your beer. You felt sick…

“Hey guys… I’m gonna go home… I don’t feel too well…”

You stood, handing your beer to your friend, and gathered your things. Of course you were met with protest but you just ignored it, and soon enough they figured that it might be best to just let you leave. So that is what you did. 

Exiting the pub you felt the cold breeze on your skin. The air was a bit chilly and it smelled like rain. Cool darkness enveloped you and you stood there for a minute, just feeling the breeze on your skin and the smell of rain. When you opened your eyes again, that’s when you saw her. 

Miranda anxiously stepped on a cigarette she’d just finished. It looked as if she were considering coming into the pub or not. She hadn’t seen you yet. Should you approach her? Go back inside? Before a choice could be made, she looked up, making eye contact. You were expecting her to run away, to flee from your loving and pained gaze once again but…. She didn’t. She held your gaze, waiting. 

“Miranda-“

“Can we walk?”

She interrupted. You looked at her, surprise painted all over your face as she just waited for you to reply. Quickly, you nodded, walking over to her and following.

“Miranda… I am so sorry. If I have done something that hurt you please just let me know I-“

“Don’t apologise… I should-“

The blonde took a deep breath, shoving her hands in her vest pockets and looking down at her feet, kicking some stones around as she walked with you. She had missed you… but she needed time to think.

“I should have let you answer that night… I am sorry…”

Suddenly, Miranda stopped, looking out over the beach and the dark ocean. You stood beside her, your eyes trained on her face. You had to tell her how you feel. You had to let her know that she is worthy of love and affection. That she is beautiful, wonderful, perfect. In your eyes, Miranda was perfect. 

“I care because you’re worth it.”

Miranda was avoiding your gaze, but you saw her eyebrows furrow. This just spurred you on more.

“I care because you are worth the time and energy. I care because you are the sweetest and most adorable and kind person on this planet. I care because you lit up my world when I met you the very first time. You make my days better and I cannot fall asleep or wake up without thinking of you.”

Miranda looked down at you, her eyes, usually so blue and bright now seemed grey, and were welling up with tears. Carefully, you took her hand into yours, giving her a reassuring squeeze with your hands.

“I care because I fell in love with you…. Miranda… I love you”

You said it, admitted your feelings, and it sent a rush of anxiety down your spine, leaving its sticky tingling feeling behind. You were expecting her to leave again, to get upset at you… what you didn’t expect were her lips suddenly pressed against yours, a big hand with long, slim fingers, gently cupping your cheek and pulling you closer.

Miranda had hoped you would say that. It took her a while to realise… several weeks. She simply wasn’t used to it. No one had ever shown her the care and affection you had. And she found herself falling for you. Afraid you would hate her if she admitted it, she kept quiet.

But that night…. She had to know. 

However, as soon as the question left her lips, she felt herself getting anxious. She was terrified. What if you said you pitied her and that’s why you ‘acted’ like you cared so much? So, before you could answer, she pulled away. She ran away. To protect herself, not noticing how much her actions had hurt you. Until she saw how your smile faded, how your eyes stopped shining, how you seemed to have lost your joy. And she hated herself for hurting you so much. 

“I am sorry Y/N… I… love you too. I was just anxious and-“

Now it was your turn to interrupt her with a kiss. Your arms wrapping around her shoulders, holding her close. You didn’t need to hear more. It was no secret that Miranda was oftentimes anxious. Who could blame her… she’s been through a lot. 

“I’ve heard everything I needed to hear Mir… you don’t have to apologise. You’re okay. I am not mad at you. I’m glad you told me…”

Your whispers and words of affirmation and understanding caused Miranda to completely dissolve. Her tears flowing freely as she held onto you, finding comfort in your embrace. She did not know how she deserved you, but she would be an idiot if she’d ever let go of you. You loved her… and she loved you. 

—

And so it happened that the two of you became the cutest couple at the police station (at least according to you two. Who cares what the others think).

More often than not, you brought Miranda a coffee, some treats or even flowers. You started spending almost every waking moment together, only separating to go home and sleep. 

Both of you wanted to take it slow. There was no hurry. You weren’t going anywhere and neither was Miranda. The love you experienced in each other's embrace and kisses was enough to keep you two glued together. No force could ever part you… not even a routine patrol that ended more dangerous for you than expected. 

—

It was like every Wednesday afternoon.

You were patrolling the promenades before going back to the stables and calling it a day. Already excited to spend time with Miranda after work, you did not realise that the altercation you rode towards, would end up being almost fatal for you. 

Of course it had to happen.

You knew you shouldn’t have split up with your colleague. But there was no harm in thinking that if he took the lower road, you could take the higher one and still be close enough to hear each other. 

The second you realised that there was a gun pointed at you, you started calling for your colleague. Reaching for your own gun, you suddenly felt a piercing pain in your shoulder. A BANG was heard and then your ears were ringing. The pain in your shoulder increased, dragging its disgusting talons over your neck to the back of your head, digging deep into your skin. You started feeling faint, head pounding and everything started looking fuzzy and far away. At first you hadn’t even noticed that your horse was galloping towards the stables. Your hand just instinctively grabbed onto the horn of the saddle and your grip tightened. 

Artemis was huffing, whining and neighing the closer she got to the stables. A place she knew was safe. She felt your shift in energy, understanding the severity of the situation more than you. The smart horse she was, she stopped in front of the station, making a ruckus to get the other officers’ attention.

Miranda looked out the window, expecting to see you waving at her but what she saw, sent her into a panic. She rushed out to you and Artemis, gently pulling you from your mare and asking you questions. What exactly she asked, you didn’t know… you didn’t hear. All you knew was that you were in Miranda’s arms and it soothed the pain you were experiencing. 

Meanwhile Miranda tried to stay calm. She had called the ambulance, staying with you and holding you close, trying to stop the bleeding. Her hands, your shirt and her sleeves were covered in thick, dark red, warm blood. Your blood. 

Miranda tried really hard to keep it together, to stay strong for you, but she couldn’t keep the sobs in. Tears coated her soft pale skin, huffs and sobs escaped her lips, frantic breathing accompanied by the fear that she could lose you. She couldn't lose you… Miranda wouldn’t survive without you, she knew that. She needed you. She loved you. 

The next few hours were a blur for Miranda. You were unconscious, the medics doing everything they could to keep you alive as she accompanied you, holding your hand throughout the entire drive to the hospital. There, you were separated. 

But Miranda didn’t let up. 

She waited, and waited, and waited. Minutes turned to hours, hours filled with anxiety, fear and pain. She did not even wash up, her hands, shirt and trousers still soaked in your blood. Now cold, sticking to her skin, as if death itself latched onto her. 

It wasn’t until 4 hours later that the nurse finally went to fetch Miranda. She did ask her to at least wash her arms before bringing her to your room. There you laid, unconscious, but breathing. You were breathing. Miranda immediately went to your side, gently brushing some hair from your face, caressing your cheek, and holding your warm, soft hand. 

“I need you… please don’t leave me just yet…” She whispered.

“I love you. Come back to me…” She begged.

“I can’t lose you..”

She breathed. 

Miranda hoped you would hear her. She would tell you about all the things she wanted to experience with you, places she wanted to show you and future plans she had dreamed about. For more than 48 hours, Miranda sat by your side. The nurses had to force her to at least eat and drink something if she wasn’t going to sleep or go home to get changed. She sat by your side and wouldn’t leave. It was as if Miranda was in a frozen state. Holding your hand and pressing kisses to your cheek and forehead. She was only ripped from her trance as the heart monitor flatlined. She shot up, calling out for help, screaming, begging, sobbing, but no one heard. She was alone… and you were gone… —

“Miranda?”

Suddenly, Miranda felt a soft hand on her arm, another on her cheek, wiping away tears that escaped her eyelids once more. She opened her eyes, finding herself in her bedroom. Her breathing ragged, panic evident on her face, she started looking around. Where were you? “Miranda… darling… It’s okay. It was just a bad dream…” Her eyes shot to the direction of the voice, and she started sobbing. You wrapped your arms around her, pulling her close and kissing her head. Miranda’s arms immediately wrapping around your middle, so as not to hurt your healing shoulder. She pulled you close and that's when she realised where she was. Miranda was at home, in her bed, with you holding her, consoling her.

“I am here Mir. I won’t go anywhere… I promised you I won’t.” Your soft voice brought her peace. This wasn’t the first time she awoke in this manner. Once the nurses and doctors were happy with your recovery, they allowed you to go back home. Miranda insisted you live with her, so she could take care of you and protect you. Of course you said yes. But ever since then, Miranda was plagued by nightmares. One worse than the other, the outcome was the same every time. She couldn’t save you. She couldn’t protect you. You were gone, leaving her alone in her pain and loneliness. 

But it was just a dream. Every night she would feel your arms around her, your soft voice rousing her from the hell she fell into. Every night, you would reassure her that you were still there, that you survived, and that it was thanks to her quick thinking. Every night, you would dry her tears and have her fall asleep with her head on your chest, hearing your heartbeat. You were alive, and you were with her. It would take some time for the two of you to overcome the trauma, the horrors both of you faced each night. But you would overcome it. Together. Miranda could overcome it with your love, and you with hers. And her heart of Gold.

So, just like every night, you reminded her of that. A kiss pressed to her head as you noticed her relaxing in your arms, sleep ready to take her again. You whispered, so as not to wake her again: “Miranda?”

“Hm?”

“I love you”

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End Note: As always, reblogs, comments and likes are well appreciated <3 Taglist: @vivendraws @erinyaya @phexyce @aemilia19 @weemssapphic @gela123 @winterfireblond @Xxmecverxx @unicorniusfallapatorious @gwenistheloml @yourgaeyisshowing @readingtheentrails

#queer #gwendoline christie #sapphic #fanfic #wlw #reader insert #ao3 #gwendoline christie fanfics #Miranda Hilmarson x Reader #Miranda Hilmarson fanfic #Miranda hilmarson #Fanfic #x reader #angst #hurt comfort #heart of gold part 2

[katstvrn]

Relief - Matt Sturniolo x Reader

☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

Summary - Touching leads to something unexpected but not unwanted.

Pairing - Matt Sturniolo x Reader [Established Relationship]

Warnings - Smut! ☆ Rough ☆ Blow job ☆ Use of petnames (Love, Baby) ☆ Swearing ☆ Praise

Word Count - 1,183

A/N - This is basically pure smut so if your uncomfortable DNI! It's also my first post so lmk if I should keep doing these :))

You and Matt had entered a relationship around six months ago, much to everyone's relief. The transition from best friends to lovers was smooth and nothing different from what you were used to, apart from the added kissing and outward affection.

What was new was the constant need to have him. Now that you had stepped foot into your sex life together, you craved him. Everything he did seemed to set you off, and you couldn't stop thinking about the filthy scenarios your mind created.

Today wasn't any different; your mind was still plagued with ways he could touch you and what you could do to leave him a mess under your touch. Would he like it? Would it make him cum? Would he want to do it again?

Seeing Matt in front of you with his legs open and his hand between his thighs as they wrapped up the week's vlog didn't help things. The thing was, Matt wasn't doing anything particularly provocative, but it didn't stop your mind from wandering as he moved his slender fingers across the fabric of his jeans. You wanted to hear him let out a soft gasp at the sudden contact of your hand on his jean-clad crotch. See his mouth parting slightly and his head tipping back, revealing the expanse of skin on his neck - his Adams apple bobbing from the sounds that escaped his lips. To feel him grow hard just at the light touch of your hand over the layers of clothes he was wearing.

The sound of camera equipment being packed away snapped you out of your daydream. You felt the anticipation of being able to finally touch him get more intense as the moments passed. Rocking on the balls of your feet, you waited for Nick and Chris to leave the room - Matt already preoccupied on his phone.

As soon as Nick and Chris finally left, your legs were taking you across the room. You found your place in his lap, your hand taking it's place where his once was. Just as expected, his mouth parted and a soft groan slipped past, his phone long forgotten and abandoned on the couch cushion. You let your hand wander over the growing buldge, applying more pressure so he could feel more of your touch. You look at him for the first time, clocking the blissed out expression on his face - him looking at you with lust filled eyes and a lidded gaze, his mouth moving up and down quiet sounds being let out.

You let your hand move in slow and precise motions over his jeans, his legs opening further as a subconscious response, granting you more access to him. For the first time you heard him speak, his voice sounded rough with pleasure "Fuck..." His groans grew louder as you continued your motions, his hips jerking upwards begging for more contact. As you stared at him, you could see him falling apart under you, bringing your fantasy to life.

Apparently, as much as he was clearly enjoying what was happening, he'd had enough of your teasing. You felt his hand over the top of yours and his fingers wrapping around your wrist, pulling you up and off his lap in one smooth motion. He moved suddenly, standing up making a beeline for the stairs.

He dragged you up the stairs to his room, shutting the door quite forcefully. Your wrist still tightly gripped in his hand, he walked you towards the bed, pushing you to sit on the soft mattress. You watch as his hand leaves your wrist to grab your jaw, pushing your lips together in a pout with the strength of his fingers.

"Do you think you can touch me like that and expect me not to do anything, huh?" He asks, his voice low. His other hand is already at his waist, unbuckling his belt in a swift motion. "Doing that to me whilst my brothers are basically twenty feet away from us.... does that get you off, hm?" He chuckles amusedly, already working on his zipper. "Knowing that at any moment they could walk in and see you touching me so needily" Matt continues to talk to you whilst freeing himself from his underwear, pre-cum already staining the front of his boxers from the sheer need to be touched.

You look up at him from the bed, slightly shocked at the new side of Matt you're getting to see. He moves his hand along himself at a teasing pace. "Now since you wanted me so badly, you're going to suck me off, okay?" He tells you, waiting for a response from you to go ahead. At the nod of your head, he guides himself towards you. The hand on your face moving so he can enter two of his fingers into your mouth to pry your jaw open.

Once he gets your jaw open wide enough, he enters your mouth, letting out a relieved sigh. His hand snakes around the back of your head to grab a fistful of your hair, moving your head backwards and forwards on his length. He let out a shuddering breath as you pressed your tongue on the underside of his dick. "So good for me." He mumbles breathlessly, picking up the pace and meeting your face in the middle by driving his hips forward.

Matt looks down at you with a teasing smirk. "Are you gonna help me or not?" He asks, repeatedly moving. "It was you that wanted me so badly in the first place, right?" At his words, you came out of your trace, hollowing your cheeks around him, coaxing the first moan from him. You began to meet his thrusts, swirling your tongue around the head of his cock to draw more sounds from him. Your hands went upwards to grip his hips to steady his thrusts.

His hold on your hair became tighter as his thrusts became deeper, hitting the back of your throat, almost making you gag. Tears gathered in the corner of your eyes from the effort and the constant drive of his dick hitting your throat. "You can take it, love," Matt affirms from above you. "Keep going baby I'm so fucking close-" He broke himself off with a loud groan. His thrusts became sloppier, and his moans and whimpers became more frequent as he grew closer and closer to his peak.

Hearing this, you doubled your efforts, your tongue swirling around the head of his cock. His breath was laboured, and he was mumbling a string of words together, telling you how good you were making him feel. Abruptly, he pulled you halfway off of his cock, his hips stuttering before he came into your mouth with a deafening groan. His eyes were shut tightly, and his hand brushed through the strands of your hair as he rode out his high. Eventually, he pulled himself out of your mouth and tucked himself back into his boxers. He came to join you on the bed, whispering praises to you as he placed a chaste kiss on your forehead.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

Notes: The end got deleted, and I had to write it again, so sorry if it's kinda bad :)

#Spotify #sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #smut #first post #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #fanfiction #first fanfic #nick sturniolo

[the-batcomputer-project]

Batkids Hobby Headcanons

Dick - Gymnastics is the most obvious one. When he was younger, Bruce initially didn't want him to compete in competitions, or even join a team, because Dick would have an "unfair advantage". However, he eventually gave in and allowed him to join the school's team. Another hobby he has is baking. In most cases, he is forbid from the kitchen, however he is a fantastic baker. He is also very good at making fantastic stews, which Alfred has even claimed to be better than his own.

Jason - He's a literature nerd, with a particular love for the classics; Jane Austen and Charlotte Bronte are his favorite authors. However, we all know Jason is a theater kid at heart. He did every school play at Gotham Academy, and though he hasn't acted in anything since his resurrection, he still goes to local theaters with Alfred fairly often. He's also a fantastic cook, and the only person in Wayne Manor (other than Alfred) to never receive any sort of kitchen ban.

Tim - Photography is Tim's favorite hobby. His first camera was one of the most meaningful presents from his parents when he was younger, winning several photography competitions. He hasn't indulged as often since becoming a vigilante. Barbara still keeps him on-call as her blackmail collector though, which he does happily. He's also into skateboarding, finding skate parks to be a nice escape when he needs time alone. Many of his photo shoots occurred at the skate parks, for very emotionally charged urban photography. Other than those, he likes disassembling things to see how they work. This destructive hobby was punished and frowned upon when he was younger, but when Bruce discovered that Tim enjoyed taking things apart, would start leaving things around for him to play with, like old microwaves, or failed bat-projects. Tim also loves comic books, of which he has an impressive collection.

Damian - Art is something Ra's looked down upon, calling it "weak" and "insubstantial in society". However, it was still something Damian enjoyed, so he had to keep his hobby a secret. He was terrified Bruce would kick him out, when he found the sketchbooks hidden in Damian's room, however Bruce just asked if there were any supplies Damian wanted. He's still a bit self conscious of his art, but he is more open, giving paintings to his family as gifts, and even entering in an art show. He still has a fascination with knives from his time with the League of Assassins, and enjoys collecting ones that interest him, particularly vintage knives, and unique knives made out of unconventional materials, or those with intricate designs. Jon was the one to get him into video games, which he denies enjoying, but the hours he's put into Cheese Viking would say otherwise.

Cass - Ballet was one of the first things she fell in love with after being adopted. It was so similar to how she was raised-people talking with their bodies-but without the violence she so loathed. She easily convinced Bruce to sign her up for classes, and for once, it was something she could do, to communicate with people in a way she knew well. Another interest she picked up was astrology. It was something fun that she didn't necessarily believe in, but was a comfortable guidance. Damian hand painted her a custom tarot deck, and she has a small collection of crystals she finds pretty. Zatanna has offered to enchant some of them for her, but Cass declined the offer, saying that giving them actual magic enchantments removes the aspect of belief that she found comforting. She understood that the black tourmaline necklace Bruce bought her wouldn't actually keep her safe, but it gave her comfort, and a sense of safety, especially because it was a gift from her dad. (author's note: I don't actually know that much about astrology, tarot, and crystals, so if anyone wants to add to this and give a more realistic description of how it works, I would love to see it)

Steph - similar to Dick, she is a gymnast, though not quite at Dick's level. She is also into martial arts and has taken a few classes in Taekwondo and Boxing, and whatever other free classes were being offered at the community center. Cartoons and anime are pretty big interests, as well as video games. She often jumps around from hobby to hobby, and has several miscellaneous skills in a little bit of everything. (author's note: a lot of Steph I based off of myself. She's a character I relate a lot to, so a lot of myself is projected into her. Her height and weight being one of them. However, that was also because DC doesn't seem to know what a human woman looks like, because most of the female characters in the Batfamily are 5'4" or 5'5", and around 120 lbs, including Steph. So I just borrowed by height and weight from highschool, when I was at peak physical fitness, at the gym 4 times a week, and doing 2 sports, once meeting 2 times a week and the other meeting 3 times a week. That would place her at 5'8" and 155lbs, which is far more reasonable for an active vigilante. rant over). She also feels like the kind of person who would be into scrapbooking. Most of her pictures are stolen from Tim, and the pages are brightly colored with fun stickers and glitter.

Duke - he gives off the vibe of a soccer player. However, because of his focus on school and crime fighting, he just plays for the rec team. It's a fun activity that he can enjoy when he was time, and also use to explain away his fitness level and injuries. He's also a huge movie buff, enjoying to analyze every aspect of the film, from the characters, to the camera work, to the framing of each scene. He isn't as interested in making his own movies, but gets very into it when he does. Quentin Tarantino is his favorite filmaker, however Damian has stared getting him into foreign films as well.

#dc universe #batfamily #batfam headcanons #dc comics #dick grayson #jason todd #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #tim drake #damian wayne #duke thomas #headcanon

[psuedosugu]

“wanna try some?” shoko holds the lit cigarette towards you.

notes: we need more shoko writers on here (and sapphic writers in general like what) pls also if i made a discord server would yall join 🤔

“only if you want to, of course. not gonna, like, peer pressure you or anything.” she smirked. you never smoked, in fact, you often told shoko how bad her habit was. she always responded with the fact that she had reverse curse technique, that she could just heal herself anyways. its not like she was wrong, you guessed, but you never liked the smell of cigarette smoke, didn’t like associating it with someone as beautiful as her.

you two were on the roof of some building, and the wind blew through both of your hair. you don’t know why exactly, maybe it was that dangerous look in her eyes, that look you would do anything for, but you took the cigarette from her hand and took a puff. you immediately started coughing, eyes tearing up. shoko patted you on the back comfortingly. “you okay?” she asked. “uh, yeah..” you responded back, “i just don’t smoke.” you hand the cigarette back to her. it had a ring of your pink lipgloss on it now.

she moves a strand of hair away from her face with that oh so soft smile and, god, you’ve never seen someone so gorgeous. “you’re really pretty.” you sigh out, trying to ignore the heat rising to your face, and how the space between you seems to be getting smaller and smaller. “not as pretty as you,” she giggled softly, staring at your perfect lips.

you both knew there was something between you guys, something much more than just friendship. you had both known since highschool, though things had never gone farther than a lingering touch, a yearning gaze, oh how you yearned for her soft lips on yours. you wanted more, and she did too.

“shoko?” you ask, feeling particularly bold, “kiss me shoko.” and she does. your eyes flutter closed as your lips interlock. it feels like there’s sparks going off in your brain, like life wont get better than this, like you wanna stay in this moment forever. you pull away hesitantly for air and notice the the pink dusting adorning her face. “god, [name], you’re so cute.” shoko says, her left hand cupping your cheek. “shut upp…” you whine, feeling like you might melt if you get any hotter. you lean into her, she wraps an arm around you, and you both enjoy the feeling of the wind on your face.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #shoko ieiri x reader #jjk shoko #x reader #shoko ieiri

[wordy-little-witch]

Hellooo how are you? i just wanna ask wat r ur nsfw headcanons abt crossguild polycule😳

Also i love ur posts❤️

Hiya, honey bee! I'm doing alright, all things considered, thanks for asking, lovely ♡ just sleepy lmaooo

Cross guild my beloved aaaa okay so I'm gonna put the NSFW ones under a cut bc of the content warnings~

Thanks for the ask, I appreciate you!!!!! And thanks for reading, hun ♡ drink water, have a snack if you can, take any medicine you have prescribed and stay safe ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

18+ BELOW vvv

Okay NSFW stuff lezzgo. I am. Genuinely debating doing the consent charts here for each of them, then a layered one with them compared to each other.

Keep in mind, these are my head canons, and I adore when they're different takes and opinions, I think variety is awesome ♡♡♡♡

So let's start with the biggest of our guild boys!!

Crocodile:

FTM, Top surgery done in his early adult years through a series of oddly aligning events, bottom surgery looked into but rendered unneeded via Ivankov's hormones

Likes/Preferences

This man is a SWITCH, he usually Doms and prefers topping, coming from some older dysphoria issues, but honestly? Is open to submitting and bottoming to others when the need arises on a case by case basis.

Not exactly vanilla, but sometimes the intimacy there is nice.

Is fairly ace-spec, all things considered, sees sex as not a need but something enjoyable. Doesn't always even get off during sex, just enjoys the power and rush he gets from his partners. Took a very long time to realize that for himself. Sex positive!

Sadomasochist. Prefers causing the pain, but scratching and biting are HELLA approved for him

Marks marks marks

Idk if there's and actual word for it, but Crocodile LOVES dressing his partner up in finery just to ruin them. Also discovered an additional kink there which will be talked about later on. (See mixed)

He has wild stamina and ca go maybe three rounds before he needs to stop or pause.

Objectively the best at eating out, can and will make one partner moan out loud and the other outright cry.

Mihawk

Cis (?) insofar as he's a man by technicality. He is a SWORDSMAN by choice. He identifies as a threat, and that is not for ironic jokes. Honestly, to Mihawk gender feels complicated and stupid. 0/5 stars, hates it. He could not be paid to give a fuck about that sort of thing beyond his immediate people's happiness.

On that note, also doesn't care what parts someone has or what they identify as. If he likes you, he likes you, that's all there is. Doesn't use labels. Does admit to being more oredominantly attracted to masculine individuals. It is simply Mihawk and The Vibe.

Onwards to the thoughts!!!!

True Switch. Doesn't care. Enjoys dominating, enjoys submitting, likes topping, likes bottoming, but it's a case by case and person by person basis.

Choking. Idk, but something about holding someone by the throat and feeling their skin and muscles and heartbeat under his fingers gives him a rush, I bet.

Not particularly into sadism or masochism specifically, but does enjoy some of the semi-connected things. Knife play is a given, as well as blood play, and ironically hot wax

Trust is big to him.

Sensory play.

Has a personal rule that his partner has to cum at least once before he even thinks about his own pleasure unless that's the pre-established play they're doing that scene.

On that front - service top/service bottom.

Praise and degradation kink, surprisingly enough

Breeding kink

He Will Bite. With consent of course.

Really enjoys edging and teasing his partners. Doesn't like it as much for himself but doesn't DISlike it either.

Disinterest kink, he likes to make his lovers beg for attention and feigning disinterest.

Cockwarming.

Something about making a mess in the bedroom is simply PERFECT for him.

Honestly, Mihawk is down to try anything at least once and isn't too surprised to find new things that he enjoys.

Stamina is INSANE, but goes about one round, maybe 2, before needing to step back. Dw though, he's not leaving. He can ruin someone with more than just that option.

Buggy

AFAB masc nonbinary, no surgeries, Iva's hormones do not work on him, and he makes his own. Had a partial hysterectomy as a child before his Devil Fruit due to a... bad situation. Has numerous scars as well from before then and even a few after when he was learning the limits of his Fruit and the partial immunity to Haki.

Could top, hypothetically, but really does enjoy bottoming more. Will try topping if a partner really wants it, but feels weird and awkward the whole time - only realized that doing it despite his discomfort was not only not healthy but the partners who pushed and pushed for it from him were pushing the boundaries of consent at best. ((Had to talk Mihawk out of hunting the people down for a Talk, had to convince Crocodile and surprisingly Daz out of adding some extra bounties for it ((they still did))))

Will dom!! Enjoys being a power bottom honestly. Subbing is a guilty pleasure he rarely got to indulge in due to his absolutely insane trust issues, but once Mihawk and Crocodile earned that trust from him, he'll be the sweetest or brattiest sub on this planet, just for them

Really good with his mouth.

He's a screamer. Tries to stay quiet but never can on his own.

He falls apart sometimes during intense sex.

He's mortified by it, but he has a daddy kink and the first time he called one of his partners daddy he didn't even realize until Mihawk grabbed him by the neck just so, squeezed, forcing his head to tilt back and see blazing gold and molten violet just for someone to growl "cum for daddy, baby" and his vision went white. He was flustered for DAYS after that. ((Their light hearted teasing did not help, nor did their exploitation of the newly found On Button))

Exhibition kink but not publicly

Breeding kink

Size queen

Likes being manhandling

BIG on being marked up and claimed. ((11/10, would wear a collar if it could stay on permanently))

Together

Neither Crocodile or Mihawk had any opinion on makeup until Buggy - when they get to a certain point with his mascara and eyeliner running, lipstick smudged, eyeshadow casting his face in technicolor bruises, they are besotted and burning in equal measure.

Crocodile finds he apparently has a THING for his lovers in lace, something found purely by circumstance and he felt foolish for not ever noticing before. Is equally flustered when they both use it against him.

After Buggy's moment with calling them Daddy, something Awakened in Croc and Hawk. Words like Sir and Master were familiar but this? Ohhhh it hits Different.

They're all pretty partial to BDSM but they also can be really vanilla too. It's cute and sweet.

Buggy's thigh thighs get their own section ♡

Alright that's all I have rn but I hope you enjoyed!!!!

#buggy the clown #sir crocodile #dracule mihawk #cross guild polycule #nsft #gender nonconforming buggy #trans buggy #trans crocodile #(????) Mihawk #witchy answers!!

[bumblingbabooshka]

I love Invar!!!!! Her design is wonderful!! I must know more about her!! Were they betrothed as kids? Does she also enjoy anime (or the Vulcan equivalent)? What do Varith’s siblings think of her?? Gah! You’ve done it again!! you’ve made me fall in love with another one of your ocs!! 😩 /pos

Invar is the granddaughter of a member of the Vulcan high council. Her parents are both politically notable and wealthy.  She was raised being heavily praised and harshly criticized in equal measures - particularly by her mother who always compared her very favorably to others by putting them down. (Ex: "I expect you'll do nothing but the best. You are much more intelligent than those classmates of yours.") However if she failed to live up to expectations she was treated harshly, 'like all the rest'. She became very egotistical, frustrated, and crafty due to this treatment. As a child through to her young teens she was an extremely cruel person - often taking pleasure in bullying and causing misfortune for others. It was to a point where every child in her school knew of her and didn't want to upset or be noticed unfavorably by her. Many students stopped going to school temporarily or altogether after being targeted by her. In her teens Invar suddenly became bedridden with an illness and in her absence her classmates began talking about the bullying which was then discovered by teachers and led to her expulsion from school. Because her family is notable, this incident became news. Varith's family was notified of it and asked if they'd like to continue the engagement or not. To everyone's surprise, Varith said she wanted to continue it. This was not only surprising because of the incident but because Varith & Invar's sole meeting had gone poorly, with the two of them getting into a fight after Invar called Varith 'ugly and sickly'. After confirming they would continue their engagement, Varith sent Invar a letter which merely read 'Well, well, well.' along with several tips for alleviating pain. She originally thought this was some sort of cryptic well-wish but even as the call-back insult she originally figured out it was, it was still kinder than anything else that'd been sent to her. Invar was able to recover from her illness and currently works on a Vulcan science vessel. She has a fairly cushy gig on it because of her family's influence - there are always people willing to do a favor or two. She does NOT have any interest in science - it's just a way for her to not be on the planet. She doesn't know why Varith has continued their engagement and wants to know but doesn't want to ask him. She assumes she'll find out when they are married. Varith and Invar earnestly enjoy one another's company and Invar considers Varith her first true friend. She had plenty of 'friends' while she was bullying people but they all stopped seeing her after she became bedridden. She understands this is because she didn't actually befriend them and they were just sticking to her out of fear or desire for material gain but still. Varith's general dynamic with Invar is that he likes to tease her and she's finding that she enjoys being teased by him. However there's also a tenderness there which others don't often see - most thinking one is taking advantage of the other. (depending on who the person likes more). Invar's currently trying to become a better person or at least lead a normal life. She has a Vulcan therapist she sees and she periodically attempts to contact a person she bullied and apologize. Sometimes it goes fine, sometimes it doesn't. She's not a GREAT person now, she hasn't turned her life around and devoted herself to charity but you know.

In general the vibe of Varith's family is 'tensely polite' towards her with the exception of Elieth.

She doesn't like anime. Her favorite things to do when not working are painting ceramics or creating dioramas.

#THANK YOU~!!!! For your interest~!!!! #tuvok-enjoyer #Invar's a tough nut to like (that's the saying right? /joking) but Varith kind of adores her in a weird way #why exactly did he choose to stay with her?? Why indeed <3 #beas ocs #Invar #Q&A #bee doodles #I came up with the idea of her character after thinking about Vulcan bullies! The idea interests me! #star trek oc #vulcan oc #Varith uses 'she/he' pronouns #Invar often complains about her crewmember's competency even though she only got her position through nepotism #bc she loves throwing stones around her glass house

[lurkingandstalking]

INTRO!! ; )

took a long ass time to conjure up one of these cuz i was nervous..

you can call me anything for now or just until i come up with a fake alias or smth ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

i am 14 years old bout to turn 15 in a few months

i’m a girl (she/her) and live in the US

i’ve been interested in true crime as far back as i can remember rlly. i’ve been particularly interested in cases of mass shootings, but for all i know that can change in the near future. mostly into columbine and other such cases as of late.

typa stuff i enjoy doing consists of drawing (though i literally have like zero motivation), watching tv shows and movies, listening to music, and researching on cases

i NEED friends who are into tcc or else i will go absolutely feral so dms r always open so feel free ( like no really, pls feel free, practically begging on my hands and knees ) also dm for disc

i don’t want this to be too long nor detailed so i should prolly shut the fuck up now and go on my merry way ! (◕‿◕✿)

#first post… kinda sorta nervous #be my friend #tcc tumblr #teeceecee #tccblr #tcc columbine #tc community #columbine 1999 #eric and dylan #eric columbine #dylan columbine #is this too plain?.. to devoid of substance?… oh well its 2:38 am and my mind is blanking outttt

[ab-rinart]

Hi! I love your new OC Yemmi jai Quleissh.

I was wondering if she lives in the same time period of Grievous and if so please give us a backstory!

Much love, Moo 🩷

Hello! Happy to hear you enjoy Yemmi!

And maybe, I don’t really know. Yemmi could easily be put in just about any area without too much issue with how I decided to write her character. She doesn’t really have much of a connection to Grievous beyond hearing stories mostly told by B1-2419, a previously inactive Battle Droid she’d somehow gotten a hold of from an old battle field and decided to have reprogrammed to follow her and act as her pilot and guard when she’s away.

Yemmi is a bounty hunter mostly making money to either bring back to Kaleesh directly or use it to purchase food, water and supplies to bring back home for her people and whatever is left of Kalee. If she doesn’t have anything to bring back, she’ll resort to theft with B1-2419 (B for short) as her get-away pilot. There isn’t anything particularly special about Yemmi aside from her skill with the lig swords. She has no connection to the force and dislikes Jedi due to them siding with the enemy that put them in their current position now, but does not go out of her way to hunt them down. She’s more focused on making sure her people survive than she is getting vengeance.

I didn’t really want to build any characters with any deep rooted connections to any of the canon characters nor set an era in concrete mostly because I do enjoy roleplaying them sometimes just for the fun of it. The vagueness also just gives me the freedom to explore her own stories without rewriting existing stories or characters in them just to put Yemmi in there. Maybe some time an era will become a bit more clear the more I develop her, but for now I don’t really know yet. I don’t have too terribly much in concrete at the moment since she and B are both pretty brand new OCs of mine.

#Star Wars #Star Wars Clone Wars #Clone Wars #Kaleesh #Kalee #Battle Droid #B1 Battle Droid #OC #Yemmi jai Quleissh #B1-2419 #B #AB Rin #Ask #moomoog017